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It would have been practicable to keep her in leading-strings still longer, and, by taking advantage of habit, to require unconditional obedience for years to come, though this might have been difficult, for she evidently inherits a strong self-will; but the time had arrived when she ought to begin to govern herself; she showed considerable capacity for doing so, and it would have been wrong to keep her in subjection.

Not only was it right to give her considerable freedom of action, but to have withheld it would have been injurious to her moral growth, by the loss of that exercise in self-government which prepares one for complete independence of thought and action. The result of leaving her in comparative freedom has shown that self-government, when the proper age for it has arrived, and the previous habits have been good, is as much better than foreign government, as walking by the aid of its own bones and muscles is better for a child than going in leading-strings.

Her thoughts, as I remarked before, have been of a more serious nature, and her conduct more sober, during the past year, than in former times. This is probably the natural consequence of the lowered tone of her physical health, and not, as I have been able to discover, of any thought or fear of death.

Already with returning health and strength there appear glimpses of her former gayety of heart; and though she may never again be the merry, thoughtless girl that she was, we may hope to see in her a happy and cheerful woman. She will no longer be the same object of public curiosity and interest that she has been, but she will not be the object of less care and affection to her friends so long as her frail life shall last.

OLIVER CASWELL, the deaf and blind mute whose case has been so often related, has been in good health during the past year, and continues to be the same gentle and amiable boy as ever.

His progress in learning language and acquiring intellectual knowledge is comparatively slow, because he has not that fineness of fibre, and that activity of temperament, which enable Laura to struggle so successfully against the immense disadvantages under which they both labor. Still he continues to make gradual improvement, and can express his thoughts pretty well upon all ordinary subjects.

His case proves, therefore, very clearly, that the success of the attempt made to instruct Laura Bridgman was not owing solely to her uncommon capacity. Oliver is a boy of rather unfavorable organization, and of sluggish temperament; he had been deaf and blind from infancy; he received no instruction until he was twelve years old, consequently he lost the most precious years for learning; nevertheless, he has been taught to express his thoughts both by the finger language and by writing; he has become acquainted with the rudiments of the common branches of education, and is an intelligent and morally responsible person. Henceforward there can be no excuse for leaving any deaf and blind mute, who has ordinary capacity, in the state of irresponsible idiocy to which persons in his situation have heretofore been condemned by high legal authorities, (1) as well as by public opinion.

Oliver's memory is not tenacious. A great part of what has been taught him he forgets in a month afterwards. This is true of all the intellectual branches, especially of those in which objects are not used as illustrations; but it is not true of the mechanic arts, of the knowledge of persons and things with which he comes in contact. He is a very apt learner at any handiwork; he delights in the use of tools, and excels most of his companions in the workshop. He never forgets a lesson which has been taught him there, because it is a lesson upon objects.

The importance of appealing to the evidence of the senses, in teaching children, is sometimes overlooked by those who suppose that the advantage of it is confined to a knowledge of visible and material things; whereas it really extends much farther, and aids the mind in mastering abstract subjects. Strictly speaking, words are objects; a bare description of a steam-engine would be a lesson on objects; the words are substitutes for the thing; the learner tries to see with the ear; his mind, sitting within like a judge, receives the evidence through one sense that ought to have been given through another; but this is second-hand evidence, and therefore weaker; it is as if it had been translated out of one language into another, and lost much of its spirit in the process. If a model is used in the lesson, the advantages extend as far as the resemblance is perfect; but even supposing the size and appearance of the model to be the same as those of the original, still much of the language must be translated and weakened; the motion, the noise, and the effect must be represented by words. If the lesson is given in the engine-room, and the parts and their connections are explained, and the huge machine is set in motion, and some experiment is tried upon a piece of wood or iron, to show the crushing and irresistible power of the stroke of the piston, the lesson is invaluable, because the mind receives most of the evidence through witnesses who speak their vernacular tongue, which it understands, and retains for ever.