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HOW THE WORLD IS BEING OPENED TO THESE CHILDREN

REMARKABLE SUCCESS IN EDUCATING THEM AT THE KINDERGARTEN IN BOSTON -- HOW HELEN KELLER IS TAKING PIANO LESSONS.

From the Boston Herald.

Public interest is centering in a large degree about four little children who are in Boston for the purpose of being educated. Robbed by severe illness in their infancy of three of their senses -- sight, hearing, and speech -- these little ones show an intelligence that would shame many another child who has full possession of its faculties.

The Herald has told a good deal regarding the wonderful progress made by Helen Keller, Edith Thomas, and Ellie Robin, and it would seem as though the limit of attainment must have bee reached, particularly by the first-named girl, who has done such wonderful things since, three years ago, she first made the discovery that the world was for her an open book and that she could come in contact with it and make its knowledge her own.

For years men and women have wondered over the story of Laura Bridgman. It seemed almost a miracle, the work that Dr. Howe performed of bringing this child in touch with the world from which she seemed so strangely isolated. It was the opening of a new realm of possibilities to those who had seemed so helpless and so outside the pale of human endeavor. But what was done for Laura Bridgman was but the beginning of what might be done for others like her. The alphabet of possibilities which Dr. Howe taught has been carried on by his successor, Mr. Anagnos, to the point of science.

To-day there under the charge of Mr. Anagnos four who were bereft as she was of the senses that seem to be the most necessary, either for enjoyment or achievement, and who are constantly giving proof that life for them is neither barren of happiness nor unfruitful in accomplished endeavor.

The progress Helen Keller has made during the past year has been more remarkable than that of any previous years, although every one marveled at what she had already done. It was only a little over a year ago that the experiment was tried of teaching her to articulate. She was sent with her brother for a short daily to the Horace Mann school, and the work was systematically begun. The method was explained to her by her teacher, and with the quickness of perception, which in her seems almost intuitive, so lightening-like is the rapidity with which her mind grasps a new idea, she knew what she was expected to do and the manner in which she was to do it.

The one characteristic of Helen Keller is the determination to succeed with which she undertakes anything new. The idea of failure never seems to enter into her head. Because she wants to do it is for her sufficient reason why she should. Her ambition is boundless, her faith in her own powers of achievement sublime.

So she began the work of trying to learn to speak in the same spirit with which she undertakes everything, and her success has been remarkable. She delights in talking, and she will carry on quite a prolonged conversation.

Laying her hand on the lips of the person with whom she is talking, she will understand what is being said, and will then reply to it. Sometimes in her eagerness she will talk with her lips, and spell out her conversation at the same time in her teacher's hand. Not long ago the writer was visiting at South Boston, and when Helen was brought into the room she recognized the visitor and asked after the little daughters, whom she remembered, although she had not met them for ten years. She seemed very interested in hearing about them, what they were doing at school and son on, and sent them many messages.

By and by she left the room to return to her studies, and when the visitor left she met Helen again in the hall.

"Ah," Helen said. "It is you again. What are you doing?"

"Talking about you," was the reply.

"Something very bad, I've no doubt," said Helen, with a sweet laugh that was full of merriment.

"Dreadfully bad," was the answer. "Just as bad as you deserve."

"Well 'bless my boots,' as Louise says in 'Little Women,' how do you know what I deserve?"

There would be nothing wonderful in a conversation like this under normal circumstances, but when it is remembered that the chief participant in it was a deaf, dumb, and blind child of eleven years of age, it becomes remarkable.

The latest thing that Helen has undertaken is learning to play the piano, and this she is doing very readily. It seems almost incredible that she should have any idea of time and melody, but she has a very distinct idea. The story of her progress is gathered from the notes kept by her teacher. After reading them, one is more startled than ever by this child. Certainly no child in full possession of its senses could do better than this one has done, or make more satisfactory progress. She has always been fond of music, enjoying it immensely whenever piano, organ, or orchestra played. She feels the vibration on the floor through her feet, and both she and Edith Thomas know at once when the piano is played in the room with them. When a very little girl, just beginning with Miss Sullivan, she used to tell about going to church to hear the organ, and would sit very quietly, content while it was being played. Instructing her in music was an experiment which has proved a gratifying success.