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March 18 Helen Keller began pianoforte lessons. The lesson was half an hour in length. She learned the position of the white keys, finding them correctly and telling their locations aloud. She also learned the position of her hands, which she seemed to acquire with facility. On the next day she reviewed the first lesson and practiced raising the fingers from the knuckle joint with her stationary hand. The whole notes were explained to her, and her teacher had her play them while she beat time on her shoulders. In teaching rhythm the instructor had her beat it first upon a desk and afterward on the piano. The next two lessons were devoted to an examination of the metronome and experiments with it. Helen was delighted when she could feel the vibrations of the pendulum by placing her hand near enough to touch it lightly with the thumb and forefinger. The teacher then explained to her the half and quarter notes, and she played an exercise in whole notes correctly. At the next lesson the teacher tested Helen's knowledge or comprehension of rhythm by playing and counting unevenly. Helen laughed at the mistakes, and said: "No, you are not quite right."

On the 31st of March she began using both hands, and played a little exercise in different keys very correctly. The next thing was to teach her musical notation by the Braille system: this she comprehended readily, and then she learned an exercise which introduced eighth notes. By the 16th of April she had learned a little piece which she played very prettily and, strange as it may seem, with expression. She seems to tell by the stronger vibrations and the way she presses the keys when she is playing louder. One day she said to her teacher:" I have practiced a great deal and struggled had with my difficulties." And her work shows, and the questions she asks show, too, that she thinks about her work. Her teacher further says that, considering the short time that she has been at work on the piano and the frequent interruptions she has had, she has made remarkable progress. Certainly her performance at Tremont Temple on the occasion of the Commencement exercises was a surprise to every one who heard it.

It due entirely to Helen Keller's efforts that the last of the four children, little Tommy Stringer, has been brought to the kindergarten and placed under instruction.

The case of little Tommy is the most pathetic of all. The other three had homes and parents, and had grown up with care and affection lavished upon them, but this poor little boy was a waif, tossed out into the world, with no one to care for him. His mother had died, and he been left at the hospital to be taken care of by the nurses, who, in justice let it be said, were kind to him and fond of him, though they did nothing in the way of trying to teach him. His father had married again, and neither he nor the new wife wanted the unfortunate boy, and he was to have been sent to the almshouse.

At this juncture Helen Keller heard of him and made up her mind that he must come to the kindergarten. But money was needed for the purpose, and how was she to get it? She felt that the way must be opened, and sure enough it was. A favorite and valuable dog belonging to her had died, and some notice of it being made in the papers and her grief at her loss, some gentlemen proposed to give her another, even more valuable. When Helen was told of their intention she wrote a letter to them telling them that she did not care for another dog, she did not wish to become so attached to another as to the one she had lost, but, if they really wished to do something to make her very happy, they would her as much money as the dog would cost, that she might use it in educating little Tommy Stringer. Helen's letter was generously responded to by the gentlemen, and not only did they respond, but they printed the letter in fac simile and told the story. This brought other contributions, and soon Helen found enough herself in possession of money enough to send for the little boy and have him brought from Pittsburgh.

When Tommy came here about three months ago, brought on by the hospital nurse whose charge he had been, he was to all intents and purposes, a mere baby. He was dressed like one and he was treated like one. He had never been taught anything, he had no signs even by which he let his wants be known. It was almost, seemingly, a hopeless task to train him, but the young teacher, Miss Bull, to whom he had been assigned, began her task full of zeal and enthusiasm. No child so young, for Tommy is only five, had ever been admitted to the kindergarten, and the youngest deaf, dumb, and blind child to begin training was Willie Robin, who was just past six when she came from Texas last January. It was naturally slower work with Tommy than with any of the girls, both because he was younger and because he had not been taught anything, having no mother and there being no children for him to play with. The first thing to be done was to dress him properly and to teach him to respect his clothes and keep them on.