Library Collections: Document: Full Text

Two little children were seated on the veranda steps one hot July afternoon. One was as black as ebony, with little bunches of fuzzy hair tied with shoestrings sticking out all over her head, and the other was white with long golden curls. One child was six years old, and the other two or three years older. The younger child was blind -- that was I -- and the other was Martha Washington. We were busy cutting out paper dolls; but we soon wearied of this amusement, and after cutting up our shoestrings and clipping all the leaves off the honeysuckle that were within reach, I turned my attention to Martha's corkscrews. She objected at first, but finally submitted. Thinking that turn and turn about is fair play, she seized the scissors and cut off one of my curls, and would have cut them all off if my mother had not appeared in the nick of time.

A Narrow Escape from Death by Fire

SOON after this I had an experience that I remember vividly. I happened to spill water on my apron and I spread it out to dry before the fire, which was flickering on the sitting-room hearth. But the apron did not dry quickly enough to suit me and I drew nearer and threw it right over the hot ashes. The fire leaped into life; the flames encircled me so that in a moment my clothes were blazing. I made a terrified noise that brought my nurse, Viny, to the rescue. Throwing a blanket over me she almost suffocated me, but she put out the fire. Except for my hands and hair I was not badly burned.

The making ready for Christmas was always a delight to me. Of course, I did not know what it was all about, but I enjoyed the pleasant odors that filled the house and the tidbits that were given to me and Martha Washington to keep us quiet. We were sadly in the way, but that did not interfere with our pleasure in the least. They allowed us to grind the spices, pick over the raisins and lick the stirring spoons. I hunted my stocking because the others did; but I cannot remember that the ceremony interested me especially, nor did my curiosity cause me to wake before daylight to look for my gifts.

The sheds where the corn was stored, the stable where the horses were kept, and the yard where the cows were milked morning and evening were unfailing sources of interest to Martha and me. The milkers would let me keep my hands on the cows while they milked, and I often got well switched by the cows for my curiosity.

A Prank Showing the Need of a Teacher

ABOUT this time I found out the use of a key, and one day I locked my mother up in the pantry, where she was obliged to remain three hours as the servants were in a detached part of the house. She kept pounding on the door, while I sat outside on the porch steps and laughed with glee as I felt the jar of the pounding. This most naughty prank of mine convinced my parents that I must be taught as soon as possible. After my teacher, Miss Annie M. Sullivan, came to me, I sought an early opportunity to lock her in her room. I went upstairs with something which my mother made me understand I was to give to Miss Sullivan; but no sooner had I given it to her than I slammed the door to, locked it, and hid the key under the wardrobe in the hall. I could not be induced to tell where the key was. My father was obliged to get a ladder and take my teacher out through the window -- much to my delight. Months after I produced the key.

The guinea-fowl likes to hide her nest in out-of-the- way places, and it was one of my greatest delights to hunt for the eggs in the long grass. I could not tell Martha Washington when I wanted to go egg-hunting, but I would double my hands and put them on the ground, which meant something round in the grass, and Martha always understood. When we were fortunate enough to find a nest I never allowed her to carry the eggs home, making her understand by emphatic signs that she might fall and break them.

Belle was old and lazy, and liked to lie by the open fire and sleep rather than to romp with me. I tried hard to teach her my sign language, but she was dull and inattentive. Sometimes she started and quivered with excitement, then she became perfectly rigid, as dogs will when they point a bird. I did not then know why Belle acted in this way, but I knew she was not doing as I wished. This vexed me and the lessons always ended in a one-sided boxing match. Belle would get up, stretch herself lazily, give a contemptuous sniff, go to the opposite side of the hearth and lie down again, and I, wearied and disappointed, would go off in search of Martha.

Recollections of a Loving Father

WHEN I was about five years old we moved from the little vine-covered cottage to a large new house. The family consisted of my father and mother, two older half-brothers, and a little sister, Mildred. My earliest distinct recollection of my father is the making of my way through great drifts of newspapers to his side and finding him alone, holding a sheet of paper before his face. I was greatly puzzled to know what he was doing. I imitated this action, even wearing his spectacles, thinking they might help solve the mystery. But I did not find out the secret for several years. Then I learned what those papers were, and that my father edited one of them.