I recall many is of the summer of 1887 that followed my souls sudden awakening. I did nothing but explore with my hands and learn the name of every object that I touched; and the more I hahings and learheir names and uses, the more joyous and fident grew my sense of kinship with the rest of the world.
Wheime of daisies and buttercups came Miss Sullivan took me by the hand across the fields, where men were preparing the earth for the seed, to the banks of the Tennessee River, and there, sitting on the warm grass, I had my first lessons in the benefice of nature. I learned how the sun and the rain make to grow out of the ground every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food, how birds build their s and live and thrive from land to land, how the squirrel, the deer, the lion and every other creature finds food and shelter. As my knowledge of things grew I felt more and more the delight of the world I was in. Long before I learo do a sum in arithmetic or describe the shape of the earth, Miss Sullivan had taught me to fiy in the fragrant woods, in every blade of grass, and in the curves and dimples of my baby sisters hand. She linked my earliest thoughts with nature, and made me feel that "birds and flowers and I were happy peers.」
But about this time I had an experience which taught me that nature is not always kind. One day my teacher and I were returning from a long ramble. The m had been fine, but it was growing warm and sultry when at last we turned our faces homeward. Two or three times we stopped to rest under a tree by the wayside. Our last halt was under a wild cherry tree a short distance from the house. The shade was grateful, and the tree was so easy to climb that with my teachers assistance I was able to scramble to a seat in the branches. It was so cool up iree that Miss Sullivan proposed that we have our luhere. I promised to keep still while she went to the house to fetch it.
Suddenly a ge passed over the tree. All the suns warmth left the air. I khe sky was black, because all the heat, which meant light to me, had died out of the atmosphere. A strange odour came up from the earth.
I k, it was the odour that alrecedes a thuorm, and a nameless fear clutched at my heart. I felt absolutely alone, cut off from my friends and the firm earth. The immehe unknown, enfolded me. I remaiill and expet; a chilling terror crept over me. I longed for my teachers return; but above all things I wao get down from that tree.
There was a moment of sinister silehen a multitudinous stirring of the leaves. A shiver ran through the tree, and the wi forth a blast that would have knocked me off had I not g to the branch with might and main. The tree swayed and straihe small twigs snapped and fell about me in showers. A wild impulse to jump seized me, but terror held me fast. I crouched down in the fork of the tree. The branches lashed about me. I felt the itent jarring that came now and then, as if something heavy had fallen and the shock had traveled up till it reached the limb I sat on. It worked my suspense up to the highest point, and just as I was thinking the tree and I should fall together, my teacher seized my hand and helped me down. I g to her, trembling with joy to feel the earth under my feet once more. I had learned a new lesson--that nature "wages open war against her children, and under softest touch hides treacherous claws.」
After this experie was a long time before I climbed aree. The