Story of My Life

th my teacher and my mother, the journey, and finally the arrival in Boston. How different this journey was from the one I had made to Baltimor

groes at the stations, who waved to the people on the train and brought delicious candy and popcorn balls through the car. On the seat opposite me sat my big rag doll, Nancy, in a new gingham dress and a beruffled sunbonnet, looking at

I had compelled her to eat, although she had never shown any special liking for them. The laundress at the Perkins Institution secretly carried her off to give her a bath. This was too

it was as if a beautiful fairy tale had come true. The "o

y. It took me some time to appreciate the fact that my new friends were blind. I knew I could not see; but it did not seem possible that all the eager, loving children who gathered round me and joined heartily in my frolics were also blind. I remember the surprise and the pain I felt as I noticed that they placed their hands over mine when I talked to them and that they read books with their fi

d eagerly from one pleasant experience to another as the days flew swiftly by. I could not quite convinc

ho had fought on the spot where we stood excited me greatly. I climbed the monument, counting the steps, and wondering a

e able to have our picnic out of doors. I was more interested, I think, in the great rock on which the Pilgrims landed than in anything else in Plymouth. I could touch it, and perhaps that made the coming of the Pilgrims and their toils and great deeds seem more real to me. I have

e in a strange land. I thought they desired the freedom of their fellow men as well as their own. I was keenly surprised and disappointed years later t

s, big Leo and little curly-haired Fritz with long ears, came to meet me, and how Nimrod, the swiftest of the horses, poked his nose into my hands for a pat and a lump of sugar. I also remember the beach, where for the first time I played in the sand. It was hard, smooth sand, very different from the l