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She is fond of having other children noticed and caressed by the teachers, and those whom she respects; but this must not be carried too far, or she becomes jealous. She wants to have her share, which, if not the lion's, is the greater part; and if she does not get it, she says, "My mother will love me."

Her tendency to imitation is so strong, that it leads her to actions which must be entirely incomprehensible to her, and which can give her no other pleasure than the gratification of an internal faculty. She has been known to sit for a half an hour, holding a book before her sightless eyes, and moving her lips, as she has observed seeing people do when reading.

She one day pretended that her doll was sick; and went through all the motions of tending it, and giving it medicine; she then put it carefully to bed, and placed a bottle of hot water to its feet, laughing all the time most heartily. When I came home, she insisted upon my going to see it, and feel its pulse; and when I told her to put a blister to its back, she seemed to enjoy it amazingly, and almost screamed with delight.

Her social feelings, and her affections, are very strong; and when she is sitting at work, or at her studies, by the side of one of her little friends, she will break off from her task every few moments, to hug and kiss them with an earnestness and warmth, that is touching to behold.

When left alone, she occupies and apparently amuses herself, and seems quite contented; and so strong seems to be the natural tendency of thought to put on the garb of language, that she often soliloquizes in the finger language, slow and tedious as it is. But it is only when alone, that she is quiet; for if she becomes sensible of the presence of any one near her, she is restless until she can sit close beside them, hold their hand, and converse with them by signs.

She does not cry from vexation and disappointment, like other children, but only from grief. If she receives a blow by accident, or hurts herself, she laughs and jumps about, as if trying to drown the pain by muscular action. If the pain is severe, she does no go to her teachers or companions for sympathy, but on the contrary tries to get away by herself, and then seems to give vent to a feeling of spite, by throwing herself about violently and roughly handling whatever she gets hold of.

Twice only have tears been drawn from her by the severity of pain, and then she ran away, as if ashamed of crying for an accidental injury. But the fountain of her tears is by no means dried up, as is seen when her companions are in pain, or her teacher is grieved.

In her intellectual character, it is pleasing to observe an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and a quick perception of the relations of things. In her moral character, it is beautiful to behold her continual gladness -- her keen enjoyment of existence -- her expansive love -- her unhesitating confidence -- her sympathy with suffering -- her conscientiousness, truthfulness, and hopefulness.

No religious feeling, properly so called, has developed itself; nor is it yet time, perhaps, to look for it; but she has shown a disposition to respect those who have power and knowledge; and to love those who have goodness; and when her perceptive faculties shall have taken cognizance of the operations of nature, and she shall be accustomed to trace effects to their causes, then may her veneration be turned to Him who is almighty, her respect to Him who is omniscient, and her love to Him who is all goodness and love!

Until then, I shall not deem it wise, by premature effort, to incur the risk of giving her ideas of God which would be alike unworthy of His character, and fatal to her peace.

I should fear that she might personify Him in a way too common with children, who clothe Him with unworthy, and sometimes grotesque attributes, which their subsequently developed reason condemns, but strives in vain to correct.

I have thus far confined myself to relating the various phenomena (1) which this remarkable ease presents. I have related the facts, and each one will make his own deductions. But as I am almost invariably questioned by intelligent visiters -sic- of the Institution about my opinion of her moral nature, and by what theory I can account for such and such phenomena, and as many pious people have questioned me respecting her religious nature, I will here state my views.

There seems to have been in this child no innate ideas, or innate moral principles; that is in the sense in which Locke, Condillac, and others, consider those terms. But there are innate intellectual dispositions; and moreover, innate moral dispositions not derived as many metaphysicians suppose, from the exercise of intellectual faculties, but as independent in their existence, as the intellectual dispositions themselves.