ese little punctures stand out in relief on the other side of the
paper, so that by turning the paper over and drawing their fingers
across these projections, they can read what they have written, and also
the writing of others; and thus they write compositions: and they write
letters to each other. They write numbers in the same way, and they make
calculations; and they calculate mentally with an incredible facility,
since their minds are not diverted by the sight of surrounding objects,
as ours are. And if you could see how passionately fond they are of
reading, how attentive they are, how well they remember everything, how
they discuss among themselves, even the little ones, of things connected
with history and language, as they sit four or five on the same bench,
without turning to each other, and converse, the first with the third,
the second with the fourth, in a loud voice and all together, without
losing a single word, so acute and prompt is their hearing.

"And they attach more importance to the examinations than you do, I
assure you, and they are fonder of their teachers. They recognize their
teacher by his step and his odor; they perceive whether he is in a good
or bad humor, whether he is well or ill, simply by the sound of a single
word of his. They want the teacher to touch them when he encourages and
praises them, and they feel of his hand and his arms in order to express
their gratitude. And they love each other and are good comrades to each
other. In play time they are always together, according to their wont.
In the girls' school, for instance, they form into groups according to
the instrument on which they play,--violinists, pianists, and
flute-players,--and they never separate. When they have become attached
to any one, it is difficult for them to break it off. They take much
comfort in friendship. They judge correctly among themselves. They have
a clear and profound idea of good and evil. No one grows so enthusiastic
as they over the narration of a generous action, of a grand deed."

Votini inquired if they played well.

"They are ardently fond of music," replied the master. "It is their
delight: music is their life. Little blind children, when they first
enter the Institute, are capable of standing three hours perfectly
motionless, to listen to playing. They learn easily; they play with
fire. When the teacher tells one of them that he has not a talent for
music, he feels very sorrowful, but he set