Among the innumerable superfluous, unintentional, random, muscular movements of the infant, the movements of the muscles of the larynx, mouth, and tongue take a conspicuous place, because they ally themselves readily with acoustic effects and the child takes delight in them. It is not surprising, therefore, that precisely those vibrations of the vocal cords, precisely those shapings of the cavity of the mouth, and those positions of the lips, often occur which we observe in the utterance of our vowels, and that among the child-noises produced unconsciously and in play are found almost all our consonants and, besides, many that are used in foreign languages. The plasticity of the apparatus of speech in youth permits the production of a greater abundance of sounds and sound-combinations than is employed later, and not a single child has been observed who has, in accordance with the principle of the least effort (principe du moindre effort) applied by French authors to this province, advanced in regular sequence from the sounds articulated easily—i. e., with less activity of will—to the physiologically difficult; rather does it hold good for all the children I have observed, and probably for all children that learn to speak, that many of the sounds uttered by them at the beginning, in the speechless season of infancy, without effort and then forgotten, have to be learned afresh at a later period, have to be painstakingly acquired by means of imitation.

Mobility and perfection in the technique of sound-formation are not speech. They come into consideration in the process of learning to speak as facilitating the process, because the muscles are perfected by previous practice; but the very first attempts to imitate voluntarily a sound heard show how slight this advantage is. Even those primitive syllables which the child of himself often pronounces to weariness, like da, he can not at the beginning (in the tenth month in my case) as yet say after any one, although he makes manifest by his effort—a regular strain—by his attention, and his unsuccessful attempts, that he would like to say them, as I have already mentioned. The reason is to be looked for in the still incomplete development of the sensori-motor central paths. In place of tatta is sounded tae or ata; in place of papa even tai, and this not once only, but after a great many trials repeated again and again with the utmost patience. That the sound-image has been correctly apprehended is evident from the certainty with which the child responds correctly in various cases by gestures to words of similar sound unpronounceable by him. Thus, he points by mistake once only to the mouth (Mund) instead of the moon (Mond), and points correctly to the ear (Ohr) and the clock (Uhr) when asked where these objects are. The acuteness of hearing indispensable for repeating the sounds is therefore present before the ability to repeat.

On the whole, the infant or the young child already weaned must be placed higher at this stage of his mental development than a very intelligent animal, but not on account of his knowledge of language, for the dog also understands very well single words in the speech of his master, in addition to hunting-terms. He divines, from the master's looks and gestures, the meaning of whole sentences, and, although he has not been brought to the point of producing articulate sounds, yet much superior in this respect is the performance of the cockatoo, which learns all articulate sounds. A child who shows by looks and gestures and actions that he understands single words, and who already pronounces correctly many words by imitation without understanding them, does not on this account stand higher intellectually than a sagaciously calculating yet speechless elephant or an Arabian horse, but because he already forms many more and far more complex concepts.

The animal phase of intellect lasts, in the sound, vigorous, and not neglected child, to the end of the first year of life at the farthest; and long before the close of this he has, by means of the feelings of pleasure and of discomfort, very definitely distinguishable by him even in the first days of life, but for which he does not get the verbal expressions till the second and third year, formed for himself at least in one province, viz., that of food, ideas more or less well defined. Romanes also rightly remarks that the concept of food arises in us through the feeling of hunger quite independently of language. Probably this concept is the very first that is formed by the quite young infant, only he would not name it "food," if indeed he named it at all, but would understand by it everything that puts an end to the feeling of hunger. It is of great importance to hold firmly to this fact of the origination of ideas, and that not of sensuous percepts only but of concepts, without language, because it runs contrary to prevailing assumptions.

He who has conscientiously observed the mental development of infants must come to the conclusion that the formation of ideas is not bound up with the learning of words, but is a necessary prerequisite for the understanding of the words to be learned first, and therefore for learning to speak. Long before the child understands even a single word, before he uses a single syllable consistently with a definite meaning, he already has a number of ideas which are expressed by looks and gestures and cries. To these belong especially ideas gained through touch and sight. Associations of objects touched and seen with impressions of taste are probably the first generators of concepts. The child, still speechless and toothless, takes a lively interest in bottles; sees, e. g., a bottle that is filled with a white opaque liquid (Goulard water), and he stretches out his arms with desire toward it, screaming a long time, in the belief that it is a milk-bottle (observed by me in the case of my child in the thirty-first week). The bottle when empty or when filled with water is not so long attractive to him, so that the idea of food (or of something to drink, something to suck, something sweet) must arise from the sight of a bottle with certain contents without the understanding or even utterance of any words. The formation of concepts without words is actually demonstrated by this; for the speechless child not only perceived the points of identity of the various bottles of wine, water, oil, the nursing-bottle and others, the sight of which excited him, but he united in one notion the contents of the different sorts of bottles when what was in them was white—i. e., he had separated the concept of food from that of the bottle. Ideas are thus independent of words.

Certain as this proposition is, it is not, however, supported by the reasons given for it by Kussmaul, viz., that one and the same object is variously expressed in various languages, and that a new animal or a new machine is known before it is named; for no one desires to maintain that certain ideas are necessarily connected with certain words, without the knowledge of which they could not arise—it is maintained only that ideas do not exist without words. Now, any object has some appellation in each language, were it only the appellation "object," and a new animal, a new machine, is already called "animal," "machine," before it receives its special name. Hence from this quarter the proof can not be derived. On the other hand, the speechless infant certainly furnishes the proof, which is confirmed by some observations on microcephalous persons several years old or of adult age. The lack of the power of abstraction apparent in these persons and in idiots is not so great that they have not developed the notion "food" or "taking of food."

Indeed, it is not impossible that the formation of ideas may continue after the total loss of word-memory, as in the remarkable and much-talked-of case of Lordat. Yet this case does not by any means prove that the formation of concepts of the higher order is possible without previous mastery of verbal language; rather is it certain that concepts rising above the lowest abstractions can be formed only by him who has thoroughly learned to speak: for intelligent children without speech are acquainted, indeed, with more numerous and more complex ideas than are very sagacious animals, but not with many more abstractions of a higher sort, and where the vocabulary is small the power of abstraction is wont to be as weak in adults as in children. The latter, to be sure, acquire the words for the abstract with more difficulty and later than those for the concrete, but have them stamped more firmly on the mind (for, when the word-memory fails, proper names and nouns denoting concrete objects are, as a rule, first forgotten). But it would not be admissible, as I showed above, to conclude from this that no abstraction at all takes place without words. To me, indeed, it is probable that in the most intense thought the most abstract conceptions are effected most rapidly without the disturbing images of the sounds of words, and are only supplementarily clothed in words. In any case the intelligent child forms many concepts of a lower sort without any knowledge of words at all, and he therefore performs abstraction without words.

When Sigismund showed to his son, not yet a year old and not able to speak a word, a stuffed woodcock, and, pointing to it, said, "Bird," the child directly afterward looked toward another side of the room where there stood upon the stove a stuffed white owl, represented as in flight, which he must certainly have observed before. Here, then, the concept had already arisen; but how little specialized are the first concepts connected with words that do not relate to food is shown by the fact that in the case of Lindner's child (in the tenth month) up signified also down, warm signified also cold. Just so my child used too much also for too little; another child used no also for yes; a third used I for you. If these by no means isolated phenomena rest upon a lack of differentiation of the concepts, "then the child already has a presentiment that opposites are merely the extreme terms of the same series of conceptions" (Lindner), and this before he can command more than a few words.

But to return to the condition of the normal child, as yet entirely speechless. It is clear that, being filled with desire to give expression in every way to his feelings, especially to his needs, he will use his voice, too, for this purpose. The adult likewise cries out with pain, although the "Oh!" has no direct connection with the pain, and there is no intention of making, by means of the outcry, communication to others. Now, before the newly-born is in condition to seek that which excites pleasure, to avoid what excites displeasure, he cries out in like fashion, partly without moving the tongue, partly with the sound ae dominant, repeated over and over monotonously till some change of external conditions takes place. After this the manner of crying begins to vary according to the condition of the infant; then come sounds clearly distinguishable as indications of pleasure or displeasure; then syllables, at first to some extent spontaneously articulated without meaning, afterward such as express desire, pleasure, etc.; not until much later imitated sounds, and often the imperfect imitation of the voices of animals, of inorganic noises, and of spoken words. The mutilation of his words makes it seem as if the child were already inventing new designations which are soon forgotten; and as the child, like the lunatic, uses familiar words in a new sense after he has begun to learn to talk, his style of expression gets an original character, that of "baby-talk." Here it is characteristic that the feelings and ideas do not now first arise, though they are now first articulately expressed; but they were in part present long since and did not become articulate, but were expressed by means of looks and gestures. In the adult ideas generate new words, and the formation of new words does not cease so long as thinking continues; but in the child without speech new feelings and new ideas generate at first only new cries and movements of the muscles of the face and limbs, and, the further we look back into child-development proper, the greater do we find the number of the conditions expressed by one and the same cry. The organism as yet has too few means at its disposal. In many cases of aphasia every mental state is expressed by one and the same word (often a word without meaning). Upon closer examination it is found, however, that for the orator also, who is complete master of speech, all the resources of language are insufficient. No one, e. g., can name all the colors that may be perceived, or describe pain, or describe even a cloud, so that several hearers gain the same idea of its form that the speaker has. The words come short, but the idea is clear. If words sufficed to express clearly clear conceptions, then the greater part of our philosophical and theological literature would not exist. This literature has its basis essentially in the inevitable fact that different persons do not associate the same concept with the same word, and so one word is used to indicate different concepts (as is the case with the child). If a concept is exceptionally difficult—i. e., exceptionally hard to express clearly in words—then it is wont to receive many names, e. g., "die," and the confusion and strife are increased; but words alone render it possible to form and to make clear concepts of a higher sort. They favor the formation of new ideas, and without them the intellect in man remains in a lower stage of development just because they are the most trustworthy and the most delicate means of expression for ideas. If ideas are not expressed at all, or not intelligibly, their possessor can not use them, can not correct or make them effective. Those ideas only are of value, as a general thing, which continue to exist after being communicated to others. Communication takes place with accuracy (among human beings) only by means of words. It is therefore important to know how the child learns to speak words, and then to use them.

I have above designated, as the chief difficulty for the child in the formation of words, the establishment of a connection between the central storehouse for sense-impressions—i. e., the sensory centers of higher rank—with the intercentral path of connection between the center-for-sounds and the speech-motorium. After the establishment of these connections, and long after ideas have been formed, the sound-image of the word spoken by the mother, when it emerges in the center-for-sounds directly after the rise of a clear idea, is now repeated by the child accurately, or, in case it offers insurmountable difficulties of articulation for pronunciation, inaccurately. This fact of sound-imitation is fundamental. Beyond it we can not go. Especially must be noted here as essential that it appears to be an entirely indifferent matter what syllables and words are employed for the first designation of the child's ideas. Were one disposed to provide the child with false designations, he could easily do it. The child would still connect them logically. If taught further on that two times three are five, he would merely give the name five to what is six, and would soon adopt the usual form of expression. In making a beginning of the association of ideas with articulate syllables, such syllables are, as a rule, employed (probably in all languages) as have already been often uttered by the child spontaneously without meaning, because these offered no difficulties of articulation; but only the child's family put meaning into them. Such syllables are pa, ma, with their doubled form papa, mama, for "father" and "mother," in connection with which it is to be observed that the meaning of them is different in different languages and even in the dialects of a language. For maman, mama, mama, mamme, mammeli, moemme, mam, mamma, mammeken, memme, memmeken, mammĕlĕ, mammi, are at the same time child-words and designations for "mother" in various districts of Germany, whereas these and very similar expressions signify also the mother's breast, milk, pap, drink, nursing-bottle; nay, even in some languages the father is designated by Ma-sounds, the mother by Ba-and Pa-sounds.

It is very much the same with other primitive syllables of the babe's utterance, e. g., atta. Where this does not denote the parents or grandparents it is frequently used (tata, tatta, tata, also in England and Germany) in the sense of "gone" ("fort") and "goodby."

These primitive syllables, pa-pa, ma-ma, tata and apa, ama, ata, originate of themselves when in the expiration of breath the passage is stopped either by the lips (p, m) or by the tongue (d, t); but after they have been already uttered many times with ease, without meaning, at random, the mothers of all nations make use of them to designate previously existing ideas of the child, and designate by them what is most familiar. Hence occurs the apparent confounding of "milk" and "breast" and "mother" and "(wet-) nurse" or "nurse" and "bottle," all of which the child learns to call mam, amma, etc.

But just at this period appears a genuine echolalia, the child, unobserved, repeating correctly and like a machine, often in a whisper, all sorts of syllables, when he hears them at the end of a sentence. The normal child, before he can speak, repeats sounds, syllables, words, if they are short, "mechanically," without understanding, as he imitates movements of the hands and the head that are made in his sight. Speaking is a movement-making that invites imitation the more because it can be strictly regulated by means of the ear. Anything more than regulation is not at first given by the sense of hearing, for those born deaf also learn to speak. They can even, like normal children, speak quite early in dreams (according to Gerard van Asch). Those born deaf, as well as normal children, when one turns quietly toward them, often observe attentively the lips (and also touch them sometimes) and the tongue of the person speaking; and this visual image, even without an auditory image, provokes imitation, which is made perfect by the combination of the two. This combination is lacking in the child born blind, pure echolalia prevailing in this case; in the one born deaf, the combination is likewise wanting, the reading-off of the syllables from the mouth coming in as a substitute. With the deaf infant the study of the mouth-movements is, as is well known, the only means of understanding words spoken aloud, and it is sight that serves almost exclusively for this, very rarely touch; and the child born deaf often repeats the visible movements of lips and tongue better than the hearing child that can not yet talk. It is to be observed, in general, that the hearing child makes less use, on the whole, of the means of reading-off from the mouth than we assume, but depends chiefly on the ear. I have always found, too, that the child has the greatest difficulty in imitating a position of the mouth, in case the sound belonging to it is not made, whereas he easily achieves the same position of the mouth when the acoustic effect goes along with it.

Accordingly, the connection between the ear and the speech-center must be shorter or more practicable in advance (hereditarily) than that between the eye and the speech-center. With regard to both associations, however, the gradually progressive shortening or consolidating is to be distinguished in space and time. With the child that does not yet speak, but is beginning to repeat syllables correctly and to associate them with primitive ideas, the act of imitation takes longer than with the normal adult, but the paths in the brain that he makes use of are shorter, absolutely and relatively—absolutely, because the whole brain is smaller; relatively, because the higher centers, which at a later period perform their functions with consciousness and accessory ideas, are still lacking. Notwithstanding this, the time is longer than at a later period—often amounting to several seconds—because the working up of what has been heard, and even the arrangement of it in the center for sound-images, and of what has been seen in the center for sight-images, takes more time apart from a somewhat less swift propagation of the nerve-excitement in the peripheral paths. The child's imitation can not be called fully conscious or deliberate. It resembles the half-conscious or unconscious imitation attained by the adult through frequent repetition—i. e., through manifold practice—and which, as a sort of reminiscence of conscious or an abbreviation of deliberate imitation, results from frequent continuous use of the same paths. Only, the child's imitations last longer, and especially the reading-off from the mouth. The child can not distinguish the positions of the mouth that belong to a syllable, but can produce them himself very correctly. He is like the patients that Kussmaul calls "word-blind," who can not, in spite of good sight, read the written words they see, but can express them in speech and writing. For the same word, e. g., atta, which the child does not read off from the mouth and does not repeat, he uses himself when he wants to be taken out; thus the inability is not expressive-motor, but central or intercentral. For the child can already see very well the movement of mouth and tongue; the impressive sight-path has been long established.

Herein this sort of word-blindness agrees fully with the physiological word-deafness of the normal child without speech, whose hearing is good. For he understands wrongly what he hears, when, e. g., in response to the order, "No! no!" he makes the affirmative movement of the head, although he can make the right movement very well. Here too, then, it is not centrifugal and centripetal peripheral lines, but intercentral paths or centers, that are not yet sufficiently developed—in the case of my child, in the fourteenth month. The path leading from the word-center to the dictorium, and the word-center itself, must have been as yet too little used.

From all this it results, in relation to the question, how the child comes to learn and to use words, that in the first place he has ideas; secondly, he imitates sounds, syllables, and words spoken for him; and, thirdly, he associates the ideas with these. E. g., the idea "white+wet+sweet+warm" having arisen out of frequent seeing, feeling, and tasting of milk, it depends upon what primitive syllable is selected for questioning the hungry infant, for talking to him, or quieting him, whether he expresses his desire for food by moem, mimi, nana, ning, or maman, or maem, or mem, or mima, or yet other syllables. The oftener he has the idea of food (i. e., something that banishes hunger or the unpleasant feeling of it), and at the same time the sound-impression "milk," so much the more will the latter be associated with the former, and in consideration of the great advantages it offers, in being understood by all, will finally be adopted. Thus the child learns his first words. But in each individual case the first words acquired in this manner have a wider range of meaning than the later ones.

By means of pure echolalia, without associating ideas with the word babbled in imitation, the child learns, to be sure, to articulate words likewise; but he does not learn to understand them or to use them properly unless coincidences, intentional or accidental, show him this or that result when this or that word is uttered by him. If the child, e. g., hearing the new word "Schnee," says, as an echo, nee, and then some one shows him actual snow, the meaningless nee becomes associated with a sense-intuition; and later, also, nothing can take the place of the intuition—i. e., the direct, sensuous perception—as a means of instruction. This way of learning the use of words is exactly the opposite of that just discussed, and is less common because more laborious. For, in the first case, the idea is first present, and only needs to be expressed (through hearing the appropriate word). In the second case, the word comes first, and the idea has to be brought in artificially. Later, the word, not understood, awakens curiosity, and thereby generates ideas. But this requires greater maturity.

The third way in which the first words are learned is this: The idea and the word appear almost simultaneously, as in onomatopoetic designations and interjections. Absolutely original onomatopoetic words are very rare with children, and have not been observed by me except after the children already knew some words. The names of animals, bow-wow, moo-moo, peep-peep (bird), hotto (horse), from the expression of the carter, "hott-ho" ("tt," instead of Haut (the skin), i. e., "left," in contrast with "aarr"—Haar, Maehne (the mane)—i. e., "right"), are spoken for the child by the members of his family. Some names of animals, like kukuk (cuckoo), also kikeriki (cock) and kuak (duck, frog), are probably formed often without having been heard from others, only more indistinctly, by German, English (American), and French children. Ticktack (tick-tick) has also been repeated by a boy of two years for a watch. On the other hand, weo-weo-weo (German, ŭio) for the noise of winding a watch (observed by Holden in a boy of two years) is original. Huet, as an unsuccessful imitation of the locomotive-whistle by my boy of two and a half years, seems also noteworthy as an onomatope independently invented, because it was used daily for months in the same way merely to designate the whistle. The voice of the hen, of the redstart, the creaking of a wheel, were imitated by my child of his own accord long before he could speak a word. But this did not go so far as the framing of syllables. It is not easy in this to trace so clearly the framing of a concept as attaching itself directly to onomatopoetic forms as it is in a case communicated by Romanes. A child that was beginning to talk, saw and heard a duck on the water, and said quack. Thereafter the child called, on the one hand, all birds and insects, on the other hand, all liquids, quack. Finally, it called all coins also quack, after having seen an eagle on a French sou. Thus the child came, by gradual generalization, to the point of designating a fly, wine, and a piece of money by the same onomatopoetic word, although only the first perception contained the characteristic that gave the name.

Another case is reported by Eduard Schulte: A boy of a year and three quarters applied the joyous outcry ei (which may be an imitated interjection), modifying it first into eiz, into aze, and then into ass, to his wooden goat on wheels, and covered with rough hide; eiz, then, became exclusively a cry of joy; ass, the name for everything that moved along—e. g., for animals and his own sister and the wagon; also for everything that moved at all; finally, for everything that had a rough surface. Now, as this child already called all coverings of the head and covers of cans huta, when he saw, for the first time, a fur cap, he at once christened it ass-huta. Here took place a decided subordination of one concept to another, and therewith a new formation of a word. How broad the comprehensiveness of the concept designated huta was, is perceived especially in this, that it was used to express the wish to have objects at which the child pointed. He liked to put all sorts of things that pleased him upon his head, calling them huta. Out of the huta, for "I should like to have that as a hat" grew, then, after frequent repetition, "I should like that." There was in this case an extension of the narrower concept, after it had itself experienced previously a differentiation, and so a limitation, by means of the suffix ass. These examples show how independent of words the formation of concepts is. With the smallest stock of words the concepts are yet manifold, and are designated by the same word when there is a lack of words for the composition of new words, and so for fresh word-formation.

The formation of words out of interjections without imitation has not been observed. Here belongs the rollu, rollolo, uttered by my boy, of his own accord, on seeing rolling balls or wheels; and (in the twentieth month) rodi, otto, rojo, where the rotation perceived by the child occasions at once the one or the other exclamation containing l or r. In the case of Steinthal, it was lu-lulu; in the case of a boy a year and a half old, observed by Kussmaul, it was golloh. In these cases the first interjection is always occasioned by a noise, not simply by the sight of things rolling without noise. The interjection must accordingly be styled imitative. A combination of the original—i. e., inborn—interjectional sounds into syllables and groups of syllables, without the assistance of members of the family, and without imitation, for the purpose of communicating an idea, is not proved to exist.

On the whole, the way in which the child learns to speak not merely resembles the way in which he learns at a later period to write, but is essentially completely in accord with it. Here, too, he makes no new inventions. First are drawn strokes and blurs without meaning; then certain strokes are imitated; then signs of sounds. These can not be at once combined into syllables, and even after the combination has been achieved and the written word can be made from the syllables it is not yet understood. Yet the child could see, even before the first instruction in writing or the first attempt at scribbling, every individual letter in the dimensions in which he writes it later. So, too, the speechless child hears every sound before he understands syllables and words, and he understands them before he can speak them. The child commonly learns reading before writing, and so understands the sign he is to write before he can write it. Yet the sign written by himself is often just as unintelligible to him as the word he himself speaks. The analogy is perfect.

If the first germs of words, after ideas have begun to become clear by means of keener perception, are once formed, then the child fashions them of his own effort, and this often with surprising distinctness; but in the majority of cases the words are mutilated. In the first category belongs the comparative hocher for hoeher in the sentence hocher bauen (build higher)! (in the third year uttered as a request when playing with building-stones). The understanding of the comparative is plainly manifest in this. When, therefore, the same child in his fifth year, to the improper question, "Whom do you like better, papa or mamma?" answers, "Papa and mamma," we should not infer a lack of that understanding, as many do (e. g., Heyfelder); but the decision is impossible to the child. Just so in the case of the question, "Would you rather have the apple or the pear?"

Other inventions of my child were the verb messen for "mit dem Messer schneiden" (to cut with the knife); schiffern, i. e., "das Schiff bewegen" (move the ship), for "rudern," (row). And the preference of the weak inflection on the part of all children is a proof that after the appropriation of a small number of words through imitation, independent—always logical—changes of formation are undertaken. Gegebt, gegeht, getrinkt (gived, goed, drinked), have never been heard by the child; but "gewebt, geweht, gewinkt" (as in English, waved, wafted, beckoned), have been known to him as models (or other formations corresponding to these). Yet this is by no means to say that every mutilation or transformation the child proposes is a copy after an erroneously selected model; rather the child's imagination has a wide field here and acts in manifold fashion, especially by combinations. "My teeth-roof pains me," said a boy who did not yet know the word "palate." Another in his fourth year called the road (Weg) the "go" (Gehe). A child of three years used the expression, "Just grow me" (wachs mich einmal) for "Just see how I have grown" (Sieh einmal wie ich gewachsen bin) (Lindner). Such creations of the childish faculty of combination, arising partly through blending, partly through transference, are collected in a neat pamphlet, "Zur Philosophie der Kindersprache," by Agathon Keber, 1868. The most of them, however, are from a later time of life than that here treated of. So it is with the two "heretical" utterances communicated by Roesch. A child said unterblatte (under-leaf) for "Oblate," because he saw the wafer (Oblate) slipped under the leaf of paper (Blatt); and he called the "American chair," "Herr-Decaner-chair," because somebody who was called "Herr Decan" used to sit in it. Here may be seen the endeavor to put into the acoustic impression not understood a meaning. These expressions are not inventions, but they are evidence of intellect. They can not, of course, appear in younger children without knowledge of words, because they are transformations of words.

On the other hand it is of the greatest importance for the understanding of the first stage of the use of words in their real significance, after the acquirement of them has once begun, to observe how many different ideas the child announces by one and the same verbal expression. Here are some examples: Tuhl (for Stuhl, chair) signifies—1. "My chair is gone"; 2. "The chair is broken"; 3. "I want to be lifted into the chair"; 4. "Here is a chair." The child (Steinthal's) says (in the twenty-second month), when he sees or hears a barking dog, bellt (barks), and thinks he has by that word designated the whole complex phenomenon, the sight-perception of the dog and of a particular dog, and the sound-perception; but he says bellt also when he merely hears the dog. No doubt the memory-image of the dog he has seen is then revived for him.

Through this manifold significance of a word, which is a substitute for a whole sentence, is exhibited a much higher activity of the intellect than appears in the mutilation and new formation of words having but one meaning to designate a sense-impression, for, although in the latter is manifested the union of impressions into perceptions and also of qualities into concepts, wherein an unconscious judgment is involved, yet a clear judgment is not necessarily connected with them. The union of concepts into conscious clear judgments is recognized rather in the formation of a sentence, no matter whether this is expressed by one word or by several words.

In connection with this an error must be corrected that is wide-spread. It consists in the assumption that all children begin to speak with nouns, and that these are followed by verbs. This is by no means the case. The child daily observed by me used an adjective for the first time in the twenty-third month in order to express a judgment, the first one expressed in the language of those about him. He said "hot" for "The milk is too hot." In general, the appropriation and employment of words for the first formation of sentences depends, in the first instance, upon the action of the adults in the company of the child. A good example of this is furnished by an observation of Lindner, whose daughter in her fourteenth month first begged with her hands for a piece of apple, upon which the word "apple" was distinctly pronounced to her. After she had eaten the apple she repeated the request, re-enforcing her gesture this time by the imitated sound appn, and her request was again granted. Evidently encouraged by her success, the child from that time on used appn for "eat, I want to eat," as a sign of her desire to eat in general, because those about her "accepted this signification and took the word stamped by her upon this concept for current coin, else it would very likely have been lost." This also confirms my statement (p. 85) that a child easily learns to speak with logical correctness with wrong words. He also speaks like the deaf-mute with logical correctness with quite a different arrangement of words from that of his speech of a later period. Thus the child just mentioned, in whom "the inclination to form sentences was manifest from the twenty-second month," said, "hat die Olga getrinkt," when she had drunk!

But every child learns at first not only the language of those in whose immediate daily companionship he grows up, but also at first the peculiarities of these persons. He imitates the accent, intonation, dialect, as well as the word, so that a Thuringian child may be surely distinguished from a Mecklenburg child even in the second and third year, and, at the same time, we may recognize the peculiarities of the speech of its mother or nurse, with whom it has most intercourse. This phenomenon, the persistence of dialects and of peculiarities of speech in single families, gives the impression, on a superficial observation, of being something inherited; whereas, in fact, nothing is inherited beyond the voice through inheritance of the organic peculiarities of the mechanism of phonation. For everything else completely disappears when a child learns to speak from his birth in a foreign community.

Hereditary we may, indeed, call the characteristic of humanity, speech; hereditary, also, is articulation in man, and the faculty of acquiring any articulate language is innate. But beyond this the tribal influence does not reach. If the possibility of learning to speak words phonetically is wanting because ear or tongue refuses, then another language comes in as a substitute—that of looks, gestures, writing, tactile images—then not Broca's center, but another one is generated. So that the question whether a speech-center already exists in the alalic child must be answered in the negative; the center is formed only when the child hears speech, and, if he does not hear speech, no center is developed. In this case the ganglionic cells of the posterior third of the third frontal convolution are otherwise employed, or they suffer atrophy. In learning to speak, on the contrary, there is a continuous development, first of the sound-center, then of the syllable-center, then of the word-center and the dictorium. The brain grows through its own activity.



CHAPTER XVIII.

FIRST SOUNDS AND BEGINNINGS OF SPEECH IN THE CASE OF A CHILD OBSERVED DAILY DURING HIS FIRST THREE YEARS.

The observations bearing upon the acquirement of speech recorded by me in the case of my boy from the day of his birth, the 23d of November, 1877, are here presented, so far as they appear worthy of being communicated, in chronological order. They are intended to serve as authenticated documents.

The points to which the attention is to be directed in these observations are determined by the organic conditions of the acquirement of speech, which have been treated previously. First, the expressive processes, next the impressive, last the central processes, claim the attention. (1) To the expressive beginnings of speech belongs the sum total of the inarticulate sounds—crying, whimpering, grunting, cooing, squealing, crowing, laughing, shouting (for joy), modulation of the voice, smacking, and many others, but also the silent movement of the tongue; further, articulation, especially before imitation begins; the formation of sound, and so the gradual perfecting of the vowels, aspirates, and consonants; at the same time the forming of syllables. The last is especially easy to follow in the babbling monologues of the infant, which are often very long. The reduplication of syllables, accentuation, and inflection, whispering, singing, etc., belong likewise here. (2) The impressive processes are discerned in the looks and gestures of the child as yet speechless; later, the ability to discriminate in regard to words and noises, and the connection of the ear with the speech-center, are discerned in the first imitations of sounds and in the repeating after others—i. e., in word-imitation. Here belong also the onomatopoetic attempts of children, which are simply a sort of imitation. Later, are added to these the answers to simple spoken questions, these answers being partly interjectional, partly articulate, joined into syllables, words, and then sentences. The understanding of words heard is announced especially by the first listening, by the association of certain movements with certain sound-impressions, and of motionless objects with other sound-impressions, before speaking begins. Hereby (3) the central processes are already shown to be in existence. The childish logic, especially induction from too few particulars, the mutilation of words reproduced, the wrong applications of expressions correctly repeated, the confounding of opposites in the verbal designation of concepts of the child's own formation, offer an abundance of noteworthy facts for the genesis of mind. Moreover, the memory for sounds and words, the imagination, especially in filling out, as well as the first acts of judging, the forming of propositions, questioning—all these are to be considered. As for the order in which the separate classes of words appear, the training in learning-by-heart, speculations as to which spoken word is first perfectly understood, to these matters I have paid less attention, for the reason that here the differences in the child's surroundings exert the greatest influence. My report must, in any event, as a rough draft of the history of the development of language in the child, be very imperfect. It, however, contains nothing but perfectly trustworthy matter of my own observation.

During the first weeks the child often cried long and vigorously from discomfort. If one were to try to represent by written vowels the screaming sounds, these would most nearly resemble, in the majority of cases, a short u (oo in book), with a very quickly following prolonged ae (ai in fair); thus, uae, uae, uae, uae, were the first sounds that may be approximately expressed. They were uttered after the lapse of five months exactly as at the beginning, only more vigorously. All the other vowel-sounds were at first undefined.

Notwithstanding this uniformity in the vowel-sounds, the sounds of the voice are so varied, even within the first five weeks, that it may be told with certainty from these alone whether the child feels hunger or pain or pleasure. Screaming with the eyes firmly closed in hunger, whimpering in slight indisposition, laughing at bright objects in motion, the peculiar grunting sounds which at a later period are joined with abdominal pressure and with lively arm-movements, as the announcement of completed digestion and of wetness (retained for the first of these states even into the seventeenth month), are manifold acoustic expressions of vitality, and are to be looked upon as the first forerunners of future oral communication, in contrast with the loud-sounding reflex movements of sneezing and of hiccough, and with the infrequent snoring, snuffling (in sucking), and other loud expirations observed in the first days, which have just as little linguistic value as have coughing and the later clearing of the throat.

The voice is very powerful as early as the sixth day, especially when it announces feelings of discomfort. Screaming is much more frequent, persistent, and vigorous also when diluted cow's milk is given instead of that from the breast. If one occupies himself longer than usual with the infant (in the first two months), the child is afterward more inclined to cry, and cries then (as in the case of hunger) quite differently from what he does when giving notice of something unpleasant—e. g., wetness. Directly upon his being made dry, the crying ceases, as now a certain contentment is attained. On the other hand, the inclination to cry serves very early (certainly from the tenth week on) as a sign of well-being (or increase in the growth of the muscles). At least a prolonged silence at this season is wont to be connected with slight ailment. But it is to be remarked that during the whole period no serious illness, lasting more than one day, occurred.

On the forty-third day I heard the first consonant. The child, in a most comfortable posture, uttering all sorts of obscure sounds, said once distinctly am-ma. Of vowels, ao was likewise heard on that day. But, on the following day, the child surprised me and others by the syllables, spoken with perfect distinctness, ta-hu.

On the forty-sixth day, in the otherwise unintelligible babble of the infant, I heard, once each, goe (oe nearly like i in bird), oeroe, and, five days later, ara.

In the eighth and ninth weeks, the two utterances, oerroe, arra, became frequent, the oe and a being pure and the r uvular.

The syllable ma I heard by itself (it was during his crying) for the first time on the sixty-fourth day. But on the following day was sounded, during persistent, loud crying, often and distinctly (it returned in like manner months after), nei, nei, nei, and once, during his babbling, a-omb.

On the day after, distinctly, once each, la, grei, aho, and, besides, ma again.

On the sixty-ninth day, the child, when hungry, uttered repeatedly and very distinctly, moemm and ngoe.

Of the syllables earlier spoken, only oerroe is distinctly repeated in the tenth week. On the seventy-first day, the child being in the most comfortable condition, there comes the new combination, ra-a-ao, and, five days later, in a hungry and uncomfortable mood, nae, and then nāi-n.

The manifest sign of contentment was very distinct (on the seventy-eighth day): habu, and likewise in the twelfth week a-i and uāo, as well as ae-o-a, alternating with ae-a-a, and o-ae-oe.

It now became more and more difficult to represent by letters the sounds, already more varied, and even to distinguish the vowels and repeat them accurately. The child cries a good deal, as if to exercise his respiratory muscles. To the sounds uttered while the child is lying comfortably are added in the fourteenth week ntoe, ha. The last was given with an unusually loud cry, with distinct aspiration of the h, though with no indication that the child felt any particular pleasure. At this period I heard besides repeatedly loe, na, the latter along with screaming at disagreeable impressions more and more frequently and distinctly; in the fifteenth week, nannana, nā-nā, nanna in refusal. On the other hand, the earlier favorite oerroe has not been heard at all for some weeks.

Screaming while waiting for his food to be prepared (milk and water) or for the nurse, who had not sufficient nourishment for the child, is marked, in the sixteenth week—as is also screaming on account of unpleasant feelings—in general by predominance of the vowels, ae-ŭ, ae-ŭ ae, ā-ŭ, ā-ŭ, ŭ-ae, ŭ-ae, ū-ū-ā-oe, but meantime is heard amme-a, and as a sign of special discomfort the persistent ill-sounding ūă-ūă-ūă-ūă (ŭ = Eng. [=oo]).

Screaming in the first five months expresses itself in the main by the vowels u, ae, oe, a, with ue and o occurring more seldom, and without other consonants, for the most part, than m.

In the fifth month no new consonants were developed except k; but a merely passive goe, koe, aggeggĕkoe, the last more rarely than the first, was heard with perfect distinctness during the child's yawning.

While in this case the g-sound originates passively, it was produced, in connection with oe, evidently by the position of the tongue, when the child was in a contented frame, as happens in nursing; oegoe was heard in the twenty-second week, as well as ma-oe-ĕ, hă, ā, ho-ich. The i here appeared more distinct than in the third month. The soft ch, which sounded like the g in "Honig," was likewise quite distinct.

About this time began the amusing loud "crowing" of the child, an unmistakable expression of pleasure. The strong aspirate sound ha, and this sound united with the labial r in brrr-ha; corresponding in force to the voice, which had become exceptionally powerful, must likewise be regarded as expressions of pleasure. So with the sounds aja, oerrgoe, ā-ā-i-ŏ-ā, which the child toward the end of the first half-year utters as if for his own gratification as he lies in comfort. With these belongs also the frequently repeated "eu" of the French "heure," and the "oeu" of the French "coeur," which is not found in the German language, also the primitive sounds ae and oe (German). The lips contract very regularly, and are protruded equally in the transition from ae to oe. I heard also ijae cried out by the child in very gay mood. In the babbling and crowing continued often for a long time without interruption, consonants are seldom uttered, pure vowels, with the exception of a, less often than ae and oe; i and u are especially rare.

When the child lies on his back, he moves his arms and legs in a lively manner even without any external provocation. He contracts and expands all the muscles he can command, among these especially the muscles of the larynx, of the tongue, and of the aperture of the mouth. In the various movements of the tongue made at random it often happens that the mouth is partly or entirely closed. Then the current of air that issues forth in breathing bursts the barrier and thus arise many sounds, among them some that do not exist in the German language, e. g., frequently and distinctly, by means of labio-lingual stoppage, a consonant-sound between p and t or between b and d, in the production of which the child takes pleasure, as he does also in the labial brr and m. By far the greater part of the consonant-sounds produced by the exercises of the tongue and lips can not be represented in print; just as the more prolonged and more manifold movements of the extremities, movements made by the child when he has eaten his fill, and is not sleepy and is left to himself, can not be drawn or described. It is noteworthy that all the utterances of sound are expiratory. I have not once observed an attempt to form sounds while drawing in the breath.

In the seventh month the child at one time screamed piercingly, in very high tones, from pain. When hungry and desiring milk, he said with perfect distinctness, mae, ae, ŭae, ŭaeĕ; when contented he would say oerroe too, as at an earlier period. The screaming was sometimes kept up with great vigor until the child began to be hoarse, in case his desire, e. g., to leave his bed, was not granted. When the child screams with hunger, he draws the tongue back, shortens it and thereby broadens it, making loud expirations with longer or shorter intervals. In pain, on the other hand, the screaming is uninterrupted and the tones are higher than in any other screaming. During the screaming I heard the rare l distinctly in the syllable lae. The vowels ŭ-ā-ŭ-i-i also appeared distinctly, all as if coming by accident, and not often pure. The t also was seldom heard; f, s, sch, st, sp, sm, ts, ks, w, not once yet; on the other hand, b, d, m, n, r, often; g, h, more seldom; k, only in yawning; p, but very rarely, both in screaming and in the child's babble to himself or in response to friendly address.

In the eighth month the screaming sounds were for the most part different from what they had been; the disagreeable screaming no longer so intense and prolonged, from the time that the food of the child consisted exclusively of pap (Kindermehl) and water. Single vowels, like u and ae, are very often not to be heard pure. Often the child does not move the lips at all when with mouth shut he lifts and drops the larynx, and with eager desire for the pap howls; or coos like a dove, or grunts. The prattling monologues become longer when the child is alone, lying comfortably in bed. But definite consonants can only with difficulty be distinguished in them, with the exception of r in the oerroe, which still continues to be uttered, though rarely and unintentionally. Once the child, while in the bath, cried out as if yawning, hā-upp, and frequently, when merry, a-[(ei], a-[(au], ă-h[(au]-ă, hoerroe. When he babbles contentedly in this manner, he moves the tongue quickly, both symmetrically, e. g., raising the edges equally, and asymmetrically, thrusting it forward to right or left. He often also puts out the tongue between the lips and draws it back during expiration, producing thereby the before-mentioned labio-lingual explosive sounds. I also heard ntĕ-oe, mi-ja, mija (j like Eng. y) and once distinctly oŭāĕi.

In the ninth month it is still difficult to recognize definite syllables among the more varied utterances of sound. But the voice, often indeed very loud and inarticulate, is already more surely modulated as the expression of psychical states. When the child, e. g., desires a new, especially a bright object, he not only stretches both arms in the direction of it, indicating the direction by his gaze, but also makes known, by the same sound he makes before taking his food, that he wants it. This complex combination of movements of eye, larynx, tongue, lips, and arm-muscles appears now more and more; and we can recognize in his screaming the desire for a change of position, discomfort (arising from wet, heat, cold), anger, and pain. The last is announced by screaming with the mouth in the form of a square and by higher pitch. But delight at a friendly expression of face also expresses itself by high crowing sounds, only these are not so high and are not continued long. Violent stretchings of arms and legs accompany (in the thirty-fourth week first) the joyous utterance. Coughing, almost a clearing of the throat, is very rare. Articulate utterances of pleasure, e. g., at music, are mae-mae, aem-mae, mae.

Meantime the lip-movements of the m were made without the utterance of sound, as if the child had perceived the difference. Other expressions of sound without assignable cause are ā-au ā-ā, ā-ŏ, a-u-au, na-na, the latter not with the tone of denial as formerly, and often repeated rapidly in succession. As separate utterances in comfortable mood, besides oerroe came apa, ga au-ă, acha.

The tenth month is marked by the increasing distinctness of the syllables in the monologues, which are more varied, louder, and more prolonged when the child is left to himself than when any one tries to entertain him. Of new syllables are to be noted ndaeĕ, bāe-bāe, ba ell, arroe.

From the forty-second week on, especially the syllables mae and pappa, tatta, appapa, babba, taetae, pa, are frequently uttered, and the uvular rrrr, rrra, are repeated unweariedly. The attempts to make the child repeat syllables pronounced to him, even such syllables as he has before spoken of his own accord, all fail. In place of tatta he says, in the most favorable instance, tae or ata; but even here there is progress, for in the previous month even these hints at imitating or even responding to sound were almost entirely lacking.

In the eleventh month some syllables emphatically pronounced to the child were for the first time correctly repeated. I said "ada" several times, and the attentive child, after some ineffectual movements of the lips, repeated correctly ada, which he had for that matter often said of his own accord long before. But this single repetition was so decided that I was convinced that the sound-imitation was intentional. It was the first unquestionable sound-imitation. It took place on the three hundred and twenty-ninth day. The same day when I said "mamma," the response was nanna. In general, it often happens, when something is said for imitation, and the child observes attentively my lips, that evident attempts are made at imitation; but for the most part something different makes its appearance, or else a silent movement of the lips.

In the forty-fifth week everything said to the child, in case it received his attention, was responded to with movements of lips and tongue, which gave the impression of being made at random and of serving rather for diversion.

Further, at this period the child begins during his long monologues to whisper. He produces sounds in abundance, varying in force, pitch, and timbre, as if he were speaking an unknown tongue; and some single syllables may gradually be more easily distinguished, although the corresponding positions of the mouth pass into one another, sometimes quite gradually, sometimes rapidly. The following special cases I was able to establish by means of numerous observations:

In crying rrra, there is a vibration on both sides of the edges of the tongue, which is bent to a half-cylinder with the ridge upward. In this way the child produces three kinds of r-sounds—the labial, the uvular, and this bilateral-lingual.

New syllables of this period are ta-h[(ee], dann-tee, [(aa]-n[(ee], ngae, tai, bae, dall, at-tall, kamm, akkee, prai-jer, tra, ā-h[(ee]. Among them tra and pra are noteworthy as the first combination of t and p with r. The surprising combinations attall and akkee and praijer, which made their appearance singly without any occasion that could be noticed, like others, are probably the first attempts to reproduce the child's own name (Axel Preyer) from memory. Of earlier sounds, syllables, and combinations of these, the following are especially frequent: Mammam, apapa, oerroe, papa, tata, tatta, n[(aa], rrra, pata, mmm, nă, ā, ae, [(au], anna, attapa, dadada, ja, ja-ja, eja, jae. The last syllables are distinguished by the distinct e, which is now more frequent.

All the pains taken to represent a babbling monologue perfectly by letters were fruitless, because these distinct and oft-repeated syllables alternated with indistinct loud and soft ones. Still, on the whole, of the consonants the most frequent at this period are b, p, t, d, m, n, and the new r; l, g, k, not rare. Of vowels the a has a decided preponderance. Both u and o are rare; i very rare. Yet a vowel is not repeated, either by itself or in a syllable, more than five times in succession without an interval. Commonly it is twice or three times. I have also noticed that the mechanical repetition of the same syllable, e. g., papapa, occurs far more often than the alternation of a distinctly spoken syllable with, another distinctly spoken one, like pata. In the mean time it is certain that the child during his various movements of lips and tongue, along with contraction and expansion of the opening of the mouth, readily starts with surprise when he notices such a change of acoustic effect. It seems as if he were himself taking pleasure in practicing regularly all sorts of symmetrical and asymmetrical positions of the mouth, sometimes in silence, sometimes with loud voice, then again with soft voice. In the combinations of syllables, moreover, palpable accentuation somewhat like this, appapapa atatata, is by no means frequent. The surprisingly often repeated dadada has generally no accent.

With regard to the question whether in this period, especially important for the development of the apparatus of speech, any articulate utterance of sound stands in firm association with an idea, I have observed the child under the most varied circumstances possible without disturbing him; but I have ascertained only one such case with certainty. The atta, hoedda, hatta, hatai, showed itself to be associated with the perception that something disappeared, for it was uttered when some one left the room, when the light was extinguished, and the like; also, to be sure, sometimes when such remarkable changes were not discoverable. Thus, the eleventh month ends without any other indubitable firm association of articulation and idea.

In the next four weeks, up to the end of the first year of life, there was no progress in this respect to record; but, from this time on, an eager desire—e. g., for a biscuit seen, but out of reach—was regularly announced by ae-na, ae-nananana, uttered loudly and with an expression of indescribable longing.

The attempts at imitation, too, are somewhat more successful, especially the attention is more strained. When, e. g., in the fifty-first week, I sang something for the child, he gazed fixedly more than a minute, with immovable countenance, without winking, at my mouth, and then moved his own tongue. Correct repetition of a syllable pronounced to him is, however, very rare. When I laugh, and the child observes it, he laughs likewise, and then crows, with strong abdominal pressure. This same loud expression of joy is exhibited when the child unexpectedly sees his parents at a distance. This peculiar pressure, with strong expiration, is in general associated with feelings of pleasure. The child almost seems to delight in the discovery of his own abdominal pressure, when he produces by means of it the very high crowing sounds with the vowel i or a genuine grunt.

Of articulate sounds, syllables, and combinations, made without suggestion from others in the twelfth month, I have caught the following particularly with accuracy: haja, jajajajaja, aja, njaja, nain-hopp, ha-a, pa-a, dēwaer, han-na, moemma, allda, alldai, apa-u-a, gaegae, ka, ladn. Besides, the earlier atta variously modified; no longer dada.

More important than such almost meaningless sound-formations, among which, by the way, appears for the first time w is the now awakened ability to discriminate between words heard. The child turns around when his name is spoken in a loud voice; he does this, it is true, at other loud sounds also, but then with a different expression. When he hears a new tone, a new noise, he is surprised, opens his eyes wide, and holds his mouth open, without moving.

By frequent repetition of the words, "Give the hand," with the holding out of the hand, I have brought the child, in the fifty-second week, to the point of obeying this command of himself—a sure proof that he distinguishes words heard. Another child did the same thing in the seventh month. In this we can not fail to see the beginning of communication by means of ordinary language, but this remained a one-sided affair till past the third half-year, the child being simply receptive. During this whole period, moreover, from birth on, special sounds, particularly "sch (Eng., sh), ss, st, pst," just the ones not produced by the child, had a remarkable effect of a quieting character. If the child heard them when he was screaming, he became quiet, as when he heard singing or instrumental music.

In the first weeks of the second year of life, the child behaves just as awkwardly as ever in regard to saying anything that is said to him, but his attention has become more lively. When anything is said to him for him to say—e. g., papa, mama, atta, tatta—he looks at the speaker with eyes wide open and mouth half open, moves the tongue and the lips, often very slightly, often vigorously, but can not at the same time make his voice heard, or else he says, frequently with an effort of abdominal pressure, attai. Earlier, even in the forty-fifth week, he had behaved in much the same way, but to the word "papa," pronounced to him, he had responded rrra. Once only, I remember, papa was repeated correctly, in a faint tone, on the three hundred and sixty-ninth day, almost as by one in a dream. With this exception, no word could be repeated on command, notwithstanding the fact that the faculty of imitation was already active in another department. The syllables most frequently uttered at this stage were nja, njan, dada, atta, mama, papai, attai, na-na-na, hatta, meenĕ-meenĕ-meenĕ, moemm, moemma, ao-u.

Of these syllables, na-na regularly denotes a desire, and the arms are stretched out in connection with it; mama is referred to the mother perhaps in the fifty-fourth week, on account of the pleasure she shows at the utterance of these syllables, but they are also repeated mechanically without any reference to her; atta is uttered now and then at going away, but at other times also. His joy—e. g., at recognizing his mother at a distance—the child expresses by crowing sounds, which have become stronger and higher than they were, but which, can not be clearly designated; the nearest approach to a representation of them is ăhijă. Affirmation and negation may already be recognized by the tone of voice alone. The signification of the cooing and the grunting sounds remains the same. The former indicates desire of food; the latter the need of relieving the bowels. As if to exercise the vocal cords, extraordinarily high tones are now produced, which may be regarded as signs of pleasure in his own power. An imperfect language has thus already been formed imperceptibly, although no single object is as yet designated by a sound assigned to it alone. The articulation has made progress, for on the three hundred and sixty-eighth day appeared the first distinct s, in the syllable ssi; quite incidentally, to be sure.

The most important advance consists in the now awakened understanding of spoken words. The ability to learn, or the capability of being trained, has emerged almost as if it had come in a night.

For it did not require frequent repetition of the question, "How tall is the child?" along with holding up his arms, in order to make him execute this movement every time that he heard the words, "Wie gross?" ("How tall?") or "ooss," nay, even merely "oo." It was easy, too, to induce him to take an ivory ring, lying before him attached to a thread, into his hand, and reach it to me prettily when I held out my hand and said, "Where is the ring?" and, after it had been grasped, said, "Give." In the same way, the child holds the biscuit, which he is carrying to his mouth, to the lips of the person who says pleasantly to him, "Give"; and he has learned to move his head sidewise hither and thither when he hears "No, no." If we say to him, when he wants food or an object he has seen, "Bitte, bitte" (say "Please"), he puts his hands together in a begging attitude, a thing which seemed at first somewhat hard for him to learn. Finally, he had at this time been taught to respond to the question, "Where is the little rogue?" by touching the side of his head with his hand (a movement he had often made of himself before).

From this it appears beyond a doubt that now (rather late in comparison with other children) the association of words heard with certain movements is established, inasmuch as upon acoustic impressions—at least upon combined impressions of hearing and of sight, which are repeated in like fashion—like movements follow, and indeed follow invariably with the expression of great satisfaction on the countenance. Yet this connection between the sensorium and the motorium is not yet stable, for there follows not seldom upon a command distinctly uttered, and without doubt correctly understood, the wrong movement—paramimy. Upon the question, "How tall?" the hands are put together for "Please," and the like. Once when I said, "How tall?" the child raised his arms a moment, then struck himself on the temples, and thereupon put his hands together, as if "rogue," and then "please," had been said to him. All three movements followed with the utmost swiftness, while the expression of face was that of a person confused, with wavering look. Evidently the child had forgotten which movement belonged with the "tall," and performed all the three tricks he had learned, confounding them one with another. This confounding of arm-raising, head-shaking, giving of the ring, putting the hands together, touching the head, is frequent. It is also to be noticed that some one of these five tricks is almost invariably performed by the child when some new command is given to him that he does not understand, as he perceives that something is required of him—the first conscious act of obedience, as yet imperfect.

In the fourteenth month there was no great increase in the number of independent utterances of sound that can be represented by syllables of the German language. Surprising visual impressions, like the brilliant Christmas-tree, and the observation of new objects, drew from the pleasurably excited child, without his having touched anything, almost the same sounds that he at other times made when in discontented mood, ŭae, mŭae, only softer; moemoe and mama, and also papa are frequent expressions of pleasure. When the child is taken away, he often says ta-ta loudly, also, atta in a whisper. There can no longer be a doubt that in these syllables is now expressed simply the idea of "going." The labial brrr, the so-called "coachman's R," was practiced by the child, of his own accord, with special eagerness, and indeed was soon pronounced so cleverly that educated adults can not produce it in such purity and especially with so prolonged an utterance. The only new word is dakku and daggn, which is often uttered pleasantly with astonishing rapidity, in moments of enjoyment, e. g., when the child is eating food that tastes good. But it is also uttered so often without any assignable occasion, that a definite meaning can hardly be attributed to it, unless it be that of satisfaction. For it is never heard when the least thing of a disagreeable sort has happened to the child. The probability is obvious that we have here a case of imitation of the "Thanks" (Danke) which he has not seldom heard. But the modifications taggn, attagn, attatn, pass over into the word, undoubtedly the original favorite, tai, atai.

Among all the indistinct and distinct sounds of the babbling monologues, no inspiratory ones appeared at this time either; but such did make their appearance now and then, in a passive manner, in swallowing and in the coughing that followed.

I spent much time in trying to get the child to repeat vowels and syllables pronounced to him, but always without special success. When I said plainly to him "pa-pa-pa," he answered loudly ta-tai, or with manifest effort and a vigorous straining, t-tai, k-tai, at-tai, hattai, and the same when "ma-ma" was said for him by any one, no matter whom. He also moved lips and tongue often, as if trying to get the sound in various ways; as if the will of the child, as he attentively observed the mouth of the speaker, were present, but not the ability to reproduce the sound-impression. Evidently he is taking pains to repeat what he has heard; and he laughs at the unsuccessful effort, if others laugh over it. The earliest success is with the repetition of the vowels "a-u-o," but this is irregular and inaccurate.

In contrast with these halting performances stands the precise, parrot-like repetition of such syllables as the child had uttered of his own accord, and which I had immediately after pronounced to him. Thus attai, tai, atta, were often easily and correctly repeated, but, strangely enough, frequently in a whisper. The ae-ĕ, ae-oe, ae-ĕ, accompanied by oscillatory movements of the hand, when imitated directly by me was also produced again; in like manner, regularly, the dakkn, but this course did not succeed in the case of other primitive syllables or words, even under the most favorable circumstances: here it is to be borne in mind that the last-named utterances were precisely the most frequent at this period. When he was requested with emphasis to say papa, mama, tata, he would bring out one of the tricks he had been taught in the previous month; among others, that of moving the head to one side and the other as if in negation; but this it could not be, for this significance of the gesture was wholly unknown to him at that time. Rather had the child received the impression from my voice that he was to do something that he was bidden, and he did what was easy to him just at the moment, "mechanically," without knowing which of the movements that he had learned was required (cf. p. 116).

In regard to the understanding of words heard, several points of progress are to be noted; above all a change of place in consequence of the question, "Where is your clothes-press?" The child, standing erect, being held by the hand, at these words turns his head and his gaze toward the clothes-press, draws the person holding him through the large room by the hand, although he can not walk a step alone, and then opens the press without assistance. Here, at the beginning of the fourteenth month, is the idea of a definite stationary object associated with a sound heard, and so strongly that it is able to produce an independent act of locomotion, the first one; for, although before this the clothes-press had often been named and shown, the going to it is still the child's own performance.

It is now a matter of common occurrence that other words heard have also a definite relation to objects seen. The questions, "Where is papa? mamma? the light?" are invariably answered correctly, after brief deliberation, by turning the head (at the word "light," occasionally since the ninth month) and the gaze in the proper direction, and by lifting the right arm, often also the left, to point, the fingers of the outstretched hand being at the same time generally spread out. In the previous month, only the association of the word mama with the appearance of the mother was established. The following are now added to the movements executed upon hearing certain words. The child likes to beat with his hands upon the table at which he is sitting. I said to him, "Play the piano," and made the movement after him. Afterward, when I merely said the word "piano" to the child (who was at the time quiet), without moving my hands, he considered for a few seconds, and then beat again with his hands on the table. Thus the recollection of the sound was sufficient to bring out the movement. Further, the child had accustomed himself, of his own accord, to give a regular snort, contracting the nostrils, pursing up the mouth, and breathing out through the nose. If now any one spoke to him of the "nose," this snorting was sure to be made. The word put the centro-motors into a state of excitement. The same is true of the command "Give!" since the child reaches out the object he is holding or is about to take hold of, in case any one puts out the hand or the lips to him. Some weeks ago this took place only with the ring and biscuit; now the word "give" has the same effect with any object capable of being grasped, but it operates almost like a reflex stimulus, "mechanically," without its being even once the case that the act of giving is a purely voluntary act or even occasioned by sympathy.

In these already learned co-ordinated movements made upon hearing the words "Please, How tall? rogue! no! piano! ring! give!" all of which are now executed with shorter intervals of deliberation as if by a well-trained animal, there is in general absolutely no deeper understanding present than that to this and the other sound-impression belong this and the other movement. By means of daily repetition of both, the time required for the production of the movement after the excitement of the auditory nerve becomes less and less, the doubt as to which movement follows this or that sound withdrawing more and more. At last the responsive movements followed without any remarkable strain of attention. They became habitual.

Now and then, however, the movements are still confounded. Upon "no! no!" follows the touching of the head; upon "please," the shaking of the head; upon "rogue," the putting of the hands together, etc. These errors become frequent when a new impression diverts the attention. They become more and more rare through repetition of the right movements made for the child to see and through guiding the limbs of the child. A further evidence of the increased ability to learn toward the end of the month is the fact that the hands are raised in the attitude of begging not only at the command "Please," but also at the question, "How does the good child behave?" Thus, the experience is beginning to become a conscious one that, in order to obtain anything, the begging attitude is useful.

The fifteenth month brought no new definite independent utterances of sound with the exception of wa. Sensations and emotions, however, are indicated more and more definitely and variously by sounds that are inarticulate and sometimes unintelligible. Thus, astonishment is expressed by hā-ā ĕā-ĕ; joy by vigorous crowing in very high tones and more prolonged than before; further, very strong desire by repeated haeoe, hae-ĕ; pain, impatience, by screaming in vowels which pass over into one another.

The only word that is unquestionably used of the child's own motion to indicate a class of perceptions is still atta, ha-atta, which during the following month also is uttered softly, for the most part, on going out, and which signifies "away" or "gone" (weg), and still continues to be used also as it was in the eleventh month, when a light is dimmed (by a lamp-shade). Beyond this no syllable can be named that marked the dawn of mental independence, none that testified to the voluntary use of articulate sounds for the purpose of announcing perceptions. For the brrr, the frequent dakkn, mamam, moemoe, and papap, are without significance in the monologues. Even the saying of atta, with turning of the head toward the person going away, has acquired the meaning of "away" (fort) only through being repeatedly said to the child upon his being carried out; but no one said the word when the lamp was extinguished. Here has been in existence for some time not only the formation of the concept, but also the designation of the concept by syllables. The similarity in the very different phenomena of going away and of the dimming of the light, viz., the disappearance of a visual impression, was not only discovered, but was named by the child entirely independently in the eleventh month, and has kept its name up to the present time. He has many impressions; he perceives, he unites qualities to make concepts. This he has been doing for a long time without words; but only in this one instance does the child express one of his concepts in language after a particular instance had been thus named for him, and then the word he uses is one not belonging to his later language, but one that belongs to all children the world over.

In regard to the repeating of syllables pronounced to him a marked advance is noticeable. The child can not, indeed, by any means repeat na and pa and o or e and be. He answers a, tai, ta-a-o-oe-a, and practices all sorts of tongue-and lip-exercises. But the other syllables uttered by him, especially anna, tai, dakkn, a, he says in response to any one who speaks them distinctly to him, and he gives them easily and correctly in parrot fashion. If a new word is said to him, e. g., "kalt" (cold), which he can not repeat, he becomes vexed, turns away his head, and screams, too, sometimes. I have been able to introduce into his vocabulary only one new word. In the sixty-third week he seized a biscuit that had been dipped in hot water, let it fall, drew down the corners of his mouth, and began to cry. Then I said "heiss" (hot), whereupon the child, speedily quieted, repeated hai and hai-s (with a just discernible s). Three days later the same experiment was made. After this the hais, haisses, with distinct s, was often heard without any occasion. Some days later I wanted him to say "hand." The child observed my mouth closely, took manifest pains, but produced only ha-iss, then very distinctly hass with sharp ss, and ha-ith, hadith, with the English th; at another time distinctly ha-its. Thus, at a time when ts = z can not be repeated, there exists the possibility of pronouncing z. When I said to him "warm," ass was pronounced with an effort and distinctly, although the syllable wa belonged to the child's stock of words. This was evidently a recollection of the previous attempts to repeat "heiss" and "hand."

Corresponding to this inability to say words after another's utterance of them is an articulation as yet very imperfect. Still, there is indication of progress in the distinctness of the s, the frequent English th with the thrusting out of the tip of the tongue between the incisors, the w, which now first appears often, as well as in the smacking first heard in the sixty-fifth week (in contented mood). The tongue is, when the child is awake, more than other muscles that in the adult are subject to cerebral volition, almost always in motion even when the child is silent. It is in various ways partly contracted, extended, bent. The lateral bending of the edges of the tongue downward and the turning back of the tip of the tongue (from left to right) so that the lower surface lies upward, are not easily imitated by adults. The mobility of my child's tongue is at any rate much greater than that of my tongue, notwithstanding the fact that, in consequence of varied practice from an early period in rapid speaking, the most difficult performances in rapid speaking are still easily executed by mine. The tongue is unquestionably the child's favorite plaything. One might almost speak of a lingual delirium in his case, as in that of the insane, when he pours forth all sorts of disconnected utterances, articulate and inarticulate, in confusion; and yet I often saw his tongue affected with fibrillar contractions as if the mastery of the hypoglossus were not as yet complete. Quite similar fibrillar movements seem to be made by the tongue in bulbar paralysis, and in the case of dogs and guinea-pigs whose hypoglossus has been severed.