I have had the opportunity of questioning a blind and deaf young man whose life-history offers a striking contrast to that of Laura Bridgman, and illustrates with all the force of an experimental demonstration the critical educational importance of the early years of life. He was, at the time of my questioning him, twenty-three years of age, and was earning a comfortable living as a broom-maker. He had an active interest in the affairs of the world, and disliked to be considered in any way peculiar. His eyesight began to fail him in early childhood; and in his fifth year the sight of one eye was entirely lost, while that of the other was very poor. After a less gradual loss of hearing, he became completely deaf in his ninth year. At the age of twelve he was (practically) totally blind, deaf, and nearly mute. The small remnant of articulating power has been cultivated; and those who are accustomed to it can understand his spoken language. He also communicates as Laura Bridgman did, and has a further advantage over her in possessing a very acute sense of smell. He remembers the world of sight and hearing perfectly, and in a little sketch of his life which he wrote for me vividly describes the sights and sounds of his play-days. He usually dreams of seeing and hearing, though the experiences of his present existence also enter into his dreams. Some of his dreams relate to flowers which he smelled and saw; he dreamt of being upset in a boat; shortly after his confirmation he dreamt of seeing God. When he dreams of making brooms, his dream is entirely in terms of motion and feeling, not of sight. His history thus strongly emphasizes the importance which a variety of evidence attributes to the period of childhood, and perhaps especially to that from the third to the seventh year.