The whole life treatment had been wrong because of its mechanical nature. He had found himself without the strength to manipulate the machine, and had consequently resorted to hand massage. When tired he would sit for hours, concentrating his mind upon the desire that the freak would awaken--would see, hear, taste, smell, or feel. Then he would resume the massage. It worked. The creature opened its eyes one day about a week back and moved its limbs. With the wakening of the motor nerves came a correlative wakening of the sensory and optic nerves. He could see and feel. But the sensations were too much for him and, like a new-born infant, he set up the loud, discordant wailing I had heard. A little further treatment brought to life the sense of hearing, and after a few simple experiments it was proved that he could taste and smell. I went up and inspected the baby. He lay on his cot, dressed in dungaree jumper and overalls, twiddling his toes and fingers, and sticking out his tongue at the ceiling; but at the sight of me he set up a roar that drove us out into the open. He could certainly "take notice." "His lungs are all right," I said. "He'll make a good bo'sun's mate when he grows up. Think he'll start growing now?" "Oh, no," said Dartmoor seriously. "He's got his growth. But we are teaching him to walk, and we must teach him to talk. His intelligence and memory will come with the accumulation of perceptions." "He will talk soon," said the old missionary hopefully. "He is very imitative. This morning he repeated 'Now I lay,' but could go no farther. His first speech must be prayer, to give thanks for his rescue from darkness." "He'll learn to swear," I said unsympathetically, "if I catch him around my pearls. Think he'll be an idiot, Dartmoor? Has he a soul after all these years of unconsciousness?" "He has always possessed a subconscious mind," said Dartmoor didactically, "and now has the beginning of consciousness. But if he has a soul, depend upon it, it is my soul. I brought him to life, and he will feel what I feel and do what I do to the extent of his power. "Why, that is proved now. I can quiet him by a word, or even a fixed thought of disapproval. He smiles or laughs when I do. I was frightened by a shark yesterday--just a momentary shock--but his wailings were pitiable. Yet he was out of sight of me." "Well, all this is beyond me," I said. "But now that you've got him alive what will you do with him? Take him back to the coast and exhibit him? He'd make a fine dime-museum star." "Nothing so cheap. I do not care to take him back until I have fully demonstrated my theory. But, in his development he will need more than my care and Mr. Pfeffer's. He needs the tender ministrations of a mother. A woman's instinct alone can tell when to punish and when to reward. "I want you to go back home, captain, and bring Ella to me, with her mother. Mr. Pfeffer can marry us, and then you can take the mother back."