If you give me three days of light

Chapter 11 A Trip to Boston

If the arrival of Mrs. Sullivan was the first event in my life, the visit to Boston in May 1888 was the second.From the various preparations before departure, to the journey with teachers and mothers, what I saw and heard during the journey, and finally arrived in Boston, it seems like yesterday, and I still remember it vividly in retrospect.

Compared with the trip to Baltimore two years ago, the trip to Bistone has its own uniqueness.Because at this time, I am no longer the little rascal who was easily excited and couldn't sit still for a while, running around in the car.I sat quietly beside Miss Sullivan and listened intently to her description of what I saw outside the car window: the beautiful Tennessee River, the endless cotton field, the rolling hills in the distance, the green forest and the train Black people swarmed after the pit stop.They came to the window of each car, selling sweet candy and popcorn.

My big, shabby rag doll, Lancie, was sitting across from me, and I dressed her in a new gingham coat and crumpled sun hat, and those bright The glass bead eyes are always watching me.Sometimes, when Mrs. Sullivan was speaking plainly, I thought of Lancie, but most of the time I didn't take care of her, and when I held her in my arms, I comforted myself that she was fast asleep.

This is probably the last time I will hold Lanxie.When she arrived in Boston, she was a horrible sight. She was covered in mud. This was my masterpiece. I forced her to eat mud pie in the car. She refused to eat it, but I insisted on letting her swallow it. covered in mud.When the laundress at the Perkins School for the Blind saw how dirty the doll was, she took it secretly and took a bath.But my poor Lanxie has been tortured to such an extent by me that she becomes a mess of lint after washing with water.If it hadn't been glaring at me with resentment from its two beaded eyes, I'm not sure it's my Rancie.

The train finally pulled into Boston Station, as if a beautiful fairy tale has become a reality, but "ancient times" has become "now", and "a place far, far away" is "stepped under foot".

When I first arrived at the Perkins School for the Blind, I made friends with the blind children there.I was so happy when I learned they could sign language, it was such an exciting thing to finally be able to talk to other kids in my own language!Because before this, I have always been like a foreigner, and I have to use a translator to communicate with others.And here—in the Perkins School for the Blind, all the children speak the sign language invented by Dr. Hao. I finally returned to my own country, where I can express and communicate as much as I want.

After a period of contact, I realized that these new friends of mine live in a dark world just like me.I know I can't see it, but I never thought that those lively and lovely friends who jump around me can't see it either. When they put their hands on my hands and talk to me, touch and read with their hands, I still remember the amazement and pain I felt.Although they have already told me, and I also know my physical defects, but I have always vaguely thought that since they can hear, they must be able to see, but they are as dark as I am, which makes me feel Very surprised.But they were so happy, so lively, and in the joy of being with them, my pain was forgotten.

Although the Perkins School for the Blind in Boston was a new environment for me, I was not at all unfamiliar with the happy blind children. On the contrary, I felt as happy as I was at home.Day by day flies by, and every day I am eagerly seeking one happy journey after another.Boston was another milestone for me, the beginning and the end of my world, and little did I know of a wider world.

Miss Sullivan gave me my first history lesson while visiting Kebang Hill in Boston.When I knew that this mountain was the place where the heroes fought fiercely, I was really excited.I climbed this historical relic, counting the steps in my heart, and I couldn't help but see the scenes of heroes climbing bravely, as well as the scenes of them condescendingly fighting the enemy.

I made my first sea voyage to Plymouth by steamer.Life at sea is really rich and lively!But the rumble of the machine made me feel like it was thunder, and I wept silently with grief at the thought that the rain would spoil our picnic.

At Plymouth, the great rock on which the settlers trod when they landed aroused my great interest.I touched this rock with my hands, as if the scenes of the immigrants' arduous trek were vividly displayed in front of my eyes.When I was visiting the Immigration Museum, I met a very nice gentleman who presented me with a model of Plymouth Rock.I often hold it in my hand, touch its uneven surface, a crack in the middle, and the "1620" engraved on it, so as to better understand the epic and great deeds of early British immigrants.

How sublime and great were their glorious deeds in my young mind!In my mind, they are the bravest and most fearless people who have made a home in a foreign land.They not only fought for freedom for themselves, but also for a living space for their compatriots. However, things in the world are not always perfect. After a few years, I learned that they had adopted brutal religious persecution, and I was disappointed. Deeply ashamed of their atrocities.

I made many new friends in Boston, among them Mr. William Wade and his daughter, whose kindness and warmth I still cannot forget.One day we were in Beverly to visit their farm, and walking through the beautiful rose garden, we arrived at their door, where we were greeted by two adorable dogs.The older one is called Leon, and the younger one, with curly hair and two long ears, is named Fritz.There are many horses in the farm, and the fastest one is called Nimrod. He hits me right away and is very friendly. He even touches my palm with his nose as if asking me to pat him or give him a piece of candy. Looking back, I still feel warm and beautiful.

There is also a beach near the farm that left me with good memories. It was the first time in my life that I went to play on the beach by the sea.The sand was hard and smooth, nothing like the soft, sharp sand mixed with seaweed and shells on Brewster's coast.Mr. Wade told me that this is the only way for the big ship sailing from Boston to Europe.Later, I saw him many times, and he was always so kind.Suffice it to say, I call Boston "The City of Good Hearts" because of him.

(End of this chapter)