Finally, the last little garment and the last package is in the trunk, the last day is scratched off the calendar, and the boy himself is on the train.  And now let me tell you something that you will not believe—­that you will even resent, but which is perfectly true, and which I hope will comfort you a little when you say good-by to the boy—­and that is this:  it really is very unusual for a little child from five to eight years old to be homesick at school.  There are so many distractions, so many new and curious things to see, so many interesting things to do, and there are so many other children all friendly and all happy, that even if your boy cries when you leave him, the probabilities are high that before you reach the station he will be playing—­shyly or uproariously, as temperament may decide—­but certainly happily, with some new-found friend.

One of the most delightful things about a school for deaf children is the way all the other pupils welcome, pet, and look out for a newcomer.  Every one makes much of him, and it would be hard indeed to be lonely long in the midst of so much attention and friendliness.

And now a word about letters.

Before you sent the boy to school I hope you didn’t fail to teach him to recognize the written names of the different members of the family, so that he might be sure to understand whom his first letters came from.  And don’t forget that he will be eager for letters!  Too many mothers feel that it is useless to write to their children during their first year away from them.  They are so sure that no word from them can be understood that they content themselves with sending inquiries to the proper authorities, and an occasional picture postcard to the children themselves, and fail to realize how soon their little boy or girl grasps the fact that the other children have real letters in envelopes, and that these come from home, or how sharp a disappointment it is when day after day goes by and brings them nothing.

If you could see, as I have seen, a letter, so worn that it was cracked on all its folds and dingy with much handling, carried day after day inside a little blouse, or guimpe, and put under the pillows every night, you would understand a little what those pieces of paper, covered with very imperfectly understood characters, but carrying love and remembrance from home, mean, even before the children can read them.  And very soon, if you are an observant mother, your child will really be able to read them.

For example, your boy’s first letter may be something like this: 

     “DEAR MAMMA: 

     “I am well.  I love you.  HARRY.”

When you answer it you might say, with the certainty that every word would be understood: 

     “DEAR HARRY: 

     “Mamma loves you.  Papa is well.  Mamma and Papa love you.

     “Good-by.  MAMMA.”