The old tricks, "How tall is the child?" and "Where is the little rogue?" which have not been practiced for months past, have been retained in memory, for when in the eighty-second week I brought out both questions with urgency, the child bethought himself for several seconds, motionless, then suddenly, after the first question, raised both arms. After the other question he likewise considered for several seconds, and then pointed to his head as he used to do. His memory for sound-impressions often repeated and associated with specific movements is consequently good.
In the twentieth month there was an important advance to be recorded in his manner of repeating what was said to him. Suddenly, on the five hundred and eighty-fourth day, the child is repeating correctly and without difficulty words of two syllables that consist either of two like syllables—for the sake of brevity I will call these like-syllabled—or of syllables the second of which is the reverse of the first—such I call reverse-syllabled. Thus of the first class are papa, mama, bebe, baba, neinei, jaja, bobo, bubu; of the second class, otto, enne, anna; these are very frequently given back quickly and faultlessly at this period, after the repetition of the single syllables pa, ma, and others had gone on considerably more surely than before, and the child had more often tried of himself to imitate what he heard. These imitations already make sometimes the impression of not being voluntary. Thus the child once—in the eighty-third week—observed attentively a redstart in the garden for two full minutes, and then imitated five or six times, not badly, the piping of the bird, turning round toward me afterward. It was when he saw me that the child first seemed to be aware that he had made attempts at imitation at all. For his countenance was like that of one awaking from sleep, and he could not now be induced to imitate sounds. After five days the spectacle was repeated. Again the piping of the bird was reproduced, and in the afternoon the child took a cow, roughly carved out of wood, of the size of the redstart, made it move back and forth on the table, upon its feet, and chirped now as he had done at sight of the bird; imagination was here manifestly much excited. The wooden animal was to represent the bird, often observed in the garden, and nesting in the veranda; and the chirping and piping were to represent its voice.
On the other hand, words of unlike syllables, like "Zwieback" (biscuit), "Butterbrod," are either not given back at all or only in unrecognizable fashion, in spite of their being pronounced impressively for him. "Trocken" (dry) yields sometimes tokkĕ, tokko, otto. Words of one syllable also offer generally great difficulties of articulation: thus "warm" and "weich" become wāi, "kalt" and "hart" become hatt. Although "bi" and "te" are often rightly given each by itself, the child can not combine the two, and turns away with repugnance when he is to reproduce "bi-te." The same thing frequently happens, still, even with "mamma" and "papa." But the child, when in lively spirits, very often pronounces of his own accord the syllables "bi" and "te" together, preferring, indeed, bidth (with English th) and beet to "bitte." In place of "adjö" (adieu) he gives back adē and adjē. Nor does he succeed in giving back three syllables; e. g., the child says papa, but not "papagei", and refuses altogether to repeat "gei" and "pagei." The same is true of "Gut," "Nacht," although he of himself holds out his hand for "Gute Nacht."
When others laugh at anything whatsoever, the child laughs regularly with them, a purely imitative movement.
It is surprising that the reproducing of what is said to him succeeds best directly after the cold bath in the morning, when the child has been screaming violently and has even been shivering, or when he is still screaming and is being rubbed dry, and, as if resigned to his fate, lies almost without comprehension. The will, it would seem, does not intrude here as a disturbing force, and echolalia manifests itself in its purity, as in the case of hypnotics. The little creature is subdued and powerless. But he speedily recovers himself, and then it is often quite hard to tell whether he will not or can not say the word that is pronounced to him.
The understanding of single words, especially of single questions and commands, is considerably more prompt than in the previous month. Without there being any sort of explanation for it, this extraordinary understanding is here, manifesting itself particularly when the child is requested to fetch and carry all sorts of things. He has observed and touched a great deal, has listened less, except when spoken to. All training in tricks and performances, an evil in the modern education of children hard to avoid, was, however, suppressed as far as possible, so that the only new things were "making a bow" and "kissing the hand." The child practices both of these toward the end of the month, without direction, at coming and going. Many new objects, such as window, bed, knife, plate, cigar, his own teeth and thumbs, are correctly pointed out, if only the corresponding word is distinctly pronounced. Yet "Ofen" and "oben" are still confounded.
To put into written form the syllables invented by the child independently, and to get at a sure denotation of objects by them, is exceedingly difficult, particularly when the syllables are merely whispered as the objects are touched, which frequently occurs. At the sight of things rolled noisily, especially of things whirling in a circle, the child would utter rodi, otto, rojo, and like sounds, in general, very indistinctly. Only one new concept could with certainty be proved to be associated with a particular sound. With dā and ndā, frequently uttered on the sudden appearance of a new object in the field of vision, in a lively manner, loudly and with a peculiarly demonstrative accent—also with tā and ntā—the child associates, beyond a doubt, existence, coming, appearing, shooting forth, emerging, in contrast with the very often softly spoken, whispered atta, f-tu, tuff, which signifies "away" or "gone." If I cover my head and let the child uncover it, he laughs after taking off the handkerchief, and says loudly da; if I leave the room, he says atta or hätta, or ft or t-ta, generally softly; the last of these, or else hata, he says if he would like to be taken out himself. In the eighty-seventh week we went away on a journey, and on the railway-train the child, with an expression of terror or of anxious astonishment, again and again said attah, but without manifesting the desire for a change of place for himself, even by stretching out his arms.
Two words only—papa for father, and bät or bit for "bitte," are, besides, rightly applied of the child's own accord. The prolonged screaming, from wantonness, of nānānānā, nom-nom, hāhā, lālā, chiefly when running about, has no definite meaning. The child exercises himself a good deal in loud outcry, as if he wanted to test the power of his voice. These exercises evidently give him great pleasure. Still the highest crowing tones are no longer quite so high and piercing as they were formerly. The vocal cords have become larger, and can no longer produce such high tones. The screaming sounds of discontent, which continue to be repeated sometimes till hoarseness appears, but rarely in the night, have, on the contrary, as is the case with the shrill sounds of pain, scarcely changed their character, hä-e, hä-ä-ä-ĕ, ĕ. They are strongest in the bath, during the pouring on of cold water.
The child, when left to himself, keeps up all the time his loud readings ("Lesestudien"). He "reads" in a monotonous way maps, letters, newspapers, drawings, spreading them out in the direction he likes, and lies down on them with his face close to them, or holding the sheet with his hands close to his face, and, as before, utters especially vowel-sounds.
In the twenty-first month imitative attempts of this kind became more frequent; but singularly enough the babbling—from the eighty-ninth week on—became different. Before this time vowels were predominant, now more consonants are produced. When something is said for the child to reproduce that presents insuperable difficulties of articulation, then he moves tongue and lips in a marvelous fashion, and often says ptö-ptö, pt-pt, and verlapp, also dla-dla, without meaning, no matter what was the form of the word pronounced to him. In such practice there often appears likewise a wilfulness, showing itself in inarticulate sounds and the shaking of the head, even when it is merely the repetition of easy like-syllabled words that is desired. Hence, in the case of new words, it is more difficult than before, or is even impossible to determine whether the child will not or whether he can not reproduce them. Words of unlike syllables are not repeated at all, not even "bitte." In place of "danke" are heard dang-gee and dank-kee; the former favorite dakkn is almost never heard. In most of the attempts at sound imitation, the tendency to the doubling of syllables is worthy of notice. I say "bi," and the answer is bibi; then I say "te," and the answer is te-te. If I say "bi-te," the answer is likewise bibi; a single time only, in spite of daily trial, the answer was bi-te, as if by oversight.