Passing hence from infancy, I came to boyhood, or rather it came
to me, displacing infancy. Nor did that depart,- (for whither went
it?)- and yet it was no more. For I was no longer a speechless infant,
but a speaking boy. This I remember; and have since observed how I
learned to speak. It was not that my elders taught me words (as, soon
after, other learning) in any set method; but I, longing by cries
and broken accents and various motions of my limbs to express my thoughts,
that so I might have my will, and yet unable to express all I willed,
or to whom I willed, did myself, by the understanding which Thou,
my God, gavest me, practise the sounds in my memory. When they named
any thing, and as they spoke turned towards it, I saw and remembered
that they called what they would point out by the name they uttered.
And that they meant this thing and no other was plain from the motion
of their body, the natural language, as it were, of all nations, expressed
by the countenance, glances of the eye, gestures of the limbs, and
tones of the voice, indicating the affections of the mind, as it pursues,
possesses, rejects, or shuns. And thus by constantly hearing words,
as they occurred in various sentences, I collected gradually for what
they stood; and having broken in my mouth to these signs, I thereby
gave utterance to my will. Thus I exchanged with those about me these
current signs of our wills, and so launched deeper into the stormy
intercourse of human life, yet depending on parental authority and
the beck of elders.