And, remaining yet in
the family, it often brings back to me pleasant reminders of my
childhood. No other Bible seems quite so sacred to me as the old
Family Bible, out of which my father used to read when we were
all gathered around him for worship. To turn its leaves and look
at its pictures was one of our few Sabbath-day indulgences; and I
cannot touch it now except with feelings of profound reverence.
For the first time in our lives, my little sister and I became
pupils in a grammar school for both girls and boys, taught by a
man. I was put with her into the sixth class, but was sent the
very next day into the first. I did not belong in either, but
somewhere between. And I was very uncomfortable in my promotion,
for though the reading and spelling and grammar and geography
were perfectly easy, I had never studied any thing but mental
arithmetic, and did not know how to "do a sum." We had to show,
when called up to recite, a slateful of sums, "done" and
"proved." No explanations were ever asked of us.
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