[7] their calling me “Miss Harriet,” and treating me with a degree of consideration such as I never enjoyed in the more democratic circle at home. I became proficient in the Church catechism, and gave my aunt great satisfaction by the old-fashioned gravity and steadiness with which I learned to repeat it.As my father was a Congregational minister, I believe Aunt Harriet, though the highest of High Church women, felt some scruples as to whether it was desirable that my religious education should be entirely out of the sphere of my birth. Therefore when this catechetical exercise was finished she would say, “Now, niece, you have to learn another catechism, because your father is a Presbyterian minister,” --and then she would endeavor to make me commit to memory the Assembly catechism.
At this lengthening of exercise I secretly murmured. I was rather pleased at the first question in the Church catechism, which is certainly quite on the level of any child's understanding,--“ What is your name?” It was such an easy good start, I could say it so loud and clear, and I was accustomed to compare it with the first question in the Primer, “What is the chief end of man?” as vastly more difficult for me to answer. In fact, between my aunt's secret unbelief and my own childish impatience of too much catechism, the matter was indefinitely postponed after a few ineffectual attempts, and I was overjoyed to hear her announce privately to grandmother that she thought it would be time enough for Harriet to learn the Presbyterian catechism when she went home.
Mingled with this superabundance of catechism and
