MEMORIES OF THE 



little talk, which was quite apt to develop difference of opinion 

 in the family circle as to the proper interpretation and applica- 

 tion of the gospel teachings. We learned very much more of 

 the Bible by hearing this constant reading than from any Sun- 

 day-school or church attendance. 



Father had great ability in making a good, practical prayer, 

 and never slighted the same, although not tediously long. He 

 was not accustomed to use parrot phrases, but, as a matter of 

 course, fell into certain general formulas, which I remember 

 pretty well, when petitioning for certain things, like the aboli- 

 tion of slavery and intemperance. During prayer time we all 

 remained quiet and orderly. When a young chap mother used 

 to keep me very close to her — I suppose, with reference to 

 keeping me quiet and well-behaved. 



An occurrence connected with this regular morning devotion 

 I shall always remember. Bernice Doane and some of his 

 family were at our house. Father was reading the Bible as 

 usual, and, as frequently occurs with small boys, I took the 

 occasion to show off a little, relying upon the fact of there being 

 company to protect me. 



I got down out of my chair and shuffled and moved about. 

 Father looked over his spectacles at me and then went on with 

 his reading. Bernice had his hands and fingers partly over his 

 eyes and smiled and winked at me, and I thought I was doing first- 

 rate, so I went a little farther from my chair and sat down on the 

 floor, making considerable noise. Father finished the chapter and 

 shut the old, black Bible with a kind of snap that was unusual 

 and boded trouble. He laid the Bible on the window-sill, where 

 it was always kept, and, walking over, took me by the collar with 

 the left hand, put his left foot up in the old wooden-bottomed 

 chair in which I was supposed to sit, drew me over his knee and 



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