the first reading, anything that may appear too long and too detailed.

Against standing rules, I was received in the girls' school, on account
of the position of my father as pastor of the district. For the same
reason I was placed, not with the pupils of my own age, but close to the
teacher, which brought me among the elder girls. I joined in their
lessons as far as I could. In two subjects I was quite able to do this.
First, I could read the Bible with them; and, secondly, I had to learn
line by line, instead of the little texts of the younger children
already spoken of, the hymns for the following Sunday's service. Of
these, two especially light up the gloomy lowering dawn of my early
boyhood, like two brilliant stars. They are--"Schwing dich auf, mein
Herz und Geist," and "Es kostet viel ein Christ zu sein."[7] These hymns
were hymns of life to me. I found my own little life expressed therein;
and they took such a hold upon me that often in later years I have found
strength and support in the message which they carried to my soul. My
father's home life was in complete harmony with this discipline of the
school. Although divine service was held twice on Sundays, I was but
very seldom allowed to miss attending each service. I followed my
father's sermons with great attention, partly because I thought I found
in them many allusions to his own position, profession, and life.
Looking back, I consider it of no slight importance that I used to hear
the service from the vestry, because I was there separated from the
congregation, and could the better keep my attention from wandering.

I have already mentioned that my father belonged to the old orthodox
school of theology; and in consequence the language both of his hymns
and of his sermons was mystical and symbolic--a style of speech which,
in more than one sense, I should call a stone-language, because it
requires an overwhelming power to burst its walls, and free from this