followed that all children must be heathen. Must I think of
Myself as a heathen, then, until I should be old enough to be a
Christian? It was a shocking conclusion, but I could see no other
answer to my question, and I felt ashamed to ask again.
My self-invented theory about the human race was that Adam and
Eve were very tall people, taller than the tallest trees in the
Garden of Eden, before they were sent out of it; but that they
then began to dwindle; that their children had ever since been
getting smaller and smaller, and that by and by the inhabitants
of the world would be no bigger than babies. I was afraid I
should stop growing while I was a child, and I used to stand on
the footstool in the pew, and try to stretch myself up to my
mother's height, to imagine how it would seem to be a woman. I
hoped I should be a tall one. I did not wish to be a diminishing
specimen of the race;-- an anxiety which proved to be entirely
groundless.

The Sabbath mornings in those old times had a peculiar charm.
They seemed so much cleaner than other mornings! The roads and
the grassy footpaths seemed fresher, and the air itself purer and
more wholesome than on week-days. Saturday afternoon and evening
were regarded as part of the Sabbath (we were taught that it was
heathenish to call the day Sunday); work and playthings were laid
aside, and every body, as well as every thing, was subjected to a
rigid renovation. Sabbath morning would not have seemed like
itself without a clean house, a clean skin, and tidy and spotless
clothing.

The Saturday's baking was a great event, the brick oven being
heated to receive the flour bread, the flour-and-Indian, and the