reverence for him take the form of idolatry. The pulpit was his
pedestal. If any one had told me that the minister ever did or
thought anything that was wrong, I should have felt as if the
foundations of the earth under me were shaken. I wondered if he
ever did laugh. Perhaps it was wicked for a minister even to
smile.

One day, when I was very little, I met the minister in the
street; and he, probably recognizing me as the child of one of
his parishioners, actually bowed to me! His bows were always
ministerially profound, and I was so overwhelmed with surprise
and awe that I forgot to make the proper response of a "curtsey,"
but ran home as fast as I could go to proclaim the wonder. It
would not have astonished me any more, if one of the tall
Lombardy poplars that stood along the sidewalk had laid itself
down at my feet.

I do not remember anything that the preacher ever said, except
some words which I thought sounded well,--such as
"dispensations," "decrees," "ordinances," "covenants,"-- although
I attached no meaning to them. He seemed to be trying to explain
the Bible by putting it into long words. I did not understand
them at all. It was from Aunt Hannah that I received my first
real glimpses of the beautiful New Testament revelation. In her
unconscious wisdom she chose for me passages and chapters that
were like openings into heaven. They contained the great, deep
truths which are simple because they are great. It was not
explanations of those grand words that I required, or that
anybody requires. In reading them we are all children together,
and need only to be led to the banks of the river of God, which