“No, indeed, uncle; but there was always some little thing that was not quite clear, and which prevented me from advancing as fast and as far as I ought.”
“Yes,” said my uncle, “that is the secret—some little step, which appears to the instructor so simple as to require no explanation, becomes a stumbling-block to the understanding, and then we imagine we cannot learn; but cannot learn I never allow my pupils to say.”
Dear Mamma, my uncle reminds me so much of you sometimes: oh! if I had attended better to your instructions, I should not blush as I do now at my own ignorance; but one comfort is—my uncle knows you so well that he cannot attribute my faults to your neglect.
But I must tell you all that happened about this same arithmetic. I was so vexed at my own stupidity, and at appearing as if you had taught me nothing, that a few tears forced their way into my eyes, though I tried to struggle against them:—my uncle good-naturedly went back to the table where Wentworth and Frederick were employed, and I soon recovered.
When they had finished their algebra, to which they seemed to give their whole attention, my uncle said, “Bertha, if you like to try arithmetic again, my daughter Mary will readily assist you: she has one of the clearest heads I ever knew; and will make every step plain. But I must remark that, if we were to force ourselves to repeat every day the substance of what we learn to some third person, we should instantly discover what part is not clear to us.”
I went then with him to Mary, who undertook the task in the kindest manner—to-morrow we are to begin.
After this was all arranged, Mary and Caroline invited me to play at shuttlecock, as the day was rainy. Shuttlecock I had never seen, and knew only from your description; my first attempts, therefore, produced a great deal of laughter.
14th.—Sunday. I am sure you would like the way that Sunday is spent in this house, my dear Mamma. There is no day that brings you so particularly to my mind, because several things that occur here make me remember what you have often said in regard to it, and the good habits you tried to give me.
My uncle generally selects some passage, in Scripture, for the purpose of conversing upon it, and leading us to think; or else some expression which he sees requires explanation, and on which some light can be thrown, either from parallel passages, or from profane authors. These little conversations are, generally, between breakfast and the time of setting out for church.
This day he read the 11th chapter of 2d of Corinthians, and told us, that St. Paul’s expression “to triumph in Christ,” v. 14, alludes to the Roman triumph, or the celebration of a victory; and as the conqueror went in procession through the streets of Rome to the Capitol, with the attendant captives following the triumphal car, so the apostle describes himself as led from city to city, and from province to province, triumphing over the powers of darkness, while the name of Christ, “as a sweet savour,” was diffused wherever he came.