The account of Harriet’s education may sound somewhat meager to those who do not look beneath the surface. But it must be remembered that her own family formed an educational institution in itself. New England was celebrated, as Mrs. Stowe afterwards said, for “crisp originalities of character.” And even against this background the Beecher family stood out as a “sharp-cut and peculiar set.” These highly individual qualities in her parents and in her brothers and sisters made a constant current of life beneath the roof of the Beecher parsonage. It was an education to hear her father discuss things, whether at dinner or at wood-sawing or on a picnic; for he was like a high-mettled horse in a pasture, as Mrs. Stowe said of one of her characters in her novel, “My Wife and I”; he enjoyed once in a while having a free argumentative race all round the theological lot. But this discussion was by no means left to the leader alone; all the children were expected to take part. The home circle thus became a great lyceum of thought. The rule of these debates was that each one should contribute his thought and bear his part with boldness, independence and originality. In this way the father trained the children in toughness, tenacity and endurance. Harriet’s father would have disowned any child that refrained in fair argument from putting forth every atom of logical strength he possessed. Every boy was expected, in supporting his opinions, to exert himself to the utmost, but without sophistry or unfairness. Against a refusal to argue or a resort to evasion or trick, the father’s anger burned like fire. And no child was allowed to find fault if his arguments were roughly handled, or to grumble and get angry if he were bruised or floored in fair debate. A stranger looking upon some hotly contested discussion might have said that the doctor and his children were angry with each other. Never! They were only in earnest. Moreover, the great household was filled with a spirit of active service, carried out with cheerfulness and even hilarity. Or if perchance the will for obedience deflected a little from perfection, the father’s sharp call, “Mind your mother. Quick! No crying! Look pleasant!” was sufficient to bring stragglers into line at once. The work and plans and interests of the household went on like a great well-balanced machine, in which one little cog, that good child Harriet, was taking its part according to its ability. Harriet was also getting ready to perform a greater part, for all these home experiences were turning in a direction that gave her a special preparation for her life-work.