There's a cheerfulness in the day here, you
don't find in towns. You have natur' before you here, and nothin' but
art there. The deathy stillness of a town, and the barred windows,
and shut shops, and empty streets, and great long lines of big brick
buildin's look melancholy. It seems as if life had ceased tickin',
but there hadn't been time for decay to take hold on there; as if day
had broke, but man slept. I can't describe exactly what I mean, but I
always feel kinder gloomy and wamblecropt there.
"Now in the country it's jist what it ought to be--a day of rest for
man and beast from labour. When a man rises on the Sabbath, and looks
out on the sunny fields and wavin' crops, his heart feels proper
grateful, and he says, Come, this is a splendid day, ain't it? Let's
get ready and put on our bettermost close, and go to meetin'. His
first thought is prayerfully to render thanks; and then when he goes
to worship he meets all his neighbours, and he knows them all, and
they are glad to see each other, and if any two on 'em hain't exactly
gee'd together durin' the week, why they meet on kind of neutral
ground, and the minister or neighbours make peace atween them. But
it ain't so in towns. You don't know no one you meet there. It's
the worship of neighbours, but it's the worship of strangers, too,
for neighbours don't know nor care about each other.
Pages:
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199