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Irving, Washington, 1783-1859

"The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey Crayon"

The
clacking of the mill, the regularly recurring stroke of the
flail, the din of the blacksmith's hammer, the whistling of the
ploughman, the rattling of the cart, and all other sounds of
rural labor are suspended. The very farm-dogs bark less
frequently, being less disturbed by passing travellers. At such
times I have almost fancied the wind sunk into quiet, and that
the sunny landscape, with its fresh green tints melting into blue
haze, enjoyed the hallowed calm.
Sweet day, so pure, so calm, so brigh'
The bridal of the earth and sky.
Well was it ordained that the day of devotion should be a day of
rest. The holy repose which reigns over the face of nature has
its moral influence; every restless passion is charmed down, and
we feel the natural religion of the soul gently springing up
within us. For my part, there are feelings that visit me, in a
country church, amid the beautiful serenity of nature, which I
experience nowhere else; and if not a more religious, I think I
am a better man on Sunday than on any other day of the seven.
During my recent residence in the country, I used frequently to
attend at the old village church. Its shadowy aisles, its
mouldering monuments, its dark oaken panelling, all reverend with
the gloom of departed years, seemed to fit it for the haunt of
solemn meditation; but, being in a wealthy, aristocratic
neighborhood, the glitter of fashion penetrated even into the
sanctuary; and I felt myself continually thrown back upon the
world, by the frigidity and pomp of the poor worms around me.


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