Litchfield enquirer., 1837-04-27
A SABBATH IN THE COUNTRY.

On business"
 A SABBATH IN THE COUNTRY.
 Let us away into the far, far country Into the still, pure, unadulterated country.
 An here indeed is Sabbath. What sunny peace, what calm, yet glad repose, lies on its fair hills; over all its solemn woods How its fowery dales, and deep, secluded valleys, reflect the holy tranquil ity of heaven! It is morn, and the sun comes up the sky as if he knew it was day of universal pause of the world he shines over the glittering dews and green leaves, and ten thousand blossoms and the birds fill the blue fresh air with rapture of mu- sic. The earth looks new and beautiful as on the day of its creation. Man rests from his labors, and every thing rests with him. There lie the weary steeds that have dragged the chain and smarled under the lash; that have pulled the plough h and the ponderous wagon, or flown over hill or dale at mans bidding; there they lie, on the slope of the sunny field: and the very sheep and cattle seem imbued with the lnx- urious enjoyment of their rest. The farm CT has been walking into his fields, looking over this gate and that fence. into enclo- sures of grass mottled with flowers like a carpet, or rich green corn growing almost visibly, at his cattle and the shady quiet of his house. And it is shady quiet. The sun glances about its porch, and flickers a. mong the leaves on the wall, and the spar rows chirp, and fly to and fro; but the dog lies and slumbers at the door, or only raises his head to snap at the flies that modest im.;-the very cat, coiled up on sum- bright border in the garden, sleeps volup- tuously; within, all is cleanliness and rest. There is a clean, cool parlor, the open windows let in the odor of the garden-.he yet cool, delicious odor-and the hum of bees flowers standing in their pots in the window gathered flowers stand on the breakiast-tabe and the farmers comedy wife-already dressed for the day-as she sees him come in, sits down to pour out his coffee. Over the crossgate the lahorers are leaning, talking of,heir last weeks achieve ments, and those of the week to come and in many cottage garden the cottagers. with their wives and children, are wandering up and down, admiring the growth of this and that; and every ono settles, in his own mind, that his cabbages, and peas and beans, are the best in the whole country; and, that for entrants, gooseberries,apricots, and strawberries, there never were such crops since bushes grew,
 But the bells ring out from the old church tower. The vicar is already issuing from his pleasant parsonage ; groups or peasant ry are already seen streaming over the up- lands towards the village; in the lanes gay ribbons and Sunday gowns glance from be- tween the trees; and every house sends forth its inhabitants to worship. Blessings on those gray old fabrics that stand on ma ny hill, and in many lowly hollow, over all this beloved country. delight to en- ter and sit down among the rustic congre- gations.
 But Sunday morning is past, and after noon is rolling away; butit shall not roll a. way without its dover of happiness shed on every down, and into every beautiful vale, of this fair country. Closed are the doors of the church, but open are those of thou- sands and tens of thousands of dwellings to receive friends and kindred. And around the pleasant tea-table happy groups are gathering in each others house, freed from the clinging. pressing, enslaving cares of six days; and swee,ly, and full of renewing strength to the heart does the evening roll away. And does it not roll as sweetIy where, by many a cottagc-door, the aged grandfather and grandmother sit with two generations about them, and bask in anoth- CT glorious Sabbath sunset! And is it not sweet where friends stroll through the de- Iicous fields in high and cheerful talk a. long the green lane or broom-engoldened hill side; or down into the woodland val ley, where the waters run clear and chi- mingly, amid the dripping grass and brook lime, and the yellow beams of the descen- ding sun glance serenely among the trees? And is it not sweet where, on some seques- tered stiIe, sit two happy lovers; or where they stray along some ;wiligh. path, and the woodbine and the wild rose are droop- ing ,heir Aowery boughs over them, while earth and heaven, suprcmcly lovely in themselves, take new and divino lines from their own passionate spirits. and youth and truth are theirs the present is theirs in love; the future is theirs in high conG- dence; all that makes glorious the life of angels is theirs for the time ! Yes! all through the breadth of this great land-