The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1847-09-11

| that as for currants, gooseberries, apri-
cots and strawberries, there never was
such crop since trees and bushes
Igrew. a h lss. 4 s
| But the bells ring out from the old
church towers. The parson is already
issuing from his pleasant parsonage,
groups Of peasantry are streaming o.
YER the uplands towards the village; in
the lanes gayribans and Sunday gowns
glance from between the trees; and
every house sends forth its inhabitants
TO worship.-BIessisgs on those gray
fabrics that stand on many hill, and
in many lonely hollow all over this
beloved country; for, much as we rep.
rebate that system OF private or politi-
cal patronage, by which unqualified,
unholy, and unchristian men have some
times been thrust into their ancient pull
pits am of Sir Walter Scott's opinion,
that no places are so congenial to the
holy simplicity Of christian worship as
they are. They have an air Of anti.
guilty about them-nnd stand so vene.
rably amidst the most English scenes,
and the tombs Of generations of the
dead, that we cannot enter them with
out having our imaginations and our
hearts powerfully impressed with every
feeling and thought that can make US
love our country, and yet feel that it is
not our abiding place. Those antique
arches, those low massy doors, were
raised in days that are long gone by:
around those walls, nay beneath our
very feet, sleep those, who in their
generations, each in his little sphere,
helped to build up England to her pres
ent pitch Of greatness. We catch
gIimpses Of that deep veneration, Of
that unanimous simplicity ofmind and
manner, that we would fain hold fast
amid our growing knowledge, and its
inevitable remudiling Of the whole
frame work of society. We are made
to feel earnestly the desire 10 pluck the
spirit offaith, the integrity Of character,
and the whole heart Of love Of country
out Of the ignorance and blind super
s,i,ion oft past. Therefore it is that
| have always loved the church--that
l have delighted to stroll far, through
the summer fields, and hear still onward
the bells ringing happily, to enter and
sit down amongst its rustic congrega-
ton, better pleased with their murmer
of responses, and their artess but ear
nest chant, than all the splendor and
parade Of more lofty fabrics.
But Sunday morning is past; after.
noon is rolling away; but it shall not
roll away without its power of happi-
ness shed on every down, and into ev-
cry beautiful vale Of this fair kingdom.
Closed are the doors of the church, but
opened are those Of thousands and tens
Of thousands Of dwellings TO receive
friends and kindred. And around the
pleasant tea.table happy groups are
gathering in each others houses, freed
from clinging, pressing, enslaving cares
Of the six days; and sweetly, and full
Of renewing strength 10 the heart, does
the evening roll away. And does it
not roll as sweetly where, by many
cottage door, the aged grandfather and
grandmother, sit with two generations
before them, and bask in another glori-
GUS Sabbath sunset? And is it not
sweet where friends stroll through the
delicious fields, in thigh or cheerful talk;
along the green lane or broom-engol-
dened hill side: or down into the wood
land valley, where the waters runs
clear and charmingly, amid the drip
ping grass and the brooklime, and the
yellow beams Of the descending sun
glances serenely among the treesa And
is i not sweet where in some sequeste-
red stile, sit two happy lovers; or
where they stray along some twilight
path, and the woodbine and the wild
rose are dropping their Aowery, boughs
over them, while earth, and heaven,
supremeIy lovely in themselves, take
new and divine hues from their own
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