Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1860-04-06
Two Pictures-Sunday in the Country
and Sunday in the City.

ana sunday IN the City.
What contrast there is between Sun
day in the country--or Sabbath, as it is
there called, and Sunday in the city
The little rustic church, half hidden by
the foliage; choir of nature songsters,
perched on tree top, and, as the old 4,
homely anthems of praise rise to heaven,
mingle with it their sweet warblings.
The streak of sunlight falls heavily on
the rustic benches, and glances over the
preachers head. You note even his de-
sires and attempts to prevent its inter-
rupting him in his discourso--eyen the
lazy fly, that humming past you, lights
on the window sash, ana flies hither aud
thither in its futile attempts to escape. -
All these are noticed. Even the coy
little maiden, who sits across the broad
old-fashioned aisle. You feel as though
she were looking at you over her book
and are nervous, for you are modest
man. Foolish fellow! Do you think
that grave little face, and those meek in
nocent eyes, were ever turned towards
you, from the preacher. Silly man
And yet there is a coquettish smile about
that mouth, as if she were not SO buisily
engaged with the sermon. And church
is out; the clustering about the door
hand is clasped in hand, in friendly ar
dor; bonnet draws near to bonnet, and
real kiss, with heart in it, is given q
promise TO come tomorrow, and spend
the whole day; the country beaux q
gallop, and home.
What contrast is Sunday in the
city the second picture. DiDg-dong
ding-dong, ding and the ringing and
echoing of the church bells break on The
morning air; ding-dongl and little chill.
dren are quickly capped and bonnetted
and are Fastening on their way to church
The tide rolls on; each corner, as il
were, adds its riyulet, until it is swoler
to mighty river, pouring to the house
of worship. Shall we join the crowd
Here we pass group Of idle neglected
boys-boys whose lips should have
scarcely forgotten the prattle of infancy
and yet from them issue oaths and bias.
phemies that sickon the heart, and make
angels weep. We enter the church
whose lofty dome seems almost bidder
in the misty air. The organ swells in
majestic tones, till the sounds vibratc and
revibrate through our hearts, like must,
echoing through lofty corridors.
No harsh sunlight here to cast its spin.
tered rays across the floor It steal.
through painted glass, and falls with lazy
softness on cushioned seats. In vain We
look to our little neighbor across the aisle
She sits in stately 'starchedness,' con.
scious that she has on her Sunday clothes,
and last new bonnet.
The hymn is given out, the prelude
is played, but in vain do we listen for
those old airs that were wont to wake q
holy inspiration in our hearts We are
forced to confess that the music was
beautiful, but it does not Gil that vacancy
in the heart. nor turn our eyes within us,
like those old tunes sung by our fathers
and grandfathcrs.
Church is over. See how the crowd
moves to the door; the organ pcals forth
at their going; friends meet at the door
where is the hearty clasping of the
hands "a cold bow, Sunday bow, q
smile at fathercst, and the crowd is scat
tered homewise, neither looking to the
right nor left and every one looks as If
they were exercising funeral manners in
Sunday costume.
"Dost like the pictures ~