Litchfield enquirer., 1861-10-31
For the Enquirer. SHORT SERMONS. BY A LAYNAN. No. Two.

I No. Two.
 Tsxr.-By doing nothing, we learn to do i'll.
 My Beloved Brethren The text to which invite your attention to-day, was not hooked from old Solomon, though he might have been g trife better man if he had said it and stuck te it, but from an old book of saws, you all of you may have seen.
 It smbodies the one great cardinal sin of na ny of you it sticks eus in every motion somt you attempt to make it opens in every yawr you yawn; it e1udes from every pore of you indolent souls and bodies-it is sheer, unsancti fed, lethargic lasiness
 And it isn't the rich only who have nothing tc do and do it; it is the poor man, the comforta ply poor man, the man in easy circumstance and man, woman and child in aN circumstances who imagine that the world owes them a living with champagne to boot, without work. You all have it in you, and on you, and through you that won't work; it is worse than the itch.
 Now then, my shiftless friend, my shirtless friend. ia steps Mr.Text, and tells you, that By doing nothing, you learn to do ill., Let ne tell you story.
 Once upon time, in an old city of Brugss which has been famous for long time for queer old belfry, upon which certain long Yankee fellow has rung the changes for the sake of some small change, an ancient worthy was sitting one day with some Senators of the city before the gate of the Senate House, when certain beg gar presented himself to them, and with sighs tears, and many lamentable gestures, expressed to them his miserable poverty, and asked aims telling them at the same time that he had about him private main, and a secret evil which very shame restrained him from discovering to the eyes of his felow-men. The case excited the comniseration of all of them each gave him him something, and he departed. One of the Senators. however, took an early opportunity to send a servant after him, with orders to inquire of him what that private infrmity might be, which he found such cause to be ashamed of and which he was SO 10th to discover to others. The servant overlook him and delivered his com mission: and after having diligently examined AtS ldCc, Aluo IcSS, piedSC, aiu 0Il HIS limbs in apparent soundness, "Why, friend ; said he, :" see nothing whereof you have any such reason to complain" Alas, Sir!' said the beggar :" the disease which aftlicts me is far different from what you conceive, and is such as you cannot discern yet it is aD evil which hath crept over my whole body: it hath passed through my very veins and marrow in such a manner that there is no member of my body that is able to work for my daily bread. This diseuse, he added, "is by some called IDLsSEss by others Saoth The servant hearing this sin gulsr apology, left in anger, and returned to his master with the account |: but before the compa- ny could send again to make further inquiry, the began had very prudently withdrawn himself.
 Now, although am bound to believe in the upward and onward progress of society through the combined influence of civilization and the Christian religion, cannot close my eyes to the existence and prevalence of this private "maim ;' this secret mischief" in this glorious nineteenth century, and in the cities towns, villages and ru- ral districts of old Puritanical Connecticut Ma ny of you, beloved, are the living representa- tives of the beggar in this ancient story. You neither work six days" nor " keep the sev. enth holy" Your whole time is devoted to eating, sleeping and gossipping-in travelling from your house to the stores-from the stores to the hotels-and from the hotels to the Post Office and from the PostOfice to your dwell lngs.
 You know more about your neighbors affairs than your own. You seldom spend an hour in useful reading, and in instructing or amusing your family. You are continually repinng at the hardness of the times-at the extravaganza and prodigality of your neighbors-at the azi- ness and improvdence of the poor, and of your own inability to live usefuly and happily. Now do not shrink from this representation. "If," as I said in my last discourse, the coat fits, put it on."
 When the Roman Historians described an extraordinary man, it generally entered into his character as an essential, that he was of " in dustry-of singular diligence and application"
 And Cato in Sallust informs the Senate that it was not so much the arms as the industry of their ancestors, which advanced the grandeur of Rome, end made her mistress of the world.
 Similar to which is the observation of Solo, mon, ' Seest thou man diligent in business, he shall stand before kings, and not before mean men," God made us for life of action. It is action, be assured, that keeps the soul in con- stant health. Bnt idleness corrupts, rusts and destroys the mind, and man of fine natural talents may by negligence and dleness, become 50 mean aud despicable as to become an incum. brance to society, and burden to himself.
 Plato had such high opinion of "occupa- tion" and constant employment that he said it was :" cure for wounded conscience" This opinion is by no means dangerous one. There is, we believe, no system of superstition or false religion, however austere or cruel ill other mat ters, that does not allow wounded conscience to be curable by some means. Nature will work out its right and it's kindness in some way or other, through the worst sophistications; and this is one of the instances in which she seems to raise herself above all contingencies. Say what you will, my friends, it is clear from every aspect in which the matter can be contemplated, that such laziness as yours is utterly ipcompatis ble with the diligence in business and ferven-