SUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY. 201 



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satisfaction communicates itself insensibly to us; but if we are filled with 

 satisfaction at such a sight, how much more so when it is set oft" and 

 enhanced by the back-ground of a rural landscape. Some there are who 

 can only enjoy the country by contrast to the town, and who by means 

 of the appliances now so easily within the reach of the most moderate 

 means, make distant excursions when the week's end promises them a day 

 of rest. 



"Yet are there those who seek in nearer scenes 

 The sweeter air, and the enchanting- peace, 

 "Which dwell at distance from the peopled din; 

 Souls that can find without the busy world 

 The higher joys that contemplation gives, 

 Can feel the speechless rapture that belongs 

 To Nature's works alone, that heavenly calm 

 That lifts the mind to the Omniscient cause, 

 Breathing, through every sentient being, life! 



Oh! how the grateful heart of such beats high, 



As leisure bears them forth from other cares, 



Perchance to some fair stream, whose waters flow 



Peacefully through the vales and sweeping woods, 



And woo the mind to peace with all the earth, 



Making it soon an emblem of themselves. 



The atmosphere itself is purer there, 



Than e'en o'er woods and fields, and hastens on 



In purer current o'er the glassy tide, 



"Whilst echo makes her oftenest sojourn there, 



And not a sound, however small it be, 



But wakes her ready answer, fresh and clear." 



We will suppose it young summer, when every green sprout and col- 

 oured blossom is in its early freshness, and breathes a separate and exhaling 

 perfume; when the air has just imbibed sufficiently the sun's rays, to give 

 forth, as you meet it, a mild balminess that you court as you pass on. 

 Then such an enchanting and peaceful stillness around, save from the hum 

 of that countless multitude of fairy and minute beings who fill the 

 atmosphere, and yet impede not its circulation or our vision. Then, every- 

 thing bears the impress of such purity; the air is so clear that the smallest 

 sounds reach the ear with a distinctness that seems to purify our own 

 sense of perception; the crowing of a cock at a farm on the further 

 side of a valley, the yelping of a cur, or the twittering of the swallows 

 as they toy about in mid-air basking in the warm sunshine. Save these 

 sounds all is still except the whistling of the ploughman as he walks 

 through his stable, and sees that his horses have their share of provender, 

 and are properly sorted. I think it is chiefly the stillness which prevails 

 that proclaims the country sabbath. There is an absence also of that 

 teeming life which all the fields exhibit on other days, save when the 



