,,twice ,,told ,,tales ,,sunday ,,at ,,home ,by ,nathaniel ,hawthorne ,every ,sabbath morning in the summer time ,i thrust back the curtain1 to watch the sunrise stealing down a steeple1 which stands opposite my chamber-window4 ,first1 the weathercock begins to flash2 then1 a fainter lustre gives the spire an airy aspect2 next it encroaches on the tower1 and causes the index of the dial to glisten like gold1 as it points to the gilded figure of the hour4 ,now1 the loftiest window gleams1 and now the lower4 ,the carved framework of the portal is marked strongly out4 ,at length1 the morning glory1 in its descent from heaven1 comes down the stone steps1 one by one2 and there stands the steeple1 glowing with fresh radiance1 while the shades of twilight still hide themselves among the nooks of the adjacent buildings4 ,methinks1 though the same sun brightens it every fair morning1 yet the steeple has a peculiar robe of brightness for the ,sabbath4 ,by dwelling near a church1 a person soon contracts an attachment for the edifice4 ,we naturally personify it1 and conceive its massive walls and its dim emptiness to be instinct with a calm1 and meditative1 and somewhat melancholy spirit4 ,but the steeple stands foremost1 in our thoughts1 as well as locally4 ,it impresses us as a giant1 with a mind comprehensive and discriminating enough to care for the great and small concerns of all the town4 ,hourly1 while it speaks a moral to the few that think1 it reminds thousands of busy individuals of their separate and most secret affairs4 ,it is the steeple1 too1 that flings abroad the hurried and irregular accents of general alarm2 neither have gladness and festivity found a better utterance1 than by its tongue2 and when the dead are slowly passing to their home1 the steeple has a melancholy voice to bid them welcome4 ,yet1 in spite of this connection with human interests1 what a moral loneliness1 on week-days1 broods round about its stately height6 ,it has no kindred with the houses above which it towers2 it looks down into the narrow thoroughfare1 the lonelier1 because the crowd are elbowing their passage at its base4 ,a glance at the body of the church deepens this impression4 ,within1 by the light of distant windows1 amid refracted shadows1 we discern the vacant pews and empty galleries1 the silent organ1 the voiceless pulpit1 and the clock1 which tells to solitude how time is passing4 ,time1--where man lives not1--what is it but eternity8 ,and in the church1 we might suppose1 are garnered up1 throughout the week1 all thoughts and feelings that have reference to eternity1 until the holy day comes round again1 to let them forth4 ,might not1 then1 its more appropriate site be in the outskirts of the town1 with space for old trees to wave around it1 and throw their solemn shadows over a quiet green8 ,we will say more of this1 hereafter4 ,but1 on the ,sabbath1 ,i watch the earliest sunshine1 and fancy that a holier brightness marks the day1 when there shall be no buzz of voices on the exchange1 nor traffic in the shops1 nor crowd1 nor business1 anywhere but at church4 ,many have fancied so4 ,for my own part1 whether ,i see it scattered down among tangled woods1 or beaming broad across the fields1 or hemmed in between brick buildings1 or tracing out the figure of the casement on my chamber-floor1 still ,i recognize the ,sabbath sunshine4 ,and ever let me recognize it6 ,some illusions1 and this among them1 are the shadows of great truths4 ,doubts may flit around me1 or seem to close their evil wings1 and settle down2 but so long as ,i imagine that the earth is hallowed1 and the light of heaven retains its sanctity1 on the ,sabbath1--while that blessed sunshine lives within me1--never can my soul have lost the instinct of its faith4 ,if it have gone astray1 it will return again4 ,i love to spend such pleasant ,sabbaths1 from morning till night1 behind the curtain of my open window4 ,are they spent amiss8 ,every spot1 so near the church as to be visited by the circling shadow of the steeple1 should be deemed consecrated ground1 to-day4 ,with stronger truth be it said1 that a devout heart may consecrate a den of thieves1 as an evil one may convert a temple to the same4 ,my heart1 perhaps1 has not such holy1 nor1 ,i would fain trust1 such impious potency4 ,it must suffice1 that1 though my form be absent1 my inner man goes constantly to church1 while many1 whose bodily presence fills the accustomed seats1 have left their souls at home4 ,but ,i am there1 even before my friend1 the sexton4 ,at length1 he comes1--a man of kindly1 but sombre aspect1 in dark gray clothes1 and hair of the same mixture1--he comes and applies his key to the wide portal4 ,now my thoughts may go in among the dusty pews1 or ascend the pulpit without sacrilege1 but soon come forth again to enjoy the music of the bell4 ,how glad1 yet solemn too6 ,all the steeples in town are talking together1 aloft in the sunny air1 and rejoicing among themselves1 while their spires point heavenward4 ,meantime1 here are the children assembling to the ,sabbath school1 which is kept somewhere within the church4 ,often1 while looking at the arched portal1 ,i have been gladdened by the sight of a score of these little girls and boys1 in pink1 blue1 yellow1 and crimson frocks1 bursting suddenly forth into the sunshine1 like a swarm of gay butterflies that had been shut up in the solemn gloom4 ,or ,i might compare them to cherubs1 haunting that holy place4 ,about a quarter of an hour before the second ringing of the bell1 individuals of the congregation begin to appear4 ,the earliest is invariably an old woman in black1 whose bent frame and rounded shoulders are evidently laden with some heavy affliction1 which she is eager to rest upon the altar4 ,would that the ,sabbath came twice as often1 for the sake of that sorrowful old soul6 ,there is an elderly man1 also1 who arrives in good season1 and leans against the corner of the tower1 just within the line of its shadow1 looking downward with a darksome brow4 ,i sometimes fancy that the old woman is the happier of the two4 ,after these1 others drop in singly1 and by twos and threes1 either disappearing through the doorway or taking their stand in its vicinity4 ,at last1 and always with an unexpected sensation1 the bell turns in the steeple overhead1 and throws out an irregular clangor1 jarring the tower to its foundation4 ,as if there were magic in the sound1 the sidewalks of the street1 both up and down along1 are immediately thronged with two long lines of people1 all converging hitherward1 and streaming into the church4 ,perhaps the far-off roar of a coach draws nearer1--a deeper thunder by its contrast with the surrounding stillness1--until it sets down the wealthy worshippers at the portal1 among their humblest brethren4 ,beyond that entrance1 in theory at least1 there are no distinctions of earthly rank2 nor indeed1 by the goodly apparel which is flaunting in the sun1 would there seem to be such1 on the hither side4 ,those pretty girls6 ,why will they disturb my pious meditations6 ,of all days in the week1 they should strive to look least fascinating on the ,sabbath1 instead of heightening their mortal loveliness1 as if to rival the blessed angels1 and keep our thoughts from heaven4 ,were ,i the minister himself1 ,i must needs look4 ,one girl is white muslin from the waist upwards1 and black silk downwards to her slippers2 a second blushes from topknot to shoe-tie1 one universal scarlet2 another shines of a pervading yellow1 as if she had made a garment of the sunshine4 ,the greater part1 however1 have adopted a milder cheerfulness of hue4 ,their veils1 especially when the wind raises them1 give a lightness to the general effect1 and make them appear like airy phantoms1 as they flit up the steps1 and vanish into the sombre doorway4 ,nearly all--though it is very strange that ,i should know it--wear white stockings1 white as snow1 and neat slippers1 laced crosswise with black ribbon1 pretty high above the ankles4 ,a white stocking is infinitely more effective than a black one4 ,here comes the clergyman1 slow and solemn1 in severe simplicity1 needing no black silk gown to denote his office4 ,his aspect claims my reverence1 but cannot win my love4 ,were ,i to picture ,saint ,peter1 keeping fast the gate of heaven1 and frowning1 more stern than pitiful1 on the wretched applicants1 that face should be my study4 ,by middle age1 or sooner1 the creed has generally wrought upon the heart1 or been a-tempered by it4 ,as the minister passes into the church1 the bell holds its iron tongue1 and all the low murmur of the congregation dies away4 ,the gray sexton looks up and down the street1 and then at my window-curtain1 where1 through the small peephole1 ,i half fancy that he has caught my eye4 ,now1 every loiterer has gone in1 and the street lies asleep in the quiet sun1 while a feeling of loneliness comes over me1 and brings also an uneasy sense of neglected privileges and duties4 ,o1 ,i ought to have gone to church6 ,the hustle of the rising congregation reaches my ears4 ,they are standing up to pray4 ,could ,i bring my heart into unison with those who are praying in yonder church1 and lift it heavenward1 with a fervor of supplication1 but no distinct request1 would not that be the safest kind of prayer8 ,lord1 look down upon me in mercy6 ,with that sentiment gushing from my soul1 might ,i not leave all the rest to ,him8 ,hark6 the hymn4 ,this1 at least1 is a portion of the service which ,i can enjoy better than if ,i sat within the walls1 where the full choir and the massive melody of the organ1 would fall with a weight upon me4 ,at this distance1 it thrills through my frame1 and plays upon my heartstrings1 with a pleasure both of the sense and spirit4 ,heaven be praised1 ,i know nothing of music1 as a science2 and the most elaborate harmonies1 if they please me1 please as simply as a nurse's lullaby4 ,the strain has ceased1 but prolongs itself in my mind1 with fanciful echoes1 till ,i start from my revery1 and find that the sermon has commenced4 ,it is my misfortune seldom to fructify1 in a regular way1 by any but printed sermons4 ,the first strong idea1 which the preacher utters1 gives birth to a train of thought1 and leads me onward1 step by step1 quite out of hearing of the good man's voice1 unless he be indeed a son of thunder4 ,at my open window1 catching now and then a sentence of the parson's saw1 ,i am as well situated as at the foot of the pulpit stairs4 ,the broken and scattered fragments of this one discourse will be the texts of many sermons1 preached by those colleague pastors1--colleagues1 but often disputants1--my ,mind and ,heart4 ,the former pretends to be a scholar1 and perplexes me with doctrinal points2 the latter takes me on the score of feeling2 and both1 like several other preachers1 spend their strength to very little purpose4 ,i1 their sole auditor1 cannot always understand them4 ,suppose that a few hours have passed1 and behold me still behind my curtain1 just before the close of the afternoon service4 ,the hour-hand on the dial has passed beyond four o'clock4 ,the declining sun is hidden behind the steeple1 and throws its shadow straight across the street1 so that my chamber is darkened1 as with a cloud4 ,around the church-door all is solitude1 and an impenetrable obscurity beyond the threshold4 ,a commotion is heard4 ,the seats are slammed down1 and the pew-doors thrown back1--a multitude of feet are trampling along the unseen aisles1--and the congregation bursts suddenly through the portal4 ,foremost1 scampers a rabble of boys1 behind whom moves a dense and dark phalanx of grown men1 and lastly1 a crowd of females1 with young children1 and a few scattered husbands4 ,this instantaneous outbreak of life into loneliness is one of the pleasantest scenes of the day4 ,some of the good people are rubbing their eyes1 thereby intimating that they have been wrapped1 as it were1 in a sort of holy trance1 by the fervor of their devotion4 ,there is a young man1 a third-rate coxcomb1 whose first care is always to flourish a white handkerchief1 and brush the seat of a tight pair of black silk pantaloons1 which shine as if varnished4 ,they must have been made of the stuff called everlasting1 or perhaps of the same piece as ,christian's garments in the ,pilgrim's ,progress1 for he put them on two summers ago1 and has not yet worn the gloss off4 ,i have taken a great liking to those black silk pantaloons4 ,but1 now1 with nods and greetings among friends1 each matron takes her husband's arm1 and paces gravely homeward1 while the girls also flutter away1 after arranging sunset walks with their favored bachelors4 ,the ,sabbath eve is the eve of love4 ,at length1 the whole congregation is dispersed4 ,no2 here1 with faces as glossy as black satin1 come two sable ladies and a sable gentleman1 and close in their rear the minister1 who softens his severe visage1 and bestows a kind word on each4 ,poor souls6 ,to them the most captivating picture of bliss in heaven is--,there we shall be white6 ,all is solitude again4 ,but1 hark6--a broken warbling of voices1 and now1 attuning its grandeur to their sweetness1 a stately peal of the organ4 ,who are the choristers8 ,let me dream that the angels1 who came down from heaven1 this blessed morn1 to blend themselves with the worship of the truly good1 are playing and singing their farewell to the earth4 ,on the wings of that rich melody they were borne upward4 ,this1 gentle reader1 is merely a flight of poetry4 ,a few of the singing men and singing women had lingered behind their fellows1 and raised their voices fitfully1 and blew a careless note upon the organ4 ,yet1 it lifted my soul higher than all their former strains4 ,they are gone1 the sons and daughters of music1--and the gray sexton is just closing the portal4 ,for six days more1 there will be no face of man in the pews1 and aisles1 and galleries1 nor a voice in the pulpit1 nor music in the choir4 ,was it worth while to rear this massive edifice1 to be a desert in the heart of the town1 and populous only for a few hours of each seventh day8 ,o1 but the church is a symbol of religion6 ,may its site1 which was consecrated on the day when the first tree was felled1 be kept holy forever1 a spot of solitude and peace1 amid the trouble and vanity of our week-day world6 ,there is a moral1 and a religion too1 even in the silent walls4 ,and may the steeple still point heavenward1 and be decked with the hallowed sunshine of the ,sabbath morn6