Secondly, as
Christians, to attend public worship."
"And what of amusements?"
"I would say of them, as of all kinds of work, whatever is innocent on
a week-day, is innocent on Sunday, provided it does not interfere with
the duties of the day."
"Then you would allow children to play on Sunday?"
"Certainly I should. Why make the day irksome to their restless natures?"
"I have a letter somewhere," said Lady Muriel, "from an old friend,
describing the way in which Sunday was kept in her younger days.
I will fetch it for you."
"I had a similar description, viva voce, years ago," Arthur said when
she had left us, "from a little girl. It was really touching to hear
the melancholy tone in which she said 'On Sunday I mustn't play with my
doll! On Sunday I mustn't run on the sands! On Sunday I mustn't dig
in the garden!' Poor child! She had indeed abundant cause for hating
Sunday!"
"Here is the letter," said Lady Muriel, returning.
"Let me read you a piece of it."
"When, as a child, I first opened my eyes on a Sunday-morning,
a feeling of dismal anticipation, which began at least on the Friday,
culminated. I knew what was before me, and my wish, if not my word,
was 'Would God it were evening!' It was no day of rest, but a day of
texts, of catechisms (Watts'), of tracts about converted swearers,
godly charwomen, and edifying deaths of sinners saved.
"Up with the lark, hymns and portions of Scripture had to be learned by
heart till 8 o'clock, when there were family-prayers, then breakfast,
which I was never able to enjoy, partly from the fast already undergone,
and partly from the outlook I dreaded.
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