[St. Ives by Robert Louis Stevenson]@TWC D-Link bookSt. Ives CHAPTER XXVII--THE SABBATH DAY 7/16
God forbid I should delude you into thinking me a herald, sir! I am only an ungrammatical amateur.' 'And a little modesty does no harm even in a herald,' says my new acquaintance graciously. In short, we fell together on our onward way, and maintained very amicable discourse along what remained of the country road, past the suburbs, and on into the streets of the New Town, which was as deserted and silent as a city of the dead.
The shops were closed, no vehicle ran, cats sported in the midst of the sunny causeway; and our steps and voices re-echoed from the quiet houses.
It was the high-water, full and strange, of that weekly trance to which the city of Edinburgh is subjected: the apotheosis of the _Sawbath_; and I confess the spectacle wanted not grandeur, however much it may have lacked cheerfulness.
There are few religious ceremonies more imposing.
As we thus walked and talked in a public seclusion the bells broke out ringing through all the bounds of the city, and the streets began immediately to be thronged with decent church-goers. 'Ah!' said my companion, 'there are the bells! Now, sir, as you are a stranger I must offer you the hospitality of my pew.
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