"Humph!" said the doctor, in his quick, sarcastic way, "What of that?
Don't you know that no unclean thing can enter the kingdom of heaven ?" "If you would see" Lowell "aright," as Walter Scott says of Melrose Abbey, one must be here of a pleasant First day at the close of what is called the "afternoon service." The streets are then blossoming like a peripatetic flower-garden; as if the tulips and lilies and roses of my friend W.'s nursery, in the vale of Nonantum, should take it into their heads to promenade for exercise.

Thousands swarm forth who during week- days are confined to the mills.

Gay colors alternate with snowy whiteness; extremest fashion elbows the plain demureness of old- fashioned Methodism.
Fair pale faces catch a warmer tint from the free sunshine and fresh air.

The languid step becomes elastic with that "springy motion of the gait" which Charles Lamb admired.

Yet the general appearance of the city is that of quietude; the youthful multitude passes on calmly, its voices subdued to a lower and softened tone, as if fearful of breaking the repose of the day of rest.