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CHAPTER XV.
THAT RELIGIOUS BELIEF SOMETIMES TURNS THE THOUGHTS OF THE
AMERICANS TO IMMATERIAL PLEASURES.
In the United States, on the seventh day of every week, the
trading and working life of the nation seems suspended; all noises
cease; a deep tranquillity, say rather the solemn calm of
meditation, succeeds the turmoil of the week, and the soul resumes
possession and contemplation of itself. Upon this day the marts of
traffic are deserted; every member of the community, accompanied
by his children, goes to church, where he listens to strange
language which would seem unsuited to his ear. He is told of the
countless evils caused by pride and covetousness: he is reminded
of the necessity of checking his desires, of the finer pleasures which
belong to virtue alone, and of the true happiness which attends it.
On his return home, he does not turn to the ledgers of his calling,
but he opens the book of Holy Scripture: there he meets with
sublime or affecting descriptions of the greatness and goodness of the
Creator, of the infinite magnificence of the handiwork of God, of
the lofty destinies of man, of his duties, and of his immortal
privileges.
Thus it is that the American at times steals an hour from himself; and laying aside for a while the petty passions which agitate his life, and the ephemeral interests which engross it, he strays at once into an ideal world, where all is great, eternal, and pure.
I have endeavoured to point out in another part of this work the causes to which the maintenance of the political institutions of the Americans is attributable, and religion appeared to be one of the most prominent among them. I am now treating of the Americans in an individual capacity, and I again observe that religion is not less useful to each citizen than to the whole State.
The Americans show, by their practice, that they feel the high
