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A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
38
The
Sabbath
mornings
in
those
old
times
had
a
peculiar
charm.
They
seemed
so
much
cleaner
than
other
mornings!
The
roads
and
the
grassy
footpaths
seemed
fresher,
and
the
air
itself
purer
and
more
wholesome
than
on
week-days.
Saturday
afternoon
and
evening
were
regarded
as
part
of
the
Sabbath
(we
were
taught
that
it
was
heathenish
to
call
the
day
Sunday);
work
and
playthings
were
laid
aside,
and
every
body,
as
well
as
every
thing,
was
subjected
to
a
rigid
renovation.
Sabbath
morning
would
not
have
seemed
like
itself
without
a
clean
house,
a
clean
skin,
and
tidy
and
spotless
clothing.
The
Saturday's
baking
was
a
great
event,
the
brick
oven
being
heated
to
receive
the
flour
bread,
the
flour-and-Indian,
and
the
rye-and-Indian
bread,
the
traditional
pot
of
beans,
the
Indian
pudding,
and
the
pies;
for
no
further
cooking
was
to
be
done
until
Monday.
We
smaller
girls
thought
it
a
great
privilege
to
be
allowed
to
watch
the
oven
till
the
roof
of
it
should
be
"white-hot,"
so
that
the
coals
could
be
shoveled
out.
Then
it
was
so
still,
both
out
of
doors
and
within!
We
were
not
allowed
to
walk
anywhere
except
in
the
yard
or
garden.
I
remember
wondering
whether
it
was
never
Sabbath-day
over
the
fence,
in
the
next
field;
whether
the
field
was
not
a
kind
of
heathen
field,
since
we
could
only
go
into
it
on
week-days.
The
wild
flowers
over
there
were
perhaps
Gentile
blossoms.
Only
the
flowers
in
the
garden
were
well-behaved
Christians.
It
was
Sabbath
in
the
house,
and
possibly
even
on
the
doorstep;
but
not
much
farther.
The
town
itself
was
so
quiet
that
it
scarcely
seemed
to
breathe.
The
sound
of
wheels
was
seldom
heard
in
the
streets
on
that
day;
if
we
heard
it,
we
expected
some
unusual
explanation.
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