The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 17, No. 99, January, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and PoliticsVarious
General
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 17, No. 99, January, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
gratification to his social wants, plentiful food for his mental hunger;
and while he is thus enjoying the pleasures which are but the lawful
dues of his spring-time, he will be all the while becoming more and more
worthy of love and respect, more and more fitted to bear, in his turn,
the burdens of Church and State. And if, in spite of it all, his feet
are still swift to do evil, it will be a satisfaction to those who have
thus striven for his welfare to know that his blood is not on them nor
on their children.
There are other things to be taken into account. The leisure of Saturday
afternoon must, it would seem, conduce greatly to quiet Sundays. When
young men are confined six long days behind the counter, it is but
natural that on the seventh they should give themselves to merry-making.
For, let it be remembered, sport is natural, yes, and as necessary, to
youth as worship; and in order of human development, it comes first. It
is very hard to say to a boy, "You have been writing, and weighing, and
measuring all the week. Now the sun is shining, the birds are singing,
the flowers blooming, the river sparkling, and boat and horse await your
hand, but you must turn away from them all and go to church. You have
been boxed up for six days, and now you must be boxed up again. There
are no fresh airs, no summer sounds for you; but only noise and dust and
pavements all the days of your life." It happens, at any rate, that
there is no use in saying this; for young blood overleaps it all, and
city suburbs resound on Sunday with the clatter of hoofs and the rattle
of wheels; and no one need be surprised, who has any acquaintance with
human nature one the one side, or any conception of the irksomeness of
continued confinement on the other. It would, indeed, be a very strange,
and, I think, a very sad thing, if young people _were_ willing to let
suns rise, and stars set, and all the beautiful changes of Nature go on,
without an irresistible, instinctive prompting to fly from the grave
monotone of the city, and live and breathe in her freshness and her
song. If a young man must choose between play of muscle, swiftness of
motion, the free air of the hills, and sitting in church to hear a
sermon, he will often choose the former; and if he cannot enjoy these
things without going in opposition to the best sense of the community,
if they cannot be compassed without a certain consciousness of
wrong-doing, they will lead to recklessness and lawlessness; for be
compassed, they will.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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