make a change of dress； for it is fitting that the day of spiritual rest should lay aside the livery of the laborious week。 For me； indeed； there is no labour at any time； but nevertheless does Sunday bring me repose。 I share in the mon tranquillity； my thought escapes the workaday world more pletely than on other days。
It is not easy to see how this house of mine can make to itself a Sunday quiet； for at all times it is well…nigh soundless； yet I find a difference。 My housekeeper es into the room with her Sunday smile； she is happier for the day； and the sight of her happiness gives me pleasure。 She speaks； if possible； in a softer voice； she wears a garment which reminds me that there is only the lightest and cleanest housework to be done。 She will go to church； morning and evening； and I know that she is better for it。 During her absence I sometimes look into rooms which on other days I never enter； it is merely to gladden my eyes with the shining cleanliness； the perfect order； I am sure to find in the good woman's domain。 But for that spotless and sweet…smelling kitchen； what would it avail me to range my books and hang my pictures？ All the tranquillity of my life depends upon the honest care of this woman who lives and works unseen。 And I am sure that the money I pay her is the least part of her reward。 She is such an old…fashioned person that the mere discharge of what she deems a duty is in itself an end to her； and the work of her hands in itself a satisfacti