the whole body is one sense,

        and imbibes deligh a

        strange liberty in Nature, a part of he

        stony s-sleeves, t is cool as

        o attract me,

        all ts are unusually genial to me.    trump

        to us, and te of the whip-poor-will is borne

        on ter.    Sympathe

        fluttering alder and poplar leaves almost takes a,

        like ty is rippled but not ruffled.    these small

        e from storm as the

        smooting surface.    t is noill

        bloill dash, and some

        creatures lull t es.    the repose is never

        plete.    t animals do not repose, but seek their prey

        no, nohe fields and woods

        fear.    tures c the

        days of animated life.

        urn to my    visitors here

        ah of

        evergreen, or a name in pencil on a yello leaf or a chip.

        to take some little piece of the

        forest into to play hey leave,

        eitentionally or actally.    One has peeled a willow wand,

        int, and dropped it on my table.    I could always

        tell if visitors he bended

        t of t

        sex e or quality t trace left, as a

        flower dropped, or a bunchrown away, even as

        far off as tant, or by the lingering

        odor of a cigar or pipe.    Nay, I ly notified of the

        passage of a traveller along ty rods off by t

        of his pipe.

        t space about us.    Our horizon is

        never quite at our elbo just at our door,

        nor t somew is always clearing, familiar and worn by

        us, appropriated and fenced in some ure.

        For , some square

        miles of unfrequented forest, for my privacy, abao me by

        men?    My    neigant, and no house is visible

        from any place but tops hin half a mile of my own.    I

        o myself; a distant view of

        t touche

        fence    for t

        part it is as solitary w is as

        muc were, my own sun

        and moon and stars, and a little o myself.    At night

        traveller passed my    my door,

        more t or last man; unless it he

        spring, ervals some came from to fish

        for pouts -- the alden Pond of

        tures, and baited t they

        sooreated, usually    baskets, a "to

        darkness and to me," and t was never

        profaned by any    men are

        generally still a little afraid of tches are

        all ianity and dles roduced.

        Yet I experienced sometimes t t s and tehe

        most i and encing society may be found in any natural

        object, even for t melanan.

        to

        of Nature and ill.    t such a

        storm but it o a    ear.

        Notly pel a simple and brave man to a vulgar

        sadness.    rust t

        noto me.    tle rain wers

        my beans and keeps me in today is not drear and

        melanc good for me too.    t prevents my hem,

        it is of far more    sinue so

        long as to cause to rot in troy the

        potatoes in t ill be good for the grass on

        t would be good for me.

        Sometimes, w seems as if I

        s t I

        am scious of; as if I    and surety at their hands

        w, and were especially guided and guarded.

        I do not flatter myself, but if it be possible tter me.    I

        lonesome, or in t oppressed by a sense of

        solitude, but once, and t er I came to the

        he near neighborhood of man

        essential to a serene and o be alone was

        somet.    But I    time scious of a

        sligy in my mood, and seemed to foresee my recovery.    In

        t of a gentle rain ws prevailed, I was

        suddenly sensible of sud benefit society in Nature, in

        ttering of t around

        my e and unatable friendliness all at once

        like an atmospaining me, as made tages of

        , and I    of them

        since.    Every little pine needle expanded and shy

        and befriended me.    I inctly made ahe presence

        of someto me, even in ses womed

        to call    t of blood to me

        and     a person nor a villager, t I t no

        place could ever be strao me again.

        "M untimely es the sad;

        Fehe living,

        Beautiful daugoscar."

        Some of my pleasa orms in

        to ternoon

        as heir ceaseless roar and

        pelting;    ushered in a long evening in which

        many ts ime to take root and unfold those

        driving nort rains he

        maids stood ready    eo keep the

        deluge out, I sat betle house, which was all

        entry, and ts prote.    In one heavy

        tning struck a large pitche

        pond, making a very spicuous and perfectly regular spiral groove

        from top to bottom, an inore deep, and four or five inches

        ick.    I passed it again the

        otruck

        mark, noinct terrifid resistless

        bolt came do of t years ago.    Men

        frequently say to me, "I shink you would feel lonesome down

        t to be o folks, rainy and snowy days and

        nig;    I am tempted to reply to suchis whole

        eart is but a point in space.    ,

        t distant inants of yoar,

        t be appreciated by our instruments?

        our pla in this

        o me not to be t important question.

        sort of space is t wes a man from his fellows

        and makes ary?    I    ion of the legs

        bring t do

        most to do?    Not to many men surely, t, the

        post-office, ting-he

        grocery, Bea s, e,

        but to the perennial source of our life, when all our

        experience o issue, as tands near

        ter and sends out its roots in t dire.    this will vary

        natures, but the place where a wise man will

        dig ook one of my townsmen, who

        ed ;a y" -- though I

        never got a fair vie -- on the alden road, driving a pair of

        cattle to market, wo

        give up so many of ts of life.    I ans I was very

        sure I liked it passably    joking.    And so I    home

        to my bed, a o pick he

        mud t-town -- which place he would reae

        time in the m.

        Any prospect of ao life to a dead man makes

        indifferent all times and places.    t may occur is

        al to all our senses.    For

        t part lying and tra circumstao

        make our occasions.    t, the cause of our

        distra.    o all t power which fashions

        t to us t lainually being

        executed.    o us is not th

        alk, but the workman whose work we are.

        " and profound is tile powers of

        ;

        "e seek to perceive t see to

        ified ance of

        t be separated from t;

        "t in all tify

        ts, and clots to

        offer sacrifices and oblations to tors.    It is an o

        of subtile intelligences.    they are everywhere, above us, on our

        left, on ;

        e are ts of an experiment tle

        iing to me.        do    ty of ossips

        a little o

        cruly, "Virtue does not remain as an

        abandoned orp must of y ;

        ithinking we may be beside ourselves in a sane sense.    By a

        scious effort of tand aloof from as and

        things, good and bad, go by us like a

        torrent.    e are not he

        driftream, or Indra in t.    I

        may be affected by a trical exion; on ther hand, I may

        not be affected by an actual event wo    me much

        more.    I only knoy; to speak,

        of ts and affes; and am sensible of a certain doubleness

        by e from myself as from another.    however

        intense my experience, I am scious of ticism

        of a part of me,    a part of me, but

        spectator, s taking note of it, and t is

        no more I t is you.     may be tragedy, of

        life is over, tatoes    ion,

        a ion only, so far as his

        doubleness may easily make us poor neigimes.

        I find it er part of time.

        to be in pany, even , is soon wearisome and

        dissipating.    I love to be alone.    I never found t

        ude.    e are for t part more

        lonely way in our

        c him be

        measured by t

        interveween a man and

        student in one of the crowded hives of Cambridge College is as

        solitary as a dervis.    the farmer    work alone in

        t feel

        lonesome, because     he

        ot sit do ts, but

        must be ; and recreate, and, as he

        te ude; and hence he

        sit alone in t and

        most of t ennui and "t;; but

        realize t tudent, till at work in

        he farmer in his, and in

        turion and society t tter does,

        t may be a more densed form of it.

        Society is only too c at very s intervals,

        not ime to acquire any new value for eacher.    e

        meet at meals times a day, and give eacaste of

        t old musty c we are.    e o agree on a

        certai of rules, called etiquette and politeness, to make this

        frequeing tolerable and t    e to open war.

        e meet at t-office, and at t the

        fireside every nighers way, and

        stumble over one anot

        for one anotainly less frequency would suffice for all

        important and y unications.    sider the girls in a

        factory -- never aloer

        if t one inant to a square mile, as where I live.

        t in    we souch him.

        I    in the woods and dying of famine and

        exion at t of a tree, whose loneliness was relieved by

        tesque visions o bodily weakness, his

        diseased imagination surrounded o be

        real.    So also, oo bodily aal rength, we

        may be tinually c more normal and natural

        society, and e to kno we are never alone.

        I    deal of pany in my he

        m,    a fe

        some one may vey an idea of my situation.    I am no more lonely

        t laughan alden Pond

        itself.     pany    lonely lake, I pray?    A has

        not t t, in tint of

        its ers.    t in there

        sometimes appear to be t one is a mock sun.    God is alone --

        but t deal of

        pany; han a single mullein or

        dandelion in a pasture, or a bean leaf, or sorrel, or a horse-fly,

        or a bumblebee.    I am no more lohe Mill Brook, or a

        ar, or th wind, or an April

        s spider in a new house.

        I s in ter evenings, whe

        sno and ttler

        and inal proprietor, o have dug alden Pond,

        and sto, and fri ells me stories

        of old time and of y; ao pass a

        c viehings,

        even    apples or cider -- a most wise and humorous friend,

        han ever did Goffe

        or    to be dead, none    show where

        oo, dwells in my neighborhood,

        invisible to most persons, in wo

        stroll sometimes, gatening to her fables; for

        sility, and her memory runs back

        fartell me the inal of every

        fable, and on    every one is founded, for ts

        occurred wy old dame, who

        deligo outlive all

        .

        ture -- of sun

        and er -- such, such cheer,

        th our race,

        t all Nature ed, and tness fade,

        and tears, and

        t on m in midsummer, if any

        man s cause grieve.    S have

        intelligence    partly leaves aable

        mould myself?

        is tented?

        Not my randfat reat-grandmother

        Natures universal, vegetable, botanic medies, by which she has

        kept lived so many old Parrs in her day,

        and fed ness.    For my panacea,

        instead of one of ture dipped from Acheron

        and t of those long shallow

        black-scimes see made to carry

        bottles, let me    of undiluted m air.    M

        air!    If men    drink of t tainhe day,

        tle up some and sell it in the shops, for

        t of t tion ticket to

        m time in t remember, it    keep quite

        till noonday even in t cellar, but drive out topples

        lo and folloeps of Aurora.    I am no

        old or

        AEsculapius, and s

        in one    of w

        sometimes drinks; but rato Jupiter, who was

        ter of Juno and tuce, and whe power of

        rest gods ao the

        only tioned,    young lady

        t ever    ring.
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