At a certain season of our life we are accustomed to consider every spot as the possible site of a house. I have thus surveyed the country on every side within a dozen miles of where I live. In imagination I have bought all the farms in succession, for all were to be bought, and I knew their price. I walked over each farmer's premises1, tasted his wild apples, discoursed2 on husbandry with him, took his farm at his price, at any price, mortgaging it to him in my mind; even put a higher price on it -- took everything but a deed of it -- took his word for his deed, for I dearly love to talk -- cultivated it, and him too to some extent, I trust, and withdrew when I had enjoyed it long enough, leaving him to carry it on. This experience entitled me to be regarded as a sort of real-estate broker3 by my friends. Wherever I sat, there I might live, and the landscape radiated from me accordingly. What is a house but a sedes, a seat? -- better if a country seat. I discovered many a site for a house not likely to be soon improved, which some might have thought too far from the village, but to my eyes the village was too far from it. Well, there I might live, I said; and there I did live, for an hour, a summer and a winter life; saw how I could let the years run off, buffet4 the winter through, and see the spring come in. The future inhabitants of this region, wherever they may place their houses, may be sure that they have been anticipated. An afternoon sufficed to lay out the land into orchard5, wood-lot, and pasture, and to decide what fine oaks or pines should be left to stand before the door, and whence each blasted tree could be seen to the best advantage; and then I let it lie, fallow, perchance, for a man is rich in proportion to the number of things which he can afford to let alone.
My imagination carried me so far that I even had the refusal of several farms -- the refusal was all I wanted -- but I never got my fingers burned by actual possession. The nearest that I came to actual possession was when I bought the Hollowell place, and had begun to sort my seeds, and collected materials with which to make a wheelbarrow to carry it on or off with; but before the owner gave me a deed of it, his wife -- every man has such a wife -- changed her mind and wished to keep it, and he offered me ten dollars to release him. Now, to speak the truth, I had but ten cents in the world, and it surpassed my arithmetic to tell, if I was that man who had ten cents, or who had a farm, or ten dollars, or all together. However, I let him keep the ten dollars and the farm too, for I had carried it far enough; or rather, to be generous, I sold him the farm for just what I gave for it, and, as he was not a rich man, made him a present of ten dollars, and still had my ten cents, and seeds, and materials for a wheelbarrow left. I found thus that I had been a rich man without any damage to my poverty. But I retained the landscape, and I have since annually7 carried off what it yielded without a wheelbarrow. With respect to landscapes,
"I am monarch8 of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute."
I have frequently seen a poet withdraw, having enjoyed the most valuable part of a farm, while the crusty farmer supposed that he had got a few wild apples only. Why, the owner does not know it for many years when a poet has put his farm in rhyme, the most admirable kind of invisible fence, has fairly impounded it, milked it, skimmed it, and got all the cream, and left the farmer only the skimmed milk.
The real attractions of the Hollowell farm, to me, were: its complete retirement9, being, about two miles from the village, half a mile from the nearest neighbor, and separated from the highway by a broad field; its bounding on the river, which the owner said protected it by its fogs from frosts in the spring, though that was nothing to me; the gray color and ruinous state of the house and barn, and the dilapidated fences, which put such an interval10 between me and the last occupant; the hollow and lichen-covered apple trees, nawed by rabbits, showing what kind of neighbors I should have; but above all, the recollection I had of it from my earliest voyages up the river, when the house was concealed11 behind a dense12 grove13 of red maples14, through which I heard the house-dog bark. I was in haste to buy it, before the proprietor15 finished getting out some rocks, cutting down the hollow apple trees, and grubbing up some young birches which had sprung up in the pasture, or, in short, had made any more of his improvements. To enjoy these advantages I was ready to carry it on; like Atlas16, to take the world on my shoulders -- I never heard what compensation he received for that -- and do all those things which had no other motive17 or excuse but that I might pay for it and be unmolested in my possession of it; for I knew all the while that it would yield the most abundant crop of the kind I wanted, if I could only afford to let it alone. But it turned out as I have said.
All that I could say, then, with respect to farming on a large scale -- I have always cultivated a garden -- was, that I had had my seeds ready. Many think that seeds improve with age. I have no doubt that time discriminates18 between the good and the bad; and when at last I shall plant, I shall be less likely to be disappointed. But I would say to my fellows, once for all, As long as possible live free and uncommitted. It makes but little difference whether you are committed to a farm or the county jail.
Old Cato, whose "De Re Rustica" is my "Cultivator," says -- and the only translation I have seen makes sheer nonsense of the passage -- "When you think of getting a farm turn it thus in your mind, not to buy greedily; nor spare your pains to look at it, and do not think it enough to go round it once. The oftener you go there the more it will please you, if it is good." I think I shall not buy greedily, but go round and round it as long as I live, and be buried in it first, that it may please me the more at last.
The present was my next experiment of this kind, which I purpose to describe more at length, for convenience putting the experience of two years into one. As I have said, I do not propose to write an ode to dejection, but to brag19 as lustily as chanticleer in the morning, standing20 on his roost, if only to wake my neighbors up.
When first I took up my abode21 in the woods, that is, began to spend my nights as well as days there, which, by accident, was on Independence Day, or the Fourth of July, 1845, my house was not finished for winter, but was merely a defence against the rain, without plastering or chimney, the walls being of rough, weather-stained boards, with wide chinks, which made it cool at night. The upright white hewn studs and freshly planed door and window casings gave it a clean and airy look, especially in the morning, when its timbers were saturated22 with dew, so that I fancied that by noon some sweet gum would exude23 from them. To my imagination it retained throughout the day more or less of this auroral24 character, reminding me of a certain house on a mountain which I had visited a year before. This was an airy and unplastered cabin, fit to entertain a travelling god, and where a goddess might trail her garments. The winds which passed over my dwelling26 were such as sweep over the ridges27 of mountains, bearing the broken strains, or celestial28 parts only, of terrestrial music. The morning wind forever blows, the poem of creation is uninterrupted; but few are the ears that hear it. Olympus is but the outside of the earth everywhere.
The only house I had been the owner of before, if I except a boat, was a tent, which I used occasionally when making excursions in the summer, and this is still rolled up in my garret; but the boat, after passing from hand to hand, has gone down the stream of time. With this more substantial shelter about me, I had made some progress toward settling in the world. This frame, so slightly clad, was a sort of crystallization around me, and reacted on the builder. It was suggestive somewhat as a picture in outlines. I did not need to go outdoors to take the air, for the atmosphere within had lost none of its freshness. It was not so much within doors as behind a door where I sat, even in the rainiest weather. The Harivansa says, "An abode without birds is like a meat without seasoning29." Such was not my abode, for I found myself suddenly neighbor to the birds; not by having imprisoned30 one, but having caged myself near them. I was not only nearer to some of those which commonly frequent the garden and the orchard, but to those smaller and more thrilling songsters of the forest which never, or rarely, serenade a villager -- the wood thrush, the veery, the scarlet31 tanager, the field sparrow, the whip-poor-will, and many others.
I was seated by the shore of a small pond, about a mile and a half south of the village of Concord32 and somewhat higher than it, in the midst of an extensive wood between that town and Lincoln, and about two miles south of that our only field known to fame, Concord Battle Ground; but I was so low in the woods that the opposite shore, half a mile off, like the rest, covered with wood, was my most distant horizon. For the first week, whenever I looked out on the pond it impressed me like a tarn33 high up on the side of a mountain, its bottom far above the surface of other lakes, and, as the sun arose, I saw it throwing off its nightly clothing of mist, and here and there, by degrees, its soft ripples34 or its smooth reflecting surface was revealed, while the mists, like ghosts, were stealthily withdrawing in every direction into the woods, as at the breaking up of some nocturnal conventicle. The very dew seemed to hang upon the trees later into the day than usual, as on the sides of mountains.
This small lake was of most value as a neighbor in the intervals35 of a gentle rain-storm in August, when, both air and water being perfectly36 still, but the sky overcast37, mid-afternoon had all the serenity38 of evening, and the wood thrush sang around, and was heard from shore to shore. A lake like this is never smoother than at such a time; and the clear portion of the air above it being, shallow and darkened by clouds, the water, full of light and reflections, becomes a lower heaven itself so much the more important. From a hill-top near by, where the wood had been recently cut off, there was a pleasing vista39 southward across the pond, through a wide indentation in the hills which form the shore there, where their opposite sides sloping toward each other suggested a stream flowing out in that direction through a wooded valley, but stream there was none. That way I looked between and over the near green hills to some distant and higher ones in the horizon, tinged40 with blue. Indeed, by standing on tiptoe I could catch a glimpse of some of the peaks of the still bluer and more distant mountain ranges in the northwest, those true-blue coins from heaven's own mint, and also of some portion of the village. But in other directions, even from this point, I could not see over or beyond the woods which surrounded me. It is well to have some water in your neighborhood, to give buoyancy to and float the earth. One value even of the smallest well is, that when you look into it you see that earth is not continent but insular41. This is as important as that it keeps butter cool. When I looked across the pond from this peak toward the Sudbury meadows, which in time of flood I distinguished42 elevated perhaps by a mirage43 in their seething44 valley, like a coin in a basin, all the earth beyond the pond appeared like a thin crust insulated and floated even by this small sheet of interverting water, and I was reminded that this on which I dwelt was but dry land.
Though the view from my door was still more contracted, I did not feel crowded or confined in the least. There was pasture enough for my imagination. The low shrub45 oak plateau to which the opposite shore arose stretched away toward the prairies of the West and the steppes of Tartary, affording ample room for all the roving families of men. "There are none happy in the world but beings who enjoy freely a vast horizon" -- said Damodara, when his herds46 required new and larger pastures.
Both place and time were changed, and I dwelt nearer to those parts of the universe and to those eras in history which had most attracted me. Where I lived was as far off as many a region viewed nightly by astronomers47. We are wont48 to imagine rare and delectable49 places in some remote and more celestial corner of the system, behind the constellation50 of Cassiopeia's Chair, far from noise and disturbance51. I discovered that my house actually had its site in such a withdrawn52, but forever new and unprofaned, part of the universe. If it were worth the while to settle in those parts near to the Pleiades or the Hyades, to Aldebaran or Altair, then I was really there, or at an equal remoteness from the life which I had left behind, dwindled54 and twinkling with as fine a ray to my nearest neighbor, and to be seen only in moonless nights by him. Such was that part of creation where I had squatted55;
"There was a shepherd that did live,
And held his thoughts as high
As were the mounts whereon his flocks
Did hourly feed him by."
What should we think of the shepherd's life if his flocks always wandered to higher pastures than his thoughts?
Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity56, and I may say innocence57, with Nature herself. I have been as sincere a worshipper of Aurora25 as the Greeks. I got up early and bathed in the pond; that was a religious exercise, and one of the best things which I did. They say that characters were engraven on the bathing tub of King Tchingthang to this effect: "Renew thyself completely each day; do it again, and again, and forever again." I can understand that. Morning brings back the heroic ages. I was as much affected58 by the faint hum of a mosquito making its invisible and unimaginable tour through my apartment at earliest dawn, when I was sitting with door and windows open, as I could be by any trumpet59 that ever sang of fame. It was Homer's requiem60; itself an Iliad and Odyssey61 in the air, singing its own wrath62 and wanderings. There was something cosmical about it; a standing advertisement, till forbidden, of the everlasting63 vigor64 and fertility of the world. The morning, which is the most memorable65 season of the day, is the awakening66 hour. Then there is least somnolence67 in us; and for an hour, at least, some part of us awakes which slumbers68 all the rest of the day and night. Little is to be expected of that day, if it can be called a day, to which we are not awakened69 by our Genius, but by the mechanical nudgings of some servitor, are not awakened by our own newly acquired force and aspirations70 from within, accompanied by the undulations of celestial music, instead of factory bells, and a fragrance71 filling the air -- to a higher life than we fell asleep from; and thus the darkness bear its fruit, and prove itself to be good, no less than the light. That man who does not believe that each day contains an earlier, more sacred, and auroral hour than he has yet profaned53, has despaired of life, and is pursuing a descending72 and darkening way. After a partial cessation of his sensuous73 life, the soul of man, or its organs rather, are reinvigorated each day, and his Genius tries again what noble life it can make. All memorable events, I should say, transpire74 in morning time and in a morning atmosphere. The Vedas say, "All intelligences awake with the morning." Poetry and art, and the fairest and most memorable of the actions of men, date from such an hour. All poets and heroes, like Memnon, are the children of Aurora, and emit their music at sunrise. To him whose elastic75 and vigorous thought keeps pace with the sun, the day is a perpetual morning. It matters not what the clocks say or the attitudes and labors77 of men. Morning is when I am awake and there is a dawn in me. Moral reform is the effort to throw off sleep. Why is it that men give so poor an account of their day if they have not been slumbering78? They are not such poor calculators. If they had not been overcome with drowsiness79, they would have performed something. The millions are awake enough for physical labor76; but only one in a million is awake enough for effective intellectual exertion80, only one in a hundred millions to a poetic81 or divine life. To be awake is to be alive. I have never yet met a man who was quite awake. How could I have looked him in the face?
We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake82 us in our soundest sleep. I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by a conscious endeavor. It is something to be able to paint a particular picture, or to carve a statue, and so to make a few objects beautiful; but it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look, which morally we can do. To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts. Every man is tasked to make his life, even in its details, worthy83 of the contemplation of his most elevated and critical hour. If we refused, or rather used up, such paltry84 information as we get, the oracles85 would distinctly inform us how this might be done.
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately86, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow87 of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan88-like as to put to rout89 all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime90, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion. For most men, it appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty91 about it, whether it is of the devil or of God, and have somewhat hastily concluded that it is the chief end of man here to "glorify92 God and enjoy him forever."
Still we live meanly, like ants; though the fable93 tells us that we were long ago changed into men; like pygmies we fight with cranes; it is error upon error, and clout94 upon clout, and our best virtue95 has for its occasion a superfluous96 and evitable wretchedness. Our life is frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb-nail. In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized97 life, such are the clouds and storms and quicksands and thousand-and-one items to be allowed for, that a man has to live, if he would not founder98 and go to the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead reckoning, and he must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds. Simplify, simplify. Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary eat but one; instead of a hundred dishes, five; and reduce other things in proportion. Our life is like a German Confederacy, made up of petty states, with its boundary forever fluctuating, so that even a German cannot tell you how it is bounded at any moment. The nation itself, with all its so-called internal improvements, which, by the way are all external and superficial, is just such an unwieldy and overgrown establishment, cluttered99 with furniture and tripped up by its own traps, ruined by luxury and heedless expense, by want of calculation and a worthy aim, as the million households in the land; and the only cure for it, as for them, is in a rigid100 economy, a stern and more than Spartan simplicity of life and elevation101 of purpose. It lives too fast. Men think that it is essential that the Nation have commerce, and export ice, and talk through a telegraph, and ride thirty miles an hour, without a doubt, whether they do or not; but whether we should live like baboons102 or like men, is a little uncertain. If we do not get out sleepers104, and forge rails, and devote days and nights to the work, but go to tinkering upon our lives to improve them, who will build railroads? And if railroads are not built, how shall we get to heaven in season? But if we stay at home and mind our business, who will want railroads? We do not ride on the railroad; it rides upon us. Did you ever think what those sleepers are that underlie105 the railroad? Each one is a man, an Irishman, or a Yankee man. The rails are laid on them, and they are covered with sand, and the cars run smoothly106 over them. They are sound sleepers, I assure you. And every few years a new lot is laid down and run over; so that, if some have the pleasure of riding on a rail, others have the misfortune to be ridden upon. And when they run over a man that is walking in his sleep, a supernumerary sleeper103 in the wrong position, and wake him up, they suddenly stop the cars, and make a hue107 and cry about it, as if this were an exception. I am glad to know that it takes a gang of men for every five miles to keep the sleepers down and level in their beds as it is, for this is a sign that they may sometime get up again.
Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life? We are determined108 to be starved before we are hungry. Men say that a stitch in time saves nine, and so they take a thousand stitches today to save nine tomorrow. As for work, we haven't any of any consequence. We have the Saint Vitus' dance, and cannot possibly keep our heads still. If I should only give a few pulls at the parish bell-rope, as for a fire, that is, without setting the bell, there is hardly a man on his farm in the outskirts109 of Concord, notwithstanding that press of engagements which was his excuse so many times this morning, nor a boy, nor a woman, I might almost say, but would forsake all and follow that sound, not mainly to save property from the flames, but, if we will confess the truth, much more to see it burn, since burn it must, and we, be it known, did not set it on fire -- or to see it put out, and have a hand in it, if that is done as handsomely; yes, even if it were the parish church itself. Hardly a man takes a half-hour's nap after dinner, but when he wakes he holds up his head and asks, "What's the news?" as if the rest of mankind had stood his sentinels. Some give directions to be waked every half-hour, doubtless for no other purpose; and then, to pay for it, they tell what they have dreamed. After a night's sleep the news is as indispensable as the breakfast. "Pray tell me anything new that has happened to a man anywhere on this globe" -- and he reads it over his coffee and rolls, that a man has had his eyes gouged110 out this morning on the Wachito River; never dreaming the while that he lives in the dark unfathomed mammoth111 cave of this world, and has but the rudiment112 of an eye himself.
For my part, I could easily do without the post-office. I think that there are very few important communications made through it. To speak critically, I never received more than one or two letters in my life -- I wrote this some years ago -- that were worth the postage. The penny-post is, commonly, an institution through which you seriously offer a man that penny for his thoughts which is so often safely offered in jest. And I am sure that I never read any memorable news in a newspaper. If we read of one man robbed, or murdered, or killed by accident, or one house burned, or one vessel113 wrecked114, or one steamboat blown up, or one cow run over on the Western Railroad, or one mad dog killed, or one lot of grasshoppers115 in the winter -- we never need read of another. One is enough. If you are acquainted with the principle, what do you care for a myriad116 instances and applications? To a philosopher all news, as it is called, is gossip, and they who edit and read it are old women over their tea. Yet not a few are greedy after this gossip. There was such a rush, as I hear, the other day at one of the offices to learn the foreign news by the last arrival, that several large squares of plate glass belonging to the establishment were broken by the pressure -- news which I seriously think a ready wit might write a twelve-month, or twelve years, beforehand with sufficient accuracy. As for Spain, for instance, if you know how to throw in Don Carlos and the Infanta, and Don Pedro and Seville and Granada, from time to time in the right proportions -- they may have changed the names a little since I saw the papers -- and serve up a bull-fight when other entertainments fail, it will be true to the letter, and give us as good an idea of the exact state or ruin of things in Spain as the most succinct117 and lucid118 reports under this head in the newspapers: and as for England, almost the last significant scrap119 of news from that quarter was the revolution of 1649; and if you have learned the history of her crops for an average year, you never need attend to that thing again, unless your speculations120 are of a merely pecuniary121 character. If one may judge who rarely looks into the newspapers, nothing new does ever happen in foreign parts, a French revolution not excepted.
What news! how much more important to know what that is which was never old! "Kieou-he-yu (great dignitary of the state of Wei) sent a man to Khoung-tseu to know his news. Khoung-tseu caused the messenger to be seated near him, and questioned him in these terms: What is your master doing? The messenger answered with respect: My master desires to diminish the number of his faults, but he cannot come to the end of them. The messenger being gone, the philosopher remarked: What a worthy messenger! What a worthy messenger!" The preacher, instead of vexing122 the ears of drowsy123 farmers on their day of rest at the end of the week -- for Sunday is the fit conclusion of an ill-spent week, and not the fresh and brave beginning of a new one -- with this one other draggle-tail of a sermon, should shout with thundering voice, "Pause! Avast! Why so seeming fast, but deadly slow?"
Shams124 and delusions125 are esteemed127 for soundest truths, while reality is fabulous129. If men would steadily130 observe realities only, and not allow themselves to be deluded131, life, to compare it with such things as we know, would be like a fairy tale and the Arabian Nights' Entertainments. If we respected only what is inevitable132 and has a right to be, music and poetry would resound133 along the streets. When we are unhurried and wise, we perceive that only great and worthy things have any permanent and absolute existence, that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow of the reality. This is always exhilarating and sublime. By closing the eyes and slumbering, and consenting to be deceived by shows, men establish and confirm their daily life of routine and habit everywhere, which still is built on purely134 illusory foundations. Children, who play life, discern its true law and relations more clearly than men, who fail to live it worthily135, but who think that they are wiser by experience, that is, by failure. I have read in a Hindoo book, that "there was a king's son, who, being expelled in infancy136 from his native city, was brought up by a forester, and, growing up to maturity137 in that state, imagined himself to belong to the barbarous race with which he lived. One of his father's ministers having discovered him, revealed to him what he was, and the misconception of his character was removed, and he knew himself to be a prince. So soul," continues the Hindoo philosopher, "from the circumstances in which it is placed, mistakes its own character, until the truth is revealed to it by some holy teacher, and then it knows itself to be Brahme." I perceive that we inhabitants of New England live this mean life that we do because our vision does not penetrate138 the surface of things. We think that that is which appears to be. If a man should walk through this town and see only the reality, where, think you, would the "Mill-dam" go to? If he should give us an account of the realities he beheld139 there, we should not recognize the place in his description. Look at a meeting-house, or a court-house, or a jail, or a shop, or a dwelling-house, and say what that thing really is before a true gaze, and they would all go to pieces in your account of them. Men esteem128 truth remote, in the outskirts of the system, behind the farthest star, before Adam and after the last man. In eternity140 there is indeed something true and sublime. But all these times and places and occasions are now and here. God himself culminates141 in the present moment, and will never be more divine in the lapse142 of all the ages. And we are enabled to apprehend143 at all what is sublime and noble only by the perpetual instilling144 and drenching145 of the reality that surrounds us. The universe constantly and obediently answers to our conceptions; whether we travel fast or slow, the track is laid for us. Let us spend our lives in conceiving then. The poet or the artist never yet had so fair and noble a design but some of his posterity146 at least could accomplish it.
Let us spend one day as deliberately as Nature, and not be thrown off the track by every nutshell and mosquito's wing that falls on the rails. Let us rise early and fast, or break fast, gently and without perturbation; let company come and let company go, let the bells ring and the children cry -- determined to make a day of it. Why should we knock under and go with the stream? Let us not be upset and overwhelmed in that terrible rapid and whirlpool called a dinner, situated147 in the meridian148 shallows. Weather this danger and you are safe, for the rest of the way is down hill. With unrelaxed nerves, with morning vigor, sail by it, looking another way, tied to the mast like Ulysses. If the engine whistles, let it whistle till it is hoarse149 for its pains. If the bell rings, why should we run? We will consider what kind of music they are like. Let us settle ourselves, and work and wedge our feet downward through the mud and slush of opinion, and prejudice, and tradition, and delusion126, and appearance, that alluvion which covers the globe, through Paris and London, through New York and Boston and Concord, through Church and State, through poetry and philosophy and religion, till we come to a hard bottom and rocks in place, which we can call reality, and say, This is, and no mistake; and then begin, having a point d'appui, below freshet and frost and fire, a place where you might found a wall or a state, or set a lamp-post safely, or perhaps a gauge150, not a Nilometer, but a Realometer, that future ages might know how deep a freshet of shams and appearances had gathered from time to time. If you stand right fronting and face to face to a fact, you will see the sun glimmer151 on both its surfaces, as if it were a cimeter, and feel its sweet edge dividing you through the heart and marrow, and so you will happily conclude your mortal career. Be it life or death, we crave152 only reality. If we are really dying, let us hear the rattle153 in our throats and feel cold in the extremities154; if we are alive, let us go about our business.
Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains155. I would drink deeper; fish in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly156 with stars. I cannot count one. I know not the first letter of the alphabet. I have always been regretting that I was not as wise as the day I was born. The intellect is a cleaver157; it discerns and rifts158 its way into the secret of things. I do not wish to be any more busy with my hands than is necessary. My head is hands and feet. I feel all my best faculties159 concentrated in it. My instinct tells me that my head is an organ for burrowing161, as some creatures use their snout and fore6 paws, and with it I would mine and burrow160 my way through these hills. I think that the richest vein162 is somewhere hereabouts; so by the divining-rod and thin rising vapors163 I judge; and here I will begin to mine.
到达我们生命的某个时期，我们就习惯于把可以安家落户的地方，一个个地加以考察了。正是这样我把住所周围一二十英里内的田园统统考察一遍。我在想象中已经接二连三地买下了那儿的所有田园，因为所有的田园都得要买下来，而且我都已经摸清它们的价格了。我步行到各个农民的田地上，尝尝他的野苹果，和他谈谈稼穑，再又请他随便开个什么价钱，就照他开的价钱把它买下来，心里却想再以任何价钱把它押给他；甚至付给他一个更高的价钱，——把什么都买下来，只不过没有立契约，——而是把他的闲谈当作他的契约，我这个人原来就很爱闲谈，——我耕耘了那片田地，而且在某种程度上，我想，耕耘了他的心田，如是尝够了乐趣以后，我就扬长而去，好让他继续耕耘下去。这种经营，竟使我的朋友们当我是一个地产拍客。其实我是无论坐在哪里，都能够生活的，哪里的风景都能相应地为我而发光。家宅者，不过是一个座位，——如果这个座位是在乡间就更好些。我发现许多家宅的位置，似乎都是不容易很快加以改进的，有人会觉得它离村镇太远，但我觉得倒是村镇离它太远了点。我总说，很好，我可以在这里住下；我就在那里过一小时夏天的和冬天的生活；我看到那些岁月如何地奔驰，挨过了冬季，便迎来了新春。这一区域的未来居民，不管他们将要把房子造在哪里，都可以肯定过去就有人住过那儿了。只要一个下午就足够把田地化为果园、树林和牧场，并且决定门前应该留着哪些优美的橡树或松树，甚至于砍伐了的树也都派定了最好的用场了；然后，我就由它去啦，好比休耕了一样，一个人越是有许多事情能够放得下，他越是富有。
我的想象却跑得太远了些，我甚至想到有几处田园会拒绝我，不肯出售给我，——被拒绝正合我的心愿呢，——我从来不肯让实际的占有这类事情的伤过我的手指头。几乎已实际地占有田园那一次，是我购置霍乐威尔那个地方的时候，都已经开始选好种子，找出了木料来，打算造一架手推车，来推动这事，或载之而他往了；可是在原来的主人正要给我一纸契约之前，他的妻子——每一个男人都有一个妻子的——发生了变卦，她要保持她的田产了，他就提出赔我十元钱，解除约定。现在说句老实话，我在这个世界上只有一角钱，假设我真的有一角钱的话，或者又有田园，又有十元，或有了所有的这一切，那我这点数学知识可就无法计算清楚了。不管怎样，我退回了那十元钱，退还了那田园，因为这一次我已经做过头了，应该说，我是很慷慨的罗，我按照我买进的价格，按原价再卖了给他，更因为他并不见得富有，还送了他十元，但保留了我的一角钱和种子，以及备而未用的独轮车的木料。如此，我觉得我手面已很阔绰，而且这样做无损于我的贫困。至于那地方的风景，我却也保留住了，后来我每年都得到丰收，却不需要独轮车来载走。关于风景， ——
我勘察一切，像一个皇帝，
谁也不能够否认我的权利。
我时常看到一个诗人，在欣赏了一片田园风景中的最珍贵部分之后，就扬长而去，那些固执的农夫还以为他拿走的仅只是几枚野苹果。诗人却把他的田园押上了韵脚，而且多少年之后，农夫还不知道这回事，这么一道最可羡慕的、肉眼不能见的篱笆已经把它圈了起来，还挤出了它的牛乳，去掉了奶油，把所有的奶油都拿走了，他只把去掉了奶油的奶水留给了农夫。
霍乐威尔田园的真正迷人之处，在我看是：它的遁隐之深，离开村子有两英里，离开最近的邻居有半英里，并且有一大片地把它和公路隔开了；它傍着河流，据它的主人说，由于这条河，而升起了雾，春天里就不会再下霜了，这却不在我心坎上；而且，它的田舍和棚屋带有灰暗而残败的神色，加上零落的篱笆，好似在我和先前的居民之间，隔开了多少岁月；还有那苹果树，树身已空，苔薛满布，兔子咬过，可见得我将会有什么样的一些邻舍了，但最主要的还是那一度回忆，我早年就曾经溯河而上，那时节，这些屋宇藏在密密的红色枫叶丛中，还记得我曾听到过一头家犬的吠声。我急于将它购买下来，等不及那产业主搬走那些岩石，砍伐掉那些树身已空的苹果树，铲除那些牧场中新近跃起的赤杨幼树，一句话，等不及它的任何收拾了。为了享受前述的那些优点，我决定干一下了；像那阿特拉斯一样，把世界放在我肩膀上好啦，——我从没听到过他得了哪样报酬，——我愿意做一切事：简直没有别的动机或任何推托之辞，只等付清了款子，便占有这个田园，再不受他人侵犯就行了；因为我知道我只要让这片田园自生自展，它将要生展出我所企求的最丰美的收获。但后来的结果已见上述。
所以，我所说的关于大规模的农事（至今我一直在培育着一座园林），仅仅是我已经预备好了种子。许多人认为年代越久的种子越好。我不怀疑时间是能分别好和坏的，但到最后我真正播种了，我想我大约是不至于会失望的。可是我要告诉我的伙伴们，只说这一次，以后永远不再说了：你们要尽可能长久地生活得自由，生活得并不执著才好。执迷于一座田园，和关在县政府的监狱中，简直没有分别。
老卡托——他的《乡村篇》是我的“启蒙者”，曾经说过——可惜我见到的那本唯一的译本把这一段话译得一塌糊涂，——“当你想要买下一个田园的时候，你宁可在脑中多多地想着它，可决不要贪得无厌地买下它，更不要嫌麻烦而再不去看望它，也别以为绕着它兜了一个圈子就够了。如果这是一个好田园，你去的次数越多你就越喜欢它。”我想我是不会贪得无厌地购买它的，我活多久，就去兜多久的圈子，死了之后，首先要葬在那里。这样才能使我终于更加喜欢它。
目前要写的，是我的这一类实验中其次的一个，我打算更详细地描写描写；而为了便利起见，且把这两年的经验归并为一年。我已经说过，我不预备写一首沮丧的颂歌，可是我要像黎明时站在栖木上的金鸡一样，放声啼叫，即使我这样做只不过是为了唤醒我的邻人罢了。
我第一天住在森林里，就是说，自天在那里，而且也在那里过夜的那一天，凑巧得很，是一八四五年七月四日，独立日，我的房子没有盖好，过冬还不行，只能勉强避避风雨，没有灰泥墁，没有烟囱，墙壁用的是饱经风雨的粗木板，缝隙很大，所以到晚上很是凉爽。笔直的、砍伐得来的、白色的间柱，新近才刨得平坦的门户和窗框，使屋子具有清洁和通凤的景象，特别在早晨，木料里饱和着露水的时候，总使我幻想到午间大约会有一些甜蜜的树胶从中渗出。这房间在我的想象中，一整天里还将多少保持这个早晨的情调，这使我想起了上一年我曾游览过的一个山顶上的一所房屋，这是一所空气好的、不涂灰泥的房屋，适宜于旅行的神仙在途中居住，那里还适宜于仙女走动，曳裙而过。吹过我的屋脊的风，正如那扫荡山脊而过的风，唱出断断续续的调子来，也许是天上人间的音乐片段。晨风永远在吹，创世纪的诗篇至今还没有中断；可惜听得到它的耳朵太少了。灵山只在大地的外部，处处都是。
除掉了一条小船之外，从前我曾经拥有的唯一屋宇，不过是一顶篷帐，夏天里，我偶或带了它出去郊游，这顶篷帐现在已卷了起来，放在我的阁楼里；只是那条小船，辗转经过了几个人的手，已经消隐于时间的溪流里。如今我却有了这更实际的避风雨的房屋，看来我活在这世间，已大有进步。这座屋宇虽然很单薄，却是围绕我的一种结晶了的东西，这一点立刻在建筑者心上发生了作用。它富于暗示的作用，好像绘画中的一幅素描。我不必跑出门去换空气，因为屋子里面的气氛一点儿也没有失去新鲜。坐在一扇门背后，几乎和不坐在门里面一样，便是下大雨的天气，亦如此。哈利梵萨说过：“并无鸟雀巢居的房屋像未曾调味的烧肉。”寒舍却并不如此，因为我发现我自己突然跟鸟雀做起邻居来了；但不是我捕到了一只鸟把它关起来，而是我把我自己关进了它们的邻近一只笼子里。我不仅跟那些时常飞到花园和果树园里来的鸟雀弥形亲近，而且跟那些更野性、更逗人惊诧的森林中的鸟雀亲近了起来，它们从来没有，就有也很难得，向村镇上的人民唱出良宵的雅歌的， ——它们是画眉，东部鸫鸟，红色的碛鶸，野麻雀，怪鸱和许多别的鸣禽。
我坐在一个小湖的湖岸上，离开康科德村子南面约一英里半，较康科德高出些，就在市镇与林肯乡之间那片浩瀚的森林中央，也在我们的唯一著名地区，康科德战场之南的两英里地；但因为我是低伏在森林下面的，而其余的一切地区，都给森林掩盖了，所以半英里之外的湖的对岸便成了我最遥远的地平线。在第一个星期内，无论什么时候我凝望着湖水，湖给我的印象都好像山里的一泓龙潭，高高在山的一边，它的底还比别的湖沼的水平面高了不少，以至日出的时候，我看到它脱去了夜晚的雾衣，它轻柔的粼波，或它波平如镜的湖面，都渐渐地在这里那里呈现了，这时的雾，像幽灵偷偷地从每一个方向，退隐入森林中，又好像是一个夜间的秘密宗教集会散会了一样。露水后来要悬挂在林梢，悬挂在山侧，到第二天还一直不肯消失。
八月里，在轻柔的斜凤细雨暂停的时候，这小小的湖做我的邻居，最为珍贵，那时水和空气都完全平静了，天空中却密布着乌云，下午才过了一半却已具备了一切黄昏的肃穆，而画眉在四周唱歌，隔岸相闻。这样的湖，再没有比这时候更平静的了；湖上的明净的空气自然很稀薄，而且给乌云映得很黯淡了，湖水却充满了光明和倒影，成为一个下界的天空，更加值得珍视。从最近被伐木的附近一个峰顶上向南看，穿过小山间的巨大凹处，看得见隔湖的一幅愉快的图景，那凹处正好形成湖岸，那儿两座小山坡相倾斜而下，使人感觉到似有一条溪涧从山林谷中流下，但是，却没有溪涧。我是这样地从近处的绿色山峰之间和之上，远望一些蔚蓝的地平线上的远山或更高的山峰的。真的，踮起了足尖来，我可以望见西北角上更远、更蓝的山脉，这种蓝颜色是天空的染料制造厂中最真实的出品，我还可以望见村镇的一角。但是要换一个方向看的话，虽然我站得如此高，却给郁茂的树木围住，什么也看不透，看不到了。在邻近，有一些流水真好，水有浮力，地就浮在上面了。便是最小的井也有这一点值得推荐，当你窥望井底的时候，你发现大地并不是连绵的大陆；而是隔绝的孤岛。这是很重要的，正如井水之能冷藏牛油。当我的目光从这一个山顶越过湖向萨德伯里草原望过去的时候，在发大水的季节里，我觉得草原升高了，大约是蒸腾的山谷中显示出海市蜃楼的效果，它好像沉在水盆底下的一个天然铸成的铜市，湖之外的大地都好像薄薄的表皮，成了孤岛，给小小一片横亘的水波浮载着，我才被提醒，我居住的地方只不过是干燥的土地。
虽然从我的门口望出去，风景范围更狭隘，我却一点不觉得它拥挤，更无被囚禁的感觉。尽够我的想象力在那里游牧的了。矮橡树丛生的高原升起在对岸，一直向西去的大平原和鞑靼式的草原伸展开去，给所有的流浪人家一个广阔的天地。当达摩达拉的牛羊群需要更大的新牧场时，他说过，“再没有比自由地欣赏广阔的地平线的人更快活的人了。”
时间和地点都已变换，我生活在更靠近了宇宙中的这些部分，更挨紧了历史中最吸引我的那些时代。我生活的地方遥远得跟天文家每晚观察的太空一样，我们惯于幻想，在天体的更远更僻的一角，有着更稀罕、更愉快的地方，在仙后星座的椅子形状的后面，远远地离了嚣闹和骚扰。我发现我的房屋位置正是这样一个遁隐之处，它是终古常新的没有受到污染的宇宙一部分。如果说，居住在这些部分，更靠近昴星团或毕星团，牵牛星座或天鹰星座更加值得的话，那末，我真正是住在那些地方的，至少是，就跟那些星座一样远离我抛在后面的人世，那些闪闪的小光，那些柔美的光线，传给我最近的邻居，只有在没有月亮的夜间才能够看得到。我所居住的便是创造物中那部分；——
曾有个牧羊人活在世上，
他的思想有高山那样
崇高，在那里他的羊群
每小时都给与他营养。如果牧羊人的羊群老是走到比他的思想还要高的牧场上，我们会觉得他的生活是怎样的呢？
每一个早晨都是一个愉快的邀请，使得我的生活跟大自然自己同样地简单，也许我可以说，同样地纯洁无暇。我向曙光顶礼，忠诚如同希腊人。我起身很早，在湖中洗澡；这是个宗教意味的运动，我所做到的最好的一件事。据说在成汤王的浴盆上就刻着这样的字：“苟日新，日日新，又日新。”我懂得这个道理。黎明带国来了英雄时代。在最早的黎明中，我坐着，门窗大开，一只看不到也想象不到的蚊虫在我的房中飞，它那微弱的吟声都能感动我，就像我听到了宣扬美名的金属喇叭声一样。这是荷马的一首安魂曲，空中的《伊利亚特》和《奥德赛》，歌唱着它的愤怒与漂泊。此中大有宇宙本体之感；宣告着世界的无穷精力与生生不息，直到它被禁。黎明啊，一天之中最值得纪念的时节，是觉醒的时辰。那时候，我们的昏沉欲睡的感觉是最少的了；至少可有一小时之久，整日夜昏昏沉沉的官能大都要清醒起来。但是，如果我们并不是给我们自己的禀赋所唤醒，而是给什么仆人机械地用肘子推醒的；如果并不是由我们内心的新生力量和内心的要求来唤醒我们，既没有那空中的芬香，也没有回荡的天籁的音乐，而是工厂的汽笛唤醒了我们的，——如果我们醒时，并没有比睡前有了更崇高的生命，那末这样的白天，即便能称之为白天，也不会有什么希望可言；要知道，黑暗可以产生这样的好果子，黑暗是可以证明它自己的功能并不下于白昼的。一个人如果不能相信每一天都有一个比他亵读过的更早、更神圣的曙光时辰，他一定是已经对于生命失望的了，正在摸索着一条降入黑暗去的道路。感官的生活在休息了一夜之后，人的灵魂，或者就说是人的官能吧，每天都重新精力弥漫一次，而他的禀赋又可以去试探他能完成何等崇高的生活了。可以纪念的一切事，我敢说，都在黎明时间的氛围中发生。《吠陀经》说： “一切知，俱于黎明中醒。”诗歌与艺术，人类行为中最美丽最值得纪念的事都出发于这一个时刻。所有的诗人和英雄都像曼依，那曙光之神的儿子，在日出时他播送竖琴音乐。以富于弹性的和精力充沛的思想追随着太阳步伐的人，白昼对于他便是一个永恒的黎明。这和时钟的鸣声不相干，也不用管人们是什么态度，在从事什么劳动。早晨是我醒来时内心有黎明感觉的一个时候。改良德性就是为了把昏沉的睡眠抛弃。人们如果不是在浑浑噩噩地睡觉，那为什么他们回顾每一天的时候要说得这么可怜呢？他们都是精明人嘛。如果他们没有给昏睡所征服，他们是可以干成一些事的。几百万人清醒得足以从事体力劳动，但是一百万人中，只有一个人才清醒得足以有效地服役于智慧；一亿人中，才能有一个人，生活得诗意而神圣。清醒就是生活。我还没有遇到过一个非常清醒的人。要是见到了他，我怎敢凝视他呢？
我们必须学会再苏醒，更须学会保持清醒而不再昏睡，但不能用机械的方法，而应寄托无穷的期望于黎明，就在最沉的沉睡中，黎明也不会抛弃我们的。我没有看到过更使人振奋的事实了，人类无疑是有能力来有意识地提高他自己的生命的。能画出某一张画，雕塑出某一个肖像，美化某几个对象，是很了不起的；但更加荣耀的事是能够塑造或画出那种氛围与媒介来，从中能使我们发现，而且能使我们正当地有所为。能影响当代的本质的，是最高的艺术。每人都应该把最崇高的和紧急时刻内他所考虑到的做到，使他的生命配得上他所想的，甚至小节上也配得上。如果我们拒绝了，或者说虚耗了我们得到的这一点微不足道的思想，神示自会清清楚楚地把如何做到这一点告诉我们的。
我到林中去，因为我希望谨慎地生活，只面对生活的基本事实，看看我是否学得到生活要教育我的东西，免得到了临死的时候，才发现我根本就没有生活过。我不希望度过非生活的生活，生活是这样的可爱；我却也不愿意去修行过隐逸的生活，除非是万不得已。我要生活得深深地把生命的精髓都吸到，要生活得稳稳当当，生活得斯巴达式的，以便根除一切非生活的东西，划出一块刈割的面积来，细细地刈割或修剪，把生活压缩到一个角隅里去，把它缩小到最低的条件中，如果它被证明是卑微的，那末就把那真正的卑微全部认识到，并把它的卑微之处公布于世界；或者，如果它是崇高的，就用切身的经历来体会它，在我下一次远游时，也可以作出一个真实的报道。因为，我看，大多数人还确定不了他们的生活是属于魔鬼的，还是属于上帝的呢，然而又多少有点轻率地下了判断，认为人生的主要目标是“归荣耀于神，并永远从神那里得到喜悦”。
然而我们依然生活得卑微，像蚂蚁；虽然神话告诉我们说，我们早已经变成人了；像小人国里的人，我们和长脖子仙鹤作战；这真是错误之上加错误，脏抹布之上更抹脏：我们最优美的德性在这里成了多余的本可避免的劫数。我们的生活在琐碎之中消耗掉了。一个老实的人除十指之外，便用不着更大的数字了，在特殊情况下也顶多加上十个足趾，其余不妨笼而统之。简单，简单，简单啊！我说，最好你的事只两件或三件，不要一百件或一千件；不必计算一百万，半打不是够计算了吗，总之，账目可以记在大拇指甲上就好了。在这浪涛滔天的文明生活的海洋中，一个人要生活，得经历这样的风暴和流沙和一千零一种事变，除非他纵身一跃，直下海底，不要作船位推算去安抵目的港了，那些事业成功的人，真是伟大的计算家啊。简单化，简单化！不必一天三餐，如果必要，一顿也够了；不要百道菜，五道够多了；至于别的，就在同样的比例下来减少好了。我们的生活像德意志联邦，全是小邦组成的。联邦的边界永在变动，甚至一个德国人也不能在任何时候把边界告诉你。国家是有所谓内政的改进的，实际上它全是些外表的，甚至肤浅的事务，它是这样一种不易运用的生长得臃肿庞大的机构，壅塞着家具，掉进自己设置的陷阱，给奢侈和挥霍毁坏完了，因为它没有计算，也没有崇高的目标，好比地面上的一百万户人家一样；对于这种情况，和对于他们一样，惟一的医疗办法是一种严峻的经济学，一种严峻得更甚于斯巴达人的简单的生活，并提高生活的目标。生活现在是太放荡了。人们以为国家必须有商业，必须把冰块出口，还要用电报来说话，还要一小时驰奔三十英里，毫不怀疑它们有没有用处；但是我们应该生活得像狒狒呢，还是像人，这一点倒又确定不了。如果我们不做出枕木来，不轧制钢轨，不日夜工作，而只是笨手笨脚地对付我们的生活，来改善它们，那末谁还想修筑铁路呢？如果不造铁路，我们如何能准时赶到天堂去哪？可是，我们只要住在家里，管我们的私事，谁还需要铁路呢？我们没有来坐铁路，铁路倒乘坐了我们。你难道没有想过，铁路底下躺着的枕木是什么？每一根都是一个人，爱尔兰人，或北方佬。铁轨就铺在他们身上，他们身上又铺起了黄沙，而列车平滑地驰过他们。我告诉你，他们真是睡得熟呵。每隔几年，就换上了一批新的枕木，车辆还在上面奔驰着；如果一批人能在铁轨之上愉快地乘车经过，必然有另一批不幸的人是在下面被乘坐被压过去的。当我们奔驰过了一个梦中行路的人，一根出轨的多余的枕木，他们只得唤醒他，突然停下车子，吼叫不已，好像这是一个例外。我听到了真觉得有趣，他们每五英里路派定了一队人，要那些枕木长眠不起，并保持应有的高低，由此可见，他们有时候还是要站起来的。
为什么我们应该生活得这样匆忙，这样浪费生命呢？我们下了决心，要在饥饿以前就饿死。人们时常说，及时缝一针，可以将来少缝九针，所以现在他们缝了一千针，只是为了明天少缝九千针。说到工作，任何结果也没有，我们患了跳舞病，连脑袋都无法保住静止。如果在寺院的钟楼下，我刚拉了几下绳子，使钟声发出火警的信号来，钟声还没大响起来，在康科德附近的田园里的人，尽管今天早晨说了多少次他如何如何地忙，没有一个男人，或孩子，或女人，我敢说是会不放下工作而朝着那声音跑来的，主要不是要从火里救出财产来，如果我们说老实话，更多的还是来看火烧的，因为已经烧着了，而且这火，要知道，不是我们放的；或者是来看这场火是怎么被救灭的，要是不费什么劲，也还可以帮忙救救火；就是这样，即使教堂本身着了火也是这样。一个人吃了午饭，还只睡了半个小时的午觉，一醒来就抬起了头，问，“有什么新闻？”好像全人类在为他放哨。有人还下命令，每隔半小时唤醒他一次，无疑的是并不为什么特别的原因：然后，为报答人家起见，他谈了谈他的梦。睡了一夜之后，新闻之不可缺少，正如早饭一样的重要。“清告诉我发生在这个星球之上的任何地方的任何人的新闻，”——于是他一边喝咖啡，吃面包卷，一边读报纸，知道了这天早晨的瓦奇多河上，有一个人的眼睛被挖掉了；一点不在乎他自己就生活在这个世界的深不可测的大黑洞里，自己的眼睛里早就是没有瞳仁的了。
拿我来说，我觉得有没有邮局都无所谓。我想，只有根少的重要消息是需要邮递的。我一生之中，确切他说，至多只收到过一两封信是值得花费那邮资的——这还是我几年之前写过的一句话。通常，一便士邮资的制度，其目的是给一个人花一便士，你就可以得到他的思想了，但结果你得到的常常只是一个玩笑。我也敢说，我从来没有从报纸上读到什么值得纪念的新闻。如果我们读到某某人被抢了，或被谋杀或者死于非命了，或一幢房子烧了，或一只船沉了，或一只轮船炸了，或一条母牛在西部铁路上给撞死了，或一只疯狗死了，或冬天有了一大群蚱蜢，——我们不用再读别的了。有这么一条新闻就够了。如果你掌握了原则，何必去关心那亿万的例证及其应用呢？对于一个哲学家，这些被称为新闻的，不过是瞎扯，编辑和读者就只不过是在喝茶的长舌妇。然而不少人都贪婪地听着这种瞎扯。我听说那一天，大家这样抢啊夺啊，要到报馆去听一个最近的国际新闻，那报馆里的好几面大玻璃窗都在这样一个压力之下破碎了，——那条新闻，我严肃地想过，其实是一个有点头脑的人在十二个月之前，甚至在十二年之前，就已经可以相当准确地写好的。比如，说西班牙吧，如果你知道如何把唐卡洛斯和公主，唐彼得罗，塞维利亚和格拉纳达这些字眼时时地放进一些，放得比例适合——这些字眼，自从我读报至今，或许有了一点变化了吧，——然后，在没有什么有趣的消息时，就说说斗牛好啦，这就是真实的新闻，把西班牙的现状以及变迁都给我们详详细细地报道了，完全跟现在报纸上这个标题下的那些最简明的新闻一个样：再说英国吧，来自那个地区的最后的一条重要新闻几乎总是一六四九年的革命；如果你已经知道她的谷物每年的平均产量的历史，你也不必再去注意那些事了，除非你是要拿它来做投机生意，要赚几个钱的话。如果你能判断，谁是难得看报纸的，那末在国外实在没有发生什么新的事件，即使一场法国大革命，也不例外。
什么新闻！要知道永不衰老的事件，那才是更重要得多！蓬伯玉（卫大夫）派人到孔子那里去。孔子与之坐而问焉。曰：夫子何为？对曰：夫子欲寡其过而未能也。使者出。子曰：使乎，使乎。在一个星期过去了之后、疲倦得直瞌睡的农夫们休息的日子里，——这个星期日，真是过得糟透的一星期的适当的结尾，但决不是又一个星期的新鲜而勇敢的开始啊，——偏偏那位牧师不用这种或那种拖泥带水的冗长的宣讲来麻烦农民的耳朵，却雷霆一般地叫喊着：“停！停下！为什么看起来很快，但事实上你们却慢得要命呢？”
谎骗和谬见已被高估为最健全的真理，现实倒是荒诞不经的。如果世人只是稳健地观察现实，不允许他们自己受欺被骗，那末，用我们所知道的来譬喻，生活将好像是一篇童话，仿佛是一部《天方夜谭》了。如果我们只尊敬一切不可避免的，并有存在权利的事物，音乐和诗歌便将响彻街头。如果我们不慌不忙而且聪明，我们会认识唯有伟大而优美的事物才有永久的绝对的存在，——琐琐的恐惧与碎碎的欢喜不过是现实的阴影。现实常常是活泼而崇高的。由于闭上了眼睛，神魂颠倒，任凭自己受影子的欺骗，人类才建立了他们日常生活的轨道和习惯，到处遵守它们，其实它们是建筑在纯粹幻想的基础之上的。嬉戏地生活着的儿童，反而更能发现生活的规律和真正的关系，胜过了大人，大人不能有价值地生活，还以为他们是更聪明的，因为他们有经验，这就是说，他们时常失败。我在一部印度的书中读到，“有一个王子，从小给逐出故土之城，由一个樵夫抚养成长，一直以为自己属于他生活其中的贱民阶级。他父亲手下的官员后来发现了他，把他的出身告诉了他，对他的性格的错误观念于是被消除了，他知道自己是一个王子。所以，”那印度哲学家接下来说，“由于所处环境的缘故，灵魂误解了他自己的性格，非得由神圣的教师把真相显示了给他。然后，他才知道他是婆罗门。”我看到，我们新英格兰的居民之所以过着这样低贱的生活，是因为我们的视力透不过事物表面。我们把似乎是当作了是。如果一个人能够走过这一个城镇，只看见现实，你想，“贮水池”就该是如何的下场？如果他给我们一个他所目击的现实的描写，我们都不会知道他是在描写什么地方。看看会议厅，或法庭，或监狱，或店铺，或住宅，你说，在真正凝视它们的时候，这些东西到底是什么啊，在你的描绘中，它们都纷纷倒下来了。人们尊崇迢遥疏远的真理，那在制度之外的，那在最远一颗星后面的，那在亚当以前的，那在末代以后的。自然，在永恒中是有着真理和崇高的。可是，所有这些时代，这些地方和这些场合，都是此时此地的啊！上帝之伟大就在于现在伟大，时光尽管过去，他绝不会更加神圣一点的。只有永远渗透现实，发掘围绕我们的现实，我们才能明白什么是崇高。宇宙经常顺从地适应我们的观念；不论我们走得快或慢，路轨已给我们铺好。让我们穷毕生之精力来意识它们。诗人和艺术家从未得到这样美丽而崇高的设计，然而至少他的一些后代是能完成它的。
我们如大自然一般自然地过一天吧，不要因硬壳果或掉在轨道上的蚊虫的一只翅膀而出了轨。让我们黎明即起，不用或用早餐，平静而又无不安之感；任人去人来，让钟去敲，孩子去哭，——下个决心，好好地过一天。为什么我们要投降，甚至于随波逐流呢？让我们不要卷入在于午线浅滩上的所谓午宴之类的可怕急流与旋涡，而惊惶失措。熬过了这种危险，你就平安了，以后是下山的路了。神经不要松弛，利用那黎明似的魄力，向另一个方向航行，像尤利西斯那样拴在桅杆上过活。如果汽笛啸叫了，让它叫得沙哑吧。如果钟打响了，为什么我们要奔跑呢？我们还要研究它算什么音乐？让我们定下心来工作，并用我们的脚跋涉在那些污泥似的意见、偏见、传统、谬见与表面中间，这蒙蔽全地球的淤土啊，让我们越过巴黎、伦敦、纽约、波士顿、康科德，教会与国家，诗歌，哲学与宗教，直到我们达到一个坚硬的底层，在那里的岩盘上，我们称之为现实，然后说，这就是了，不错的了，然后你可以在这个point d'appui 之上，在洪水、冰霜和火焰下面，开始在这地方建立一道城墙或一个国土，也许能安全地立起一个灯柱，或一个测量仪器，不是尼罗河水测量器了，而是测量现实的仪器，让未来的时代能知道，谎骗与虚有其表曾洪水似的积了又积，积得多么深哪。如果你直立而面对着事实，你就会看到太阳闪耀在它的两面，它好像一柄东方的短弯刀，你能感到它的甘美的锋镝正剖开你的心和骨髓，你也欢乐地愿意结束你的人间事业了。生也好，死也好，我们
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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discoursed
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| 演说（discourse的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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broker
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| n.中间人，经纪人；v.作为中间人来安排 | |
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buffet
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| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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6
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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7
annually
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| adv.一年一次，每年 | |
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8
monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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9
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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10
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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11
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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12
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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13
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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14
maples
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| 槭树，枫树( maple的名词复数 )； 槭木 | |
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15
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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16
atlas
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| n.地图册，图表集 | |
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17
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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18
discriminates
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| 分别，辨别，区分( discriminate的第三人称单数 )； 歧视，有差别地对待 | |
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19
brag
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| v./n.吹牛，自夸；adj.第一流的 | |
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20
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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21
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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22
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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23
exude
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| v.(使)流出，(使)渗出 | |
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24
auroral
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| adj.曙光的；玫瑰色的 | |
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25
aurora
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| n.极光 | |
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26
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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27
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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28
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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29
seasoning
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| n.调味；调味料；增添趣味之物 | |
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30
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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32
concord
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| n.和谐；协调 | |
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33
tarn
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| n.山中的小湖或小潭 | |
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34
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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35
intervals
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|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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36
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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37
overcast
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|
| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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38
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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39
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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40
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
insular
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| adj.岛屿的，心胸狭窄的 | |
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42
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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43
mirage
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
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44
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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45
shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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46
herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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47
astronomers
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| n.天文学者，天文学家( astronomer的名词复数 ) | |
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48
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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49
delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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50
constellation
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| n.星座n.灿烂的一群 | |
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51
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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52
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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53
profaned
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| v.不敬( profane的过去式和过去分词 )；亵渎，玷污 | |
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54
dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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56
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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57
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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58
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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59
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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60
requiem
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| n.安魂曲，安灵曲 | |
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61
odyssey
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| n.长途冒险旅行；一连串的冒险 | |
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62
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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63
everlasting
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|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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64
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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65
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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66
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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67
somnolence
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| n.想睡，梦幻；欲寐；嗜睡；嗜眠 | |
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68
slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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69
awakened
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|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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70
aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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71
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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72
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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73
sensuous
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| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
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74
transpire
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| v.(使)蒸发，(使)排出 ；泄露，公开 | |
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75
elastic
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|
| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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76
labor
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|
| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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77
labors
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|
| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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78
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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79
drowsiness
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|
| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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80
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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81
poetic
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|
| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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82
forsake
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|
| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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83
worthy
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|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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84
paltry
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|
| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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85
oracles
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|
| 神示所( oracle的名词复数 )； 神谕； 圣贤； 哲人 | |
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86
deliberately
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|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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87
marrow
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|
| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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88
spartan
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|
| adj.简朴的，刻苦的；n.斯巴达；斯巴达式的人 | |
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89
rout
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|
| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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90
sublime
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|
| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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91
uncertainty
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|
| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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92
glorify
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| vt.颂扬，赞美，使增光，美化 | |
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93
fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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94
clout
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| n.用手猛击；权力，影响力 | |
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95
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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96
superfluous
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|
| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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97
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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98
Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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99
cluttered
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|
| v.杂物，零乱的东西零乱vt.( clutter的过去式和过去分词 )；乱糟糟地堆满，把…弄得很乱；（以…） 塞满… | |
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100
rigid
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|
| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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101
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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102
baboons
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| n.狒狒( baboon的名词复数 ) | |
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103
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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104
sleepers
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| n.卧铺（通常以复数形式出现）；卧车( sleeper的名词复数 )；轨枕；睡觉（呈某种状态）的人；小耳环 | |
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105
underlie
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| v.位于...之下，成为...的基础 | |
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106
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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107
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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108
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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109
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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110
gouged
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| v.凿( gouge的过去式和过去分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
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111
mammoth
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|
| n.长毛象；adj.长毛象似的，巨大的 | |
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112
rudiment
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| n.初步；初级；基本原理 | |
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113
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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114
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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115
grasshoppers
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| n.蚱蜢( grasshopper的名词复数 )；蝗虫；蚂蚱；（孩子）矮小的 | |
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116
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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117
succinct
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| adj.简明的，简洁的 | |
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118
lucid
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| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
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119
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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120
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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121
pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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122
vexing
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| adj.使人烦恼的，使人恼火的v.使烦恼( vex的现在分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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123
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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124
shams
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| 假象( sham的名词复数 )； 假货； 虚假的行为（或感情、言语等）； 假装…的人 | |
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125
delusions
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| n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 )；谬见；错觉；妄想 | |
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126
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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127
esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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128
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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129
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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130
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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131
deluded
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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133
resound
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| v.回响 | |
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134
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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135
worthily
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| 重要地，可敬地，正当地 | |
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136
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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137
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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138
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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139
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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140
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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141
culminates
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| v.达到极点( culminate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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142
lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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143
apprehend
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| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
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instilling
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| v.逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instil的现在分词 )；逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instill的现在分词 ) | |
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145
drenching
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| n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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146
posterity
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| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
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147
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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148
meridian
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| adj.子午线的；全盛期的 | |
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149
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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150
gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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151
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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152
crave
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| vt.渴望得到，迫切需要，恳求，请求 | |
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153
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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154
extremities
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| n.端点( extremity的名词复数 )；尽头；手和足；极窘迫的境地 | |
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155
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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156
pebbly
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| 多卵石的，有卵石花纹的 | |
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157
cleaver
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| n.切肉刀 | |
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158
rifts
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| n.裂缝( rift的名词复数 )；裂隙；分裂；不和 | |
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159
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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160
burrow
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| vt.挖掘(洞穴)；钻进；vi.挖洞；翻寻；n.地洞 | |
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161
burrowing
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| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的现在分词 )；翻寻 | |
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162
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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163
vapors
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| n.水汽，水蒸气，无实质之物( vapor的名词复数 )；自夸者；幻想 [药]吸入剂 [古]忧郁（症）v.自夸，（使）蒸发( vapor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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