Sounds

Butwhileweareconfinedtobooks,thoughthemostselectandclassic,andreadonlyparticularwrittenlanguages,whicharethemselvesbutdialectsandprovincial,weareindangerofforgettingthelanguagewhichallthingsandeventsspeakwithoutmetaphor,whichaloneiscopiousandstandard.Muchispublished,butlittleprinted.Therayswhichstreamthroughtheshutterwillbenolongerrememberedwhentheshutteriswhollyremoved.Nomethodnordisciplinecansupersedethenecessityofbeingforeveronthealert.Whatisacourseofhistory,orphilosophy,orpoetry,nomatterhowwellselected,orthebestsociety,orthemostadmirableroutineoflife,comparedwiththedisciplineoflookingalwaysatwhatistobeseen?Willyoubeareader,astudentmerely,oraseer?Readyourfate,seewhatisbeforeyou,andwalkonintofuturity. IdidnotreadbooksthefirstsummerIhoedbeans.Nay,Ioftendidbetterthanthis.ThereweretimeswhenIcouldnotaffordtosacrificethebloomofthepresentmomenttoanywork,whetheroftheheadorhands.Iloveabroadmargintomylife.Sometimes,inasummermorning,havingtakenmyaccustomedbath,Isatinmysunnydoorwayfromsunrisetillnoon,raptinarevery,amidstthepinesandhickoriesandsumachs,inundisturbedsolitudeandstillness,whilethebirdssingaroundorflittednoiselessthroughthehouse,untilbythesunfallinginatmywestwindow,orthenoiseofsometraveller’swagononthedistanthighway,Iwasremindedofthelapseoftime.Igrewinthoseseasonslikecorninthenight,andtheywerefarbetterthananyworkofthehandswouldhavebeen.Theywerenottimesubtractedfrommylife,butsomuchoverandabovemyusualallowance.IrealizedwhattheOrientalsmeanbycontemplationandtheforsakingofworks.Forthemostpart,Imindednothowthehourswent.Thedayadvancedasiftolightsomeworkofmineitwasmorning,andlo,nowitisevening,andnothingmemorableisaccomplished.Insteadofsinginglikethebirds,Isilentlysmiledatmyincessantgoodfortune.Asthesparrowhaditstrill,sittingonthehickorybeforemydoor,sohadImychuckleorsuppressedwarblewhichhemighthearoutofmynest.Mydayswerenotdaysoftheweek,bearingthestampofanyheathendeity,norweretheymincedintohoursandfrettedbythetickingofaclockforIlivedlikethePuriIndians,ofwhomitissaidthat“foryesterday,to-day,andto-morrowtheyhaveonlyoneword,andtheyexpressthevarietyofmeaningbypointingbackwardforyesterday,forwardforto-morrow,andoverheadforthepassingday.”Thiswassheeridlenesstomyfellow-townsmen,nodoubtbutifthebirdsandflowershadtriedmebytheirstandard,Ishouldnothavebeenfoundwanting.Amanmustfindhisoccasionsinhimself,itistrue.Thenaturaldayisverycalm,andwillhardlyreprovehisindolence. Ihadthisadvantage,atleast,inmymodeoflife,overthosewhowereobligedtolookabroadforamusement,tosocietyandthetheatre,thatmylifeitselfwasbecomemyamusementandneverceasedtobenovel.Itwasadramaofmanyscenesandwithoutanend.Ifwewerealwaysindeedgettingourliving,andregulatingourlivesaccordingtothelastandbestmodewehadlearned,weshouldneverbetroubledwithennui.Followyourgeniuscloselyenough,anditwillnotfailtoshowyouafreshprospecteveryhour.Houseworkwasapleasantpastime.Whenmyfloorwasdirty,Iroseearly,and,settingallmyfurnitureoutofdoorsonthegrass,bedandbedsteadmakingbutonebudget,dashedwateronthefloor,andsprinkledwhitesandfromthepondonit,andthenwithabroomscrubbeditcleanandwhiteandbythetimethevillagershadbrokentheirfastthemorningsunhaddriedmyhousesufficientlytoallowmetomoveinagain,andmymeditationswerealmostuninterupted.Itwaspleasanttoseemywholehouseholdeffectsoutonthegrass,makingalittlepilelikeagypsy’spack,andmythree-leggedtable,fromwhichIdidnotremovethebooksandpenandink,standingamidthepinesandhickories.Theyseemedgladtogetoutthemselves,andasifunwillingtobebroughtin.Iwassometimestemptedtostretchanawningoverthemandtakemyseatthere.Itwasworththewhiletoseethesunshineonthesethings,andhearthefreewindblowonthemsomuchmoreinterestingmostfamiliarobjectslookoutofdoorsthaninthehouse.Abirdsitsonthenextbough,life-everlastinggrowsunderthetable,andblackberryvinesrunrounditslegspinecones,chestnutburs,andstrawberryleavesarestrewnabout.Itlookedasifthiswasthewaytheseformscametobetransferredtoourfurniture,totables,chairs,andbedsteads,—becausetheyoncestoodintheirmidst. Myhousewasonthesideofahill,immediatelyontheedgeofthelargerwood,inthemidstofayoungforestofpitchpinesandhickories,andhalfadozenrodsfromthepond,towhichanarrowfootpathleddownthehill.Inmyfrontyardgrewthestrawberry,blackberry,andlife-everlasting,johnswortandgoldenrod,shrub-oaksandsand-cherry,blueberryandgroundnut.NeartheendofMay,thesand-cherry(Cerasuspumila,)adornedthesidesofthepathwithitsdelicateflowersarrangedinumbelscylindricallyaboutitsshortstems,whichlast,inthefall,weigheddownwithgoodsizedandhandsomecherries,felloverinwreathslikeraysoneveryside.ItastedthemoutofcomplimenttoNature,thoughtheywerescarcelypalatable.Thesumach(Rhusglabra,)grewluxuriantlyaboutthehouse,pushingupthroughtheembankmentwhichIhadmade,andgrowingfiveorsixfeetthefirstseason.Itsbroadpinnatetropicalleafwaspleasantthoughstrangetolookon.Thelargebuds,suddenlypushingoutlateinthespringfromdrystickswhichhadseemedtobedead,developedthemselvesasbymagicintogracefulgreenandtenderboughs,aninchindiameterandsometimes,asIsatatmywindow,soheedlesslydidtheygrowandtaxtheirweakjoints,Iheardafreshandtenderboughsuddenlyfalllikeafantotheground,whentherewasnotabreathofairstirring,brokenoffbyitsownweight.InAugust,thelargemassesofberries,which,wheninflower,hadattractedmanywildbees,graduallyassumedtheirb