Sounds
關燈
小
中
大
rightvelvetycrimsonhue,andbytheirweightagainbentdownandbrokethetenderlimbs.
AsIsitatmywindowthissummerafternoon,hawksarecirclingaboutmyclearingthetantivyofwildpigeons,flyingbytwosandthreesathwartmyview,orperchingrestlessonthewhite-pineboughsbehindmyhouse,givesavoicetotheairafishhawkdimplestheglassysurfaceofthepondandbringsupafishaminkstealsoutofthemarshbeforemydoorandseizesafrogbytheshorethesedgeisbendingundertheweightofthereed-birdsflittinghitherandthitherandforthelasthalfhourIhaveheardtherattleofrailroadcars,nowdyingawayandthenrevivinglikethebeatofapartridge,conveyingtravellersfromBostontothecountry.ForIdidnotlivesooutoftheworldasthatboywho,asIhear,wasputouttoafarmerintheeastpartofthetown,buterelongranawayandcamehomeagain,quitedownattheheelandhomesick.Hehadneverseensuchadullandout-of-the-wayplacethefolkswereallgoneoffwhy,youcouldn’tevenhearthewhistle!IdoubtifthereissuchaplaceinMassachusettsnow:—
“Intruth,ourvillagehasbecomeabutt
Foroneofthosefleetrailroadshafts,ando’er
Ourpeacefulplainitssoothingsoundis—Concord.”
TheFitchburgRailroadtouchesthepondaboutahundredrodssouthofwhereIdwell.Iusuallygotothevillagealongitscauseway,andam,asitwere,relatedtosocietybythislink.Themenonthefreighttrains,whogooverthewholelengthoftheroad,bowtomeastoanoldacquaintance,theypassmesooften,andapparentlytheytakemeforanemployeeandsoIam.Itoowouldfainbeatrack-repairersomewhereintheorbitoftheearth.
Thewhistleofthelocomotivepenetratesmywoodssummerandwinter,soundinglikethescreamofahawksailingoversomefarmer’syard,informingmethatmanyrestlesscitymerchantsarearrivingwithinthecircleofthetown,oradventurouscountrytradersfromtheotherside.Astheycomeunderonehorizon,theyshouttheirwarningtogetoffthetracktotheother,heardsometimesthroughthecirclesoftwotowns.Herecomeyourgroceries,countryyourrations,countrymen!Noristhereanymansoindependentonhisfarmthathecansaythemnay.Andhere’syourpayforthem!screamsthecountryman’swhistletimberlikelongbatteringramsgoingtwentymilesanhouragainstthecity’swalls,andchairsenoughtoseatallthewearyandheavyladenthatdwellwithinthem.Withsuchhugeandlumberingcivilitythecountryhandsachairtothecity.AlltheIndianhuckleberryhillsarestripped,allthecranberrymeadowsarerakedintothecity.Upcomesthecotton,downgoesthewovenclothupcomesthesilk,downgoesthewoollenupcomethebooks,butdowngoesthewitthatwritesthem.
WhenImeettheenginewithitstrainofcarsmovingoffwithplanetarymotion,—or,rather,likeacomet,forthebeholderknowsnotifwiththatvelocityandwiththatdirectionitwilleverrevisitthissystem,sinceitsorbitdoesnotlooklikeareturningcurve,—withitssteamcloudlikeabannerstreamingbehindingoldenandsilverwreaths,likemanyadownycloudwhichIhaveseen,highintheheavens,unfoldingitsmassestothelight,—asifthistravellingdemigod,thiscloud-compeller,woulderelongtakethesunsetskyfortheliveryofhistrainwhenIheartheironhorsemakethehillsechowithhissnortlikethunder,shakingtheearthwithhisfeet,andbreathingfireandsmokefromhisnostrils,(whatkindofwingedhorseorfierydragontheywillputintothenewMythologyIdon’tknow),itseemsasiftheearthhadgotaracenowworthytoinhabitit.Ifallwereasitseems,andmenmadetheelementstheirservantsfornobleends!Ifthecloudthathangsovertheengineweretheperspirationofheroicdeeds,orasbeneficentasthatwhichfloatsoverthefarmer’sfields,thentheelementsandNatureherselfwouldcheerfullyaccompanymenontheirerrandsandbetheirescort.
IwatchthepassageofthemorningcarswiththesamefeelingthatIdotherisingofthesun,whichishardlymoreregular.Theirtrainofcloudsstretchingfarbehindandrisinghigherandhigher,goingtoheavenwhilethecarsaregoingtoBoston,concealsthesunforaminuteandcastsmydistantfieldintotheshade,acelestialtrainbesidewhichthepettytrainofcarswhichhugstheearthisbutthebarbofthespear.Thestableroftheironhorsewasupearlythiswintermorningbythelightofthestarsamidthemountains,tofodderandharnesshissteed.Fire,too,wasawakenedthusearlytoputthevitalheatinhimandgethimoff.Iftheenterprisewereasinnocentasitisearly!Ifthesnowliesdeep,theystraponhissnow-shoes,andwiththegiantplow,plowafurrowfromthemountainstotheseaboard,inwhichthecars,likeafollowingdrill-barrow,sprinklealltherestlessmenandfloatingmerchandiseinthecountryforseed.Alldaythefire-steedfliesoverthecountry,stoppingonlythathismastermayrest,andIamawakenedbyhistrampanddefiantsnortatmidnight,wheninsomeremotegleninthewoodshefrontstheelementsincasediniceandsnowandhewillreachhisstallonlywiththemorningstar,tostartoncemoreonhistravelswithoutrestorslumber.Orperchance,atevening,Ihearhiminhisstableblowingoffthesuperfluousenergyoftheday,thathemaycalmhisnervesandcoolhisliverandbrainforafewhoursofironslumber.Iftheenterprisewereasheroicandcommandingasitisprotractedandunwearied!
Farthroughunfrequentedwoodsontheconfinesoftowns,whereonceonlythehunterpenetratedbyday,inthedarkestnightdartthesebrightsaloonswithouttheknowledgeoftheirinhabitantsthismomentstoppingatsomebrilliantstation-houseintownorcity,whereasocialcrowdisgathered,thenextintheDismalSwamp,scaringtheowlandfox.Thestartingsandarrivalsofthecarsarenowtheepochsinthevillageday.Theygoandcomewithsuchregularityandprecision,andtheirwhistlecanbeheardsofar,thatthefarmerssettheirclocksbythem,andthusonewellconductedinstitutionregulatesawholecountry.Havenotmenimprovedsomewhatinpunctualitysincetherailroadwasinvented?Dotheynottalkandth