Solitude

關燈
centandencouragingsocietymaybefoundinanynaturalobject,evenforthepoormisanthropeandmostmelancholyman.TherecanbenoveryblackmelancholytohimwholivesinthemidstofNatureandhashissensesstill.Therewasneveryetsuchastormbutitwas?olianmusictoahealthyandinnocentear.Nothingcanrightlycompelasimpleandbravemantoavulgarsadness.WhileIenjoythefriendshipoftheseasonsItrustthatnothingcanmakelifeaburdentome.Thegentlerainwhichwatersmybeansandkeepsmeinthehouseto-dayisnotdrearandmelancholy,butgoodformetoo.Thoughitpreventsmyhoeingthem,itisoffarmoreworththanmyhoeing.Ifitshouldcontinuesolongastocausetheseedstorotinthegroundanddestroythepotatoesinthelowlands,itwouldstillbegoodforthegrassontheuplands,and,beinggoodforthegrass,itwouldbegoodforme.Sometimes,whenIcomparemyselfwithothermen,itseemsasifIweremorefavoredbythegodsthanthey,beyondanydesertsthatIamconsciousofasifIhadawarrantandsuretyattheirhandswhichmyfellowshavenot,andwereespeciallyguidedandguarded.Idonotflattermyself,butifitbepossibletheyflatterme.Ihaveneverfeltlonesome,orintheleastoppressedbyasenseofsolitude,butonce,andthatwasafewweeksafterIcametothewoods,when,foranhour,Idoubtedifthenearneighborhoodofmanwasnotessentialtoasereneandhealthylife.Tobealonewassomethingunpleasant.ButIwasatthesametimeconsciousofaslightinsanityinmymood,andseemedtoforeseemyrecovery.Inthemidstofagentlerainwhilethesethoughtsprevailed,IwassuddenlysensibleofsuchsweetandbeneficentsocietyinNature,intheverypatteringofthedrops,andineverysoundandsightaroundmyhouse,aninfiniteandunaccountablefriendlinessallatoncelikeanatmospheresustainingme,asmadethefanciedadvantagesofhumanneighborhoodinsignificant,andIhaveneverthoughtofthemsince.Everylittlepineneedleexpandedandswelledwithsympathyandbefriendedme.Iwassodistinctlymadeawareofthepresenceofsomethingkindredtome,eveninsceneswhichweareaccustomedtocallwildanddreary,andalsothatthenearestofbloodtomeandhumanestwasnotapersonnoravillager,thatIthoughtnoplacecouldeverbestrangetomeagain.— “Mourninguntimelyconsumesthesad Fewaretheirdaysinthelandoftheliving, BeautifuldaughterofToscar.” Someofmypleasantesthourswereduringthelongrainstormsinthespringorfall,whichconfinedmetothehousefortheafternoonaswellastheforenoon,soothedbytheirceaselessroarandpeltingwhenanearlytwilightusheredinalongeveninginwhichmanythoughtshadtimetotakerootandunfoldthemselves.Inthosedrivingnorth-eastrainswhichtriedthevillagehousesso,whenthemaidsstoodreadywithmopandpailinfrontentriestokeepthedelugeout,Isatbehindmydoorinmylittlehouse,whichwasallentry,andthoroughlyenjoyeditsprotection.Inoneheavythundershowerthelightningstruckalargepitch-pineacrossthepond,makingaveryconspicuousandperfectlyregularspiralgroovefromtoptobottom,aninchormoredeep,andfourorfiveincheswide,asyouwouldgrooveawalking-stick.Ipasseditagaintheotherday,andwasstruckwithaweonlookingupandbeholdingthatmark,nowmoredistinctthanever,whereaterrificandresistlessboltcamedownoutoftheharmlessskyeightyearsago.Menfrequentlysaytome,“Ishouldthinkyouwouldfeellonesomedownthere,andwanttobenearertofolks,rainyandsno