House-Warming

InOctoberIwenta-grapingtotherivermeadows,andloadedmyselfwithclustersmorepreciousfortheirbeautyandfragrancethanforfood.TheretooIadmired,thoughIdidnotgather,thecranberries,smallwaxengems,pendantsofthemeadowgrass,pearlyandred,whichthefarmerpluckswithanuglyrake,leavingthesmoothmeadowinasnarl,heedlesslymeasuringthembythebushelandthedollaronly,andsellsthespoilsofthemeadstoBostonandNewYorkdestinedtobejammed,tosatisfythetastesofloversofNaturethere.Sobutchersrakethetonguesofbisonoutoftheprairiegrass,regardlessofthetornanddroopingplant.Thebarberry’sbrilliantfruitwaslikewisefoodformyeyesmerelybutIcollectedasmallstoreofwildapplesforcoddling,whichtheproprietorandtravellershadoverlooked.WhenchestnutswereripeIlaiduphalfabushelforwinter.ItwasveryexcitingatthatseasontoroamthethenboundlesschestnutwoodsofLincoln,—theynowsleeptheirlongsleepundertherailroad,—withabagonmyshoulder,andasticktoopenburrswithinmyhand,forIdidnotalwayswaitforthefrost,amidtherustlingofleavesandtheloudreproofsofthered-squirrelsandthejays,whosehalf-consumednutsIsometimesstole,fortheburrswhichtheyhadselectedweresuretocontainsoundones.OccasionallyIclimbedandshookthetrees.Theygrewalsobehindmyhouse,andonelargetree,whichalmostovershadowedit,was,wheninflower,abouquetwhichscentedthewholeneighborhood,butthesquirrelsandthejaysgotmostofitsfruitthelastcominginflocksearlyinthemorningandpickingthenutsoutoftheburrsbeforetheyfell.Irelinquishedthesetreestothemandvisitedthemoredistantwoodscomposedwhollyofchestnut.Thesenuts,asfarastheywent,wereagoodsubstituteforbread.Manyothersubstitutesmight,perhaps,befound.Diggingonedayforfish-worms,Idiscoveredtheground-nut(Apiostuberosa)onitsstring,thepotatooftheaborigines,asortoffabulousfruit,whichIhadbeguntodoubtifIhadeverdugandeateninchildhood,asIhadtold,andhadnotdreamedit.Ihadoftensinceseenitscrimpledredvelvetyblossomsupportedbythestemsofotherplantswithoutknowingittobethesame.Cultivationhaswellnighexterminatedit.Ithasasweetishtaste,muchlikethatofafrostbittenpotato,andIfounditbetterboiledthanroasted.ThistuberseemedlikeafaintpromiseofNaturetorearherownchildrenandfeedthemsimplyhereatsomefutureperiod.Inthesedaysoffattedcattleandwavinggrain-fieldsthishumbleroot,whichwasoncethetotemofanIndiantribe,isquiteforgotten,orknownonlybyitsfloweringvinebutletwildNaturereignhereoncemore,andthetenderandluxuriousEnglishgrainswillprobablydisappearbeforeamyriadoffoes,andwithoutthecareofmanthecrowmaycarrybackeventhelastseedofcorntothegreatcornfieldoftheIndian’sGodinthesouth-west,whenceheissaidtohavebroughtitbutthenowalmostexterminatedground-nutwillperhapsreviveandflourishinspiteoffrostsandwildness,proveitselfindigenous,andresumeitsancientimportanceanddignityasthedietofthehuntertribe.SomeIndianCeresorMinervamusthavebeentheinventorandbestowerofitandwhenthereignofpoetrycommenceshere,itsleavesandstringofnutsmayberepresentedonourworksofart. Already,bythefirstofSeptember,Ihadseentwoorthreesmallmaplesturnedscarletacrossthepond,beneathwherethewhitestemsofthreeaspensdiverged,atthepointofapromontory,nextthewater.Ah,manyataletheircolortold!Andgraduallyfromweektoweekthecharacterofeachtreecameout,anditadmireditselfreflectedinthesmoothmirrorofthelake.Eachmorningthemanagerofthisgallerysubstitutedsomenewpicture,distinguishedbymorebrilliantorharmoniouscoloring,fortheolduponthewalls. ThewaspscamebythousandstomylodgeinOctober,astowinterquarters,andsettledonmywindowswithinandonthewallsover-head,sometimesdeterringvisitorsfromentering.Eachmorning,whentheywerenumbedwithcold,Isweptsomeofthemout,butIdidnottroublemyselfmuchtogetridofthemIevenfeltcomplimentedbytheirregardingmyhouseasadesirableshelter.Theynevermolestedmeseriously,thoughtheybeddedwithmeandtheygraduallydisappeared,intowhatcrevicesIdonotknow,avoidingwinterandunspeakablecold. Likethewasps,beforeIfinallywentintowinterquartersinNovember,Iusedtoresorttothenorth-eastsideofWalden,whichthesun,reflectedfromthepitch-pinewoodsandthestonyshore,madethefire-sideoftheponditissomuchpleasanterandwholesomertobewarmedbythesunwhileyoucanbe,thanbyanartificialfire.Ithuswarmedmyselfbythestillglowingemberswhichthesummer,likeadepartedhunter,hadleft. WhenIcametobuildmychimneyIstudiedmasonry.Mybricksbeingsecond-handonesrequiredtobecleanedwithatrowel,sothatIlearnedmorethanusualofthequalitiesofbricksandtrowels.Themortaronthemwasfiftyyearsold,andwassaidtobestillgrowingharderbutthisisoneofthosesayingswhichmenlovetorepeatwhethertheyaretrueornot.Suchsayingsthemselvesgrowharderandadheremorefirmlywithage,anditwouldtakemanyblowswithatroweltocleananoldwiseacreofthem.ManyofthevillagesofMesopotamiaarebuiltofsecond-handbricksofaverygoodquality,obtainedfromtheruinsofBabylon,andthecementonthemisolderandprobablyharderstill.Howeverthatmaybe,Iwasstruckbythepeculiartoughnessofthesteelwhichboresomanyviolentblowswithoutbeingwornout.Asmybrickshadbeeninachimneybefore,thoughIdidnotreadthenameofNebuchadnezzaronthem,Ipickedoutasmanyfire-placebricksasIcouldfind,tosaveworkandwaste,andIfilledthespacesbetweenthebricksaboutthefire-placewithstonesfromthepondshore,andalsomademymortarwiththewhitesand