Henry David Thoreau

Henry David Thoreau

Summary

Portrait of Henry David Thoreau Henry David Thoreau Walden — Chapter X: Baker Farm (1893)

But therein, as I found, dwelt now John Field, an Irishman, and his wife, and several children, from the broad-faced boy who assisted his father at his work, and now came running by his side from the bog to escape the rain, to the wrinkled, sibyl-like, cone-headed infant that sat upon its father's knee as in the palaces of nobles, and looked out from its home in the midst of wet and hunger inquisitively upon the stranger, with the privilege of infancy, not knowing but it was the last of a noble line, and the hope and cynosure of the world, instead of John Field's poor starveling brat.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Henry David Thoreau Henry David Thoreau Walden — Chapter X: Baker Farm (1893)

Men come tamely home at night only from the next field or street, where their household echoes haunt, and their life pines because it breathes its own breath over again; their shadows, morning and evening, reach farther than their daily steps. We should come home from far, from adventures, and perils, and discoveries every day, with new experience and character.
Before I had reached the pond some fresh impulse had brought out John Field, with altered mind, letting go "bogging" ere this sunset.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Henry David Thoreau Henry David Thoreau Walden — Chapter X: Baker Farm (1893)

By the way there came up a shower, which compelled me to stand half an hour under a pine, piling boughs over my head, and wearing my handkerchief for a shed; and when at length I had made one cast over the pickerelweed, standing up to my middle in water, I found myself suddenly in the shadow of a cloud, and the thunder began to rumble with such emphasis that I could do no more than listen to it. The gods must be proud, thought I, with such forked flashes to rout a poor unarmed fisherman.
Source: Wikisource

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