The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-12-21

''ine river on whose Dank ne was pOFH anu
died he knew from its springs to its confluence
with the Merrmac. He had made summer and
winter observations on it for many years, and at
every hour of the day and night. Every fact
which occurs il the bed, on the banks. or IN the
air over it; the fishes, and their spawn
ing and nests; their manners, their food
the shad-fies which fill the air on certain
evening once year, and which are snapped at
by fishes ravenously that many of these ole
of repletion; the concal heaps of small stones
on the river shadows, one of which heaps will
sometimes overfill q cart, these heaps the huge
nests of small fishes; the birds which frequent
the stream-heron, duck, sheldrake, loon, osprey
the snake muskrat, otter, woodchuck and fox on
the banks; the turtle frog, Eyla and cricket
which make the banks vocal were all known to
him. and as it We're, fellow townsmen and Great
ures" And further: His intimacy with ami.
mails suggested what Thomas Fuller records OF
Butler, the apiologist, that either he had told
the bees things or the bees had told him.
Snakes coiled around his leg, the fishes swan
into his hand, and he took them out OF the
water he pulled the woodchuck out OF It's hole
by the tail, and took the foxes under his protec-
ton from the hunters / know OF nothing more
charming than the little biographical sketch OF
him by Emerson, from which the above quota
tions are taken.
Thoreau was emphatically child of nature,
with an independence characteristic OF his rear
ing Conventional forms could not bind him.
His wants were few and these he ever strove to
diminish. He never went to church, nndlng
another communion more satisfactory. Out OF
this complete absorption of his life in the wild
life about him arises the peculiar charm OF his
writings. They are redolent with the perfumes
of nature. They are saturated with her lie.
From them comes forth fragrance fresh
ness a spell which one can not resist. That
same realistic sense which one finds in the pages
of Coopers novels greets you In the pages OF
Thoreau, unmingled, however, with the I'M
probable and adorned with all manner of deli
cate suggestions and brilliant description
Knor urapa re Oxpnp Of oh
powers of description kept pace Whether painting
the sublime or the simple color or sound, he was
equally successful. Whether his description OF
the Wachusetts mountains, or the swimming OF
the muskrat, or the common poke with ITS
branching casks of purple wine which retain
and diffuse sunset glow" the glancing course
of the fish, or the work of the squirrels, or the
sounds of frosty morning, or the colorlng OF the
foliage, or the fragile beauty of cloud-all, how
ever delicate, he caught and Transcribed for our
pleasure so perfectly that, fairly unconscious OF
the medium of words we see with his eyes. AS
proof of my statements and with the purpose of
inducing others to enter upon real enjoyment,
1 wish to make some liberal extracts from his
IA Winter Walk, " found in the volume bearing
the title, Excursions" 1t opens as follows
The wind has gently murmured through the blinds,
pulled with feathery softness against the windows
and occasionally sighed like summer zephyr lifting
the leaves along, the hveong night The meadow
has slept in his snug gallery in the sod the owl
has sat in hollow in the depth of the swamp the
rabbit the squirrel and the fox have all been housed
The watchdog has lain quiet the hearth, and the
cattle have stood silent in their stalls.
The earth itself has slept We're its first not its
last sleep, when street-sgn or wood-hous
door has family creaked upon its hinge,
the only sound awake 'twixt Venus and Mars
advertising of remote inward warmth.
divine cheer and fellowship whore gods met to-
gether but where it is very bleak for men to stand
But while the earth has sumbered all the air has
been alive with feathery flakes descending, as if some
northern Ceres reigned, showerlng her slvery grain
l all he field No eli attic ruth %
the still reality of winter morning The snow lies
warm as cotton or down upon the window.sill the
broadened sash and frosted panes admit dim and
private light, which enhances the snug cheer within
The stiffness Of the morning is impressive. The floor
creaks under our feet move toward the window
to abroad through some clear space over the tleds
| We see the roofs stand under their snow burden.
From the and fences hang stalactites of snow
and in the yard stalagmites covering concealed
core. The trees and shrubs rear white arms to the
sky every side; and where walls and fences
see fantastic forms stretching in froic gaInbols
across the dusky landscape, as if nature had
strewn her fresh designs the fields
| by night as models for mans art
| Opening the gate we tread brisly along the lone
country road crunehing the dry, crisped under
our feet aroused by the sharp clear creak of the
woodsled, just starting for the distant market from
the early farmers door where it has lain the summer
| long dreaming among the chips and stubble while
far through the drifts and powdered windows we see
the farmers early candle like paed star emitting a
lonely beam, as II some severe virtue were at its
mathis there.
I am not sure that we Indianians of these days
of milder winters, and especially those of us Who
| dwell IN cities can feel all the truthfulness of
those descriptions, but to those whose eXpt rience
| embraces severe winters under surroundings
more solitary, we can commend them as delicate
and faithful
Take as another specimen of his powers
of observation and description combined, the fol
lowing delicate yet keen analysis of the sharp,
metallic winter ring:
We hear the sound of wood.chopping at the
farmers door, far the earth the baying of the
! house dog, and the distant clarion of the cock.
Though the thin and frosty air conveys only the finer
particles of sound to ears, with short and
sweet vibration the waves subside soonest the
purest and shtest liquids in which gross substances
sink to the bottom. They clear and bell-like,
and from greater distance in the horizon if there
were fewer impediments than in summer to make
them faint and ragged. The ground is sonorous, like
seasoned wood, and the ordinary rural sounds
melodous, and the jngng of the ice the trees
is sweet and liquid There is the least possible moist
ure in the atmosphere all being dried up, con
geaed and it is of such extreme tenuity and elasticity
that it becomes source of delight; The Withdrawn
and tense sky seems groned like the aises of cathe-
oral and the polished air sparkes as if there were
| crystals of ice floating in it.
| Passing on, he speaks of the purity Of nature
| Every decayed stump and moss-grown stone and
rail- and the dead leaves of autumn concealed by
woods see what virtue survives. 1t is nvgoratng to
breath the cleansed air.
Note the suggestiveness of the following:
What fire could ever equal the sunshine of winter
| day when the meadow mice out by the wall
sides and the chicdee sps i'll the dees of the woodl
The warmth comes directly from the sun and is not
radiated from the earth as in and when we
| feel his beams on backs treading some
snow dell, grateful for special kindness,
and bless the which has followed into that by
place.
Passing out into the woods, he gives us this
beautiful bit of description:
In this glade, covered with bushes of YEAR
growth how the silvery dust lies on every scared
leaf and twig deposited in such infinite and luxurious
forms by their variety atone for the absence of
color Observe the tiny tracks of mice around every
stem. and the triangular tracks of the rabbit A pure
elastic heaven hangs all if the impurities of
the summer sky refined and shrunr by the chaste
winters cold had been winnowed from the heavens
upon the earth.
! Notice these little gems of expression:
Speaking of the caddce worms: Their small cylin-
| drca cases built around themselves composed of