Walden: Baker Farm

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Walden: Baker Farm

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  • Princeton_Ed: Princeton Ed. of Walden
  • Version_A: Walden, Version A (1847)
  • Version_B: Walden, Version B (1849)
  • Version_C: Walden, Version C (1849)
  • Version_D: Walden, Version D (1852)
  • Version_E: Walden, Version E (late 1852 - 1853)
  • Version_F: Walden, Version F (1853-1854)
  • Version_G: Walden, Version G (1854)

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XVersion
Baker Farm
1
Baker Farm 1 written: E
E: The title “Baker Farm” is inserted between Ponds 34 and Baker Farm 1.

(Ronald Clapper)
I also visited many a nameless little rill in the woods, as interesting to me for the time as the Amazon or Mississippi, now running under ground with subdued murmurings, now sparkling & tinkling along the surface, and anon spreading into a swamp. Sometimes Sometimes Sometimes Sometimes I rambled to pine groves, standing like temples, or like fleets at sea, full-rigged, with wavy boughs, and rippling with light, so soft and green and shady that the Druids would have forsaken their oaks to worship in them; or to the cedar woods wood wood wood beyond Flint’s Pond, where the trees, covered with hoary blue berries, spiring higher and higher, seemed are are are are fit to stand before Valhalla, and the creeping juniper covered covers covers covers covers the ground with wreaths full of fruit; or to swamps where the usnea lichens lichen lichen lichen lichen hangs in festoons from the spruce black-spruce black-spruce black-spruce trees, and toadstools, round-tables of the swamp gods cover all the ground, and more beautiful fungi adorn the stumps, like butterflies or shells, vegetable winkles, covering the dead wood like barnacles, and where the swamp-pink and dog-wood grow and the red alder-berry glows like eyes of imps, and the waxwork grooves and crushes the hardest woods in its folds, and the wild-holly berries make the beholder forget his home with their beauty; where the owl hides her young and nods at noon-day, and the raccoon has his perch, and mushrooms, round-tables of the swamp gods cover all the ground, and beautiful fungi adorn the stumps, like butterflies or shells, vegetable winkles, covering the dead wood like barnacles toad-stools, round tables of the swamp gods, cover the ground, and more beautiful fungi adorn the stumps, like butterflies or shells, vegetable winkles; where the swamp-pink and dogwood grow, the red alder-berry glows like eyes of imps, the waxwork grooves and crushes the hardest woods in its folds, and the wild-holly berries make the beholder forget his home with their beauty, toad-stools, round tables of the swamp gods, cover the ground, and more beautiful fungi adorn the stumps, like butterflies or shells, vegetable winkles; where the swamp-pink and dogwood grow, the red alder-berry glows like eyes of imps, the waxwork grooves and crushes the hardest woods in its folds, and the wild-holly berries make the beholder forget his home with their beauty, toad-stools, round tables of the swamp gods, cover the ground, and more beautiful fungi adorn the stumps, like butterflies or shells, vegetable winkles; where the swamp-pink and dogwood grow, the red alder-berry glows like eyes of imps, the waxwork grooves and crushes the hardest woods in its folds, and the wild-holly berries make the beholder forget his home with their beauty, and you are he is he is he is dazzled and tempted by nameless other other other other wild forbidden fruits, too fair for mortal taste. Instead of calling on some scholar, I paid many a visit to particular trees, of kinds which are rare in this neighborhood, standing far away in the middle of some pasture, or in the depth depths depths depths depths of a wood or swamp, or on a hill-top; such as the black- birch, of which we have some handsome specimens two feet in diameter; its cousin, the yellow- birch, with its loose golden vest, perfumed like the first; perfumed like the first; perfumed like the first; perfumed like the first; the beech, which has so neat a bole and beautifully lichen-painted, perfect in all its details, of which, excepting scattered specimens, I know of know know know but one small grove of sizable trees left in Concord the township, the township, the township, supposed by some to have been planted by the pigeons that once came to the beds near by, for they bear no fruit here were once baited with beechnuts near by were once baited with beechnuts near by; were once baited with beechnuts near by; were once baited with beechnuts near by; it is worth the while to see how the silver grain sparkles sparkle see the silver grain sparkle see the silver grain sparkle see the silver grain sparkle when you split this wood; the bass; the hornbeam; the , or false elm, of which we have but one full-grown well-grown well-grown; well-grown; well-grown; some taller mast of a pine, a shingle tree, or a more perfect hemlock than usual, standing like a pagoda in the midst of the midst of the midst of the midst of the woods; and many others I could mention. These were the shrines I visited both summer and winter.
Once I found myself xxxxx by a rainbow— stood Once it chanced that I stood Once it chanced that I stood Once it chanced that I stood in the very abutment of its a rainbow’s a rainbow’s a rainbow’s a rainbow’s arch, which filled the lower stratum of the atmosphere, tinging the grass and leaves around, and dazzling my eyes me as if I saw looked me as if I looked me as if I looked me as if I looked through colored stones. In which like a dolphin for a short while I lived & moved & had my being crystal. crystal. crystal. It was a lake of rainbow light, in which, for a short while, I lived like a dolphin. If it had lasted longer it might have tinged my employments and life. 2b
Baker Farm 2b written: D rewritten: E
A fair copy was made of only “As I walked on the railroad causeway . . . in the castle of St. Angelo, a resplendent”.

(Ronald Clapper)
As I walked on the railroad causeway, I used to wonder at the halo of light around my shadow, and fancied fancied would fain fancy would fain fancy would fain fancy would fain fancy myself one of the elect. until I heard of another who had observed the same phenomenon which is indeed a constant one affecting himself—but even he thought until I heard of another who had observed the same phenomenon, which indeed is a constant one, affecting himself— but even he thought One who visited me declared One who visited me declared One who visited me declared One who visited me declared that the shadows of some Irishmen before him had no halo before about about about about about them, that it was only natives that were so distinguished. Benvenuto Cellini relates relates tells us tells us tells us in his memoirs, that, after a certain terrible dream or vision which he had after a certain terrible dream or vision which he had after a certain terrible dream or vision which he had during his confinement in the castle of St. Angelo , in Rome he had a terrible dream or vision in which certain events were communicated to him which afterward came to pass. “From the very moment that I beheld the phenomenon,” says he, “there appeared, (strange to relate!) a resplendent light over my head, which has displayed itself conspicuously to all that I have thought proper to show it to, but those were very few. This shining light is to be seen in the morning over my shadow till two o’clock in the afternoon, and it appears to the greatest advantage when the grass is moist with dew; it is likewise visible in the evening at sunset. This phenomenon I took notice of when I was at Paris, because the air is exceedingly clear in that climate, so that I could distinguish it there much plainer than in Italy, where mists are much more frequent; but I can still see it even here, and show it to others, though not to the same advantage as in France.” In Rome he had a terrible dream or vision in which certain events were communicated to him which afterward came to pass. “From the very moment that I beheld the phenomenon,” says he, “there appeared, (strange to relate!) a resplendent a resplendent light appeared over the shadow of his head at morning and evening, whether he was in Italy or France, and it was particularly conspicuous when the grass was moist with dew. a resplendent light appeared over the shadow of his head at morning and evening, whether he was in Italy or France, and it was particularly conspicuous when the grass was moist with dew. a resplendent light appeared over the shadow of his head at morning and evening, whether he was in Italy or France, and it was particularly conspicuous when the grass was moist with dew. This was no doubt perhaps probably probably probably probably probably the same phenomenon which I have described, to which I have referred, to which I have referred, to which I have referred, to which I have referred, which is especially observed in the morning, and even though also but also at other times, and even but also at other times, and even but also at other times, and even but also at other times, and even by moonlight. It is quite common though it may not be Though a constant one it is not Though a constant one, it is not Though a constant one, it is not Though a constant one, it is not Though a constant one, it is not commonly noticed, and, in the case of an excitable imagination like Cellini’s, it would be basis enough for his superstition—especially as superstition. Beside superstition. Beside superstition. Beside superstition. Beside he tells us that he showed it to very few. But are they not indeed distinguished who are conscious that they are regarded at all? But are they not indeed distinguished who are conscious that they are regarded at all? But are they not indeed distinguished who are conscious that they are regarded at all? But are they not indeed distinguished who are conscious that they are regarded at all?
3
Baker Farm 3 written:

(Ronald Clapper)
I set out one afternoon to go a-fishing to Fair-Haven, through the woods, to eke out my scanty fare of vegetables. My way led through Pleasant Meadow, an adjunct of the Baker Farm, that retreat of which a poet has since sung, beginning, —
 
“Thy entry is a
 
pleasant field,
 
Which some mossy fruit trees yield
 
Partly to a ruddy brook,
 
By gliding musquash undertook,
 
And mercurial trout,
 
Darting about.”
I thought of living there before I went to Walden. I “hooked” the apples, leaped the brook, and scared the musquash and the trout. It was one of those afternoons which seem indefinitely long before one, in which many events may happen, a large portion of our natural life, though it was already half spent when I started. 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 pickerel-weed, 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. So I made haste for shelter to the nearest hut, which stood half a mile from any road, but so much the nearer to the pond, and had long been uninhabited: —
 
“And here a poet builded,
 
In the completed years,
 
For behold a trivial cabin
 
That to destruction steers.”
So the Muse fables. 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. There we sat together under that part of the roof which leaked the least, while it showered and thundered without. I had sat there many times of old before the ship was built that floated his family to America. An honest, hard-working, but shiftless man plainly was John Field; and his wife, she too was brave to cook so many successive dinners in the recesses of that lofty stove; with round greasy face and bare breast, still thinking to improve her condition one day; with the never absent mop in one hand, and yet no effects of it visible any where. The chickens, which had also taken shelter here from the rain, stalked about the room like members of the family, too humanized methought to roast well. They stood and looked in my eye or pecked at my shoe significantly. Meanwhile my host told me his story, how hard he worked “bogging” for a neighboring farmer, turning up a meadow with a spade or bog hoe at the rate of ten dollars an acre and the use of the land with manure for one year, and his little broad-faced son worked cheerfully at his father’s side the while, not knowing how poor a bargain the latter had made. I tried to help him with my experience, telling him that he was one of my nearest neighbors, and that I too, who came a-fishing here, and looked like a loafer, was getting my living like himself; that I lived in a tight, light, and clean house, which hardly cost more than the annual rent of such a ruin as his commonly amounts to; and how, if he chose, he might in a month or two build himself a palace of his own; that I did not use tea, nor coffee, nor butter, nor milk, nor fresh meat, and so did not have to work to get them; again, as I did not work hard, I did not have to eat hard, and it cost me but a trifle for my food; but as he began with tea, and coffee, and butter, and milk, and beef, he had to work hard to pay for them, and when he had worked hard he had to eat hard again to repair the waste of his system, — and so it was as broad as it was long, indeed it was broader than it was long, for he was discontented and wasted his life into the bargain; and yet he had rated it as a gain in coming to America, that here you could get tea, and coffee, and meat every day. But the only true America is that country where you are at liberty to pursue such a mode of life as may enable you to do without these, and where the state does not endeavor to compel you to sustain the slavery and war and other superfluous expenses which directly or indirectly result from the use of such things. For I purposely talked to him as if he were a philosopher, or desired to be one. I should be glad if all the meadows on the earth were left in a wild state, if that were the consequence of men’s beginning to redeem themselves. A man will not need to study history to find out what is best for his own culture. But alas! the culture of an Irishman is an enterprise to be undertaken with a sort of moral bog hoe. I told him, that as he worked so hard at bogging, he required thick boots and stout clothing, which yet were soon soiled and worn out, but I wore light shoes and thin clothing, which cost not half so much, though he might think that I was dressed like a gentleman (which, however, was not the case,) and in an hour or two, without labor, but as a recreation, I could, if I wished, catch as many fish as I should want for two days, or earn enough money to support me a week. If he and his family would live simply, they might all go a-huckleberrying in the summer for their amusement. John heaved a sigh at this, and his wife stared with arms a-kimbo, and both appeared to be wondering if they had capital enough to begin such a course with, or arithmetic enough to carry it through. It was sailing by dead reckoning to them, and they saw not clearly how to make their port so; therefore I suppose they still take life bravely, after their fashion, face to face, giving it tooth and nail, not having skill to split its massive columns with any fine entering wedge, and rout it in detail;—thinking to deal with it roughly, as one should handle a thistle. But they fight at an overwhelming disadvantage,—living, John Field, alas! without arithmetic, and failing so.
4
Baker Farm 4 written:

(Ronald Clapper)
“Do you ever fish?” I asked. “Oh yes, I catch a mess now and then when I am lying by; good perch I catch.” “What’s your bait?” “I catch shiners with fishworms, and bait the perch with them.” “You’d better go now, John,” said his wife with glistening and hopeful face; but John demurred.
5
Baker Farm 5 written: A
Baker Farm 5 follows three missing leaves (#141-145). “The shower was now over … I asked for a drink” does not appear in the manuscript.

(Ronald Clapper)
The shower was now over, and a rainbow above the eastern woods promised a fair evening; so I took my departure. When I had got without I asked for a drink, hoping to get a sight of the well bottom, to complete my survey of the premises; but there, alas! are shallow shallows and shallows and shallows and shallows and shallows and shallows and shallows and quicksands, and rope broken withal, withal, withal, withal, withal, withal, withal, and bucket irrecoverable. Meanwhile the right culinary vessel was selected, water was seemingly distilled, and at length, after and after and after and after and after and after and after and after consultation and long delay passed out to the thirsty one,—not yet suffered to cool, not yet to settle. Such gruel sustains life here, I thought; so, shutting my eyes, and excluding the motes by a skillful skillfully directed skillfully directed skillfully directed skillfully directed skillfully directed skillfully directed skillfully directed under-current, I drank to genuine hospitality the heartiest draught I could. I am not squeamish in such cases when manners are concerned.
6 n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
As I was leaving the Irishman’s roof after the rain, bending my steps again to the pond, my haste to catch pickerel, wading in retired meadows, in sloughs and bog-holes, in forlorn and savage places, appeared for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school and college; but as I ran down the hill toward the reddening west, with the rainbow over my shoulder, and some faint tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air, from I know not what quarter, my Good Genius seemed to say,—Go fish and hunt far and wide day by day,—farther and wider,—and rest thee by many brooks and hearth-sides without misgiving. Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth. Rise free from care before the dawn, and seek adventures. Let the noon find thee by other lakes, and the night overtake thee every where at home. There are no larger fields than these, no worthier games than may here be played. Grow wild according to thy nature, like these sedges and brakes, which will never become English hay. Let the thunder rumble; what if it threaten ruin to farmers’ crops? that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud, while they flee to carts and sheds. Let not to get a living be thy trade, but thy sport. Enjoy the land, but own it not. Through want of enterprise and faith men are where they are, buying and selling, and spending their lives like serfs.
7
Baker Farm 7 written:

(Ronald Clapper)
 
O Baker Farm!
 
“Landscape where the richest element
 
Is a little sunshine innocent.” * *
 
“No one runs to revel
 
On thy rail-fenced lea.” * *
 
“Debate with no man hast thou,
 
With questions art never perplexed,
 
As tame at the first sight as now,
 
In thy plain russet gabardine dressed.”
 
“Come ye who love,
 
And ye who hate,
 
Children of the Holy Dove,
 
And Guy Faux of the state,
 
And hang conspiracies
 
From the tough rafters of the trees!”
8
Baker Farm 8 written: A
Baker Farm 8 is followed by a missing leaf (#149).

(Ronald Clapper)
Men come meanly tamely tamely tamely tamely tamely tamely 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; But we should go beyond our shadow at sunrise, and their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should come home from far, from adventures, and perils—from enterprises perils, perils, perils, perils, perils, perils, perils, and discoveries every day, with new experience and character, with new experience and character, with new experience and character, with new experience and character, with new experience and character, with new experience and character, with new experience and character,
9
Baker Farm 9 written:

(Ronald Clapper)
Before I had reached the pond some fresh impulse had brought out John Field, with altered mind, letting go “bogging” ere this sunset. But he, poor man, disturbed only a couple of fins while I was catching a fair string, and he said it was his luck; but when we changed seats in the boat luck changed seats too. Poor John Field!— I trust he does not read this, unless he will improve by it,—thinking to live by some derivative old-country mode in this primitive new country,—to catch perch with shiners. It is good bait sometimes, I allow. With his horizon all his own, yet he a poor man, born to be poor, with his inherited Irish poverty or poor life, his Adam’s grandmother and boggy ways, not to rise in this world, he nor his posterity, till their wading webbed bog-trotting feet get to their heels.
XVersion
Baker Farm
1
Baker Farm 1 written: E
E: The title “Baker Farm” is inserted between Ponds 34 and Baker Farm 1.

(Ronald Clapper)
I also visited many a nameless little rill in the woods, as interesting to me for the time as the Amazon or Mississippi, now running under ground with subdued murmurings, now sparkling & tinkling along the surface, and anon spreading into a swamp. Sometimes Sometimes Sometimes Sometimes I rambled to pine groves, standing like temples, or like fleets at sea, full-rigged, with wavy boughs, and rippling with light, so soft and green and shady that the Druids would have forsaken their oaks to worship in them; or to the cedar woods wood wood wood beyond Flint’s Pond, where the trees, covered with hoary blue berries, spiring higher and higher, seemed are are are are fit to stand before Valhalla, and the creeping juniper covered covers covers covers covers the ground with wreaths full of fruit; or to swamps where the usnea lichens lichen lichen lichen lichen hangs in festoons from the spruce black-spruce black-spruce black-spruce trees, and toadstools, round-tables of the swamp gods cover all the ground, and more beautiful fungi adorn the stumps, like butterflies or shells, vegetable winkles, covering the dead wood like barnacles, and where the swamp-pink and dog-wood grow and the red alder-berry glows like eyes of imps, and the waxwork grooves and crushes the hardest woods in its folds, and the wild-holly berries make the beholder forget his home with their beauty; where the owl hides her young and nods at noon-day, and the raccoon has his perch, and mushrooms, round-tables of the swamp gods cover all the ground, and beautiful fungi adorn the stumps, like butterflies or shells, vegetable winkles, covering the dead wood like barnacles toad-stools, round tables of the swamp gods, cover the ground, and more beautiful fungi adorn the stumps, like butterflies or shells, vegetable winkles; where the swamp-pink and dogwood grow, the red alder-berry glows like eyes of imps, the waxwork grooves and crushes the hardest woods in its folds, and the wild-holly berries make the beholder forget his home with their beauty, toad-stools, round tables of the swamp gods, cover the ground, and more beautiful fungi adorn the stumps, like butterflies or shells, vegetable winkles; where the swamp-pink and dogwood grow, the red alder-berry glows like eyes of imps, the waxwork grooves and crushes the hardest woods in its folds, and the wild-holly berries make the beholder forget his home with their beauty, toad-stools, round tables of the swamp gods, cover the ground, and more beautiful fungi adorn the stumps, like butterflies or shells, vegetable winkles; where the swamp-pink and dogwood grow, the red alder-berry glows like eyes of imps, the waxwork grooves and crushes the hardest woods in its folds, and the wild-holly berries make the beholder forget his home with their beauty, and you are he is he is he is dazzled and tempted by nameless other other other other wild forbidden fruits, too fair for mortal taste. Instead of calling on some scholar, I paid many a visit to particular trees, of kinds which are rare in this neighborhood, standing far away in the middle of some pasture, or in the depth depths depths depths depths of a wood or swamp, or on a hill-top; such as the black- birch, of which we have some handsome specimens two feet in diameter; its cousin, the yellow- birch, with its loose golden vest, perfumed like the first; perfumed like the first; perfumed like the first; perfumed like the first; the beech, which has so neat a bole and beautifully lichen-painted, perfect in all its details, of which, excepting scattered specimens, I know of know know know but one small grove of sizable trees left in Concord the township, the township, the township, supposed by some to have been planted by the pigeons that once came to the beds near by, for they bear no fruit here were once baited with beechnuts near by were once baited with beechnuts near by; were once baited with beechnuts near by; were once baited with beechnuts near by; it is worth the while to see how the silver grain sparkles sparkle see the silver grain sparkle see the silver grain sparkle see the silver grain sparkle when you split this wood; the bass; the hornbeam; the , or false elm, of which we have but one full-grown well-grown well-grown; well-grown; well-grown; some taller mast of a pine, a shingle tree, or a more perfect hemlock than usual, standing like a pagoda in the midst of the midst of the midst of the midst of the woods; and many others I could mention. These were the shrines I visited both summer and winter.
Once I found myself xxxxx by a rainbow— stood Once it chanced that I stood Once it chanced that I stood Once it chanced that I stood in the very abutment of its a rainbow’s a rainbow’s a rainbow’s a rainbow’s arch, which filled the lower stratum of the atmosphere, tinging the grass and leaves around, and dazzling my eyes me as if I saw looked me as if I looked me as if I looked me as if I looked through colored stones. In which like a dolphin for a short while I lived & moved & had my being crystal. crystal. crystal. It was a lake of rainbow light, in which, for a short while, I lived like a dolphin. If it had lasted longer it might have tinged my employments and life. 2b
Baker Farm 2b written: D rewritten: E
A fair copy was made of only “As I walked on the railroad causeway . . . in the castle of St. Angelo, a resplendent”.

(Ronald Clapper)
As I walked on the railroad causeway, I used to wonder at the halo of light around my shadow, and fancied fancied would fain fancy would fain fancy would fain fancy would fain fancy myself one of the elect. until I heard of another who had observed the same phenomenon which is indeed a constant one affecting himself—but even he thought until I heard of another who had observed the same phenomenon, which indeed is a constant one, affecting himself— but even he thought One who visited me declared One who visited me declared One who visited me declared One who visited me declared that the shadows of some Irishmen before him had no halo before about about about about about them, that it was only natives that were so distinguished. Benvenuto Cellini relates relates tells us tells us tells us in his memoirs, that, after a certain terrible dream or vision which he had after a certain terrible dream or vision which he had after a certain terrible dream or vision which he had during his confinement in the castle of St. Angelo , in Rome he had a terrible dream or vision in which certain events were communicated to him which afterward came to pass. “From the very moment that I beheld the phenomenon,” says he, “there appeared, (strange to relate!) a resplendent light over my head, which has displayed itself conspicuously to all that I have thought proper to show it to, but those were very few. This shining light is to be seen in the morning over my shadow till two o’clock in the afternoon, and it appears to the greatest advantage when the grass is moist with dew; it is likewise visible in the evening at sunset. This phenomenon I took notice of when I was at Paris, because the air is exceedingly clear in that climate, so that I could distinguish it there much plainer than in Italy, where mists are much more frequent; but I can still see it even here, and show it to others, though not to the same advantage as in France.” In Rome he had a terrible dream or vision in which certain events were communicated to him which afterward came to pass. “From the very moment that I beheld the phenomenon,” says he, “there appeared, (strange to relate!) a resplendent a resplendent light appeared over the shadow of his head at morning and evening, whether he was in Italy or France, and it was particularly conspicuous when the grass was moist with dew. a resplendent light appeared over the shadow of his head at morning and evening, whether he was in Italy or France, and it was particularly conspicuous when the grass was moist with dew. a resplendent light appeared over the shadow of his head at morning and evening, whether he was in Italy or France, and it was particularly conspicuous when the grass was moist with dew. This was no doubt perhaps probably probably probably probably probably the same phenomenon which I have described, to which I have referred, to which I have referred, to which I have referred, to which I have referred, which is especially observed in the morning, and even though also but also at other times, and even but also at other times, and even but also at other times, and even but also at other times, and even by moonlight. It is quite common though it may not be Though a constant one it is not Though a constant one, it is not Though a constant one, it is not Though a constant one, it is not Though a constant one, it is not commonly noticed, and, in the case of an excitable imagination like Cellini’s, it would be basis enough for his superstition—especially as superstition. Beside superstition. Beside superstition. Beside superstition. Beside he tells us that he showed it to very few. But are they not indeed distinguished who are conscious that they are regarded at all? But are they not indeed distinguished who are conscious that they are regarded at all? But are they not indeed distinguished who are conscious that they are regarded at all? But are they not indeed distinguished who are conscious that they are regarded at all?
3
Baker Farm 3 written:

(Ronald Clapper)
I set out one afternoon to go a-fishing to Fair-Haven, through the woods, to eke out my scanty fare of vegetables. My way led through Pleasant Meadow, an adjunct of the Baker Farm, that retreat of which a poet has since sung, beginning, —
 
“Thy entry is a
 
pleasant field,
 
Which some mossy fruit trees yield
 
Partly to a ruddy brook,
 
By gliding musquash undertook,
 
And mercurial trout,
 
Darting about.”
I thought of living there before I went to Walden. I “hooked” the apples, leaped the brook, and scared the musquash and the trout. It was one of those afternoons which seem indefinitely long before one, in which many events may happen, a large portion of our natural life, though it was already half spent when I started. 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 pickerel-weed, 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. So I made haste for shelter to the nearest hut, which stood half a mile from any road, but so much the nearer to the pond, and had long been uninhabited: —
 
“And here a poet builded,
 
In the completed years,
 
For behold a trivial cabin
 
That to destruction steers.”
So the Muse fables. 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. There we sat together under that part of the roof which leaked the least, while it showered and thundered without. I had sat there many times of old before the ship was built that floated his family to America. An honest, hard-working, but shiftless man plainly was John Field; and his wife, she too was brave to cook so many successive dinners in the recesses of that lofty stove; with round greasy face and bare breast, still thinking to improve her condition one day; with the never absent mop in one hand, and yet no effects of it visible any where. The chickens, which had also taken shelter here from the rain, stalked about the room like members of the family, too humanized methought to roast well. They stood and looked in my eye or pecked at my shoe significantly. Meanwhile my host told me his story, how hard he worked “bogging” for a neighboring farmer, turning up a meadow with a spade or bog hoe at the rate of ten dollars an acre and the use of the land with manure for one year, and his little broad-faced son worked cheerfully at his father’s side the while, not knowing how poor a bargain the latter had made. I tried to help him with my experience, telling him that he was one of my nearest neighbors, and that I too, who came a-fishing here, and looked like a loafer, was getting my living like himself; that I lived in a tight, light, and clean house, which hardly cost more than the annual rent of such a ruin as his commonly amounts to; and how, if he chose, he might in a month or two build himself a palace of his own; that I did not use tea, nor coffee, nor butter, nor milk, nor fresh meat, and so did not have to work to get them; again, as I did not work hard, I did not have to eat hard, and it cost me but a trifle for my food; but as he began with tea, and coffee, and butter, and milk, and beef, he had to work hard to pay for them, and when he had worked hard he had to eat hard again to repair the waste of his system, — and so it was as broad as it was long, indeed it was broader than it was long, for he was discontented and wasted his life into the bargain; and yet he had rated it as a gain in coming to America, that here you could get tea, and coffee, and meat every day. But the only true America is that country where you are at liberty to pursue such a mode of life as may enable you to do without these, and where the state does not endeavor to compel you to sustain the slavery and war and other superfluous expenses which directly or indirectly result from the use of such things. For I purposely talked to him as if he were a philosopher, or desired to be one. I should be glad if all the meadows on the earth were left in a wild state, if that were the consequence of men’s beginning to redeem themselves. A man will not need to study history to find out what is best for his own culture. But alas! the culture of an Irishman is an enterprise to be undertaken with a sort of moral bog hoe. I told him, that as he worked so hard at bogging, he required thick boots and stout clothing, which yet were soon soiled and worn out, but I wore light shoes and thin clothing, which cost not half so much, though he might think that I was dressed like a gentleman (which, however, was not the case,) and in an hour or two, without labor, but as a recreation, I could, if I wished, catch as many fish as I should want for two days, or earn enough money to support me a week. If he and his family would live simply, they might all go a-huckleberrying in the summer for their amusement. John heaved a sigh at this, and his wife stared with arms a-kimbo, and both appeared to be wondering if they had capital enough to begin such a course with, or arithmetic enough to carry it through. It was sailing by dead reckoning to them, and they saw not clearly how to make their port so; therefore I suppose they still take life bravely, after their fashion, face to face, giving it tooth and nail, not having skill to split its massive columns with any fine entering wedge, and rout it in detail;—thinking to deal with it roughly, as one should handle a thistle. But they fight at an overwhelming disadvantage,—living, John Field, alas! without arithmetic, and failing so.
4
Baker Farm 4 written:

(Ronald Clapper)
“Do you ever fish?” I asked. “Oh yes, I catch a mess now and then when I am lying by; good perch I catch.” “What’s your bait?” “I catch shiners with fishworms, and bait the perch with them.” “You’d better go now, John,” said his wife with glistening and hopeful face; but John demurred.
5
Baker Farm 5 written: A
Baker Farm 5 follows three missing leaves (#141-145). “The shower was now over … I asked for a drink” does not appear in the manuscript.

(Ronald Clapper)
The shower was now over, and a rainbow above the eastern woods promised a fair evening; so I took my departure. When I had got without I asked for a drink, hoping to get a sight of the well bottom, to complete my survey of the premises; but there, alas! are shallow shallows and shallows and shallows and shallows and shallows and shallows and shallows and quicksands, and rope broken withal, withal, withal, withal, withal, withal, withal, and bucket irrecoverable. Meanwhile the right culinary vessel was selected, water was seemingly distilled, and at length, after and after and after and after and after and after and after and after consultation and long delay passed out to the thirsty one,—not yet suffered to cool, not yet to settle. Such gruel sustains life here, I thought; so, shutting my eyes, and excluding the motes by a skillful skillfully directed skillfully directed skillfully directed skillfully directed skillfully directed skillfully directed skillfully directed under-current, I drank to genuine hospitality the heartiest draught I could. I am not squeamish in such cases when manners are concerned.
6 n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
n
Note: Baker Farm 6 appears as follows. (R. Clapper)
My haste to catch pickerel wading in retired meadows in slughs and bog holes, in forlorn & savage places seemed for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school & college but as I ran down the hill to the pond—with the rain-bow over my shoulder—and some slight tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air—from I know not what quarter my Genius said—grow wild according to thy nature like these ferns & brakes which endeavor not to become English hay. Let the thunder rumble in thy own tongue—what if it brings ruin to farmers’ crops in season that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud while they flee to carts & sheds & I said to myself—Why not live always a rude and frontier life—full of adventures and hard work—learn much—travel much—though it be only through these woods & fields! There is no other country than this—here is the field and the man.—The daily boundaries of life are expanded & dispersed and I see in what field I stand. Roam far and wide—grasp at life and conquer it. Learn much and live. You are really free—stay till late in the night—be unwise and daring. See many men far & near in their fields & cottages before the sun sets—though as if many more were to be seen—Rest not every night in villages nor in the same place. The noblest life is continuous and unintermitting without pauses or waste.
As I was leaving the Irishman’s roof after the rain, bending my steps again to the pond, my haste to catch pickerel, wading in retired meadows, in sloughs and bog-holes, in forlorn and savage places, appeared for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school and college; but as I ran down the hill toward the reddening west, with the rainbow over my shoulder, and some faint tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air, from I know not what quarter, my Good Genius seemed to say,—Go fish and hunt far and wide day by day,—farther and wider,—and rest thee by many brooks and hearth-sides without misgiving. Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth. Rise free from care before the dawn, and seek adventures. Let the noon find thee by other lakes, and the night overtake thee every where at home. There are no larger fields than these, no worthier games than may here be played. Grow wild according to thy nature, like these sedges and brakes, which will never become English hay. Let the thunder rumble; what if it threaten ruin to farmers’ crops? that is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud, while they flee to carts and sheds. Let not to get a living be thy trade, but thy sport. Enjoy the land, but own it not. Through want of enterprise and faith men are where they are, buying and selling, and spending their lives like serfs.
7
Baker Farm 7 written:

(Ronald Clapper)
 
O Baker Farm!
 
“Landscape where the richest element
 
Is a little sunshine innocent.” * *
 
“No one runs to revel
 
On thy rail-fenced lea.” * *
 
“Debate with no man hast thou,
 
With questions art never perplexed,
 
As tame at the first sight as now,
 
In thy plain russet gabardine dressed.”
 
“Come ye who love,
 
And ye who hate,
 
Children of the Holy Dove,
 
And Guy Faux of the state,
 
And hang conspiracies
 
From the tough rafters of the trees!”
8
Baker Farm 8 written: A
Baker Farm 8 is followed by a missing leaf (#149).

(Ronald Clapper)
Men come meanly tamely tamely tamely tamely tamely tamely 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; But we should go beyond our shadow at sunrise, and their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should come home from far, from adventures, and perils—from enterprises perils, perils, perils, perils, perils, perils, perils, and discoveries every day, with new experience and character, with new experience and character, with new experience and character, with new experience and character, with new experience and character, with new experience and character, with new experience and character,
9
Baker Farm 9 written:

(Ronald Clapper)
Before I had reached the pond some fresh impulse had brought out John Field, with altered mind, letting go “bogging” ere this sunset. But he, poor man, disturbed only a couple of fins while I was catching a fair string, and he said it was his luck; but when we changed seats in the boat luck changed seats too. Poor John Field!— I trust he does not read this, unless he will improve by it,—thinking to live by some derivative old-country mode in this primitive new country,—to catch perch with shiners. It is good bait sometimes, I allow. With his horizon all his own, yet he a poor man, born to be poor, with his inherited Irish poverty or poor life, his Adam’s grandmother and boggy ways, not to rise in this world, he nor his posterity, till their wading webbed bog-trotting feet get to their heels.

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