going“tobethemastOfsomegreatammiral。“
Andhark！herecomesthecattle-trainbearingthecattleofathousandhills，sheepcots，stables，andcow-yardsintheair，droverswiththeirsticks，andshepherdboysinthemidstoftheirflocks，allbutthemountainpastures，whirledalonglikeleavesblownfromthemountainsbytheSeptembergales。Theairisfilledwiththebleatingofcalvesandsheep，andthehustlingofoxen，asifapastoralvalleyweregoingby。Whentheoldbell-wetherattheheadrattleshisbell，themountainsdoindeedskiplikeramsandthelittlehillslikelambs。Acarloadofdrovers，too，inthemidst，onalevelwiththeirdrovesnow，theirvocationgone，butstillclingingtotheiruselesssticksastheirbadgeofoffice。
Buttheirdogs，wherearethey？Itisastampedetothem；theyarequitethrownout；theyhavelostthescent。MethinksIhearthembarkingbehindthePeterboro’Hills，orpantingupthewesternslopeoftheGreenMountains。Theywillnotbeinatthedeath。Theirvocation，too，isgone。Theirfidelityandsagacityarebelowparnow。Theywillslinkbacktotheirkennelsindisgrace，orperchancerunwildandstrikealeaguewiththewolfandthefox。
Soisyourpastorallifewhirledpastandaway。Butthebellrings，andImustgetoffthetrackandletthecarsgoby；——
What’stherailroadtome？
InevergotoseeWhereitends。
Itfillsafewhollows，Andmakesbanksfortheswallows，Itsetsthesanda-blowing，Andtheblackberriesa-growing，butIcrossitlikeacart-pathinthewoods。Iwillnothavemyeyesputoutandmyearsspoiledbyitssmokeandsteamandhissing。
Nowthatthecarsaregonebyandalltherestlessworldwiththem，andthefishesinthepondnolongerfeeltheirrumbling，Iammorealonethanever。Fortherestofthelongafternoon，perhaps，mymeditationsareinterruptedonlybythefaintrattleofacarriageorteamalongthedistanthighway。
Sometimes，onSundays，Iheardthebells，theLincoln，Acton，Bedford，orConcordbell，whenthewindwasfavorable，afaint，sweet，and，asitwere，naturalmelody，worthimportingintothewilderness。Atasufficientdistanceoverthewoodsthissoundacquiresacertainvibratoryhum，asifthepineneedlesinthehorizonwerethestringsofaharpwhichitswept。Allsoundheardatthegreatestpossibledistanceproducesoneandthesameeffect，avibrationoftheuniversallyre，justastheinterveningatmospheremakesadistantridgeofearthinterestingtooureyesbytheazuretintitimpartstoit。Therecametomeinthiscaseamelodywhichtheairhadstrained，andwhichhadconversedwitheveryleafandneedleofthewood，thatportionofthesoundwhichtheelementshadtakenupandmodulatedandechoedfromvaletovale。Theechois，tosomeextent，anoriginalsound，andthereinisthemagicandcharmofit。Itisnotmerelyarepetitionofwhatwasworthrepeatinginthebell，butpartlythevoiceofthewood；
thesametrivialwordsandnotessungbyawood-nymph。
Atevening，thedistantlowingofsomecowinthehorizonbeyondthewoodssoundedsweetandmelodious，andatfirstIwouldmistakeitforthevoicesofcertainminstrelsbywhomIwassometimesserenaded，whomightbestrayingoverhillanddale；butsoonIwasnotunpleasantlydisappointedwhenitwasprolongedintothecheapandnaturalmusicofthecow。Idonotmeantobesatirical，buttoexpressmyappreciationofthoseyouths’singing，whenIstatethatIperceivedclearlythatitwasakintothemusicofthecow，andtheywereatlengthonearticulationofNature。
Regularlyathalf-pastseven，inonepartofthesummer，aftertheeveningtrainhadgoneby，thewhip-poor-willschantedtheirvespersforhalfanhour，sittingonastumpbymydoor，orupontheridge-poleofthehouse。Theywouldbegintosingalmostwithasmuchprecisionasaclock，withinfiveminutesofaparticulartime，referredtothesettingofthesun，everyevening。Ihadarareopportunitytobecomeacquaintedwiththeirhabits。SometimesI
heardfourorfiveatonceindifferentpartsofthewood，byaccidentoneabarbehindanother，andsonearmethatI
distinguishednotonlythecluckaftereachnote，butoftenthatsingularbuzzingsoundlikeaflyinaspider’sweb，onlyproportionallylouder。Sometimesonewouldcircleroundandroundmeinthewoodsafewfeetdistantasiftetheredbyastring，whenprobablyIwasnearitseggs。Theysangatintervalsthroughoutthenight，andwereagainasmusicalaseverjustbeforeandaboutdawn。
Whenotherbirdsarestill，thescreechowlstakeupthestrain，likemourningwomentheirancientu-lu-lu。TheirdismalscreamistrulyBenJonsonian。Wisemidnighthags！Itisnohonestandblunttu-whittu-whoofthepoets，but，withoutjesting，amostsolemngraveyardditty，themutualconsolationsofsuicideloversrememberingthepangsandthedelightsofsupernalloveintheinfernalgroves。YetIlovetoheartheirwailing，theirdolefulresponses，trilledalongthewoodside；remindingmesometimesofmusicandsingingbirds；asifitwerethedarkandtearfulsideofmusic，theregretsandsighsthatwouldfainbesung。Theyarethespirits，thelowspiritsandmelancholyforebodings，offallensoulsthatonceinhumanshapenight-walkedtheearthanddidthedeedsofdarkness，nowexpiatingtheirsinswiththeirwailinghymnsorthrenodiesinthesceneryoftheirtransgressions。Theygivemeanewsenseofthevarietyandcapacityofthatnaturewhichisourcommondwelling。Oh-o-o-o-othatIneverhadbeenbor-r-r-r-n！
sighsoneonthissideofthepond，andcircleswiththerestlessnessofdespairtosomenewperchonthegrayoaks。Then——
thatIneverhadbeenbor-r-r-r-n！echoesanotheronthefarthersidewithtremuloussincerity，and——bor-r-r-r-n！comesfaintlyfromfarintheLincolnwoods。
Iwasalsoserenadedbyahootingowl。NearathandyoucouldfancyitthemostmelancholysoundinNature，asifshemeantbythistostereotypeandmakepermanentinherchoirthedyingmoansofahumanbeing——somepoorweakrelicofmortalitywhohaslefthopebehind，andhowlslikeananimal，yetwithhumansobs，onenteringthedarkvalley，mademoreawfulbyacertaingurglingmelodiousness——IfindmyselfbeginningwiththelettersglwhenI
trytoimitateit——expressiveofamindwhichhasreachedthegelatinous，mildewystageinthemortificationofallhealthyandcourageousthought。Itremindedmeofghoulsandidiotsandinsanehowlings。Butnowoneanswersfromfarwoodsinastrainmadereallymelodiousbydistance——Hoohoohoo，hoorerhoo；andindeedforthemostpartitsuggestedonlypleasingassociations，whetherheardbydayornight，summerorwinter。
Irejoicethatthereareowls。Letthemdotheidioticandmaniacalhootingformen。Itisasoundadmirablysuitedtoswampsandtwilightwoodswhichnodayillustrates，suggestingavastandundevelopednaturewhichmenhavenotrecognized。Theyrepresentthestarktwilightandunsatisfiedthoughtswhichallhave。Alldaythesunhasshoneonthesurfaceofsomesavageswamp，wherethesinglesprucestandshungwithusnealichens，andsmallhawkscirculateabove，andthechickadeelispsamidtheevergreens，andthepartridgeandrabbitskulkbeneath；butnowamoredismalandfittingdaydawns，andadifferentraceofcreaturesawakestoexpressthemeaningofNaturethere。
LateintheeveningIheardthedistantrumblingofwagonsoverbridges——asoundheardfartherthanalmostanyotheratnight——
thebayingofdogs，andsometimesagainthelowingofsomedisconsolatecowinadistantbarn-yard。Inthemean-whilealltheshorerangwiththetrumpofbullfrogs，thesturdyspiritsofancientwine-bibbersandwassailers，stillunrepentant，tryingtosingacatchintheirStygianlake——iftheWaldennymphswillpardonthecomparison，forthoughtherearealmostnoweeds，therearefrogsthere——whowouldfainkeepupthehilariousrulesoftheiroldfestaltables，thoughtheirvoiceshavewaxedhoarseandsolemnlygrave，mockingatmirth，andthewinehaslostitsflavor，andbecomeonlyliquortodistendtheirpaunches，andsweetintoxicationnevercomestodrownthememoryofthepast，butmeresaturationandwaterloggednessanddistention。Themostaldermanic，withhischinuponaheart-leaf，whichservesforanapkintohisdroolingchaps，underthisnorthernshorequaffsadeepdraughtoftheoncescornedwater，andpassesroundthecupwiththeejaculationtr-r-r-oonk，tr-r-r——oonk，tr-r-r-oonk！andstraightwaycomesoverthewaterfromsomedistantcovethesamepasswordrepeated，wherethenextinseniorityandgirthhasgulpeddowntohismark；andwhenthisobservancehasmadethecircuitoftheshores，thenejaculatesthemasterofceremonies，withsatisfaction，tr-r-r-oonk！andeachinhisturnrepeatsthesamedowntotheleastdistended，leakiest，andflabbiestpaunched，thattherebenomistake；andthenthehowlgoesroundagainandagain，untilthesundispersesthemorningmist，andonlythepatriarchisnotunderthepond，butvainlybellowingtroonkfromtimetotime，andpausingforareply。
IamnotsurethatIeverheardthesoundofcock-crowingfrommyclearing，andIthoughtthatitmightbeworththewhiletokeepacockerelforhismusicmerely，asasingingbird。ThenoteofthisoncewildIndianpheasantiscertainlythemostremarkableofanybird’s，andiftheycouldbenaturalizedwithoutbeingdomesticated，itwouldsoonbecomethemostfamoussoundinourwoods，surpassingtheclangorofthegooseandthehootingoftheowl；andthenimaginethecacklingofthehenstofillthepauseswhentheirlords’clarionsrested！Nowonderthatmanaddedthisbirdtohistamestock——tosaynothingoftheeggsanddrumsticks。
Towalkinawintermorninginawoodwherethesebirdsabounded，theirnativewoods，andhearthewildcockerelscrowonthetrees，clearandshrillformilesovertheresoundingearth，drowningthefeeblernotesofotherbirds——thinkofit！Itwouldputnationsonthealert。Whowouldnotbeearlytorise，andriseearlierandearliereverysuccessivedayofhislife，tillhebecameunspeakablyhealthy，wealthy，andwise？Thisforeignbird’snoteiscelebratedbythepoetsofallcountriesalongwiththenotesoftheirnativesongsters。AllclimatesagreewithbraveChanticleer。Heismoreindigenouseventhanthenatives。Hishealthisevergood，hislungsaresound，hisspiritsneverflag。EventhesailorontheAtlanticandPacificisawakenedbyhisvoice；butitsshrillsoundneverrousedmefrommyslumbers。Ikeptneitherdog，cat，cow，pig，norhens，sothatyouwouldhavesaidtherewasadeficiencyofdomesticsounds；neitherthechurn，northespinning-wheel，noreventhesingingofthekettle，northehissingoftheurn，norchildrencrying，tocomfortone。Anold-fashionedmanwouldhavelosthissensesordiedofennuibeforethis。Notevenratsinthewall，fortheywerestarvedout，orratherwereneverbaitedin——onlysquirrelsontheroofandunderthefloor，awhip-poor-willontheridge-pole，abluejayscreamingbeneaththewindow，ahareorwoodchuckunderthehouse，ascreechowloracatowlbehindit，aflockofwildgeeseoralaughingloononthepond，andafoxtobarkinthenight。Notevenalarkoranoriole，thosemildplantationbirds，evervisitedmyclearing。Nocockerelstocrownorhenstocackleintheyard。Noyard！butunfencednaturereachinguptoyourverysills。Ayoungforestgrowingupunderyourmeadows，andwildsumachsandblackberryvinesbreakingthroughintoyourcellar；sturdypitchpinesrubbingandcreakingagainsttheshinglesforwantofroom，theirrootsreachingquiteunderthehouse。Insteadofascuttleorablindblownoffinthegale——apinetreesnappedoffortornupbytherootsbehindyourhouseforfuel。Insteadofnopathtothefront-yardgateintheGreatSnow——nogate——nofront-yard——andnopathtothecivilizedworld。
SolitudeThisisadeliciousevening，whenthewholebodyisonesense，andimbibesdelightthrougheverypore。IgoandcomewithastrangelibertyinNature，apartofherself。AsIwalkalongthestonyshoreofthepondinmyshirt-sleeves，thoughitiscoolaswellascloudyandwindy，andIseenothingspecialtoattractme，alltheelementsareunusuallycongenialtome。Thebullfrogstrumptousherinthenight，andthenoteofthewhip-poor-willisborneontheripplingwindfromoverthewater。Sympathywiththeflutteringalderandpoplarleavesalmosttakesawaymybreath；yet，likethelake，myserenityisrippledbutnotruffled。Thesesmallwavesraisedbytheeveningwindareasremotefromstormasthesmoothreflectingsurface。Thoughitisnowdark，thewindstillblowsandroarsinthewood，thewavesstilldash，andsomecreatureslulltherestwiththeirnotes。Thereposeisnevercomplete。Thewildestanimalsdonotrepose，butseektheirpreynow；thefox，andskunk，andrabbit，nowroamthefieldsandwoodswithoutfear。TheyareNature’swatchmen——linkswhichconnectthedaysofanimatedlife。
WhenIreturntomyhouseIfindthatvisitorshavebeenthereandlefttheircards，eitherabunchofflowers，orawreathofevergreen，oranameinpencilonayellowwalnutleaforachip。
Theywhocomerarelytothewoodstakesomelittlepieceoftheforestintotheirhandstoplaywithbytheway，whichtheyleave，eitherintentionallyoraccidentally。Onehaspeeledawillowwand，wovenitintoaring，anddroppeditonmytable。Icouldalwaystellifvisitorshadcalledinmyabsence，eitherbythebendedtwigsorgrass，ortheprintoftheirshoes，andgenerallyofwhatsexorageorqualitytheywerebysomeslighttraceleft，asaflowerdropped，orabunchofgrasspluckedandthrownaway，evenasfaroffastherailroad，halfamiledistant，orbythelingeringodorofacigarorpipe。Nay，Iwasfrequentlynotifiedofthepassageofatravelleralongthehighwaysixtyrodsoffbythescentofhispipe。