Canusethishorse，goat，wolf，andev’rybeast，Andisnotasshimselftoalltherest！
Elsemannotonlyistheherdofswine，Buthe’sthosedevilstoowhichdidinclineThemtoaheadlongrage，andmadethemworse。“
Allsensualityisone，thoughittakesmanyforms；allpurityisone。Itisthesamewhetheramaneat，ordrink，orcohabit，orsleepsensually。Theyarebutoneappetite，andweonlyneedtoseeapersondoanyoneofthesethingstoknowhowgreatasensualistheis。Theimpurecanneitherstandnorsitwithpurity。Whenthereptileisattackedatonemouthofhisburrow，heshowshimselfatanother。Ifyouwouldbechaste，youmustbetemperate。Whatischastity？Howshallamanknowifheischaste？Heshallnotknowit。Wehaveheardofthisvirtue，butweknownotwhatitis。Wespeakconformablytotherumorwhichwehaveheard。Fromexertioncomewisdomandpurity；fromslothignoranceandsensuality。Inthestudentsensualityisasluggishhabitofmind。Anuncleanpersonisuniversallyaslothfulone，onewhositsbyastove，whomthesunshinesonprostrate，whoreposeswithoutbeingfatigued。Ifyouwouldavoiduncleanness，andallthesins，workearnestly，thoughitbeatcleaningastable。Natureishardtobeovercome，butshemustbeovercome。WhatavailsitthatyouareChristian，ifyouarenotpurerthantheheathen，ifyoudenyyourselfnomore，ifyouarenotmorereligious？Iknowofmanysystemsofreligionesteemedheathenishwhosepreceptsfillthereaderwithshame，andprovokehimtonewendeavors，thoughitbetotheperformanceofritesmerely。
Ihesitatetosaythesethings，butitisnotbecauseofthesubject——Icarenothowobscenemywordsare——butbecauseI
cannotspeakofthemwithoutbetrayingmyimpurity。Wediscoursefreelywithoutshameofoneformofsensuality，andaresilentaboutanother。Wearesodegradedthatwecannotspeaksimplyofthenecessaryfunctionsofhumannature。Inearlierages，insomecountries，everyfunctionwasreverentlyspokenofandregulatedbylaw。NothingwastootrivialfortheHindoolawgiver，howeveroffensiveitmaybetomoderntaste。Heteacheshowtoeat，drink，cohabit，voidexcrementandurine，andthelike，elevatingwhatismean，anddoesnotfalselyexcusehimselfbycallingthesethingstrifles。
Everymanisthebuilderofatemple，calledhisbody，tothegodheworships，afterastylepurelyhisown，norcanhegetoffbyhammeringmarbleinstead。Weareallsculptorsandpainters，andourmaterialisourownfleshandbloodandbones。Anynoblenessbeginsatoncetorefineaman’sfeatures，anymeannessorsensualitytoimbrutethem。
JohnFarmersatathisdooroneSeptemberevening，afterahardday’swork，hismindstillrunningonhislabormoreorless。
Havingbathed，hesatdowntore-createhisintellectualman。Itwasarathercoolevening，andsomeofhisneighborswereapprehendingafrost。Hehadnotattendedtothetrainofhisthoughtslongwhenheheardsomeoneplayingonaflute，andthatsoundharmonizedwithhismood。Stillhethoughtofhiswork；buttheburdenofhisthoughtwas，thatthoughthiskeptrunninginhishead，andhefoundhimselfplanningandcontrivingitagainsthiswill，yetitconcernedhimverylittle。Itwasnomorethanthescurfofhisskin，whichwasconstantlyshuffledoff。Butthenotesoftheflutecamehometohisearsoutofadifferentspherefromthatheworkedin，andsuggestedworkforcertainfacultieswhichslumberedinhim。Theygentlydidawaywiththestreet，andthevillage，andthestateinwhichhelived。Avoicesaidtohim——
Whydoyoustayhereandlivethismeanmoilinglife，whenagloriousexistenceispossibleforyou？Thosesamestarstwinkleoverotherfieldsthanthese——Buthowtocomeoutofthisconditionandactuallymigratethither？Allthathecouldthinkofwastopractisesomenewausterity，tolethisminddescendintohisbodyandredeemit，andtreathimselfwitheverincreasingrespect。
BruteNeighborsSometimesIhadacompanioninmyfishing，whocamethroughthevillagetomyhousefromtheothersideofthetown，andthecatchingofthedinnerwasasmuchasocialexerciseastheeatingofit。
Hermit。Iwonderwhattheworldisdoingnow。Ihavenotheardsomuchasalocustoverthesweet-fernthesethreehours。Thepigeonsareallasleepupontheirroosts——noflutterfromthem。
Wasthatafarmer’snoonhornwhichsoundedfrombeyondthewoodsjustnow？ThehandsarecomingintoboiledsaltbeefandciderandIndianbread。Whywillmenworrythemselvesso？Hethatdoesnoteatneednotwork。Iwonderhowmuchtheyhavereaped。WhowouldlivetherewhereabodycanneverthinkforthebarkingofBose？
Andoh，thehousekeeping！tokeepbrightthedevil’sdoor-knobs，andscourhistubsthisbrightday！Betternotkeepahouse。Say，somehollowtree；andthenformorningcallsanddinner-parties！Onlyawoodpeckertapping。Oh，theyswarm；thesunistoowarmthere；theyareborntoofarintolifeforme。Ihavewaterfromthespring，andaloafofbrownbreadontheshelf——Hark！Iheararustlingoftheleaves。Isitsomeill-fedvillagehoundyieldingtotheinstinctofthechase？orthelostpigwhichissaidtobeinthesewoods，whosetracksIsawaftertherain？Itcomesonapace；mysumachsandsweetbrierstremble——Eh，Mr。Poet，isityou？Howdoyouliketheworldto-day？
Poet。Seethoseclouds；howtheyhang！That’sthegreatestthingIhaveseento-day。There’snothinglikeitinoldpaintings，nothinglikeitinforeignlands——unlesswhenwewereoffthecoastofSpain。That’satrueMediterraneansky。Ithought，asI
havemylivingtoget，andhavenoteatento-day，thatImightgoa-fishing。That’sthetrueindustryforpoets。ItistheonlytradeIhavelearned。Come，let’salong。
Hermit。Icannotresist。Mybrownbreadwillsoonbegone。I
willgowithyougladlysoon，butIamjustconcludingaseriousmeditation。IthinkthatIamneartheendofit。Leavemealone，then，forawhile。Butthatwemaynotbedelayed，youshallbediggingthebaitmeanwhile。Anglewormsarerarelytobemetwithintheseparts，wherethesoilwasneverfattenedwithmanure；theraceisnearlyextinct。Thesportofdiggingthebaitisnearlyequaltothatofcatchingthefish，whenone’sappetiteisnottookeen；andthisyoumayhavealltoyourselftoday。Iwouldadviseyoutosetinthespadedownyonderamongtheground-nuts，whereyouseethejohnswortwaving。IthinkthatImaywarrantyouonewormtoeverythreesodsyouturnup，ifyoulookwellinamongtherootsofthegrass，asifyouwereweeding。Or，ifyouchoosetogofarther，itwillnotbeunwise，forIhavefoundtheincreaseoffairbaittobeverynearlyasthesquaresofthedistances。
Hermitalone。Letmesee；wherewasI？MethinksIwasnearlyinthisframeofmind；theworldlayaboutatthisangle。ShallI
gotoheavenora-fishing？IfIshouldsoonbringthismeditationtoanend，wouldanothersosweetoccasionbelikelytooffer？I
wasasnearbeingresolvedintotheessenceofthingsaseverIwasinmylife。Ifearmythoughtswillnotcomebacktome。Ifitwoulddoanygood，Iwouldwhistleforthem。Whentheymakeusanoffer，isitwisetosay，Wewillthinkofit？Mythoughtshaveleftnotrack，andIcannotfindthepathagain。WhatwasitthatI
wasthinkingof？Itwasaveryhazyday。IwilljusttrythesethreesentencesofConfutsee；theymayfetchthatstateaboutagain。
Iknownotwhetheritwasthedumpsorabuddingecstasy。Mem。
Thereneverisbutoneopportunityofakind。
Poet。Hownow，Hermit，isittoosoon？Ihavegotjustthirteenwholeones，besideseveralwhichareimperfectorundersized；buttheywilldoforthesmallerfry；theydonotcoverupthehooksomuch。Thosevillagewormsarequitetoolarge；ashinermaymakeamealoffonewithoutfindingtheskewer。
Hermit。Well，then，let’sbeoff。ShallwetotheConcord？
There’sgoodsportthereifthewaterbenottoohigh。
Whydopreciselytheseobjectswhichwebeholdmakeaworld？
Whyhasmanjustthesespeciesofanimalsforhisneighbors；asifnothingbutamousecouldhavefilledthiscrevice？IsuspectthatPilpay&Co。haveputanimalstotheirbestuse，fortheyareallbeastsofburden，inasense，madetocarrysomeportionofourthoughts。
Themicewhichhauntedmyhousewerenotthecommonones，whicharesaidtohavebeenintroducedintothecountry，butawildnativekindnotfoundinthevillage。Isentonetoadistinguishednaturalist，anditinterestedhimmuch。WhenIwasbuilding，oneofthesehaditsnestunderneaththehouse，andbeforeIhadlaidthesecondfloor，andsweptouttheshavings，wouldcomeoutregularlyatlunchtimeandpickupthecrumbsatmyfeet。Itprobablyhadneverseenamanbefore；anditsoonbecamequitefamiliar，andwouldrunovermyshoesandupmyclothes。Itcouldreadilyascendthesidesoftheroombyshortimpulses，likeasquirrel，whichitresembledinitsmotions。Atlength，asIleanedwithmyelbowonthebenchoneday，itranupmyclothes，andalongmysleeve，androundandroundthepaperwhichheldmydinner，whileIkeptthelatterclose，anddodgedandplayedatbopeepwithit；andwhenatlastIheldstillapieceofcheesebetweenmythumbandfinger，itcameandnibbledit，sittinginmyhand，andafterwardcleaneditsfaceandpaws，likeafly，andwalkedaway。
Aphoebesoonbuiltinmyshed，andarobinforprotectioninapinewhichgrewagainstthehouse。InJunethepartridgeTetraoumbellus，whichissoshyabird，ledherbroodpastmywindows，fromthewoodsinthereartothefrontofmyhouse，cluckingandcallingtothemlikeahen，andinallherbehaviorprovingherselfthehenofthewoods。Theyoungsuddenlydisperseonyourapproach，atasignalfromthemother，asifawhirlwindhadsweptthemaway，andtheysoexactlyresemblethedriedleavesandtwigsthatmanyatravelerhasplacedhisfootinthemidstofabrood，andheardthewhiroftheoldbirdassheflewoff，andheranxiouscallsandmewing，orseenhertrailherwingstoattracthisattention，withoutsuspectingtheirneighborhood。Theparentwillsometimesrollandspinroundbeforeyouinsuchadishabille，thatyoucannot，forafewmoments，detectwhatkindofcreatureitis。Theyoungsquatstillandflat，oftenrunningtheirheadsunderaleaf，andmindonlytheirmother’sdirectionsgivenfromadistance，norwillyourapproachmakethemrunagainandbetraythemselves。Youmayeventreadonthem，orhaveyoureyesonthemforaminute，withoutdiscoveringthem。Ihaveheldtheminmyopenhandatsuchatime，andstilltheironlycare，obedienttotheirmotherandtheirinstinct，wastosquattherewithoutfearortrembling。Soperfectisthisinstinct，thatonce，whenIhadlaidthemontheleavesagain，andoneaccidentallyfellonitsside，itwasfoundwiththerestinexactlythesamepositiontenminutesafterward。
Theyarenotcallowliketheyoungofmostbirds，butmoreperfectlydevelopedandprecociouseventhanchickens。Theremarkablyadultyetinnocentexpressionoftheiropenandsereneeyesisverymemorable。Allintelligenceseemsreflectedinthem。Theysuggestnotmerelythepurityofinfancy，butawisdomclarifiedbyexperience。Suchaneyewasnotbornwhenthebirdwas，butiscoevalwiththeskyitreflects。Thewoodsdonotyieldanothersuchagem。Thetravellerdoesnotoftenlookintosuchalimpidwell。Theignorantorrecklesssportsmanoftenshootstheparentatsuchatime，andleavestheseinnocentstofallapreytosomeprowlingbeastorbird，orgraduallyminglewiththedecayingleaveswhichtheysomuchresemble。Itissaidthatwhenhatchedbyahentheywilldirectlydisperseonsomealarm，andsoarelost，fortheyneverhearthemother’scallwhichgathersthemagain。Theseweremyhensandchickens。
Itisremarkablehowmanycreatureslivewildandfreethoughsecretinthewoods，andstillsustainthemselvesintheneighborhoodoftowns，suspectedbyhuntersonly。Howretiredtheottermanagestolivehere！Hegrowstobefourfeetlong，asbigasasmallboy，perhapswithoutanyhumanbeinggettingaglimpseofhim。Iformerlysawtheraccooninthewoodsbehindwheremyhouseisbuilt，andprobablystillheardtheirwhinneringatnight。
CommonlyIrestedanhourortwointheshadeatnoon，afterplanting，andatemylunch，andreadalittlebyaspringwhichwasthesourceofaswampandofabrook，oozingfromunderBrister’sHill，halfamilefrommyfield。Theapproachtothiswasthroughasuccessionofdescendinggrassyhollows，fullofyoungpitchpines，intoalargerwoodabouttheswamp。There，inaverysecludedandshadedspot，underaspreadingwhitepine，therewasyetaclean，firmswardtositon。Ihaddugoutthespringandmadeawellofcleargraywater，whereIcoulddipupapailfulwithoutroilingit，andthitherIwentforthispurposealmosteverydayinmidsummer，whenthepondwaswarmest。Thither，too，thewoodcockledherbrood，toprobethemudforworms，flyingbutafootabovethemdownthebank，whiletheyraninatroopbeneath；butatlast，spyingme，shewouldleaveheryoungandcircleroundandroundme，nearerandnearertillwithinfourorfivefeet，pretendingbrokenwingsandlegs，toattractmyattention，andgetoffheryoung，whowouldalreadyhavetakenuptheirmarch，withfaint，wirypeep，singlefilethroughtheswamp，asshedirected。OrIheardthepeepoftheyoungwhenIcouldnotseetheparentbird。Theretootheturtledovessatoverthespring，orflutteredfromboughtoboughofthesoftwhitepinesovermyhead；ortheredsquirrel，coursingdownthenearestbough，wasparticularlyfamiliarandinquisitive。Youonlyneedsitstilllongenoughinsomeattractivespotinthewoodsthatallitsinhabitantsmayexhibitthemselvestoyoubyturns。
Iwaswitnesstoeventsofalesspeacefulcharacter。OnedaywhenIwentouttomywood-pile，orrathermypileofstumps，I