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Catalog Record: Complete prose works : Specimen days and | HathiTrust Digital Library
Link Either by signing into your account or linking your membership details before your order is placed. Description Product Details Click on the cover image above to read some pages of this book! More Books in History See All. Anzac Sniper The extraordinary story of Stan Savige, one of In Stock. Mutiny on the Bounty.
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View Wishlist. Our Awards Booktopia's Charities. I continued at Washington working in the Attorney-General's department through '66 and '67, and some time afterward.
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In February '73 I was stricken down by paralysis, gave up my desk, and migrated to Camden, New Jersey, where I lived during '74 and '75, quite unwell--but after that began to grow better; commenc'd going for weeks at a time, even for months, down in the country, to a charmingly recluse and rural spot along Timber creek, twelve or thirteen miles from where it enters the Delaware river. Domicil'd at the farm-house of my friends, the Staffords, near by, I lived half the time along this creek and its adjacent fields and lanes.
And it is to my life here that I, perhaps, owe partial recovery a sort of second wind, or semi-renewal of the lease of life from the prostration of ' If the notes of that outdoor life could only prove as glowing to you, reader dear, as the experience itself was to me. The trick is, I find, to tone your wants and tastes low down enough, and make much of negatives, and of mere daylight and the skies.
Wherever I go, indeed, winter or summer, city or country, alone at home or traveling, I must take notes-- the ruling passion strong in age and disablement, and even the approach of--but I must not say it yet. After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, love, and so on--have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear--what remains?
Complete Prose Works
Nature remains; to bring out from their torpid recesses, the affinities of a man or woman with the open air, the trees, fields, the changes of seasons--the sun by day and the stars of heaven by night. We will begin from these convictions. Literature flies so high and is so hotly spiced, that our notes may seem hardly more than breaths of common air, or draughts of water to drink. But that is part of our lesson. Dear, soothing, healthy, restoration-hours--after three confining years of paralysis--after the long strain of the war, and its wounds and death. Note:  Without apology for the abrupt change of field and atmosphere--after what I have put in the preceding fifty or sixty pages--temporary episodes, thank heaven!
Who knows, I have it in my fancy, my ambition, but the pages now ensuing may carry ray of sun, or smell of grass or corn, or call of bird, or gleam of stars by night, or snow-flakes falling fresh and mystic, to denizen of heated city house, or tired workman or workwoman? ENTERING A LONG FARM-LANE As every man has his hobby-liking, mine is for a real farm-lane fenced by old chestnut-rails gray-green with dabs of moss and lichen, copious weeds and briers growing in spots athwart the heaps of stray-pick' d stones at the fence bases--irregular paths worn between, and horse and cow tracks--all characteristic accompaniments marking and scenting the neighborhood in their seasons--apple-tree blossoms in forward April--pigs, poultry, a field of August buckwheat, and in another the long flapping tassels of maize--and so to the pond, the expansion of the creek, the secluded-beautiful, with young and old trees, and such recesses and vistas.