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Thoreau, Henry David, 1817-1862

"A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers"

When we made a fire to boil some
rice for our dinner, the flames spreading amid the dry grass, and
the smoke curling silently upward and casting grotesque shadows
on the ground, seemed phenomena of the noon, and we fancied that
we progressed up the stream without effort, and as naturally as
the wind and tide went down, not outraging the calm days by
unworthy bustle or impatience. The woods on the neighboring
shore were alive with pigeons, which were moving south, looking
for mast, but now, like ourselves, spending their noon in the
shade. We could hear the slight, wiry, winnowing sound of their
wings as they changed their roosts from time to time, and their
gentle and tremulous cooing. They sojourned with us during the
noontide, greater travellers far than we. You may frequently
discover a single pair sitting upon the lower branches of the
white-pine in the depths of the wood, at this hour of the day, so
silent and solitary, and with such a hermit-like appearance, as
if they had never strayed beyond its skirts, while the acorn
which was gathered in the forests of Maine is still undigested in
their crops.


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