WALDEN AND ON THE DUTY OF CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE. Henry David Thoreau

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WALDEN AND ON THE DUTY OF CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE - Henry David Thoreau

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many of my townsmen have met me returning from this enterprise,

      farmers starting for Boston in the twilight, or woodchoppers going to

      their work. It is true, I never assisted the sun materially in his

      rising, but, doubt not, it was of the last importance only to be

      present at it.

      So many autumn, ay, and winter days, spent outside the town, trying to

      hear what was in the wind, to hear and carry it express! I well-nigh

      sunk all my capital in it, and lost my own breath into the bargain,

      running in the face of it. If it had concerned either of the political

      parties, depend upon it, it would have appeared in the Gazette with the

      earliest intelligence. At other times watching from the observatory of

      some cliff or tree, to telegraph any new arrival; or waiting at evening

      on the hill-tops for the sky to fall, that I might catch something,

      though I never caught much, and that, manna-wise, would dissolve again

      in the sun.

      For a long time I was reporter to a journal, of no very wide

      circulation, whose editor has never yet seen fit to print the bulk of

      my contributions, and, as is too common with writers, I got only my

      labor for my pains. However, in this case my pains were their own

      reward.

      For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snow storms and rain

      storms, and did my duty faithfully; surveyor, if not of highways, then

      of forest paths and all across-lot routes, keeping them open, and

      ravines bridged and passable at all seasons, where the public heel had

      testified to their utility.

      I have looked after the wild stock of the town, which give a faithful

      herdsman a good deal of trouble by leaping fences; and I have had an

      eye to the unfrequented nooks and corners of the farm; though I did not

      always know whether Jonas or Solomon worked in a particular field

      to-day; that was none of my business. I have watered the red

      huckleberry, the sand cherry and the nettle tree, the red pine and the

      black ash, the white grape and the yellow violet, which might have

      withered else in dry seasons.

      In short, I went on thus for a long time, I may say it without

      boasting, faithfully minding my business, till it became more and more

      evident that my townsmen would not after all admit me into the list of

      town officers, nor make my place a sinecure with a moderate allowance.

      My accounts, which I can swear to have kept faithfully, I have, indeed,

      never got audited, still less accepted, still less paid and settled.

      However, I have not set my heart on that.

      Not long since, a strolling Indian went to sell baskets at the house of

      a well-known lawyer in my neighborhood. “Do you wish to buy any

      baskets?” he asked. “No, we do not want any,” was the reply. “What!”

      exclaimed the Indian as he went out the gate, “do you mean to starve

      us?” Having seen his industrious white neighbors so well off,—that the

      lawyer had only to weave arguments, and by some magic, wealth and

      standing followed, he had said to himself; I will go into business; I

      will weave baskets; it is a thing which I can do. Thinking that when he

      had made the baskets he would have done his part, and then it would be

      the white man’s to buy them. He had not discovered that it was

      necessary for him to make it worth the other’s while to buy them, or at

      least make him think that it was so, or to make something else which it

      would be worth his while to buy. I too had woven a kind of basket of a

      delicate texture, but I had not made it worth any one’s while to buy

      them. Yet not the less, in my case, did I think it worth my while to

      weave them, and instead of studying how to make it worth men’s while to

      buy my baskets, I studied rather how to avoid the necessity of selling

      them. The life which men praise and regard as successful is but one

      kind. Why should we exaggerate any one kind at the expense of the

      others?

      Finding that my fellow-citizens were not likely to offer me any room in

      the court house, or any curacy or living any where else, but I must

      shift for myself, I turned my face more exclusively than ever to the

      woods, where I was better known. I determined to go into business at

      once, and not wait to acquire the usual capital, using such slender

      means as I had already got. My purpose in going to Walden Pond was not

      to live cheaply nor to live dearly there, but to transact some private

      business with the fewest obstacles; to be hindered from accomplishing

      which for want of a little common sense, a little enterprise and

      business talent, appeared not so sad as foolish.

      I have always endeavored to acquire strict business habits; they are

      indispensable to every man. If your trade is with the Celestial Empire,

      then some small counting house on the coast, in some Salem harbor, will

      be

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