to me like truth. Oftentimes, as an intellectual and moral exercise,
I have sought to follow that poor youth through his subsequent
career and observe how his soul was tortured by the blood-stain,
contracted as it had been before the long custom of war had robbed
human life of its sanctity, and while it still seemed murderous to
slay a brother man. This one circumstance has borne more fruit for
me than all that history tells us of the fight."
There are souls so callous that the taking of a human life is no
more than the killing of a beast; there are souls so sensitive
that they will not kill a living thing. The man who can relate
without regret so profound it is close akin to remorse the killing
of another--no matter what the provocation, no matter what the
circumstances--is next kin to the common hangman.
From the windows of the "Old Manse," the Rev. William Emerson,
grandfather of Ralph Waldo Emerson, looked out upon the battle,
and he would have taken part in the fight had not his neighbors
held him back; as it was, he sacrificed his life the following
year in attempting to join the army at Ticonderoga, contracting a
fever which proved fatal.
Sleepy Hollow Cemetery lies on Bedford Street not far from the
Town Hall. We followed the winding road to the hill where
Hawthorne, Thoreau, the Alcotts, and Emerson lie buried within a
half-dozen paces of one another.
Thoreau came first in May, 1862. Emerson delivered the funeral
address. Mrs. Hawthorne writes in her diary, "Mr. Thoreau died
this morning. The funeral services were in the church. Mr. Emerson
spoke. Mr. Alcott read from Mr. Thoreau's writings. The body was
in the vestibule covered with wild flowers. We went to the grave."
Hawthorne came next, just two years later. "On the 24th of May,
1864 we carried Hawthorne through the blossoming orchards of
Concord," says James T. Fields, "and laid him down under a group
of pines, on a hillside, overlooking historic fields. All the way
from the village church to the grave the birds kept up a perpetual
melody. The sun shone brightly, and the air was sweet and
pleasant, as if death had never entered the world. Longfellow and
Emerson, Channing and Hoar, Agassiz and Lowell, Greene and
Whipple, Alcott and Clarke, Holmes and Hillard, and other friends
whom he loved, walked slowly by his side that beautiful spring
morning. The companion of his youth and his manhood, for whom he
Here's a piece of wisdom on driving or cute car quote to study:
When buying a used car, punch the buttons on the radio. If all the stations are rock and roll, there's a good chance the transmission is shot. ~Larry Lujack
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