The Blithedale Romance - Page 143/170

So slight, however, was the track of these gloomy ideas, that

I soon forgot them in the contemplation of a brood of wild ducks, which

were floating on the river, and anon took flight, leaving each a bright

streak over the black surface. By and by, I came to my hermitage, in

the heart of the white-pine tree, and clambering up into it, sat down

to rest. The grapes, which I had watched throughout the summer, now

dangled around me in abundant clusters of the deepest purple,

deliciously sweet to the taste, and, though wild, yet free from that

ungentle flavor which distinguishes nearly all our native and

uncultivated grapes. Methought a wine might be pressed out of them

possessing a passionate zest, and endowed with a new kind of

intoxicating quality, attended with such bacchanalian ecstasies as the

tamer grapes of Madeira, France, and the Rhine are inadequate to

produce. And I longed to quaff a great goblet of it that moment!

While devouring the grapes, I looked on all sides out of the peep-holes

of my hermitage, and saw the farmhouse, the fields, and almost every

part of our domain, but not a single human figure in the landscape.

Some of the windows of the house were open, but with no more signs of

life than in a dead man's unshut eyes. The barn-door was ajar, and

swinging in the breeze. The big old dog,--he was a relic of the former

dynasty of the farm,--that hardly ever stirred out of the yard, was

nowhere to be seen. What, then, had become of all the fraternity and

sisterhood? Curious to ascertain this point, I let myself down out of

the tree, and going to the edge of the wood, was glad to perceive our

herd of cows chewing the cud or grazing not far off. I fancied, by

their manner, that two or three of them recognized me (as, indeed, they

ought, for I had milked them and been their chamberlain times without

number); but, after staring me in the face a little while, they

phlegmatically began grazing and chewing their cuds again. Then I grew

foolishly angry at so cold a reception, and flung some rotten fragments

of an old stump at these unsentimental cows.

Skirting farther round the pasture, I heard voices and much laughter

proceeding from the interior of the wood. Voices, male and feminine;

laughter, not only of fresh young throats, but the bass of grown

people, as if solemn organ-pipes should pour out airs of merriment. Not

a voice spoke, but I knew it better than my own; not a laugh, but its

cadences were familiar. The wood, in this portion of it, seemed as

full of jollity as if Comus and his crew were holding their revels in

one of its usually lonesome glades. Stealing onward as far as I durst,

without hazard of discovery, I saw a concourse of strange figures

beneath the overshadowing branches. They appeared, and vanished, and

came again, confusedly with the streaks of sunlight glimmering down

upon them.