" Hope and the futjn-c for me are not in lawns and cult iimted 

 fields, not in toivns and cities, but in the imperinous and quaking 

 swamps. IV/ien, formerly, I have analyzed jny partiality for some 

 far^n which I had contetnplated p7trchasing, I have frequently 

 found that I was attracted solely by a few square rods of imperme- 

 able and unfathomable bog — a natural sink in one corner of it. That 

 was the jewel which dazzled me. I derive more of my subsistence^ 

 from the swamps which surround my native town than from the 

 cultivated gardens in the village. There are no richer parterres 

 to my eyes than the dense beds of dwarf andromeda (Cassandra 

 calyculata) which cover these tender places on the earth's surface. 

 Botany cannot go farther than tell me the names of the shrubs 

 which grow there — the high bhieberry, panicled andromeda, lamb- 

 kill, azalea, and rhodora — all standing in the quaking sphagnum. 

 . . . Why not put my house, my parlor, behind this plot instead 

 of behind that meagre assemblage of curiosities, that poor apology 

 for Nature and Art which I call my front yard?" 



From Thoreaus "Excursions." 



