396 THOEEAL*. 



genius his faculties were always involved, tingeing every 

 object of nature with its own light and hues. Those 

 whose minds were too dull to perceive the hue of his 

 genius did not respect him, but thought him a fanatic. 



A simple excavation now marks the place where stood 

 Thoreau's hut. It is in an open space between two 

 sections of Walden woods. No remnants of the house 

 are to be discovered on the spot. Not a stone marks the 

 place which is sacred to his genius and immortalized by 

 his works. It has not yet been desecrated by a monu- 

 ment such as men erect to those who have flattered their 

 prejudices and exalted their pride, the proud distinction 

 of worldlings after their death. Young trees of the forest 

 have grown up from its cellar and near its foundation, 

 and will soon convert his garden into a wood. Wild 

 vines cover the surface of his little farm, and field flowers 

 cluster round its embankments, tempting the visitor to 

 pause and admire this pious retreat of a poet who sought 

 to realize on earth the heaven of his own inspiration. 



