BAKER FARM. 
219 
a resplendent light appeared over the shadow of his 
head at morning and evening, whether he was in 
Italy or France, and it was particularly conspicuous 
when the grass was moist with dew. This was proba¬ 
bly the same phenomenon to which I have referred, 
which is especially observed in the morning, but also at 
other times, and even by moonlight. Though a con¬ 
stant one, it is not commonly noticed, and, in the case of 
an excitable imagination like Cellini’s, it would be basis 
enough for superstition. Beside, he tells us that he 
showed it to very few. But are they not indeed dis¬ 
tinguished who are conscious that they are regarded 
at all ? 
I set out one afternoon to go a-fishing to Fair- 
Haven, through the woods, to eke out my scanty fare of 
vegetables. My way led through Pleasant Meadow, an 
adjunct of the Baker Farm, that retreat of which a poet 
has since sung, beginning, — 
“ Thy entry is a pleasant field, 
Which some mossy fruit trees yield 
Partly to a ruddy brook, 
By gliding musquash undertook, 
And mercurial trout, 
Darting about.” 
• 
I thought of living there before I went to Walden. 
I “hooked” the apples, leaped the brook, and scared the 
musquash and the trout. It was one of those after¬ 
noons which seem indefinitely long before one, in which 
many events may happen, a large portion of our natural 
life, though it was already half spent when I started. By 
