SPRING. 
339 
hummock to hummock, from willow root to willow root, 
when the wild river valley and the woods were bathed 
in so pure and bright a light as would have waked the 
dead, if they had been slumbering in their graves, as 
some suppose. There needs no stronger proof of im¬ 
mortality. All things must live in such a light. O 
Death, where was thy sting ? O Grave, where was thy 
victory, then ? 
Our village life would stagnate if it were not for the 
unexplored forests and meadows which surround it. We 
need the tonic of wildness, — to wade sometimes in 
marshes where the bittern and the meadow-hen lurk, 
and hear the booming of the snipe; to smell the whis¬ 
pering sedge where only some wilder and more solitary 
fowl builds her nest, and the mink crawls with its belly 
close to the ground. At the same time that we are 
earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that 
all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and 
sea be infinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us 
because unfathomable. We can never have enough of 
Nature. We must be refreshed by the sight of inex¬ 
haustible vigor, vast and Titanic features, the sea-coast 
with its wrecks, the wilderness with its living and its de¬ 
caying trees, the thunder cloud, and the rain which lasts 
three weeks and produces freshets. We need to wit¬ 
ness our own limits transgressed, and some life pastur¬ 
ing freely wdiere we never wander. We are cheered 
when we observe the vulture feeding on the carrion 
which disgusts and disheartens us and deriving health 
and strength from the repast. There was a dead horse 
in the hollow by the path to my house, which compelled 
me sometimes to go out of my way, especially in the 
night when the air was heavy, but the assurance it gave 
