ing at once boldly and without deliberation to the goal, as is recommended to those who run the gauntlet, or by keeping my thoughts on high things like Orpheus, who, 'loudly singing the praises of the god to his lyre, drowned the voices of the Sirens, and kept out of danger.' Sometimes, I bolted suddenly, and nobody could tell my whereabouts, for I did not stand much about gracefulness, and never hesitated at a gap in a fence. I was even accustomed to make an irruption into some houses, where I was well entertained, and after learning the kernels and the very last sieveful of news, what had subsided, the prospects of war and peace, and whether the world was likely to hold together much longer, I was let out through the rear avenues, and so escaped to the woods again."
To Thoreau's lifelong devotion, as to the present-day visitor, Concord represents far more than a rich botanical region or a serene village of happy farmlands and mild trade. While Thoreau lingered fondly upon the topography, he often recalled the landmarks of Concord history, from that early settlement by Peter Bulkeley in 1635, whose Concord with the Indian chief, Tahatawan, is still commemorated by the tablet on the Lowell Road, under "Jethro's Oak." Among Thoreau's "Familiar Letters," edited by Mr. Sanborn, none exceed in interest that written
