The whistle of the locomotive penetrates my woods summer and winter， sounding like the scream of a hawk sailing over some farmer's yard， informing me that many restless city merchants are arriving within the circle of the town， or adventurous country traders from the other side.  As they come under one horizon， they shout their warning to get off the track to the other， heard sometimes through the circles of two towns.  Here come your groceries， country； your rations， countrymen！  Nor is there any man so independent on his farm that he can say them nay.  And here's your pay for them！ screams the countryman's whistle； timber like long battering-rams going twenty miles an hour against the city's walls， and chairs enough to seat all the weary and heavy-laden that dwell within them.  With such huge and lumbering civility the country hands a chair to the city.  All the Indian huckleberry hills are stripped， all the cranberry meadows are raked into the city.  Up comes the cotton， down goes the woven cloth； up comes the silk， down goes the woollen； up come the books， but down goes the wit that writes them.

　　When I meet the engine with its train of cars moving off with planetary motion ―― or， rather， like a comet， for the beholder knows not if with that velocity and with that direction it will ever revisit this system， since its orbit does not look like a returning curve ―― with its steam cloud like a banner streaming behind in golden and silver wreaths， like many a downy cloud which I have seen， high in the heavens， unfolding its masses to the light ―― as if this traveling demigod， this cloud-compeller， would ere long take the sunset sky for the livery of his train； when I hear the iron horse make the hills echo with his snort like thunder， shaking the earth with his feet， and breathing fire and smoke from his nostrils（what kind of winged horse or fiery dragon they will put into the new Mythology I don't know）， it seems as if the earth had got a race now worthy to inhabit it.  If all were as it seems， and men made the elements their servants for noble ends！  If the cloud that hangs over the engine were the perspiration of heroic deeds， or as beneficent as that which floats over the farmer's fields， then the elements and Nature herself would cheerfully accompany men on their errands and be their escort.

　　I watch the passage of the morning cars with the same feeling that I do the rising of the sun， which is hardly more regular. Their train of clouds stretching far behind and rising higher and higher， going to heaven while the cars are going to Boston， conceals the sun for a minute and casts my distant field into the shade， a celestial train beside which the petty train of cars which hugs the earth is but the barb of the spear.  The stabler of the iron horse was up early this winter morning by the light of the stars amid the mountains， to fodder and harness his steed.  Fire， too， was awakened thus early to put the vital heat in him and get him off.  If the enterprise were as innocent as it is early！  If the snow lies deep，they strap on his snowshoes， and， with the giant plow， plow a furrow from the mountains to the seaboard， in which the cars， like a following drill-barrow， sprinkle all the restless men and floating merchandise in the country for seed.  All day the fire-steed flies over the country， stopping only that his master may rest， and I am awakened by his tramp and defiant snort at midnight， when in some remote glen in the woods he fronts the elements incased in ice and snow； and he will reach his stall only with the morning star， to start once more on his travels without rest or slumber.  Or perchance， at evening， I hear him in his stable blowing off the superfluous energy of the day， that he may calm his nerves and cool his liver and brain for a few hours of iron slumber.  If the enterprise were as heroic and commanding as it is protracted and unwearied！

　　夏天和冬天，火車頭的汽笛穿透了我的林子，好像農家的院子上面飛過的一頭老鷹的尖叫聲，通知我有許多焦躁不安的城市商人已經到了這個市鎮的圈子里，或者是從另一個方向來到一些村中行商。它們是在同一個地平線上的，它們彼此發出警告，要別個在軌道上讓開，呼喚之聲有時候兩個村鎮都能聽到。鄉村啊，這里送來了你的雜貨了；鄉下人啊，你們的食糧！沒有任何人能夠獨立地生活，敢于對它們道半個“不”字。于是鄉下人的汽笛長嘯了，這里是你們給它們的代價！像長長的攻城槌般的木料以一小時二十英里的速度，沖向我們的城墻，還有許多的椅子，城圈以內所有負擔沉重的人現在有得坐了。鄉村用這樣巨大的木材的禮貌給城市送去了坐椅。所有印第安山間的越橘全部給采下來，所有的雪球漿果也都裝進城來了。棉花上來了，紡織品下去了：絲上來了，羊毛下去了，書本上來了，可是著作書本的智力降低了。

　　當我遇見那火車頭，帶了它的一列車廂，像行星運轉似的移動前進，――或者說，像一顆掃帚星，因為既然那軌道不像一個會轉回來的曲線，看到它的人也就不知道在這樣的速度下，向這個方向馳去的火車，會不會再回到這軌道上來，――水蒸汽像一面旗幟，形成金銀色的煙圈飄浮在后面，好像我看到過的高高在天空中的一團團絨毛般的白云，一大塊一大塊地展開，并放下豪光來，――好像這位旅行著的怪神，吐出了云霞，快要把夕陽映照著的天空作它的列車的號衣；那時我聽到鐵馬吼聲如雷，使山谷都響起回聲，它的腳步踩得土地震動，它的鼻孔噴著火和黑煙（我不知道在新的神話中，人們會收進怎樣的飛馬或火龍），看來好像大地終于有了一個配得上住在地球上的新的種族了。如果這一切確實像表面上看來的那樣，人類控制了元素，使之服務于高貴的目標，那該多好！如果火車頭上的云真是在創英雄業績時所冒的汗，蒸汽就跟飄浮在農田上空的云一樣有益，那末，元素和大自然自己都會樂意為人類服務，當人類的護衛者了。

　　我眺望那早車時的心情，跟我眺望日出時的一樣，日出也不見得比早車更準時。火車奔向波士頓，成串的云在它后面拉長，越升越高，升上了天，片刻間把太陽遮住，把我遠處的田野蔭蔽了。這一串云是天上的列車，旁邊那擁抱土地的小車輛，相形之下，只是一支標槍的倒鉤了。在這冬天的早晨，鐵馬的御者起身極早，在群山間的星光底下喂草駕挽。它這么早升了火，給它內熱，以便它起程趕路。要是這事既能這樣早開始，又能這樣無害，那才好啦！積雪深深時，它給穿上了雪鞋，用了一個巨大的鐵犁，從群山中開出條路來，直到海邊，而車輛像一個溝中播種器，把所有焦灼的人們和浮華的商品，當作種子飛撒在田野中。一整天，這火駒飛過田園，停下時，只為了它主人要休息。

　　就是半夜里，我也常常給它的步伐和兇惡的哼哈聲吵醒；在遠處山谷的僻隱森林中，它碰到了冰雪的封鎖；要在曉星底下它才能進馬廄。可是既不休息，也不打盹，它立刻又上路旅行去了。有時，在黃昏中，我聽到它在馬廄里，放出了這一天的剩余力氣，使它的神經平靜下來，臟腑和腦袋也冷靜了，可以打幾個小時的鋼鐵的瞌睡。如果這事業，這樣曠日持久和不知疲乏，又能這樣英勇不屈而威風凜凜，那才好呵！

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