I live in the angle of a leaden wall， into whose composition was poured a little alloy of bell-metal.  Often， in the repose of my mid-day， there reaches my ears a confused tintinnabulum from without.  It is the noise of my contemporaries.  My neighbors tell me of their adventures with famous gentlemen and ladies， what notabilities they met at the dinner-table； but I am no more interested in such things than in the contents of the Daily Times. The interest and the conversation are about costume and manners chiefly； but a goose is a goose still， dress it as you will.  They tell me of California and Texas， of England and the Indies， of the Hon. Mr. ―― of Georgia or of Massachusetts， all transient and fleeting phenomena， till I am ready to leap from their court-yard like the Mameluke bey.  I delight to come to my bearings ―― not walk in procession with pomp and parade， in a conspicuous place， but to walk even with the Builder of the universe， if I may ―― not to live in this restless， nervous， bustling， trivial Nineteenth Century， but stand or sit thoughtfully while it goes by.  What are men celebrating？  They are all on a committee of arrangements， and hourly expect a speech from somebody.  God is only the president of the day， and Webster is his orator.  I love to weigh， to settle， to gravitate toward that which most strongly and rightfully attracts me ―― not hang by the beam of the scale and try to weigh less ―― not suppose a case， but take the case that is； to travel the only path I can， and that on which no power can resist me.  It affords me no satisfaction to commerce to spring an arch before I have got a solid foundation.  Let us not play at kittly-benders.  There is a solid bottom everywhere.  We read that the traveller asked the boy if the swamp before him had a hard bottom.  The boy replied that it had. But presently the traveller's horse sank in up to the girths， and he observed to the boy， "I thought you said that this bog had a hard bottom."  "So it has，" answered the latter， "but you have not got half way to it yet."  So it is with the bogs and quicksands of society； but he is an old boy that knows it.  Only what is thought，said， or done at a certain rare coincidence is good.  I would not be one of those who will foolishly drive a nail into mere lath and plastering； such a deed would keep me awake nights.  Give me a hammer， and let me feel for the furring.  Do not depend on the putty.  Drive a nail home and clinch it so faithfully that you can wake up in the night and think of your work with satisfaction ―― a work at which you would not be ashamed to invoke the Muse.  So will help you God， and so only.  Every nail driven should be as another rivet in the machine of the universe， you carrying on the work.

　　Rather than love， than money， than fame， give me truth.  I sat at a table where were rich food and wine in abundance， and obsequious attendance， but sincerity and truth were not； and I went away hungry from the inhospitable board.  The hospitality was as cold as the ices.  I thought that there was no need of ice to freeze them.  They talked to me of the age of the wine and the fame of the vintage； but I thought of an older， a newer， and purer wine， of a more glorious vintage， which they had not got， and could not buy. The style， the house and grounds and "entertainment" pass for nothing with me.  I called on the king， but he made me wait in his hall， and conducted like a man incapacitated for hospitality.  There was a man in my neighborhood who lived in a hollow tree.  His manners were truly regal.  I should have done better had I called on him.

　　How long shall we sit in our porticoes practising idle and musty virtues， which any work would make impertinent？  As if one were to begin the day with long-suffering， and hire a man to hoe his potatoes； and in the afternoon go forth to practise Christian meekness and charity with goodness aforethought！  Consider the China pride and stagnant self-complacency of mankind.  This generation inclines a little to congratulate itself on being the last of an illustrious line； and in Boston and London and Paris and Rome，thinking of its long descent， it speaks of its progress in art and science and literature with satisfaction.  There are the Records of the Philosophical Societies， and the public Eulogies of Great Men！

　　It is the good Adam contemplating his own virtue.  "Yes， we have done great deeds， and sung divine songs， which shall never die" ――that is， as long as we can remember them.  The learned societies and great men of Assyria ―― where are they？  What youthful philosophers and experimentalists we are！  There is not one of my readers who has yet lived a whole human life.  These may be but the spring months in the life of the race.  If we have had the seven-years' itch， we have not seen the seventeen-year locust yet in Concord.  We are acquainted with a mere pellicle of the globe on which we live.  Most have not delved six feet beneath the surface， nor leaped as many above it.  We know not where we are.  Beside， we are sound asleep nearly half our time.  Yet we esteem ourselves wise， and have an established order on the surface.  Truly， we are deep thinkers， we are ambitious spirits！  As I stand over the insect crawling amid the pine needles on the forest floor， and endeavoring to conceal itself from my sight， and ask myself why it will cherish those humble thoughts， and bide its head from me who might， perhaps， be its benefactor， and impart to its race some cheering information， I am reminded of the greater Benefactor and Intelligence that stands over me the human insect.

　　There is an incessant influx of novelty into the world， and yet we tolerate incredible dulness.  I need only suggest what kind of sermons are still listened to in the most enlightened countries. There are such words as joy and sorrow， but they are only the burden of a psalm， sung with a nasal twang， while we believe in the ordinary and mean.  We think that we can change our clothes only. It is said that the British Empire is very large and respectable，and that the United States are a first-rate power.  We do not believe that a tide rises and falls behind every man which can float the British Empire like a chip， if he should ever harbor it in his mind.  Who knows what sort of seventeen-year locust will next come out of the ground？  The government of the world I live in was not framed， like that of Britain， in after-dinner conversations over the wine.

　　The life in us is like the water in the river.  It may rise this year higher than man has ever known it， and flood the parched uplands； even this may be the eventful year， which will drown out all our muskrats.  It was not always dry land where we dwell.  I see far inland the banks which the stream anciently washed， before science began to record its freshets.  Every one has heard the story which has gone the rounds of New England， of a strong and beautiful bug which came out of the dry leaf of an old table of apple-tree wood， which had stood in a farmer's kitchen for sixty years， first in Connecticut， and afterward in Massachusetts ―― from an egg deposited in the living tree many years earlier still， as appeared by counting the annual layers beyond it； which was heard gnawing out for several weeks， hatched perchance by the heat of an urn.  Who does not feel his faith in a resurrection and immortality strengthened by hearing of this？  Who knows what beautiful and winged life， whose egg has been buried for ages under many concentric layers of woodenness in the dead dry life of society，deposited at first in the alburnum of the green and living tree，which has been gradually converted into the semblance of its well-seasoned tomb ―― heard perchance gnawing out now for years by the astonished family of man， as they sat round the festive board ――may unexpectedly come forth from amidst society's most trivial and handselled furniture， to enjoy its perfect summer life at last！

　　I do not say that John or Jonathan will realize all this； but such is the character of that morrow which mere lapse of time can never make to dawn.  The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us.  Only that day dawns to which we are awake.  There is more day to dawn.  The sun is but a morning star.

　　我住在一個鉛墻的角隅中，那里已倒人了一點鐘銅的合金。常常在我正午休息的時候，一種混亂的叮叮之聲從外面傳到了我的耳鼓中。這是我同時代人的聲音。我的鄰居在告訴我他們同那些著名的紳士淑女的奇遇，在夜宴桌上，他們遇見的那一些貴族；我對這些，正如我對《每日時報》的內容，同樣不發生興趣。一般的趣味和談話資料總是關于服裝和禮貌，可是笨鵝總歸是笨鵝，隨便你怎么打扮它。他們告訴我加利福尼亞和得克薩斯，英國和印度，佐治亞州或馬薩諸塞州的某某大人，全是短暫的、瞬息即逝的現象，我幾乎要像馬穆魯克的省長一樣從他們的庭院中逃走。我愿我行我素，不愿涂脂抹粉，招搖過市，引人注目，即使我可以跟這個宇宙的建筑大師攜手共行，我也不愿，――我不愿生活在這個不安的、神經質的、忙亂的。瑣細的十九世紀生活中，寧可或立或坐，沉思著，聽任這十九世紀過去。人們在慶祝些什么呢？他們都參加了某個事業的籌備委員會，隨時預備聽人家演說。上帝只是今天的主席，韋勃斯特是他的演說家。那些強烈地合理地吸引我的事物，我愛衡量它們的分量，處理它們，向它們轉移；――決不拉住磅秤的橫桿，來減少重量，――不假設一個情況，而是按照這個情況的實際來行事；旅行在我能夠旅行的唯一的路上，在那里沒有一種力量可以阻止我。我不會在奠定堅實基礎以前先造拱門而自滿自足。我們不要玩冒險的把戲。什么都得有個結實的基礎。

　　我們讀到過一個旅行家問一個孩子，他面前的這個沼澤有沒有一個堅固的底。孩子說有的。可是，旅行家的馬立刻就陷了下去，陷到肚帶了，他對孩子說，“我聽你說的是這個沼澤有一個堅固的底。”“是有啊，”后者回答，“可是你還沒有到達它的一半深呢。”

　　社會的泥澤和流沙也如此。要知道這一點，卻非年老的孩子不可。也只有在很難得，很湊巧之中，所想的，所說的那一些事才是好的。我不愿做一個在只有板條和灰漿的墻中釘入一只釘子的人，要是這樣做了，那到半夜里我還會睡不著覺。給我一個錘子，讓我來摸一摸釘板條。不要依賴表面上涂著的灰漿。錘入一只釘子，讓它真真實實地釘緊，那我半夜里醒來了想想都很滿意呢，――這樣的工作，便是你召喚了文藝女神來看看，也毫無愧色的。這樣做上帝才會幫你的忙，也只有這樣做你的忙他才幫。每一個錘入的釘子應該作為宇宙大機器中的一部分。你這才是在繼續這一個工作。

　　不必給我愛，不必給我錢，不必給我名譽，給我真理吧。我坐在一張放滿了山珍海味的食桌前，受到奉承的招待，可是那里沒有真理和誠意；宴罷之后，從這冷淡的桌上歸來，我饑餓難當。這種招待冷得像冰。我想不必再用冰來冰凍它們了，他們告訴我酒的年代和美名；可是我想到了一種更古，卻又更新、更純粹、更光榮的飲料，但他們沒有，要買也買不到。式樣，建筑，庭園和“娛樂”，在我看來，有等于無。我去訪問一個國王，他吩咐我在客廳里等他，像一個好客的人。我鄰居中有一個人住在樹洞里。他的行為才真有王者之風。我要是去訪問他，結果一定會好得多。

　　我們還要有多久坐在走廊中，實行這些無聊的陳規陋習，弄得任何工作都荒誕不堪，還要有多久呢？好像一個人，每天一早就要苦修，還雇了一個人來給他種土豆；到下午，抱著預先想好的善心出去實行基督教徒的溫柔與愛心！請想想中國的自大和那種人類的凝滯的自滿。這一世代慶幸自己為一個光榮傳統的最后一代；而在波士頓、倫敦、巴黎、羅馬，想想它們歷史多么悠久，它們還在說它們的文學、藝術和科學多么進步而沾沾自喜。有的是哲學學會的記錄，對于偉人公開的贊美文章！好一個亞當，在夸耀他自己的美德了。“是的，我們做了偉大的事業了，唱出了神圣的歌了，它們是不朽的，”――在我們能記得它們的時候，自然是不朽的羅。可是古代亞述的有學問的團體和他們的偉人，――請問現在何在？我們是何等年輕的哲學家和實驗家啊！我的讀者之中，還沒有一個人生活過整個人生。這些也許只是在人類的春天的幾個月里。即便我們患了七年才治好的癬疥，我們也并沒有看見康科德受過的十六年蝗災。我們只曉得我們所生活的地球上的一張薄膜。大多數人沒有深入過水下六英尺，也沒有跳高到六英尺以上。我們不知在哪里。況且有差不多一半的時間，我們是沉睡的。可是我們卻自以為聰明，自以為在地球上建立了秩序。真的，我們倒是很深刻的思想家，而且我們是有志氣的人！我站在林中，看這森林地上的松針之中，蠕蠕爬行著的一只昆蟲，看到它企圖避開我的視線，自己去藏起來，我便問我自己，為什么它有這樣謙遜的思想，要藏起它的頭避開我，而我，也許可以幫助它，可以給它這個族類若干可喜的消息，這時我禁不住想起我們更偉大的施恩者，大智慧者，他也在俯視著我們這些宛如蟲豸的人。

　　新奇的事物正在無窮盡地注入這個世界來，而我們卻忍受著不可思議的愚蠢。我只要提起，在最開明的國土上，我們還在聽怎樣的說教就夠了。現在還有快樂啊，悲哀啊，這種字眼，但這些都只是用鼻音唱出的贊美詩的疊句，實際上我們所信仰的還是平庸而卑下的。我們以為我們只要換換衣服就行了。據說大英帝國很大，很可敬，而美利堅合眾國是一等強國。我們不知道每一個人背后都有潮起潮落，這浪潮可以把大英帝國像小木片一樣浮起來，如果他有決心記住這個。誰知道下一次還會發生什么樣的十七年蝗災？

　　我所生活在內的那個世界的政府，并不像英國政府那樣，不是在夜宴之后，喝喝美酒并談談說說就建立起來的。

　　我們身體內的生命像河中的水。它可以今年漲得高，高得空前，洪水漲上枯焦的高地；甚至這樣的一年也可能是多事之年，把我們所有的麝鼠都淹死。我們生活的地方不一定總是干燥的土地。我看到遠遠地，在內陸就有些河岸，遠在科學還沒有記錄它們的泛濫之前，就曾受過江河的沖激。大家都聽到過新英格蘭傳說的這個故事，有一只強壯而美麗的爬蟲，它從一只古老的蘋果木桌子的干燥的活動桌板中爬了出來，那桌于放在一個農夫的廚房中間已經六十年了，先是在康涅狄格州，后來搬到了馬薩諸塞州來，那卵還比六十年前更早幾年，當蘋果樹還活著的時候就下在里面了，因為這是可以根據它外面的年輪判斷的；好幾個星期來，已經聽到它在里面咬著了，它大約是受到一只缽頭的熱氣才孵化的。聽到了這樣的故事之后，誰能不感到增強了復活的信心與不朽的信心呢？這卵已幾世代地埋在好幾層的、一圈圈圍住的木頭中間，放在枯燥的社會生活之中，起先在青青的有生命的白木質之間，后來這東西漸漸成了一個風干得很好的墳墓了，――也許它已經咬了幾年之久，使那坐在這歡宴的餐桌前的一家子聽到聲音驚惶失措，――誰知道何等美麗的、有翅膀的生命突然從社會中最不值錢的、人家送的家具中，一下子跳了出來，終于享受了它完美的生命的夏天！

　　我并不是說約翰或者約納森這些普通人可以理解所有的這一切；可是時間盡管流逝，而黎明始終不來的那個明天，它具備著這樣的特性。使我們失去視覺的那種光明，對于我們是黑暗。只有我們睜開眼睛醒過來的那一天，天才亮了。天亮的日子多著呢。太陽不過是一個曉星。

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