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abroad in the wide sunny roads。 They； too； know well this hospitable
moment of the spring； they； too； know that doors and hearts are open and
that even into dull lives creeps a bit of the spirit of adventure。 Why； a
farmer will buy a corn planter； feed a tramp； or listen to a poet twice as
easily at this time of year as at any other！
For several days I found myself so fully occupied with the bustling life
of the Road that I scarcely spoke to a living soul； but strode straight ahead。
The spring has been late and cold： most of the corn and some of the
potatoes are not yet in； and the tobacco lands are still bare and brown。
Occasionally I stopped to watch some ploughman in the fields： I saw with
a curious； deep satisfaction how the moist furrows； freshly turned；
glistened in the warm sunshine。 There seemed to be something right and
fit about it； as well as human and beautiful。 Or at evening I would stop to
watch a ploughman driving homeward across his new brown fields；
raising a cloud of fine dust from the fast drying furrow crests。 The low sun
shining through the dust and glorifying it； the weary…stepping horses； the
man all sombre…coloured like the earth itself and knit into the scene as
though a part of it； made a picture exquisitely fine to see。
And what a joy I had also of the lilacs blooming in many a dooryard；
the odour often trailing after me for a long distance in the road； and of the
pungent scent at evening in the cool hollows of burning brush heaps and
the smell of barnyards as I went bynot unpleasant； not offensiveand
above all； the deep； earthy； moist odour of new…ploughed fields。
And then； at evening； to hear the sound of voices from the dooryards
as I pass quite unseen； no words； but just pleasant； quiet intonations of
human voices； borne through the still air； or the low sounds of cattle in the
barnyards； quieting down for the night； and often； if near a village； the
distant； slumbrous sound of a church bell； or even the rumble of a train
how good all these sounds are！ They have all come to me again this week
with renewed freshness and impressiveness。 I am living deep again！
It was not； indeed； until last Wednesday that I began to get my fill；
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temporarily； of the outward satisfaction of the Roadthe primeval takings
of the sensesthe mere joys of seeing； hearing； smelling； touching。 But on
that day I began to wake up； I began to have a desire to know something
of all the strange and interesting people who are working in their fields； or
standing invitingly in their doorways； or so busily afoot in the country
roads。 Let me add； also； for this is one of the most important parts of my
present experience； that this new desire was far from being wholly esoteric。
I had also begun to have cravings which would not in the least be satisfied
by landscapes or dulled by the sights and sounds of the road。 A whiff here
and there from a doorway at mealtime had made me long for my own
home； for the sight of Harriet calling from the steps： 〃Dinner； David。〃
But I had covenanted with myself long before starting that I would
literally 〃live light in spring。〃 It was the one and primary condition I made
with myselfand made with serious purposeand when I came away I had
only enough money in my pocket and sandwiches in my pack to see me
through the first three or four days。 Any man may brutally pay his way
anywhere； but it is quite another thing to be accepted by your humankind
not as a paid lodger but as a friend。 Always； it seems to me； I have wanted
to submit myself； and indeed submit the stranger； to that test。 Moreover；
how can any man look for true adventure in life if he always knows to a
certainty where his next meal is coming from？ In a world so completely
dominated by goods； by things； by possessions； and smothered by security；
what fine adventure is left to a man of spirit save the adventure of
poverty？
I do not mean by this the adventure of involuntary poverty； for I
maintain that involuntary poverty； like involuntary riches； is a credit to no
man。 It is only as we dominate life that we really live。 What I mean here；
if I may so express it； is an adventure in achieved poverty。 In the lives of
such true men as Francis of Assisi and Tolstoi； that which draws the world
to them in secret sympathy is not that they lived lives of poverty； but
rather； having riches at their hands； or for the very asking； that they chose
poverty as the better way of life。
As for me； I do not in the least pretend to have accepted the final logic
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of an achieved poverty。 I have merely abolished temporarily from my life
a few hens and cows； a comfortable old farmhouse； andcertain other
emoluments and hereditamentsbut remain the slave of sundry cloth upon
my back and sundry articles in my gray bagincluding a fat pocket
volume or so； and a tin whistle。 Let them pass now。 To…morrow I may wish
to attempt life with still less。 I might survive without my battered copy of
〃Montaigne〃 or even submit to existence without that sense of distant
companionship symbolized by a postage…stamp； and as for trousers
In this deceptive world； how difficult attainment is perfection！
No； I expect I shall continue for a long time to owe the worm his silk；
the beast his hide； the sheep his wool； and the cat his perfume！ What I am
seeking is something as simple and as quiet as the trees or the hills just
to look out around me at the pleasant countryside； to enjoy a little of this
show； to meet （and to help a little if I may） a few human beings； and thus
to get nearly into the sweet kernel of human life）。 My friend； you may or
may not think this a worthy object； if you do not； stop here； go no further
with me； but if you do； why； we'll exchange great words on the road； we'll
look up at the sky together； we'll see and hear the finest things in this
world！ We'll enjoy the sun！ We'll live light in spring！
Until last Tuesday； then； I was carried easily and comfortably onward
by the corn； the eggs； and the honey of my past labours； and before
Wednesday noon