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steals out of the marsh before my door and seizes a frog by the
shore； the sedge is bending under the weight of the reed…birds
flitting hither and thither； and for the last half…hour I have heard
the rattle of railroad cars； now dying away and then reviving like
the beat of a partridge； conveying travellers from Boston to the
country。 For I did not live so out of the world as that boy who； as
I hear； was put out to a farmer in the east part of the town； but
ere long ran away and came home again； quite down at the heel and
homesick。 He had never seen such a dull and out…of…the…way place；
the folks were all gone off； why； you couldn't even hear the
whistle！ I doubt if there is such a place in Massachusetts now：
〃In truth； our village has become a butt
For one of those fleet railroad shafts； and o'er
Our peaceful plain its soothing sound is Concord。〃
The Fitchburg Railroad touches the pond about a hundred rods
south of where I dwell。 I usually go to the village along its
causeway； and am； as it were； related to society by this link。 The
men on the freight trains； who go over the whole length of the road；
bow to me as to an old acquaintance； they pass me so often； and
apparently they take me for an employee； and so I am。 I too would
fain be a track…repairer somewhere in the orbit of the earth。
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！
Far through unfrequented woods on the confines of towns； where
once only the hunter penetrated by day； in the darkest night dart
these bright saloons without the knowledge of their inhabitants；
this moment stopping at some brilliant station…house in town or
city； where a social crowd is gathered； the next in the Dismal
Swamp； scaring the owl and fox。 The startings and arrivals of the
cars are now the epochs in the village day。 They go and come with
such regularity and precision； and their whistle can be heard so
far； that the farmers set their clocks by them； and thus one
well…conducted institution regulates a whole country。 Have not men
improved somewhat in punctuality since the railroad was invented？
Do they not talk and think faster in the depot than they did in the
stage…office？ There is something electrifying in the atmosphere of
the former place。 I have been astonished at the miracles it has
wrought； that some of my neighbors； who； I should have prophesied；
once for all； would never get to Boston by so prompt a conveyance；
are on hand when the bell rings。 To do things 〃railroad fashion〃 is
now the byword； and it is worth the while to be warned so often and
so sincerely by any power to get off its track。 There is no
stopping to read the riot act； no firing over the heads of the mob；
in this case。 We have constructed a fate； an Atropos； that never
turns aside。 （Let that be the name of your engine。） Men are
advertised that at a certain hour and minute these bolts will be
shot toward particular points of the compass； yet it interferes with
no man's business； and the children go to school on the other track。
We live