The Emerson farm lies between two interesting roads, one going straight
over the hills of Boston, and the other to Walden Lake and Thoreau's
hermitage, or where it was. Between them runs a lively, gurgling brook,
which used to be frequented by woodcock, and the Virginia rail, and
passes close by Mrs. Emerson's garden.
Two or three miles to the south there is another lakelet called
Fairhaven Bay, the south branch of the river flowing through it, quite
equal in its way to Walden, or to an Irish lake, for that matter. On the
outskirts of the village, there was many a quaint old weather-beaten
house with a well-sweep, perhaps, for accompaniment,--excellent subjects
for a sketchbook,--and Walden woods were always full of natural
side-shows and those charming effects of color and shadow which artists
delight in.
On the western side, there were the two mile square, the three mile
square, and five mile square, for those who liked an exact measure for
their constitutional exercise; and on the north the road went straight
to Sleepy Hollow, now one of the famous cemeteries of the world. Thence,
paths went through the fields and woods to the Lexington road on one
side and to the north bridge on the other; and these paths are memorable
from the fact that they were Hawthorne's favorite walk during the last
years of his life.
A curious accident happened somewhere about 1860 just beyond Sleepy
Hollow.
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