CONCORD, February 1, 1855.
DEAR SIR,--I supposed, as I did not see you on the 24th or 25th, that
some track or other was obstructed; but the solid earth still holds
together between New Bedford and Concord, and I trust that as this
time you stayed away, you may live to come another day.
I did not go to Boston, for with regard to that place I sympathize
with one of my neighbors, an old man, who has not been there since the
last war, when he was compelled to go. No, I have a real genius for
staying at home.
I have been looking of late at Bewick's tail-pieces in the
"Birds,"--all they have of him at Harvard. Why will he be a little
vulgar at times? Yesterday I made an excursion up our river,--skated
some thirty miles in a few hours, if you will believe it. So with
reading and writing and skating the night comes round again.
* * * * *
The early part of 1855 was spent by Thomas Cholmondeley in a tiresome
passage to England, whence he wrote (January 27) to say to Thoreau
that he had reached Shropshire, and been commissioned captain in the
local militia, in preparation for service at Sevastopol, but reminding
his Concord friend of a half promise to visit England some day. To
this Thoreau made answer thus:--