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The Vault at PfaffsAn Archive of Art and Literature by the Bohemians of Antebellum New York
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Text for Page 077 [04-12-1851]

              A rustic bridge, formed by rough tree trunks crossing the stream, pendant willow
and copsewood, streamlet gurgling and eddying round the roots of the trees,
or the small islands of pebbles and dead leaves.     There I sat and sketched
till sunset, undisturbed by human sound, save the cry of a man ploughing
with oxen in the adjacent field; � or a pretty girl who with a dog
crossed the bridge.      Back to Mr Hart and Dillon; � saw a musk
rat, defunct, and dead snake some three feet long, whose head had
been jerked off, in whip-lash fashion, by Wolf junior.      Supper, �
the girl whom I had seen being present � (one Miss Lyon, daughter of a 
neighbouring farmer.)      Sate in the parlour, fumigating with Mr
Hart, Dillon and Wolf during the evening, then at about 9, to the
upper floor, (on the landing place of which I noted an old spinning wheel)
to a near whitewashed room, with shelving roof on one side, and a small
window, which slid back into the wall on being opened, into a comfortable
bed, bulgy underneath, where I made one nap of the night.
  13. Sunday.  Up about 6, and after breakfast, determined on a 
walk to �the Sound�, with Dillon and Mr Hart set off, through the
lanes.  How different is American to English landscape.   Everywhere here,
are yon reminded how new to civilization is this country; � in England
all is as Emerson says,�as if finished with a pencil�, � undramed
land here, much rock and underwood, water streams every where. All
looked bare, more so than at this time of the year I should have imagined.
Passing through villages, mostly of wood tenements, and the church the same,
meeting few people, at length we came to a road, formerly the main one
to Boston.   At a tavern �Shute�s� there, awaiting the arrival of the stage,
Mr Hart wishing to get newspapers. Idling outside with Dillon, watching
two young fellows putting out boat for eel-fishing, in one of the straggling
necks of water proceeding from the Sound, a big musk-rat is diserned               
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