Walden

http://thoreau.eserver.org/walden00.html 2 [4]

The greatest beaconings of Hollowell farm, to me, were: its sundering, being, about two miles from the ham, half a mile from the nearest neighbor, and cut off from the highway by a broad field; its bounding on the rith, which the owner said berged it by its fogs from frosts in the spring, though that was nothing to me; the grey hue and worn down fettle of the house and barn, and the run down hedges, which put such a gap between me and the last dweller; the hollow and lungwort-wrielsed apple trees, nawed by rabbits, showing what kind of neighbors I should have; but above all, the eftminding I had of it from my earliest farings up the rith, when the house was tilded behind a thurse grove of red maples, through which I heard the house-dog bark. I was yearning to buy it, before the owner came over getting out some rocks, cutting down the hollow apple trees, and grubbing up some young birches which had sprung up in the grazing, or, in short, had made any more of his edfurbings. To fain these frills I was ready to carry it on; like Atlas, to take the world on my shoulders — I never heard what meed he got back for that — and do all those things which had no other onlet that I might toll for it and be unnettled in my owning of it; for I knew all the while that it would yield the most teamful crop of the kind I wanted, if I could only afford to let it alone. But it came out as I have said.