The Autobiography of an Idea

two trees now⁠—all his own, and powerfully prized. It was all agreed. Then he moved further north to a dense mass of rather tall pines. He pushed in some distance, saw a crow’s nest overhead, climbed painfully up to it, had barely looked in when came a horrible cawing; angry crows came suddenly from everywhere, bent on his destruction. Amid a fierce clamor, he descended to safety and then and there fixed those gloomy pines as the eastern boundary of his domain. He explored until he found in another field, on slightly higher ground, the deep clear wellspring from which the rivulet flowed. Thence he followed its windings, wading as he went. Grasshoppers in alarm hopped foolishly into the stream and floated along; now and then a small frog jumped the other way for safety. There were a few strawberries peeping from the grass along the banks; the channel was cutting deeper into the meadow and held more water; as he rounded a long curve he became aware of a great presence near him; it was his elm; he craned his neck to look at the branches way up in the sky, but his interest was centered in his new friend the rivulet; he had not room for both just now. The little stream began to ripple and sing sweetly to the child all alone in the meadow in the full sunshine⁠—all alone; with plenty of company. Then the rivulet began to hurry and gurgle. Louis scaled the fence quickly to see the water descend all at once in a beautiful cascade of about his own height. After this, noisily foaming, it poured among the boulders to the lower level where he had built the dam, and, as he knew, moved on to the marsh.

He had reached his sanctuary in the shady grove, and sat a while on the lower or northern bank, to watch the squirrels. It seemed so funny to see a gray squirrel run head first down a tall tree, sit up straight in the grass, frisk his tail, wag his head, scamper to the next tree, run up and out to the end of a branch and jump from that to a branch of the next tree. He laughed gleefully at these antics. Meanwhile came from the undergrowth the note of the brown thrush, and from above various twitterings, chirpings, and distant floating meadow songs. It was now time to establish the northern boundary. The north bank of the ravine sloped rather gently upward, and as it emerged from the grove it rounded and flattened into a lumpy pasture, with many boulders large and small, and plants of mullein scattered over its surface. He must include this pasture because here was the milk supply, and besides, the pasture was green. All along the north border of it stood a dense growth of young pines which he found impenetrable and repellant, so he fixed his northern boundary resolutely there. As to the southern boundary he was in some doubt. It should, properly, be located a little way south of the crest of the ravine where the grove ended. He mounted the height and stood at the edges of a sterile stony sunburned pasture⁠—no trees, no cows; nothing but mulleins. This would not do. Yet he yearningly gazed beyond it to the long Tompson hillock crowned with beautiful lofty hard wood trees running parallel to the ravine. He wished this grove to be his, but could not accept the miserable pasture. He thought hard⁠—and solved his problem this way: He would fix the south boundary at the crest of the ravine, and would annex the Tompson Grove as an outpost. The boundary of the meadow he had already fixed, much farther south than the ravine, at a cross fence near the spring, where the meadow ended and a cultivated field began. He contemplated for a while, and saw that all thus far was good.

Now for the marsh at which he had cast covetous eyes as he, yesterday, peered under the lower branches of his grove as through a portal. His expectations were far exceeded by the revelation. It was a lovely marsh, shaped like an oval, enshrined by the diminishing trees of his grove and a margin of heavy shrubbery all around. In the near background beyond the far end of the marsh were scattering swamp pines and cedars standing very straight and tapering to a point; they were welcome to him as they stood on guard behind the dense thicket. But the marsh itself⁠—how beautiful⁠—covered with water half-knee deep, filled with groups of tall bulrushes, of reeds, of blue flag, and slender grasses; and bright flowers here and there along the wavering edge. What joy to wade and wade, lengthwise and crosswise, pulling up a flag now and again and stripping it to reach the edible core; following the margin to seek out hidden flowers. It was too much; too much at one time for one small boy. And then, in mingled affection and gratitude he established as western boundary a vague semicircle of deep green holding in its heart a marsh⁠—his marsh without price. Slowly he returned to the dam-site to think it all over. Now was the work done. The boundaries of his domain established. The domain his very own. His breast swelled with pride. It was all his. No other boy should ever enter those lovely precincts. No other boy could understand. Besides, he loved solitude as he loved activity, and the open.

Thus an entire month sped by as he reigned supreme. Not a soul came to disturb him: Rabbits, squirrels, birds and snakes were company enough. When he wished to play with other boys he went to them and joined in their games. While his heart was fixed in one spot, he made many tours of exploration; he called on many farmers and shoemakers. He even went so far one day as to enter the stove foundry beside the tracks, near the depot.