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The Bean-Field

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    n,andsoitwassafefromsuchenemiesashe.Youmaywonderwhathisrigmarole,hisamateurPaganiniperformancesononestringorontwenty,havetodowithyourplanting,andyetpreferittoleachedashesorplaster.ItwasacheapsortoftopdressinginwhichIhadentirefaith. AsIdrewastillfreshersoilabouttherowswithmyhoe,Idisturbedtheashesofunchroniclednationswhoinprimevalyearslivedundertheseheavens,andtheirsmallimplementsofwarandhuntingwerebroughttothelightofthismodernday.Theylaymingledwithothernaturalstones,someofwhichborethemarksofhavingbeenburnedbyIndianfires,andsomebythesun,andalsobitsofpotteryandglassbroughthitherbytherecentcultivatorsofthesoil.Whenmyhoetinkledagainstthestones,thatmusicechoedtothewoodsandthesky,andwasanaccompanimenttomylaborwhichyieldedaninstantandimmeasurablecrop.ItwasnolongerbeansthatIhoed,norIthathoedbeansandIrememberedwithasmuchpityaspride,ifIrememberedatall,myacquaintanceswhohadgonetothecitytoattendtheoratorios.Thenight-hawkcircledoverheadinthesunnyafternoons—forIsometimesmadeadayofit—likeamoteintheeye,orinheaven’seye,fallingfromtimetotimewithaswoopandasoundasiftheheavenswererent,tornatlasttoveryragsandtatters,andyetaseamlesscoperemainedsmallimpsthatfilltheairandlaytheireggsonthegroundonbaresandorrocksonthetopsofhills,wherefewhavefoundthemgracefulandslenderlikeripplescaughtupfromthepond,asleavesareraisedbythewindtofloatintheheavenssuchkindredshipisinNature.Thehawkisaerialbrotherofthewavewhichhesailsoverandsurveys,thosehisperfectair-inflatedwingsansweringtotheelementalunfledgedpinionsofthesea.OrsometimesIwatchedapairofhen-hawkscirclinghighinthesky,alternatelysoaringanddescending,approaching,andleavingoneanother,asiftheyweretheembodimentofmyownthoughts.OrIwasattractedbythepassageofwildpigeonsfromthiswoodtothat,withaslightquiveringwinnowingsoundandcarrierhasteorfromunderarottenstumpmyhoe
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