Sometimes, having had a surfeit of human society and gossip, and worn out all my village friends, I rambled still farther westward than I habitually dwell, into yet more unfrequented parts of the town, “to fresh woods and pastures new,” or, while the sun was setting, made my supper of huckleberries and blueberries on Fair Haven Hill, and laid up a store for several days.
The fruits do not yield their true flavor to the purchaser of them, nor to him who raises them for the market. There is but one way to obtain it, yet few take that way.
If you would know the flavor of huckleberries, ask the cowboy or the partridge. It is a vulgar error to suppose that you have tasted huckleberries who never plucked them. A huckleberry never reaches Boston; they have not been known there since they grew on her three hills. The ambrosial and essential part of the fruit is lost with the bloom which is rubbed off in the market cart, and they become mere provender. As long as Eternal Justice reigns, not one innocent huckleberry can be transported thither from the country’s hills.
De vez en cuando, al terminar mis tareas de azada por el día, me unía a algún impaciente compañero que llevaba pescando en el estanque desde la mañana, tan silencioso e inmóvil como un pato o una hoja flotante, y que, tras practicar varios tipos de filosofía, solía concluir, para cuando yo llegaba, que pertenecía a la antigua secta de los cenobitas. Había un hombre mayor, excelente pescador y experto en toda clase de menesteres silvestres, a quien le complacía ver en mi casa un edificio erigido para la comodidad de los pescadores; y a mí me complacía igualmente cuando se sentaba en el umbral de mi puerta a arreglar sus sedales.