It was as a carriage and traveller fade from sight on the
distant road. It was like the coming of sundown and twilight in a clear
day. It was like the apple blossoms dropping from the trees. It was as
the herds wind out to pasture. It was like a thousand and one changing
and fading things in nature.
"It was not discord, it was music stopped."
Who was next to break away from the charm of the life I know not; but
when the autumnal season came I was summoned to a family council and
advised that I should begin a new occupation where I could at least
earn my subsistence. As in duty bound, I acquiesced, and in a few days
bade farewell to the Brook Farm life.
I saw no tears shed when I left, but I was sorry to leave my blue tunic
behind, it was so comfortable. I left, but it was only my outward self
that was gone, not my sympathies or hopes. Behind were family and
devoted friends. It was still my home to return to, as it would be for
an indefinite period.
For two years and a half I had worn the tunic of the community, and the
"swallow tail" and "civilized rig" I put on for my departure transposed
my appearance so much that some of the society did not at first know
me. With my parents' blessing, I entered on the rudiments of the
professional life I have ever since followed, and took the West Roxbury
omnibus for Boston, the same I had taken two years and a half before to
go to the farm.
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