This is a delicious evening, when the whole body is one sense, and imbibes delight through every pore. I go and come with a stra
nge liberty in Nature, a part of herself. As I walk along the stony shore of the pond in my shirt sleeves, though it is cool as well as cloudy and windy, and I see nothing special to attract me, all the elements are unusually congenial to me. The bullfrogs trump to usher in the night, and the note of the whippoorwill is borne on the rippling wind from over the water. Sympathy with the fluttering alder and poplar leaves almost takes away my breath; yet, like the lake, my serenity is rippled but not ruffled. These small waves raised by the evening wind are as remote from storm as the smooth reflecting surface. Though it is now dark, the wind still blows and roars in the wood, the waves still dash, and some creatures lull the rest with their notes. The repose is never complete. The wildest animals do not repose, but seek their prey now; the fox, and skunk, and rabbit, now roam the fields and woods without fear. They are Nature’s watchmen, —links which connect the days of animated life. . . .
Some of my pleasantest hours were during the long rain storms in the spring or fall, which confined me to the house for the afternoon as well as the forenoon, soothed by their ceaseless roar and pelting; when an early twilight ushered in a long evening in which many thoughts had time to take root and unfold themselves. . . . Men frequently say to me, “I should think you would feel lonesome down there, and want to be nearer to folks, rainy and snowy days and nights especially.” I am tempted to reply to such,—This whole earth which we inhabit is but a point in space. How far apart, think you, dwell the two most distant inhabitants of yonder star, the breadth of whose disk cannot be appreciated by our instruments? Why should I feel lonely? Is not our planet in the Milky Way? This which you put seems to me not to be the most important question. What sort of space is that which separates a man from his fellows and makes him solitary? I have found that no exertion of the legs can bring two minds much nearer to one another.
Question 1
Part A
In "Solitude," what can be inferred about the author’s feelings toward the natural world?
Every part of the natural world is equally appealing, but each in its own way.
He feels that people can learn a lot from observing the interactions that take place in nature.
He understands the emotions of people but has much to learn about those of animals.
He is afraid in the company of other people, but he has no fear around animals.
Question 2
Part B
Which sentence best supports the answer in Part A?
“What sort of space is that which separates a man from his fellows and makes him solitary?”
“The wildest animals do not repose, but seek their prey now; the fox, and skunk, and rabbit, now roam the fields and woods without fear.”
“As I walk along the stony shore of the pond in my shirt sleeves . . . and I see nothing special to attract me, all the elements are unusually congenial to me.”
“They are Nature’s watchmen,—links which connect the days of animated life.”
