beard and the kindest eyes in the world. He was a Unitarian clergyman, a
scholar learned in all the learning of the Egyptians and all the other
learned peoples of every age and clime, and a gentleman of the most
engagingly courteous address; his good manners rested on bed rock
foundations, too, and could not be corrupted by evil communications. I
saw him more than once in straits harsh enough to try the patience of a
saint, and noted with surprised admiration that his perfect poise was
not in the least disturbed.

It was Dr. Ripley who, having the courage of his convictions, bravely
suggested putting in practice the principles he and his Transcendental
friends advocated in theory. "We talk well," he said, in effect, "why
not try to do the thing which we say?" And he did. With a few of these
friends, like-minded, he went out to West Roxbury; six miles from
Boston, and bought a farm of 200 acres. Being unusually bright folk,
remarkably intelligent, highly educated and, as may be said, brilliantly
enlightened, they succeeded, almost beyond belief, in making a woefully
bad bargain. I do not know how much they paid for the land but whatever
the price it was too high. The property was picturesque to look at but
its best herbage was sheep-sorrel. Next the brook, which gave the name,
Brook Farm, there was a fair bit of meadow, with a rounded hill called
the Knoll rising sharply on the north. The land rolled unevenly on,
one-eighth of a mile or so, to higher ground and then fell off again to
a level plateau covered with pine woods, beyond which were two or three
fields of plow-land. The soil was thin, sandy where it was not rocky,
and rocky where it was not sandy. It was a poor place, indeed, and had
been poorly farmed until it was as lean as Pharaoh's second herd of
kine. It speaks well for these unsophisticated philosophers that in four
years they made this desert to rejoice and blossom as the rose;
cultivating the finest market gardens and flower-gardens in Roxbury,