Common roads branch off in all directions like the spokes of a wheel.
The oldest road, by which the British troops made their entry and exit,
runs northeasterly to the Hawthorne house and Lexington with a firm, dry
sidewalk for more than a mile; another goes northwesterly to the
battle-ground and Esterbrook farm, where there were magnificent chestnut
trees equal in size and shape to the Persian walnuts of Europe, as well
as huge granite boulders scattered about from some pre-historic glacier.

The Emerson farm lies between two interesting roads, one going straight
over the hills of Boston, and the other to Walden Lake and Thoreau's
hermitage, or where it was. Between them runs a lively, gurgling brook,
which used to be frequented by woodcock, and the Virginia rail, and
passes close by Mrs. Emerson's garden.

Two or three miles to the south there is another lakelet called
Fairhaven Bay, the south branch of the river flowing through it, quite
equal in its way to Walden, or to an Irish lake, for that matter. On the
outskirts of the village, there was many a quaint old weather-beaten
house with a well-sweep, perhaps, for accompaniment,--excellent subjects
for a sketchbook,--and Walden woods were always full of natural
side-shows and those charming effects of color and shadow which artists
delight in.

On the western side, there were the two mile square, the three mile
square, and five mile square, for those who liked an exact measure for
their constitutional exercise; and on the north the road went straight
to Sleepy Hollow, now one of the famous cemeteries of the world. Thence,
paths went through the fields and woods to the Lexington road on one
side and to the north bridge on the other; and these paths are memorable
from the fact that they were Hawthorne's favorite walk during the last