A Week On The Concord and Merrimack Rivers

A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers is a book by Henry David Thoreau, first published in 1849. The book is ostensibly the narrative of a boat trip from Concord, Massachusetts to Concord, New Hampshire and back Thoreau had taken with his brother John in 1839. As John had died from tetanus in 1842, Thoreau wrote the book as a tribute to his memory.

Read more about A Week On The Concord And Merrimack Rivers:  Background

Famous quotes containing the words week, concord, merrimack and/or rivers:

    A baby nurse is one that changes diapers and loves ‘em dearly. Get up at all hours of the night to give ‘em the bottle and change their pants. If the baby coughs or cries, you have to find out the need. I had my own room usually, but I slept in the same room with the baby. I would take full charge. It was twenty-four hours. I used to have one day a week off and I’d go home and see my own two little ones.
    Ruth Lindstrom (c. 1892–?)

    Nature seemed to have adorned herself for our departure with a profusion of fringes and curls, mingled with the bright tints of flowers, reflected in the water. But we missed the white water-lily, which is the queen of river flowers, its reign being over for this season.... Many of this species inhabit our Concord water.
    Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)

    The Concord had rarely been a river, or rivus, but barely fluvius, or between fluvius and lacus. This Merrimack was neither rivus nor fluvius nor lacus, but rather amnis here, a gently swelling and stately rolling flood approaching the sea. We could even sympathize with its buoyant tied, going to seek its fortune in the ocean, and anticipating the time when “being received within the plain of its freer water,” it should “beat the shore for banks.”
    Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)

    While the Republic has already acquired a history world-wide, America is still unsettled and unexplored. Like the English in New Holland, we live only on the shores of a continent even yet, and hardly know where the rivers come from which float our navy.
    Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)