Thoreau writes in his journal:
men, of Indians for instance, becomes extinct, is not that the end of the world for them? Is not the world forever beginning and coming to an end, both to men and races? Suppose we were to foresee that the Saxon race to which we belong would become extinct . . .
Joe Brown owned those pigs I saw to root up the old pasture behind Paul Adams’s. N. Stow tells me this morning that he has sold and brought to the butcher’s three loads of pork containing twenty-five hundred pounds each, the least; at eight cents per pound amounting to more than $600 . . .
