Ralph Waldo Emerson writes to Margaret Fuller:
Thoreaus book is not yet published, though now on the point of concluding the contract. [A. Bronson] Alcott (in whom do you know a Palladio was lost?) is building me (with Thoreau) a summerhouse of growing—alarming dimensions—peristyle gables, dormer windows, &c in the midst of my cornfield—for I have pulled down my eastern fence, alas! & added 2 ½ acres to my lot in an evil hour.
(The Letters of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 3:413)
