I think that I love society as much as most，and am ready enough to fasten myself like a bloodsucker for the time to any full-blooded man that comes in my way.I am naturally no hermit，but might possibly sit out the sturdiest frequenter of the bar-room，if my business called me thither.
I had three chairs in my house；one for solitude，two for friendship，three for society.When visitors came in larger and unexpected numbers there was but the third chair for them all，but they generally economized the room by standing up.It is surprising how many great men and women a small house will contain.I have had twenty-five or thirty souls，with their bodies，at once under my roof，and yet we often parted without being aware that we had come very near to one another.Many of our houses，both public and private，with their almost innumerable apartments，their huge halls and their cellars for the storage of wines and other munitions of peace，appear to me extravagantly large for their inhabitants.They are so vast and magnificent that the latter seem to be only vermin which infest them.I am surprised when the herald blows his summons before some Tremont or Astor or Middlesex House，to see come creeping out over the piazza for all inhabitants a ridiculous mouse，which soon again slinks into some hole in the pavement.
One inconvenience I sometimes experienced in so small a house，the difficulty of getting to a sufficient distance from my guest when we began to utter the big thoughts in big words.You want room for your thoughts to get into sailing trim and run a course or two before they make their port.The bullet of your thought must have overcome its lateral and ricochet motion and fallen into its last and steady course before it reaches the ear of the hearer，else it may plow out again through the side of his head.Also，our sentences wanted room to unfold and form their columns in the interval.Individuals，like nations，must have suitable broad and natural boundaries，even a considerable neutral ground，between them.I have found it a singular luxury to talk across the pond to a companion on the opposite side.In my house we were so near that we could not begin to hear，-we could not speak low enough to be heard；as when you throw two stones into calm water so near that they break each other's undulations.If we are merely loquacious and loud talkers，then we can afford to stand very near together，cheek by jowl，and feel each other's breath；but if we speak reservedly and thoughtfully，we want to be farther apart，that all animal heat and moisture may have a chance to evaporate.If we would enjoy the most intimate society with that in each of us which is without，or above，being spoken to，we must not only be silent，but commonly so far apart bodily that we cannot possibly hear each other's voice in any case.Referred to this standard，speech is for the convenience of those who are hard of hearing；but there are many fine things which we cannot say if we have to shout.As the conversation began to assume a loftier and grander tone，we gradually shoved our chairs farther apart till they touched the wall in opposite corners，and then commonly there was not room enough.
My “best”room，however，my withdrawing room，always ready for company，on whose carpet the sun rarely fell，was the pine wood behind my house.Thither in summer days，when distinguished guests came，I took them，and a priceless domestic swept the floor and dusted the furniture and kept the things in order.
If one guest came he sometimes partook of my frugal meal，and it was no interruption to conversation to be stirring a hasty-pudding，or watching the rising and maturing of a loaf of bread in the ashes，in the meanwhile.But if twenty came and sat in my house there was nothing said about dinner，though there might be bread enough for two，more than if eating were a forsaken habit；but we naturally practised abstinence；and this was never felt to be an offence against hospitality，but the most proper and considerate course.The waste and decay of physical life，which so often needs repair，seemed miraculously retarded in such a case，and the vital vigor stood its ground.I could entertain thus a thousand as well as twenty；and if any ever went away disappointed or hungry from my house when they found me at home，they may depend upon it that I sympathized with them at least.So easy is it，though many housekeepers doubt it，to establish new and better customs in the place of the old.You need not rest your reputation on the dinners you give.For my own part，I was never so effectually deterred from frequenting a man's house，by any kind of Cerberus whatever，as by the parade one made about dining me，which I took to be a very polite and roundabout hint never to trouble him so again.I think I shall never revisit those scenes.I should be proud to have for the motto of my cabin those lines of Spenser which one of my visitors inscribed on a yellow walnut leaf for a card：-
“Arrivèd there，the little house they fill，
Ne looke for entertainment where none was；
Rest is their feast，and all things at their will：
The noblest mind the best contentment has.”
