Thoreau writes in his journal:
Rained in the night. Awake to see the ground white with snow, and it is still snowing, the sleet driving from the north at an angle of certainly not more than thirty or thirty-five degrees with the horizon, as I judge by its course across the window-panes. By mid-afternoon the rain has so far prevailed that the ground is bare. As usual, this brings the tree sparrows and F. hyemalis into the yard again.
Franklin B. Sanborn writes in his journal:
Tonight we had a call from Mr. Thoreau, who came at eight and staid till ten—He talked about a variety of things—about Latin and Greek, which he thought ought to be studied, and about other things. In his tones and gestures he seemed to me to imitate Emerson—so that it was annoying to listen to him, though he said many good things—He looks, too, like Emerson—coarser, but with something of that serenity—and—sagacity which E—has. Thoreau looks eminently sagacious—like a sort of wise wild beast. He dresses plainly, wears a beard on his throat, and has a brown complexion—
(Transcendental Climate, 1:222)
