A fine, calm, frosty morning, a resonant and clear air except a slight white vapor which escaped being frozen or perchance is the steam of the melting frost. Bracing cold, and exhilarating sunlight on russet and frosty fields. I wear mittens now. Apples are frozen on the trees and rattle like stones in my pocket . . .

  9 A.M.—to Fair Haven Pond by boat.

  The morning is so calm and pleasant, winter-like, that I must spend the forenoon abroad. The river is smooth as polished silver. . . Sail back . . .