Crossed Herring River, and went down to the shore and walked a mile or more eastward along the beach. This beach seems to be laid down too long on the map. The sea never runs very much here, since the shore is protected from the swell by Monomoy . . .

  I go along the settled road, where the houses are interspersed with woods, in an unaccountably desponding mood, but when I come out upon a bare and solitary heath am at once exhilarated. This is a common experience in my traveling. I plod along, thinking what a miserable world this is and what miserable fellows that we inhabit it, wondering what tempts men to live in it; but anon I leave the towns behind and am lost in some boundless heath, and life becomes gradually more tolerable, if not even glorious . . .