Thoreau writes in his journal:
P.M.—Boat to Nut Meadow.
Large devil’s-needle. Sassafras well open. How long? Celtis will probably shed pollen to-morrow; shoots already an inch long. Sorrel pollen. First veery strain. Green-briar leafed several days. Veronica serpyllifolia well out (how long?) at Ash Bank Spring. Saw the yellow-legs feeding on shore. Legs not bright-yellow. Goes off with the usual whistle . . .
Franklin B. Sanborn writes in his journal:
To-night Mr. Thoreau came in as I was reading Demosthenes, and we fell to talking about Greek, Latin, Milton, Wordsworth, Emerson, Ellery Channing, and other things . . . Since I came here I have often seen him—He is a sort of pocket edition of Mr. Emerson (as far as outward appearance goes) in coarser binding and with wood cuts instead of the fine steel engravings of Mr. E—He is a little under size—with a large Emersonian nose, bluish gray eyes, brown hair, and a ruddy weather-beaten face, which reminds one of that of some shrewd and honest animal—some retired, philosophic woodchuck or magnanimous fox—He dresses very plainly—wears his collar turned over like Mr. Emerson, and often an old dress coat, broad in the skirts and by no means as fit—He walks about with a brisk rustic air, and never seems tired. He talks like Mr. E—and so spoils the good things which he says, for what in Mr. E—is charming, becomes ludicrous in Thoreau because an imitation—
(Transcendental Climate, 1:225-226)
