R. W. E.’s black currant (which the wild Ribes floridum is said to be much like), maybe a day.

  R. W. E. [Ralph Waldo Emerson] says that Agassiz tells him he has had turtles six or seven years, which grew so little, compared with others of the same size killed at first, that he thinks they may live four or five hundred years.

  P.M.—To Kalmia Swamp.

  Go across fields from R. W. E.’s to my boat at Cardinal Shore. In A. Wheeler’s stubble-field west of Deep Cut, a female (?) goldfinch on an oak, without any obvious black, is mewing incessantly, the note ending rather musically . . .

  The swamp is all alive with warblers about the hoary expanding buds of oaks, maples, etc., and amid the pine and spruce. They swarm like gnats now. They fill the air with their little tshree tshree sprayey notes . . .