On my way to the Hubbard Bathing-Place, at sundown.

  The blue-eyed grass shuts up before night, and methinks it does not open very early the next morning . . .

  Nature is reported not by him who goes forth consciously as an observer, but in the fullness of life. To such a one she rushes to make her report. To the full heart she is all but a figure of speech. This is my year of observation, and I fancy that my friends are also more devoted to outward observation than ever before . . .