Concord, Mass. Thoreau writes in his journal:
Sailors take warning;
Rainbow at night
Sailors’ delight.”
A few moments after, it rained heavily for a half-hour . . .
One man lies in his words, and gets a bad reputation; another in his manners, and enjoys a good one.
The air is clear, as if a cool, dewy brush had swept the vales and meadows of all haze. A liquid coolness invests them, as if their midnight aspect were suddenly revealed to midday. The mountain outline is remarkably distinct, and the intermediate earth appears more than usually scooped out, like a vast saucer sloping upward to its sharp mountain rim . . .
8.30 P.M.—To Conantum.
Moon half full. Fields dusky; the evening one other bright one near the moon. It is a pretty still night . . .
New York, N.Y. Horace Greeley writes to Thoreau:
I have had only bad luck with your manuscript. Two magazines have refused it on the ground of its length, saying that articles ‘To be continued’ are always unpopular, however good. I will try again.
Yours,
Horace Greeley
