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  Mrs Emerson requests me to forward this circular to you. Mr. E. had anticipated it, and, as she thinks, said that you would take care of it. She is sure that he will take new shares.

  She desires to be kindly remembered to your family, and would have written herself, if not prevented by a slight indisposition.

  We have not yet heard from Mr. E.

Yrs respectfully
H. D. Thoreau

  Last week some Indians from the Rocky Mountains exhibited here. Henry was much gratified, you know he has quite a passion for Indians . . .

  I am sorry you were not at home when H—was in Cohasset. You will be pleased to hear Henry give a description of that tour, sleeping in a lighthouse etc.,—but I believe it was projected before the shipwreck which you appear to think was the occasion of it.

  As for Brother’s new house, we shall not get into it this winter, but hope to early in the spring. The tenants were not obliged to move till it was too late to do anything to it, for as you suppose, it will need considerable alteration, as for Henry he never liked the idea of moving at all tho it is probably he will have the pleasantes[t] and most convenient room in the house that he has ever had yet.

  I shall be happy to lecture before your Institution this winter, but it will be most convenient for me to do so on the 11th of December. If, however, I am confined to the month of January I will choose the first day of it . Will you please inform me as soon as convenient whether I can come any earlier.

  Yrs respectfully

  Henry D. Thoreau

  Asked Therien this afternoon if he had got a new idea this summer. “Good Lord!” says he, “a man that has to work as I do, if he does not forget the ideas he has had, he will do well. Maybe the man you work with is inclined to race; then, by gorry, your mind must be there; you think of weeds” . . .

  This evening at sundown, when I was on the water, I heard come booming up the river what I suppose was the sound of cannon fired in Lowell to celebrate the Whig victory, the voting down the new Constitution. Perchance no one else in Concord heard them, and it is remarkable that I heard them, who was only interested in the natural phenomenon of sound borne far over water . . .

  I wish to introduce to you Thomas Cholmondeley, an English man, of whom and his work in New Zealand I have already told you. He proposes to spend a part of the winter in Boston, pursuing his literary studies, at the same time that he is observing our institutions.

  He is an English country gentleman of simple habits and truly liberal mind, who may one day take a part in the government of his country.

  I think that you will find you[r] account in comparing notes with him.

  Will you allow me to introduce to you the bearer—Thomas Cholmondeley, who has been spending some months with us in Concord. He is an English country gentleman, and the author of a political work on New Zealand called “Ultimo Thule” He wishes to look round the Library.

  If you can give him a few moments of your time, you will confer a favor on both him & me.

  I have taken much pains, but in vain, to find another of those locusts for you—I have some of the grubs from the nuphar buds in spirits.

Yrs. truly

Henry D. Thoreau

  A very fine snow falling, just enough to whiten the bare spots a little. I go to look for evergreen ferns before they are covered up . . .

  Slight as the snow is, you are now reminded occasionally in your walks that you have contemporaries, and perchance predecessors. I see the track of a fox which was returning from his visit to a farmyard last night, and, in the wood-path, of a man and a dog . . .

  The clouds were never more fairly reflected in the water than now, as I look up the Cyanean Reach from Clamshell.

  A fine gossamer is streaming from every fence and tree and stubble, though a careless observer would not notice it. As I look along over the grass toward the sun at Hosmer’s field, beyond Lupine Hill, I notice the shimmering effect of the gossamer,—which seems to cover it almost like a web,—occasioned by its motion, though the air is so still . . .

  In the midst of Ledum Swamp I came upon a white cat under the spruces and the water brush, which evidently had not seen me till I was within ten feet. There she stood, quite still, as if hoping to be concealed, only turning her bead slowly away from and toward me, looking at me thus two or three times . . .

  All through the excitement occasioned by Brown’s remarkable attempt and subsequent behavior, the Massachusetts Legislature, not taking any steps for the defense of her citizens who are likely to be carried to Virginia as witnesses and exposed to the violence of a slaveholding mob . . .

  If any person, in a lecture or a conversation, should now cite any ancient example of heroism, such as Cato, or Tell, or Winkelried, passing over the recent deeds and words of John Brown, I am sure that it would be felt by any intelligent audience of Northern men to be tame and inexcusably far-fetched . . . .