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  The beggar-ticks (Bidens) now adhere to my clothes. I also find the desmodium sooner thus—as a magnet discovers the steel filings in a heap of ashes—than if I used my eyes alone . . .

  We soon left the main road and turned into a path on the right, leading to Assawampsett Pond, a mile distant . . .

  Returning along the shore, we saw a man and woman putting off in a small boat, the first we had seen . . .

  We left our horse and buggy at John Kingman’s and walked by Sampson’s to a hill called King Phillip’s Lookout, from which we got a good view of Assawampsett and Long Ponds . . .

  Succory still, with its cool blue, here and there, and Hieracium Canadense still quite fresh, with its very pretty broad strap-shaped rays . . .

  I am amused to see four little Irish boys only five or six years old getting a horse in a pasture, for their father apparently, who is at work in a neighboring field. They have all in a row got hold of a very long halter and are leading him. All wish to have a hand in it. It is surprising that he obeys such small specimens of humanity . . .

  Sailed to Baker Farm with a strong northwest wind . . .

  We had all our dog-days in September this year. It was too dry before, even for fungi. Only the last three weeks have we lead any fungi to speak of. Nowadays I see most of the election-cake fungi, with crickets and slugs eating them . . .

  P.M.—To lygodium . . .

  I perceive in various places, in low ground, this afternoon, the sour scent of cinnamon ferns decaying.
It is an agreeable phenomenon, reminding me of the season and of past years.

  So many maple and pine and other leaves have now fallen that in the woods, at least, you walk over a carpet of fallen leaves . . .