Thoreau writes his poem “The Freshet” in his journal:
And Nobscot too the valley fills;
Where scarce you’d fill an acorn cup
In summer when the sun was up,
No more you’ll find a cup at all,
But in its place a waterfall.
O that the moon were in conjunction
To the dry land’s extremest unction,
Till every (like and pier were flooded,
And all the land with islands studded,
For once to teach all human kind,
Both those that plow and those that grind,
There is no fixture in the land,
That all unstable is as sand . . .
The Salem Observer notes:
Concord, Mass. Thoreau writes in his journal:
Talked to two men and a boy fishing on Fair Haven, just before sunset. (Heard the dog bark in Baker’s wood as I came down the brook.) They had caught a fine parcel of pickerel and perch. The perch especially were full of spawn. the boy had caught a large bream which had risen to the surface, in his hands. They had none of them ever seen one before in the winter, though they sometimes catch chivins. They had also kicked to death a muskrat that was crossing the southwest end of the pond on the snow. They told me of two otters being killed in Sudbury this winter, beside some coons near here.
New York, N.Y. Horace Greeley writes to Thoreau:
Thank you for your remembrance, though the motto you suggest is impracticable, The People’s Course is full for the season; and even if it were not, your name would probably not pass; because it is not merely necessary that each lecturer should continue well the course, but that he shall be known as the very man beforehand. Whatever draws less than fifteen hundred hearers damages the finances of the movement, so low is the admission, and so large the expense. But, Thoreau, you are a better speaker than many, but a far better writer still. Do you wish to swap any of your “wood-notes wild” for dollars? If yea, and you will sell me some articles, shorter, if you please, than the former, I will try to coin them for you. Is it a bargain? Yours,
Horace Greeley
Thoreau writes in his journal:
Thoreau writes in his journal:
Minott says that Messer tells him he saw a striped squirrel (!) yesterday. His cat caught a mole lately, not a star-nosed one, but one of those that heave up the meadow.
Thoreau writes in his journal:
Thoreau writes in his journal:
If I should make the least concession, my friend would spurn me. I am obeying his law as well as my own.
Where is the actual friend you love? Ask from what hill the rainbow’s arch springs! It adorns and crowns the earth.
Our friends are our kindred, of our species. There are very few of our species on the globe . . .
P.M.—To Walden . . .
Thoreau writes in his journal:
A. Bronson Alcott writes to his wife Abigail:
Thoreau writes in his journal:
The clouds reflecting a dazzling brightness from their edges, and though it is rather warm (the wind raw) there are many, finely divided, in a stream southwest to northeast all the afternoon, and some most brilliant mother-o’-pearl. I never saw the green in it more distinct . . .
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