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  About 4 P.M. the sun sunk behind a cloud, and the pond began to boom or whoop. It was perfectly silent before. The weather in both cases clear, cold, and windy. It is a sort of belching, and, as C. said, is somewhat frog-like. I suspect it did not continue to whoop long either night. It is a very pleasing phenomenon, so dependent on the altitude of the sun . . .

  Though you have not shown your face here, I trust that you did not interpret my last note to my disadvantage. I remember that, among other things, I wished to break it to you that, owing to engagements, I should not be able to show you so much attention as I could wish, or as you had shown to me.—How we did scour over the country! I hope your horse will live as long as one which I hear just died in the south of France at the age of 40. Yet I had no doubt you would get quite enough of me. Do yot give up so easily—the old house is still empty & Hosmer is easy to treat with.

  Channing was here about 10 days ago. I told him of my visit to you, and that he too must go and see you & your country. This may have suggested his writing to you.

  That island lodge, especially for some weeks in a summer, and new exploration in your vicinity are certainly very alluring; but such are my engagements to myself that I dare not promise to wend your way—but will for the present only heartily thank you for your kind & generous offer. When my vacation comes, then look out.

  My legs have grown considerably stronger, and that is all that ails me.

  But I wish now above all to inform you—though I suppose you will not be particularly interested—that Cholmondeley has gone to the Crimea “a complete soldier,” with a design when he returns, if he ever returns, to buy a cottage in the south of England and tempt me over,—but that, before going, he busied himself in buying, & had caused to me forwarded to me by Chapman, a royal gift, in the shape of 21 district works (one in 9 vols-44 vols in all) almost exclusively relating to ancient Hindoo literature, and scarcely one of them to be bought in America. I am familiar with many of them & know how to prize them.

  I send you information of this as I might of the birth of a child.

  Please remember me to all your family—

  Yrs truly
  Henry D. Thoreau

  A strong wind from the northwest is gathering the snow into picturesque drifts behind the walls. As usual they resemble shells more than anything, sometimes prows of vessels, also the folds of a white napkin or counterpane dropped over a bonneted head. There are no such picturesque snow-drifts as are formed behind loose and open stone walls. Already yesterday it had drifted so much, i.e. so much ground was bare, that there were as many carts as sleighs in the streets . . .

  Skate on Goose Pond. Heywood says that some who have gone into Ebby Hubbard’s barn to find him have seen the rats run over his shoulders, they are so familiar with him . . .

  The sun getting low now, say at 3.30, I see the ice green, southeast. Goodwin says that he once had a partridge strike a twig or limb in the woods as she flew, so that she fell and he secured her . . . Now that the sun is setting, all its light seems to glance over the snow-clad pond and strike the rocky shore under the pitch pines a at the northeast end . . .

  P.M.—To Carlisle Bridge on river and meadow . . .

  Standing by the side of the river at Eleazer Davis’s Hill,—prepared to pace across it,—I hear a sharp fine screep from some bird, which at length I detect amid the button-bushes and willows. The screep was a note of recognition meant for me. I saw that it was a novel bird to me. Watching it a long time, with my glass and without it . . .

  It was evidently the golden-crested wren, which I have not made out before. This little creature was contentedly seeking its food here alone this cold winter day on the shore of our frozen river . . .