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26 July 1856. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  5 A.M.—Up Assabet.

  The sun’s disk is seen round and red for a long distance above the horizon, through the thick but cloudless atmosphere, threatening heat,—hot, dry weather . . .

  P.M.—To Poorhouse Pasture . . .

  It is very still and sultry this afternoon, at 6 P.M. even. I cannot even sit down in the pasture for want of air, but must keep up and moving, else I should suffocate. Thermometer ninety-seven and ninety-eight to-day . . .

(Journal, 8:427-430)
26 July 1857. Near Moosehead Lake, Maine.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Sunday. I distinguished more plainly than formerly the very sharp and regular dark tops of the fir trees, shaped like the points of bodkins. These give a peculiarly dark and sombre look to the forest. The spruce-top has a more ragged outline . . .
(Journal, 9:493-494)

Thoreau writes in “The Allegash and East Branch” chapter of The Maine Woods:

  On reaching the Indian’s campingground, on the south side, where the bank was about a dozen feet high, I read on the trunk of a fir tree, blazed by an axe, an inscription in charcoal which had been left by him. It was surmounted by a drawing of a bear paddling a canoe, which he said was the sign which had been used by his family always. The drawing, though rude, could not be mistaken for anything but a bear, and he doubted my ability to copy it. The inscription ran thus, verbatim et literatim. I interline the English of his Indian as he gave it to me.
[The figure of a bear in a boat]

July 26
1853
__________
niasoseb
We alone Joseph
Polis e1ioi
Polis start
sia olta
for Oldtown
onke ni
right away
quambi
July 15
1855
__________
he added now below:—
niasoseb
1857
July 26
Jo. Polis

  This was one of his homes. I saw where he had sometimes stretched his moose-hides on the opposite or sunny north side of the river, where there was a narrow meadow . . .

(The Maine Woods, 220-229)
26 July 1858. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Edward Bartlett shows me a nest in the Agricultural ground which had four eggs, yet pretty fresh, but the bird has now deserted it . . . (Journal, 11:64).
26 July 1859.

Concord, Mass. Thoreau writes in his journal:

  P.M.—To Great Meadows . . .

  Now observe the darker shades, and especially the apple trees, square and round, in the northwest landscape. Dogdayish . . . (Journal, 12:258-259).

Baltimore, Md. Lucas Brothers writes to Thoreau:

Mr Henry D. Thoreau

D Sir

  We enclose Ten dollars, Rockland Bank, in settlement of your bill of 21st inst

  Please acknowledge & oblige

Yours Respy
Lucas, Bros

(The Correspondence of Henry David Thoreau, 553)
26 July 1860. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  2 P.M.—To Walden . . . (Journal, 13:423).
26 June 1837. Cambridge, Mass.

Thoreau checks out Chronicle of Scottish poetry; from the 13th century to the union of the crowns, volume 2 by James Sibbald and Vitæ excellentium imperatorium: cum versione Anglicâ by Cornelius Nepos from Harvard College Library (Companion to Thoreau’s Correspondence, 288).

26 June 1840. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  The best poetry has never been written, for when it might have been, the poet forgot it, and when it was too late remembered it; or when it might have been, the poet remembered it, and when it was too late forgot it (Journal, 1:153).
26 June 1851. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Visited a menagerie this afternoon (Journal, 2:271).

Thoreau writes in his journal on 1 August:

  I went to a menagerie the other day, advertised by a flaming show-bill as big as a barn-door. The proprietors had taken wonderful pains to collect rare and interesting animals from all parts of the world, and then placed by them a few stupid and ignorant fellows, coachmen or stablers, who knew little or nothing about the animals and were unwilling even to communicate the little they knew.
(Journal, 2:367)
26 June 1852. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  I have not put darkness, duskiness, enough into my night and moonlight walks. Every sentence should contain some twilight or night. At least the light in it should be the yellow or creamy light of the moon or the fine beams of stars, and not the white light of day. The peculiar dusky serenity of the sentences must not allow the reader to forget that it is evening or night, without my saying that it is dark. Otherwise he will, of course, presume a daylight atmosphere . . .
(Journal, 4:147-154)
26 June 1853. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Very cool day.

  Had for dinner a pudding made of service-berries. It was very much like a rather dry cherry pudding without the stones.

  A slight hail-storm in the afternoon.

  Euphorbia maculata.

  Our warmest night thus far this year was June 21st. It began to be cooler the 24th.

  5.30 P. M.—To Cliffs.

  Carrot by railroad. Mine apparently the Erigeron strigosus, yet sometimes tinged with purple. The tephrosia is an agreeable mixture of white, strawcolor, and rose pink; unpretending . . . A beautiful sunset about 7.30; just clouds enough in the west (we are on Fair Haven Hill); they arrange themselves about the western gate. And now the sun sinks out of sight just on the north side of Watatic, and the mountains, north and south, are at once a dark indigo blue, for they had been darkening for an hour or more. Two small clouds are left on the horizon between Watatic and Monadnock, their sierra edges all on fire. Three minutes after the sun is gone, there is a bright and memorable afterglow in his path, and a brighter and more glorious light falls on the clouds above the portal . . .

(Journal, 5:303-306)

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