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29 January 1860. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Colder than before, and not a cloud in the sky to-day.

  P.M.—To Fair Haven Pond and return via Andromeda Ponds and railroad . . .

  As usual, I now see, walking on the river and river meadow ice, thus thinly covered with the fresh snow, that conical rainbow, or parabola of rainbow-colored reflections, from the myriad reflecting crystals of the snow, i.e., as I walk toward the sun . . .

(Journal, 13:111-113)
29 July 1839. Concord, Mass.

Ellen Sewall writes to her father Edmund Quincy Sewall Sr. on 31 July:

  Grandmother’s [Prudence Bird Ward] foot has been quite troublesome again since I came, but is now better. It is really discouraging that it should keep breaking out so. She took a nice ride Monday. Aunt [Prudence Ward] and I accompanied her, with Henry Thoreau for driver. Dear grandmother seemed to enjoy it very much.
(transcript in The Thoreau Society Archives at the Thoreau Institute at Walden Woods, Lincoln, Mass.; MS, private owner)
29 July 1850.

Springfield, Mass. Thoreau writes to Charles Sumner:

Dear Sir,

  I left Fire Island Beach on Saturday between nine & ten o’clock A. M. The same morning I saw on the beach, four or five miles west of the wreck, a portion of a human skeleton, which was found the day before, probably from the Elisabeth, but I have not knowledge enough of anatomy to decide confidently, as many might, whether it was that of a male or a female. I therefore hired Selah Strong, Keeper of the Light, to bury it simply for the present, and mark the spot, leaving it to future events, or a trustworthy examination, to decide the question.

  Yrs in haste
  Henry D. Thoreau

P.S. No more bodies had then been found.

(The Correspondence of Henry David Thoreau, 263)

Sumner replies 31 July.

New York, N.Y. The New-York Daily Tribune reports:

  Mr. Thoreau is still on the Island [Fire Island], endeavoring to find the manuscript of Madame Ossoli’s [Margaret Fuller] work on Italy, which is known to have reached the shore.

Concord, Mass. Ralph Waldo Emerson writes to Abby Larkin Adams:

  I sent Mr Thoreau at once to the Fire Island Beach, & he is still there endeavouring to save any Manuscripts or other property, & to learn all that could be told” (The Letters of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 4:221).
29 July 1851. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  In the afternoon I sailed to Plymouth, three miles, notwithstanding the drizzling rain, or “drisk,” as Uncle Ned called it. We passed round the head of Plymouth beach, which is three miles long. I did not know till afterward that I had landed where the Pilgrims did and passed over the Rock on Hedge’s Wharf. Returning, we had more wind and tacking to do . . . It being low tide, we landed on a flat which makes out from Clark’s Island, to while away the time, not being able to get quite up yet. I found numerous large holes of the sea clam in this sand (no small clams), and dug them out easily and rapidly with my hands . . . At 10 P.M. it was perfectly fair and bright starlight.
(Journal, 2:356-360)
29 July 1852. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  P.M.—To Burnt Plain.

  The forget-me-not still by the brook. Floating-heart was very common yesterday in J.P. Brown’s woodland pond . . .

  It is commonly said that history is a history of war, but it is at the same time a history of development . . .

(Journal, 4:265-267)
29 July 1854. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  P.M.—Berrying to Brook Clark’s . . . (Journal, 6:413).

New York, N.Y. The New-York Daily Tribune prints a notice of and six excerpts from Walden.

29 July 1856. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Rhexia. Probably would be earlier if not mowed down. What I have called Hieracium Gronovii, with three cauline leaves and without veins, has achenia like H. venosum; so I will give it up. Its radical leaves are very hairy beneath, especially along midrib. Another smart rain, with lightning.

  Pratt lave me a chimney swallow’s nest, which he says fell clown Wesson’s chimney with young in it two or three days ago . . .

(Journal, 8:432-434)
29 July 1857. Maine.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  I am interested in an indistinct prospect, a distant view, a mere suggestion often, revealing an almost wholly new world to me . I rejoice to get, and am apt to present, a new view. But I find it impossible to present my view to most people. In effect, it would seem that they do not wish to take a new view in any ease. Heat lightning flashes, which reveal a distant horizon to our twilight eyes. But my fellows simply assert that it is not broad day, which everybody knows, and fail to perceive the phenomenon at all. I am willing to pass for a fool in my often desperate, perhaps foolish, efforts to persuade them to lift the veil from off the possible and future . . .
(Journal, 9:495-496)

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

  When we awoke it had done raining, though it was still cloudy. The fire was put out, and the Indian’s boots, which stood under the eaves of the tent, were half full of water. He was more improvident is such respects than either of us, and he had to thank us for keeping his powder dry . . .

  When we reached the shore, the Indian appeared from out the woods on the opposite side, but on account of the roar of the water it, was difficult to communicate with him . . . But to my surprise, when I rounded the precipice, though the shore was bare of trees, without rocks, for a quarter mile at least, my companion [Joseph Polis] was not to be seen. It was as if he had sunk into the earth. This was the more unaccountable to me, because I knew that his feet were, since our swamp walk, very sore, and that he wished to keep up with the party; and besides this was very bad walking, climbing over or about the rocks. I hastened along, hallooing and searching for him, thinking he might be concealed behind a rock, yet doubting if he had not taken the other side of the precipice, but the Indian had got along still faster in his canoe, til he was arrested by the falls, about a quarter of a mile below. He then landed, and said that we could go no farther that night . . .

(The Maine Woods, 266-288)
29 July 1858. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  P.M.—To Pine Hill, looking for the Vaccinium Pennsylvanicum berries. I find plenty of bushes, but these bear very sparingly. They appear to bear but one or two years before they are overgrown . . . (Journal, 11:65-66).
29 July 1859. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  P.M.—To Fair Haven Hill shore . . .

  Tire river is very nearly down to summer level now, and I notice there, among other phenomena of low water by the river, the great yellow lily pads flat on bare mud . . .

(Journal, 12:260-262)

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