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  P. M.—Skating through snow . . . We went up the Pantry Meadow above the old William Wheeler house, and came down this meadow again with the wind and snow dust, spreading our coat-tails, like birds, though somewhat at the risk of our necks if we had struck a foul place.

  At Lee’s Cliff we made a fire, kindling with white pine cones, after oak leaves and twigs,—else we had lost it; these saved us, for there is a resinous drop at the point of each scale,—and then we forgot that we were outdoors in a blustering winter day.

  Returning, saw near Island a shrike glide by, cold and blustering as it was, with a remarkably even and steady sail or gliding motion like a hawk . . .

  Mr. Emerson, [Ralph Waldo Emerson] who returned last week from lecturing on the Mississippi, having been gone but a month, tells me that he saw boys skating on the Mississippi and on Lake Erie and on the Hudson, and has no doubt they are skating on Lake Superior; and probably at Boston he saw them skating on the Atlantic . . .

   I notice that the corner posts of the old Conantum house, which is now being pulled down, were all set butt up, and are considerably larger at that end . . .

  After a sickness of some two years, going down-town in pleasant weather, doing a little business from time to time, hoeing a little in the garden, etc., Father took to his chamber January 13th, and did not come down again . . .

  As far as I know, Father, when he died, was not only one of the oldest men in the middle of Concord, but, the one perhaps best acquainted with the inhabitants, and the local, social, and street history of the middle of the town, for the last fifty years. He belonged in a peculiar sense to the village street ; loved to sit in the shops or at the post-office and read the daily papers . . .

  When I read some of the rules for speaking and writing the English language correctly,—as that a sentence must never end with a particle,—and perceive how implicitly even the learned obey it . . .