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11 December 1854. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  P. M.—To Bare Hill. C. [William Ellery Channing] says he found Fair Haven frozen over last Friday, i.e. the 8th. I find Flint’s frozen to-day, and how long? . . . (Journal, 7:82).

Boston, Mass. A. Bronson Alcott writes in his journal:

  I pass the morning and dine with Thoreau, who read me parts of his new Lecture lately read at Philadelphia and Providence (MS, Amos Bronson Alcott papers. Houghton Library, Harvard University).
11 December 1855. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  P.M.—To Holden Swamp, Conantum. For the first time I wear gloves, but I have not walked early this season . . . (Journal, 8:41-45).
11 December 1856. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Minott tells me that his and his sister’s wood-lot together contains about ten acres and has, with a very slight exception at one time, supplied all their fuel for thirty years, and he thinks would constantly continue to do so . . .
(Journal, 9:177-178)
11 December 1857. New Bedford, Mass.

Daniel Ricketson writes to Thoreau:

Dear Thoreau,  
  I expect to go to Boston next week, Thursday 17th, with my daughters Anna and Ernma to attend the Anti-Slavery Bazaar. They will probably return home the next day, and I proceed to Malden for a day or two. After which I may proceed to Concord, if I have your permission, and if you will be at home, for without you Concord would be quite poor and deserted, like to the place some poet, perhaps Walter Scott, describes

“Where thro’ the desert walks the lapwing flies
And tires there echoes with unceasing cries.”

  Channing says I can take his room in the garret of his house, but I think I should take to the tavern. Were you at Walden I should probably storm your castle and make good an entrance, adn perhaps as an act of generous heroism allow you quarters while I remained. But in sober truth I should like to see you and sit or lie down in your room and ear yo growl once more, thou brave old Norseman—thou Thor, thundergod-man. I long to see your long beard, which for a short man is rather a stretch of imagination or understand. C[hanning’ says it is terrible to behold, but improves you mightily.

  How grandly your philosophy sits now in these trying times. I lent my Walden to a broken merchant lately as the best panacea I could offer him for his troubles.

  You should now come out and call together the lost sheep of Israel, though cool-headed pastor, no Corydon forsooth, but genuine Judean fulminate from the banks of Concord upon the banks of Discord and once more set ajog a pure current(t)cy whose peaceful tide may wash us clean once more again. Io Paean!

  Is “Father Alcott” in your city? I should count much on seeing him too-a man who is All-cot should not be without a home at least in his chosen land.

  Don’t be provoked at my nonsense, for anything better would be like “carrying coals to Newcastle.” I would sit at the feet of Gamaliel, so farewell for the present.

  With kind remembrances to your family, I remain,
  Faithfully your friend,
  D. Ricketson

P.S. If I can’t come please inform me.

(The Correspondence of Henry David Thoreau, 499-500)
11 December 1858. Concord, Mass.
Thoreau writes in his journal:

  P.M.—To Walden.

  An overcast afternoon and rather warm. The snow on the ground in pastures brings out the warm red in leafy oak woodlands by contrast. These are what Thomson calls “the tawny copse.” So that they suggest both shelter and warmth . . .

(Journal, 11:367-370)
11 December 1859. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  At 2 P.M. begins to snow, and snows till night . . . See one sheldrake in Walden . . . (Journal, 13:19-20).

A. Bronson Alcott writes in his journal:

  Thoreau calls, takes supper, and passes some hours, conversing on Emerson and the times. Tells me something of Redpath, [James Redpath] the Englishman, who has been here during the past week gathering information for his Life of Brown. His book, The Roving Editor, speaks freely of slavery and of the South. Perhaps the portraits are overdrawn sometimes, and tempered with prejudices unjust to all parties.
(The Journals of Bronson Alcott, 323)
11 December 1860. Waterbury, Conn.
Thoreau lectures on “Autumnal Tints” at Hotchkiss Hall (“Autumnal Tints“).
11 February 1838. Concord, Mass.

Ralph Waldo Emerson writes in his journal:

  At the “teachers’ meeting” last night, my good Edmund [Hosmer], after disclaiming any wish to difference Jesus from a human mind suddenly seemed to alter his tone & said that Jesus made the world & was the Eternal God. Henry Thoreau merely remarked that “Mr Hosmer has kicked the pail over.” I delight much in my young friend, who seems to have as free & erect a mind as any I have ever met. He told as we walked this afternoon a good story about a boy who went to school with him, Wentworth, who resisted the school mistress’ command that the children should bow to Dr Heywood & other gentlemen as they went by, and when Dr Heywood stood waiting & cleared his throat with a Hem! Wentworth said, “You needn’t hem, Doctor; I shan’t bow.”
(The Journals and Miscellaneous Notebooks of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 5:452)
11 February 1840. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  It is never enough that our life is an easy one. We must live on the stretch; not be satisfied with a tame and undisturbed round of weeks and days, but retire to our rest like soldiers on the eve of a battle, looking forward with ardor to the strenuous sortie of the morrow. “Sit not down in the popular seats and common level of virtues, but endeavor to make them heroical. Offer not only peace offerings but holocausts unto God.” To the brave soldier the rust and leisure of peace are harder than the fatigues of war. As our bodies court physical encounters, and languish in the mild and even climate of the tropics, so our souls thrive best on unrest and discontent. He enjoys true leisure who has time to improve his soul’s estate.
(Journal, 1:117-118)
11 February 1841. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  True help, for the most part, implies a greatness in him who is to be helped as well as in the helper. It takes a god to be helped even. A great person, though unconsciously, will constantly give you great opportunities to serve him, but a mean one will quite preclude all active benevolence. It needs but simply and greatly to want it for once, that all true men may contend who shall be foremost to render aid. My neighbor’s state must pray to heaven so devoutly yet disinterestedly as he never prayed in words, before my ears can hear. It must ask divinely. But men so cobble and botch their request, that you must stoop as low as they to give them aid. Their meanness would drag down your deed to be a compromise with conscience, and not leave it to be done on the high table-land of the benevolent soul. They would have you doff your bright and knightly armor and drudge for them, —serve them and not God. But if I am to serve them I must not serve the devil.
(Journal, 1:211-212)

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