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8 September 1858. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  6 A.M.—On river . . .

  Gather half my grapes, which for some time have perfumed the house . . .

  P.M.—To Owl Swamp.

  I perceive the dark-crimson leaves, quite crisp, of the white maple on the meadows, recently fallen . . .

(Journal, 11:151-152)
8 September 1859. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  The 7th, 8th, and 9th, the State muster is held here. The only observation I have to make is that [Concord] is fuller of dust and more uninhabitable than I ever knew it to be before. Not only the walls, fences, and houses are thickly covered with dust, but the fields and meadows and bushes; and the pads in the river for half a mile from the village are white with it. From a mile or two distant you see a cloud of dust over the town and extending thence to the muster-field . . .

  P.M.—To Fair Haven Pond.

  Grapes are turning purple, but are not ripe . . .

(Journal, 12:317-318)
8 September 1860. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  To Lowell via Boston.

  Rainy day . . . (Journal, 14:75).

8? May 1843. Concord, Mass.

Ralph Waldo Emerson writes in his journal:

  Henry Thoreau is gone yesterday to New York (The Journals and Miscellaneous Notebooks of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 8:392).

9 and 18 May 1859. Lincoln, Mass.

Thoreau surveys land for Cyrus Stow (A Catalog of Thoreau’s Surveys in the Concord Free Public Library, 11; Henry David Thoreau papers. Special Collections, Concord (Mass.) Free Public Library).

9 April 1839. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Human nature is still in its prime . . .  (Journal, 1:76-77).
9 April 1840. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  I read in Cudworth how “Origen determines that the stars do not make but signify; and that the heavens are a kind of divine volume, in whose characters they that are skilled may read or spell out human events.” Nothing can be truer, and yet astrology is possible. Men seem to be just on the point of discerning a truth when the imposition is greatest.
(Journal, 1:133)
9 April 1841. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  It would not be hard for some quiet brave man to leap into the saddle to-day and eclipse Napoleon’s career by a grander,—show men at length the meaning of war. One reproaches himself with supineness, that he too has sat quiet in his chamber, and not treated the world to the sound of the trumpet; that the indignation which has so long rankled in his breast does not take to Horse and to the field. The bravest warrior will have to fight his battles in his dreams, and no earthly war note can arouse him.
(Journal, 1:246-247)
9 April 1843. Concord, Mass.

Nathaniel Hawthorne writes in his journal:

  Many times I wound and rewound Mr. Thoreau’s musical box; but certainly its peculiar sweetness has evaporated, and I am pretty sure that I should throw it out of the window, were I doomed to hear it long and often. It has not an infinite soul.
(The American Notebooks, 177)
9 April 1852. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  I frequently detect the Canadian in New England by his coarse gray homespun capote, with a picturesque red sash round his waist, and his wellfurred cap made to protect his ears and face against the severities of his winter . . .

  Went into the old Hunt house, which they said Uncle Abel said was built one hundred and fifty years ago. The second story projects five or six inches over the first, the garret a foot over the second at the gables. There are two large rooms, one above the other, though the walls are low. The fireplace in the lower room rather large, with a high shelf of wood painted or stained to represent mahogany . . .

(Journal, 3:393-394)

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