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9 January 1856. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Smith’s thermometer -16â—¦; ours -14â—¦ at breakfast time, -6â—¦ at 9 A.M.

  3 P.M.—To Beck Stow’s . . . When I return at 4.30, it is at -2â—¦ . . . (Journal, 8:97-8).

9 January 1858. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Snows again.

  P.M.—To Deep Cut

  The wind is southwest, and the snow is very moist, with large flakes . . . (Journal, 10:242).

In the evening Thoreau meets Rev. Moses G. Thomas of New Bedford at Emerson’s house (The Letters of Ralph Waldo Emerson, V:95).

9 January 1859. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  At sundown to Walden. Standing on the middle of Walden I see with perfect distinctness the form and outlines of the low hills which surround it, though they are wooded, because they are quite white, being covered with snow, while the woods are for the most part bare or very thin-leaved . . . C. [William Ellery Channing] says the winter is the sabbath of the year . . .
(Journal, 11:393)
9 January 1860.

Concord, Mass. Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Another fine warm day,—48º at 2 P.M.

  P.M.—To Walden.

  I call that ice marbled when shallow puddles of melted snow and rain, with perhaps some slosh in them, resting on old ice, are frozen, showing a slightly internal marbling, or alternation of light and dark spots or streaks . . .

  After the January thaw our thoughts cease to refer to autumn and we look forward to spring . . .

(Journal, 13:83-85)

Cincinnati, Ohio. R. Allison writes to Thoreau:

Mr. H. D. Thoreau Concord Mass.

Dear Sir:

  Enclosed please find $10 Amt of your bill of 27 Ult. Please acknowledge recpt and oblige

Yours truly
R. Allison Supt.

(The Correspondence of Henry David Thoreau, 569; MS, Henry David Thoreau papers (Series IV). Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection of English and American Literature, New York Public Library)

Boston, Mass. Edward Bangs writes to Thoreau:

Dear Sir:

  Your Aunts case vs. Miss Pallies will be tried tomorrow—will you please come down by the first train?

Very truly yours
Edward Bangs

(The Correspondence of Henry David Thoreau, 569; MS, Henry David Thoreau papers (Series IV). Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection of English and American Literature, New York Public Library)

Boston, Mass. Hobart & Robbins writes to Thoreau:

Mr. Henry D. Thoreaux Concord, Mass.

  Enclosed are Nine Dollars, for which, please send at once 6 lbs best (ground) plumbago, with bill

Yrs &c
Hobart & Robbins

(The Correspondence of Henry David Thoreau, 570; MS, Henry David Thoreau papers (Series IV). Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection of English and American Literature, New York Public Library)
9 July 1840. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  In most men’s religion the ligature which should be its muscle and sinew is rather like that thread which the accomplices of Cylon held in their hands, when they went abroad from the temple of Minerva, the other end being attached to the statue of the goddess. But frequently, as in their case, the thread breaks, being stretched, and they are left without an asylum.

  The value of many traits in Grecian history depends not so much on their importance history, as [on]the readiness with which they accept a wide interpretation, and illustrate the poetry and ethics of mankind. When they announce no particular truth, they are yet central to all truth. They are like those examples by which we improve, but of which we never formally extract the moral. Even the isolated and unexplained facts are like the ruins of the temples which in imagination we restore, and ascribe to some Phidias, or other master.

  The Greeks were boys in the sunshine, the Romans were men in the field, the Persians women in the house, the Egyptians old men in the dark.

  He who receives an injury is an accomplice of the wrong-doer.

(Journal, 1:165)
9 July 1851.

Concord, Mass. Thoreau writes in his journal:

  When I got out of the cars at Porter’s, Cambridge, this morning, I was pleased to see the handsome blue flowers of the succory or endive (Cichorium Intybus), which reminded me that within the hour I had been whirled into a new botanical region . . . Visited the Observatory. Bond said they were cataloguing the stars at Washington (?), or trying to . . . Coming out of town,—willingly as usual,—when I saw that reach of Charles River just above the depot, the fair, still water this cloudy evening suggesting the way to eternal peace and beauty, whence it flows, the placid, lake-like fresh water, so unlike the salt brine, affected me not a little… And just then I saw an encampment of Penobscots, their wigwams appearing above the railroad fence, they, too, looking up the river as they sat on the ground, and enjoying the scene. Haunt of waterfowl. This was above the factories,—all that I saw.
(Journal, 2:294-295)

Boston, Mass. Thoreau checks out Memoirs of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, new series volume 2, and Observations at the Magnetic and Meteorological Observatory, at the Girard College, Philadelphia, volumes 1, 2, and 3, and plates, from the Boston Society of Natural History.

(Emerson Society Quarterly, no. 24 (March 1952):24)
9 July 1852. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Friday. 4 A.M.—To Cliffs.

  No dew, no dewy cobwebs. The sky looks mist-like, not clear blue. An aurora fading into a general saffron color. At length the redness travels over, partly from east to west, before sunrise, and there is little color in the cast. The birds all unite to make the morning quire; sing rather faintly, not prolonging their strains. The crickets appear to have received a reinforcement during the sultry night. There is no name for the evening red corresponding to aurora. It is the blushing foam about the prow of the sun’s boat, and at eve the salve in its wake . . .

  Bathing is an undescribed luxury. To feel the wind blow on your body, the water flow on you and lave you, is a rare physical enjoyment this hot day. The water is remarkably warm here, especially in the shallows,-warm to the hand, like that which has stood long in a kettle over a fire. The pond water being so warm made the water of the brook feel very cold; and this kept close on the bottom of the pond for a good many rods about the mouth of the brook, as I could feel with my feet; and when I thrust my arm down where it was only two feet deep, my arm was in the warm water of the pond, but my hand in the cold water of the brook . . .

(Journal, 4:206-210)
9 July 1854. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  P.M.—Fair Haven via Hubbard’s Bathing-Place . . . (Journal, 6:387-388).
9 July 1855. North Truro, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Peterson brings word of blackfish. I went over and saw them . . . Uncle Same Small, half blind, sixty-six years old, remembers the building of the lighthouse and their prophecies about the bank wasting . . .
(Journal, 7:436-438)
9 July 1856. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal on 10 July:

  Yesterday a heavy rain (Journal, 8:404).

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