Thoreau writes in his journal:
Thoreau writes in his journal:
The telegraph resounds at every post . . . In Stow’s wood, by the Deep Cut, hear the gnah gnah of the white-breasted, black-capped nuthatch . . .
F. Brown, who has been chasing a white rabbit this afternoon with a dog, says that they do not run off far,—often play round within the same swamp only, if it is large, and return to where they were started. Spoke of it as something unusual that one ran off so far that he could not hear the dogs, but he returned and was shot near where he started. He does not see their forms, nor marks where they have been feeding.
Thoreau delivered a slightly revised version of “What Shall It Profit” before the Concord Lyceum on Wednesday evening.
Thoreau also writes in his journal:
Thoreau writes in his journal:
P.M.—To Walden . . .
I can now walk on the crust in every direction at the Andromeda Swamp; can run and stamp without danger of breaking through . . .
Thoreau writes in his journal:
It is a fine, somewhat springlike day. The ice is softening so that skates begin to cut in, and numerous caterpillars are now crawling about on the ice and snow . . .
Thoreau writes in his journal:
The ice-belt which I still see along the steep bank of the Assabet is now some three weeks old, and though it was then six or eight inches thick, it is now only two or three, or much less, in many places nearly wasted away, and those once horizontal tables are often fallen aslant, like shields pierced with many holes . . .
Thoreau lectures on “Wild Apples” for the Bedford Lyceum (“Wild Apples“).
Boston, Mass. Ralph Waldo Emerson writes to his brother William:
Concord, Mass. The Concord Freeman reports the death of John Thoreau Jr.:
Thoreau writes to Evert A. Duyckinck:
Will you please inform Mr. [John] Wiley that I have concluded to wait a fortnight for his answer. As I should like to make some corrections in the Mss. in the meanwhile, I will thank you if you will send it to be by Harden’s express to Boston and by Adams’ to Concord and I will return it in ten days.
Henry David Thoreau
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