_Aug. 22_.--Not a human being, and hardly the evidence of one, in
sight. After my brief semi-daily bath, I sit here for a bit, the
brook musically brawling, to the chromatic tones of a fretful cat-bird
somewhere off in the bushes. On my walk hither two hours since, through
fields and the old lane, I stopt to view, now the sky, now the mile-off
woods on the hill, and now the apple orchards. What a contrast from
New York's or Philadelphia's streets! Everywhere great patches of
dingy-blossom'd horse-mint wafting a spicy odor through the air,
(especially evenings.) Everywhere the flowering boneset, and the
rose-bloom of the wild bean.