_July 25, '81.--Far Rockaway, L. I._--A good day here, on a jaunt,
amid the sand and salt, a steady breeze setting in from the sea, the sun
shining, the sedge-odor, the noise of the surf, a mixture of hissing and
booming, the milk-white crest curling. I had a leisurely bath and naked
ramble as of old, on the warm-gray shore-sands, my companions off in a
oat in deeper water--(I shouting to them Jupiter's menaces against the
gods, from Pope's Homer) _July 28--to Long Branch_--8-1/2 A.M., on the
steamer "Plymouth Rock," foot of 23d street, New York, for Long
Branch. Another fine day, fine sights, the shores, the shipping and
bay--everything comforting to the body and spirit of me. (I find the
human and objective atmosphere of New York city and Brooklyn more
affiliative to me than any other.) _An hour later_--Still on the
steamer, now sniffing the salt very plainly--the long pulsating _swash_
as our boat steams seaward--the hills of Navesink and many passing
vessels--the air the best part of all. At Long Branch the bulk of the
day, stopt at a good hotel, took all very leisurely, had an excellent
dinner, and then drove for over two hours about the place, especially
Ocean avenue, the finest drive one can imagine, seven or eight miles
right along the beach. In all directions costly villas, palaces,
millionaires--(but few among them I opine like my friend George W.
Childs, whose personal integrity, generosity, unaffected simplicity, go
beyond all worldly wealth.)