watching a squirrel, who was capering about among the trees over my head
(oaks and white-pines, so close together that their branches
intermingled). The squirrel seemed not to approve of my presence,
for he frequently uttered a sharp, quick, angry noise, like that of a
scissors-grinder's wheel. Sometimes I could see him sitting on an
impending bough, with his tail over his hack, looking down pryingly upon
me. It seems to be a natural posture with him, to sit on his hind legs,
holding up his fore paws. Anon, with a peculiarly quick start, he would
scramble along the branch, and be lost to sight in another part of the
tree, whence his shrill chatter would again be heard. Then I would see
him rapidly descending the trunk, and running along the ground; and a
moment afterwards, casting my eye upward, I beheld him flitting like a
bird among the high limbs at the summit, directly above me. Afterwards,
he apparently became accustomed to my society, and set about some
business of his own. He came down to the ground, took up a piece of a
decayed bough (a heavy burden for such a small personage), and, with this
in his mouth, again climbed up and passed from the branches of one tree
to those of another, and thus onward and onward till he went out of
sight. Shortly afterwards he returned for another burden, and this he
repeated several times. I suppose he was building a nest,--at least, I
know not what else could have been his object. Never was there such an
active, cheerful, choleric, continually-in-motion fellow as this little
red squirrel, talking to himself, chattering at me, and as sociable in
his own person as if he had half a dozen companions, instead of being
alone in the lonesome wood. Indeed, he flitted about so quickly, and
showed himself in different places so suddenly, that I was in some doubt
whether there were not two or three of them.
I must mention again the very beautiful effect produced by the masses of
berry-bushes, lying like scarlet islands in the midst of withered
pasture-ground, or crowning the tops of barren hills. Their hue, at a
distance, is lustrous scarlet, although it does not look nearly as bright
and gorgeous when examined close at hand. But at a proper distance it is
a beautiful fringe on Autumn's petticoat.
Friday, October 22d.--A continued succession of unpleasant, Novembery
days, and autumn has made rapid progress in the work of decay. It is now
somewhat of a rare good fortune to find a verdant, grassy spot, on some
slope, or in a dell; and even such seldom-seen oases are bestrewn with
dried brown leaves,--which, however, methinks, make the short, fresh
grass look greener around them. Dry leaves are now plentiful everywhere,
save where there are none but pine-trees. They rustle beneath the tread,
and there is nothing more autumnal than that sound. Nevertheless, in a
walk this afternoon, I have seen two oaks which retained almost the
greenness of summer. They grew close to the huge Pulpit Rock, so that
portions of their trunks appeared to grasp the rough surface; and they
were rooted beneath it, and, ascending high into the air, overshadowed
the gray crag with verdure. Other oaks, here and there, have a few green
leaves or boughs among their rustling and rugged shade.
Yet, dreary as the woods are in a bleak, sullen day, there is a very
peculiar sense of warmth and a sort of richness of effect in the slope of
a bank and in sheltered spots, where bright sunshine falls, and the brown
oaken foliage is gladdened by it. There is then a feeling of comfort,
and consequently of heart-warmth, which cannot be experienced in summer.
I walked this afternoon along a pleasant wood-path, gently winding, so
that but little of it could be seen at a time, and going up and down
small mounds, now plunging into a denser shadow and now emerging
from it. Part of the way it was strewn with the dusky, yellow leaves of
white-pines,--the cast-off garments of last year; part of the way with
green grass, close-cropped, and very fresh for the season. Sometimes the
trees met across it; sometimes it was bordered on one side by an old
rail-fence of moss-grown cedar, with bushes sprouting beneath it, and
thrusting their branches through it; sometimes by a stone-wall of unknown
antiquity, older than the wood it closed in. A stone-wall, when
shrubbery has grown around it, and thrust its roots beneath it, becomes a
very pleasant and meditative object. It does not belong too evidently to
man, having been built so long ago. It seems a part of nature.
Yesterday I found two mushrooms in the woods, probably of the preceding
night's growth. Also I saw a mosquito, frost-pinched, and so wretched
that I felt avenged for all the injuries which his tribe inflicted upon
me last summer, and so did not molest this lone survivor.
Walnuts in their green rinds are falling from the trees, and so are
chestnut-burrs.
I found a maple-leaf to-day, yellow all over, except its extremest point,
which was bright scarlet. It looked as if a drop of blood were hanging
from it. The first change of the maple-leaf is to scarlet; the next, to
yellow. Then it withers, wilts, and drops off, as most of them have
already done.
October 27th.--Fringed gentians,--I found the last, probably, that will
be seen this year, growing on the margin of the brook.
1842.--Some man of powerful character to command a person, morally
subjected to him, to perform some act. The commanding person suddenly to
die; and, for all the rest of his life, the subjected one continues to
perform that act.
"Solomon dies during the building of the temple, but his body remains
leaning on a staff, and overlooking the workmen, as if it were alive."
A tri-weekly paper, to be called the Tertian Ague.
Subject for a picture,--Satan's reappearance in Pandemonium, shining out
from a mist, with "shape star-bright."
Five points of Theology,--Five Points at New York.
It seems a greater pity that an accomplished worker with the hand should
perish prematurely, than a person of great intellect; because
intellectual arts may be cultivated in the next world, but not physical
ones.
To trace out the influence of a frightful and disgraceful crime in
debasing and destroying a character naturally high and noble, the guilty
person being alone conscious of the crime.
A man, virtuous in his general conduct, but committing habitually some
monstrous crime,--as murder,--and doing this without the sense of guilt,
but with a peaceful conscience,--habit, probably, reconciling him to it;
but something (for instance, discovery) occurs to make him sensible of
his enormity. His horror then.
The strangeness, if they could be foreseen and forethought, of events
which do not seem so strange after they have happened. As, for instance,
to muse over a child's cradle, and foresee all the persons in different
parts of the world with whom he would have relations.
A man to swallow a small snake,--and it to be a symbol of a cherished
sin.
Questions as to unsettled points of history, and mysteries of nature, to
be asked of a mesmerized person.
Gordier, a young man of the Island of Jersey, was paying his addresses to
a young lady of Guernsey. He visited the latter island, intending to be
married. He disappeared on his way from the beach to his mistress's
residence, and was afterwards found dead in a cavity of the rocks. After
a time, Galliard, a merchant of Guernsey, paid his addresses to the young
lady; but she always felt a strong, unaccountable antipathy to him. He
presented her with a beautiful trinket. The mother of Gordier, chancing
to see this trinket, recognized it as having been bought by her dead son
as a present for his mistress. She expired on learning this; and
Galliard, being suspected of the murder, committed suicide.
The cure of Montreux in Switzerland, ninety-six years old, still vigorous
in mind and body, and able to preach. He had a twin-brother, also a
preacher, and the exact likeness of himself. Sometimes strangers have
beheld a white-haired, venerable, clerical personage, nearly a century
old; and, upon riding a few miles farther, have been astonished to meet
again this white-haired, venerable, century-old personage.
When the body of Lord Mohun (killed in a duel) was carried home,
bleeding, to his house, Lady Mohun was very angry because it was "flung
upon the best bed."
A prophecy, somewhat in the style of Swift's about Partridge, but
embracing various events and personages.
An incident that befell Dr. Harris, while a Junior at college. Being in
great want of money to buy shirts or other necessaries, and not knowing
how to obtain it, he set out on a walk from Cambridge to Boston. On the
way, he cut a stick, and, after walking a short distance, perceived that
something had become attached to the end of it. It proved to be a gold
ring, with the motto, "God speed thee, friend."
Brobdingnag lay on the northwest coast of the American continent.
People with false hair and other artifices may be supposed to deceive
Death himself; so that he does not know when their hour is come.
Bees are sometimes drowned (or suffocated) in the honey which they
collect. So some writers are lost in their collected learning.
Advice of Lady Pepperell's father on her marriage,--never to work one
moment after Saturday sunset,--never to lay down her knitting except in
the middle of the needle,--always to rise with the sun,--to pass an hour
daily with the housekeeper,--to visit every room daily from garret to
cellar,--to attend herself to the brewing of beer and the baking of
bread,--and to instruct every member of the family in their religious
duties.
Service of plate, presented by the city of London to Sir William
Pepperell, together with a table of solid silver. The table very narrow,
but long; the articles of plate numerous, but of small dimensions,--the
tureen not holding more than three pints. At the close of the
Revolution, when the Pepperell and Sparhawk property was confiscated,
this plate was sent to the grandson of Sir William, in London. It was so
valuable, that Sheriff Moulton of old York, with six well-armed men,
accompanied it to Boston. Pepperell's only daughter married Colonel
Sparhawk, a fine gentleman of the day. Andrew Pepperell, the son, was
rejected by a young lady (afterwards the mother of Mrs. General Knox), to
whom he was on the point of marriage, as being addicted to low company
and low pleasures. The lover, two days afterwards, in the streets of
Portsmouth, was sun-struck, and fell down dead. Sir William had built an
elegant house for his son and his intended wife; but after the death of
the former he never entered it. He lost his cheerfulness and social
qualities, and gave up intercourse with people, except on business. Very
anxious to secure his property to his descendants by the provisions of
his will, which was drawn up by Judge Sewall, then a young lawyer. Yet
the Judge lived to see two of Sir William's grandchildren so reduced that
they were to have been numbered among the town's poor, and were only
rescued from this fate by private charity.
The arms and crest of the Pepperell family were displayed over the door
of every room in Sir William's house. In Colonel Sparhawk's house there
were forty portraits, most of them in full length. The house built for
Sir William's son was occupied as barracks during the Revolution, and
much injured. A few years after the peace, it was blown down by a
violent tempest, and finally no vestige of it was left, but there
remained only a summer-house and the family tomb.
At Sir William's death, his mansion was hung with black, while the body
lay in state for a week. All the Sparhawk portraits were covered with
black crape, and the family pew was draped with black. Two oxen were
roasted, and liquid hospitality dispensed in proportion.
Old lady's dress seventy or eighty years ago. Brown brocade gown, with a
nice lawn handkerchief and apron,--short sleeves, with a little ruffle,
just below the elbow,--black mittens,--a lawn cap, with rich lace
border,--a black velvet hood on the back of the head, tied with black
ribbon under the chin. She sat in an old-fashioned easy-chair, in a
small, low parlor,--the wainscot painted entirely black, and the walls
hung with a dark velvet paper.
A table, stationary ever since the house was built, extending the whole
length of a room. One end was raised two steps higher than the rest.
The Lady Ursula, an early Colonial heroine, was wont to dine at the upper
end, while her servants sat below. This was in the kitchen. An old
garden and summer-house, and roses, currant-bushes, and tulips, which
Lady Ursula had brought from Grondale Abbey in Old England. Although a
hundred and fifty years before, and though their roots were propagated
all over the country, they were still flourishing in the original garden.
This Lady Ursula was the daughter of Lord Thomas Cutts of Grondale Abbey
in England. She had been in love with an officer named Fowler, who was
supposed to have been slain in battle. After the death of her father and
mother, Lady Ursula came to Kittery, bringing twenty men-servants and
several women. After a time, a letter arrived from her lover, who was
not killed, but merely a prisoner to the French. He announced his
purpose to come to America, where he would arrive in October. A few days
after the letter came, she went out in a low carriage to visit her
work-people, and was blessing the food for their luncheon, when she fell
dead, struck by an Indian tomahawk, as did all the rest save one. They
were buried where the massacre took place, and a stone was erected, which
(possibly) still remains. The lady's family had a grant from Sir
Ferdinando Gorges of the territory thereabout, and her brother had
likewise come over and settled in the vicinity. I believe very little of
this story. Long afterwards, at about the commencement of the
Revolution, a descendant of Fowler came from England, and applied to the
Judge of Probate to search the records for a will, supposed to have been
made by Lady Ursula in favor of her lover as soon as she heard of his
existence. In the mean time the estate had been sold to Colonel Whipple.
No will could be found. (Lady Ursula was old Mrs. Cutts, widow of
President Cutts.)
The mode of living of Lady Ursula's brother in Kittery. A drawbridge to
the house, which was raised every evening, and lowered in the morning,
for the laborers and the family to pass out. They kept thirty cows, a
hundred sheep, and several horses. The house spacious,--one room large
enough to contain forty or fifty guests. Two silver branches for
candles,--the walls ornamented with paintings and needlework. The floors
were daily rubbed with wax, and shone like a mahogany table. A domestic
chaplain, who said prayers every morning and evening in a small apartment
called the chapel. Also a steward and butler. The family attended the
Episcopal Church at Christmas, Easter, and Good Friday, and gave a grand
entertainment once a year.
Madam Cutts, at the last of these entertainments, wore a black damask
gown, and cuffs with double lace ruffles, velvet shoes, blue silk
stockings, white and silver stomacher. The daughter and granddaughters
in rich brocades and yellow satin. Old Major Cutts in brown velvet,
laced with gold, and a large wig. The parson in his silk cassock, and
his helpmate in brown damask. Old General Atkinson in scarlet velvet,
and his wife and daughters in white damask. The Governor in black
velvet, and his lady in crimson tabby trimmed with silver. The ladies
wore bell-hoops, high-heeled shoes, paste buckles, silk stockings, and
enormously high head-dresses, with lappets of Brussels lace hanging
thence to the waist.
Among the eatables, a silver tub of the capacity of four gallons, holding
a pyramid of pancakes powdered with white sugar.
The date assigned to all this about 1690.
What is the price of a day's labor in Lapland, where the sun never sets
for six months?
Miss Asphyxia Davis!
A life, generally of a grave hue, may be said to be embroidered with
occasional sports and fantasies.
A father confessor,--his reflections on character, and the contrast of
the inward man with the outward, as he looks around on his congregation,
all whose secret sins are known to him.
A person with an ice-cold hand,--his right hand, which people ever
afterwards remember when once they have grasped it.
A stove possessed by a Devil.
June 1st, 1842.--One of my chief amusements is to see the boys sail their
miniature vessels on the Frog Pond. There is a great variety of shipping
owned among the young people, and they appear to have a considerable
knowledge of the art of managing vessels. There is a full-rigged
man-of-war, with, I believe, every spar, rope, and sail, that sometimes
makes its appearance; and, when on a voyage across the pond, it so
identically resembles a great ship, except in size, that it has the
effect of a picture. All its motions,--its tossing up and down on the
small waves, and its sinking and rising in a calm swell, its heeling to
the breeze,--the whole effect, in short, is that of a real ship at sea;
while, moreover, there is something that kindles the imagination more
than the reality would do. If we see a real, great ship, the mind grasps
and possesses, within its real clutch, all that there is of it; while
here the mimic ship is the representation of an ideal one, and so gives
us a more imaginative pleasure. There are many schooners that ply to and
fro on the pond, and pilot-boats, all perfectly rigged. I saw a race,
the other day, between the ship above mentioned and a pilot-boat, in
which the latter came off conqueror. The boys appear to be well
acquainted with all the ropes and sails, and can call them by their
nautical names. One of the owners of the vessels remains on one side of
the pond, and the other on the opposite side, and so they send the little
bark to and fro, like merchants of different countries, consigning their
vessels to one another.
Generally, when any vessel is on the pond, there are full-grown
spectators, who look on with as much interest as the boys themselves.
Towards sunset, this is especially the case: for then are seen young
girls and their lovers; mothers, with their little boys in hand;
schoolgirls, beating hoops round about, and occasionally running to the
side of the pond; rough tars, or perhaps masters or young mates of
vessels, who make remarks about the miniature shipping, and occasionally
give professional advice to the navigators; visitors from the country;
gloved and caned young gentlemen;--in short, everybody stops to take a
look. In the mean time; dogs are continually plunging into the pond, and
swimming about, with noses pointed upward, and snatching at floating
chips; then, emerging, they shake themselves, scattering a horizontal
shower on the clean gowns of ladies and trousers of gentlemen; then
scamper to and fro on the grass, with joyous barks.
Some boys cast off lines of twine with pin-hooks, and perhaps pull out a
horned-pout,--that being, I think, the only kind of fish that inhabits
the Frog Pond.
The ship-of-war above mentioned is about three feet from stem to stern,
or possibly a few inches more. This, if I mistake not, was the size of a
ship-of-the-line in the navy of Liliput.
Fancy pictures of familiar places which one has never been in, as the
green-room of a theatre, etc.
The famous characters of history,--to imagine their spirits now extant on
earth, in the guise of various public or private personages.
The case quoted in Combe's Physiology of a young man of great talents and
profound knowledge of chemistry, who had in view some new discovery of
importance. In order to put his mind into the highest possible activity,
he shut himself up for several successive days, and used various methods
of excitement. He had a singing-girl, he drank spirits, smelled,
penetrating odors, sprinkled Cologne-water round the room, etc., etc.
Eight days thus passed, when he was seized with a fit of frenzy which
terminated in mania.
Flesh and Blood,--a firm of butchers.
Miss Polly Syllable, a schoolmistress.
Mankind are earthen jugs with spirits in them.
A spendthrift,--in one sense he has his money's worth by the purchase of
large lots of repentance and other dolorous commodities.
To symbolize moral or spiritual disease by disease of the body; as thus,
--when a person committed any sin, it might appear in some form on the
body,--this to be wrought out.
"Shrieking fish," a strange idea of Leigh Hunt.
In my museum, all the ducal rings that have been thrown into the
Adriatic.
An association of literary men in the other world,--or dialogues of the
dead, or something of that kind.
Imaginary diseases to be cured by impossible remedies,--as a dose of the
Grand Elixir, in the yolk of a Phoenix's egg. The disease may be either
moral or physical.
A physician for the cure of moral diseases.
To point out the moral slavery of one who deems himself a free man.
A stray leaf from the book of fate, picked up in the street.
Concord, August 5th.--A rainy day,--a rainy day. I am commanded to take
pen in hand, and I am therefore banished to the little ten-foot-square
apartment misnamed my study; but perhaps the dismalness of the day and
the dulness of my solitude will be the prominent characteristics of what
I write. And what is there to write about? Happiness has no succession
of events, because it is a part of eternity; and we have been living in
eternity ever since we came to this old manse. Like Enoch, we seem to
have been translated to the other state of being, without having passed
through death. Our spirits must have flitted away unconsciously, and we
can only perceive that we have cast off our mortal part by the more real
and earnest life of our souls. Externally, our Paradise has very much
the aspect of a pleasant old domicile on earth. This antique house--for
it looks antique, though it was created by Providence expressly for our
use, and at the precise time when we wanted it--stands behind a noble
avenue of balm-of-Gilead trees; and when we chance to observe a passing
traveller through the sunshine and the shadow of this long avenue, his
figure appears too dim and remote to disturb the sense of blissful
seclusion. Few, indeed, are the mortals who venture within our sacred
precincts. George Prescott, who has not yet grown earthly enough, I
suppose, to be debarred from occasional visits to Paradise, comes daily
to bring three pints of milk from some ambrosial cow; occasionally, also,
he makes an offering of mortal flowers. Mr. Emerson comes sometimes, and
has been feasted on our nectar and ambrosia. Mr. Thoreau has twice
listened to the music of the spheres, which, for our private convenience,
we have packed into a musical-box. E. H------, who is much more at home
among spirits than among fleshly bodies, came hither a few times merely
to welcome us to the ethereal world; but latterly she has vanished into
some other region of infinite space. One rash mortal, on the second
Sunday after our arrival, obtruded himself upon us in a gig. There have
since been three or four callers, who preposterously think that the
courtesies of the lower world are to be responded to by people whose home
is in Paradise. I must not forget to mention that the butcher comes
twice or thrice a week; and we have so far improved upon the custom of
Adam and Eve, that we generally furnish forth our feasts with portions of
some delicate calf or lamb, whose unspotted innocence entitles them to
the happiness of becoming our sustenance. Would that I were permitted to
record the celestial dainties that kind Heaven provided for us on the
first day of our arrival! Never, surely, was such food heard of on
earth,--at least, not by me. Well, the above-mentioned persons are
nearly all that have entered into the hallowed shade of our avenue;
except, indeed, a certain sinner who came to bargain for the grass in our
orchard, and another who came with a new cistern. For it is one of the
drawbacks upon our Eden that it contains no water fit either to drink or
to bathe in; so that the showers have become, in good truth, a godsend.
I wonder why Providence does not cause a clear, cold fountain to bubble
up at our doorstep; methinks it would not be unreasonable to pray for
such a favor. At present we are under the ridiculous necessity of
sending to the outer world for water. Only imagine Adam trudging out of
Paradise with a bucket in each hand, to get water to drink, or for Eve to
bathe in! Intolerable! (though our stout handmaiden really fetches our
water.) In other respects Providence has treated us pretty tolerably
well; but here I shall expect something further to be done. Also, in the
way of future favors, a kitten would be very acceptable. Animals
(except, perhaps, a pig) seem never out of place, even in the most
paradisiacal spheres. And, by the way, a young colt comes up our avenue,
now and then, to crop the seldom-trodden herbage; and so does a company
of cows, whose sweet breath well repays us for the food which they
obtain. There are likewise a few hens, whose quiet cluck is heard
pleasantly about the house. A black dog sometimes stands at the farther
extremity of the avenue, and looks wistfully hitherward; but when I
whistle to him, he puts his tail between his legs, and trots away.
Foolish dog! if he had more faith, he should have bones enough.