defies expression. It is more in the character of the rich yellow sunlight than in aught else. The water of the stream has now a thrill of autumnal coolness; yet whenever a broad gleam fell across it, through an in- terstice of the foliage, multitudes of insects were dart- ing to and fro upon its surface. The sunshine, thus falling across the dark river, has a most beautiful ef- fect. It burnishes it, as it were, and yet leaves it as dark as ever.

On my return, I suffered the boat to float almost of its own will down the stream, and caught fish enough for this n1orning’s breakfast. But, partly from a qualm of conscience, I finally put them all into the water again, and saw them swim away as if nothing had happened.

Monday, October 10th. A long while, indeed, since my last date. But the weather has been gener- ally sunny and pleasant, though often very cold; and I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as au- tumnal sunshine by staying in the house. So I have spent almost all the daylight hours in the open air. My chief amusement has been boating up and down the river. A week or two ago (September 27 and 28) I went on a pedestrian excursion with Mr. Emer- son, and was gone two days and one night, it being the first and only night that I have spent away from home. We were that night at the village of Harvard, and the next morning walked three miles farther, to the Shaker village, where we breakfasted. Mr. Emer- son had a theological discussion with two of the Shaker brethren; but the particulars of it have faded from my memory ; and all the other adventures of the tour have now so lost their freshness that I cannot ad-