This is a delicious evening, when the whole body is one sense,

and imbibes delight through every pore. I go and come with a

strange liberty in Nature, a part of herself. As I walk along the

stony shore of the pond in my shirt-sleeves, though it is cool as

well as cloudy and windy, and I see nothing special to attract me,

all the elements are unusually congenial to me. The bullfrogs trump

to usher in the night, and the note of the whip-poor-will is borne

on the rippling wind from over the water. Sympathy with the

fluttering alder and poplar leaves almost takes away my breath; yet,

like the lake, my serenity is rippled but not ruffled. These small

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