August Reveries. 



"My journal should be the record of my love for 

 Nature. I would write in it only of the things I love, 

 my affection for an aspect of the world." 



Thoreau. 



Sunday, August 2 t '08. August time again! 

 Time for a cessation from the year 's labor ; 

 time for the rest which comes or should come to 

 the husbandman; time for days of peace and 

 do-nothingness for the naturalist! Days in 

 which he may loll and listen to the call of the 

 cardinal, the cry of the wood pewee, the cackle 

 of the flicker.. For in August, if ever, can he 

 with a clear conscience thus loll and listen, 

 ponder and plan, dream new dreams of worlds 

 yet unconquered which never will be conquered, 

 of deeds yet undone which never will be done, 

 for time, the reaper of all, pauses not and the 

 dreams of the slothful are never realized. 



To-day I begin housekeeping by myself. This 

 morn have I pitched my tent for a week's so- 

 journ on "Oak Point" in the old woods pas- 

 ture; pitched it "high and dry" says the owner 

 of the pasture who helped me set it up. My 

 camp site is about one-eighth of a mile south- 

 west of the boulder nook and three-fourths of 

 a mile south of the old farm house, both of 



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