4 EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 
a hole in the base of a walnut, and tom open 
the fungi, etc., exploring for grubs or insects 
They are very busy these nights. 
If I should make the least concession my 
friend would spurn me. I am obeying his law 
as well as my own. 
Where is the actual friend you love ? Ask 
from what hill the rainbow’s arch springs ! It 
adorns and crowns the earth. Our friends are 
our kindred, of our species. There are but few 
of our species on the globe. Between me and 
my friend what unfathomable distance ! All 
mankind, like water and insects, are between 
us. If my friend says in his mind, I will 
never see you again, I translate it, of necessity, 
into ever . That is its definition in Love’s 
lexicon. Those we can love we can hate. To 
others we are indifferent. 
p. M. To Walden. The railroad in the Deep 
Cut is dry as in spring, almost dusty. The 
best of the sand foliage is already gone. I 
walk without a great coat. A chickadee, with 
its winter lisp, flits over. I think it is time to 
hear its phebe note, and that instant it pipes 
it forth. Walden is still covered with thick 
ice, though melted a foot from the shore. The 
French (in the Jesuit Relation) say “ fil de 
l’eau ” for that part of the current of a river in 
which any floating thing would be carried, gen- 
