62 EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 
sun, and we can sit in it when sheltered by 
these rocks with impunity. It is a genial 
warmth. The rustle of the dry leaves on the 
earth and in the crannies of the rocks, and 
gathered in deep windrows just under their 
edge, midleg deep, reminds me of fires in the 
woods. They are almost ready to burn. 
March 4, 1859. We stood still a few mo¬ 
ments on the turnpike below Wright’s (the 
turnpike which has no wheel track beyond Tut¬ 
tle’s and no track at all beyond Wright’s), and 
listened to hear a spring bird. We only heard 
the jay screaming in the distance and the caw¬ 
ing of a crow. What a perfectly New England 
sound is this voice of the crow! If you stand 
perfectly still anywhere in the outskirts of the 
town and listen, stilling the almost incessant 
hum of your personal factory, this is perhaps 
the sound which you will be most sure to hear, 
rising above all sounds of human industry, and 
leading your thoughts to some far bay in the 
woods, w T here the crow is venting his disgust. 
This bird sees the white man come and the In¬ 
dian withdraw, but it withdraws not. Its un¬ 
tamed voice is still heard above the tinkling 
of the forge. It sees a race pass away, but it 
passes not away. It remains to remind us of 
aboriginal nature. 
March 5, 1841. How can our love increase 
