EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 167 
The sun is now declining with a warm and 
bright light on all things, a light which answers 
to the late afterglow of the year, when, in the 
fall, wrapping his cloak about him, the traveler 
goes home at night to prepare for winter. This 
is the foreglow of the year, when the walker 
goes home at eve to dream of summer. 
March 18, 1856. Round by Hollowell Place 
via Clam-shell. I see with my glass as I go over 
the railroad bridge, sweeping the river, a great 
gull standing far away on the top of a musk-rat 
cabin, which rises just above the water. When 
I get round within sixty rods of him, ten min¬ 
utes later, he still stands on the same spot, con¬ 
stantly turning his head to every side looking 
out for food. Like a wooden image of a bird 
he stands there, heavy to look at, head, breast, 
beneath, and rump, pure white, slate-colored 
wings tipped with black, and extending beyond 
the tail, the herring gull. I can see down to 
his webbed feet. But now I advance and he 
rises easily, and goes off northeastward over 
the river with a leisurely flight. 
At Clam-shell Hill I sweep the river again, 
and see standing midleg deep on the meadow 
where the water is very shallow, with deeper 
around, another of these wooden images, which 
is harder to scare. I do not fairly distinguish 
black tips to its wings. It is ten or fifteen 
