250 EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 
hardy duck or two at a distance on the water. 
As for the singing of birds, the few that have 
come to us, it is too cold for them to sing and 
for me to hear. The bluebird’s warble comes 
feeble and frozen to my ear. 
Over a great many acres the meadows have 
been cut up into neat squares and other figures 
by the ice of February, as if ready to be re¬ 
moved ; sometimes separated by narrow and 
deep channels like musk-rat paths, but oftener 
the edges have been raised and apparently 
stretched, and settling have not fallen into 
their places exactly, but lodged on their neigh¬ 
bors. Even yet you see cakes of ice surmounted 
by a shell of meadow-crust which has preserved 
them, while all around is bare meadow. 
March 28,1856. I think to say to my friend, 
There is but one interval between us. You are 
on one side of it, I on the other. You know as 
much about it as I, how wide, how impassable 
it is. I will endeavor not to blame you. Do 
not blame me. There is nothing to be said 
about it. Recognize the truth, and pass over 
the intervals that are bridged. 
Farewell, my friends, my path inclines to 
this side the mountains, yours to that. For a 
long time you have appeared further and 
further off to me. I see that you will at length 
dissappear altogether. For a season my path 
