author of "Maxims of State," "The Cabinet Council," and "The Soul's Errand."
Jan. 9, 1852. . . . Where a path has been shoveled through drifts in the road, I see . . . little heavens in the crannies and crevices. The deeper they are, and the larger masses they are surrounded by, the darker blue they are. Some are a very light blue with a tinge of green. Methinks I oftenest see this when it is snowing. At any rate, the atmosphere must be in a peculiar state. Apparently the snow absorbs the other rays, and reflects the blue. It has strained the air, and only the blue rays have passed through the sieve. . . . Into every track which the teamster makes this elysian, empyrean atmosphere rushes.
Jan. 9, 1853. 3 p. m. To Walden and Cliffs. The telegraph harp again. Always the same unrememberable revelation it is to me. I never hear it without thinking of Greece. How the Greeks harped upon the words, immortal, ambrosial. They are what it says. It stings my ear with everlasting truth. It allies Concord to Athens, and both to Elysium. It always . . . makes me sane, reverses my views of things. I get down the railroad till I hear that which makes all the world a lie. When the . . . west wind sweeps this wire, I rise to the height of my being. . . . This wire is my
