him, as a spoiled child loves to see what liberties he can presume to take. I am only astonished that B should think it any daring, that he should believe in God so much, look round to see if his auditors appreciated his boldness.
Jan. 30, 1854. Another cold morning. 13° below zero. . . . This morning, though not so cold by a degree or two as yesterday morning, the cold has got more into the house. . . . The sheets are frozen about the sleeper's face. The teamster's beard is white with ice. Last night I felt it stinging cold as I came up the street at nine o'clock. It bit my ears and face, but the stars shone all the brighter. The windows are all closed up with frost, as if they were of ground glass. . . . The snow is dry and squeaks under the feet, and the teams creak, as if they needed greasing, sounds associated with extremely cold weather.
p. m. Up river on ice and snow to Fair Haven Pond. . . . We look at every track in the snow. Every little while there is the track of a fox, may be the same one, across the river, turning aside sometimes to a muskrat's cabin or a point of ice where he has left some traces, and frequently the larger track of a hound which has followed his trail. . . . This road is so wide that you do not feel confined in it, and you never meet travelers with whom you have no sym-
