h Nature imperfectly images to our grosser sense. At any rate, the
disembodied shadow is nearest to the soul.

There were many tokens of autumn in this beautiful picture. Two or three
of the trees were actually dressed in their coats of many colors,--the
real scarlet and gold which they wear before they put on mourning. These
stood on low, marshy spots, where a frost has probably touched them
already. Others were of a light, fresh green, resembling the hues of
spring, though this, likewise, is a token of decay. The great mass of
the foliage, however, appears unchanged; but ever and anon down came a
yellow leaf, half flitting upon the air, half falling through it, and
finally settling upon the water. A multitude of these were floating here
and there along the river, many of them curling upward, so as to form
little boats, fit for fairies to voyage in. They looked strangely
pretty, with yet a melancholy prettiness, as they floated along. The
general aspect of the river, however, differed but little from that of
summer,--at least the difference defies expression. It is more in the
character of the rich yellow sunlight than in aught else. The water of
the stream has now a thrill of autumnal coolness; yet whenever a broad
gleam fell across it, through an interstice of the foliage, multitudes
of insects were darting to and fro upon its surface. The sunshine, thus
falling across the dark river, has a most beautiful effect. It burnishes
it, as it were, and yet leaves it as dark as ever.

On my return, I suffered the boat to float almost of its own will down
the stream, and caught fish enough for this morning's breakfast. But,
partly from a qualm of conscience, I finally put them all into the water
again, and saw them swim away as if nothing had happened.

* * * * *

_Monday, October 10, 1842._--A long while, indeed, since my last date.
But the weather has been generally sunny and pleasant, though often very
cold; and I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal
sunshine by staying in the house. So I have spent almost all the
daylight hours in the open air. My chief amusement has been boating up
and down the river. A week or two ago (September 27 and 28) I went on a
pedestrian excursion with Mr. Emerson, and was gone two days and one
night, it being the first and only night that I have spent away from
home. We were that night at the village of Harvard, and the next morning
walked th