he meanest reptile that crawls upon the earth.
So I thought as I was walking this morning and saw a frog swimming in a
puddle of water. I could hardly help envying him when I considered that
_his_ condition was suited to his nature, and that he has no wants which
are not supplied.

_June 17th._--I am reading Goethe's Conversations with Eckermann. One
thing I remark is this--he does not, as most men do, make the degree
of sympathy he finds in others the measure of his interest in them and
attention to them. Goethe looked at all as specimens of human nature,
and, therefore, all worthy of study. But, after all, this way of looking
at others seems to be more suited to the _artist_ than to the man; and I
can not conceive of any but a very passionless and immobile person who
could do it.... Does all nature furnish one type of the soul? If so, it
might be the ocean; the rough, swelling, fluctuating, unsounded ocean.
Shall it ever _rest? Rest?_ What an infinite, mournful sweetness in the
word! How perfectly sure I feel that my soul can never rest in _itself_,
nor in anything of earth; if I find peace, it must be in the bosom of
God.

_July 2d._--The vulgar proverb, "It never rains but it pours," is fully
illustrated in my case. Last week I would have given half the world for
a new book; yesterday and today have overflooded me. Mr. Hubbard has
sent me Prof. Park's "German Selections," Pliny, Heeren's Ancient
Greece, two volumes of the Biblical Repository, and two of his own
magazines; Mr. Judd has sent me two volumes of Carlyle, and Mr. Ripley
four of Lessing--all of these must be despatched _a la hate. July
5th._--Last evening we spent upon the Common witnessing a beautiful
exhibition of fireworks. This morning I have been to Union wharf to see
the departure of some missionaries. For a few minutes, time seemed
a speck and eternity near--but how transient with me are such
impressions! I am indulging myself too much of late in a sort of
sentimental reverie. Life and its changes, the depths of the soul,
the fluctuations of passion and feeling--these are the subjects which
attract my thoughts perpetually.... We spent last evening at Richard H.
Dana's. _He_ does not separate his intellectual and sentimental tastes
from his moral convictions as I do--I mean that neither in books nor men
does he find pleasure unless they are such as his conscience approves.
_Tuesday, 9th._--Have visited the Allston gallery and seen Rosalie for
the l