ey leave unexamined, grunting all the
time with infinite variety of expression. Their language is the most
copious of that of any quadruped, and, indeed, there is something deeply
and indefinably interesting in the swinish race. They appear the more a
mystery the longer one gazes at them. It seems as if there were an
important meaning to them, if one could but find it out. One interesting
trait in them is their perfect independence of character. They care not
for man, and will not adapt themselves to his notions, as other beasts
do; but are true to themselves, and act out their hoggish nature.

* * * * *

_October 7._--Since Saturday last, (it being now Thursday,) I have been
in Boston and Salem, and there has been a violent storm and rain during
the whole time. This morning shone as bright as if it meant to make up
for all the dismalness of the past days. Our brook, which in the summer
was no longer a running stream, but stood in pools along its pebbly
course, is now full from one grassy verge to the other, and hurries
along with a murmuring rush. It will continue to swell, I suppose, and
in the winter and spring it will flood all the broad meadows through
which it flows.

I have taken a long walk this forenoon along the Needham road, and
across the bridge, thence pursuing a cross-road through the woods,
parallel with the river, which I crossed again at Dedham. Most of the
road lay through a growth of young oaks principally. They still retain
their verdure, though, looking closely in among them, one perceives the
broken sunshine falling on a few sere or bright-hued tufts of shrubbery.
In low, marshy spots, on the verge of the meadows or along the
river-side, there is a much more marked autumnal change. Whole ranges of
bushes are there painted with many variegated hues, not of the brightest
tint, but of a sober cheerfulness. I suppose this is owing more to the
late rains than to the frost; for a heavy rain changes the foliage
somewhat at this season. The first marked frost was seen last Saturday
morning. Soon after sunrise it lay, white as snow, over all the grass,
and on the tops of the fences, and in the yard, on the heap of firewood.
On Sunday, I think, there was a fall of snow, which, however, did not
lie on the ground a moment.

There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on,
and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings, as now in October.
The sunshin