afternoon, to Mr. Emerson's, with a book which Margaret Fuller had left,
after a call on Saturday eve. I missed the nearest way, and wandered
into a very secluded portion of the forest; for forest it might justly
be called, so dense and sombre was the shade of oaks and pines. Once I
wandered into a tract so overgrown with bushes and underbrush that I
could scarcely force a passage through. Nothing is more annoying than a
walk of this kind, where one is tormented by an innumerable host of
petty impediments. It incenses and depresses me at the same time. Always
when I flounder into the midst of bushes, which cross and intertwine
themselves about my legs, and brush my face, and seize hold of my
clothes, with their multitudinous grip,--always, in such a difficulty, I
feel as if it were almost as well to lie down and die in rage and
despair as to go one step farther. It is laughable, after I have got out
of the moil, to think how miserably it affected me for the moment; but I
had better learn patience betimes, for there are many such bushy tracts
in this vicinity, on the margins of meadows, and my walks will often
lead me into them. Escaping from the bushes, I soon came to an open
space among the woods,--a very lovely spot, with the tall old trees
standing around as quietly as if no one had intruded there throughout
the whole summer. A company of crows were holding their Sabbath on their
summits. Apparently they felt themselves injured or insulted by my
presence; for, with one consent, they began to Caw! caw! caw! and,
launching themselves sullenly on the air, took flight to some securer
solitude. Mine, probably, was the first human shape that they had seen
all day long,--at least, if they had been stationary in that spot; but
perhaps they had winged their way over miles and miles of country, had
breakfasted on the summit of Greylock, and dined at the base of
Wachusett, and were merely come to sup and sleep among the quiet woods
of Concord. But it was my impression at the time, that they had sat
still and silent on the tops of the trees all through the Sabbath day,
and I felt like one who should unawares disturb an assembly of
worshippers. A crow, however, has no real pretensions to religion, in
spite of his gravity of mien and black attire. Crows are certainly
thieves, and probably infidels. Nevertheless, their voices yesterday
were in admirable accordance with the influences of the quiet, sunny,
warm, yet autumnal afternoon