uses
him. He delights in the most trifling peculiarities of bird-life, and
how well he knows all the birds!

*

(Many rainy days.)--I long for the sun, and am almost dying for the
want of it. I feel as if I were fading, as if perishing with thirst--I
cannot live without the sun. It is my debtor for the lovely May days of
which I have been deprived. I must have them; they are my only comfort.

*

If I remain thus dependent upon the weather, permitting every cloud to
darken my mind, and every shower to chill me with the feeling that I am
forsaken, it were far better I were lying at the bottom of the lake,
and that the boatman were telling those whom he was ferrying across:
"Far below us, lies a young maid of honor."--I have once before bade
farewell to the sun, and I mean to be independent of it.

*

There are beings who know nothing of rain and sunshine, and yet live.

But there are, also, others who are filled with dew-forming power--but
they are the calm, self-contained, powerful natures, whose life is an
inner, rather than an outer, one.

*

(June 12th.)--After many hot days, there was rain last night. The drops
are still glittering on every leaf and flower. Oh, the delightful
morning that has succeeded the nocturnal storm! To have fully enjoyed
such a morning is worth the trouble of living.

*

Jochem has a lark in a cage--he must have something shut up with him.

The lark affords me great delight. There are but few of them up here,
for we have nothing but meadow land. They love to hover over the fields
of grain down in the valley.

*

After the midsummer solstice, the woods become silent. The sun now
merely ripens, and has ceased to call forth blossoms and song. The
finch alone keeps up his merry lay.

*

From my window, I can see the white foal grazing in the meadow. He
knows me. When I look up, he stands still for a while and looks at me,
and then dashes hither and thither at a furious rate. I have named him
Wodan, and when I call him by that name, he comes to me.

I have sketched the foal, and am now carving it in birch. I think I
shall succeed, but wood is obstinate, awkward stuff, after all. I lose
my patience on slight provocation. I must try to ove