were not. I go looking deeper for tortoises, when suddenly my eye rests on these black circling apple-seeds in some smoother bay.
The red squirrel should be drawn with a pine cone. . . . .
J F gave me to-day a part of the foot, probably of a pine marten, which he found two or three days ago in a trap he had set in his brook under water for a mink, baited with a pickerel. It is colored above with glossy dark brown hair, and Contains but two toes armed with fine and very sharp talons, much curved. There may be a third without the talon. It had left thus much in the trap and departed.
March 10, 1859. There are some who never do nor say anything, whose life merely excites expectation. Their excellence reaches no further than a gesture or mode of carrying themselves. They are a sash dangling from the waist, or a sculptured war-club over the shoulder. They are like fine-edged tools gradually becoming rusty in a shop window. I like as well, if not better, to see a piece of iron or steel, out of which many such tools will be made, or the bushwhack in a man's hand.
When I meet gentlemen and ladies I am reminded of the extent of the habitable and uninhabitable globe. I exclaim to myself: Sur-
