fish, and bull-pouts. Formerly, when the river was not obstructed by so many mill-dams, the herring used to visit this inland lake every year, following the stream, many a long mile from the ocean; they were a very acceptable variety to the common fare in those days, and were so numerous that they were frequently fished up in pails by the first colonists.
Thursday, 9th.—At sunrise the thermometer had fallen to 16 above zero. Snow still lying on the ground, though little of it. Gloomy, dark day. People are taking out their winter clothing, and asking each other if this can possibly last? if winter is coming in earnest, and so suddenly? Dreary walk, so different from those of last week; the road hard and rough; had the highway quite to myself; in the distance of more than a mile, did not meet a living creature.
Another visit from the little kinglets—quite a party of them in the bushes beneath the windows.
Friday, 10th.—Thermometer only 6 above zero, at seven o'clock this morning. “Don't be concerned,” say the farmers, “we shall have our Indian summer yet!” One would like to feel sure of it; the very idea warms one such a day as this.
Saturday, 11th.—Very cold. The thermometer very near zero.
Monday, 13th.—Mild again. Yesterday, Sunday, there was another light fall of snow.
Tuesday, 14th.—Soft, mild day; but it has scarcely thawed out of the sunshine for the last week. Snow still lying on the ground, though very little of it; at no time has there been enough for sleighing.
Wednesday, 15th.—There is a strange story going about the
