journals indicate. Explanations and testimonies seemed to him an insult to friendship. He acknowledges this inability on his own part to resort to confessions and guarantees, a reserve due not to pride, he says, but to his assured faith that the true friends will understand without explanations, which merely cheapen a loving relationship. His friend's atmosphere must be fully in accord with his own or "it is no use to stay." The language of friendship must be, not in words, but in latent, constant affinity.
In spite of these somewhat nebulous visions of the poet, Thoreau in daily life, was one of the most generous, helpful friends. Channing said with truth,—"He was at the mercy of no caprice; of a reliable will and uncompromising sternness in his moral nature, he carried the same qualities into his relations with others, and gave them the best he had, without stint." His real value as a friend, as too often is the case, received the first, full recognition in his obituary notices. He had tried to apply his own ideals in his friendships; he had loved freely, unchangingly, as he loved God, "with no more danger that our love will be unrequited or ill-bestowed." In later life, however, he grieved over some criticisms and misunderstandings on the part of some earlier friends. Frequent references
