A Year in Thoreau's Journal by Henry David Thoreau

Author:Henry David Thoreau
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group

Aug 20th

2 PM. To Lees bridge via Hubbards wood Potters field–Conantum–returning by Abel Minot’s House–Clematis brook–Baker’s Pine plain & rail road.

I hear a cricket in the depot field–walk a rod or two and find the note proceeds from near a rock–Partly under a rock between it & the roots of the grass he lies concealed–for I pull away the withered grass with my hands–uttering his night–like creak with a vibratory motion of his wings & flattering himself that it is night because he has shut out the day–He was a black fellow nearly an inch long with two long slender feelers They plainly avoid the light & hide their heads in the grass–at any rate they regard this as the evening of the year–They are remarkable secret & unobserved considering how much noise they make–Every milkman has heard them all his life–it is the sound that fills his ears as he drives along–but what one has ever got off his cart to go in search of one? I see smaller ones moving stealthily about whose note I do not know Who ever distinguished their various notes? which fill the crevices in each others song–It would be a curious ear indeed that distinguished the species of the crickets which it heard–& traced even the earth song home each part to its particular performer I am afraid to be so knowing. They are shy as birds, these little bodies, Those nearest me continually cease their song as I walk so that the singers are always a rod distant–& I cannot easily detect one–It is difficult moreover to judge correctly whence the sound proceeds. Perhaps this wariness is necessary to save them from insectevorous birds–which would other wise speedily find out so loud a singer–They are somewhat protected by the universalness of the sound each ones song being merged and lost in the general concert–as if it were the creaking of earth’s axle. They are very numerous in oats & other grain which conceals them & yet affords a clear passage–I never knew any drought or sickness so to prevail as to quench the song of the crickets–it fails not in its season night or day.

The lobelia inflata Ind. Tobacco meets me at every turn–At first I suspect some new bluish flower in the grass, but stooping see the inflated pods–tasting one such herb convinces me that there are such things as drugs–which may either kill or cure

The rhexia Virginica is a showy flower at present.

How copious & precise the botanical language to describe the leaves, as well as the other parts of a plant. Botany is worth studying if only for the precision of its terms–to learn the value of words & of system. It is wonderful how much pains has been taken to describe a flowers leaf–, compared for instance with the care that is taken in describing a psychological fact. Suppose as much ingenuity (perhaps it would be needless) in in making a language to express the sentiments, We are armed with language adequate to describe each leaf in the field.

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