He had many elegances of his own, whilst he scoffed at conventional elegance. Thus, he could not bear to hear the sound of his own steps, the grit of gravel; and therefore never willingly walked in the road, but in the grass, on mountains and in woods. His senses were acute, and he remarked that by night every dwelling-house gives out bad air, like a slaughter-house. He liked the pure fragrance of melilot. He honored certain plants with special regard, and, over all, the pond-lily,—then, the gentian, and the _Mikania scandens_, and “life-everlasting,” and a bass-tree which he visited every year when it bloomed, in the middle of July. He thought the scent a more oracular inquisition than the sight,—more oracular and trustworthy. The scent, of course, reveals what is concealed from the other senses. By it he detected earthiness. He delighted in echoes, and said they were almost the only kind of kindred voices that he heard. He loved Nature so well, was so happy in her solitude, that he became very jealous of cities, and the sad work which their refinements and artifices made with man and his dwelling. The axe was always destroying his forest. “Thank God,” he said, “they cannot cut down the clouds!” “All kinds of figures are drawn on the blue ground with this fibrous white paint.” I subjoin a few sentences taken from his unpublished manuscripts, not only as records of his thought and feeling, but for their power of description and literary excellence. “Some circumstantial evidence is very strong, as when you find a trout in the milk.” “The chub is a soft fish, and tastes like boiled brown paper salted.” “The youth gets together his materials to build a bridge to the moon, or, perchance, a palace or temple on the earth, and at length the middle-aged man concludes to built a wood-shed with them.” “The locust z-ing.” “Devil’s-needles zigzagging along the Nut-Meadow brook.” “Sugar is not so sweet to the palate as sound to the healthy ear.” “I put on some hemlock-boughs, and the rich salt crackling of their leaves was like mustard to the ear, the crackling of uncountable regiments. Dead trees love the fire.” “The bluebird carries the sky on his back.” “The tanager flies through the green foliage as if it would ignite the leaves.” “If I wish for a horse-hair for my compass-sight, I must go to the stable; but the hair-bird, with her sharp eyes, goes to the road.” “Immortal water, alive even to the superficies.” “Fire is the most tolerable third party.” “Nature made ferns for pure leaves, to show what she could do in that line.” “No tree has so fair a bole and so handsome an instep as the beech.” “How did these beautiful rainbow-tints get into the shell of the fresh-water clam, buried in the mud at the bottom of our dark river?” “Hard are the times when the infant’s shoes are second-foot.” “We are strictly confined to our men to whom we give liberty.”