his day, on my part, will have been spent without exchanging a
syllable with any human being, unless something unforeseen should yet
call for the exercise of speech before bedtime.

* * * * *

_Monday, April 10._--I sat till eight o'clock, meditating upon this
world and the next,... and sometimes dimly shaping out scenes of a tale.
Then betook myself to the German phrase-book. Ah! these are but dreary
evenings. The lamp would not brighten my spirits, though it was duly
filled.... This forenoon was spent in scribbling, by no means to my
satisfaction, until past eleven, when I went to the village. Nothing in
our box at the post-office. I read during the customary hour, or more,
at the Athenaeum, and returned without saying a word to mortal. I
gathered from some conversation that I heard, that a son of Adam is to
be buried this afternoon from the meeting-house; but the name of the
deceased escaped me. It is no great matter, so it be but written in the
Book of Life.

My variegated face looks somewhat more human to-day; though I was
unaffectedly ashamed to meet anybody's gaze, and therefore turned my
back or my shoulder as much as possible upon the world. At dinner,
behold an immense joint of roast veal! I would willingly have had some
assistance in the discussion of this great piece of calf. I am ashamed
to eat alone; it becomes the mere gratification of animal appetite,--the
tribute which we are compelled to pay to our grosser nature; whereas in
the company of another it is refined and moralized and spiritualized;
and over our earthly victuals (or rather _vittles_, for the former is a
very foolish mode of spelling),--over our earthly vittles is diffused a
sauce of lofty and gentle thoughts, and tough meat is mollified with
tender feelings. But oh! these solitary meals are the dismallest part of
my present experience. When the company rose from table, they all, in my
single person, ascended to the study, and employed themselves in reading
the article on Oregon in the Democratic Review. Then they plodded onward
in the rugged and bewildering depths of Tieck's tale until five o'clock,
when, with one accord, they went out to split wood. This has been a gray
day, with now and then a sprinkling of snow-flakes through the air....
To-day no more than yesterday have I spoken a word to mortal.... It is
now sunset, and I must meditate till dark.

* * * * *

_April 11._