It is low in the east. The head
shows about as big as an ordinary good-sized saucer--is a perfectly
round and defined disk--the tail some sixty or seventy feet--not a
stripe, but quite broad, and gradually expanding. Impress'd with the
silent, inexplicably emotional sight, I linger and look till all
begins to weaken in the break of day.
_October 2_.--The third day of mellow, delicious, sunshiny weather.
I am writing this in the recesses of the old woods, my seat on a
big pine log, my back against a tree. Am down here a few days for a
change, to bask in the Autumn sun, to idle lusciously and simply, and
to eat hearty meals, especially my breakfast. Warm mid-days--the other
hours of the twenty-four delightfully fresh and mild--cool evenings,
and early mornings perfect. The scent of the woods, and the peculiar
aroma of a great yet unreap'd maize-field near by--the white
butterflies in every direction by day--the golden-rod, the wild
asters, and sunflowers--the song of the katydid all night.
Every day in Cooper's Woods, enjoying simple existence and the
passing hours--taking short walks--exercising arms and chest with the
saplings, or my voice with army songs or recitations. A perfect week
for weather; seven continuous days bright and dry and cool and
sunny. The nights splendid, with full moon--about 10 the grandest
of star-shows up in the east and south, Jupiter, Saturn, Capella,
Aldebaran, and great Orion. Am feeling pretty well--am outdoors most
of the time, absorbing the days and nights all I can.
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