Thoreau writes in his journal:
What more encouraging sight at the end of a long ramble than the endless successive patches of green bushes,—perhaps in some rocky pasture,—fairly blackenedwith the profusion of fresh and glossy berries? . . .
Thoreau writes in his journal:
What more encouraging sight at the end of a long ramble than the endless successive patches of green bushes,—perhaps in some rocky pasture,—fairly blackenedwith the profusion of fresh and glossy berries? . . .