2 P.M.—Thermometer 51; wind easterly, blowing slightly. To Everett’s Spring.

  Going along the Turnpike, I look over to the pitch pines on Moore’s hillside,—ground bare as it has been since February 23, except a slight whitening or two,—and it strikes me that this pine, take the year round, is the most cheerful tree and most living to look at and have about your house, it is so sunny and full of light, in harmony with the yellow sand there and the spring sun . . .