Thoreau writes in his journal:
This afternoon the air was indescribably clear and exhilarating, and though the thermometer would have shown it to be cold, I thought that there was a finer and purer warmth than in summer; a wholesome, intellectual warmth, in which the body was warmed by the mind’s contentment. The warmth was hardly sensuous, but rather the satisfaction of existence. I found Fair Haven skimmed entirely over, though the stones which I threw down on it from the high bank on the east broke through. Yet the river was open… I saw a muskrat come out of a hole in the ice.
Ralph Waldo Emerson pays Thoreau $1.50 for surveys (Ralph Waldo Emerson’s account books. Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.).