“I thought Sandwich a beautiful, and Plymouth an interesting, town.  I would fain have gone off into some poetical quotation, such as ’The breaking waves dashed high’ or ‘The Pilgrim fathers, where are they?’ but K., who had been there before, desired me not to be absurd, but to step quietly on to the half-buried rock and quietly off.  Younger sisters know a deal, so I did as I was bidden to do, and it was just as well not to make myself hoarse without an appreciative audience.

“I liked the picture by Sargent in Pilgrim Hall, but seeing Plymouth on a mild, sunny day, with everything looking bright and pleasant, it was difficult to conceive of the landing of the Pilgrims as an event, or that the settling of such a charming spot required any heroism.

“The picture, of course, represents the dreariness of winter, and my feelings were moved by the chilled appearance of the little children, and the pathetic countenance of little Peregrine White, who, considering that he was born in the harbor, is wonderfully grown up before they are welcomed by Samoset.  According to history little Peregrine was born about December 6 and Samoset met them about March 16; so he was three months old, but he is plainly a forward child, for he looks up very knowingly.  Such a child had immortality thrust upon him from his birth.  It must have had a deadening influence upon him to know that he was a marked man whether he did anything worthy of mark or not.  He does not seem to have made any figure after his entrance into the world, though he must have created a great sensation when he came.

“October 17.  I have just gone over my comet computations again, and it is humiliating to perceive how very little more I know than I did seven years ago when I first did this kind of work.  To be sure, I have only once in the time computed a parabolic orbit; but it seems to me that I know no more in general.  I think I am a little better thinker, that I take things less upon trust, but at the same time I trust myself much less.  The world of learning is so broad, and the human soul is so limited in power!  We reach forth and strain every nerve, but we seize only a bit of the curtain that hides the infinite from us.

“Will it really unroll to us at some future time?  Aside from the gratification of the affections in another world, that of the intellect must be great if it is enlarged and its desires are the same.

“Nov. 24, 1854.  Yesterday James Freeman Clarke, the biographer of Margaret Fuller, came into the Atheneum.  It was plain that he came to see me and not the institution....  He rushed into talk at once, mostly on people, and asked me about my astronomical labors.  As it was a kind of flattery, I repaid it in kind by asking him about Margaret Fuller.  He said she did not strike any one as a person of intellect or as a student, for all her faculties were kept so much abreast that none had prominence.  I wanted to ask if she was a lovable person, but I did not think he would be an unbiassed judge, she was so much attached to him.