As I watched the beetles, those children of the sun, who, as divine Shelley says, "laden with light and odour, pass over the gleam of the living grass," I gained an Eden-glimpse of the pleasures of virtue.
'N.B.

Found the tramp drunk in a ditch.

I could not have degraded myself on such a day--ah! how could he?
'Tuesday, 22d .-- Barometer rapidly falling.

Heavy clouds in the south-east.

My heart sank into gloomy forebodings.