[Boston—Friday, 21 September 1866]
Friday. As I sat in the small study overlooking the bay and peering occasionally out into the mist asking myself how the rain was coming and if the sun was ever to appear, I saw appear suddenly through the thick white vapor “as if risen up to meet the moon” a schooner noiseless as a phantom with sails set and bound on some weird errand for nothing belonging to the commonsensible affairs of mortals could carry a schooner out over seas on such a day as this. I threw up the window and looked wonderingly upon the ghostly vessel. There she stood solemn and still. The air was hot there was no breath of east in it, the winds blew hot as from Sahara. Presently I saw a strange rainbow hue chiefly blue however on the mist, then suddenly the whole veil dissolved and gentle clouds rested in the west & the sky was clear above. July had returned. I dressed and went out, coming home refreshed, but mud-bespattered.
At night as we were watching the broken moonlight after dinner Lissie Bartol came running in fresh, buoyant, strong, full of vitality which she spends generously. Went early to bed for the heat filled us with lassitude.
