[Plymouth—Friday, 26 June 1868]
June 26. Plymouth. Perfect June has at last come to us, and this place which Whittier calls the loveliest village in New England is full of summer sights and sounds. The mountains are faint upon the sky becoming only a little deeper blue than the heavens themselves. We dream here of those we love and waking learn to live and love the more.
Drove to Campton in the afternoon and returned at night. The weather has all of June’s perfection at last and the mountain-views were veiled in blue haze making rocks, pure ether. Moonlight.
