A sultry night.

June 16.

Down railroad. 

Heat lightning in the horizon. A sultry night. 

A flute from some villager. How rare among men so  fit a thing as the sound of a flute at evening! 

The sonorous note of bullfrogs is heard a mile off in the river, the loudest sound this evening. Ever and anon the sound of his trombone comes over the meadows and fields, a-lulling all Concord to sleep. 

Have not the fireflies in the meadow relation to the stars above etincelant? When the darkness comes, we see stars beneath also.  Do not the stars, too, show their light for love, like the fireflies?

There are northern lights, shooting high up withal.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 16, 1852

Have not the fireflies in the meadow relation to the stars? See August 2, 1854 (“Shooting stars are but fireflies of the firmament.”)

A flute from some villager. How rare among men so fit a thing as the sound of a flute at evening! See  June 18, 1852 ("I hear a man playing a clarionet far off.  . . .  There is something glorious and flower-like in it. What a contrast this evening melody with the occupations of the day! It is perhaps the most admirable accomplishment of man."); June 25, 1852 (“Now his day's work is done, the laborer plays his flute, — only possible at this hour. Contrasted with his work, what an accomplishment! . . . He plays some well-known march. But the music is not in the tune; it is in the sound.”);   August 3, 1852  ("I hear the sound of a distant piano. . . .  By some fortunate coincidence of thought or circumstance I am attuned to the universe ...")