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September 6, '09. Dear Sequoia Sempervirens: I have just been reading your chapter on the Forests of Yosemite, and have
been in the Mariposa grove with you and Emerson, even if we didn't get there last May. I felt something of your own disappointment
that you and the Big Trees could not have had your way and had Emerson for one memorable night under the trees and stars.
How you made me see him as he lingered behind the others and waved goodbye to you from the top of Wawona ridge The tears came
to my eyes as he disappeared, and a lump in my throat at your loneliness when you went back to the grove and made ready your
bed and your campfire.. But a laugh soon came as I read that the trees had not gone to Boston, nor the birds. If Emerson
is a Sequoia gigantea, you are the sempervirens. Henceforth I shall think of you under that name. Yesterday I read your charming
description of the water ouzel, and felt like blessing its little heart for cheering you in all your lonely wanderings.You
know you don't have to pay any attention to my notes, except to read them if you feel like it; but unless it annoys you I
should like to write to you once in a while when the mood comes over me. Always affectionately yours, Clara B arrus