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An Experiment and a Suggestion. 



BY ROBERT CUNNINGHAM MILLER, BUT- 

 LER, PENNSYLVANIA. 



It is considered quite the thing nowa- 

 days to read and discuss a certain little 

 volume published under the title of 



"Walden." When Henry David Thor- 

 eau, pioneer of philosophical natural- 

 ists, wrote the book, no one would read 

 it, but scarcely had its misunderstood 

 and unappreciated author been hauled 

 away to the graveyard, when every 

 one began to read and praise the work 

 and pay tardy homage to the genius 

 who had lived and died in the midst of 

 them. An eminent authority has gone 

 so far as to say that we should read 

 "Walden" at least twice every year, in 

 order to maintain a healthful philoso- 

 phy of living, and keep our intellectual 

 vigor up to par. 



However, though we delve in Thor- 

 eau and read of his life, and study his 

 works and admire his philosophy, we 

 never do what he himself would have 

 wished. We fail to remember that he 

 was not writing merely to be read 

 and known of men, or to create for us 

 a momentary aesthetic enjoyment. He 

 conducted an experiment which to his 

 mind was successful and in "Walden" 

 he has left us a record of it, so that we 

 may go and do likewise. 



Two years ago in May, I concluded 

 to depart somewhat from my ordinary 

 habits of life, and to make an experi- 

 ment. I was at the time living in the 

 city, and it was necessary for me to be 

 there at least a part of nearly every day 

 yet in the face of these difficulties, I 

 set out to follow in the footsteps of 

 Thoreau ! 



After due search, I found a location 



which suited my purpose, an old or- 

 chard, uncared for and uncultivated, 

 long since given over to the possession 

 of birds and rabbits. Though an ideal 

 spot, it was only a few minutes' walk 

 from the car line, and indeed not so 

 far from the city but that I could walk 

 there readily when occasion required. 



It was only a few days until, with 

 the help of a small boy who furnished 

 me with some old tools and still more 

 ancient lumber, I had a shanty erected 

 in the shade of an apple tree and ready 

 for occupancy. At least I considered 

 it ready for occupancy, although there 

 was some room for improvement. 

 There were cracks an inch wide here 

 and there, the roof was far from water- 

 tight and there was no door. These 

 defects I intended to remedy one by 

 one, but one by one I concluded to 

 leave them so. I was not long in dis- 

 covering that the cracks served an im- 

 portant purpose, for through them I 

 could readily observe the birds which 

 frequented the bushes in the rear of the 

 shanty where I had no window. Thus 

 they became almost indispensable, and 

 I could not think of plastering them 

 up. I had a door which I intended to 

 put on hinges but, owing to circum- 

 stances which I will mention presently, 

 this intention was never fulfilled, and 

 my establishment was open to all com- 

 ers day and night. As the rain beat 

 in through the cracks and through the 

 open door, it was of little use to make 

 repairs on the roof; so when it rained, 

 I pulled an oilcloth blanket over my 

 bed and gave scant heed to the weath- 

 er. Thus, through shiftlessness or de- 

 sign, my life became even more primi- 

 tive than I had anticipated. 



The first night I slept upon a pair 



