Addresses — Thoreau's Study in the Woods. 255 



one of the best productions. As he climbs the everlasting hills, 

 the eye and ear take in everything beautiful and pleasant. He 

 notes the breathing of the cricket, the lowing of the kine, the 

 trees, the flowers, the berries, clouds, animals, birds and their 

 habits, the stone with the lichen growing upon it, the shades of 

 night creeping over the valley and mountain, the calm, majestic 

 moonlight, with Saturn and Jupiter on either hand, the night birds' 

 song, and the camp fire's sparkle. Afterwards he notes the gray 

 of the morning, and the sun's majestic rising out of the sea. 

 Every moment seemed an inspiration to him. He saw more of na- 

 ture on that little excursion — that, perhaps, cost him no more than 

 a dime, for he made a supper of huckleberries and milk — than 

 thousands have seen in traversing half the globe. 



He had the poet's artistic eye and he gives us many charming 

 little pictures which are felt by us, if not seen. One that pleased 

 me much was of house cleaning. When his house was soiled he 

 took his household effects out of doors upon the grass; then 

 sprinkled white sand from the pond upon the floor, and with broom 

 in hand scoured it white and clean. He thought it very pleasant 

 to see his furniture out of doors under the trees. The bit of color, 

 like a Gypsy camp, delighted his artistic eye. He thought they 

 looked so much at home and familiar out of doors that he was 

 sometimes tempted to stretch an awning over them, and take a 

 seat among them. 



Another delightful picture was of his home in winter, when poet 

 and philosopher sat with him around his cheerful fire enjoying a 

 dish of gruel, talking the entire night away; their souls flowing 

 together in the same deep channel; " whichever way we turned," 

 he says, " it seemed that the heavens and the earth had met to- 

 gether, since he had enhanced the beauty of the landscape." 



Finally, we would say that we gladly and enthusiastically recom- 

 mend Thoreau's books to all lovers of the beautiful in nature, ex- 

 cept money makers, be they male or female, in city or town, or in 

 the beautiful country where entertainment of the heart should be 

 secondary to that of man. For in the country it is that the true 

 poems of life have been written from the beginning of time, and 

 will be to the end thereof. The world is better to-day for having 

 brought into life Henry D. Thoreau, this true friend of man and 

 lover of nature. He had his faults, as who has not, but he has 

 17— Hort. So. 



