130 THE CLERK OF THE WOODS 



afield. He can hardly decide upon any 

 route ; " all seem so unpromising, mere sur- 

 face-walking and fronting the cold wind." 

 " Surface-walking." How excellent that is ! 

 Every contemplative outdoor man knows 

 what is meant, but only Thoreau could have 

 hit it off to such perfection in a word. 



I must admit that I am not sorry to find 

 the Walden stoic once in a long while over- 

 taken by such a comparatively unheroic mood. 

 He boasted so often and so well (with all 

 the rest he boasted of his boasting) that it 

 pleases me to hear him complain. So the 

 weather could be too much even for him, I 

 say to myself, with something like a chuckle. 

 He was mortal, after all ; and the day was 

 sometimes dark, even in Concord. 



Not that he ever whimpered. And had 

 he done so, in any moment of weakness, it 

 should never have been for me to lay a pub- 

 lic finger upon the fact. Nobody shall be 

 more loyal to Thoreau than I am, though 

 others may understand him better and praise 

 him more adequately. If he complained, he 

 did it " man-fashion," and was within a man's 

 right. To say that the worst of Massachu- 



