BENSON DISCOURSES OF TIIE WOODS. 13 



'" Stop! stop! nw dear fellow, I suppose you mean by all 

 this to tell me I'll eiijo)' the trip, and so I d«>ul>tl<-^s ^Imll if 

 I go, and if I should survive all ilshardshi})-. 



"I mean to say," said Benson, earnestly, ''that to a man 

 whose life is chiefly within four l)rick walls, and whose 

 every breath takes up some part of the street and its tilth, 

 whose daily work is such that his body and health are a 

 daily sacritice to the necessities of sedentary life, — to such a 

 man there is nothing in the whole range of remedial agents 

 to make him so sound and strong and well and in so short a 

 time, like the two or three weeks he can spare for a trii> in 

 llie \voods. And I want you to go with me! I've set my 

 heart on it. There's a good party of us and I'll take care that 

 the hardsliips shan't InuM you. You'll have to tight your 

 own mosquitoes. ;aul bear the pi'tly annoyances of camp 

 life; ]>ul as for a man's dying in the woods of dyspepsia or 

 biliousness for want of a drug .store or a doctor," — and he 

 threw his head l)ack Avith an explosion of laughter — "that's 

 the ver}' latest objection to the woods I ever heard! " 



I felt that I was answered, and uttered not a word in 

 reply, except to .say. '• Well, so be it. — I'll go! '' 



Thus it came to pass that I, .somewhat below theavL-rage 

 in health and strength at the time, and really needing the 

 remedy my friend proposed, without any f(»rethought or 

 planning of my own. was booked for nu' lir.st excursion to 

 the Xorthern Wilderness of New York. When a boy. :i 

 fowling piece and a I'od were my ciiief delight, and my 

 c-hoieest recreations were in llic " wood lots" and along the 

 streams of mv father's and adjoining farms; and a gun 



