THE SPIRIT OF THE WOODS 117 



dispensable. You steal in, just within the 

 green walls, quietly, disturbing nothing, tak- 

 ing a seat in reverent silence and remaining 

 so. In a few moments life goes on as before, 

 and you begin to feel the spirit of the woods. 

 A certain awe creeps over you : you could not 

 break the silence with your voice ; you dread 

 to snap a twig, or make the human presence 

 felt in any way. You feel that you could sit 

 there forever but for this pampered human 

 body which in spite of all the philosophy 

 you can muster, in spite of Emerson's com- 

 forting verse, 



" For who defends our leafy tabernacles 

 From bold intrusions of the traveling crowd, 

 Who but the midge, mosquito, and the fly, 

 Which past endurance sting the tender cit," 



which you know is true, will resent the 

 onslaughts of mosquitoes and ants, rebel 

 at an uncomfortable seat, and insists upon 

 some unattainable thing for its ease. So that 

 after a few hours only you are forced to 

 drag yourself away from your Elysium and 

 return to human dwellings. If one could 

 only free oneself from these imperative de- 

 mands of the flesh, what bliss, what inspire- 



