238 Clear Skies and Cloudy. 



newness thereof chance to see me coming, walk 

 on the other side of the road. Do not seek, 

 but shun me. I am too happy to be disturbed. 

 Do not talk to me about coats fitting as 

 neatly to the body as the bark of a beech-tree 

 to the trunk thereof. My skin does that, and 

 what I ask for in a coat is the loose and careless 

 hang of the lichens that find lodgement on the 

 beech's bark, or the moss that rests lightly at 

 the roots of the tree. There is a fine old sassa- 

 fras that stands before me whenever, at home, I 

 turn eastward, going out of doors. From top 

 to toe it is draped with a creeping vine that 

 hangs in graceful folds ; the tree a noble Ro- 

 man, with an artistic toga. That tree tells me 

 daily how desirable is flexibility in clothing, and 

 yet I am urged and sometimes submit to an 

 unyielding collar that tortures my neck, and box 

 in my wrists as if every bone was broken and 

 needed artificial support. It is bad enough to 

 be really injured and have to be boxed up and 

 braced until the bones are knitted and strong 

 again, but to imitate all this and to be be-col- 

 lared, be-cuffed, and be-bosomed by a laundry- 

 man and then smile and be happy is really 



