MOTOR CAR HOUSE BUILT OF ONE PIECE OF REDWOOD 



WEIGHING THREE TONS 



BY ROBERT H. MOULTON 



HERE is the story of the modern tree man. He 

 lives in the trunk of a huge redwood tree on top 

 of a motor truck. Not only one man, but his wife 

 and his chauffeur live there. Most of us are key-ring 

 persons, this man says, and are afraid to leave our 

 houses unlocked, but he has set out to be different. 

 Hence his remakable automobile, which he built him- 

 self, and which has no counterpart in this or any other 

 country. 



Charles Kellogg was born in a little log cabin in the 

 Redwood Country, a land of big trees, tall and straight, 



open for nine months of the year ever since. 



Do we hear any objection to the meatless days ? The 

 animals, birds and fish were all such friends of Mr. 

 Kellogg that he has had over 17,500 meatless days ; not 

 only meatless days, but in the whole of his life he has 

 never tasted fish, flesh or fowl of any kind. 



When he grew older he began to travel and became a 

 naturalist. He roamed from Alaska to Africa, through 

 France and Switzerland and the islands of the sea. The 

 out-of-the-way places of the globe are to him what 

 Broadway is to the New Yorker. He travelled with 



THE LAST WORD IN LUXURY AND INGENIOUSNESS-A PRIVATE PULLMAN BUILT OF SOLID REDWOOD 



The habitat of the modern tree roan. The idea of a man who was born and bred in the wonderful redwood country who has known and loved 

 these trees all his life and who decided to build himself a home in the heart of one of them. 



with cathedral aisles through them, lit by shafts of 

 sunlight. At his birth his mother died, and for two years 

 he was carried around by an Indian squaw, who strapped 

 him on her back and took him wherever the Indians 

 went, and so he grew up with the Digger Indians in 

 California. A huge, hollow, redwood tree was his play- 

 house. He learned to know all the beasts, birds and 

 creeping things of the forests, and they became his 

 friends. The ground was his bed. He has lived in the 



52S 



John Burroughs through the East Indies. John Muir 

 was one of his best friends. 



The man himself is like a breath of the wind. He 

 comes into the room bringing the air of tall trees and 

 the spaceless deserts with him. He is strong and broad, 

 with keen, far-seeing blue eyes and a humorous mouth. 

 He wears a rough tweed suit, a soft gray flannel shirt 

 and a gray silk tie. In the city he wears shoes, but for 

 the nine months of the year that he is tramping through 



