A WEEK ON WALDEN'S RIDGE. 141 



custom is nowhere more powerful than in 

 small rustic communities. If a native, led 

 away by his wife, perhaps, puts a window 

 into his new cabin, the neighbors say, " Oh, 

 he is building a glass house, is n't he?" 

 It must be an effeminate woman, they think, 

 who cannot do her cooking and sewing by 

 the light of the door. None the less, in a 

 climate where snow is possible in the middle 

 of May, such a Spartan arrangement must 

 sometimes be found a bit uncomfortable by 

 persons not to the manner born. A preacher 

 confided to me that in his pastoral calls he 

 had once or twice made bold to push to a 

 door directly at his back, when the wind 

 was cold ; but the innovation was ill received, 

 and the inmates of the house, doubtless 

 without wishing to hurt their minister's feel- 

 ings, — since he had meant no harm, to be 

 sure, but was simply unused to the ways of 

 the world, — speedily found some excuse for 

 rectifying his mistake. Probably there is 

 no corner of the world where the question 

 of fresh air and draughts is not available 

 for purposes of moral discipline. 



Beside the path to the cabin, on the 13th 

 of May, was a gray-cheeked thrush, a very 



