246 DAYS OUT OF DOORS. 



dress ; but when the day's jaunt is over, if we return to 

 the house instead of camping out, every stitcli of such a 

 suit is a dead weight, and boots are little better than a ball 

 and chain. 



It is nothing but affectation to carry the ways of the 

 woods and marshes to the house. In early colonial days, 

 when cloth was scarce, it may have been necessary, but not 

 so now. The most enthusiastic rambler has no excuse for 

 bringing wet boots to the library andirons. In gown and 

 slippers he can prove the most delightful of companions, 

 but as a mud-bespattered mortal, indoors, is little less than 

 a nuisance. 



Such thoughts came well-nigh spoiling a recent out- 

 ing, and not until I had had my growl could I attempt 

 the narration of groping in a fog. 



It is a common practice to pronounce a rainy day a 

 dismal one, and to suppose all the world is of your way 

 of thinking. This is quite untrue, and the question of 

 clothing settled, a walk in a rain is really delightful. It 

 is quite practicable now, for weather-proof stuffs are 

 readily obtained that defy the rambler's arch enemy, rheu- 

 matism. 



Very recently a fog, a Scotch mist, and the ragged edge 

 of a northeast storm came arm in arm up the river, and 

 picnicked on the meadows. From the upland fields 

 nothing could be seen of the low-lying tract but the tops 

 of the tallest trees. So dense a fog I had never seen be- 

 fore. Previous to its arrival birds and insects had been 

 unusually abundant; now nothing was to be seen or 

 heard. This roused my curiosity, and I tested water- 

 proof clothing at the same time as I took a well-worn 

 path to the pasture meadow. When I left the last tree at 

 the foot of the hill I was completely at sea, so far as my 

 point of orientation was concerned. I might as well have 

 been on the bottom of the ocean. Instead of being caught 



