THE LIFE WORTH LIVING. I/I 



along that it was going to be a very hot day, 

 and that the country boys had the advantage 

 of their city brothers. Even that, the few 

 clerks to whom I spoke were inclined to dispute. 

 The country lad, they argued, had his troubles. 

 It was hot in the cornfield as well as on Grand 

 * Street, and while the dry-goods clerk could 

 retire into the depths of the shop, the farm lad 

 had to work away. I found no one inclined to 

 prefer the life of field work to which I looked 

 forward to that of the Grand Street dry-goods 

 shops. These young gentlemen would carry 

 nothing with them should they abandon the 

 shop and their equally empty-headed associ- 

 ates. Why should they give up the society 

 they knew for the utter solitude of a life on the 

 farm, or the bay? 



I have put some words of Thoreau's upon 

 the title-page of this book, and no one who 

 has taken the pains to dip into its pages can 

 have failed to see that I have read the famous 

 hermit of Walden Pond with persistency and 

 admiration. There has always been to me 

 something fascinating about this out-door ideal- 

 ist. I never have been, and probably never 

 shall be, a sympathizer with the view which 



