HENRY D. THOREAU 21 



He was no fair-weather walker. He delighted 

 in storms, and in frost and cold. They were con- 

 genial to him. They came home. "Yesterday's 

 rain," he begins an entry in his journal, "in which 

 I was glad to be drenched," etc. Again he says: 

 "I sometimes feel that I need to sit in a far-away 

 cave through a three weeks' storm, cold and wet, 

 to give a tone to my system." Another time: "A 

 long, soaking rain, the drops trickling down the 

 stubble, while I lay drenched on a last year's bed 

 of wild oats, by the side of some bare hUl, rumi- 

 nating." And this in March, too! He says, "To 

 get the value of a storm, we must be out a long 

 time and travel far in it, so that it may fairly pene- 

 trate our skin," etc. He rejoices greatly when, 

 on an expedition to Monadnock, he gets soaked 

 with rain and is made thoroughly uncomfortable. 

 It tastes good. It made him appreciate a roof and 

 a fire. The mountain gods were especially kind 

 and thoughtful to get up the storm. When they 

 saw himself and friend coming, they said: "There 

 come two of our folks. Let us get ready for them, 

 — get up a serious storm that will send a-packing 

 these holiday guests. Let us receive them with 

 true mountain hospitality, — kill the fatted cloud." 

 In his journal he says: "If the weather is thick 

 and stormy enough, if there is a good chance to be 

 cold and wet and uncomfortable, — in other words, 

 to feel weather-beaten, — you may consume the after- 

 noon to advantage, thus browsing along the edge of 

 some near wood, which would scarcely detain you 



