tiful, and which makes
Americans glad that almost every bit of his work has stayed in this
country.

HENRY DAVID THOREAU

Concord, Massachusetts, is one of the New England towns that everybody
likes to visit. When tourists reach Boston they usually make a point of
going to Concord, either by electric or steam train, because they have
read about its famous battle ground, where the first British soldiers
fell in the great Revolutionary War, and because they want to see the
very house in which Louisa May Alcott wrote _Little Women_, and the
homes of Hawthorne, Emerson, and Thoreau.

Henry Thoreau, who was born in Concord, loved the town so well that he
spent most of his life tramping through its fields and forests. You
might say the business of his life was walking, for he never had any
real profession, and he walked from four to eight hours a day--across
lots, too. He used to say roads were made for horses and business men.
"Why, what would become of us," he would ask, "if we walked only in a
garden or a mall? What should we see?"

When Mr. Thoreau started out for a long saunter in the woods, he wore a
wide-brimmed straw hat, stout shoes, and strong gray trousers that would
not show spots too easily, and would stand tree-climbing. Under his arm
he usually carried an old music book in which to press plants, and in
his pocket he kept a pencil, his diary, a microscope, a jack-knife, and
a ball of twine. He and a friend, William Ellery Channing, agreed that a
week's camping was more fun than all the books in the world. Once they
tried tramping and camping in Canada. They wore overalls most of the
time, and wishing not to be bothered with trunks or suitcases, they tied
a few changes of clothing in bundles, and each man took an umbrella.
They called themselves "Knights of the Umbrella and Bundle."

The Thoreaus were rather a prominent family in Concord. There were six
of them, all told. The father, Mr. John Thoreau, was a pencil-maker. A
hundred years ago this was a trade that brought good money. Mr. Thoreau
could turn out a great many pencils because all the children helped him
make them. He was a small man, quite deaf, and very shy. He did not talk
much. But his wife, Mrs. Cynthia Thoreau, who was half a head taller
than he, could, and did, talk enough for both. She was handsome,
wide-awake, and had a strong, sweet, singing voice. She took part in all
the merry-makings and also in all the church affairs in Concor