e
woods and stay there naked for a month."

"Oh, yes," he said. "I see. Well, good-bye, old chap--see you when you
get back."

After that I called upon two or three other men to say a brief word of
farewell. I could not help feeling slightly nettled, I must confess, at
the very casual way in which they seemed to take my announcement. "Oh,
yes," they said, "naked in the woods, eh? Well, ta-ta till you get
back."

Here was a man about to risk his life--for there was no denying
the fact--in a great sociological experiment, yet they received the
announcement with absolute unconcern. It offered one more assurance, had
I needed it, of the degenerate state of the civilization upon which I
was turning my back.

On my way to the train I happened to run into a newspaper reporter with
whom I have some acquaintance.

"I'm just off," I said, "to New England to spend a month naked--at least
naked all but my union suit--in the woods; no doubt you'll like a few
details about it for your paper."

"Thanks, old man," he said, "we've pretty well given up running that
nature stuff. We couldn't do anything with it--unless, of course,
anything happens to you. Then we'd be glad to give you some space."

Several of my friends had at least the decency to see me off on the
train. One, and one alone accompanied me on the long night-ride to New
England in order that he might bring back my clothes, my watch, and
other possessions from the point where I should enter the woods,
together with such few messages of farewell as I might scribble at the
last moment.

It was early morning when we arrived at the wayside station where we
were to alight. From here we walked to the edge of the woods. Arrived
at this point we halted. I took off my clothes, with the exception of
my union suit. Then, taking a pot of brown stain from my valise, I
proceeded to dye my face and hands and my union suit itself a deep
butternut brown.

"What's that for?" asked my friend.

"For protection," I answered. "Don't you know that all animals are
protected by their peculiar markings that render them invisible? The
caterpillar looks like the leaf it eats from; the scales of the fish
counterfeit the glistening water of the brook; the bear and the 'possum
are coloured like the tree-trunks on which they climb. There!" I added,
as I concluded my task. "I am now invisible."

"Gee!" said my friend.

I handed him back the valise and the empty paint-pot, dropped to my
han