;
his quaint talk bored them. It was true that, at this period, Phelps
had lost something of the activity of his youth; and the habit
of contemplative sitting on a log and talking increased with the
infirmities induced by the hard life of the woodsman. Perhaps he would
rather talk, either about the woods-life or the various problems of
existence, than cut wood, or busy himself in the drudgery of the camp.
His critics went so far as to say, "Old Phelps is a fraud." They would
have said the same of Socrates. Xantippe, who never appreciated the
world in which Socrates lived, thought he was lazy. Probably Socrates
could cook no better than Old Phelps, and no doubt went "gumming" about
Athens with very little care of what was in the pot for dinner.

If the summer visitors measured Old Phelps, he also measured them by
his own standards. He used to write out what he called "short-faced
descriptions" of his comrades in the woods, which were never so
flattering as true. It was curious to see how the various qualities
which are esteemed in society appeared in his eyes, looked at merely
in their relation to the limited world he knew, and judged by their
adaptation to the primitive life. It was a much subtler comparison than
that of the ordinary guide, who rates his traveler by his ability to
endure on a march, to carry a pack, use an oar, hit a mark, or sing
a song. Phelps brought his people to a test of their naturalness and
sincerity, tried by contact with the verities of the woods. If a person
failed to appreciate the woods, Phelps had no opinion of him or his
culture; and yet, although he was perfectly satisfied with his own
philosophy of life, worked out by close observation of nature and study
of the Tri-bune, he was always eager for converse with superior minds,
with those who had the advantage of travel and much reading, and, above
all, with those who had any original "speckerlation." Of all the society
he was ever permitted to enjoy, I think he prized most that of Dr.
Bushnell. The doctor enjoyed the quaint and first-hand observations of
the old woodsman, and Phelps found new worlds open to him in the wide
ranges of the doctor's mind. They talked by the hour upon all sorts
of themes, the growth of the tree, the habits of wild animals, the
migration of seeds, the succession of oak and pine, not to mention
theology, and the mysteries of the supernatural.

I recall the bearing of Old Phelps, when, several years ago, he
con