picnic. It is they who have strewn the Adirondacks with paper
collars and tin cans. The real enjoyment of camping and tramping in the
woods lies in a return to primitive conditions of lodging, dress,
and food, in as total an escape as may be from the requirements of
civilization. And it remains to be explained why this is enjoyed most by
those who are most highly civilized. It is wonderful to see how easily
the restraints of society fall off. Of course it is not true that
courtesy depends upon clothes with the best people; but, with others,
behavior hangs almost entirely upon dress. Many good habits are easily
got rid of in the woods. Doubt sometimes seems to be felt whether Sunday
is a legal holiday there. It becomes a question of casuistry with a
clergyman whether he may shoot at a mark on Sunday, if none of his
congregation are present. He intends no harm: he only gratifies a
curiosity to see if he can hit the mark. Where shall he draw the line?
Doubtless he might throw a stone at a chipmunk, or shout at a loon.
Might he fire at a mark with an air-gun that makes no noise? He will not
fish or hunt on Sunday (although he is no more likely to catch anything
that day than on any other); but may he eat trout that the guide has
caught on Sunday, if the guide swears he caught them Saturday night? Is
there such a thing as a vacation in religion? How much of our virtue do
we owe to inherited habits?

I am not at all sure whether this desire to camp outside of civilization
is creditable to human nature, or otherwise. We hear sometimes that the
Turk has been merely camping for four centuries in Europe. I suspect
that many of us are, after all, really camping temporarily in civilized
conditions; and that going into the wilderness is an escape, longed for,
into our natural and preferred state. Consider what this "camping out"
is, that is confessedly so agreeable to people most delicately reared. I
have no desire to exaggerate its delights.

The Adirondack wilderness is essentially unbroken. A few bad roads that
penetrate it, a few jolting wagons that traverse them, a few barn-like
boarding-houses on the edge of the forest, where the boarders are
soothed by patent coffee, and stimulated to unnatural gayety by Japan
tea, and experimented on by unique cookery, do little to destroy the
savage fascination of the region. In half an hour, at any point, one can
put himself into solitude and every desirable discomfort. The party that
co