erty, but rather, having riches at their hands, or for the
very asking, that they chose poverty as the better way of life.

As for me, I do not in the least pretend to have accepted the final
logic of an achieved poverty. I have merely abolished temporarily from
my life a few hens and cows, a comfortable old farmhouse, and--certain
other emoluments and hereditaments--but remain the slave of sundry cloth
upon my back and sundry articles in my gray bag--including a fat pocket
volume or so, and a tin whistle. Let them pass now. To-morrow I may wish
to attempt life with still less. I might survive without my battered
copy of "Montaigne" or even submit to existence without that sense
of distant companionship symbolized by a postage-stamp, and as for
trousers--

In this deceptive world, how difficult of attainment is perfection!

No, I expect I shall continue for a long time to owe the worm his silk,
the beast his hide, the sheep his wool, and the cat his perfume! What
I am seeking is something as simple and as quiet as the trees or the
hills--just to look out around me at the pleasant countryside, to enjoy
a little of this show, to meet (and to help a little if I may) a few
human beings, and thus to get nearly into the sweet kernel of human
life. My friend, you may or may not think this a worthy object; if
you do not, stop here, go no further with me; but if you do, why, we'll
exchange great words on the road; we'll look up at the sky together,
we'll see and hear the finest things in this world! We'll enjoy the sun!
We'll live light in spring!

Until last Tuesday, then, I was carried easily and comfortably onward
by the corn, the eggs, and the honey of my past labours, and before
Wednesday noon I began to experience in certain vital centres
recognizable symptoms of a variety of discomfort anciently familiar to
man. And it was all the sharper because I did not know how or where I
could assuage it. In all my life, in spite of various ups and downs in
a fat world, I don't think I was ever before genuinely hungry. Oh, I've
been hungry in a reasonable, civilized way, but I have always known
where in an hour or so I could get all I wanted to eat--a condition
accountable, in this world, I am convinced, for no end of stupidity. But
to be both physically and, let us say, psychologically hungry, and not
to know where or how to get anything to eat, adds something to the zest
of life.

By noon on Wednesday, then, I was reduced quit