Why? Because he had a message for all of us that love Nature; and, while he seemed to some of the folks of his time to be nothing but a shiftless dreamer and a shy recluse, he was looking over the things in Nature with a very intelligent eye and he was writing down for our benefit a great deal of valuable information. And, more than that, he was a shrewd philosopher. He made clear to us that there were two ways of looking at things--one, ours, of looking at Nature from the outside, and the other, his, of looking from the midst of Nature outward at us. He set down in his notes a great many wise things that he had observed in us, viewing us from the standpoint of the wild woods, and speaking to us as an inspired denizen of the wilderness might do. Thoreau appraised his busy, industrious fellow men shrewdly and intelligently--and he appreciated them in his way; but he did not see why he should find a job among them and go to work every day, and put his savings in the bank, and be a citizen in his town, and run for office, or serve in any way in civic affairs. For that lack in him he was sharply criticized by some people. Well, it's too bad. I cannot find, however, that John Muir, John Burroughs, Galen Clark, or any of those wonderful old "Sequoia Men" have had the temper or the disposition to run for civic office or concern themselves about whether they were in the line of approved social advancement in any town or settlement. All they seemed to be concerned about was whether they were right with God and right with themselves, and were living the way that their health and reason dictated; whether they were finding the simple, fundamental truths of human life and nature, and reconciling them by holding close to the bosom of mother earth. The social problems of great cities did not interest them greatly. They knew mountains better than municipalities; they knew a country's trees and trails better than its treaties; they found their happiness in the solitude of the woods, their joy in the wilderness: their incense was the smell of the hemlock and pine and the odor of the smouldering campfire, not the scent of heated city hotels, theaters or music halls. * * * * * And while Thoreau was pronounced long ago an idle dreamer, it now seems that his life was a very active and productive one, for lo! here are many books written by one, Henry D. Thoreau, that thousands nowadays read eagerly and with loving appreciation. And where are the enduring products of the thrifty and worthy souls that found Thoreau wanting in his day? What have they done that interests the world now? Only this--they scolded Thoreau. By virtue of that they are immortalized. We don't remember their names or how many there were of them. They are simply recorded in history as having scolded Thoreau. We have no more concern about them. We have Thoreau. [Illustration: W.D. Moffat EDITOR] Thoreau at Walden Pond