“‘Genius,’ ses he, ‘is the blossom of inspiration.’
“‘I am beginning at long last,’ ses I, ‘to see some of the advantages of being a recluse. It makes a man think more than pleases those who disagree with him.’
“‘You are still a novice at philosophy,’ ses he, ‘and when you can understand why people won’t associate with others, you will know why they keep to themselves.’
“‘Oh,’ ses I, ‘I always want to be with my friends, and live as comfortably as I can. But evidently you don’t care where you live, or how you live.’
“‘Well,’ ses he, ‘I live in the present, the past, and the future, and though I dwell in a hut at the foot of the hills beyond, I am as happy as a cow in clover. And if all the water in the ocean was to be turned into whiskey, and if all the fish and the Sunday excursionists were to drink themselves to death, I don’t believe that ‘twould interfere with my comfort. I have all I want,’ ses he, ‘and I know it, and that’s the only time a man can be happy.’
“‘And why don’t you write a poem?’ ses I.
“‘I live one,’ ses he, ‘and that’s much better. I love the rustle of the leaves and every sound in the woods. All that grows and lives and dies interests and inspires me. And the only thing that makes me sad is that I am not a vegetarian. But,’ ses he, ‘I’d be one in the morning if I could get as much satisfaction from eating a handful of hazel-nuts, or a few skeeories or blackberries, as from feasting on a roast partridge.’
“‘And that,’ ses I, ‘just goes to prove that we would all be decent if our decency wouldn’t interfere with our happiness. Nevertheless, a man who can drift away from his fellow men and live alone in a wood must be the descendant of some ancient line of kings, or else he must be one of those highly civilized people we read about in books. Or perhaps a species of snob who cannot see the difference between his own foolishness and the foolishness of others. Such a one usually thinks he is better than his equals and his superiors as well.’
“‘Very often,’ ses he, ‘when nature makes one man better than another, he thinks ’tis his privilege to make others as bad as himself, so to speak. And to be a success, a man must be a snob of some kind, or else have no more brains than a herring.’
“‘Snobbery is the greatest of all virtues, because it makes us feel better than we are. Take the Protestants, for instance,’ ses I.