It offered one more assurance, had I needed it, of the
degenerate state of the civilization upon which I was
turning my back.
On my way to the train I happened to run into a newspaper
reporter with whom I have some acquaintance.
"I'm just off," I said, "to New England to spend a month
naked--at least naked all but my union suit--in the woods;
no doubt you'll like a few details about it for your paper."
"Thanks, old man," he said, "we've pretty well given up
running that nature stuff. We couldn't do anything with
it--unless, of course, anything happens to you. Then we'd
be glad to give you some space."
Several of my friends had at least the decency to see me
off on the train. One, and one alone accompanied me on
the long night-ride to New England in order that he might
bring back my clothes, my watch, and other possessions
from the point where I should enter the woods, together
with such few messages of farewell as I might scribble
at the last moment.
It was early morning when we arrived at the wayside
station where we were to alight. From here we walked to
the edge of the woods. Arrived at this point we halted.
I took off my clothes, with the exception of my union
suit.
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