t his frugality which is worthy of note; for, to begin with, that was
inborn, and therefore inimitable by others who are differently
constituted; and again, it was no new thing, but has often been equalled
by poor Scotch students at the universities. The point is the sanity of
his view of life, and the insight with which he recognised the position
of money, and thought out for himself the problem of riches and a
livelihood. Apart from his eccentricities, he had perceived, and was
acting on, a truth of universal application. For money enters in two
different characters into the scheme of life. A certain amount, varying
with the number and empire of our desires, is a true necessary to each
one of us in the present order of society; but beyond that amount, money
is a commodity to be bought or not to be bought, a luxury in which we
may either indulge or stint ourselves, like any other. And there are
many luxuries that we may legitimately prefer to it, such as a grateful
conscience, a country life, or the woman of our inclination. Trite,
flat, and obvious as this conclusion may appear, we have only to look
round us in society to see how scantily it has been recognised; and
perhaps even ourselves, after a little reflection, may decide to spend a
trifle less for money, and indulge ourselves a trifle more in the
article of freedom.

III

"To have done anything by which you earned money merely," says Thoreau,
"is to be" (have been, he means) "idle and worse." There are two
passages in his letters, both, oddly enough, relating to firewood, which
must be brought together to be rightly understood. So taken, they
contain between them the marrow of all good sense on the subject of work
in its relation to something broader than mere livelihood. Here is the
first: "I suppose I have burned up a good-sized tree to-night--and for
what? I settled with Mr. Tarbell for it the other day; but that wasn't
the final settlement. I got off cheaply from him. At last one will say:
'Let us see, how much wood did you burn, sir?' And I shall shudder to
think that the next question will be, 'What did you do while you were
warm?'" Even after we have settled with Admetus in the person of Mr.
Tarbell, there comes, you see, a further question. It is not enough to
have earned our livelihood. Either the earning itself should have been
serviceable to mankind, or something else must follow. To live is
sometimes very difficult, but it is never meritorious i