*setts weather is never to be spoken against

is to say too much; it is stretching the doctrine of non-resistance to the point of absurdity. As well forbid us to carry umbrellas, or to put up lightning-rods. There is plenty of weather that deserves to be spoken against.

Only let it be done, as I say, "manfashion;" and having said our say, let us go about our business again, making the best of things as they are—as Thoreau did. For, having owned his disrelish for what the gods provided, he quickly recovered himself, and proceeded to finish his entry in a cheerier strain. Matters are not so desperate with him, after all. He has to force himself out of doors, it is true, but once in the woods he often finds himself "unexpectedly compensated." "The thinnest yellow light of November is more warming and exhilarating than any wine they tell of." He meets with something that interests him, and immediately the day is as warm as July—as if the wind had shifted from northwest to south. There is the secret, in November as in May—to be interested. Then there is no longer