some of them, notably the narrator, were afraid of water snakes and refused to go. Thoreau, who was often a visitor at the mill, chanced to be present and noted the common fear. He assured the boys that the snakes would not harm them, but they still demurred. Finally, he asked permission to have the water shut off, and found a snake three feet long; he picked it up, to the consternation of his audience and, holding it in his hand, showed the boys that the tail lacked any sting, that its head was so formed that it could not bite,—in fact, that this type of snake could do them no possible injury.
With characteristic reserve, he preferred to example rather than explain his theories and discoveries. He did not argue, but he interpreted. One of the resident pupils, whose admiration for John Thoreau, as mentioned, exceeded his liking for Henry, has related for my use an incident wherein Thoreau's refusal to explain seems almost culpable. He had just announced, regarding common manifestations in nature, that "everything was a miracle." The boy, who had been preparing some fish to fry and had thrown their heads into the garbage, with quizzical, but natural, interest, asked Thoreau if this recent act was a miracle. He received "Yes" for answer but was refused further
