AN OLD ROAD. 



Methinks here one may, without much molestation, be 

 thinking what he is, whence he came, what he has done, 

 and to what the King has called him. BUNTAN. 



I FALL in with persons, now and then, 

 who profess to care nothing for a path when 

 walking in the woods. They do not choose 

 to travel in other people's footsteps, nay, 

 nor even in their own, but count it their 

 mission to lay out a new road every time 

 they go afield. They are welcome to their 

 freak. My own genius for adventure is less 

 highly developed ; and, to be frank, I have 

 never learned to look upon affectation and 

 whim as synonymous with originality. In 

 my eyes, it is nothing against a hill that 

 other men have climbed it before me ; and 

 if their feet have worn a trail, so much the 

 better. I not only reach the summit more 

 easily, but have company on the way, 

 company none the less to my mind, per- 

 haps, for being silent and invisible. It is 



