40 THE EXHILARATIONS OF THE ROAD. 



could not be closed or moved. The memory of man 

 ran not to the time when there was not a foot-path 

 there, and every pedestrian should have the right of 

 way there still. 



I remember the pleasure I had in the path that con- 

 nects Stratford-on-Avon with Shottery, Shakespeare's 

 path when he went courting Anne Hathaway. By 

 the king's highway the distance is some farther, so 

 there is a well-worn path along the hedgerows and 

 through the meadows and turnip-patches. The trav- 

 eler in it has the privilege of crossing the railroad 

 track, an unsual privilege in England, and one de- 

 nied to the lord in his carriage, who must either go 

 over or under it. (It is a privilege, is it not, to be 

 allowed the forbidden, even if it be the privilege of 

 being run over by the engine ?) In strolling over the 

 South Downs, too, I was delighted to find that where 

 the hill was steepest some benefactor of the order of 

 walkers had made notches in the sward, so that the 

 foot 'could bite the better and firmer ; the path became 

 a kind of stairway, which I have no doubt the plow- 

 man respected. 



When you see an English country church with- 

 drawn, secluded, out of the reach of wheels, standing 

 amid grassy graves and surrounded by noble trees, ap- 

 proached by paths and shaded lanes, you appreciate 

 more than ever this beautiful habit of the people. 

 Only a race that knows how to use its feet, and holds 

 foot-paths sacred, could put such a charm of privacy 

 and humility into such a structure. I think I should 



