44 THK EXHILARATIONS OF THE ROAD. 



would otherwise miss, but that I should come into re- 

 lations with that country at first hand, and with the 

 men and women in it, in a way that would afford the 

 deepest satisfaction. Hence I envy the good fortune 

 of all walkers, and feel like joining myself to every 

 tramp that comes along. I am jealous of the clergy- 

 man I read about the other day who footed it from 

 Edinburgh to London, as poor Effie Deans did, car- 

 rying her shoes in her hand most of the way, and 

 over the ground that rugged Ben Jonson strode, 

 larking it to Scotland, so long ago. I read with long- 

 ing of the pedestrian feats of college youths, so gay 

 and light-hearted, with their coarse shoes on their feet 

 and their knapsacks on their backs. It would have 

 been a good draught of the rugged cup to have 

 walked with Wilson the ornithologist, deserted by 

 his companions, from Niagara to Philadelphia through 

 the snows of winter. I almost wish that I had been 

 born to the career of a German mechanic, that I 

 might have had that delicious adventurous year of 

 wandering over my country before I settled down to 

 work. I think how much richer and firmer grained 

 life would be to me if I could journey afoot through 

 Florida and Texas, or follow the windings of the 

 Platte or the Yellowstone, or stroll through Oregon, 

 or browse for a season about Canada. In the bright 

 inspiring days of autumn I only want the time and 

 the companion to walk back to the natal spot, the 

 family nest, across two States and into the mountains 

 of a third. What adventures we would have by the 



