I Wandering in Germany 1 3 



and his brothers lingered over the pages of these 

 enchanting books ; never recalled with more en- 

 thusiasm the brave deeds of Bernardo del Carpro 

 and Rinaldo de Montalban than they recalled 

 Anson's capture of the Manilla galleon, and Mor- 

 gan's march on Panama. 



George Kingsley's desire to travel only grew 

 stronger and stronger in the gloomy atmosphere of 

 Chelsea. Amid the moors and the combes of the 

 beautiful West Country, he had spent his childhood 

 in an actual world that was at least half suited to 

 his nature. Taken from this and placed in a dismal 

 London suburb, as Chelsea was then, he was forced 

 to build for himself an ideal world of his own, 

 longing passionately the while for the coming of the 

 days when something like that world would stand 

 around him in firm reality. 



While he was a schoolboy this desire to roam 

 had, of course, to remain unsatisfied, though during 

 the holidays he might breathe once more the air 

 of his beloved Devon, catch trout in the Taw, the 

 Torridge, and the Lynn, and go out now and again 

 in the herring-boats with his old friends the Clovelly 

 fishermen. But as time went on George Kingsley 

 decided to follow medicine as a profession, and then 

 as soon as ever the term's work was over at the hos- 

 pital, he shouldered a knapsack, thrust a sketch-book 

 into his pocket, and was off for a long ramble 

 in Germany or Switzerland or Austria, through the 

 Rhineland or through the Thiiringen Wald, the 



