The Wanderer 1 1 



the most neglected means of locomotion. 

 You can at least divert some time in your 

 vacations and holidays to this ancient and 

 not ignoble business. Away from town, 

 care-free, with a handful of needed prop- 

 erty, and staff and scrip, every prospect is 

 new, every day an adventure. Whether 

 your way lead through the well-attended 

 farms of New England, the fat gardens of 

 the Middle States, the ocean-like prairie, 

 the chaos of the Bad Lands, the splendors 

 of the mountains, or the enervating palm 

 lands of the South, whether you plod be- 

 side Rhine, Rhone, or Hudson, under the 

 green arches of Lincoln, across the wild, 

 sour moors of Yorkshire, or through the 

 lonely glens of Wales and Scotland, your 

 seeing will be your own, your impressions 

 will be fresh, you will learn, you will rejoice. 

 Foreign travel is not necessary. You 

 can walk to your town's edge and pace 

 some miles of country road in the gloam- 

 ing. It is a meditative season, that, and 

 the experience is wholesome after the day's 

 business. And if it does not frighten you 

 when trees and bushes gather for a jump, 



