OLD ROADS. 351 



which have been dressed by the hand of art. A part 

 of their charm arises, undoubtedly, from their associa- 

 tion in our minds with the simplicity of life that once 

 prevailed among our rural population. But this is not 

 all. I believe it arises chiefly from the almost entire ab- 

 sence of decoration, save that which Nature has planted 

 with her own hands. Wherever we see a profusion of 

 embellishments introduced by art, though they consist 

 wholly of natural objects, we no longer feel the presence 

 of Nature's highest charm. Something very analogous 

 to sunshine is shut out. The rural deities do not dwell 

 there, and cannot inspire us with a fulness of satisfac- 

 tion. It is difficult to explain the cause ; but when I 

 am rambling the fields or travelling over one of these 

 old roads with that sort of quiet rapture with which 

 we drift along in a boat down a narrow stream through 

 the green woods in summer, the very first highly arti- 

 ficial object I encounter which bears evidence of being 

 put up for exhibition dissolves the spell, and I feel, all 

 at once, as if I had stepped out of Paradise into the 

 land of worldlings and vanity. 



The beauty of our old roads does not consist in their 

 crookedness, though it cannot be denied that this qual- 

 ity destroys their monotony and adds variety to our 

 prospect by constantly changing our position. Neither 

 does their beauty consist in their narrowness, though it 

 will be admitted that this condition renders them more 

 interesting by bringing their bushy sidewalks nearer to- 

 gether. Their principal charm comes from the character 

 of their roadsides, now overgrown with all that blended 

 variety of herbs and shrubbery which we encounter in 

 a wild pasture. We hear a great deal of complaint of 

 old roads, because they are crooked and narrow and be- 

 cause our ancestors did not plant them with trees. But 

 trees have grown up spontaneously in many places, some- 



