THE EXHILARATIONS OF THE ROAD. 49 



comes to smack of the soil, and which make a man 

 kindred to the spot of earth he inhabits. 



The roads and paths you have walked along in 

 summer and winter weather, the fields and hills which 

 you have looked upon in lightness and gladness of 

 heart, where fresh thoughts have come into your 

 mind, or some noble prospect has opened before you, 

 and especially the quiet ways where you have walked 

 in sweet converse with your friend, pausing under the 

 trees, drinking at the spring henceforth they are 

 not the same ; a new charm is added ; those thoughts 

 spring there perennial, your friend walks there for- 

 ever. 



We have produced some good walkers and saun- 

 terers, and some noted climbers ; but as a staple rec- 

 reation, as a daily practice, the mass of the people 

 dislike and despise walking. Thoreau said he was a 

 good horse, but a poor roadster. I chant the virtues 

 of the roadster as well. I sing of the sweetness of 

 gravel, good sharp quartz-grit. It is the proper con- 

 diment for the sterner seasons, and many a human 

 gizzard would be cured of half its ills by a suitable 

 daily allowance of it. I think Thoreau himself 

 would have profited immensely by it. His diet was 

 too exclusively vegetable. A man cannot live on 

 grass alone. If one has been a lotus-eater all sum- 

 mer, he must turn gravel-eater in the fall and winter. 

 Those who have tried it know that gravel possesses 

 an equal though an opposite charm. It spurs to ac- 

 tion. The foot tastes it and henceforth rests not 

 4 



