THE BXHILAKATIONS OF THE ROAD 39 



miss a line, and Thoreau reads between the lines. 

 Then the walker has the privilege of the fields, the 

 woods, the hills, the hyways. The apples by the 

 roadside are for him, and the berries, and the spring 

 of water, and the friendly shelter; and if the weather 

 is cold, he eats the frost grapes and the persimmons, 

 or even the white-meated turnip, snatched from the 

 field he passed through, with incredible relish. 



Afoot and in the open road, one has a fair start 

 in life at last. There is no hindrance now. Let 

 him put his best foot forward. He is on the broad- 

 est human plane. This is on the level of all the 

 great laws and heroic deeds. From this platform 

 he is eligible to any good fortune. He was sighing 

 for the golden age ; let him walk to it. Every step 

 brings him nearer. The youth of the world is but 

 a few days' journey distant. Indeed, I know per- 

 sons who think they have walked back to that fresl: 

 aforetime of a single bright Sunday in autumn oi 

 early spring. Before noon ^bey felt its airs upor 

 their cheeks, and by nightfall, on the banks of some 

 quiet stream, or along some path in the wood, or on 

 some hilltop, aver they have heard the voices and 

 felt the wonder and the mystery that so enchanted 

 the early races of men. 



I think if I could walk through a country I 

 should not only see many things and have adven- 

 tures that I should otherwise miss, but that I should 

 eome into relations 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 



