THE EXHILARATIONS OF THE ROAD 21 



which they imply, that warns off the walker as a tres- 

 passer, that knows no way but the highway, the 

 carriage-way, that forgets the stile, the foot-bridge, 

 that even ignores the rights of the pedestrian in the 

 public road, providing no escape for him but in the 

 ditch or up the bank, is in a fair way to far more 

 serious degeneracy. 



Shakespeare makes the chief qualification of the 

 walker a merry heart : — 



" Jog on, jog on, the footpath way, 

 And merrily hent the stile-a; 

 A merry heart goes all the day, 

 Your sad tires in a mile-a. ' ' 



The human body is a steed that goes freest and 

 longest under a light rider, and the lightest of all 

 riders is a cheerful heart. Your sad, or morose, or 

 embittered, or preoccupied heart settles heavily into 

 the saddle, and the poor beast, the body, breaks 

 down the first mile. Indeed, the heaviest thing in 

 the world is a heavy heart. Next to that, the most 

 burdensome to the walker is a heart not in perfect 

 sympathy and accord with the body, — a reluctant 

 or unwilling heart. The horse and rider must not 

 only both be willing to go the same way, but the 

 rider must lead the way and infuse his own light- 

 ness and eagerness into the steed. Herein is no 

 doubt our trouble, and one reason of the decay of 

 the noble art in this country. We are unwilling 



