i 



46 THE EXHILARATIONS OF THE ROAD. 



will come to the top. It matters little whom you ride 

 with, so he be not a pickpocket ; for both of you will, 

 very likely, settle down closer and firmer in your re- 

 serve, shaken down like a measure of corn by the jolt- 

 ing as the journey proceeds. But walking is a more 

 vital copartnership ; the relation is a closer and more 

 sympathetic one, and you do not feel like walking ten 

 paces with a stranger without speaking to him. 



Hence the fastidiousness of the professional walker 

 in choosing or admitting a companion, and hence the 

 truth of a remark of Emerson that you will generally 

 fare better to take your dog than to invite your neigh- 

 bor. Your cur-dog is a true pedestrian, and your 

 neighbor is very likely a small politician. The dog 

 enters thoroughly into the spirit of the enterprise; he 

 is not indifferent or preoccupied ; he is constantly sniff- 

 ing adventure, laps at every spring, looks upon every 

 field and wood as a new world to be explored, is ever 

 on some fresh trail, knows something important will 

 happen a little further on, gazes with the true wonder- 

 seeing eyes, whatever the spot or whatever the road 

 finds it good to be there — in short, is just that happy, 

 delicious, excursive vagabond that touches one at so 

 many points, and whose human prototype in a com- 

 panion robs miles and leagues of half their power and 

 fatigue. 



Persons who find themselves spent in a short walk 

 to the market or the post office, or to do a little shop- 

 ping, wonder how it is that their pedestrian friends can 



