44 THE EXHILARATIONS OF THE ROAD. 



would otherwise miss, but that I should come into re- 

 lations 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 the good fortune 

 of all walkers, and feel like joining myself to every 

 tramp that comes along. I am jealous of the clergy- 

 man I read about the other day who footed it from Ed- 

 inburgh to London, as poor Effle Deans did, carrying 

 her shoes in her hand most of the way, and over the 

 ground that rugged Ben Jonson strode, larking it to 

 Scotland, so long ago. I read with longing of the 

 pedestrian feats of college youths, so gay and light- 

 hearted, with their coarse shoes on their feet and their 

 knapsacks on their backs. It would have been a good 

 draught of the rugged cup to have walked with Wilson 

 the ornithologist, deserted by his companions, from Ni- 

 agara to Philadelphia through the snows of winter. I 

 almost wish that I had been born to the career of a 

 German mechanic, that I might have had that delicious 

 adventurous year of wandering over my country before 

 I settled down to work. I think how much richer and 

 firmer-grained life would be to me if I could journey 

 afoot through Florida and Texas, or follow the wind- 

 ings of the Platte or the Yellowstone, or stroll through 

 Oregon, or browse for a season about Canada. In the 

 bright inspiring days of autumn I only want the time 

 and the companion to walk back to the natal spot, the 

 family nest, across two States and into the mountains of 

 a third. What adventures we would have by the way, 



