THE EXHILARATIONS OF THE ROAD. 41 



be tempted to go to church myself if I saw all my 

 neighbors starting off across the fields or along paths 

 that led to such charmed spots, and was sure I would 

 not be jostled or run over by the rival chariots of the 

 worshippers at the temple doors. I think this is what 

 ails our religion ; humility and devoutness of heart 

 leave one when he lays by his walking shoes and 

 walking clothes, and sets out for church drawn by 

 something. 



Indeed, I think it would be tantamount to an aston- 

 ishing revival of religion if the people would all walk 

 to church on Sunday and walk home again. Think 

 how the stones would preach to them by the wayside ; 

 how their benumbed minds would warm up beneath 

 the friction of the gravel ; how their vain and foolish 

 thoughts, their desponding thoughts, their besetting 

 demons of one kind and another, would drop behind 

 them, unable to keep up or to endure the fresh air. 

 They would walk away from their ennui, their worldly 

 cares, their uncharitableness, their pride of dress ; for 

 these devils always want to ride, while the simple vir- 

 tues are never so happy as when on foot. Let us walk 

 by all means ; but if we will ride, get an ass. 



Then the English claim that they are a more hearty 

 and robust people than we are. It is certain they are 

 a plainer people, have plainer tastes, dress plainer, 

 build plainer, speak plainer, keep closer to facts, wear 

 broader shoes and coarser clothes, place a lower esti- 

 mate on themselves, etc. — all of which traits favor 



