40 THE EXHILARATIONS OF THE ROAD. 



ran not to the time when there was not a foot-path 

 there, and every pedestrian should have the right of 

 way there still. 



I remember the pleasure I had in the path that con- 

 nects Stratford-on-Avon with Shottery, Shakespeare's 

 path when he went courting Annie Hathaway. By 

 the king's highway the distance is some further, so 

 there is a well-worn path along the hedgerows and 

 through the meadows and turnip-patches. The trav- 

 eller in it has the privilege of crossing the railroad 

 track, an unusual privilege in England, and one de- 

 nied to the lord in his carriage, who must either go 

 over or under it. (It is a privilege, is it not, to be 

 allowed the forbidden, even if it be the privilege of 

 being run over by the engine ?) In strolling over the 

 South Downs, too, I was delighted to find that where 

 the hill was steepest some benefactor of the order of 

 • walkers had made notches in the sward, so that the 

 foot could bite the better and firmer ; the path became 

 a kind of stairway, which I have no doubt the plough- 

 man respected. 



When you see an English country church withdrawn, 

 secluded, out of the reach of wheels, standing amid 

 grassy graves and surrounded by noble trees, ap- 

 proached by paths and shaded lanes, you appreciate 

 more than ever this beautiful habit of the people. 

 Only a race that knows how to use its feet, and holds 

 foot-paths sacred, could put such a charm of privacy 

 and humility into such a structure. I think I should 



