g the
glowing embers of a fire, or even the ashes of a pipe), were then
occasionally the result of mere wantonness of mischief. Ovid
accordingly notices, as one amongst the familiar images of daybreak,
the half-burnt torch of the traveller; and, apparently, from the
position which it holds in his description, where it is ranked with
the most familiar of all circumstances in all countries--that of the
rural labourer going out to his morning tasks it must have been common
indeed:

"Semiustamque facem vigilata nocte viator
Ponet; et ad solitum rusticus ibit opus."

This occurs in the _Fasti_: elsewhere he notices it for its danger.

"Ut facibus sepes ardent, cum forte viator
Vel nimis admovit, vel jam sub luce reliquit."

He, however, we see, good-naturedly ascribes the danger to mere
carelessness, in bringing the torch too near to the hedge, or tossing
it away at daybreak. But Varro, a more matter-of-fact observer, does
not disguise the plain truth--that these disasters were often the
product of pure malicious frolic. For instance, in recommending a
certain kind of quickset fence, he insists upon it as one of its
advantages--that it will not readily ignite under the torch of the
mischievous wayfarer: "Naturale sepimentum," says he, "quod obseri
solet virgultis aut spinis, _praetereuntis lascivi non metuet facem_."
It is not easy to see the origin or advantage of this practice of
nocturnal travelling, (which must have considerably increased the
hazards of a journey,) excepting only in the heats of summer. It is
probable, however, that men of high rank and public station may have
introduced the practice by way of releasing corporate bodies in large
towns from the burdensome ceremonies of public receptions; thus making
a compromise between their own dignity and the convenience of the
provincial public. Once introduced, and the arrangements upon the road
for meeting the wants of travellers once adapted to such a practice,
it would easily become universal. It is, however, very possible that
mere horror of the heats of daytime may have been the original ground
for it. The ancients appear to have shrunk from no hardship as so
trying and insufferable as that of heat. And in relation to that
subject, it is interesting to observe the way in which the ordinary
use of language has accommodated itself to that feeling. Our northern
way of expressing effeminacy, is derived chiefly from the hardships of
cold. He that shrink