ny to which we were subjected, was at first not a little
perplexing. It was difficult not to doubt occasionally whether some
unpleasantly remarkable change had not suddenly taken place in our
personal appearance--whether we might not have turned green or blue on
our travels, or have got noses as long as the preposterous nose of the
traveller through Strasburgh, in the tale of Slawkenbergius. It was not
until we had been some days in the county that we began to discover, by
some such indications as the following, that we owed the public
attention to our knapsacks, and not to ourselves.

We enter a small public-house by the roadside to get a draught of beer.
In the kitchen, we behold the landlord and a tall man who is a customer.
Both stare as a matter of course; the tall man especially, after taking
one look at our knapsacks, fixes his eyes firmly on us and sits bolt
upright on the bench without saying a word--he is evidently prepared for
the worst we can do. We get into conversation with the landlord, a
jovial, talkative fellow, who desires greatly to know what we are, if we
have no objection. We ask him, what he thinks we are?--"Well," says the
landlord, pointing to my friend's knapsack, which has a square ruler
strapped to it, for architectural drawing--"well, I think you are both
of you _mappers_--mappers who come here to make new roads--you may be
coming to make a railroad, I dare say--we've had mappers in the country
before this--I know a mapper myself--here's both your good healths!" We
drink the landlord's good health in return, and disclaim the honour of
being "mappers;" we walk through the country (we tell him) for pleasure
alone, and take any roads we can get, without wanting to make new ones.
The landlord would like to know, if that is the case, why we carry those
weights at our backs?--Because we want to take our luggage about with
us. Couldn't we pay to ride?--Yes, we could. And yet we like walking
better?--Yes we do. This last answer utterly confounds the tall
customer, who has been hitherto listening intently to the dialogue. It
is evidently too much for his credulity--he pays his reckoning, and
walks out in a hurry without uttering a word. The landlord appears to be
convinced, but it is only in appearance. We leave him standing at his
door, keeping his eye on us as long as we are in sight, still evidently
persuaded that we are "mappers," but "mappers" of a bad order whose
presence is fraught with some unk