rs, know of the pleasures of travelling! They roll
_over_ the country; they cannot be said to pass _through_ it. They may see
new rivers, new mountains, and new faces; but for all the good the last
does them, they might as well have stood on the corner of the street in a
city half a day, and watched the passers-by. And better too; for
hotel-keepers, and waiters, and the whole tribe of public functionaries,
have all an artificial, professional look; so that it is difficult to come
at their real characters, if indeed they have any. The same is the case,
to some extent, with their fellow-passengers. All are so absorbingly
interested in their own brilliant thoughts; or they deem it incumbent on
them to assume the dignity and authority befitting persons in high
stations; (which dignity at home, by the by, is put one side into a dark
corner and never thought of,) that it is about as profitable an
undertaking to attempt to find out the personal feelings and sentiments of
a mask, as theirs.

But here am I, walking stoutly and merrily along, unincumbered with
luggage or care; and because I do not care what the next day or hour may
bring forth, every thing seems to turn up just as I would have it if I had
the ordering of events. I shall not pause to offer any philosophical
conjectures as to the reason why we are invariably disappointed in our
conclusions, (excepting they are mathematical ones) concerning the future;
merely asking the amiable reader whether _he_ ever knew such an
anticipation to be exactly realized. I shall not stop to make any such
conjectures, because I should only get deeper into the dark, and I am in
deep enough for comfort now; and secondly, it is against my principles. I
am living out of doors, and make mention only of things out of doors.

But I trudge stoutly forward, whistling as I go; making myself as
agreeable as possible to myself and to every body whom I meet; on jocose
terms with every thing; decidedly agricultural in my tastes and pursuits,
at every farmer's house where I happen to put up for the night: at one
place in search of employment as a day-laborer; at another, an artist; by
turns every thing. Is not this the way to travel? My steps wander where
they choose; and if I keep on to the end of the earth, what will it
matter? I will go to the north; assume the dress, language and manners of
those who dwell within the frozen circle; I will become a Greenlander; I
will go and preach the religion of