Anthony tried
the same thing long ago, and had a pitiful time of it by all accounts.
But there is this about some women, which overtops the best gymnosophist
among men, that they suffice to themselves, and can walk in a high and
cold zone without the countenance of any trousered being. I declare,
although the reverse of a professed ascetic, I am more obliged to women
for this ideal than I should be to the majority of them, or indeed to
any but one, for a spontaneous kiss. There is nothing so encouraging as
the spectacle of self-sufficiency. And when I think of the slim and
lovely maidens, running the woods all night to the note of Diana's horn;
moving among the old oaks, as fancy-free as they; things of the forest
and the starlight, not touched by the commotion of man's hot and turbid
life--although there are plenty other ideals that I should prefer--I
find my heart beat at the thought of this one. 'Tis to fail in life, but
to fail with what a grace! That is not lost which is not regretted. And
where--here slips out the male--where would be much of the glory of
inspiring love, if there were no contempt to overcome?

ON THE WILLEBROEK CANAL

Next morning, when we set forth on the Willebroek Canal, the rain began
heavy and chill. The water of the canal stood at about the drinking
temperature of tea; and under this cold aspersion the surface was
covered with steam. The exhilaration of departure, and the easy motion
of the boats under each stroke of the paddles, supported us through this
misfortune while it lasted; and when the cloud passed and the sun came
out again, our spirits went up above the range of stay-at-home humours.
A good breeze rustled and shivered in the rows of trees that bordered
the canal. The leaves flickered in and out of the light in tumultuous
masses. It seemed sailing weather to eye and ear; but down between the
banks, the wind reached us only in faint and desultory puffs. There was
hardly enough to steer by. Progress was intermittent and unsatisfactory.
A jocular person, of marine antecedents, hailed us from the tow-path
with a "_C'est vite, mais c'est long_."

The canal was busy enough. Every now and then we met or overtook a long
string of boats, with great green tillers; high sterns with a window on
either side of the rudder, and perhaps a jug or a flower-pot in one of
the windows; a dinghy following behind; a woman busied about the day's
dinner, and a handful of children. These barges