the barest desert, they open to us a common humanity.
It is the absence of these that renders us so lonely on the ocean, and makes us glad to watch even the track of our own vessel.
But on the mountain-top, how eagerly we trace out the “road that brings places together,” as Schiller
It is the first thing we look for; till we have found it, each scattered village has an isolated and churlish look, but the glimpse of a furlong of road puts them all in friendly relations.
The narrower the path, the more domestic and familiar it seems.
The railroad may represent the capitalist or the government; the high-road indicates what the surveyor or the county commissioners thought best; but the footpath shows what the people needed.
Its associations are with beauty and humble life,--the boy with his dog, the little girl with her fagots, the pedler with his pack; cheery companions they are or ought to be.
Jog on, jog on the footpath way,
And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad one tires in a mile-a.
The footpath takes you across the farms and