take it, is the chief dignitary of the place,
to be looked up to by his neighbours with
a certain awful respect, only due to so
important an officer. But here, the wandering
man finds that he is drawing near to a little
pier built on piles from the canal bank ;
where, too, there is a little low red house,
very trim and daintily kept, at the edge of
the wooden pier. Halt here. The barge is
securely fastened alongside, while schipper
goes ashore with his papers. Appears suddenly
at the door of the low red house, a
little squat man, round as a ball, with a cap
of authority on his head. The chief officer of
customs— no other, indeed ! With his hands
behind him, in the Buonaparte manner, the
chief officer waits in his own doorway — under
his own fig-tree, as it were— to receive the
schipper and his papers. These are
presented humbly and with the respect due
to a great authority. The great authority
is now seen to move down cautiously (as
though he were brittle) to the boat — for the
search. There is to be a search through
the cargo. So a cover is lifted here and
there, and the brittle man steps aboard, and
peers in cautiously; which he does not do to any
extensive degree, his physical shape rendering
it, no doubt, highly painful to him. Finally,
all being satisfactory and in rule, the papers
are handed back countersigned, the authority,
round as a ball, rolls into his little red house
again, shuts the door behind him, and the
treikschuit, cast off, goes now on her way
again.

So that day went by. Bridges, hamlets,
clumps, and officials, coming now and again.
It seemed to the wandering man as if he
were, in a small way, going down the Mississippi
or some other great American river,
and coming periodically to settlements and
block-houses. On the whole, however, some
of the sensations are very new to him. The
fellow passenger aboard did not apparently
ask to go beyond his pipe, for, though
appealed to, for instance, as to probable
dampness or cloudiness of the atmosphere,
he declined to commit himself to any opinion
further than what might be drawn from
short swinish grunts. He was not a profitable
voyager, that fellow passenger. His
pipe finally became choked beyond possibility
of mending, to the secret gratification of the
wandering man.

So that day went by. Presently there was
reached a small town, beyond which the
treikschuit did not go; so there the wandering
man was set on shore, wallet and all, just as
grey evening set in. Only it was a lonely,
deserted spot, and there was good three-
quarters of a mile walk before him to the
town. That piece of trudging shall end the
day's labours. A good inn next, good refection
—after the manner of the country—good
liquor, and a wholesome cigar ; these small
matters will go far to restore the wandering
man temporarily.

It is wonderful how this same pareouring
of a country of a fine summer's-day
lightens the heart. He who comes out
freighted with his load of troubles, as most
men do, will find himself dropping then),
one by one at every milestone; until, at the
end of his day's march, he will find his spirits
buoyant as a school-boy's. Likely enough, if
he be not strong of purpose, he will discover
them next day or so, all waiting for him in a
heap, and so bring back his heaviness. Still
it is a famous nostrum worth an ocean of
physic, specially to be commended to poor,
worn Jurisconsultus, before mentioned, and to
poor, over-worked officials on short furlough.
But to ministerial House of Commons men
most of all: to overworked parliamentary
drudges, that trudging will turn their sallow
cheeks to the likeness of a pair of apples.

Certainly there is not Down Amongst the
Dutchmen the best entertainment of the
walking order. It is good there for a short
spell or so—for a couple of day's march at
most. But, setting aside that beaten track
over the Swiss mountains, which every
walking man thinks to be the proper country
for his calling, and where, in truth, there is
an over satiety of mountain-climbing, Jungfrau's
glaciers, and such things, setting aside
this well-trod region,—let him try a land
lying conveniently to him, and that is the
"Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social
ease;"—France. Let him break ground
'twixt Bourdeaux and Bayonne, and range
the Landes. Let him trudge from old Roman
town to old Roman town; let him bend off
to the Spanish frontier and note where the
races begin to blend, — roaming leisurely
from village to village and city to city — staying
a short or long time as the humour
takes him. In that country will be found
abundant profit and recreation. Or suppose
he take heart and strike across the border
into the Spanish country, working his way
among the posadas and contrabandists as he
may have read of in the novels. Much
entertainment in this, too, but more resolution
and courage.

The sum of the whole is this: walk and be
happy! walk and be healthy. The best of all
ways to lengthen ourdays,is not as Mr.Thomas
Moore has it, " To steal a few hours from
night, my love; " but with leave, be it spoken,
to walk steadily and with a purpose. The
wandering man knows of certain ancients,
far gone in years, who have staved off
infirmities and dissolution by earnest walking,
—hale fellows close upon eighty and ninety,
but brisk as boys. With which wholesome
moral let this chronicle of a day's pilgrimage
end.