eves a man in London--when
the brisk air of the autumn cleared its way to Ludgate Hill, and clever
'prentices ran out, and sniffed at it, and fed upon it (having little
else to eat); and when the horses from the country were a goodly sight
to see, with the rasp of winter bristles rising through and among the
soft summer-coat; and when the new straw began to come in, golden
with the harvest gloss, and smelling most divinely at those strange
livery-stables, where the nags are put quite tail to tail; and when
all the London folk themselves are asking about white frost (from
recollections of childhood); then, I say, such a yearning seized me for
moory crag, and for dewy blade, and even the grunting of our sheep (when
the sun goes down), that nothing but the new wisps of Samson could have
held me in London town.

Lorna was moved with equal longing towards the country and country ways;
and she spoke quite as much of the glistening dew as she did of the
smell of our oven. And here let me mention--although the two are quite
distinct and different--that both the dew and the bread of Exmoor may
be sought, whether high or low, but never found elsewhere. The dew is so
crisp, and pure, and pearly, and in such abundance; and the bread is so
sweet, so kind, and homely, you can eat a loaf, and then another.

Now while I was walking daily in and out great crowds of men (few of
whom had any freedom from the cares of money, and many of whom were
even morbid with a worse pest called "politics"), I could not be quit of
thinking how we jostle one another. God has made the earth quite large,
with a spread of land large enough for all to live on, without fighting.
Also a mighty spread of water, laying hands on sand and cliff with a
solemn voice in storm-time; and in the gentle weather moving men to
thoughts of equity. This, as well, is full of food; being two-thirds of
the world, and reserved for devouring knowledge; by the time the sons
of men have fed away the dry land. Yet before the land itself has
acknowledged touch of man, upon one in a hundred acres; and before one
mile in ten thousand of the exhaustless ocean has ever felt the plunge
of hook, or combing of the haul-nets; lo, we crawl, in flocks together
upon the hot ground that stings us, even as the black grubs crowd upon
the harried nettle! Surely we are too much given to follow the tracks of
each other.

However, for a moralist, I never set up, and never shall, while common
sense