ndered, musing much and writing often, were as
high, green, and wild, as any of them all.... It may be the partiality
arising from early habit which induces me to think that a man gets the
most comprehensive and distinct view of any subject which may occupy
thought when he is walking, provided fatigue has not overtaken him.
Mental confidence awake amid the stir seems increased by the exercise of
bodily power, and becomes free and fearless as the step rejoicing in the
ample scope afforded by the broad green earth and circumambient sky. On
the same grounds, I have sometimes marvelled if it might not be the
majesty of motion, as one may say, reigning around the seaman's soul,
that made his heart so frank in communication, and in action his arm so
vigorously energetic. At all events, there was in these days always
enough around one to keep interest more or less ardent awake--

"'Prompting the heart to pour the impassion'd strain
Afar 'mid solitude's eternal reign,
In numbers fearless all as unconfined,
And wild as wailings of the desert wind.'

"According to my ability I studied while wandering among the mountains,
and at intervals, adopting my knee for my desk, wrote down the results
of my musing. Let not the shepherd ever forget his dog--his constant
companion and best friend, and without which all his efforts would
little avail! Mine knew well the places where in my rounds I was wont to
pause, and especially the majestic seat which I occupied so often on the
loftiest peak of Stanhopelaw. It had also an adopted spot of rest the
while, and, confident of my habits, would fold itself down upon it ere I
came forward; and would linger still, look wistful, and marvel why if at
any time I passed on without making my wonted delay. I did not follow
these practices only 'when summer days were fine.' The lines of an
epistle written subsequently will convey some idea of my habits:--

"'My early years were pass'd far on
The hills of Ettrick wild and lone;
Through summer sheen and winter shade
Tending the flocks that o'er them stray'd.
In bold enthusiastic glee
I sung rude strains of minstrelsy,
Which mingling with died o'er the dale,
Unheeded as the plover's wail.
Oft where the waving rushes shed
A shelter frail around my head,
Weening, though not through hopes of fame,
To fix on these more lasting claim,
I'd there secure in rustic scroll
The wayward fanci