puzzled Captain Barclay in his prime, the
Prince of Pedestrians. However, be that as it may, the comparative
pedestrian powers of man and horse have never yet been ascertained by
any accredited match in England.

The Doctor then quotes an extract from a Pedestrian Tour in Wales by a
Mr Shepherd, who, we are afraid, is no great headpiece, though we shall
be happy to find ourselves in error. Mr Shepherd, speaking of the
inconveniencies and difficulties attending a pedestrian excursion, says,
"that at one time the roads are rendered so muddy by the rain, that it
is almost impossible to proceed;"--"at other times you are exposed to
the inclemency of the weather, and by wasting time under a tree or a
hedge are benighted in your journey, and again reduced to an
uncomfortable dilemma." "Another disadvantage is, that your track is
necessarily more confined--a deviation of ten or twelve miles makes an
important difference, which, if you were on horseback, would be
considered as trivial." "Under all these circumstances," he says, "it
may appear rather remarkable that we should have chosen a pedestrian
excursion--_in answer to which, it may be observed, that we were not
apprised of these things till we had experienced them_." What! Mr
Shepherd, were you, who we presume have reached the age of puberty, not
apprised, before you penetrated as a pedestrian into the Principality,
that "roads are rendered muddy by the rain?" Had you never met, either
in your experience of life, or in the course of your reading, proof
positive that pedestrians "are exposed to the inclemency of the
weather?" That, if a man will linger too long under a tree or a hedge
when the sun is going down, "he will be benighted?" Under what serene
atmosphere, in what happy clime, have you pursued your preparatory
studies _sub dio_? But, our dear Mr Shepherd, why waste time under the
shelter of a tree or a hedge? Waste time nowhere, our young and unknown
friend. What the worse would you have been of being soaked to the skin?
Besides, consider the danger you ran of being killed by lightning, had
there been a few flashes, under a tree? Further, what will become of
you, if you addict yourself on every small emergency to trees and
hedges, when the country you walk through happens to be as bare as the
palm of your hand? Button your jacket, good sir--scorn an
umbrella--emerge boldly from the sylvan shade, snap your fingers at the
pitiful pelting of the pitiless storm--poor