with
smoke of suppers rising. Trains are so small that a child might draw
them with a string. Far-off hills are tumbled and in confusion, as if
a giant were roused and had flung his rumpled cloak upon the plain.

Or if a road and a stream seem close companions, tag along with them!
Like three cronies you may work the countryside together! There are
old mills with dams and mossy water wheels, and rumbling covered
bridges.

But chiefly I beg that you wander out at random without too precise
knowledge of where you go or where you shall get your supper. If you
are of a cautious nature, as springs from a delicate stomach or too
sheltered life, you may stuff a bar of chocolate in your pocket. Or an
apple--if you shift your other ballast--will not sag you beyond
locomotion. I have known persons who prize a tomato as offering both
food and drink, yet it is too likely to be damaged and squirt inside
the pocket if you rub against a tree. Instead, the cucumber is to be
commended for its coolness, and a pickle is a sour refreshment that
should be nibbled in turn against the chocolate.

Food oftentimes is to be got upon the way. There is a kind of cocoanut
bar, flat and corrugated, that may be had at most crossroads. I no
longer consider these a delicacy, but in my memory I see a boy
bargaining for them at the counter. They are counted into his dirty
palm. He stuffs a whole one in his mouth, from ear to ear. His bicycle
leans against the trough outside. He mounts, wabbling from side to
side to reach the pedals. Before him lie the mountains of the world.

Nor shall I complain if you hold roughly in your mind, subject to a
whim's reversal, an evening destination to check your hunger. But do
not bend your circuit back to the noisy city! Let your march end at
the inn of a country town! If it is but a station on your journey and
you continue on the morrow, let there be an ample porch and a rail to
rest your feet! Here you may sit in the comfortable twilight when
crammed with food and observe the town's small traffic. Country folk
come about, if you are of easy address, and engage you on their crops.
The village prophet strokes his wise beard at your request and,
squinting at the sky, foretells a storm. Or if the night is cold, a
fire is laid inside and a wrinkled board for the conduct of the war
debates upon the hearth. But so far as your infirmity permits, go
forth at random with a spirit for adventure! If the prospect pleases
you