could scarcely believe that this was _it_, so soon. We turned
to our map and guide-book, and found that we were standing on the site
of Birnam wood; that Dunsinane hill was in sight, and that it was indeed
the old cathedral tower of Dunkeld that rose so grandly among the
beeches behind the bridge. We took such a long and fond gaze as I never
enjoyed from a carriage window. If it was thus with an object of no more
importance or difficulty of attainment than Dunkeld, what must it be to
catch the first view of the mysterious temples that

"Stand between the mountains and the sea;
Awful memorials, but of whom we know not!"

or to survey from a height, at sunrise, the brook Kedron and the valley
of Jehoshaphat!

What is most to our present purpose, however, is the consideration of
the facilities afforded by pedestrian travelling for obtaining a
knowledge of the people. We all remember Goldsmith's travels with his
flute, his sympathies, his cordiality of heart and manner, and his
reliance on the hospitality of the country people. Such an one as he is
not bound to take up with such specimens as he may meet with by the side
of the high road; he can penetrate into the recesses of the country, and
drop into the hamlet among the hills, and the homesteads down the lanes,
and now and then spend a day with the shepherd in his fold on the downs;
he can stop where there is a festival, and solve many a perplexity by
carrying over the conversation of one day into the intercourse of the
next, with a fresh set of people; he can obtain access to almost every
class of persons, and learn their own views of their own affairs. His
opportunities are inestimable.

If it were a question which could learn most of Morals and Manners by
travel,--the gentleman accomplished in philosophy and learning,
proceeding in his carriage, with a courier,--or a simple pedestrian
tourist, furnished only with the language, and with an open heart and
frank manners,--I should have no doubt that the pedestrian would return
more familiar with his subject than the other. If the wealthy scholar
and philosopher could make himself a citizen of the world for the time,
and go forth on foot, careless of luxury, patient of fatigue, and
fearless of solitude, he would be not only of the highest order of
tourists, but a benefactor to the highest kind of science; and he would
become familiarized with what few are acquainted with,--the best
pleasures, transient and per