5

10

Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass,
As if an infant's touch could urge
Their headlong passage down the verge,
With step and weapon forward flung,
Upon the mountain side they hung.
The Mountaineer cast glance of pride
Along Benledi's living side,

Then fixed his eye and sable brow

Full on Fitz-James: "How say'st thou now?
These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true;
And, Saxon, I am Roderick Dhu!"

Fitz-James was brave-though to his heart
The life-blood thrilled with sudden start,
He manned himself with dauntless air,
Returned the Chief his haughty stare,
His back against a rock he bore,
And firmly placed his foot before:-

"Come one, come all! This rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I."

Sir Roderick marked, and in his eyes
Respect was mingled with surprise,
And the stern joy which warriors feel
In foeman worthy of their steel.

Short space he stood then waved his hand :
Down sunk the disappearing band;

Each warrior vanished where he stood,

5

10

In broom or bracken, heath or wood;
Sunk brand and spear and bended bow,
In osiers pale and copses low;

It seemed as if their mother Earth

Had swallowed up her warlike birth.
The wind's last breath had tossed in air
Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair, -
The next but swept a lone hillside,
Where heath and fern were waving wide;
The sun's last glance was glinted back
From spear and glaive, from targe and jack, -
The next, all unreflected, shone

On bracken green and cold gray stone.

Stirling :

fell a rocky hill. summer solstice: the heat of midsummer. - plaid : the Scotch pronunciation is played, as will be seen elsewhere by the rhyme. slip: let slip from the noose in which a hunting dog is held. a mighty au'gury: this refers to the prophecy of the Taghairm, Canto IV, line 60. —— Roderick Dhu: Roderick the Black. brand: a sword. Clan-Alpine: the family or race of Alpine. - sheen: shining. the Gael: the Gaul. The Highlanders call themselves Gauls, and term the Lowlanders Saxons. wildering bewildering. - Forth and Teith: two Scotch rivers. the royal castle. - Ven'nachar: this Lake of the Fair Valley" is about five miles long. Benledi (benla'dy): a mountain nearly three thousand feet high. sooth truth. - Mar: the Earl of Mar. - Doune: an old castle on the Teith.pine: Roderick's banner bore a pine. - Vich-Al'pine: one of Roderick's names, meaning the descendant of Alpine.—the Regent: the Duke of Albany, a cousin of the king. Holy-Rood: the palace of Holyrood. — mewed: shut up. —reft: took away. — shingles: gravel and pebbles. target and claymore: a leather-covered shield and a large sword. meed reward. bonnets: Scotch caps. warlike birth: this refers to the story of Cadmus. See "The Dragon's Teeth" in Hawthorne's “ Tanglewood Tales."— glaive: a broad sword. - targe: target or shield. — jack : a leather jacket with iron plates.

WALKING IN THE OPEN AIR

JOHN BURROUGHS

JOHN BURROUGHS, an American writer, was born in 1837. He is a careful observer of out-of-door life, and his books are full of interest to those who share his tastes.

The human body is a steed that goes freest and longest under a light rider, and the lightest of all riders is a 5 cheerful heart. Your sad, or morose, or embittered, or preoccupied heart settles heavily into the saddle, and the poor beast, the body, breaks down the first mile.

Next to that, the most burdensome to the walker is a heart not in perfect sympathy and accord with the body, 10 - a reluctant or unwilling heart. The horse and rider must not only both be willing to go the same way, but the rider must lead the way and infuse his own lightness and eagerness into the steed. Herein is no doubt our trouble, and one reason of the decay of the noble art in this 15 country. We are unwilling walkers. We are not innocent and simple-hearted enough to enjoy a walk.

It cannot be said that as a people we are so positively sad, or morose, or melancholic, as that we are vacant of that sportiveness and surplusage of animal spirits that 20 characterized our ancestors, and that spring from full and harmonious life, a sound heart in accord with a sound body. A man must invest himself near at hand

and in common things, and be content with a steady and moderate return, if he would know the blessedness of a cheerful heart and the sweetness of a walk over the round earth. We crave the astonishing, the exciting, the far 5 away, and do not know the highways of the gods when we see them, always a sign of the decay of the faith and simplicity of man.

Your pedestrian is always cheerful, alert, refreshed, with his heart in his hand and his hand free to all. He looks 10 down upon nobody; he is on the common level. His pores are all open, his circulation is active, his digestion is good. His heart is not cold, nor his faculties asleep. He is the only real traveler; he alone tastes the " gay, fresh sentiment of the road." He is not isolated, but one 15 with things, with the farms and industries on either hand.

The vital, universal currents play through him. He knows the ground is alive; he feels the pulses of the wind, and reads the mute language of things. His sympathies are all aroused; his senses are continually report20 ing messages to his mind. Wind, frost, rain, heat, cold

are something to him. He is not merely a spectator of the panorama of nature, but a participator in it. He experiences the country he passes through, -tastes it, feels it, absorbs it; the traveler in his fine carriage sees 25 it, merely.

This gives the fresh charm to that class of books that may be called "Views Afoot," and to the narratives of

hunters, naturalists, exploring parties, etc. The walker does not need a large territory. When you get into a railway car you want a continent; the man in his carriage requires a township; but a walker like Thoreau finds as much and more along the shores of Walden Pond. The 5 former, as it were, has merely time to glance at the

headings of the chapters, while the latter need not miss a line, and Thoreau reads between the lines.

Then the walker has the privilege of the fields, the woods, the hills, the byways. The apples by the road- 10 side are for him, and the berries, and the spring of water, and the friendly shelter; and if the weather is cold, he eats the frost grapes and the persimmons, or even the