A Tramps Sketches | Page 9

in wonder to the beauty of the world? Do you stand with

bare feet in sacred places? Do you remember always the mystery and
wonder that is in your fellow-man whom you meet upon the road? ...
"Hallowed be Thy Name."
Does the wanderer love all things? It is a condition of all things loving
him. He must have perfect peace in his heart for the kingdom to be
built there.... "Forgive us our trespasses."
We may be tempted to forget Thee, may fear danger and our hearts be
ruffled, may be tempted to forget that our fellow-man is one like
ourselves, with our mystery and wonder, and having a very loving
human heart either apparent or prevented. We may be tempted to forget
the mystery of our own souls. The tramp prays to be led not into such
temptation. For, with the Father above him, is the power, the kingdom,
and the glory, for ever and ever. As I said, prayers are strong out of
doors, made in the presence of all the stars. One is compassed about
with a great cloud of witnesses. There is calm all around and in one's
own heart. The mysterious beauty of the starry sky reflects itself in the
soul, and across its mirror sails the pale moon. My own body becomes
a cradle in which the little Christ Child sleeps. There are angels
everywhere. I am in universal keeping, for the stars are all looking and
pointing to me. Because of the little Child the shepherds near by hear
heavenly harmony, and journeying through the night to the land of
dreams come the three wonderful old kings with gifts.

IV
DAYS
It is because I have been tempered by the coldness of the night that I
am not overwhelmed by the heat of the day. Because the night is dark
and cool and sweet I see the true colours of the day, and the noon sun
does not dazzle me. The tramp's eyes open and then they open again: at
midday his eyes are wider than those of indoor folk. He is nearer to the
birds because he has slept with them in the bush. They also are nearer
to him, for the night has left her mysterious traces upon his face and
garments, something which humans cannot see, not even the tramp
himself, but which the wild things recognise right enough.
The tramp walks. His road is one that may only be walked upon.
People on wheels are never on it: at least, I never met a wheel person
who had seen on either side of the road what the tramp sees--and a road

is not only a path, but that which is about it. The wheel is the great
enemy of Nature, whether it be the wheel of a machine or of a vehicle.
Nature abhors wheels. She will not be wooed by cyclists, motorists,
goggled motor-cyclists, and the rest: she is not like a modern young
lady who, despite ideals, must marry, and will take men as they are
found in her day and generation.
The woman of the woods who dresses herself in flowers, and whose
voice is as birds' songs, is the same yesterday, to-day, and
to-morrow--not new-fangled. You must go to her; she will not come to
you. You must live as she does.
Therefore the tramp moves naturally, on his feet. He comes into step.
And sleeping out of doors, living in the sun, eating forest berries,
washing in the stream or in the sea, all these are part of a coming into
step.
How this coming back develops the temperament! I left the town timid,
almost a townsman, expecting not only the dangers that were but also
all those that were not. I half believed all the tales by which
stay-at-home people tried to warn or frighten me. Though taking the
road with every aspect of carelessness and boldness, I confessed to my
heart that I was a coward. Then came my first week's tramping, and I
emerged a different man. I felt bold. A few days later still I nursed a
stick in my hand, saying, "If a robber comes, let him come! We'll have
a struggle." Leaving the town I scanned the faces of the passers-by
apprehensively, and said "Good-morning" or "Good-evening" very
meekly to all dangerous-looking persons, but a fortnight later I was
even strutting on the road with a smile almost malicious on my lips.
I felt myself growing wilder. The truth broke upon me in an
introspective moment one morning as I was nearing Sotchi. I felt I had
changed. I stopped to take stock of my new life and ways. I had been
living in the forest and on the seashore, away from mankind, on
Nature's gifts. All my