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is the place to and from which things are carried。 They who got
their living by teaming were said vellaturam facere。 Hence； too；
the Latin word vilis and our vile； also villain。 This suggests
what kind of degeneracy villagers are liable to。 They are wayworn
by the travel that goes by and over them； without traveling
themselves。
Some do not walk at all； others walk in the highways； a few walk
across lots。 Roads are made for horses and men of business。 I do
not travel in them much； comparatively； because I am not in a
hurry to get to any tavern or grocery or livery…stable or depot
to which they lead。 I am a good horse to travel； but not from
choice a roadster。 The landscape…painter uses the figures of men
to mark a road。 He would not make that use of my figure。 I walk
out into a nature such as the old prophets and poets； Menu；
Moses； Homer； Chaucer； walked in。 You may name it America； but it
is not America； neither Americus Vespueius； nor Columbus； nor the
rest were the discoverers of it。 There is a truer amount of it in
mythology than in any history of America； so called； that I have
seen。
However； there are a few old roads that may be trodden with
profit； as if they led somewhere now that they are nearly
discontinued。 There is the Old Marlborough Road； which does not
go to Marlborough now； me… thinks； unless that is Marlborough
where it carries me。 I am the bolder to speak of it here； because
I presume that there are one or two such roads in every town。
THE OLD MARLBOROUGH ROAD
Where they once dug for money；
But never found any；
Where sometimes Martial Miles
Singly files；
And Elijah Wood；
I fear for no good：
No other man；
Save Elisha Dugan
O man of wild habits；
Partridges and rabbits
Who hast no cares
Only to set snares；
Who liv'st all alone；
Close to the bone
And where life is sweetest
Constantly eatest。
When the spring stirs my blood
With the instinct to travel；
I can get enough gravel
On the Old Marlborough Road。
Nobody repairs it；
For nobody wears it；
It is a living way；
As the Christians say。
Not many there be
Who enter therein；
Only the guests of the
Irishman Quin。
What is it； what is it
But a direction out there；
And the bare possibility
Of going somewhere？
Great guide…boards of stone；
But travelers none；
Cenotaphs of the towns
Named on their crowns。
It is worth going to see
Where you MIGHT be。
What king
Did the thing；
I am still wondering；
Set up how or when；
By what selectmen；
Gourgas or Lee；
Clark or Darby？
They're a great endeavor
To be something forever；
Blank tablets of stone；
Where a traveler might groan；
And in one sentence
Grave all that is known
Which another might read；
In his extreme need。
I know one or two
Lines that would do；
Literature that might stand
All over the land
Which a man could remember
Till next December；
And read again in the spring；
After the thawing。
If with fancy unfurled
You leave your abode；
You may go round the world
By the Old Marlborough Road。
At present； in this vicinity； the best part of the land is not
private property； the landscape is not owned； and the walker
enjoys comparative freedom。 But possibly the day will come when
it will be partitioned off into so…called pleasure…grounds； in
which a few will take a narrow and exclusive pleasure onlywhen
fences shall be multiplied； and man…traps and other engines
invented to confine men to the PUBLIC road； and walking over the
surface of God's earth shall be construed to mean trespassing on
some gentleman's grounds。 To enjoy a thing exclusively is
commonly to exclude yourself from the true enjoyment of it。 Let
us improve our opportunities； then； before the evil days come。
What is it that makes it so hard sometimes to determine whither
we will walk？ I believe that there is a subtle magnetism in
Nature； which； if we unconsciously yield to it； will direct us
aright。 It is not indifferent to us which way we walk。 There is a
right way； but we are very liable from heedlessness and stupidity
to take the wrong one。 We would fain take that walk； never yet
taken by us through this actual world； which is perfectly
symbolical of the path which we love to travel in the interior
and ideal world； and sometimes； no doubt； we find it difficult to
choose our direction； because it does not yet exist distinctly in
our idea。
When I go out of the house for a walk； uncertain as yet whither I
will bend my steps； and submit myself to my instinct to decide
for me； I find； strange and whimsical as it may seem； that I
finally and inevitably settle southwest； toward some particular
wood or meadow or deserted pasture or hill in that direction。 My
needle is slow to settle；varies a few degrees； and does not
always point due southwest； it is true； and it has good authority
for this variation； but it always settles between west and
south…southwest。 The future lies that way to me； and the earth
seems more unexhausted and richer on that side。 The outline which
would bound my walks would be； not a circle； but a parabola； or
rather like one of those cometary orbits which have been thought
to be non…returning curves； in this case opening westward； in
which my house occupies the place of the sun。 I turn round and
round irresolute sometimes for a quarter of an hour； until I
decide； for a thousandth time； that I will walk into the
southwest or west。 Eastward I go only by force； but westward I go
free。 Thither no business leads me。 It is hard for me to believe
that I shall find fair landscapes or sufficient wildness and
freedom behind the eastern horizon。 I am not excited by the
prospect of a walk thither； but I believe that the forest which I
see in the western horizon stretches uninterruptedly toward the
setting sun； and there are no towns nor cities in it of enough
consequence to disturb me。 Let me live where I will； on this side
is the city； on that the wilderness； and ever I am leaving the
city more and more； and withdrawing into the wilderness。 I should
not lay so much stress on this fact； if I did not believe that
something like this is the prevailing tendency of my countrymen。
I must walk toward Oregon； and not toward Europe。 And that way
the nation is moving； and I may say that mankind progress from
east to west。 Within a few years we have witnessed the phenomenon
of a southeastward migration； in the settlement of Australia； but
this affects us as a retrograde movement； and； judging from the
moral and physical character of the first generation of
Australians； has not yet proved a successful experiment。 The
eastern Tartars think that there is nothing west beyond Thibet。
〃The world ends there；〃 say they； 〃beyond there is nothing but a