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I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understoodthe art of Walking, that is, of taking walks-who had a genius, so to speak, forsauntering, which word is beautifully derived "from idle people who roved about thecountry, in the Middle Ages, and asked charity, under pretense of going la SainteTerre," to the Holy Land, till the children exclaimed, "There goes a Sainte-Terrer," aSaunterer, a Holy-Lander. They who never go to the Holy Land in their walks, as theypretend, are indeed mere idlers and vagabonds; but they who do go there aresaunterers in the good sense, such as I mean. Some, however, would derive the wordfrom sans terre without land or a home, which, therefore, in the good sense, will mean, having no particular home, but equally at home everywhere. For this is the secret ofsuccessful sauntering. He who sits still in a house all the time may be the greatestvagrant of all; but the saunterer, in the good sense, is no more vagrant than themeandering river, which is all the while sedulously seeking the shortest course to thesea. But I prefer the first, which, indeed, is the most probable derivation. For everywalk is a sort of crusade, preached by some Peter the Hermit in us, to go forth andreconquer this Holy Land from the hands of the Infidels.