You get a companion who calmly tells you he intends to “pick your brains” during the tramp. That is very well, though the expression seems not too kind. It is easier to say “I intend to get to know you during our wanderings together”—though there, of course, the intention is towards something very difficult. It takes a long time to know a man. You may “pick his brains” in half an hour and not get to know him in a lifetime. It is mawkish for a man to talk of love, except in love, but it needs a loving heart to know any one really well.
The man you tramp with is not a foreigner, albeit foreign enough in himself, as you may discover before you discover he is kindred. You are thrown into intimate contact with him. Even if the two of you are a couple of egoists strongly self-centered, something is bound to get across in a long tramp. That is one reason why tramping is such a healthful spiritual experience. The too-too-solid flesh does melt a little, the too-too-solid heart does warm somewhat toward an outsider.
But the chance-met is much more difficult to meet, to greet, to understand. Of course, more difficult for some than for others. There are genial sympathetic souls who have an aptitude for taking a stranger at once to the heart. They are bright-eyed people, friendly at once and friendly for a long while. I have a prejudice in their favor—but, alas, there are not very many of them. The warmest thing in the world is human affection; it is the most covetable, and it is the sweetest thing to give. And it is also the saddest thing to have refused. I believe the affectionate people take the most blows in life. But also they get the greater rewards.
Still, there is shyness, timidity, stand-offishness, which commonly mask the souls of very friendly people. It is difficult to rid oneself of these defective qualities. Much travel frequently does it, and much tramping will do it also. Tramping simplifies out many of our foibles. It makes the artificial people more natural. I have seen a man afraid almost of his own shadow in town become a bold and smiling boy upon the road, not afraid to meet any one and hold frank converse with him.
Chance meetings may greatly enrich human experience, especially in a foreign country where one has so much to learn of the ways of one’s fellow man. I have found by personal experience that one of the quickest ways in which to learn the life of a people is by tramping among them.
The commonest way of attempting to make a study of a new nation is to arrive at the capital city with a wallet full of introductions to notable people. You stay at the best hotel, call at the Embassy, make friends with one of the secretaries, dine with him and learn his prejudices, go on the morrow to a friend of his, who will tell you “all you need to know.” Then you may use your introductions, checking off what the native notabilities say about their country by what you have already heard.
The visitor of this type does get impressions. That is undoubted. He feels that he is getting to know the new country very pleasantly, and yet, when his visit is over and he returns home, if he is frank with himself he must confess that he has very little real knowledge of the people. He is obliged to say—Well, I was only there for six weeks; I cannot pretend that I know much about it. But sixty weeks of that sort of thing would make little difference.
On the other hand, six weeks tramping gives you unforgettable impressions of reality. You have the great advantage of facing society from the outside of its classes. You are at the bottom of the social system and have the freedom from pride which such a position implies.
’Tis pride that pulls the country down
Then take thy auld cloak about thee.