A paean on the habit of walking, or, as he agreeably calls it, of foot-faring, reaches me from Hampshire, accompanied with a plea for more footpaths. My correspondent, who has written a charming and learned book on flowers in literature, describes himself as the only foot-farer on a road given up wholly to speed, and more or less prisoned in that unfavour- able place by the inability to find a footpath. The local council has discussed the question of providing footpaths if there is demand enough. The proviso is needless. Footpaths are a moral and intellectual necessity for some people, and their provision increases the demand. It is quite true '• only those who walk, who practise The delicate and gentle art Of never getting there, can behold the country or suck full enjoyment from it ; and from their ranks are recruited the real preservers of rural England. Much of Hampshire provides ideal paths and green roads, but the pine country near the centre of military activity is an exception.