Wanderers and Pilgrims by Elizabeth Rundle Charles

A LARGE tract of country lay spread before me; upland and lowland, hill / and plain. The whole land seemed stirring with perpetual movement, all / in one direction; -from the bright hills at its commencement, to the / dark mountains at the end. Earth and sky seemed moving, as when an / enormous flight of migratory birds is passing by, but earth and sky / were really stationary. This movement was one constant tide of human / life, ceaselessly streaming across the land.

It began on a range of wooded hills, with their sunny southern slopes, / forests and flowery banks, and grassy and golden fields. Down these / slopes, joyous bands ran fast. As I looked closer, I saw the movement / was not incessant in the case of each individual; only the ceaseless / passing of the great tide of life made it seem so. Merry groups paused / on the hill-sides, and made fairy gardens, and twined leafy tents where / they would sit a little while and sing and dance. But only a little / while! No hand seemed driving them on; it appeared only an inward / irresistible instinct. Yet soon the bright groups were scattered, and / moved down again over the hills, often never joining more.