The mere animal pleasure of travelling in a wild unexplored country is
very great. When on lands of a couple of thousand feet elevation,
brisk exercise imparts elasticity to the muscles, fresh and healthy
blood circulates through the brain, the mind works well, the eye is
clear, the step is firm, and a day's exertion always makes the
evening's repose thoroughly enjoyable.

We have usually the stimulus of remote chances of danger either from
beasts or men. Our sympathies are drawn out towards our humble hardy
companions by a community of interests, and, it may be, of perils,
which make us all friends. Nothing but the most pitiable puerility
would lead any manly heart to make their inferiority a theme for
self-exaltation; however, that is often done, as if with the vague
idea that we can, by magnifying their deficiencies, demonstrate our
immaculate perfections.

The effect of travel on a man whose heart is in the right place is
that the mind is made more self-reliant: it becomes more confident of
its own resources--there is greater presence of mind. The body is soon
well-knit; the muscles of the limbs grow as hard as a board, and seem
to have no fat; the countenance is bronzed, and there is no dyspepsia.
Africa is a most wonderful country for appetite, and it is only when
one gloats over marrow bones or elephant's feet that indigestion is
possible. No doubt much toil is involved, and fatigue of which
travellers in the more temperate climes can form but a faint
conception; but the sweat of one's brow is no longer a curse when one
works for God: it proves a tonic to the system, and is actually a
blessing. No one can truly appreciate the charm of repose unless he
has undergone severe exertion.