Another has a halting, shuffling, undecided gait; while a third walks in a bold, determined, straight-forward, erect and independent manner. One has a cautious, parsimonious step, as if sparing of shoe-leather, or afraid to trust the ground; he has, however, probably, trusted the funds with considerable investments. Some walk with long, pretentious, measured strides; others make short, quick, insignificant steps. Some, again, are hurried, fussy, noisy; while others glide along in a quiet, shrinking, unpretending, it may be timid, manner. I need not dilate upon these diversities. Your own observation will supply abundant illustrations of the correspondence between character and manner of walking. The several movements in walking are under the control of the WILL, and are directed by it, to such an extent that the continuous agency of the will is essential to the process. If the influence of the will be suspended, but for a moment, the action ceases, and the man falls to the ground. Nevertheless, the play of the individual muscles, and their co-ordination, or the manner in which their several movements are combined, are, in a great measure, independent of the will. They are, to a certain extent, automatic, and result from peculiar relations between the nervous and the muscular systems. The will may be compared to the driver of an engine, who, by turning on the steam, and maintaining the supply, sets the machine in motion, and regulates the rate of its speed; but the several wheels are so arranged that they go on irrespectively of his immediate superintendence. It would be impossible for the engine-man to attend to the working of each detail of his machine; and it would be too much for the will to have to direct all the movements of the limbs in walking. We should be wearied with such an effort of attention before we had walked across a room; for the exercise of the will is exhausting, and soon engenders fatigue. The more we think of any movement and take pains to direct it, the sooner we are tired and unable to continue it; and the more the attention is diverted, the less quickly do we experience a feeling of exhaustion; while those movements in the body which are not at all under the influence of the will--the movements of the heart for instance--go on unceasingly, through a long life, without any sense of weariness. What so prevents fatigue, when we are walking, as the diverting conversation of an agreeable companion?