104 THE AMERICAN BOTANIST. 



the last change of cars — nobody can get into the heart of 

 the "pines" without several such changes — one finds a train 

 of two or three cars drawn by a wheezy engine which after 

 some miles of jolting over uneven track finally comes to a 

 standstill as if too tired and discouraged to go further. This 

 is the end of the road and the few houses which constitute the 

 last village are clustered about in a spot whose fertility, al- 

 though slightly above that of the surrounding country, is still 

 sufficient to make it a veritable oasis in this all but desert 

 land. In all directions from its borders the gray sand extends, 

 tenanted by stunted specimens of pitch pine whose stems are 

 little more than poles, with a brush of yellow-green foliage 

 at top which scarcely shades the small oaks and huckleberry 

 bushes forming the principal underwood. 



Upon entering the pines, one is impressed, not only by 

 the paucity of species but also by the small number of individ- 

 uals. The vegetation in may places is so scattering, that if 

 the smooth level sand were solid, the bicycler might ride 

 through the woods, choosing his own path, and meet with 

 very few obstructions. With a wagon, one may drive about 

 where he pleases. It is nevertheless the fashion to keep to 

 the beaten path, even when a new one might promise better 

 traveling. Once a road is broken, it is never wholly reclaimed 

 by Nature, although travel on it may subsequently cease. One 

 frequently comes upon such derelicts aimlessly sprawling across 

 the country but apparently leading nowhere. It seems scarce- 

 ly possible that the passing of an occasional wagon could keep 

 the way open, but it is difificult for the plants to get a foothold 

 in the dry soil, and the wind helps somewhat by blowing the 

 sand about, so that the roadbed soon sinks below the surface, 

 sometimes to the depth of a foot. In the yielding sand at the 

 bottom the tires of the wagons are lost to sight. Three 

 miles an hour is considered rapid traveling over such roads. 



As much rain falls upon this part of New Jersey as upon 

 any other, but the thirsty sand rapidly sucks up the moisture 



