A-FORTNIGHT IN A+ PALACH On 
REEDS. 
WHEN you reach the top of the bold hill 
known as Cedar Loaf, you may see the Coo- 
sawattee River winding away, in a direction 
diagonal to the length of the valley below, 
sparkling and rippling between its dense 
fringes of canebrake. There are broad rifts 
in the forests of pine, hickory, oak and tulip, 
through which shine the grassy glades or min- 
lature prairies, peculiar to the North Georgia 
region. The old Indian Ford, from which the 
serpentine trail of the Cherokees used to 
wriggle away like a snake, is still visible, its 
steep approaches having somewhat the ap- 
pearance of abandoned otter-slides. Nowhere 
in the world, I believe, can such beautiful fo- 
liage be found as that wherewith the forests 
of this wild region bedecks itself in April. 
The young hickory trees spread out marvellous 
leaves, more than a span in width, and the yel- 
low tulip exaggerates both foliage and flowers. 
The dogwood and sour-gum, the red-oak, the 
maple and the chestnut, the cherry, the sasa- 
fras and the lovely sweet-gum all flourish in 
fullest luxury of life and color. Wild flowers, 
too, of almost endless varieties, leap into per- 
fect blossom early in spring along every hill 
slope and in every valley, pocket, and ravine. 
Not far from Indian Ford stood the Palace 
of Reeds, built by Nature’s own hand, on a 
low bluff of the river’s east bank. We found 
