A NOOK IN THE ALLEGHANIES 147 



ing my eyes to make out the yellow blossoms, 

 deploring the speed of the train, which, 

 nevertheless, brought me into Macon several 

 hours after I should have been in Atlanta, 

 wishing for my Chapman's Flora (packed 

 away in my trunk, of course), and bewail- 

 ing the certainty that I was losing the only 

 opportunity I should ever have to see so 

 interesting a novelty. And still, I can 

 say it now, half a look is better than no 

 vision. 



For fifty miles beyond Roanoke we trav- 

 eled southward ; but an ascent of a thousand 

 feet offset, and more than offset, the change 

 of latitude, so that at Pulaski we found the 

 apple-trees not yet in flower, but showing 

 the pink of the buds. The venerable, pleas- 

 ingly unsymmetrical sugar maples in the 

 yard of the inn (the reputed, and real, com- 

 forts of which had drawn me to this particu- 

 lar spot) were hung full of pale yellow tassels, 

 and vocal with honey-bees. Spring was here, 

 and I felt myself welcome. 



Till luncheon should be ready, I strayed 

 into the border of the wood behind the 

 town, and, wandering quite at a venture, 

 came by good luck upon a path which fol- 



