A DAY IN THE WOODS 145 



woman smoking a pipe on the piazza. It would 

 be a strict moralist who should grudge her that 

 one comfort. 



Now I have left the last human habitation be- 

 hind me, and in front stretches the narrow road 

 arched with greenness, running away and away 

 till it runs out of sight. What lofty oaks and 

 sweet-gums ! And what beautiful lichens cover 

 them with wise-looking hieroglyphics ! If we 

 could only decipher their meaning ! I note espe- 

 cially the ribbed, muscular-seeming trunks of the 

 hornbeams, one of which, the largest, is riddled 

 with uncountable perforations, the work of some 

 sap-loving woodpecker ; and I turn about more 

 than once to admire the proportions of a mag- 

 nificent magnolia, one of the largest I have ever 

 seen. My thanks to the highway surveyor who 

 went a few feet out of his way to leave it stand- 

 ing. A rod or two more, and I stop to look up 

 at some exceptionally tall pines and live-oaks, a 

 noticeable group, in the altitude of which I have 

 before found a pleasure. 



How they soar, as if to see which shall go 

 highest ! And as high as the oak branches go, so 

 high the gray moss follows. 



Now I am at the fork of the road. My course 

 is to the right. " Old Stage Koad to Buckhead 

 Bluff on the Tomoka Kiver at the crossing of 



