WOODLAND PATHS 



and the south wind catches them and bears 

 them to us in advance of her footsteps. 

 You may sniff these same odors of March 

 far offshore along the West Indies, 

 spicy, intoxicating scents, borne from the 

 hearts of tropic wild-flowers and floating 

 off to sea on every breeze. 



With them floats that wonderful grape- 

 bloom tint that touches the surface of all 

 the waters to northward of these islands 

 with its velvety softness, the currents 

 carrying it ever northward and east- 

 ward, sometimes almost to the shores of 

 the British Isles. You may .see it all 

 about you in mid-ocean as your vessel 

 steams from New York to Liverpool or 

 Southampton or Havre or the Hook of 

 Holland. Some essence of all this gets 

 into the air on the southerly gales that 

 are borne in the windward islands and 

 whirl up along our coast to die finally in 

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