io IN THE FLAT-WOODS. 
My first impression was one of disappoint- 
ment, or perhaps I should rather say, of 
bewilderment. In fact, I returned from my 
first visit to the flat-woods under the delusion 
that I had not been into them at all. This 
was at St. Augustine, whither I had gone 
after a night only in Jacksonville. I looked 
about the quaint little city, of course, and 
went to the South Beach, on St. Anastasia 
Island ; then I wished to see the pine lands. 
They were to be found, I was told, on the 
other side of the San Sebastian. The sun 
was hot (or so it. seemed to a man fresh 
from the rigors of a New England winter), 
and the sand was deep; but I sauntered 
through New Augustine, and pushed on up 
the road toward Moultrie (I believe it was), 
till the last houses were passed and I came 
to the edge of the pine-woods. Here, pres- 
ently, the roads began to fork in a very 
confusing manner. ‘The first man I met — 
a kindly cracker — cautioned me against 
getting lost; but I had no thought of taking 
the slightest risk of that kind. I was not 
going to explore the woods, but only to enter 
them, sit down, look about me, and listen. 
The difficulty was to get into them. As I 
