ALONG THE HILLSBOROUGH. 
WHEREVER a walker lives, he finds sooner 
or later one favorite road. So it was with 
me at New Smyrna, where I lived for three 
weeks. I had gone there for the sake of 
the river, and my first impulse was to take 
the road that runs southerly along its bank. 
At the time I thought it the most beautiful 
road I had found in Florida, nor have I seen 
any great cause since to alter that opinion. 
With many pleasant windings (beautiful 
roads are never straight, nor unnecessarily 
wide, which is perhaps the reason why our 
rural authorities devote themselves so madly 
to the work of straightening and widening), 
— with many pleasant windings, I say, 
“The grace of God made manifest in curves,” 
it follows the edge of the hammock, having 
the river on one side, and the forest on the 
other. It was afternoon when I first saw it. 
Then it is shaded from the sun, while the 
river and its opposite bank have on them a 
