84 ALONG THE HILLSBOROUGH. 
curiosity on edge, nor any sand through 
which to be picking my steps. 
The river road is paved with oyster-shells. 
If any reader thinks that statement prosaic 
or unimportant, then he has never lived in 
southern Florida. In that part of the world 
all new-comers have to take walking-lessons ; 
unless, indeed, they have already served an 
apprenticeship on Cape Cod, or in some other 
place equally arenarious. My own lesson I 
got at second hand, and on a Sunday. It 
was at New Smyrna, in the village. Two 
women were behind me, on their way home 
from church, and one of them was complain- 
ing of the sand, to which she was not yet 
used. “Yes,” said the other, “I found it 
pretty hard walking at first, but I learned 
after a while that the best way is to set the 
heel down hard, as hard as you can; then 
the sand doesn’t give under you so much, 
and you get along more comfortably.” I 
wonder whether she noticed, just in front 
of her, a man who began forthwith to bury 
his boot heel at every step ? 
In such a country (the soil is said to be 
good for orange-trees, but they do not have 
to walk) roads of powdered shell are veri- 
