ON THE ST. AUGUSTINE ROAD. 
OnE of my first inquiries at Tallahassee 
was for the easiest way to the woods. The 
city is built on a hill, with other hills about 
it. These are mostly under cultivation, and 
such woods as lay within sight seemed to 
be pretty far off; and with the mercury at 
ninety in the shade, long tramps were almost 
out of the question. ‘“ Take the St. Augus- 
tine road,” said the man to whom I had 
spoken; and he pointed out its beginning 
nearly opposite the state capitol. After 
breakfast I followed his advice, with results 
so pleasing that I found myself turning 
that corner again and again as long as I 
remained in Tallahassee. 
The road goes abruptly downhill to the 
railway track, first between deep red gulches, 
and then between rows of negro cabins, each 
with its garden of rosebushes, now (early 
April) in full bloom. The deep sides of 
the gulches were draped with pendent lan- 
tana branches full of purple flowers, or, 
