232 WALKS ABOUT TALLAHASSEE. 
ese persimmon trees, and many other things. 
Here was a pretty shrub. Perhaps I could 
tell what it was by crushing and smelling a 
leaf? No; it was something familiar; I 
sniffed, and looked foolish, and after all he 
had to tell me its name—camphor. So we 
went the rounds of the garden, — frighten- 
ing a mocking-bird off her nest in an orange- 
tree, — till my hands were full. It is too 
bad I have forgotten how many pecan-trees 
he had planted, and how many sheep he 
kept. A well-regulated memory would have 
held fast to such figures: mine is certain 
only that there were four eggs in the mock- 
ing-bird’s nest. Mr. G. was a man of en- 
terprise, at any rate; a match for any Yan- 
kee, although he had come to Florida not 
from Yankeeland, but from northern Geor- 
gia. I hope all his crops are still thriving, 
especially his white roses and his Marshal 
Niels. 
In the lane, after skirting some pleasant 
woods, which I meant to visit again, but 
found no opportunity, I was suddenly as- 
saulted by a pair of brown thrashers, half 
beside themselves after their manner because 
of my approach to their nest. How close 
