WINTER SUNSHINE. 



25 



washer-woman what street she lives on, or where such 

 a one has moved to, and the chances are that she can- 

 not tell you, except that it is a "right smart distance" 

 this way or that, or near Mr. So-and-so, or by such and 

 such a place, describing some local feature. I love to 

 amuse myself, when walking through the market, by 

 asking the old aunties, and the young aunties, too, the 

 names of their various "yarbs." It seem as if they 

 must trip on the simplest names. Bloodroot they gen- 

 erally call "grubroot;" trailing arbutus goes by the 

 names of "troling" arbutus, " training arbuty-flower," 

 and ground " ivory ; " in Virginia, they call woodchucks 

 " moonacks." 



On entering Pumpkintown — a cluster of five or six 

 small, whitewashed block-houses, toeing squarely on 

 the highway — the only inhabitant we saw was a small 

 boy, who was as frank and simple as if he had lived 

 on pumpkins and marrow-squashes all his days. 



Half a mile farther on, we turned to the right into a 

 characteristic Southern road — a way entirely unkempt, 

 and wandering free as the wind ; now fading out into a 

 broad field ; now contracting into a narrow track be- 

 tween hedges ; anon roaming with delightful abandon 

 through swamps and woods, asking no leave and keep- 

 ing no bounds. About two o'clock, we stopped in an 

 opening in a pine wood, and ate our lunch. We had 

 the good fortune to hit upon a charming place. A 

 wood-chopper had been there, and let in the sunlight 

 full and strong ; and the white chips, the newly-piled 



