THE

NEW CENTURY FIFTH READER.

A WATER-LANE IN FLORIDA.

SIDNEY LANIER.

But presently we abandoned the broad and garish highway of the St. John's, and we turned off to the right into the narrow lane of the Ocklawaha, the sweetest water-lane in the world, a lane which runs for more than one hundred and fifty miles of pure delight betwixt hedgerows of oaks and cypresses, and palms and bays, and magnolias and mosses, and manifold vine-growths; a lane clean to travel along, for there is never a speck of dust in it save the blue dust and gold dust which the wind blows out of the flags and lilies; a lane which is as if a typical wood-troll had taken shape, and as if God had there turned into water and trees the recollection of some meditative ramble through the lonely seclusions of His own soul.

As we advanced up the stream, our wee craft even seemed to emit her steam in more leisurely whiffs as she pushed along. Dick, the pole-man a man of marvelous fine functions when we shall presently come to the short, narrow curves-lay asleep on the guards, in great peril of rolling into the river over the three inches between his length and the edge; the people of the boat moved not, and spoke