"I guess we had better take the short road," answered my wife. "We will
get there sooner."

"It's a mighty fine dribe roun' by de big road, Mis' Annie," observed
Julius, "en it doan take much longer to git dere."

"No," said my wife, "I think we will go by the short road. There is a
bay-tree in blossom near the mineral spring, and I wish to get some of
the flowers."

"I 'spec's you 'd fin' some bay-trees 'long de big road, ma'm,"
suggested Julius.

"But I know about the flowers on the short road, and they are the ones
I want."

We drove down the lane to the highway, and soon struck into the short
road leading past the mineral spring. Our route lay partly through a
swamp, and on each side the dark, umbrageous foliage, unbroken by any
clearing, lent to the road solemnity, and to the air a refreshing
coolness. About half a mile from the house, and about half-way to the
mineral spring, we stopped at the tree of which my wife had spoken, and
reaching up to the low-hanging boughs, I gathered a dozen of the
fragrant white flowers. When I resumed my seat in the rockaway, Julius
started the mare. She went on for a few rods, until we had reached the
edge of a branch crossing the road, when she stopped short.

"Why did you stop, Julius?" I asked.