woodpath

Castor oil doesn't help, nor does his own sense of “personal deterioration,” or the ministrations of Fred his dachshund, who accompanies him on trips down the woodpath through the orchard to the pigyard, and also makes “many professional calls on his own.

languagehat.com: HACKMATACK. 2005

Finally, however, the luggage was carried downstairs, the bill paid, and the circumstantial good-byes were said: they set off, at full speed, down the woodpath to the station, to catch the midday train.

Maurice Guest 2003

"Why it's the old woodpath again," murmured Belinda.

Little Folks (Septemeber 1884) A Magazine for the Young Various

Plattekill Mountains, Haines's Fall, the Clove Road and intervening ravines, the winding woodpath, and burnt trees, are close records of fact, set in a far-away sky and a real atmosphere.

Continental Monthly , Vol. 5, No. 6, June, 1864 Devoted to Literature and National Policy Various

The sun poked a jolly red face above the wooded ridge before the two runaways left the beaten track and took a narrow woodpath that would cut off about a mile of their walk.

Ruth Fielding in Moving Pictures Or, Helping the Dormitory Fund Alice B. Emerson

He would eat nothing; he started up at every slightest noise hoping for the familiar whistle; he haunted the well-worn woodpath where they had had so many happy days together.

Le Petit Nord or, Annals of a Labrador Harbour Katie Spalding 1911

Gilbert, glancing at her sideways as they walked along a shadowy woodpath, thought she had never looked so lovely.

Anne of the Island 1908

On the appointed day we made the voyage, landed at the upper bridge, walked around by the woodpath to the railroad embankment, and began to worm our way down through the tangled wilderness.

Fisherman's Luck and Some Other Uncertain Things Henry Van Dyke 1892

He walked up and down the woodpath or sat on the bench there for some time, thinking indeed, but thinking with a certain stern practical dryness.

Robert Elsmere Humphry Ward 1885

We passed under dark wooded cliffs out into sunny openings, the last of which held under its skirting pines the secret of the prettiest woodpath to us in all the world, the path to the ancestral farmhouse.

A New England girlhood, outlined from memory (Beverly, MA) Lucy Larcom 1858