CHAPTER XVIII.

IN THE LAND OF FLOWERS.

After these scientific investigations, my wife and I left New England covered with snow and swept by fierce, freezing winds to find this far-famed peninsular basking in delicious sunshine, the air full of the exquisite perfume of orange blossoms and the songs of rejoicing birds. It was an enchanted land, the balsamic odors from the beautiful evergreen pine forests starred by the fragrant magnolia blossoms of spotless white, exorcised the ulceratic demons from throat and lungs.

We feasted upon the delicious fruits and vegetables fresh from the trees and earth, and the returning healthy appet.i.te was refreshed by tender venison, wild turkeys and quails from the woods, nutritious and abundant fish and ducks from the lakes and rivers. It was a new heaven and a new earth, full of gladness and semi-tropical luxuries.

As soon as the hospitable people learned that I represented our beloved Uncle Sam, I was overwhelmed with free pa.s.ses and free hotels, anywhere and everywhere.

The Count De Barry, who had ama.s.sed a vast fortune as the American representative of "Mum's Extra Dry," and who had received numerous valuable seeds and shrubs from our generous department, took us on his palatial steamer for hundreds of miles up the lordly St. John's River, where we feasted our eyes upon acres of wild ducks, pelicans, cranes and many huge, lazy alligators floating on the waves, rejoicing in the life-giving beams of the sun.

The stately trees along the banks, old when Adam was a baby, were covered with flowering vines of wondrous beauty and fragrance; then vast orange groves appeared covered with blossoms, small and ripe fruit all at the same time; numerous herds of cattle standing knee deep in the water, leisurely browsing upon the river plants both on the surface and under the shallow river.

We would anchor, and throwing a clasp-net which spread out on the bottom and then closed like a purse, we pulled in excellent fish by the hundreds; sitting on the canopied deck we shot ducks which the negroes captured in small boats, and soon served cooked for our delectation; pineapples and berries were brought from the sh.o.r.e, in fact, it was a lotus-eater's dream of paradise, and seemed to be a land and a river "flowing with milk and honey."

The words from Willis' confessional came floating to our minds.

"On ocean many a gladsome night, When heaved the long and sullen sea, With only waves and stars in sight, We stole along by isles of balm; We furled before the coming gale, We slept amid the breathless calm, We flew beneath the straining sail.

Oh, softly on these banks of haze Her rosy face the summer lays, Becalmed along the azure sky The argosies of cloudland lie; The holy silence is G.o.d's voice We look, and listen, and rejoice."

When the night fell, and one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, blossomed out the beautiful stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels, they seemed so near that you almost expected to touch them with the hand, and the silver moon arising, set the clouds on fire with gladness and "left upon the level water one long track and trail of splendor, down whose stream we sailed into the purple vapors, to the islands of the blessed, to the kingdom of Ponemah to the land of the hereafter."

While thus we dreamed, the balmy zephyr brings from the forecastle to our delighted hearing, the tinkling music of the banjo and guitar, the melody of the singing voices and dancing feet of our freedmen boat's crew. The lines of Whittier were resurrected in our thoughts.

"Dear, the black man holds his gifts Of music and of song, The gold that kindly nature sifts Among his sands of wrong, The power to make his toiling days And poor home comforts please; The quaint relief of mirth that plays With sorrow's minor keys."

For they sang among others the identical words of the poet's expressive song,

"Ole ma.s.sa on he trabbels gone, He leaf de land behind: De Lord's breff blow him furder on, Like corn-shuck in de wind: We own de hoe, we own de plow, We own de hans dat hold, We sell de pig, we sell de cow, But nebber chile be sold.

De norf wind tell it to de pines, De wild-duck to de sea, We tink it when de church-bell ring, We dream it in de dream, De rice-bird mean it when he sing, De eagle when he scream, De yam will grow, de cotton blow, We'll hab de rice and corn; Nebber you fear, if nebber you hear De driber blow his horn."

And so all too quickly pa.s.sed that ideal night, without thought of sleep, till the rising sun shot his radiant beams over the great river, when we steamed slowly up to the long pier, and walked under an arch of stately palms to our host's beautiful home, embowered in orange trees and luxuriant trumpet creepers in this summer land of perpetual bloom.

Close by the Count's residence was a lake of sulphur water, gushing from deep down in the earth. Into this we plunged and swam until we seemed to be born again into immortal youth, then on the broad piazza we enjoyed a feast which would have delighted Jupiter and all his G.o.ds, every course of which was taken from the adjoining trees, grounds and waters.

We then inspected the great plantation, where was found growing in profusion, everything essential to the wants of the most fastidious of mortals, while the surrounding woods and river teemed with a great variety of fish and game.

I roam as in a waking dream The garden of the Hesperides, And see the golden fruitage gleam Amid the stately orange-trees.

Unfading green is on the hill, The vales are decked with countless flowers, While hums the bee, the song birds trill Sweet music through the sunny hours.

The moss is waving in the gale From live oak, hickory, and pine, And draping like a bridal-veil The beauteous yellow jessamine.

Through countless vistas in the wood I see the windows of the morn Ope to the world a glowing flood Of glory when the day is born.

And when, with robes of Tyrian dye, The evening comes when day is done, I see around the radiant sky A hundred sunsets blent in one.

We parted from our genial entertainer with much reluctance when the superintendent of the railroad claimed us as his guests, and with him, we inspected the famous orange groves along his line, resting on Sunday at a palatial hotel where the St. John's River broadens into the great Lake Munroe.

While at church we were much entertained by the lively, frolicsome manoeuvres of the numerous beautiful chameleons of rapidly changing colors, who greatly distracted the attention of the congregation from the service by their pranks on the walls and decorations.

Directly in front of us was a sleepy, bald-headed man upon whose shining, nodding, snoring pate several flies were resting in quiet enjoyment of the sermon. All at once, this toothsome collection attracted the attention of a very large bright-eyed chameleon admirer who launched himself through the air upon said bald head in pursuit of his dinner. With a yell of fear, the sleeper struck the animal with his huge hand, sending the long tailed frolicsome creature heels over head directly upon the clergyman's ma.n.u.script, and the alarmed preacher, in turn, with a smothered imprecation and a sweeping blow, hurled the sprawling legs and elongated tail down upon some frightened children who screamed and tumbled over each other upon the floor in a struggling heap.

This was too much for the pent-up risibilities of the audience who laughed long and loud, greatly to the disturbance of the solemnity of the occasion. The witty minister remarked that this addition to his flock, like some church members, seemed to care more for the carnal than the spiritual, and proceeded to the thirteenthly division of his discourse.

From here we traveled for hundreds of miles over the flat, monotonous, arid sands of south Florida, where green gra.s.s and fresh garden vegetables were unknown, frequently remarking that if we owned these localities and hades, we would give away the former and live in the latter place. But when we retraced our steps, and reached the rich highlands of the northern counties of Marion, Bradford, and Clay, found the earth covered with green gra.s.s in winter, the trees beautiful with blossoms and luscious oranges, the air fragrant with rare flowers, and resonant with songs of birds, saw the planters shipping thousands of crates of fruit and vegetables, and finally arrived at the far-famed Silver Springs, it seemed as if we had found Ponce de Leon's fountain of immortal youth.

The crystal clear waters of this wonderful spring, or more properly called lake, gush in immense volumes seemingly from the very centre of the earth, spreading out until wide and deep enough to float a great navy, and are so transparent that mult.i.tudes of fishes are seen disporting among marine plants and sh.e.l.ls plainly discernible hundreds of feet below.

Here we embarked on a comfortable steamer, and sailed nearly twenty-four hours down the incomparable Ocklawaha River, through scenes that are indescribably picturesque; under arches of gigantic trees covered with sombrely beautiful Spanish mosses and trumpet creeper vines, where all day long are heard the ecstatic songs of mockingbirds, and where flutter the plumages of all the colors of the rainbow.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Indiscribably Picturesque Ocklawaha River of Florida.]

Swiftly the golden hours fly, as we float over this marvelous river; softly the dusky boatmen chant their love songs, the fires from their "fatwood" cauldron on the upper deck illuminates the stately trees, and the strains of the poet, b.u.t.terworth, come plaintively to our mental hearing.

"We have pa.s.sed funereal glooms, Cypress caverns, haunted rooms, Halls of gray moss starred with blooms-- Slowly, slowly, in these straits, Drifting towards the cypress gates Of the Ocklawaha.

"In the towers of green o'erhead Watch the vultures for the dead, And below the egrets red Eye the mossy pools like fates, In the shadowy cypress gates Of the Ocklawaha.

"Clouds of palm crowns lie behind, Clouds of gray moss in the wind, Crumbling oaks with jessamines twined, Where the ring-doves meet their mates, Cooing in the cypress gates Of the Ocklawaha.

"High the silver ibis flies-- Silver wings in silver skies; In the sun the Saurian lies: Comes the mockingbird and prates To the boatman at the gates Of the Ocklawaha.

"Now the broader waters gleam-- Seems my voyage upon the stream Like a semblance of a dream, And the dream my Soul elates; Life flows through the cypress gates Of the Ocklawaha.

"Ibis, thou wilt fly again, Ring-dove, thou wilt sigh again, Jessamines bloom in golden rain; And a loving song-bird waits Me beyond the cypress gates Of the Ocklawaha."

CHAPTER XIX.

SUNBEAM, THE SEMINOLE.

When I had concluded the recitation of the poem which closes the preceding chapter, a fine-looking gentleman sitting near us arose, and lifting his hat very gracefully, said:

"Pardon me. As a native Floridian, I have much enjoyed hearing you repeat that poem relating to my State."

This led to a pleasant conversation, during which he introduced us to his wife as being one of the aborigines. We expressed much interest in this statement, and finally persuaded him to give us an account of his courtship, which, with some amplifications, was substantially as follows:

It is midnight in the vast everglades of Florida. The mammoth forest trees seem to support the arch of heaven as the pillars uphold the great dome of the nation's capitol. Here and there the century-old orange trees are resplendent with the golden globes of the luscious fruit, and millions of flowering vines beautify even the dead monarchs of the woods.