Part 20 (2/2)
This river, as we have seen, forms the western boundary of Eastern Florida. It is a very romantic stream, running through a country of surpa.s.sing beauty, with tropical trees and undergrowth coming right to the water's edge. It enters Florida from Southern Georgia, and runs through a country which varies from forest to plain and from upland to valley. Along its banks there are a number of little Southern homes, few of them boasting of the magnificence of which we often read, but all of them peaceful and attractive. Of one of these we give an ill.u.s.tration.
At first glance they may not appear to be anything very remarkable about the little house and its surroundings, but on second thoughts and glances something more than poetical will be discovered. The old negro ballad from which we have quoted above gives in its lines a charming idea of the river and of the memories and thoughts which cling to it.
Excursion parties are very frequent along the river. Some indulge in hunting, and take advantage of the profusion of game on every hand.
Others prefer to indulge in peaceful reverie and to think only of the quaint old folks, who, as we are told in the song, still stay in the vicinity.
The Ocklawaha River resembles the Suwanee in many respects. Steamboats run along it for a considerable distance, and there is seldom difficulty in securing pa.s.sengers. It is said that there are more alligators to a hundred square feet of water, in sections of this river, than can be found in any other water in the world. From the deck of a pa.s.senger steamer it is quite interesting to watch the peculiar proceedings of these dangerous creatures, and many conjectures are exchanged as to what would happen in the event of any one of the watchers falling overboard.
On the banks of the river, cedar groves are frequently seen. Florida supplies the world with the wood required for lead pencils, and the inroads made into her cedar forests for this purpose threaten to eventually rob the State of one of its most unique features. Cypress, a wood which is just beginning to be appreciated at its true worth, is also abundant in this vicinity, and many of the much talked-of cypress swamps are pa.s.sed. Pineapples are also seen growing vigorously, and also the vanilla plant, which resembles tobacco in its leaf. Vanilla leaf is gathered very largely, and sold for some purpose not very clearly defined or explained.
The banyan tree has to be seen to be understood. It is really an exclusive product of Florida and is found in the Key West country, where sea island cotton will grow all the year around, indifferent to changes of season. The banyan is almost a colony of trees in itself, having, apparently, a dozen trunks in one. All the upper boughs are more or less united, and the old proverb of ”In union there is strength,” seems to have in it a unique ill.u.s.tration and confirmation.
Lake Worth is one of the prettiest lakes in the South. It is a very beautiful sheet of water, broken only by Pitts' Island, which is located near its northern end. The most useful and desirable products of the North have here a congenial home, alongside those most loved in the region of the equator. A New Englander may find his potatoes, sweet corn, tomatoes and other garden favorites, and can pluck, with scarcely a change in his position, products that are usually claimed as Brazilian. He finds in his surroundings, as plentiful and as free as the water sprinkling before him, such strange neighbors as coffee, the tamarind, mango, pawpa, guava, banana, sapadillo, almond, custard apple, maumec apple, grape fruit, shaddock, Avadaco pear, and other equally new acquaintances.
And these are all neighbors, actual residents, natives of the soil, not imported immigrants or exacting visitors to be tenderly treated. Giant relatives, equally at home, are the rubber tree, mahogany, eucalyptus, cork tree and mimosa. All these, within forty hours' travel of New York, to be reached in winter by an all-rail trip, and to be enjoyed in a climate that is a perpetual May. It was but a few years ago (less than a dozen) that the beauties of Lake Worth were at first dimly reported by venturesome sportsmen, who had gazed upon its unspeakable loveliness.
To-day the taste and labor of wealthy capitalists from East and from West, have lined its fair sh.o.r.es with elegant homes. One of these, the McCormick Place, has for the past two years been famous for its wondrous beauty. It is situated at Palm Beach, on the eastern sh.o.r.e of the lake, and faces westward or inland. It thus receives the cool air from the lake and the breezes from the Atlantic, which is but a stroll distant.
The entire estate comprises 100 acres, all under high cultivation. It has a water front on both lake and ocean of 1,200 feet. In this lovely spot Mr. McCormick built a castle, so handsomely finished, inside and out, so tastefully designed and so elegantly furnished, that one would imagine he expected to entertain royalty within its walls.
It is said that nowhere on the continent is so great a variety of vegetable growth presented in one locality, as is here to be seen in the full perfection of l.u.s.ty growth. The cacti at this point are marvels of variety and beauty. One's idea of what a cactus is can never be complete until one has witnessed a scene such as this, and a collection of this magnitude. The fruit trees form a ma.s.s of groves. In some of these, huge cocoanuts tower away above all other growth, while alongside of these monarchs of arbory culture there are groves of dwarf trees, less tremendous but quite as interesting.
This region has been described as a mental quicksand. There is something in the atmosphere which makes the most industrious man contentedly idle.
Here the nervous, irritable, fussy individual, who for years has never known what rest meant, and who has fidgeted when he could not work, finds himself relaxing, against his will, into a condition of what a celebrated statesman described as ”innocuous desuetude.” The balminess of the air, which is at once warm and invigorating and bracing, without being severe, brings about a natural feeling of rest. The fascination which this creates soon becomes overpowering. The longer the visitor remains the more completely and hopelessly does he give away to his feelings, until at last he only tears himself away by a painful effort.
Biscayne Bay stands at the terminus of the peninsula of Florida, and at the extreme southeastern end of the United States. The visitor who stands here is on what is frequently called the great projecting toe of the Union. South of him there are a number of islands, but of the main land there is no more. The bay is almost a lake. It sets well into the coast, but is not quite enclosed by land. It is between five and ten miles wide and is forty miles long. A score of little inlets feed it from the ocean. The water is blue and clear and of no great depth, making the lake one of the finest cruising places in the world. All along the sh.o.r.es there are picturesque little settlements, all of them distinctly Southern in their appearance, and concerning each of which the traveler can hear legend without number.
St. Augustine is perhaps the most talked-about city in Florida. It is a quaint old Spanish city with a great history. The evidences of the past seem to be disappearing rapidly, the retreat being forced by the introduction of modern ideas and immense sums of modern capital.
Memorial Church is one of the features of the town, and behind it the traveler sees, as he approaches, turrets and towers of every shape and size. The pavements are almost uniformly good, and as one is driven along the streets for the first time, every turning seems to bring to light some new wonder and some unexpected beauty. Hedges formed of oleanders, arbor vitae, larches and cedars, to say nothing of ma.s.ses of roses of all kinds, upset all his preconceived notions of tree, shrub and flower growth, and convince him that he has come to a land flowing indeed with milk and honey, where winters are practically unknown.
The Hotel Ponce de Leon is naturally the great object of his search, and if his purse affords it the tourist certainly stops here, if only for the sake of saying that he has slept, for one night at least, in this extraordinary and marvelously magnificent hostelry. If the Ponce de Leon were in New York, Philadelphia, St. Louis or Chicago, it would excite murmurs of admiration on every hand. But its existence would not be regarded as something extraordinary, as it certainly is in a town of the size of St. Augustine. The enterprise which led to its construction has been commented on again and again, and the liberal methods of management have also been the subject of much comment. As the carriage pa.s.ses through the arched gateway into the enclosed court, blooming all the year round with fragrance and beauty, the tourist begins to apologize mentally for the skepticism in which he has indulged, concerning this wonder of the age. After mounting several successive terraces of broad stone steps, he finds himself at last before the magnificent front of the great hotel. Before him there is the grand doorway, surmounted by the oft-described arch of Spanish s.h.i.+elds in terra cotta. All around there are broad galleries and wide windows, with very costly, artistic cappings. The galleries are supported by ma.s.sive but neat pillars, and the shaded nooks and quiet corners are full of romantic influence.
Everything is reminiscent of old Spain, although the magnificence and architecture is often that of the extreme East. There are five elegantly decorated salons, in which there are tables of costly onyx, and on whose walls there are paintings of great splendor. On the ceiling above him exquisite frescoes tell the story of the old cavalier after whom the hotel is named, and of his patient and faithful search for the fabled fountain of youth which no one has yet found. At dinner the visitor is almost appalled by the magnificence of the service, and his appet.i.te is apt to be injured by his reflections as to the cost of the silver and porcelain set before him. Sometimes as many as a thousand guests sit down together, and the service seems to be perfect for an unlimited number of visitors.
This great hotel was erected like the great temple described in scripture, practically without hammer or nails. Being molded from concrete, it is practically proof against weather and time, and it is fireproof in a sense of the term far more literal than that generally adopted in large cities. There is no sham work, from bas.e.m.e.nt to tower.
Italian marble, terra cotta and Mexican onyx are the princ.i.p.al materials used, and nothing ”equally as good” is tolerated.
The view from St. Augustine can hardly be excelled in any part of the world. The old city gates remind the tourist of Spanish stories and Oriental fables. Net far distant he sees Fort Marion, described as the oldest fortification in the United States. It was built by one of the Spanish Kings at great expense, and, according to the opinion of experts, is likely to survive many generations to come. It is constructed of cocquina cement, found only in Florida, and which seems to be everlasting in character.
Fort Marion has been the scene in years gone by of countless events of thrilling interest, and the student of history, who sees it for the first time, delights to conjure up reminiscences concerning it. In the old Indian war days there were several ma.s.sacres at this point, in which the Indians occasionally outdid themselves in deeds of blood. About twenty years ago, the old fort was turned into an Indian prison, and to it were taken some of the worst and apparently most irreclaimable members of Indian tribes. This included Mochi, the Indian squaw who seemed to regard murder as a high art and a great virtue, ”Rising Bull,”
”Medicine Water,” ”Big Moca.s.sin” and other red ruffians who had proved themselves beyond all hope of reformation. The watch-tower of the fort stands high above surrounding buildings, and is probably one of the oldest watch-towers and light-houses in the world.
The old sea-wall runs from the fort past the historical old slave-market and the plaza, where cool breezes can be obtained on the hottest days.
There is the cathedral, the oldest place of wors.h.i.+p in the country, if the local historians are to be believed, with its chime of bells which first called the faithful to wors.h.i.+p more than 200 years ago. On the east the smooth waters of the attractive bay rivet the attention of every visitor who has in him a particle of poetry, or appreciation of the beautiful. Not far away is Anastasia Island. At the north of Mananzas Bay is the spot where Sir Francis Drake, one of England's first admirals, landed, and close by is the oft-described lighthouse, with its old Spanish predecessor just north of it.
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