By S. J. M. EATON, D.D.
This State reaches down toward the tropics. The twenty-ninth parallel
of latitude marks the frost line. Below this is the land of perennial
flowers and ever ripening fruits. Even before you reach the favored
line there are scenes and surroundings that remind you that the winter
is past, that the time of the singing of birds is perpetual, and that
nature is most prodigal of her gifts in lands nearest the pathway of
the sun. In recalling the history of Ponce de Leon, one can not fail
of sympathizing with him in his search for the fountain of perpetual
youth. That search was not only characteristic of the age in which he
lived, but in sympathy with the secret wants and wishes of all the
lands and all the ages. Moreover in such a quest as this, Florida of
all places seems fittest and best. It was rightly named at the first
“The land of flowers.” They bloom in wondrous fragrance on the orange
and lemon trees; they expand in gigantic proportions on the banana
tree; they break forth in lavish magnificence on the magnolia. And
along the rivers and other water courses strange trees and gorgeous
shrubs greet the eye, and tell how prodigal nature is in the display
of her resources, and with what wonderful magnificence she can clothe
the face of the landscape in regions remote from wintry blasts. Even
in central Florida, where frosts sometimes come, there is a wealth of
trees and flowers and fruits that transforms the whole country into
fairy land almost, as the summer sun with its genial heats kisses it
into life, beauty, and fragrance.
The Ocklawaha River is one of the delightful features of central
Florida. It is wild and weird and novel in all its aspects. One of its
branches is the Silver Spring, that is really an anomaly in nature.
This branch of the river has its origin in the celebrated fountain
known as the “Silver Spring,” and that as a fountain might, from its
beauty and purity and liquid clearness, well be mistaken for the fabled
one that was the object of the quest of Ponce de Leon. Whether it was
ever visited by this romantic knight or not, it is worthy to be the
shrine of many a pilgrim in search of the beautiful and the romantic.
This wonderful spring gushes forth from the bosom of the earth in
volume sufficient to form at once a small river. The steamboats run
up and float in the bosom of the spring, which is large enough to
float four or five at once without jostling. The water is clear and
sparkling, and although seventy-five feet in depth, yet as you gaze
down into its recesses every pebble and shell can be seen as plainly as
though in the bottom of a small vase. And as the boat rests upon its
bosom noiselessly and quietly, you think of the simile of the swan,
“floating double—swan and shadow.” This immense volume of water comes
up noiselessly, causing scarcely a ripple upon the face of the spring,
and floats away as silently amid the shadows, to join the main body of
the Ocklawaha. Whence comes this immense reservoir of water? Where is
the hidden source that furnishes its mighty volume? Were it not for
its crystal purity and sweetness we might imagine it held mysterious
communion with the ocean, and drew its vast supply from the bosom of
the great deep. The outflow maintains its purity until it joins the
main branch of the river, when its association with it causes it to
partake of the same character, becoming somewhat muddy, and bearing
the dark shadows of the overhanging trees, and thickly strewn with the
leaves of aquatic plants that grow luxuriantly along its margin. From
the Silver Spring down into the Ocklawaha, and on to its junction with
the St. John’s, the channel is narrow and tortuous, running toward
every point of the compass, spreading itself out to great widths in
some places, in others confined within its narrow channel, but always
surrounded with wild and strange scenery. Although in the general the
banks are utterly indefinable, as the water runs back to an indefinite
distance, yet there is no appearance of aught that would cause malaria.
Every here and there a slight avenue opens through which a skiff or
canoe might be pushed far out into the forest. The channel itself is
so narrow and tortuous that the steamer threads its way with great
difficulty. In many places the branches overreach the stream and seem
to bar the further progress of the little craft, and render futile all
efforts to proceed. In some of the narrow turns a stout boatman is
stationed in the bow with a pole to assist in turning the boat when
almost a right angle prevents the ordinary working of the machinery in
its navigation.
All along this wonderful stream nature reveals her most luxuriant
growth of vegetation. Here is the palm, with its strangely contorted
trunk and corrugated bark. By its side is the palmetto with fantastic
branches, and wide-spreading leaves. Many of the trees send up their
gnarled roots in high arches underneath which the water runs at will.
Great trailing masses of vines cling to the trees, and weigh down
their branches almost to the water, often reaching from one tree to
another, making a dense grove, and shutting out the sunlight from the
water beneath. Lower down, and clinging to the banks on either side,
are all manner of aquatic plants, beautiful in leaf and luxuriant in
flower, gleaming often like bright jewels in the soft sunshine. Lilies
of various varieties rest in the water, their bright green leaves
surrounding their flowers of waxy white and yellow gold as they recline
in their cool bath. By their side are plants with arrow-shaped leaves,
with white blooms lined with pistils and stamens yellow as virgin gold,
and others with flowers of blue, around which gorgeous little humming
birds, reflecting the sunlight, and flashing like living jewels, buzz
and coquet with the flowers as they extract their luscious sweets for a
moment, and then dart off with a flash and disappear. Animated nature
is busy adding variety to the scene, from beauty all the way to the
beast. Golden beetles, blue-bottle flies, and gilded butterflies in
velvet and spangles, float to and fro; water-bugs with varnished wings
dart over the surface of the water. Birds of gorgeous plumage arise in
the distance and sail up the stream. The oriole with its magnificent
feathers of orange and black; the blue jay with its livery of blue and
white, and its sharp cutting note, and the great red flamingo, with
awkward, ungainly form, its long spindling legs and small snake-like
neck, and plumage of red, like an Egyptian sunset, are seen; the
former two darting quickly from tree to tree; the latter standing in
the water in some sequestered spot, idly dreaming the time away, and
apparently indifferent as to whether the earth turns upon its axis or
not. Near the bank a water serpent might be seen urging his way with
arrowy motion through the water, defiantly thrusting out his tongue
with a malice born in Eden, perhaps, or lying in the warm sun on a
fragment of bark, not considering it important to move, yet pushing
out the same scornful challenge. At times a magnificent specimen of
the alligator is seen in the distance sunning himself on a log, but
rolling incontinently into the water at the approach of the boat, or
the slightest alarm from any cause. The poor saurian who has arrived
at years of discretion, has learned from bitter experience that the
human sportsman carrying firearms is not to be trusted, in this age of
Spencer rifles. He therefore retires in good order at their approach.
But nearer at hand the infant alligator has less fear. He can be seen
creeping up the bank, careening upon the waves that are thrown up by
the motion of the boat, sporting in the shallow water with youthful
indifference to danger, and with great stupid eyes and shockingly open
countenance, gazing up at the passing visitors. And so the boat glides
and twists and forces its way down the current, the branches on either
side sweeping its sides and even its upper decks. The entire scene is
one of kaleidoscopic beauty and variety, until the mighty St. John’s is
reached, and the craft that has done you such good service is safely
moored at the wharf at Palatka.