MANDARIN, FLA., Jan. 24, 1872.
Yes, it is done. The winter is over and past, and "the time of the
singing of birds is come." They are at it beak and claw,--the red-birds,
and the cat-birds, and the chattering jays, and the twittering sparrows,
busy and funny and bright. Down in the swamp-land fronting our cottage,
four calla-lily buds are just unfolding themselves; and in the little
garden-plat at one side stand rose-geraniums and camellias, white and
pink, just unfolding. Right opposite to the window, through which the
morning sun is pouring, stands a stately orange-tree, thirty feet high,
with spreading, graceful top, and varnished green leaves, full of golden
fruit. These are the veritable golden apples of the Hesperides,--the
apples that Atalanta threw in the famous race; and they are good enough
to be run after. The things that fill the New-York market, called by
courtesy "oranges,"--pithy, wilted, and sour,--have not even a
suggestion of what those golden balls are that weigh down the great
glossy green branches of yonder tree. At the tree's foot, Aunt Katy does
her weekly washing in the open air the winter through. We have been
putting our tape-measure about it, and find it forty-three inches in
girth; and for shapely beauty it has no equal. It gives one a sort of
heart-thrill of possession to say of such beauty, "It is mine." No
wonder the Scripture says, "He that is so impoverished that he hath no
oblation chooseth a tree that will not rot." The orange-tree is, in our
view, the best worthy to represent the tree of life of any that grows on
our earth. It is the fairest, the noblest, the most generous, it is the
most upspringing and abundant, of all trees which the Lord God caused to
grow eastward in Eden. Its wood is white and hard and tough, fit to
sustain the immense weight of its fruitage. Real good ripe oranges are
very heavy; and the generosity of the tree inclines it to fruit in
clusters. We counted, the other day, a cluster of eighteen, hanging low,
and weighing down the limb.
But this large orange-tree, and many larger than this, which are parts
of one orchard, are comparatively recent growths. In 1835, every one of
them was killed even with the ground. Then they started up with the
genuine pluck of a true-born orange-tree, which never says die, and
began to grow again. Nobody pruned them, or helped them, or cared much
about them any way; and you can see trees that have grown up in four,
five, and six trunks,--just as the suckers sprung up from the roots.
Then, when they had made some progress, came the orange-insect, and
nearly killed them down again. The owners of the land, discouraged,
broke down the fences, and moved off; and for a while the land was left
an open common, where wild cattle browsed, and rubbed themselves on the
trees. But still, in spite of all, they have held on their way
rejoicing, till now they are the beautiful creatures they are. Truly we
may call them trees of the Lord, full of sap and greenness; full of
lessons of perseverance to us who get frosted down and cut off, time and
time again, in our lives. Let us hope in the Lord, and be up and at it
again.
It is certainly quite necessary to have some such example before our
eyes in struggling to found a colony here. We had such a hard time
getting our church and schoolhouse!--for in these primitive regions one
building must do for both. There were infinite negotiations and cases to
go through before a site could be bought with a clear title; and the
Freedman's Bureau would put us up a building where school could be
taught on week-days, and worship held on Sundays: but at last it was
done; and a neat, pleasant little place it was.
We had a little Mason and Hamlin missionary organ, which we used to
carry over on Sundays, and a cloth, which converted the master's desk of
week-days into the minister's pulpit; and as we had minister, organist,
and choir all in our own family, we were sure of them at all events; and
finally a good congregation was being gathered. On week-days a school
for whites and blacks was taught, until the mismanagement of the
school-fund had used up the sum devoted to common schools, and left us
without a teacher for a year. But this fall our friend Mr. D., who had
accepted the situation of county overseer of schools, had just completed
arrangements to open again both the white and the black schools, when,
lo! in one night our poor little schoolhouse was burned to the ground,
with our Mason and Hamlin organ in it. Latterly it had been found
inconvenient to carry it backward and forward; and so it had been left,
locked in a closet, and met a fiery doom. We do not suppose any
malicious incendiarism. There appears evidence that some strolling
loafers had gotten in to spend the night, and probably been careless of
their fire. The southern pine is inflammable as so much pitch, and will
almost light with the scratch of a match. Well, all we had to do was to
imitate the pluck of the orange-trees, which we immediately did. Our
neighborhood had increased by three or four families; and a meeting was
immediately held, and each one pledged himself to raise a certain sum.
We feel the want of it more for the schoolhouse than even for the
church. We go on with our Sunday services at each other's houses; but
alas for the poor children, black and white, growing up so fast, who
have been kept out of school now a year, and who are losing these best
months for study! To see people who are willing and anxious to be taught
growing up in ignorance is the sorest sight that can afflict one; and we
count the days until we shall have our church and schoolhouse again.
But, meanwhile, Mandarin presents to our eyes a marvellously improved
aspect. Two or three large, handsome houses are built up in our
immediate neighborhood. Your old collaborator of "The Christian Union"
has a most fascinating place a short distance from us, commanding a
noble sweep of view up and down the river. On our right hand, two
gentlemen from Newark have taken each a lot; and the gables of the house
of one of them overlook the orange-trees bravely from the river.
This southern pine, unpainted, makes a rich, soft color for a house.
Being merely oiled, it turns a soft golden brown, which harmonizes
charmingly with the landscape.
How cold is it here? We ask ourselves, a dozen times a day, "What season
is it?" We say, "This spring," "This summer," and speak of our Northern
life as "last winter." There are cold nights, and, occasionally, white
frosts: but the degree of cold may be judged from the fact that the
Calla Ethiopica goes on budding and blossoming out of doors; that La
Marque roses have not lost their leaves, and have long, young shoots on
them; and that our handmaiden, a pretty, young mulattress, occasionally
brings to us a whole dish of roses and buds which her devoted has
brought her from some back cottage in the pine-woods. We have also eaten
the last _fresh_ tomatoes from the old vines since we came; but a pretty
severe frost has nipped them, as well as cut off a promising lot of
young peas just coming into pod. But the pea-vines will still grow
along, and we shall have others soon.
We eat radishes out of the ground, and lettuce, now and then, a little
nipped by the frost; and we get long sprays of yellow jessamine, just
beginning to blossom in the woods.
Yes, it is spring; though still it is cold enough to make our good
bright fire a rallying-point to the family. It is good to keep fire in a
country where it is considered a great point to get rid of wood. One
piles and heaps up with a genial cheer when one thinks, "The more you
burn, the better." It only costs what you pay for cutting and hauling.
We begin to find our usual number of letters, wanting to know all this,
that, and the other, about Florida. All in good time, friends. Come down
here once, and use your own eyes, and you will know more than we can
teach you. Till when, adieu.
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