Soft the shadows slowly creeping
Through thy dim and spectral pines;
Pure thy lakelets, calmly sleeping,
Save a few light rippling lines,
When the water-lilies move,
And fairies chant their early love.
After leaving the St. John's River and traveling westward, we approach
what is called Middle Florida, fanned by the gulf breezes, and protected
from the northern blasts with heavily-timbered lands. The first town of
importance through which we pass is Lake City, fifty-four miles from
Jacksonville, this being the county-site of Columbia. This city was
named from the beautiful sheets of water by which it is surrounded,
where naiads and fairies could come to dwell, and lovers do resort to
whisper. These lakes are distinguished by the names of De Soto,
Isabella, Hamburg, and Indian. The waters abound in fish, while
alligators are daily seen, plunging about in them, as happy persons are
rowing in light canoes upon their smooth surfaces. The population
numbers about two thousand. It has eight churches of various
denominations, a creditable court-house, and three hotels--the Thrasher
House being the most agreeable and roomy in every respect. A weekly
paper is published here. It is also the terminus of the submarine
telegraph, and contains an "old probability" office. The citizens are
refined, intelligent, and friendly toward strangers.
The architectural style of dwellings in Lake City are more truly
Southern summer-residences than any other city in the State. They are
built up from the ground, with a wide passage separating the two
apartments--the floors being made of pine plank, which the combined
efforts of woolly artisans with shucks and sand manage to keep
invitingly clean. This style of structure, to an artistic taste
accustomed to the modern cottages, dormer-windows, and pigeon-like
apartments, covered with slate-roofing, thus converting the upper story
into a fiery furnace after a hot day, suggests a kind of rudeness,
characteristic of the locality, which is quite the reverse: like the
whispering gallery, they are made to catch the slightest agitation in
the atmosphere, it being duplicated, within this long receptacle, into a
most grateful breeze. However, here, as in other tropical climes, it is
observable at noon, each day, that the softest winds are lulled to rest,
when a general stagnation steals over every thing, from the house-dog to
the tallest pine, with its green plumes kissing the midday sunbeams; but
after the day commences to decline, a breeze springs up, which enables
us to appreciate its presence and survive better during its absence. The
soil in the vicinity is fertile--thus enabling the inhabitants to engage
largely in the culture of early vegetables and strawberries, which are
shipped North. Oranges weighing a pound are not uncommon. Many invalids
find the atmosphere of Middle Florida exceedingly conducive to their
comfort, as the temperature is less variable than many other points in
the State, and for this reason fine for asthmatics, who say they can
sleep all night here, while in most other places day dawns with no
perceptible transition into a somnambulic state. The strong scent of
resin from the pineries, after we leave Lake City, is quite perceptible,
it being a fine lotion for weak lungs. Malaria visits some portions of
Middle Florida, where, anterior to the recent immigration, it was almost
unknown. This has been the history of all newly-settled countries--the
decomposition of much vegetable matter producing chills and fever.
West of the Suwanee is usually designated as Middle Florida, it formerly
being more densely populated than now, evidence of which is furnished us
from the ruins of buildings. For many years a jealousy existed between
the settlers of East and Middle Florida, in regard to their landed
estates. The commissioners in East Florida were more interested in
selling than settling the country--the lands in Middle Florida being
considered superior for agricultural purposes, and the titles good,
which is more than can be said of all the East Florida lands even now.
Some have looked upon this portion of the State as a kind of lottery,
the value of which would be realized after the drawing had occurred,
while there are those who come to stay, and when they find the visionary
ideal dream in which they have indulged is not realized to its fullest
extent, then they are ready to say, "We have been inveigled here." These
should remember, "There is no spot which combines every desirable
characteristic, with the absence of all that is undesirable. It not
unfrequently occurs in life, when unhappy spirits, chained in diseased
bodies, which cause them to settle into a sullen melancholy, whose
presence would discolor the face of all nature, and tinge with a sickly
hue the flowers of paradise, or the glories of the eternal throne."
After leaving Lake City, the next town of note before Tallahassee is
Monticello, one hundred and thirty-eight miles from Jacksonville,
situated at the terminus of the Monticello Branch Road, four miles
distant from the main line. It is the county-site of Jefferson,
surrounded by fertile farming-lands, this being the head-center of
traffic for a large extent of country. A population of not quite two
thousand inhabitants reside here, with every appearance of content. Good
churches of various creeds are well attended when open for service. The
former wealth of this county cannot fail to impress visitors who happen
here on Saturday, when great numbers of freedmen, formerly owned in this
locality, from habit leave their work and come to town for a holiday.
They go marching about the streets orderly as a procession, or file into
the stores until there is scarcely standing-room, getting on very
quietly until late in the day, when some of them, while under the
influence of badly-adulterated whisky, become noisy and
obstreperous--thus ending their day's frolic in the lock-up. A good
hotel is kept here, where bountiful tables, well patronized by
appreciative guests, daily attest its merits.
[Illustration: MIDDLE FLORIDA MUSICIANS!]
After sunset the frogs will be found the most demonstrative inhabitants,
at times, on the route to Tallahassee, which, strange as it may seem,
almost drown the car-whistle with their croakings--thus reminding us
that happiness, with some creatures, is not yet extinct in the world.
Probably no place can furnish a greater variety of frogs belonging to
the same genera, among which we find the bell-frog, speckled frog, green
frog, some of them being nine inches in length, measuring from the tip
of the nose to the terminus of the hind-foot toe, which amphibious
quadruped, when full grown, will weigh over a pound. The bell-frog is
supposed to have been named from the voice, which is fancied to be
exactly like a loud cow-bell. The following statement from a naturalist
on frogs will give us an idea of his impressions: "The bell-frogs being
very numerous, and uttering their voices in companies, or by large
districts, when one begins another answers--thus the sound is caught and
repeated from one to another a great distance, causing a surprising
noise for a few minutes, rising and sinking with the winds, then nearly
dying away, or is softly kept up by distant districts--thus the noise is
repeated continually, and as one becomes familiarized to it, the sound
is not unmusical, though at first, to strangers, it seems clamorous and
disgusting." Englishmen sent them home, more than a century since, as
Florida curiosities. The following is taken from the record of one's
arrival: "The pretty frog came safe and well, being now very brisk. Some
more of these innocent creatures would not be amiss. But pray send no
more mud-turtles--one is enough. The water-turtle is a pretty
species--came very well." Here is what Bartram wrote about our
dirt-daubers, which build their nests in the crevices and corners of
every neglected tenement: "I have sent you a variety of the clay cells
which the singing wasps built last summer, that I consider very
curious." All tourists have made Florida a point of scientific research,
in various ways, for many years.
Far in ether, stars above thee
Ever beam with purest light;
Birds of richest music love thee,
Flowers than Eden's hues more bright;
And love, young love, so fresh and fair,
Fills with his breath thy gentle air.
Tallahassee cannot be pointed out as the place where great literary
works first saw the light--such as the Commentaries of Cæsar, or where
Cicero rounded his periods, or Horace gave the last polish to his Odes,
or Milton conceived the grand idea of his Paradise Lost; but from its
choice shrubbery the golden oriole trills its melody, and the
mocking-bird warbles in the sky and on the house-tops, or fills the air
with song from neighboring trees at night.
De Soto, after discovering Espiritu Santo Bay in 1539, came through the
country to an Indian village called Auhayca, now the site of
Tallahassee--the name signifying "old field "--where, with his army, he
spent the winter. While here he secured the services of an Indian guide,
who proved to be "a most elaborate liar on various occasions," in regard
to gold-mines which only existed in his imagination. The Spanish
soldiers accompanying De Soto were encased with armor, which creates a
wonder in the minds of all who have seen it, how they were able to march
through a country offering so many obstacles, with such an immense
weight on their bodies. One winter's sojourn in this locality was
sufficient to satisfy De Soto that no treasures could be discovered
hidden away in the hills around Tallahassee; consequently, the following
spring he left.
Tallahassee is situated in the center of the State. The first house
erected after the cession of Florida to the United States was in 1824,
the Legislature convening there the following winter. In 1825 it became
an incorporated town. In January, 1826, the corner-stone of the
State-house was laid, and one wing of the building erected during the
year. The growth of this town, after its incorporation, equaled any in
America. It was situated on an eminence which commanded a fine view of
the surrounding country, with picturesque scenery, and on a stream of
water fed by bold springs. The State Governor speaks of its early
American settlement as a place "where the emigrants crowded, the rising
walls of the capitol being the attraction"--"the woods yielding their
shade to the saw, and their silence to the hammer"--the vicinity rapidly
changing from native forest-land to well-cultured fields.
On account of being situated twenty miles from the Gulf, the prospect of
its ever becoming an important commercial point for business was not
anticipated. The surface of the country around Tallahassee changes from
the flat lands of Florida to an elevated and undulating country, and
from sand to red clay. A gentleman-passenger who had retired to sleep
during the night where the land was level, on awaking in the morning,
and noticing the change in the surface of the country, called out to the
conductor, "Look here, boss! haven't you got this machine turned around,
and taking us back into Georgia?"
Persons perusing the following will be enabled to see the material of
which Governors' messages were made, in the Executive Department, during
the Indian war in Florida:
"_Tallahassee_, February, 1840.--Since you have been in session a number
of our people--among them a woman and children--have literally been
butchered by the Indians, many of whom occupy the swamps and other
fastnesses of Florida, from the Appalachicola to the Suwanee, while in
East Florida the murder of the mail-carriers within a few miles of St.
Augustine, proves how unavailing has been every effort to restrain the
enemy in that quarter. Indeed, it would seem that the cruelties of these
wild beasts--for so they deserve to be regarded, and their thirst for
blood places them beyond the pale of humanity--are becoming more and
more audacious, their deeds of horror rather accumulating than
diminishing. They venture to assail houses, and appear in our public
roads in the open day; they press beyond military posts to perpetrate
their murderous purposes, starting up like evil spirits when least
expected to appear, destroying the brave, virtuous, and innocent. Their
numbers can only be conjectured: it is not doubted that some sent to the
West have returned; but be the number great or small, every thicket and
deep forest is liable to be occupied by them; they elude pursuit;
driving them from one place to another is impracticable, as within the
past year they have planted near military posts. Our situation is
desperate; men sleep with arms under their pillows; a sense of
insecurity accompanies the traveler in his journey on the highway; every
neighborhood has its tale of blood, and those in authority look around
them in pain and distress, because they are powerless to afford an
adequate remedy for the evils thronging around them in every direction.
This is no exaggerated picture of our present condition. Romance lags
for behind the realities we daily witness, and it becomes our duty to
consider what shall be done for the relief of the country. No occasion
has yet occurred for testing the usefulness of the dogs brought from
Cuba. It is still believed, however, that they may be used with effect;
and why should they not be used? If robbers and assassins assail us, may
we not defend our property and our lives, even with bloodhounds? Shall
we look upon our ruined dwellings--upon the murdered and mangled remains
of men, women, and children--then meekly say, 'The poor Indians have
done this; we must be merciful and humane to them; we will not set our
dogs upon them. O no! that would be more horrible than these
butcheries.' Those who are safe from Indian alarms, in distant cities
and peaceful lands, may indulge in gentle strains of humanity and
brotherly love--were they dwellers in the log-cabins of Florida, they
would attune their notes to harsher measures. Let these men, in whose
hearts there is such a gush of the milk of human kindness, consider
attentively a scene recently exhibited upon the Appalachicola. Mr.
Harlan's dwelling was burned, and his family murdered, in the afternoon
of the 20th of last January. Mr. H. was absent, and the following is
from an eye-witness: 'On arriving at the spot, we found every house
reduced to ashes--at the kitchen-door the bones of a human being, nearly
consumed. Upon examination, we saw the track of the moccasin. On the
trail, not far off, we saw articles of clothing, potatoes, and papers,
dropped. Soon afterward about twenty-one armed persons arrived from
Iola, among them Mr. Harlan, who in a wretched state of feeling
proceeded to examine the burnt bones, believing them to be the remains
of his wife and son, whose knife he found amongst them. One of the men,
in searching behind a tree about one hundred yards distant, called out,
"Come here, Harlan! here is your wife." Joy sprang to my bosom as I ran
to see the dead come to life; but there was Mrs. H., with her throat
cut, a ball shot through her arm, one in her back, and a fatal shot
through her head. Her youngest son, eight years of age, lay near her
side, with his skull fractured by a pine-knot. He exhibited signs of
life, and I had him carried to a shelter, water given him, and his feet,
which were cold, bathed in warm water; slight hopes are entertained of
his recovery. Had you witnessed the heart-rending sight--the father
embracing and calling his son, "Buddie! Buddie!" with the solemn sound
of parental affection, sunk to the lowest ebb of dejection, and then
running to his wife, with his arms around her, shrieking, "My wife! my
wife!"--I know your feelings would have given way, as mine did. I had
heretofore felt a sympathy for these savages, but my mind then assumed a
stern fortitude foreign to its nature, and I felt not like leaving an
Indian foot to make a track in the desolation they had caused.' Who can
witness such atrocities without admitting it to be lawful to use
blood-hounds against such hell-hounds? It is my solemn conviction that
the only mode of conquering the Indians is to hunt and pursue them, in
every direction, with a competent force of brave and hardy men devoted
to the service, and generously rewarded by their country for the perils
and privations they endure.
R. R. REED, _Governor_."
"GENUINE BLOOD-HOUNDS.--_Tallahassee_, January, 1840. The blood-hounds,
with their twenty leash-men, have arrived from Cuba, and are landed in
Tallahassee. They have been tried, and follow a trail with accuracy
twenty-four hours old."
"_November_, 1840.--On last Monday one more of these animals arrived
from Cuba. He is mouse-colored, strong-limbed, and with a nose that
could scent the trail of a butterfly. He was whelped and raised in the
mountains on one of the sugar-estates, and is known to be of the best
pedigree. His propensities for blood are of the highest order, having
slain and eaten two negroes entire, besides one-third of his own tail--a
mistake which has somewhat marred the beauty of the graceful appendage.
Two Indians were caught in the neighborhood of Tallahassee with the
blood-hounds. They, no doubt, have not had a fair trial."
The poor blood-hounds were ridiculed on every side--read the following:
"Seven peace-hounds left Black Creek for the Ocklawaha on Thursday."
The whole country at this time was in a state of trepidation; the
feelings of the people could not be described; but an order was
republished which had been issued during a similar exigence, in the year
1764, by. William Penn:
"BOUNTIES ON HEADS.--Whereas the Six Nations of Indians have been at
amity with Great Britain, but now, having broken their most solemn
treaties," etc., "for the scalps of every male Indian, above the age of
ten years, produced as evidence of their having been killed, one hundred
and thirty-four pieces of eight, or Spanish dollars. God save the king!"
Some amusing incidents are related in connection with the Florida war,
as well as those not so very ludicrous. In Tallahassee they were
subjected to frequent scares from the Indians. The approach of the foe
was to be announced by the ringing of the Planter's Hotel bell, the only
one then in the town. This bell was the tocsin for an instant assembling
in the market-house of the Home Guards, let the hour be midnight or
noonday. These Guards held a convocation every night at 8 o'clock, to
receive orders and be detailed for duty--each sentry to stand guard four
hours, being at his post by 9 o'clock, and a corporal appointed to go on
a tour of inspection, to see if the men on duty were not asleep. Each
object that moved or breathed was magnified into a wily Indian. A gentle
William-goat could not graze in peace after nightfall without being in
danger of receiving a bullet for his temerity. The following incident is
the most stupendous scare of the war: Mr. T. Barnard, being on duty one
night, saw a dark object approaching, which, from its cautious tread, he
was certain could be nothing but the long-looked-for and much-dreaded
savage. According to a previous arrangement, the enemy's approach was to
be announced by the firing of a gun. He fired, then followed a terrible
tramping, which he considered unmistakable evidence of a retreating foe.
When day dawned the citizens were in a state of great fear, which was
much increased after a moccasin track had been seen marked with blood.
Armed men patroled the streets, while women, children, and servants,
were rushing, in the wildest confusion, to the State-house, as the only
place of safety. When the truth became known, and the facts explained,
everybody had a good laugh over their fright. The sentinel, having lost
his shoe the night before in his encounter with a goat, returned to
search for it, when he saw the track made by himself in the soft sand
while in his sock-feet, the impress resembling an Indian moccasin, the
ground having been stained by a lame mule in cropping the herbage.
Besides the constant state of alarm in which the citizens lived, there
were tragic occurrences happening in their midst too true for jesting,
and too shocking for sensitive nerves to hear related, without
shuddering for their own safety. We find this one, among others, bearing
date January 22, 1842:
"On Sabbath a band of Indians, supposed to number thirty-five or forty,
attacked two wagons loaded with salt, whisky, etc. They stripped the
negroes of their clothes, except their shirts, taking every thing from
the wagons. Whilst engaged in their work of plunder, Mr. Solomon Mather
rode up, when the Indians pursued him, firing five or six times,
wounding him slightly in the shoulder. In the meanwhile the negroes put
whip to their mules and escaped. This affair took place at the Flat
Branch, on the Magnolia Road, about fourteen miles from Tallahassee,
near the residence of Mr. J. H. Byrd."
The lands lying around Tallahassee evince marks of taste, having been
inclosed by the Cherokee rose, which forms a fine hedge, whose evergreen
foliage lives all the year, while its snow-white blooms crown it with
beauty in their season. The magnolia grandiflora, queen of the forest,
with its smooth, glossy, green leaves and immense flowers, grows without
culture; while the sickly, dwarfed oleander and cape jasmine, of
Northern culture, is used here to shade the avenues of pleasure-grounds.
The fine brick residences, of extensive proportions, add testimony in
confirmation of its past prosperity. Churches of different
denominations, substantially built, speak for the morals of the
community, while the kind-hearted people can speak for themselves. The
installation of the first Presbyterian minister in Florida took place on
the 28th of March, 1841, in Tallahassee. Although many persons have
lived here who were, no doubt, celebrated, in their own estimation, yet
none of royal blood has ever been traced with certainty but Colonel
Napoleon Achilles Murat, whose last residence was about one and a
quarter miles from town--the place now being owned by ex-Governor
Bloxham. He was a son of Joachin Murat, King of Naples, who was shot in
Castle Pizzo for insurrection. When required to meet his doom, a chair
was offered him, and a bandage for his eyes, to which he replied, "I
have braved death long enough now to face it with my eyes open and
standing." Achilles Murat, with his mother, came to America in 1821,
settling near Monticello, Florida, naming his plantation Liponia, but
afterward retired to Bellevue, near Tallahassee, where he lived several
years, with his wife, who was a relative of General Washington. Having
witnessed the vanity of pomp and display in his youth, he assumed very
little style during the last days of his life. A short time previous to
his death, the bishop from Mobile made a visit to Tallahassee, he being
apprised of the fact that upon a certain day Colonel Murat would make
him a visit, dressed in his robes of State, to receive princely blood,
as officers of both Church and State are entitled to a certain amount of
consideration, from each other, in keeping with the dignity of their
position. The morning advanced until nearly midday, with no appearance
of Colonel Murat, when finally a thin, bony old horse, with a thinner,
more shadowy old man on his back, was seen approaching the avenue to Dr.
Barnard's residence, accompanied by his body-guard, a very black negro
named William, who was walking. The colonel was attired in country
home-spun, known as brown jean, in Southern vernacular. His hat and
shoes both indicated marks of wear, while age had robbed him of all
desire for pageant, as the day had dawned when priests and princes were
alike, in his estimation. After a long interview with the bishop,
Colonel Murat retired to his rural home. Mrs. Murat was much annoyed
with the irregularities and eccentricities of his conduct during the
last years of his life, which, in common people, would have been termed
craziness, but in royalty, or genius, it is relieved with a border, and
termed peculiarities, or idiosyncrasies. Many amusing anecdotes are
related in regard to the common people who lived near Colonel Murat.
Having been informed that a king's son lived not for from them, they
often went purposely to see him, relating the object of their mission as
soon as they arrived. When they found the colonel dressed in country
clothes and cowhide boots, his rustic visitors were unable to discover
any apparent marks of royalty, and invariably, after entering his
domains, asked to see Prince Murat. On being told that he was the man,
they would respond, "Why, you don't look like a king." Colonel Murat
died suddenly, April 15, 1847, on his plantation, and was buried near
Tallahassee, in the cemetery, without ceremony. His wife survived him
several years, living in town.
In Leon county, sixteen miles from Tallahassee, Mrs. Mary E. Bryan, one
of our best Southern writers, was born. She was the daughter of Major
John D. Edwards, one of Florida's first and most honored members of the
Legislature. Her father, being a man of wealth, wished every thing in
keeping with his position; for this reason he reared a mansion, known as
"Castle Folly," on account of its immense size and costly material, the
woodwork inside being of solid mahogany, its location almost isolated
from all other residences even of humbler pretensions. Her early life
was not spent in a wicked city, where the morning papers teemed with sad
tales from the depths of depravity, fished up from the slums of vice,
which keep high carnival under cover of darkness, hiding their foul
forms in the glare of sunlight, and holding their fetid breaths when the
dewy freshness of morn wafts its odors on the new-born day; but where
the gay pomegranate glistened, with its pendant flaming bells, and the
snowy tribute of cape jasmine, loaded with its perfume of overpowering
sweetness; while, like a shower of heavenly blessings upon every zephyr,
was borne the fragrant treasures from the orange-blooms, gentle as a
pure spirit in a holy trance, which leaves our minds in a blissful,
dreamy state, as though we were floating in mid-air. Her home was one
around which childhood loves to linger, environed by primeval forests,
where the placid waters of the land-locked lakes reflected the fitful
shadows of the towering pine, or wide-spreading live-oak, where the
graceful vine hung in festoons, or the gray, swaying moss hung from its
drooping limbs, and danced to the music of the soft-sighing winds, as
they swept through the evergreen foliage and died away in the dense
thickets. It was when, from one of those crystal lakes, she saw the
evening star, as it stole through the gleam of the dying day, reflecting
its pale, trembling light alone, that she felt the throbbings of unrest
stirring the depths of her soul. In these placid waters the virgin
lilies bathed their beautiful heads, while the golden gates of day were
closed, and the voices of night whispered themselves to rest on the
balmy breezes. Many of her happy girlhood-days were spent in
"Salubrity," the home of her aunt, Mrs. Julia McBride, whose many
Christian virtues and philanthropic acts still live in the memory of
those who knew her. However, the longings of her thirsty soul were never
satisfied until she had held communion with the spirits of those whose
grand thoughts she found recorded in the volumes of her uncle's library.
It was while reading from the pages of classic lore, or the more
enchanting strains of poetic rhythm, during the absence of Colonel R. B.
Houghton, her mother's brother, that a happiness unknown to coarser clay
was realized, and her spirit found repose. Mrs. Bryan is one of those
flexible, trusting spirits, equal to any emergency in the struggles of
life, which sorrows, however deep, may bend for a time, but, like the
flower too much freighted with rain-drops, only bows its head until the
sunshine comes with its welcome beams to kiss away the moisture, when
its bright petals open, and again it looks heavenward. A presence
diffuses itself in all her writings sweet as the perfume by which she
was surrounded in her own lovely home, pure as the heavenly-lustered
orbs that overshadowed her pathway. At twilight, when
Venus, robed in clouds of rosy hue,
Flings from her golden urn the vesper dew,
she rises on the wings of fancy, and the rich, mellow streams of thought
flow freely, buoyed up by visions which shadow no tumultuous cares, or
sounds of woe, the fires of genius burning brightly on the altar of
thought, as the blazing meteor which, at God's command, guided the
wandering Israelites to their promised rest. The versatility of talent
she exemplifies so remarkably is really wonderful, while she may be
classed among that gifted number who, in spite of prejudice or
criticism, fastens the minds of her readers, taking them captive at
will. She is now the star of the _Sunny South_, published in Atlanta,
Georgia, from whose columns her pure thoughts are sparkling every week,
to illumine the home circles of many Southern families. All her writings
are characterized by that chaste freshness of originality, that
earnestness of feeling, emanating from a truly pure heart, which have
been poetically and truthfully described in the following lines:
Bryan! hers the words that glisten,
Opal gems of sunlit rain!
So much the woman, you may listen,
Heart-beats pulsing in her brain!
About sixteen miles from Tallahassee has been discovered another of
those remarkable springs found in Florida. In order to reach it, we take
the St. Mark's train, sending a carriage in advance to meet us at Oil
Station, six miles from Wakulla Spring. Few objects of interest are seen
on the way; but here, where the woodman's ax and the turpentine still
are not silencing the sounds that have echoed through the airy forms of
these forest-trees, which have stood as sentinels for centuries, we can
listen to the music among the pines--a strange, unearthly moaning,
vibrating movement of lanceolate leaves, the sound produced being
attributable to the loose manner in which they are attached to the bark
of their stems.
You may as well forbid the mountain-pines
To wag their high tops, and to make no noise
When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven.
The spring is reached at last, where we can feast our eyes with its
pearly hues and changing, shimmering waters, dancing in the sunlight. It
is about seventy-five yards wide and sixty in length, its greatest depth
being one hundred and twenty-five feet. The water is blue limestone, but
looks green from reflection, and very cold, said to produce a numbing
effect upon those who try bathing in its transparent depths. It is the
head-waters of Wakulla River, forming a bold stream at a single bound
from its subterranean home. The following description of this spring, by
a writer who visited it over a hundred years since, will give the reader
a more correct idea than any recently-published articles, although many
who visit it now think they have the keys of all knowledge in
delineation, and a vast amount of wisdom will cease to illumine the
world when their existence is extinguished:
"This charming nympheum is the product of primitive nature, not to be
imitated, much less equaled, by the united effort of human power and
ingenuity. As we approach it by water the mind of the inquiring traveler
is previously entertained, and gradually led on to a greater
discovery--first, by a view of the sublime dark grove, lifted up on
shore by a range or curved chain of hills at a short distance from the
lively green verge of the river on the east banks, as we gently descend
floating fields of the nymphea in lumbo, with vistas of the live-oak,
which cover a bay or cove of the river opposite the circular woodland
hills. It is amazing and almost incredible what troops and bands of fish
and other watery inhabitants are now in sight, all peaceable, and in
what a variety of gay colors and forms, constantly ascending and
descending, roving and figuring among one another, yet every tribe
associating separately. We now ascended the crystal stream, the current
swift; we entered the grand fountain, the expansive circular basin, the
source of which rises from under the base of the high woodland hills,
near half encircling it, the ebullition being astonishing and continual,
though its greatest force or fury intermits regularly for the space of
thirty seconds of time--the ebullition is perpendicular, upward, from a
vast rugged orifice, through a bed of rocks a great depth below the
common surface of the basin, throwing up small particles or pieces of
white shells, which subside with the waters at the moment of
intermission, gently settling down about the orifice, forming a vast
funnel. After those moments when the waters rush upward the surface of
the basin is greatly swollen, and then it is impossible to keep the
boat, or any other floating vessel, over the fountain; but the
ebullition quickly subsides--yet, before the surface becomes quite even,
the waters rise again, and so on perpetually. The basin is mostly
circular, sending out a constant stream into the river fifteen yards
wide, and ten or twelve in depth. The basin and stream are both peopled
with prodigious numbers and variety of fish and other animals, as the
alligator, manatee, or sea-cow, in the winter season: part of the
skeleton of one, which the Indians had killed last winter, lay upon the
banks of the spring; the grinding teeth were about an inch in diameter,
the ribs eighteen inches in length, and two inches and a half in
thickness, bending with a gentle curve--these bones being esteemed equal
to ivory. The flesh of this creature is considered wholesome and
pleasant food. The hills and groves environing this admirable fountain
afford amusing subjects of inquiry."
At this time it was called by the Indians Manatee Spring.
Twenty miles west from Tallahassee on the railroad we arrive at the town
of Quincy, situated on a hill commanding a fine view of the surrounding
country. The population numbers about twelve hundred; the houses are
built of wood, painted very white, which gives them a refreshingly-neat
appearance. The citizens have a welcome for visitors which is home-like.
On account of the undulating surface of the lands a diversity of scenery
is found here not seen in other portions of the State--numerous streams,
which flow with a musical cadence from their homes under the hillsides,
running far away to swell the streams that are soon lost in the great
gulf below them. During the early settlement of this portion of the
State cotton-planters were not attracted to it, as the broken lands were
not as favorable for its culture as the more level--for this reason: we
find an independent class of settlers who raised what they consumed,
never buying meat or bread from abroad. Those who have tried growing
cotton were successful, the long staple producing very well. Before the
war Cuban tobacco was cultivated with a rich reward, as they supplied
dealers from New York, also a foreign commerce. The scuppernong grape is
commencing to receive attention, for which enterprise the adaptability
of the soil is favorable--wine having been produced here equal to the
famous California product.
Twenty miles west from Quincy, situated on a river of the same name, is
the town of Chattahoochee, this being the terminus of the Mobile &
Pensacola Railroad. The State Penitentiary is located here, but the
convicts are farmed out. The rough condition of the railroad has been a
barrier to travelers going there much since the war; but a prospective
change, when effected, will make it more agreeable for all parties
concerned. The region of country below contains some fine orange groves.
Those shipping oranges say they prefer Columbus or Atlanta to New York,
on account of more rapid transit and less expense.
The route through Eufaula and Montgomery, North, taking a steamer at
Chattahoochee, is becoming more popular every year, as tourists are fond
of variety. A line of stages connecting Quincy with Bainbridge, a short
day's ride, enables those desirous of locating to see the country to
better advantage. The overland passage appears robbed of its monotony
by the long hedges of Cherokee rosebushes, crowned with their pink and
white petals, which lend a brilliancy to the country through which we
pass, not soon forgotten. Yards, gardens, and avenues, dressed in floral
robes, are frequent; but miles of roses who can describe! The lands on
our route are diversified, also the timber, but the yellow pine
predominates.
Bainbridge is at last reached, when a wonder fills our minds. What made
this town so big? It was once the center of trade for a large, fertile
country around the Appalachicola River, this place being the medium of
communication where fine steamers could be seen loading the wealth of a
prosperous people. The war came and robbed them of their labor--the
railroads then turned the tide of communication in another direction,
leaving them above high-water mark. However, the trade is now reviving,
as proof of which it is a favorite resort for commercial tourists of all
kinds.
Thomasville, about twenty-five miles west of Bainbridge, is a
pleasantly-located town, where visitors can be accommodated with most of
the modern improvements in hotel-keeping; also palatable, toothsome
dishes, which finely-pampered appetites require. The Mitchell House
makes Florida tourists a specialty, this being a point where they can
come to inhale the healing, balsamic odors from the surrounding pines,
and refresh their perishing natures with the good things raised from the
best of lands by a most excellent people. The Gulf House has an old and
honored reputation for fine fare, also a kind-hearted host, who
anticipates the wishes of his guests. The town is substantially
built--laid out tastefully and elegantly--the dwellings being models of
neatness and culture, embowered in emerald retreats of perennial
foliage, which, seen from the cleanly sidewalks, cause many strangers to
sigh for a welcome which they could not expect while far from home. The
yards teem with flowers in mid-winter, blooming from rockeries, mounds,
and twining vines, where occasionally an artificial fountain, with its
sparkling silver veil, echoes its cooling voice as it falls into the
reservoir below. Trade is brisk here--large stores, well filled with
costly goods, find ready purchasers from a well-to-do people living in
the town and country. The town can boast two newspapers and one
periodical--indeed, we have heard it whispered that some of these
writers think they have the keys of knowledge on certain facts
pertaining to agriculture, etc. A female college has been established in
this vicinity for many years, which has sent from its halls of learning
many creditable scholars, who are now filling important stations in the
spheres allotted them. Several tall-spired churches of various
denominations have been erected in this community, where gifted heralds
of the cross proclaim the glad tidings of salvation to large, attentive
audiences, which is a good key-note to their spiritual condition. Thomas
county made an exhibit of its former wealth immediately after the war,
in a representation entirely of colored members--the white population
being so greatly in the minority they could not elect one of their own
color. But the ambition of colored politicians in this section is
visibly on the decline, most of them having such thick lips, and, like
Moses, "slow of speech," they now prefer speaking by proxy in the
legislative halls. Thomasville has no facilities for water communication
with the outside world, but, being located on the Atlantic and Gulf
Road, should therewith be content, as a few hours' ride will furnish
them an opportunity of taking a steamship for England or any part of the
world.
As we leave Thomasville going east, we pass through the wire-grass
country of South Georgia, containing towns, if not of great importance
in external appearance, contain the best of citizens with the kindest of
hearts. Quitman comes first, with its plank walks, shaded by live-oaks,
its home-like hotels, and hospitable, law-abiding people. A paper is
published here which would do credit to a place of more note. A cotton
factory is in operation; indeed, every thing in the town moves around
with the vivacity of college-students out taking their first holiday.
Valadosta is the last town of any size before Savannah. The soil looks
so sandy, the grass so wiry, the pine-trees so tall, with such mournful
music sighing through their airy forms, awakened by the slightest zephyr
that passes, which produces a kind of melancholy in our minds as to
whether we should have any thing to eat or not if we stopped. All fear
of starving can be dispelled, as the country in the vicinity produces
well, which can be proven by the immense sweet potatoes on which we are
fed, and the well-grown sugar-cane for sale, from which sirup and sugar
are made. A very newsy weekly is published in Valadosta, the editor
being the author of the Okafinokee Swamp Expedition, which trip has
furnished him with material to fill out many an interesting column in
his inimitable paper. On public days such a crowd comes to town, the
mystery is, Where do they all stay? In pleasant homes scattered through
the country, where happy hearts beat with much less struggling than
those in higher life, boasting greater attainments.
A trip on this road at night is not unpleasant, as so many light-wood
fires are burning bright near the track, kept up by the lumbermen and
signals for the switch-tenders. Collisions from sudden curves never
occur on this road, it being built so much on the air-line that the
head-light can be seen in many places over twenty miles distant.
Frequent repetition with familiar surroundings blunts the accuracy of
the perceptive powers; but the first time I traveled this route it
appeared like a kind of unreal scene, as the moon shone with an
apparently unwonted brilliancy that changed all external objects into an
epitome of the "Arabian Nights' Entertainment."