THROUGH LANGUOROUS LANDS OF THE SUNNY SOUTH.
[Illustration: TOMB OVER THE GRAVE OF WASHINGTON’S MOTHER, AT
FREDERICKSBURG, VIRGINIA.]
New York City possesses many attractions for the cosmopolitan, but not
for the artist, who prefers nature’s solitudes to the artificial glamor
and noisy hum of a large city; hence our stay in that city was only for
such time as it required to make preparations for extending our
pictorial journey through summer lands of the southeast. Instead of
carrying our original plans into immediate execution, however, it was
decided to visit the battle-field of Gettysburg, which our artist coming
up through Virginia and Pennsylvania did not find it convenient to
include in his journey. The town of Gettysburg has a population of some
3,500 souls, and is the capital of Adams county, Pennsylvania, the
center of a blooming and bounteously-producing agricultural district.
Our route to reach the place was by way of the Pennsylvania Railroad to
Hanover, and thence by the Western Maryland Railroad, a distance of 250
miles from New York. The landscape thereabout is undulating,
occasionally rising to hills of considerable size; but scenically there
is nothing particularly attractive, aside from the beautiful farms and
truck-gardens that clothe the knolls with prodigal harvests.
Historically, the place is imperishably famous, for here was fought, on
the 1st, 2d and 3d of July, 1863, the bloodiest and hottest-contested
battle of the civil war. From every eminence this dreadful field, though
it now smiles with plenty, still presents memorials of that ever-
memorable conflict. There is Cemetery Hill, the old grave-place of the
town, where thousands slept before the awakening alarms of cannon and
musket enveloped the scene in battle-smoke. Here it was that the Union
forces, under General Meade, pitched their quarters, because it
commanded a view of the adjacent country. One mile towards the west is
Seminary Ridge, the spot chosen by the Confederates, under General Lee,
as their vantage-point and headquarters. Now sweep the horizon and mark
the places where the battle waxed fiercest; where the dead lay thickest
and the thunder of conflict was loudest. There is Willoughby Run, where
the battle began and where Buford’s cavalry was hurled upon the steel of
Hill, and for two hours withstood the hell of ball and bayonet until
flesh could endure no more. There is Round Top, another eminence where
the Union lines reformed, with the left wing thrown around the ridges to
Cemetery Hill. There is where Longstreet struck Sickles with such
fearless resolution, and a whole day was spent in a contention for Great
and Little Round Top, without advantage to either side, but with
frightful losses to both. Now on Cemetery Hill the eyes of the world
must rest, for here it was, on the third day, that such fighting was
done as Greek nor Roman ever knew. After a lull at midday, two hundred
brazen throats were opened with boom and screaming shells; the air
became filled with smoke, and the earth was choked with dead, until
there came a lull, out of which broke a column three miles long, whose
gray uniforms soon proclaimed the advance of General Pickett leading his
army in a desperate resolve to storm the Union position. No charge ever
made was more terrible, no repulse was ever more fatal. Americans,
whatever be their sympathies, whatever their prejudices, may feel proud
of the heroism displayed by both armies on that day of carnage around
Cemetery Hill. It was a courage that glorifies America.
[Illustration: THE DEVIL’S DEN, BATTLE-FIELD OF GETTYSBURG]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
ROUND TOP, OVERLOOKING THE BATTLEFIELD OF GETTYSBURG.—The battle that
was fought at Gettysburg on the first, second and third of July,
1863, has been justly classed as one of the great battles of the
world. It was the final turning-point in the war between the North
and the South, and each side, on this field, displayed a heroism
that will forever shed a light of glory upon the courage and
fortitude of Americans as soldiers. Fifty-four thousand of our
countrymen gave up their lives at Gettysburg. They were
distinguished by uniforms of blue and gray then; now they are
clothed with robes that are woven without color. Let the head be
uncovered and the eye moist with tears as we stand upon the ground
made sacred by their blood.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: A VILLAGE SCENE OF HAPPY CONTENT IN VIRGINIA.]
The 54,000 souls that laid down their arms and answered roll-call the
morning of July 4th on the parade-grounds of paradise, were our
countrymen. They were distinguished by uniforms of blue and gray then;
they are invested with robes now that are woven without color. Let the
trumpets blare, and the drums be beaten, but let it be on Memorial Day,
as salutes of remembrance for the heroes who died within the gates of
Cemetery Hill, at Round Top, the Stone Fence, Culp’s Hill, Seminary
Ridge, Willoughby Run and Benner’s Hill.
Gettysburg is of itself a monument to human courage, but its field of
blood has been made a national cemetery of seventeen acres, which was
dedicated with imposing ceremonies on November 19, 1863, at which
President Lincoln made the greatest address ever delivered on American
soil, “With malice toward none, with charity for all.” A soldiers’
monument was erected in 1868, which is sixty feet high, surmounted by a
marble figure of Liberty, and occupies a crown of the hill, where it is
a conspicuous object for miles, and arranged in semi-circles about the
base are the graves of nearly three thousand of the unidentified victims
of the dreadful conflict.
“Thus sleep the braves who sank to rest,
By all their Country’s wishes blest.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
AN OLD COLONIAL HOUSE AT APPOMATTOX, VIRGINIA.—This picturesque old
mansion, built while Virginia was still a colony of the mother-
country, stands yet as a landmark of an earlier civilization and a
social era that has passed away. The wealthy pioneer who planned it
took as his model some still older mansion of the merry England from
which he had emigrated, and thus sought to transplant in the wilds
of America a memorial of some loved spot in his native country. Its
halls are now filled with the ghostly recollections of the past, for
even the mighty events which took place in this immediate vicinity
in April, 1865, seem almost like ancient history, so rapidly does
time speed away on the wings of steam and electricity.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: FORTRESS MONROE, VIRGINIA.]
From Gettysburg our route was southwest to Washington, and thence by way
of Fredericksburg to Appomattox. From Washington the Richmond,
Fredericksburg and Potomac Railroad runs through a sterile section,
unrelieved by either picturesque scenery or smiling field, so that a
part of it has long been known as the Wilderness, famous, however, as
the scene of many great battles in 1863-4, many traces of which are
still to be seen from the car windows of passing trains. Fredericksburg
is distinguished also as the vicinity in which Washington was born, and
where he spent the greater part of his youth. Here it was also that
Washington’s mother lived for a long time, and died in 1789. A monument
erected in 1883, in the suburbs of the town, marks the place of her
sepulture. Twelve miles beyond Fredericksburg is the battle-ground of
Spottsylvania Court House, where Stonewall Jackson received his death
wound, May 2, 1863. Indeed, the region for fifty miles thereabout is
still scarred by the strokes of contending armies delivered thirty years
ago, and cemeteries in which repose the heroic dead of both Union and
Confederate are numerous, marked by many monuments to attest the
appreciation of the living for the sacrifices which were endured in
those dreadful years of the sixties. But if the country is somewhat
barren, and gruesome with reminders of fratricidal strife, it is not
entirely destitute of the phases that lend cheerfulness to life. Here is
essentially the land of happy negroes, where poverty abounds with joy,
for absence of responsibility is contentment of mind with the colored
race. At the depot there is always a swarm of pickaninnies eager to
scramble for pennies thrown to the crowd, and the most comical scenes
imaginable occur at these tussles, for the little darkies themselves, in
an array of all sizes and shades of black and brown, a company of
tatterdemalions that would put Punch and Judy to rout, are ludicrous
enough to make a goat laugh. The street-scenes of villages near-by, as
well as in the suburbs of Fredericksburg, are equally whimsical,
presenting, as they often do, human nature in its most grotesque aspect.
Horses are rarely used by negroes for draught purposes; mules more
frequently; but bulls, cows and yearling calves are the chief
dependence, and carts the popular style of conveyance with these happy-
go-lucky people. There is no need for haste, and the loads are never
large, hence a yoke of cattle are as handy as a span of horses, and
preferable because slow movement allows more sleep on the way. The sun
makes the tobacco grow, and the rain makes music on the cabin-roof; so
rain or shine the darkey’s heart is always light and the future is
hidden from him by a veil of present delight. Such sights teach the
value of content, even if they do offend ambition, and in them the
philosopher’s stone has its hiding-place.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
AN OLD CABIN HOME IN GEORGIA.—The old log cabin is a familiar sight in
Georgia, as well as other parts of the South. Often it is vine-
wreathed, showing signs of great antiquity, with roof of clapboards,
upon which the rain patters like the long-roll beat of the snare
drum. Homely, battered by time, and affording few comforts, yet in
such cabins greatness has often had its birth, nor scorned such
humble nativity. How many men of high estate lie down in the drapery
of fine linen and, when night has folded the earth in her sable
arms, think of the old cabin home in Georgia; of the long-time ago;
of the bubbling spring in the hollow and the gourd that hung by it;
of the grape-vine swing, and the cows mooing in the pasture; of
father and mother, and the graves on the hillside. And there is a
sigh from the heart for these pleasures of a past that have departed
forever.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: DRUMMOND’S LAKE, IN GREAT DISMAL SWAMP, VIRGINIA.]
From Fredericksburg our route was northwest to Appomattox and thence
east by way of Richmond to Fortress Monroe, on the peninsula. We were a
little disappointed to find the site of the culminating event of the war
destitute of any special feature of interest of either a natural or
artificial character. The scene of surrender is not even marked by a
monument, and the country thereabout is a pale and somber stretch of
poorly-cultivated lands. Yet there are exceptions; for occasionally the
monotony of cabin and broken fence is relieved by prolific tobacco-
fields, pretty towns, and inviting manors adorned with colonial houses
that still preserve their old-time air of comfort and Southern
hospitality. Virginia well deserves the title of the Dominion State, not
only because she is the mother of Presidents, but because she is also
distinguished as the native state of many of the greatest men and women
born on American soil. “To be a Virginian, is to be a gentleman,” has
passed into an adage; and the country is proud of her for a hundred
reasons, which reference to history will explain. If her soil is not the
most fertile, yet her legacy is the richest, for she gave to the world
such men as Washington, Madison, Jefferson, Randolph, Clay, Lee and a
thousand others whose names and deeds are alike imperishable. Fortress
Monroe is reached by the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad, over which route
we traveled from Appomattox. It is located at the point of a peninsula,
formed by the Fork and James Rivers, which projects into Chesapeake Bay
where it joins the Atlantic. The situation is particularly favorable for
a Government fortress, and its natural and commanding advantages have
been fully utilized, for it is the largest and strongest fortification
in America. Hampton Roads separates the point of the peninsula from the
opposite land. This body of water is about five miles wide and forms the
outlet of James River. It was in the Roads that the most famous of
modern naval battles, between the _Monitor_ and the _Merrimac_
(Virginia), took place, March 9, 1862. Two miles below Fortress Monroe
is Old Point Comfort, a very popular resort and the seat of the National
Soldiers’ Home. Newport News is nine miles above the Fortress, on
Hampton Roads; and Yorktown, the place of Cornwallis’ surrender to
Washington, October 19, 1781, is twenty-five miles north, on York River,
both places possessing great historic interest for events of which they
were the scene during the Revolutionary war.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
OLD FORT AND SEA WALL AT ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA.—This old fort
possesses a peculiar interest for Americans, being the oldest
historic fortification of our country. Its construction was begun by
Menendez de Aviles, a Spaniard, in 1565, but it was not completed
until two centuries later. It was then called Fort San Marco, but
with a ruthless disregard of historic associations characteristic of
our people, it has been changed to Fort Marion, without in the least
adding to the lustre of the renown of the great Revolutionary
patriot of the South. The walls of the fort are composed of a
conglomerate called coquina, which is formed of shells and sand
brought from the island of Anastasia. Originally soft and pliable as
plaster, it becomes almost of granitic hardness by exposure,
affording a safe protection against the primitive artillery of that
period.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: A HUNTER’S CABIN ON THE CANAL, DISMAL SWAMP.]
Crossing Hampton Roads by steamer to Norfolk, we proceeded southward by
the Norfolk Southern Railroad, through a region known as the Dismal
Swamp, famous alike in fact and fiction. The term has been indelibly
affixed to two extensive stretches of morass, the larger of which lies
between the James River on the north and Albemarle Sound on the south,
thus covering a part of Virginia and North Carolina, having a length of
about forty miles and a breadth of twenty-five miles. Little Dismal
Swamp is wholly within North Carolina, in the peninsula between
Albemarle Sound and Pimlico Sound, and while occupying considerably less
than one-third as much area as Great Dismal, is probably better known to
readers because of the tragedies which have been enacted within its dark
and gloomy districts. Speaking generally, the swamps are composed of a
spongy, vegetable soil, but without any mixture of earth, which supports
a dense growth of aquatic plants, brush-wood and timber. Sir Charles
Lyell, the distinguished geologist, was first to bring to notice the
curious fact that the surface of the swamp is actually twelve feet
higher in many places than the surrounding country, so that its drainage
is outward, except where a few small streams flow in from the west side.
The center of Great Dismal is occupied by Drummond’s Lake, an oval basin
six miles long and three wide, with perpendicular banks and fifteen feet
depth of water. In and around this lake is a veritable paradise for
hunters, for its waters abound with fish and wild fowl, and the adjacent
woods are the favorite haunts of deer, bears, wild-cats, coons and
swamp-rabbits. The region, inexpressibly dreary as it is, contributes
largely to commerce by furnishing immense supplies of timber. To
facilitate transportation the Great Swamp is intersected by canals, the
two largest being those which connect the Elizabeth and Pasquotank
Rivers, and Elizabeth River with Carrituck Sound.
Some queer little cabins are built along these water-ways, a few being
occupied by timber cutters, but generally they are the temporary abodes
of hunters who find shooting and trapping both pleasurable and
profitable, and who work at logging out of game season. Little Dismal
Swamp, though smaller than its more northern neighbor, is very much more
dense with brush-wood, and decidedly more forbidding, because its gloomy
depths rarely echo with the voice of man, or the sound of the woodman’s
ax. Fifty years ago it was the refuge of runaway negroes, and a
dangerous place for a white man to be seen, because the blacks who hid
in its thick coverts were usually of the most desperate character, who
would not hesitate at crime. One of the best-remembered, because the
most tragic, negro insurrections that ever occurred in Virginia was
headed by a Samsonian black named Nat Turner. Under his leadership more
than a hundred armed negroes rose against their masters and massacred a
score of men, women and children. When a sufficient force of whites was
mustered to oppose them, the negroes fled to Little Dismal Swamp, where,
after great length of time, they were starved into surrender. Nat
Turner, however, was last to submit to his pursuers, and committed so
many crimes, while the search for him continued, that his very name
became a terror; but he was at last captured through betrayal by a negro
whom he trusted, and after due trial was convicted and hanged.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
PONCE DE LEON HOTEL, ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA.—This photograph
represents the court of the hotel, around which the walls extend in
the form of a hollow square. The hotel itself is a revival of the
richest examples of Moorish architecture. It is old Spain of the
golden reign of Ibn-l-Ahmar transported to American shores. With its
lavish adornment, picturesque style and exquisite grounds, in which
every known tropical plant is made to add its beauty and shed its
fragrance, while flowing fountains cool the summer air, the Ponce de
Leon is not only a reminder of the great palace of Spain in the time
of Columbus, but it is also one of the best representatives of
modern convenience, comfort and artistic beauty of architecture and
construction.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: BONAVENTURE CEMETERY, SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.]
Our next halting place on the flight southward was Savannah, the Gate
City, as it is the Queen City of the South. Next to Atlanta in
commercial importance, Savannah is easily first of all sunny metropoli
in the superb beauty of its situation and the park grandeur of its
surroundings. Here it was that General Oglethorpe founded his Georgia
colony early in 1733; and the flourishing city, from which the first
ocean steamer that ever attempted to cross the Atlantic sailed, and its
rank as the second cotton port of the United States, are striking proofs
of his foresight and excellent discrimination.
The city is situated on a bold bluff overlooking the Savannah River,
along which it extends in a curved front for a distance of three miles,
affording excellent wharfage. The streets are all very broad and
magnificently shaded, while parks containing one to three acres occur at
all the principal intersections, charmingly laid out and beautified with
flowers, which grow in that warm climate in the richest profusion.
Flower gardens constitute one of the most characteristic features of the
place, for a majority of the residences are surrounded by ample grounds
that are abloom with flowering plants throughout the year. This is the
borderland of southern evergreens, where the stately oak is festooned
with pearl-gray mosses, and the orange and the magnolia fill the air
with delicious perfumes. Along the streets, too, are rows of flowering
oleanders, pomegranates, palmettos, bananas, laurels, bays and sweet
crape-myrtles. But of all the beauties about Savannah none rival the
charms of Bonaventure Cemetery, four miles from the city, on Warsaw
River, and reached by a shell road that is equal to any drive-way in the
world. Every grave is a flower-bed, and the long avenues canopied with
moss-garlanded oaks present a picture Arcadian in its loveliness, and
suggestive of those flowery glades through which immortals might delight
to wander.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
OLD CITY GATES, ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA.—As St. Augustine is the oldest
town in America, having been founded by the Spaniards in 1565, it is
quite natural that we should find here many relics of the past
mingled with the bright and better features of modern life. The old
city was surrounded by a wall as security against attacks from the
outside, and of this wall the gates, so beautifully photographed on
this page, are about the only remaining relics. It is one of the
links connecting the present with the earliest events of discovery
in our country—a link rusty with the blood of conquest and
martyrdom. Here it was that Spanish cruelty and French retaliation
were carried to the most barbaric extreme, and cruelty is always in
need of strong walls to protect it from the enemies it creates and
nourishes.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: A HOME IN THE MOUNTAINS OF GEORGIA.]
The country district about Savannah is somewhat similar in appearance to
that of Western North Carolina, except that its mountains are not nearly
so high. The soil, however, is practically the same, as are the social
conditions; and hence the constant reminder of that section which we
have already described. The old log-cabin is a familiar sight in
Georgia, often vine-wreathed, and showing signs of great antiquity, with
roofs of clap-board, upon which the rain patters like the long-roll beat
of a snare-drum. The picture which we present is typical of this class,
and an example as well of rural simplicity. Homely, battered by time,
and affording few comforts, yet in such cabins greatness has often had
its birth, nor scorned such humble nativity. How many men of high estate
lie down in the drapery of fine linen and, when night has folded the
earth in her sable arms, think of the old cabin home in Georgia; of the
long time ago; of the bubbling spring in the hollow and the gourd that
hung by it; of the grape-vine swing, and the cows mooing in the pasture;
of father and mother, and the graves on the hillside. And there is a
sigh from the heart. The old time was the flush of life’s morning; it is
growing evening now, and the shadows are creeping up the slopes. Soon
the present will be the “old times” to our children. How many men who
have achieved greatness would exchange their possessions and positions
for youth and the old cabin home as they see it now in their dreams!
Many, yes, very many.
Inseparable, almost, from the log-house of the Southern poor, is the
cabin home of the negro, because the two are separated by such a thin
line of distinction that only critical inspection can prevent them from
assimilating in the minds of those unfamiliar with Southern life. There
is the same stone-chimney and clap-board roof, but the colored man’s
cabin is a single room, and the front is porchless. More hasty
construction is also noted, for the logs are laid like a turkey-pen, and
clap-boards are used again, not for weather-boarding, but as a
substitute for batten. Windows are not needed, through which to exchange
civilities with the season, for there are holes and crannies to let
smoke out, and plenty of accidental entrances for the warm summer air to
get in. It is thus at small effort and no care the worst weather is kept
out, and contentedness reigns within.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
AMONG THE PALMETTOS ON THE BANKS OF HALIFAX RIVER, FLORIDA.—This is a
typical Southern scene, and one of the most delightful to human
senses that could be imagined. It is so perfectly in accord with
nature that in imagination we can hear the bursting of the buds as
they grow beneath the fructifying influences of the Southern sun,
and feel the soft, hazy atmosphere as it gently rolls in from the
cooling waters of the sea, and floods the intervening spaces of the
moss-covered trees. In the Garden of Eden there must have been many
bowers such as this, where Adam and Eve whispered the first vows of
devotion and human love.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: THE HEAD OF HALIFAX RIVER, ABOVE ORMOND.]
Through Georgia and into the land of orange groves we sped, stopping a
day at Jacksonville, and then hurried on to San Augustine, the oldest
town in America (founded by the Spanish in 1565), and possibly the most
interesting. It is a link which connects the present with the earliest
events of discovery in our country—a link rusty with the blood of
conquest and martyrdom. Here it was that Spanish cruelty and French
retaliation were carried to the most barbaric extreme, and the
enslavement of native Indians began. Passing through the first ordeals
of settlement, a century later it was bitterly afflicted by raids of
Indians and the plundering of pirates, so that its growth was prevented,
and not until the British surrendered possession to the United States in
1821, did the place show any indications of permanency, or that it would
attain to any importance beyond what it had before reached as a very
small village.
St. Augustine is located on a narrow peninsula formed by the Matanzas
and San Sebastian Rivers, and is separated from the ocean by Anastasia
Island. From a place of little consequence, in the last few years it has
become distinguished as the most popular winter resort in the South.
Several things have conspired to bring about this change, chief of
which, however, was the enterprises of Mr. H. M. Flagler, who,
recognizing its favorable location, resolved to convert the town from a
listless, sleeping, poverty-stricken village into such an Eden of
loveliness as the arts of man can create. In accomplishing this object
he spent $6,000,000, and the improvements are of such a character as may
well satisfy his ambition. The Ponce de Leon Hotel is a revival of the
richest examples of Moorish architecture. It is old Spain of the golden
reign of Ibn-l-Ahmar transported to American shores. And strange
coincidence it is, that the year in which Columbus set sail on his first
western voyage in quest of eastern lands, the year of the Moorish
Expulsion, the beautiful Alhambra, most magnificent building that ever
graced the earth, was given over to vandalism and spoliation. The Ponce
de Leon, with its lavish adornment, picturesque style and exquisite
grounds, in which every known tropical plant is made to add its beauty
and shed its fragrance, while fountains cool the summer air, is a
reminder of the great palace of Grenada, and the chivalry of Spain in
the time of Columbus.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
AVENUE OF MOSS-COVERED OAKS, NEAR ORMOND, FLORIDA.—Laying aside the
question as to whether the command to work, that was imposed upon
our first parents, was a curse or a blessing, it is easy to conceive
that one reared among such scenery as this, where there are but few
wants which the spontaneous growth of nature does not supply, would
naturally regard hard labor as the greatest curse that could be
pronounced against mankind. Here, side by side and of their own
volition, grow the orange, the pomegranate, the fig, the melon, and
nearly all the other fruits and vegetables necessary for the support
of physical existence, while life is made delightful with the
blossom and odor of thousands of bright-hued and ever-blossoming
flowers. Here let us rest and dream, and think of work only when the
flaming sword of necessity drives us forth to exertion.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: PALMETTO HUTS NEAR TITUSVILLE, FLORIDA.]
But the interest to St. Augustine visitors is not confined to the Ponce
de Leon, glorious as it is, joined though it be to its almost equally
superb annexes, the Cordova and Alcazar, for the city is filled with the
relics of an olden time, and associations that are almost painful to
recall. Along its water-front extends a sea wall one mile in length and
ten feet broad, built of coquina and coped with granite, forming an
incomparable promenade between the old Franciscan monastery, now used as
a barracks, and the ancient fort of San Marco, now known as Fort Marion.
Though not the most formidable, these antique fortifications rank all
others of this country in interest. Their construction was begun by
Menendez de Aviles in 1565, at the time of the founding, but were not
completed until two centuries later, all of the work being performed by
enslaved Indians. The fortifications cover about four acres, and the
walls are of coquina, a conglomerate of shells and sand brought from
Anastasia Island, which, soft when dug, hardens by exposure. The fort is
a splendid example of the best military architecture of the time, being
in the shape of a trapezium, surrounded by a wide and deep moat, and
with walls twenty-one feet high, sharp bastions at the corners, thick
casemates, and subterranean passages and vaults which might serve
equally for refuge ports or dungeons. That some of these were used for
the latter purpose is proved by the fact that in one of the least
accessible dungeon-rooms, the entrance to which was accidentally found,
two skeletons chained to the wall were discovered. What a story of
suffering these might tell if they could speak!
In the earlier centuries a wall extended across the peninsula, which
protected the city from attack on the north side, but nothing now
remains of this defence except the old city gates, at the head of St.
George street. These are massive square towers fifteen feet high,
pierced with loop-holes, and at the base of each is a sentry-box, which
the guards occupied when on duty.
Near the center of the business part of the city is the old slave-
market, adjoining which is the _Plaza de la Constitucion_, containing a
monument erected in 1812, commemorative of the Spanish Liberal
Constitution, while another monument stands in front of the old Market,
which was erected in 1879, in honor of the Confederate dead.
Besides being a great winter resort, St. Augustine is a place of some
commercial importance, its largest industry being the manufacture of
palmetto hats, while in the convents a fine quality of lace goods is
made, by girls and the nuns in charge.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
RUBBER OR BANYAN TREE, ON BANANA RIVER, FLORIDA.—We are now among the
wonders of the semi-tropics and the paradisaic delights of a
marvelous sun-browned land, where the mocking bird opens the matin
competition in the college of vernal hymns, and the palmettos are
vocal with the softly stirring breeze. The landscape is a dreamy
haze of incomparable loveliness, where a feast of flowers is
perpetually spread, and the voice of peris may be heard down under
the green waters of a murmuring sea. The ocean is so near that the
music of its rolling beach comes like a gentle lullaby through the
clustering branches of the scented trees, bringing the hush of the
still small voice that reminds us of the presence of Deity.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: IN THE DEEP PALMETTO SOLITUDES ALONG INDIAN RIVER.]
It is about seventy-five miles from St. Augustine to Ormond by the
Jacksonville, Tampa and Key West Railroad, one of the branches of the
Plant System, whose terminus is Daytona, five miles below Ormond.
Indeed, nearly every road in Florida is the property of the Plant
company, which has proven a factor of incalculable benefit to the State,
and has reaped correspondingly great reward. Ormond is located on the
head of Halifax River, which is a part of the Indian River Lagoon,
connected by the Mosquito Haul-Over, or canal. We are now in the sub-
tropics, and among the paradisiac delights of a marvelous sun-browned
land, where the mocking-bird opens the matin competition in the college
of vernal hymns, and the palmettos are vocal with the softly stirring
breeze. The landscape is a dreamy haze of incomparable loveliness, where
a feast of flowers is perpetually spread, and the voice of peris may be
heard down under the green waters of a murmuring sea. Only a thin
stretch of golden beach lies between the mainland, on which Ormond is
located, and the ocean, so near that the billows are distinctly heard
beating against the shore. Along this water-front of lagoon and sea are
gleaming sands so hard that step nor wheel make any impression, and so
inviting that nymphs might make it a playground. West of the village is
a typical hummock of tropical growths, penetrated by a glade that is
embowered and sweetly shaded by massive oaks gracefully festooned with
pearl-gray mosses, and palmettos that flaunt their tangled, rustling
branches before the beaming sun. Hereabout, too, are groves rich-laden
with fruits as golden as those that were plucked by Hercules in the
garden of Hesperides; where the orange and the banana bend beneath the
weight of their own deliciousness, and pour out their honey to the bees
in rich extravagance.
At Ormond boat was taken for a trip down Indian River, a journey which
all the speech of adjective and imagery cannot justly describe. Indian
River and Halifax River are not streams, but shallow lagoons, strips of
the ocean enclosed by narrow tongues of sandy beach, severed by
occasional inlets through which the billows break tumultuously. Its
extreme length, for the two are now joined by a canal, is about two
hundred miles, and though rarely more than three feet deep, and in
places less, the lagoon is navigated by a line of stern-wheel boats,
which, in winter-time, are crowded with excursionists, notwithstanding
their sleeping accommodations are confined almost entirely to cots in
the cabins. One line runs to Titusville, and there connects with
another, which carries passengers as far south as Jupiter, the southern
limit of the river. In the last year (1892) a railroad has been built
from Titusville to Rockledge, and is being pushed southward, so that in
another year or two the trip to Jupiter may be made by rail. But the
boat journey, though beset by some harassments, consequent upon narrow
passages and low water, will lose little of its popularity, because it
will always remain one of the most delightful that can be taken. The
connection between Halifax and Indian Rivers is by means of a canal that
requires constant dredging, and through which it is difficult to pass
with boat when the wind is blowing hard; while at times it is so choked
with sand that the boats have to be literally dragged through by means
of hawser and capstan. New Smyrna is a town of some importance, as is
Titusville, but besides these, the landings are of no consequence as
trading-places, consisting of never more than one or two stores and as
many houses. This sparseness of population increases the interest of
travelers on the river, for the charm of primeval beauty and
attractiveness thus remains.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
ROCKLEDGE, ON INDIAN RIVER, FLORIDA.—Rockledge is a resort of great
popularity, but of no commercial importance, for it does not contain
a single store. For beauty it is almost unrivaled, being richly
adorned by nature and lavishly ornamented by the arts of man. The
large cabbage palmettos that grow up wildly along the coquina banks
were suffered to remain, and between them avenues were laid out and
covered with shells, so that from the river there is a long prospect
of gleaming walks ramifying a shore of brilliant green. Here also
the orange grows to its most delicious perfection, likewise the
lemon, banana and grape fruit; and such a breeze of perfume greets
the incoming passenger as paradise itself might exhale.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: SPOUTING ROCK, NEAR JUPITER.]
As a rule the banks are covered with spiney-palmetto, which is almost as
difficult to eradicate as Canada thistle, and hence few attempts are
made to reclaim the land, as the cost of clearing exceeds the value. But
at occasional intervals the banks are diversified with orange groves,
and bananas are also raised to some extent, but the chief industry is
fishing, for the river abounds with sheephead, pompano, mullet, cavalli,
and green turtles. Rockledge is a resort of great popularity, but of no
commercial importance, for it does not contain a single store. For
beauty, however, it is almost unrivalled, being richly adorned by nature
and lavishly beautified by the arts of man. The large cabbage palmettos
that grow up wildly along its coquina banks were suffered to remain, and
between them avenues were laid out and covered with shells, so that from
the river there is a lovely prospect of gleaming walks ramifying a shore
of brilliant green. Here also the orange grows in its most delicious
perfection, likewise the lemon, banana, and grape fruit; and such a
breeze of perfume greets the incoming passenger as paradise itself might
exhale.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
ORANGE GROVE AT ROCKLEDGE, INDIAN RIVER, FLORIDA.—A trip down Indian
River is a journey that all the speech of imagery and adjective
cannot justly describe. It is here that the orange reaches its best
perfection, and on every hand are groves laden with the yellow
fruit, while the more modest banana bush bends beneath the weight of
its own deliciousness, and pours out its honey to the bees in rich
extravagance. Nature is so luxurious in her productions that she
supports nearly all the plants and trees and flowers belonging to
this delightful climate, so that within the limits of an orange
orchard may be found nearly everything that grows in the semi-
tropics.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: LAKE OKEECHOBEE, FLORIDA.]
The river at Rockledge is nearly six miles wide and furnishes the finest
sea for sailing, for the salt-air is present, and the dangers of heavy
billows are absent. Across this expanse lies a broad strip of land which
is divided by another lagoon called Banana River, along which is a
charming vista of wood that has been named by some admirer Fairyland.
This strip of forest-growth is beautiful enough to justify the name, and
wandering through groves of oranges, palms, magnolias and paw-paws, on
shell-walks of snowy whiteness, fancy pictures a troop of dryads
picnicking among the trees, and drinking nectar from flaming begonia
flowers that sprinkle the woods with scarlet. At the lower end of
Fairyland is a natural park in which gnarled oaks spread their giant
shadows over a lawn of grasses, and on the margin is a grove of pine-
apples, the fragrance of which almost stifles the odor from the orange-
blossoms. A single cottage is the only habitation in this poetic
retreat, before the door of which are lofty paw-paws waving their
feathery crests, and a gigantic rubber, or banyan tree, whose branches
woo the soil and have taken root therein. Only one other specimen of
this remarkable tree, of equal size, is found in the United States, and
it, too, is a native of Florida, being one of the chief curiosities of
Key West. There are other species that exhibit a disposition to fix the
points of their drooping branches in the ground, but it is peculiar to
the banyan to send out shoots from its main stems, which, instead of
growing upward, point straight down, and even before reaching the ground
the ends put out root-tendrils, which strike into the soil and firmly
attach themselves as soon as they reach the earth. As the boat proceeds
southward from Rockledge the way grows in interest, for we soon reach
what may be called “the region of water-fowls.” Ducks, coots, water-
hens, absolutely cover the river’s surface, while pelicans increase in
number until we reach Pelican Island, where they swarm by thousands. The
rising of water-fowl before the boat is a wondrous sight, and the
beating of their wings on the water produces a sound like a heavy fall
of hail on a dry clap-board roof; there are positively millions, and the
commotion which they create is almost pandemonium. Another remarkable
sight which we witnessed was a school of porpoises that had strayed into
the lagoon (for they are not commonly found there) which, being
frightened by the boat, made a retreat across the river in such
precipitation that the shallow water was beaten into foam, leaving a
streak of white behind them that marked their course some time after.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
A PINEAPPLE GROVE ON INDIAN RIVER, FLORIDA.—A pineapple grove is one
of the most enjoyable places in the world. The broad green blades of
the plants, the golden reddish yellow fruit, and the pleasant odor
that fills the air form a combination of the most delightful
character. No one can fully appreciate the delicious flavor of the
pineapple until he has plucked it ripe from the plant and eaten it
on the spot. The fruit that goes to market is cut when only half
ripe, and thus loses the best part of its flavor, and is spongy and
tough in comparison with that which is allowed to mature before
being gathered.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: A CAMP OF CONSUMPTIVES, NEAR LAKE WORTH, FLORIDA.]
The character of the shore vegetation also changed, the spiney-palmetto
giving place to mangroves that grow so thickly a man might almost walk
on their tops. In these deep forests wild game is abundant, including
deer, bear, panthers and ’coons; and on our journey we saw a ’coon that
had so little fear it scarcely moved even when the boat brushed the limb
upon which it sat. When night falls upon these solemnly somber deep
woods a sense of dread steals on the traveler, though he be in a gay
crowd on a good steamboat. The river narrows for nearly ten miles
through the mangrove thickets, and during this interval the banks are
within reach from both sides. The passage is tortuous, too, and the boat
requires slow and careful handling, frequently the bow striking one bank
and the stern the other, while the electric bull’s-eye light penetrates
and flashes like a Druid’s fire dance in the tangled copse where many
slimy and uncanny things have their haunts. An alligator’s grunt, a
loon’s cry, a frog’s hoarse croak, and a snake-bird’s piping are some of
the sounds that animate the solitudes, and cracking branches betray the
proximity of some wild beast whose eyes are like lanterns in the
darkness.
After hours of patient working, Jupiter Narrows are passed and the boat
speeds on, her iron hull often grinding on the oyster-beds, and long
waves breaking over the shallows. Eden is then reached, and the odor of
the pine-apple is perceptible in the air. A stop is made to allow
passengers to go on shore and visit the pine-apple grove near-by, where
that excellent fruit is cultivated successfully by a gentleman who first
lost a fortune in the experiment. A mile below Eden St. Lucie Sound and
River extend several miles inland towards Lake Okeechobee, twenty-five
miles distant. It is proposed to connect the lake with this river by
means of a canal, and thus drain the swamps and everglades of Southern
Florida. Another shorter canal on the west would connect the lake with
Caloosahat River, and thus two outlets would be afforded, which would
speedily accomplish the purpose of the company that has undertaken the
enterprise.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
A BANANA GROVE IN FLORIDA.—The banana plant is one of the most
beautiful growths that can be imagined. Its broad, luxuriant leaves
are of a bright green color, changing to maroon and orange as the
season advances and the fruit begins to ripen. The latter, when it
reaches the delicious yellow stage of full maturity, does its part
in helping to dress the field in the most beautiful livery of
nature, presenting a scene of gold, green and maroon surpassing the
powers of pen or pencil to depict or portray. The Spaniards, from a
fancied resemblance of the transverse section to a cross, supposed
the banana to have been the forbidden fruit, and that Adam saw in
eating it the mystery of redemption by the cross.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: THE ONE-OX SHAY IN FLORIDA.]
Twenty-five miles below Eden is Jupiter, the southern termination of
Indian River, a little town that derives its importance from the
Government light-house which stands before the inlet to warn vessels off
the dangerous reefs outside. The surroundings, however, are very
delightful, especially the beach, which is strewn with the prettiest
ocean-shells that ever a pensive person gathered, including an
occasional pearly nautilus, a perfect one of which we had the good
fortune to find. Near-by is the Spouting Rock, a coquina formation that
rises into a bank and which has been hollowed at the base by incessant
dashing of the billows. Into this grotto the waves plunge with such
force that they drive out through an opening in the top of the rock like
a colossal fountain, and are scattered by the winds into a shower of
rainbows. A narrow-gauge railroad runs south from Jupiter, a distance of
eight miles, to Juno, its terminus on Lake Worth, where tourists take a
steam launch for Palm Beach and are then in the land of the cocoanut.
The voice of eloquence grows coarse when it attempts to paint the
beauties of this o’er fair summer-land; a land where warm zephyrs stir
the hazy air with breath of perpetual bloom, and sensuous perfumes fan
the cheeks of languorous day. In this Arcadian spot of beauty, where the
air is passionate as a lover, wooing and kissing the flowers, tossing
and embracing the fronds of the cocoa-trees, there is a joy like
retrospection; a communion with the rapturous soul of nature; a
commingling with the creatures of our sweetest fancy; a balmy, delicious
sense of gratification that lulls and etherealizes; that bridges the
gulf between the real and the ideal; that builds substantial castles in
clouds of gold, and makes everything a slave to our desires. The banks
are pictures of beauty, the gardens are beds of perennial delight. Lake
Worth is separated from the ocean by a strip of land less than half a
mile wide, and this narrow tongue of what was once bare sand has been
converted into a stretch of tropical exuberance. For a distance of four
miles there is an unbroken glade of cocoanut-trees, while nearer to the
sea-shore are banana groves, and trees bending to the ground with
guavas, sapodillas, oranges, lemons and other tropical fruits. At
intervals there are gardens full-bearing in February with beans, peas,
tomatoes, and along the walks are flower-beds that flame with color and
lade the atmosphere with nature’s incense. To walk through such a grove
of fruitful delight is to fill the heart with ecstasy.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
A COCOANUT GROVE ON THE BANKS OF LAKE WORTH, FLORIDA.—There are but
few of the wants and conveniences of mankind to which the cocoanut
palm does not contribute something. Without exception it is the most
useful tree in existence. It attains a height of sixty to one
hundred feet, and a diameter of one to two feet; while it is
resplendently crowned with numerous feather-like leaves from
eighteen to twenty feet long. The flowers come in clusters, and at
first have a beautiful milk-white appearance, which, however, soon
changes to a yellowish color. They are beautiful for their varied
combinations and great number rather than from any individual grace.
Each tree will produce from eighty to one hundred nuts per year.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: SCENE ON THE OKLAWAHA RIVER, FLORIDA.]
The air of this southern region is not only languorous but, in the piney
districts particularly, is balsamic, and hence thousands of consumptives
go to Florida for relief which they cannot find elsewhere. The
Everglades are not what they were formerly pictured to be before
exploration revealed that instead of impenetrable swamps they are
sections of very thickly timbered lands, whose only drawback are spiney-
palmettos, which render travel through them very laborious. But at
several places I saw parties of consumptives encamped not far from
Indian River, and also in the vicinity of Lake Worth, where they spent
their time in hunting and fishing, and claimed great benefits from the
exercise as well as from the restoratives contained in the air.
Returning from our trip down Indian River, we left the steamboat at
Titusville and took train for Enterprise, at which point we embarked on
boat for a run down the St. John’s River as far as Palatka. The journey
was very different from that on Indian River, yet the sensation of
pleasure was not wanting, for the stream, though the largest in Florida,
is, nevertheless, characteristic, sluggish, rather shallow and margined
with a thick growth of timber and brush-wood. The landings, while more
important than those on Indian River, are generally small villages whose
principal population are negroes. The industries in Florida are not
varied as in other States, but consist mainly of fruit growing, fishing
and phosphate digging. Manufacturing there is none, practically, and the
people derive their largest revenue from tourists, who pay as much for
oranges, cocoanuts and pineapples at the places where they are grown as
is charged for the fruit in our Northern cities. Yet there are signs of
rapid growth in Florida, and the State has a bright future, for it is
settling up at a marvelous pace, and with an excellent class of
immigrants.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
AN ORANGE GROVE NEAR PALATKA, FLORIDA.—A full-grown orange tree,
loaded to the ground with its yellow, ripe, luscious fruit, is a
delightful object to gaze upon. Oranges do not drop from the trees
of their own accord as soon as they are matured, like most other
fruits, but they hang by the stem until they are plucked off, and it
is said that the longer they remain the sweeter and juicier do they
become. Experience seems to prove the truth of this theory, for we
have never eaten oranges elsewhere so deliciously sweet as when we
took them from the tree with our own hands and ate them on the spot.
Owing to the peculiarity of the fruit it is no uncommon thing to see
ripe oranges on a tree that is in full bloom for another crop.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: EXCURSION LAUNCH ON THE RUN, FLORIDA.]
About Palatka are many very fine orange groves, and the city is in a
flourishing condition, largely through the business of fruit growing. In
writing of the St. John’s River Mr. Edward King says, with truth well
told: “The banks are low and flat, but bordered with a wealth of foliage
to be seen nowhere else upon this continent. One passes for hundreds of
miles through a grand forest of cypresses robed in moss and mistletoe;
of palms towering gracefully far above the surrounding trees; of
palmettos whose rich trunks gleam in the sun; of swamp, white and black
ash, of magnolia, water-oak, poplar and plane trees; and where the
hummocks rise a few feet above the water level, the sweet-bay, the
olive, cotton-tree, juniper, red-cedar, sweet-gum, and live-oak shoot up
their splendid stems; while among the shrubbery and inferior growths one
may note the azalea, the sumach, sensitive plant, agave, poppy, mallow,
and the nettle. The fox-grape clambers along the branches, and the
woodbine and bignonia escalade the haughtiest forest monarch. When the
steamer nears the shore, one can see far through the tangled thickets
the gleaming water, out of which rise thousands of cypress knees,
looking exactly like so many champagne bottles set into the current to
cool. The heron and the crane saucily watch the shadow which the
approaching boat throws near their retreat. The wary monster-turtle
gazes for an instant, with his black head cocked knowingly on one side,
then disappears with a gentle slide and splash. An alligator grins
familiarly as a dozen revolvers are pointed at him over the boat’s side,
sullenly winks with his tail, and vanishes, as the bullets meant for his
tough hide skim harmlessly over the ripples left above him. For its
whole length the river affords glimpses of perfect beauty. It is not
grandeur which one finds on the banks of the great stream; it is nature
run riot. The very irregularity is delightful, the decay is charming,
the solitude is picturesque.”
I may add to Mr. King’s description the regrettable fact that the
animate scenes which he pictured are no longer to be witnessed on the
St. John’s River. The persecution of alligators by travelers on the
steamers has resulted in the practical extermination of those curious
creatures in that stream. They are now protected by a State law, but it
came too late; where alligators were plentiful five years ago they are
now a curiosity, though in some parts of Florida, where travel is not
heavy, their number is not yet diminished, but every year they are
becoming scarcer, and in a little while they will no doubt be extinct.
Not only are alligators persecuted for the mere sport of killing, but
thousands are annually destroyed by professional hunters for their
hides, which make an excellent leather. The taxidermist also finds his
business increased by the sale of stuffed specimens to visitors from the
North, while great numbers of the young are caught and sold to the
lovers of curious things for pets, all of which contribute to their
rapid diminution, and their total extinction is therefore a matter of
only a short while.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
A PALMETTO GLADE NEAR PALATKA, FLORIDA.—The palmetto is intimately
associated with the history of the South, having on several
occasions been adopted as the national tree and emblazoned on the
flags. It has also done good service on many occasions as material
for forts and breastworks, the tough and spongy nature of the wood
being well suited for such a purpose. No wonder, therefore, that it
is regarded with a certain degree of love and veneration by the
people who live within the limits of its growth. As a forest tree,
or for the ornamentation of lawns, nothing could be more beautiful,
as may be inferred from its elegant appearance in the photograph
before us.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: SILVER SPRING AND OCKLAWAHA STEAMBOAT.]
Palatka is a pretty town of 3,500 inhabitants, and situated in the heart
of the orange belt. Besides its picturesque surroundings and importance
as a shipping point, it is healthfully located on high ground and in the
midst of a piney region noted for the blandness of its climate. Florida
has been transformed within the past very few years by the Plant
railways from a state of comparatively sandy desolation, without roads
through its dense growths, into a country of great advantages and
thriftiness. Fruit trees have supplanted the coverts of palmetto, and
there is health and prosperity abounding everywhere. The “Florida
Cracker,” as her languid, backwoods, one-gallus type of slovenly, slow
humanity is called, has not yet wholly disappeared, but the transition
to more industrious and cultured citizenship is going on, and it is
particularly apparent about Palatka. The old-time conveyance of an ox in
shafts hitched to a cart of uncertain age is not quite obsolete, but it
survives more as a relic than as a thing of every-day service; and
people who visit Florida on a winter trip, people in fine linen who are
able to fare sumptuously, are more given to using the ox-cart, than are
the permanent inhabitants. In the mountain districts of Colorado
tourists ride burros; in Florida they affect a preference for the
harnessed ox. It is the influence of locality that diversifies custom.
Another curiosity in Florida, peculiar alike to Cuba and the tropics
generally, is the palmetto hut, an unsubstantial structure roofed and
“weather-boarded” with palmetto leaves, but which furnishes protection
from the sun and rain. These huts are usually built to serve as
temporary abodes for orange-pickers, and are therefore usually within or
near the groves. Throughout Florida it is the custom to sell the orange
crop on the trees, the purchasers being fruit dealers from the North.
These dealers employ trained pickers, who work throughout the season,
going from one grove to another, until the gathering is completed;
usually they provide their own supplies, likewise their shelter, and the
palmetto hut serves them both well and economically. When the fleas
become so thick as to crowd the occupants, they burn the hut and build
another. It is the cheapest way yet discovered of getting rid of these
elusive pests.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
HOME OF THE ORANGE-PICKERS IN FLORIDA.—A curiosity peculiar to
Florida, and the tropics generally, is the palmetto hut, an
unsubstantial structure roofed and “weather-boarded” with palmetto
leaves, but furnishing ample protection from sun and rain. These
huts are usually built to serve as temporary abodes for orange-
pickers, and are therefore generally within or near the groves. It
is the custom to sell the orange crop on the trees, the purchasers
being usually fruit dealers from the North. These dealers employ
trained pickers, who work throughout the season, going from one
grove to another until the gathering is completed. These pickers
generally provide their own supplies, likewise their shelter, and
the palmetto hut serves them both well and economically.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: SCENE ON THE SUWANEE RIVER.]
At Palatka we took boat for an excursion up the Ocklawaha River to
Silver Spring and Ocala, the head of navigation on that stream. Of our
many trips in the East, West and South, this proved to be the most
unique, the most wonderful, the most sensationally picturesque.
Ocklawaha River is at once a lagoon, a narrow lake, and a swamp, but at
no place does it have the appearance of a flowing stream, for the
current is scarcely perceptible. The shore-line is indicated by a
profuse growth of water-vegetation and cypress knees, while at places
the river is so narrow that lofty trees interlace their branches above
the low smoke-stack of the boat. And what a boat! It is well adapted to
the trade, and to that end is unlike any other steamer that ever sat in
the water, a thing of indescribable shape, an object of surprise and
curiosity. On this queer craft fifty people may ride in comfort during
the day, while attention is attracted by the alligators, cranes, loons
and snake-birds along the shore, but the night must be spent in vain
regrets and fighting mosquitoes. No chance to get lonesome on this trip;
there is too much to see in day-time and too much to do at night. But it
is a novelty, an experience, a sensation worth more than the discomforts
that must be endured. Along the Ocklawaha alligators are still
plentiful, because shooting is not allowed from the boat, and there is
no other way to approach them within gun-shot distance. The lazy
monsters may be seen sunning their corrugated backs on nearly every log,
and in their company huge water-snakes are often found, associated with
big and little snapping-turtles, the three species forming a congenial
but most repulsive family of reptilian cousinship. The water being half-
stagnant is black with a vegetable dissolution, and yet so transparent
that the bottom may at times be seen. But if the creatures that haunt
the river are offensive, the sight is compensated by the wonder which
they excite; while the dense woods that margin the shore are resonant
with the carol of birds and jewelled with their brilliant plumage.
The trip is remarkably interesting, but the greatest charm that attaches
to the stream is found when the boat reaches Silver Spring, the most
exquisite pool that was ever rippled by dip of oar or skimmed by lap-
wing. Tradition tells us that this is the marvelous rejuvenating spring
of which Ponce de Leon heard fabulous tales which lured him to the dark
interior of Indian-infested Florida. If his eyes ever gazed into its
crystalline depths surely he must have believed that his quest for the
magic fountain had been rewarded. The clearness of the water may be
likened to the air itself, for at its greatest depth of eighty feet
objects on the bottom may be clearly and distinctly seen, likewise the
fissure through which the water pours up like a veritable fountain. A
peculiarity of the spring is the prismatic colors which are reflected
from any white or shiny object thrown into it. To test this curious fact
I cast in a piece of broken crockery and watched with keenest interest
the fragment as it sank in a zigzag motion to the bottom. No rainbow was
ever so brilliant as the colors which flashed up from this piece of
saucer, nor did ever jewel gleam with more scintillant beauty.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
A HOME IN THE SHADES OF SOUTHERN PINES.—If Ponce de Leon and his
doughty Spaniards had remained in Florida and built them homes like
this, under the shades of the health-giving pines, instead of wading
through swamps and morasses in quest of the fountain of youth, they
might, and probably would, have lived to be hale and hearty old men.
Abodes like this, in the balmy air of the Sunny South, are fountains
of life within themselves, where, free from worry and the necessity
of making a living, one has but little to do aside from living and
growing and being happy. Such homes, with contentment, are more
worthy of being sought after than the wealth of a thousand Crœsuses.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: A BAPTIZING ON THE SUWANEE RIVER.]
The flow from Silver Spring is so great that a deep river one hundred
feet wide is formed, which, after a course of nine miles, joins the
Ocklawaha. This stream is called the Run, and a little launch, or tug,
plies over this short course, carrying visitors on an excursion which,
if brief, is incomparably delightful. Five miles from Silver Spring is
Ocala, on the Florida Southern Railroad, to which point we proceeded,
and thence north and west by the Savannah, Florida and Western, and the
Florida Central and Peninsular railroads to New Orleans. Ocala is on the
border or north limit of the hummock lands, and thereafter the journey
was through pine-barrens which are so infested with dwarf palmetto that
it appears to be an impossible labor to clear it away. This is the home
of the deer and likewise of the rattlesnake, very monsters of the latter
being more plentiful than game; but north of Gainesville the country
presents a change for the better, being much higher and undulating, with
hills that are 300 or 400 feet above the ocean level, and the soil is
exceedingly fertile. The vegetation, too, loses its tropical character,
orange groves disappear, and fields of tobacco and cotton occupy the
landscape.
At High Springs we crossed the Santa River, a tributary of the Suwanee;
at New Bradford we touched the banks of that historic river, and at
Ellaville crossed the stream and halted there a day to pay to it the
tribute of a respect aroused in every American heart by Foster’s
mournful pastorale, “The Old Folks at Home.” Who has not heard “Way down
upon the Suwanee River”? and who hearing the song has not tried to
picture the desolate plantation and the dreary heart that went up and
down the solitudes of the deserted cotton-field sighing for the old
massa and missus, who will never call for Pompey again? In a small boat
we rowed down the river, which was as still as death, and almost as
motionless. The faint sound of a saw-mill at Ellaville was the only
thing that gave reminder of our proximity to civilization; and when at
length even this link was broken by distance, it seemed as if all
creation had gone into mourning. The spell, while mournful, was yet
dreamily charming, and instinctively, under the influence of such
lonesome isolation, we sang with the fullness of appreciation, “The Old
Folks at Home.” Never before had song such sweetness, never had one so
much of sadness, to me; and when the last note died away there was a
feeling of oppression in the silence that ensued. The old song brought
up visions to which we were unused: a fallow-field where once was
bounty; a large white mansion with its long porch fallen in decay; a
magnolia-tree with a mocking-bird’s deserted nest ready to fall from its
dead branches; two grave-stones, green with moss, in the pasture, and an
old darkey bowed in prayer. The Suwanee has its source in Okefenokee
Swamps, Georgia, and after running its course of nearly three hundred
miles, empties into the Gulf of Mexico, just above Cedar Key. At some
places the river has considerable width, but never sufficient depth to
permit of navigation by any craft of considerable size. Its banks are
occasionally high, as at Ellaville, but generally they are flat and
overhung by oaks thickly festooned with moss. The current is sluggish
and the water seldom clear, carrying as it does a thick vegetable
solution. The stream is neither beautiful nor romantic, save as it
acquires the reputation for being both through the song that has made it
as famous as our largest rivers.
[Illustration: A SECTION OF BIENVILLE PARK, MOBILE, ALABAMA.]
The country about Ellaville is fairly well settled, though the place
itself hardly ranks as a hamlet. We arrived on Saturday, and as no
trains run on Sunday we were compelled to remain over, and attended
church in the forenoon and witnessed a baptizing later in the day. The
administration of the ceremony proved to be a great event in the
unruffled lives of the people, and many came long distances to witness
the immersion of four candidates, three women and a man. The sight of a
baptizing, while common enough, possessed for us unusual interest
because the place was Suwanee River, and having the consent of the
officiating minister, we took a photograph of the crowd on shore, a
heavy cloud overcasting the sun immediately after, so that a picture
could not be made of the baptizing. From Ellaville our journey was
continued westward through Tallahassee and on to Mobile, where a short
stop was made, and thence to New Orleans. Mobile is not only one of the
oldest towns in the South, but is among the earliest settlements in
America, the exact date of its founding being in dispute. The place is
known to have been the original seat of the French colonization in the
Southwest as early as 1702, but its growth was so slow that the Colonial
Government was transferred to New Orleans in 1723, and with the change,
the little importance which it had acquired became lost, nor was it
again recovered until the place became a rendezvous for corsairs under
the infamous Lafitte, from 1810 to 1815. Its greatest prosperity,
however, dates since the civil war, though some years preceding that
troublous period Mobile had become a considerable port, her chief
shipments being cotton, coal, lumber and naval stores.
[Illustration: AVENUE OF TOMBS IN WASHINGTON CEMETERY, NEW ORLEANS.]
The entrance to Mobile Bay is commanded by Forts Morgan and Gaines,
which are thirty miles below the city, and on the east side of Tensas
River are the ruins of Spanish Fort and Fort Blakely, all of which
played an important part in the defence of the city when it was attacked
by Admiral Farragut, in August, 1864. One of the most desperate battles
that was fought during the war took place in the harbor, when Farragut
ran the blockade with a squadron of ten powerful men-of-war headed by
his flagship, the _Hartford_, and encountered the Confederate fleet
inside. One of the Union ships ran onto a torpedo and was instantly
blown into fragments, but the other vessels met with little opposition
until at the moment when Farragut thought the battle won, he saw with
surprise the dark body of a strange vessel flying the Confederate flag
and bearing down upon him at great speed, evidently intent upon ramming
and sinking his ship. The _Hartford_, by a piece of good luck and
skilful handling, managed to avoid the intended blow, and then followed
an engagement that has few parallels in fierceness. The strange gun-boat
proved to be the _Tennessee_, one of the most powerful and destructive
that the Confederate Government had sent into service. The Union iron-
clads closed around their black and terrible antagonist and battered her
with their heavy prows of steel until the unequal contest was ended by
her surrender. Forts Gaines and Morgan were also captured, but Spanish
Fort and Fort Blakely still defended the city, which resisted all
efforts at its reduction until April 12, 1865, three days after the
surrender of Lee.
Mobile has grown greatly since the war, and now has a population of
nearly 35,000. It is situated on a sandy plain that rises into high and
very graceful hills. Notwithstanding the barren shore as nature made it,
the arts of man have supplied the deficiency of soil and made of the
streets bowers of lovely shade, so charming that much of the city’s fame
is due to the noble trees that arch all its streets. Bienville Park is
one of the prettiest spots in southern lands, noted far and near alike
for its massive live-oaks, magnificent magnolias, and handsome fountain,
a place swathed in delicious airs and luxurious with the richest and
most beautiful vegetation.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
A PLANTATION HOME IN MISSISSIPPI.—This is one of the few old-time
Southern mansions that survived the shock of war and still remain as
landmarks of the golden age of the South country, when the wealthy
planters owned armies of slaves and entertained with a hospitality
even more than princely. As a rule these mansions have fallen into
decay, even where they were not wholly or partially destroyed, for
when the master and his sons left their bones to bleach upon some
distant battle-field, the light of the home went out, and the weaker
members of the household, reduced in many instances to pinching
poverty, sadly but bravely took up the battle of life in less
favored localities. But prosperity promises once more to smile upon
the South, and the old mansions are being rebuilt, but the old faces
are no more seen beneath their roofs.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Westward from Mobile the route was by the Louisville and Nashville
Railroad along the Gulf border of Mississippi, through some of the
loveliest intervales that vision ever wandered over. The air is warm
without debilitating sultriness, for the Gulf of Mexico tempers the
atmosphere with refreshing humidity, and a constant breeze shakes the
perfume out of flowering shrub and tree. Many beautiful places are
passed on the run of one hundred and forty miles from Mobile to New
Orleans, some of which are more or less noted as winter resorts, such as
Ocean Springs, Biloxi, Beauvoir, Pass Christian, and Bay St. Louis.
Beauvoir has a place in history as being the residence of Jefferson
Davis for several years after the war, and where he died. The way is
beautified also by many palatial homes and well-cultivated plantations
that attest the thrift and prosperity of farmers of the New South.
Between Pass Christian and Bay St. Louis the road crosses an inlet of
St. Louis Bay on a steel trestle, and a few miles further west passes
over Pearl River and enters Louisiana. The land is level, and cut up by
innumerable bayous, and after crossing the narrow outlet of Lake
Pontchartrain, called Pigolet’s, the road runs along a tongue of sea
marsh for a few miles, then plunges into a dismal swamp, where the
alligator’s bellow and the cormorant’s cry are the only sounds that
disturb its stillness, save when a train goes growling by. “The sea
marsh is dotted with many lakes, where green vegetable rafts of lotus
leaves and lily pods turn slowly with the tide or float lazily about,
blown by the breath of a salt breeze sweeping in from the Gulf. But in
the ghostly gloom of the swamp, the forest trees are like an assemblage
of monstrosities, great gnarled trunks and knotted arms of moss-draped
oaks, clutching at the fan-shaped fronds of palmettos, while the mixture
of crooked bodies and twisted leaf-stems of the latonia appear as if
they were the bodies and outstretched arms of horned goblins appealing
for release.”
New Orleans is a very old city, settled by the French in 1718. Like
other settlements of these early times, it has passed through many evil
vicissitudes and been in turn a possession of France, Spain, and the
United States. A singular thing in connection with the city is the fact
that it is built upon ground that is considerably lower than the surface
of the Mississippi during high water, and that it has no more
substantial foundation than an alluvium deposit which has been going on
for centuries, constantly extending into the Gulf, the point of outlet
of the Mississippi. To prevent overflowing, the city is protected by a
dyke, or levee, which is fifteen feet wide and fourteen feet high. This
earth-wall follows the river’s crescent winding a distance of ten miles,
while another extends across the rear to protect the city from Lake
Pontchartrain. To secure a firm foundation for some of the large
buildings, cotton-bales have been used on which to build, as piling is
of no service. But that this character of basis is no disadvantage is
proven by the fact that New Orleans is noted for its mammoth edifices,
public, church and commercial, which give no sign of insecurity. The
place is essentially cosmopolitan, for in no other city is the
population more mixed, nearly every street being occupied by a different
nationality. Commercially it is next to New York as an export city, and
easily holds the honor of the leading cotton port of the country, from
which one-fourth of the world’s supply is floated. She is likewise a
city of many charms and great historic interest. Within the city proper
occurred a terrible scene following the rebellion of 1763, when France
ceded the place to Spain, while at its southern outskirts is the battle-
field on which Jackson won his glorious victory over the British under
Packenham, January 8, 1815. The city passed through another storm of
shot and shell in 1862, when Farragut compelled its capitulation after a
terrible bombardment. But these scars have long since healed, and New
Orleans, despite plagues and wars, has held her position as Queen City
of the South and one of the great metropoli of America, with a
population now of 250,000, which is rapidly increasing. While New
Orleans is famous for the romance with which her history is invested,
for her immense importance as an export city, and also for the beauty of
her parks and magnificence of her private residences, the curiosity of
strangers is no less attracted by her cemeteries, which are unlike those
of any others in the world. In earlier times it was the custom there to
bury the dead in shallow graves, but this practice was finally abandoned
for the more sacred and sanitary one of enclosing the bodies in tombs
above the ground, and then hermetically sealing up the mortuary cell.
This became a necessity because of the nature of the soil, where water
is reached at a depth of two feet below the surface. Some of these tombs
are mausoleums made of stone or iron and of beautiful architectural
designs, but the more common form of disposition of the dead is in a
wall pierced by cells large enough to contain a coffin, one above the
other, to a height of seven or eight feet. There are thirty-three such
cemeteries in New Orleans, in one of which (Greenwood) is a monument to
the Confederate dead; and in another, the National, at Chalmette, the
Union dead are similarly honored.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
FAIRY GROTTO, MAMMOTH CAVE.—There is a remarkable absence of
stalactitic formations in Mammoth Cave, Fairy Grotto and the
Maelstrom being the only points where they are found in any
quantity. But on the other hand, it contains an unexampled wealth of
crystals of endless variety and incomparable beauty. There are halls
canopied with fleecy clouds, or studded with mimic snowballs, and
others displaying various grotesque resemblances on the walls and
ceilings. Two avenues, each a mile long, are adorned by myriads of
gypsum rosettes and curiously twisted crystals, called
“oulopholites,” or cave-flowers, which are unfolded by pressure like
a sheaf of wheat forced through a tight binding. This charming
embellishment of clusters and garlands is frequently seen curling
outward, like roses, composing petrified bouquets that cover the
snowy arches.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Having completed our work in New Orleans, and a tour of the Southeast,
or at least that portion which is noted for its semi-tropical
characteristics and great picturesqueness, we took train on the
Louisville and Nashville Railroad for Mammoth Cave, to make an
inspection and photographic tour of that world-wonderful natural
curiosity. To reach the Cave our route was northeast through Birmingham,
Nashville, and thence to Glasgow Junction, at which point connection is
made with a little spur of the Louisville and Nashville Road, which runs
directly to the Cave, a distance of twelve miles from the Junction.
Mammoth Cave is in the eastern part of Edmondson county, Kentucky,
eighty-five miles south of Louisville, and its entrance is in a forest
ravine nearly two hundred feet above Green River, where the banks are
very steep and high. It is said to have been discovered in 1809 by a
hunter named Hutchins, while pursuing a wounded bear that had taken
refuge in a wide crevice that led directly into a broad chamber of the
Cave. The history of this discovery is not sufficiently definite to
enable us to know which one of the two points of entrance was thus
accidentally found. The present opening used is in the ravine mentioned,
but the original mouth is believed to have been the aperture that is
nearly a quarter of a mile above, and leads into what is known as
Dixon’s Cave, a disconnected branch of Mammoth Cavern.
Luray Caverns are lighted by electricity, so that photographing its many
chambers and beautiful stalactitic formations is easily accomplished;
but though Mammoth Cave is the largest and best known of the world’s
great subterranean recesses, and visited by about 6,000 persons
annually, no provision has been made for lighting, beyond the crude
method of guides who carry torches and candles. To photograph its dark
rivers, avenues, configurations, and strange sculpturings many attempts
have been made by the aid of magnesium lights, but without satisfactory
results until Mr. Ben. Hains, of New Albany, Indiana, made special and
most careful preparations to do the work which had so often failed in
the hands of others. Several weeks were spent in the cave testing the
powerful artificial lights which he had provided, and by dint of
perseverance he was at last rewarded by the most perfect results. To
this enterprising gentleman we are indebted for the use of the
photographs from which our reproductions are made.
Mammoth Cave first came into notice and importance about the year 1812,
when it was discovered that the cave contained vast beds of niter,
sufficient, as was stated at the time, to supply the whole population of
the globe with saltpeter. Gratz and Williams were the owners, and
established a very large industry in collecting the nitrous earth by
means of ox-carts and shipping it to Philadelphia, where it was used in
manufacturing the gun-powder that enabled us to triumph over England a
second time. The region is essentially cavernous, as Professor Shaler
estimates that in this carboniferous limestone district of Kentucky
“there are at least 100,000 miles of open caverns,” but very few of the
five hundred caves and grottoes of Edmondson county contain nitrous
earth. On the other hand, there have been very few evidences of
prehistoric occupancy discovered in Mammoth Cave, while in Salt Cave,
its neighbor, and almost a rival in size, archæologic remains, such as
fire-places, burnt torches, sandals, and moccasin-prints are numerous;
and in Short Cave, also near-by, the mummified bodies of several small
animals and a few human remains have been found. White Cave is half a
mile from the Mammoth Cave entrance, and the two may be connected,
though the communication has not been discovered. But there is a decided
difference in the formations that characterize the two. White Cave is in
some respects similar to Luray Caverns in its exquisitely charming
variety of stalactites. In the first chamber, “Little Bat Room,” as it
is called, we find many lovely creations and a few objects of great
interest to paleontologists. In the second room is a piece of
stalactitic drapery, which has been very appropriately called the
“Frozen Cascade.” “Humboldt’s Pillar” and “Bishop’s Dome” are other
wonderful examples of the effects of slowly percolating water bearing
lime in solution. In this same cave, some seventy years ago, were found
huge fossil bones, of the megalonyx, or giant sloth, bear, bison, and
stag, and scattered among these animal remains were a few human bones.
But while the adjacent caves each possess an interest peculiar to
themselves, Mammoth Cave must continue to remain the most remarkable
cavern in our country, not only for its size, but likewise for the
marvels which exploration of its labyrinthine avenues has revealed. To
Professor H. C. Hovey’s admirable and scientific description of the Cave
I acknowledge my indebtedness for a larger part of the information here
imparted, from which, also, liberal extracts are made, though without
quotation credit.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
OLD STONE HOUSE, MAMMOTH CAVE.—The dry atmospheric condition of the
galleries of Mammoth Cave led to a belief some forty years ago that
a continuous residence within these dark precincts for a definite
period would be beneficial to consumptives. The experiment was
therefore made by building a number of stone houses or huts at a
point about a mile within the cave, in which a colony of invalids
took up their abodes and lived in deep seclusion until it was
demonstrated by the death of several of the sufferers that they
derived no benefit from the surroundings. Relics of two of these
stone huts still remain, but they exist now only as curiosities, no
one having spent a night in either of them for many years.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The entrance to Mammoth Cave is arched by a rock-span of seventy feet,
thence leading by an easy descent down a winding flight of stone steps
to a narrow passage through which the air rushes outward with great
force in summer and is drawn inward with corresponding violence during
the winter, a phenomenon due to the inequality of temperature between
the air inside and out of the Cave, for the temperature of the Cave is
uniformly 54° Fahrenheit at all times. The atmosphere being thus
constantly agitated, is kept constantly pure, for while the lower levels
are moist, being no doubt connected with Green River, the upper avenues
and galleries are always dry; conditions which were one time thought to
be particularly favorable to consumptives, as well as to those suffering
from other wasting diseases. The experiment was therefore made, some
forty years ago, of building thirteen stone houses at a point one mile
within the Cave, in which a number of invalids took up their domicile
and lived there in deep seclusion until it was demonstrated that
whatever might be the salubrity of the atmosphere, consumptives derived
no benefit from it, a number dying in the Cave. Relics of two of these
stone huts still remain, but they exist now only as curiosities, no one
having spent a night in one of them for many years.
The main cave is from 40 to 300 feet wide and from 35 to 125 feet high,
divided into a great number of rooms and winding avenues, the extent of
which has not yet been determined, for exploration of the Cave is far
from being complete. Some of the best known rooms are, first, the
Rotunda, in which are ruins of the old saltpeter works, and where the
skeletons of two men were found several years ago. Beyond this is the
Star Chamber, where the protrusion of white crystals through a coating
of black oxide of manganese creates an optical illusion of great beauty.
Another department is called the Chief City, a chamber of nearly two
acres space, with a vaulted roof 125 feet high. The floor is bestrewn
with rocks, among which have been found charred torches of cone, and a
few other evidences of prehistoric occupancy. There are also shown some
mummified bodies, preserved by their inhumation in nitrous earth,
utensils, ornaments, braided sandals, and other relics, but all of these
were found in Salt and Short Caves, near-by, and removed to Mammoth Cave
for exhibition. The main cave ends four miles from the entrance, but is
joined to other spacious chambers by winding passages leading to
different levels, so that while the cavern area is perhaps less than ten
miles, the total length of the avenues is supposed to be 150 miles.
The chief places of interest are found along two main lines of the
explored portions, from which side excursions may be made. The “short
route” may be covered in about four hours, but it requires nine hours to
traverse what is known as the “long route.” Audubon Avenue is the first
leadway, interesting for the swarms of bats that hang in huge clusters
from the ceiling, but it is not until Gothic Avenue is reached that
stalactites and stalagmites are met with. This passage leads into the
Chapel, at the end of which is a beautiful double dome and cascade;
thence we pass into the Throne-Room, with its royal formations of
surprising splendors, which compel visitors to stop, and elicit
exclamations of wonder and admiration. The Bridal Altar is almost
equally grand, with its frosted pillars of pearl-white, and the
convolutions of their magnificent pediments that may be likened to
clouds in the sky of cave. Indeed, these vertical shafts or petrified
columns are among the most surprising features of cave scenery. They are
not confined to the Bridal Altar, however, for they pierce through all
levels, from the uppermost galleries to the lowest floors, and even find
lodgment in the sink-holes.
A block of stone that is forty feet long by twenty feet wide is called
the Giant’s Coffin, and when viewed from a certain angle the resemblance
to a funeral casket is so great that even if attention were not called
to it, visitors would hardly fail to be a little shocked by the sight.
There is a narrow passage-way around the coffin, which followed leads to
a large vault called Gorin’s Dome, in which there are six pits varying
in depth from 65 to 220 feet; truly, awful pits to fall into.
Notwithstanding the treacherous character of the floor, Gorin’s Dome is
one of the finest chambers in the Cave, for it is charmingly festooned
and pillared with stalactitic formations. Mammoth Dome, which is at the
termination of Sparks Avenue, is probably more interesting, because
besides having its walls draped with a marvelous tapestry, the great
wonder of the room is immensely increased and beautified by a cataract,
which falls from a height of 250 feet and fills the apartment with its
musical splashings. The Egyptian Temple, which is a continuation of the
Mammoth Dome, contains six massive columns, two of which are quite
perfect and eighty feet high by twenty-five feet in diameter. Lucy’s
Dome, which is three hundred feet high, is the loftiest of these monster
shafts, the equal of which cannot be found in any known cave in the
world.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
BEAUTIFUL BOW VALLEY.—One of the peculiarly attractive and
picturesquely exquisite portions of British America is mountain-
begirted Bow Valley, 500 miles east of Vancouver, along the Canadian
Pacific Railway line. The region is wondrously diversified and
marvelously beautiful, holding within its compass not only a valley
of paradisaic charms, but also mountains of startling grandeur, with
crystalline lakes reposing on their bosoms, range breaking beyond
range, snowy crests gleaming with sunlight splendors, forests tinted
with softest hues, streams that murmur and cascades that roar, while
the valley is aflame with the richest colorings of daisies,
buttercups, bluebells, heather, wild pinks, anemones, and brianthus,
a symphony of beauty, a colossal bouquet decorating the marriage-bed
of nature.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
GIANT’S COFFIN, MAMMOTH CAVE, KENTUCKY.—This remarkable and weird
curiosity is composed of a huge block of stone forty feet long by
twenty wide, and when viewed from a certain angle the resemblance to
a funeral casket is so great that, even if attention were not called
to it, visitors would hardly fail to be a little shocked by the
uncanny sight. Standing within its presence it is almost impossible
to divest one’s self of the belief that he is gazing upon the last
resting-place of some tremendous giant, the guardian genius,
perhaps, of this lugubrious subterranean abode; and it is with a
sigh of relief that we pass on to more inspiring and splendid
scenery.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Maelstrom, in Croghan’s Hall, is one of the deepest and most awful-
appearing pits yet discovered, and until 1859 no one had ever ventured
to explore its dark recesses. It is at a remote point in the Cave and
seldom visited, because the way is beset with obstacles, while the sight
is neither reassuring nor compensating. A son of George D. Prentice,
however, braved the dangers of the pit by permitting some of his friends
to lower him 190 feet by a rope to the bottom, but his experience was of
little value, because he found nothing of interest to reward him for the
trouble. Some pretty stalactites are near this pit, and also in Fairy
Grotto, but in the deeper recesses there is a remarkable absence of
these formations. Indeed, considering the character and extent of
Mammoth Cave, its poverty of stalactitic ornamentation is surprising. On
the other hand, it contains an unexampled wealth of crystals of endless
variety and incomparable beauty. Besides the sparkling vault of the Star
Chamber, which is 300 feet long and 80 feet high, there are halls
canopied by fleecy clouds, or studded by mimic snow-balls, and others
displaying various grotesque resemblances on the walls and ceilings.
Cleveland’s Cabinet, and Marion’s Avenue, each a mile long, are adorned
by myriads of gypsum rosettes and curiously twisted crystals called
“oulopholites.” These cave-flowers are unfolded by pressure, like a
sheaf of wheat forced through a tight binding. This charming
embellishment of clusters and garlands is frequently seen curling
outward, like roses, composing petrified bouquets that cover the snowy
arches.
This curious feature is even more marked by the stalactites in Mary’s
Vineyard, where they appear in the form of an aggregation of spherical
prominences, resembling clusters of grapes. Other chambers are drifted
with snowy crystals of sulphate of magnesia, and the ceilings are so
thickly covered with their efflorescence that a sharp concussion of the
air will cause them to fall like flakes in a snow-storm.
Many small rooms and tortuous paths, where danger lies, are avoided as
much as possible; but even on the regular routes through the Cave some
disagreeable experiences are inevitable, while about the deep pits peril
is always present. The one now known as the Bottomless Pit was for many
years a barrier to all further exploration, and until a substantial
wooden bridge was built across it. Long before the shaft had been cut as
deep as now, the water flowed away by a channel gradually contracting
until at a point called The Fat Man’s Misery the walls were only
eighteen inches apart. The rocky sides are beautifully marked with waves
and ripples, as if running water had been suddenly petrified. This
winding-way conducts to River Hall, beyond which lie the crystalline
gardens that have been described. It was formerly believed that if this
narrow passage were closed, escape would be impossible; but a few years
ago a tortuous fissure called the Cork-Screw was discovered, by means of
which a good climber ascending a few hundred feet finally lands 1,000
yards from the mouth of the Cave, and cuts off nearly two miles.
The waters, entering through numerous domes and pits, and falling,
during the rainy season, in cascades of great volume, are finally
collected in River Hall, where they form several extensive lakes, or
rivers, whose connection with Green River is known to be in two deep
springs appearing under arches on its margin. Whenever there is a
freshet in Green River the streams in the cave are joined in a
continuous body of water, the rise sometimes being as much as sixty feet
above the low-water mark. The subsidence within is less rapid than the
rise; and the streams are impassable during a greater part of the year.
They are usually navigable from May to October, and furnish exceedingly
interesting as well as novel features of cave scenery. The largest body
of water is called the Dead Sea, embraced within a basin formed by
cliffs sixty feet high, above which a path has been made which leads to
a stairway and thence to the River Styx, a body of water that is four
hundred feet long and forty feet wide. Lake Lethe is the next water-
basin, enclosed by walls ninety feet high, below which is a path that
conducts to a pontoon at the neck of the lake. Thence a beach of the
finest yellow sand extends for 500 yards to Echo River, the largest of
all, being nearly one mile long, from 20 to 200 feet broad, and varying
in depth from 10 to 40 feet. Two or three boats are placed on this
Lethean or Stygian stream, in which visitors are taken from one end of
the river to the other, and the trip is of such novelty that the
remembrance of it is imperishable. To see the boats approaching, in the
weird light of flickering torches, is like a vision of a spectral crew,
funereal, sepulchral and almost horrific. The arch overhead is
symmetrical but irregular in height, and is famous for its musical
reverberations—not a distinct echo, for the repetitions are so rapid
that they merge and become a prolongation of sound that continues for
nearly half a minute. The long vault has a certain key-note of its own,
which, when sounded, produces harmonies of almost incredible depth and
sweetness.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
THE BRIDAL ALTAR, MAMMOTH CAVE.—The Bridal Altar is one of the most
magnificent spectacles of Mammoth Cave, with its frosted pillars of
pearl-white and the convolutions of their magnificent pediments that
may be likened to clouds in the sky of the cave. These vertical
shafts or petrified columns are among the most surprising and
beautiful features of cave scenery, and when brilliantly lighted
they present a scene of splendor surpassing the utmost stretch of
the imagination. Let us not, therefore, wonder that this is a
favorite resort for young married people, who come hither in the
rosy blush of their wedding dawn to plight the faith that makes them
one for time and eternity.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
In these Plutonian regions of perpetual night, where vegetation is only
imaged by petrified efflorescence, many creatures find a congenial
abode, and become so accustomed to this dark habitat that they cannot
live elsewhere. Of the twenty-eight different species here found, the
most remarkable are a blind and wingless grasshopper with extremely long
antennae; a blind and colorless cray-fish, and a blind fish which grows
to the length of six inches. These fish possess the additional curiosity
of being viviparous, or producing their young in a living state, instead
of by eggs. Occasionally other fish are caught in the running streams of
the Cave which are identical with species common in Green River, thus
proving the subterranean connection that exists between that river and
the Cave streams.
The strongly marked divergence of these blind creatures from those found
on the outside led Agassiz to believe that they were specially created
for the limits within which they dwell; but the opinion now generally
held is that they are modifications of allied species existing in the
sunlight, and that their peculiarities are to be accounted for on the
principles of evolution—the process of change being accelerated, or
retarded, by their migration from the outer world to a region of silence
and perpetual darkness.
Having concluded our examination of Mammoth Cave, we departed by the
Louisville and Nashville Railroad for Louisville, at which city train
was taken on the St. Louis Air Line for Wyandotte Cave, which was to be
our last objective point in completing our extensive photographic tour
of America. This very remarkable Cave, though not so generally known as
Luray or Mammoth, is about ten miles south of the Louisville and St.
Louis Air Line, in Crawford county, Indiana, and is only five miles from
the Ohio River. We reached the Cave by way of Milltown, thence to
Corydon, and from that point by private conveyance a distance of eleven
miles. Entrance to the Cave is by way of a large opening in a hillside,
the aperture being about six feet high and twenty feet wide, through
which there is always a strong circulation of air like that noted at the
mouth of Mammoth Cave, while the temperature is likewise uniformly 54°
Fahrenheit. A short avenue leads into a chamber known as Fanueil Hall,
whose dimensions are 200 feet long, 50 feet wide and 25 feet high;
thence the route conducts through Twilight Hall into Columbian Arch,
which resembles a railroad tunnel, so symmetrical is the excavation.
Washington Avenue is next entered, which, followed, brings the visitor
to Banditti Hall, where the ceiling rises to an immense height, and the
walls are jagged, as is the floor, with protruding rocks, so that this
chamber is both forbidding in appearance and difficult to traverse. At
this point the main gallery branches, one avenue leading to what is
known as the Old Cave, and the other conducting by a longer route to
more interesting apartments than those before passed. Through a narrow
crevice the visitor gains a room called the Bats’ Lodge, and beyond this
is Rugged Mountain, which is in the center of a circular room, where
Epsom salts of sparkling purity and vast quantities of gypsum in
efflorescent beauty cover the arched vault. Seen under torch-light the
effect is indescribably magnificent, and is the first striking
intimation which the visitor receives of the extraordinary grandeur to
which he will be presently introduced. Following the long route we cross
a lovely sand-deposit known as the Plain, but find an abrupt termination
of this level walk and are compelled to climb the rock-bestrewn Hill of
Difficulty, then squeeze through a small passage-way from which we find
present relief by emerging into Wallace’s Grand Dome, one of the most
magnificent chambers, as well as the largest, in the Cave, being 245
feet high and 300 feet in diameter. In the center is Monument Mountain,
a tremendous stalagmite formation above which is an immense dome
beflowered with curling leaves of gypsum that bear a wondrous likeness
to the foliage of the acanthus. At the apex of the mountain is a
stalagmite one hundred and twenty feet in circumference, which has been
broken by some force into three columns, which, viewed from the base,
admirably counterfeit three monuments, or ghosts clad in robes of
gleaming whiteness, from which fact the chamber takes its name. Visitors
are usually treated to a superbly grand sight while examining the
splendors of this hall, for the guide disposes his company about the
base of the mountain, and ascending to the summit he extinguishes his
torch in order to bring the visitors under the influence of dense
darkness for a few moments. Suddenly the peak is lighted up with a
dazzling splendor, as the guide touches off green, blue, red and orange
lights, bathing the chamber in a sea of flaming beauty and bejewelling
its lofty arch until Aladdin’s Cave of our imagination is reproduced.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
THE RIVER STYX, MAMMOTH CAVE, KENTUCKY.—Some idea of the grandeur of
the waterways of Mammoth Cave will be obtained from the following
description: The largest body of water is called the Dead Sea,
embraced within a basin formed by cliffs sixty feet high, above
which a path has been made leading to a stairway and thence to the
River Styx, which is forty feet wide and four hundred long. Lake
Lethe is the next water-basin, enclosed by walls ninety feet high,
below which is a path that conducts to a pontoon at the neck of the
lake. Thence a beach of the finest yellow sand extends for five
hundred yards to Echo River, the largest of all, being nearly one
mile long, from twenty to two hundred feet broad, and varying in
depth from ten to forty feet. Two or three boats ply this Stygian
stream, in which visitors are taken from one end to the other, and
the trip is of such novelty that the remembrance of it is
imperishable.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
ENTRANCE TO PILLARED PALACE, WYANDOTTE CAVE.—There are many grand and
splendid halls in Wyandotte Cave, of which the most attractive is
Pillared Palace, in which gypsum and stalactites occur in the most
charming and imposing forms. This hall is particularly entrancing in
its sumptuous and architecturally beautiful decorations. It is from
five to six feet high, forty or fifty wide and several hundred long.
The ceiling is a complete fringe-work of stalactites, while the
floor is as thickly set with stalagmites, many of which uniting with
the former produce pillars of the grandest proportions, beautiful
beyond the power of imagination to describe. Drapery of every
conceivable style is seen in the utmost profusion, some of it
transparent as crystal and resonant as a silver bell when struck
with a metal substance.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
THE THRONE, WYANDOTTE CAVE.—Although less celebrated than Mammoth or
Luray Caves, Wyandotte fully equals them in many of its wondrous and
beautiful formations. The Throne and the hall in which it is located
are truly marvels of Nature’s handiwork. Imagine great bunches of
white, delicate, branching coral, twisting, curling and interlacing
itself, serpent-like, into every conceivable fantastic shape, and
you have only a faint idea of the truly extraordinary scenery of
this glorious temple erected by Nature. In all directions are to be
seen fantastic examples of stalactite formations, and marvelous
decorations of whitest gypsum. Huge rocks, overhung by galleries of
creamy stalactites, with vermicular tubes intertwined, while frozen
cataracts and vine-like pendent forms cluster along the walls in a
profusion almost incredible.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Beyond Wallace’s Dome there are a hundred halls of great magnificence,
in nearly all of which are seen fantastic examples of stalactite
formations, and marvelous decorations of whitest gypsum, Milroy’s Temple
being a very exhibition-room of these exquisite curiosities: huge rocks,
overhung by galleries of creamy stalactites, vermicular tubes
intertwined, frozen cataracts and vine-like pendant forms of
stalactites, cluster along the walls in a profusion almost incredible.
Imagine great masses of white delicate branching coral, twisting,
curling and interlacing itself, serpent-like, into every conceivable
fantastic shape, and you have only a faint idea of the truly
extraordinary scenery of this glorious temple erected by nature. Other
halls of almost rival splendor are known as Snowy Cliffs, Frosted Rocks,
Fairy Palace, Beauty’s Bower, The Throne, and Pillared Palace, in all of
which gypsum and stalactites occur in the most charming and imposing
forms. Pillared Palace is particularly entrancing in its sumptuous and
architecturally beautiful decorations. It is from five to six feet high,
forty or fifty feet wide and several hundred feet long. Its ceiling is a
complete fringe-work of stalactites, while its floor is as thickly set
with stalagmites, many of which latter unite with the former, making the
grandest pillars. Drapery of every conceivable style may be seen, some
of which is as transparent as crystal and rings like a silver bell when
exposed to a light blow. After Pillared Palace comes the Palace of the
Genii, which for delicate formations even excels the former. Here are
found stalactites of every conceivable form, many of them as white as if
they were made of sugar or whitest marble.
Passing through Fairy Grotto, Neptune’s Retreat, and Hermit’s Cell, the
visitor enters a larger chamber invested with the same charming
ornamentation, and in the center is a rich canopy of stalactite
overhanging a stalagmite which has been likened by some imaginative
person to a chair richly upholstered. This is called the Throne, a
designation appropriate enough, for it is one of the most royally
beautiful curiosities in the Cave, as the illustration will show.
That portion known as the Old Cave, while scarcely so interesting as the
galleries and vaults of the long route, contains several halls of much
interest and one, called the Senate Chamber, which rivals Wallace’s
Dome. In the center of this room stands a mountain whose top is covered
many feet deep with stalactite formations, upon which stands the Pillar
of the Constitution. This is an immense stalagmite measuring seventy-
five feet in circumference and thirty feet high, reaching from the top
of the mountain to the ceiling above, fluted and carved after a manner
that would have put to shame the most extravagant architecture of Rome’s
most halcyon days. The world has not yet produced, so far as civilized
man knows, anything of the kind to equal it. A writer says of it:
“Before us arose a considerable hill, upon the top of which stood, like
a column supporting the ceiling, a vast stalagmite like an immense
spectral-looking iceberg looming up before us, appearing as though it
had just arisen from the foaming waves of the ocean, on a dark and foggy
night. In the uncertain light of our lamps it presented an appearance
grand, if not appalling; but when the Drummond light had been set off,
all this changed to the most unearthly beauty. The ceiling above, with
its long fringes of stalactites, came out to view, and the great pillar
could be seen in all its grandeur and beauty.”
Beyond this is Pluto’s Ravine, where stands Stallasso’s Monument, a
large white stalagmite, marked all over with pencil inscriptions, some
of them sixty years old, composing an autograph album of wonderful
curiosity, containing hundreds of names which to fame are otherwise
unknown, and effusions of doggerel poets whose reputations, alas, will
no doubt be forever restricted to the limits of this cave chamber. A
short distance beyond Pluto’s Ravine is the termination of this section
of the Cave, and from this point return is made to the open air. A
ramble among the subterranean glories and petrified splendors of
Wyandotte Cave was a fitting conclusion to one of the most interesting
tours that was ever taken through the picturesque regions of our
country; a tour affording so much information, pleasure, adventure, and
profit, that the remembrance must forever remain a source of intense
satisfaction and delight. It was with feelings of deep regret that we
separated after the completion of our work, and each returned to his
respective home, to take up anew the old labor which we had laid down
when the start was made upon our long journey. During the trip our
photographers took five thousand pictures; many of these were taken
under unfavorable conditions, and upon development were found unworthy
of reproduction. Many others were excellent and well deserving to rank
with those which we have here used, but there is a limit to all things,
and ours does not exceed the space occupied by the 520 odd views which
we have presented; these, however, are fairly representative of the
incomparable scenery that charmingly diversifies our native land, a land
kissed by the lips of liberty, bounty, and beauty, and blessed with an
amplitude of powers, under the exercise of which the largest freedom,
benefits and sovereign rights are obtained for the whole people.
[THE END.]