A MORNING AT THE OLD SUGAR 

 MILL. 1 



ON the third or fourth clay of my sojourn 

 at the Live Oak Inn, the lady of the house, 

 noticing my peripatetic habits, I suppose, 

 asked whether I had been to the old sugar 

 mill. The ruin is mentioned in the guide- 

 books as one of the historic features of the 



1 I have called the ruin here spoken of a " sugar mill " 

 for no better reason than because that is the name com- 

 monly applied to it by the residents of the town. When 

 this sketch was written, I had never heard of a theory 

 since broached in some of our Northern newspapers, I 

 know not by whom, that the edifice in question was 

 built as a chapel, perhaps by Columbus himself ! I should 

 be glad to believe it, and can only add my hope that he 

 will be shown to have built also the so-called sugar mill 

 a few miles north of New Smyrna, in the Dunlawton ham- 

 mock behind Port Orange. In that, to be sure, there is 

 still much old machinery, but perhaps its presence would 

 prove no insuperable objection to a theory so pleasing. 

 In matters of this kind, much depends upon subjective 

 considerations ; in one sense, at least, " all things are pos- 

 sible to him that believeth." For my own part, I profess 

 no opinion. I am neither an archaeologist nor an ecclesi- 

 astic, and speak simply as a chance observer. 



