FLORIDA, THE PROMISED LAND. 1C9 



near by, a favorite resort in summer, when its waters arc 

 said to be delightfully cool and refreshing. This spring 

 is nearly circular, about forty or fifty feet in diameter, 

 and of a dark-green color. We spent a night in the 

 village, with the widow of a Baptist minister, and shall 

 not soon forget her hospitality, nor her quaint anecdotes. 

 The kindness extended us during our long journey con 

 vinced us that, in spite of the cant about the &quot; cold, selfish 

 world,&quot; there is much good-will throbbing in the great 

 heart of humanity. The difficulty usually lies in not 

 knowing just how to rouse it into action. In the vicin 

 ity of Orange Spring we noticed quite a number of 

 ponds, but not the muddy, swamp-encircled ones usually 

 seen in Florida. These lay here and there, looking 

 &quot;like mirrors framed in green.&quot; The waving pines and 

 luxuriant wire-grass grew to the water s edge. The sight 

 of the St. Johns revived legendary memories of the dusky 

 youths and maidens who doubtless once sailed gayly over 

 its beloved waters in their light canoes. But they have 

 long since passed into the &quot; Land of Shadows.&quot; 



Not far eastward of Enterprise we passed the ruins of 

 Spring Garden, once a farm of unusual dimensions. It 

 was saddening to ride through the deserted fields, whose 

 fences have long since disappeared, now being rapidly 

 overgrown with a species of scrubby oak and pine. A 

 lake of moderate extent, and abounding in fine mullet, 

 is found within its borders. 



The strip of land lying immediately between the St. 

 Johns and Indian rivers is a dismal-looking region, 

 abounding in swampy fiats and cabbage sloughs, and of 

 necessity thinly inhabited. On arriving at Sand Point, 

 however, we found a community of intelligent thorough 

 going people, one good hotel, and one excellent boarding- 



