206 CRUISIXG ALONG SHORE. 



legs shattered, and its keys rattling in the wind, stood 

 where once had been a home. It was the old story of 

 war s desolation and ruined fortune that accounted for 

 this lone memento of better days in a forest five miles 

 from the nearest house. 



At this place is the southern end of Merritt s Island, 

 which parts Indian river, the portion east, between the 

 island and the coast, being known as Banana river, and 

 that west retaining its old name. Cape Canaveral is not 

 far distant, where lives the best man on the river, Cap 

 tain Burnham, keeper of the lighthouse there. From 

 the lighthouse down I counted six wrecks, thrown upon 

 the shore in a September gale. Making a fire from drift 

 wood, we soon had flapjacks and potatoes enough for our 

 inner man. It was here that I received a lesson in clean 

 liness I shall not soon forget. I had omitted to provide 

 myself with a dish-cloth, and while the captain was 

 cursing my heedlessness, I went off for some Spanish 

 moss in lieu thereof. What was my surprise, upon re 

 turning, to find the plates dry, and apparently clean. 



&quot;Where did you find a cloth ?&quot; 



&quot;Oh, I took my handkerchief !&quot; 



Now, the kerchief was the captain s only article in 

 that line ; a very dirty and greasy bandana, which, be 

 sides doing duty in a nasal way, was frequently applied 

 to his watery optics, making its cleanliness a matter of 

 doubt. When I remonstrated with him he declared I 

 was &quot;the dirtiest cuss he ever see,&quot; and inquired sar 

 castically if I thought he was a fool. The cause of his 

 wrath, I afterward ascertained, was not my objections, 

 Lut that I had overlooked the fact of his Washing it, 

 which he had done in the drinking water bucket. The 

 native goodness of his character was made manifest that 



