A MORNING AT THE OLD SUGAR 
MILL. 
ON the third or fourth day 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 T 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! Ishould 
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. [am neither an archeologist nor an ecclesi- 
astic, and speak simply as a chance observer. 
