ON THE UPPER ST. JOHN’S. 1387 
that?” said he, and he headed the boat 
upstream again. It was a “ copper-bellied 
moccasin,” he declared, whatever that may 
be, and was worse than a rattlesnake. 
On the river, as in the creek, we were 
continually exploring bays and inlets, each 
with its promising patch of bonnets. Nearly 
every such place contained at least one 
Florida gallinule ; but where were the “ pur- 
ples,” about which we kept talking, — the 
“royal purples,’ concerning whose beauty 
my boy was so eloquent ? 
“They are not common yet,” he would 
say. ‘By and by they will be as thick 
as Floridas are now.” 
“But don’t they stay here all winter?” 
“ No, sir; not the purples.” 
“ Are you certain about that?” 
“Oh yes, sir. I have hunted this river 
too much. They couldn’t be here in the 
winter without my knowing it.” 
I wondered whether he could be right, or 
partly right, notwithstanding the book state- 
ments to the contrary. I notice that Mr. 
Chapman, writing of his experiences with 
this bird at Gainesville, says, “ None were 
seen until May 25, when, in a part of the 
