A FLORIDA SHRINE. 195 
still older Tallahassean, Judge , whose 
venerable name I am sorry to have forgot- 
ten, and that indisputable citizen confirmed 
all that his neighbor had said. For once, 
the guide-book compiler must have been 
misinformed. 
The question, happily, was one of no great 
consequence. If the Prince had never lived 
in the house, the Princess had; and she, by 
all accounts (and I make certain her hus- 
band would have said the same), was the 
worthier person of the two. And even if 
neither of them had lived there, if my sen- 
timent had been ail wasted (but there was 
no question of tears), the place itself was 
sightly, the house was old, and the way 
thither a pleasant one —first down the hill 
in a zigzag course to the vicinity of the rail- 
way station, then by a winding country road 
through the valley past a few negro cabins, 
and up the slope on the farther side. Prince 
Murat, or no Prince Murat, I should love to 
travel that road to-day, instead of sitting 
before a Massachusetts fire, with the ground 
deep under snow, and the air full of thirty 
or forty degrees of frost. 
In the front yard of one of the cabins op- 
