CHAPTER XXVI. 



POKE KECEIVES A CUR'OSITY AND TELLS A YABN. 



" Oblivion here thy wisdom is, 

 Thy thrift the sleep of cares ; 

 For a proud idleness like this 

 Crowns all life's mean affairs." 



Emerson. 



The Indian prisoners had gone with most of the garrison to Tampa 

 Bay ; the fort looked desolate in contrast with its previous crowd 

 and excitement, and we were anxious to start for the east coast. 



Our party had made preparations to descend the Ochlawaha to 

 Lake George, and thence down the St. John's, and Mike had em- 

 ployed his leisure, with our negro boys, Scip and Caesar, in building 

 two dug-out canoes. These " dug-outs " are cut out of a solid log, 

 and are often beautifully made with lines like a racing boat In 

 these our " plunder " was carefully stowed, and with a store of salt 

 provisions from the fort, one pleasant day we embarked and swept 

 away down the current 



There is something of unusual novelty in descending a Florida 

 river. An aspect of dreariness that only long habit overcomes, 

 quiets the tongue and awes the heart. The black turbid river boils 

 in circular eddies, or spreads in motionless lagoons, far into the 

 neighbouring woods. The stiff cypress-trees stand naked with 

 their feet in the water, and knobs like toes rising around from their 

 roots. Their foliage was the grey Spanish moss that hangs from 

 every branch in tresses of wondrous length, sometimes reaching 

 from the upper limbs into the water, and marking the direction of 

 the current Where the lagoons opened into the river there was 

 constant doubt as to the course of the channel, for the lagoon might 

 be broader than the true course, or the latter totally shrouded from 



