AT ORMOND BY THE SEA. 109 



The sand fly, or gnat, a minute grayish midge, less 

 than one-sixteenth of an inch in length, has made its 

 spring appearance. Its bite is sharp and penetrating, 

 and, when present in numbers, it is one of the worst 

 insect pests along the coast. 



Though news of a great storm of snow and sleet has 

 come to us from the north to-day, the air, sun and veg- 

 etation here is like that of mid-May in central Indi- 

 ana. Here in this clearing in the woods is peace and 

 quietude, taught but the occasional hum of a mos- 

 quito and the soughing of the wind through the pines 

 doth break the solitude. How strange it seems that 

 but a few hours' ride will take us into a land of pierc- 

 ing cold and drifting snow, when here is a perfect sky, 

 Avith the sun shedding his blessings o'er all his subjects 

 with a kindly spirit. No snow, no ice, no leafless, life- 

 less trees, no drooping floAvers are here to-day. Noth- 

 ing but joy and sunshine and gladness are the portion 

 of nature's objects. 



March 21, 1899. This morning I breakfasted 

 early and then trudged along the railway for three 

 miles or more to the bridge across the Tomoka River. 

 A heavy dew and cloudy skies at first surrounded me, 

 but the rays of "old Sol" soon dried the dew and scat- 

 tered the clouds. 



At nine o'clock I am sitting in the shadow formed 

 by a bold, overhanging cliff of coquina limestone, a 

 natural concrete made from finely ground beach 

 shells, cemented by carbonate of lime. 'Tis a sub- 



