Florida Swamps and Forests 



home of alligators and countless ducks and 

 waders. 



October 15. To-day, at last, I reached Florida, 

 the so-called "Land of Flowers,'' that I had so 

 long waited for, wondering if after all my long- 

 ings and prayers would be in vain, and I should 

 die without a glimpse of the flowery Canaan. 

 But here it is, at the distance of a few yards! 

 — a flat, watery, reedy coast, with clumps of 

 mangrove and forests of moss-dressed, strange 

 trees appearing low in the distance. The steamer 

 finds her way among the reedy islands like a 

 duck, and I step on a rickety wharf. A few steps 

 more take me to a rickety town, Fernandina. 

 I discover a baker, buy some bread, and with- 

 out asking a single question, make for the 

 shady, gloomy groves. 



In visiting Florida in dreams, of either day 

 or night, I always came suddenly on a close 

 forest of trees, every one in flower, and bent 

 down and entangled to network by luxuriant, 

 bright-blooming vines, and over all a flood of 

 bright sunlight. But such was not the gate 

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