THE CANADIAN HOUTICULTUKIST. 



Mrs. liaiTiet Beecher Stowe spends her winters ; Green Cove Springs 

 ;t place noted for the efficacy of its mineral waters ; Picolata, one of 

 the earliest Spanish settlements in America ; and Tocoi, the terminus 

 of the railway leading to the ancient city of St. Augustine. 



The number of cattle constantly in the river along the shores 

 attracted our attention, and we soon learned that their business there 

 was to feed on the succulent growth at the bottom, as the land along 

 the shores was too poor to furnish them with sufficient sustenance. 

 It was a novel sight to see them standing hour after hour in the water^ 

 (lipping their heads and necks underneath, and tearing up the weeds 

 at the bottom. As might be expected where fodder is so scarce, milk 

 is also very scarce and dear ; we were told that a quart per day from 

 each cow in the herd was a good average yield. Piers also were 

 frequently seen in the water on the same errand, sometimes so deeply 

 engaged that nothing but the ridge on their backs could be seen above 

 water, excepting when tliey lifted their heads to breathe. The river 

 banks were wooded chiefly with live oaks and pines, 



It was dark befoi'e we reached Pilatka. Here we entered another 

 -mailer boat, the Tuscawilla, in wliich we were to ascend the Ocklawahs 

 nver. Having taken in a good supply of oranges and other necessaries 

 for our three days trip, we steamed up the St. Johns about 10 p. m.^ 

 and a little before midnight entered the mouth of the OcklaM-aha. At 

 daylight we were up watching the ever changing weird-like scenery- 

 it was perfectly delightful, and must be seen to be fully understood; 

 Here is a river without banks^ its course being through the middle of an 

 immense swamp, which frequently extends for miles along each side 

 of the current. The channel is narrow and wonderfully tortuous; and 

 so abrupt are the angles turned by the little boat, that with the most 

 skilful management she often comes thumping against the cypress 

 trees, and occasionally runs aground in spite of the efforts of the deck 

 hands, who with long poles endeavor to force the little craft to keep 

 within the limits of the stream. Frequently the branches of trees 

 would sweep fiercely along the sides, and over portions of the deck, 

 sometimes breaking the windows of our state rooms. Travel here is 

 necessarily slow, but it matters not since no one is in a hurry. 



The air was balmy and delicious; the trees and tropical undergrowth 

 charming. Here is the home of the gigantic Cypress, Taxodium 

 deciduum, where they grow from sixty to eighty feet high, witli their 



