F L O R T 13 A 



OITAPTER I. 

 THE INLAJSTD PASSAGE. 



Florida — so named by its discoverers from the 

 abundance, beauty and fragrance of its flowers. 

 The Land of Flowers — what a beautiful sentiment. 

 Alas, it was never called anything of the sort. 

 Land happening to be first seen by the bravo and 

 sturdy warrior but not imaginative linguist, Juan 

 Ponce de Leon, on Palm Sunday, his discovery was 

 called, with due and Catholic reverence, after the 

 day and not after any abundance of flowers, which 

 were probably not abundant on the sand spit where 

 he planted his intrusive feet. But no matter about 

 the origin of the term, the epithet is more than 

 justified, and the Peninsular State is not only glori- 

 ous in the endless beauty and variety of its flowers 

 — till in good old English it might be termed one 

 huge nosegay — but it is magnificent in the grandeur 

 and originality of its foliage. The Jessamine climbs 

 above the deep swamps and lights up their darkness 

 with its yellow stars ; the magnolia towers in the 

 open upland a pyramid of vestal splendor ; the cab- 

 bage palmetto waves its huge fan-shaped leaves, 

 seven feet long, like great green hands, and the 

 moss hangs and sways and covers the bare limbs 

 with its ragged clothing. 



To the rough, practical Northern mind, Florida 



