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The National Geographic Magazine 



tossed up upon the shore by winds and 

 waves, and then have become cemented 

 one to another, forming a coherent mass. 

 This cementing of the originally separate 

 bits of shell is due to the dissolving power 

 which rain or sea water has for calcium 

 carbonate, especially if the water be more 

 or less impregnated with carbon dioxide, 

 due to the decomposition of decaying veg- 

 etable or animal matter. Water thus 

 charged dissolves the limestone of the 

 shells, and then, if the solution evapo- 

 rates on drying, the limestone is precipi- 

 tated, thus fastening the shells together 

 by means of little bridges of lime rock. 

 So hard does this rock finally become 

 that its surface rings with an almost me- 

 tallic sound when struck with a hammer, 

 and as long as frost does not affect it, 

 weathering only serves to harden it still 

 further. So well does this rock main- 

 tain itself in a warm climate that one 

 may still discern the details of the coat 

 of arms of Spain cut into the rock above 

 the sally-port of Fort Marion at Saint 

 Augustine. 



We first meet with ledges of coquina 

 rock on the shore of North Carolina, one 

 of the most northerly being on the beach 

 at the old Confederate Fort Fisher, 

 north of Cape Fear. The shells here 

 are largely mixed with silicious sand, 

 but at Anastasia, Florida, the coquina 

 is composed almost exclusively of 

 shells. All of the rocky islands of 

 the Bahamas are built up of fragments of 

 sea shells and other limestone remnants 

 of marine animals or plants. These frag- 

 ments have been pounded into fine sand 

 by the surf, and were then blown inland 

 to be cemented by the rain water into 

 rock. This wind, or seolian, rock, as it 

 is called, forms hills fully 250 feet in 

 height. A most interesting cut through 

 it has been made at the "Queens Stair- 

 way," in Nassau, Bahamas, where the 

 side walls reveal the effects of every 

 wind-storm of the past in forming the 

 rock. 



Among the historic relics along our 

 coast, none are more remarkable than the 

 old Spanish fort at Saint Augustine, 

 Florida, now inappropriately called 



"Fort Marion." It is the only preten- 

 tious mediaeval building in North Amer- 

 ica, and, saving for the old guns which 

 have unfortunately been removed, it is 

 in a nearly perfect state of preservation, 

 with moat, turrets, portcullis, sally-port, 

 and crenated parapet, now gray with 

 moss and lichens. Once it was Spain's 

 proudest stronghold in North America, 

 and although the Spanish king com- 

 plained that for less cost he might have 

 had a fort of solid silver, yet its worth 

 was proven when in 1741 Oglethorpe's 

 defeated forces retreated from its walls. 



Much of the native charm of old Fort 

 Marion has been destroyed through its 

 accessibility to crowds of tourists ; in- 

 deed, it is one of the few really interest- 

 ing places along our southern coast 

 which is easily reached. 



Smaller than Fort Marion, but fasci- 

 nating in its isolation, is the Spanish 

 fortress of Matanca, near Matanzas Inlet, 

 eighteen miles south of Saint Augustine. 

 It stands upon the banks of a tidal creek 

 in the midst of a desolate swamp. The 

 settling of the old fort has riven the mas- 

 sive walls from base to summit. Trees 

 cluster over the deserted parapet, where 

 old cannon lie overthrown and covered 

 by a tangle of vegetation. Owls and 

 bats live in the rooms once occupied by 

 its Spanish masters ; yet in times gone 

 by the old fort appears to have bravely 

 withstood the shock of battle, for many 

 fragments of iron shrapnel may be found 

 buried within its coquina walls — possibly 

 relics of Oglethorpe's unsuccessful siege. 



Across the creek, by the side of this 

 ancient fort, is the beach where, in 1565, 

 Don Pedro Menendez de Aviles broke 

 his promise of quarter to the captured 

 French Huguenots and murdered Jean 

 Ribault and 400 of his followers. For 

 this dastardly act he was rewarded by 

 the Spanish king by the title of "Mar- 

 quis of Florida." The story is fasci- 

 natingly told by Parkman in his "Pio- 

 neers of France in the New World." 



Apart from the cities of Charleston, 

 Georgetown, and Savannah, which 

 abound in reminders of the historic past, 

 there are many other interesting places 



