Florida Swamps and Forests 
home of alligators and countless ducks and 
waders. 
October 13. 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 
[87] 
