4 & 
During our ramble it had become dark; the moon was in her 
first quarter. The air was as warm as in a fine May evening in 
Germany. All was pleasant and cheerful, and only our recollection 
that this handsome country was poisonous in summer, produced 
a discord with the scene. In the evening I sat and wrote in one 
of the rooms of the tavern with open doors and windows, and 
heard the sparrow chirp as if it were summer. I had noticed 
very few sweet orange trees in this part of the country, and the 
few which I saw were small and young. As I manifested my 
surprise, the reason was given, that the numerous orange trees 
which formerly were here, had been all killed in the winter of 
1821-22, by a four day’s frost. 
Before we commenced our journey the next morning, I found 
in the earth several pieces of petrified live oak. The mineral 
riches of this district are not yet explored. I imagine, that a mi¬ 
neralogist, who should here prosecute his researches, might reap 
a rich harvest. 
We hired a two-horse barouche, which was to carry us to Pen¬ 
sacola, sixty-five miles distant from Blakely. In this, we de¬ 
parted about ten o’clock in the morning, well stocked with plenty 
of provision, which, in this country, so destitute of inns, was con¬ 
sidered as a necessary supply. Close to Blakely we ascended a 
hill, which afforded us a very beautiful view of the town, the bay 
of Mobile, and of a valley watered by a stream, with the richest 
prospect of vegetation I ever beheld. The grove before us was 
full of magnolias of all sizes, of laurels, and an evergreen bush 
that was called the water oak; and among them all, the most 
splendid live oaks. Unfortunately this lovely country did not 
reach very far. Scarcely a short mile from Blakely, the good soil 
ceased, and the wearisome sand and long-leaved pines began once 
more. We advanced but thirty miles during the day; a delicious 
warm state of the weather, however, cheered us. At first we 
found several plantations which the inhabitants of Blakely, in 
somewhat easy circumstances, resorted to during the summer, 
when the yellow fever occupied that place. On some of these 
plantations, the dry rice, (so called from the fields which pro¬ 
duce it lying so high that they cannot be overflowed,) is culti¬ 
vated. This rice is little inferior to the swamp rice of South 
Carolina, and will yield fifty bushels to the acre. I regaled my¬ 
self with the melody of several birds, of which most were ro¬ 
bins, birds of passage, which live through the winter in these 
southern countries, and in the spring, approach the north, there 
to announce it. I saw also several cranes. To complete the il¬ 
lusion, that it was summer, a number of frogs lent their aid, and 
croaked loudly from the marshes. 
