226 

¢ 
FOREST AND STREAM. _ 

of all northern Florida:in every- 
thing—fruit, climate, and game. Oranges grow here in 
three years from the seed; ahead of*St.John’s by at least 
two years. “There is almost no frost, and no disease pecu- 
liar to the region, while game of all descriptions line its 
shores. Wespent two days and nights wind-bound at St. 
Sebastian Creek, during which time we visited the coast 
near the place-where, in 1710, a fleet of Spanish galleons 
were driven ashore and lost. We found no pistareens, 
which Romans tells us were washed up as late as 1770, but 
found plenty of deer and bear tracks, and pelican and 
ducks upon the river side without number. The sea grape 
and cocoa plum grow here in profusion. ‘The former is a 
stout shrub, rapidly increasing in size as it nears the trop- 
ics, With a broad, ‘heart-shaped, satin leaf. The frait of 
the cocoa plum is about as large as the common plum, with 
a white flesh and red skin. ‘It hasa pleasant taste. The 
high sand-ridge, separating river from ‘ocean, is less than 
three hundred yards across here, and _ thickly covered with 
scrub palmetto’and gay colored flowers. Standing on its 
highest portion I can trace the sparkling length of Indian 
tiver and look upon the waters of the Atlantic at the same 
moment. For seventy-five miles one can hear the ocean 
surf as he sails upon the river. The high bluffs near St. 
Sebastian have been selected as the site for a hotel, but are 
not well suited for such a purpose. Near here is Barker’s 
Bluff, named after a man who lost his life there—killed by 
the Indians, at the same time my friend, Major Russell, 
lost an arm. A few miles ‘aivay is an island draped in 
white, its trees seemingly covered with snow, a circling 
flight of birds hovering over it, the water around dotted 
with hundreds of dusky objects, and the same dusky forms 
coming and going with no cessation in their flight. 
“That’s Pelican Island,” said the Captain. As we ap- 
proached, the dark objects grew more distinct and assumed 
definite shapes. The island of about two acres was coy- 
ered with mangroves, long since dead; every tree loaded 
down with nests—great, bulky affairs, two feet across and 
flat, Every tree and nest was completely covered with the 
limy excrement of the birds, giving the island its snowy 
appearance at a distance. Hach nest contained two nearly 
fledged young ones, all uniting in giving utterance to the 
most diabolical and soul-rending sounds, which, added to 
the cawing of fish crows in search of eggs, and the scream- 
ing of eagles overhead, gave one as good an idea of pande- 
monium as mortal man can conceive. Tlfough standing 
close together, the captain and I had to shout our loudest 
to be heard. The ground was covered with young birds 
huddled together in fright. The eagles and vultures had 
committed great havoc, and from branches suspended and 
stretched upon the ground, were the decomposing car- 
cases of old and young, which, added to the decaying 
fish, filled the air with odors—not of Araby. The old pel- 
icans were flying overhead in clouds, occasionally alighting 
on someremote tree to feed the young with fish, which 
they brought to them in their pouches. 
Two months later, in May, I found the young had flown 
and every nest with a complement of large white eggs. 
There are two species of pelican on our Atlantic coast—the 
white and the brown. This was the brown; its plumage 
of mottled white and gray onthe back, dark sides and 
breast, witha rich velvety brown neck and white head, 
was not altogether homely. Their long bills, a foot in 
length, and immense pouches, capable of holding a gallon, 
give them a very odd appearance. 
Thé approaches to the ‘‘Narrows” are guarded by two 
walls of living green, which, when seen at a distance, seem 
to be but a few paces apart, leaving but a narrow gateway. 
As we draw near, however, the distance increases, disclos- 
ing a passage nearly a mile in width. Seventy miles it is to 
the northern end of the lagoon, and above there isa vary- 
ing width of from three to eight miles. Below the Narrows 
is a land of plenty. . 
Here the oysters accumulate in such quantities that they 
form this narrow passage. A storm is observed gathering, 
and just as we enter the Mangrove Islands it bursts upon 
us. Before the north wind we scud with bare poles,and are 
obliged to exert all our caution to prevent being wrecked 
upon some of the many oyster reefs that obstruct the channel. 
It is ten miles through, and through the gathering gloom 
we just discern a sheltering point, after long exposure to 
the gale. With the storm thundering after us, we silently 
endure the rain, hoping that night will bring relief; but no 
lull occurs, and we anchor behind a projecting reef and 
finally wade ashore. Hanging our blankets on the man- 
groves to windward, we finally start a fire with the aid of 
light wood splinters, and after warming some flapjacks 
and thoroughly steaming ourselves, roll ourselves in our 
blankets and sleep, with sundry awakenings to replenish 
the fire. 
Toward morning the rain ceased, but not till it had wet 
ug through—yes, through, for the Captain said he could 
feel the rain water ‘‘slosh about” in his stomach. I know 
that, although I had carefully covered myself with my 
rubber blanket, when I awoke it was to find myself ina 
puddle four inches deep. Under the circumstances, wasn’t 
it natural that I should desire just a drop of whiskey? I 
had a quart of the best, which IT had entrusted to the Cap- 
tain’slocker, and thought that now, if ever, was the time 
to use it. ‘ 
“Captain, in my youth, when very young, and conse- 
quently incompetent for such a performance, T signed the 
pledge. Remember, it was while quite young, and ata 
very tender age; in fact, think it hardly valid now, and 
binding. Then again, 1 signed off from anything that 
would in’oxc ite, and I’m ready to swear that nothing ever 
ber. This lagoon is ahead 

distilled from grain can intoxicate me now, there’s so much 
waterin me. I think Pi try a drop of that whiskey.” 
“The bottle is in the starn.” 
Quickly I drew it forth; slowly and sadly T returned it— 
twas empty. The Captain evaded my gaze, muttering the 
while: ‘Twas so confounded bad I didn’t like to have it 
round, and so I drunk it. up first night.” 
A run of a dozen ‘miles in the ‘genial warmth of the sun 
restores our spirits—not the spiritus frumenti, however— 
and we land at Fort Capron, an old military post, with a 
very sharp appetite for breakfast. A hedge of oieanders 
ten fect in height surrounds the plantation, now gone to de- 
cay. The Cherokee rose, and the Spanish bayonet with 
its magnificent pyramid of honey-scented bells, add their 
A walk through the de- 
serted orange grove reveals many tropical wonders, such as 
fragrance to that of the oleander. 
the India rubber, satin wood, guava, lime, lemon and 
citron. ‘Vestiges of pineapple plants are shown, which can 
At Fort Pierce, four miles 
south, is “an excellent location for a hotel or boarding- 
The situation is high and airy, securing immunity 
from those pests of the lowland, the ‘sand-flies. It is op- 
posite the main entrance to the Atlantic, where vessels of 
not over four feet draught can enter, Directly in front are 
vast oyster beds, an‘ in December the turtle—the ‘‘green 
be raised here successfully. 
house. 
turtle soup” kind—swarm in to feed and are caught. Deer, 
turkeys, quail, in fact all kinds of game; fish, from saw- 
fish and sharks, to mullets and bass. 
And then the climate! Rarely, even insummer, does the 
A southeast 
thermometer indicate more than 85 degrees. 
breeze blows in summer all night long, making the nights 
cool and comfortable. 
complaint of whatever kind. But two frosts for twenty 
years have occurred, and those not serious. This descrip- 
tion of climate will answer for nearly the whole river, mod- 
ified only by the slight difference in latitude. The waters 
of the Gulf Stream lave the coast, tempering the wind in 
winter, One of the surgeons in the army stationed here 
during the Seminole war, after sixteen years’ service, gave 
itas his opinion that this immediate country was the 
healthiest in the United States. Absolutely free from disease, 
‘tis said that the people are obliged to remove to the next 
county to die. When better means of transportation are 
offered the whole river will be the winter rendezvous of 
thousands of health seekers and sportsmen, who now shiver 
the winter through on the St. John’s. 
There is but one annoyance—insects. 
sand-flies. 
hog-haunted sections are avoided. The mosquito may be 
kept at bay at night, his hunting season, by a good ‘‘bar;” 
but unless one is provided with an impregnable skin and a 
large stock of patience, he will be sure to break some of the 
commandments over the sand-flies, Snakes are not nu- 
merous enough to be dangerous, except in swamps, where 
the tourist need not go. This, in a word, is the good and 
bad of Indian River. 
Twenty miles below Fort Pierce is the St. Lucie River, 
coming in from the westward, forming a beautiful bay as 
it joins the waters of the lagoon. Three miles south of St. 
Lucie the broad sound suddenly ends, and after a chain of 
small lakes, as it were, the channel winds through densely- 
covered mangrove islands, scarcely fifty yards in width. 
An adverse wind, and consequently current, kept us at 
the mouth of Jupiter Narrows two days. We passed the 
time shooting turkeysand alligators, and watching the grace- 
ful ‘‘man-o’-war hawks,” as they sailed overhead on wide ex- 
tended wings. The ocean beach presented many attrac- 
tions; the beautiful sea beans and shells of exquisite tints, 
besides vast multitudes of birds. Sometimes we would 
4nd cocoanuts and fragments of foreign wood, thrown up 
by the resistless waters. The third day of waiting we en- 
tered the Narrows, the most interesting portion of this vast 
lagoon. From a point a hundred miles north it stretches 
away southeast, now expanding, now contracting, till from 
a width of eight miles near its northern endit is here less 
than fifiy feet. Each side of us the mangroves rise far 
overhead, sometimes mingling their leaves in an arch of 
living green. Their gnarled roots strike down into the 
mud in every direction, supporting the trunk in mid-air 
many feet fromthe ground. What a number of roots! 
Roots from the trunk, with minor roots springing from 
them in every conceivable direction; roots from the 
branches, and these again with smaller roots of their own. | 
Here, a mile or so in, is aluxuriant hammock, where a man 
named Peck undertook to subjugate the rank growth, but, 
the mosquitoes and sand-flies proved too many for him, and 
his bones rest peacefully, etc. Here is a small spring, and 
the water cask had better be filled. 
No sound breaks the solemn hush except the tap of the 
setting-pole and the ripple of water at our bow, as we 
slowly forge ahead. 
A noticeable feature in the green walls about us is the 
India rubber. Whenever a clump of palms occurs we find 
this tree, enfolding in its trunk the stem of a palm. The 
rapidly growing walls gradually encircle the palm in an 
embrace of living wood, till finally it is seen only through 
the interstices inthe rubber. As the tops of the respective 
trees intermingle—the feathery frond of the palm and 
raxy, green leaves of the rubber—a beautiful effect is pro- 
duced. Delicate ferns grow in the mesh-work, and gor- 
geous epiphytes, with flaming spikes of blossom, attach 
themselves to the branches. Tron wood, crabwood, and 
many other valuable woods are found along the shore of 
It is the very paradise for the con- 
sumptive, the fountain of youth for him with pulmonary 
For real tall and 
lofty jumping and biting, the flea is unapproachable; but 
his endeavors are put to shame by the mosquitoes and 
The flea may be avoided, if hotel-haunted and 








Hobé Sound, into which we emerge from the narrows, 
‘Near its @nttance we saw the carcass of a manatee, or sea 
cow, over which a coroner’s jury of vultures were holding 
inguest.. From the south end of the WWarrdéws, which are 
seven miles in length, it is twelve miles to the end of the 
river, Crossing ‘Conch Bar,” we follow the stakes indi- 
cating the channel, and soon see. the dome-shaped lantern, 
and afterwards the symmetrical shaft of Jupiter Light. 
During all our voyage our course has ever been to the south. 
Soon we strike the waters’of the Lokohatchee, which, 
coming from the west, unite with Indian River near the 
lighthouse and rin due east, through Jupiter Inlet to the 
ocean. Rounding the point, we are soon at anchor, and as- 
cend the steep bank to a small house of coquina rock, where 
we are made welcome. 
This was at noon. At night I climbed with the two 
keepers to the top of the hollow shaft, and looked off from 
the circling platform upon a scene of absorbing interest. 
A glimpse of Northern wildness and sterility and Southern 
luxuriance and fertility, the fragile flowers of the tropics 
blended with the hardy shrubs and trees of the North. The 
palm<and pine, the oak and orange, mangrove and maple, 
“Semi-tropical” indicates Florida’s status in climate and 
vegetation. Half Northern, half Southern—a kind of half 
and half character that extends to more than climate. We 
have here a land and water view of surpassing beauty. The 
broad Atlantic bounds the vision east, its shore extending 
in curving lines from north to south. Down from the 
north comes Indian River curved in outline—a bay, a 
creek, fringed with palm, pine and mangrove. From the 
west comes in the Lokohatchee, charming in parks of pine 
and green mangrove islands; its windings reveal it in sheets 
of silver among the trees. A narrow creek leads from it 
southward toward Lake Worth. As I looked upon this 
scene I saw no sign of life, save at the cottage, one hun- © 
dred and fifty feet below me. North, the nearest human 
habitation was forty miles away; south, one hundred, west, 
noone knows; the swamps and forests there are peopled 
only by red men. 
The sun’s last rays had disappeared, leaving clouds ot 
crimson and gold piled up behind the dark pine forest, as 1 
entered the lantern, where the light was already glowing. 
I seated myself in the crystal dome and watched the re- 
flected colors as they came and went with each revolution 
of the lantern. As the lantern revolves every prism 
catches the rays of light and rends them into their primary 
colors, paints the colors of the rainbow upon the polished 
roof, and throws them forward to be re-produced a thou- 
sand times in the crystal bars. As the strong light shone 
forth, I thought of the many eyes gazing upon it other 
than those of the sailors for whom it was intended. The 
timid deer, the ferocions puma and wild cat, the bear from 
his ‘chammock”—for bears do have ‘‘hammocks’’—of palms. 
No doubt the reflected light is visible to the Indians dwell- 
ing upon the prairie bordering that mysterious lake, Okee- 
chobee. Toward midnight a little warbler fluttered 
against the glass, striving to enter. The keeper has often 
found them after storms. The large plates have been shat- 
tered by birds, who were afterwards found lifeless with 
mangled breasts. Many birds foreign to our country have 
flown against the glittering, though fatal glass. 
Once a year the supply ship visits this place, in its an- 
nual tour from Maine to Florida. Other than this visit 
frcm Uncle Sam, the inhabitants of Jupiter have few visi- 
tors. A few stray waifs from the North drift down upon 
them, brighten them with their presence awhile, set their 
sails again and Cisappear in the gloom of the “mangroves. 
Indian River, once visited, leaves a longing in the heart of 
the visitant never satisfied, till the sparkle of its waters 
again gladden his eye, and his tent is pitched upon its 
sunny sands... Certainly no other section of our country 
possesses so many natural charms, united with real bles- 
sing so easily accessible. FRED BRVvERLY. 
$$$. 
CANADIAN MOCCASINS. 
See ee 

Eprror ForREST AND STREAM:— : 
In one of your earlier numbers you published an excel- 
lent article on moccasins, and I most heartily endorse all 
that is contained therein. However, as in many parts of 
the country the skin of the Caribou cannot be procured, 
and as your article seems to have excited quite an interest 
among your correspondents, I would say that where Caribou 
hide is not easily procurable,an excellent hunting moccasin 
may be made by using common sole leather for the foot, and 
split, or other cheap leather, for the leg. 
The leather for the leg should be light, yet stiff enough 
to prevent its gathering at the ankle, When first made the 
foot should be throughly rubbed with oil; afterward only 
tallow, or tallow and pitch, should be used, as the oil 
softens the leather too much. The foot should be large 
enough to allow two pairs of stockings to be worn, and 
must never in any case fit tightly. 
Such moceasins are almost entirely used by hunters in 
Upper Canada; those of Caribou hide being seldom met 
with. They are manufactured to some extent and may be 
had ready-made at prices ranging from $1.25 to $2. ‘Those 
sold at $1.25 are light, have legs of sheepskin and are un- 
desirable, generally; but a fair article may be had for about 
#1.'75.° When made to order they cost about $3.50. 
Moccasins made of deer or buckskin, are utterly useless 
except for snow-shoeing or walking on_ perfectly “et 
ground, as they are almost as pervious to water as cloth, 
but a moccasion of sole leather, or better still of Caribou 
hide, will keep the feet as dry as a boot, end for com- 
fort, there is no comparison, TRANSIT, 

