"He then made signs for his Indian friends to come back, which some few did, and he and they were taken on horseback behind some of the cavaliers, and so conveyed to De Soto's camp where Ortiz told his story; the same that I have been telling you.
"'As soon as Mocoso heard of your arrival,' he went on, 'he asked me to come to you with the offer of his friendship, and I was on my way to your camp with several of his officers when I met your cavaliers.'
"While listening to this story De Soto's sympathies had been much excited for Ortiz. He at once presented him with a fine horse, a suit of handsome clothes, and all the arms and equipments of a captain of cavalry.
"Then he sent two Indians to Mocoso with a message, accepting his offers of friendship and inviting him to visit the camp; which he shortly afterward did, bringing with him some of his principal warriors. His appearance and manners were such as at once to prepossess the Spaniards in his favor. De Soto received him with cordiality and thanked him for his kindness to the Spaniard who had sought his protection.
"Mocoso's reply was one that could not fail to be pleasing to the Spaniards. It was that he had done nothing deserving of thanks; that Ortiz had come to him well recommended and his honor was pledged for his safety. 'His own valor and other good qualities,' he added, 'entitled him to all the respect which I and my people could show him. My acquaintance with him disposes me to be friendly to all his countrymen.'
"The historian goes on to tell us that when Mocoso's mother heard where he had gone she was terrified at the thought of what injury might be done to him—no doubt remembering the sad misfortune of Ucita and his mother, so cruelly dealt with by the treacherous Spaniards. In the greatest distress she hurried to the camp of De Soto and implored him to set her son at liberty and not treat him as Ucita had been treated by Pamphilo. 'If he has offended you,' she said, 'consider that he is but young and look upon his fault as one of the common indiscretions of youth. Let him go back to his people and I will remain here and undergo whatever sufferings you may choose to inflict.'"
"What a good kind mother!" exclaimed Elsie Raymond. "I hope they didn't hurt her or her son either."
"No," said her mother; "De Soto tried to convince her that he considered himself under obligations to Mocoso, and that he had only intended to treat him in a most friendly manner. But all he could say did not remove the anxiety of the poor frightened woman, for she had come to believe the whole Spanish nation treacherous and cruel. Mocoso himself at last persuaded her that he was entirely free to go or stay as he pleased. Still she could not altogether banish her fears, and before leaving she took Juan Ortiz aside and entreated him to watch over the safety of his friend, and especially to take heed that the other Spaniards did not poison him."
"Did Mocoso stay long? and did they harm him, mamma?" asked Elsie.
"He stayed eight days in the Spanish camp," replied Violet; "being inspired with perfect confidence in the Christians."
"Christians, mamma? What Christians?" asked Ned.
"That was what the Spaniards called themselves," she answered; "but it was a sad misnomer; for theirs was anything else than the spirit of Christ."
The next evening the same company, with some additions, gathered in the library at Woodburn, all full of interest in the history of Florida and anxious to learn what they could of its climate, productions, and anything that might be known of the tribes of Indians inhabiting it before the invasion of the Spaniards.
At the earnest request of the others Grandma Elsie was the first narrator of the evening.
"I have been reading Wilmer's 'Travels and Adventures of De Soto,'" she said. "He tells much that is interesting in regard to the Indians inhabiting Florida when the Spaniards invaded it. One tribe was the Natchez, and he says that they and other tribes also had made some progress in civilization; but the effect of that invasion was a relapse into barbarism from which they have never recovered. At the time of De Soto's coming they had none of the nomadic habits for which the North American Indians have since been remarkable. They then lived in permanent habitations and cultivated the land, deriving their subsistence chiefly from it, though practising hunting and fishing, partly for subsistence and partly for sport. They were not entirely ignorant of arts and manufactures and some which they practised were extremely ingenious. They had domestic utensils and household furniture which were both artistic and elegant. Their dresses, especially those of the females, were very tasteful and ornate. Some specimens of their earthenware are still preserved and are highly creditable to their skill in that branch of industry. Among their household goods they had boxes made of split cane and other material, ingeniously wrought and ornamented; also mats for their floors. Their wearing apparel was composed partly of skins handsomely dressed and colored, and partly of a sort of woven cloth made of the fibrous bark of the mulberry tree and a certain species of wild hemp. Their finest fabrics, used by the wives and daughters of the caciques, were obtained from the bark of the young mulberry shoots beaten into small fibres, then bleached and twisted or spun into threads of a convenient size for weaving, which was done in a very simple manner by driving small stakes into the ground, stretching a warp across from one to another, then inserting the weft by using the fingers instead of a shuttle. By this tedious process they made very beautiful shawls and mantillas, with figured borders of most exquisite patterns."
"They must have been very industrious, I think," said Elsie.
"Yes," assented her grandmother. "The weavers I presume were women; but the men also seem to have been industrious, for they manufactured articles of gold, silver, and copper. None of iron, however. Some of their axes, hatchets, and weapons of war were made of copper, and they, like the Peruvians, possessed the art of imparting a temper to that metal which made it nearly equal to iron for the manufacture of edge tools. The Peruvians, it is said, used an alloy of copper and tin for such purposes; and that might perhaps be harder than brass, which is composed chiefly of copper and zinc."
"Had they good houses to live in, grandma?" asked Ned.
"Yes," she replied; "even those of the common people were much better than the log huts of our Western settlers, or the turf-built shanties of the Irish peasantry. Some were thirty feet square and contained several rooms each, and some had cellars in which the people stored their grain. The houses of the caciques were built on mounds or terraces, and sometimes had porticos, and the walls of some were hung with prepared buckskin which resembled tapestry, while others had carpets of the same material. Some of their temples had sculptured ornaments. A Portuguese gentleman tells of one on the roof or cupola of a temple which was a carved bird with gilded eyes.
"The religion of the Natchez resembled that of the Peruvians; they worshipped the sun as the source of light and heat, or a symbol of the divine goodness and wisdom. They believed in the immortality of the human soul and in future rewards and punishments; in the existence of a supreme and omnipotent Deity called the Great Spirit and also in an evil spirit of inferior power, who was supposed to govern the seasons and control the elements. They seem not to have been image-worshippers until the Spaniards made them such. Their government was despotic, but not tyrannical. They were ruled by their chiefs, whose authority was patriarchal, who were like popes or bishops, rather than princes, but who never abused their power."
Grandma Elsie paused as if she had finished her narration and Ned exclaimed, "Oh, that isn't all, grandma, is it?"
"All of my part of the account, for the present at least," she said with her sweet smile. Then turning to Lucilla:
"You will tell us the story of the Princess Xualla, will you not?"
"You could surely do it much better than I, Grandma Elsie," was the modest rejoinder; "but if you wish it I will do my best."
"We do," replied several voices, and Lucilla, encouraged by a look and smile from her father which seemed to speak confidence in her ability, at once began.
"It seems that De Soto, not finding there the gold for which he had come, and encouraged by the Indians, who wanted to be rid of him, to think that it might be discovered in regions still remote, started again upon his quest, taking a northerly or northwesterly direction.
"As they journeyed on they came to a part of Florida governed by a female cacique—a beautiful young girl called the Princess Xualla. Her country was a fine open one, well cultivated. They reached the neighborhood of her capital—a town on the farther side of a river—about an hour before nightfall. Here they encamped and were about to seize some Indians to get from them information of the country and people. But some others on the farther side of the stream hastened over in a canoe to ask what was wanted.
"De Soto had had a chair of state placed on the margin of the stream and placed himself in it. The Indians saluted him and asked whether he was for peace or for war. He replied that he wished to be at peace and hoped they would supply him with provisions for his army.
"They answered that they wished to be at peace, but the season had been one of scarcity and they had barely enough food for themselves. Their land, they said, was governed by a maiden lady and they would report to her of the arrival of the strangers and what they demanded.
"They then returned to their canoe and paddled back to the town to carry the news to the princess and chieftains. The Spaniards, watching the canoe, saw those in it received by a crowd of their countrymen at the landing place, and that their news seemed to cause some commotion. But soon several canoes left the wharf and came toward the Spaniards. The first was fitted up with a tasteful canopy and various decorations. It was filled with women all gayly dressed, among them the princess, the splendor of whose appearance almost dazzled the eyes of the beholders. There were five or six other canoes, which held her principal officers and attendants.
"When the boats reached the shore the Indians disembarked and placed a seat for their lady opposite to De Soto's chair of state. She saluted the strangers with grace and dignity, then, taking her seat, waited in silence as if expecting her visitors to begin the conference.
"For several minutes De Soto gazed upon her with feelings of admiration and reverence. He had seldom seen a more beautiful female, or one in whom the conscious pride of elevated rank was so nicely balanced with womanly reserve and youthful modesty. She seemed about nineteen years of age, had perfectly regular features and an intellectual countenance, a beautiful form, and she was richly dressed. Her robe and mantilla were of the finest woven cloth of native manufacture and as white and delicate of texture as the finest linen of Europe. Her garments were bordered with a rich brocade composed of feathers and beads of various colors interwoven with the material of the cloth. She wore also a profusion of pearls and some glittering ornaments which the Spaniards supposed to be of gold. Her name was Xualla and she ruled over several provinces.
"Juan Ortiz, being acquainted with several Indian dialects, acted as interpreter and told of the needs of the Spaniards. Xualla was sorry the harvest had been so poor that she had little ability to relieve their wants. She invited them to fix their quarters in her principal village while it was convenient for them to stay in the neighborhood. Then she took from her neck a necklace of pearls of great value and requested Juan Ortiz to present it to the governor, as it would not be modest for her to give it herself.
"De Soto arose, took it respectfully, and presented a ruby ring in return, taking it from his own finger. That seems to have been considered a ratification of peace between them. The Spanish troops were taken over the river and quartered in the public square in the centre of the town and the princess sent them a supply of good provisions, and poultry and other delicacies for De Soto's table.
"Xualla's mother was living in retirement about twelve leagues from her daughter's capital. Xualla invited her to come and see these strange people—the Spaniards—but she declined and reproved her daughter for entertaining travellers of whom she knew nothing. And events soon showed that she was right; for the Spaniards, acting with their usual perfidy, made Xualla a prisoner, robbed the people, the temples and burial places, and tried to get possession of her mother. Xualla was urged and probably finally compelled by threats to direct them to the mother's abode.
"A young Indian warrior, evidently occupying some prominent position under her government, was given directions which were not heard or understood by the Spaniards. He made a sign of obedience, then turned to the Spaniards and gave them to understand that he was ready to be their conductor. One of them, named Juan Anasco, had been selected to go in search of the widow, and now thirty Spaniards, under his command, started on that errand.
"As they proceeded on their way the young chief seemed to grow more melancholy. After travelling about five miles they stopped for a rest, and while the soldiers were taking some refreshments the guide sat in pensive silence by the side of the road, refusing to partake of the repast. He laid aside his mantle, or cloak, which was made of the finest of sable furs, took off his quiver, and began to draw out the arrows one by one.
"The curiosity of the Spaniards was excited; they drew near and admired the arrows, which were made of reeds, feathered with the dark plumage of the crow or raven, and variously pointed, some with bones properly shaped, others with barbs of very hard wood, while the last one in the quiver was armed with a piece of flint cut in a triangular form and exceedingly sharp. This he held in his hand while the Spaniards were examining the others, and suddenly he plunged the barb of flint into his throat and fell dead.
"The other Indians stood aghast and began to fill the air with their lamentations. From them I presume it was that the Spaniards then learned that the young chief was affianced to the princess and was very much beloved and respected by the whole nation. He had committed suicide to escape betraying the mother of his betrothed into the hands of the Spaniards. In obedience to the order of the princess he had undertaken to guide those cruel enemies to the widow's hiding place, but he well knew that she was forced to give the order and that the carrying out of it would be the cause of increased trouble to her and her parent, and he had told one of the Indians who were of the party that it would be better for him to die than to be the means of increasing the afflictions of those whom he so dearly loved.
"The grief and despair of Xualla, when she heard of the death of her betrothed, were so great that even the Spaniards were moved to pity. For several days she shut herself up in her own dwelling and was not seen by either the Spaniards or her own people.
"In the meantime the Spaniards were robbing the tombs and temples of the country, finding great spoil there.
"About a week after the death of the young chief, De Soto told Xualla she must send another guide with a party of Spaniards to her mother's habitation. She promptly and decidedly refused to do so, saying she had been justly punished once for consenting to place her poor mother in his power, and no fears for herself would ever make her do so again. She said he had made her as miserable as she could be, and now she set him at defiance. She wished she had listened to the advice of her wise counsellors and driven him away from her shores when he first came with his false and deceitful promises of peace and friendship; for she would have saved herself from that sorrow and remorse which now made her life insupportable. 'Why do you still remain in my country?' she asked. 'Are there no other lands to be robbed, no other people to be made miserable? Here there is nothing for you to do; you have taken all we had, and you can add nothing to our wretchedness. Go, coward as you are! Cease to make war on helpless women; and if you must be a villain, let your conduct prove that you are a man!'"
"I think she was very brave to talk to him in that way," said Elsie."Did he kill her for it?"
"No," replied Lucilla, "he was polite and courteous as usual, but told her that the King of Spain was the true sovereign and lawful proprietor of the country over which she claimed to be princess, and that, in all those matters which had offended her, the Spanish army had acted under the authority of that great monarch, to whom she herself was bound to render obedience.
"Next he told her she must accompany the Spaniards on their march as far as the border of her dominions and that she would be expected to control her subjects and to make them entirely submissive to the Spaniards. He promised that she should be treated with the respect and delicacy due to her rank and sex.
"But the one who tells the story says she did not receive such usage as she deserved. It was on the 3d day of May, 1540, that the Spaniards left Cofachiqui, compelling the princess to accompany them and requiring her to call upon her subjects to carry burdens for them from one stopping place to another. They passed through a delightful valley called Xualla, which had many groves, plantations, and pasture grounds. On the seventh day they came to a province called Chulaque, supposed to have been inhabited by a tribe of Cherokees. But before the Spaniards had reached this point Xualla had contrived to escape, assisted by two of her female slaves who were in attendance upon her."
"Oh, I hope they didn't catch her again—the Spaniards, I mean," exclaimed Ned.
"No," replied Lucilla; "De Soto would not allow her to be pursued."
"Did he and his men stay there in that beautiful valley, Lu?" askedElsie.
"No; as he could not find the gold he so coveted in Florida, he travelled on in a westerly direction till he reached the Mississippi; a hard journey through a wilderness of forests and marshes. He could nowhere find the gold he so coveted, became discouraged and worn out, was stricken with malignant fever, and died on the banks of the Mississippi in June, 1542."
"A victim to the love of gold, like so many of his countrymen," sighed Grandma Elsie. "The Bible tells us 'the love of money is the root of all evil,' and history repeats the lesson. The love of money led to Pizarro's wicked attack upon the Peruvians, and the conquest of that country was a source of trouble and calamity to all, or nearly all who were concerned in it. As soon as De Soto left, after the capture of Cuzco, the victors began to quarrel with each other for the spoils. Almagro provoked a war with Pizarro, was taken prisoner and strangled. Gonzalo Pizarro was beheaded by his own countrymen. Another of the brothers, Hernando, returned to Spain, where he was thrown into prison and kept there for many years. Francisco Pizarro himself fell a victim to the resentment of Almagro's soldiers. He was assaulted in his own palace, where he had just finished his dinner when the avengers entered. All his servants and guests except his half-brother, Martinez de Alcantara, instantly fled and abandoned him to his fate. It was midday when the assassins entered the palace with drawn weapons and loudly proclaiming their intention to kill the tyrant. There were upward of a thousand persons in the plaza, but no one opposed them; they merely looked coldly on, saying to each other, 'These men are going to kill the governor.'"
"He deserved it for killing Almagro, didn't he, grandma?" asked Ned.
"He certainly did," replied Grandma Elsie. "But they should, if possible, have given him a trial; everyone has a right to that. It is right that murderers should be put to death, lawfully—for the Bible says, 'Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.' History tells us it is probable that not more than twenty Spaniards in getting the mastery of the great empire of Peru—one of the largest upon earth—became rich, and in the end they made nothing; all that they gained was ruin—individual and national. Few, if any of them, carried back to their own land any evidences of their success. They dissipated their ill-gotten riches in riotous living, or lost them by unfortunate speculations.
"I must tell you of the fate of another of Pizarro's band—the priest Vincent, or Valverde. He counselled, or consented to, many of the most enormous crimes committed by that monster of cruelty and avarice Pizarro, who, after some years of their association in crime, made him Bishop of Cuzco. In November, 1541, he (Vincent) went with a considerable number of Spaniards, who had served under Pizarro, to the island of Puna, where they were all massacred by the Indians. On that very island, about nine years before, Pizarro had butchered the people, Vincent conniving at the crime. The historian says 'the murderers slandered the Archangel Michael, by pretending that he assisted them in their bloody performance; but no angel interposed when Vincent and his fellow assassins were about to be put to death by the infidels.'"
The next day, by Grandma Elsie's invitation, the students of the history of Florida gathered at Ion, and Chester took his turn in relating some of the facts he had come upon in his reading.
"De Soto," he said, "died in June, 1542. Nearly twenty years later—in February, 1562—two good vessels under command of Captain Jean Ribaut, a French naval officer of experience and repute, were sent out by Admiral Coligny, the chief of the Protestants in France, to establish colonies in unexplored countries where the Protestants would be at liberty to follow the dictates of their consciences without fear of persecution.
"The admiral obtained a patent from Charles IX., armed those two ships, put in them five hundred and fifty veteran soldiers and sailors, besides many young noblemen who embarked as volunteers, and appointed Ribaut as commander.
"They made a prosperous voyage, going directly to the coast of Florida, avoiding the routes in which they were likely to meet Spanish vessels, as the success of their expedition depended upon secrecy.
"On the 30th of April they sighted a cape which Ribaut named François. It is now one of the headlands of Matanzas inlet. The next day he discovered the mouth of a river which he named May, because they entered it on the 1st day of that month, but which is now called the St. Johns. Here they landed and erected a monument of stone with the arms of France engraved upon it. It is said to have been placed upon a little sand hillock in the river. They re-embarked and sailed northward, landing occasionally and finding themselves well received by the many Indians, to whom they made little presents such as looking-glasses and bracelets. They continued to sail northward till they entered the harbor of Port Royal, where they anchored. There they built a small fort upon a little island and called it Fort Charles, in honor of the King of France.
"Ribaut then selected twenty-five men to remain in the fort, and one of his trusted lieutenants, Charles d'Albert, to command them; gave them a supply of ammunition and provisions and left with a parting salute of artillery, replied to from the fort. With that the vessels sailed away for France, from which they had been absent about four months.
"For some time the colony prospered, and made various excursions among the Indians, who received and treated them well. But finally this effort to found a colony proved a failure.
"In 1564 René de Laudonnière was charged with the direction of a new one—this also sent out by Coligny. Three vessels were given him, and Charles IX. made him a present of fifty thousand crowns. He took with him skilful workmen and several young gentlemen who asked permission to go at their own expense. He landed in Florida on the 22d of June, sailed up the River St. Johns, and began the building of a fort which he named Caroline in honor of the king.
"The Indians proved friendly. But soon the young gentlemen who had volunteered to come with him complained of being forced to labor like common workmen, and fearing that they would excite a mutiny, he sent the most turbulent of them back to France on one of his vessels.
"But the trouble increased among the remaining colonists and he sent out part of them under the orders of his lieutenant, to explore the country. A few days later some sailors fled, taking with them the two boats used in procuring provisions; and others, who had left France only with the hope of making their fortunes, seized one of his ships and went cruising in the Gulf of Mexico. Also the deserters had had a bad influence upon the Indians, who now refused to supply the colonists with provisions, and they were soon threatened with famine. I cannot see why they should have been, with abundance of fish in river and sea, and wild game and fruits in the woods," remarked Chester, then went on with his story. "The historians tell us that they lived for some time on acorns and roots, and when at the last extremity were saved by the arrival of Captain John Hawkins, August 3, 1565. He showed them great kindness, furnishing them with provisions and selling to Laudonnière one of his ships in which they might return to France.
"In telling the story of his visit to Florida Hawkins mentions the abundance of tobacco, sorrel, maize, and grapes, and ascribes the failure of the French colony 'to their lack of thrift, as in such a climate and soil, with marvellous store of deer and divers other beasts, all men may live.'
"Laudonnière was waiting for a favorable wind to set sail, when Jean Ribaut arrived with seven vessels carrying supplies and provisions, some emigrants of both sexes, and four hundred soldiers. He told Laudonnière his loyalty was suspected by the French court, and that he had been deprived of the governorship of Florida. That news only made Laudonnière the more eager to go back to France that he might justify himself.
"After landing his troops Ribaut went to explore the country, leaving some of his men to guard the ships. Ribaut's arrival was on the 29th of August. On the 4th of September the French in his vessels sighted a large fleet approaching and asked their object. 'I am Pedro Menendez de Aviles, who has come to hang and behead all Protestants in these regions,' was the haughty reply of the fleet's commander. 'If I find any Catholic he shall be well treated, but every heretic shall die.'
"The French fleet, surprised and not strong enough to cope with the Spaniards, cut their cables and left, and Menendez entered an inlet which he called St. Augustin, and there began to intrench himself.
"Ribaut called together all his forces and resolved to attack theSpaniards, contrary to the advice of Laudonnière and all his officers.On the 10th of September he embarked for that purpose, but wasscarcely at sea when a hurricane dispersed his fleet. Then theSpaniards attacked Fort Caroline.
"Laudonnière was still in the fort, but was sick and had only about a hundred men, scarcely twenty of them capable of bearing arms. The Spaniards took the fort, massacred all the sick, the women and children, and hanged the soldiers who fell into their hands.
"After doing all he could to defend the fort Laudonnière cut his way through the enemy and plunged into the woods, where he found some of his soldiers who had escaped. He said what he could for their encouragement and during the night led them to the seashore, where they found a son of Ribaut with three vessels. On one of these—a small brig—Laudonnière, Jacques Ribaut, and a few others escaped from the Spaniards and carried the news of the disaster to France.
"Laudonnière's purpose had been to rejoin and help Jean Ribaut, but his vessel being driven out to sea, he was unable to carry out that intention.
"Three days after the fort was taken Ribaut's ships were wrecked near Cape Canaveral, and he at once marched in three divisions toward Fort Caroline. When the first division came near the site of the fort they were attacked by the Spaniards, surrendered to Menendez, and were all put to death. A few days later Ribaut arrived with his party, and as Menendez pledged his word that they should be spared, they surrendered and were all murdered, Menendez killing Ribaut with his own hand. Their bodies were hung on the surrounding trees with the inscription, 'Executed, not as Frenchmen, but as Lutherans.'"
"Lutherans?" echoed Ned inquiringly.
"Yes; meaning Protestants," replied Chester. "That was an age of great cruelty. Satan was very busy, and multitudes were called upon to seal their testimony to Christ with their blood.
"But to go on with the story. About two years after a gallant Frenchman—Dominic de Gourgues, by name—got up an expedition to avenge the massacre of his countrymen by the Spaniards at Fort Caroline. He came to Florida with three small vessels and a hundred and eighty-four men, secured the help of the natives, attacked the fort—now called by the Spaniards Fort San Mateo—and captured the entire garrison. Many of the captives were killed by the Indians, the rest De Gourgues hanged upon the trees on which Menendez had hanged the Huguenots, putting over the corpses the inscription, 'I do this, not as to Spaniards, nor as to outcasts, but as to traitors, thieves, and murderers.' His work of revenge accomplished, De Gourgues set sail for France."
"Oh," sighed little Elsie, "what dreadful things people did do in those days! I'm glad I didn't live then instead of now."
"As we all are," responded her mother; "glad for you and for ourselves."
"Yes," said Chester; "and I think I have now come to a suitable stopping place. There seems to me little more in Florida's history that we need recount."
"No," said Grandma Elsie, "it seems to be nothing but a round of building and destroying, fighting and bloodshed, kept up between the Spaniards and the French; the English also taking part; the Indians too, and in later years negroes also. In 1762 the British captured Havana and in the treaty following the next year Great Britain gave Cuba to Spain in exchange for Florida.
"Florida took no part in the Revolutionary War and became a refuge for many loyalists, as it was afterward for fugitive slaves. In 1783 Florida was returned to Spanish rule, Great Britain exchanging it for the Bahamas."
"And when did we get it, grandma?" asked Ned.
"In 1819, by a treaty between our country and Spain."
"Then the fighting stopped, I suppose?"
"No; the Seminole wars followed, lasting from 1835 to 1842. Florida was admitted into the Union in 1845, seceded in 1861, bore her part bravely and well through the Civil War, and at its close a State Convention repealed the ordinance of secession."
"So since that she has been a part of our Union like the rest of ourStates; hasn't she, grandma?" asked Ned.
"Yes; a part of our own dear country—a large and beautiful State."
"And probably it won't be long now till some of us, at least, will see her," observed Grace with satisfaction.
"How soon will theDolphinbe ready, papa?"
"By the time we are," replied the captain, "which will be as soon asMax can join us."
"Dear Max! I long for the time when he will be with us again," saidViolet.
"I suppose by this time he knows how to manage a vessel almost as well as you do, papa?" observed Ned in an inquiring tone.
"I hope so," his father replied with a smile.
"So the passengers may all feel very safe, I suppose," said Mrs.Lilburn.
"And that being the case you are willing to be one of them, CousinAnnis, are you not?" queried Violet hospitably.
"More than willing; glad and grateful to you and the captain for the invitation to be, as my husband is also, I know."
"I am neither able nor desirous to deny that, my dear," laughed Cousin Ronald. "Ah, ha; ah, ha; um, hm! It will be my first visit to Florida, and I'm thinking we'll have a grand time of it—looking up the sites and scenes of the old histories we've been reading and chatting over."
The yacht was ready in due season, and the weather being favorable Captain Raymond invited as many of the connection as could be comfortably accommodated on board, to go with him to witness the graduation of Max and his classmates. Certainly his own immediate family, Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore and Grandma Elsie would be of that number; Evelyn Leland also and Cousins Ronald and Annis Lilburn.
Max's joy in meeting them all—especially his father and the others of his own immediate family—was evidently very great, for it was the first sight he had had of any of them for two years or more. He passed his examination successfully, received his diploma, and was appointed to the engineer corps of the navy. He received many warm congratulations and valuable gifts from friends and relatives; but the pleasure in his father's eyes, accompanied by the warm, affectionate clasp of his hand, and his look of parental pride in his firstborn, was a sweeter reward to the young man than all else put together.
"You are satisfied with me, father?" he asked in a low aside.
"Entirely so, my dear boy," was the prompt and smiling rejoinder; "you have done well and made me a proud and happy father. And now, if you are quite ready for the homeward-bound trip, we will go aboard the yacht at once."
"I am entirely ready, sir," responded Max in joyful tones; "trunk packed and good-byes said."
But they were detained for a little, some of Captain Raymond's old friends coming up to congratulate him and his son on the latter's successful entrance into the most desirable corps of the navy. Then, on walking down to the wharf, they found theDolphin'sdory waiting for them and saw that the rest of their party was already on board, on deck and evidently looking with eager interest for their coming.
Max remarked it with a smile, adding, "How the girls have grown, father! and how lovely they all are! girls that any fellow might be proud to claim as his sisters—and friend. Evelyn, I suppose, would hardly let me claim her as a sister."
"I don't know," laughed his father; "she once very willingly agreed to a proposition from me to adopt her as my daughter."
"Yes? I think she might well be glad enough to do that; but to take me for a brother would not perhaps be quite so agreeable."
"Well, your Mamma Vi objecting to having so old a daughter, we agreed to consider ourselves brother and sister; so I suppose you can consider her your aunt, if you wish."
"There now, father, what a ridiculous idea!" laughed Max.
"Not so very," returned his father, "since aunts are sometimes younger than their nephews."
But they had reached the yacht and the conversation went no farther. In another moment they were on deck, and the dear relatives and friends there crowding about Max to tell of their joy in having him in their midst again and in knowing that he had so successfully finished his course of tuition and fully entered upon the profession chosen as his life work.
Max, blushing with pleasure, returned hearty thanks and expressed his joy in being with them again. "The two years of absence have seemed a long time to be without a sight of your dear faces," he said, "and I feel it a very great pleasure to be with you all again."
"And it will be a delight to get home once more, won't it?" askedGrace, hanging lovingly on his arm.
"Indeed it will," he responded; "and getting aboard the dear old yacht seems like a long step in that direction; particularly as all the family and so many other of my dear friends are here to welcome me."
"Well, we're starting," said Ned. "The sailors have lifted anchor and we begin to move down stream."
At that a silence fell upon the company, all gazing out upon the wintry landscape and the vessels lying at anchor in the river as they passed them one after another. But a breeze had sprung up, the air was too cool for comfort, and presently all went below.
Then came the call to the table, where they found an abundance of good cheer awaiting them. The meal was enlivened by much cheerful chat, Max doing his full share of it in reply to many questions in regard to his experiences during the two years of his absence; especially of the last few weeks in which he had not been heard from, except in a rather hurried announcement of his arrival at Annapolis. They were all making much of the fine young fellow, but, as his father noticed with pleasure, it did not seem to spoil him. His manner and speech were modest and unassuming, and he listened with quiet respect to the remarks and queries of the older people. The younger ones were quiet listeners to all.
At the conclusion of the meal all withdrew to the saloon and theyounger ones collected in a group by themselves. Max, seated near toEvelyn Leland, turned to her and in a grave and quiet tone remarked,"It seems a long time since we have had a bit of chat together, AuntEvelyn."
At that her eyes opened wide in astonishment.
"Aunt?" she repeated. "Why—why, Max, what do you mean by calling me that?"
"I supposed it was the proper title for my father's sister," he returned with a twinkle of fun in his eye.
"Oh!" she laughed. "I had nearly forgotten that bargain made with the captain so long ago. And he has told you of it?"
"Yes; it was in answer to a remark of mine showing that I should like to include you among my sisters. But can you hold that relationship to my father and to me at the same time?"
"That is a question to be carefully considered," she laughed; "and in the meantime suppose you just go back to the old way of calling me simply Evelyn or Eva. And shall I call you Max, as of old?"
"Yes, yes, indeed! it's a bargain! And now, girls," glancing from her to his sisters, "as I haven't heard from home in some weeks, perhaps you may have some news to tell me. Has anything happened? or is anything out of the usual course of events likely to happen?"
At that Grace laughed, Lucilla blushed and smiled, and little Ned burst out in eager, joyful tones, "Oh, yes, brother Max! papa is going to take us all to Florida in a day or two, you as well as the rest."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Max, "that will be very pleasant, I think."
"Yes," continued Neddie, "it's because Cousin Dr. Arthur says Chester must go to get cured of his bad cough that he's had so long; and of course Lu must go if he does—Cousin Chester, I mean—and if Lu goes the rest of us ought to go too. Don't you think so, brother Max?"
Max's only reply for the moment was a puzzled look from one to another.
"You may as well know it at once, Max," Lucilla said with a smile."Chester and I are engaged, and naturally he wants us all with him."
"Is it possible!" exclaimed Max, giving her a look of surprise and interest. "Why, Lu, I thought father was quite determined to keep his daughters single till they were far beyond your present age."
"Yes," she returned with a smile; "but circumstances alter cases. Chester saved my life—at nearly the expense of his own," she added with a tremble in her voice. "So father let him tell me—what he wanted to, and allowed us to become engaged. But that is to be all, for a year or more."
"Saved your life, Lu? Tell me all about it, do, for I haven't heard the story."
"You remember the anger of the burglar whom you and I testified against some years ago, and his threat to be revenged on me?"
"Yes; and that in one of father's letters I was told that he had escaped from prison. And he attacked you?"
"Yes; he fired at me from some bushes by the roadside, but missed, Chester, who was with me, backing our horses just in time; then they fired simultaneously at each other and the convict fell dead, and Chester terribly wounded, while I escaped unhurt. But I thought father had written you all about it."
"If so that letter must have missed me," said Max. "And Chester hasn't recovered entirely?"
"Not quite; his lungs seem weak, but we are hoping that a visit toFlorida will perfect his cure."
"I hope so indeed! I have always liked Chester and shall welcome him as a brother-in-law, since he has saved my sister's life and won her heart."
"And that of her father," added the captain, coming up at that moment and laying a hand on Lucilla's shoulder while he looked down at her with eyes of love and pride. "He has proved himself worthy of the gift of her hand."
"I think I must have missed one of your letters, father," said Max; "for surely you did not intend to keep me in ignorance of all this?"
"No, my son; I wrote you a full account of all but the engagement, leaving that to be told on your arrival here. One or more of my recent letters must have missed you."
"Too bad!" exclaimed Max, "for a letter from my father, or from any one of the home folks, is a great treat when I am far away on shipboard or on some distant shore."
"And, oh, Max, but we feel it a great treat when one comes from you," said Grace.
"Ah! that's very good of you all," he returned with a pleased smile. "But I think we may look forward to a fine time for the next few weeks or months, as we expect to spend them together."
"Yes," said his father, then asked, "Are you well up in the history ofFlorida, my son?"
"Not so well as I should like to be, sir," returned Max. "But perhaps I can refresh my memory, and also learn something new on that subject, while we are on the way there."
"Yes; we have a good supply of books in that line, which we will carry along for your benefit—and to perhaps refresh our own memories occasionally. And possibly the girls may like to recount to you some of the tales of early times in that part of our country, which have interested them of late," the captain continued with a smiling glance at Evelyn and his daughters. All three at once and heartily expressed their entire willingness to do so, and Max returned his thanks with the gallant remark that that would be even more delightful than reading the accounts for himself.
"Papa, can't we keep right on now to Florida?" asked Ned.
"No, my son; there are several reasons why that is not practicable—matters to be attended to at home, luggage to be brought aboard the yacht, and so forth. Besides, your brother no doubt wants a sight of Woodburn before setting out upon a journey that is likely to keep us away from there for some weeks."
"Yes, indeed, father, you are right about that," said Max. "I have always esteemed my Woodburn home a lovely and delightful place, and dare say I shall find it even more beautiful now than when I saw it last."
"Then we'll expect to hear you say so when you get there," saidLucilla, with a smile of pleasure and assurance.
And she was not disappointed; when at length Woodburn was reached Max's admiration and delight were evident and fully equal to her expectations. But of necessity his stay at this time must be brief, scarce allowing opportunity to see all the relatives and connections residing in that neighborhood, if he would not miss having a share in the contemplated trip to Florida.
TheDolphincarried to Florida the same party that she had brought from Annapolis, with the addition of Chester Dinsmore and Dr. Harold Travilla; while some others of the connection were intending to travel thither by land. The voyage was but a short one, the weather pleasant—though cool enough to make the cabin a more comfortable place for family gatherings than the deck—the vessel in fine condition, well manned, well officered, and provided with everything necessary for convenience, comfort, and enjoyment. Amusements—such as music, books, and games—were always to be had in abundance aboard the yacht, but on this occasion the collection of information in regard to the history and geography of Florida took precedence of everything else. As soon as the vessel was well under way they gathered about a table in the saloon on which were maps and books bearing upon the subject, and while examining them chatted freely and gayly in regard to which points they should visit, and how long remain in each place.
"That last is a question which would better be decided upon the spot," Captain Raymond said when it had been asked once or twice. "There is little or nothing to hurry us, so that we may move forward, or tarry in one place or another, as suits our convenience or inclination."
"We will call at Jacksonville, I suppose, father?" Lucilla said inquiringly. "I see it is spoken of as the travel-centre and metropolis of the State."
"Yes; and if my passengers desire to go there we will do so."
"Can we go all the way in theDolphin, papa?" asked little Elsie.
"Yes; I think, however, we will call at Fernandina first, as it is nearer."
"It is on an island, is it not?" asked Evelyn.
"Yes; Amelia Island, at the mouth of St. Mary's River."
"There are a very great many islands on Florida's coast, I think," said Elsie. "I was looking at the map to-day and it seemed to me there were thousands."
"So there are," said her father; "islands of various sizes, from a mere dot in some cases to from thirty to fifty miles of length in others."
"Then we won't stop at all of them, I suppose," remarked Ned sagely; "only at the big ones, won't we, papa?"
"Yes; and not at every one of them either," answered his father, with a look of amusement. "Ten thousand or more stoppages would use up rather too much of our time."
"Yes, indeed!" laughed Ned. "Most of them I'd rather just look at as we pass by."
"We will want to see St. Augustine and other places mentioned in the history we have been reading," said Grace.
"Certainly," replied her father, "we will not neglect them. The mouth of St. John's River is about the first we will come to. Do you remember, Elsie, what they called it, and what they did there?"
"Oh, yes, papa," she answered eagerly. "They named the river May, and set up a monument of stone on a little sand bank in the river and engraved the arms of France upon it."
"Quite correct, daughter," the captain said in a tone of pleased commendation; "I see you have paid good attention to our reading and talks on the subject, and I hope soon to reward you with a sight of the scenes of the occurrences mentioned; though of course they are greatly changed from what they were nearly four hundred years ago."
"Wasn't Jacksonville formerly known by another name, captain?" askedEvelyn.
"Yes," he replied, "the Indian name was Waccapilatka—meaning Cowford or Oxford—but in 1816 it became a white man's town and in 1822 its name was changed to Jackson, in honor of General Andrew Jackson. I think we should go up the St. Johns to that city before going farther down the coast."
"Yes," said Mrs. Travilla, "and then on up the river and through the lakes to De Leon Springs. We all want to see that place."
All in the company seemed to approve of that plan and it was presently decided to carry it out. They did not stop at Fernandina, only gazed upon it in passing, made but a short stay at Jacksonville, then passed on up the river and through the lakes to De Leon Springs.
Here they found much to interest them;—the great mineral spring, one hundred feet in diameter and thirty feet deep, its water so clear that the bottom could be distinctly seen and so impregnated with soda and sulphur as to make it most healthful, giving ground for the legend that it is the veritable Fountain of Perpetual Youth sought out by Ponce de Leon.
The ruins of an old Spanish mill close at hand interested them also. These consisted of an immense brick smokestack and furnace covered with vines; two large iron wheels, thrown down when the mill was destroyed, in a way to cause one to overlap the other, and now a gum tree grows up through them so that the arms of the wheels are deeply imbedded in its trunk.
Our friends found this so charming a spot that they spent some days there. Then returning down the river, to the ocean, they continued their voyage in a southerly direction.
Their next pause was at St. Augustine, which they found a most interesting old city—the oldest in the United States—noted for its picturesque beauty, its odd streets ten to twenty feet wide, without sidewalks, its crumbling old city gates, its governor's palace, its coquina-built houses with overhanging balconies, its sea walls and old fort, its Moorish cathedral, and the finest and most striking hotel in the world.
But what interested our party more than anything else was the old fort—called San Marco by the Spaniard, but now bearing the American name of Fort Marion. They went together to visit it and were all greatly interested in its ancient and foreign appearance; in the dried-up moat, the drawbridges, the massive arched entrance, dark under-ways and dungeons.
"Papa," said Elsie, "it's a dreadful place, and very, very old, isn't it?"
"Yes," he answered; "it was probably begun in 1565. About how long ago was that?"
"More than three hundred years," she returned after a moment's thought. "Oh, that is a long, long while!"
"Yes," he said, "a very long while, and we may be very thankful that our lives were given us in this time rather than in that; for it was a time of ignorance and persecution."
"Yes, yes, ignorance and persecution;" the words came in sepulchral tones from the depths of the nearest dungeon, "here have I lain for three hundred years with none to pity or help. Oh, 'tis a weary while! Shall I never, never escape?"
"Oh, papa," cried Elsie in tones of affright, and clinging to his hand, "how dreadful! Can't we help him out?"
"I don't think there is anyone in there, daughter," the captain said in reassuring tones, her Uncle Harold adding, with a slight laugh, "And if there is he must surely be pretty well used to it by this time."
All their little company had been startled at first and felt a thrill of horror at thought of such misery, but now they all laughed and turned to Cousin Ronald, as if saying surely it was his doing.
"Yes," he said, "the voice was mine; and thankful we may be that those poor victims of such hellish cruelty have long, long since been released from their pain."
"Oh, I am glad to know that," exclaimed Elsie with a sigh of relief; "but please let's go away from here, for I think it's a dreadful place."
"Yes," said her father, "we have seen it all now and will try to find something pleasanter to look at." And with that they turned and left the old fort.
Captain Raymond and his little company, feeling in no haste to continue their journey, lingered for some time in St. Augustine and its neighborhood. One day they visited an island where some friends were boarding. It was a very pretty place. There were several cottages standing near together amid the orange groves, one of them occupied by the proprietor—a finely educated Austrian physician—and his wife, the others by the boarders. The party from theDolphinwere much interested in the story of these people told them by their friend.
"The doctor," he said, "had come over to America before our Civil War, and was on the island when Union troops came into the neighborhood. He was one day walking in the woods when suddenly a party of Union soldiers appeared and, seeing him, took him for a spy, seized him and declared their intention to shoot him. They tied his hands behind his back, led him to what they deemed a suitable spot on the edge of a thick part of the wood, then turned and walked away to station themselves at the proper distance for firing. But the instant their eyes were off him the prisoner started into the wood and was out of sight before they were aware that he was making an attempt to escape.
"They pursued, but favored by the thick growth of trees and shrubs, he kept out of sight until he reached a palmetto, which he climbed—having contrived to get his hands free as he ran—and there concealed himself among the leaves. He had hardly ensconced himself there before he could see and hear his foes running past beneath his place of shelter, beating about the bushes and calling to each other to make sure of catching the rascally spy. But he was safely hidden and at length they gave up the search for the time.
"But they had encamped in the neighborhood and for several days and nights the Austrian remained in the tree, afraid to descend lest he should be caught and shot. He did not starve, as he could eat of the cabbage which grows at the top of that tree, but he suffered from thirst and lack of sleep, as he could rest but insecurely in the treetop. When two or three days and nights had passed he felt that he could stand it no longer; he must get water and food though at the risk of his life. Waiting only for darkness and a silence that led him to hope his foes were not near at hand, he descended and cautiously made his way through the wood. He presently reached a house occupied by a woman only, told her his story and asked for food and drink. Her heart was touched with pity for his hard case, she supplied his wants and told him she would put food in a certain spot where he could get it the next night.
"He thanked her and told her he wanted to get away from that neighborhood, as there was no safety for him there. She said she thought she might be able to secure a skiff in which he could go up or down the coast and so perhaps escape the soldiers. He was, you know, a physician—not a sailor—and knew but little about managing a boat; but anything seemed better than his present situation, so he thanked her and said he would be glad to try it.
"Shortly afterward she informed him that the boat was ready. He entered it, took up the oars, and started down the coast. But a storm came on, he was unable to manage his small craft, it was upset by the waves, he was thrown into the water and presently lost consciousness. When he recovered it he was lying in a berth on board a much larger vessel than the canoe, a kindly-looking man leaning over him using restoratives. 'Ah, doctor,' he said with a pleased smile, 'I am glad, very glad to have succeeded in restoring you to consciousness; glad to have been able to rescue you from a watery grave.'
"The doctor expressed his thanks, but acknowledged that he did not know this new friend, who seemed to know him; then the other asked if he did not remember having prescribed for a sick man in such a time and at such a place. 'It was I,' he added; 'you then saved my life, and I am most happy to have been enabled to save yours from being lost in the ocean.'
"The talk went on; the doctor told of his danger, his escape, and his anxiety to keep out of the way of the soldiers until the war should be over.
"The captain told him he was bound for Philadelphia, and that if he chose he could go there and live in safety to the end of the war and longer. So that was what he did; he stayed there till peace came, and in the meantime met and married a countrywoman of his own, a lovely and amiable lady, whom he brought back with him to Florida."
"I noticed her as we passed," said Grandma Elsie; "she is a lovely-looking woman. But have they no children?"
"None now; they had two—a son and a daughter—who lived to grow up, were children to be proud of, highly educated by their father, and very fond of each other and of their parents. The son used to act as guide to visitors boarding here in the cottages, going with them on fishing expeditions and so forth. On one of those occasions he was caught in a storm and took cold; that led to consumption and he finally died. They buried him under the orange trees. His sister was so overwhelmed with grief that she fretted herself to death, and now lies by his side."
"Ah, the poor mother!" sighed Grandma Elsie. "And the father too," added Captain Raymond in a moved tone.
Leaving St. Augustine theDolphinpursued her way down the Florida coast, pausing here and there for a day or two at the most attractive places, continuing on to the southernmost part of the State, around it, past Cape Sable and out into the Gulf of Mexico. Then, having accepted an invitation from Grandma Elsie to visit Viamede, they sailed on in a westerly direction.
They had pleasant weather during their sojourn in and about Florida, but as they entered the Gulf a rain storm came up and continued until they neared the port of New Orleans. That confined the women and children pretty closely to the cabin and active little Ned grew very weary of it.
"I wish I could go on deck," he sighed on the afternoon of the second day. "I'm so tired of staying down here where there's nothing to see."
As he concluded a voice that sounded like that of a boy about his own age, and seemed to come from the stairway to the deck, said, "I'm sorry for that little chap. Suppose I come down there and try to get up a bit of fun for him."
"By all means," replied the captain. "We will be happy to have you do so."
Ned straightened himself up and looked eagerly in the direction of the stairway.
"Who is it, papa?" he asked.
"Why, don't you know me?" asked the voice, this time seeming to come from the door of one of the staterooms.
"No, I don't," returned Ned. "I didn't know there was any boy on board, except myself."
"Nor did I," said a rough man's voice, "What are you doing here, you young rascal? came aboard to steal, did you?"
"Nothing but my passage, sir; and I'm not doing a bit of harm," replied the boyish voice.
"Oh, I guess I know who you are," laughed Ned. "At least I'm pretty sure you're either Cousin Ronald or brother Max."
At that a loud guffaw right at his ear made the little boy jump with an outcry, "Oh, who was that?"
"Why don't you look and see?" laughed Lucilla.
"Why, it doesn't seem to have been anybody," returned Ned, looking around this way and that. "But I'm not going to be frightened, for I just know it's one or the other of our ventriloquists. Now, good sirs, please let's have some more of it, for it's real fun."
"Not much, I should think, after you are in the secret," said Max.
"It's some, though," said Ned, "because it seems so real even when you do know—or guess—who it is that's doing it."
"Well, now, I'm glad you are so easily pleased and entertained, little fellow," said the voice from the state-room door. "Perhaps now the captain will let me pay my fare on the yacht by providing fun for his little son. That oldest one doesn't seem to need any; he gets enough talking with the ladies."
"Oh, do you, brother Max?" asked Ned, turning to him.
"Yes," laughed Max; "it's very good fun."
"Hello!" shouted a voice, apparently from the deck, "Mr. Raymond, sir, better come up here and see that we don't run foul of that big steamer—or she of us."
The captain started to his feet, but Max laughed, and said in a mirthful tone, "Never mind, father, it's a false alarm, given for Ned's amusement."
"Please don't scare anybody else to amuse me, brother Max," said Ned, with the air of one practising great self-denial.
"I don't think father was really very badly scared," laughed Lucilla; "and we may feel pretty safe with two good naval officers and a skilful crew to look out for threatening dangers and help us to avoid them."
"That's right, miss; no occasion for anxiety or alarm," said the man's rough voice that had spoken before.
"Thank you; I don't feel a particle of either," laughed Lucilla.
"And I am sure neither you nor any of us should, under the care of two such excellent and skilful seamen," added Violet in a sprightly tone.
"That's right and I reckon you may feel pretty safe—all o' you," said the man's voice.
"Of course; who's afraid?" cried the boyish voice, close at Ned's side. "Some of those old Spaniards were drowned in this gulf, but that was because they knew nothing about managing a vessel."
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Ned, "but my father does know how, and so does brother Max."
"That's a mighty good thing," said the voice, "and we needn't fear shipwreck, but can just devote ourselves to having a good time."
"So we can," said Ned. "And we do have good times here in theDolphin. Anybody is pretty sure of good times when papa is at the head of affairs."
"Quite a complimentary speech from my little son," laughed the captain.
"And where are you going in thisDolphin?" asked the voice.
"To New Orleans, then to Berwick Bay and on through the lakes and bayous to my grandma's place—Viamede. I've been there before and it's just beautiful."
"Then I'd like to go too," said the voice. "Won't you take me along?"
"Yes, yes, indeed! whether you are Cousin Ronald or brother Max, I know grandma will make you welcome."
At that everybody laughed and his grandma said:
"Yes, indeed, they are both heartily welcome."
"And whichever you are I'm obliged to you for making this fun for me," continued Ned. "Oh, what was that!" as a loud whistle was heard seemingly close in his rear. He turned hastily about, then laughed as he perceived that there was no one there. "Was it you did that, brother Max?" he asked.
"Did it sound like my voice?" asked Max.
"As much as like any other. But oh, there's the call to supper and I suppose the fun will have to stop for this time."
"Yes, you can have the fun of eating instead," said his father, leading the way to the table.
In due time the next day they reached New Orleans, where they paused for a few days of rest and sight-seeing, then returning to their yacht, they passed out into the Gulf, up the bay into Teche Bayou and beyond, through lake and lakelet, past plain and forest, plantation and swamp. The scenery was beautiful; there were miles of smoothly shaven and velvety green lawns, shaded by magnificent oaks and magnolias; there were cool, shady dells carpeted with a rich growth of flowers; lordly villas peering through groves of orange trees, tall white sugar-houses, and long rows of cabins for the laborers. The scenes were not entirely new to anyone on the boat, but were scarcely the less enjoyable for that—so great was their beauty.
When they reached their destination and the boat rounded to at the wharf, they perceived a welcoming group awaiting their landing—all the relatives from Magnolia, the Parsonage, and Torriswood. There was a joyful exchange of greetings with them and then with the group of servants standing a little in the rear.
In accordance with written directions sent by Grandma Elsie some days in advance of her arrival, a feast had been prepared and the whole connection in that neighborhood invited to partake of it. And not one older or younger had failed to come, for she was too dearly loved for an invitation from her to be neglected unless the hinderance were such as could not be ignored or set aside. Dr. Dick Percival and his Maud were there among the rest; Dick's half brother Dr. Robert Johnson, and Maud's sister Sidney also. They gave a very joyful and affectionate greeting to their brother Chester and to Lucilla Raymond, then attached themselves to her for the short walk from the wharf up to the house.
"Oh, Lu," said Maud, "we are so glad that we are to have you for our sister. I don't know any other girl I should be so pleased to have come into the family. And Ches will make a good kind husband, I am sure, for he has always been a dear good brother."
"Indeed he has," said Sidney. "And we are hoping that he and Frank will come and settle down here near us."
"Oh, no, indeed!" exclaimed Lulu. "I should like to live near you two, but nothing would induce me to make my home so far away from my father. And Chester has promised never to take me away from him."
"Oh, I was hoping you would want to come," said Maud. "But Ches is one to keep his word; so that settles it."
But they had reached the house and here the talk ended for the time.
The new arrivals retired to their rooms for a little attention to the duties of the toilet, then all gathered about the well-spread board and made a hearty meal, enlivened by cheerful chat mingled with many an innocent jest and not a little mirthful laughter. It was still early when the meal was concluded, and the next hour or two were spent in pleasant, familiar intercourse upon the verandas or in the beautiful grounds. Then the guests began to return to their homes, those with young children leaving first. The Torriswood family stayed a little longer, and at their urgent request Chester consented to become their guest for the first few days, if no longer.
"There are two good reasons why you should do so," said Dick in a half-jesting tone: "firstly, I having married your sister, by that we are the most nearly related; and secondly, as Bob and I are both physicians, we may be better able to take proper care of you than these good and kind relatives."
"Dick, Dick," remonstrated Violet, "how you forget! or is it professional jealousy? Have we not been careful to bring along with us one of the very physicians who have had charge of Chester's case?"
"Why, sure enough!" exclaimed Dick. "Harold, old fellow, I beg your pardon! and to make amends, should I get sick I shall certainly have you called in at once."
"Which will quite make amends," returned Harold, laughing; "as it will give me a good opportunity to punish your impertinence in ignoring my claims as one of the family physicians."
"Ah!" returned Dick, "I perceive that my wiser plan will be to keep well."
There was a general laugh, a moment's pause, then Robert, sending a smiling glance in Sidney's direction, said, "Now, dear friends and relatives, Sid and I have a communication to make. We have decided to follow the good example set us by our brother and sister—Maud and Dick—and so we expect in two or three weeks to take each other for better or for worse."