Translation.—Don Ferdinand VI. being King of Spain, and the Field Marshal Don Alonzo Fernando Hereda being Governor and Captain General of this place, St. Augustine, of Florida, and its Province. This fort was finished in the year 1756. The works were directed by the Captain Engineer, Don Pedro de Brazos y Garay.
Translation.—Don Ferdinand VI. being King of Spain, and the Field Marshal Don Alonzo Fernando Hereda being Governor and Captain General of this place, St. Augustine, of Florida, and its Province. This fort was finished in the year 1756. The works were directed by the Captain Engineer, Don Pedro de Brazos y Garay.
Every year hundreds of visitors rush into Fort Marion, and then the dungeon, with an awe-stricken feeling, as though the imaginary groans which are said to have been uttered here centuries since were ready to burst through the rocks and echo again, like the words of Plato, which his friends said froze in the winter, but on the return of spring thawed out again.
Several years after the cession of Florida to the United States the north-east bastion of this fortress caved in, immediately under the highest tower, disclosing a dungeon fourteen feet square. On the same day was made the discovery of a square rock, cemented in an opening similar to those in the casemates, only much less, which was undoubtedly the entrance.
A tempest there you scarce could hear,So massive were the walls.
A tempest there you scarce could hear,So massive were the walls.
A tempest there you scarce could hear,So massive were the walls.
Some human bones and hair were then discovered and seen by volunteers from the ship Dolphin—a published account of which was forwarded to Washington, and deposited in the Congressional Library. The Smithsonian Institute has no knowledge of these cages, bones, or any thing pertaining to them everhaving been placed there—which forever silences all inquiries in that direction. They told us, while in Washington, that when visitors came to the Institute asking information about them, the Professors were at a loss to know what they implied by their interrogations.
It has long been a demonstrated fact that some of the St. Augustine natives have a way of answering questions asked about them in accordance with their impressions, regardless of dates or historic records. The following description of the old fort mysteries is a change from the iron cages—the writer having visited the dungeon before the cage tale had been invented: “We were taken into the ancient prisons of the fort-dungeons, one of which was dimly lighted by a grated window, the other entirely without light, and by the flame of a torch we were shown the half-obliterated inscriptions scratched on the walls long ago by prisoners. But in another corner of the fort we were taken to look at the secret cells which were discovered a few years since in consequence of the sinking of the earth over a narrow apartment between them. These cells are deep under ground, vaulted over head, and without windows. In one of them a wooden machine was found, which some supposed might have been a rack, and in the other a quantity of human bones. The doors of these cells had been walled up, and concealed with stucco, before the fort passed into the hands of the Americans.â€
Many things, when related about it far away, sound tame, but have an awe-inspiring effect if surroundedby its grim walls, listening to the grating of rusty bolts, or the clanking of iron chains, and looking through the uncertain glare of the old sergeant’s candles as he finishes his well-learned tale of horrors, in subdued tones, with the final paragraph, “It may be so, or it may not; I cannot tell.â€
That human bones have been discovered in the ruins of old churches and structures of various other kinds, placed there for sepulture, is a well-authenticated fact. While constructing the wall around the light-house at St. Mark’s, Florida, in tearing down the old Spanish fort, a tomb was found beneath a tablet, containing a single body of much greater size than any living in the country at the present day. In the walls of the State-house, at Nashville, Tennessee, a niche was planned by the architect to contain his body, where his bones are now sealed in.
The iron cages about which so much has been said and written have come before the public with the enormous cruelties of the Inquisition and the mysteries of an almost-forgotten past. Many statements have been made and published in regard to them, without the shadow of truth for a basis. There are old citizens now living in St. Augustine, between eighty and ninety years of age, who saw those cages when discovered, and heard their parents state where they first saw them.
The following is, no doubt, the true version of the man-cages, direct from a most authentic source: About sixty years since, while some workmen were engaged outside the city gates in making post-holes for a butcher-pen, when in the act of digging, theystruck a hard substance resembling iron, which excited their curiosity. They continued working until they uncovered two cages, made of wrought iron, welded together in a manner somewhat resembling the human form, and containing a few decomposed human bones. None of the New Smyrna refugees were then living, but there are those alive now who remember having heard their parents say that “two cages containing the remains of some pirates were hanging outside the city gates when they came to St. Augustine from Smyrna, after the English left it, and buried them just in the manner they were found by the butchers.â€
Although many inhuman acts have been committed by the Spaniards, they are not chargeable with all the atrocities perpetrated in the world. Señor B. Oliveros thus relates what he saw on the day they were dug out: “One evening, a little before sunset, I noticed a number of persons collected around the city gates, and proceeded there to ascertain the cause of so many people, when I spied the two cages standing against the city gate-posts.†He, being a gunsmith, succeeded in obtaining one, which he said was most excellent wrought iron, of which he made good use. The other cage was taken in charge by the Spanish officers, and locked in the fort for safe keeping until it could be sent to Spain as a relic, where old persons now living here saw it with feelings of terror—they then being children. Thus, instead of being exhibited as a relic of the Spanish Inquisition at Washington, as has been representedso frequently, it is retained in Madrid as a specimen of English barbarity. The cages were no worse punishment than that of the old English law for aggravated offenses: “That the perpetrator be drawn and quartered alive.†And who can number those that have perished in the English pillories?
No nation of people in the world can wash their hands entirely from cruel conduct, or show a clear record for the humane deportment of all its ancestry, remembering infallibility has left its impress nowhere except on the works and ways of God.
Some of those people usually designated as Indians, whose isolated existence is concealed in mystery, are here in Fort Marion, fettered with the forms of civilization, to which their adaptability of character conforms them with as good a grace as the circumstances will permit. That these tawny-skinned creatures have constitutions of iron there is no doubt, as their general appearance indicates a life of fatigue to which ease is a stranger. They are subjected to much exposure in pursuing the wild herds that rush with the precipitancy and speed of the mountain torrent, together with the days and weeks they spend with only the canopy of heaven for a covering, which increases their powers of endurance. Many times they retire supperless, and, when game is abundant, gorge themselves to gluttony, after which, like the stupid anaconda, they roll up for digestion, to supplant the place of more moderation. It is the testimony of all those who have lived among the Indians, that there exists a natural feeling of opposition to civilization,when not weakened by wars, or overpowered with superior numbers.
Did it ever occur to us highly enlightened people, while looking at the native dress of these savages, wrapped in their blankets, that clothing for the lower limbs was of but recent origin? Trousers were never worn by the Hebrews, Greeks, or Romans. The idea is said to have originated with the Gauls, the source from which our fashions are now received. The garment worn by the ancients was woven in one piece, about twelve feet in length and half the width, fastened on the right shoulder. It was secured with a girdle in folds at the waist when they started on long journeys, which was termed “girding the loins.†This seamless coat was never out of fashion, and worn, if no accident happened to it, for generations. Think of a young man now wearing his father’s coat, to say nothing of his great-grandfather’s! It would be regarded as a synonym of extreme poverty, however rich the fabric from which it was formed might be woven.
The locality from which these Indians were brought was formerly designated The American Desert, located beyond the Arkansas River; but, as no remarkable barren country has been found there, the name was changed to Plains. The aborigines first found on the discovery of America, and those roaming through the Western wilds, are of quite different material. Those on the Atlantic coast were planters—cultivators of the soil. The Western Indians range through an area of two thousandmiles in extent, with no abiding-place but the camp-fires, around which they gather at night to rest, after shooting during the day the buffalo that supplies all their necessities—clothing, tent-covers, shoes, and strings for their bows; also an article of commerce for trafficking with the whites. An attempt at a treaty with these children of nature would have never been productive of any good. The most feasible plan for the present has been adopted—to capture a portion of them, which will have a tendency to awe the remainder. Force is the only weapon to be used. They are the Ishmaelites of the West. The names of the tribes represented here are the Cheyennes, Comanches, Kiowas, and Arapahoes. The Comanches are the most numerous of any tribe now existing, and have for many years been a terror to Texas and frontier settlers. Entire districts have been depopulated by them. While they exert a sleepless vigilance over their own possessions, they are constantly making predatory incursions upon their neighbors. The Texas Rangers acquired the great skill, of which we saw such frequent exhibits during the war, in spending a portion of each day skirmishing with these Indians. They are bold and warlike, with a home on the grassy plains, whose kingdom is conquest, their throne a horse, upon which, when once seated, with their arrows and lasso, they acknowledge no umpire but death. More than three hundred years since, when first discovered, they had dogs for beasts of burden—horses never having been used among them. Plunder is what they livefor, and trophies what they fight for—it is considered disgraceful for them to return to camps empty-handed: no glory then awaits them, or words of kindness.
The Cheyennes have a rude system of representing their ideas by picture-writing, which may be traced up to the highest type of communicating thought by letter-writing. In this manner they have preserved legends, written history, and recorded songs.
The pantomimic movements of these Indians are all the language of signs. Each yelp has its import, by which means they can converse with one another, although their dialect may differ. Riding with the tails of their ponies braided is a key-note to hostilities. It is a remarkable peculiarity, in regard to their language, that they have retained it, however much associated with other tribes, which is illustrated by the Arapahoes and Cheyennes living in close proximity, indulging in freaks of fighting and friendship, as their inclination dictates, communicating with each other only by gestures or interpreters. They inhabit the valley of the Platte River, always ready to receive presents, talk in good faith of peace, but hardly have the words ceased to echo from their lips before they are holding a council of war, and making preparations for a descent upon any thing of value they may have discovered during their parley. They eat the flesh of canines with a relish that places all Government rations at a discount. Their visitors are expected to partake with them as a mark of friendship.
The Kiowa and Arapahoe tribes appear to have oratorical powers not possessed by the others, and their native eloquence has never been improved by education. Sa-tan-ta, a former chief of the Kiowas, when taken by the Government for numberless depredations, pleaded his own cause with such powerful effect he was dubbed “The Orator of the Plains.†There is no doubt that the patriarchs among them prefer peace, but the young warriors are fond of fighting. With them it is an inborn instinct, like a bird for the air.
No life can be imagined fraught with greater dangers and privations than that of soldiers in search of Indians, to be found lurking with their missiles of destruction behind trees, grass-blades, or in any covert from which they can discharge these death-dealing weapons, in real or fancied security. The wild animals, driven by necessity, are always in readiness to pluck the bones of the first object they see, whether man or beast. Then the terrible thirst the poor soldiers endure, to be slaked with bitter waters, which destroy instead of refreshing them; the starving mules and horses of uncertain ages, whose flesh they have devoured like hungry dogs; the frosted limbs upon which they have limped until life seemed a burden. The fate of those who have preceded them is constantly in view; their companions are found lying near the last Indian trail with their bones bleaching, or their bodies filled with arrows, according to the number present when they were killed—no warrior is satisfied until he has pierced his bleeding, quivering flesh with a barbedpoint. Many of the arrows used have been poisoned by dipping them in the decayed hearts and livers of the buffaloes they have killed and then dried—a wound from one of them being equally as fatal in its effects as the virus from a dissecting knife.
During the stay of these red men efforts have been made to teach them the use of boots and breeches, but the practical utility of either is of little import to them. Their first movement on returning West will no doubt be to drop their Government clothes, and resume the blanket and leggins.
DURING the year 1690, after the appointment of Don Quiroga Loada as Governor of Florida, the water was discovered to be making encroachments from the bay into the town. A proposition was then made to the residents that a wall should be constructed from the castle to the plaza. At this time the sum of eight thousand dollars was raised, and a wall of coquina built, a portion of which can yet be seen. The present sea-wall, which is nearly a mile in length, extending below the barracks, was commenced in 1837, completed in 1843, at an expense of one hundred thousand dollars, the entire foundation being of coquina, mounted with a coping of granite, four feet wide. It is here young lovers delight to promenade in mid-winter, breathing words of tenderness and love, while the bright moonbeams silver the waves beneath their feet.
On the north side of the town, near the fort, stands what is left of the city gates, the most interesting relic that remains from a walled city. The gates are gone, the architecture of the two towers, or pillars, remaining being purely arabesque, surmounted by a carved pomegranate. Like the relics at Mount Vernon, if a protection is not built around these pillars, the hand of vandalism will soon have
Remains of the St. Augustine City Gateway.Remains of the St. Augustine City Gateway.
them destroyed, as so many careless visitors are constantly chipping off fragments. The sentry-boxes are much defaced, their foundation being a cement, the art of making it now being lost.
North of the fort, about one-quarter of a mile, on a slightly elevated plat of ground, there stood over three hundred years ago an Indian village, called Tapoquoi. Upon this spot now remains the foundation of a church, known as “Nuestra Señora de la Leche.†Two hundred and seventy-five years since a most inhuman act was committed here by the Indians. Father Blas de Rodriguez, a Franciscan friar, having administered reproof to a young chieftain for indulging in practices which did not belong to his profession, was warned in a menacing manner to prepare for death. He remonstrated with the Indians, trying to dissuade them from their wicked designs. However, all his tears and entreaties were unavailing. Finally, as a last request, he asked the privilege of celebrating mass before being forced to try the realities of another world. His fiendish, blood-thirsty persecutors crouched during the service like beasts of prey, waiting for an opportune moment to seize their innocent victim. Hardly had the words of supplication ceased for his enemies, before his murderers, as if impatient for the sacrifice, rushed upon him with their war-clubs, crashing him in a most shocking manner, bespattering the altar with his blood, while streams of his life’s-gore covered his snowy vestments. They threw his mutilated remains into the field, but nothing disturbed them until a Christian Indiangave them sepulture. An emotion of sadness is produced in the mind of the sensitive visitor while surveying the ruins of this chapel—“fragments of stone, reared by hands of clayâ€â€”isolated from human habitation, where no sounds now break the silence but sighing winds and surging waves from a restless sea.
The fact has long since been demonstrated beyond a doubt that St. Augustine is the home of the rose as well as the orange, which can be seen from the following description of one called “La Sylphide,†which grew in the yard of Señor Oliveros, on St. George’s Street: “This remarkable rose-tree before its death attained to the height of about twenty feet, the main stalk being fifteen inches in circumference and five inches in diameter, the whole covering an area of seventeen feet, yielding annually between four and five thousand beautiful buds. But its glory has now departed. While crowds gathered to admire it, a worm was eating at the heart, thus withering its creamy petals, blighting the tender buds, which never opened their velvet coverings to greet the sunlight, or kiss the morning breeze, as it came from its home in the sea.â€
Many who have never spent a winter in Florida think there is no religion, or churches either, which is quite the reverse, as the finest pulpit-talent in the North visit St. Augustine during the winter to rest and prepare for the arduous and responsible duties which await them on their return. The change of scenery and surroundings give these clergymen inspiration, when visitors often listen to some heavenlysermons. Imagine a Sabbath here in January, pleasant as a June holiday, North, among the roses, with a soft air floating through the house, which much resembles a new-born spring.
The Presbyterian church is a good, old-fashioned, well-preserved specimen of coquina walls. Many pleasant faces, whose homes are far away in icy regions, worship here every Sabbath. The table in front of the pulpit has a tall vase filled with the most beautiful flowers that ever bloomed in any clime—rose-buds, tinted like the sunset sky, orange-blooms, pomegranates, and snowy jasmines, all fresh from their bath in the morning dew, exhaling their sweet odors, mingled with the pæans of God’s people—thus giving a holy peace to this blessed hour. The flowers are from the gardens of Messrs. Atwood and Alexander, who both have a cultivated taste for the beautiful. Two young men have just walked in, who are obliged to talk, whether they say any thing of importance or not. One of them remarked, “I think flowers in a church look too gushing!†This house, which is capable of containing over four hundred people, is filled nearly every Sabbath.
Dr. Daniel F. March, the author of “Night Scenes in the Bible,†preached to-day. He always tells us something sweet to think of during the week, to lighten life of half its burden, that we can take along and travel its rough, rugged paths, singing instead of sighing. While associated with so much that is pleasant, the earth appears like a purified pedestal to a higher life, rather than a vale of wickedness.Dr. March has given a dissertation to-day upon small matters, which make up the great sum of life. He says: “Thousands of homes in our land might be made heaven by kind words. One little pleasant sentence spoken in the morning will ring all day in a sensitive heart like the song of a seraphim.â€
The Episcopal church, situated on the plaza, is a neat Gothic structure, with stained glass windows of exquisite design, which resemble the inner furnishing of an elegant city church more than a little chapel down by the sea. It was commenced in 1827, and consecrated in 1833, by Bishop Bowen, of South Carolina. This church owns beautiful grounds, filled with a tropical growth, adjoining it, on the south-west side of the plaza. The land formerly belonged to the Spanish Government, whose claim ceased when the province was ceded to the United States. This property, then, by a special act of Congress, was given to the Church, to be under the control and management of the wardens and vestry, the act being confirmed February 8, 1827, when, in 1857, it was leased to a private party for the term of twenty-five years. It is a piece of property that involves a curious question—the Spanish or English measurement of a few feet of ground, which takes in or leaves out the veranda from the front of the most desirable residence in the city, formerly owned by Dr. Bronson. The question has never been decided who owns the veranda, but the Church, having no use for it, has never issued a possessory warrant. Dr. Root, a venerable and most exemplaryclergyman, is their pastor now, who ministers to them in holy things.
At no place in the world can a greater variety of peculiar people be seen during the winter, with their idiosyncrasies and eccentricities cropping out, for the amusement of some, and the annoyance of others, than at St. Augustine. One of these peculiar folks, of the masculine gender, can be seen every Sabbath morning in one of the churches. His devotions during the service are profound—his spiritual nature appears absorbed in humble confessions. At his side, on the cushion, reclines his constant companion—a little, black, shaggy dog, fastened to the seat. His master, having an aversion to strangers sitting by him, places his dog there as a protection against intruders. At the close of the service, the dog and master both leave the church with a regularity that has been remarked by all those who attend this place of worship. It was one Sabbath morning in March of 1878, while the orange-blossoms were exhaling their fragrance, the birds singing their songs of joy, combined with the perfection of a day which increased the desire for a stroll to the woods, and far away, that this dog and his master were seen approaching. The dog turned into the church, when the master stopped, beckoned, and tried to call him out, but all in vain—no effort could dissuade the dog from his regular custom of church-going, and the master had to attend church also, but against his own inclination on this occasion. This man is one of those harmless eccentrics whosefreaks no one would think of interfering with, or trying to deprive him of, more than the crutch of the aged, or the spar from a drowning man. The most remarkable part of this story is yet to be told. His acquaintances in the North, who, seven years since, knew that he was an inmate of a lunatic asylum in New York, and supposing him there now, could scarcely credit the statement that he had been spending seven delightful winters in St. Augustine, chaperoning the ladies, with whom he is a great favorite, although the current of his matrimonial felicity has been stirred to the foundation, and never yet settled.
From the above facts, it can be seen that St. Augustine was not only supposed to contain the fountain of youth, but has, in reality, by its equable atmospheric influences, deprived the lunatic of his madness.
Among other attractions, St. Augustine contains a Public Reading-room and Circulating Library, both being the enterprise of kind-hearted, benevolent citizens and visitors, among the most prominent of whom we find the name of J. L. Wilson, Esq. The Reading-room is furnished with daily and weekly papers, together with periodicals from all parts of the United States, where time can be passed very pleasantly in obtaining a knowledge of the events taking place in the outside world. The Library contains about two thousand judiciously-selected volumes—most of them being late and standard works, from the best authors, in both Europe and America. Library-books are lent toresponsible persons, who will return them within a prescribed time without injury. All contributions, either in books or money, will be thankfully received and properly used.
A SEA-CRAB.A SEA-CRAB.
The important question with most visitors wherever they go is, What do we have to eat? as though the sole object of their lives was gormandizing. The market in St. Augustine is well supplied with eatables. Vessels from New York arrive weekly with groceries consigned to one or more of the various firms of Messrs. Hamlin & Co., Genovar & Brother, Lyon & Co., large wholesale and retail dealers, which are furnished to their customers on more reasonable terms than purchasers would think possible. During most of the winter months fresh strawberries, cabbage, and lettuce, sparkling with the morning dew, are sold on the streets, besides celery, turnips, sweet and Irish potatoes, wild turkeys and ducks, together with plenty of venison and beef. It is a treat to visit the fish-market at earlydawn, and see the boats come in with their live fish of various kinds—drum, mullet, flounder, sheep-head, red bass, crabs, etc.
Fine Matanzar oysters are kept for sale in or out of the shell, as the purchaser may choose. If any appearance of starvation has ever faced visitors here, no one has perished here from hunger. It is true, there have been times when the demand for certain articles has exceeded the supply a day or two only, but now good, palatable, life-sustaining food can be obtained; also fresh milk, as some of the citizens are making dairies a specialty. Very sweet oranges are sold from Dr. Anderson’s grove by the cart-load, while some others have almost every variety produced, including the Lisbon, Chinese, Maltese, Tangerine, Seville, and Mandarin, or Clove orange.
Hotels here, with high-sounding names and inviting appearance, are well kept. The St. Augustine, Magnolia, and Florida Houses, have the most rooms, while the Sunnyside has taken a front seat for first-class accommodations with all its patrons. Nearly every house rents rooms or takes boarders, and many of them feed well—among whom we find the names of Mr. George Greeno, Mr. Medicis, and Miss Lucy Abbott, as extremely popular.
Some who visit Florida expect gratuitous offerings from the residents for the great favor shown them in coming, and when they find every thing is cash on delivery, a general fault-finding is commenced on extortion—this exercise being the only escape-valve for their bottled wrath. The far-famedhospitality of the Southern people is a record of the past, from the force of surrounding circumstances, now obsolete, as Webster says with regard to some of his Dictionary words: with most of them it is a question of bread, and whatever produce or fruit of any kind is raised—from a ground-pea to a ripe sweet orange—the question is asked, How can I turn it into something by which my family may be supported? The South has now neither wealth nor much leisure to spend without value received. The inhospitality in not giving fruits is only one of the many sources of complaint—the boarding-houses and hotels being the most prolific cause for disagreeable remarks. The most eligible houses of entertainment, with scarcely an exception, are kept by Northern people, who have charged two dollars for a dinner with the most unblushing effrontery, while the Floridian is satisfied with fifty cents for a square meal. There are also those reared here who ask whatever they think visitors will stand, regardless of principle, but they always bear brow-beating, when they come down to prices within range of any ordinary purse.
Many speak of this favorably as a summer-resort, but when the season advances into May, the winter-visitors all leave. Then a painful silence pervades every thing, unbroken only by an occasional yawn from the residents, who are tired doing nothing. These demonstrations sound sad, as if from the tomb, and where the echoes cease to reverberate we have never been able to determine. The climate, from its insular exposure, is said to be lovely even in August.
We are now enjoying moonlight nights, about which so many have so much rhapsodized. There is no doubt that the nocturnal appearance of the heavens in this latitude contrasts with a Northern one in the same manner that two paintings differ—the warmth, richness, and brilliancy of the one being in opposition to the poverty and indistinctness of the other. On account of the latitude, there is no twilight—the “fairy web of day is never hung outâ€â€”but from blazing sunshine into darkness we are at once precipitated—no witchery or poetry to be found between the magic hours intervening.
Every season finds a large number of nice people at this place, who require a change of climate, from the severity of cold, piercing winds, to the blandness of an Indian summer. The care-worn come to rest, writers to find inspiration; for here, fanned by the sea-breeze, does not “light-winged fancy†travel at a swifter pace in the daylight? and when night comes, lulled by the surf, we can listen to the “great sea calling from its secret depths.â€
The inquiry is often made by those who have never visited here, How do you kill time in that ancient city? To the historian, there is no spot so well adapted to meditation on the past, where associations are awakened with greater rapidity, when the Indians held undisputed sway, only dreaming of plenty and the happy hunting-grounds beyond; but, suddenly as the Montezuma monarch, their territory was wrested from them by the Spaniards, whom these unlettered savages at first regarded as children of the Great Spirit; but when the ensigns ofauthority were unfurled, their country overran by myrmidons, and the power of their cazique sneered at, then the illusion vanished—the truth dawning that they were only sojourners whose presence did not add to the happiness of the newly self-constituted sovereigns of their country.
Three distinct classes of visitors come here—the defiant, the enthusiastic, and the indifferent. The defiant spend their time in assailing, “with vehement irony,†every thing with which they are placed in contact, ringing changes upon any thing disagreeable to them, until their companions are wearied beyond measure. The enthusiastic rise more or less on the wings of their fertile imagination, when exaggerated accounts, highly colored, are written about Florida as it appeared to them—the change from the North to a land clothed in the perpetual verdure of spring-time being so great, they were enraptured in a manner that others of less delicate susceptibilities have failed to realize. The indifferent tourist is an anomaly to everybody. Why he ever thought of leaving home to travel, when with his undemonstrative nature he appears so oblivious to all scenes and sights around him, is an unsolved problem. He maintains an unbroken reticence on every occasion, the mantle of silence being thrown about all his movements, while his general appearance evinces the same amount of refinement as a polar bear, his perceptive powers the acuteness of an oyster, his stupidity greater than Balaam’s saddle-animal.
St. Augustine, 1876.—The minds of the citizensand visitors in the city have been on thequi vivefor several days, in anticipation of witnessing the realities, in miniature, connected with a buffalo-chase on the prairies, in which princes from Europe have participated, regarding it as the crowning feat of their exploits in the New World. For days previous ladies were discussing the propriety of their presence, as the animal might be so unmanageable as to imperil their safety; very brave lads, who have been sufficiently courageous to fire a pistol at an alligator while in Florida, thought they might be safe in the fort if they were to climb upon the walls, and very small boys concluded their fathers would keep the buffalo from hurting them.
Long before 3 o’clock the fort was enlivened by those bent on sight-seeing. Here were the richly-dressed ladies and their escorts, with New-York-style mustaches, where only a restricted smile ever rested, gazing through their eye-glasses toward every thing that came near enough for them to take sight at, as though a fixed stare through optical instruments was more excusable and allowable than with the naked eye. Children of all sizes and colors came in crowds. There were more old people present, whose silvery hair looked like a “crown of glory,†than could be seen in any other town at once in the United States. Like Ponce de Leon, they visit St. Augustine in search of the famous waters which would give back their youth, restore and strengthen their feeble limbs with renewed vigor, that would be perpetual as the verdure and beauty by which they are surrounded. Nor are they disappointed inall respects; for if they do not grow younger, they prolong their days to enjoy more of God’s pure air and sunlight, mingled with the perfume of flowers and singing of sweet birds, than they would in their own homes.
As the time for the chase approached, painted Indians peered from every part of the fort, most of them dressed in full costume, their heads trimmed with feathers from birds of varied plumage, the most conspicuous of which was the American turkey-tail. They were wrapped in gaily-colored blankets, profusely trimmed with beads, all of which trailed in a verynegligeemanner, while they seemed as much excited with the surroundings as any of the spectators. The Indians regard death with much less terror than do the whites. They say that if in hunting a horse falls and kills them, they will go where game is abundant, always living there—thus, like the Christian, making death the golden gate to glory.
No bugle echoed through the woodlands wild as a signal for the chase to commence, nor well-trained dogs, with the lead-hound barking fiercely from the excitement of a fresh trail which indicated a near approach to game. Their captain, to whom real buffalo-hunts on the boundless prairies are no novelty, led the van, followed by four painted, gaily-dressed, full-rigged Indians. They all rode as though their homes were in the saddle, and swiftly as if bright visions of fleet-footed game were feeding in green fields, only waiting to be captured by being shot at with their well-aimed arrows. They made some fine exhibitions of horsemanship, peculiarto their methods of warfare and hunting. In riding, they described circles, as if surrounding a foe in ambush, at the same time discharging their arrows, at a distance of two hundred yards, with great accuracy, while their horses were running at full speed. Their arrows perforated a small building, which they used as a target, penetrating so far they could not be removed without being broken. Gathered in groups outside the fort, near the hunting-ground, were many boys and young men of the more daring class, who displayed their bravery by a foot-race which put Weston, or any other walker, in the shade, whenever the buffalo looked toward them. Every thing was a success, except the buffalo, which was a small steer, that would not scare on any account. He was entirely too gentle for the fever-heat of excitement to which the feelings and imagination of the crowd had been wrought up. He shook his head once or twice, and started as though he might create a sensation, but would not keep far enough ahead for the hunters to make any thing like a good charge on him. Finally an arrow, sped from the bow of White Horse, pierced his vitals to the depth of four or five inches, killing him instantly. His throat was then cut, after which he was dressed and hauled into the fort, where ample preparations were made for his reception, with immense fires and kettles of hot water. Some of the Indians ate the heart and liver raw, which process did not look very appetizing to a delicate stomach. They always cook their food before eating it when in their native wilds, except the heart and liver,which they sometimes consume as a medicine. At a given signal among themselves, those not engaged in cooking commenced dancing. In their movements the poetry of music, or motion, has no votaries; but a slight approach toward it is made, as they all take the Grecian bend, and keep it, while going through their gyrations. When weary they group together around the fires, turning their right foot on the side, and seating themselves with an ease no studied art could teach them, and then they rest more free from care than the heart that beats beneath ermine, or reclines on velvet cushions. When their meat was cooked they terminated the day’s exercise with a feast, which they all seemed to enjoy very much, each Indian consuming about four pounds of flesh, with a greedy gusto before which an epicure would retire in disgust. The grand war-dance of the season came off after dark, when prisoners were captured and treated with sham hostilities. The mind of the imaginative could portray what would be done in reality to a helpless captive in their power.
We regard these poor savages as only a connecting link between the herd that roams the “verdant wasteâ€â€”who see the Great Spirit in clouds, and hear him in the crashing storms—and ourselves. May we not inquire if their condition cannot be improved, and their voices, which only shout for conquest over a vanquished enemy, or in the chase while victimizing the huge buffalo with bleeding, gaping wounds, be taught to sing the songs of redeeming grace for a ransomed world?
AT no other town in the State is the entertainment for visitors more of a success than here, and one of those pleasant occasions brought a large number of happy hearts together, to witness a grand opening of the Lunch-basket on the North Beach.
Many have been the devices, in all ages of the world, by every nation peopling the habitable globe, for a relaxation from the sterner duties of life. Among the first to which persons of various tastes have resorted is archery, which was practiced by that wild outcast, Ishmael, “whose hand was against every man, and every man’s hand against him.†We also read in the Pentateuch of a great and mighty hunter named Nimrod; while conspicuously prominent among the biblical characters Job poetizes upon drawing large finny monsters from the deep waters, and at a later date in the same profession of the apostles.
Many monks of the Middle Ages in France are said to have delighted more in the chase at times than the “trumpet of the gospel.†Bull-fights, as an amusement, are supposed to have originated with the Moors, and are still practiced by the Spaniards, many of them being of Moorish origin. Grounds in the vicinity of St. Augustine have been located, beyond a doubt, where this cruel and barbarouscustom was indulged in by early Spanish settlers. Archery has been the most popular pastime here this season. The Indians have made the bows and arrows for compensation and employment—more arrows having been thrown by the “sons of the forest†than hurled from the shafts of Cupid.
We can produce, as patrons of the hook-and-line art, prophets and apostles in ancient times, kings of more recent date, and Izaak Walton, who lived nearly two hundred years ago, down to the truant boy that throws his bent pin, baited with an innocent worm, or fly, into the clear running brook, at which an old fish looks, as if about to nibble, then wags his tail and sails away in search of something that he can take in without being taken himself.
A very worthy divine, Bishop Hall, has wisely remarked: “Recreation to the mind is like whetting to the scythe. The mind that is always mowing becomes dull for the sharpening which relaxation affords it; so the blade that is always cutting is blunted for the want of an edge that grinding can give.â€
The above remarks on recreation were suggested by an attendance upon the opening of the Lunch-basket on the North Beach, opposite Anastasia Island, at a place called by the classic name of Parathina, from Homer’s “Iliadâ€:Eban kerukes para thina tou poluphloisboio thalassees—“The heralds went to the beach of the high-sounding sea.†A long-looked-for and much-needed means of conveyance—a nice little steamer, called the Mayflower—has made us happy already by its presence and business-dispatching movements. She is a light-running little craft, that glides gracefully as a swan. Sailing and rowing are now lost sight of by visitors wishing to take a little ride on the water, as the wind never dies out and leaves them, or the oar-hands grow weary, on a steamer. The two first trips she carried over seventy passengers, which made the day pay very well.
Mr. J. F. Whitney, who, like all the editorial fraternity, is ever busy in trying to suggest something for either mind or body, being the prime mover in this undertaking, has erected four pavilions, and a cook-room, with a range. One of the smaller pavilions is carpeted, supplied with periodicals, rocking-chairs, and a bed for the sick to rest. The largest pavilion is nearly two hundred feet in length, and over twenty feet wide; in front is an extended view of the beach, beyond which the restless sea is rolling up new-born waves at every influx of its waters. Here are also detached dining-tables for the accommodation of parties coming together. The floor is level and smooth as it can be made, where, it has already been whispered,
—— youth and pleasure meet,To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
—— youth and pleasure meet,To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
—— youth and pleasure meet,To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
The bill of fare for the occasion was equal to any New York restaurant. Broiled oysters vanished with the ejaculation, “Splendid!†All eatables shared a similar fate, with a superlative adjective attached, as the only one which could express the gratification of the guests. Champagne-bottleswere relieved of their sparkling contents in a brief period of time. Ice-cream and pound-cake were soon reckoned among past pleasures, while everybody was eloquent on the subject of the surroundings.
The North Beach has now more attractions and amusements than any other point in the State, and when the arrangements are completed with a stud of riding and driving horses, it may well be styled the Newport of the South. Like Scipio the Great, after the repast many wandered by the “murmuring sea,†and gathered shells to take home with them as mementoes of pleasant memories in a sunny clime.
When refined hearts and well-cultivated minds meet in a spot made grand by the great Maker of all things, and rendered comfortable to our wants by the hand of Art, where only God and his heavenly wonders have dwelt in solitude for so many years, may we not say Scripture is being fulfilled—that “the wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad?†Yes, glad with happy voices in congenial companionship, and joyous with the sweets of social intercourse. It is, indeed, “a well in the desertâ€â€”a place provided, where persons in the pursuit of pleasure can assemble and forget all adverse religious tenets, political differences, or personal animosities—where secret and selfish purposes in life are lost sight of—whether gold is up or down, what are the last figures on the bulletin-boards of the “bulls and bears,†the fractional variations of upland or sea-island cotton, being among the subjects absorbed in the enjoyment of the hour.
FLORIDA RAY-FISH, OR SKATE.FLORIDA RAY-FISH, OR SKATE.
Among others came the never-tiring fisherman, with reel and fancy bait, who appeared much delighted with an opportunity of having sea-room for the exhibition of his skill. He did not have to follow the old rule of “fishing inch by inch,†with an indefinite idea of when he would have a nibble. Here is an illustration of his first bite, which caused him to retire, dragging his prize to shore, thinking, perhaps, he might have captured some Pythagorean metamorphosis, as it resembled neither fish norflesh. Upon summoning those present to his relief, the following decision was rendered: A ray-fish, or skate, having a cartilaginous body, of nearly a white color, with pectoral fins largely developed, the caudal extremity being elongated into a whip-like form, armed with spine, which makes it an ugly customer for collision. The female, being oviparous, is provided with parchment-like cases, forming an extension, called by seamen “sailor’s purses.â€
The moon rose that night and looked down upon a joyous crowd seated on the Mayflower, with a fine band from the St. Augustine Hotel. Music on the water—who can describe its enchanting influences! It was high tide when we arrived on the North Beach, when planks were put out for the party to walk on, while the gentlemen and steamer-crew assisted them to the shore. One lady remarked, in crossing, “Sometimes I take a black hand, and then a white one.†We were not particular about color then; it was strong hands we wanted to keep us from falling in the water, as the waves were washing over our feet. The band played sweetly, the dancing was graceful, the refreshments abundant. When returning, the last trip, the steamer grounded on a sand-bar, as it was ebb-tide, when the Captain of the Bache Survey steamer kindly sent his long-boat and brought us all to the wharf.
St. Augustine, March, 1877.—The work of enlivening the old town, for the delectation of visitors and excursionists from other points, was undertaken here to-day. Everybody was merry, and it was almost incredible to see the number of dignifiedpersons, on other occasions, so completely carried along with the tide of simple sight. All, apparently, had their laugh set on trigger, ready to go off with the slightest vibration in the air. The streets and sea-wall of St. Augustine, together with the balconies, windows, and doors, in the vicinity, were the scene of preparation for a grand gala-day of sight-seeing. The vessels in the harbor were dressed in flags of every nationality, and waved free as the winds that tossed them to and fro. The post-band played stirring strains, containing more sound than sweetness, to quicken the impulses of the occasion. At a given signal, cannons were fired, when a fleet of snowy sails shot out from the wharf, resembling a flock of sea-gulls. The yacht-racing opened the day’s sport. They all sailed swiftly when first under way, but one after another kept falling off and dropping behind, until the Wanderer and Seminole were left alone to decide the contest. They moved like something possessed with life, more than canvas spread to the breeze for power to propel them. Finally the Wanderer won, amid the wildest shouts of joy from every side, and many congratulations for the owner. The cannons fired with as much demonstration as though a great battle had just been decided. A horse-race was announced as the next excitement. Eight jockey-dressed men and boys of different hues, mounted on bare-backed horses of undistinguishable pedigree, but marsh tackey predominant, were ready for the curriculum. They darted off with the speed of a Grecian hippodrome, when they imitated the gait ofalmost every untrained quadruped. On the home-stretch two of the riders rolled off easily, as though it was a portion of the programme for which they were prepared. Then came the hurdle-race, with the hurdles woven from cedar and scantling. The running was sport, but the jumping was without comparison. One of the horses caught his feet and plunged over, rider and horse together, but, neither being hurt, everybody shouted with glee. Another of the Arabian steeds carried the hurdles off victorious with his hind feet, but did not fall. A foot-race by the Indians was then declared with as much gravity as though a Grecian contestant, after all the abstinence and training of an ancient athlete, proposed to try his strength and speed for a victor’s crown. Three or four big Indians, dressed with fancy caps and moccasins, walked to the pedestrian race-grounds, after which one started to run, but fell. The crowd was too big for them, and the reward too small. Two of the natives took their places, and made very good time, but not quite equal to a professional walker. Then came the hand-barrow race, with that unhistoric vehicle about which poets never sing. Ten black boys, with ten bright bandages over their eyes, started to run a race across the east side of the plaza. They all commenced at the word three, the band played, the people shouted, while the boys ran; the wheel-barrows were running a race, and so was everybody else. One boy went into the river-basin before he could be stopped; another rushed against a carriage, and set the horses to kicking and the ladiesto screaming; a man was knocked down and run over—he was a prim, particular bachelor, with fine estates, whose birthday is best known to himself—it required the combined efforts of two servants to brush the sand from his clothes and place him in presentable trim again. Everybody in the vicinity was liable to be under moving orders without a moment’s warning. Finally the race ended, and the victor crowned with greenbacks, which he could appreciate more highly than the laureate wreath of a conqueror, fresh from the goal with his coronet of fading glories.
The last performance was the greasy pole, with a fat ham on the top of it, placed in the center of the plaza. What a climbing, scrambling, and tumbling down, amid exclamations from the boys: “Bob, what made you let go?†“Tom, go up, and I will hold you!†“Put on more sand, and then we can climb!†The plaza was crowded with spectators—scores of grandparents, all clapping their hands and laughing—large families, with all their children, were there. The scene before them required no explanation. Finally, after a struggle of two hours, the ham and money were won, when all retired from the varied and innocent sports of the day.
St. Augustine demonstrates the fact, beyond a doubt, that the cat is a musical animal. They sit under your windows, climb on the neighboring roofs, scream in any strain, from the lowest bass to the loudest soprano, and never tire until the stars pale in the sky; do not become dismayed becausea few pieces of coquina are thrown at them, glass bottles, or old boots—that only causes a change of position, when the voice rises an octave higher, on account of the escape from a little adventure. Here they congregate in crowds; they rehearse their exploits in excited strains, with untiring assiduity, for the entertainment of visitors, to prevent their receiving the impression thatSt. Augustine is a dull old place. Then the digestive organs of the departed are manufactured, and made to imitate the same dulcet tones in the halls of mirth, where so many derive pleasure, by turning themselves into more shapes than a captured sea-eel. At the St. Augustine Hotel they swallow all kinds of condiments to the sounds coming from these membranous strings, stretched beyond all marks of their former identity. With a satisfied smile, and no fears from indigestion, the invalid or consumptive consumes every variety of food, whether from land or sea, compounded into the latest styles of thecuisine, to the music of “Il Bachio,†or “A place in thy memory, dearest!†while ice-cream vanishes like dew to the melody, “Thou art so near, and yet so far!†or “Some one to love me!â€
THE longevity for which the inhabitants of St. Augustine have been remarkable is a proof of its healthfulness; indeed, the tenacity with which they cling to life, as well as the uncomplaining manner in which they endure every thing, is really wonderful. Several years since, an aged lady, who had been helpless for years before her death, remarked that Death seemed to have forgotten her—she remained here so long.
Some who have heretofore imagined that St. Augustine had no attractions but its antiquity must remember that new industries are constantly being developed, among the most recent of which is the manufacture of marmalade and wine from the native wild orange fruit. We had the pleasure of visiting both these enterprising establishments—first the marmalade factory, in charge of Señor S. B. Valls, a Cuban exile. His father, Señor Jose Valls, under the well-known brand of “El Pavo Real, Fabricada de Dulces,†or Sweetmeat and Guava Jelly-maker, in Havana, has won a world-wide reputation, having received the Paris Exposition medal, 1867. His method is original, and his sweetmeats better adapted to the American taste than those of Scotch make. The enterprise has met with great success, the demandalways exceeding the supply, and the moderate charges being also an attractive feature. He preserves lemons, limes, and figs in such a manner that they will keep for years. He makes an orange-bloom cordial, which must be, without doubt, the original nectar of the gods; for certainly there is nothing like it, the flavor perfectly resembling the odor of the orange-blossom; the sensation produced in swallowing it is like sailing on a summer sea.
The orange-wine manufactured by Genovar & Brother well deserves to supplant the miserable, adulterated, yeasty preparations which are sold and drunk daily by those whose minds are afterward in a constant state of doubt as to the amount of harm incurred by the potion imbibed.
It is April, and the season has arrived when visitors commence leaving; all amusements in which they delighted have become stale—even the yacht-races, which contributed so largely to the entertainment of those fond of boating; while outsiders are constantly under the impression that the boats are trying to tack for another course, making an effort to anchor, or turning in for a nap.
The Southern Indians imprisoned here for the past three years have been a subject of comment and amusement for most of the visitors, while their presence in the city was any thing but desirable to certain aggrieved persons, who succeeded in obtaining an escape-valve for their feelings by the following expressions, printed in theSavannah Morning News, entitled, “A Page from the Unwritten History of the Ancient Cityâ€:
“St. Augustine, Fla., March 4, 1878.—While the prominent points in St. Augustine, which present themselves to visitors, are written threadbare, there is an undercurrent, although felt by the suffering, that has never been stirred by the anxious inquirers after information. It is God’s poor—those reduced by circumstances over which they have no control. Many exclaim, Lo! the poor Indian; but none consider the avenues to employment which the presence of these scalping, murdering, human heart-eaters, are causing in this water-locked city by the sea. When teaching the Indian to appreciate the value of a Government which proposes to protect them, at the same time enabling them to participate in all the privileges of an enlightened organization, why cannot they be made self-sustaining, and hired out, as other convicts? What heroic deeds of greatness have they ever achieved, that they should be treated like prisoners of State, instead of inhuman fiends, at whose record of crime Satan would grin with delight? Many of them are permitted to roam with freedom, not only in every portion of the city, but in the country around, thus terrifying timid citizens with their presence, causing them to change their habitations to the town for protection. While they are fed and clothed by the Government, free, they hire themselves out at lower wages than poor laborers can work for, and be sustained. This has become a great source of grievance to the community, which they desire to have redressed by their removal. Much of the money they make is only to buy food for a pampered taste, which has been acquired sincethey came here, and not to sustain their existence. If labor has to compete with crime, the hand of industry with the bloody hand, where is the hope on which honesty is to hinge and work its way through the world? The whole can be told in a few words: While these sixty savages are here being employed in every department of manual labor, thus taking the bread from the mouths of dependent women and children, it is productive of suffering in our midst, whilst those advanced in life look in vain for a support to their sons, whose hands are tied by these savage oppressors.â€
Two weeks after the news of the pope’s death had been received in other cities, and the drapery of mourning become dusty, the cathedral bells here commenced tolling at sunrise, and continued the entire day until dusk. The chimes in Rome were never struck with more regularity, and when the sun sank to his home in the west a sigh of relief was felt, that every thing has an end. If the day was spent by the Catholics in mourning for the pope, the night was spent by the visitors in giving expression to the most jubilant demonstrations of joy—the festivities being gotten up by the Yacht Club, which appears to be the only central live-figure head-light in the city now. On this occasion the Yacht House was illuminated with Chinese lanterns, which encircled it over the water’s edge; calcium lights blazed with overpowering brilliancy, and the most dazzling rockets shot through the air like meteors, while the brass band discoursed very loud, stirring strains, and the little boats glided about on the bay,likeignes-fatui, with lights suspended on their masts or on their bows, glittering through the darkness, resembling a distant constellation. With the freedom of uncaged birds, fresh from bondage, every one appeared buoyant, giving themselves up to the pleasure of the hour with a kind ofabandonas if, after all, it might be a panoramic view produced by some Eastern Magi. After the illumination on the water was ended, the string-band commenced playing, when busy feet kept time to the harp and viol, without a thought of the confessional which would have to be met before the next sacrament.
For a few days past the weather has been rather capricious, the sunshine hidden behind damp clouds, and the wind more boisterous than sight-seekers enjoy. We imagine some of the tourists’ note-books are full enough of complaints. The weather is delicious now, the air all balm, the sky all blue, the bananas waving in the gentlest of breezes, the sea heaving softly under the sunlight. We shall miss this changeful sea at St. Augustine, the reviving air, the lovely palms, the mocking-bird upon whose happiness the day closed too soon, as from his perch in a neighboring orange-tree he trills his song of joy until the night is far spent.
St. Augustine, April, 1878.—The Indians have gone! Yes, the pets of some and the pests of others have left St. Augustine amidst the sympathetic demonstrations of a crowd, followed by the best wishes of all, that they may arrive safely at their points of destination. The marks of improvement are evident on the outside of them; but noneneed nurse the delusion that it has struck in. On being asked what they were going to do with their clothes when they went West, they replied, with a symbolic jerk, “Tear them off, and throw them away!†Think of Mrs. Black Horse and Mochi, with their heads dressed in fashionable Mother Goose hats, with plumes and white tissue veils, that had been given them by lady-visitors, their bodies rolled up in a buffalo-skin, before a campfire, after a long march in the rain, or fresh from a war-dance, with the dripping scalps of white men hung from their waists as trophies of bloody triumphs! They were delighted at the prospect of freedom; beating against rock walls and prison-bars was too much pressure for them—to which they yielded in sullen despair. They left their literature—religious picture-books and buffalo-hunts not being in harmony—“Moody and Sankey†song-books suddenly losing all charm for them, “Hold the Fort†being changed to “Leave the Fort.†They said, “Me man, no school.†Some of them could speak Spanish, and while here learned a little English. They corresponded with their kindred on the plains by picture-writing. A lady-visitor wished Minimic, or Eagle’s Head, to give her a letter written him by his wife, when he replied, “What white squaw do with my squaw’s letter?†The poetry of the idea was evidently lost on him.
The “noble red man†of the novel-writer and these coarse savages, whose rough nature repels all polish, are quite different. Three of these Indians, who have taken to the customs of the whites morekindly than the others, are to be sent North and educated, the expense incurred being the enterprise of private individuals.
A year previous to their departure, while the work of civilization was supposed to be progressing very rapidly, in the midst of untiring efforts on the part of Church-missionaries to convert them, one of the tribes was discovered plotting mutiny. They could not endure the strain of civilization—it was too much for them. White Horse, chief of the Kiowas, reckoning the number of moons long past since he had the promise of freedom, excited an insurrectionary movement among the Kiowas, twenty-four in number. When their intentions were manifested by insubordination, a squad of armed soldiers were ordered from the barracks to seize them after they had entered their mess-room in the casemate. The Indians were marched out in pairs, and searched, to which they submitted without resistance. A number of barbed, steel-pointed arrows, and pistols, were found on their persons. They did not intend a general massacre; only those who opposed them in their efforts to escape were to be murdered. The fort was closed for a day or two only, when White Horse and his principal accomplices—Lone Wolf, Woman’s Heart, and To-Zance—were put in irons. These Indians pined for their homes; their lofty, aristocratic natures revolted against the discipline to which they were subjected, as unmanly and unsuited to the dignity of a warrior, who had roamed with unrestrained movements over the plains, free as the herd which he killed. Most of the Indians,while here, employed their time in making bows and arrows, and polishing sea-beans, while the women worked over old bead moccasins, and freshened them up with new soles and buckskin linings, all of which were bartered to visitors—thus making their bondage more endurable, besides furnishing themselves with pocket-money.
As in time past, the old fort, that has lifted its turrets unmoved for centuries to the fierce gales which visit the coast, will again become the home of the lizard, a resort for bats, the abode of the owl, whose shrill screechings and weird movements make the darkness of night more suggestive of a ghoul-haunted castle, where unhappy spirits are supposed to assemble, when “coarser spirits wrapped in clay†are snoring to the ascending and descending scale of unwritten sounds.
Opposite St. Augustine is situated St. Anastasia Island, which was named for a celebrated saint in the Roman calendar of favorites. On this island is found the coquina, or shell-rock, from which the fort and many of the houses were built; here also roam the fleet-footed deer, catamount, and wild hog. At low tide the ponies and marsh-cows resort here to feed upon the long grass which grows so luxuriantly at all seasons. The cattle, while in pursuit of it, frequently become bogged, and die; but the horses, when reared here, are not so unfortunate, being lighter and more nimble-footed; when they get beyond their depth, and are sinking, they throw themselves on their sides, and commence floundering and rolling until they find a surface sufficientlysolid to sustain their weight, when they rise and quietly resume eating, as though nothing had occurred. Like all other places in this vicinity, it has historic records. It was here, in 1740, General Oglethorpe erected a battery of five pieces, four of which were eighteen-pounders. When he had made the preparations necessary for an attack on St. Augustine, he gave the Spanish Governor an invitation to surrender. General Oglethorpe received the reply that he would “be glad to shake hands with him in the castle.â€
The new light-house stands on this island—being constructed because the old one was found to be undermining by the action of the waves. The old coquina light-house was designed to subserve the double purpose of a fortress and a beacon, having strong walls and loop-holes, with a cannon on its summit, to be fired as a signal on the approach of a vessel. At night a light-wood fire was kept burning, which could be seen by vessels at sea for several miles.
On the coast below St. Augustine, surrounded by the briny waves, some distance from shore, bursts up a fresh-water spring, from which ships can obtain their supplies before going to sea. This remarkable fountain of fresh water is produced from one of those subterranean currents so frequent throughout the State, north of the Everglades, coming to the surface only when they reach a point considerably below the level of their sources, sometimes forming lakes, and at others channeling their way to the sea.
The coral reefs, so abundant in Florida, are the
FLORIDA REEF CORAL.FLORIDA REEF CORAL.
work of a tiny insect which operates only under water, after which the water deposits the lime that constitutes the limestone of Florida—many portions of the State having been subject to upheaval since the deposit of lime between the coral reefs. This lime formation being undoubtedly very recent, and having little solidity, is entered by the surface-water, which forms channels through it; thus, by the force of accumulated waters, it reaches the sea, thesechannels being constantly enlarged by the lime combining with the water, together with the abrading action of the currents; and when the rock is so weakened as to be unable to support the weight above, it falls, and the lime-sink is formed, or fresh-water springs, with no feeders on the surface, but supplied from below, burst up in mid-ocean, with sufficient force to displace the denser salt-water, or change the position of a vessel.
About sixty miles below St. Augustine, at Fort Moultrie, a council was held by the whites, in 1823, for the purpose of limiting the movements of the Seminoles to the southern portion of the State, thus interposing a white element between them and the Georgia Indians, to prevent an alliance in the event of war.
The Indians were the Nimrods of our country; they did not require large bodies of land for culture. The murder of McIntosh, in Georgia, caused many of the Indians to leave that State for Florida. Here they were called Seminoles, or runaways, being only refugees and fugitives, without a country or language. They adopted a dialect resembling the four Southern Indian tongues of which they formed a part—it being still retained by the remnant of the tribe inhabiting the Everglades.