she rises on the wings of fancy, and the rich, mellow streams of thought flow freely, buoyed up by visions which shadow no tumultuous cares, or sounds of woe, the fires of genius burning brightly on the altar of thought, as the blazing meteor which, at God’s command, guided the wandering Israelites to their promised rest. The versatility of talent she exemplifies so remarkably is really wonderful, while she may be classed among that gifted number who, in spite of prejudice or criticism, fastens the minds of her readers, taking them captive at will. She is now the star of the Sunny South, published in Atlanta, Georgia, from whose columns her pure thoughts are sparkling every week, to illumine the home circles of many Southern families. All her writings are characterized by that chaste freshness of originality, that earnestness of feeling, emanating from a truly pure heart, which have been poetically and truthfully described in the following lines:
Bryan! hers the words that glisten,
Opal gems of sunlit rain!
So much the woman, you may listen,
Heart-beats pulsing in her brain!
About sixteen miles from Tallahassee has been discovered another of those remarkable springs found in Florida. In order to reach it, we take the St. Mark’s train, sending a carriage in advance to meet us at Oil Station, six miles from Wakulla Spring. Few objects of interest are seen on the way; but here, where the woodman’s ax and the turpentine still are not silencing the sounds that have echoed through the airy forms of these forest-trees, which have stood as sentinels for centuries, we can listen to the music among the pines—a strange, unearthly moaning, vibrating movement of lanceolate leaves, the sound produced being attributable to the loose manner in which they are attached to the bark of their stems.
You may as well forbid the mountain-pines
To wag their high tops, and to make no noise
When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven.
The spring is reached at last, where we can feast our eyes with its pearly hues and changing, shimmering waters, dancing in the sunlight. It is about seventy-five yards wide and sixty in length, its greatest depth being one hundred and twenty-five feet. The water is blue limestone, but looks green from reflection, and very cold, said to produce a numbing effect upon those who try bathing in its transparent depths. It is the head-waters of Wakulla River, forming a bold stream at a single bound from its subterranean home. The following description of this spring, by a writer who visited it over a hundred years since, will give the reader a more correct idea than any recently-published articles, although many who visit it now think they have the keys of all knowledge in delineation, and a vast amount of wisdom will cease to illumine the world when their existence is extinguished:
“This charming nympheum is the product of primitive nature, not to be imitated, much less equaled, by the united effort of human power and ingenuity. As we approach it by water the mind of the inquiring traveler is previously entertained, and gradually led on to a greater discovery—first, by a view of the sublime dark grove, lifted up on shore by a range or curved chain of hills at a short distance from the lively green verge of the river on the east banks, as we gently descend floating fields of the nymphea in lumbo, with vistas of the live-oak, which cover a bay or cove of the river opposite the circular woodland hills. It is amazing and almost incredible what troops and bands of fish and other watery inhabitants are now in sight, all peaceable, and in what a variety of gay colors and forms, constantly ascending and descending, roving and figuring among one another, yet every tribe associating separately. We now ascended the crystal stream, the current swift; we entered the grand fountain, the expansive circular basin, the source of which rises from under the base of the high woodland hills, near half encircling it, the ebullition being astonishing and continual, though its greatest force or fury intermits regularly for the space of thirty seconds of time—the ebullition is perpendicular, upward, from a vast rugged orifice, through a bed of rocks a great depth below the common surface of the basin, throwing up small particles or pieces of white shells, which subside with the waters at the moment of intermission, gently settling down about the orifice, forming a vast funnel. After those moments when the waters rush upward the surface of the basin is greatly swollen, and then it is impossible to keep the boat, or any other floating vessel, over the fountain; but the ebullition quickly subsides—yet, before the surface becomes quite even, the waters rise again, and so on perpetually. The basin is mostly circular, sending out a constant stream into the river fifteen yards wide, and ten or twelve in depth. The basin and stream are both peopled with prodigious numbers and variety of fish and other animals, as the alligator, manatee, or sea-cow, in the winter season: part of the skeleton of one, which the Indians had killed last winter, lay upon the banks of the spring; the grinding teeth were about an inch in diameter, the ribs eighteen inches in length, and two inches and a half in thickness, bending with a gentle curve—these bones being esteemed equal to ivory. The flesh of this creature is considered wholesome and pleasant food. The hills and groves environing this admirable fountain afford amusing subjects of inquiry.”
At this time it was called by the Indians Manatee Spring.
Twenty miles west from Tallahassee on the railroad we arrive at the town of Quincy, situated on a hill commanding a fine view of the surrounding country. The population numbers about twelve hundred; the houses are built of wood, painted very white, which gives them a refreshingly-neat appearance. The citizens have a welcome for visitors which is home-like. On account of the undulating surface of the lands a diversity of scenery is found here not seen in other portions of the State—numerous streams, which flow with a musical cadence from their homes under the hillsides, running far away to swell the streams that are soon lost in the great gulf below them. During the early settlement of this portion of the State cotton-planters were not attracted to it, as the broken lands were not as favorable for its culture as the more level—for this reason: we find an independent class of settlers who raised what they consumed, never buying meat or bread from abroad. Those who have tried growing cotton were successful, the long staple producing very well. Before the war Cuban tobacco was cultivated with a rich reward, as they supplied dealers from New York, also a foreign commerce. The scuppernong grape is commencing to receive attention, for which enterprise the adaptability of the soil is favorable—wine having been produced here equal to the famous California product.
Twenty miles west from Quincy, situated on a river of the same name, is the town of Chattahoochee, this being the terminus of the Mobile & Pensacola Railroad. The State Penitentiary is located here, but the convicts are farmed out. The rough condition of the railroad has been a barrier to travelers going there much since the war; but a prospective change, when effected, will make it more agreeable for all parties concerned. The region of country below contains some fine orange groves. Those shipping oranges say they prefer Columbus or Atlanta to New York, on account of more rapid transit and less expense.
The route through Eufaula and Montgomery, North, taking a steamer at Chattahoochee, is becoming more popular every year, as tourists are fond of variety. A line of stages connecting Quincy with Bainbridge, a short day’s ride, enables those desirous of locating to see the country to better advantage. The overland passage appears robbed of its monotony by the long hedges of Cherokee rosebushes, crowned with their pink and white petals, which lend a brilliancy to the country through which we pass, not soon forgotten. Yards, gardens, and avenues, dressed in floral robes, are frequent; but miles of roses who can describe! The lands on our route are diversified, also the timber, but the yellow pine predominates.