Florida is a strange region, yet most attractive. The traveller regards its surface as mainly a monotonous level of forest and swamp, with fruit and floral embellishments, but it in fact rises by an almost insensible ascent from the coast towards the interior, where there is a central summit ridge all along the peninsula of about three hundred feet elevation, covered with pine woods. Most of the surface, however, is but a few feet above the sea-level, these "flatlands," as they are called, being grass-grown savannahs, pine woods, swamps and cabbage-palm thickets. The southern part of the peninsula is the region of the everglades, which have been formed by successive dykes of coral, built by the industrious little insect long ago. The upper part of this region is occupied by the extensive but shallow waters of Lake Okeechobee, which merges insensibly into the everglades south and east, the Seminoles calling this grass-grown and spongy region, which is still the abode of some remnants of the tribe, Pa-ha-yo-kee, meaning "much grass in water." These everglades are penetrated in all directions by tortuous water channels of slight depth; and at frequent intervals in the whole district there are wooded islands possessing fertile soils and covered with dense tropical vegetation. These islands are said to have been surrounded by the sea in bygone ages, and they then stood in the same relation to the mainland as do the present Southern Florida reefs and keys. Wide tracts of cypress swamp separate the everglades from the Gulf of Mexico, while in Southern Florida they approach within a few miles of the Atlantic Coast, being separated by an intervening dyke of coral, crossed by frequent streams of rapid current, for the everglades are far from being stagnant swamps. There are also many other extensive swamps in the State.
The Florida seacoast is usually protected by sand beaches which are quite hard, and are separated from the mainland by interior lagoons. The mangrove and the coral, constantly growing, are ever encroaching, however, on the sea-waters, and thus Florida seems to have been constructed. The country is full of water courses, lakes and springs, some of the latter being regarded as among the most remarkable in the world, the famous Silver Spring near Ocala being estimated as discharging three hundred millions of gallons daily. There are countless springs along the coasts, and one of these bursts up in the sea near St. Augustine, two miles off shore, with a torrent so vigorous that the ocean waves break over the column of fresh water as if it were a sunken reef. Scientific investigators are amazed at the vast amounts of water everywhere visible and discharged from these springs, and with only the narrow and low peninsula for a watershed, the problem as to where the vast water supply comes from baffles solution. Some of the Florida lakes are subject to remarkable fluctuations of level, and one of them, Lake Jackson, ran suddenly dry at the time of the Charleston earthquake in 1886, but after a few weeks the water began returning, and it soon resumed its natural proportions.
CUMBERLAND SOUND.
The memory of the Duke of Cumberland, son of King George II., the victor of the battle of Culloden, in Scotland, where he defeated the Pretender in 1746, is preserved in America in the name of Cumberland Sound, the finest harbor on the Southern Atlantic Coast. St. Mary's River, coming out of Okifenokee swamp to make the northern boundary of Florida, flows an erratic course, boxing the compass in every direction until it finally heads eastward and debouches in Cumberland Sound, among a group of islands forming a large landlocked harbor. This river and sound, the boundary between Georgia and Florida, were, prior to the Revolution, a disputed frontier between the English and the Spaniards. To the northward of the entrance from the sea is Cumberland Island in Georgia, then comes Jekyll Island, with its magnificent club-house and elaborate cottages, and then St. Simon's Bay, having as its chief port the busy lumber-shipping town of Brunswick. To the southward of the Cumberland entrance is Amelia Island in Florida. The sound behind Amelia and Cumberland Islands is a magnificent roadstead, capable of floating at safe anchorage an enormous fleet. Amelia Island is a long, narrow sand bank with much foliage upon it, stretching about fourteen miles down the Florida coast to Nassau Sound. On the sea front of this island is one of the finest sand beaches on the Atlantic. Behind it is the arm of the sea known as Amelia River, and the port of Fernandina, thirty-six miles northeast of Jacksonville, having at the point of the island, guarding the entrance to its harbor, old Fort Clinch, a superannuated brick-work battery, formerly of great importance, but now of little use, though it was somewhat strengthened to meet the exigencies of the recent Spanish War.
The French Huguenots first came along here and settled, as they did at the St. John's River entrance, and they called the island Garde. They found here a powerful Indian tribe, whose chief, the "Cacique of Garde," their historian described as "handsome and noble," and his queen as "beautiful and modest," and the same authority says they had "five handsome daughters." The French were engaged in desultory quarrels with the Spaniards south of them at St. Augustine, and the young gallants of the colony, in the intervals of the warfare, alternately courted and jilted the Indian maidens, the result being a savage attack and massacre; and finally, between Indian and Spanish enmity, the settlement disappeared. But the English, made of sterner stuff, ultimately came along, settling Georgia, and giving British names to the islands, the rivers and the Sound, which they still retain. For a long time this was disputed territory between the English and the Spaniards, the latter claiming everything northward to Carolina. General Oglethorpe marched through here to attack St. Augustine, and in 1763 the British held Amelia Island, extending the little fort to almost its present proportions, and laying out a town behind it, while to the southward the Countess of Egmont established an indigo plantation, which flourished for a brief period. Spain ultimately got the island, and it came into American possession with Florida in 1821. A little town with sandy streets, a pretty park, much foliage, delicious air bringing the balsam of the pines and the tonic of the sea, and hotels accommodating the influx of winter visitors, make up the Fernandina of to-day. Its beach on the ocean front, more than a mile away, is one of the finest in existence, hard as a floor, level and broad, stretching as far as eye can see, and having a grand surf booming upon it.
On Cumberland Island is the estate of Dungeness. General Nathaniel Greene of Rhode Island, one of Washington's most trusted officers, was the commander of the Revolutionary armies in the South in 1780-81 which drove the British out of that section, gained the victory of Cowpens in South Carolina, and compelled the withdrawal of Cornwallis to Yorktown, which ended in his surrender. After the close of the war, in gratitude for his great services, the people of Georgia presented him with this estate of about ten thousand acres. He made it his home for a time, but it afterwards passed away from his family, and being neglected, the old coquina stone mansion was burnt. The house has since been reconstructed, and a picturesque avenue of moss-hung live oaks a mile long stretches over the island near it to the sea. In a little cemetery on the estate are the graves of General Greene's widow and daughter. Here is also the grave of "Light Horse Harry" of the Revolution (the father of General Robert E. Lee), who died abroad in 1818. He had visited and loved Dungeness, and requested to be buried there. Oaks and palmettos embower these modest graves, which are carefully preserved.
ANCIENT ST. AUGUSTINE.
St. Augustine, thirty-six miles southeast of Jacksonville, on the seacoast, is the oldest city in the United States, founded by Menendez in 1565, and existing to this day with the characteristics of a Spanish town of the sixteenth century, which have been also reproduced in the architecture of most of the newer buildings. A small inlet from the ocean, about fifteen miles south of the mouth of St. John's River, stretches its arms north and south, the latter arm, called Matanzas River, seeking the sea again about eighteen miles below. It thus forms Anastasia Island, sheltering the harbor like a breakwater, and behind it the city is built, being protected by a sea-wall nearly a mile long, built of coquina or shell-stone. Another arm of the sea, called San Sebastian River, is a short distance inland, so that the town site is really upon a peninsula. About five thousand people reside permanently in St. Augustine, a few of Spanish descent, and more of them the offspring of a colony of Minorcans who came in 1769, but in winter the Northern visitors to the palatial hotels swell the population to over ten thousand. The town is built on a level sandy plain, and the older streets are narrow, being only a few feet wide and without sidewalks. The projecting balconies of some of the ancient houses almost touch those opposite. The old streets are paved with coquina and the old houses are built of it, this curious shell-limestone, quarried on Anastasia Island, hardening upon exposure to the air. A few streets running north and south, crossed by others at right angles, and a broader front street bordered by the sea-wall which makes a fine promenade, compose the town. This sea-wall of coquina is capped with granite, and was built after the American occupation of the city. At its northern end is Fort Marion and at the southern end St. Francis Barracks, the United States military post, so named because it occupies the site of the old Convent of St. Francis, having some of its coquina walls incorporated in the present structure. The harbor in front, which in past centuries sheltered so many Spanish fleets and those of Spanish enemies as well, is now chiefly devoted to yachting.
When Menendez and his Spaniards first landed they built a wooden fort commanding the harbor entrance, surrounded by pine trees, which they named San Juan de Pinos. This was afterwards replaced by Fort San Marco, constructed of coquina, which was nearly a hundred years building, and was finished in 1756. Upon the transfer of Florida to the United States this became Fort Marion. It is a well-preserved specimen of the military architecture of the eighteenth century, built on Vauban's system, covering about four acres, with bastions at the corners, each protected by a watch-tower, and is surrounded by a moat, the walls being twenty-one feet high. The fort is in reasonably good preservation, and is said to have been constructed mainly by the labor of Indians. It took so long to build and cost so much under the wasteful Spanish system that one sovereign wrote that it had almost cost its weight in gold; yet it was regarded then as supremely important to be finished, being the key to the Spanish possession of Florida. Over the sally-port at the drawbridge are carved the Spanish arms and an inscription recording the completion of the fort in 1756, when Ferdinand VI. was King of Spain and Don Hereda Governor of Florida. It mounted one hundred of the small guns of those days, and the interior is a square parade ground, surrounded by large casemates. Upon each side of the casemate opposite the sally-port is a niche for holy water, and at the farther end the Chapel. Dungeons and subterranean passages abound, of which ghostly tales are told. This fort is the most interesting relic of the ancient city, a picturesque place, with charms even in its dilapidation.
There are other quaint structures in this curious old town. A gray gateway about ten feet wide, flanked by tall square towers, marks the northern entrance to the city, the ditch from the fort passing in front of it. In one of the streets is the palace of the Spanish Governors, since changed into a post-office. The official centre of the city is a public square, the Plaza de la Constitucion, having a monument commemorating the Spanish Liberal Constitution of 1812, and also a Confederate Soldiers' Monument. This square fronts on the sea-wall, and alongside it and stretching westward is the Alameda, known as King Street, leading to the group of grand hotels recently constructed in Spanish and Moorish style, which have made modern St. Augustine so famous. These are the Ponce de Leon, the Alcazar and the Cordova, with the Casino, adjoined by spacious and beautiful gardens. These buildings reproduce all types of the Hispano-Moorish architecture, with many suggestions from the Alhambra. The Ponce de Leon, the largest, is three hundred and eighty by five hundred and twenty feet, enclosing an open court, and its towers rise above the red-tiled roofs to a height of one hundred and sixty-five feet, the adornments in colors being very effective. To the southward of the town, adjoining the barracks, is the military cemetery, where a monument and three white pyramids tell the horrid story of the Dade massacre during the Seminole War. Major Dade, a gallant officer, and one hundred and seven men, were ambushed and massacred by eight hundred Indians in December, 1835, and their remains afterwards brought here and interred under the pyramids. Opposite the barracks is what is claimed to be the oldest house in the United States, occupied by Franciscan monks from 1565 to 1580, and afterwards a dwelling. It has been restored, and contains a collection of historical relics.