hing with mortification; "but I have got sleepy sometimes because
I couldn't help it."

"For which papa doesn't blame his little boy in the least," said the
captain soothingly, drawing the little fellow to him and stroking his
hair with caressing hand.

At that moment wheels were heard on the drive and Grace, glancing from
the window, exclaimed joyfully, "Oh, here comes the Ion carriage with
Grandma Elsie and Evelyn in it. Now, papa, you will have quite an
audience."

"If they happen to want the same thing that the rest of you do,"
returned her father, as he left the room to welcome the visitors and
help them to alight.

They had come only for a call, but it was not very difficult to
persuade them to stay and spend the night, sending back word to their
homes by the coachman. In prospect of their intended visit to Florida
they were as greatly interested as the others in learning all they
could of its history and what would be the best points to visit in
search of pleasure and profit.

On leaving the tea table all gathered in the library, the ladies with
their fancy needlework, Chester seated near his betrothed, the captain
in an easy-chair with the little ones close beside him--one at each
knee and both looking eagerly expectant; for they knew their father to
be a good story-teller and thought the subject in hand one sure to
prove very interesting.

After a moment's silence in which the captain seemed to be absorbed in
quiet thought, he began:

"In the year 1512--that is nearly four hundred years ago--a Spaniard
named Juan Ponce De Leon, who had amassed a fortune by subjugating the
natives of the island of Puerto Rico, but had grown old and wanted to
be young again, having heard of an Indian tradition that there was a
land to the north where was a fountain, bathing in which, and drinking
of the water freely, would restore youth and make one live
forever--set sail in search of it. On the 21st day of April he landed
upon the eastern shore of Florida, near the mouth of the St. Johns
River.

"The day was what the Romanists called Paschal Sunday, or the Sunday
of the Feast of Flowers, and the land was very beautiful--with
magnificent trees of various kinds, stalwart live-oaks, tall palm
trees, the mournful cypress, and the brilliant dogwood. Waving moss
drooped from the hanging boughs of the forest trees; golden fruit and
lovely blossoms adorned those of the orange trees; while singing birds
filled the air of the