breezes were wafted to us over the forests from the Gulf of Mexico.
After darkness had cast its sombre mantle upon us, we left the "East
Pass" entrance to the left, and our boats hurried on the rapidly ebbing
tide down the broad "West Pass" into the great marshes of the coast. An
hour later we emerged from the dark forest into the smooth savannas. The
freshness of the sea-air was exhilarating. The stars were shining
softly, and the ripple of the tide, the call of the heron, or the whirr
of the frightened duck, and the leaping of fishes from the water, were
the only sounds nature offered us. It was like entering another world.
In these lowlands, near the mouth of the river, there seemed to be but
one place above the high-tide level. It was a little hammock, covered by
a few trees, called Bradford's Island, and rose like an oasis in the
desert. The swift tide hurried along its shores, and a little farther
on mingled the waters of the great wilderness with that of the sea.

Our tired party landed on a shelly beach, and burned a grassy area to
destroy sand-fleas. This done, some built a large camp-fire, while
others spread blankets upon the ground. I drew the faithful sharer of
my long voyage near a thicket of prickly-pears, and slept beside it
for the last time, never thinking or dreaming that one year later I
should approach the mouth of the Suwanee from the west, after a long
voyage of twenty-five hundred miles from the head of the Ohio River,
and would again seek shelter on its banks. It was a night of sweet
repose. The camp-fire dissipated the damps, and the long row made
rest welcome.

A glorious morning broke upon our party as we breakfasted under the
shady palms of the island. Behind us rose the compact wall of dark
green of the heavy forests, and along the coast, from east to west,
as far as the eye could reach, were the brownish-green savanna-like
lowlands, against which beat, in soft murmurs, the waves of that sea I
had so longed to reach. From out the broad marshes arose low hammocks,
green with pines and feathery with palmetto-trees. Clouds of mist were
rising, and while I watched them melt away in the warm beams of the
morning sun, I thought they were like the dark doubts which curled
themselves about me so long ago in the cold St. Lawrence, now all
melted by the joy of success. The snow-clad north was now behind
me. The Maria Theresa danced in the shimmering waters of the great
southern sea, and my heart w