ht. On the same tree may be
seen the old and the new leaves, the ripe fruit, and the richly-scented
blossoms. Coming from the frozen North in March, the traveller seems to
be hurled into "eternal summer," more like fairy-land than anything
else, as the wheels whirl him into Jacksonville.

I had seen the place in December, coming from the summer of a more
northern latitude. I had spent the winter in more tropical regions, and
the flowers and the oranges were nothing new to me. When I landed I was
thinking of the post-office, which was my first objective point. We had
been moving about so much that I had not received a single letter since
I left Jacksonville in December. The post-office is on Bay Street,
nearer the northern than the southern end of the street. I walked in
that direction; but I had not gone ten rods before I saw Captain
Boomsby standing at the door of one of the numerous saloons on that
street.

I halted to look at him. His face was very red, and he had grown quite
stout since he sailed the Great West, in which I had had the roughest
experience of my lifetime with him. He wore no coat, for his fat and
the fires of the whiskey he drank kept him in a fever-heat all the
time. I kept back behind a pile of goods on the sidewalk while I
surveyed him, and I hoped he would not see me. He seemed to be waiting
for customers; and though I desired him to have none, I wished him to
retire within his shop, and allow me to pass without being seen.

I was dressed in the full uniform of the steam-yacht, with a white
canvas cap. He had seen me in this rig enough to know it, and my
chances of passing him without being seen were very small. But I was
not afraid of him, and I was rather ashamed of the idea of dodging him.
Taking the outside of the sidewalk, and looking intently at the other
side of the street, where the retail dry-goods and curiosity shops were
located, I attempted to get by the saloon without being seen by its
proprietor.

"Why, Sandy, how are you?" demanded Captain Boomsby, rushing out to me
and seizing me by the hand.

In spite of my hanging back, he dragged me to the door of the saloon.

"How do you do, Captain Boomsby?" I replied coldly.

"Come in and take sunthin', Sandy," he persisted, dragging me into the
saloon in spite of my resistance. "You are about man-grown now, and I
cal'late you can take a drop of whiskey, on a pinch."

"No, I thank you; I never take any," I replied, disgusted with his