ard is in the doing,
And the rapture of pursuing,
Is the prize the vanquished gain.

We are all conscious of these songs we have tried in vain to sing, and
we are confident we will yet sing them when the bodily impediments are
swept away, and, as the earthly shadows lengthen, as the chill winds
of old age strengthen, we more and more appreciate the wonderful
expression of this thought, in that sweetest of all poems of the minor
key, called "The voiceless."

"We count the broken lyres that rest
Where the sweet wailing singers slumber;
But o'er the silent brother's breast,
The wild flowers who will stoop to number.

"A few can touch the magic string,
And noisy fame is proud to win them;
Alas for those who never sing,
But die with all their music in them.

"Not where Leucadian breezes sweep
O'er Sappho's memory-haunted billow;
But where the glistening night dews weep
O'er nameless sorrow's churchyard pillow.

"If singing breath or echoing chord
To every hidden pang were given,
What endless melodies were poured,
As sad as earth, as sweet as heaven."

We have done our best according to the light that has been given; we
will continue to do so until the end, and we are soothed and sustained
by the inspiring thought so sweetly expressed by one of our greatest
poets.

"I know not where God's islands lift
Their fronded palms in air,
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond His love and care.

"And so beside the silent sea,
I wait the muffled oar:
No harm from Him can come to me
On ocean or on shore."

Only waiting till the angels
Open wide the mystic gate,
At whose feet I long have lingered,
Weary, sad, and desolate;
Even now I hear their footsteps,
And their voices far away--
When they call me, I am waiting,
Only waiting to obey.

AFTERMATH

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE FLORIDA CRACKERS.

When the previous thirty chapters were in press, the conviction was
forced upon me that any book which touched upon Florida without a
description of its poor whites called "Crackers," would be like the
play of "Hamlet" with the Prince of Denmark left out, and I gladly pay
this tribute of grateful remembrance to the most unique, and the only
truly contented people that I have ever met on earth.

So far forth as history enlightens us, the ancestors of these peculiar
specimens of the human race were never