36 FLORIDA DAYS.

sharpness of detail; but it is all a mood of the
hour, and softens as the day grows.
 Perhaps it lasts longer about the barracks
 than anywhere else: the uniform of the sentinel
 pacing up and down his beat beside the sea-
 wall, is so fresh and new; there is such a keen,
 clean smell of lime, for each possible stone and
 stump has its coat of whitewash; and every-
 thing about the place is in exact and cheerful
 order. There is an air of modern life here, of
 hurry and importance, which does not belong
 to the old town, and was surely never known
 inside these gray walls while the building was
 still a convent. But that time is very long
 past; it was given up to the garrison a little
 more than a hundred years ago.
 One stops in the shadow of the doorway, to
think of the prayers that were said here once,
and of the consuming desire that once burned
beneath the white silence of convent living.
The desire was for salvation, truly, but it took
the place of a thirst for gold or glory or love,
and made Life; for one must desire something,
to be alive: perhaps absolute satisfaction is only