92 FLORIDA DAYS.

sunshine, and dim starlit nights, and in the fury
of great storms. Always, there above the en-
trance, one sentry or another, living his own life
and thought, fancying both eternal, looking out
over the sea, and across the orange-groves to
the distant river,- loving, hoping, fearing; and













now, the sum of it all, a little depression in a
crumbling slab.
 There is no watch now; the fort has noth-
ing to fear. Visitors come and go, or down
in the grass-grown moat a thin white donkey
wanders about, cropping hungrily at the tufted
thistles that stand in the angles of the bar-
bican, or crowd like sentinels around a stone