FLORIDA DAYS.


 used to stand to be shot. The grass grows thick
 now on this side of the enclosure, because, he
 declares, so
 much blood has
 been spilled on
 the thirsty
 ground.
 There is the
 dim outline of a
 cross upon the
 whitewashed
 wall of a room
 which was once
 the chapel;
 the Sergeant
 has pointed it
 out so often that
 he himself scarce-
 ly sees it now. Per-
 haps because it is of no
especial importance in his vague eyes. The
bullet-holes outside, which meant the snap of
some short and brittle thread of life, interest
him as much as does this shadow of human