8 LETTERS FOM FLORIDA.

romance and reality, than this land of flowers offers to
the gifted ; but, to do it justice, to develop half the
wonderful beauties of these bewildering regions calls
for a more skillful artist. I can but look witE long-
ing on this promised land, this storehouse of poetry
and romance ; I may not unlock the gates and enter in.


 Right here, close by where I now write, from
amohg the beautiful palmettoes, and under the grand
old oaks, one still hears the whispers of a wild and
terrible tragedy, as full of strange and thrilling inci-
dents from which to weave a story as the most sensa-
tional writer can desire-one abundantly able to satisfy
those who'areonly content with graphic or startling
narratives, or who most delight to "sup on horrors."
We refer to the Mandarin massacre of 1841, which
left this lovely village desolate. The Indians de-


stroyed every living soul save some of th
who were absent on a hunting expedite
little boy who escaped their fiendish tor
ing in a dense grove of palmettoes. Th


e inhabitants
ion, and one
tures by hid-
at same boy,


now a middle-aged man, still resides here, occupying
a house built on the spot where all his friends were
murdered.
 St. Augustine is one vast reservoir of infinite
suggestions and rich material, that have come down
from all the prominent nations of the earth as a legacy
-a bountiful supply for some future genius of our
own land, who, as Walter Scott did for his country,
will collect and weave into story or song the many
strange, wild scenes, the romantic incidents and thrill-
ing adventures in which this region .abounds. Such