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Lake Monroe, Florida, May 20. St. Matthew
had already many passengers on board, and among
them were three pair of turtle-doves of the human
race. The first pair, physically handsome, but
second-class people in cultivation and manners,
were so in love with one another, and showed it
to such a degree, that it was quite disgusting; the
young man, with a huge breast-pin of sham diamonds
in his shirt-frill, confessed to an acquaintance
in the company that he considered himself to
have married the most perfect woman in the
world. But her perfectly handsome person did
not appear to me to entertain much soul within
it. Turtle-doves No. 2 were of a more refined
character altogether, agreeable people, with the
loving soul beaming from dark and beautiful eyes;
she, very delicate in health, after only one year’s
marriage; he, very anxious about her. Turtle-doves
No. 3 were neither of them any longer
young or handsome, but they were of all the three
pairs the most interesting and perhaps the most
happy. It did one good to see them and to hear
their history.
By evening we had left the river Altamaha, and,
after a few hours by sea, we found ourselves
the next morning in the St. John’s River, after
having happily passed a dangerous sand-bank at
its mouth, without suffering more than a severe
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