IN leaving Jacksonville for Cedar Keys, we first take the Florida Central Road, which is thought by some to ride very rough, but the controlling element which had it in charge treated it rougher than any jolt which passengers receive in riding over it. Soon as the road can recover from the raids upon its earnings, preparations will be made to accommodate the traveling public so well that they will always prefer riding on the Florida Central from choice. Baldwin is the first noticeable station on the road, twenty miles from Jacksonville. We arrive here in time for breakfast, which the vigorous ringing of bells indicate—the Berger Family is nowhere in comparison to the noise they make. As we had no free feeds, we are not obligated to puff the eating-houses; but the moderate charges and fine fare constitute an attractive feature to the hungry traveler. The depot and telegraph-office windows are said to furnish amusement for the agent and operator, where they can spend their leisure in fishing.

The attractive alligators and moccasins are hibernating now, as it is February; occasionally a stray one comes out, like Noah’s dove, to see if winter has gone. The junction of roads is what makes the town—the A. G. & W. I. T. Co. Road is taken here, in order that the Mexican Gulf, one hundred and seven miles distant, may be reached. Northern passengers complain of the snail-pace by which the trains are propelled, but no accident ever occurs to endanger life or limb. The piney-woods scenery predominates, which gives the country a very unpicturesque appearance; and the land, that in some places appears poor enough to make squirrels sad, changes as we advance toward the Gulf.

Trail Ridge is noticeable for its high location, being over two hundred feet above sea-level, always celebrated for its healthfulness and pure water. Lawtey, four miles from Trail Ridge, has recently received a large accession of immigrants from Chicago. The lands are considered among the best in the interior of the State. One great advantage in living on the Transit Road is free transportation for self and family, together with the superior facilities for sending produce to market. Starke, seventy-three miles from Fernandina, is a place of some importance, containing a lumber-mill, turpentine distillery, and several stores, besides boarding-houses. What a multitude of disagreeable sounds break upon our morning slumbers in these plank habitations! The cats, which have been vigorous in their serenading during the night, now prepare to quit the field by a final contest, which Dinah interrupts with the broom. The pigs, that lay piled in the yard so quietly during the night, are calling for their rations, while the chickens have been cackling a chorus in advance of the supplies which they will furnish for hungry visitors. Never, apparently, did dinner-pots require such a vast amount of scraping. Then the old coffee-mill sounds like a ten-horsepower flouring-mill. These little innovations upon our morning nap are soon forgotten after we have eaten our breakfast, and witnessed what a beautiful day is before us.

Waldo now appears to be settling more rapidly than Starke. A large hotel, called the Waldo House, has been built here, which is well kept. Croquet-grounds are laid out, shade-trees planted, in a tasteful manner, presenting an inviting appearance to travelers as they approach the town. This station is destined to be a place of prominence. A canal is in process of construction to Lake Santa Fe, four miles distant, thus connecting it with the main artery of communication in the State. This region of country is attracting no small amount of attention at present, the high ground it occupies being one of its most desirable features—which fact is demonstrated by the waters, instead of settling, flowing east and west, then emptying into the Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico. This lake contains nearly thirty square miles of water, being about nine miles in length, its greatest width four miles. The depth of the water is from twenty to sixty feet, being pure freestone, palatable all the year with a little ice. Superior inducements are offered to those who wish to come as actual settlers, fine lake-sites being very reasonable, and the present inhabitants the best of people.

We next come to Alachua county, the richest and now the most important on the route, containing hummock-lands, covered with phosphates, indicating a fertility of soil, where the long staple will flourish, and silken cotton-bolls open their tributes of wealth to reward the industrious planter. Tiny floating islands are visible on each side of the track, while the lily rises from the dusky waters of the morass, as though upheld by some invisible hand. Long-legged Florida cattle are grazing upon the fresh grass, while the yearlings run races with the cars, to the annoyance of all concerned. Visible signs of impatience are manifested by the lady-passengers, when the following colloquy takes place between a Bostonian and a very black train-hand:

Lady—“Say, sir! are there no refreshments coming in soon?”

Negro—“What is dem, Miss?”

Lady—“Why, something to eat.”

Negro—“I reckin dar’ll be some groun’-peas gwine ’roun’ ’fore bery long, or some cane-stalks.”

Lady (very indignant)—“I wish you to comprehend I came from Boston; we don’t eat such things up there in our part of the country!”

During the year 1750 a Creek chief retired from his nation, named Secoffe, and settled in Alachua, he being attracted by the game and natural fertility of soil. He was a sworn enemy of the Spaniards, but a friend to the English up to 1784. He visited St. Augustine on hearing that Florida had been sold to the English, at which time, not thinking himself treated with due deference to his rank in life, he returned, swearing vengeance to all the whites. He died soon afterward, which frustrated his projects of revenge. Before dying he called his two sons, Payne and Bowlegs, to whom he intrusted the mission of killing fourteen Spaniards, which, added to eighty-six—the number already killed by himself—would make one hundred—the requisite amount which the Great Spirit had revealed to him would insure happiness to his soul. His sons, not being of a revengeful spirit, lived in peace with the Spaniards, and died much respected. Another band came in 1808, under Micco Hadjo, settling near Tallahassee—from this date the Florida Indians were called Seminoles, or Runaways.

This county contains a great sink, called by some a lake, in which congregate during the dry weather large quantities of alligators, together with fish of all sizes, that cannot escape into the subterranean rocky passage. This sink is situated in a savanna about fifteen miles in length. The Indians formerly had a town near this locality, which they moved on account of the stench from decayed fish in summer, that had been driven there by the alligators. These Indian settlers were busy during the war, like their companions. The following are some of the fruits of their conduct: “The Rev. McRae, a Methodist preacher, and two other persons, while riding from Waccahootee to Micanopy, when at the Juggs, within three miles of the fort, were fired upon by a party of fifteen or twenty Indians. Mr. McRae’s horse was wounded and fell, when he was overtaken and scalped by the Indians, but his scalp was left on the ground. The others escaped with four balls in their clothes. In five more days a citizen and soldier were murdered within four miles of Fort Micanopy, their hearts taken out, and their bodies horribly mangled.” June 5, 1839, on the Newnansville road, Mr. Ostein, Mr. Dell, and Miss Ostein, were killed. After this tragic event, the following notice speaks in trumpet tones:

“The injuries of the citizens of Alachna and Columbia counties have been of a nature that can never be forgotten or forgiven. The white man and the Indian can no longer occupy the same territory in peace; one or the other must be removed or annihilated, and the General Government will justly decide the question.

Francis R. Sanchez.”

During this year all flags of truce and peace movements were lost sight of, as Indian murders were every day occurring. At this time two volunteers were killed near Micanopy, their bodies much mutilated, and their tongues cut out. General Jackson at this time estimated a force “of four hundred Indians, which could be whipped out by a battalion of women armed with broomsticks.”

The approach from the depot to Gainesville is very unattractive, particularly in the winter season, having the appearance of being inaccessible either by land or water. Black, marshy-looking places, containing a muddy fluid, fail to give travelers a pleasant impression, and for this reason draining should be commenced by building causeways to the city and the frequented places in the vicinity. They have not put the best side out here. Gainesville was named for General Edmund P. Gaines, a Florida Indian-war veteran. Mrs. Myra Clark Gaines, who for many years has been litigating for a portion of the ground on which New Orleans stands, was his wife, who by a special act of Congress receives a pension, whether married again or remaining his widow.

Many invalids have a preference for Gainesville, on account of its even temperature, over localities on the bays, rivers, or lakes. It has fine accommodations, containing two good hotels, besides comfortable boarding-houses of various dimensions. The Arlington House is first-class in every respect, being new, while Oak Hall, for good eating, cannot be outdone. The dining-room serving-man has waited here for twenty years, which is very remarkable in consideration of the various vicissitudes through which that race has passed. The quiet of country life is found in this locality; the sound of wheels is hushed in the streets, the sand being so deep it has no echo when wheels pass over it. Protestant Churches are well represented in numbers and houses of worship. The Presbyterian pastor, the Rev. Mr. McCormick, has ministered to his people for a quarter of a century. Through what numerous changes has he passed! What sad memories linger around his ministrations, but sometimes mingled with joy when a sinner for whom he had long been solicitous has been born into the kingdom!

More of the Tillandasia, or hanging moss, which sometimes grows ten or fifteen feet in length, is found here than in most other portions of the State. Two moss-factories, preparing it for commerce, are doing a thriving business. It closely resembles horse-hair when properly cleaned and curled—is quite elastic and inodorous. It is used extensively in upholstering, and is quite profitable to those engaged in the enterprise.

Dry-goods stores, groceries, and drug-stores all do a lucrative business with the people living in the back country. Lands lying in the vicinity of Gainesville are very fine, one acre of ground being capable of producing fifteen hundred pounds of sugar and three hundred gallons of sirup.

By taking the stage at Gainesville, Orange Lake, “the natural home of the orange,” is easily reached. This lake is a vast lime-sink, draining a large extent of country, having no visible outlet. The inducements and facilities for orange-culture are probably unsurpassed in any other locality. One man owns over a hundred thousand budded trees, and a million more yet remain in a state of nature. The native orange-growth has been a source of wonder to all modern explorers. Nothing can be imagined more beautiful than one of these natural groves in March—the golden orbs in a setting of green, while creamy blossoms, like clouds of incense, rise in overpowering sweetness to welcome us with their choicest oblation. The whole forest has a tropical luxuriance, the abundant vegetation being well sustained by a rich soil of sandy loam, with a layer of marl and decomposed shells. Besides the orange, we see the live-oak, magnolia, hickory, bay-tree, and many other native woods, interspersed with grape-vines measuring three feet in circumference, climbing to the tops of the tallest trees, forming a dense shade, where sunbeams can rarely or ever penetrate. As we walk between its stately colonnades, our minds revert to the silence of “God’s first temple.” It is in this vicinity lime-sinks abound, which are formed from subterranean streams of water constantly flowing, thus washing away the sand, which causes the coral formation supported by it to fall, frequently exposing large lakes of immense depth, many of them containing fish.

Malaria is said to prevail here sometimes, “although it is perfectly healthy.” Let settlers plant the Eucalyptus-tree, which is no experiment, but a success, in other places, being a powerful absorbent of miasm, converting sickly, malarious localities into healthful, happy homes. A seedling orange-tree is considered the most hardy, and will produce in five years, while a budded tree bears in two or three years. It is well to have both kinds, in order to fully realize the golden dreams of a successful investment. The manufacture of citric acid from the wild orange has been attempted here several times, without any great results as yet, but marmalade is a decided success. All information on the subject of groves in this locality can be obtained by addressing John F. Dunn, Ocala, Marion county, Florida. There are many homesteads in all parts of the State. For particulars address United States Land Agent, Gainesville, Florida.

After leaving Gainesville, before reaching the Gulf, several places are passed, bearing important names, their locality and present appearance of thrift now giving promise of future prosperity. Cities in the prospective: Orange City, Arredondo, Battons, Archer, and Albion—all stopping-points and new settlements. Albion has been settled mostly by young Englishmen, who have come here to engage in grape-culture—these being the first invoice of a large colony from Europe. Bronson appears to have a larger population than any of the other towns, except Gainesville. It is the county-seat of Levy, where can be found among the actual settlers energetic Christian people. A diversity of crops can be obtained from this soil, much of the land inclining to an undulating surface.

Otter Creek, one hundred and thirty-four miles from Fernandina, is the dinner-station, kept by a most worthy gentleman—Captain Mason, formerly of the United States Army Indian war service. We are now entering the great Gulf Hummock, the vegetation changing from a semi-tropical to an entirely tropical character. Here the cabbage-palmetto and hard-wood trees rear their tops high in the air—a characteristic of the rich hummock soil. We see no trailing vines killed every winter by frost, but giant climbers twining around tree-trunks so closely they appear like a portion of them. This heavy growth converts the route here into an interminable forest, where only occasional spots or fragments of sunshine peep through slight openings, that appear to be at no greater distance than the tree-tops over our heads. These fertile lands are awaiting the muscular development which has been productive of such marked results in almost every portion of the State.