,
without leaving the domain of the American flag. But the fishing-rivers
are not the most curious, nor the most instructive as to diversity of
climate, soil, and that sort of thing--physical geography, the teacher
calls it.

[Illustration: A LIVE-OAK WITH SPANISH MOSS.]

For instance, if you want to get a good idea of what tropical heat and
moisture will do for a country, slip your canoe from a Florida steamer
into the Ocklawaha River. It is as odd as its name, and appears to be
hopelessly undecided as to whether it had better continue in the fish
and alligator and drainage business, or devote itself to raising
live-oak and cypress-trees, with Spanish moss for mattresses as a side
product.

In this fickle-minded state it does a little of all these things, so
that when you are really on the river you think you are lost in the
woods; and when you actually get lost in the woods, you are quite
confident your canoe is at last on the river. This confusion is due to
the low, flat country, and the luxuriance of a tropical vegetation.

To say that such a river overflows its banks would hardly be correct;
for that would imply that it was not behaving itself; besides, it has
n't any banks--or, at least, very few! The fact is, those peaceful
Florida rivers seem to wander pretty much where they like over the
pretty peninsula without giving offense; but if Jack Frost takes such a
liberty--presto! you should see how the people get after _him_ with
weather-bulletins and danger-signals and formidable smudges. So the
Ocklawaha River and a score of its kind roam through the woods,--or
maybe it is the woods that roam through them,--and the moss sways from
the live-oaks, and the cypress trees stick their knees up through the
water in the oddest way imaginable.

In Florida one may have another odd experience: a river ride in an
ox-cart. Florida rivers are usually shallow, and when the water is high
you can travel for miles across country behind oxen, with more or less
river under you all the way. There are ancient jokes about Florida
steamboats that travel on heavy dews, and use spades for paddle-wheels.

But those of you who have been on its rivers know there is but one
Florida, with its bearded oaks and fronded palms; its dusky woods,
carpeted with glassy waters; its cypress bays, where lonely cranes pose,
silently thoughtful (of stray polliwogs); and its birds of wondrous
plumage that rise with startled splash when the noiseless c