cksonville (known locally by the convenient
abbreviation "Jax") that it stands as the "Gate to Florida." But the
fact that a gate is something through which people pass--usually without
stopping--causes some anguish to an active Chamber of Commerce, which
has been known to send bands to the railway station to serenade tourists
in the hope of enticing them to alight.

If I were to personify Jacksonville, it would be, I think, as an amiable
young woman, member of a domestic family, whose papa and mama had moved
to Florida from somewhere else--for it is as hard to find a native of
Jacksonville in that city as to find a native New Yorker in New York.
Miss Jacksonville's papa, as I conceive it, has prospered while daughter
has been growing up, and has bought for her a fine large house on a main
corner, where many people pass. Having reached maturity Miss
Jacksonville wishes to be in Florida society--to give, as it were,
house parties, like those of her neighbors, the other winter resorts.
She sees people passing her doors all winter long, and she says to
herself: "I must get some of these people to come in."

To this end she brushes off the walk, lays a carpet on the steps, puts
flowers in the vases, orders up a lot of fancy food and drink (from the
very admirable Hotel Mason), turns on the lights and the Victor, leaves
the front door invitingly open, and hopes for the best. Soon people
begin to come in, but as she meets them she discovers that most of them
have come to see papa on business; only a few have come on her account.
They help themselves to sandwiches, look about the room, and listen to
what Miss Jacksonville has to say.

Time passes. Nothing happens. She asks how they like the chairs.

"Very comfortable," they assure her.

"Do have some more to eat and drink," says she.

"What is your history?" a guest asks her presently.

"I haven't much history to speak of," she replies. "They tell me Andrew
Jackson had his territorial government about where my house stands, but
I don't know much about it. We don't care much about history in our
family."

"What do you do with yourself?"

"Oh, I keep house, and go occasionally to the Woman's Club, and in the
evenings father tells me about his business."

"Very nice," says one guest, whom we shall picture as a desirable and
wealthy young man from the North. "Now let's do something. Do you play
or sing? Are you athletic? Do you go boating on the St. John's River? Do
yo