to tidewater--huge
turtles on egg-laying intent. In the dune-hammock the black bear,
crab-hungry, awakes from his December sleep and claws the palmetto
fruit; the bay lynx steals beachward; a dozen little deaths hatch from
the diamond-back, alive; and the mean gray fox uncurls and scratches
ticks, grinning, red-gummed, at the moon.

Edging the Everglades, flat-flanked panthers prowl, ears and tail-tips
twitching; doe and buck listen from the cypress shades; the razor-back
clatters his tusks, and his dull and furry ears stand forward and his
dull eyes redden. Then the silver mullet leap in the moonlight, and the
tiger-owl floats soundlessly to his plunging perch, and his daring
yellow glare flashes even when an otter splashes or a tiny fawn stirs.

And very, very far away, under the stars, rolls the dull bull-bellow of
the 'gator, labouring, lumbering, clawing across the saw-grass seas; and
all the little striped pigs run, bucking madly, to their dangerous and
silent dam who listens, rigid, horny nose aquiver in the wind.

So wakes the Wild when the white men turn northward under the March
moon; and, as though released from the same occult restraint, tree and
shrub break out at last into riotous florescence: swamp maple sets the
cypress shade afire; the cassava lights its orange elf-lamps; dogwood
snows in the woods; every magnolia is set with great white chalices
divinely scented, and the Royal Poinciana crowns itself with cardinal
magnificence.

All day long brilliant butterflies hover on great curved wings over the
jungle edge; all day long the cock-quail whistles from wall and hedge,
and the crestless jays, sapphire winged, flit across the dunes.
Red-bellied woodpeckers gossip in live-oak, sweet-gum, and ancient palm;
gray squirrels chatter from pine to bitter-nut; the iridescent little
ground-doves, mated for life, run fearlessly under foot or leap up into
snapping flight with a flash of saffron-tinted wings. Under the
mangroves the pink ajajas preen and wade; and the white ibis walks the
woods like a little absent-minded ghost buried in unearthly reverie.

Truly when madam closes her Villa Tillandsia, and when Coquina Court is
bereft of mistress and household--butler, footman, maid, and flunky; and
when Tsa-na Lah-ni is abandoned by its handsome chatelaine, and the
corridors of the vast hotels are dark, it is fashion, not common sense
that stirs the flock of gaily gregarious immigrants into premature
northern