masses of moss, the Tillandsia usnoides, hang like veils over its strong, knotted branches, amid alcoves of dark foliage. It is not a beautiful, but an extremely poetical tree, and when it shoots forth its snow-white, fragrant flowers it seems to recal some beautiful poem of Lord Byron's.
The air was pleasant. The waves of the Mexican Gulf broke softly and broadly against the shore, with a loud, but soothing sound. The woods were silent, fresh and green. I rested, breathed, enjoyed, in deep harmony with the scene around me and the young, amiable lady at my side.
In the evening I went to the theatre, to which I was invited by the theatrical manager, who had the politeness to place a box at my disposal, during my stay in the city. I saw an amusing little piece called “Jenny Lind in Heidelberg,” which was performed with much humour; and I was greatly pleased by another piece, “The Daughters of the Stars,” in which a very young and highly-gifted actress, Miss Julia D., caused me, to my surprise, to shed tears. I have never seen any acting in which so much pathos was combined with so much freshness and truth to nature, since I saw Jenny Lind at the theatre in Stockholm.
From 7th to 12th July.—Beautiful, quiet days! I like Mobile, and the people of Mobile, and the weather of Mobile and everything in Mobile; I flourish in Mobile. My home here is with Mrs. W., the mother of Mr. Le V., a good old lady, the widow of the former Governor of Florida. The home is sunny and peaceful, and the appearance and demeanour of the negro slaves is sunny and peaceful also. I go out every morning to a camp of Chocta Indians, just outside the city, for it amuses me to see the life and manners of these wild people. In order to reach this camp, I must walk up Government-street, the principal street of the city, a broad, straight alley of beautiful villas, surrounded
