the bay of Espiritu Santo, where she finally anchored in a small natural harbor, formed by the embouchure of the River Hillisborough, at seven P.M., on the 22d of October. Our four passengers disembarked at once. “Gentlemen,” said Barbicane, “we have no time to lose; tomorrow we must obtain horses, and proceed to reconnoiter the country.” Barbicane had scarcely set his foot on shore when three thousand of the inhabitants of Tampa Town came forth to meet him, an honor due to the president who had signalized their country by his choice. Declining, however, every kind of ovation, Barbicane ensconced himself in a room of the Franklin Hotel. On the morrow some of the small horses of the Spanish breed, full of vigor and of fire, stood snorting under his windows; but instead of four steeds, here were fifty, together with their riders. Barbicane descended with his three fellow- travelers; and much astonished were they all to find themselves in the midst of such a cavalcade. He remarked that every horseman carried a carbine slung across his shoulders and pistols in his holsters. On expressing his surprise at these preparations, he was speedily enlightened by a young Floridan, who quietly said: “Sir, there are Seminoles there.” “What do you mean by Seminoles?” “Savages who scour the prairies. We thought it best, therefore, to escort you on your road.” “Pooh!” cried J. T. Maston, mounting his steed. “All right,” said the Floridan; “but it is true enough, nevertheless.” “Gentlemen,” answered Barbicane, “I thank you for your kind attention; but it is time to be off.” It was five A.M. when Barbicane and his party, quitting Tampa Town, made their way along the coast in the direction of Alifia Creek. This little river falls into Hillisborough Bay twelve miles above Tampa Town. Barbicane and his escort coasted along its right bank to the eastward. Soon the waves of the bay disappeared behind a bend of rising ground, and the Floridan “champagne” alone offered itself to view.
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