Leaving Fernandina, and steaming up the St. Johns’ river, we saw something of the cracker “plantations.” The native forests generally ran down to the water’s edge, but here and there, little lawn-like inclosures, extended back to clumps of trees, in the midst of which shabby frame houses could be seen—the “mansions” of the Floridian planters. Cultivated fields were rare, and the country seemed rather used for grazing than for any more strictly agricultural purposes. Pelicans were seen occasionally in the water, quite near the boat, and immense stories were told of the alligators one did not see. Scarcely a white man appeared along the whole route, and even the negroes were seen infrequently. Starting from Fernandina at noon, we were at Jacksonville an hour before sundown. A few brick warehouses and stores make up the street fronting on the water, and a huge billiard saloon seems as much of an institution as the stores. Everywhere the sand was almost bottomless, and walking, for even a square or two, was exceedingly uncomfortable. A negro guard paced along the wharf; negroes in uniform were scattered about the streets, interspersed with a few Rebel soldiers, and a very neatly-policed negro camp occupied one of the vacant squares. These negroes are fine, stalwart men, better in physique than those at Savannah, and, in fact, rather superior to the lusty fellows at Port Royal. They seemed to speak a worse patois than the Sea Islanders, and words of Spanish, in the mouths of some of them, testified to their being genuine sons of the soil, with a lineage running back in a straight line to the days of the Spanish occupation. There was scarcely a mulatto among them. Within a few moments after our boat touched the wharf, a Tax Commissioner of Florida, and a curious, squatty military officer, with certainly the most extraordinary squeaking voice ever heard on a parade ground, came on board. The officer was General Israel Vogdes, an old West Pointer, standing high in the technical points of his profession, and more than fair in its practice. He commanded the post, and proved as agreable in all other respects as he was vocally atrocious. He had established his headquarters in the best house in town; and the staff whiled away their leisure hours in the runaway Rebel’s billiard room, or over his books. * * * * *