“Provided they rule well, yes; and we’ve nothing to complain of now; the laws are easy, and we are left to live and work in peace, though up to the last few years we’ve been liable to hostile incursions of the Indians. Why, I’ve seen them swarm over the bastions yonder, and come swooping and yelling through the streets, filling the air with their hideous war-cry--such scenes, dear ladies, as I dare not tell you of; now we are under the American flag, and, the Blessed Lord be thanked, we are at peace.” He took us through his orchard at the back of the house, and on to a small orange grove of about an acre, which he proudly informed us he managed all himself. We gathered and ate some oranges--deliciously cool and refreshing they were; he apologised for their size and scarcity, as the trees had been stripped of their finest fruit some weeks ago. As yet we had only caught a general view of St. Augustine, and we hurried on to make acquaintance with its special features. The streets are narrow and crooked, varying from ten to twenty feet wide, the houses having verandahs or balconies jutting out overhead so close together that the ladies thereon can almost shake hands across from one side of the road to the other. There are no regular pavements or sidewalks, and the roads are laid with broken oyster or mussel shells. The houses are mostly built of a kind of compressed shell-stone called “coquina,” which is quarried from the island of Anastasia, that lies about a mile across the harbour and separates St. Augustine from the Atlantic Ocean. This is the oldest European settlement in America, and was so settled long before the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers. The most picturesque and romantic of all the quaint old streets is George Street, with its curious houses and hanging balconies clinging along the fronts thereof, and are generally covered with climbing plants. The white coquina walls rise straight and bare direct from the roadway; the windows are small and closely curtained, as though the old Spanish dons still jealously guarded their hidden beauties from the sight of man. There is an air of great seclusion everywhere--we might be wandering through an oriental city; but we know that behind these bare walls there are blooming gardens of oleander, magnolia, orange and lemon trees; occasionally we get a glimpse of some rich striped lily or glowing passion-flower nodding over the wall.