In about two hours we land at Palatka, a pretty bright little town, one of the scores of places which we are obliged to pass through with only a passing glance. Those who are tired of wandering and wish to rest, cannot do better than spend a few pleasant tranquil days here on the banks of the quiet river. There is an excellent hotel, “The Palatka House,” where they will find comfortable accommodation and an excellent cuisine. We desire to reach Silver Springs and thence take the boat down the Ocklawaha river, of whose wonders we have heard so much that we prepare ourselves for disappointment. We don’t quite know how to get there or whether we are to sleep on the land or on the river, but we are content to drift, being strong in the faith that things will come right somehow. We have not been long seated when our conductor comes along; he punches our ticket, and smilingly adds a conjecture “Ladies from England, I think?” We modestly admit the fact. He claims nationality with us, and forthwith friendly relations are established between us. He sits down and enters into conversation. “You live in London, perhaps,” he hazards as a preliminary observation. That fact ascertained, he adds excitedly, “Ah! then you must know my father, Mr. Augustus Brown; he lives at Rose Villa, Lower Norwood, near by the Crystal Palace.” I pleaded ignorance of Mr. Augustus Brown, representing that these delightful suburbs were about ten miles from London’s self, and that a pilgrimage to the Crystal Palace was not a thing of everyday occurrence. “Ten miles!” he repeated incredulously, “why here we know everybody within a radius of a hundred miles! Think again, you must know him, you _must_ have met him somewhere! He is a fine old gentleman, tall, thin, with grey hair, and a long beard--you’ll surely remember him?” He looked so earnest that I was quite sorry to disappoint him by repeating my former statement, at the same time softening the blow by explaining the immense population of London and its suburbs, and how often people lived for years without even knowing their next door neighbours. That was all very well, but not to know my father, “Mr. Augustus Brown,” was quite another thing! I’m afraid by my ignorance of the inhabitants of Lower Norwood I lost caste considerably in his eyes. He went about his business with rather a perplexed face and presently came back to us with the information: