A queer-looking stumpy boat yclept the “Okeehumkee” was waiting for us at the head of the “Silver Springs.” The vessel was short and broad, like a monstrous beetle with its legs cut off; it was made to fit and float on the “Ocklawaha” river and nowhere else. We stepped first on to a lower deck--crowded with coils of ropes and poles, and the miscellaneous belongings of the queer little craft--which was occupied by the engineers, stokers, and other stray hands, who helped to work the vessel; there was a big boiler, and a little engine, and a tiny cupboard of a kitchen, where operations for our mid-day meal were being vigorously carried on. Ascending a narrow flight of steps we are on the bow of the vessel--a wide balcony which occupies the entire front; behind this, and entered by two glass doors from the balcony is the saloon, bayfronted with windows all round, comfortably furnished with sofas and easy chairs, and two round tables. Opening from this again is a narrow passage running through to the end of the boat, on each side of which is a row of tiny cabins--about twelve in all, narrowing towards the stern. There is what is called “accommodation” for a score or so of tourists. Foolish people think they are fortunate if they can secure a “berth;” they don’t know how much may be left of them in the morning. Mosquitoes are a hungry race, and make a meal of the sleeper. He goes to bed fair and well to look at; when he gets up in the morning he can scarcely recognise his own face! Wise people sit up all night, and when they are tired of the wonderful scenery (which is illuminated at night by huge flaming pine logs which blaze from a great iron cauldron just above the balcony) they doze in easy chairs, or roll themselves up like mummies and sleep on the sofas. Some sit up on the balcony all night smoking, and at intervals singing snatches of old songs, which fall pleasantly on the drowsy ears of the sleepers.