The Hotel Ponce de Leon is naturally the great object of his search, and if his purse affords it the tourist certainly stops here, if only for the sake of saying that he has slept, for one night at least, in this extraordinary and marvelously magnificent hostelry. If the Ponce de Leon were in New York, Philadelphia, St. Louis or Chicago, it would excite murmurs of admiration on every hand. But its existence would not be regarded as something extraordinary, as it certainly is in a town of the size of St. Augustine. The enterprise which led to its construction has been commented on again and again, and the liberal methods of management have also been the subject of much comment. As the carriage passes through the arched gateway into the enclosed court, blooming all the year round with fragrance and beauty, the tourist begins to apologize mentally for the skepticism in which he has indulged, concerning this wonder of the age. After mounting several successive terraces of broad stone steps, he finds himself at last before the magnificent front of the great hotel. Before him there is the grand doorway, surmounted by the oft-described arch of Spanish shields in terra cotta. All around there are broad galleries and wide windows, with very costly, artistic cappings. The galleries are supported by massive but neat pillars, and the shaded nooks and quiet corners are full of romantic influence. Everything is reminiscent of old Spain, although the magnificence and architecture is often that of the extreme East. There are five elegantly decorated salons, in which there are tables of costly onyx, and on whose walls there are paintings of great splendor. On the ceiling above him exquisite frescoes tell the story of the old cavalier after whom the hotel is named, and of his patient and faithful search for the fabled fountain of youth which no one has yet found. At dinner the visitor is almost appalled by the magnificence of the service, and his appetite is apt to be injured by his reflections as to the cost of the silver and porcelain set before him. Sometimes as many as a thousand guests sit down together, and the service seems to be perfect for an unlimited number of visitors. This great hotel was erected like the great temple described in scripture, practically without hammer or nails. Being molded from concrete, it is practically proof against weather and time, and it is fireproof in a sense of the term far more literal than that generally adopted in large cities. There is no sham work, from basement to tower. Italian marble, terra cotta and Mexican onyx are the principal materials used, and nothing "equally as good" is tolerated.