The spring is reached at last, where we can feast our eyes with its pearly hues and changing, shimmering waters, dancing in the sunlight. It is about seventy-five yards wide and sixty in length, its greatest depth being one hundred and twenty-five feet. The water is blue limestone, but looks green from reflection, and very cold, said to produce a numbing effect upon those who try bathing in its transparent depths. It is the head-waters of Wakulla River, forming a bold stream at a single bound from its subterranean home. The following description of this spring, by a writer who visited it over a hundred years since, will give the reader a more correct idea than any recently-published articles, although many who visit it now think they have the keys of all knowledge in delineation, and a vast amount of wisdom will cease to illumine the world when their existence is extinguished: "This charming nympheum is the product of primitive nature, not to be imitated, much less equaled, by the united effort of human power and ingenuity. As we approach it by water the mind of the inquiring traveler is previously entertained, and gradually led on to a greater discovery--first, by a view of the sublime dark grove, lifted up on shore by a range or curved chain of hills at a short distance from the lively green verge of the river on the east banks, as we gently descend floating fields of the nymphea in lumbo, with vistas of the live-oak, which cover a bay or cove of the river opposite the circular woodland hills. It is amazing and almost incredible what troops and bands of fish and other watery inhabitants are now in sight, all peaceable, and in what a variety of gay colors and forms, constantly ascending and descending, roving and figuring among one another, yet every tribe associating separately. We now ascended the crystal stream, the current swift; we entered the grand fountain, the expansive circular basin, the source of which rises from under the base of the high woodland hills, near half encircling it, the ebullition being astonishing and continual, though its greatest force or fury intermits regularly for the space of thirty seconds of time--the ebullition is perpendicular, upward, from a vast rugged orifice, through a bed of rocks a great depth below the common surface of the basin, throwing up small particles or pieces of white shells, which subside with the waters at the moment of intermission, gently settling down about the orifice, forming a vast funnel. After those moments when the waters rush upward the surface of the basin is greatly swollen, and then it is impossible to keep the boat, or any other floating vessel, over the fountain; but the ebullition quickly subsides--yet, before the surface becomes quite even, the waters rise again, and so on perpetually. The basin is mostly circular, sending out a constant stream into the river fifteen yards wide, and ten or twelve in depth. The basin and stream are both peopled