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<ANTIMG src="images/i007.jpg" width-obs="550" height-obs="384" alt="Magnolia" /></div>
<h2>MAGNOLIA.</h2>
<p class="left45">
<span class="smcap">Mandarin, Fla.</span>, March 6, 1872.</p>
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<p>AGNOLIA is a name suggestive of
beauty; and, for once, the name does
not belie the fact. The boarding-house
there is about the pleasantest winter
resort in Florida. We have been passing a day
and night there as guest of some friends, and
find a company of about seventy people enjoying
themselves after the usual fashions of summer
watering-places. The house is situated on a
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little eminence, and commands a fine sweep of
view both up and down the river. In the usual
fashion of Southern life, it is surrounded with
wide verandas, where the guests pass most of
their time,—the ladies chatting, and working
embroidery; the gentlemen reading newspapers,
and smoking.</p>
<p>The amusements are boating and fishing
parties of longer or shorter duration, rides and
walks along the shore, or croquet on a fine,
shady croquet-ground in a live-oak grove back
of the house.</p>
<p>We tried them all. First we went in a row-boat
about a couple of miles up a little creek.
The shore on either side was ruffled with the
green bonnet-leaves, with here and there a
golden blossom. The forest-trees, which were
large and lofty, were almost entirely of the
deciduous kind, which was just bursting into
leaf; and the effect was very curious and
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peculiar. One has often remarked what a misty
effect the first buddings of foliage have. Here
there was a mist of many colors,—rose-colored,
pink, crimson, yellow, and vivid green, the hues
of the young leaves, or of the different tags and
keys of the different species of trees. Here and
there a wild plum, sheeted in brilliant white,
varied the tableau. We rowed up to shore, drew
down a branch, and filled the laps of the ladies
with sprays of white flowers. The sun beat
down upon us with the power of August; and,
had it not been for the fresh breeze that blew up
from the creek, we should have found it very
oppressive. We returned just in time to rest for
dinner. The dining-hall is spacious and cheerful;
and the company are seated at small tables,
forming social groups and parties. The fare was
about the same as would be found in a first-class
boarding-house at the North. The house is
furnished throughout in a very agreeable style;
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and an invalid could nowhere in Florida have
more comforts. It is more than full, and constantly
obliged to turn away applicants; and we
understand that families are now waiting at
Green Cove for places to be vacated here. We
are told that it is in contemplation, another
season, to put up several cottages, to be rented
to families who will board at the hotel. At
present there is connected with the establishment
one house and a cottage, where some of
the guests have their rooms; and, as the weather
is so generally mild, even invalids find no objection
to walking to their meals.</p>
<p>The house is a respectable, good-sized, old-fashioned
structure; and, being away from the
main building, is preferred by some who feel the
need of more entire quiet. Sitting on the front
steps in the warm afternoon sunshine, and looking
across to the distant, hazy shores, miles
away, one could fancy one's self in Italy,—an
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illusion which the great clumps of aloes, and the
tall green yuccas, and the gold-fruited orange-trees,
help to carry out. Groups of ladies were
seated here and there under trees, reading,
working, and chatting. We were called off by
the making-up of a croquet-party.</p>
<p>The croquet-ground is under the shade of a
fine grove of live-oaks, which, with their swaying
drapery of white moss, form a graceful shade
and shelter. We shared the honor of gaining a
victory or two under the banner of a doctor of
divinity, accustomed, we believe, to winning
laurels on quite other fields in the good city of
New York. It has been our general experience,
however, that a man good for any thing else is
commonly a good croquet-player. We would
notify your editor-in-chief, that, if ever he plays
a game against Dr. C——, he will find a foeman
worthy of his steel.</p>
<p>In the evening the whole company gathered
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in the parlors, made cheerful by blazing wood-fires.
There were song-singing and piano-playing,
charades and games, to pass the time
withal; and all bore testimony to the very
sociable and agreeable manner in which life
moved on in their circle.</p>
<p>Magnolia is about three-quarters of a mile
from Green-Cove Springs, where are two or
three large, well-kept boarding-houses. There
is a very pleasant, shady walk through the
woods from one place to the other; and the mail
comes every day to Green Cove, and is sent for,
from the Magnolia House, in a daily morning
carriage. It is one of the amusements of the
guests to ride over, on these occasions, for a
little morning gossip and shopping, as Magnolia,
being quite sequestered, does not present the
opportunity to chaffer even for a stick of candy.
Of course, fair ones that have been accustomed
to the periodical excitement of a shopping-tour
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would sink into atrophy without an opportunity
to spend something. What they can buy at
Green Cove is a matter of indifference. It is
the burning of money in idle purses that injures
the nervous system.</p>
<p>There are no orange-groves on this side of
the river. The orange-trees about the house are
entirely of the wild kind; and, for merely ornamental
purposes, no tree more beautiful could be
devised. Its vivid green, the deep gold-color of
its clusters of fruit, and the exuberance with
which it blossoms, all go to recommend it.
Formerly there were extensive orange-groves,
with thousands of bearing trees, on this side of
the river. The frost of 1835 killed the trees,
and they have never been reset. Oranges are
not, therefore, either cheap or plenty at Magnolia
or Green Cove. Nothing shows more
strikingly the want of enterprise that has characterized
this country than this. Seedling
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oranges planted the very next day after the great
frost would have been in bearing ten years after,
and would, ere now, have yielded barrels and
barrels of fruit; and the trees would have grown
and taken care of themselves. One would have
thought so very simple and easy a measure
would have been adopted.</p>
<p>At eleven o'clock the next morning we took
steamer for Mandarin, and went skimming along
the shores, watching the white-blossoming plum-trees
amid the green of the forest. We stopped
at Hibernia, a pleasant boarding-house on an
island called Fleming's, after a rich Col. Fleming
who formerly had a handsome plantation
there. There is a fine, attractive-looking country-house,
embowered in trees and with shaded
verandas, where about forty boarders are yearly
accommodated. We have heard this resort very
highly praised as a quiet spot, where the accommodations
are homelike and comfortable. It is
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kept by the widow of the former proprietor; and
we are told that guests who once go there
return year after year. There is something certainly
very peaceful and attractive about its surroundings.</p>
<p>But now our boat is once more drawing up to
the wharf at Mandarin; and we must defer much
that we have to say till next week. Phœbus, we
are happy to say to our girl correspondents, is
bright and happy, and in excellent voice. All
day long, at intervals, we can hear him from the
back veranda, shouting, "What cheer! what
cheer!" or sometimes abbreviating it as
"Cheer, cheer, cheer!"</p>
<p>Since we have been writing, one of those
characteristic changes have come up to which
this latitude is subject. The sun was shining,
the river blue, the windows open, and the family
reading, writing, and working on the veranda,
when suddenly comes a frown of Nature,—a
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black scowl in the horizon. Up flies the wind;
the waves are all white-caps; the blinds bang;
the windows rattle; every one runs to shut every
thing; and for a few moments it blows as if it
would take house and all away. Down drop
oranges in a golden shower; here, there, and
everywhere the lightning flashes; thunder
cracks and rattles and rolls; and the big torrents
of rain come pouring down: but, in the back-porch,
Phœbus between each clap persists in
shouting, "What cheer! what cheer!" Like a
woman in a passion, Nature ends all this with a
burst of tears; and it is raining now, tenderly
and plaintively as if bemoaning itself.</p>
<p>Well, we wouldn't have missed the sight if we
had been asked; and we have picked up a
bushel of oranges that otherwise somebody must
have climbed the trees for.</p>
<p>Meanwhile the mail is closing. Good-by!
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