Where we came upon a stream, the change in the vegetation was astonishing.  It was a sudden transition from an English, plantation of fir trees into the jungle of the tropics, full of Indian figs, palms, lancewood, and great mahagua[1] trees, all knotted together by endless creepers and parasites; while the parrots kept up a continual chattering and screaming in the tree-tops.  The moment we left the narrow strip of tropical forest that lined the stream we were in the pine wood.  Here the first two or three feet of the trunks of the pine trees were scorched and blackened by the flames of the tall dry savannah-grass, which grows close round them, and catches fire several times every year.  Through the pine forest the conflagration spreads unobstructed, as in an American prairie; but it only runs along the edge of the dense river-vegetation, which it cannot penetrate.

The Banos de Santa Fe are situated in a cleared space among the fir trees.  The baths themselves are nothing but a cavity in the rock, into which a stream, at a temperature of about 80 deg., continually flows.  A partition in the middle divides the ladies from the gentlemen, but allows them to continue their conversation while they sit and splash in their respective compartments.

The houses are even more quaint than the bathing-establishment.  The whole settlement consists of a square field surrounded by little houses, each with its roof of palm leaves and indispensable verandah.  Here the Cubans come to stay for months, bathing, smoking cigarettes, flirting, gossiping, playing cards, and strumming guitars; and they seemed to be all agreed on one point, that it was a delightful existence.  We left them to their tranquil enjoyments, and rode back to Nueva Gerona.

Next morning we borrowed a gun from the engineer of the steamboat, and I bought some powder and shot at a shop where they kept two young alligators under the counter for the children to play with.  The creeks and lagoons of the island are full of them, and the negroes told us that in a certain lake not far off there lived no less a personage than “the crocodile king”—­“el rey de los crocodilos;” but we had no time to pay his majesty a visit.  Two of the Floridan negroes rowed us up the river.  Even at some distance from the mouth, sting-rays and jelly-fish were floating about.  As we rowed upwards, the banks were overhung with the densest vegetation.  There were mahogany trees with their curious lop-sided leaves, the copal-plant with its green egg-like fruit, from which copal oozes when it is cut, like opium from a poppy-head, palms with clusters of oily nuts, palmettos, and guavas.  When a palm-tree on the river-bank would not grow freely for the crowding of other trees, it would strike out in a slanting direction till it reached the clear space above the river, and then shoot straight upwards with its crown of leaves.