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MANY incidents of travel are related by different savants, and those of humbler pretensions, who circulate through the country for various purposes; but the following stands without a parallel as a genuine fact, so far as last heard from, in the wilds of Florida.

As we entered the famous Silver Springs this morning, about 4 o’clock, on the steamer Okahumkee, another boat that had arrived slightly in advance of us was anchored very near our stopping-place. Upon the bows of each were burning large light-wood fires, the reflection on the water being only comparable to the magic movements of enchantment, while the shore, encircled with tall forest-trees, embowered the whole in a sylvan retreat, where Diana herself might repose, and be refreshed for the more exciting amusements of the chase. One of our gentlemen-passengers, upon being suddenly aroused from his sound slumbers, opened his blind for the purpose of taking observations of the outside world. At the same instant a very fresh morning breeze fanned his brow, causing him to make a most convulsive sneeze—which effort being too much for his artificial superstructure, all his upper teeth were ejected from his mouth into the water. Upon the return of his wandering thoughts from the vision of beauty before him, he was again apprised of the stern realities which would have to be met and faced without the valuable accessories for administering to his comfort—particularly in the mastication of Florida beef—teeth. Soon as day dawned, sympathetic friends gathered around him with words of condolence, while the services of all experts in the art of descending into the watery fluid, without being drowned, were called into requisition. They all went down repeatedly, and returned without the lost treasures. Poles were spliced, armed with instruments of various designs, with which they raked and dredged for hours, with toothless success. Large rewards were offered, while hope in the heart of the owner sunk below zero, and expectation stimulated the movements of only one artisan, who finally succeeded in securing the truant grinders by fastening a tin scoop on the end of a forty-foot pole, and bringing them out, amid the congratulations of friends and the great joy of the owner, who gave the persevering negro his proffered reward—ten dollars. The first investment made by the colored individual was two bits for tobacco, which he could chew without the aid of foreign intervention.

The most noticeable point on the Ocklawaha is the Mirror of Diana, or Silver Springs, which is the source of this river, where, from the depths of some invisible cavern, boils up a large body of water, gathered from far away, forming a succession of springs nine miles in length, with an average depth of thirty-five feet. These waters rise from the subterranean depths of the earth, with their crystal streams pure as an angel, clear as the noonday sun, bright and beautiful as the radiance of heavenly light. This spring is to the campers and movers who travel through the country what Jacob’s Well was to the land of Samaria. It is entirely surrounded by trees, forming columns unknown to drafts or plans of architectural skill, except the great Architect of the universe. More than thirty years since, the land around this spring was entered as a homestead by a relative of that memorable martyr, John Rogers. Mr. Rogers, with whom we had the pleasure of conversing, said its present appearance was the same as when he first saw it—the water being so clear that looking down in it appeared like the sky above it: he could see no difference in depths, look which way he would, up or down. The basin is lined with a grayish limestone, which lies in ledges on the bottom, from under the crevices of which dart out patriarchal fish of immense size; but no hook, however delicately baited and concealed, can lure them to bite. They are occasionally captured with lines by striking, which custom was practiced by the Indians, “while graceful poised they threw the spear.” At midday the sunbeams kiss the placid surface of this crystal fluid, while they are reflected by the transparent waters, which tremble and shimmer with resplendent glories.

A sunset viewed from this Mirror of Diana fills the imagination with emotions of grandeur, to be remembered as past joys, where descriptive powers are inadequate to the task. The parting rays of old Sol shine upon the vast forest of tall trees, draped with Spanish moss suspended in mid-air, resembling the fragile texture of some fairy realm more than a tangible substance; or when twilight deepens, then the stars raise their eyelids, and peep into the depths of this land-locked mystery, which reveals nothing of its past history, age, or origin.

The following legend, which appeared in the National Repository, seems so much in keeping with what might have been a reality, we have copied it for the benefit of those who are fond of legendary tales:

“A long time ago, when Okahumkee was king over the tribes of Indians who roamed and hunted around the South-western lakes, an event occurred which filled many hearts with sorrow. The king had a daughter named Weenonah, whose rare beauty was the pride of the old man’s life. Weenonah was exceedingly graceful and symmetrical in figure. Her face was of an olive complexion, tinged with light brown, her skin finely transparent, exquisitely clear. It was easy to see the red blood beneath the surface, and often it blushed in response to the impulses of a warm and generous nature. Her eye was the crystal of the soul—clear and liquid, or flashing and defiant, according to her mood. But the hair was the glory of the woman. Dark as the raven’s plume, but shot with gleams of sacred arrows, the large masses, when free, rolled in tresses of rich abundance. The silken drapery of that splendid hair fell about her ‘like some royal cloak dropped from the cloud-land’s rare and radiant loom.’ Weenonah was, in truth, a forest-belle—an idol of the braves—and many were the eloquent things said of her by the red men, when they rested at noon, or smoked around the evening fires. She was a coveted prize, while chiefs and warriors vied with each other as to who should present the most valuable gift, when her hand was sought from the king, her father. But the daughter had already seen and loved Chuleotah, the renowned chief of a tribe which dwelt among the wild groves near Silver Springs.

“The personal appearance of Chuleotah, as described by the hieroglyphics of that day, could be no other than prepossessing. He was arrayed in a style suitable to the dignity of a chief. Bold, handsome, well-developed, he was to an Indian maiden the very ideal of manly vigor. But it was a sad truth that between the old chief and the young, and their tribes, there had long been a deadly feud. They were enemies. When Okahumkee learned that Chuleotah had gained the affections of his beloved child, he at once declared his purpose of revenge. A war of passion was soon opened, and carried on without much regard to international amenities; nor had many weeks passed away before the noble Chuleotah was slain—slain, too, by the father of Weenonah.

“Dead! Her lover dead! Poor Weenonah! Will she return to the paternal lodge, and dwell among her people, while her father’s hand is stained with the drippings of her lover’s scalp? No; she hurries away to the well-known fountain. Her heart is there; for it is a favorite spot, and was a trysting-place, where herself and Chuleotah met. Its associations are all made sacred by the memories of the past, while on the glassy bosom of the spring the pale ghost of Chuleotah stands beckoning her to come. ‘Yes, my own, my beloved one, I come. I will follow where thou leadest, to the green and flowery land.’ Thus spake the will, if not the lips, of the maiden. It is not a mere common suicide which she now contemplates; it is not despair, nor a broken heart, nor the loss of reason; it is not because she is sick of the world, or tired of life. Her faith is, that by an act of self-immolation she will join her lover on that spirit-plain, whose far-off, strange glory has now for her such an irresistible attraction.

“The red clouds of sunset had passed away from the western skies. Gray mists came stealing on, but they soon melted and disappeared, as the stars shone through the airy blue. The moon came out with more than common brilliancy, and her light silvered the fountain. All was still, save the night-winds, that sighed and moaned through the lofty pines. Then came Weenonah to the side of the spring, where, gazing down, she could see on the bottom the clear, green shelves of limestone, sloping into sharp hollows, opening here and there into still profounder depths. Forty feet below, on the mass of rock, was her bed of death—easy enough for her, as before she could reach it the spirit must have fled. The jagged rocks on the floor could therefore produce no pain in that beautiful form. For a moment she paused on the edge of the spring, then met her palms above her head, and with a wild leap she fell into the whelming waves.

“Down there in the spring are shells, finely polished by the attrition of the waters. They shine with purple and crimson, mingled with white irradiations, as if beams of the Aurora, or clouds of a tropical sunset, had been broken and scattered among them. Now, mark those long, green filaments of moss, or fresh-water algæ, swaying to and fro to the motion of the waves; these are the loosened braids of Weenonah’s hair, whose coronet gives us such beautiful coruscations, sparkling and luminous, like diamonds of the deep, when in the phosphorescence of night the ocean waves are tipped with fire. These relics of the devoted Indian girl are the charm of Silver Springs. But as to Weenonah herself—the real woman who could think and feel, with her affections and memory—she has gone to one of those enchanted isles far out in the western sea, where the maiden and her lover are united, and where both have found another Silver Spring, amid the rosy bowers of love eternal.”

Thus runs the Indian legend of Silver Springs, in Florida.

The following description of Silver Spring, written by Prof. John Le Conte, although entirely divested of myth and mystery, contains truthful facts that continue to invest it with a charm which stirs the current of our thoughts as no other natural scenery in the State:

“This remarkable spring is situated near the center of Marion county, in the State of Florida, in latitude 29° 15´ north, and longitude 82° 20´ west. It is about five miles north-east of Ocala, the county-seat, and nearly in the axis of the peninsula, being equally distant from the Atlantic and Gulf coasts. Its waters are discharged by a short stream bearing the same name, which, after running about six miles, unites with the Ocklawaha, a tributary of the St. John’s River. The stream takes its origin in a deep pool, or head-basin, which is called the Silver Spring. This basin is nearly circular in shape, about two hundred feet in diameter, and surrounded by hills covered with live-oaks, magnolias, sweet-bays, and other gigantic evergreens. The amount of water discharged is so large that small steamers and barges readily navigate the Silver Spring, up to the pool, or head-spring, where there is a landing for the shipment of cotton, sugar, and other produce. These steamers and barges make regular trips between the Spring and Pilatka, on the St. John’s. The boatmen informed me that at its junction with the Ocklawaha more than one-half the water is contributed by the Silver Spring stream. This stream, for about two miles from its source, varies in breadth from forty-five to one hundred feet, and its depth in the shallowest parts from ten to fifteen feet, its average velocity being about two miles per hour. The fluctuations of water-level in this spring seem to be connected with the season of rains, but never varying more than two feet. The commencement of the rainy season changes from the 15th of June to the 15th of July. The waters of the spring begin to rise about the middle of the season of summer rains, and attain their maximum height about its termination. The maximum depth of water in the basin constituting the head of the spring was found to be not more than thirty-six feet in the deepest crevice from which the water boils up; the general depth in the central and deep parts of the basin was found to be about thirty feet. Inasmuch as accurate quantitative determinations, however easily applied, are seldom resorted to by the unscientific, we need not be surprised that its real depth falls very far short of its reputed depth. In South Carolina, the reported depth was variously stated at from one hundred and twenty to one hundred and fifty feet, while the smallest estimate in the vicinity of the spring was forty-five feet! This affords an illustration of the general law, that the accuracy of popular statements bears an inverse proportion to the distance from the point of observation—probably, like all emanations from centers, following the law of inverse squares.

“Doubtless, the greater portion of the water which flows in the Silver Spring River is furnished by this principal or head-spring; but there are several tributary springs of similar character along the course of the stream, which contribute more or less to the volume of water. These usually occur in deep basins, or coves, along the margin of the stream. The depth of one of these coves, situated about two hundred yards below the head-spring, was found to be thirty-two feet in the crevice in the limestone bottom from which the water boiled; in other deep parts of the basin the depth was about twenty-four feet. The ‘Bone-yard,’ from which several specimens of mastodon bones have been taken, is situated two miles below the head-spring, it being a cove, or basin, measuring twenty-six feet.

“The most remarkable and really interesting phenomenon presented by this spring is the truly extraordinary transparency of the water—in this respect surpassing any thing which can be imagined. All of the intrinsic beauties which invest it, as well as the wonderful optical properties which popular reports have ascribed to its waters, are directly or indirectly referable to their almost perfect diaphaneity. On a clear and calm day, after the sun has attained sufficient altitude, the view from the side of a small boat floating on the surface of the water, near the center of the head-spring, is beautiful beyond description, and well calculated to produce a powerful impression upon the imagination. Every feature and configuration of the bottom of this gigantic basin is as distinctly visible as if the water was removed, and the atmosphere substituted in its place.

“A large portion of the bottom of this pool is covered with a luxuriant growth of water-grass and gigantic moss-like plants, or fresh-water algæ, which attain a height of three or four feet. The latter are found in the deepest parts of the basin. Without doubt, the development of so vigorous a vegetation at such depths is attributable to the large amount of solar light which penetrates these waters. Some parts are devoid of vegetation; these are composed of limestone rock and sand, presenting a white appearance. The water boils up from fissures in the limestone; these crevices being filled with sand and comminuted limestone, indicate the ascending currents of water by the local milk-like appearance produced by the agitation of their contents.

“These observations were made about noon, during the month of December—the sunlight illumining the sides and bottom of this remarkable pool, brilliantly, as if nothing obstructed the light. The shadows of our little boat, of our hanging heads and hats, of projecting crags and logs, of the surrounding forest, and of the vegetation at the bottom, were distinctly and sharply defined; while the constant waving of the slender and delicate moss-like alga, by means of the currents created by the boiling up of the water, and the swimming of numerous fish above this miniature subaqueous forest, imparted a living reality to the scene which can never be forgotten. If we add to this picture, already sufficiently striking, that objects beneath the surface of the water, when viewed obliquely, were fringed with the prismatic hues, we shall cease to be surprised at the mysterious phenomena with which vivid imaginations have invested this enchanting spring, besides the inaccuracies which have been perpetuated in relation to the wonderful properties of its waters. On a bright day the beholder seems to be looking down from some lofty air-point on a truly fairy scene in the immense basin beneath him—a scene whose beauty and magical effect is vastly enhanced by the chromatic tints with which it is inclosed.

“Popular opinion has ascribed to these waters remarkable magnifying power. In confirmation of this, it is commonly reported that the New York Herald can be read at the deepest parts of the pool. It is almost needless to state that the waters do not possess this magnifying power; that it is only the large capitals constituting the heading of this paper which can be read at the bottom, and that the extraordinary transparency of the water is abundantly sufficient to account for all analogous facts. A variety of careful experiments were made, with a view of testing this point, by securing printed cards to a brick attached to a fathoming-line, and observing at what depth the words could be read when seen vertically. Of course, when looked at obliquely, the letters were distorted and colored by refraction. Numerous comparative experiments were likewise executed in relation to the distances at which the same cards could be read in the air. The results of these experiments may be announced in a few words—namely, that when the letters are of considerable size—say a quarter of an inch or more in length—on a clear, bright day, they could be read at about as great a vertical distance beneath the surface of the water as they could in the atmosphere. In some instances cards were read by those ignorant of the contents at depths varying from six to thirty feet. The comparative experiments in reading the cards in air and water serve to convey a more distinct idea of the wonderful diaphanous properties of the latter than any verbal description.

“Some have thought there was something mysterious in the fact that objects beneath the surface of the water, when viewed obliquely, are fringed with prismatic hues. It is unnecessary to remind the physicist that such a phenomenon is a direct physical consequence of the laws of dispersion of light by refraction. Observation has proved that white objects on a dark ground were fringed with blue at the top, with orange and red at the bottom, while the color of the fringing was reversed for dark objects on a white ground—this being exactly in accordance with recognized optical principles. In the present case, the phenomenon is remarkably striking and conspicuous, probably from two causes: first, because the extraordinary transparency of the water rendered subaqueous objects highly luminous; and secondly, because the gigantic evergreens which fringed the pool cut off most of the surface reflection, which would otherwise have impaired the visual impression produced by the more feeble refracted and dispersed rays proceeding from the objects—the shadow of the surrounding forest forming a dark background, analogous to the black cloud on which a rainbow is projected.”

The land improvements near the springs are not particularly fascinating. There are two landings about one-half mile distant from each other, called Upper and Lower. At the Lower Landing is a large turpentine distillery, the property of Messrs. Agnew & Co., where thirty barrels of turpentine and one hundred of rosin are manufactured monthly. The Upper Landing has a large ware-house, usually well filled with goods from steamers, to furnish the back country, together with produce for shipment to New York and many other points.

Mrs. F. A. House has a dry-goods store in the vicinity, and a small orange grove of very promising appearance. A boarding-house is kept open in the winter, but we are unable to state what benefit could be derived in drinking the strong limestone water from the spring, unless the scenery would compensate for the lack of life-giving properties in the transparent fluid. A bar-room is kept here by a man with much-inflamed eyes, which are, no doubt, caused by imbibing his villainous compounds too freely, in the absence of better-paying customers.

Tourists wishing to visit Ocala can be accommodated with a conveyance on reasonable terms. Ocala is a nice little town, six miles distant, nestled among the hummocks, embowered in a growth of grand water-oaks, orange-trees, and ornamental shrubbery. It is the capital of Marion county. A good hotel is kept here by Mr. E. J. Harris, where about forty boarders can be accommodated. In the center of the park stands a very creditable court-house, while churches of various creeds are located in the suburbs. It is a central business resort for the country people many miles around.

This locality is described by De Soto as being “a fertile region of country where maize is abundant, also acorns, grapes, and plums.” Near here the Spaniards entered upon the territory of a chief called Vitachuco, who received them with demonstrations of hostility; “where a bloody battle was fought between two lakes on a level plain, when two hundred warriors plunged into the water, and there remained without touching land for twenty-four hours.” Ocala has a population of several hundred inhabitants, which have more the appearance of enjoyment than those of any other town in the State. The climate being so mild, no arrangements are made in the stores and offices for warming; consequently when a cool morning comes, little camp-fires are built around the public square, before which are gathered many happy, contented-looking faces, of all professions, accepting things as they find them, taking a cool breeze with the firmness of a Stoic, knowing it is only of short duration—a kind of Northern aggression, which the warm sunshine will soon waft away. As the fragments of lost fortunes float by them, they do not settle into apathy and despair over the wreck, but all seem resigned to their fate, trying to be as happy as the force of circumstances will permit. They are mostly persons of fine mental culture, besides being the best, most hospitable people in existence; indeed, their society seems like an oasis in the desert of this cold, selfish world.

The lands around are gently undulating, with an abundance of rolling hummock and first-class pine. It was formerly considered the most productive county in the State, containing the best orange groves, and before the war raising the largest amount of sea-island cotton, besides oranges, sugar, and sirup in abundance. Many planters became discouraged during the late war on account of inability to work their large plantations, and abandoned them. These fertile tracts are for sale now in lots to suit colonists, or accommodate single settlers. An average of two thousand pounds of sugar to the acre can be produced here. The soil is dark, alluvial, and porous, containing phosphate of lime and other fertilizers, which possess the power of recuperation when not being cultivated. Lime-rock abounds, covering the earth in the form of bowlders and drifts, indicating a clay soil. Good lands can be purchased at from five to ten dollars per acre.

Marion county is called the back-bone of the State—it being the center from which the waters recede on each side, until what was the ocean’s bed is now cultivated land. This theory is confirmed from the fact of numerous fossil remains to be seen on the surface, consisting of fish, birds, alligators’-shells, oysters, together with the bones of an animal unknown to the present generation; but if his voice was proportionate to his body, he must have made the earth tremble with sound. The following amusing story is related in reference to this mammoth animal during the pioneer movements of boats which first navigated the Ocklawaha River:

One morning early, as the gray dawn was stealing through the shades of night, the inhabitants were aroused from their slumbers by an unusual noise. An old hunter named Matt. Driggers, whose ear was ever on the alert for the scream of the wild cat, the howl of the wolf, the yell of the panther, or the growl of the bear, rushed out, exclaiming, “What on airth is that?” The sound was repeated, when Matt. convulsively grasped his hunting-horn, and blew a blast from his stentorian lungs which echoed through a vast extent of country. His faithful hounds came whining about him, anxious for the hunt. Taking down his rifle “Dead Shot” from the hooks, he mounted his lank steed, and rode with haste to the nearest neighbor, Pat Kennedy. “Hellow, Pat! you in thar asleep, and the devil unchained in the swamp! Hark! now don’t you hear him?” “O Matt., that’s nothin’ but one of those old masterdons! You know we dun seed his bones where he was drowned in the Wakulla Spring.” “I dunno, may be so; one thing sartain, he’s a mighty big varmint, an’ his voice is curoser than any thing I ever hearn afore in my time.” “But,” says Pat, “one thing sure: there is nothing ranges these parts but what my dogs and ‘Kill Quick’ can bring down.” Summoning all his dogs, he was soon on his way with Matt. Driggers to the house of the next frontiersman. Attracted by the baying of hounds and the blowing of horns, the excitement ran like wild-fire throughout the entire neighborhood, until all the settlers were collected.

After reviewing his comrades and counting his dogs, Matt. Driggers, confident that the full force of the country was mustered, then rode bravely through bushes and swamps, fording creeks and swimming lagoons, in pursuit of the great “varmint.” When he imagined they were sufficiently near, he ordered the dogs to be put on the trail. Simultaneous with this movement came another shrill echo from the supposed huge monster, which sent the dogs cowering to their masters, at the same time unnerving the courage of the bravest hunter. A look of superstitious awe was depicted upon every countenance, and none dared advance a step farther except Matt. Driggers, who, bolder than the rest, led the way, saying, “Come, boys; if the dogs are scared, we will follow by the sound!”

Winding their course cautiously through the valley, they followed in the direction of the strange sound, until they reached the basin of Silver Springs, where they found a curious-looking craft discharging cargo. The hunters commenced making inquiries if they had heard that great monster while passing through the valley, at the same time describing, and trying to imitate, its voice to the best of their ability. The Captain, to their great satisfaction, then told and illustrated to them that the great noise about which they were so much excited was only a steam-boat whistle!

Sometimes, the water being too low for steamers above Silver Springs, visitors are deprived of a great pleasure in not seeing this portion of the country, barges and slow coaches being the only medium of communication. However, this inconvenience will soon be overcome by a contemplated railroad. Large portions of the country in this locality are yet open to homestead settlers, where all good people will receive a hearty welcome.

As we leave the river and springs, the scenery changes from trees and foliage to fertile prairies and long marsh-grass, which sways in the breeze like troubled waves. Here the huge alligators luxuriate and crawl about in peaceful security, swallowing their light-wood knots before commencing to hibernate in winter, which precaution is said to be necessary, that their diaphragms may not contract during this torpid state.

In these wilds the palmetto rears its crowned head in solitude, and the wild orange matures its golden fruit, kissed by an eternal spring-time. This is the home of the curlew, plume-crane, blue heron, fish-hawk, royal king-fisher, mocking-bird, paroquet, red-bird, blue-peter, water-turkey, limkin, and duck—all of them God’s free birds.

Our steamer has now commenced making its pathway through wide, deep lakes, and we are one hundred and fifty miles above Pilatka. In these waters are found a great variety of fish—pike, trout, bream, perch; while in the surrounding country live the black bear, wild cat, deer, gray fox, squirrels of all kinds, and wild hogs.

The first body of water is Lake Griffin, twelve miles long; Lake Eustace, of less dimensions; then Lake Harris, fifteen miles in length, seven miles wide, with an average of water thirty feet in depth. The tide of immigration is concentrating on this lake very rapidly.

The following incident is related as having occurred among the primitive inhabitants in this portion of the country, when priests were not always waiting in the church to administer the rites of matrimony to willing lovers:

A devoted suitor, having made the preliminary arrangements for the celebration of his nuptials, set out in search of an official to perform the ceremony. He, never having been initiated into the mysteries of matrimony before, ignorantly inquired of the first person he met where he could find a sheriff. The man replied there was no sheriff nearer than Pilatka. “Why do you wish for him?” “I’m going to be married, sir.” “O you want the squire, or preacher.” “Do you know where a preacher lives, then? I thought the sheriff would do as well.” “The preacher has gone on the circuit.” Knowing a good deacon lived near, he repaired thither as a last resort. Finding the deacon at home, he related to him, in tremulous tones, his disagreeable condition. The deacon informed him that marrying did not come within the pale of his jurisdiction. “But I must be married,” replied the intended bridegroom. The deacon replied, “Impossible, sir!” “Well, deacon, can’t you marry us just a little till the preacher comes home?”

Leesburg, fronting partly on Lake Harris, is a thriving town; has a post-office, court-house, Masonic hall, hotel, private boarding-houses, church, steam cotton-gin, grist-mill, lumber dressing machine, etc. A sugar-cane mill is in operation, connected with which is a centrifugal sugar-dryer, the only one in the State. This mill can turn out fifteen barrels per day. Every thing produced here finds a ready market, as boats pass almost daily, which enables the settlers to change all their surplus into money, from a bale of cotton or moss to a dozen eggs.

When Colonel Hart’s little open boat and engine first came up to dredge out the barnets and swamp-grass, the natives gathered around him, thinking it was a cook-stove.

The Indians traveled through these swamps by wading in the water, and using a cow-hide fastened at the ends to transport their provisions, women, and children, which they drew after them, thus making a trail that lasted several days, which enabled their friends or foes to follow them.

In this vicinity we find historical relics, and approach tragic grounds. A portion of the cypress log mentioned by De Soto in his travels through Florida is still to be seen; also an artificial causeway, several hundred yards in length, made of shells from which the Indians extracted food and pearls, near which yet remains a portion of one of those immense mounds, supposed to be the residence of the Cazique.

Lake Dunham is the last in the chain of these inland waters, upon which is situated Okahumkee, two hundred and twenty-five miles above Pilatka. It is the terminus of navigation.

The Ocklawaha River was the memorable place where the Payne’s Treaty Landing was drawn up, and between the terminus of this chain of lakes and the Withlacoochee River are located the tragic grounds of General Thompson’s murder and the Dade Massacre.