ag'in."

By the time breakfast was over and the Elmers came on deck, they
found the schooner running rapidly up a broad river, between wide
expanses of low salt-marshes, bounded by distant pine forests, and
studded here and there with groups of cabbage palms. The channel
was a regular zig-zag, and they ran now to one side and then far
over to the other to escape the coral reefs and oyster bars with
which it is filled. This occupied much time; but the breeze was
fresh, and within an hour they had run eight miles up the river,
and were passing the ruins of the old Spanish Fort of St. Mark's.
A few minutes later sails were lowered, and the schooner was
moored to one of the rotten old wharves that still remain to tell
of St. Mark's former glory.

"And is this St. Mark's?" asked Mrs. Elmer, looking with a feeling
of keen disappointment at the dozen or so tumble-down frame
buildings that, perched on piles above the low, wet land, looked
like dilapidated old men with shaky legs, and formed all that was
to be seen of the town.

"Yes, miss," answered the colored pilot, who seemed to consider
her question addressed to him. "Dis yere's St. Mark's, or what de
gales has lef' of hit. 'Pears like dey's been mighty hard on de
ole town, sence trade fell off, an' mos' of de folkses moved away.
Uster be wharves all along yere, an' cotton-presses, an' big
war'houses, an' plenty ships in de ribber; but now dey's all gone.
Dem times we uster hab fo' trains of kyars a day; but now dere's
only one train comes tree times in de week, an' hit's only got one
kyar. Ole St. Mark's a-seein' bad times now, for sho."