The last golden gleams of the setting sun sparkled across the translucent waters of Tampa Bay. This fading light fell upon shores fringed with groves of oak and magnolia, whose evergreen leaves became gradually darkened by the purple twilight. A profound silence, broken by the occasional notes of a tree-frog, or the flapping of the night-hawk’s wings, was but the prelude to that wonderful concert of animated nature heard only in the tropical forest. A few moments, and the golden lines of trembling light had disappeared, while darkness almost palpable overshadowed the scene.
