Florida Jam
"Florida shall be the name of this new land," cried Ponce de Leon, "for, in truth, it is a flowery land. What sayest thou Padre Rotundo?" "As thou sayest I say. Florid is the red-bird flitting through the green bushes; florid the flamingo in the swamp; florid the sea weeds were that floated about our vessel as we passed you enchanted islands set in a luminous sea." "Beautiful isles of the sea," murmured Gonzalez. "Beautiful gems of the ocean," sighed Leonardo. "Surely," went on Ponce de Leon, "they are the veritable isles of the blessed that we thought were but fables of the ancients, and this is the garden of the Hesperides." "No gold, no gold," groaned Sebastiano, throwing down his prospecting pan and pick, "I have delved among the sands of yonder shore and found naught. Padre Rotundo, thou sayest these shell mounds show that this land was once the ocean's bed, show us, then, where lie the wrecks of ancient ships goldladen; or, Padre, show us the streams that flow down from El Dorado." "And if," said Ponce de Leon, pursuing his own train of thought, "this be the garden of the Hesperides, somewhere in its glades exists the fountain of perpetual youth. That will I find. Perish thy thoughts of gold." "I am with thee in that search, Don Leon!" exclaimed Leonardo. "Oh, would I were a boy again!" "Listen to the mocking-bird," said Ponce de Leon. "Aye," answered Leonardo, "and the woodpecker tapping the old hollow tree." "And the voice of the turtle is heard in the land," chimed in the oily voice of Padre Rotundo. "Land of love and sunny skies, bright with joy and beauty," exclaimed