Old Seaport Towns of the South

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1917 edition. Excerpt: ... chapter vii an afternoon in old st. augustine and A chronicle of tire trouble do not know why there should be a mysterious affinity between long, black moustaches and yachting-caps, but it is true that men who wear the one inevitably affect the other. We encountered the combination on the morning of our last day in Jacksonville. The fellow had a motor that he was willing to rent to any one who was foolish enough to rent it from him, and he captured us on the very doorstep of our hotel. We had started out immediately after breakfast, lured by a growing determination to visit St. Augustine whether it rained or not, and because the newspapers had invited us, every day for a week, to cross the river. "Take your fairy across the ferry" was Jax's morning reminder that Spanish St. Augustine, the crumbling and dreamy old-world city, could be reached in an hour or two by motor. Everything conspired to our miserable downold seaport towns fall. "Mr. Foster's" amanuensis was hemmed in by tourists when we approached her desk, and we did not wait to ask questions about St. Augustine because she was in the middle of a detailed explanation, patiently given to an inattentive old lady, of how one goes from Jacksonville to El Paso in the quickest possible time. When we turned away the old lady was saying, in a positive tone, "Now, tell me how to get from Jacksonville to Portsmouth, New Hampshire." We knew that "Mr. Foster's" human time-table was quite likely to be creating schedules for the old lady until noon. So we had wandered out of doors, hoping