Additional mounds of Duval and of Clay counties, Florida

In Short

This work is a detailed archaeological survey of burial and ceremonial mounds across Duval and Clay counties, Florida, conducted in the late 19th century. Through the methodical, often total, demolition of these sites, the author catalogs skeletal remains, earthenware pottery, and stone or shell implements. It serves as a vital historical snapshot of regional antiquities, capturing findings before modern agriculture and urban growth obscured them. Its endurance lies in its clinical, exhaustive documentation of prehistoric life, offering a rare, grounded perspective on the material culture of Florida’s original inhabitants.

The Story

The narrative follows a series of systematic expeditions aimed at mapping the funerary and cultural practices of the indigenous peoples of Florida. The author begins with the low-lying mounds of Duval County, such as those at Arlington and Point La Vista. Here, the process is one of patient, manual labor: identifying a mound, securing permission from local landowners, and meticulously excavating the sand to uncover what remains of the past. The findings are often fragmented—decayed skeletal remains and shattered pottery—yet they provide a window into a culture that favored specific, ritualistic burial customs.

As the journey moves southward into Clay County and along the East Coast toward Brevard and Dade counties, the landscape changes, and so too do the findings. The author notes a striking variation in mound composition; while the St. Johns river area is rich in stone and chert artifacts, the coastal regions lack such materials, relying heavily on coquina and shell. In locations like the Gleason mound, the narrative arc takes a turn toward the contact period, identifying intrusive burials and European artifacts like silver and glass, which suggest that these mounds were utilized by later inhabitants long after their original construction.

The investigation reaches its final phase in the northern reaches, near the St. Johns River and Amelia Island. The Light-house mound in Fernandina stands out as a focal point for structural analysis, revealing complex internal strata and a deliberate, conical core of white sand. Throughout these final sites, the author grapples with the biological record as much as the cultural, seeking to identify the origins of domestic dogs found within the earthworks and analyzing skeletal features like the perforation of the humerus.

The conclusion is not a dramatic climax but a scholarly consolidation of evidence. The author rejects the popular notion that certain shell implements were used as war clubs, arguing instead that their wear patterns indicate use as agricultural or artisan tools. By the time the final mounds at St. Mary’s River are surveyed, the work serves as a comprehensive inventory of a disappearing past. It does not offer a romanticized view of history, but rather a somber, pragmatic ledger of what remains when time and the elements have finished their work. The story ends where the archives begin, preserving in print what was physically dismantled in the field.

How It Unfolds

The initial survey The investigation begins with the "low mounds" of Duval County, where the author carefully documents the removal of sand and the cataloging of undecorated earthenware. These early excavations establish the routine of the work: clearing vegetation, mapping dimensions, and noting the state of decay for every find.

The shift to the coast The focus transitions to the salt-water stretches of the Indian and Banana rivers, where the author observes a notable absence of chert and stone. Here, the work shifts to identifying "intrusive" burials, where later inhabitants repurposed existing mounds for their own dead.

The structural analysis At the Light-house mound, the study moves from simple discovery to advanced stratification, detailing the complex layers of sand and oyster shells. The author provides granular tables regarding skeletal measurements and the presence of anatomical markers in the recovered human remains.

The final synthesis The journey concludes with an examination of the St. Mary’s River area and a summary of the findings regarding canine remains. The work ends by consolidating the author’s conclusions on shell-tool usage and the lack of indigenous mounds in the remaining surveyed territories.

The People

The primary figure is the author, Clarence B. Moore, who acts as the dispassionate, methodical observer. He is defined by his persistence, often spending days in "thick hammock" or under the sun of cultivated fields, driven by a desire to catalog the past before it is lost to the plow or the elements. He is respectful of property rights, frequently acknowledging the "cordial permission" of landowners like William G. Matthews or Governor Gleason, yet he is entirely unsentimental about the demolition of the sites themselves.

He is joined in spirit, if not in person, by the experts he cites: the archaeologist Frank Hamilton Cushing, whose work on shell tools informs Moore’s own conclusions, and Professor E. D. Cope, the esteemed paleontologist tasked with identifying the canine remains. These figures represent the intellectual network of the era, helping Moore categorize the disparate pieces of his puzzle. The indigenous peoples who built the mounds are the central, albeit absent, subjects; they are known only through the "mouldering fragments" of their skeletons and the deliberate, often ceremonial, placement of their artifacts. They are silent, yet their habits—such as the "peculiar custom" of perforating vessels—are the primary language through which Moore interprets their existence.

In Its Own Voice

"Our hopes in respect to this mound, however, were doomed to disappointment, for mound work is a lottery where blanks largely predominate."

The author reflects on the uncertainty of excavation after opening a large mound that yielded little evidence.

"This interesting vessel, entirely intact, consists of four irregular compartments joined together on the same plane; from their point of union a fifth compartment rises."

Moore describes an exceptionally rare five-chambered earthenware vessel discovered in a low mound near Point La Vista.

"Moreover, Mr. Frank Hamilton Cushing, who has recently explored certain shell deposits of the southwestern coast of Florida, and who was fortunate enough to find a number of these implements with handles in place, informs us that in his opinion our position in this matter is the correct one."

The author corroborates his theory that perforated shells were tools rather than weapons.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the necessity of systematic preservation through study. Moore treats the mounds as a finite, rapidly disappearing archive. He confronts the question of whether these sites were primarily for burial or for other social functions, concluding that the answer varies by geography and time period. The work grapples with the transition from prehistoric eras to post-European contact, using the presence or absence of copper, silver, and glass to delineate historical boundaries. Underneath the data lies a profound interest in the continuity of human ingenuity—how different cultures, across diverse environments, utilized the materials at hand to honor their dead and mark their presence on the landscape.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of American archaeology will find this a fascinating, if demanding, primary source. It provides a raw, unvarnished look at how the discipline was practiced in the late 19th century—a time when investigation often meant the total destruction of the site. The prose is precise and clinical, reflecting the sensibilities of a Victorian-era scientist; there is no attempt to dress the work in modern narrative flair.

You will find the book rewarding if you appreciate primary research, though it is important to acknowledge that the author’s tone and methodologies reflect the attitudes of his time. The text can be repetitive, as it meticulously catalogs the contents of dozens of similar mounds, and some readers may find the focus on "mouldering fragments" and the physical dismantling of burial sites jarring. However, for those interested in the material culture of Florida’s past, the book is an invaluable record. It captures a version of the state that no longer exists, offering a clear-eyed account of the artifacts that once lay beneath the soil. What stays with you is the sheer scale of the labor involved—a quiet, singular devotion to mapping the traces of lives that would otherwise be entirely forgotten.