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P.G.C. Monday January 1, 1877 The New Year begins roughly. Strong winds—almost gales all around the compass. The n westerly wind changed to north, then N.E. –E. –S.E. –S. and so on around to N.W. again where it hangs on heavily. The thermometer which was 42° yesterday was 72° today. To night it is warm also within doors—but coolish in the wind. We have all been over to Fred’s to tea—even Hunikin. And we had a pleasant time of it after sitting by the

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lightwood fire in the kitchen. The wind fairly howled and came in lively through the crevices between the logs. The skiff broke her painter this afternoon and drifted against the wharf, where she filled. I got her through after being nearly blown over and she finally came ashore, minus seats. The tide is very high and the big waves are dashing over the little wharf and making quite a surf on the beach. Rain fell nearly all the morning. Two of my quail traps fell. I rushed down to “sot ‘em again” and “Oh! gentlemen, you should ee seen the pattridges.” I had four quail in one trap and one in the other. Two we presented to Fred and Anna and the others we had for our New Year day dinner. They were prime and we enjoyed them immensely. The “Laura” must have put back for she is anchored opposite, we find this afternoon. Perhaps Pepi is’nt anxious to be wrecked again. He might not find another demijohn of whisky on shore afterward.

P.G.C.Tuesday January 2, 1877 A norther is belching forth frost or something near it this morning. A very low tide follows the high one of yesterday. The “Laura” is off by daylight and in the afternoon the “Mary” departs also. Lightwood is becoming scarce in this neighborhood. Yesterday Fred went back to the big tree when the road turns around the head of the “slew” and brought in a load. To day he and I went still further and brought in a larger one. Some of the latter is making our little kitchen luminous as Ben and I sit before the “Ridgewood” and pass the evening. This kitchen on cool days and nights is our grand resort. The youngsters are fast asleep under plenty of heavy clothing over to the house. This afternoon I had to give up my shore grubbing before I wanted to, the wind was so keen and cut through our clothes

Page 320 so. Fred did his digging in a heavy coat. And this is the “Italy of America.” We were astonished to see a red horse walk up to the gate this afternoon, look over, walk to the west and then jump the fence. After much trial to make the beast leave and go back in the woods and after the fence is jumped three times Fred anchors the animal to the fence by Neuse’s rope and gives it up for an easier one. I am pretty certain that it is the same one Gillis rode the last time he was here, but we can’t account for the absence of saddle and bridle. Are the bones of Gillis whitening in the forest? What will be the next visitation for us. Deer, pigs and horse! Now for a “bunch” of cattle! Then we’ll look out for Indians. The last of my kerosene saved from the kitchen fire, and big blow burned out yesterday. I borrowed a gallon of Fred today. It burns just as brightly.

P.G.C. Wednesday January 3, 1877 Dug up 300 square feet of garding [sic]; planted 120 hills of white potatoes from morning work and then tried to get a deer in the afternoon. Saw five—but they saw me first—2 within ¾ of a mile of the house and came back with “nary.” Had codfish cakes made of jew fish for supper and was agreeably surprised. It was hard to tell whether it was not cod. Yesterday Fred put in some white potatoes—or perhaps a day or two before, I forget which. We both thought best to try it again and hope for better results than last year. Extreme low tide to day. Find my water fence knocked into pig by the storm. Skiff all right and tight. Gillis drops in before breakfast for his horse. He had left it at Lockharts and it broke away. He has been at the mill about [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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P.G.C. Thursday January 4, 1877 A white flag was visable [sic] at De Coster’s after breakfast. I prepared to go over and bailed out the skiff but we could not get her off, the tide falling so rapidly. Before 10 o’c the shore was bare beyond the big wharf. In the midst of digging I noticed a boat coming and about 11 o’c De Coster himself arrived with letters and papers to Dec 8. and news from across the bay. He brought a bond for $500. which he wished us to sign and allow Bartholf to be made postmaster. This we did and De Coster also added his name. As soon as this bond can be sent to Washington we shall have a post office and postmaster at “Charlotte Harbor P.O.” Therefore as soon as you please direct future letters thus “Via Pine Level, Manatee Co.” We expect a weekly mail in and out and shall be able to hear from you and you from us quicker and oftener. The mail rider it is thought will cross the river here and take the Gillis short cut” to Fort Meyers. That will be settled hereafter. An additional petition will be sent to head quarters by De Coster—so he says—asking for Steamer Communication now that a post office is to be established. D.C. never does things by halves! But such a result I dont expect to see. I shall send you a letter in addition to the diary concerning political affairs etc. and wont enlarge here. De Coster says he has had frost almost every night this winter. We also had a slight one last night, but it only stopped the growth of “tommies.” The judge stopped to dinner at Fred’s and returned at 2 o’c wading out to his “dingy.” The expected “visitation” came tonight. Half a dozen “wild cattle” came in my side of the plantation but did not leave the beach. Tomorrow I shall have a fence to put up. Quite cool tonight. I have read the “Brooklyn

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--ner” and the political news in the Sun, Herald, Times, Evening Post and Brooklyn Daily Times, and think there is much to hope for yet. But the calamity has made me shivery and shaky and I will go to bed.

P.G.C. Friday January 5, 1877 The atmosphere was cool this morning as I rushed out to start the fire for Ben. By noon it was quite warm again and after dinner we had a spell of rain—in fact as I write pattering drops are heard above me. Em’s present to Brenda hangs in the study lamp, but it is almost too pretty to use for burnt matches. I have to poke them in on the sly as it is. It was a good morning for work and both Fred and I took advantage of it in our “front garding.” After dinner I fixed up my water fence and now we are all enclosed again. Then the rain came and we had to dig between showers. The rain was not heavy enough to do much good to the soil, but enough to wet one’s jacket. 30 cattle came along the back fence and will make a night of it in the upper head. They looked quite rural in single file as they passed. Yesterday I measured daylight in Florida. I found our day nearly an hour longer than yours. From sunrise to sunset was exactly 10 hours and a half. Can you tell me why the small frogs are impaled on orange tree thorns nowadays? We find them every where. Do they feel the cold and commit suicide to get rid of it? On the point of a bayonet leaf 6 feet from the ground Fred found a fiddler crab day before yesterday. How did he get there? Had he the suicidal mania also? These are curious Florida facts.

P.G.C. Saturday January 6, 1877 At times in the night the rain fell in regular rainy season fashion. The ground this morning was saturated and to a good planting depth. This spell con-

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tinued all the morning, with only short occasional “let ups.” The greater part of the afternoon was sunny and free from rain drops but clouds still hovered and a partially overcast sky was above us. Freddie and I overhauled the vegetables, cut the onion shoots and took the sprouts from the potatoes. Then with tears in my eyes I sat down and wrote a short letter to you to go by first opportunity. After dinner I put in 4 more rows of potatoes—white—and now have 9 rows, where we planted 12 last year. I reserved a small portion of the space for tommies. We have had so much cold weather lately that it is almost impossible to get a good start for the latter but it will come I suppose before long now. We have had an exceptional winter this year with much frost and a low temperature, added to high winds. There must be a weather settle ment [sic] before many days and their matters agriculturalooral will progress properly. The new buds on lemon and orange trees have been nipped twice or three times and they are just beginning to try it once again. Some of the new ‘tater vines have been again frosted but only a few. All my watermellons [sic] were nipped just as they began to creep. But there is some promise of better weather and nobody about here will object. Fred took a hunt this afternoon, fired at a whooper whose body was hid by grass and missed. He found water in the woods, knee deep. Last year at this time it was rather dry all around. No ducks visable [sic] as fixtures yet. Once in a while a flock will pass by but they are bound for other localities. Warm weather again today. Rowan Ranche Sunday—We have just come over for corn. Got none. Rowan goes to Manatee on Monday. De Coster’s horse dead. Can’t go to Pine Level. All well and hearty. Ever etc. Jarvis.

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Charlotte Harbor Fla. January 6, 1877

My dear Pa,

There is much dampness above, in the air, and under foot. It is impossible to do much work. I have hauled over potatoes, cried over onions and dabbled in carrots. Now I’ll drop in to politics. It is a gloomy subject on a wet day. As far as my papers show me there seems to be a political mandate and perhaps something worse. I hope the examining committees appointed by Congress will get hold of sufficient material to over throw the count of the returning boards. It dont seem to me that such gross frauds can succeed finally. So far as Florida is concerned there is little doubt expressed among the few I have seen that the state has gone democratic and that Tilden is entitled to the 4 votes. Stearns is from what I hear unprincipled and he has managed to count the state for Hayes. There is no doubt that he holds the guiding reins. Our county, Manatee, is wholly dem-cratic. Of course its vote is thrown out. But there is no evidence of fraud in the matter although it undoubtedly exists somewhere. Bartholf the county clerk was sick all summer. He grew worse a month or two before

Page 325 election. His life was actually in danger and he resigned his clerkship after being compelled to come to the Harbor shore to recruit. It is claimed by many that he had a motive in resigning. That may be, but it dont seem after all capable of the slightest proof. He was actually a skeleton and could barely get about. The new clerk, a Mr Green I believe, a republican, was appointed. De Coster was at Pine Level two days before election to swear him in. Morgan, an additional County Commissioner, and a democrat “went fishing” and did not keep his engagement to assist in the swearing in process. De Coster waited for him, voted and came back without the new clerk being sworn. Whether Morgan, who is a mild sort of a man and easily misled—if necessary—in my judgement, was kept by design from being on hand at Pine Level I am unable to find out. The registry books were not open, our two democratic votes could not be polled, and there was no County Clerk to endorse the returns. Of course they were easily thrown out. The bad points in the matter are that by Morgan’s absence the new clerk was not sworn.

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Had Morgan, a democrat, been ready and De Coster, a republican kept away there would been a different look on the matter. If there is any underhand hocus pocus about the matter I can’t imagine where to start the hunt for it. The claim is made that as there was no registry many republicans were kept from depositing a vote. All the new people I can put in the county are strong democrats, and these were the only ones prevented. The republicans were registered and their votes were received without question. I really think that Bartholf is too honest a man to be mixed up with any conspiracy to defraud the county—but he might be used without being aware of it and made to serve party ends. Governor Stearns could easily make matter plain(!) There was wrong doing somewhere, but I am almost positive that Bartholf was not a party to it. At the time his resignation was made public there was much said against him by up country democrates; but there is no chance of proving any thing against him individually. He has opened store here and intends to

Page 327 remain particularly for his health. In all his dealings heretofore he has been considered a man of integrity—and also as a man with a very large conscience. If he has been a party to fraud it will be impossible to prove it in consequence of the regularity—of his past life and the peculiar state —of facts. But I really think he is an innocent tool in the hands of a wise governor. At election times I intended hunting up the facts—supposing Bartholf had been bought and paid for—and sending them to Haries in Key West and also to you, but the more I enquire the further I am away from them. I really wish I had gone to Pine Level with De Coster on election day. I might have run across some points. Should I hear of any thing valuable I will send immediately. In the meantime we must only hope. Murder will out, it is said. Rascality will show up in time also. And now for dinner. Yours ever Jarvis

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Punta Gorda Chica Charlotte Harbor Fla. Sunday January 7, 1877

My dear Pa,

The sails of the “Mary” were visable [sic] at “Hickory Bluff” this morning and after breakfast Fred and I with Master Phip for ballast (!) sailed over to Rowan’s to get our expected corn. We had only a slight breeze but by frequent tacks and by the use of, finally, a white ash breeze we landed on the beach. Rowan and his white stovepipe hat came down to meet us followed by his son, a youth of 17 and a stranger (a slow voiced smiling cracker of pure blood) and lastly by “old man Curry.” They all came to the water line, but Curry finding a stake in the water handy to lean against stood beyond the semicircle of reception committee and leaned his lean form against it. But Rowan had not been to Manatee only down the bay hunting. His boys killed two deer and he has enjoyed venison heartily. Then came a broadside of news after the explanation. De Coster’s horse died last night—the pony, or rather colt. The stranger was certain that Manatee County would have her vote counted in the end. The leading County Commissioner had been ordered to appear at Tallahassee for examination. Two of the best lawyers in the country were fighting for Tilden etc. etc. As we were about to leave Rowan said: “Would you accept, Mr. Howard, of a deer’s ham?” I would and did. He went up to the house, returned with it, we pushed off and came directly home. So there’s deer in the larder again. For dinner to day we were to have chicken. Two were put in a small coop ready for the hatchet. A wildcat took the fattest and the other when killed was only bones and feathers. Our chicken feed was therefore postponed. Clams answered right royally in place of them. By the way I sent a week’s diary by Rowan. The mail rider will be at

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[first line(s) partially cut off on photocopy] how I could not find out! Weather today warm and pleasant. After dinner I took the 3 mites out for a sail in the skiff. They all sat on the middle seat and each brought a schooner to sail. We got back at tea time. Last evening one of the grandest displays of phosphorescence was seen by Fred and Anna from their windows. The Harbor was a mass of green ghostly light and wierd and beautiful. Each wave was tinted on its crest and the surface of the bay grandly illuminated.

P.G.C. Monday January 8, 1877 Delightful weather. A good average day for the season. Gentle breezes, plenty of sunshine, fog in small quantity dissipated by the rising sun, and a lovely sunset rich in violet, purple and lilac, with the usual sprinkling of grey clouds fleecy and delicate. Rather warm in the middle of the day but not uncomfortable. Among the day’s incidents was the arrival of a sloop of about 5 tons. It almost drifted past and disappeared at dinner time behind Coon Key. Four persons were on board as I could distinguish through the glass. Noticed also a bright new smoke stack at the mill made of galvanised iron. The glass didn’t show up the material but I saw the plates in the blacksmith shop on my last visit. Fred worked at trees today, digging and mulching. I put in some big licks in the “front sa—e garden,” and dropped into tree fixing and mulching after dinner. A few sand flies and one mosquito objected, however. Our dinner was made wholesome by roast venison, done rare, and as tender as any I ever tasted. Really, I believe I never tasted any tough Florida venison! This today had a delicious flavor. Saw two flocks of mallard in the bay yesterday and another today. But they were not large. Frogs in the woods tonight sound like rainy season times.

P.G.C. Tuesday January 9, 1877 The same old story. Grubbing and tree fixing and cultivating. On

Page 330 an additional flyer,” I planted 128 watermelon seeds in the cracker fashion. A little later I shall do so some more in the more civilised manner. I also put in some trophy and ackley tommies in the fruit garden and hope to get a start sometime. More venison for dinner and a “let up” on dried mullet and pork. The potatoes and onions from Kinderhook still hold out. Carrots are low down and the other varieties non est in ventilius. Lockhart walked up and back this afternoon. Fred received him—I didn’t care to be talked to death. As I write the small white sloop is passing on her way out. Among general facts not noted I may put this one: Curry has stopped work on the court house because no money is forthcoming. Poor impoverished Manatee County! Also; De Coster has bought Keys old place under the presumption that the future city will be built along that portion of Charlotte Harbor. Three wild(?) bulls, 1 steer, a cow and a calf grazed within 50 feet of the fence as I pulled grass and made over my orange mounds. Overcast and clammy nearly all day. Cool and shivery this evening and the wind blows from the north again. The woods are still wet judging from the cry of frogs beyond the fence. With this batch of diary I will send you a sketch of our penny kitchen. More sketches will follow as the weather gets settled. Now I’ll trot over to Fred’s for water, peek into the kitchen, see that the fire is out and that the “kiver” is one the match box and then—go to bed.

P.G.C. Wednesday January 10, 1877 The lovliest [sic] kind of a winter Florida day has just ended. It was made up of the very best material. Neither too warm, nor too cold, with sufficient breeze to vary it. The same labors were undergone by the deacon and me, and nearly all the daylight found us at it. Out of curiosity at noon time as I mopped off the “work sweat” I measured my muscles: Upper arm 12 ½ inches (10 ½ in rainy season) 11 ½ forearm, and 37 inches chest. Good exercise

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and Kinderhook vegetables put flesh on “ye invalid.” And I must say that in these times I feel like a fighting cock! For a change this evening Ben and I poled up to the upper head, after supper in the twilight, and picked some prickly pears. The mill whistle sounded, as we returned, for the first time in many days.

P.G.C. Thursday. January 11, 1877 A small army of mullet—the first in weeks—are splashing and jumping and passing in review along the shore line as I write. The mill has been running, and the two fires on our side and that on the mill side were started at the same moment—just a[t] day break. We put smoke in the air a little earlier than usual in order to take an early start for deer, devoting the morning to that service. The sun had been up less than an hour when we were off, Fred and I, in the woods again. But we might almost as well stopped at home. Three quarters of our route was in water from 2 to 5 inches deep. We saw no deer and not even a fresh track. Once we put up three cranes and at another time saw two a hundred and twenty yards ahead walking with stately steps to the east. They were too far for me and Fred fired. Unfortunately he missed. They landed in a pond ½ a mile away and I went for them. By carefully getting up I came within 100 yards and afraid they might go I fired. I hit one but not badly. They flew about 20 feet and stopped again. The second barrel this time brought the other and the wounded one flew away. But had I waited she would have come back. As I picked up the critters the mate sailed overhead and called for him. We afterward tried to decoy her down but could’n’t quite do it. We reached home at 1 o’c and I found the crane weighed 10 ½ pounds. It took me nearly all the afternoon to clean it, but we shall feast, not fast, tomorrow. Weather delightful. Temperature about 75°.

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P.G.C. Friday January 12, 1877 A beautiful sky picture greeted us at sunrise succeeded by warm weather and considerable breeze from the eastward. Grubbing in the morning went rather slow and the perspiration fast but about 300 square feet were accomplished. Fred worked about his lemon trees and heads [sic] mountains out of mole hills. I in the afternoon went to tree culture about my Clarke trees. About noon time Bartholf sent over by young Rowan for Fred as his boy was very sick. He mentioned but few symptoms and Fred sent medicine and advice. About 3 o’c young Rowan came again and this time Fred went back with him prepared to do all in his power. He found a crowd of people as usual and a delirious boy, having just been in a hot bath up to his neck, lying in the draught of an open door. Incidentally Bartholf told Fred that as desperate cases required desperate remedies he had, after trying every thing else, given the boy 2 doses of calomel! Fred immediately told him: “Then you have killed your child.” Faster Fred got quite worked up about such gross foolishness and said some things rather pointedly. Others present, however, agreed with Fred. In less than half an hour the poor boy was dead. Bartholf began to rail at his position away from civilisation etc. etc., but Fred answered that he was alone to blame and the best doctors in the land could not have done any thing after such treatment as the boy received. It was perhaps, injudicious, but Bartholf had acted, for a man of brains, like a born idiot! Fred left a wailing crowd and had to walk up to Rowans and get his boy to bring him over. De Coster had gone to Pine Level and taken the letters that the mail carrier failed to call for. As Fred came over he saw the “Laura” beating up against wind and tide and we shall have letters tomorrow. The whooper for dinner today was delicious, but not quite so tender as the last. It had a turkey

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flavor with all the added richness of roast goose. Freddie carried over a “taste” for our neighbors. As it was Friday they will have it for breakfast tomorrow. By the way young Rowan says there are plenty of green turtle in the lower bay and he and party will go a-turtling in a week or so. “They catch them in a net about 15 feet long, with 8 inch meshes, drawing it over the feeding ground by a boat at either end. The turtle gets entangled and is thus caught. “But don’t they bite your net and tear it,” you asked. “Oh, no; green turtle never bite.” He offered to bring clams and oysters if we wanted any; but as our funds, present and prospective, didn’t warrant we claimed to have had plenty of shell fish and an impaired taste at present. And now the “Mary” is to leave for Manatee on Monday.

P.G.C. Saturday January 13, 1877 It was a muggy day today, warm and sultry with very little breeze. At noon it was intensely warm. I moved around orange trees all the morning grubbing up and re=fixing the mounds and adding much. This season I add grass instead of beach combings and I think the result will be much better. It decays more rapidly and gives better feed to the trees. Fred described circles about his lemons. After dinner we grew hungry for news and I went out to the “Laura” as she came by. Letters were at De Coster’s. No Christmas box from Mrs. R. as expected. Then I came ashore got the sail and Freddie as captain and I as crew sailed across. Freddie took the boat over nicely and luffed up at the wharf, with seamanlike skill. Gillis met us. He thought Fred came with me and wanted to make a trade with him for the rice straw. But the straw had been feed to the chickens. “All your

Page 334 families are well, I suppose, Mr Howard.” “All well, thank you.” There we passed up the sandy beach to the De Coster mansion. De Coster had just got back from Pine Level and he and Mrs. were dressed up for the funeral, D.C. with his prayer book in readiness to read the episcopal burial service. He informed me that since the death of his pony he had bought another—paying a cow and a calf for it. But it died the next day. Then he purchased another horse for $160 that he expected to pay away for debt. We got letters and returned, and the D.C. family drifted down the beach for the funeral. George Edgar accidentally fell into Mr. Driggers fire place last week and burnt a space on his leg 4 inches long. He was busily engaged ---- [and was?] left picking the scab off and crying in fitful jerks at the sight of blood. —This evening I have read up news and gossip. The situation, politically, seems still muddled but more hopeful for our side than before. I hope we shall come up smiling yet. Both Fred and I are sorry we could not send you more definite Florida politics and more useful to you, but we sent to the best of our limited knowledge. From here. Phillips I hear that the Steamer “Emily” was lost near Key West and four passengers drowned. She was a rotten old hulk and entirely unseaworthy.

P.G.C. Sunday January 14, 1877 There was much fog at sunrise and yet it was thin enough to make the rising sun luminous through it and thoroughly tropical with wide reaching rays. In an hour blue sky covered every thing mundane and as the morning advanced it grew warm, but with a nice breeze to cool matters. Newspaper reading and eating seem to be the labors of the day. During the morning Fred and I went th[r]ough the trees of every variety. All are

Page 335 improving with the advent of warmer weather and some give glorious promise. The Clarke trees of lot No 1 are doing the best of small trees. The second lot are improving and will in a week or two show better. The large trees are all starting finely—some with hundreds of new branches. Lemons show a start also, some being one mass of new shoots. Limes ditto. Citron trees move slower but are just beginning to take hold well. Between us, Fred and I will set out, if we are successful in building holes, about 75 more orange trees, 20 citron, a dozen or two grape fruit (2 or 3 years old) 50 lemons, 50 limes and as many guavas as we can place. I have a dozen places dug up and will from time to time make more. I want also to finish my front garden 70 x 140 and back garden 80 x 80 and grub up as much land besides as I can. I intended to put in some sugar cane, but am advised by everyone, but one person, to wait a while until the land becomes sweeter and more cultivated. New land wont grow cane. Youmans says that a hill of shell on new land will grow cane, but others say not. I shall turn my old banana patch (which did not make) into a rice patch and use it for cane next year. If I could have obtained some cane last month I would have tried a little anyway, but all cane here abouts was bespoke long ago. I shall take time by the forelock next season. I shall this season plant about 6 times as many peas as I did last year and more if I can. I have the ground all prepared for the turnips, lima beans and sich truck I shall “go into” and as much more as I can. Fred I suppose speaks for himself. Still he will do pretty much as I propose to. I am certain onions can be grown and a great many things incident to the climate that we have not yet got a start on. Between the two places we

Page 336 shall dig a ditch to draw Fred’s lemons and my oranges and in time each of us another (perhaps not this year) at the upper and lower sides of the plantation. Then one finally at the back can be added to run into it. We should like to do all this and more but will make our plans now and carry them out as we got time. With proper drains and proper mulching and proper cultivating I am certain our trees will do as well here as anywhere. From time to time I shall experiment on manuring trees trying one or two at a time and as fast as I see any gain follow it up with others. Everything is working nicely and by sitting down to breakfast within ½ an hour after sunrise as an average hope to accomplish much with the additional time at disposal. In my seed patch I have 225 guavas—mostly pear, 25 of the white variety—120 lemons and 75 limes with only a few oranges. Only one of the Cuban lot came up out of all Phillips sent. I have planted, however, 85 seeds from what we had Christmas—up country oranges of very sweet flavor—and those may show. The cold weather I suppose destroyed the germ. By working closely and keeping at it, we can take an occasional run of a morning or afternoon in the woods and add to our stores and dried fish and so forth, something fresh I hope. These facts I add to the diary to give you an idea of what we are doing and what we expect to; as you wished partly in your letter. The last dates from home are Dec 29. One statement of yours I have expected, but hoped you would not be compelled to make or act upon. That is, leaving home for a chance of work. We all seem to be in a muddle as had [sic] as the presidential. Regret it all I can I can see no good in wishing things different, although I do most heartily

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what makes me down hearted at times is to think that Fred and I have mainly caused it all to take place. But at the same time I can see no credit to any of us in ever being downhearted. I therefore try to be economical and as careful as possible and to do as much as I can in my way toward the general result of getting to shore again and in a better harbor. I really hope, if you must do something away from home, that you will succeed in making it pay so well that you wont have to stay very long. I wish to Heaven I could do something that would help us all— aside from my work here. I have something in view and will make a trial. But the chances are against me and I will not say anything—unless I should make a hit. If I do I’ll tell you; if I don’t—well, perhaps I will not. If business would only improve it would be better all around. Therefore I hope Tilden will be inaugurated without trouble. Everything you sent was entirely satisfactory as I wrote you before. Being almost certain of the loan from Mr. F. I made my lists longer and fuller than I would have otherwise done, trusting that should it not turn out so that you would cut them down. The last resort, the silver, I supposed would be sure to cover everything nicely, but neither Brenda or I expected it would be made to do good in the manner it has. Ben has had no explanation of how the loan of a “couple of hundred,” as her Mother wrote, was consummated and no letter has explained about the additional $50. A month or so ago Brenda felt a little like relieving me of my nightly trips after water. My feet were rather full of boils and it wasn’t very pleasant work carting water under the circumstances. She thought of surprising me with

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a Christmas present of a pump and wrote to her Mother to dispose of a $20 neck chain of gold and a pair of $30 bracelets and to send you the $15. she was sure they would bring to purchase a pump because she know you knew exactly what kind to send. What money was over she asked to have sent to us here. It was done without my knowledge and merely as a surprise. But our usual luck followed. She, Ben, feels extremely sorry about the whole way the matter has been attended to and regrets much the added worry to you. The matter was very simple and the means all clear. Brenda was willing to sacrifice the only jewelry (besides her watch and engagement ring) for a Christmas pleasure or comfort for her old man and it misses fire. I am perfectly willing to drag the water over and shall continue to do that and many other things cheerfully. But it is too bad that whatever Ben tries to do, misses fire, and all the result that follows is worry and trouble for you. As you had not mentioned anything previously about the books I guessed latterly what had transpired in regard to them. I leave the matter entirely with you to do as you wish. The books are worth nearer $100. than $28.50. The wholesale price of the Shakespeare, Leatherstocking and Dore would be nearer $60 or more and Leggetts offer is a mean one. I really think if business prospects grow better a better price will be given but it seems a very small show for the books. But do exactly as you think best. If the necessity becomes absolute don’t hesitate to sell, even at the sacrifice. It seems to me that the offer is only a “feeler.” What do you think? On reckoning up the amount you

Page 339 paid out for us I see it exceeds the $250. Should you sell the books don’t fail to make up to yourself the over. Both Brenda and I positively wish it. Since the night I killed the buck inside the fence none have been at the vines. The leaves were frosted soon after and they probably found it out. We hope to get a show at them in the woods before long. Yesterday I shot two doves. They won’t be trapped. Lately no quail have entered. No ducks either settle within sight. But we shall have a pull at them before long. I hope we shall have settled weather now—as it promises. The trees will grow and every thing else. Besides I would rather work with the thermometer at 75° or 80° than with a norther and ther at 40°. In one case perspiration helps to cool one and greases the joints. In the other there is chills and stiffness and no perspiration. Tomorrow the “Mary” will go to Manatee and I will drop this line that way. With much love to all at home I remain Ever etc. Jarvee. Mother’s letter No:45 and Ems to Brenda came by “Laura” —Also your of 22nd and note of 29th. P.S. It has just come to me that Frank H. Norton used to dispose of books to some dealer regularly who gave him one half the regular price of any book brought to him. Write to Norton for the name of the house and send list of books asking price. I think it will pay to do it.

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Punta Gorda Chica Charlotte Harbor Fla. January 14, 1877

My dear Pa. This afternoon Freddie and I took the “Bed Bug” and sailed over to Rowan’s against wind and tide, making rather slow progress but eventually reaching there at sunset. The white hat did not appear but “Old man” Rowan did this time with a jaunty felt round hat, as worn by sailors in the U.S. Naval service. We sat on his piazza for 10 minutes and then started back after giving him “diary” and a couple of letters to post in Manatee. He proposes to sail tomorrow afternoon. No particular news was offered. Bartholf’s boy was buried this afternoon instead of yesterday and the funeral was only just over. Waldron I noticed had ploughed up his grove—that is “scratched” the surface without accomplishing much capsizing. On the way back Freddie sailed the boat but didn’t like a star to steer by. “It wanit half as much fun to steer by as star as it was by a house.” It was “plum dark” when we heard Fred’s bugle and I answered. Then the wind died out and I sculled ashore. Fred had had visitors. Two men from Fort Meyers, in sea[r]ch of lumber at the mill, lost their way, slept in the woods all night and had nothing to eat for 24 hours. Fred gave them some scrapings and sent them down to Lockharts. Our skiff was just out of call when they came in. They had seen plenty of deer and several within a mile of the house. Occupied a new pair of drawers today, Ben’s first attempt at such.

P.G.C. Monday January 15, 1877 Warm and “perspiry” weather. Went to work with a headache and grubbed it away. Capsised [sic] “gliyarden” within the morning and hoed up and raked my lines and a couple of more trees in afternoon. Fred dropped into his guavas and made the hoe play circus

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about them. the wind is working around to the southard and we expect rain. Therefore chopped up two wagon loads of wood while tea was getting ready; enough for 3 days. The trees are starting nicely every where. More than ¾ of all are under good headway and the rest I suppose will follow suit shortly. The warm weather is of immense benefit to ----- plants. Fred’s white potatoes are showing, but mine still hide their little heads. The “Mary” sailed this afternoon and had a good wind out. She will bring freight for Bartholf’s store and some for Williams. Rowan promises to stop on his way down from up river, when he comes back, try a hunt in the woods back of us and toward Shell Creek. He also wishes to look up a place to “locate.” In May he proposes to take a turtle hunt and bear hunt combined and there is a prospect that I may go with him. It will be in the shore below Punta Rassa. And now I will play a game or two of cribbage with Ben—having initiated her into the mysteries of the game from dire necessity—and then to bed.

P.G.C. Tuesday January 16, 1877 The same old jobs, with afternoon among the lemon trees. Two mounds were one solid mass of roots—very “quacky” —and difficult to eradicate. Only got through 7 altogether. Fred jerked his guavas into condition and will go at his “Clarkies” tomorrow. A small amount ofrain drops fell to day but they were not of much account. Very warm and summery. Thermometer up to “80.” and little wind. Yesterday Brenda made a sweet potato-pudding. What was left we finished at dinner today. It was delicious and quite a treat.

P.G.C. Wednesday January 17, 1877 Very warm today. Ther. 85° at 2 o’c P.M. Nice weather

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for winter. During the night more rain fell for a few minutes only and yet the ground shows very little more than the result of a “heavy “dhew.” This afternoon about 40 drops to the square foot fell again. Grubbed in the “gliyanden” all morning and puddled my hunting canoe all afternoon. Walked to “pens” and a mile beyond, then to “turkey hammock,” then to “deer hammock” and back by “alligator pond.” Saw myriads of tracks but no deer. Plover, quail, and snipe plenty but I had only buckshot. Three cranes were too smart for me and I missed carrying a load in. I wore my big brogans on a “trial trip” and found them “bully.” “Laura” opposite. Her next trip will be to Clearwater Harbor. Master Harry uneasy and crying nearly all night. A double tooth added to his list this afternoon. Tell Mother that the dried apples are too good to be flavored with lemon. The natural taste of the apple “suits me.” —and all the rest of us, better. Several flocks of duck have taken up winter quarters hereabouts. We shall be after them on the first good showing.

P.G.C. Thursday January 18, 1877 The same old routine; nothing new or startling. Intensely warm and but little breeze. Took a short turn in the woods at south moon. No deer visable [sic] —plenty of “sign.” Came across 4 cranes. Crawled within 80 yards and fired. No hit. They flew a few yards and came down again. All this on a burn with no cover but the red leaves left after the fire had swept over. As I was dressed in grey I bent my back and imitating their walk crossed the burn within full view of them. They craned their necks at me, became satisfied and went to feeding and with “stately step and “solemn mien” gradually moved ahead. I got within 50 yards this time and as three got in a bunch I fired again. Strange

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to relate I “missed ‘em again.” Why I can’t say. They offered the best shot I have yet had at the “kind” and I was careful in my aim. But buckshot scatter too much for such game. Turkey shot would have made the matter clearer. The warm weather is stirring up “bile.” Phip is ailing a little. Fred has made a meal “off on” mandrake pills and Brenda seems to have that old kidney pain in intensity. I have just been rubbing her side for half an hour. This is the only means of relief that we have “on hand” now. We have used up a bottle and a half of Rodway with about the same result. Just before sunset I had Ben and the mites out for a little pole in the skiff. We were back before dark and had a lovely sunset to look at. On the way we went into the lower head and got enough prickly pears for both Anna and ourselves for a meal.

P.G.C. Friday January 19, 1877 The heaviest kind of a dew last night. Fog obscures everything. Sun, as it rises, looks like a silver ball in a sea of froth. As it gets 15 minutes above the horizon we sit down to breakfast. During the morning Fred boils the fish brine and overhauls the 50 or 60 mullet in soak. They will keep nicely. I increase the size of my front “gliyarden” about 300 square feet and yank out many oak roots but few “fly catchers.” Ben and Anna scrub away at the wash tub. Phip takes a dose of castor oil, and slyly licks the spoon when my back is turned, saying to Freddie “That’s awful good!” (There’s no accounting for tastes) Freddie chops lightwood and trots around with his schooner, while Master Humpkin uses up an hour or two pushing his carriage about and passes the rest of the time in his hammock. “Neuse” slinks along the back fence watching an opportunity to

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step on my young tommies in the search for something he never “finds,” and trusting to an oversight in placing the chicken feed box where he can reach it. The chickens sit on the back fence for an hour, as usual, try to work down to the house afterward and then go in the coop for their noon siesta. A school of mullet string out then pass up stream at low tide but we hav’n’t time to get the boat off to take a few. One old pelican makes 30 or 40 attempts and finally retires with a fat one in his gullet. 40 or 50 crows hold high carnival along shore and occasional robins, doves and “butcher birds” fly overhead or about the place. The fog clears at 9 o’c and a warm sunny day follows. In the afternoon the sun had more “hot” in it than usual. Gillis came upon us from the woods on horseback in the heat of it wanting to borrow 6 quarts of corn. He was bound for home and expected to camp out tonight. We had no corn and Fred gave him a few potatoes instead. From Gillis we learned that the “Laura” did not go to Clearwater but took a load of lumber to Fort Meyers for Gillis. Tree mulching was in order after the post prandial smoke, but I had to take a nap—it was so hot—for the first time in months. My vigor was renewed in half an hour and the rest of the day went swimmingly—in perspiration. On referring to the thermometer find only a register of 80° at the hottest. It was 84° as I was in the woods yesterday and I felt the heat less. Ben has just beaten me at cribbage and the nuptial couch awaits me. Au revoir!

P.G.C.Saturday January 20, 1877 Another rooster ushered in by fog. Very sultry and no breeze of any account [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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come from the gulf direction. It was a poor day for work. I grubbed until 11 o’c and then retired into my shell. After ward I raked up grass for mulching and 12 more trees are now covered up almost in what will be richness one of these days. Just before tea time I took my gun and walked out to “deer hammock” and back. Two deer got wind of me and I must have smelled bad for they ran like the wind. I fired one shot but failed to stop the hindermost. He was within 80 yards, I thin, at the time. I came in just a few minutes before sunset. Fred, ----, nursed his “bile” and layed by to get over the effects of castor oil. Phip is getting all right again but is as cross as the—well, you know who. Lockhart’s pigs turned up again today. No damage. By the way Gillis said yesterday that he “would’n’t like to say” who killed a couple of Fred’s pigs on Punta gorda but that “if July was talked to in the right way he could tell.” Gillis had some of the pork himself and said it “tasted quite good.” Funny country!

P.G.C. Sunday January 21, 1877 More tropical summer in the midst of winter. Very warm. Ther. still in the eighties. Strong winds from S.E etc. Freddie and I took a long sail this morning. We went above the Hewes House—or rather where it used to be; the house itself has disappeard—and tried to return by the “Bonne” channel, but the wind was too strong and I thought I would not risk it. We went ashore on Coon Key and had a good time. The skiff acted well all the time and only shipped ½ a bucket of water on the trip. My main purpose was to see if any ducks were in hiding among the keys, but I found only one small flock of mallard. My secondary purpose was to sketch some Coon Key Cabbages. That I failed in as the wind was too strong to make a good one.

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We were back before 12 o’c. Toward night a 4 or 5 ton sloop ran aground on the bar, got off and ran on again and finally went up river. As we were watching her movements, from the front piazza, the “Laura” hove in sight and rapidly neared Pepi’s, where she came to an anchor. Pork for dinner and prickly pears for supper were our Sunday luxuries.

P.G.C. Monday January 22, 1877 As I was fixing up my tommies after an early breakfast Fred came running over with a call “Get your gun and come over quick.” I rushed. As he was a few minutes before; feeding the chickens he suddenly saw a flock of wild turkies [sic] within a dozen feet of the fence. He dropped bucket and plate and came for me. We “hied” to the fence and off in the pine a hundred yards away we saw the king gobbler mounted on a log. We crept as well as we could through the wet grass and almost got within good shot when they spied us and started for home. We followed and an exciting chase resulted. They did go just lively, but we gradually gained on them. We came up within 50 yards just this side of the head and I fired at 5 at that distance. Up they got and I fired again. None dropped but one fellow parted from the flock and landed in the top of a pine. Fred tried two shots with his rifle and made the bird “duck” his head each time. As I got reloaded he flew away and our turkey hunt was over. If we had only been a little more cautious we might have had wild turkey for dinner. Instead we took dried mullet. It has been very warm today. Ther. 84° at the top rail. The same round of grubbing and tree fixing as last week. Nothing new from over the bay. Thunder clouds in the last at sunset and promise of rain before morning. Things are becoming dry again. Mosquitoes and sand flies lively again.

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P.G.C. Tuesday January 23, 1877 Warm still with the addition of mosquitoes and sand flies. Too warm in fact for heavy grubbing. Tried it and found out. Turned attention to digging up around trees and mulching. Finished up about 15 in the course of the day. Grass muching takes considerable time, but I think it will pay in the end. Fred has about 35 trees yet to do and I have about the same. Then we can feel comfortable. 350 trees, or thereabouts take up a good part of a couple of months to work up— while attending to other little “fixings” too. About 10 o’c this morning the “Laura” hoisted sails and began to beat over. I poled out on the skiff and learned from Pepi who is still running her that his next trip will be to Key West. She will sail as soon as he can get the load on. Ben has just beaten me 2 out of 3 at cribbage. My potatoes are just coming up; Freds have been up quite a while. Sky overcast tonight and air damp and threatening.

P.G.C. Wednesday January 24, 1877 In the night the weather grew coller and this morning we had a sort of mild norther. At noon it was warm again but tonight it is cool again. I have just put on vest and coat to keep off the chilliness. I had intended to try a few hours hunt this morning but it was a prime day for work and I postponed my tramp in the woods. During the day I dug up and mulched 14 trees and have so many less to do hereafter. Fred did similar work. The white sloop went out at noon. Tomorrow I suppose the “Laura” will be passing. As I may be after deer at the time I will leave this much diary to go by her. The colony is progressing nicely and the great majority of trees are fairly jumping. Next week Fred and I will go at “holing” for new “set outs.” We hope to have 500 trees within the fence by next rainy season. Yours ever. Jarvee.

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Gorda Chica Charlotte Harbor Fla. January 25, 1877

My dear Pa,

As I stepped from my nest this morning I looked forth. Opposite Pepis house was the “Laura” and the tide lower than ever before. This time the end of the big wharf was 200 feet or more from the water. I left my letters, ready to go should the tide come up and after breakfast took a morning only. When the afternoon brought me home the “Laura” had left and all our letters were also. I started soon after ½ past 7 o’c. the air was cool and chilly and on getting outside the fence I struck a brisk walk. I had not gone a hundred steps when across my vision appeared two bounding deer, a doe and a buck. Had I been on the watch I should have seen them but I was gazing for deer tracks on the road. Both deer passed within 150 yards and made quick time across the marsh at the head and disappeared in the mangroves. Then I looked and saw nothing the rest of the morning but one whooper in Alligater [sic] Pond as I was returning. I went to the “pens” across to “deer hammock” and back home reaching the house at noon or a little after. To notify Ben of my coming I attached my white handkerchief to my ramrod at the big pine and sauntered in. Within 200 feet of the fence 3 turkies appeared and were gone out of shot before I could get my gun in shooting order. It was hard luck. I did fire twice but the shot did’n’t strike. After dinner Fred and I concluded to look up the turkies and covered all the ground to the head even walking across the grass into the mangroves. We saw no turkies but plenty of deer tracks freshly made. I was quietly smoking and Fred was attending to one of his daily

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necessities, when a crash occurred behind us in the tall grass and a fine buck started off like a small whirlwind. Fred was completely surprised and his gun was resting in the notch of a decayed mangrove. Without dropping my pipe I fired and as the deer still moved I fired again. A lessening of speed and the lowering of the flag followed and the deer disappeared in the grass. I rushed to the higher land and standing on a bunch of palmetto roots looked after the buck but he was nowhere visable [sic]. Fred “fixed himself” and started home for Neuse and we put him on the trail. Off he went and in a few minutes we heard him baying on the other side of the grass marsh and making off toward Alligatoer [sic] Pond. We went back to the house and then I concluded to walk out a short distance and come up against wind through the head and see what might turn up. But after reaching the woods across the “slew” and hearing Neuse still barking I made for him. About a quarter of a mile beyond the Alligator Pond I found Neuse, barking furiously, with his tail keeping time to the noise. As I neared him a buck’s antlers appeared above the palmettos and very soon after I found Mr. Buck. He was a five year old and looked nice and fat. I put him out of his misery marked the place and went back for Fred. Together we cleaned him and poled him in and for a few days we shall have “meat” in the larder. In my struggle with him one antler came off in my hands and the other came near “butting” me in the chin. And so much for Mr. Tucheener! We had venison liver for supper but it was rather nasty and reminded one of “billy goats.” The “Santa Maria has been floating around the bay today

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with sails up. What for I dont know. Cool again tonight and wind north east.

P.G.C. Friday January 26, 1877 To day the air is cool, but warm at noon. Fred has a lame back and I feel a little tired. We both go at trees and the hoe and rake run a race in the orange circles. I cover 10 mounds and Fred 7 or 8. Yesterday mg. the “Santa Maria” commenced at De Coster’s to tack up river. By tea time she had reached Keys old shanty and there she is this morning “cast down” as well as cast upon the beach. While taking my after dinner smoke I walked down to and in the mangroves, grass, and cabbages of the “lower head” —armed cap a pic. As I went in slowly and cautiously two deer got up and walked away within 60 yards. At first I thought I would fire and then I concluded not to. I went merely to hunt up a suppositition [sic] of turkey roost and though “I had no use for no sitch.” I found no turkey roost however and came through, crossed the mud creek, waded the tall grass and reached the house in time to drive out a “wild bull” that had jumped Freds water fence. In jumping back he “hung by his heels” schooner fashion and on getting all fours under him walked off in a very peculiar manner, each hind leg continuing to step high as if over imaginary fences. I was soon at the trees again. Then came a visitor on horse back driving two steers or “oxens” as he expressed it. At the same time I noticed the woods all on fire a half mile back of us. He was the “vile wretch” that did it. Fred interviewed him, and I dropped my tools and seconded him. His name was Hollingsworth and having found his “oxens” he was looking up some “caives.” He looked thin and lanthorn [sic] jawed and was a mild speciman [sic] of a slow talking cracker. The “fever was just onto him” as this was his fever day: He had gone through the chills part yesterday. His

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horse was meek too, black with big bull’s eyes all over him, free of hair. He was sure the fire would not “bother” us. Fred had raked him over the coals for making it. The dew would “kill it out” at dusk. He came inside the fence, trying to sell the “oxens” on the way, pointed out a spreading adder for Fred to kill, got a drink of water and left. Fred asked him if he had taken quinine for his fever. “Yes I hev, but it aint strong enough. Calomel and blue mass is what does me best.” Would it not be a bright idea to open a “docter [sic] shop” and sell calomel and blue mass only. It seems to be the great Florida remedy for everything. But sometime it kills. Yet the crackers seem to thrive on it as a general thing. As I write the fire is still burning but not to any great extent. The wind is easterly and there dont seem any prospect of a change. When I was down to the head today I noticed again the spot where the deer I shot yesterday was lying. We walked all round him within a radius of 50 feet without disturbing the critter and Fred was “squatting” within 20 feet of him when he broke loose. When I fired he was not over 60 feet off, rushing like a streak of greased lightning.

P.G.C. Saturday January 27, 1877 Cool comparatively. Warm at noon. The mild norther continues in active operation. The tide gets very low again and the wind veres [sic] to north east. In the afternoon it trots around to N.W. and then back tonight to square north again. Tree culture, mound grubbing and mulching still in order. Get 10 more trees done and find I have still about 14 more to do. Must have miscounted several days ago. While the N.W. wind was blowing briskly Fred and I burned off the rear of the plantation beyond

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the fence, as a protection against straying crackers in search of “oxens” and “caives.” It started well and burned a good path, but now only a stray pine knot shows fire. We shall take the sides next when a good chance occurs. The small white sloop appears again and anchors at the mill. And now for a game or two of cribbage, a pail or two of water afterward and a look into the small kitchen as a finale and then to bed.

P.G.C. Sunday January 28, 1877 The penny norther still rumbles and the morning air is quite cool. I am compelled to drift out a half mile to “leward” and and pay my “devvis” under the pines. Then follows a quiet lazy day. Fred and Anna vary it by a call at the “frame mansion” as the Tampa Guardian has it.—and pass a portion of the afternoon under its rafters. Ben and the midgets are in their “Sunday best” and we all have a combination talk. Just after dinner the “Mary” comes in and we expect our bag of corn at last tomorrow morning as she goes up river with Williams’ freight. We are actually getting corn hungry. So are the chickens! Tonight the north wind is chilling and cow hollers and nigger hollers are brought by it across the bay and into our shanties. One call sounded so close that I went out and down to the wharf to discover who was coming on us after dark.

P.G.C. Monday January 29, 1877 The weather continues about the same. During the morning I undertake to do my usual quota of work and have to let up. On my last “shoot” I accidentally discharge my gun and the hammer was forced by the rebound against my thumb between it and the first finger. Quite a bad place was torn and although I put on pine gum and rags and cared for it I find it

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so inflamed and tender as to bother me very much in any hoeing, grubbing, or raking. To add to my pleasures two boils have appeared to keep it company and a “run round” on the middle finger of my left hand. Poor Job! Ben tried out some venison fat and made me some excellent “mutton tallow.” This mixed with turpentine I have applied with good results. But I hardly dared to use my hands much. Therefore I draw water, attended to other chores and only did one more tree. In the afternoon I took Phip and Freddie and sailed across the bay. We stopped first at De Costers. There we were presented with an orange apiece and a couple of nice specimens of grape fruit. De Coster paid up his borrowed sugar and molasses by a portion of some he got from “Old man Driggers.” The mail rider is expected to be in operation next week, although Bartholf has not his documents as P.M. yet. We stopped only a short time and then sailed to Roans! There we got our corn (139 pounds) @ $1.40 per bushel and 50 cents freight. Owing to ice in the Mississippi the price of corn had advanced. Roan is to sail up Peace Creek tomorrow and take out 2.000 oranges for some cracker. He will be down on Friday or Saturday. Waldron’s trees were out in a new dress of leaves and looking finely. “Old Man” Roan, doffed his stockings and shoes, carried the bag of corn to the skiff and helped us off and away we went home reaching the wharf after dark and just after the full moon had popped up behind Coon Key. Ben and I have just played a rubber of cribbage and the day is ended.

P.G.C. Tuesday January 30, 1877 Warmer today with easterly and S. Easterly winds. Hands still lame. Accomplish so little in the morning that I conclude to hunt in the afternoon. Discover a couple of cranes on the Hollingsworth “burn.” Stalk them for an hours and

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follow them nearly a mile only at last to fire at them on the wing at 60 yards and miss. Fault: poor cover and buckshot. Then walked to “pens.” Two deer started up at a hundred yards in high palmettos. White flag only visable [sic] as they jumped the bushes. No shoot. Then I came back and tried Alligater [sic] Pond. Nothing there. Then I struck for the lower head. The sun was almost down as I went in across the marsh at the back. A queer looking critter nearly as large as “Neuse” and looking like an immense black rabbit flits along in the glare of the sun and disappears in the dead mangroves... No sooner seen than gone. Fred thinks it may have been an otter. Through most of the “head” I tramped and saw nothing. Then through the tall grass to the woods and across the “slew” I went and passed in the gate as darkness was gathering. Cribbage and oranges after supper and then to bed. The Mary passed up river while I was playing crane out back.

P.G.C. Wednesday January 31, 1877 An easterly wind and warmish weather. Towards afternoon South easterly winds prevail. My hands allow me to put in a little work. I “do” five more trees and hope to finish tomorrow. Fred covered his last mound today and rested from his labors. De Coster gave us a call this afternoon and brought his “interesting family.” He borrowed 3 pounds of coffee and a couple of bars of soap. The latter article he seemed much in need of! He and Fred circulated about the trees. The result was that hundreds of young guava buds were discovered. Lately De Coster has sent limes to Key West market. They brought 50 cents per hundred. A barrel will hold from 1.500 to 1800. Good profit. A lime tree will bear in its 4th year. In a few

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years he expects to send 1.000.000 to the same market. What twisted snoots the Key Westers will have then. He has also sent lemons, with a fair demand, price unknown. De Coster explained a novelty I wrote you about some weeks ago: frogs and other small fry hung on orange thorns. He says that the “butcher birds” (Spanish mocking birds) place them there to satisfy their morbid feelings. By the way, De Coster has a prune tree in blossom and he talks of planting a “couple of acres” of prunes. He has laid out considerable work for the present season. Among other things he expects to plant lime and lemon hedges around his place and a thousand cocoanuts. What an improvement they will all make in his place! It would have made a horse laugh to have witnessed the departure at sunset. George Edgar sat on the back seat, with his feet in the water at the bottom of the boat wrapped up in an enormous shawl to keep him warm. His eyes were only visable [sic]. Carrie and Ida May were on the next seat almost covered in a checked wrap that did justice for both. De Coster sat on the rim of the boat at the back pushing and steering alternately. The sail of the boat was a strip of 3 ply carpet about 10 by 3 and the sprit went through the peak fully 5 feet. And thus they started for home with the wind gradually dying out as the sun went down. This afternoon I planted 45 orange seeds and 28 grape fruit ditto. The appetites of the Colony rode on a saddle of venison at noon today. The experience was, as usual, delicious. Stepped on a black snake at noon. Got off quickly and killed him by cutting him in two. The head half ran in a hole and the rest wiggled on the surface

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P.G.C. Thursday February 1, 1877 Warm weather greets us once more without any added chill. Roses are blossoming in the little garden under the double window and the two geraniums keep on putting forth new leaves. The air is spring like and in the sun extremely “hettin.’” I finished up my trees today. The last 7 were covered just after dinner. Now there is no excuse for holding back, let ‘em grow. Fred plays Curry for a while and will endeavor to cover the walls of his sitting room with 4 inch ceiling. Half an hour before sunset we shoulder guns and walk out to Alligater [sic] Pond and then take a quick look into the lower head. We saw no game but some wretched vandal from somewhere has cut the hearts out of 7 or 8 cabbages on the shore line. M’uncle Fred was mad. Unfortunately there’s no redress.

P.G.C. Friday February 2, 1877 Very warm not very breezy and an immense quantity of bright sunshine. The deacon celebrated his 33d birthday by digging up a trio of lemon “circles” as a commencement of the “make ready” for July planting of trees. In the afternoon he carpentered. I laid out my work for tree planting by staking out the places. I shall commence on 30 oranges, 20 lemons, 8 grape fruit, 10 additional citrons and 25 guavas. —and add afterward as much as I can get to put in. Nothing of moment occurred today with the exception of my killing a ground rattlesnake. It was in the grubbed ground now ready for peas. The critter was about 18 inches long and an inch in diameter at the thickest. It was similar to a rattlesnake in marks, although darker. It’s head was flat and an inch wide. I didn’t

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search much for fangs, but I could feel them with a small stick. On the tip end of its narrative was a minature [sic] rattle which I here “sketch” full size: [small, word-sized drawing with 3 rattles]. When I struck at it it curled up like its more ferocious namesake and struck back venomously. The singing of the rattle was so faint that I had to get down almost within two feet of it to hear it. It had a vile look and was as ugly as a snake could be. We are beginning to feel the need of rain. Our usual January showers have not yet seen fit to visit P.G.C. and we wait anxiously. We are eager to place our peas where they will do the most good and make a start with other vegetation. Besides it would help along the younger portion of our trees. The last of our Mr. Tucheener gave out an odor of richness on the table in our salle a manger today that would have gone nicely with currant jelly. How Delmonico’s patrons would have rejoiced over it. For the first time in a long while ducks flew by in flocks today. We see but occasional one in the bay near us. Why? Can’t say.

P.G.C. Saturday February 3, 1877 Warm weather continues. Fred added one more hole to his 3 and then retired to his carpentering. Ther. 80° at noon. No breeze whatever “Glass Kane.” I commenced my orange circles. Went over 7 that I had rooted last year. The traps caught two quail today. One managed to get away and the other went into the “little red lane” business. Positive “cow hollers” are in order back of us. This time from the Florida bovine itself. Such hooting moo-ing and noise would startle a quaker. Neuse is wild “thereanent” and joins in the chorus. The “pasture” is doubtless being used nowadays. Ben beats me at cribbage tonight.

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P.G.C. Sunday February 4, 1877 The warmth today is nicely tempered by a southerly breeze in the morning and a westerly one in the afternoon. Pass the morning in the lower head studying up cabbages with indifferent success. “Old man” Roan comes suddenly upon us at 3 o’c in his little “dingy.” He stops to leave a letter which arrived by overland route for Anna. Hs schooner is at Borgus’ landing waiting for oranges and he expects to drop down and out by Tuesday. This landing is 15 miles up Peace Creek and O.M. Roan expects to row up there before dark—or after. Shortly after his white shirt became a speck on the surface beyond Coon Key I took the three youngsters out in the skiff for a “pole.” Freddie carried his schooner. We went up to the tide creek and there his “infant soul” was delighted by seeing the schooner tack against a head wind. Phip and the baby took their share of delight when the boat would capsize in the strong breeze. My delight was in seeing them and in the sudden rush of a deer through the grass a short distance “beyount.” We stopped at the “cabbages” in returning and captured a lot of prickly pears.

P.G.C. Monday February 5, 1877 Thermometer still in the eighties. A repetitition [sic] of yesterday breezes. Grub into circles. Fred puts in an additional one or two. I manage to pass the morning and part of the afternoon in an old “be one.” It was “contaminated” by a pine and it was of roots rooty. Axe and grubbing hoe finally conquered. I also added two more afterward. One of Freds was filled with pine roots. Gillis’ horse “hobbled” in about “sundown” with his nose tied to his forefoot. Fred untied the animal and “hitched” him to a tree out back. Gillis did not appear up to dark. He had probably gone over [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy?]

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P.G.C. Tuesday February 6, 1877 Warm weather with rain prospects toward night. Finished up 4 new orange holes before dinner and was entertained by a stranger most of the afternoon. Just after dinner this stranger arrived. Half an hour before the Mary appeared above Bird Key and Fred and I met her within 500 yards of De Costers and placed our letters on board. She had 8000 oranges bound for market. She goes to Manatee. She made a quick trip back and forth. The stranger arrived in a new skiff having rowed down Peace Creek from Bartow (165 miles in 35 hours running time—leaving out meals and stoppages) His name was Carruthers and he left Ogden at 9 o’c. Fred met him at the wharf and he asked for permission to stop over night. He intends to leave in the morning and row to Punta Rassa. He and a man by the name of Morrison left Jacksonville some little time ago prospecting for a location. His friend was to take a schooner down the Atlantic Coast and around by Key West. Carruthers was to go to Cedar Keys and Tampa and examine the gulf coast. They will meet at Punta Rassa and compare notes and then go down to Caximbas, up Corkskrew river, Malco inlet, to the Roberts and to Colyers and somewhere below Punta Rassa they expect to find their haven among palms or on a certain key where a noted Indian well exists of most delicious water. Carruthers is a sturdy speciman [sic] of the genus homo about 35 years of age and full of energy pluck and conversation. A Virginian by birth, he “fit into the rebellion” in the Confederate ranks, drifted to South Carolina after the war and has left that state since Hampton was inaugurated. In all the turmoil at Columbia, he bore a part, was a

Page 360 member of one of the rifle companies and is a staunch democrat, as, according to his mention, is every white man. This afternoon and evening he gave us quite graphic description of political life at the Capital, how elections are carried on and a close description of much that transpired around Columbia in December. He seems to be rather well educated, claims to have been a college student and is gifted with much conversational power besides having a good memory of events and persons. He smokes and chews vigorously and don’t drink coffee and prefers to “put up” at some house in preference to do his own cooking. In his skiff a narrow, flat bottomed affair, built for smooth water; were frying pan, axe, a ham, a piece of bacon, some crackers and matches—also a dog, the counterpart of “Neuse” only larger. He also had a rubber blanket and a regular one and two enormous citrons from Ogden. One of the latter he will “divide between us.” According to his account of the political muddle in S.C. there is little wonder why he wishes to leave the state and settle elsewhere. So Fred has a lodger tonight, for he was a stranger—he took him in. Among items of up country news he stated that Borgus was to send a mail bag to Charlotte Harbor this week and our regular mail would there after be in operation. He speaks highly of Polk county and claims for it high land and a grand place for oranges—also a grand place for chills and fever. He prefers to be near salt water. He also says that the recent cold snap has had a peculiar effect on St John River people. They all talk South Florida and he is certain of a rush over this way next year. He found nearly all the growers in a

Page 361 state of wreck and the majority of orange trees killed. We obtained some good agricultural points from him and will use them to advantage. He sees no reason why we connot grow the Scuppernong grape, asparagus, early peas, snap beans, strawberries of native variety and many other things we have as yet left untried. Blackberries he is positive will yield finely. His mode of finding honey (on a bee tree) is excellent: “Find a bee, dip him in molasses or honey. While he loads himself attach to his body a strip or feather of sea island cotton. Then let him strike for home. Watch his course and follow by compass blazing a direct path until the tree is reached. He has found it a success. Among other things he says: “Collect the milk from a banana after the bunch is cut off and you will have a mucilage that will always be serviceable.” Also: “Box a cabbage palmetto as you would a pine for turpentine and you will get a first rate indelible ink.” But I might write a dozen pages of his travels and experiences. Nuff ced! Time presses and the lamp burns low.

P.G.C. Wednesday February 7, 1877 All last night rain fell. The ground is well soaked. 2 inches of clear rain dropped on P.G.C. While Ben was getting breakfast I hoed my tommies. After breakfast I planted 12 rows of peas (pidgeon) 35 feet long. Then rain came again. Carruthers can’t leave. Almost gale blowing. In comes the “Laura” and anchors. But we cant get out to her. Fred and Carruthers visit the “head hammock.” C. says “anything can be grown there.” In the afternoon I hoe up my Irish potatoes. Finish

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by supper time and break my back bone. Have a “let up” about 3 o’c by the arrival, for the first time, of THE MAIL BOAT!! Hip! Hip! A small 2 ton boat, without jib anchors off the wharf. She left Fort Meyers yesterday afternoon at 4 o’c and Punta Rassa after breakfast this morning. The first mail was delivered to us. New York dates of Jany. 28. 10 days! Bully!! Off on the gale the boat went for Ogden. Borgus will send her back Friday and she will stop at “Hickory Bluff” for letters. Carruthers engaged a passage and will go then. Poor Fred! Our mail will go also. The wind increases. Doors rattle and there is much howling out of doors. High tide. And a misty moisty dampness in the atmosphere.

P.G.C. Thursday February 8, 1877 Noon—All this morning I passed my time in the woods looking for deer! I found 4 live ones and 17 dead and brought home only 2 fore quarters and 5 “back strips.” Carruthers went with me. We went to the “pens” and beyond as usual and in returning met Ed. Whidden with a team of “oxens.” He had seen an “advertisement” in Ogden that Bartholf wanted deer skins and dried venison and he and his brother-in-law were “on a camp a-gettin of ‘em” They had already 17. Tomorrow one will visit Bartholf and trade. Whidden said that a short time ago he “was on a short camp of 8 days, and he killed 58 deers.” Yet there are some still left in the woods. He gave us fresh deer meat to bring in, and will send in more tomorrow. While I was away clouds of ducks flew down the bay and covered the water in front—Fred says. In a few minutes I shall go over to the other side

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for letters by the “Laura,” and I am getting this much of diary ready to go by “tomorrow’s mail.” The mail boat may not come until Saturday but I wanted to be sure of this much by fast outgo. Carruthers will go over with me and pass the remainder of his time with De Coster much to Fred’s relief. If I find any news stirring there I’ll tack it on as a P.S. We are all well at P.G.C. and vegetation and trees look finely. So over the ----as the French say.

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Punta Gorda Chica Charlotte Harbor P.O. Florida. Friday February 9, 1877

My dear Pa,

Yesterday afternoon immediately after dinner I got out the skiff, “histed” sail and with Carruthers as company and his skiff in tow tried to beat over to De Costers against a dead head wind. On the first tack I struck Platts Point and the found that the wind had changed and blew directly from De Costers to that point. We tried hard to reach a good tack but finally resorted to the inevitable. We rowed, each his own boat up to De Costers. A heavy mist was falling as we said “Howdy” to the “jedge.” Indoors I found home letters of Jany 16. Previous letters still remain at Punta Rossa [sic] in “Father in law’s” box. Carruthers was introduced and “May I ask for accomodations [sic] for the night Mrs La Coster?” was answered by “Yes, you are welcome to what we have.” By the way Carruthers asked Fred for “his bill” on leaving. Why not open a hotel for the flux of St Johns river people about to rush upon us? In one of the letters (Mother’s) I found your enclosure of $2. It was very welcome I can assure you. De Coster remarked that he had been planting beans, peas, corn etc and had just had a fine mess of Irish potatoes. Two orange trees were blossoming. Lemons also full. Ditto guavas and limes. He feels quite elated. Before sunset I returned. Atmosphere damp and misty. Carruthers dog left behind. This morning the aforesaid dog ushered in the day by stealing Freds forequarter of venison and then left for the woods. Weather cooler and a strong wind from the north. Sun

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What a luxury that paper is to us all in our “exile.” This morning I felt played out. Tonight I shall “pile in” early. Planted 28 citron seeds Fred 30. The fruit both Anna and Ben preserved. Both Fred and I got in some beans, also. Lima beans. Fred had a few hills also of butter beans. Fred presented me with a new axe handle and I managed to get it fixed all right. Gillis came over in a skiff rowed by two dirty mill hands. Neuse smelled them out before they had rounded the lower fence. Then the boys returned and Gillis hunted up his horse and started to ride him over the other side—by way of Ogden. The mill has been cutting lumber for up river and the report is that the mill will be carried to Ogden next month. The “mail boat” came down today. Newt Waldron runs the route for $900 per year and don’t think it sufficient. He will make weekly trips between Ogden and Fort Meyers. I have sent one letter by todays “mail” and will send this when she goes up. Let us know which works the quicker. There is no connection with Key West at present from Punta Rassa but there may be and I have taken the chance. As soon as the route runs with regularity I’ll let you know the best day to send letters from Kinderhook overland. Tonight the wind blows from the north and the evening is cool.

P.G.C. Saturday February. 10, 1877 As the rising sun, gilded, faintly through the mist, the opposite shore, we could make out the mail boat at De Costers and Carruthers skiff at the dock. Half an hour after the skiff moved out to the sail boat, the sail was hoisted and with a light N.E. wind [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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is off for Punta Rassa. Dropped the largest tree on the place this mg. directly west of the house in among the potato beds. We are gradually making an “opening” of P.G.C. Weather extremely warm again. Rain fell in the night and a few drops in early morning. Ducks by the thousand down the bay. Few as yet circulating about us. This afternoon what with chopping wood, digging potatoes and cleaning up for Sunday I put in only one hole. But I have a week’s stock of wood on hand now, and 14 holes toward the additional tree planting. Tonight it is cool and chilly with the wind direct from the north. The “infant Mick” has amused himself all day by trying to walk about with the big brogans you sent me and my largest hat enveloping his head. When he topped it all with a hoe and tried to dig potatoes there was a sight for a hearty smile. His bump of imitation is quite large. During the late high tide, two days ago, 2 feet of Freds bunk was transferred to mine. The water was 3 inches above the little wharf and his burnt cabbage against the boat house was partially undermined. Today the deacon has been dock building in that quarter with the endeavor to save it from sliding up my way on another high. The Irish potatoes are doing much better than last year and the tommies are moving upward an inch or two a day. I have so far 23 hills under good headway—of the latter. And now Fred has a mulberry tree in fruit. The “tree” is two feet high, with 10 leaves and 4 berries. His precocious trees are curious. By the way I can boast of 58 watermelon vines just about to begin to creep. Some look very thrifty and some not so much so.

P.G.C. Sunday February 11, 1877 The norther[n?] [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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it seems to tear things. At noon there was some warmth in the air but both morning and evening have been exceedingly cool and wintry. After breakfast Neuse and I walked to the big pond and back. The wind was lively even there. Between dinners (ie between Freds and mine we walked out to the “pens” to find out what Whidden was up to. On the Hollingsworth “burn” we were walking quietly, each with a gun for any chance game or trouble, when I pointed out a deer to Fred. We dropped to the ground and made for trees and gradually approached the critter. Fred was nearest within excellent shot (80 yards) and just prepared to fire when he suspicioned it was not a deer. He was certain a moment after when a black and white calf got up from the cover of a palmetto bush and joined the deer colored one, which upon closer inspection with a glass proved to be deer colored calf also. It was, at the distance, so like a deer that Fred would have fired if the second had not appeared. No cows were near and the youngster would have made excellent veal and given us also some sweet breads. According to cow law if they showed no marks and were orphans the finder was entitled to them. But we resisted temptation and passed on. Whidden had broke camp and left for home yesterday morning. They had killed 4 more deer and not being able to dry and smoke their deer properly had left for home (we suppose) and Gillis went with them. They had burnt up considerable of the “pens” for firewood and smoking purposes. After “reading their record” of signs we came home to find that Brenda; Anna, Freddie Phip and the baby had been cow hunting. The low tide [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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P.G.C. Monday February 12, 1877 The north wind doth, but we “shant” have snow. It is windy and cool and only a half day of sunshine. The “Laura” came down at breakfast time and a[n]chored opposite De Costers. She is there still, but where next deponent knoweth not. Made 6 more circu [sic] rings to day. That increases the number to 20. Fred got in three and put up 3 boards on his partition. Once two cattle bounced in and soon bounced out again. The low tide gave them the opportunity to get around the water fence. Somewhere about one million ducks flew up and down the bay today. If they would only “locate” we would try to interview them, but they look like clouds of sand flies as they bunch up a mile away, and twist and turn about and then mizzle to parts unknown. The crackers must feel poor. Owing to the uncertainty about politics and the presidential muddle a cow and a calf can be bought for $5. Now is the time to buy a “bunch,” and turn cattle millionaire. They are a “sorry lot” these cows and “caives.” Gillis expects to trade his horse for 15 cows 15 ‘caives” and a yoke of “oxens.” He will have quite a “bunch.” Not so cool and very little wind tonight.

P.G.C. Tuesday February 13, 1877 As dawn was breaking I hurriedly dressed and rushed for my tommies to look for “cut worms.” According to cracker rule they can be seen then digging in the soil to lay up for another raid after dark. One large “tommy” was in the hospital with a broken back and the next largest had been garrotted over night—but Mr. Cutworm had retired and could not be found. So far 10 tommies have bitten the dust from cutworm attacks. Carruthers dog was prowling around the kitchen [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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of me and—according to Dumas—buried himself in the woods. As the sun came up Ben was frying pork and just about to ring the little “rattler” and immense flocks of teal were flying up and down, with never a rest. The sky was one grand glowing tropical picture before Old Sol put too much light on it and the clouds hovered about us in all sorts of fantastic shapes most of the day. This evening we had a meek little squall, but no rain. Holes were our burden of toil as usual. I made b---- and count now 26. After finishing I added more mulch to some of my orange trees and arranged the foundation for a new “Domestic savings Bank.” The “Mary” came in at noon and stopped an hour or two at the mill and then tacked up the Bird Key Channel. The Hens have just commenced to lay. 13 eggs from last week. Not a bean: The peas are up.

P.G.C. Wednesday February 14, 1877 The sun is just setting; Tipkins sloop has gone up river; a signal is flying at De Coster; either Fred and I or Anna and Fred will go over in 10 minutes and I add this to diary for the mail north. It has been extremely warm today. Sand flies numerous. Holes and carpentering as usual. No valentines. No counting of votes. The early bird caught no cut worms this morning. All well and hearty. All things progressing finely. All send love etc. Ever etc. Jar vee.

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Punta Gorda Chica Charlotte Harbor Thursday February 15, 1877

My dear Pa,

After supper last evening as there were signs of a squall Anna stopped at home and I went over with Fred to De Coster’s. We landed as dusk became darkness and the new moon was dropping among the pines on Platts Point. Up the ricketty [sic] steps we stumbled and entered. Mrs De Coster sat before the fire of bright pine knots feeding the last arrival. George Edgar and Ida May were in their little night shirts and toasting their fat legs, and eating bread and molasses—their hands and arms getting the greater part of the sticky material; Carrie sat on her back bone looking cross eyed and sucking her thumb and Old uncle Joe, like a dusky statue—frayed on the edges—stood against the mantle shelf waiting for “Tobaccer please m.” De Coster dropped in just as we had “taken some chairs” at Mrs D.C.’s invitation and with his right hand wrapped up in dirty rags, shook us “Howdy.” The signal was for beef the mail not having arrived. As usual some trouble about mail matter to Charlotte Harbor P.O. was repeated. There was no certainly of the arrival of the mail boat again. Previous to the outward trip Borgus sent to Morgan for mail bags. Morgan refused to give them, as he wished to keep the mail route in the family (contrary to P.O. regulation) and let his son run the route to Fort Meyers. Newt Waldron had not taken the boat but had instead taken 6 “emigrants” down the bay to settle. The “mail” boat went back with only Caruthers for passenger and one or two letters in his pocket for posting. The mail route is yet, therefore, in a fog. Caruthers, we hear offers $1.000 for the Waldron

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[corner torn off, three or four lines affected] ---ee or four trees are --n blossom. The “Laura”— go to Key West on Friday or Saturday and we shall send letters by her. The schooner “Mary” came in yesterday—not the other day as I wrote. The white schooner belonged to Fort Meyers that arrived then. We came over about 8.30 and found all correct on our shores. This morning the sky was leaden until almost 9 o’c. Liver for breakfast and beef for dinner— very little of each. Holes followed. Put in my 38th before tea. 2 were awfully tough. Both Fred and I make them certainly 10 feet in diameter and sometimes over. The larger the better. Just as I finished I noticed De Coster’s signal up. The “Laura” and “Mary” and three small boats went up stream to day and perhaps some mail has come. It was too calm to sail over after supper and we will go tomorrow between 11 o’c and dinner time, so as not to interfere with morning work. Two letters to Em were left at De Coster’s last night for first opportunity. A portion of diary was in one. Phip has been making toothpicks for me to day. The smallest was 6 inches long and ½ an inch in diameter. Fred poled the skiff to the head this afternoon to keep an eye on his cabbages and started a big buck within a few yards of the spot where the last one jumped that Neuse and I brought down. De Coster don’t believe in wholesale deer “killing” and will try to have the “game laws enforced.” Good idea, but hard to carry out. Sandflies and mosquitoes thick today for a change. Weather very warm with a nice afternoon breeze from the west.

P.G.C. Friday February 16, 1877 Damp and intervals of rain, high winds and sunshine. Gave my potatoes their second hoeing and finished

Page 372 the 40th hole before dinner. [corner torn off, three or four lines affected] ---- hills look right smart an ---- of last year. Only one looks ---- and that I must have struck with the hoe. After dinner Fred and I started in the rain for De Coster’s . The wet came through my pants and took me in the rear first then a sharp attack was made on the flank and the victory was finally gained by an overwhelming force in front. The wind came up before we were half over, beating dead to windward, and blew quite a gale. But we finally reached the wharf and found letters from New Years day to Jany 12. One from you to me and one from Mother also to Brenda; one from Em one from Mrs R to B. Then we came back with a fair wind moderated. More news from D.C.: A party of Connecticut folks—several families—are at Ogden bound for Useppa and lower Keys to settle. Capt Joselyn came up yesterday in a hurry to enter his land fearing it might be taken from him. He has gone to Pine Level. Several cabbages at 20 cents a head and some pumpkin were left for sale with De Coster. I wish, as you do doubtless, that my 160 acres were secured. But what can’t be done can’t. There is certainly much stir in this neighborhood and many besides De Coster expect visitors to locate this spring and next fall. To night a norther is howling and the air is cool.

P.G.C. Saturday February 17, 1877 Cool and a norther. Plenty of breeze. A visitation of turkies out back on the burn. Fred shoots three times and gets a handful of feathers. No turkey for Sunday dinner. All day long the breeze kept up a cool sort of howling and perspiration was checked at intervals of rest. I only put through 4 holes today and made the 44th but they were “sock dologus” and one mass

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[corner torn off, three or four lines affected] ---- oak and flycatchers. But --- land is redeemed however. ---ocks of quail came around the traps but “nary a pattridge” entered for Sunday. Turkies and quail are therefore not marketable. While at work today I noticed a novelty. You remember my old pig=trough? Well Phip and the infant Mick were seated within it, the infant in front. A stick four feet high stood in front [inserted above -- “the bow”] with a square paper sail placed on it and Phip had a broad stick over the stern for a rudder and thus they were bound for Key West. They certainly made as rapid progress as the “Santa Maria.” Freddie, however, hearing of the grand influx of settlers proposes to open a hotel in the sugar barrel—my old shooting box. Today he rigged up a flag staff by the side of it, made seats in side, hoisted a white flag, and took in Phip and the baby for guests. Terms no object. Thus the 3d generation amuses itself. Fred tacked on siding, fed the chickens, divided the 14 eggs for the week, made a hole and chopped up a dozen cuttings of wood or so. Pea S. The beans are up!

P.G.C. Sunday February 18, 1877 Still the cold wind of a norther. Thermometer 50° at sunrise. Walk out in the woods to see the widow. Deer tracks within 100 feet of Freds gate. Coon tracks in the path between houses. Neuse’s night brawling accounted for. 20 quail get up as I get down. Warm in the shelter of southern exposure and plenty of sunshine. Low tide as usual. The “Mary’s” white hull shows up at the Waldron place as the morning sun light it up. Quiet reigns, no holes, no grubbing but heaps of letter writing and reading.

[374-377 appear to be missing: the rest of February 18 and all of February 19]

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Punta Gorda Chica Charlotte Harbor Fla. Tuesday February 20, 1877

My dear Pa,

Yesterday noon De Coster and Carrie came over in the “Santa Maria’s” yawl. He notified us of the sailing of the “Mary” in the morning and I hurriedly scraped together some scribbles and sent by him on his return. After he had left we scraped again and raised all our available funds to get a bag of corn and I took Phip and Freddie and the skiff and sailed over to Rowans. We had a breezy time, were struck by a couple of heavy squalls, made mangrove key in the first tack, then the mill finally De Costers. I went ashore for letters left with him and then to make time rowed to Roans, reaching there just before sunset. Roan informed me that he would willingly carry letters for the community even after the mail route is in order. As I added to my diary Bartholf has his “commission” and mail bags. Morgan has let Borgus have bags at Ogden and Newt Waldron is to run the mail. He is now (Newt) down the bay and as soon as he returns the postal arrangements will be complete. I was curious about those 8000 oranges. Harlee paid 1 cent a piece and paid in goods. The orange grower was buying goods at Harlee’s store and offered oranges in lieu of cash. The store keeper made a good thing of it. De Coster expects some time in May to take an ox team 40 miles into the bowels of this sunny land purposely to get 300 or 400 orange trees. Said trees are 3 and 4 years old of good quality and are offered (3000 of them) at 10 cents a piece. Should any good fortune turn up by that time for us I should like to take a $5 bill and go with

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the “jedge” and get 50 for our own use. Should they prove to be good trees it would pay. Should they be inferior they can be budded. They claim to be the “finest in the state.” Finished the 46th hole yesterday and started two for another purpose. I have been promising the “family” a “shooting box,” 5 x 6, where morning reveries can be privately attempted and yesterday I began work on it. A part of the frame I made last year and little by little I will erect it. This affair will be on a new and improved plan, which for this country should be patented. (Make application for me). “Waste not, want not” is to be engraved on the front door. It will be built on rollers and not stationary. Thus, like the leopard, when it tires of one spot it can remove to another. By this plan we can do away with the domestic savings bank business and still claim an interest from our investment. A plan of the novelty will be forthcoming in due season. They talk of cow=penning as a grand feature of Florida culture. What shall we call this? By the way De Coster says that my white potatoes beat anything he ever saw in this part of the country! I shall dig some Thursday, Ben’s birth day, and try them.

P.G.C. Wednesday February 21, 1877 Yesterday the wind blew furiously all day from the westward—or rather N.W. It was cool and piercing. I grubbed my self into a backache before dinner and took a stroll in the woods afterward—after dinner to get straightened out. The “Laura” passed out just as the bell rang for dinner, but we did not board her. During my hunt I came in sight of Lockharts and visited his garden. Such a conglomeration of cabbages, turnips, beets, pumpkins

Page 380 tomatoes, peppers; lemon, orange and lime seedlings, you never saw. His enclosure is about 80 by 120. Most of it shell and the balance rich black powdery soil. He had originally hilled it for potatoes but it was too rich and they failed to connect. Then he went seriously into turnips etc. Along the top of the ridges cabbages and turnips are set 6 inches apart. Half way down rows of turnips 4 inches apart, and in the gully more turnip, tomatoes and a mixture of onions, lime seeds, tobacco seeds and a perfect conglomeration of vegetable plants in all stage of advancement. One turnip just going to seed was as large as his head. Beets—rather few—as large as a teacup, pumpkins the size of a wash pitcher and similar in shape. Such a jumble of vegetation I never saw before. He had the makings of a good “sarse garden” but who could bring order out of such chaos. He had just dug a well, within 50 feet of the spot where the two previous settlers had found salt water, and the result was excellent. I really think his new water beats ours. Wherever I went our old sow followed close on my heels about the place and I almost broke my neck tumbling over his 40 chickens. My hunt was unsuccessful. I saw one deer within 150 yards, and plenty of turkey and deer sign on deer hammock—but got nary. This morning the cool weather moderated and the wind dropped to a quiet sort of rustling. The white flag appeared at 10 o’c at De Costers and after dinner Fred and I went over. We stopped at the mill for some sticks for “tommies” and there learned that the mail from Ogden had come down on the “Laura.” Whidden [‘s] 21 deer were bought by Williams

Page 381 and we saw the remains hung up in the blacksmith shop. Bartholfs announcement of stores etc. was posted on the little shanty near the shore (I send you herewith a copy) We got our sticks, some paid up borrowed corn on the cob from Gillis and sailed to De Costers. Your letter of Feby 2 was the latest. The two packages of “Suns” and other papers and letters for Fred and Anna made our portion. De Coster had brought up our mail from the “post office” but we shall have to visit that spot to post home letters I am afraid. Borgus Jr. and Newt Waldron will run the route in Weeks yawl boat. Driggers will leave Punta Rossa [sic] today and stop for letters on his return. Newt, who is earning $3 per day by taking a party of Washington folks among the Keys, will bring in the next mail and it is hoped that some sort of regularity in running the route will follow his taking charge. There will be no regular mail day, but letters will go back and forth as often as the trips can be made—perhaps 3 times a month. This is better than nothing. The people of Ogden are trying to improve on this. A petition is being signed for a light draft steamer to run between Key West and Ogden making weekly trips and carrying the mail! 40 persons have signed it at Ogden and De Coster will get 500 in Key West (!) I think it will end with the signing of the petition at Ogden. Still you can’t most always sometime tell. With all this gossip and a kettle of fresh milk we returned to P.G.C. by 4 o’c and in time to put in an hour’s grubbing before supper. The “Sun” has been shining all the evening and I feel quite illuminated

Page 382 with political and all other kinds of news. By the way Freddie and I collected a barrel of cow droppings outside the fence, this morning. We can therefore “cow pen” on a small scale. I have already written you all the facts I can remember about the Sunday Times lease. I am almost positive that just previous to Lawrence’s capture the head of the paper had “Lawrence Webb and Morris, propretors [sic],” there. Morris certainly acknowledged to me that he was part proprietor and I think his name was in the bill of sale as one of the “parties of the second part” and that he likewise signed it with Laurence, Webb, Fred and myself. How can the firm of EG Howard and Co be held responsible when that firm was dissolved at the time of sale and so published in the Sunday Times? Among the mail matter was a copy of the Tallahassee Floridian (Dyke, Editer) [sic] sent to Mr Howard. On the margin “Senator Henly” was marked. It contained the Governor’s message and, among other items, a plan of a game law for Florida to act similarly, as regards deer, to that in New York. De Coster loaned me a copy of the “Tampa Guardian.” I find this advertisement: “WANTED. A physician and School teacher for a Primary school of about 15 pupils.

To locate at Charlotte Harbor, Manatee County Fla., where in addition to the practise of his profession he can engage in the cultivation of tropical fruits, on some of the best orange land of the state in an agreeable healthful neighborhood where all the advantage which a location on the water affords. No Physician within 50 miles. Good and sufficient guarantees will be given to a desirable party of undoubted qualifications. Address with references and terms, J. F. Bartholf, Charlotte Harbor, Manatee Co: Fla. “

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Mrs. De Coster says that she thinks of “advertising” for a “Minister and a shoe maker” —a rare combination. The “Guardian” has besides these items: “Eggs are selling at 15 cents per dozen”—“Hops” are being cultivated every week, with increasing interest” — “The new steamship ‘Lizzie Henderson’ from New York, has just arrived in the bay.” —There is a call for “mail communication with Pine Level and Fort Meade tri=weekly by coach” and other matters to numerous to mention. And thus endeth today’s gossip.

P.G.C. Thursday February 22, 1877 Mild in the morning, then overcast with a little rain in afternoon. Tried the Irish potatoes (two hills having wilted). They were just the size of walnuts and nix [?] plenty. Fred gave me a trio of turnips grown near the kitchen and that celebrated Ben’s and Washington’s birthday. Grubbed all the morning and made havoc among oak, “tie=tie” and palmetto roots. The afternoon was pretty much lost. The rain drizzled and I only put in an hour’s grubbing between stoppages. Tomorrow Fred and I will have to go to the post office as Driggers will be back then ready to take the mail up river. Newt Waldron passed up Bird Key Channel this afternoon with his party of “fellows looking for a spot to settle.” There seemed to be ½ a dozen as we looked at them through the glass. Fred shot 3 doves this AM. There were a dozen in the flock.

P.G.C. Friday February 23, 1877 Heavy rains in early morning. Shoot 4 quail for dinner. At noon we go to the post office and more will be said next time. Ever etc. Jarvee. Brenda commenced a letter to Mother but has had no time to finish. Next mail.

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Punta Gorda Chica Charlotte Harbor Fla Friday February 23, 1877

My dear Pa,

Once more! Such a peculiar day as we have had. Heavy rain before and after breakfast, a shot at 4 quail and “them” for dinner, strong winds from the westward, a sail to the post office, grubbing and—so forth. Just after dinner we hoisted sail and made a good tack to Lockharts. Then the waves being high we hauled in canvas and I rowed over to the “store.” M’unckle Fred little Fred and I were the party. Lockhart invited us ashore, but we yelled out “Going across the bay” and went. We landed on the beach near Platts Point and walked down. A six acre lot with corn a foot high, she[l]tered by mangroves on the beach, we passed. Then we walked up to the log shanty. “How do you do Mrs Bartholf” said the deacon as Mrs B. came forth with a six month old infant in her arms and another promising. “I’m well, how do you come on?” was her greeting. “Is Mr. Bartholf in?” “The Captin is up to the store; you’ll find him” A newly shingled house, as large as mine, stood at the shore end of the wharf and there we found Curry and Bartholf hard at work arranging shelves and counters for the new stock of goods. Not a thing at present was visable [sic] but empty shelves and shavings. More corn, Irish potatoes and other produce was growing back of the store house. We left our letters. The mail boat is uncertain yet but “the Captin” expects to have his mail from Ogden on Mondays and send north on Thursdays. After a little political gossip we walked back to the house. There “the Captin” credited me with $1.10—the price of 4 ½ lbs of deer skin @ 25 cents per pound. These skins I had saved from the “shootin.’” Says Bartholf. “You aint up

Page 385 to the tricks of the trade yet, I see. You should have left your skins out in the dew last night, worked a little sand into the hairy side and made ‘em weigh more. These are dry and of course I can give 25 cents per lb. for such. My usual price is 20 cents. As he had no goods I got credit for the $1.10 and will wait. Roan will bring back corn (100 bushels) dry goods, hardware, oil, and in fact all necessaries for a country store stock. At 4 o’c we passed along shore, jumped in the “Bed Bug” and with a fair wind, reached home before sunset. Supper, 2 or 3 games of cribbage, and now bed time. Sky overcast tonight and atmosphere chilly.

P.G.C. Saturday February 24, 1877 Overcast a portion of the day, cloudy the rest. At last after visitation of pigs, deer, cattle turkies and such like the capping of the climax occurred to-day. The “injuns,” as last on the list, came this afternoon. How I wish you had been her[e] to come the Humkin, hokolin tucheener business with them. About 4 o’c Freddie called out that two men were coming in from the woods. I walked over and as they had reached the fence and were looking over Fred and I walked out to say “Howdy.” At first we thought they were nigs, but as the turbans loomed up we saw they were “injuns.” The two figures that came in the gate were dressed according to the latest style of South Florida. They were buck and squaw, both in their shirttails, turbans and moccasins. Both pair of legs were copper colored, like a new cent of the old style, and perfectly bare to the breach clout. The man gave his name as “docter.” [sic] He carried a breach loading rifle with a shortish barrel... The squaw had one of the old fashioned kind and on her back was strapped three

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venison hams. Mr. Docter could talk but very little English. They came in to the back piazza and sat down on the chairs that Fred brought out, Mrs Squaw tucking her shirt between her legs as she located. Docter was rather a fine looking indian with a delicate mustache and imperial and glorious legs. Such calves! Both pairs were large and solid looking’ the skin looking like well tanned sole=leather. Dr. had 3 shirts on and Mrs. D but two. Each carried a hunting knife, powder horn, and small leather haversack also a sort of wide belt with long leather thongs for carrying parcels. We raked up our “Injun talk” and tried to hold a conversation. It was heavy work. Dr. told me his party consisted of “1 squaw 4 piccaniny.” He wanted to trade— “swap” he called it. We dickered for the 3 hams which he valued at “50 cent for one” and gave ½ a bushel of sweet potatoes and some flour. The conclusion of the bargain ended in a smoke all round. Each brought out a brier wood pipe and the squaw harnessed up the potatoes and flour and they shook hands all round and said “good=by” and trudged off. We asked what they were doing so far away from home. “We hunt,” said Docter, “alligater.” [sic] We pointed to our teeth and smiled a question. “N’gar” said the docter and he showed his teeth in return and right good ones they were. “N’gar” we therefore found out was “yes.” They were Seminoles and lived “8 fingers” off to the South—which we took for 80 miles. “Big Cypress” is his location. The “docter” was quite a dignified looking “injun” but the squaw was as ugly as she could be, with a grand old mouth for hash. Fred asked Docter to name

Page 387 the place. He looked all round and then said “home, tallahassee.” Freddie and Phip came over to see the sight and Nick told his Mama that “he could’n’t find the feathers in his hair.” What will come next? By the way we hav’n’t had any bear yet—except the bare legs. However, that is good costume for warm weather—but what a grand chance for mosquitoes. During the “talk” Fred showed “Docter” some colored pictures of noted Indians. Docter was struck with “Red Cloud.” “Where live?” he asked Fred. “Up North,” was the answer. “N’gar!” They expressed very little curiosity contrary to usual report and even after they left the house, never once looked back. What a happy life the masculine portion of Indian humanity must have of it. The squaw to carry freight and baggage and do all the chores while the old man takes his pleasure in hunting and taking it easy. His hands were quite delicate for a mans and hers a trifle larger. Her face reminded me somewhat of Fred Hepburn’s when he had an unusually large “chaw” of tobacco in his cheek and tried to laugh. Her laugh was an exceedingly broad one. The three hams weighed 34 lbs. What we traded or “swapped” was less than a dollar’s worth. Let the holes alone today and grubbed, dug ‘taters and chopped wood. Almost ¼ of kitchen garden grubbed up. The latest novelty is the head of a mouse on an orange thorn placed there by a butcher bird. Two shots just fired in the direction of Alligater [sic] pond. Perhaps “docter” has got his hams back again.

P.G.C. Sunday February 25, 1877 Just after getting in bed last night there was a “mighty rush” past the house. I jumped out of bed and looked for deer, but saw

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none. The moon was brightly shining and all outside was clear. I paced the floor, a la indian, for ½ an hour and glanced out of the different windows alternately and then went back. No tracks were visable [sic] this morning. We have feasted today. “Fresh laid eggs for breakfast every Sunday morning.” Venison roast and potato pudding for dinner and Kinderhook pears for supper. The morning was cloudy, and afternoon lovely with a tropical haze to add to the beauty of land and waterscape and to top off with a delicately tinted sunset. My troubles today were with “The Italian Girl.” I got her safely married off before tea time. Fred and Anna, each armed, started to look up the camp of our Indian friends and did not find it. Freddie took his Mamma, Phip and the baby out for a pole in the skiff and we passed a lazy day. Anna found some violets out near “deer hammock.” Just at dusk two men came over from the mill. Gillis was sick with a bad cold and “fur on his tongue ½ an inch thick.” It was thought to be pneumonia. Fred sent back medicine. The mail boat went up last night. It comes down tomorrow. The “docter” and squaw had visited Bartholf’s store with venison and skins. Old copper legs sold his hams for 50 cents a piece to Bartholf. We learned that the mail reaches Ogden at 10 o’c AM. Monday and the boat leaves an hour after for the “route.” 24 eggs were divided yesterday—giving us 12 for the week.

P.G.C. Monday February 26, 1877 Today the weather has been very moist. A drizzling rain fell at times and it was almost impossible to do any outdoor work. Still I managed to grub up about 200 feet of gyarden.” Fred turned cobbler and the remainder of the colony did their regular

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chores and duties. The mail boat came down a little before supper time stopped at the mill for ½ an hour and then continued on the route. Tomorrow we shall look for the white flag, when De Coster shall have had time to get his mail and ours. Should there be any particular questions to answer I will add to diary after crossing over and send a fuller answer next time. By leaving our letters when the mail comes in we can save two trips a week across the bay. The wind blows cold and heavy tonight. In fact for some time past we have had very cool weather for the climate. If it were only a little warmer we should consider that we were having excellent growing weather. The roses all show buds; even the “Marshal Neil” and Fred’s honey suckle is full of blossoms. The “tommies” are just beginning to bud also. Irish potatoes very thrifty. Peas, beans, and watermelons look rather frozen.

P.G.C. Tuesday February 27, 1877 No signal was shown at De Coster’s today and I did not, therefore, cross for letters. I, instead, stopped at home and grubbed up my “gyarden.” 400 feet cleared of palmetto, oak and “ti ti.” The little spot increases in size and will be useful next year. After tea Ben and I sit by the window and watch the moon bob behind clouds and even play a game of cribbage. Why? To save oil. The mill starts at noon and whistles “good night” at sundown.

P.G.C. Wednesday February 28, 1877 Muggy! Warm and uncomfortable. While at my grubbing Fred drops over and states that he saw a couple of turkies light in the path beyond the fence, having winged it from the lower head. I put in a fresh charge and go out with

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gun and fixings. No turkies [sic] show up but Neuse does. I send the scamp home and go out to the Hollingsworth burn. While carefully viewing the ground and searching among the trees with my four eyes notice a deer trotting along quietly to windward. But he turned and saw me before I could get to cover and away he went “with head and tail up like a catbird.” Then I took the back trail and returned to my grubbing. Hoed up “tommies” again. Noon came and I had accomplished little more than a headache. After dinner I took to the woods again, saw nothing but a small gray squirrel and came home by 5 o’c. Deer sign still plenty. 2 rifle shots in the woods 3 miles back. Is it “injuns? Fred built a “tommy” arbor today for variety. Someone started a penny “burn” a mile back of us this afternoon. It looks like a camp, or “scamp” fire tonight. So far this season there has been less woods burning than usual. The wet season, comparatively, has prevented. Ben has turned “school marm” and teaches the young idea—so far only Nick—how to shoot. The a, b, abs, e, b, ebs and that vast variety of two letter words echo about P.G.C. morning and afternoon regularly now. The “young idea” will shoot better when it can control a heavier charge of vowels and consonants. At present it is rather slow firing.

P.G.C. Thursday March 1, 1877 Spring opens in a crying mood, or rather with tears in her eyes; no water comes. Before noon the wind blows briskly from eastward and the sun comes out warm. I have just accomplished 150 feet of “gyarden” (10 o’c A.M.) and as the Mary is in and the mail boat may be in I am going over to Bartholfs and get corn on the way. Ducks by the thousand are

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flying around and one solid island of black fellows is drifting down below the head. Three or four small sail have been on the lower bay this morning and one may be the mail boat. I shall take my gun and try to get a duck shot. Dont expect much luck.

Evening. Back again and no letters sent by today’s mail. I started well at ¼ to 11 o’c. Soon reached Roan’s and found a bag of corn 149 lbs @ 1.25 per bush promised to call for it as I came back and, with a splendid breeze, continued. Lockhart was at Roans and mentioned that the Indian came into his place with 8 hams, 2 of which he bought for 50 cents per drumstick. In passing around Platts Point I came upon a million ducks, more or less, in one compact island ½ a mile long. The mail boat was tacking out from the post office and I tacked toward her. There I discovered I had no stamps and no money to pay postage and therefore had to let the boat pass, gibe my sail and go ashore at Bartholfs. Just then a roar like thunder, rolling and increasing in volume, came from the duck island. I looked and such a sight. The distance made it appear like a heavy black mass of snow flakes drifting down the bay. They made for Alligater [sic] Creek. I reached the store and found De Coster there. One letter and one package of papers had come in last mail and were at his house. Bartholf’s crockery stores had come and one side of his store was covered with pails, pitchers and general furnishing stores. His groceries had not arrived. More Indian talk. “Docter” and squaw had sold more hams and skins to Bartholf. I swapped my credit for a pound of tobacco and some turkey and buck shot and then, after the usual gossip— De C and

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Bartholf claiming that news had arrived that Hayes had been counted in—I took the boat and with the chance of a change of wind, made for Alligater [sic] Creek for the ducks. I ate my lunch as I passed Morgan’s and soon—the wind blowing strong—run into Alligater [sic] Creek. Up that lonesome place I sailed for nearly 3 miles and did’n’t see the sign of a “quack.” Then I gave up and turned back. The wind had scicuoed [?] I beat back on the long and short [?] leg principle and upon reaching the bay found a sou wester bouncing the waves. How the skiff danced. It was as rough as when we crossed from the old wharf to Alligater [sic] Creek last year in the white boat, but the wind was astern. I bowled along nicely, shipping a handful of water occasionally and almost got beached on Platts Point. There were birds on the point and I got in the horseshoe bar, before I knew it. I had just time to work round and get a tack out to the stake shipping a bucket of water on the turn and getting my “seat” dampened. But I whirled around the point like a race horse, with full sail, passed the old De Coster wharf and bounced ashore at Roan’s. There I rested my tired wrist, took a smoke, got my corn, and whirled away to De Coster’s. I secured no sooner under way than I was ashore again. How the wind did blow and how the skiff did put! At the “jedge’s” I took a stroll among his trees. Found them looking pale and consumptive. He had cut the tap roots off some and dug up and replanted others. He proposes setting out a thousand new orange trees and intends to draw a thousand loads of muck on his land to better it.

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He had, however, a fine show of tomatoes, some ripe and one bush on trellis held not less than a hundred full grown green tomatoes—some larger than my fist. It was the best show of vegetable production I have seen on his place. As a contrast, the chickens had scratched up his corn and beans and everything about his place looked woebegone and miserable. His tomatoes were planted in December, and had no protection from sun or westerly winds. On my way over home the wind dropped and I reached the dock at sunset. Don Miguel had an hour before dropped anchor and offered clams and plug tobacco for sale. His sloop was just disappearing as we dragged the corn up in the cart. I have just had my prime treat in reading the “Sun” and beating Ben a couple of games of cribbage. So I “dance the glisen,” trot over to Fred’s for water, will look into the little kitchen on my return and then turn in.

P.G.C. Friday March 2, 1877 Variety is the spice of life. More rain, more strong winds, a little sunshine and much clouds. A furious gale howled just before dinner and dense black clouds appeared over the opposite pines to the north. They broke and a shower came. The breeze boxes the compass and makes things lively. Then comes a period of quiet about noon; after dinner more rain and wind; then a half hour’s calm with a seasoning of sand flies and mosquitoes and a little more boxing of the compass, more quiet, more sandflies and now as darkness gathers, a healthy shower is moistening the soil once more. It was a mean day for work and I can only add 150 feet of grubbed up “ghyarden” to the

Page 394 list. The big wind in the morning almost blew my “tommies” to shreds. But I fixed a protection and piled in roots around each plant and they rest comfortably now. Don Miguel and his duplicate passed up stream today.

P.G.C. Saturday March 3, 1877 During the past night considerable rain fell. The soil is nicely saturated. Warmer weather visits us and a chance for growing plants to grow ensues. Work off considerable oak and palmetto roots and increase my garden 300 feet. It now counts me in a cleared spot 34 x 68. Shoot twice at doves and get but one. Something worked wrong. For the past week I have been studying up the chemistry of soil and geology of agriculture in anticipation of a little investment in muck etc. before the rainy season sets in. At first the subject was very dry, but now I find it extremely interesting. I shall do some experimenting in muck the coming year and I want to get as well posted as I can. The theoretical part of the business is promising. The practical is to follow and I hope will result favorably. I see no earthly reason why we can’t grow nearly every vegetable grown in the upper part of the state, with proper care. But I am pretty certain that only a few can be grown on natural sour soil—and that sandy. It is worth a little experimenting. And if I can get hold of the proper muck to improve crops, it must improve the growth of trees as well. When I work out some facts as a basis I’ll give you the “pints.” I am very favorably impressed with what knowledge I have gained on the subject but it is not definite enough yet to be of any positive value.

P.G.C. Sunday March 4, 1877 Well, Grant is an alom [sic] and president no longer.

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May he reap the benefit of his eight years of bad government by going where he will soon be forgotten. How I would like to be sure Tilden had the vacant seat but I fear Hayes will have it instead. Such appears to be the general belief thisaway. We have had a glorious Spring day with just enough breeze to make it enjoyable. Most of my morning and afternoon was spent in climbing a “cabbage” with crayon. I could’n’t work along the “permeeter faces” to my satisfaction, but I may hereafter. This particular cabbage was in the upper head. In following a deer trail I came across a splendid deposit of muck, easy to be transferred to a lighter. It will do for my experiments—I think and I will devise some mode of getting some in. Fred will join me and together we will work out the enigma. At noon I nabbed my three bags. They look as if they had been sand=papered. Fred and Anna have just called and passed the evening. The evening is a fitting end to so lovely a day, calm and clear and without damp. 30 eggs divided on last week’s laying. Not bad for 8 hens.

P.G.C. Monday March 5, 1877 Visitors all the morning and rain nearly all the afternoon. First Roan to tell us of the sailing of his “Mary” tomorrow. Then the “Bonne” came in from Key West for the first time in months with goods for Addisons new store. Then De Coster and Pape came. Pape goes to Key West to look for work. Tomorrow Fred and I will go to the mill, get letters, at De Costers, post letters Via Manatee and return. Grubbed up more garden, studied muck, had my hair cut, hoed peas, dug potatoes chopped wood etc. etc. It was a mixture of all sorts. The colony progresses. Yours ever Jarvee

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Charlotte Harbor P.O. Manatee Co. Fla. March 7, 1877

My dear Pa,

This morning Fred and I crossed over to the mill and had our corn put through the hopper. Steam was made for our especial benefit. Then we went to De Costers. There I saw the “3 months old orange tree in blossom.” It is 2 inches high, with half a dozen leaves and one blossom. D.C. was cow hunting. Beef perhaps tomorrow. With letters and papers we returned. Lumber at the mill $15 per M. No rations. No work. Status quo. The Bonne comes down and anchors. She will take 6000 feet of lumber to Ft. Meyers. Pape goes as a passenger to Key West. He has at last obtained title to his land by paying Key $10. Fred exchanges 1 bushel of potatoes for 2 gallons of molasses at De Costers. Weather today quite fine. Grub in afternoon and finish my “tommy” trellis.

P.G.C. Thursday March 8, 1877 My birthday is celebrated variously. My oleander blossoms for the first time. A box arrives from Mrs. Reeve and in it I find a splendid pair of slippers. The “Laura” came in during the night and started up stream soon after sunrise. I get through breakfast and board her. Freight and letters at De Costers. Then I grub until 10 o’c and the white flag flying sail over with Freddie. Get a fore shoulder of beef with the meat cut off —2 kidneys and a small junk of liver. Learn that Hayes is inaugurated. Express my opinion of the outrage. Bring box, letters and beef home. Quite a collection of little things for the children, dolls, a ball, accordion, reins, “humpty dumpty” a few candies etc. etc. Drawers and waists stockings and shoes etc. also. Grand time unpacking after dinner. A clock is sent by Aunt Julia. It ticks regularly

Page 397 and with a homelike sound on the center supporting beam opposite. Several valentines also— from Baggs, Aunt Minna and Grandma Reeve. Youngsters delighted. Our half way kitchen garden finished by supper time—about 2800 sq. feet. “Bonne” sails at 9 o’c. Warm today with strong southerly winds.

P.G.C. Friday March 9, 1877 Cool again and quite northery. Grub up 300 feet more of “gyarden.” Have scraps of beef for dinner and manage to pull through the day much in the usual style. Oh for a back with well greased hinges. Grubbing with a cool wind stiffens the vertabrae [sic] a little too much. Phip and his doll and Freddie with his accordion reap much pleasure today. But why was an accordion send [sic] to this land of flowers? If I had an enemy and that enemy had children I’d take a malicious revenge in presenting each with an accordion. Freddie’s had originally six notes; only two remain and we are all familiar with those two tones. The schooner is hauled up on the beach (thrown under the house) and gone into dry dock for a season.

P.G.C. Saturday March 10, 1877 The strong northerly winds blow cool again. After breakfast I shoulder my gun and rush to the woods. I make for the pens. See 4 cranes. Creep up nicely when two more start from under my nose. Lose my opera glass and hunt for it. Go for the the [sic] other cranes first and “meet up with them” in a pond. Get a good shoot at 2 and scatter the feathers. The cranes fly away. Take the buck trail and hunt ½ an hour for glass and find it fortunately. Walk a couple of miles further. Startle a deer at 80 yards. Drop to cover for nearer shot and when I get it find no deer. He had vanished. See 3 more cranes. Creep up, but they

Page 398 fly before I get near enough. Then I paddle my canoe homeward. Work down the “slew” and come in by upper head. Low tide but no more game. Do up a little carpentering, fixing up, wood chopping, potato digging and various odd chores and drop into my arm chair for cribbage at 7 o’c. Beat Mrs Fitzdoodle 6 games and now I will end up with my water walk, visit the salle a manger and retire.

P.G.C. Sunday March 11, 1877 The wind blows more easterly. Yet it is cool. A cold wash, Sunday=go=to=meeting clothes put on, and then breakfast. Returning to the house I spy a bunch of doves in front. Calling to the children to keep quiet I rush for the gun, when my eyes are drawn over the children’s heads to the woods and there a black object appears and then disappears behind the palmettos. Smelling turkey in the air I change my charges for turkey shot, change my best clothes for hunting rig and slippers for shoes and go a-Rushin’ after Turkey. I climb up the back of the hen house and gaze through my glass. Nothing visable.[sic] Then Fred comes. I get down. Suddenly a pair of wings flap a hundred yards out and I know where to go. So over the fence and almost on all fours I strike for Sunday dinner. I get within 40 yards and behind a bunch of palmetto, watch Mr. Turkey cock and three hens taking a constitution all on the burn. The old “he feller” struts and the hens feed. They gradually draw near, but wont get in line. Then I draw bead on the old gentleman and fire. He kicks up the dust and drops. Then I try a hen with the other barrel and she drops but gets up and trots away. The other two previously had struck a bee line for the lower head. Fred on

Page 399 the watch, ran up and stated that all three had gone out of sight. The gobbler had both legs broken and was sprinkled with shot; still he had to be killed. We carried him in and weighed him. Just 18 pounds. While I picked him of his many colored feathers Fred took Neuse—or rather Neuse had gone on the trail and Fred followed—down to the head. There he found the dog chasing the wounded hen in a circle and pulling a tail feather out at every jump. Calling Neuse away he finished her with a rifle ball and brought back 8 ½ lbs more turkey back. The big one was roasted 2 hours and a quarter and we sat down to a feast. 2 inches of fat were on the breast and the meat was rich, juicy and tender. Fred saved his for tomorrow, but Ive sent over a taste of ours. With the turkey we had our first new potatoes (Irish) small but good. More than ½ the turkey is left for tomorrow. Wish that Sunday dinner would always walk in so nicely. The breezes still howled and the air is cool. 30 eggs divided again this week.

P.G.C. Monday March 12, 1877 Warmer weather with a change of wind to easterly. Grub 200 feet and walk 6 miles after deer. See no deer, start up 2 cranes and return without a shot. In the “ghyarden” get a fine lot of roots. Opposite Fred’s tonight a schooner is at anchor. I think she is the “Cecilia” with corn on the husk at 1.25 per barrel. There was a report last week that a schooner from the Suwanee would soon arrive with such a cargo. No one has come ashore and it is doubtful whether we shall board her. We are not in a speculative vein just now. Fred cooked his turkey today and found it tender. Ours still holds out.

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P.G.C. Tuesday March 13, 1877 Very warm and like summer weather at the north. Easterly winds in the mg. Southerly at noon and westerly in afternoon. The sun at noon was intensely hot. Fred holed and I grubbed. He dropped a pine and worked up two holes. I finished up 250 feet more of “gyarden.” The first 100 feet took me just 2 hours by the clock. I can’t see the necessity of dropping so many roots in one place. It would have been better if they had been distributed among the pines outside the fence. The Cecilia—as we suppose her to be—weighed anchor, and started at breakfast time. She ran on the bar then on our side and finally made a bold push and an hour after disappeared up Peace Creek. The mail boat passed about the time the schooner started. No signal up at De Coster’s however up to dark. All last week small “cardamon” seeds were visable [sic] on plates and things in the kitchen and occasionally the tail of a mouse would whisk out of sight among buckets and “sich.” I stopped up holes and set a trap Saturday night. So far we have caught five and not failed once. I offered Freddie two fat ones this morning for a stew but he concluded not to have them. Cracker flies are just coming. The first appeared last week and the buzzing is gradually growing more frequent now. Last Wednesday we had a fine shower of mosquito hawks. They came by hundreds. Finding no mosquitoes they left the same day. The “pesky varmints,” however, show up occasionally about dusk and often greet us early in the morning. We have finally eaten the 18 lb. turkey. The bones went to Uncle Neuse today. Now we are ready for the next arrival. More game seems to come

Page 401 in to be shot than we can get at by going into the far away woods for it. None of the colony object however. Nick gets along nicely in his spelling. He has got into 4 letter words now and improves rapidly. By the way, a love lorn, widdy woman has opened school at ‘ickory Bluff with what hope or success I dont know. Post-office, store, school—My! but aint we a growing community? The little “Mary” shows up at the Waldron place this morning. Roan has made a quick trip.

P.G.C. Wednesday March 14, 1877 A strong breeze blows for the west. I have just eaten dinner and may, perhaps, try to get over to De Coster’s for letters and papers in half an hour. Most of the morning I grubbed. My back feels like the arch of a stone bridge and about as pliant. In some manner I think I have caught cold lately in my back bone. Fred has been “holing.” A schooner sailed out from Bartholf this morning. Possibly the “Laura” which may have come down river last night. There are clouds overhead and promise of rain. Such promises are not always kept, however. The children are all well and as hearty as young bucks.—Ben is not in quite as good condition. The kidney troubles are fierce and painful these latter days. Should you be sending any seeds, or any package, please try to add a bottle of Radways Ready Relief. It has good effect.

[Missing pages, number unknown, from partial March 14 to partial March 25th. At this point, my numbered page 400 is indicated as 395. Where the diary restarts, on partial March 25, he numbers it as 398, so at plus 5, I number that page as 403, subject to change.—B.A.]

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March 25, 1877 around bundled up as if for a sleigh ride. It was cool and disagreeable and quite a mean sort of a Sunday. The nibs, Ben and I were indoors most all day and it was a slow day. The hens dropped 24 eggs last week and we had our “fresh laid” for breakfast as usual. The white potatoes were a treat for dinner and apple=sauce for supper capped the climax. By the way, yesterday I came within a yard of stepping on a moccasin snake nearly 2 inches in diameter. He was a nasty beast and looked like a copperhead. A rattlesnake is a manly fellow compared to the moccasin. I found this one near Turkey Hammock in a wet oozy pond, full of grass hummocks and water lilies. I have no curiosity to “meet up” with the next one.

P.G.C. Monday March 26, 1877 A furious sou-wester blew all night. The house shook as the gusts came fiercely. At daylight there was no let up and the gale blew with a terrible intensity all day. The air was cool and clouds of sand filled eyes ears and mouth. A few misty rain showers came in the night but none after daylight. It was impossible to do any kind of work. I tried grubbing, fence making, wood chopping and root collecting and had to give up and keep in doors. On my way to the front garden I noticed deer tracks through my peas and into the potatoes. They were large ones. Some old buck had, I inferred, made an early morning call and left without his breakfast. After getting mine I shouldered my gun and went up into the upper head but could not find his buckship. He came from there and returned there. The “Bonne” went out gracefully at breakfast time. To give you some idea of the “breeze” today I will merely mention that Freddie and Phip in rolling

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barrel hoops along the path were astonished to see the wind take both hoops away from them, over the lumber pile, and then completely over the top of the kitchen into the grubbed up garden beyond.

P.G.C. Tuesday March 27, 1877 More heavy wind, but with less force and almost from the north. Low tide and white caps. Much white sand drifting in small clouds. Potatoes whipped to death. Dig the worst and get some good ones. Try them a new way—roasted. Additional flavor and a tinge of mealiness. Two dozen a fair quantity for a good appetite. That is, on the average. Large ones, selected, bring the quota down to a dozen. With butter and salt they are simply delicious and a great treat. No pumpkin up before dinner. After dinner they show an inch high. The wind has; however made the moisture in soil non est, and perhaps, they may not do well. A protection from wind along shore is sadly needed. Both Fred and I will start lime hedges and add other vegetation to form a protection and let Time make it valuable. Grubbing hard work today. Get only 250 feet clared. Soil rich, but much harder to break up than that near the kitchen. Quail and wood doves plenty. The former and [sic] preparing to go to housekeeping and we hesitate to interupt [sic] proceedings. They are pairing off rapidly. It is some time since we have seen any ducks. Has the advance in civilization—establishing a mail route—driven them into other solitudes? By the way, the mail boat stopped at the mill last night and ran down to Bartholf’s this morning. To night no wind blows and a full moon makes light of the prospect.

P.G.C. Wednesday March 28, 1877 As the red sun tinges every thing with

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coleur de rose, the air is quiet and then is a quiet repose in all nature visable [sic] outside. As the rose color fades into gold a breeze starts from N.W. As the gold fades the wind rises and when the full glare of day covers every thing old Boreas roars again. At noon he subsides and the thermometer says 78°. Then the “Laura” passes—just before the wind drops. She goes in lively order and we have no chance to board her. She had run in to Bartholfs and then run in to the bar at the point, but after passing us she seemed to get on better. Whether she brought any mail—or corn for De Coster. —I shall find out when I go over. Fred suffering from pill effects. His ambition is down to zero today. Before dinner I get a pull at grubbing and capsize 200 feet. The hole made by constant stooping for 4 hours was properly filled with 24 Irish potatoes—and corn and sich. I have just finished the filling and will wait until evening to finish the remainder of to- ”Days Doings.” This afternoon Fred scrapes up some ambition and works at holing. I continue at grubbing and count 150 feet more. The strong winds come again about 2 o’c and pass the remainder of the day. Freddie and Phip make wonderful schooners with cloth sails and the Infant Mick generally demolishes them in the absence of owners. Then damages are repaired new masts made and all goes on as before. Tonight Neuse makes it hideous with frequent rushes over our way after—no one can tell what. He scampers like the wind, barks for half an hour with his nose pointing at the full moon just rising and then goes home. If he wishes to frighten the moon it will be lost time for him. Three games of cribbage over.

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I generally have supreme luck and win. This time I lose. A trip to Fred’s pump and the usual nightly gossip over it (as it were) and home again. The match box is covered and the fire in the kitchen out—for I have just dropped in there as a finale. And now to bed.

P.G.C. Thursday March 29, 1877 The sun comes up gloriously and fiery red. Air neither too cool nor too warm. Just at the happy point. The breakfast is nearly ready and my clock marks 6.10. After breakfast Fred may go over for letters. If he don’t I will try it after my mornings grubbing. So I jot down this to be ready. The air is so quiet that I can hear Anna’s shoes patter across her kitchen and the occasional knock and rattle of the tea kettle. The three mites are dressing and jabbering away like dutch emigrants on arrival day. For the past 3 or 4 nights I have jumped out of bed at “south moon” and “moon down” and other intervals to look for the return of that buck, but so far have not been rewarded with a visit. On the occasion of his solitary visit he must have lost his bearings and strayed in. He did not taste potatoes or peas. —have just walked over to Freds. He starts for Bartholfs and a market. I find deer tracks on the path. Same old cat. By next “Steamer” I’ll write to the rest of the folks. Give my love, Breda’s Freddie’s Phip’s and the baby’s to all. Yours ever Jarvee.

Page 407 [Numbered 399 by JH.—B.A.]

Charlotte Harbor. Fla. Friday March 30, 1877

My dear Pa,

As before stated; I believe; Fred made an early start yesterday after breakfast for the post office. He made a long pull direct for Bartholfs and reached it nicely, under sail, with wind blowing fresh from North. Clouds of ducks sailed around the boat, many within shot. After he left I examined the ground and found 5 different deer tracks one a very large one. Fred found the Alligator hunters at Bartholfs. They had shipped 100 lbs of teeth realising [sic] $500. They expected to make $1.000 for the season’s work. They had killed 60 ‘gators in Alligator Creek alone and would have got a hundred had not company disturbed them. These hunters met our Indian visitors over on the shores of Alligater [sic] Creek. The “Docter” showed wounds got in fighting Harney in the Seminole war. His companion was a “hard nut” and as ugly as he looked. We must have been mistaken in supposing he was a squaw. Fred left letters at the p. o. and then made good time to De Costers. There he got our letters and some milk and came home rapidly. By the way De Coster is going to plant 4 acres (!) of sugar cane. In the afternoon I erected a ladder against the big pine in the ‘tater patch for a deer stand and about moonrise mounted 20 feet above Florida to look for a shot. It was a ticklish spot, but I had a splendid view. I tried it for an hour and both feet got “asleep” and I got shaky. Then I came down. While “out of the state” I heard one fellow jump the fence and 10 minutes afterward jump back again. But I did’n’t give up. I went to the house and watched until nearly 2 o’c this morning and then turned in for a fresh look before daylight. It was South moon as I undressed and feeding time for mosquitos. I saw nothing but after break-

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fast found only 2 seperate [sic] tracks. They were too smart for me. They will, doubtless, be around again tonight and I’ll try again. Grubbing of course went on as usual. Yesterday and today added nearly 600 feet more to the list. Tomorrow I’ll end garden work and go at holing Monday. Dug more Irish potatoes today. The average was good and I send the outline of the three largest, all in same hill. Fred learned yesterday that there are no sweet potatoes anywhere about us. Bartholf offered 75 cents per bushel for some, but Fred said he never paid less than $1.00 and would’n’t sell less than 1.50. No calls yet! Pendleton is buying up all he can find up the river for 60 cents to speculate with. Two men dug until tired out and got a bushel and a half. Ours are not up to expectation—mine doing well at first and showing less afterward—but they still hold out. Manure is needed to make a good crop I am certain. So far West India’s do more than double the quantity of any other kind.

P.G.C. Saturday March 31, 1877 It was too breezy for a high perch last night and I commenced watch at deer in the house. I saw no deer, but got a shot at the “quack.” Missed of course. The wind had changed to E. and Fred was visited. One deer came within 60 feet of his bedroom window. No luck for either. This morning I grubbed 150 feet and at 10 o’clock shouldered my gun and started off for the woods. I took my lunch prepared to make a day of it. South moon at 2.30. I reached Turkey Hammock and found a mass of fresh deer sign. Two deer waved their flags at a distance before I reached there. I took up position for an hour and waited for deer. None came. Then I walked across the grass and carefully examined the hammock itself. A hard

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beaten path leads around the windward and “leward” sides. Bushes 6 feet high on one side, grass 4 feet high on the other. I could hardly hear my own footsteps—but I heard an ominous hiss. Six feet from me was a coil of rattlesnake, both ends meeting. The head, with fangs visable [sic], lay back for a strike. I stepped back a couple of feet in the grass and gave his snakeship 12 buckshot. He was wrecked and went to pieces rapidly. The head, hanging by a quarter of the neck, made frantic snaps. As I hunted for the rattle with a stick, a black snake looked down on me from the bushes. The rattles were blown to pieces and that trophy was gone. The “perfume” was sickening and I backed out and put 300 feet between the “remains” and myself. The snake was only 6 feet long and about 2 inches in diameter. Then I lunched. And started for more “game.” A mile from the hammock I saw a doe quietly feeding. It was a wee mite. I stepped behind a tree and at 60 feet fired. She dropped and was dead a minute after I came up to her. She would weigh about 90 lbs. or so. Taking off my traps I prepared to secure the “meat.” Passing a strap around a pine as high as I could reach, I passed another through the sinews of the hind legs. A 12 inch stick was put in as a “spreader” between the knuckles. Then putting one strap within the other I hoisted the carcase until the head cleared the ground—having previously taken the skin from the hind legs. In this position I took off the skin, cleaned out the “innards” and cut off hams and saddle. These I placed in the skin, the liver and kidneys inside and made a neat package, with the dangling legs of the skin to tie with. The fore shoulders were too small to save and I had about 4 miles to walk. With the two straps I made

Page 410 a convenient knapsack of my bundle, weighing perhaps about 25 lbs and shouldered it and gun and struck for the “pens.” Nearing them I almost got a shot at some “sand=hills” but they say [sic] me before I got within range. Striking the “pens” path I saw Fred had been out and returned. I reached home at 5 o’c and my shoulders rather chafed. But my Saturday marketing was a success in a small way. “We have liver” —as Miss Ann and Betsey used to say—“and we have venison,” what shall I help you to. As I write, Neuse barks, a deer rushes along the path and “blows” repeatedly as he rushes for the woods. Brenda wants to know “what makes Neuse sneeze so?” The mail boat went up yesterday the “Mary” today. Easterly wind tonight.

P.G.C. Sunday April 1, 1877 An easterly wind for Easter. Also liver and bacon and Irish potatoes. 18 eggs only were divided. For dinner, Roast Venison, sweet potatoes, turnips, and Irish potatoes with some prime plum tarts to top off with. We make a feast day of Easter. I find only one set of deer tracks across Freds bean patch, ‘tater patch and over my way. It was a regular “sneezer” —Army shoes, No 9, would just fit him! After breakfast we had a call from Don Miguel the fisherman. He had an assorted cargo: clams, bacon, hams, matches, school books, stockings, socks, shoes, jack knives, pants, vests, materials for same in the piece, and a little of every thing in his small sloop. He was anxious to sell us some red pants! They were stunners. Pepi Gillis and two other “citizens” sport them. They are portions of the Spanish Army uniforms. $1.50 was the term to occupy a pair. We made no purchases. D. M. went away [stain covers word]. In stretching

[Missing pages, end of April 1, all of April 2, 3, 4. My numbered page 407 is JH’s page 399 now. His diary continues with April 5 as page 401, which is 10 pages off plus the 3 ½ days of diary—I will start with 414 instead of 411to adjust for the missing days, and copy this note to the beginning of Section 8 as well.—B.A., 10-01-04]

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Charlotte Harbor Fla. Thursday April 5, 1877

My dear Pa,

Yesterday afternoon a vigorous a thrifty sou’wester was making white caps and large sized rollers beyond the bar in the bay. I thought I would try the trip over and started with the sprit “reefed.” I only shipped 3 or 4 buckets of water and was beached on the other side—but I got over safely. I tucked up pants and drawers on the sands and towed the skiff to the wharf shipping my pockets and seat with another bucket full. I found De Coster sick and eager for laudanum. It was impossible for me to go back until the wind dropped so I walked down to the post office. Bartholf was “across the river” —at Ogden and Uncle Charley Daniels “received.” Uncle Charley had made havoc among “cats” lately. 2 night before last and 8 previously. Two skins measured over 3 feet in length. Gossip mentioned that De Coster owed Bartholf $3.00 and there was some kind of a row. No money, no goods hereafter. I mailed my letters and walked back. 5 hounds at July’s greeted me going out but only Gopher and the other picaniny [sic] coming back. The walk was dreary in the extreme. At sunset I crossed and just escaped a wetting from above. Quite a shower fell. Wind lighter. In the night it rose again and howled. Brenda got sad news from home. Her father died on Mch 17 and although an invalid for 25 years, Brenda, previously warned, felt very badly at the termination. His funeral took place at Partridge’s church and he was buried in Greenwood. He is certainly better off than when alive and suffering as he did. The $12 you enclosed to me was very thankfully received. It was very opportune. My land papers are all ready. I shall feel very much relieved when my return papers arrive. Other items in your letter I’ll refer to hereafter. To day we have warm weather. Ther. somewhere about 85°. Fred and I both drop into the poetry of lemon holes. Good day for snakes but none around. That rattlesnake I killed at Turkey Hammock turns out to be a “cotton mouthed moccasin.” Such I learned from De Coster. They hiss and rattle snakes dont. De Coster has seen them as large round [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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P.G.C. Friday April 6, 1877 Again very warm. Atmosphere dry and a moderate amount of breeze. Holes again. Anna comes over and brings her sewing. Fred and Anna propose going to Whidden’s next week in Frou- Frou. It is about time the white boat was put in the water. She’ll “decay” out, if not. They will take Nuisance for protection and go prepared to camp out if necessary. A funny little white schooner with a red bottom—and very cranky—beat down today. As she passed out the wind freshened and the red was very visable [sic]. A fresh deer track through the peas today visable [sic]. Ducks by the thousand in front. Can’t get a shot.

P.G.C. Saturday April7, 1877 At 8 o’c Fred and I started for a hunt to Turkey Hammock and the “pens” —our favorite turn now. We took our fodder and intended to make a day of it. I also took sketching materials. The grass was somewhat wet, as we struck the path and made for the big pond. Carefully entering the cover on its border we were surprised to find a whooper as he rose from the grass out of shot. The “Hollingsworth burn” runs to the upper corner and we were to cross it S.E. to a line of ponds. Unfortunately we did not scan the burn before attempting to cross it. Three fine deer, one a buster, jumped up 500 yds off and scampered with ramrod tails to the westward. Cattle were everywhere. We tried to follow the deer but could not “meet up” with them. Then we made for the ponds and reached Turkey Hammock without seeing a “tail.” A “bunch” of 40 cattle leading us may have caused it. We rested and I erected my umbrella, sharpen[e]d my crayon spread my stool and commenced to steal a march on Turkey Hammock. When Fred got rested he hunted within a radius of a mile. On his return to lunch I had captured the sketch and it will be salted down for Mother’s album. We lunched. Fred had seen nothing. After lunch Fred took a nap and I tried the woods for an hour or so. Just as I came in sight of Fred I started a young fawn. Away it went not 80 feet away. It was too small to eat and I hardly cared to kill it for its skin.

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So I didnt fire. How the little spotted mite did scamper. We rested more. The sun was intensely warm but a splendid breeze was blowing. Finally we took our traps and marched toward the pens trusting to find a shot at South moon (3 o’c). As we advanced it grew warmer. Fred got tuckered out and lost his ambition to hunt. After 2 miles of the warmest kind of tramping we struck a burn, purple with “petunias.” We looked through our glasses and advanced, still slowly examing [sic] under cover of palmetto bushes. Suddenly a fawn jumped and run. Fred was so eager to call my attention to it that he did not keep to cover. Four more big deer then started, ran a little way and stopped. We tried to get to them, but they were frightened, and made off. And then we saw nothing but a whooper until we reached home. At 2 o’c the thermometer must have been 90° for at 5 o’c it was 84°. A red skiff brought over two men in our absence and they went off to the woods not returning up to dusk. One is St Clair of the mill, the other uncertain. The skiff lies in the grass just below the boat house. It is an odd looking affair, nearly all decked over, about 10 feet long, and with a round bottom. Quite warm this evening.

P.G.C. Sunday April 8, 1877 A change comes over the spirit of our dreams. Such a day as we have had. A good opening, warm and quiet, was interupted [sic] by clouds of a fleecy texture moving rapidly from S.W. overhead. Then we had wind and an increase of clouds. Following that a mild hurricane and rain. Toward 11 o’c the rain came in a solid sheet, so thick that the kitchen could not be seen from the house. The wind in heavy gusts dashed the rain against the house with terrible force. Tree branches flew, boards were carried 50 and 60 feet, there was a rattling all round and when it finally stopped raining I looked through the glass toward the opposite shore, the bay was boiling and foaming like a small sea. De Coster’s house stood all right. The Ross house was toppled over and half blown away. Nothing was visable [sic] of the mill: that had been blown

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away completely. All the little shanties about it were standing but the “old mill” had disappeared. Each post of the wharf, without exception was surmounted by a gull and several flocks of ducks danced up and down on the waves. At one time they came in close enough for a shot. I fired at 40 and brought down 3, but it was so rough that I could only get one, with the skiff. The others were waved away. During the blow the “Laura” came in under jib and mainsail and made rapid time up river. The tide was very high—even with the small wharf. The gale still blows and the clouds rush over head at railroad speed.

P.G.C. Monday April 9, 1877 A strong wind blew all night and it continues from S.W. all day making Rome howl while the sun is high in the heavens. White caps prevail. 2 deer were not deterred from entering by the gale. To night I have set a spring gun and it may go off. Neuse is housed and we live in a state of expectancy until morning. Were there a moon of any size I would sit up. As it is the deer must do his own shooting—if he comes. Fred prepares for a trip up Shell Creek and gets ready in case the weather proves favorable. As thing look now he will probably get off. Holes on my ground claimed attention as usual.

P.G.C. Tuesday April 10, 1877 Fred and Anna, they have left us, (And there our loss we deeply feel) For the land of crooked rivers, With dog Nuisance at their “heel.” Gone to Whiddens! This may not be as good as G. Washington Childs A.M. might do it, but it will do. We are all alone at the Colony and the wind howls for company. At 8 o’c this morning the “Frou-Frou,” under jib and mainsail, moved easily out from the wharf. The breeze was increased to quite a gale. I calculate that they must have reached above Prairie Creek before noon; and Whidden’s before dark.

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Fred, Anna; and Neuse were passengers and rifle shot gun, pistol firearms. An assortment of freight and camping utensils with plenty of food for several days camping if necessary completed the cargo. They had fine weather all day and a glorious west wind. My gun failed to go off during the night and I “gathered it up” before anyone could get near it at daylight. No deer tracks were visable [sic]. For the first time the little “Mary” went up the “ship channel” today. She passed as Fred went behind Coon Key. With only the skiff and a pole I did not board her. Tonight I have “sat” the gun again and expect similar luck to that of last night. It is an easy way to go hunting!

P.G.C. Wednesday April 11, 1877 The wind comes strong from the east and veers to north in afternoon. No deer in last night and the gun was not fired. So far I hav’n’t noticed the mail boat going up on her last trip nor coming down this. I hope she has not gone under in the gale. Took a solo on holes, hoed up peas and attended to other truck work. No ducks about us today. They have gone visiting too. Don Miguel “went by on the other side.” Again tonight the gun is set. As it is near May day and Fred has vacated his house I have prepared a fac simile “bill” as follows: “THIS HOUSE TO- LET furnished - Enquire at the house over you! terms reasonable to a good tenant.” and will post it on the front “jam” when the “Frou Frou” sail appears tomorrow.

P.G.C. Thursday April 12, 1877 A strong wind again from the east, with clouds and rain in afternoon and a fearful old “smash up” of rain and wind this evening. Fred and Anna came down Shell Creek to day and reached P.G.C. at dark. They were just in time to

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save their bacon. Both were wet and about used up and they were glad enough to drop over to our little kitchen to tea. We had expected them before sunset, the wind being so fair, and had given them up. We had our own supper and the children were put on the retired list when I caught a glimpse of the Frou Frou behind Coon Key. It was squally and wet and jib and sprit had to be hauled down for safety. Sitting at our little table, with the rain pouring down in torrents, we listened to the report. On the upward trip they reached Prairie Creek long before noon and took dinner about 2 miles above. Depositing sail and things in the trees they rowed up the rest of the way, met with similar luck to ours and camped within a few feet of Whidden’s landing. Neuse started up some turkies and the usual “night howls,” accompanied by mosquito tootings greeted them until daylight. They walked up to Whiddens over the same road, taking rather bad news to our cracker friend. All Whiddens lumber, rafted up last season, and piled up on the bank was burned up and he knew nothing of it until Fred told him. They found Mary Ann and her old man off driving the cattle to pasture and A Mr. Somebody and wife to receive. Fred will, doubtless, give a full report of all matters and I will only say they stopped that day and night and came back today, meeting considerable rain, rowing 14 miles, and getting no game to bring back. And they were extremely fortunate in getting home as soon as they did. The storm has raged fearfully tonight and much rain has fallen. One fact peculiar to Florida Whidden related to Fred: Carruthers in coming down stream brought a black hound that strayed into his camp. It left him, while with us and hung around the place waiting for chances to hook meat.

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It seems that the owner of the dog lives some 60 or 70 miles up the river and finding out that his dog and Carruthers had kept company, vowed that Carruthers had stolen the hound. Therefore he shouldered his gun and started out to shoot him (!) According to this cracker’s account the dog is a family pet and good hunter and would not “cohort” with strangers. So smart a dog is he that he knows the report of the master’s rifle. Down tramps the man to Whidden’s, and invites him to go with him to see the “shootin’” done. And Whidden, refusing to be mixed up with matters, waited. Mr. Cracker drops down to Puity Gordy” or somewhere near Whidden’s camp at the “pens,” halts, fires his rifle—waits 10 minutes—and in comes his dog. They both go home together and thus the “tragedy” ends. It is a pretty good dog story, is’n’t it? During a lull in the storm we started from the kitchen to the house: Anna held my coat tail, Fred took hold of Anna and Brenda behind in single file. We found the house, but such intense darkness I never saw. It was near 9 o’c before there was another let up sufficient for Fred and Anna to get home.

P.G.C. Friday April 13, 1877 Last night’s rain and blow upset matters along shore pretty muchly. The white boat was nearly filled with water. The blue skiff thrown up on the beach and the red skiff swamped in the grass. The national colors in boats on our sands were much bedraggled. Freds rifle and shot gun and other things were drenched and soaked before he could get them out last night and he has opened a gunsmiths shop in his sitting room today. The wind has changed about to S.W. and W. and the tide swashes above the little wharf and almost up in the path. It blows a gale and one can hardly stand up in the blast today.

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This kind of weather, at this season is most unusual. Last night I did not set the gun and during the wind and rain “that same old cat” as Humpty Dumpty says, came in and stumbled over the wire. Had the gun been set I might have had a deer. This evening I have set it again. The wind is high and from the N.W. still. This afternoon Williams and St Clair, the strangers of last Saturday came in. They had been across to Ft Meyers to drum up a bill of lumber and got it— only to hear that the mill was blown down. From spyglass glimpses across the bay I believe the mill works are not so very much damaged and I hope the old “grinder” can be used. Williams thinks much of taking the mill to Camp Whiffle and setting it up there. On several occasions I have talked with “old man Williams” about mill business and each time spoke of Camp Whiffle as a grand place for a location. This last accident may result in its being placed there. Of course the wind was so high that the two men could not cross and they will pass the night at the “hotel.”

P.G.C. Saturday April 14, 1877 At daylight Williams and St Clair bailed their skiff and went over. As usual they did not say “Thanky.” During the morning I took a run out to the big pond near the Hollingsworth burn getting back by 9 o’c. I saw a doe and good sized fawn and took to a tree. The white flash of a tail was all that presented for two or three minutes, then the red back and then the head. They trotted almost up within shot and then passed near my “wind” at 100 yds. I took careful aim and fired, but did not hit. Then they scampered, coming 20 feet nearer. I fired again and missed. They quietly trotted off and my gun was reloaded before they disappeared. Then I saw a whooper in the pond. I got up to him and fired as he rose, and “hit him sho’.” right where he sits down but he had life enough

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to travel off and make a future meal for the buzzards. Hunting then gave way to holing and after dinner Fred and I both essayed to “kill us a deer.” We hunted quite faithfully until 5 o’c and, although we saw many tracks, we saw no deer. The gun is on the racks again, but I really think that the “little dears” smell danger and wont drop around to the tea party when invited.

P.G.C. Sunday April 15, 1877 Settled weather at last and a lovely sabba’day. Fred kills a couple of hens and we have them for dinner. 20 eggs divided this week. “Glass Kane” at noon, and lots of red fish running along shore. Strike at a 6 pounder and lose him after a tussle. Get the skiff ready and take the whole family over to De Costers after dinner. Poverty, poor house and delapidation [sic] everywhere written on his place. I feel sorry for him and his, but the man seems to have lost both energy and ambition. The mill accident, he says, dont affect him any but I think it does. The running gear of the mill is all right and the grinding apparatus in running order. But it is all open to the air and sky above. We sailed over and back. The fresh wind, rather sprinkled the waves over Ben and the midgett [sic] on the center seat, but didnt reach Phip between my legs or Freddie on the same seat with us. I had’n’t a great deal of room to steer but we crossed to PGC. in 15 minutes or so. De Coster now concludes that the soil in this part of Florida is more especially adapted to the growth of dates prune and mango apple, and that orange trees will grow—but slowly. this is all based on the fact that 2 date palms 5 years old are about a foot high and one of his two prunes and a mango have [last line(s] partially cut off on photocopy]

Page 423 at De Coster’s, with dates to 18th Mch and papers to 25th. In the latter I read of Hall’s last joke. —or has he gone to prepare a foreign situation for the actress Dyas. It is a peculiar move to say the least of it. Fred got a letter from King David by this mail and one from Baggs. Brenda had one also from Mother. I have set my gun again tonight and the wind blows strong from W. Still, I hardly expect a shot.

P.G.C.Monday April 16, 1877 For a change in wind it comes strong from the east. Weather coolish. My potatoes have suddenly grown small and I fear to dig them more today. I borrowed ½ a bushel from Fred. They were prime fat ones. One of his of average size will make 10 of mine. Besides, his have yielded better in spots than mine. A moderate amount of muck, ashes and some ammonia to work it up, will make a vast difference next year. And I can get a double crop by planting closer and better vines. With a fair amount of enriching of soil I believe we can grow almost every thing, without it I am as fully convinced we can do very little. A cord of muck to the acre is good manuring as it can not be drawn I am going to get it by degrees in the skiff as soon as the settled weather sets in. In a week or two I’ll write more fully my plans for orange and “citric fruit” culture and the enrichment of pine lands with muck. I have collected some new ideas of the former and much material concerning the latter and I think we can make the thing work. The theory is simple and the practise will show whether there is virtue in muck or not. The mail boat came down before dark and we will manage to go over tomorrow if the weather is decent.

P.G.C. Tuesday April 17, 1877 “As fair a day as e’er the shone on.” We go over to Bartholfs in ½ an hour. Breakfast just over. All progressing nicely. And all send love, ----- Jarvee

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Punta Gorda Chica Charlotte Harbor Fla Tuesday April 17, 1877

My dear Pa,

This morning early I closed my diary and after breakfast Fred and I took a quick run in an easterly wind and went down to the post office. In my pocket I carried my land papers to be on time in case of arrival of “fees and commissions.” The post office was closed and we walked to the house, noticing on our way that Bartholf had set out among his corn, peas and pumpkin, about 200 orange trees. Mrs. Bartholf was on the front piazza sweeping off the collection of sand left there, the day before. On her head was the usual sunbonnet of this fashion: [small drawing of sunbonnet] made baggy in the rear to hold the coil of hair comfortably. In her mouth she held a huge briarwood pipe and puffed as she swept. The profile view was all pipe and sunbonnet. “Where’s the postmaster?” asked Fred. “Me and Johnny’s postmaster I reckon; the captin’s gone to the Level. He heerd as they was to hold court and he went up.” “Can we get our letters?” “Yes; I’ll go right up to the store with you;” then as a half hundred calves came rushing along shore, she raised her voice to its extreme limits, and the echos rang through the pines, “You=Johnny=you’d=a=got=that=cow=penned=ef=you’d=let= them=air=dogs= get=at=her!” This “word” (as it were) of many syllables was directed like hot shots to the heir of the house of Bartholf who was trying to drive an unruly beast into a pen near shore. Then her voice dropped to a popsy=wopsy sweetness as she turned to the youngest specimen with “Wanty dow te to,’” and off we went, Fred and I and the Bartholf family to “te to.’” We found only papers and no letters. The mail bag shaped thus: [drawing] a sort of saddle bag and mail bag combined, contained and about 40 letters and a dozen papers. We made a small outlay of [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

Page 425 about 2 o’clock. We “bet” all the way back. It was rather provoking to see the wind change to westerly immediately after dinner. The tide came up well and Nick and I went along shore for fish. He poled and I grained. Sheepshead, jack—3 feet long, red fish and the usual variety—of small fry were moving along in the grass. I struck only 5 times and got 3 fish: a 2 lb sheephead, 6 lb red fish, and a mud mullet. The latter I threw back. Therefore we had fish for supper.—and some left for breakfast tomorrow. By the way, the Tampa paper says that the Charlotte Harbor railroad bill was vetoed by the governor; that the bill is only delayed by the action, but will pass in time. In the meantime some other small road is to be extended and run in our direction. There seems to be much objection to this railroad by the Yulee crowd and by jealous towns on the coast. Tampa in particular wishes the terminus of the road there. Its people have much influence in the legislature and dont want a “branch.” A branch road will answere [sic] our purpose, as in reality it would be the main road, ie doing the principal part of its business. 4 or 5 feet of water over Tampa bar and a poor port of entry, can’t run against 20 feet over Boco [sic] Grande bar and better facilities. Of course the R.R. will depend more on freight to Key West and other gulf ports and a return cargo of West Indian productions, than such freight as South Floridians will send produced from the soil. The road will eventually be built, I am certain, but at present it seems a hard road to travel. I did hope this last bill would pass the governor, as it promised well. Perhaps it will later, with some alterations to suit the Tampaites.

P.G.C. Wednesday April 18, 1877 Fresh fish for breakfast. An easterly wind to

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begin with, and a westerly blow to end up with. Holes still claim attention. The “Bonne” came in and dropped anchor opposite Pepis. According to Capt Pepi the the [sic] “Bonne” has made her last trip in the cattle trade. Something new is on the ta-is by Joe Addison. Fred and Anna crossed after tea and got back late. They bring, liver and beef and the above news. No letters. Who told the Sunday Times that Oakey Hll wrote the Joe Jorum papers? Tomorrow Ben, Freddie, Harry and I take a trip up Peace Creek in the white boat. We will start early.

P.G.C. Friday April 20, 1877 Yesterday morning at 7 o’c we left the house, carried bag and baggage to the little wharf and were soon moving along up the river with jib and mainsail filled with a good bit of wind. As we passed the Hewes House at 8 o’c the breeze has freshened. We moved along nicely and saw but few ‘gators. Around the “point of pines” we saw the flash of oars ahead. We soon came up and passed Harrison Youmans who had “just put a man ashore.” At 9.30 we passed Fort Winder. The wind had pushed us grandly. At the turn above Winder, we had to taken [sic] in sail and row. But we got occasional pushes until within half a mile of Ogden Bluff. The regular knocks of an axe revealed life. A turn in the stream and Borgus, a female woman in a sun bonnet, and an infant Borgus arrayed also in sun bonnet and barefooted, were likewise revealed in propia personna. “Drop in and give us a tow” said Borgus. Then he partly apologised by “I thought you were the mail boat. Where are you from?” My name is Howard and I live on the bay.” “My name’s Borgus; step up to the house, you can see it just above the woods. I’ll be up in a minnit. Ken down to git a few cabbages before dinner. Go right up

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to the house I’ll be up in a minnit.” I said I would see how the wind blew when I got there. We passed the Borgus plantation, “Ogden Bluff” as it is called, and rowed a little over a mile above where we camped for lunch at 11.30. From Fort Winder up to this place the stream was extremely picturesque. The huge cypress trees reaching a hundred feet above the swamp were waving with moss, their large trunks, tapering into spires with angular branches far above the dense foliage beneath. Cabbages, live oak, hickory, magnolias, bay and stray willows, covered with vines and with a rich undergrowth lined the stream, and a perfect bed of purple, red and yellow flowers, with blue lillies [sic] and tall grasses seemed to float on the surface for a beach line. Cabbages with vines, in green masses, hung over the stream and the vines, like those of a huge hanging basket, fell into the stream and the ends floated on the tide. The low shores were dark with the overhanging foliage and wild cats, tigers and “scoot owls” might almost be imagined holding their mode of high carnival amid the gloom. We camped upon a natural plateau, covered with grass and overhung with trees. A cypress swamp surrounded us. A few feet from us was the remains of a cypress stump between 6 and 7 feet in diameter. How the wood cutter could have slung his axe is a puzzle. The cut is 8 feet from the ground. We built a fire and made coffee, spread the table=“paper” and had our lunch and then sat down to take a siesta and the lovely breeze. Fred says this spot was where he and George got shingles for the kitchen. At ½ past 12 we packed up and returned. I had to row the first 8 miles and tack with a nice breeze the remaining 6. We reached home @ 9 o’c and were by 10 o’c in out nests. As we passed [Borgus] [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

Page 428 [JH marks this page as page 405, he is evidently now numbering sheets of four pages as a single number.—B.A.]

by walking up to the Borgus mansion. We landed on the anchored lighter or “ferry boat” and Freddie and I passed up the bank along a white sandy path, among palmettos, to the “dooryard”: A chain, with links 3 inches in diameter made it a difficult matter to open the gate and it shut upon me so suddenly, that I was started forward half a dozen feet before I knew what was up. The yard was laid off in garden patches, diamonds squares etc. enclosed by sunken pine logs. The path was marked in the same manner. Orange switches, at regular intervals were stuck in the sand, evidently as a preliminary start for a grove. The house stood, as all cracker houses stand, in the center of the door yard. It was a story and a half high and had a 12 foot piazza in front. The ground plan was similar to De Costers. Entering the door a 30 foot square room presented. The back door led out to a piazza—or covered way with the kitchen at the back. The only 2 chairs in the house were on this back piazza. Borgus, with huge spectacles, invited me in and we sat down on a mahogany sofa—one of the old fashioned hair cloth kind. In fact the “parlor” presented this sofa as the only spot to rest upon. The other piece of furniture, quite lost in an opposite corner, was a mahogany pie table. Two windows, with shutters and without frames gave a sort of dim religious light and between them was a huge false fire place, surmounted by a “mantel shelf” painted black. The fire board, 5 x 5, was artistically covered with pictures culled from the police Gazette. Stabbing offrays, murders and such works of art, with the edges scalloped by roaches were carefully pasted on. One other picture in a pine frame hung on the wall. It was a large sized wood cut of a “bare man” (to the waist only) about ½ life size, nicely cut out and set on a black background. A strap running around the neck of the [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

Page 429 and these held over the figure’s breathing apparatus a shield with [drawing of a heart with 4 double lines running to it, like ribbons or ties, and within the heart printed: ] FEVER & AGUE Plaster on it. The whole affair was picturesque and at the same time applicable to the “climmit.” 3 rifles stood in one corner and a stair way led up stairs from another. The unplaned floor boards were 12 or 14 inches wide and very thick. Borgus Freddie and I sat on the sofa and talked, and a big white dog with black spots walked in on 3 legs, looked solemnly at me and then hopped out again. Nothing particular turned up in conversation. I stopped but a few minutes and then went back to the boat. The land at this place is 15 feet above the level of the stream where his house stands and is rolling pine land with occasional hammocks. All Borgus’ crops were good, except sweet potatoes. The “town,” he told me, was a mile back. At Fort Winder, we saw, on our return, another sunbonneted female washing, on the shore, her dirty clothes, and nothing afterward of woman and human nature. We tacked for 6 miles mostly in the dark, spoke the mail boat at Bird Key, tacked through to Coon Key without a rub and so on home. The trip was a grand success. Brenda was immensely pleased and her anticipations were more than realized. Phip “passed the day with Aunty” and had, in his estimation a much better time than Freddie, who also thinks he had the best time sailing as mate and “drawing” jib for me. Hunikin enjoyed himself hugely. Tell Baggs the jib was a grand feature and helped amazingly. After dark, with a faint moon and much phosphorescence in the water and just enough breeze for comfort we all sat in the bottom of the boat and sailed along dreamily and with perfect comfort and safety, the jib keeping the little boat well up to the wind and doing away with the necessity of steering until the time to “come about” and “draw” would put us on the

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other tack—then would follow more comfort and pleasure. To day the weather was almost a repetition of yesterday. A strong southeaster, working around to south, kept up until afternoon when a westerly breeze blew briskly. the “Bonne” took advantage of tide and wind and bowled along up stream, soon disappearing around “point of pines.” Root pulling and hole grubbing were not so easily done today, but I put in some considerable work. Fred has commenced hilling up and preparing for the tree setting. Tonight the sky is partially overcast and there is a chance of rain, but we may not have any nevertheless. When Fred was across the bay De Coster showed him where he was going to place the “town” of De Costerville. It will cover about 70 acres along shore from the mill to below Pepi’s. Streets will be laid out, with a reservation for a public square, and beautiful shade trees will be placed on each streets side. Only 2 acre lots will be sold, his idea being to crowd in his new comers and populate his “town” to the utmost. Do you think that De Coster is actually in his right mind.

P.G.C. Saturday April 21, 1877 This morning I took myself and hoe over to the deacon’s to help dig some sweet potatoes. As a preliminary I looked at Fred’s rifle, he having altered the sight. To show me he fired at his target at the back fence, about 90 yards. He struck the “keg kiver” and within 2 inches of the bull’s eye and came near killing a deer into the bargain. Three were feeding on the burn and they kicked up their tails in a line with the target and ran behind the hen house. Fred put in a fresh charge and went for them but they were too lively to stop long in one place. He tracked them to the swamp above the lower head and came back. This same herd of 3 had made a raid [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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on my “hold overs” again and passed the better part of the early morning munching “tietie leaves.” The tracks of 3 deer were plainly visable [sic] among the potato beds. Tonight I shall sit up under the “pale light of the lunar goddess” and receive my visitors with a broadside salute. The breeze tonight comes from N.W. and there is a promise of a goodly visit.

P.G.C. Sunday April 22, 1877 I looked after deer until moonset, passing the greater part of my night at the spy=glass. I saw nothing. This morning I examined the ground. No less than 8 deer came in after the moon went down and stopped until morning. Foot prints are everywhere and regular paths lead to the fence at the back. The large buck came in at Freds, the rest visited me. Tonight I shall come a new dodge. I have rigged up a thread line with a bell at the end at my bedside. Any visitor arriving will ring the bells and I’ll try to answer it filty. [sic] Fred also has his bell in readiness and there may be much ringing tonight. Up country they drive stakes in the ground where the deer jump the fence and sharpen the points with a draw knife. It seems too cruel a mode to capture deer and we can’t decide to make such a trap. Another way is to bore holes in the rail and stick in knives so that the deer can commit “hari=kari” in jumping. We both, however, prefer to shoot them if we can. Therefore we run a thread across their paths up to and in the house, making a sort of burglar alarm. The wind blows strong from the east and the moon is more than ”half seas over.“

P.G.C. Monday April 23, 1877 No company came. No midnight potato robbers prowled within the fences and no bells rang. As the [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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[Marked as 406 on MS.]

badly, we’ll “set ‘em again.” We may have better luck next time. The easterly breeze still keeps up, and another warm day follows. Cracker flies buzz at noon day and mosquitoes open a telephonic concert after dark. The many hued dragon fly shoots along more numerously and the pesky little house fly is as abundant and sticky as custom warrants. Mud=daubers and “news=tellers” don’t appear to any great extent and the fitful sandfly hides low in the grass. Many moles are burrowing and one old rat “turned” up his toes to the daisies” in consequence of running against a pistol bullet last night. Mice are “scurce.” but the melodious mocking=bird (to speak alliteratively) makes morning music muchly. In fact we have their visits frequently nowadays. They sit on the house peak or on the back fence and always remind me of me and Mrs. Deans. I fully expect one to drop upon us some day with “High Betty Martin.” The days are ushered in by “Bob White” and then we have a promenade of several couples along the path or across the fields as Mr and Mrs Quail go out for an airing and breakfast. Doves no longer let fly their whistling wings. They have gone where the wood=dove whineth—or some other remote place. Thousands of red and black “furry” caterpillars move briskly over the plants and there are no “butcher birds” to hang them up out of mischief. There is an odor of wild flowers in the air and the sweetest scents come from the scrub “permeter.” Who would’n’t be a deer to take matters quietly and enjoy life in the woods, with occasional dabs at stolen fruits, under the noses of such hunters as we are? Holes still uppermost in pomomologiculture. Li-ti, or the flagrant fly catcher going kitchenward at the rate of 6 wagon loads (Freddie) a day. Oak—or gopher—roots and tearing up the surface and mulch mounds rising. Part of this week will see the commencement of muck mounds and then the [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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P.G.C. Tuesday April 24, 1877 Just at dusk last night the mail boat with Newt Waldron and Charley Borgus dropped anchor in front of Freds. We went out and found that Fort Meyers Allen had sent around for a “settin of eggs,” but we had none to spare. The Charlotte Harbor mail bag was full as a tick and will give us something at the P.O. They started off immediately proposing to reach Punta Rassa before morning on the easterly wind. It is now 8 o’c. Three schooners are sailing on the bay. The “Laura” is heading up river, the “Mary” heads for Bartholf’s and the Cecilia hangs off the latter place. Fred and I will start in a few moments for the opposite shore and dicker for corn on the husk and other matters. The wind is fair and light and we can take a lazy sail. I have just put in an hour’s work on a lemon hole and got ¼ of it done. It was one perfect network of grass and roots. According to our better knowledge of tree planting no grass, roots or trash of any kind whatever must be left in a tree mound and no manure added within 6 months before and after planting. This on the best authority. It makes tough and tedious work but the gain, like the sting of a wasp, is in the end. At present the air is cool. At noon it will be hot. No deer visits last night. All well and the youngsters hearty. With love to all. Ever etc. Jarvee. Post office.—Mail arrived. Any money sent in registered letter will come without chance of fail or steal—direct to C.H. the mail route comes overland to Cedar Keys then by steamer to Manatee—on horseback in U.S. mail bags to Pine Level—on horseback again to Ogden and by sail boat in mail bag to [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

Page 434 [Dates of April 25 to 30 missing, page is numbered 407.—B.A.]

Punta Gorda Chica Charlotte Harbor Fla. May 1, 1877

My dear Pa,

Just after dinner Freddie and I took the skiff and sailed to Bartholfs with a north west wind to fight against. We reached the point, went ashore, and walked down along the beach. We found the “Captin’” at his house, worrying over another sick child—this time the 5 months old infant. The mite looked fat and chubby and with dreamy eyes. At first colic was supposed to make the child cry. To stop it Bartholf gave it, he told me, peppermint and assifedita [sic]. This had relieved the child. Then a dose of caster oil followed, with a mustard plaster on the stomach and I believe he said something about pills. He was trying to think of something else when we came. The only advice I could give was to use few and very simple medicines and let the infant work its own salvation naturally. He had, I remember, also dosed it with Soothing Syrup. We went up to the store got our letters and Nick and I returned to our skiff and were soon flying along shore. Your letter of Apl. 16. and Mother’s of Apl. 15 each enclosed one dollar. Again I am very thankful. We stopped at De Costers, found no one at home; several books on soil and agriculture open on the table and a chair drawn up—perhaps just left by the “student” —only gave evidence of life, left a letter and paper, and then sailed home, reaching there at sunset. Tonight Fred proposes to think better of the Myakka trip and if the weather proves promising at daylight tomorrow to go. While I was across the bay he hunted back in the woods. He saw nothing, but, returning, fired at the imitation deer on the shore from the back fence and put two [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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P.G.C. Wednesday May 2, 1877 The prospect this morning was for clear weather. Fred therefore concluded to risk the proposed trip. At 8 o’c he and Anna, with boxes, bags and baggage—also Neuse—started off with a North East wind blowing smartly. At 11 o’c they had got far beyond our vision toward Alligator Creek. Fred’s principal object is to “shoot him a deer” and a three day’s outing is to furnish occasion. On the Myakka runs a marsh and series of low hammocks where deer congregate in enormous numbers. There he expects to open a butcher shop. We all wish him luck. After helping Fred off I went at work on hilling up mounds for future tree setting. At 11 o’c I tried my hand at deer getting reaching home at 12.30. This was a short hunt and resulted in a fox squirrel of immense size which I popped in a tree top. I saw no “sign” of larger game. Mr. Squirrel will give us a grand dinner tomorrow. He peels well and shows much meat. Just after dinner Harrison Youmans came by in the “Texana” —the new boat owned by John and intended originally for mail boat—and stopped to offer a couple of quarters of beef for sale. Of course we had so much fresh meat that we did’n’t care for any more just now. This excuse was (owing to our funds) based on the squirrel! As he steered for Bartholfs perhaps he had better luck there. It seems quite lovely with half the colony away this evening. The N.W. wind blew strong all afternoon and would not interfere much with the voyagers. How the sand flies and mosquitoes are nibbling down on the Myakka we shall learn by Friday.

P.G.C. Thursday May 3, 1877 Easterly breeze up to noon and westerly afterward. The mail boat goes up stream about 6 o’c with a fair wind. Work at mounds all day with a run along shore at noon for fish. Dont get a sight of one. Water not very clear and almost too much riffle [or ripple]. Plenty of whortleberries in the woods now. Get enough for Ben’s supper on one of my trips [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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to the hen house. At dinner we have squirrel potpie and tomatoes from my bushes as Florida novelties. The squirrel was as tender and juicy as a chicken and with a delicious flavor not unlike chicken. It was a decided treat. Ben made “crust” for the first time and it was a perfect success—as light as a feather.

P.G.C. Friday May 4, 1877 No signs of the “Frou Frou” up to dark. Strong southerly winds all day. They may be weatherbound for a day and have to stop longer than they intended. Clouds overcast the sky part of the day and there are promises of rain tomorrow—as the sun set behind heavy clouds today. And these clouds are bunching up and increasing. Follow the trade of mound builder still. At noon have a message from Bartholf. He wants medical advice. I act as assistant for Docter [sic] Fred in his absence and give directions. According to his note he is trying to kill his youngest child by over dosing and dosing with too much variety of medicine. Think of giving calomel and croton oil and spirits of nitre to a 5 months old infant. Drugs that would answer for a grown person he gives to a nursing infant, following one kind with another as he is advised by different persons. The simple matter is that his child is costive and I advised injections of simple castile soap, warm water and molasses and sent the soap. I also loaned him my doctor’s book and told him to read that and follow its advice and not to take a word from any one about him. I added some few other points that may not please him, but I thought it my duty to do so.

P.G.C. Saturday May 5, 1877 A sprinkle of rain drops awaked me at daylight. The shower was a slight one however. After feeding the chickens and just about to sit down to breakfast I saw the Frou=Frou rounding Platts Point. A little after 7 o’c she reached the dock and fortunately too. The wind blew strong toward [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

Page 437 with constant rains lasted all the afternoon. Both voyagers were tired out and worst of all Fred brought back no deer. Their first day took them to Cape Hayes and there they camped. Fred will probably give you full particulars. However, they camped on a shell mound isolated by a mangrove swamp. Through this marshy locality they found 400 yards back, a regular deer park and a wonderful quantity of signs. Around this spot Fred hunted, had some fine shots and failed to strike home. He struck deer but they travelled off. The deacon seems disheartened with his luck and thinks fate against him in deer hunting. The only game he shot was a coon which he shot for Neuse—and which the dog refused to touch. Last night they got up to Alligater Creek and camped near the mouth. In fact they reached there after a rapid voyage of 3 or 4 hours in the morning and were compelled to stop until this morning. At 6.30 they left their last camp and reached here some time after 7 o’c. They did not go to the Myakka. Perhaps if they had they would have done better. What with the excitement of arrival and listening to news etc I only got my ½ bushel of potatoes dug and minor chores done up. The afternoon storm prevented anything else. Still, during a let up I plant 40 hills of okra on plot prepared a week ago. The sun gave us some gorgeous tints before disappearing and the rain is over.

P.G.C. Sunday May 6, 1877 Overcast with heavy clouds in afternoon and rain above Coon Key with mutterings of thunder and the usual flashes of lightning far away. Schools of drum fish beat quite a tattoo in passing and I miss a good shot at 2 English ducks that fly just overhead. Fred and Anna sit down to breakfast after 16 hours sleep as we sit down to dinner. They tried to [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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with a fair show of success. In the afternoon there was much deer talk and plans laid for more trips to the Keys—when you come down—next fall. Anna’s face looks copper-colored and tomorrow she will shed her mask of skin like a snake. She has the appearance of a modest girl who, having blushed to the “roots of her hair,” failed to get back to her proper complexion again. Tonight mosquitos are lively and the buzz of the cracker fly before dark made the infant kitchen seem “like a beehive.” We all retire early.

P.G.C. Monday May 7, 1877 Breakfast was no sooner “gobbled” than the rainy season “set in.” It rained until noon and the ground was flooded. Thunder and lightning made a sort of mild uproar overhead and the breezes blew briskly. Every tub, pail and bowl was filled with water and for a time there was something of a deluge. I sat indoors and read up on orange, fig, and grape culture. By the way I have never mentioned, I believe, how much we have latterly learned of pomological science. A month or two ago while I was bothering my head about muck matters and the proper manure for orange trees De Coster loaned me a book called “The Florida Settler.” It was sent him by Ex=Gov. Stearns. The State endorses and issues it and it contains a description of each county in the state as to soil, production, health etc etc. written by some prominent person in the county described. In addition to these matters it contains several interesting papers on grape, fig, and banana culture with a prime article on the orange written by JH Fowler of Port Orange. Both Fred and I have gained most useful matter from this latter article. In all essential matters Clarke and Fowler evidently agree, but the why and where [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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This much will be “drawn” in the skiff. I have done very little, as yet, in consequence of so much windy weather. More quiet times are now upon us and a barrel or two a day will make considerable in a month . This composted or rather mixed with ashes can be used immediately. The older, of course, the better it will be. This will push the trees onward and in the meantime we will raise all we can of other things. I shall try a small patch of sugar cane in the fall. It may only prove a nest egg for a larger patch. I hope to, next winter, get larger returns from vegetables and more variety. Later I’ll ask you many questions on vegetable growing etc. Dont think I’m too sanguine when I say I expect to see blackberries, strawberries, asparagus, beets, turnips, onions, peas, beans, tomatoes, lettuce, radishes and white potatoes growing—perhaps—next year. Muck would do it! Muck is the grand incentive to vegetation in the north of Florida. It grows 400 bushels of sweet potatoes to the acre and other things proportionately. Why not here? White sand alone can do little. But it gives the best possible foundation of muck fertilisation. A fair amount of draining and muck will make a vast difference on our places next season. I have written you about sweet potatoes. They turned out poorly. Muck would have made them better. A better season would, also, have made a difference. Whidden and every one else had a very poor crop. The season was bad. Bananas are at present a failure. They will grow in the head or on richly manured land protected from the heavy winds. In time it will pay to cultivate them. At present we had better let them be. A banana draws as much sustenance from the air, through its huge leaves, as from the soil. When the wind cuts the leaves to ribbons, that source fails. I wish I could have a good long day’s talk with you on land and trees. I am actually crammed with the subject. We all celebrate you 64th birthday and wished you “many of ‘em” to follow. With love to all, Yours ever Jarvee.

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P.G.C. Tuesday May 8, 1877

My dear Pa,

My diary is closed and the mail boat is expected every moment. In her I shall try to take passage to the post office and walk back to De Costers when Fred will meet me and bring me back—in order to capture as much of the morning as possible between us. I take up your two last letters to write a line or two in answer while Ben is getting breakfast ready. The hour is 5.20 A.M. In “April 16” you write that you are again troubled with attacks of diarrhea and I wish it were possible for me to change places with you. I could stand the eye work and confinement better, while you could more comfortably take out of door pulls at grubbing here. But it is no use, at present thinking about that. Don’t worry about sending me the money for the land entry. It would be acceptable and relieve me, but even letting it hold over for a time wont, I think, make any great difference. Of course you must have many anxieties of various kinds and I know you often wonder how we are all going to move along toward the self sustaining point in fruit culture down here. I have much faith in the results to follow a liberal use of muck about the trees. During the present month I shall try to advance matters by giving a little to each tree and a larger dose next fall or during the winter. We know just what is best now and how to prepare and use it to advantage. Through my oranges I expect to run rows of potatoes and thus break up the surface and in due time free it of roots. In the fall Fred and I will both try to grub up where trees are planted and increase the quantity of grubbed land. Muck manure is better than cowpenning, and although it will be tough to get we shall try hard [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

Page 441 dearest and most minute manner. Advice as to quality of land necessary, how to select and what to select and where to locate; how to plant and grow trees; how and when to prune, how to select and plant seeds; when to transfer and how to make a nursery; how to plant an orchard and how to overcome all enemies of the tree; in fact the little work on orange culture contains in the clearest language every point of interest concerning the growth of an orange tree—even to its organisation and interior workings. According to Fowler orange culture is an art and the results in his own grove of 3.00 trees show that he understands the art pretty well. I have thought so much of his little work of 42 pages as to copy it entire into my scrap book. In doing so I have got the facts well established in my craniums. On some quiet day I’ll send you a digest of principal points and in the meantime only state that we are trying to follow out what he advises. The rain stopped at dinner time and afterward Fred and I held a confab and started a potato hill. I got up 50 feet and then hunted vines. I found only 41 and gave up. Fred kept on until 120 feet of hills pleased his eye and then he could find only 14 West India slips to put in. The 14 he gave me and concluded to plant small potatoes instead. My hills are damper and may bring the vines through. His were dry in spots. This hilling we do only for an experiment and in the hope that vines will result. After potatoes mound building followed. Rainy season cries of tree toads and other small fry fill the air the eve. and a rush of mosquitoes are added. Setters marked “Via Cedar Keys and Punta Rossa [sic]” would not reach us as soon as the other route. Ever etc. Jarvee

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Charlotte Harbor P.O. Fla. Thursday May 10, 1877

My dear Pa,

There is a chance that the mail boat; momentarily expected, may stop at Freds for a “settin of eggs” to go to Fort Meyers. Therefore I hurriedly write a post[s]cript to my diary as I have something of importance to send. Since you have been at work on the “Sun” and trying to make many ends meet I have thought of many ways to help. One way in particular I wish to write about and leave you to judge of its feasibility. I have had it in mind before, but I thought less of it until Brenda proposed that I should do it and it concerns her more than me. This is the proposition. That upon your acquiescence, and one or two other considerations, I go to New York and enter upon the “Sun” proof reading when you leave off, stop until December and return with my gains to push matters ahead here, both for Fred and for me. Now one consideration is can you secure the position for me from July 1 or thereabouts? That is so that it would be a certainty. Next, from your knowledge of the requirements, could I fill it? Before leaving P.G.C. I could get out all my trees and have nearly all my wet season chopping done. I could send means to Fred to have my place planted in potatoes. I could after commencing work send

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necessary supplies and relieve you of much worry concerning us here. I would gain enough by December to carry us through the winter next year and get a valuable nest egg for future hatching on the plantation. Think the matter over fully and write immediately and tell me whether the plan is feasible or not. I have no particular desire or curiosity to gratify in going to N.Y. It would be on business entirely and I should expect to save $20 of the $30 per week. $100 would pay travelling expenses and such extra clothes as I would require to keep up respectability would cost perhaps $30 or $40 more. The rest would be for use here. Brenda would take as good care of the children as she could and although she would wish any other plan to be arranged for our benefit she would try her best to bear up and work along until the “Merry Christmas” to follow. She proposes to continue her own washing and cooking etc. No change is in order but my going and doing “owl” duty for $30 per week. I shall go on right away

Page 444 and make all preparations to leave within an hour after your answer is received. I can go to Key West and if necessary get my steamer passage paid before I am delivered up or within reasonable time after getting to N.Y. At least I think so, under the plea of pressing business and lack of funds. Joe Addison will wait for his $5 in taking me to K.W. The work in N.Y. would not worry me in the least. My eyes are accustomed to that sort of trying. I have not said anything to Fred about the plan. But I will before this reaches you. I think he will willingly accept the situation for the benefit to follow. As a matter of choice I would rather hoe potatoes and endure mosquitos than be away from here —even in N.Y. —but I am perfectly willing to go and do my best. Of course I would see you all if I went and that would pay me for a great deal of worry and trouble. This affair—or proposition—offers

Page 445 many favorable points for consideration. Of course it has its drawbacks. Now will you fully consider all and decide for me. Had I sufficient money to take me to N.Y. I could as cheaply, perhaps, and more quickly go by way of Manatee, should the Mary be ready to sail at the time I am ready. But I think I could beg my way through, via Key West, and should I be compelled to stop many day in that city I could pull through less expensively by not going to the St James Hotel. Whatever I should do would be on the “low down,” bottom dollar, basis—to keep what I can and only pay out what is absolutely necessary. I will write more fully next weel In the meantime turn me over and view me from every point. Then decide. Brenda already talks as if it were a sure thing about my going and has considered your answer to be “Come.” With love to all. Ever etc. Jarvee

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P.G.C. Charlotte Harbor Fla. Tuesday May 8, 1877

My dear Pa,

Fred had promised Allen of Fort Meyers a “settin of eggs.” Newt Waldron was to call for them. But the mail boat came down slowly against wind and failed to stop. After dinner I concluded to go over to De Coster’s and walk down and back. The passage was lively. But I only shipped a couple of “buckets.” Near the mill I passed Pepi in a small 3 or 4 ton schooner, almost capsizing as the gusts would strike him. Later I heard that he had upset before starting up creek. Mrs De Coster was sick. Mr. D.C. loaned me his cream colored horse—of great value, as usual. (Worth $160. according to the Judges valuation.) As customary with gothic steeds this one’s back was lame. A line of 6 or 8 sores on his backbone made it look like a small range of volcanoes in state of eruption. Two or three corn sacks, badly sewed together were bunched up for pads in the valleys on each side of the backbone. A saddle with stirrup and with a piece of twine to tie, under the animals gaunt stomach, the saddle on with made a picturesque seat for the rider. But it was better than walking. I mounted and rode away De Coster stating that I would be at the post office in 15 minutes. In the woods I tried to make the nag gallop. She could do it, but she then went broadside on and some times the tail quarters would beat the head quarters and I would point the wrong way. I gave it up for an easier one and walked the animal down in something less than an hour. I got letters and papers and half a bushel of corn and started back. Bartholfs baby, as I supposed, was dead and buried. No wonder he wishes a doctor to settle on the [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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agency and thinks he will do much business. He has sent to N. Y. to have his cards and circulars printed for the purpose. With my corn in saddle bags and doctor’s book, parcels, and injection pipe I felt like a traveling doctor on my way back. I read my letters on the way. Mother’s letter of April 25 was the only one I had. Bartholf says that the mail was brought down from Ogden on Sunday by hand. Usually the mail rider reaches Ogden at noon on Monday. The mail boat had no mail bag today for Charlotte Harbor P.O. Fridays mail in New York I think is the through mail for our port. We can tell better by and by. I was home by sunset and glad to get away from the other side.

P.G.C. Wednesday May 9, 1877 Today the air is cool and the wind blows from North and NE and N.W. While I make mounds Freddie and Phip grub for “huckleberries.” Fred works at mounds also and this sort of work will be kept up during the rest of the month. My 50 feet of sweet potatoes are all alive and, I think, will grow. The experiments can be repeated on next shower. Then more vines will be running. I made no hills last year until the latter part of June. Quite a number of tommies are ripening. Fred had a meal of Lima beans—just enough for a taste, however. Some muck I yanked out of the lower head will help that crop next year I am satisfied. I manage to bring in about 400 or 500 lbs of richness on each load. 30 such loads will make enough to manure an acre and leave a sprinkling for the trees.

P.G.C. Thursday May 10, 1877 Thinking that the mail boat might stop I hurriedly wrote out a new proposition to be sent by it to you. It will, no doubt, surprise [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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a plan many times, but I hardly felt like proposing it, or trying to get Brenda to consent to it. This morning she proposed the matter herself and I consented. We talked over the whole plan and looked at it from every point. Of course we found many things in favor and some drawbacks. The feasibility we thought best to let you decide upon and therefore I detailed the matter to you today. The letter did not go, but I shall keep it for 1st opportunity. I may be able to send to Key West as the “Bonne” is expected down tonight or tomorrow. Before this batch of diary goes I will give you more particulars. Four deer came in last night and made footprints on my fresh mounds. They did not trouble the potatoes. There was no moon and I could not see them through the glass darkly. Yesterday morning I shot two ducks—but one went under and held on to the bottom. He never came up. The other I insisted on Uncle Nick using as I had one before and this would get him through the season without a “skunk.” Today his appetite ducked and at supper time he brought us over a bite.

P.G.C. Friday May 11, 1877 This morning the “Bonne” showed up opposite. The Major Noah rooster and two hens were caught and boxed and I went over with Freddie after breakfast. No one was on the “Bonne.” We went to the mill. Pepi said he would not sail before Monday. One of his men took my letter of yesterday to Ogden. Got back in time to put up a couple of mounds before dinner. Ever since Tuesday I have had a dull aching pain in one of Clays old teeth. It has a livlier [sic] jump than usual this evening. More deer tracks. Set the bell.

P.G.C. Saturday May 12, 1877 Strong easterly [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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pulling. Yesterday Fred shot a coon and today we all had him for dinner. It was quite a treat; tasting like a rather poor quality of venison. Did I tell you that Roan is building a five foot bustle on “Mary’s” stern? She will look more picturesque. Her old shape of stern was straight down, the new at an angle of 205°. He expects to finish up in 10 days or so.

P.G.C. Wednesday May 16, 1877 Since 7 o’c Saturday night last I have been afflicted with the torment of the damned. Such fearful pain and horrid misery I don’t want any more of. My nerves are all gone and I have a feeling of utter playedoutness almost impossible to realize. My attack was similar to the one Fred had at Fernandina on his first trip to Florida. I have had no sleep to speak of for 4 nights. The principal pandemonium is in a tooth Clay filled. The tooth is dead and its roots are ulcerated. Em’s remedy of a salt=bag brought the ulceration into my cheek to day and the pain is spread over a greater surface. Tonight I shall have to go through some more remedy. This time I shall try Fred’s, the hop=bag and take a dose of castor oil with it. Easterly winds have blown all week. Rain on Monday afternoon. Ben killed a 6 foot yaller snake a coach whip on Sunday. She chased it under the house and used axe, shovel, hoe and a big stick in the fight—which lasted half an hour.

P.G.C. Thursday May, 17 1877 The hop bag and oil worked wonders last night. I feel weak and mean but free from pain. What a siege of it I have had. And what a relief now it is all over.—at least I hope so. There is rain in the air and no sun has appeared up to noon. Fred will go to Bartholfs and get the letters and take this very poor sample of diaree. But you cant expect all brust. [? or bunst? or?] Ever etc. Jarvee

Page 450 [Numbered 419 by JH.—B.A.]

Charlotte Harbor Fla Thursday May 17, 1877

My dear Pa,

The “late unpleasantness” surrounding my head=gear has weakened me fearfully. The intense pain has gone but a lurking tenderness on the right side of my face makes me feel more than over sensitive there. My knees are worse than old Rip Van Winkles were the day he woke from his 20 years sleep and I am afraid to move out of doors. This afternoon the storm of course kept me well caged. It was a regular old buster. Fred had gone over in the morning and he came back at sunset in a pouring shower, nearly capsising [sic] as he crossed the channel. He brought no letters for our part of the colony. Not even the letter you sent Via Punta Rassa. He rode De Coster’s horse down and lost his way, finding it somewhere on the Pine Level road and came back by the beach. He met Roan who, hearing of my state of low=downness, invited me to take a run to Manatee next week for the purpose of breathing “fresh air.” I’ll see how I feel, however, and may accept. The rain fell by bucketsful all the afternoon and the wind had a savage growl as it swashed the water against the weatherboarding. It seems to blow stronger this evening. How I would like to go to work and put up some ‘taters! The ground is in first rate condition. Freddie is playing “Papa” now” he brings water and wood and prepares things for Ben’s cooking nicely, while I sit indoors and bemoan my fate.

P.G.C. Friday May 18, 1877 The easterly breezes still blow, but more moderately. I manage to get out doors considerably today, but find myself so very weak. The walk to Fred’s makes me puff and use the handkerchief as much as the Colonel used to after walking up from the ferry. My knees are still very unreliable. How things have [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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looks fresh and green, and quite a number of tomatoes look rosy. I popp [sic] one in for breakfast and another for dinner. The “Bonne” stills [sic] hangs fire at Pepi’s. Rain threatens again in afternoon, but cometh not. Last night the gale was terrific and almost a hurricane blew at times. What a windy season this has been all over the country. Fred prepares places for his date palms. He also puts in seeds of other kinds.

P.G.C. Saturday May 19, 1877 More rain last night. The “Bonne’s” sails are out to dry as the sun shines. So are 6 others of smaller calibre. I get out more and begin to creep back into my muscles again. Although I feel very weak and with an inclination to sleep. Kidneys for breakfast. Beef for dinner. More tommies. In the afternoon try a sail to Youman’s to get my gun fixed. Get to Coon Key and see an approaching shower. Go back. Can’t afford another attack of torments. Take Ben out a little ways, as storm works around. Freddie takes his first swimming lesson. He thinks it great fun. The “Bonne” starts off. Fred catches the chickens, after a jolly chase. The “Bonne” comes back. Fred lets the chickens go. Reckon up amount of work done by me this week: absolutely nothing! Next week I hope to do better. I cant remember when I have had such a week of pain misery and lowdownness and so poor a result. Sich is life!

P.G.C. Sunday May 20, 1877 This day opened well and kept so all day. The air was full of freshness and delightful breezes blew all day. Richard begins to feel like himself once more. The Cecelia came down before breakfast and anchored at Pepi’s. After breakfast we noticed a flag up on the “Bonne.” This was to be the signal of sailing. Fred and Anna rushed around after the chickens and I prepared the skiff

Page 452 for a run over. Then I chopped wood for dinner until the perspiration ran in regular streams down my body. We crossed slowly. Both boats looked in holiday attire. The “Bonne” had one flag the “Cecelia” 3. Scarcely and [any?] wind was stirring. We duly reached the “Bonne” and put the chickens on board as sole possessors of the deck and cabin. Then we boarded the “Cecelia” and, learning that Capt Mason was ashore, we struck of Pepi’s shanty. Up from shore along a walk paved with clam shells and lined with lillies [sic] and other plants, we went. A “pair” of 5 steep steps lead to Pepis piazza, which not being covered yet offers only a base for a pathway indoors. On some of Pepis manufactured furniture (2 long benches) sat Capt Mason, with clean white shirt clean shaved face and black pants. Pepi, himself and a Mr. Danields. Pepi retired to the window and curled himself up like a cat on the sill and we “took chairs” on the bench. A big homemade table was drawn up toward the door way and as we sat there the wind through open door and windows blew refreshingly. Back in the kitchen Pepis wife was making bread and a gnarled old woman, whose face might have been made up of pine warts, was “helpin to git thee dinner.” The new arrangement is that the “Bonne” is to go to Punta Rassa for cattle again, take 50 head every 6 days on contract and first return are to benefit Capt Mason who has sold his corn at $1.00 per bushel and waited, so far, 3 weeks for the money. The “Bonne” leaves tomorrow. He “put the flag up for Sunday.” Before leaving we were shown Pepis stove. It stands on a platform 2 feet from the floor, is about 20 inches long and 12 inches wide and same high, not counting legs. The fire box is not 5 inches in diameter and yet the “old woman” was cooking a meal for 6 persons on it. Four or five small dogs, with small bodies and immense barks, were keeping up a sort of 4th of July during our stay. Young Roan had told us that “Father was at the house” so we walked down to the Waldron

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place. This time we crossed the tide creek—where “Mary” was waiting for a coat of paint high and dry on the shore—and entered the place there. A gentle slope runs from the house to this creek and more than half Newt’s grove is in land lower than ours: I was surprised to see what a small quantity of really high land he has. Most of it is about the house. The trees looked thrifty, but have been ruined, so far as beauty is concerned, by being allowed an average of three stems each. We walked through the shade to the house. On the piazza were 9 men waiting for dinner and the sound of fat frying was loud and the flavor appetizing. The schoolmaster, Pendleton, from Ogden with his auburn hair combed smoothly; 2 carpenters, a third man and a fourth and Roan’s boys and himself were all on the piazza. Everyone was dressed up for Sunday. New pants, boiled and starched shirts, and blackened shoes, with locks well combed, made quite a clean looking crowd. Roan renewed his invitation to Manatee and I accepted—Tuesday or Wednesday will be the sailing day. Preliminaries arranged we returned to our skiff and sailed home nicely. It was intensely warm today and Ben and I concluded to dine in the house. We had a real Florida dinner. Pork, corn, cow-pins and tomatoes with kor-fee. Eight goodly tommies gave all hands a taste. The 3 largest I sent to Fred. As the breeze freshened after dinner, Ben and I took a sail in the skiff. We went to De Coster’s and brought back milk for supper. A showery look is offered in the N.E. and one of the grandest effects in clouds and tints at sunset.

P.G.C. Monday May 21, 1877 At 7 o’c the thermometer records 80°. What little starch I have oozes out an hour after I commence work. My former strength seems gone entirely. At noon the mercury works up toward 90°. Fred can’t go it and writes letters [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

Page 454 [At this point the pages of the diary/letters are thoroughly confused and out of order as photocopied. I have matched pages through (1) content, (2) handwriting style (JH’s handwriting varies wildly depending on his mood), (3) original dates (though some are duplicated), and (4) lastly by page number. JH’s usual page order each 4 pages of right hand sheet, 2nd page left then right sheet, return to 1st page for left hand sheet—also varies here. My numbering for JH 420—seems to be the end of the May 21 entry, and mid-page jumps to May 28. In the interim he went on a trip and wrote a separate journal which was photocopied directly after my page 453. For the timeline it fits after the completion of the May 21 entry, and so I have placed it there.— B.A.]

of grubbing and hill making. Still I manage to putter around at a variety of things until my knees shake so I have to quit. The trip to Manatee will have a tendency to wring some strength into muscles I hope. The freight to be brought is there now and the entire trip is expected to be made in three days. Young Roan came over at noon to borrow some paint oil. He also engaged me to paint the name of Mary -Adin Keys on the little schooner’s stern. This I promised to do in the highest style of art. This evening the atmosphere is cooler and the same quality of sunset; with similar thunder clouds in the N.E. are visable [sic]. The “Cecelia” hoisted sail and left this morning. The “Bonne” still hangs fire.

Page 455 [JH number 412.—B.A.]

“Turtle Eggin’” in South Florida.

For two weary days we had been beating along the gulf coast in a small six ton trading schooner, making alternate short and long legs” —a short tack out from shore and a longer one toward it— and gaining but little headway against a strong tide and vigorous nor’wester, when our skipper reached up under his weather beaten panama hat, scratched his head and remarked: “Boys, I’ve had enough o’ beating down these big waves and crawling over ‘em, let’s make a harbor and go turtle eggin’ tonight. P’raps the wind’ll change afore mornin’” “All right,” assented the “boys,” “s’posin’ we do.” To “make a harbor” is the simplest matter anywhere on this coast; an inlet offering entrance to a safe refuge for light draft vessels every half dozen miles from Key West to Pensacola. The little craft was therefore headed towards the nearest break in the long white line of beach and we were soon skirting a shoal fairly running over with spanish mackerel, king fish, pompino [sic], red fish and snappers—the air alive and surface dotted with feathered fishers busily plying their trade among them. One sob[e]r eyed, solemn faced pelican rested on the waves with a three pounder crosswise in his baggy bill, while perched on his head was a gull clamoring for a share percentage of the stealings. One vigorous gulp, however, and the fish had disappeared the roosting gull losing his foothold in the operation.

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Through the narrow pass we followed the tide—surging in like a mill race—rounded to under the lea of a cabbage palmetto covered key, and anchored in smooth water. It was a cosy spot for a harbor. Here again fish were visable [sic] in the clear depths below—red fish in watery ambush—waiting for their prey between us and shore, huge tarpon gambolling in the channel and occasionally showing, in crescent form, five feet of silvery length far above the surface, odd shaped masses of jelly, which the skipper denominated “Ink fish,” dying the water about them a rich claret color when punched, with myriads of other and lesser varieties. Hundreds of gulls sailed fitfully overhead chattering and screaming and a host of clumsy pelicans went through difficult acts of high and lofty tumbling always ending in a splash and gathered along the shore line and gobbled small fry. Just across the harbor, on the mud flats, was a snug little “clam patch” of 50 acres or so by way of variety. It was early in the “evenin’,” as afternoon is dubbed in this climate—and it was proposed that a preliminary search should be made for gull’s eggs as well as turtle’s eggs and principally to test our luck for the main hunt after dark. The “boys” were put across the pass to “comb the beach” on the lower side for gull’s eggs—which were supposed to thickly cover the sands—while the skipper and I were to walk the upper beach for turtle eggs. We were not long in making footprints on the beach, which the surf as quickly obliterated, —and tramping over the rare and beautiful shells which nearly covered it. Half a mile from the schooner we reached our first “crawl” —as the line of flipper tracks is called. A three hundred pound loggerhead had crawled up on the sands and shells to a spot above high water mark, described a semi circle and returned. To decide whether eggs had been deposited within the semi-circle a stiff grass splint was insinuated in various places beneath the surface, but as no eggs were pierced a further search

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[first line(s) partially cut off on photocopy] didnt get .... A short distance further on two more “crawls” presented additional semi=circles, not more than 50 feet apart. “Just look at the egg skins. Coons got these nests; don’t you see the holes they made diggin’ in for ‘em—and there’s where they fought over the eggs.” These holes were two feet deep and surrounded with a mass of slit skins. These latter, whose contents had been appropriated gave evidence of a jolly coon feast and the prolific yield of the loggerhead turtle. “How many eggs will a turtle feather its nest with, Cap?” “Well, I have known ‘em to drop as many as 225 in a single nest. That was an unusual case. Some will only put in a hundred or so. A hundred and fifty is a pretty fair haul.” Then, after a pause: “S’pose we try these holes anyhow, the coons aint over particular and don’t get the full nest every time.” Suiting the action to the words he dropped on his knees and dug up the sand with his hands. “Just as I s’posed: there’s a few left” and out came a handful of perfectly round eggs, an inch and a half in diameter, with thin, pliable but exceedingly tough skins. Each egg was indented as if the matter within failed to consume the entire space. In the two nests we succeeded in getting only 30 and a walk of two miles failed to add to our store. We found a dozen “crawls” but coons had ransacked all the nests.” “The only sure way to get turtle eggs,” said remarked the skipper on the return tramp, “is to be on hand when they are put in. The coons is too many for us, this time but tonight we’ll have more’n we can carry.” The “boys” had fared poorly having secured only about 50 gull’s eggs; some, though, as large as and equal in flavor to hen’s eggs. Preparations for supper were soon arranged.

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As the red sun dipped in the gulf, we sat on the low gunwale, with our knees up to our chins, using the trunk of the cabin—not very much larger than an inverted soap box—for a table and feasted with our fried pork, had turtle egg omelet, scrambled gull eggs, hot biscuit and extra strong coffee. During the “feast” a few turtle facts escaped the skipper. In the months of May, June and July, at the full of the moon or just before and after, the loggerhead turtle, with a desire to perpetuate its species crawls out upon the beach and deposits its eggs in the hot sand. Having done so its responsibility ceases. The tropical sun warms the [blank] into life and the infant turtle duly digs out of its sandy lair and takes care of itself as soon as it gets above the ground surface. The flesh of the loggerhead has a coarse grain and texture—unlike the more delicious green turtle; which abounds in the waters roundabout. The eggs in season are eagerly sought after by every one on the coast or near it and their peculiar richness, with just a shadow suspicion of fishy flavor noticable [sic] renders them a palatable dish with all. The omelet concocted by our cook was really delicious and an excellent relish. Still, this may have in a measure The arrival of a colony of mosquitoes settling on deck, prepared to homestead the fore quarter sections, just as we were finishing our first pipe after supper, compelled us to take an earlier start for the beach dunes [?] than we intended. The moon rose, round and bright, as we struck the sands once more. There were four of us this time and four long shadows reached ahead leading the way. By night the beach appeared like

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a wide road, perfectly straight for miles focusing to a point among the stars just above the horizon. On our right, beyond the immediate tall grass border was an almost continuous grove of cabbage palmetto—their fan like leaves rustling in the wind—interspersed with stray Spanish bayonets with their immense white blossoms resembling strongly defined against the dark background. Glimpses of the smooth waters of the harbor beyond and the distant hammocks could be occasionally had through breaks in the trees, appearing calm and quiet in the moonlight. On our left the foam capped breakers rolled and sparkled on the beach and the spray with an aroma of freshness was often carried to our faces. But the tilted road would have been easier to follow had Nature furnished each of us with a short and long leg for the purpose. The “boys” had each an empty corn sack and the skipper carried a light coil of rope. At first being “eager for the fray” we expected much and were

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[first line(s) partially cut off on photocopy] we began to lose faith in our luck as we walked on and saw nothing. From some unaccountable reason we reach the end of our beat, finding many “crawls” —none fresh—and but 20 eggs overlooked by ravaging coons. We had accomplished between 3 and 4 miles, with such poor result, that we flung ourselves disgusted on the dry sands to recruit, and wait for the flood tide to rise. The first wind breeze, came steadily working over the breakers, brushed past us and back among the palmett cabbage made a lonesome mournful rustling. We felt like castaways on an unknown island, As the skipper The nearest settlement, really being 60 to 80 miles away. But out from the fluttering palmetto fans appeared two objects: an aged man and an old black hound. Both seemed relics of a bygone age. Slowly the old man approached. His trousers were old and half way up his legs, fringed by age and long wear at the bottoms. His hickory shirt hung loosely over his angular chest and his felt hat had a listless way of dropping down about his head and face. Well worn shoes covered his feet and his stockings might possibly have worn away, for none were visable [sic] above his shoe tops. “Good evenin’, gentle-men” said he approaching, “Turtlin’?” In anticipation of the answer to his question he squatted near us. “Only looking up a few eggs.” “I took a hundred and five outen a nest this mornin’.” “Is that so?” “You don’t really live in this desolate place, do you?” “O yes; I’ve got er permeeter shanty about 300 yards over you,” pointing back in the palmettos. “I’ve only been there about 3 months. Yer see, orter I’d turned in, this evenin’, the fleas raided on-to me so as I had to put out, an’ I thought I’d look for a nest or two. Found any?

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[first line(s) partially cut off on photocopy] any crops on your land? Any orange groves? “Nary orange. Yer see I’m raisin horgs. It’s quick’ern oranges. Horgs dont do much on the main land and there’s a good range on this yer key. I’ve got nigh onto 70 head and they’re a- doin’ right smart. Lonesome? Yes, rayther. Since my wife died last year all the family I’ve got is the dog and the horgs. When a man gets to be 66 years old its time to lay by a lettle somethin’. I know all about raisin’ horgs and its easy to do a leetle tradin’ while they’re a=comin on. I bring ‘em up to like me; don’t believe in doggin horgs; makes the range too large. Any one of my horgs will come to me to have their heads scratched when I call ‘em. I treat ‘em human like and it pays. Do you know the price of horgs in Key West now?” We confessed our ignorance on that point and asked if he had any good drinking water “over you.” “Yes; but it’s a leetle brackish. You might try it ef you like; the turtles wont crawl much ‘fore the tide’s up.” We accepted the invitation and through the dense dark grove of palmettos, stumbling over roots and brushwood, followed the old man in single file, the dog bringing up the rear. The moon’s rays gave picturesque touches to cabbage trunks through the bushy tops and occasionally broader flanks dashes on the pathway, but the effect on the “permetter shanty” was exceedingly sketchy. The shanty itself stood 50 feet from the banks of a bayou, embowered in tall cabbage palmettos. The roof and sides with a vacant space for doorway, were covered thatched with palmetto fans. The “furniture” —4 hide bottomed chairs, very straight in the backs, and a table occupied a space with outside the house under the shade of cabbages whose tall straight columns supported a perfect canopy of rustling leaves overhead. On the left of this out of doors sitting room

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stood a palmetto stove, formed of logs laid crosswise with a bed of clay on top. A couple of smouldering sticks of buttonwood cast upward a delicate curl of smoke. Back of the shanty was the well of water “a leetle brackish.” In the foreground, middle distance and back ground “horgs” of all sizes and conditions and in every conceivable state of action and repose, from the diminutive “squeeker” to the tall, raw boned and long nosed “piney wood’s rooter” lay, stood, scratched or moved indiscriminately. And in the “dim religious light” these added largely to the effectiveness of the novel picture. As concluding items a small looking glass, of faint reflecting power and that much warped, was hung “on the outer walls” and every tree within a wide circle was ornamented with from one to three glass bottles held by strings no two alike. “Take some chairs gentle-men” accentuating the last syllable in the Florida custom. We did so. But the old man aged cracker, after ladling out the water in a gourd, dropped to a squatting position, his back supported against a tree trunk and entertained us with the mysteries of “horg raisin’,” as he knew it. During the time the system was under going elucidation, a sample of the “raisin’” quietly snoozed across his feet and partook of the delights of a comfortable scratching at the hands of the “raiser.” A peculiar sensation at the extremities recalled the fact of the “raidin on=to him” of fleas and we accepted it as a reminder to withdraw. Matches being a scarcity with our host we presented him with part of our supply. “I hope your not disfurnishing youselves gentle=men. I’ve been out nigh onto three weeks and had to start fire with my rifle. I’m obleeged to you gentle=men, Take anuther drink afore you go; its a leetle brackish but better’an none.” At the beach we parted company and as the old man and dog went up we went down

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and we prepared for business. The sand seemed unusually bright with moonlight and we could distinguish objects nearly a ½ mile in advance. Our hopes were suddenly elated by an object in the surf. We left the sands for the grass and bore down until, directly opposite, we went under the cover of some bushes. It was Mrs. Turtle herself, a very ugly Venus, just rising from the sea. Slowly, and it seemed painfully, this huge crawler flippered out of the surf until the entire body was exposed. Clearing the breakers it paused and gave a deep sigh, or “blow,” as the term is, turned its head and gazed up and then down the beach suspiciously. Satisfied, it moved onward again and again stopped with a deeper sigh still. More reconnoitreing and another start. Thus for nearly ½ an hour the “crawl” was making and the resting and blowing repeated a dozen times. At last the spot was selected for the nest was reached. Then an odd circus performance followed. With a final rest to fully recuperate, it began with the after flippers to dig and shovel out a diameter of, perhaps, 8 feet—the deepest place being the centre. Round and round the ring, resting and blowing regularly, the turtle went and deeper and deeper grew the nest until the head was alone visable [sic] above the thrown up ramparts, the hind flippers still shovelling up sand and shells. When the centre was 2 feet down, there was a cessation of labor, a longer rest than usual and a sigh of satisfaction on the part of the turtle. The nest was finished. “Now; boys. Keep quiet and I’ll try to gather the crop,” said the skipper, opening his corn sack and creeping out. Gently approaching the enemy, in the rear, he quietly reached over the edge of the nest down below and among the eggs unconcernedly as they were doled out accepted the offerings and calmly conveyed them to the sack beside him. It was a most comical sight and laughable transaction When the supply was exhausted the skipper drew back dragging his picking and we watched further proceedings. Mrs Turtle now reversed [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

Page 464 with about 400 turtle fresh eggs divided into 2 cornsacks we trudged the last mile pleasantly, the cook towing our captured loggerhead. “Well, Cap; that is pretty fair luck after all.” “Luck? Mighty poor luck! Why last May me and the boys and the schoolmaster from our place went a turtle eggin down below Pinter Ross.” (Punta Rassa) is the more correct We took in one night more’m a barrel and the crawls covered the beach. You could find a nest every 20 yards. We had a jolly time of it, you bet. It was a race between us and the bears to see who’d get the nest after it was filled. The bear down thataway were lively that night; and they’d come so close we could a shot ‘em with a pistol—if we’d had one. At first we didn’t know what to make of the beach critters loping along toward us, but when we found out we drawed our knives and made for ‘em. The schoolmaster chased one feller up to the bushes and threw his corn sack clean over his head and we made after to job him but they both disappeared heels over head in the grass, the schoolmaster he yelled and the bear busted the sack and put and we got nary. We thought there’d been some scratchin done, but he got off with a torn coat and we went to eggin’ again. That night we saw 7 bears and ef we’d only had a gun what lots of fat we could a got—lots— meat salted down. No, we hav’n’t had much luck tonight. “It seems to me that with bear, coons and humans other nest robbers very few can be left to hatch out.” “Ah! hundreds of the little fellows pull through and make for water, but there again they have to run a muck. When the time comes yall see a string of [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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there’s many a one gets through and grows up afterward or we couldn’t get us eggs.” At midnight—sails were hoisted anchored weighed and we were again on the gulf. The wind had not changed but our little run ashore had given us more patience to bear the struggle. ‘Hunikin” Manatee June 12 77

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Manatee Monday May 28, 1877 In consequence of much voyaging and visiting I have not written out my diary for the past week. When I get back to P.G.C. I will amplify my notes and a tale unfold that may furnish you much amusement. Last night and yesterday I passed my leisure at Clarkes plantation and have in 24 hours gained more knowledge of orange fruit, and other tropical culture than I could have possibly imagined. Clarke treated me splendidly and gave all his experience in the past 10 years freely. I closely described our location, land and what progress we had made. He gratified me by stating that we had followed the right path as a general thing and would in time reap our reward. He gave me any quantity of facts concerning fruit, odd little points that only a close student of the “art” would be apt to pick up. He also gave me the whole method of sugar cane culture and sugar making. He also and particularly

Page 467 giving me a list of proper varieties of grape, how to plant, prune and grow them and what soil— in fact every thing connected with grapes, even to making wine. He gave me the recipe for preserving citron and how to profit by the growth that fruit. Some of his fruit—the same which we have—weighed 7 and 8 pounds. He gave me additional facts concerning Irish potatoes— Lima beans, besidars [?] tomatoes and in fact a variety of knowledge concerning vegetables which—as old Binus used to say “This is valuable—cut this out.” I am fairly loaded down with items and crammed with ideas on tropical farming—all of which I shall try to make of use. I will from time to time detail to you my gains. But not now. The “Mary” goes back this A.M. and we expect to reach home tomorrow night. I have arranged with Harllee since coming here to have him receive any freight sent from the north. Goods marked: Ship on through B/L [circled]

J.C. Howard Charlotte Harbor Manatee Co. [all these lines enclosed on right by Fla large parens]

Care J.W. Harllee Manatee Fla.

will come to this place via Fernandina Cedar Keys and Manatee on through B/L for from $1.00 to $1.25 per bbl. or 25 cents per cubic foot. Communication is made twice a week. Harlee will take charge of such goods charging 10 cents per bbl wharfage only and deliver to Roan who makes regular trips every two weeks to Manatee. His charge is 80 cents per bbl. Thus I think freight sent this way would cost less than ¾ of Key West route and be surer. You of course can judge best. I write this fact in case you should send anything before I hear from you concerning my plan of going to

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New York and attending to such matters myself! Passage to N.Y. by Cedar Keys route is, I think, some $10 cheaper by Manatee. The steamer to Cedar Keys is $8. and I believe $22 from there to N.Y. I have very little time now but will write further when I get back home. With love to all Ever etc. Jarvis –

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P.G.C. Charlotte Harbor. Fla. May 29, 1877

My dear Pa,

During my trip to Manatee just ended I kept a diary of notes which I will now amplify into a long letter, merely for your reading and to give you some idea of what I saw on the route. Therefore: Last Wednesday after a heavy shower at noon, which left a moderately clear sky afterward, Fred took me and my small amount of baggage—including some coffee and a peck or two of sweet potatoes—across the water. We stopped first at De Costers and got the mail. This made my stock of funds for the trip over $5. with enclosures. Half an hour after I was at Roan. George (20) Henry (18) and John (17) as Captain crew and cook got stores ready, consisting of a junk of pork, some flour, a small box of salt and me. Corn meal and a junk of putty (!), also a nice tin can of honey to “sweeten our tempers.” About 4 o’c we were put on board and anchor weighed; with a fair wind from N.W. We stopped at Bartholf’s wharf for some cattle and deer hides and then went nicely across to Punta Gorda. We tacked back and only made Morgans. Johnny went ashore for orders from “Lizzie” and returned with three enormous potatoes, each with the initials of the party presented cut in the skin. After this we were fairly off. We struck for Cape Hayes reaching there at dark. Previously supper was relished. At first I wondered how that meal could be cooked. The “Mary” is just 27 feet long. The cabin about 5 x 6 feet. In the cabin the cook stove was placed but it did’n’t take up much room. It was not quite 2 feet long and a foot wide and high and the smoke stack jutted through the roof of the trunk just under the boom. The fire box was one foot (or less) long and about 4 x 5 inches. The stock of wood for the trip easily went under the left [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

Page 470 a cubic foot of space and that was divided by an icon shelf to do double duty. John mixed his “bread” in a tin pan; with salt water and managed to squeeze 8 “biscuit” into a pan 5 x 8 inches in size. In fact he made two pans of the little fellows. While these were baking one of the large potatoes was sliced and sprinkled with rock salt. Two slices would cover a dinner plate. Then several slices of pork were dropped in the spider with the ‘taters and in a few minutes we sat down to our supper. As usual the trunk was our table and we sat on the weather side on the gunwale 4 inches above the deck, with our knees on a level with the trunk top and legs widely spread. The four plates were of different varieties. No two knives and forks were alike. The drinking materials were 1 tea cup, 1 coffee cup, with handles gone, a bowl like Whidden and another about the size of the large one you sent for mixing corn bread in. It might easily hold a gallon. Essence of coffee was added to the coffee proper to give it additional strength and it was made in a copper tea kettle large enough to give a supply of 20 or 30 cups. Our supper tasted good, seasoned with the “fresh salt” air of the harbor. When we struck the oyster bar that “puts out” from Cape Hayes it was “Plum dark.” This bar runs out nearly south almost 2 miles. We bumped and scraped over it and along it for ½ an hour and finally left it behind. The wind was just so that we could move, close hauled, nicely. The moon came up behind heavy clouds and I turned in on deck with army coat and blanket and with a promise of turtle’s eggs for breakfast. At intervals during the night I turn over on the hatch and gaze out of my blanket on the moonlit waves, enjoy the prospect for a moment, sneeze and cover up closer. As Thursday breaks I crawl out of my nest, take a salt water wash and look

Page 471 eagerly for breakfast. John is already at it and the steam issues from the tea kettle spout with an appetizing odor of strong coffee. We are passing through the difficult “Gasperal” pass, with its bothersome channel. We beat back and forth and gain a few yards each time. The wind blows fresh, but the tide pushes in rapidly. Breakfast is but a second edition of last night’s supper but just strikes the right spot. Sleeping on deck I find has started a fine “gum bile” on my delicate jaw and my right cheek looks like a pincushion. About sunrise we anchor under the lea of “Gasperal” and go ashore. We hunt faithfully for turtle “crawls” but find nothing but a fine variety of most beautiful shells. We return and take a fresh start and this time get outside on the gulf and commence a series of “short legs and long legs” along shore. Fish are plenty and some sail about us for hours, but the lines are not on board and we can’t catch any. The gulf has its usual bright green tint in the morning and bright blue afternoon and we beat back and forth on it all day. Off on the gulf we pass the “Valley City” and a big schooner that looks like the “Tuthill” and two other distant specks in the afternoon. About 2 o’c we conclude to go into Tea Kettle Harbor and try a night’s “turtle eggin.” That part of our trip I wrote up for the “Sun.” Portions of that letter were “from information received” but most of it exactly stated as it occurred. We only found 50 turtle eggs and about the same number of gull eggs. We saw no turtle nor fresh crawls but I put in the modus operandi to give a little peculiar “meat” to the article. My information was so reliable that I adopted it. On Friday at daylight we were about 8 miles above Tea Kettle Harbor and

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still beating. This we kept up all day and it was rather monotonous. I slept most of the time and kept my pincushion cheek down below. It was delightful to sleep in the berth, rocked by the waves, and wake up to find a roaring fire in the little stove and John up to his elbows in flour and pork. We bounced over the big waves, took an occasional header that made the little craft shake and spray dashed completely over us. Meals were taken with difficulty, but as that was our principal business we could devote all our energies to stowing away our provisions. The turtle eggs went bully for breakfast and gull’s eggs made a nice scramble. At noon we dropped to pork and corn bread. The latter was very chippy. In fact, I asked John if he hadnt accidentally filled his meal bag with sawdust instead of yellow corn. Saturday morning I peeped out the little doorway of the cabin and George in answer to my question as to “where now?” answered Sarasota Bay. We had come through the pass at daylight and were moving slowly along a beautiful bay with fertile keys on one side and pine woods on the other. The water was clear and “gulfy” and green turtle, mullet, mackerel, jack and schools of other fish could be seen at times. We hardly more than drifted up this beautiful sheet of water, about 2 miles wide, and with an average depth of 5 or 6 feet in the channel. The clean water made the bottom visable [sic] all the time and we seem to float in the air. The channel was “borthersome” running from one side to the other and around points of land and [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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above the surface. Shoals and mud banks ran out from shore nearly across the bay and to navigate the waters was something of a task. But the three Roan boys knew their “biz” and we never grounded once. On the gulf and inside it was great amusement for me to watch the movements and manners of “Captain” George and his “crew.” George of course had control. He was Captain. He gave his orders and insisted upon their being followed, but although the 2 brothers were always willing there was occasional objections to the dictatorial style. Each understood his position and John and Henry never shirked a bit, but there was the usual amount of fun presented which always follows one brother “lording it” over others. At noon we reached Tampa Bay. Anna Maria Key and Mullet Key shut in the bay and Egmont with the light house seemed to stand alone. We had to cut across a mile to round a shoal and come up in Manatee River. As we tried this heavy clouds appeared in the east like huge masses of black cotton and bore down us. Suddenly the wind died out and a “glass Kane” succeeded. The black clouds came nearer and just as a ripple appeared ahead down came all sails in a jiffey [sic] and the anchor was thrown out. Then the squall struck us like a sledge hammer. In less than 5 minutes the waves were 7 and 8 feet high and spray came all over us. As the first burst passed jib and mainsail were hoisted and anchor pulled up and off we went with another head wind. The steamer “Cochran” passed out as we entered the river from Parmasoula Bay and then we passed the “Charry M” made into a [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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[first line(s) partially cut off on photocopy] 4 feet of water and even then sticks on the bar coming in at low tide. She is a nice looking boat and has better accomodations [sic] than any other boat on the gulf. The fare from Cedar Keys to Manatee is $7. Tampa $8. She makes two trips a week and brings a mail each time. When you come down again come “thataway.” It’s $5 cheaper and if you are caught at a hotel only costs $1.50 to $1 per day—at Manatee! Manatee River is hardly a mile wide. Hammock land of good quality is on the left as you go up; in some cases 30 feet above water—and Pine lands with a border of pepper and salt or spruce hammock, from 5 to 15 feet high on the right. Nicely built houses with 2 stories and dormer windows and broad piazzas are frequent. Nearly all are painted and yet many have a new look, with little in the way of trees showing around them other than spruce and pine. Small wharves run out to deep water (3 or 4 feet) and even at Harlee’s wharf a boat like the Mary can only go up to it at high tide. Leslie’s wharf has a warehouse on the end. Here the steamer stops and freight is housed at a wharfage of 10 cents. No storage is charged for the 1st. month. We anchored at 200 feet from Harlee’s wharf, 9 miles up Manatee River and George and I went ashore in the dingy. Harlees store is in shape similar to the bowling alley at Glen Haven, a long building about 100 x 20. It was filled with goods and watermelons ran in a long line up and down the center. Harlee himself was tight and he apologised for it. Parties were constantly buying and the little store had a busy look. The main custom was of a black order and the specimens

Page 475 were some of them very rare and peculiar. George and I strolled around “town” and visited the other big store (Currys). It did a more easy business, without so much dash and was presided over by a very nice old gentleman of good educ[a]tion conversation and spectacles. Harlee on the contrary is a slap dash, swearing “dot and go one” sort of a f and [or fraud?] with Agt. after his name. He speculates largely and perhaps makes four times the money that Curry does. Curry seems to be one of the reliable sort and willing to trust a good customer where Harlee would like to see the cash in hand before the goods go out of sight. We found a religious revival in force, with a “meeting” every hour. A bell on two upright posts would ring the call for the faithful to meet. The church stood back some what. Near it was a good sized school house and a tinshop and small store carried on by Parson Gates. Parson Lee and Parson somebody else attended to church matters. The post office is back of Lee’s house in another fair sized store kept by the P.M. Mr. Vanderripe. George, the yellow nigger who acted for a time as Fanny’s husband, runs a barber shop near this store. Orange groves crop out everywhere. Some, as Mrs Gates, Lee’s and one or two others show fruit just ripening—most are young and just beginning to start from switches. But the fever is strong and much will be done in the future. I was told of other groves beside Clarkes that I didn’t see and I suppose that in time Manatee will be quite an orange center. Most of the guavas are frosted and killed to the ground. The roads about Manatee were sandy in the ex

Page 476 treme and tiresome to walk on, and after a couple of hours sightseeing under a hot sun I returned to Harlee’s and listened to the stories of Texan and Cuban life related by the Custom House Inspecter [sic] Col. Moore, who hangs out a revenue flag next door and keeps a nice little six oared cutter at the wharf. At dark I went on board the “Mary” and kept house while the “skipper and the boys” went ashore. From my mosquito covered cabin I heard evidence of a negro fight on shore and voices singing. There was a little more life than at P.G.C. and when the boys returned they told me how two nigs had fought to please Harlee until their clothes had disappeared and how Harlee had given them a new rig and sent them home. On Sunday we had an early breakfast and I put on my best clothes for a visit to Clarke. George put me ashore and George Stewart, formerly cook of the “Charry M” and now clerk for Harllee showed me the way. It was a 2 mile walk to Braydon Creek, through pines, scrub and hammock. Huckleberries were so plenty that I stopped for a meal. I must have had a couple of quarts. In due time I crawled through Clarkes fence and walked through his grove to the house. Such a magnificent show of trees. All were in fruit and rich in leaves. Their trunks were only about 2 feet high, and the foliage reached 12 above, with a diameter of perhaps half that. A man of short stature, in a check shirt, cracker pants, and old played out panama and spectacles was reading the Herald [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

Page 477 down log house, about the size of Fred’s kitchen. This was Clarke. He invited me in was glad to see me and all day, from that time forth we talked about trees and plants and seasoned with by gone happenings in New York. I had to take a third breakfast and he insisted upon me stopping all night. We went into the grove, dug up soil all over, tried his hammock and sand, talked and talked and I stored up more knowledge on tropical planting than I am afraid I can make use of. What I had learned from Fowler he endorsed. From time to time I will drop you his hints. He was very communicative and very hospitable. Time passed pleasantly and I felt full repaid for time lost. But I envied him his trees. They looked so very thrifty. Company came after dinner and much tobacco was smoked. This he keeps in a small tub and during conversation keeps cutting up plugs. Clarke I find is well educated and well informed and besides has excellent judgement concerning trees. At night a storm came up. We all sat in the best room (an additional shanty of logs) and talked until after 10 o’c. This room was given up to me. I occupied the bed and had a good netting to cover me from the swarms that came but mostly at supper time. The first thing after getting up on Monday was to open door and window shutters. Then to commence dressing. Before I was half through, the tobacco tub and an arm appeared at the [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

Page 478 fill up your pipe” sounded from without. We had more talk then breakfast and then I walked back Clarke going part way with me. I stopped for more huckleberries, then at the post office— where I fixed my letter for you—and then called on Mrs. Gates. She had killed some of her best trees with soap suds—but had a fair supply left. But Clarke’s although younger were far superior in appearance. Then I went to the dock where Capt George was waiting for me. A corn sack and some kerosene, with a little molasses and butter. (50 cents worth as a sop to our nautical Cerberus) being bought we went on board, stopped at Leslies wharf for the remainder of the load and were soon bowling along nicely. Again we passed the steamer and before we got around the point into Sarasota Bay she came behind and passed out. We had an excellent wind and moved along friskily. The Manatee molasses help corn bread and biscuit and the butter ran a race with the long sweetnin! Through Sarasota Bay we made a good-pull and at dusk went through the pass and bowled along a lea shore splendidly. Sailing nearly all night we went through Gasparel before or somewhere near sunrise and about 1 o’c were in sight of home. After getting ashore I rolled a little and had difficulty to jerk my sea legs, but I think the trip has done me a vast amount of physical good and I am certain I have gained in knowledge tropical. Ever etc. Jarvee.

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Punta Gorda Chica Fla. Tuesday May 29, 1877

My dear Pa,

Home again! At 1 o’c yesterday morning—or rather afternoon—the little Mary left Lesley’s wharf at Manatee, with a head wind to fight against going down the Manatee river. As we branched out into Parmasoula Bay the breeze freshened to a small gale and soon gave us a good lift around the point into Sarasota Bay. The steamer “Cochran” was passed before we left the river. Before we were out of the river she had made her landing at Manatee and was on her return trip for Cedar Keys. In Sarasota Bay we had a fair wind and fairly flew. Twisting and tur[n]ing through the intricate channel and over several bars we made excellent time and before reaching the pass at the lower end, went through a squall, which for our benefit divided, and passed in front and behind with a heavy fall of rain and yet gave us nary a drop. An hour after dark we passed out on the gulf. At moonrise the wind was blowing a 10 knot breeze from the east. Of couse [sic], on a lea shore, we could go in lively manner. Heavily loaded as we were, with 40 barrels of heavy freight, we could take the full force and a track of foam reached out to the rear as we sped on. I turned in at 9 o’c on a pile of corn sacks in the Mary’s cabin, bumping my head against the roof of the trunk every time I turned over and slept soundly. A few hours before daylight the boy dropped anchor and went ashore for turtle eggs. They got none and were away nearly two hours. At daylight we were spinning along in sight of “Gasperell,” and before the sun had been up ½ an hour we were tacking through. Three small schooners with 6 or 7 nigs each for crews were anchored under the lea of a key with the [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

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nick” greeted us after getting squarely in the Harbor. We reefed sails and went on gaily; tacking over to Pine Island, then back to Cape Hayes and finally across to “Burned Stores.” On this side we made “short and long legs” until we turned Punta Gorda. Such a turmoil of waves you never saw. We went over and under them and made some good tunnels through. Occasional dashes of spray would go completely over us. Then the clouds bunched up and gave us rain. In fact, it rained nearly all the morning—a drizzling, dirty dropping, that was far from agreeable. At 1 o’c we tied up to Bartholf’s wharf and concluded that the “Mary” had done remarkably well for a wee thing. Freight was unloaded and afterward I got the boys to run over to P.G.C. and unload me. The passage across was a rough one. I never saw our little bay so rough. But I was soon ashore with my bag of corn and gallon of kerosene—the sole purchases for the colony and glad to be home again. Everything had gone on nicely in my absence. Fire wood had run short, but Freddie developed a new trait in consequence and chopped two days wood with my axe. Just above Coon Key the “Tuthill” was anchored on the bar waiting for high tide. Her Captain and crew had visited Fred and Capt. Peterson said that the next freight would be sent in by steamer! It is quite a luxury to be able to write by the light of a lamp once more. For over a month we have not been able to illuminate after dark. But Manatee kerosene at 60 cents a gallon dont give more brilliancy than the law allows—but is better than nothing. More anon!

P.G.C. Wednesday May 30, 1877 The easterly gale blows again to day. White caps cover the bay and the “Tuthill” still holds on to the bar. After a good breakfast, with a feast of “tommies” —rich and luscious—I go to work. Can’t seem to

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get rid of the rolling of the lower bay. Have a sort of half=seas=over whirl in my maintop all day. The surface of P.G.C. is unsteady with a rolling motion at certain times. Fill up the fire wood box and chop some extra for stock, get at mounding and plant a few slips I brought from Manatee. Among others a slip of the McCartney rose. This is a wild Florida rose of rapid and luxurious growth on any kind of soil Clarke uses it for hedges. It is easily trimmed, thoroughly impenetrable by virtue of its terrible thorns and every spring is covered with a mass of large white blossoms. Clarks thinks a fence made of palmetto roots and this vine trailed over it would make a fence that nothing could get through. By the way, Clarke advises planting live trees as a protecting hedge along shore. He also advises a plentiful planting of guavas through the grove— between each tree. In the main, he thinks, we have gone to work correctly. In many little things about orange culture he gave me valuable points. Of course he says the entire surface should be broken up and sown with cow peas or potatoes. Anything but grain. He has heard of a Conk pea and is promised some of the seed. Planted in the grove the entire surface, draws sustenance and carbon from the atmosphere and send roots below the surface to stir up the subsoil. Rain nor sun effect in [sic] not. It gives a shade to the earth that manures it to a large extent. Clarke thinks shade of more value than muck. This pea he will plant and send us seed to do likewise. On another point Clarke has gone wild. He advises us to plant a small vineyard, and say for the scuppernong varieties we have just the land, location and soil. He says

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there is profit in it and returns will be coming in while the orange trees are reaching a bearing condition. He has given a list of the necessary variety to insure grapes from May to November; different vines fruiting at different times. Also, a work on growing grapes for profit in Florida. The wine made from these grapes, he says, is very superior. He also tells me where to obtain the vines—of a reliable man in Savannah. Clarke himself is planting vines, and they look well. During our Sunday talk he described graphically the modus operandi of sugar making. He has given up because it didn’n’t pay. He made 3 or 4 hogsheads in the season and only cleared $375. We might consider that as paying. What do you think? The difficulty with him was to get help. Two men and a boy can run the Victor mill and evaporater [sic] and make a barrel every two days—with a horse to do the grinding. He would hire horse to grind, another to draw cane with driver; two men to cut and two more to work mill and then the capacity of his mill would barely make over a barrel a day. He would pay out $17 a day for help and have a barrel of sugar to show for it. Rations of course had to be counted in. He concluded it did’n’t pay to make sugar on so small a scale. With the Victor machine and evaporater [sic] to match, sugar making is extremely simple. Still, when a man expects $1.500 profit on trees this year and $5.000 next, sugar making on a small scale may seem non paying. By the way Clarke’s best trees, 10 years old, and full of fruit, are on shell land like Fred’s near the boat house at exactly the same height above the water. De Coster says they will die out in three years. He is [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy]

Page 483? [Diary skips from unfinished May 30 to June 19, 1877. This end of a segment floats without any date, numbered by JH as 430. Other pages are obviously missing.—B.A.]

found one “hairy dick.” Four calves were penned at Youmans. Lockhart wanted potato vines. Referred to St. Youmans! The bear I expected to see visited Lockhart. He took it for his big black sow and was rather astonished when he discovered his error. He was withing wo feet of the critter. Gillis said “I reckon he was strikin’ for the beach to get some turtle’s eggs.” Some man at Fort Meyers saw 40 bear, Gillis said, on the beach below Punta Rassa last week. Very warm all day. Ther. 91°. At dusk mosquitoes lively. But they don’t bite until later. We sit on piazza until it is all moonshine.

My dear Pa,

Should good fortune attend my letter to Sun and should you get anything decent for it—please place amount to credit of $20 you sent me for Land fees. I’ll send you another before many days in case I am a further resident of Fla. Yours ever Jarvee.

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P.G.C. Charlotte Harbor Tuesday June 19, 1877

My dear Pa,

I was disappointed this morning to get no letter from you, although I received your decision, through Fred’s letter from you, that you thought best for me to stop in Florida and attend to matters here. In your letter to Fred you refer to a previous one to me; when that comes I will write further on that subject. In the meantime I’ll do my best at digging; tree forcing, and ‘diaryising.” Shortly after 6 o’c I crossed to Roan’s and left the skiff. It was intensely hot along shore and mosquitos thrifty and hungry. They had almost eaten up horses and cattle at Morgans the night before and the new schoolmaster, W. Paul Jones Esq, with 6 weeks experience in the Everglades was at the store purchasing “CaliKei” for a mosquito netting, and vowing “he never did see such a many.” Bartholf claimed that none were in his house and that he slept without a net. I merely repeated to him the old story of the Mississippian who slapped various parts of his face, neck, and hands and vowed there “were none about hyar, but just up at the bend etc” Roan afterward told how his wife, while attending the sick youngster at Bartholfs, was nearly eaten up. why will people lie so? Our mail to day went by “Mary.” She will go out “soon in the mornin.’” I had very little wind on my return and the thermometer at 95° at Fred’s when I landed. It must have been 125° in the boat with the noon day sun pouring down. After dinner a breeze sprung up and just as work was progressing fairly a storm and squall burst on us and made things lively for a time. But it gave me a good chance to read up the “Sun.” The file of 2 weeks ago turned up this time and I found 2 new letters of Ziska’s including

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“Sarpent” letter is very good. But he makes the ground rattler the most poisonous snake in Florida. One bit Mrs. Whidden and she was not “borthered” so very much—so Whidden says.” The spreading Adder should have a niche in his letters. But he does fit in his points so nicely. His material is good and he has the happy faculty of patching it together nicely. After reading his three letters I give up all hope of the “Sun” taking my “first-born.” If they don’t want it do you think any other paper would? Try it on. What is not the Sun’s meat may be not poison for some other fellow. After the rain we sat on the front piazza until it was all moonshine and felt no musketoes [sic]. Then we came in and I sat by the open window smoking until after 8 o’c. 50 skeeters went out and none came in.

P.G.C. Wednesday June 20, 1877 Again it is intensely warm and streams of perspiration run from forehead and every other place. Ther. in Freds sitting room at noon 89°, on the piazza in the shade 97° at same time. In the sun about 500°. Like an oyster we could be taken stewed, roasted or broiled. The highest temperature of the day on the piazza 98°. And a “glass kane” made the heat more unbearable. Both Fred and I look to tree cultivation. At 2 o’c struck at a 20 lb red fish and missed. Freddie poled. At 4 o’c a tremendous squall with clouds as black as night and lurid flashes of lightning burst over us. The rain came only half way over the bay and only as low as Coon Key, but we had wind enough to make up for it. At supper time Fred’s gun popped. A young rabbit will be stewed to morrow. Ten large quail and a family of little ones walked across the path this afternoon. Two crows ruined 5 watermelons for me today. They plugged them first and then cleaned out the interior and all the time I supposed they were only courting.

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[first line(s) partially cut off on photocopy] Mary --- at sunrise for Manatee. We sent for some salt—which our storekeeper dont keep—and 4 gallons of “long sweetnin’ to grease our corn in its passage down the little red lane. By the way did I mention that Henry Roan, when Bartholf’s boy was taken sick, took the small dingy (not over 10 feet long) and started down the bay to find Bartholf who was off turtle hunting? He left at noon and got back the next day, rowing 60 miles without eating or stopping and only got a cup of coffee from a smack. He went to work potato hilling rowed up, the next day, to Youmans, came back did more potato hilling and then—was taken down with the fever. It is the first case of fever on the bay. But over exertion was the cause. The young man is all right now however, and I believe has gone to Manatee with the schooner. The mill is opposite still and will remain after all. For the past day or two a new frame for a roof over the dilapidated machinery has been erected. Bartholf and Morgan are to erect a schoolhouse, somewhere near the store, and Roan will send 2, Bartholf 3 and Morgan 3 scholars. De Coster wont send his because he would rather not let them go away from home. I was advised to send Freddie and Phip and “have them board somewhere near the schoolhouse,” but I concluded to let them attend home school instead. The schoolmaster will get $20 per month and his board. Besides teaching Mr. Jones is a practical surveyor” and he may prove to be a valuable acquisition—if he don’t leave on the first payment of $20.

P.G.C. Thursday June 21, 1877 The hot weather still continues, but more breezes are stirring. Clouds circulate in the air above and threaten rain. Thunder rolls all round the circle at noontime. About 2 o’c, heavy clouds came over the sky from the lower bay and another fierce squall burst on P.G.C. This time it rained, but not to any great

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extent. The thunder was quite heavy and there were frequent flashes of lightning. The white caps were plenty for ½ an hour and then, as the storm subsided, a calm covered us, and sand flies by the million grew disagreeable and prevented any work. I tried it for half an hour and had to give up. Such a blast of needle points we have not had for a long time. Fred put out an orange tree, with Anna to keep the little pests off with a handkerchief, but they were both glad when it was finished. The sun set in a glory of color and then mosquitos took up the burden of song and they are at it now hot and heavy. These light rains produce mosquitos, the heavy rains kill them.

P.G.C. Friday June 22, 1877 It was a trifle less warm this morning and a goodly shower at 10.30 made it still less so. But after dinner mosquitoes and sand flies appeared in full force. The rain had been light and did not serve to reduce them much. On the contrary it gave them fresh life and vigor. During the afternoon Fred transferred 3 orange trees, that were doing poorly and I put out 7 new ones. Three more watermelon eaten by crows. Fired at one and took a few feathers out of his wing. He merely flew away and was back again when I got to the house. All spare time devoted to weeds and digging around trees. The frame of the mill is being covered.

P.G.C. Saturday June 23, 1877 Cloudy with bits of sunshine all the morning. Fred routed out early by “horgs.” Three or four big porkers work round his fence and do some tall rooting in front of the house, using up a number of his potato vines. One breaks over my way and Ben and I get her out the back. The bunch then make for the woods. Mulch my

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new trees and then Fred and I make a circuit of the plantation and fix up weak spots in the fence. Find a curiosity in the back fence: a colony of “daddy long legs.” The heads and bodies were packed close together and the legs reached out like long brown hairs, fully as thick, and with same effect, as a boy’s head with uncombed and rather long hair. There were enough legs to make three good sized wigs. Perhaps there were 1500 or 2000 “daddies.” As an evidence of the intense heat Tuesday I will merely mention that my meerschaum pipe, which was coloring nicely and nearly black on the stem, was burned white on the side nearest the sun in crossing from Roan’s. How is that for high? I shall erect a shade of palmetto leaves over the next one. As there is a promise of rain I transfer 182 trees from seed bed to nursery—100 lemons and 82 limes. Each was planted according to Fowler’s new plan without cutting tap root off. A deep trench with one side perpendicular is made. The little tree is placed flat against this side and roots spread and packed with earth taken out. As the straight side has a well defined surface at the top each tree can be placed in line and at an exact level with this surface. It seems a good plan and can safely be done with all trees under 6 inches in height. Mine averaged by 3, but had roots often 8 and 10 inches long. Sand flies interfered for an hour about 4.30 o’c. They were awful until the wind sprung up. Fred says he never saw them worse on the keys. No rain came and I watered the little fellows by moonlight, with mosquitos 50 to the cubic foot.

P.G.C. Sunday June 24, 1877 Warm again, with quiet breezes. Ther. 95° in the shade. The crows get three more

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watermelons. They always watch their opportunity and manage to get their stealings while there is little danger. I watched today, keeping all hands in doors. They made for the fruit and I sneaked out, but they saw me and jumped for a tree, going higher as I advanced. I took aim and they dodged and flew away, but circled around me cawing in glorification. As one came within shot I took him on the wing and he now hangs by one leg to a stick between my two remaining melons as a warning to the tribe. A visit from Fred and Anna this evening.

P.G.C. Monday June 25 1877 The warm weather still holds on. Fred attacks his trees in his drawers, I can’t be so improper; besides, my shirts are so short they wont warrant the attempt. Dinner was served in the house. It saves time and bother to hold forth in the little kitchen but it was just a little too much for us today. Breezes scarce. Only occasional ripples. Nick and I tried for a fish, but didn’t “meet up” with any. No crows, but the solitary one on a string. We have attacked the last junk in the pork barrel. Hav’n’t we made it last well—7 months? It is just as good as when the barrel was opened. The hams and bacon also kept well. Half a piece of bacon remains yet. Seven tomatoes gave us an extra dish today. Next year I hope to raise enough for a meal whenever we want one between March and 4th of July. Yesterday Fred Saturday Freddie cut between 300 and 400 small palmetto leaves and just before church time I placed them over my little nursery trees—one leaf for every day in the year—just 365. The effect is peculiar. Next week I’ll answer your letter if it comes. This will go “soon” in the morning to the post office. Ever etc. Jarvee.

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Punta Gorda Chica Charlotte Harbor Fla. Tuesday June 26, 1877

My dear Pa,

Directly after breakfast Nick and I crossed over to Roans and I trudged along shore to Bartholf’s after the mail and some rice and corn meal. The row over was warm. Not a breeze stirred. Along shore it was warmer for the white sand reflected the heat to a great degree. Your letter of June 1st failed to arrive, but I got one of the 15th and one from Mother dated the day before. Each enclosed $1. Mother’s a gold one. I thank you both. Do you know that even with our purchases of rice, corn, molasses, oil and execrable tobacco we can occasionally salt down a little for chance wants that may occur, such as taxes etc. I expected to receive the return papers from the Land office, but they didn’t arrive. When they do come we will hold a general rejoicing in the colony. Perhaps it will be on the 4th of July! The school was in full operation in Bartholfs store kitchen. There was a subdued hum of young ideas preparing for future shooting. On the return trip we had a “glass Kane,” and I had to row back again. It was a hot trip this time. I was baked through and through and almost done for. It was one o’c when I reached the wharf. Ther. about 92°. Later it grew hotter and was intensely so all the afternoon. Both Fred and I made attempts at work, but could not stand it. The water actually poured from our heads and blinded us. At 5 o’c it became more comfortable and we got in a few licks—but there was’n’t a breath of air stirring. The heat, as well as cold and wind, have been unusual this year. The rain may flood us in compliment.

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P.G.C. Wednesday June 27, 1877 Another warm day. What a peculiar spell of weather—so different from last year. Quite calm and scorching hot as early as 9 o’c and after. Put in a lemon mound and go to the woods for lightwood before 11. Get a load and pull it in starting the perspiration profusely. So warm last night that we did not sleep until 3 o’c this A.M. Freddie and I try to get a fish for dinner. See three trout but fail to strike. Too shy. Take a scramble of turtle eggs for breakfast. Forty given us by Mrs. Roan. Also have some, Manatee syrup on our rice. Fred looks picturesque in drawers and nightshirt—with a red handkerchief about his waist, English leggings on his feet and wide brimmed straw hat. “Punta Gorda Cuba” will be the title hereafter. I think of trying Indian costume, but think more of mosquitos. Look after Clarke trees in afternoon and take a few additional letters to De Costers after supper. Go it alone over and back. Water very warm. De Coster vows he scalded his foot, in pushing his boat off from Youman’s where he went for potato vines. A sick man visits Doctor Fred. Sprained arm. He acts as agent for another “down with the fever,” caught in a Cypress swamp up river while logging. They are served properly. Doors and windows open to night for comfort. Hot!

P.G.C. Thursday June 28, 1877 Hot again but breezy. Take a pull at trees again. Weed and re=mulch. “Mary” drops down at 7 o’c last evening. Refuse invitation to go to “Little Hickories” below Punta Rossa [sic] after bear. Hav’n’t enough spare time. Bear and turtle eggs plenty. Just the time. Very sorry but can’t. “Alice” comes down stream near dusk tonight. Warm tonight, but fewer mosquitoes. Pleasant on front piazza until 8:30.

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[first line(s) partially cut off on photocopy] on Charlotte Harbor. De Coster sent for 5 gallons of kerosene at Key West. On the way half of it leaked out, but was caught in a bag of corn he also sent for. Rather bad for the Judge! The horse was fed on the corn and lightwood took the place of kerosene.

P.G.C. Friday June 29, 1877 Breakfast at 5.30 and at work by 6.30. No mosquitoes, no sandflies. Generally in early morning there’s a raft of ‘em. Overhaul orange trees, and do a little glazing in afternoon. Take our last Mr. Mullet and put a roof on an appetite at breakfast. Uncover my nursery and let the little baby trees show up. Rain fell from 2 o’c until 4. A good share of thunder and lightning, but little wet. Figure on 8 x 16 lighter. It will take about $5 worth of lumber and perhaps 30 lbs of heavy nails—galvanized if possible. It can do all the mule and cart work we want done this year: Fred thinks, however, he won’t have time to help construct it. Nick can devote his spare time. I can build one, however, in two or three days—when I get the material. It is not a very difficult job. Under the new dispensation this struck me as a “necessary evil for P.G.C. and easily obtained. It can be constructed just after the rainy season. But more anon.

P.G.C. Saturday June 30, 1877 Cooler by several degrees. Still uncovering, digging up and re=mulching mounds. Comfortable work all the morning. Today De Coster and Bartholf—the latter with his interesting family—go to Pine Level to arrange about the payment of taxes of ‘76 and ’77. Sandy Johnson is to be there on Monday. According to the law, for such collections the collector is to be in each precinct to receive at certain times during the year. Fred and I have repeatedly endeavored to get at

Page 493 the amount required and where that amount could be paid. First we would be told Ogden, then Hickory Bluff and then Pine Level would be the spot, but the amount we have been unable to learn. At present Fred has $6 saved up and I have $4 for the purpose of paying and July 1st is the final day. All property after that time will be sold for unpaid taxes; so we hear. But De Coster will carry our wishes etc and get Sandy to give him the exact amt. of both taxes and show us some way to pay up. This we will do as directed. After dinner heavy clouds came down on us from the eastward, the wind blew fiercely, thunder rolled and lightning flashed and a high old pouring rain set in. During a let=up the bay smoked as if it were on fire. As I was reading the World Freddie called out from the piazza that “some birds were coming.” I jumped for my gun rushed out, aimed at 7 white curlew about 50 yards above, pulled the trigger and—the cap snapped. I sat down and resumed the World. Such luck! Budge Toddie and the “original” have made “Rome Howl” this afternoon. Such busybodys [sic] should have a special house to play in, when it rains. How would it do to get three single pulleys and ropes attached.. Have the pulleys on different pines near to top and attach a rope to each waistband and haul them up as a comfort to their parients [sic]. It would save the trouble of washing them and keep them out of mischief. If you should come down next fall what a jolly time the three would make for you.

P.G.C. Sunday July 1, 1877 Yesterdays rain has soaked P.G.C. The ground is in prime condition for ‘taters. The rain has also made to day comfortable. Excellent weather and a delicious breeze. Write you

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a long letter on “farm matters” and add list of plants and seeds. If you can add to this list a few Brazil nuts and pecan nuts I will try to grow them. De Coster is raising a few. If you can send a hundred more lemon seeds I think they would prove useful. There is no telling how many we may be able to set out one of these days. Also, if you can get some ½ dozen or a dozen date pits I would like to make an attempt on my soil. To be sure the tree begins to bear in 40 years from the seed, but they look tropical in growing. Fred’s are already up and showing progress. De Coster expects to realise an income from his date trees in 10 years from seed. Did I tell you before that Bartholf wishes me to start a newspaper, as a matter of recreation. He says the press and material (boy’s size) could be obtained for $15. and Fred and I could edit and set up the type and print. If too much work, Lockhart, who is a “practical type setter,” will help. He thus proposes and says it will build up the place amazingly. Bright idea! This afternoon Ben and I called on Fred and Anna. During our visit Freddie was left to “care for” the other two. They found a “right smart chance of puddle” near Fred’s lemons and such looking objects you never saw. We left them dressed up for Sunday and found three crossing sweeper—minus the brooms—when we returned. The entire day has been delightful. Moderately warm and refreshing after the heated term. Ther. somewhere about 80°. Two schooners below at dusk. We hope one is the “Laura,” and that the other may be the “Mary” —with some bear meat from the “Little Hickories” and a desire on the part of her captain to divide a junk between us.

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P.G.C. Monday July 2, 1877 The two schooners show up opposite. One I think is Santina’s small craft and the other looks like the “Mary.” The Alice went up river at noon. A few drops of rain fell today. The air was cool and sky overclouded. Fred hoed Cassava in morning and I put up some where about 100 feet of potatoes. In listing I broke my big hoe. Its day of usefulness is over. Would it be possible to send a new blade if this reaches you before you send anything. I will try to get one from Bartholf or at Manatee as I really need two, one for my own use and one for emergency. If at the same time you could send a 50 cent box of “Berendsolere’s Phosphoric paste” for roaches, sold at 86 Fulton st. [sic] we could find more comfort indoors. I have ruined several good pens graining roaches on the table while diarising. Those fat luscious fellows, with a bitter almond flavor, are multiplying with great rapidity, and the winged ones make a “happy family cage” of our sitting and bed room. Fred has a trap that catches a 100 or 200 in 2 weeks: the big basket you brought down 2 years ago. This is just “nuts” for the chickens; they go for the critters and they disappear like hot cakes. Anna wonders if it might not in time give us a new variety of eggs, flavored with bitter almonds. I mus’n’t forget to say that Nick put up about 40 feet of potato hill today. His plan is to make a crop and turn the proceeds into a schooner. He asked me today which I thought the best the “Laura,” “Mary” or “Alice.” He favors the latter himself as it looks more trim and shipshape. That same old deer dropped in for a meal of potato vines last night. He was particular and operated on the new ones. Therefore I have set my door bell for a prospective funeral and put in two charges of buckshot in “Long Tour [?].” If he comes it will be about “moon=up.” In ---

Page 496 of Freds and across his rice patch of last year we found a snake trail to day fully 4 inches wide. Was it a “rattler” or a “boa constricter?” Everyone kept on the qui vive but his snakeship didnt show up. We followed the trail over a hundred feet and could’n’t find the snake.

P.G.C. Tuesday July 3, 1877 Nary deer! The bell did not ring last night or “soon in the morning” and I failed to get a shot at Mrs. Chowkeeper. After breakfast I felt like the “devil’s rag baby” for some reason or other and concluded to go prospecting for potatoes. Harrison Youmans had offered some to Bartholf and De Coster for $1 per bushel. Nick and I took the skiff and went up there. We had a long pole and some sail and found him at home. I dickered with Harrison and got a good sized bushel of good sized hities” for 80 cents. We looked at his “crops” and found a good supply of vegetables “coming on.” Remember; Harrison has only been a year at this place. He had cleared 2 acres and cowpenned it. Corn, potatoes, watermelon, cabbages chufas, and sugar cane grow nicely. He dug the bushel of potatoes in 15 or 16 feet. Some were a foot long and 6 inches in diameter. The inside was white and mealy. Dinner was announced by Mary, his barefooted wife, as we left. Of course we were invited to partake, but we had to cut and run. In half an hour, with a good wind we were home and soon had a chance to try the purchase. A coach whip snake 10 feet long moved rapidly from the path as I went over from Freds. It was as large round as my arm. Perhaps this fellow made the trail yesterday. Look after trees in afternoon, the trip and potatoes having given a little rigor to muscles, and satisfied the inner man as well.

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Youmans is anxious to sell his place if any Northern friend of ours is willing to pay him enough for it. Nicodemus has added to his hills today some 30 or 40 feet more. He is going in for a big crop this year, with the intention of buying that much talked of schooner. He thinks Phip will make a better cook than baby and baby can be crew. Nick’s schooner will not run in the cattle trade but carry “Mamma to New York to see Granpa and Grandmas and Aunty Em and Aunty Nim” and bring them on the return trip to see us. He has it all arranged. While I was a Youmans [sic] he told me that Williams and he got a big tiger yesterday. The tiger crept up on Williams as he was quietly walking along a cow trail. He heard a rustle behind him and turned. Then he fired at the tiger and his cap popped. The dog jumped in and chased the animal across a stream and treed him. Williams put on a fresh cap after renewing his priming and dropped the animal out of the tree, but Mr. Tiger had life enough to crawl off “a growlin’.” He came for Youmans and the two went back and found the tiger exercising considerable forethought and medical lore. He was in the cool water on the shady side of the stream soaking his wound. One more good shot and they were able to relieve him of a skin. “But he were a might big ‘un,” was all Youmans said concerning size. This from a man who had killed 10 in one day would prove him to be a 9 footer or thereabouts. “Purty pussy!” This evenin’ we take an early start to our nest. I have just set my string and the bell dangles from a rattan chair near the head board.

4th of July 1877 Last night a deer rang the bell. I shot him and Neuse had a tussle in the woods. I tramped out back for 2 hours, but the deer got away. Will tell you all about next time. Hurrah for 4th of Janewyears! Ever etc. Jarvee.

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Punta Gorda Chica July 1, 1877

My dear Pa,

In addition to the “diary” I will send you a few items on “farm matters” and try to give my ideas generally on trees and vegetables. First, however, I want to “put myself on record” concerning that famous plan of mine of coming to New York and relieving you. I hav’n’t received your letter yet in answer to mine with the proposition outlined and, of course, I don’t know exactly what you have written, but from what you wrote Fred and what Mother writes, and the tone of your last letter I fear you have misconstrued my motives in proposing to go. Mother writes that I “must not get discouraged,” that you “are doing everything you can” etc. That and your reference to mule and cart and other things gives me a clue. You really thought I was discouraged and sick of Florida; therefore, I must be looking out for a new “sit” in New York for a future there! Now, the facts will prove that so far from being in the least discouraged I am able to see more clearly that we shall all make money out of P.G.C. yet and I am not ready to give up my “holt” until matters look a great deal worse than they have yet. To go back a month or so. One day I had crossed to the post office and brought back a letter from you which stated that you were troubled with your old complaint and feeling anxious about many things. As I most always do with home letters, I read this to Brenda and said on finishing—for I remember it well: “I wish to heaven I could go on and take Pa’s place and relieve him.” Ben spoke up on the impulse of the moment. “Why don’t you

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I will manage to get along all right.” The more I thought of it the more feasible it seemed. The principal feature was to relieve you of that long nightwork on the “Sun,” and give you a chance to rest. To be sure I was uncertain whether the “Sun” would be willing to let me step into your shoes, but after much talk and reviewing the subject all that day, we concluded to leave the matter to you and let you decide. That if you could obtain the position for me, and thought it best, why I was willing to undertake the trip, and do my best, and stop until December. It all seemed to hang upon the decision of England or Dr. Mood and the position secured I felt as if I might do good service for you, for Fred and for myself combined. It never struck me that, by any possibility, you could imagine that I was becoming discouraged. Every day, after sending the letter, I saw new points in favor, and when I finally talked with Fred, he thought it a good move, as while I would work in N.Y. for all our interests he would look after trees and attend to pushing matters here. Later, however, he changed his mind somewhat. It was my first thought to relieve you, and next to benefit P.G.C. And I am not sorry I proposed the plan. I did what I thought was best and know that you will think better of it, when you find out that I had no desire to go for any other motive than to benefit all hands. To stay here is no disappointment but I was anxious to do some little toward pushing things myself. Now for a little look at “farm matters.” A mule and cart would cost $150. To land va [?] the place, at the last cal=

Page 500 culations. Perhaps more. The animal would eat $75 worth of corn in the course of a year. At present the ground within the fence is not in condition to make a mule earn his salt, and we can manage to get along better without him. It would be an immense comfort to have such an animal in other ways. He could carry us to the hunt and bring in lightwood and could be used for many purposes, but the expense does not warrant the keeping of such extravagance on the place. In reality we are not ready for him. I have talked with Fred on this point and he agrees with me fully. A lighter and the hand cart, needing no feed and but little housing, can work us through next season to better advantage. With the lighter—costing $8.00 at the outside—we can get all the muck for garden purposes and also for trees. The deacon is not as much of a believer in muck as I am, but we agree pretty much in all other particulars. Fred don’t deny the value of muck in gardening, but he fails to see the good to result in tree culture. However, that we can talk about hereafter. The surface of P.G.C. is covered with a fine supply of roots. You know a little about that. After the palmettos are grubbed out a mule and a “bull tongue” plow might break up the surface but I doubt it. Fred has an acre or so cleared of roots and I have about the same. We shall try to clear up more by potato hilling this year. I shall try to get my orange grove all up and as much more as I can. My kitchen garden and front garden I will plant first in order to dig first for other purposes. Fred will “go for [last line(s) partially cut off on photocopy] potatoes in the locality...

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hills were not taken down after July and Bains planted them. Now as to what is really required. The ground should be grubbed up, particularly where the trees are planted. The roots should be taken out and left broadcast to rot and then broken up and plowed in again—but not near the trees themselves. Where it is impossible to grub up all roots a piece of 3 feet or so can be done around each tree mound. Not alone should palmettos be yanked out but every root, and even grass root. Afterward this space can be kept moist and mealy by light muching and the decaying roots—until the whole can be grubbed for a crop of peas potatos or other purpose. If we could manage a little cattle penning in spots so much the better. Cattle can be penned on new ground and the roots can be grubbed more easily afterward. This works in the manure and the benefit is greater. Now I propose to commence grubbing right after the rainy season and give all the time I have to spare to that purpose. Fred I believe proposes similar work, but he may keep it to himself and merely mention its desirabi[li]ty. If I can manage to get help in this grubbing so much the better and so much the better for Fred if he can. The grubbing up is the prime necessity so that the ground can be cropped and insure a better growth for the trees. So you can see that we have our hands full of this kind of work and a mule can’t do much for us. —or at least enough to pay the expense of having one. Muck composted a year is better than fresh muck. We can—or I can—prepare our pile for trees (as I propose to) and another for plants and vegetables

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They must be constructed of different materials. All heating manures are bad for trees. Simple mulch and ashes—or, better still, potash—composted from next fall to just before the rainy season and used sparingly at first will, I am positive show in the growth of trees after the rains. For “garden sarse,” corn and such matters fish can be added for the ammonia. The fibrous roots of an orange tree are wonderfully tender. Any heating manure has a tendency to burn these, besides causing fungi and other diseases. Perhaps cowpenning is the best kind of manure for an orange grove. Clarke says so and Fowler hints at it. Muck and ashes make manure with the same properties, but a trifle less of ammonia. Muck and potash is the great manure for orange trees on the St. Johns and it must be so here. Fred believes that mulching will furnish all the nourishment an orange needs in growing, the manure being added when the tree bears. I am a believer in muck all through. Still, Fred’s trees are doing nicely and he has worked on them a great deal and they pay for the trouble. It would do you good to see them. I have given mine the same culture and same chances, but they don’t show it as much. As soon as I can I want to send you a copy of the “Florida Settler” with Fowler’s article in. You can read it carefully and form a better judgement as to orange culture than you can possibly have without it. After reading it you can send it back for our use. He gives as a reason for not trimming an orange tree higher than 2 feet from the ground, that the overhanging branches

Page 503 keep the direct rays of a vertical tropical sun from burning the trunk, besides giving a shade about the surface roots. The orange tree, growing wild, is compelely [sic] shaded by forest trees. The nearer that can be arranged artificially the better for the tree. The best fruit and the greater part grown on the lower branches. A low branching tree will give more fruit than one trimmed up. Then a low tree offer less “sail” for heavy winds to blow upon. Fowler and Clarke both say an orange tree, even if it is intended to give it much stem, should not be trimmed up at first, as the sun dries up the sap and prevents the proper growth of wood and inner surface of bark. In planting a tree the surface roots should always be from 1 ½ to 2 inches under the surface and not deeper. That is in planting large trees. The crown of roots at the trunk should be on a level with the surface. You remember how anxious we were to get the ends of the surface roots deep enough to gather moisture and prevent burning. We were wrong there. Mulching should be placed entirely over the mound, but not close to the tree. And it should be laid on thinly. A thick mulch, with decaying matter breeds insects and is apt to cause fungi. A tree should receive but little pruning and then only in the spring. Fowler thinks cow peas a fine crop for a grove—either to turn in or for fodder. He proposes a plentiful planting of “palma christi” —castor oil bean—as the dropping leaves and beans, enrich and the tree itself furnishes shade. A compost of beans Clarke says will be more effective than cotton seeds. Another plan is to plant a quick growing tree like the peach, pecan nut brazil nut, or guava; a tree that wont interfere with the growth of an orange and by its quick growth furnish shade mulching by falling leaves—and a

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crop as the orange tree grows. An orchard of 100 orange trees 24 feet apart can hold 200 more such trees at 14 feet distances. This guava plan we want to try one of these days. In addition it may pay well. Then there are many things in the 43 pages of his pamphlet that are interesting and much more plainly referred to than I can give them. Read, mark, and inwardly digest—when you get it. Clarke endorses Fowler. With other things we must next year ditch the place. That is a prime necessity. We tried to do some this but only one was made and that Fred accomplished. With the place well grubbed and ditched and a good enriching of muck, potash, fish and such other things as we can improve soil with much can be accomplished in the end. With the necessity will come the means; providing we keep our shoulders to the wheel. There is little danger of limes, lemons, citron and guavas not doing well and I am almost as sure that an orange tree will flourish equally well. There are locations and soils that might improve the growth and make these latter trees a more positive success, but I am gaining more faith every month in the future of orange trees properly attended to even on P.G.C. There are many other trees also that can be made of use but to a less extent. Grapes are an almost certainty, but of course we can’t tell until we try. Clarke says we have just the spot. Time will tell. As soon as I can I am going to try, as he advises. I think we might also try an experiment with a blackberry bush or two. Wild blackberries grow all over. Why not “tame” ones? I will have a place prepared next fall for a bush or two if you can sent [sic] me the roots

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of a Lawton and also of that other variety you have. Several parties, Clarke, Carruthers and some Manatee people think that currants will succeed where blackberries do. I can try a bush next fall, if the chance occurs. The place will be ready for it. Strawberries, I am certain, will grow here, but the start must come from native Floridian stock. Asparagus will grow in the head. So says Carruthers. And Clarke says the same. Perhaps a piece of garden back of the kitchen could be made rich enough to try a little. It is worth the attempt. But I know very little about its cultivation. Tell me! Rutabaga turnips succeeded well at Fred’s. They took to poor soil best and made the sweetest tasting turnips I ever came across. Whidden proposes to plant a large “patch” of them. Tomatoes are going to do well, but the ground must be porous and spongy with a good quantity of enrichment. My 14 hills gave some splendid ones. We have 4 varieties of seeds for next year’s planting. Watermelons, corn and squashes and ordinary pumpkins will grow finely, in enriched soil, all together, but they need much manure. The Indian pumpkins made big vines but had no “fruit,” although blossoming all the time. In rich soil, muck, ashes and such—cucumbers will grow. Bartholf has had some busters on cowpenned land. Lockhart has grown some excellent beets, not very large, but delicate in texture, on natural soil— rich. I think I can improve on my white potato crop next fall. the soil

Page 506 needs to be enriched and made light and porous. Clarke’s were grown on soil not a bit richer than where I grew mine. He uses dried “bullrush” grass for mulching—on top of the seed. My plan I think would work to better advantage on soil worked over more. Sweet potatoes need muck or cow manure, and also a porous soil. I think we can do better with this crop during the present year, even on some land. Live and learn. Egg plants should do well. None of our seeds come up. Perhaps we planted them too early in the season. De Coster grows them and so do other folks. Mulch and ashes again—or cowpenning for these. Onions will grow for Clarke has them. I am advised to get seed from the Bahamas. The onions are very large and very thrifty. Rice is a failure until we can manage it to better advantage. Then I believe it will pay for home production. With cowpenned land naturally moist and rich it would pay otherwise. Lima beans I want to try on richer land. I believe they will succeed as the ground loses it sourness and takes in a little muck, and gets loose and porous. Cabbages will grow and worms will eat them, but one can get many messes by care in going for the worm. Cauliflowers grow on Joslyn’s Key and Bartholf expects to raise some next season. Cassava will pay in time nicely. Okra also. —for home use. Banana’s need richer ground than we have. The “head” will produce them abundantly. Perhaps, they can be made to grow nearer home some day.

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But the ground to grow them on needs much rich matter and subsoiling to a depth of 2 feet. The strongest kind of manure is required. A mass of boiled mullet worked in to the soil would prove valuable. Decayed vegetable matter also in large quantity, muck etc would add goodness. But it takes too much time just now to try and produce even for home use. One of the principal necessities is protection from wind. A banana tree with jagged whipped leaves will be naturally consumptive. The leaves act as lungs and must be in good order to give valuable properties to the plant and fruit. One of these days when everything else is well started we can experiment on pine-apples. They grow well at Tampa—not however as a profitable crop. Sugar cane can be made a grand crop one of these days. If our pine lands will produce nothing else it will give sugar cane. But it would require a tremendous amount of cowpenning. In the “head” it will certainly produce 3 to 4 hogsheads to the acre. On the black swampland (overgrown with bullrush grass) it would produce as well if not better. But it would have to be systematically ditched and drained and a dyke built about it with automatic gates at the ditch ends. From 20 to 40 acres there could be reclaimed in that way, when capital can be used for the purpose—a long way ahead—that would produce if well worked 60 to 100 hogsheads of sugar, should we ever be able to work it in that way and decide to go into cane culture heavy. Of course such cultivation would require plenty of hands etc etc. An acre in the “head” planted in cane and a Victor mill and evaporator would give us all we could use and something over. A smaller space on rich pine land, cowpenned and

Page 508 well worked would produce ½ a dozen barrels in any case. And this latter way we propose to make it as soon as we feel able to start with a chance of not failing in it. By the way Clarke has offered his mill and evaporator (Victor and Cook) to Fred for $150. It has been used a year and a half I believe and he says it is in good order. Fred has planted 10 hills of “pindars.” They all are growing as thrifty as possible. I intended to do a small patch but hav’n’t had time to start it. Besides these I see no reason why lettuce and radishes wont grow if planted in September in a protected spot made sweet by cultivation. Having gone over considerable ground already I want to go back and make a list of plants and seeds which I would like to try this next year and which if you can I wish you would save up for me: 1 or 2 blackberry bushes. 1 or 2 currant “ A bunch of asparagus roots. Seeds of turnip “rooter bager” enough for a space of 25 by 40 or 50 feet. Seeds of your best watermelons. I am anxious to plant ½ an acre or as near it as I can; with corn squashes and pumpkins. Seeds of cowcumber. I hav’n’t much faith in these by I want to try them. Seeds of beets—I dont know best variety. “ for white potatoes. I want to make a planting in December and also in January with another in February. Seeds of egg plant. one or two varieties. “ onion. I want to try a new plan with northern seeds. If I can get Bahama seeds I will plant them also. Seeds for 30 or 40 hills of Lima Beans. “ for radishes } “ for lettuce } These for experiment. My 80 feet square of garden I am going to

Page 509 enrich for experiments and try to get some things to grow that will vary our food a little. I shall enrich with muck manure and if I can manage it I will have it cowpenned. I doubt whether this latter can be accomplished. We hope it can. I have written at length in order to cover the entire field. It can be easily done on paper; and I want to do it on the soil. I wont promise to accomplish all I propose but I am willing to attempt it and endeavor to try a little gardening without neglecting trees. With the lighter I can draw a fair amount of muck and I know of several deposits of decayed shell and marl that I can get at. Clarke considers burned marl a great enricher. Also live-oak ashes. A mule and cart could be made use of in addition to or combined with the lighter, but it would be better to use Mr. Mule hereafter. Next week Fred and I will begin to hill up P.G.C. for potatos. I am going to have enough for my small family with big appetites next season. If not I’ll adopt Squeers plan and lay in a stock of treacle and sulphur. If we cant increase crops we’ll reduce appetites. If I think of anything more Ill add it hereafter. Grubbing up new ground and running out roots is our lay for next year. The more we can clear the better it will be for the mule when he comes. If I had had the entire space within the fence grubbed up and planted in potatoes the first year I came how much advanced we should be now. Still, it can be done now and hereafter. Yours agriculturally

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Charlotte Harbor Fla. July 4, 1877

My dear Pa,

Fred has just crossed the bay and returned. (He will have to go over tomorrow to attend to tax matters and I take the opportunity to write an additional note to you. Please keep the facts I state to yourself and Mother. Fred brought John Reeve’s letter, and the extent of Brenda’s legacy is given as “about $300 a year.” Mr. Reeve’s estate was something less than $40,000. 1/3 of this goes to Mrs Reeve and each of the children receive a ninth. the estate is in Uncle John’s hands, producing 7 per cent. The children have all decided and I have consented, as one of them indirectly, to keep the estate undivided and under Mrs Reeves control during her life-time, she to be appointed executrix administratrix. In this way matters will go on as before at home, nothing will be broken up, and Brenda will receive $300 a year, or thereabouts, as her part of the income. Having stated these facts, Brenda wishes me to add a few more for herself particularly. I now act as her private secretary. Brenda wishes you to make a few purchases for the colony, a portion for Fred and Anna, a portion for division between us and another portion for ourselves. this she desires you to send to each of us as coming direct from you. She is anxious not to appear in the matter now, or hereafter. The principal object is to relieve you of a portion of the heavy load you have been carrying lately

Page 511 for all our sakes, and also to afford some material benefit to Fred and Anna—and in such a way that they cannot, by being completely in the dark, feel under any obligation. It is to get rid of any difficulty hereafter that she wishes you to accept the little amount as a very small return for what you have done for us—consider it yours in fact—and then invest it as your means and not hers. Brenda is anxious, and so am I, to avoid a repetition of much that occurred last year and this can only be done through you, by your placing the little where it can do the most good and in such a manner that our motives cannot by any possibility be misunderstood. What is thus given cannot be returned in a disagreeable manner very much the worse by being kept on the shelf meanwhile unused. Years ago a beggar prescribed a petition at Mrs Reeve’s basement door on which was written: — “Cast your bread upon the waters and it will return to you after many days —damp and mouldy.” This has been the situation and we don’t care to repeat it. As proposed, they will never know of the transaction—for our good fortune will be kept quiet for some time yet. And when they do find out that we are “millionaires” they will never suspect what may be done so naturally through you. As I said before, by a little help there you will be relieved of a portion of the big load and better prospects appear all around. This is the little plan that I wrote about last week, but it is rather hurriedly and awkwardly expressed.

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The list of “things” is as follows:

To Fred and Anna. 1 bbl. of flour. 10.00 1 box corn beef 4.25 10 bags salt 1.00 2 boxes pepper 1.00

To “Be divided between you” ½ bbl. pork 13.00 ½ bbl. sugar 10.00 1 doz honey soap 1.50 1 gross matches 2.00 5 lbs. tobacco 4.00

For J.C. H. and B. Flour we have -- 1 box corn beef 4.25 10 bags salt 1.00 2 boxes pepper 1.00 _____ $53.00 (These amounts will be somewhere near correct.) Brenda will write to her Mother next week—there is no time this—to pay over to you the first quarter’s installment ($75) —which should be due about now—for you to “invest in necessary stores” for us. Some of the amount may be sent to us already, as Mrs. R. proposed sending a little money three weeks ago. If enough is not left to pay for the purchases out of the 1st quarter, the rest can come from the second.

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Our 4th of July passed quietly and pleasantly. Hope yours was not passed in N.Y. “Go north” young man—go to Kinderhook!” With much love to all at home and Brenda’s also to the same party I am, as ever Jarvee. Ziska comes out strong in Pelican. What will he hit next. Can’t you stop him for a time.

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Punta Gorda Chica Fla. July 4, 1877

My dear Pa,

As outlined at the close of last “diary” I had some deer hunting last night. It was particularly novel and I think you will say so when you read the facts. Just before dark I established communication with the second cabbage of the three on the shore by stretching my black thread line a foot and a half above ground up to the house. The little bell was attached to a chair and having made my diary notes I “doused the glim” and smoked vile tobacco in my meerschaum, reclining at ease in the steamer chair by the double window. Ben and the youngsters were abed and Mrs. and I were holding a confab between puffs. Suddenly “ting a ling” went the bell. I went to the “front door” with gun and glass and I could just distinguish the outline of a buck, above the grass, relieved against the water. It was very dark and the moon had not come up. All outside was quiet and the visitor made no noise. Before I could get my gun in position the deer had passed into shadow, but knowing where he would feed I aimed—without being able to even see the barrel of my gun—as best I could by guess work and fired. There was a lightning flash and much noise from the gun, but not a bit of motion or noise visable [sic] on the shore line. I waited 5 minutes and then sallied forth. Still nothing. There was no sign of Mr. Deer. It was too dark. I called for Neuse, but he would’n’t come and then I went over and brought him. As his nose touched the trail he disappeared into the darkness and the next I heard was the short eager bark as he followed the fresh trail over the fence toward the upper head. A few minutes passed then Neuse “opened” gloriously with

Page 515 a musical bay that sounded like a bugle call echoing through the pines. Presently the deer made a stand near the cabbage clump and the usual barks of Master Neuse succeeded the bay. I reloaded my gun and getting out again found that the deer had made a fresh stand further out— near the quarter section post you know of—and Neuse was barking furiously. Mosquitos were simply awful. They covered my face and crawled down my back. I struck for the woods and away the deer got again. Through palmettos dripping with dew, and over a series of puddles I pushed back a thousand feet. Then I began to perspire like a trooper. Neuse would bay and the music would move along rapidly. Then a halt followed by short barks and and [sic] occasional howl, as he and the deer had a tussle, and then more scampering. There was no doubt of the deer being hit, but from the way he ran, perhaps, only in the leg. This sort of tramping I followed until the two had circled round toward the lower “head” and the “chase” finally became so distant that I took the road as I struck it and came in. When within sight of the house I answered Fred’s call and startled another deer who went off with a whirrr, like an enormous partridge. Fred had his rifle and had come out to help. As we reached the house we listened as well, as the mosquitoes would let us and were astonished to hear Neuse’s bay, barks and howls grow nearer. We put out to the woods again and gained on the sounds, but just as we expected to reach them nicely, there was a long yelp from the dog, a sort of “ki yi” and silence followed. We waited and waited and had to finally go back very much in the dark all round. Evidently the deer had taken to the big pond and left Uncle Neuse out in the cold. This morning

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I examined the trail and found I had made a poor shot as the deer had only three legs to travel off with. After breakfast I took Neuse, who had returned last night shortly after I had, and tried to hunt out the game. Neuse led me to the big pond and then looked toward every point of the compass, lolled out his tongue wagged his tail and seemed to say as he looked in my face: “He went in there but I don’t think you can find him, I could’n’t.” I gave it up. To day we have had delightful weather. We made no celebration of the day, but the youngsters had plenty of flags up and waving in the wind. We dined in the house and had a potato pudding and our last watermelon as extras. Fred and Anna went over for letters and found the barrel of flour at De Costers. No news from Land office and your letter of 3 weeks ago missing yet. The mail matter at Manatee is collecting so rapidly that some new way will be devised by the department to bring it in. De Coster saw the mail rider come in at Pine Level. He had matter for five Post Offices and was compelled to lead a pack horse in addition to loading his own to “carry the news to Mary.” I had only one letter from Mother, enclosing $1. Ben had two and Fred and Anna none. Ziska seems to keep at it. His pelican letter is good.

P.G.C. Thursday July 5, 1877 Last night the “deer with the No 12 Army shoes,” as George calls it, dropped in at Freds and tried his new vines. “No favoritism allowed” is the deer motto. Fred, therefore stretches his line and we look for much “bang” tonight. This morning Fred and I crossed to Roan’s in the skiff, in order to fix up tax matters and post some additional letters and also to get our barrel of flour. At Roan’s we were entertained by bear experiences

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The affair at the “Little Hickories” was really a bare hunt: they got nothing. Mosquitoes by the million made the hunting for eggs and bear simply absurd. Had they been able to sit in the grass and wait for game success would have been sure. As it was hunters had been there before them and frightened Mr. Bruin so that he made for the bush when any moving object appeared along shore. They saw 8 but could not get near enough for a shot. As they went along the beach they passed numerous turtle crawls, fresh made. When they returned they found that everyone had been ransacked by bear. Then they gave up and came home minus eggs and bear as well. Now Roan proposes a hunt down there this winter. The “Hickories” is a famous winter feeding ground and he proposes to still hunt for the critter. I may go with him. Cela depends. We walked to the store and left letters and learned from Bartholf that taxes could be paid any time this month at Ogden, by sending to Sandy Johnson. Fred’s and mine are each about $7.45. Later Fred left his with De Coster, who proposes to go up shortly to Ogden. I will wait until my funds increase a dollar or two more. We rowed to De Costers, took on flour and rowed home in time for dinners. Tree culture was in order the rest of the day. We learned from De Coster that the “Laura” was bought by Von Pfister on last trip and a smaller boat the “Kittie” will run in her place. Pending a larger boat Roan will run the “Mary” to Key West and Manatee alternately. O.M. Roan is the most energetic man we have now on the bay. By dusk a smart blow and shower visited the colony.

P.G.C. Friday July 6, 1877 Lately we have been pretty free of mosquitoes. Only a

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small crop have been around to torment and generally at night. But we have often been able to sit on the piazza after tea until quite dark. There has been a goodly show on the shore line and back in the woods but not many around the house. Last night Neuse barked and then a bulls eye lantern led Fred toward the kitchen. His gun flashed and “bang!” followed. This morning an enormous “O” possom [sic] hangs by his toes to the piazza rafters. Fred will now have “monkey” for dinner tomorrow. No deer in last night as far as we could judge. Weather today warm again. More tree culture. Nick, Phip and the baby have worked hard at potatoes all day. Such a jolly time as they have over it. It don’t improve their appearance, though. The line is set for deer again tonight.

P.G.C. Saturday July 7, 1877 At 3.30 this morning the “door bell” rang. It repeated its ringing several times before I could get out of bed, get my gun and carefully open the window. I examined the shore and with the glass saw a couple of moving figures—or thought I did. There was a trifle of light from a worn out moon shining and I could just see the end of my gun barrel as I fired! Then I listened. No sound of departing feet followed. I dressed and trotted down to the spot—but nary deer was there. This morning I examine the ground at daylight and can’t even find a track. Evidently it was only the “haunts” —as Ely tells about—of former deer killed. Before breakfast was ready a tremendous squall from the north blew great guns and a few drops of rain fell. It lasted 15 minutes. The sky remained clouded thereafter and I managed to end up my oranges. Next

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week we will do some settin out. Tonight I intended to put out my gun for a spring trap, but was too tired to fix up the frame. Therefore I will leave the shooting to Fred tonight and try it on afterward.

P.G.C. Sunday July 6, 1877 On my going to the beach this morning I find the tracks of two fair sized deer. Upon tracing them out I find they walked leisurely to the long wharf and then nibbled wild pea vines. One returned on his tracks and the other left none to tell where he or she went. Potato vines were untouched. If we only had a good moon now a nights! While ruminating on various things after dinner today I got hold of a few statistics which I will jot down in the diary as a matter of curiosity for future reference. I was anxious to find out our living expenses and here they are as they existed, before our barrel of flour came for a week or two. 5 lbs of pork as a general thing last us a week. Lately we have used only half that—but say 5 lbs. @ 15 cents .75 Coffee - - - - - 1 lb. @25 cents .25 Sweet potatoes ¾ bush. @ 80 cents - - - ,60 Corn meal ¼ “ @ 1.40 - - - .35 Rice 5 lbs. @ .10 cents - - - .50 Molasses 2 qts. @ 50 cents gal. - - .25 ____ $2.70 Deduct potatoes which should be raised .60 _____ $2.10 This gives one weekly food expenses for five persons, the youngsters eating almost as much as the grown folds. Divide by 7 and it gives 30 cents a day for 5. Divide this by 3 and it gives 10 cents a meal for 5 and this divided by 5 shows an expense of 2 cents a meal for each. How is that for low? With flour and potatoes this 2 cents per meal would be increased to 3 ½ cents. This gives us good square meals, plain of course but very satisfactory and much better than

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½ the people of Florida enjoy. In fact it is “first best” cracker fare. Is there any other place but Florida where a family could live on so little? Why not make an item for the “Sun” without recording names? Last summer when we were low down on the fodder question, with corn and coffee alone for several weeks, I really believe we averaged a cent a meal for each of the seven. Coffee costs us at the rate of ½ cent a cup and we take it strong and in the Arabian style, minus milk and sugar. The full flavor is obtained in this way. In fact I can’t drink coffee nor tea in any other way now. Imagine the profit at the New York restaurants on coffee at 15 cents and 20 cents a cup. The weather has been quite enjoyable all day. At present, the sun having set, heavy clouds in the east betoken rain. Lightning flashes and thunder rolls. I have set my gun with wire across the deer path now quite plain on the “banks” in front and erected a shed over it. We will try ‘em that way tonight.

P.G.C. Monday July 9, 1877 The storm of last night did’n’t come to a head. It ”petered out.” The “Mary,” “Kittie” or some other craft—the baby says it: the “Tittie” —went out last night and the mail boat came down at the same time. Two deer rang Fred’s door bell and one took a pull at mine. It was so dark that neither of us could see the visitors. My fellow even stepped over the wire carefully without exploding the gun. He must have been a buster to be able to go such a big straddle. How would M’uncle Baggs like to be here just now. But we shall get some deer yet for our trouble. This morning Fred and I cut over a hundred leaves in the head and brought them up in the skiff. While we were there Neuse struck the trail of a deer and left for the woods. On

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our way up we passed an adder—one of the spreaders—about 3 feet long sailing along toward shore. We wondered if he had crossed from De Costers. He certainly seemed tired. More than half its body was on top of water and the head 3 inches above the surface. Then we prepared to set out some trees, by going over the nursery and selecting for afternoon planting. But a regular down pour of rain occurred after dinner and at 3.30 the mounds were soaked and the ground a mass of puddles. Therefore we made potatoes instead. To night the frogs are piping in the pools and sounds from the upper head sound like sick calves culling for the lacteal. Tonight my gun is located in front with a more delicate trigger and Fred proposes to hang out a lantern for deer. Neuse is tied up and the children put on bounds within the house while the gun is “set.” Old “spindle shanks” will have to lift high to straddle the wire tonight.

P.G.C. Tuesday July 10, 1877 Clouds in the west as the sun rises threatening more rain. No deer pulling the bell string and grass so wet that I hav’n’t looked for trail. Mrs. Fitzdoodle is getting breakfast and Fred and I will go to the post office directly after. The air is fresh this morning and a nice breeze blows.

At the store. No letters from home. We are caught in a moderate rain and want to hurry back for potato hilling. Perhaps your letters are held back at Manatee from lack of facilities to bring them. The world jogs on. All well. Ever etc. Jarvee

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Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday July 9, 1877

My dear Pa,

Both Fred and I went across to the post office today. Starting early we sailed to De Coster with a nice fair wind and then to Roans. We gathered in items rapidly. The “Mary” and “Kittie” have both gone to Key West. The “Kittie” in unsafe condition. Cash the great American talker is now ready to go for his schooner. He talked Mrs. De Coster sick last night on the subject. Whenever a lack of communication with Key West occurs, Cash is sure to turn up at De Costers, on his way to Key West “to get his schooner.” I have known it to happen ½ a dozen times, at least. De Coster paid Freds taxes. Mine are to go up when the “Mary” comes back with De Costers. If not paid then the shanty will be advertised. I have $4 toward taxes now and hope to make up the remainder before that time. Santina’s schooner bought a bill of lumber of De Coster at the mill. The judge raked in $5. and was much elated. At Roan’s we learned that Bartholf was sick a bed, but we routed the slim P.M. out, when we got to his shanty and got him to open store. He was “down with the fever” etc. Fred felt his pulse and found no fever and we actually laughed the old fellow into better health. I succeeded in getting trust for a new hoe @ 90 cents and some eatables—which I felt justified in doing under certain circumstances. Then we waited for a passing shower to blow over, walked to the skiff and sailed and rowed alternately home. This afternoon a heavy shower increased the dampness. The ground is flooded. But I managed to make a pull on potato hills by 3 o’c and the deacon did the same. Tree planting is postponed indefinitely.

Page 527 [Apparent missing pages—approximately 4. Date of July 9 above and July 12 below.—B.A.]

[first line(s) partially cut off on photocopy] been quite a luxury today to be able to make potatoes and select and plant vines without the sign of a mosquito or sand fly. It was a novel experience for us. The sky was overcast all day and two or three heavy showers made the puddles larger. But a new drawback appeared on the scene. Four steers, one with a bell attached came on cussedness bent. The biggest calmly and quietly inserted his long horns under the 3rd rail of the fence and away it went. Three or four sections would be spread on the ground and in would come the followers for food. Finding nothing to suit, a new spot would be tried. Twice I walked out in 6 inches of water to the fence and fixed it up and Fred at dusk was “roosting” on his fence watching the enemy who were ready to try his. This old coon of a steer does not select a weak spot, nor does he seem to gain any thing by the operation, but out of pure cussedness he attacks the fence and then waits events. Before dusk the 4 were reinforced by ½ a dozen more and I suppose we shall have more trouble. So far I have erected 600 feet of potato hill, 200 today. The new hoe works nicely. No gun set last night or tonight: south winds seldom bring in deer.

P.G.C. Thursday July 12, 1877 It rained all night and immense volumes of water are spread upon the surface. All the family, except Anna and Brenda, are barefoot. This we can easily manage with no mosquitos to worry our legs. Such a flood! Everything is overflowed. The frogs are deafening. Small fish swim in the puddles and so do the youngsters almost. The deluge is ahead of time. Such a rainfall should not occur before

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[first line(s) partially cut off on photocopy] under water for comfortable working. Therefore we make a sort of holiday and sit like a couple of Noah’s, in our arks, and wait for the waters to subside. To vary our pleasure—that same old steer walks splashingly through the flood to the corner of the fence, lowers his head, and away goes 3 sections of rail fence. Between showers I go out barefooted and put it up again, but it is a good deal like making a row of bricks for some mischief maker to topple over. The “saw permeters” and wire grass dont make one feet feel over nice however. Fred makes a raid along shore for firewood. He gets caught in a shower, but saves a wetting by sheltering under a cabbage. The extent of my “work” is visible [sic! finally!—B.A.] in a pathway of boards—a sort of narrow suspension bridge from the house to the kitchen—for Brenda to walk on and the youngsters to tumble from. It offers a jolly place for “sune” sailing. The infant Mick succeeds in rolling off into 6 inches of water and Phip and Freddie get equally wet from top to toe, but they enjoy it. Such looking pigs you never saw. Ditches must be made next year around P.G.C. without fail. Heretofore it has been like the story of the leaky roof—when it rains it is impossible to fix it, when it is fair theres no immediate necessity! Fred and I will both do some tall ditch digging next winter. This afternoon the “Bonne” drops in and anchors at Pepis.

P.G.C. Friday July 13, 1877 No rain fell today. The cattle have gone back in the woods again. But theres a goodly show of water yet on the earth’s surface. A few deer tracks, —a trail without beginning or ending—

Page 529 runs through Fred’s cassava. The new moon will show up the marauder and then—look out for venison chops and kidney stew. There’s no chance of work yet. Fred gets up 60 feet of potatoes on a dry spot but my ranche is very “pompey.” I take Nick for company and rake in buttonwood. We get nearly a months supply and in chopping it up snap goes my only axe handle. Some folks are always in good luck! Snakes and quail are plenty. Also, mocking birds meadow larks and black birds. The tide yesterday was over the little wharf—today within 2 inches of the top. Sultry and warm tonight with an easterly wind that dont have fit us within doors.

P.G.C. Saturday July 14, 1877 Puddles are scarce but the ground is mushy. The air cool and a fine breeze from the eastward. At 8 o’c the “Bonne” leaves her moorings and departs for “Pinter Ross.” As her white sails disappear behind the point I list up for hilling. Fred soon follows suit and we manage to keep the game up without getting euchered. A splendid breeze blows all the morning and the cards are all trumps. No cattle to rake our fences; no mosquitoes; no sand flies—and no visitors. Clean sailing all the morning. In the afternoon the same old show continues and by supper 140 hills and vines are planted and Fred adds to his the same number.

P.G.C. Sunday July 15, 1877 Today the weather was delightful. No mosquitoes and the ground in fine condition for planting. Tomorrow we will set out a few trees and perhaps put up a hill or two. De Coster and Roan were expected on a visit with a small colony of children but the day

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has passed and no arrivals are to be noted. Tonight we sit on the piazza until 8 o’c. We are on the lea side and find no mosquitoes. This is jolly. Perhaps we are not going have any this summer.

P.G.C. Monday July 16, 1877 Today my potato ills have increased 550 feet. 4 long rows run from one end of my “orange grove” to the other. This was the result of help from Harrison Youmans. He came at sunrise and we both put in big licks all day. Result as above. I have engaged him for tomorrow also, and I will have 1100 feet of hill in two days for future use. Tonight Youmans sleeps on the back piazza on the lounge—our well ventilated spare room—and no signs of mosquitoes were hearable when I shut the door. While at work before dinner Mr. Nath. Williams dropped in for a charge or two of powder and “some medicine to break a fever.” He lives on Shell Creek only 8 miles away. He had no money but gave us a deer which lay “hef a mile out in the woods.” Fred and I went and “fotched” him in and our larder is stocked with fresh meat. Liver for dinner and tenderloin for supper.

P.G.C. Tuesday July 17, 1877 Fred will cross at 10 o’c. It is now 8.30 and 150 feet of hill and 300 feet of listing have been done by Youmans and myself. We shall pull though comfortably as a gentle breeze blows. I have just dropped in to add this line to my diary and will now drop out and “pull dirt.” It is some fun to stick 600 vines every night! In a week or so I expect to get Youmans for another and longer pull. This year I shall have potatoes enough for my family—and the

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[first line(s) partially cut off on photocopy] funds together I will get about 8 or 10 days help and have a plenty. Venison chops were delicious for breakfast. This young buck was the “only deer in” since the heavy rains. With Love to All at Home Ever etc. Jarvee.

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Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday July 17, 1877

My dear Pa,

Yesterday Harrison Youmans and I put up 550 feet of potato hill in the new ground among the Clarke trees. Today we put up 550 more. 1100 feet in two days is not bad. We did not fully plant the hills as the vines ran short. Tomorrow if I dont find enough I will go up to Youmans and select what I want. The ground planted is nearly 45 x 150. We commenced this morning before sunrise and ended after dark—resting from 12 to 2.30. So much toward house keeping! Ben is delighted at the show out back and—so am I. After dinner Fred and Anna took the white boat and crossed to De Costers, Waldrons Roans and the post office. At the latter place only one letter from Em to Anna showed up. Where the others are, unless held over at Manatee caused wonder among us. I got a letter from the Land office—short and to the point: “The land applied for is all state land. Your money awaits your order.—J.P. Varnum, Chief Clerk.” This is dated “Gainesville July 3.” This, of course, is a regular knock down for me. I’ll refer to it hereafter when I think it over a bit. Just before Fred returned Mr. and Mrs. Whidden appeared and as the sun set and Fred had not come they took supper with us. Afterward we had quite a confab on the back piazza. Youmans went home in the “Texana.” Last night a big deer came in and scented Youmans. He left suddenly. Weather to day warm and uncomfortable. How we did perspire in the “’tater trenches.” Whidden related a panther—or tiger story that I will jot down for you. He and Mrs. Whidden were driving cattle on horseback several weeks ago. A calf—as he supposed bounded “out of the permeeter and squatted in another bunch”

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The two dogs tackled it and then he found it was a “tiger” and not a calf. Whidden himself had no gun and was disabled “with a right smart of a risin’ on his right hand.” This hand he carried in a sling. But he jumped off his horse and grabbed a lightwood knot in his left hand and went to help the dogs. The tiger lay on its back “a growlin” and “a reachin’ out its hands for the dogs” which he would claw and draw up and then embrace and “gnaw ‘em and gnaw em” and repeat the maneuver. As he got closer he called for “Mary Ann” to fetch an axe, but she didnt understand. He threw the stick of lightwood and missed. But he found another within three feet of the beast and as he lifted it the tiger dropped the dogs, rose up, and made for him. As it jumped he struck it on the head and this one blow actually killed it. He added a few more “licks” to make sure and then measured the critter. It was a little fellow, only 7 feet long. “Suppose you had not hit him fair?” I asked. “Oh! me and the dogs would er chawed him up in time.” he answered. 24 claws an inch long and sharp as needles are not pretty things to fight against—not counting the teeth. None for me, thank you.

P.G.C. Wednesday July 18, 1877 Today I feel all bones and very much tired out. This afternoon there is promise of rain and I get 300 more vines and finish planting my hills. But the rain don’t come. Most of my time and Freds is passed, today entertaining our visitors. At 3 o’c Fred takes them across in the white boat and they get back at sundown. More stories from Whidden. He has much to relate about wild hogs, their fighting proclivities, size etc. He thinks a “wild barrer” —or big boar—one of the most dangerous animals in the woods. He and another hunter killed one after, hitting him

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7 times in the fore shoulder that had a length of 6 feet—was 3 ½ feet high and whose hoofs measured 4 inches across. His tusks were huge and as sharp as knives. The “shields” along the foreshoulder were 3 inches thick. These shields grow on these old veteran fighters after 2 or 3 years and are impenetrable. They are like thick pieces of leather just under the skin and run along each side from shoulder to middle of ribs. When this hog “chomped his tusks against his whetters you could er heer’d him half a mile.” Bear and tiger are nothing to these fellows. He related many new things which I will save up for a little retail trade in correspondence one of these days. If I could only jot down in shorthand half what he tells I would have plenty of excellent material. As it is I’ve a “right smart of it.” Just a few mosquitos “rally” around the houses at dark, but nary a sign is visable [sic] 8 o’c. The door bell is fixed for tonight.

P.G.C. Thursday Jul 19, 1877 Warm again. Rain wished for—promises and don’t come. Just as daylight begins to brighten the east my “ting a ling” sounds. In a half asleep state I accidentally stub my best toe against a chair, get my gun and look for my visitor. The moving chair frightened him—as I found by his tracks and away he went. Another was only 50 feet behind but they were gone before I could get a shot. During the morning Whidden leaves for home with the remainder of the chickens. He is to keep the breed pure, give them plenty to eat and give us back a start whenever we are ready to commence raising again. The “Bonne” after loafing around here for two days goes up river and latest item concerning this boat is that

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she is owned now by Addison and Henry (of Fort Meyers) and that she carries cattle to Key West @ $2 per head guaranteeing to make all losses good. Her capacity is only 35 head. Cattle are valued @ $13 per head and should they lose 5 or 6 of a load the profits would be rather small. But it pays nevertheless. Only 3 head of cattle have had to be accounted for in the last 2 or 3 months. Capt Yant with the “low [tow?] headed Pebecca” made an arrangement to carry cattle as frequently as wind and weather would permit for $250 a month without responsibility. On figuring up what his profit might have been on the basis the “Bonne” accepted her owner would have made instead $800 per month. Only one head was lost. Whidden says that $76.000from one man has been paid for cattle this last year and he supposes the stores at Ogden and about have raked it all in. Everybody is poor and no money anywhere. Bartholf now talks of fixing up his wharf, establishing pens, and shipping cattle from his place. He will have some big schooner do the work. Whidden thinks it wont pay, as it takes as long to get out of the harbor as to go from Punta Rassa to Key West. The main point among cattle men is to get as short a passage as possible and they prefer to drive to “Pinter Ross” and ship there. But for Cuba trade it cannot make any great difference and Bartholf may make it amount to something. I hope he will succeed as it will give us a little more outside communication in addition to what little we have. In making a trip back in the woods for lightwood I find no water whatever; all dried up. A few good clouds of mosquitoes tonight. Also an occasional bite during the day. None in the woods. My 1400 fresh potato slips suffer a little in the hot sun. O for a shower to wet ‘em.

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P.G.C. Friday July 20, 1877 After breakfast the sky gradually becomes overcast and the white clouds boil up into gray ones and from that to deep slate color, with spots along the horizon, at different points of the compass where the darker clouds seem to connect with the earth in curtains of falling rain. This changes toward noon, the clouds grow white again and roll up in huge masses far above surrounded by a back ground of blue sky. The hot sun spurts out periodically and its heating influence is counteracted by a strong breeze from the S.W. Last night a deer dropped in but failed to notify me. As the moon grows brighter then will be better chances. Nath Williams deer lasted until today noon. We are now ready for the next. Did you ever hear of letting out the “tired blood” in order to get rest? It is an Indian dodge. Whidden says that an Indian will prepare half a dozen needles in a cork or soft piece of wood and when he ends up a long journey, or has carried a big load all day and gets played out, he will calmly sit down and tear up the skin on the muscles of his legs and arms and breast with the needle to let out the “tired blood.” This blood “boils” out and is almost black—so Whidden says. This blood scratching treatment is used in cases of fever and in children’s ailments. Piccaninnies of 3 years of age are sometimes scratched to relieve them of certain complaints. They are an odd lot, these “ingines.” But a white man, a tropical tramp, that came from the north of Florida on foot, with a heavy load of old copper plates on his back and asked for a night’s lodging at Whiddens was an odder. There appeared also not long ago a man with a mustache and an appetite. He stopped at Whiddens and asked for all the provisions or food cooked in the house to be packed up for him. He did the same at another house, under a different name anxious for food. And still at other houses

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[first line(s) partially cut off on photocopy] he appears, a new name each time and always wishing food and provisions. At one house he leaves a gold watch to be repaired, at another something else—but he never visits the same place twice. Could it be our friend Oakey Hall seeking for repose for a wearied soul in Florida! I notice he has disappeared from London. Up to dark notwithstanding clouds and promises no rain falls. Mosquitoes increase and I set the line for deer.

P.G.C. Saturday July 21, 1877 For today I can record showers and sunshine intermixed with rainbows by the dozen. In fact there is a general “swinging around the circle” of falling rain. As it is unaccompanied by wind it dont beat in the siding but falls perpendicularly in solid sheets. More puddles. By Monday I hope to have vines enough to commence potato making again. In the meantime do odd chores and little jobs neglected in planting time. The “Mary” appears at home again after the Key West trip. She will possibly take our letters next time. The “Bonne” we expect down to go to Key West by tomorrow. A queer case happened up Peace Creek a short time ago. A Mr. Curry not O.M.C. but another, sat on a fence with his rifle beside him—butt on the ground. He moved to get hold of it and jump down. The hammer caught and the top rail slid at the same time and the result was Curry was shot and killed. A committee of friends went over to his house to break the news to his wife. The spokesman of the party remarked: “I’ve got some purty bad news to tell ye Mrs. Curry.” “Well; out with it. I aint a feered.” “But, its moighty bad.” “Tell it why dont ye.” “Why, your husband has shot hisself and is dead.” “Is that so? —Walk in and take some dinner

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[first line(s) partially cut off on photocopy] the dishes I’ll go over. I’ve prayed now for 3 years that I would be shet of the old man and the Lord has heerd my prayers at last. Walk in gentlemen and hev some dinner.” This accident is mentioned as a “suicide” by Youmans. Sich is life. What little breeze we had to day came from the south. It brought some Pine island mosquitoes and this evening we luxuriate in much scratchin’. All the midgets on two legs have gone barefoot with out any fear of the “ground itch.” This pleasant ailment, like chills and fever, is an up country product superinduced by going barefoot in muddy water that stands long. Salt water and salt air acts as antidotes. Whidden knew a man who had the “ground itch” so “plum bad” that he could’n’t ride a horse and had to be left in the woods on a cow hunt—but he “wallered” around in the wet grass and “cured him.”

P.G.C. Sunday July 22, 1877 Rather a comfortable day with a shower or two and threatening storms. The “Bonne” comes down at breakfast time. A small batch of letters is placed on board and she goes over and passes the day at De Coster’s town. Megale—or “Miguel” —drops in with a little piccadura and from him we gather news that— “U man—he come—paper:—I no have land—I work’em; he pay— No see I go Boca Grande—Grand place—No stay Useppa—“ etc etc with plenty of grimace and gesticulation. Some one has undermined him and entered his land on Useppa and he goes to Boca Grande and locates. He had a load of potato vines and chickens and was to get “lainep” or lumber from the mill to build him a house there. The mill is working today. Perhaps Williams don’t know when Sunday comes round. Several small sails appear and disappear during the day up Peace Creek.

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P.G.C. Monday July 23, 1877 Masses of heavy clouds roll upward at all points of the compass and rain falls everywhere but on P.G.C. The wind is strong by jerks and inclined to work in small circles, whirlwind like. At noon time the weather is very warm. Morning and evening cool. There are not vines enough for potato hilling so I fix up a pathway to “stay put” between the house and kitchen. Ben calls it the Charlotte Harbor R.R. and the children have discovered a new mode of torture for the “old mans” nerves. They run along the line like so many wild locomotives have collisions and smash ups, with the cries and groans of the “dead and wounded” afterward. Don’t you want to take a few of these youngsters off my hands? All my potato vines look thrifty. My 1400 at the back are brightening up and not over a dozen will have to be replaced. The “Bonne” gets off to Punta Rassa “soon in morning” and the Mary goes up river. The mail boat appears in the afternoon and I hope she will bring some letters. In looking for the bell tonight to set for deer it was missing. First I have to wake up Freddie. “Where’s the bell?” “Baby had it.” Then I wake up the mite. “Where’s the bell?” “Gone—down.” So I set him on his legs and he steers for the door. That is enough; like the bee hunter I can go to the point he would reach. In the grass under the piazza lies the bell, a spoon, and two knives, thrown there by Master mischief. So I set the bell and watch for deer.

P.G.C. Tuesday July 24, 1877 The day opens lovely. The wind blows from eastward and I must away to the P.O. I will add a P.S. there. Nary deer sign. Wind south. At Rowans—The “Mary” will go to Key West by Thursday. I will send this letter by her—as safer and quicker than the mail. Your letter of July 4 to Fred, Mothers of same date to me received. No other back letters. Ever etc Jarvee

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Charlotte Harbor Fla. July 22, 1877

My dear Pa,

As itemised in the diary I received an answer from the Land Office last Tuesday—but not such an one as I wished for by any means. My usual bad luck seems to bear fruit in this as in other matters. It seems that the lands on Peace Creek belonging to the U.S. government have been transferred to the state. Some such arrangement as this I read in the Tampa paper about 5 or 6 months ago—and I believe I mentioned the fact in the diary but I had no idea that it would include land as low down as ours. I have written to Receiver Halliday, asking him to review the matter and have his clerk make search again and see if there is not a possibility of an error and should there be none—my lands proving now to be state land—to return the $14., I sent him as fees and commissions, by registered letter to me. I enclosed stamps for that purpose. I also asked him to inform me how to proceed to obtain the lands from the state, besides to let me know how far these transferred lands extend beyond us. But I have no doubt that the matter as stated by the head clerk is correct. Yet I don’t want to miss any loopholes. I gave dates of settlement, application for homestead etc etc and hope to hear of something of moment when the answer comes. My faith is small however. Now as the matter stands I am awkwardly fixed. Fred says” We will try to buy from the state the high land out back” and “I have enough for both” etc. This is rather indefinite. Should he willing to divide up his land with me—share and share alike—as I supposed his intention was originally, I would

Page 541 be satisfied and manage in some way to either get hold of some good state land—or enter a homestead on other government land (hammock or rolling pine) and divide that with him as equally. He would be the gainer in respect to value and I would gain as to enlarged location here. I have always understood that Fred made such a proposition to me before I came down as under similar circumstances I should naturally have done to him, I dividing with him what land I should homestead. But in the past year or two I have imagined that he wished to retain his land in full with the exception of the 5 acres I occupy and that he wished me to hold what I proposed to enter as a homestead—that which adjoins and protects his land—as my own, and give him 5 acres of the high land on the opposite side of the “slew” in place of what he gave me. Will you ascertain from Fred in any indirect way you may please, what he proposes to do with the land which he had “enough for both.” In what way he desires to arrange it that he may think will satisfy me and exactly what he can do without “disfurnishing” himself. Of course, I claim nothing. But I would like to know exactly, if it is possible, what his propositions are. How much land, and what, and how located, he will turn over to me and how I am to return the value of it or make it good. The situation I am placed in is so peculiar that I can’t very well ask him “what he can do for me.” I dont wish it in that way. He says there is “land enough for both,” and I merely wish to know “how?” I wish to get at his ideas on the subject indirectly. He has written to you and perhaps referred to this last streak of misery which has come to me. Perhaps he will leave an opening through which you can gain this information naturally.

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If not, let it rest awhile. This next year I expect to pretty well dispose of my space within the enclosure. Then I shall be ready to “branch out” and endeavor to do a little more extensive cultivation outside—if I have any outside to work. Fred is opposed to cooperative farming and I suppose we shall have to each work our own salvation seperately [sic]. Even so, we can pull together in some points when the gain would be mutual and advance by such certain means together as advantageously as if only one were using those means. We could cooperate on many crops in preparing the land together, fencing etc. We could break up a piece for sugar cane, orange grove or any “crop” previously decided upon, divide the land equally, each work his own field and each profit by his own work—meantime use such cultivating means as we could obtain together better than singly for the good of both. For instance, a mule and cart or a resident nig could alternately work for each, —so many days for Fred and so many for me or so many for both combined and the general keeping shared between us. In the matter of sugar mill and evaporator or such expensive material, we could each get equal benefit at ½ cost. But all this is looking a good bit ahead yet. I only refer to it incidentally, and I dont know as I have written it plainly or made myself understood, the youngsters are holding such high carnival. In the event of the land I tried to homestead proving to be state land I think it may be best to purchase such junks of good land in our neighborhood remaining unsold as would be worth purchasing, or to get hold of some good government hammock land or high rolling pine land, somewhere near us if it can be found that may become useful hereafter

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The best government land can only be entered at 80 acres in one plat, and state land can be be [sic] purchased and paid for without actual settlement I think. Then it becomes taxable. A “settler” gains little by working state land and improving it. But he has five years freedom from taxation in gov’t land and the land thrown in at the end. As soon as I can I will try to hunt up points concerning state land and get posted on locations. How to do it now I don’t know, but I will find out. In the meantime you can see how the “land lies” and be able to think it over a bit. But don’t worry any on my account. I’ll tumble out of this hole as I have out of others. Like the fellow Johnson in the Pine Level sweat box if I can’t get out any other way I’ll scratch out. If I think of anything more I’ll tack it on as a P.S. before we go to P.O. Ever etc. Jarvee. P.S. There is much said about lands in the neighborhood of Alligator Creek—5 miles back of us. Half a mile from the mouth the harbor is 35 feet deep and 4 square miles of basin of the depth is there sure. I sounded it myself ¾ of a mile from shore and found 30 feet or thereabout at Burnt Stores when I was on the “Mary.” Old Williams proposes to enter land on the Creek and also Newt Waldron. Others have been to look at it. It varies from 7 to 20 feet in height and is pepper and salt hammock on the shore and excellent pine land, partially rolling, back of the borders. Other parties enter such land without occupying it. If thought proper we could also—or I could also.

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Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday July 24, 1877

My dear Pa,

Once more to our muttons. If it were not for this diary I am afraid I would forget the days of the week. Nick and I went over to the post office this morning. We had a fine wind over and a head wind back. I rowed back in 2 hours, against tide also. Our mails lately have been—so uncertain that I left what few letters I had to go by “Mary.” She expects to reach Key West by next steamer day somewhere about August 1. Next week Roan takes the mail contract for a month on trial. The contracter [sic] receives $519. per year instead of $900 as I have supposed and in transferring his privaleges [sic] he expects to make something. Roan may get about $400. per year. All our mails are behind time now. I hope one of these days they will be more regular. Fred tells me that you have received my letters to 18th June. You do not mention receiving the “Turtle” letter. So I suppose letters sent on 12th June reached you after those of 18th. Is it not so? The former went from Manatee, the latter went around by Pine Level. We have got into the way of trying all points again. No doubt all letters will reach you in time. Your letter of May 30 or thereabouts has not yet turned up. “Something is “decayed” in the state of Florida” as Hamlet says. We are now enjoying a little rainy season without rain. Mosquitoes are only troublesome at dusk. By 8 o’c we can open doors and windows and enjoy life minus these pests. At Key West, however, the citizens are being actually devoured by them. “Its an ill wind” etc.

P.G.C. Wednesday July 25, 1877 Most of the day cloudy. A good one for planting

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trees. Both Fred and I at it. Try a little potato hilling also. Toward afternoon rain threatens but by sunset the clouds clear away and a look of settled weather follows. The white flag hangs out at De Costers. Ben and I cross after tea. We leave the little wharf in a burst of glory as shown in cloud effects etc. and come back by moonlight. A good sailing breeze both ways and a junk of beef and some kidney on the return trip. De Coster is setting out “a thousand guavas—so he told Ben. The “crop” is just beginning to ripen. Fred and Anna keep an eye on the sleeping midgets in our absence.

P.G.C. Thursday July 26, 1877 After breakfast Fred and I go to the lower head for 127 “permetter fans.” The morning is cool and a strong breeze blows from the eastward. No mosquitoes show up; in the shade is inviting, but we cant take advantage of it and locate for an hour or two. With a small bridge across the tide creek, a path leading down from the houses, 2 or 3 acres cleared and cultivated and a small shanty to top it off with—what a jolly little spot it would be to loaf in on Sundays and work in on winter week days. Sugar cane, bananas cassava, pineapples, and other tropical varieties of fruit and vegetables would luxuriate in that spot after a little necessary cultivation. Pumpkins, squashes, “cowcumber, watermelons and such would pay for our trouble in planting. That is, if well fenced and surrounded with “man traps” —or with an Uncle Tom, Aunt Sallie and a couple of piccaninnies to look out for “varmints,” and keep it in order. Will that time ever come do you think? I do and am willing to hasten it—if! It all depends on that little “if.” How I long for you to come down this fall. I hope you can arrange it.

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Everything is so unsettled that I would like you to shake us all up and bring out some sort of order. Or, at least, help to do so. At present we all live on “hope faith and charity” and wait for “Time to bring about its own revenges” —I believe that is the quotation. Sat out 8 or 9 trees before dark. It is actually too dry to do more.

P.G.C. Friday July 27, 1877 Warm! Endeavor to add to the little guava mounds already built. Find it slow work in the heat. Still 5 more guava trees show up on the path toward Freds. The deacon devotes more time and gets out a dozen or more trees. I also drop in 60 sweet potato slips as a small flyer and loaf the remainder of the day. Whether I am getting dyspepsia or what is up concerning the “inner man” I can’t tell, but I feel awfully played out continually; as if I had’n’t strength enough to move about. Perhaps the letting out of the “tired blood” ala Seminole would be beneficial. So far I have had no appearance of boils. My hands and feet have been free of these pests. I hope there is no internal volcano forming in anticipation of a grand eruption hereafter. Sunset glories are above description tonight.

P.G.C. Saturday July 28, 1877 What a peculiar rainy season. The ground is actually becoming dry. And the sun is so very hot between 10 and 4 o’c. Only occasional clouds appear and the frog cries are few and far between. Prepare for more guavas but don’t plant any. Get a couple of stray watermelons from the old vines. Potatoes grow and vines spread. Thunder rolls and clouds appear, but no rain follows.

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P.G.C. Sunday July 29, 1877 There is a place mentioned in poetry “paved with good intentions.” That place broke loose on P.G.C. today. De Coster and family gave us a visit and passed the afternoon. The children just acted like wild cattle and overrun my nursery, pulled at trees, tried to ruin furniture and just made things topsy-turvy. The judge is on a new hobby. He proposes to start a newspaper. He believes it will make his fortune and improve the locality. He reckons thusly: $1.500 will establish his paper. He has 500 relatives. Each one will subscrible [sic] beforehand upon notification. Each one of these will obtain 10 more. That will give him a start of 5.000 to commence with. 5.000 subscribers at $2 per year is $10.000. These he will start his paper and go to Maine and deliver a hundred lectures. Each lecture will add at least a hundred subscribers. There’s 10.000 more. With his 15.000 subscribers paying $30.000 a year he can publish a paper equal to the Tampa Guardian in size, with correspondence from every settled locality of South Florida and make a fortune! In the meantime he will plant guavas and bemoan fate. The weather has been warm today. Rain fell for ½ an hour and clouds rolled overhead. Tonight the stars are shining brightly while the lightning flashes and thunder rolls to the southward and the moon just popping up behind a cloud makes odd faces at the peculiarity. The same thing occurred last night. I started from Freds with a pail in each hand and 2 mosquitoes boring for oil in my nose. As I stubbed my toe on the stump in the path, the moon let herself out from behind a mass of

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clouds. Small clouds made two well defined eyes and another formed a mouth. The eyes remained fixed for 10 or 15 minutes, but the mouth changed expression continually. I called Ben out and we looked and laughed. It was as good as a play. Such a perfect face I never saw in the moon before. The mouth corners would draw down and frown and then up and smile. It seemed almost supernatural and the fun lasted 5 or 6 minutes.

P.G.C. Monday July 30, 1877 Again very warm, with thunder and lightning in afternoon and varying breezes. A visitor calls at 10.30. His name is Chamberlin and he hails from Philadelphia. Lambert acts as guide in showing him Charlotte Harbor. This young man (about 30) is a good specimen of the genus homo. He is broad in the shoulders and has a good forearm. And he seems to be well educated and more refined than visitors generally. He proved to be an improvement on Carruthers. He told us that he had coasted from Cedar Keys down, had been to Tampa, Manatee, up the Callooshatchie [sic] and through the Keys. He intends to go up the Miaca next and then through Peace Creek and Shell Creek. He wishes to see every point and then settle. We had a very pleasant talk all round and ended by a “11 o’c smile” the first we have had in months. Chamberlin says that all Tampa is settled and every piece of land taken. Nearly the same at Manatee and Charlotte Harbor will came next. He is convinced that a fortune can be made here and he is anxious to make a start. The lands on the Calloosahatchie [sic] he says are not adapted to fruit culture. The borders

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are not 6 feet above tide water and the surface soil is only from 6 inches to two feet deep. Underlying this is a hard bed of limestone not unlike the coral formations of Key West. Besides, he found this high land (?) only extended along the river banks. A mile back low swamp lands only fit for pasture ran into the Everglades. Fort Meyers he regards as a sink of iniquity and Punta Rassa the last place in creation for a white man to live at. He seems to favor the Miacca as he believes he will find high land and rich land combined. The Keys he had’n’t much use for. The mosquitoes almost devoured him. He desires comfort in a measure and has no desire to be eaten up alive. He promised to tell us about the Miacca country on his way up river. Warm weather continues all afternoon. There is a nice let up for an hour when a white squall bursts over us and De Coster is deluged with rain—but the sultry feeling hangs over us now and we expect to swelter all night.

P.G.C. Tuesday July 31, 1877 Last year this time we were up to our knees in water; now we hunt for dampness with poor success. At 8.30 another visitor arrives. It is Don Miguel and he proves to be a “rum old cuss.” He has brought us a gallon of “augerdent” and the world will have a brighter look hereafter. At 11 o’c I smole [sic] a smile and Fred looked sweetly at his bottle. The corn mill flew around with renewed ardour and I become a mound builder with increase of motive power. At 9.30 Fred was using his sickle along the shadow of his shanty, reducing weeds and making it look nice on his “lawn.” The quick effect of the rum on his “weak constitution” gave him a

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shock. His sickle elongated into a snake and as it lengthened it broke off noiselessly and went for the center of the shanty. Fred jumped and Nick who was looking on jumped also. Fred got his rifle and the result was 6 rattles and a button on six feet of wiggle. His snakeship was a good sized ratter and was within 6 inches of Fred’s hand when it moved away. Was anybody “scart?” I reckon! At 10 o’c Youmans, wife and mother-in-law came up to the shore in the “Texiana-Fort Meyers” as he calls it. We got another bushel of potatoes and are fixed for 2 weeks longer. All his “’taters’ are hities and white inside with a flavor of roast chestnut. His bob-tailed dog jumped overboard and barked good-by, then was lifted in by the scruff of his neck and Youmans, w. and “m-i-l” left for the store. At 11 o’c it becomes very warm. But a westerly breeze blows briskly. At 12 o’c we sit down to dinner in the kitchen with thermometer @ 110°. We had some corn beef, hominy sweet potatoes and coffee and enjoyed a feast. The box of corn beef was taken from the stores 3 weeks ago for immediate use and that “use” delayed by the oppertune [sic] arrival of something to take its place from day to day. After dinner breezes came, clouds gathered and storms promised. I crossed for letters at De Costers. Found none at all. A terrific squall came and the boat was jammed in the wharf. Came back at sunset. Very damp on P.G.C. Left no letters to go by mail boat north. Cuze [sic] why? Fraid they would’n’t go through. We propose a different route this week—if we can find one. More rain this evening.

P.G.C. Wednesday August 1, 1877 Get in a 65 foot row of potatoes when the storm broke and continued to break at intervals all the rest of the day. We are afloat again. There

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is to be a rainy season after all. The potato beds in the “grove” look like segments of a small canal placed inside the fence for safety. Three small boys are delighted and schooners, sloops and catamarans are on every puddle. Six bare legs paddle around and occasionally 2 pair of larger growth “meander” about. It has been a dull day for P.G.C.

P.G.C. Thursday August 2, 1877 The “wetness” is too much for potato hilling. What a relief that ditching will be next season. Even the small one Fred has made drains his rice field and enables him to get up a hundred feet of potatoes. There’s no place dry enough over my way to work. For three or four days matches have got down low. To day they ran out. Our match at dinner time lit two fires. Fred carries a bunch of lightwood from our stove to his and thus kept the pot aboiling. About 3 o’c he goes over to borrow 2 boxes from De Coster and finds luck against him. He rows over and rows back. But we get matches—and guavas; but not many of the latter. More rain tonight. More thunder also.

P.G.C. Friday August 3, 1877 Rain at last and enough of it. It fell copiously in the night and more so this morning. Then it continued, increasing in copiousness until dark. Even now it falls with a perfect looseness. We are a barefooted community of paddlers today. Frogs revivified. Even the hoarse voiced fellows sing like sick calves. All about us is one immense swamp. Fortunately there are no mosquitoes. Fred’s gun sounds on the morning air. He has quail for dinner! “Squat owl!” But they were eating his sweet potatoes! Funny Frederick! These same half grown bobtailed fellows have (with the rabbits)

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used up about 600 feet of my standovers and I never thought before what a fine trap they might to be. Nicodemus, Phip and the baby happy today. Their schooners have donned new sets of sails 50 times at least. And the youngsters themselves about as often. Ask Em if she don’t want the position of “governess” in our small family. The mites are all “wetter’ns” of the P.G.C. Infantry today.

P.G.C. Saturday August 4, 1877 Slam bang! More quail for the deacon! Caught at that same old potato! It don’t “borther” me any, but I must quote: “Consistency, thou art a jewel.” Plenty of sunshine after an early morning rain. During the morning the sunshine is filtered through rain drops. In afternoon it comes fine. A shower threatens at sunset, but no curtain of rain shuts out the grand cloud effects. Such a glorious sight and such masses of rich color. But it soon fades to gray. Water everywhere! Our house seems more like a “Noah’s ark” than anything else, with a baby “Noah’s Ark” for kitchen. The “suspension bridge,” “rail road” or whatever you may call it between takes us dry shod from one to the other. When we step off this we go barefooted. After dinner I go beech [sic] combing for buttonwood. Visit lower head. Dryer there than here. “Mary” arrives from Key West last night. Left Thursday. She brings a box from Mrs. Reeve, with some necessaries for the children a few jars of jam and some jellies in “patent tumbler.” D—n the patent tumblers! More than half had leaked out of each. The “Mary” will paint up and proceed to Manatee in a week.

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P.G.C. Sunday August 5, 1877 A “glass Kane” exists, part of the time, in the potato beds. More shower, heralded by thunder, bear down on us and a sort of topsy turvey day results. Boat sailing is tabood and the youngsters are at their wits ends to get amusement. Freddie gets it from the story of Joseph and his many colored coat and Phip and the baby from a couple colored picture books that came in the box. Dinner time arrives and we locate on corn beef and sweet potatoes. Then a period of dry weather ensues overhead. The “Bonne” comes in and at 3 o’c Fred and I propose to go “over the river to Sarah.” If any news in particular occurs or any chance turns up by which we can send letters I’ll add P.S. and send. In the meantime we are all well and progressing. Every etc. Jarvee.

Bartholfs Store. Tuesday Monday No mail has come through today from Manatee. We find that Mr. Bartholf goes to Key West by the mail boat and some transient schooner from Punta Rassa. I therefore send diary by him. Now there seems to be doubt in regard to freight being transported with accuracy from Manatee. Should you not have sent freight that way, send by Key West until the Roan arrangement is more certain. All well and up to our eyes in water. Ever etc. Jarvee.

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Punta Gorda Chica Charlotte Harbor Fla. Monday August 5, 1877

My dear Pa,

We have just returned, Fred and I from the opposite shores. I write by candle light a few diary items, having eaten my “frugal repast.” The candle leans over the pot in my little bronze figure and will give its feeble light for a few minutes. Then will follow “darkness and repose.” Today was such a poor day for work that we concluded to run for the mail and hope for better luck tomorrow. The “Mary” and mail boat came down together. But no mail came. The rider from Pine Level to Ogden considered the route too wet to travel and so left all mail matter at Pine Level until dryer times. Finding that Bartholf intended to go in the mail boat to Punta Rassa and thence by schooner to Key West we sent what mail we had by him. The store is closed until Aug. 20 and Mrs. Bartholf is to act as postmaster during the “Captin’s” absence. Returning we stopped at De Coster’s and got 2 alligator pear seeds and 16 mango apple ditto. These we will locate tomorrow. We had to row over and row back. The candle burns low. More by daylight.

P.G.C. Tuesday August 6, 1877 The frame of P.G.C. is clearly defined. The interior is mostly swamps and puddles. For a wonder no rain has fallen today, but threatening clouds have drifted by lighted up by much sunshine. The surface is “dem’d damp moist and unpleasant”; too wet to work and even too soft to “list.” The potato beds are mere lines of mud in an immense puddle. The whole surface is soaked an[d] mushy.

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On Sunday afternoon Fred and I took the skiff and started to cross. We did cross and stopped at Curry’s old place. Chamberlain and Lambert had settled down there for a season and proposed to build potato hills and catch fish prior to locating the spot they found on the Miacca. Chamberlain invited us into the kitchen and offered irrigating materials, which we accepted twice during our stay and refused the 3d and 4th time. DeCoster and Curry “happened in” and accepted their invitations “straight.” Chamberlain found the spot he was looking for 9 miles up the Miacca. The shore was 6 feet high and with a rising of 2 or 3 feet in a hundred as it ran back. 40 acres of this land was as dry as a bone and he slept on it two nights without mosquito bars. He proposes to raise hogs as a main feature and lemon, limes, and oranges with a sprinkling of tropical fruits as incidental sources of profit hereafter. Some of his land is rich hammock suitable for bananas etc. and he will locate as soon as he gets his papers from the Land office. Gus Lawrence is his nearest neighbor. The next man is 7 miles away. Lambert promises to stop with him until he is fairly underway. By the way Lambert met the two Indians after they had visited us last spring. The Docter [sic] and Tommy and their squaws and piccaninnies surrounded him one morning about breakfast time. The “Docter” accepted coffee and cakes and tobacco for the party, piccaninnies incuded, and gave Lambert deer hams in payment. The “Docter” and party had shot 90 deer. Lambert said: “Where hunt?” “Peace Creek—See Yankee” “Who?—Mr. Howard?” “N’gar, Mr Howard, ha! ha! ha! ha! See Yankee—see squaw—ha! ha!—see piccaninny.”

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We therefore have a good joke on Anna and Nicodemus. But why a Yankee family should create laughter puzzles me. The native Floridian (copper colored) is peculiar. We came home after dark. The schooner at ancher [sic] at Pepi’s was not the “Bonne” but a Spanish boat on a smuggling expedition. Yesterday she went up river to “catcher freighter” as Miguel told us—but really to discharge rum cigars and cuba production and goods—at least so every body surmises. Yesterday morning Miguel came over. He was after “laimp” at the mill but “no catcher” as Williams was up the river. He left today for Punta Rassa to get Pepi. Miguel and Pepi will now go into partnership and “catcher fish,” which they will dispose of at the rate of $10 per barrel. They have already orders for 25 bbls. on the Calloosahatchie [sic] and 10 or 15 on “Peacer Creek.” This I suppose will pay Pepi better than running the “Bonne” for what he can squeeze out of her owners. In the meantime Miguel will “catcher Peeger” to place on his Key for profet hereafter. Now, “peeger no sell in Key Wester.” Toward evening we saw the “Mary” and the mail boat coming. Either might bring the mail and having nothing else to do we crossed over. But we were disappointed no mail arriving. This makes two weeks without home letters. Several that should have come in previous mails are behind time also. Fred has written full particulars. At Roans we stopped for information. As Bartholf has ordered 40 bbls of freight to Key West from Manatee and gone there himself, Roan can’t tell whether he will make a trip to Manatee next time or not. Pleasant for us if freight has been sent there. Until communication

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is more certain, perhaps it will be best to stick to the old Key West route for boxes and barrels.

P.G.C. Wednesday August 8, 1877 As the hoe is shouldered for potato hilling down comes the rain again and another postponement on account of the weather is occasioned. It seems to be a difficult planting. If too dry no potatoes form as the vines burn and wiggle up. If too wet the soil gets packed and the hills “sob” or don’t produce. If we had only ditched last fall! Before noon rain began to fall in the usual copious style. This kept up until 3 o’c and the small puddles grew to large ones and now the surface is like a saw grass pond. I really think that twice as much rain has fallen this year than last and there seems plenty more to come. What to do but eat and drink and sleep is more than I can determine. By the way, I stated in my letter on “Farm matters” that the Bahama onion seed was the correct seed for Florida. I should have stated that the Bermuda seed was the best. The Bahama onion is an immense affair and rather rank in taste and quality. The Bermuda onion is the best onion— even in the N.Y. market and that is the one Clarke advised me to grow. I see that the “Florida New Yorker” states in the July number that such seeds can be had without commissions, through its office, or of Bermuda merchants in Exchange Place viz: Durrell and Co. Middleton and Co. and Jones and Lough at 10 shillings gold per bottle. Would it not pay to get a few of the seed?

P.G.C. Thursday August 9, 1877 Nicodemus (2 eyes) is 7 years old today. He is delighted at the little “risin’” on his age. There is about the usual amount of dampness today and an overflowing surface. No work.

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P.G.C. Friday August 10, 1877 Showers appear off and on during the day and an old “sack=dollager” at supper time. The mail boat drops in loaded with men and disappears rapidly up stream. No chance of work today. Sit in the house, read “smile” at 11 o’c, and growl at the weather. Nabobs in New York sometimes bathe in Cologne water. We at P.G.C. can be actually drowned in Florida water by merely rolling off the front or back piazza.

P.G.C. Saturday August 11, 1877 At last a “let up” in the weather. Rain clouds float about us, the thunder rolls continually like the sounds from a far off battle field, but we get no rain fall. Like the dove in the ark I go forth in search of—not the olive branch—but junks of buttonwood. The upper head smells like a dutch boarding house, only more so, with its aroma of very sour crout, sour lager and garlic. There is enough soaked soil to stand upon and I succeed in bringing back a skiff load. In the afternoon Nick and I run a race to see whether he can carry in faster than I can chop. He beats me all the time—until the last, when I distance him. While enjoying his laughter, which was continual, I hardly noticed how Tempus fugited. I was astonished, therefore, to find 3 weeks supply stored “agin” the next flood when I peeped in the doorway of the store house.

P.G.C. Sunday August 12, 1877 Only a small fall of rain in afternoon; but a copious dropping down the bay. The remainder of the day more cheerful and promising. After dinner I cross with a fair wind to De Costers. I go it alone. De Coster give me the news. Bartholf returned with the mail boat actually afraid of the schooner trip from Punta Rassa to Key West. He had nearly a dozen up county people for fellow passengers. And De Coster

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says they were half tight. They had been to Fort Meyers and while there after some extensive drinking and gambling had organized a free fight. Driggers rather got the worst of it. Someone pummeled his head with the butt of a pistol and gouged one of his eyes out, besides cutting his face awfully. He was tied up in rags and presented a pretty looking picture. In fact he said: “I look so ugly I don’t want to go home. Schultz telegraphed to Key West that a “party of roughs from Peace Creek and Charlotte Harbor came down on the Calloosatchie and kicked up a row etc etc.” This will enhance the reputation of Charlotte Harbor. Not? While the De Coster family dined on guavas I made a call on Chamberlain. He and Lambert had put up ½ an acre of potato hills and planted vines that will produce next summer. But he has shown much energy. Lambert got a wagon load of vines at Ogden and brought them down in his boat Thursday. C still talks Miacca, but don’t wish to improve land there until he gets his papers. The rum had given out! At De Costers I was shown the orange trees and improvements and came home with paid up flour, a couple of quarts of kerosene and some guavas. A fair wind put me over and thunder and lightning played an accompaniment.

P.G.C. Monday August 13, 1877 Overcast all the morning and up to 3 o’c no rain. The bay is now quiet and I may start for the post office should a breeze start me. I shall close up diary however in order to seal it. The mail boat has just passed. Put in 60 feet of potatoes this mg. Almost too wet even on the “hill” I worked in the back garden. Fred duplicated me and counts 60 feet more. All send love. Ever etc. Jarvee.

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Punta Gorda Chica Charlotte Harbor Fla. Tuesday 14, 1877 (August)

My dear Pa,

Again I have been to the post office and no letters from you to either Fred or me came through. One from Mother of July 17. No. 58 came to me. In it she states: “I am glad I can send you this mite which is enclosed” —But it is not there and there is evidence of the letter having been opened. As Fred has written you—send no more money, or reference to particular matter, by way of Manatee and Pine Level. There is some one on the route curious enough to open all our letters and to abstract money. Fred’s letters are not troubled, but luck, as usual attaches to mine. As this amount of diary will go by Key West I can state this much. Don’t refer to our suspicions in writing via Manatee. We may catch the culprit. It lies between Morgan at Pine Level and Bartholf at Charlotte Harbor. We will try to find out who is doing this kindness for us. Bartholf hints at “female curiosity” at Pine Level and we are suspicious of Bartholf’s boy as a catspaw for some one else here. Keep rather quiet about the matter—send no money overland—and wait events. Now for items! Roan’s boy came over in the dingey to tell me not to forget the paint brush with which to place a doorplate on the stern of the Mary. Both of us rowed back, each “spelling” the other. We passed the “Ellen” the Spainish smuggling boat. It was a dead calm. “Got plenty of wind?” I shouted as we went under the stern of the schooner. “Aha!” was the answer from the capitano “Mucha; all upper down eta mast; much.” Then after a pause came “Got any pigger?” “No.” “Who got?” “Black man across the river” and we

Page 561 pointed toward Pepi’s establishment. The three men were lolling on the trunk with cups in hand and bare feet surrounding plates. “Taken breakfast, no?” “No, thank you. Had ours.” “Aller right!” And we passed over the mirror, as their “yaller” dingey went ashore for “pigger.” Chamberlain and Curry were steering for the post office along the beach. I joined in and after wading the tide creek duly touched at the store. Chamberlain and Lambert have parted and C goes it alone. He proposes to stop at Curry’s mansion the better part of a year and prepare gradually for settlement; plant, fish and grin at intervals. An old man “working for his grub” cooks and helps him. He was bound for Morgan’s for vines and he went on as I went in the post office. Bartholf and I reviewed the mail business. Nothing definite arrived at concerning the stealings, but hints as aforesaid. B. told me a news item. He will have the mail route hereafter, through Tibbits a Manatee carpet bagger. He will run the mail for $600 and Roan refuses to take $300 and do the work and hat. Bartholf gets the remainder. So unkind of him. Bartholf is afraid he will have to give up the postmastership if he runs the mail. He offered to turn the office and emoluments over to me if I would be willing to let him tend to the mail bags as usual at the store. I failed to see it. I advised him to arrange with De Coster. As he was going to Pine Level I gave him the diary to post personally in the mail bag and then took a parting drink of “orgerdent” and walked to Roans. The paint was thin and the brush thick. I had taken over the wrong one. Roan wished me to stop to dinner and go over to our side in the “Mary” afterward and do the lettering. I stopped. We dined in the

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log hut at the rear of the Tucker mansion. Its size is about 8 x 10. The roof was frescoed with soot and the chinks between logs letting in daylight to show off the interior beauty. A door way at one end and a huge fire place at the other let in more light. The sun was shining down the chimney and made a pretty effect on the smoke as it curled upward. The smoke didn’t all curl upward, however; fully one half circulated under the shingles. The table had a cloth on and the usual long benches flanked it. Corn dodgers, pork, coffee, sweet potatoes and “guava dumpling” were the appetizers. We sat. Everything had a good taste and I enjoyed the meal. Roan referred to George, the eldest, as stopping at Ogden. I asked why he was there so much and what was going on. Up spoke Mrs Roan: “Oh, he’s a gallin’ I reckon.” “Worse than that,” said Roan, he’s gone and got married.” “Is that so?” I asked, astonished. “Yes, it’s so. George may have got a wife, but she has’n’t got any sort of a man that she can call husband. Why, he’s only a boy.” But I never interfere. That makes the second one that’s got married; I’ve nothing to say,” and that ended it for Mr. Roan. At 1 o’c we crossed under full sail. There was some wind and when I commenced work on the Marys stern I wished I had’n’t. She bobbed up and down and this way and that and as I sat all up in a heap on the stern of the skiff, with Roan and the two boys trying to keep things steady I must have presented a pretty picture myself. Sign painting is not my forte—especially when that sign wiggles like a lively eel. I did the best I could according to promise and the boat went up stream labeled “Mary, Key West”

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On Friday or Saturday, the “Mary” will go to Key West. We will send letters by her.

P.G.C. Wednesday August 15, 1877 The ground being in good condition for hilling I “made potatoes” today. I put up over 200 feet and then “caved.” The weather has been lovely, and a nice breeze has blown from the westward all day. This evening I cut and “stuck” 300 vines. Fred “tatered” all day also. Ben and I have just been over to Fred’s. We made a short call and I carried back two pails of “minny,” as Hunikin calls water. He also has an original name for Raspberry jam, i.e. “damberry dam.” It was certainly that much good at supper tonight. By the way I heard Pendletons history yesterday. You’ve heard me mention Pendleton. He was schoolmaster at Ogden. Some time ago he fell in love with a rich girl in Illinois. She had $100,000 in her own right, but there was a hitch somewhere. He was poor. So he goes into cattle in Texas. Finally he puts his all, $10,000, in one load on the R.R. and an accident kills the whole bunch. Penniless, he drifts across the gulf and anchors, as schoolmaster, at Ogden. But he don’t make money fast enough. Of he[sic] runs a schooner. Then he adds another. Opens a store at Ogden. Tries to run the mail route. Promises to run a steamboat from Ogden to Punta Rassa next month and has started the preliminary foundation for a hotel. The latest, however, is that he has sent for type press and paper and a newspaper will be issued in a few weeks. All these facts he has written to the “Tampa Guardian” in a letter signed “Ogden,” referring also to the extraordinary ability of the young man named Pendleton. If he

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succeds with all his undertakings there is some chance of the “hitch” to the wedding being removed. But he can’t catch bear with a corn sack!

P.G.C. Thursday August 16, 1877 As I popped into bed last night the moon and stars were visible from the windows. Not a breeze stirred. As my head touched the bolster down came the rain. It was pitchforky and copious. Yet the moon’s rays slanted across the mosquito netting and the stars twinkled through the windows. The rain lasted 10 minutes and my 300 vines were nicely “sot.” Today trade wind clouds as white as milk are floating over an intensely blue sky, and the “rainy season” is miles away. At noon it is “plum hot.” Up to 3 o’c it seems more so. Then the winds blow more freshly and we get cooled off. Before dinner I put up 130 feet of ‘taters. After dinner 70. Such is life in the tropics. At sunset we sit on the piazza and enjoy the performance until the curtain falls. The moon shines out well and the pines grow taller all about us before the mosketoes [sic] rally in sufficient number to drive us in doors.

P.G.C. Friday August 17, 1877 The sun rises in a clear sky and a breeze from the south rises later. This fizzles to a meek little zephyr and the hot sun by 9 o’c pours down unfeelingly. Potato hilling is in order. I put up 60 feet and then two more feet on the lounge. In fact I give it up for an easier one. Fred drops down to the head for buttonwood and finds heat there. As dinner (bean soup and cracked corn) approaches thunder clouds “bile up” but the rain skirts the opposite shore and falls solidly beyond Coon Key. On looking over my letters from you I find (No 9 – May 30) missing. No 10 of

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June 14 came safely and since these nothing at all from you. Have you written and enclosed anything greenbacky? Fate seems inclined to run against us—me particularly. After eating our dinner I took my usual siesta. Then I talked to a lightwood stump out back— and just in time, for the rain came down quite suddenly when I got back and the potato beds, walks and trees are afloat again. Of course I retired into my shell and “smiled.” But Nick had been before me. Think of that youngster helping himself to a drink of “orgerdent?” It had no bad effect, but he was sent to bed as a punishment, and the bottle will roost high hereafter. More than a month ago I wrote to King David. I wonder if he got my letter. Bartholf tells me he has received a notice from Gainesville that a registered letter for me was underway. It may come next mail. The notice generally precedes the letter. Brenda received $10 from Harry in the box. It came opportunely, as did the things. Nicodemus and Phip send lots of love to “Doppity and Baggy” and all the “friends and relations.” Master Harry says: “Baggy nor sune” which translated means that one of these days he hopes to take his Grandma out in the skiff—or schooner, as he has it. Ben adds her love and I say the same. But we are all anxious to say it right to the faces of all of you, at daily intervals, under the shadow of our shingles. The “Mary” has not appeared but may “airly in the mornin’.” I will therefore dry up after stating how wet it is outside. But wont the “mites” have a holiday in the puddles tomorrow! So “over the river”! Thine. Jarvee.

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Punta Gorda Chica Charlotte Harbor Fla. Saturday August 18, 1877

My dear Pa,

More rain for a change and a fresh supply of puddles. Another batch of diary has gone Via Key West and this is the “how.” Some little while after dinner the “Mary” appeared coming down Bird Key Channel. I gathered letters and bailed out the skiff. Fred wrapped up our mail in brown paper and off I started with the tide. Rain was falling and heavy clouds hung over the opposite shore. Half tacking and rowing I took one side of an angle as the “Mary” made another. Half way over I felt for letters and found them not. I took a free wind back, got them and was on the way again, when, opposite the beach, the gathering storm reached across the bay and struck me hard. I took in a bucket of fresh water and then reefed the sprit. The blow increased and I hauled down sail. When it was all “clewed up” I was up in the grass, nearly on my beam ends. I poled out into deep water, took the oars and headed for Roan’s. At first I made a foot a minute. The waves broke over the bow. My back hair got wet and dripped down my back. I sat in a puddle and was surrounded with moisture. It was very rough and the wind blew a gale. But I persevered and in 2 hours, or near it, I reached my destination. Quite a little party was congregated at Roan’s. George, the new “Benedict,” received congratulations. Mr and Mrs Lockhart had been to the mill, Mr Bartholf on a bay horse, with saddle bags, meal bags, two blankets and his youngest Toddle bags, and Mrs Bartholf in poke bonnet, plaid shawl mounted on a cream colored nag—a big leather bag hung to the pommel of the saddle—appeared along the beach and July and half a dozen children skirted the party. Mrs B.

Page 567 dismounted and sat in the door way to enjoy her pipe and the Captin waited outside. In fact all were waiting for De Coster with limes and guavas to go by the Mary to Key West. I transacted my little biz, saw Mrs Bartholf and Mrs Lockhart start off on horseback for the store region, while the Captin led his youngster—with his fist in his mouth, yelling a mighty yell—in the rear with Lockhart who was barefooted and with his hair six inches long; then borrowed the loan of 5 lbs of bacon and started to go to De Costers. Again the wind had shifted and of course was ahead. It was hard pulling. It was after dark when I landed at Pepis. Pepi waded out and Miguel and the infant Gregory followed. I must record that Pepi was slightly overcome. As I talked with him the baby crawled on hands and knees in 4 inches of water and mud and seemed to enjoy it. The mite had only a dress on, very open in the back. Pepi had forgotten the Alligator pear seeds. He and Miguel expect to go a fishing next week. “You takee mullet,” said Miguel, “one barrel.” —two barrel? Then I answer. “No barrel? Aller right!” I left and after dark reached De Costers wharf—or within 20 feet, as the tide was out. The wind had changed again, blowing from P.G.C. Heavy clouds rested over the colony. I waded ashore; found De Coster, old Joe and Curry had gone to the “Mary” with 1,000 limes, ½ a barrel of guavas and some citrons. I waited. Mrs D.C. had had 4 intoxicated guests during the day. Chamberlin had accepted an invitation to dinner. It was a guava dinner. Guavas baked, stewed, raw, and also in dumplings, puddings and pies. De Coster came and I stopped to supper— finishing up the dinner leavings. The wind finally dropped and I rowed home and popped into bed at midnight. Both Mrs Roan and Mrs De Coster fixed me out with guavas—a bag each.

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P.G.C. Sunday August 19, 1877 Once more I write a very patent fact: it has rained copiously today: So wet was terra firma—or rather, terra shaky—that I didn’t go anywhere but back and forth to the kitchen. The puddles have the upper hand again. Not only here, but along the mail route. Bartholf told me that no mail would come this week because the mail rider had not left Pine Level for Manatee, when he went up Wednesday. There should be no difficulty as the rider could go through by going 5 miles out of his way. A growl from every post office will now go to Washington. It may do good—and it may not. Sunshine and rain about equal today. Clouds varied, and gorgeous at sunset. Cattle appear at the back fence and look longingly at potato vines. A couple of sail boats pass down and up and the children are eager and anxious to make more sail out back. By the greatest care they are kept indoors. Once they were missed and found on the shore line during one of the heavy showers, as wet as drowned rates and glorying in their mischief. I had each one dress in a flannel shirt of mine belted in at the waist and the trio looked very sketchy. The baby has been calling for “more gorbers” today. Phip says: “Don’t say gorbers, baby; say grorvers!” When will Master Phip command language?

P.G.C. Monday August 20, 1877 Although no rain has fallen the ground is very wet. It is impossible to work out of doors and I have nothing within that I can strike. Therefore I make pilgrimages to Mecca, across the serpentine. Fred is at work building a meat hut—or rather “meat safe” as we would call it at the north! It is proposed to use it for a rabbit coop, quail trap, dog house, skiff, mosquito bar or some other novelty but in the end it is made a meat hut. Then having no meat to put in it Neuse

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trees a squirrel. I spy the bushy tail among the branches and Fred drops him afterward with a rifle ball. He touches Neuse’s open mouth before hitting the ground. Just before dark I run across a deer trail down in front and my bell is now waiting to be rung. The weather has been delightful all day. They youngsters have been happy in their “raging carrawls.”

P.G.C. Tuesday August 21, 1877 My bell rang at south moon. I looked for deer without success and this morning found no fresh tracks. The stretching string by daylight became a shortening one by moonlight and so fooled me. After breakfast I essayed potatoes. It was still “too mushy.” But I got in 35 or 40 vines. Then as I walked to the house I saw a wild turkey calmly surveying the potato patch down by the shore from the ridge of a hill. I made for my gun first and then for the turkey. Neuse went also and in trying to get him to go home I lost the trail. A heavy shower approaching I had to go back to the house. An hour after as I was leisurely walking along the path where I saw the head of a turkey rise above the weeds, followed by two or three more. I doubled up and sneaked to the house and grasped my gun again. Looking out of the front windows I noticed a “right smart string” and then went for them. I had a fine shot and find buckshot! Five or six jumped up like “Jacks in a box” but none were hit. Then I gave them duck shot and backed out, called for Fred, and reloaded. Fred find and got one and the rest flew away. Then we gathered up the spoils of war.” one hen turkey and two young ones. The old lady was evidently taking the little ones out ofr an airing. Fred shot one little one and I broke up the family with the other two. At supper tonight

Page 570 we had “broiled chicken” as one little junk was “drawn” and “quartered” The old one will be roasted for dinner tomorrow. While Freddie and I picked the big one Harry adopted the little one—shorn of its feathers—as his dear little baby.” He rocked it to sleep, petted it and was supremely delighted. After supper he returned to the house with the remains of the neck and two drumsticks in one had and half a biscuit in the other, remarking to Ben as she came over, “Poor ittle baby dead,” and then gazed lovingly at the remains. These remains are buried in the crib now. Three curlew flew overhead as I was hunting for turkey the first time. I then had buckshot in both barrels. I took the chances and fired—but although I hit one slightly, they all got away. The game laws of Florida gives every man a right to shoot deer and birds within his enclosure. Don’t think we break the laws. But it is astonishing what a quantity of deer are killed nowadays “inside of peoples fences.” Tonight the line stretches from the water to the house and the bell is ready for the first visitor. Just as I wrote the above Neuse barked. I stepped out on the piazza and I heard faint sounds along the shore line. I caught hold of my string and fished for a bite, but Mr. Deer cleared it and passed on, splashing through the water at the fence. I didn’t get even a nibble.

P.G.C. Wednesday August 22, 1877 Simon says wig-wag! I did so in the tater patch” and have 150 more vines “agin” next winter’s “eatin’.” Fred finds deer tracks in his cassava. As the deer passed me it was low tide, and he went outside of my string. That was why I didn’t get a “bite.” Roast turkey for dinner. Tough and ancient

Page 571 but a “darned sight tougher where there’s none!” We sent a “morsel” over to Fred and Anna. They took their small one fried in Kentucky style. No rain today. Ground just right for planting. Breezy all day. Full moon tonight and thunder clouds “biling up” in the west. We may have rain. I noticed an odd sight under the shadow of one of Fred’s trees this afternoon: 10 half grown quail, squatting in a circle, with tails to the tree, taking life in florida comfortably. Another item occurred on shore. I started a “hell diver” or mud sucker of some kind and then “pinted.” The bird came ashore again and slowly walked toward me, taking a pick in the grass occasionally. It’s neck was yellow and like a wood cocks, body dark brown, legs greenish yellow and long, eyes black surrounded by red and then yellow. It walked up to within a foot of me. I didn’t move a hair until then. Down flew my broad straw hat on top of it, but it wiggled out and flew away with a harsh quack. “How’s that for a flyer”

P.G.C. Thursday August 23, 1877 In early morning clouds and calm, then a breeze and blue sky until noon, with a suspicion of storm. After dinner thunder clouds “bile up all round the circle and there is a prospect of rain. Muttering thunder is heard in the distance and the tide rises higher than usual. The breeze, from S.W. keeps up a steady blow and within the house life is full of comfort. Ten schooners arrive on the back piazza, and Ben is tired out sewing on sails. The puddles are all dry and a bright look out is kept on deck to prevent three boys from going to the shore. Potato hills are still in process of formation

Page 572 on my soil—and today on the deacons. But the vines don’t increase as rapidly as they should. So far I think I have nearly as many vines planted on about ½ the length of hill as last year. With past experience I have made my hills differently and with more care. Some of them I have manured and others made with extra listing, experimenting in a variety of ways. But the grand experiment should be made by systematic ditching and a free use of muck well worked in and incorporated with the soil. The lighter the hills can be built; that is, the more the soil is pulverized consistent with dampness, the better crop will follow. A combination of ditching, manure, pulverization, dampness of soil and good vines will make crop even on our soil. The nearer this can be accomplished the better will be the result. How I wish our location was not so fearfully flat! By the way, could you get me a quire of letter paper, unruled, (not note paper) and send me by mail. I wish it to teach Freddie to write with. The plan I shall use will be very different from the old copy book style and unruled paper is the best for the purpose. At 2 o’c a shower came but it left no puddles. It freshened up the vines and cooled the air nicely. It is now 3 o’c and there is a chance of the “Mary” returning today. She will go immediately to Manatee and I wish to set this and other letters north by that route. Therefore I will cross the bay and trust not to get wet. More next time. The colony is well and getting along as well as can be expected under the circumstances. Truly Yours etc Jarvee.

Page 573 [this page is out of context, do not know where it fits] found one “hairy dick.” Four calves were penned at Youmans. Lockhart wanted potato vines. Referred to H. Youmans! The bear I expected to see visited Lockhart. He took it for his big black sow and was rather astonished when he discovered his error. He was within 20 feet of the critter. Gillis said: “I reckon he was strikin’ for the beach to get some turtle’s eggs.” Some man at Fort Meyers saw 40 bear, Gillis said, on the beach below Punta Rassa last week. Very warm all day. Ther. 91°. At dark mosquitoes lively. But they don’t bite until later. We sit on piazza until it is all moonshine.

My dear Pa,

Should good fortune attend my letter to Sun and should you get anything decent for it—please place amount to credit of $20 you sent me for Land fees. I’ll send you another before many days in case I am a further resident of Fla. Yours ever Jarvee.