[Section begins in April, 1876, with new numbering. Pages 1-8 missing.] Page 9 [Saturday, April 22, 1876?] …the kitchen” and managed to get out 2 pieces of bacon half a ham; the big box of books and pictures, a keg of nails and a broken one; a clothes line, a coil of copper wire, all the tools that were in there, and the two lasts you brought down. I wrenched off the little closet that held all our spices and the jelly that mother sent down, besides corn starch and other little things. Then I got the cans of milk and the maccaroni [sic] and all this time I was nearly overcome with the intensity of the heat. The flames were all along the side and bursting through and the roof was blazing also. It was like reaching into an oven to draw out the things. At first, as I pulled out the items Fred would carry them further back, but he left for the other side of the kitchen finally and as I was driven back he had succeeded in saving all my garden tools, hoes and rakes, three tubs, tool box, axe, and ceiling boards that were on the tool bench. Then we found it impossible to save anything more. Anna had come over and she and Brenda rushed with pails and pitchers to the bay while Fred ran back for his ladder. As I got water I threw it on the house. The overhanging roof was smoking and the side of Freddie’s room was also heating rapidly. Fred came with the ladder but it was so hot we could [line cut off on photocopy] Page 10 westerly side. Up this we went and I managed to cover the roof with water. Alternately Fred and I and Brenda and Anna brought water from the shore and on the roof and on the side I threw it as well as I could. But the heat grew worse and worse and I feared that we would not be able to save our house. The escape was a narrow one but we did weather the blow and I think that the water that Brenda and Anna brought—some sixteen pails— turned the scale. You have no idea how fearful the heat was. I took my army blanket down to the bay and soaked it. It was so heavy I could harly lift it, but I got it on my shoulder and along the path and up the ladder and stretched along the lower path of the roof. My right hand was par boiled on one side—not badly however—by the steam from it before I could fix it properly. Then the fire spread toward the house on the ground. It got in a pile of buttonwood. This I put out. Then it went for my piazza boards where Brenda dashed in and threw a bucket of water on the right spot. Finally we had the fire encircled and under control. Freddie, Phip, and the baby had been taken by Anna over to the other house, when the house was in danger and as the kitchen blaze became less and there was [next line largely cut off, but appears to be…] not more to do or to save Page 11 Fred and I sat down utterly exhausted to see the finale of the destruction. In less than an hour from the time Fred saw the fire, nothing was left of our pretty little kitchen but six black stumps and a mass of burning ashes. Our loss is indeed a heavy one. The stove and kitchen utensils, all our crockery, and every bit of stores is gone. Besides this our silver plated ice pitcher, coffee urn,—clock and a quantity of ornaments and trinkets—which I had placed in the kitchen as the safest place to put them. Besides the things I have mentioned above, we saved only such things as you know were in the house—our clothes bedding and furniture. Two of my dining chairs were burned. I suppose I have actually lost in the neighborhood of $800 worth of goods—including stores and buildings. It is a hard blow to Brenda and me and one that is seems difficult to overcome and yet we shall try to do so. How the fire occurred puzzled me at first. No fire had been built in the stove last evening. At 2 o’c yesterday the stove was cold and I was fixing up some little necessity to it. Fred was in the kitchen later. We had a cold supper and at 9 o’c I went over to the tool bench for a drink of water before going to bed. Nothing suspicious was visable [sic] then. We can only account for it [last line cut off] Page 12 Key’s kitchen took fire by a sulphur match being eaten by a rat and the fire resulting by its ignition. Besides no fire from any other means could keep alight from 2 o’c until 3 the next morning without our knowledge. So Fred and I have concluded that the kitchen must have taken fire in the same manner. Had it not been for “Neuse,” —I must give him this credit—we might all have been burned to death. I consider that we are fortunate in getting off so well as we have considering all the facts and what might have resulted. I have been thinking over many plans and will detail them to you when I send this letter—or rather diary. To-day we took breakfast at Anna’s, and also dinner and tea. It was the only thing we could do and yet it was a satisfactory action to all. This calamity has done what, perhaps, nothing else might have done—brought us, in sympathy, closer together—Freds “family” and mine—and made us lean upon each other more than we would have done had each had the means to follow seperate [sic] paths. Anna has apportioned certain work to Brenda which she will attend to and Fred and I will plant trees and work together and potatoes rice and other commodities. I will furnish green pine and he lightwood and in many other was [sic] we shall try to work the calamity to some [last line cut off on photocopy] Page 13 Fred and I were drenched in throwing the water on the house and both Brenda and Anna were in the same condition. They both worked like men and they have since wondered how they could have gone into the water up to their knees and brought the heavy pails full of water. Twice Brenda fell over a piece of buttonwood on the shore and had to go back and repeat her trip. They both showed real pluck and their pails of water coming at the right time—in addition to ours—turned the scale and saved the house. All the panes of glass in Freddies window were cracked. The weather boards are hanging with beads of pitch and some fell on my face and whiskers at one time taking off the skin. The window facings are about black and the whole side got a fearful scorching. My tomatoes, young trees by the kitchen and even my little nursery is almost ruined. A dozen trees remains out of some 200. Ten of Clarke’s oranges were burned and all my bananas. Fred has enough, however, to make all amends in their particulars. This afternoon I made another mounds and this evening set out with Fred’s help 3 grape fruit for him and three for me. Mine are east of the house. Extremely warm all day. (Among the other things I got from the storehouse 5 gallons of kerosene oil and the oil cans and funnel) Page 14 P.G.C. Sunday April 23, 1876 A bright sunny day with a westerly breeze during most of it. We take all our meals at Anna’s and talk over the disaster. Fred and Anna feel about as bad as we do. The children behave nicely at table. Freddie thinks “It is too bad Papa lost all his nice battening.” Of course both Brenda and I feel pretty “low down,” but still can see how it might have been worse. Before dinner I rowed over to De Costers. I detailed our troubles. He agreed with me about the cause of the fire; and before I gave my idea of it. While over went up to Lockharts and borrowed ½ a bushel of corn. I tried to get some molasses but every one was out. D.C. had just got back from Pine Level and he goes again next Friday. I may go with him to see about my land. Mrs. De Coster gave us some milk and Freddie and I sailed home with it. Sit on the front piazza most of the afternoon to get rid of the desolating sight. Water all my young oranges in the nursery and other trees needing it. May save half of the nursery—nothing more. Migale, the fisherman, appears with nine clams and some aguadiente: we get a bottle of the latter for medicinal purposes. All my medicines were destroyed. P.G.C. Monday April 24, 1876 Fred and I try to clear up the ruins. We get about 150 pounds of nails in fair condition. They can be used again. Bolts, hinges and other hardware we also collected. But nearly every thing was melted into solid junks. We passed the morning at this work nearly.