HAVING given the reader a hasty outline of the Manatee region, I will add a brief resume of my personal experience at “Sunnyside” during the past eighteen months. On my arrival in Braidentown, in the fall of 1879, my land was a “howling wilderness.” At this time I have a young orange grove of six hundred trees, sixty lemon, fifteen lime, ten guava, half a dozen olive, two soft-shell almond, twenty coffee, four each Japan plum and persimmon, two pomegranate, two cocoa-nut and four Le Conte pear trees, all of which are growing luxuriantly. I also have one acre in bananas and sixty pine-apple plants, both of which will bear fruit next year. Around the fence inclosing my house lot, I have sixty California grape-vines of the choicest varieties, viz.: Flaming Tokay, White Muscat of Alexandria, Mission and Rose of Peru. The vines are looking well, and will bear fruit next year.

The land on which I am located is spruce-pine, interspersed with water-oak and scrub palmetto, which would be pronounced by the average Floridian worthless. I had at the commencement, and still have, abiding faith in the white sand of Florida with a mulatto sub-soil. No matter how white the surface, if underlaid by a mulatto or yellow sub-soil, the citrus family will thrive. The foliage of my young trees is dark green, and their vigorous growth astonishes the “crackers,” who predicted a failure. Owing to the mildness of the climate—my location being exempt from frost—my trees grew all last winter. My orange trees are set in parallel rows, thirty feet apart each way; the lemon and lime trees twenty-five feet apart; the bananas twelve feet, and the pineapples two feet apart. I hoe my grove every two months, and plow it four times a year. Thus, by keeping the soil constantly tickled with the hoe, my trees laugh with a bountiful foliage. What I have done, can be performed by others. There is no secret about the matter. We welcome immigrants from the frigid North, from the prairies of the West, and from the lands beyond the sea. To all we say, come and tarry with us.

Florida, the first State belonging to the Union, discovered and settled by Europeans, has, during the past 350 years, been hustled about from pillar to post like a shuttle-cock. The repeated Indian wars from 1816 to 1858, rendered life so insecure, that the early settlers literally carried their lives in their hands. Is it then a matter of surprise that Florida is so sparsely populated? Mr. J. S. Adams, former Commissioner of Immigration, truthfully remarks: “The wonder truly is, not that she has not attained a more flourishing condition, but that she exists at all, and that her boundless forests, her lovely rivers and her beautiful lakes are not fast locked in the silent embrace of a moveless desolation.” Since slavery, which rested like an incubus of original sin on the soil of Florida, has been removed, immigration has been pouring in from the North and the West, and from the isles of the ocean. Germany, Italy, France and England have each furnished their quota, and the forests along the line of the railroads, as well as those accessible by steamboats, are beginning to show the effects of an advanced civilization. The gigantic undertaking of draining Lake Okeechobee and the Everglades, together with the construction of a ship canal, connecting the Atlantic Ocean with the Gulf of Mexico, by Mr. Hamilton Disston, of Philadelphia, and his coadjutors, is proof positive that a new era is beginning to dawn on the Land of Flowers, and, ere many years, the southern portion of the State will be one vast orange grove, interspersed with the guava, lemon, lime, pine-apple and banana. I hear the skeptic say: “You will overstock the market, and your fruit will not pay the cost of transportation.” The orange par excellence can be grown only in the soil of Florida, therefore competition with foreign countries need not be feared. Florida will soon be able to supply the cities of the Mediterranean with a superior fruit to that grown on their own shores, and more cheaply. Increased production and transportation will cause a corresponding reduction in freight, and also insure greater and better facilities in the modes of transportation. There will also be a large reduction in price to the consumer, which will enable the man of limited means—in other words, the poor man—to indulge with the millionaire in the daily luxury of the golden apple of the Hesperides—the Florida orange. The above may be deemed by some persons chimerical, but time, the great arbiter of events, will solve the problem.

By every mail I am in receipt of letters asking all manner of questions in relation to the climate, soil, productions, etc., of this part of Florida. At first I cheerfully complied with the requests of my numerous correspondents, but the novelty has worn off, and the task has become slightly monotonous. Recently, I received a four-page capsheet letter from a gentleman in Utah Territory, to which was appended seventeen interrogatories in relation to the Gulf Coast of South Florida. That straw broke the camel’s back, and, in reply to the following question: “I see by the last census that Manatee County has a population of over 4,000, and not a death recorded for 1880. Do people ever die there?” I wrote immediately, “Hardly ever. When we want to start a graveyard, we kill a man.” I am firmly impressed with the belief that my Mormon correspondent, with a “family of ten persons,” will not immigrate to the Land of Flowers. Below will be found twenty-five questions in relation to Florida, from correspondents the “wide world over,” with answers appended:

1st. “At any time of the year do you have severe storms of thunder and lightning?”

During the rainy season, thunder showers, accompanied by lightning, frequently occur, but they are not more severe than in the Northern and Western States.

2d. “Are venomous reptiles numerous?”

During my residence and travels in Florida, I have never seen a rattlesnake; I have seen a few moccasin, garter, coachwhip and blacksnakes. The two latter are harmless, and are seldom killed by the natives. Alligators are not numerous in this vicinity, and are comparatively harmless. Scorpions and centipedes are seldom met with. Their sting is no more severe than that of a bee.

3d. “Is the land about Braidentown sandy or clayey?”

The land on the margin of the bay is sandy; further back in the hammock, the soil is dark gray and chocolate color, underlaid with clay and limestone.

4th. “Are the people mostly Northern?”

Like an Englishman’s favorite beverage, they are ’alf-and-’alf.

5th. “What is the name of your nearest town of any importance?”

Have no towns of “importance” in this section of the country; they are in the womb of time—not hatched yet.

6th. “What is the character of your society?”

Mixed.

7th. “Do you consider Florida as healthy as California?”

I consider this Manatee region the sanitarium of the world. A more healthful spot cannot be found on God’s footstool.

8th. “Do malarial fevers prevail in your section any time during the year?”

In the rich, low hammock lands, where vegetation is rank, malarial fevers exist in the fall of the year. Chills and fever here yield more readily to proper medical treatment than in the West. Pine land is exempt from malaria.

9th. “Does the summer heat prove enervating?”

That depends on a man’s constitution. If born tired, yes.

10th. “Is it true that the summer weather with you is more pleasant—less oppressive—than at the North?”

Yes; the thermometer rarely registers more than 96°. It reached that point only twice last summer.

11th. “Are the nights in summer always cool?”

Generally; sometimes cooler than in the winter.

12th. “Can you work out of doors during the day in summer time?”

Yes, when it does not rain. I have not seen a day too hot to work out of doors since my arrival in Florida.

13th. “Do the crops of vegetables and grass burn under the summer sun?”

We don’t raise vegetables in the summer. Our vegetables are grown in the winter and spring, when the land at the North is locked fast in the embrace of frost and ice. The grass here is very nutritious, and large herds of cattle fatten on it. This section of country supplies Cuba with beef.

14th. “Are insects—fleas and mosquitoes—more troublesome than at the North?”

Fleas sometimes make it lively with us; but there are fewer mosquitoes in this locality than in a majority of the Northern States.

15th. “Do you consider Manatee County one of the best to settle in?”

It suits me better than any other part of Florida. You might go further and fare worse.

16th. “Do you think the Gulf Coast equal to the Atlantic Coast for climate, health, etc.?”

Yes; far superior.

17th. “What is the price of land in your section?”

That depends upon quality and location. Here, in the settlement of Braidentown, land is selling at from $25 to $100 per acre. A short distance back of the town, pine land can be purchased at from $1.50 to $5 per acre; and hammock land at $10 per acre. Across the bay, nearly opposite Manatee, on the Patten plantation, good hammock land, once under cultivation, can be purchased at from $15 to $25 per acre, according to location. This land is being rapidly metamorphosed into vegetable gardens, whose products—tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, peas, etc.—reach the Northern markets during the month of March.

18th. “What are the business prospects for a new-comer?”

That will depend a great deal on the “new-comer.” Come, investigate and judge for yourself.

19. “Can sugar-cane be grown to advantage in your neighborhood? and what amount of sugar can be made to the acre?”

The Manatee region is the natural home of the sugar-cane. Here it tassels, and consequently fully matures. Florida is the only State of the Union in which the cane tassels. When the Cofield and Davis, now Patten plantation, was in full operation, the average product was two hogsheads of sugar to the acre. The cane here ratoons from six to eight years.

20th. “What is the cost of clearing land?”

That depends on the quality of the land. The average pine land can be cleared and grubbed at from $10 to $20 per acre. Hammock land will cost double that price.

21st. “Can lumber be had on the Manatee, and if so, at what price?”

Heart-pine lumber, suitable for fencing or building purposes, can be had here at $15 per M. Light wood posts can be purchased at $10 per hundred.

22d. “What is the price of labor in your vicinity?”

Colored laborers can be hired at from $15 to $20 per month, with board or rations. The price is $1 per day when the laborer boards himself.

23d. “Are fish, oysters and game plentiful?”

Our rivers and bayous are literally alive with mullet—the mackerel of the South. Sea-trout (black bass), jack-fish, sheepshead, red-fish, angel-fish, drum and pompino can also be had in abundance in the water around Palm Key, at the mouth of the bay. Oysters and clams of a superior quality can be had in Terraceia and Sarasoto Bays. Deer, squirrels, quail and wild turkeys abound in the adjoining hammocks.

24th. “Can you refer me to any person in your vicinity whose health has been benefited by the climate?”

Yes; several. Rev. Edmund Lee, of Manatee, arrived here forty-five years ago, a confirmed invalid; in fact, nearly gone with pulmonary consumption. On his first arrival he was so weak that it required considerable effort to pull a mullet off a grid-iron. The healthfulness of the climate, together with out-door exercise and a clear conscience, have enabled him to fight the flesh and the devil successfully to the present time. He is at this time a well-preserved patriarch of seventy-two years; has outlived two wives, and bids fair to remain many years longer on this side of Jordan.

Mr. John M. Helm, residing some three miles south-east of Braidentown, arrived from Windsor, Ind., about four years since. He also was nearly gone with consumption. One lung was hepatized, and on the other a tubercle formed, and discharged after his arrival here. Physicians at the West pronounced his case hopeless—beyond the reach of medicine—and recommended the climate of Florida as a last resort. He is now a well man, and can hoe more orange trees in a day, and hoe them better, than any man I know in Florida.

Two years ago I arrived here, clad in porous-plasters, suffering with chronic rheumatism. Two months later I was as frisky as a lamb in spring time. I am convinced that my old complaint has left me never to return, so long as I remain here. I could record other cases, but the above must suffice for the present.

25th. “State the most direct route to Braidentown.”

By rail to Cedar Key, the terminus of railroad communication, thence by the boats of the Tampa Steamship Company to this place. A boat leaves Cedar Key on Monday and Friday afternoon of each week, and arrives at Braidentown early on the following morning. Fare, $8. The above is the advertised programme, but it is sometimes changed to suit wind and weather. Captains Jackson and Doane are thorough seamen, and do everything in their power to render passengers comfortable. Whatever may be the opinion of travelers in regard to the speed and accommodations of the boats, they will unanimously agree that the fare—$8 for a distance of less than 100 miles—is first-class. A line of light draught, modern-built and comfortably fitted-up steamboats, between Cedar Key and Braidentown, would be liberally patronized. Shall we have the boats? Echo repeats the question.