MARK TWAIN

Townful of cocoanut trees of the many-leaved low-
branching pattern, very pretty.

Girls singing in most houses.

Got up a dinner party in town—our own claret and
champagne good, and there was nothing else good about
the dinner except the fried eggs—and they didn't hold out.

This is really a big town, big enough to hold over 2000,
though many houses seem deserted. Business mostly
gin-mills—that is for soldiers.

Brandy here (good article) costs £15 a quart—$40 a
gallon.

Key West, yth. 21 passengers left the ship here, scared.
Some of them gave dinner and berth tickets to remain-
ing friends in the steerage. I am glad they are gone,
d?n them.

Jan. 7th. Capt. Bclim has just poked his head in at
the window to say how lucky we were not to be quaran-
tined at Key West (we are off—have just turned the pilot
boat adrift). Lucky! Damnation! If I have got Key West
sfeed up right they would receive War, Famine, Pestilence
and Death without a question—call them all by some
fancy name, and then rope in the survivors and sell them
good cigars and brandies at easy prices and horrible din-
ners at infamous rates. They wouldn't quarantine any-
body; they'd say "come," and say it gladly if you brought
destruction and hell in your wake. They rely upon the
salubrity of their climate and its famous healthfulness, for
immunity from disease.

More cheerfulness at table this morning than ever
before.

SO