by John Beauchamp Jones
MARCH 12TH.—It cleared away yesterday evening, and this morning, after the dispersion of a fog, the sun shone out in great glory, and the day was bright, calm, and pleasant. The trees begin to exhibit buds, and the grass is quite green.
My wife received a letter to-day from Mrs. Marling, Raleigh, N. C., containing some collard seed, which was immediately sown in a bed already prepared. And a friend sent us some fresh pork spare ribs and chine, and four heads of cabbage—so that we shall have subsistence for several days. My income, including Custis’s, is not less, now, than $600 per month, or $7200 per annum; but we are still poor, with flour at $300 per barrel; meal, $50 per bushel; and even fresh fish at $5 per pound. A market-woman asked $5 to-day for a half pint of snap beans, to plant!
