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suckle and I felt as if I had been suddenly transported to June. Then we drove under three huge live-oaks hung with Spanish moss before an old frame dwelling and I felt as if I were in the tropics.
The road, which was at first paved with shell, supposed to have been left by the Indians dwindled down to a trail, more or less "bright" as the natives say, that is, broken and white, being all sand and branching out among the pines which are mostly cut down one side of the trunk for turpentining.

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My father and others of the family got lost at first when they returned to go to Dinsmore, a mile & a half.
There was considerable joking about Jacksonville, which considers itself the only place on the map & the future city of Dinsmore which is only a place on the map. But there is said to be a flag station grocery & P.O.
My father was coming from there, as we crossed the track, with a large bag of prunes, being the only