this is the law here (and a pretty law it is!) Now my Father is worse off than ever he cannot go and can't
get enough to remains what we are to do God knows There is no such thing here as a pawn– brokers and
people never trust; so that if you have no money, you must starve. I could not get trust, nor borrow
3s yesterday for our breakfast. The people here have neither honour, nor honesty. A Mr. Jackson a
descendant of the great Sir Walter Raleigh (and who lives in a magnificent pen on the Port Royal Mts.)
I have ran after and watched him, days and hours when he comes to town, but I can get no money from him,
my Father made a beautiful drawing for a Mr.Gyles, who gave him only 2 dollars for it the Revd. Mr.Hill
served him the same etc. I have now only one wish to return if possible to England. My Father has been
to the Mayor but he could not, or would not do any thing for him Colonel Gutamer (head of the police)
has given some hopes, if my Father memorializes the house of Assembley, they may order him a passage
free; but what will be done about Mrs Dight? In my Father's words "all is misery".
1st August past and we are still here and with very little hopes of leaving it till next year all ships
bound to England must leave before 1st. August or they must pay double insurance; they have all of course
sailed and the river (or rather sea) is now quite clear, except a few Drogers. If Moses had ever seen
Jamaica he would have written that all condemned souls should be sent here, instead of purgatory. There
are no amusements here, no play grounds, no intercourse at public or private houses, or indeed anyone
national enjoyment. The Negroes have it all to themselves, they riot, they sing, they drink and are
dancing all night; I have not heard of a ball among the white people since I have been here.
The shopkeepers (for there are no merchants) all open their stores at 5 a.m. and continue then
till 5 p.m. when the streets are filled with carriages, gigs, horses etc. to carry them home,
where they remain till the next morning, and the streets are quite deserted, you may fire a
cannon ball from 5 till 5 and not hit a single person; our lives are as monotonous as theirs.
My Father rises at day light and works at his map untill I get coffee which is at 7 as there
is no bread baked before that time, he then continues till dinner time, taking a second breakfast
(as it's called here) about 12 m. which is a glass or two of rum and water with some biscuits;