It is now the last of February, and the sunny side of nature is beaming upon the oleanders that are bursting their pink petals, while the orange-trees are sending forth fresh leaves that envelop the germs of the far-famed Hesperidean fruit. The wild orange is in bloom, which freights the air with delicious odors, although the fruit is only used for making beverages and marmalade. The banana, which is cultivated as corn is farther North, has commenced putting up fresh shoots, whose leaves are to take the place of those rent in shreds by the rude winds that have spent their fury on this coast during the Northern winters. The air is now soft as a sleeping zephyr on a summer sea, while the earth is covered with a fresh carpet of green, mingled with white and blue violets, the tiny forget-me-not, the wild verbena, the purple and yellow crocus, and other flowers of less humble growth, and more varied hues than can be described, deck the landscape with beauty, gemming the wild woods with loveliness, and filling our hearts with delight. Sounds of melody echo from sunlit bowers, where birds of song flit on airy wings, and the gentle cries of fledglings arouse the maternal instincts to greater exertion. Every settler is busy gathering oranges, which will be ruined if left on the trees when they commence blooming, as the juice is required to perfect the future blooms. Young trees are being transplanted, palmettoes dug out, cows penned for milking, calves caught and marked--as no one can recover the value of a stolen animal not branded. Poets have called the rose "a child of summer." Those rhyme-writers never visited Manatee, where new-born roses open every day, and summer lingers all the year. This vicinity, like most other places, has its historic record of various _data_. It is here the pirates Ambroister and Arbuthnot were captured, and afterward hanged by order of General Jackson. These lands were once the hunting-grounds of Billy Bowlegs, who defeated General Taylor at Ocheechobe Lake, during the Seminole war. When Bowlegs was being taken through the Capitol-building in Washington, he gave only a stupid stare or grunt at all other objects except an oil-painting, where, among other figures, was General Z. Taylor, at which he grinned with a look of satisfaction, exclaiming, "Me whip!" The old chieftain was a great hunter. When expostulated with for hunting game on Sunday, he very promptly replied, "White man have good book to read, and he work on Sunday."