I jumped at once into my wood-hunting habits. All hands of us were up before day-break, and soon at work, either in the way of shooting, taking views, or drawing birds; after sunset—scribbling in our journals.... In the early part of November the alligators had gone into their winter quarters; the migratory birds were passing swiftly on towards the south, although we had had no frost. The planters considered the country as still unhealthy, and resorted to the city at night. If I had been governed by the practice and advice of many, I should not have put a foot in the mud, either salted or fresh; but difficulties of this character must be disregarded by the American woodsman, while success, or the hope of it, is before him. It is impossible to do justice to the generous feelings of the Charlestonians, or to their extreme kindness towards me. Many of the gentlemen took the greatest interest in my pursuits; one, Dr. ——, presented me with an excellent New Foundland dog, and other valuable memorials of his regard. Another, Dr. ——, gave me a collection of shells, from the adjacent waters. The ladies presented me with a capital supply of snuff.[7] Desirous of going to Cole's Island, distant about 25 or 30 miles, to look after some marine birds, a boat, four hands and a pilot, were immediately offered to me, free of all expense, with the liberty to detain them as long as was agreeable to me. It is not possible for me to express properly the sense I feel of the kindness I received from that warm-hearted and intelligent people. And now, as you have good naturedly listened to what I have felt bound to say on the score of gratitude, I will tell you what I know you are impatient to come to—something about my proceedings at Cole's Island. It lies south from Charleston about 25 or 30 miles; there we arrived and encamped for the night: certain beef-steaks we brought with us we roasted upon sticks, and the adjacent shore provided us with excellent oysters: gaiety, good appetites, and our hearts all right, made the time pass pleasantly, and it was with some reluctance we spread our blankets, and arranged the fire preparatory to going to rest. Nothing is more valuable to a naturalist, and particularly to an ornithologist, than the first hours of the day; therefore, long ere the sun had glowed over the broad sea that lay before our camp, we had reached another island where birds resort to roost by thousands; but, notwithstanding these multitudes, not a new species did we procure. We, however, had the pleasure of observing two noble "birds of Washington,"[8] sailing majestically over the broad watery face.