But it was necessary to bring my stay in Charleston to a close, and it was somewhat difficult too. My friends had increased in number; they were in the habit of accompanying me in my shooting excursions; I was becoming very much attached to them; invitations poured in from various parts of the country; and I really believe that had I been willing, we might have remained there and in the neighborhood, if not all our lives, at least as long as would have caused a rare scarcity of the feathered tribes, in that portion of the Carolinas. But my mind was among the birds farther south,—the Floridas, Red River, the Arkansas, that almost unknown country, California, and the Pacific ocean. I felt myself drawn to the untried scenes of those countries, and it was necessary to tear myself away from the kindest friends. We embarked on the schooner Agnes; the wind was fair, and we hoisted all sails for the Floridas. Our passage was not short; the wind changed, and we put back into St. Simon's Island Bay. This was one of the few put backs in life of a fortunate kind for me. I made for the shore, met a gentleman on the beach, presented him my card, and was immediately invited to dinner. I visited his gardens, got into such agreeable conversation and quarters, that I was fain to think that I had landed on some one of those fairy islands said to have existed in the golden age. But this was not all; the owner of this hospitable mansion pressed me to stay a month with him, and subscribed to my Birds of America in the most gentlemanly manner. This was T. B. K., Esq.[9] But the wind shifted; I was sent for, and our voyage to St. Augustine resumed. St. Augustine, whatever it may have been, is far from being a flourishing place now. It lies at the bottom of a bay, extremely difficult of access, even for vessels of light draft, which seldom reach the "city" in less than a day. I cannot say much for the market, nor for the circumjacent country. Oranges and plenty of good fish seem to contribute the wealth of the place. Sands, poor pine forests, and impenetrable thickets of cactus and palmettos form the undergrowth. Birds are rare, and very shy; and with all our exertions, we have not collected one hundred skins in a fortnight that we have been here. I have received many kind attentions, and numerous invitations to visit plantations, on our way to the south, where I shall direct my steps in a few days. I have drawn seventeen species, among which one _mongrel vulture_, which I think will prove new. You will see it, I hope, very soon.