A VOYAGE TO BOLIVAR POINT. 267 



experience at quail in Texas, a day not readily for- 

 gotten, though it is nearly twenty years since. 



I was staying at Gralveston Island, and had picked up 

 an odd quail or two, and a good many snipe, coots, 

 ducks, geese, &c, when one day the landlord of my 

 hotel informed me, that a countryman of mine from the 

 mainland had arrived with a boatful of sweet potatoes, 

 corn, and other farm produce, and he stated that if I 

 wished to visit the mainland, now was my opportunity. 



I soon met my countryman, and arranged with him 

 to carry me across the bay and give me a fortnight's 

 shelter at his house. 



Terms were soon arranged; and that afternoon late, I 

 took my seat in the stern of his little sloop, accom- 

 panied by my pointer, my double- gun — in a waterproof 

 case, thoroughly cleaned for the morrow's work — resting 

 across my knees. We had a head wdnd ; and though 

 the distance to Bolivar Point was only four miles, it 

 took us till nearly dark to beat that trifling distance. 

 After making our little port we had a walk of a mile 

 and a-half across the prairie to the house. 



A tribe of boys and hobbledehoys met us at the 

 landing — the sons of mine host — to carry up the neces- 

 saries purchased in the city of Gralveston, as well as the 

 sail and other loose * fixings ' of the little sloop. Old 



Solomon P , my host, led the way, and shouldering 



my gun, with my pointer at my heels, I followed him, 

 while the others came behind as fast as they loaded 



