ld have done credit to a first-class
acrobat. For the first time in my life I found it necessary to get
_out_ of bed in order to turn over _in_ it.

At midnight, mallards (_Anas boschas_) came close to the marsh. The soft
_whagh_ of the drake, which is not in this species blessed with the loud
quack of the female bird, sufficiently established the identity of the
duck. Then muskrats, and the oyster-eating coon, came round, no doubt
scenting my provisions. Brisk raps from my knuckles on the inside shell
of the canoe astonished these animals and aroused their curiosity, for
they annoyed me until daybreak.

When I emerged from my narrow bed, the frosty air struck my cheeks, and
the cold, wet marsh chilled my feet. It was the delay at Watchapreague
Inlet that had lodged me on this inhospitable marsh; so, trying to
exercise my poor stock of patience, I completed my toilet, shaking in my
wet shoes. The icy water, into which I stepped ankle-deep in order to
launch my canoe, reminded me that this wintry morning was in fact the
first day of December, and that stormy Hatteras, south of which was to
be found a milder climate, was still a long way off.

The brisk row along Paramore's Island (called Palmer's by the natives)
to the wide, bay-like entrance of Little Machipongo Inlet, restored
warmth to my benumbed limbs. This wide doorway of the ocean permitted me
to cross its west portal in peace, for the day was calm. From Little to
Great Machipongo Inlet the beach is called Hog Island. The inside
thoroughfare is bounded on the west by Rogue's Island, out of the flats
of which rose a solitary house. At the southern end of Hog Island there
is a small store on a creek, and near the beach a light-house, while a
little inland is located, within a forest of pines, a small settlement.

At noon, Great Machipongo Inlet was crossed without danger, and Cobb's
Island was skirted several miles to Sand Shoal Inlet, near which the
hotel of the three Cobb brothers rose cheerfully out of the dreary waste
of sands and marshes. The father of the present proprietors came to this
island more than thirty years ago, and took possession of this domain,
which had been thrown up by the action of the ocean's waves. He refused
an offer of one hundred thousand dollars for the island. The locality is
one of the best on this coast for wild-fowl shooting. Sand Shoal Inlet,
at the southern end of Cobb's Island, has a depth of twelve feet of
water on its bar at