{Monday.}
The Next Day It Prov'd A Small Drisly Rain, Which Is Rare,
There Happening Not The Tenth Part Of Foggy-Falling Weather
Towards These Mountains, As Visits Those Parts.
Near the Sea-board,
the Indian kill'd 15 Turkeys this Day; there coming out of the Swamp,
(about Sun-rising) Flocks of these Fowl, containing several hundreds
in a Gang, who feed upon the Acrons, it being most Oak that grow
in these Woods.
There are but very few Pines in those Quarters.
Early the next Morning, we set forward for the Congeree-Indians,
parting with that delicious Prospect. By the Way, our Guide kill'd
more Turkeys, and two Polcats, which he eat, esteeming them before
fat Turkeys. Some of the Turkeys which we eat, whilst we stay'd there,
I believe, weigh'd no less than 40 Pounds.
The Land we pass'd over this Day, was most of it good, and the worst passable.
At Night we kill'd a Possum, being cloy'd with Turkeys, made a Dish of that,
which tasted much between young Pork and Veal; their Fat being as white
as any I ever saw.
Our Indian having this Day kill'd good Store of Provision with his Gun,
he always shot with a single Ball, missing but two Shoots in above forty;
they being curious Artists in managing a Gun, to make it carry either Ball,
or Shot, true. When they have bought a Piece, and find it to shoot
any Ways crooked, they take the Barrel out of the Stock, cutting a Notch
in a Tree, wherein they set it streight, sometimes shooting away
above 100 Loads of Ammunition, before they bring the Gun to shoot
according to their Mind.
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