An hour before noon, on Monday, January 24, I rowed out of the canal, and most heartily congratulated myself upon escaping the trammels of too much civilization.  A heavy fog covered the lake while I felt my way along the shore, passing the Pontchartrain railroad pier.  The shoal bottom was covered with stumps of trees, and the coast was low and swampy, with occasional short, sandy beaches.  My progress was slow on account of the fog; and at five P. M. I went into camp, having first hauled the boat on to the land by means of a small watch-tackle.  The low country was covered in places with coarse grass, and, as I ate my supper by the camp-fire, swarms of mosquitoes attacked me with such impetuosity and bloodthirstiness that I was glad to seek refuge in my boat.  This proved, however, only a temporary relief, for the tormentors soon entered at the ventilating space between the combing and hatch, and annoyed me so persistently that I was driven to believe there was something worse than New Orleans roughs.  During this night of torture I heard in the distance the sound of oars moving in the oar-locks, and paused for an instant in the battle with the phlebotomists, thinking the “Riddle” might be coming, but all sound seemed hushed, and I returned to my dreary warfare.

Not waiting to prepare breakfast the next morning, I left the prairie shore, and rowed rapidly towards Point aux Herbes.  At the lighthouse landing I found Saddles, with his boat drawn up on shore.  He had followed me at four and a half P. M., and the evening being clear, he had easily reached the light-house at eleven P. M. on the same night.  Mr. Belton, the light-keeper, kept bachelor’s hall in his quarters, and at once went to work with hearty good-will to prepare a breakfast for us, to which we did full justice.

At eleven A. M., though a fog shut out all objects from our sight, I set a boat compass before me on the floor of my craft, and saying good-bye to our host, we struck across the lake in a course which took us to a point below the “Rigolets,” a name given to the passages in the marshes through which a large portion of the water of Lake Pontchartrain flows into the Gulf of Mexico.  The marshes, or low prairies, which confine the waters of Lake Pontchartrain, are extensive.  The coarse grass grows to four or five feet in height, and in it coons, wildcats, minks, hogs, and even rabbits, find a home.  In the bayous wild-fowl abound.

The region is a favorite one with hunters and fishermen; but during the summer months alligators and moccasin-snakes are abundant, when it behooves one to be wary.  Upon some of the marshy islands of the Gulf, outside of Lake Pontchartrain, wild hogs are to be found.  In 1853 it became known that an immense wild boar lived upon the Chandeleur Islands.  He was frequently hunted, and though struck by the balls shot at him, escaped uninjured, his tough hide proving an impenetrable barrier to all assaults.  There is always, however, some vulnerable point to be found, and in 1874 some Spanish fisherman, taking an undue advantage of his boarship, shot him in the eye, and then clubbed him to death.