e left hand. The thumb touches Chestertown and Centreville,
the fore finger Oxford, the middle finger Cambridge, the ring finger
Crisfield, the little finger Lewes; and this hand gathers into the
main road every year millions of baskets of peaches, and millions more
of oysters in baskets and sacks, and crates of berries, and car-loads
of hardwood and lumber. Under the influence of these roads the sleepy
peninsula is beginning a new career.

We cannot go down the peninsula, so let us keep on to Baltimore,
pausing, however, for a moment as we cross Mason and Dixon's line near
Elkton. Little did Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon dream, as they set
that tangent point for the determination of the boundary-lines of
the three States, how famous they would become. But there the simple
monument stands in the open fields, and there it must remain so long
as the three States need a boundary.

[Illustration: BRIDGE OVER THE SUSQUEHANNA AT HAVRE DE GRACE.]

Soon after leaving Mason and Dixon we strike the first of the great
estuaries of the Delaware and Susquehanna, which are the delight
of the sportsman, the naturalist and the tourist. No matter at what
season of the year you approach North-east, Principio, the Susquehanna
River or Stemmer's Run--no matter at what time of the day--the views
are always fine. The water spreads out in huge widening bays, and
loses itself in the forest or hides behind some projecting headland;
and when, as is often the case, the surface of the water is actually
darkened with large flocks of wild fowl, the variety as well as
beauty of the scene could not be heightened. Such shooting-ground
for sportsmen exists nowhere else on this coast easily accessible.
At Perryville, Havre de Grace, Bush River and many other places
the chance sportsman can find every accommodation, while clubs of
gentlemen have leased many of the best points, and established little
houses where they may be comfortable when the day's sport is over, and
where they can leave from season to season boats, decoys and all the
paraphernalia of the sport. To recount the names of canvas-backs, red
heads, bald pates and innumerable other ducks, to tell of the tens,
fifties, hundreds shot in a single day, would add nothing to the
excitement of any sportsman who has seen from the cars the huge flocks
of birds rise and sweep out to sea when scared by some passing train
or boat.

[Illustration: MOUNT ARARAT--PROFILE ROCK.]

If every passenger