e if
it were truly paper." A young Methodist minister with his pretty wife
came also to satisfy their curiosity on the _paper_ question, but the
dominie offered me not a word of encouragement in my undertaking. He
shook his head and whispered to his wife: "A wild, wild enterprise
indeed." Markus Hook derived its name from Markee, an Indian chief,
who sold it to the civilized white man for four barrels of whiskey.

The next morning, in a dense fog, I followed the shores of the river,
crossing the Pennsylvania and Delaware boundary line half a mile below
the "Hook," and entered Delaware, the little state of three counties.
Thirty-five miles below, the water becomes salt. Reaching New Castle,
which contained half its present number of inhabitants before
Philadelphia was founded, I pulled across to the New Jersey side of
the river and skirted the marshy shore past the little Pea Patch
Island, upon which rises in sullen dreariness Fort Delaware. West of
the island is Delaware City, where the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal,
fourteen miles in length, has one of its termini, the other being on
a river which empties into Chesapeake Bay. Philadelphia and Baltimore
steamboat lines utilize this canal in the passage of their boats from
one city to the other.

After crossing Salem Cove, and passing its southern point, Elsinborough,
five miles and a half below Fort Delaware, the inhospitable marshes
became wide and desolate, warning me to secure a timely shelter for the
night. Nearly two miles below Point Elsinborough the high reeds were
divided by a little creek, into which I ran my canoe, for upon the muddy
bank could be seen a deserted, doorless fish-cabin, into which I moved
my blankets and provisions, after cutting with my pocket-knife an ample
supply of dry reeds for a bed. Drift-wood, which a friendly tide had
deposited around the shanty, furnished the material for my fire, which
lighted up the dismal hovel most cheerfully. And thus I kept house in a
comfortable manner till morning, being well satisfied with the progress
I had made that day in traversing the shores of three states. The
booming of the guns of wild-fowl shooters out upon the water roused
me before dawn, and I had ample time before the sun arose to prepare
breakfast from the remnant of canned ox-tail soup left over from last
night's supper.

I was now in Delaware Bay, which was assuming noble proportions. From
my camp I crossed to the west shore below Reedy Isla