es.

It was six miles from the mouth of Love Creek across the little sound to
Burton's marshy island at the entrance of Indian River Sound. Indian
River supplies its bay with much of its fresh water, and the small inlet
in the beach of the same name with the salt water of the ocean. Large
flocks of geese and ducks were seen upon the quiet waters of the sound.
Pursuing my southward course across Indian River Sound three miles, I
entered a small creek with a wide mouth, which flows north from the
cedar swamp, known as White's Creek, which I ascended until the stream
became so narrow that it seemed almost lost in the wilderness, when
suddenly an opening in the forest showed me a clearing with the little
buildings of a farm scattered around. It was the home of a Methodist
exhorter, Mr. Silas J. Betts. I told him how anxious I was to make a
quick portage to the nearest southern water, Little Assawaman Bay, not
much more than three miles distant by road.

After calmly examining my boat, he said: "It is now half-past eleven
o'clock. Wife has dinner about ready. I'll hurry her up a little, and
while she is putting it on the table we will get the cart ready." The
cart was soon loaded with pine needles as a bed for the canoe. We lashed
her into a firm position with cords, and went in to dinner.

In a short time after, we were rattling over a level, wooded country
diversified here and there by a little farm. The shallow bay, the east
side of which was separated from the ocean by sandy hills, was bounded
by marshes. We drove close to the water and put the Maria Theresa once
more into her true element. A friendly shake of the hand as I paid the
conscientious man his charge of one dollar for his services, with many
thanks for his hospitality, for which he would accept nothing--and the
canoe was off, threading the narrow and very shallow channel-way of this
grassy-bottomed bay.

The tall tower of Fenwick's Island Light, located on the boundary line
of Delaware and Maryland, was now my landmark. It rises out of the low
land that forms a barrier against which the sea breaks. The people on
the coast pronounce Fenwick "Phoenix." Phoenix Island, they say, was
once a part of the mainland, but a woman, wishing to keep her cattle
from straying, gave a man a shirt for digging a narrow ditch between
Little and Great Assawaman bays. The tide ebbed and flowed so strongly
through this new channel-way that it was worn to more than a hundred
fee