Nothing can be more beautiful, grand, and inspiring than the scenery of this region.
The great Potomac, a mighty and invincible monarch of rivers, even from her first stormy conquest, in which she rent apart the everlasting mountains, and forced herself a passage to the sea—widens and broadens her channel, extending the area of her empire continually as she goes on her irresistible way in a vast, calm, majestic flow of waters to the ocean.
At the mouth of the river on the north, or Maryland side, is Point Lookout; on the south, or Virginia side, is Smith’s Point, with an expanse of water twenty miles in width between them.
The shore on the Maryland side is broken by the most beautiful creeks and inlets, and dotted by the most beautiful islets that imagination can depict—creeks whose crystal-clear waters reflect every undulating hill and vale, every shadowy tree and bright flower lying upon their banks, and every soft and dark, or sun-gilded and glorious cloud floating in the skies above their bosoms; islets whose dewy, fresh and green luxuriance of vegetation, darksome trees and profound solitude, tempt one into poetic dreams of an ideal hermitage. The beauty and interest of this shore is enhanced by the occasional glimpses of rural homes—magnificent, or simply picturesque—seen indistinctly through the trees, at the head of some creek, on the summit of some distant hill, or in the shades of some thick grove.
Nothing can surpass the pleasure of the opposite but delightfully blended emotions inspired by this scene.
On the one hand the near shore, with its inlets and islands, its sunny hills and shadowy dells, its old forests, its cornfields, and its sweet, sequestered homes, yields that dear sense of safety and repose which the most adventurous never like to lose entirely.
On the other hand, looking out to the sea, the broad expanse of waters, the free and unobstructed pathway to all parts of the world, fills and dilates the heart with an exultant sense of boundless freedom!
I said that the islets of the Potomac were fertile, verdant, and luxurious in vegetation. This is because their sandy soil is mixed freely with clay and marl; because it is enriched with the deposits of the vast flocks of water-fowl that hover upon them for safe repose; and finally, because, unlike the worn-out lands of the peninsula, the soil is a virgin one, where for ages vegetation has budded, bloomed, and decayed, and returned to the earth to fertilize it. (And here let me be pardoned for saying that it is a matter of surprise to me that the attention of enterprising men has never been turned to these islands as a source of agricultural wealth; for, besides the rich fertility of the soil, the salubrity of the air, and the beauty and grandeur of the land and water scenery, these islands are rich in shoals of fish, crabs, and oysters, and in vast flocks of water-fowl. But we ever overlook and leave the near to seek the far-off goal.)
Beyond the mouth of the river, however, and up the coast of the bay, the islands are sandy and poor—nearly unproductive, or entirely barren.
Anyone who will turn to the map of Maryland will see that the Chesapeake Bay is interspersed with numerous islands of all sizes, from the largest—Kent Island—to the smallest, nameless sand bank; that the eastern and western shores of Maryland are beautifully diversified with every modification of land and water scenery; that the inlets and islands of the coast form the most charming features of the landscape.