Here one catches the cheerful
strain of the Maryland yellow throat, a bird whose nest Audubon
never chanced to discover. The Baltimore Oriole now and then
favored us with rich notes and displayed his plumage of black
and orange, the colors of the coat of arms of Lord Baltimore.
Making our way over such enchanted ground we finally arrived at
Hancock, a town of about a thousand inhabitants located in the
center of a fruit belt, including one of the most extensive
orchard developments in America. To the west may be seen the
famous "Tonoloway orchards," also R. S. Dillon's orchard on the
state road where the mountain side is covered with nearly a
hundred thousand apple trees. This delightful summer resort
overlooking three states, as well as the broad Potomac and the
Chesapeake and Ohio canal, is worthy of a visit. About eleven
miles from Hancock we crossed a long stone bridge over a stream
with the unpronounceable name of "Conococheaque creek." This
valley was inhabitated by other than the whites in days gone by.
Here, where the golden harvest waits to be garnered, the Indian
maize grew in abundance; their camps and villages were scattered
here and there when the country was a wilderness. The dogwood
pitched its white tent here in early spring and the royal color
of the redbud shone from the steep hillsides like purple
bonfires, the same hepaticas with their blue, pink and white
blossoms peeped from among the moss and leaves to gladden their
hearts.
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