Of The Nature Of The Former Bird I Believe All The
World Knows Something.
It is a wild duck which obtains the
peculiarity of its flavor from the wild celery on which it feeds.
This celery grows on the Chesapeake Bay, and I believe on the
Chesapeake Bay only.
At any rate, Baltimore is the headquarters of
the canvas-backs, and it is on the Chesapeake Bay that they are
shot. I was kindly invited to go down on a shooting-party; but
when I learned that I should have to ensconce myself alone for
hours in a wet wooden box on the water's edge, waiting there for
the chance of a duck to come to me, I declined. The fact of my
never having as yet been successful in shooting a bird of any kind
conduced somewhat, perhaps, to my decision. I must acknowledge that
the canvas-back duck fully deserves all the reputation it has
acquired. As to the terrapin, I have not so much to say. The
terrapin is a small turtle, found on the shores of Maryland and
Virginia, out of which a very rich soup is made. It is cooked with
wines and spices, and is served in the shape of a hash, with heaps
of little bones mixed through it. It is held in great repute, and
the guest is expected as a matter of course to be helped twice.
The man who did not eat twice of terrapin would be held in small
repute, as the Londoner is held who at a city banquet does not
partake of both thick and thin turtle. I must, however, confess
that the terrapin for me had no surpassing charms.
Maryland was so called from Henrietta Maria, the wife of Charles
I., by which king, in 1632, the territory was conceded to the Roman
Catholic Lord Baltimore. It was chiefly peopled by Roman
Catholics, but I do not think that there is now any such specialty
attaching to the State. There are in it two or three old Roman
Catholic families, but the people have come down from the North,
and have no peculiar religious tendencies. Some of Lord
Baltimore's descendants remained in the State up to the time of the
Revolution. From Baltimore I went on to Washington.
END OF VOL. I.
End of North America, V. 1, by Anthony Trollope
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