noon
And so we rode on , across the low-lying plains of Kent , northward toward the borders of Cecil . For miles we would ride under the shadow of the dense forest , and then we would come to the wide-reaching fields of some great manor or plantation , the manor house itself generally crowning some gently rising knoll amid a grove of trees , with a view of the distant bay , or creek , or river , as the case might be ; the cluster of houses , the quarters for the slaves , the stables and the barns , making little villages and hamlets amid the wide expanse of farm lands and the distant circle of the dark green forests . Then , again , a creek or river would bar our course , and we would have to ride for miles until we turned its head , or found a ferry or a ford , and so overcome its opposition . So on we rode until , as the day waxed near the noon hour , we came to the little hamlet of Georgetown , nestling amid the hills on the banks of the Sassafras . Crossing the river at the ferry , we began the last stage of our journey . The trail now skirted the broad lands of Bohemia Manor , and crossed the beautiful river of that name , embedded between the hills and wide-stretching farm lands . As we approached the banks of the Elk the country grew more rolling and wilder -- in our front the Iron Hills rose up before us , crowned with forests , in sharp contrast to the low-lying country through which we had been passing .