Title: A Book of the United States
Editor: Grenville Mellen
Release date: December 9, 2018 [eBook #58447]
Language: English
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the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
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Transcriber’s Notes
The cover image was provided by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
In Part II. the chapter sequence skips number XV. in both the Contents and body with no actual omission of text.
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This book was written in a period when many words had not become standardized in their spelling. Words may have multiple spelling variations or inconsistent hyphenation in the text. These have been left unchanged unless indicated with a Transcriber’s Note.
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Footnotes are identified in the text with a superscript number and have been accumulated in a table at the end of the text.
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Hall of Representatives ... Washington.
Bridge and Rapids near Falls of Niagara.
A
BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES.
EXHIBITING ITS
GEOGRAPHY, DIVISIONS, CONSTITUTION, AND GOVERNMENT;
INSTITUTIONS, AGRICULTURE, COMMERCE, MANUFACTURES, RELIGION, EDUCATION, POPULATION, NATURAL CURIOSITIES, RAILROADS, CANALS, PUBLIC BUILDINGS, |
MANNERS AND FINE ARTS, ANTIQUITIES, LITERATURE, MINERALOGY, BOTANY, GEOLOGY, NATURAL HISTORY, PRODUCTIONS, &c. &c. &c. |
AND PRESENTING
A VIEW OF THE REPUBLIC GENERALLY,
AND OF THE
INDIVIDUAL STATES;
View on the Mississippi.
TOGETHER WITH A CONDENSED
HISTORY OF THE LAND,
FROM ITS FIRST DISCOVERY TO THE PRESENT TIME.
THE BIOGRAPHY
OF ABOUT TWO HUNDRED OF THE LEADING MEN:
A DESCRIPTION OF THE
PRINCIPAL CITIES AND TOWNS;
WITH
STATISTICAL TABLES,
RELATING TO THE RELIGION, COMMERCE, MANUFACTURES, AND VARIOUS OTHER TOPICS.
EDITED BY
GRENVILLE MELLEN
WITH ENGRAVINGS OF CURIOSITIES, SCENERY, ANIMALS, CITIES, TOWNS, PUBLIC BUILDINGS, &c.
HARTFORD:
PUBLISHED BY A. C. GOODMAN & CO.
1852.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by
GRENVILLE MELLEN,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.
IN presenting this volume to the American public, the introductory remarks in which we shall indulge will be few and general, as the book is one of that kind that speaks with singular plainness for itself, and seems to us to require little upon the prefatory page in the way of explanation, either with reference to its character considered collectively, or in detail.
The chief object in preparing this work has been to furnish something which should be found to embrace those subjects which are of abiding interest and importance to all classes. It has been a wish to present such matters, as well as could be done in the compass allowed, as are of interest to all classes of readers, and an acquaintance with which is desirable for our own citizens especially.
Directed by these intentions, it is hoped that the efforts to bring a valuable and attractive volume before the public may have proved successful; and that, viewed with reference to the subjects of which it treats, this may be called, emphatically, a book for this country, exhibiting, at one view, a picture of the Republic in its physical, political, and social conditions, so drawn and colored as to present in pleasant relief its most striking and peculiar features.
Simplicity was a leading object in the preparation of the work. By such object it was natural to be guided, when it was remembered that the pages were designed for the general eye and for all classes. This quality was allowed to govern, in a great degree, both in the thought and style; and if, in any case, it may have been carried to a point beyond the fortunate one, it will be believed, we presume, that the fault, if it be such, is upon the better side.
In some instances interesting historical accounts are retained and enlarged upon, from a consideration of the universally popular character which such accounts generally possess. It is not known, however, that they are referred to or dwelt upon in such a manner as to induce the charge of credulity beyond that very pardonable degree which all well disposed and good natured, and we may add, well informed, writers and readers are ever ready to meet.
Frequent references are made to able and prominent writers, in connection with the several important subjects which are here introduced; and such extracts are given, as, it is thought, will best illustrate and enforce them. This course, with most readers, is an acceptable one, and in a work of this nature it is the best that can be pursued, frequently, to accomplish, within reasonable limits, the design of the undertaking.
To enlarge would seem to be useless. The volume must speak for itself, and bear its recommendation within. It is hoped, with the several sketches of the Republic which it intends to present, under its different aspects, it may prove an agreeable and instructive one to the community.
We had intended to have annexed a list of the writers consulted and extracted from in the course of the volume; but we believe the references in the pages will supersede the necessity of a more particular notice. It would be unjust, however, not to mention our especial obligation to the excellent View of the United States by Mr. Hinton, of which we have made the freest use throughout the volume.
New York, June, 1839.
PART I.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
CHAP. I. Mountains
CHAP. II. Valleys
CHAP. III. Prairies and Plains
CHAP. IV. Rivers
CHAP. V. Cataracts and Cascades
CHAP. VI. Lakes
CHAP. VII. Springs
CHAP. VIII. Caverns
CHAP. IX. Islands
CHAP. X. Capes and Peninsulas
CHAP. XI. Bays, Harbors, Sounds, and Gulfs
CHAP. XII. Oceans
CHAP. XIII. Soil
CHAP. XIV. Climate
CHAP. XV. Minerals
CHAP. XVI. Animals
CHAP. XVII. Botany
CHAP. XVIII. Geology
CHAP. XIX. Natural Curiosities
PART II.
POLITICAL GEOGRAPHY.
CHAP. I. Political and Geographical Division
CHAP. II. Cities and Towns
CHAP. III. Agriculture
CHAP. IV. Manufactures
CHAP. V. Commerce
CHAP. VI. Rail-roads
CHAP. VII. Canals
CHAP. VIII. Government
CHAP. IX. Convention
CHAP. X. Indian Tribes
CHAP. XI. American Antiquities
CHAP. XII. Religion
CHAP. XIII. Manners and Amusements
CHAP. XIV. Penitentiary System
CHAP. XVI. Literature and Education
CHAP. XVII. Fine Arts
CHAP. XVIII. Banking System
CHAP. XIX. Biographical Sketches
CHAP. XX. History
BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES.
PART I.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.
THOUGH embracing in its extent several elevated ranges of great length and breadth, the territory of the United States cannot be considered as a mountainous country. The land along the whole line of the seacoast is level for a considerable distance into the interior. The breadth of this level tract expands from fifty miles in the north-east extremity, gradually, as we advance to the south-west, till in the state of Georgia, it has attained an extent of near two hundred miles. Beyond this the land gradually rises into mountains, which are much more remarkable for their length and breadth, than their height. They sometimes consist of numerous parallel ridges rising successively behind each other; at other times they run into knots; and sometimes they recede from their parallel direction into what are called spurs. These ranges or belts of mountainous country, though receiving a vast number of different appellations, are most usually known by the name of the Alleghanies. The long continuity of this chain has obtained it the name of the Endless Mountains, from the northern savages. The French and Spaniards, who first became acquainted with it in Florida, applied to it through its whole extent the name of Apalachian, which is still retained by a considerable river of that country.
The general course of the Alleghanies is about north-east and south-west; east of the Hudson they are scattered in irregular groups, without any very marked direction.
The range of the Rocky or Chippewan Mountains divides the waters which flow east into the Missouri and Mississippi, from those which flow west into the Pacific Ocean, and are a continuation of the Cordilleras of Mexico. Their longitude is about one hundred and twelve west, and they terminate in about seventy north latitude. Along the coast of the Pacific is another range which seems to form a step to the Rocky Mountains. It extends from the Cape of California along the coast to Cook’s Inlet, generally rising to no great height in the southern portion. In the northern part, La Perouse states that it is ten thousand feet high, and at its northern extremity is Mount Elias, eighteen thousand feet high, and the loftiest peak of North America.
The White Mountains in New England, largely considered, are the principal ranges running north-east and south-west, projecting from the main ridge that forms the boundary of the United States, and separates the waters of the St. Lawrence from those that run south through the Northern States. The highest ridge is that called the White Mountain Ridge in New Hampshire, running from south to north, the loftiest summits of which are Monadnock, a hill of an abrupt and striking character, Sunapee, Kearsarge, Carr’s Mountain, and Moosehillock. Towards the north of the state, these eminences rise to a much higher elevation, and are known specifically by the name of the White Mountains.
White Mountains.
White Mountains.
These are the loftiest mountains in the United States, east of the Mississippi. They lie between the Connecticut and Androscoggin rivers on the north-east and west, and the head-waters of the Merrimack on the south sixty or seventy miles from the coast; yet their white summits are visible from many miles at sea. They extend about twenty miles from south-west to north-east, and their base is eight or ten miles broad.
Mount Washington is the highest of all the White Mountains, being six thousand two hundred and thirty-four feet above the level of the sea. Next to Mount Washington in height is Mount Adams, then Jefferson, then Madison, all more than five thousand feet high; there are several besides these, though none so elevated. The country around and among the mountains is very wild and rough, and the mountains themselves are difficult of access. The east side of Mount Washington rises at an angle of forty-five degrees. The lower part of the mountain is covered with thick woods of spruce and fir trees, with deep beds of moss beneath. Heavy clouds of vapor often rest upon the mountain, and fill the moss with water, which cannot be exhaled or dried up by the sun on account of the woods, and therefore it breaks out in numerous springs which feed the streams from the mountain. The trees are short and stunted higher up the mountain; soon there are only bushes; then instead of bushes are vines; the last thing that grows is winter grass mixed with moss; the summit is entirely bare of vegetation. There is a plain from which the last height of Mount Washington rises to the height of fifteen hundred feet. This elevation or pinnacle is composed of huge grey rocks. Reaching the top much fatigued and out of breath, the traveller is instantly master of a boundless prospect, noble enough to pay him for his labor. The Atlantic dimly seen through a distance of sixty-five miles, the Vermont Mountains on the west, the southern and northern mountains of New Hampshire, Lake Winnipiseogee, ponds, streams, and towns, without number, all form a great impressive picture.
The road from the seacoast to the mountains passes along the head stream of the Saco, which rises among these mountains, and breaks through them at a place known by the name of the Notch, a narrow defile extending two miles in length between two large cliffs, apparently rent asunder by some vast convulsion of nature.
‘The sublime and awful grandeur of this passage baffles all description. Geometry may settle the heights of the mountains; and numerical figures may record the measure; but no words can tell the emotions of the soul, as it looks upward, and views the almost perpendicular precipices which line the narrow space between them; while the senses ache with terror and astonishment, as one sees himself hedged in from all the world besides. He may cast his eye forward or backward, or to either side; he can see only upward, and there the diminutive circle of his vision is cribbed and confined by the battlements of nature’s ‘cloud-capped towers,’ which seem as if they wanted only the breathing of a zephyr, or the wafting of a straw against them, to displace them, and crush the prisoner in their fall. Just before our visit to this place, on the 26th of June, 1826, there was a tremendous avalanche, or slide, as it is there called, from the mountain which makes the southern wall of the passage. An immense mass of earth and rock, on the side of the mountain, was loosened from its resting place, and began to slide towards the bottom. In its course, it divided into three portions, each coming down, with amazing velocity, into the road, and sweeping before it shrubs, trees, and rocks, and filling up the road, beyond all possibility of its being removed. With great labor, a pathway has been made over these fallen masses, which admits the passage of a carriage. The place from which the slide, or slip, was loosened, is directly in the rear of a small, but comfortable dwelling-house, owned and occupied by a Mr. Willey, who has taken advantage of a narrow, a very narrow interval,—where the bases of the two mountains seem to have parted and receded, as if afraid of coming into contact,—to erect his lone habitation: and, were there not a special Providence in the fall of a sparrow, and had not the finger of that Providence traced the direction of the sliding mass, neither he, nor any soul of his family, would ever have told the tale. They heard the noise, when it first began to move, and ran to the door. In terror and amazement, they beheld the mountain in motion. But what can human power effect in such an emergency? Before they could think of retreating, or ascertain which way to escape, the danger was passed. One portion of the avalanche crossed the road about ten rods only from their habitation; the second, a few rods beyond that; and the third, and much the largest portion, took a much more oblique direction. The whole area, now covered by the slide, is nearly an acre; and the distance of its present bed from its former place on the side of the mountain, and which it moved over in a few minutes, is from three quarters of a mile to a mile. There are many trees of large size that came down with such force as to shiver them in pieces; and innumerable rocks, of many tons’ weight, any one of which was sufficient to carry with it destruction to any of the labors of man. The spot on the mountain, from which the slip was loosened, is now a naked, white rock; and its pathway downward is indicated by deep channels, or furrows grooved in the side of the mountain, and down one of which pours a stream of water, sufficient to carry a common saw-mill.
‘From this place to the Notch, there is almost a continual ascent, generally gradual, but sometimes steep and sudden. The narrow pathway proceeds along the stream, sometimes crossing it, and shifting from the side of one mountain to the other, as either furnishes a less precarious foothold for the traveller than its fellow. Occasionally it winds up the side of the steep to such a height, as to leave, on one hand or the other, a gulf of unseen depth; for the foliage of the trees and shrubs is impervious to the sight. The Notch itself is formed by a sudden projection of rock from the mountain on the right or northerly side, rising perpendicularly to a great height,—probably seventy or eighty feet,—and by a large mass of rock on the left side, which has tumbled from its ancient location, and taken a position within twenty feet of its opposite neighbor. The length of the Notch is not more than three or four rods. The moment it is passed, the mountains seem to have vanished. A level meadow, overgrown with long grass and wild flowers, and spotted with tufts of shrubbery, spreads itself before the astonished eye, on the left, and a swamp or thicket, on the right, conceals the ridge of mountains which extend to the north: the road separates this thicket from the meadow. Not far from the Notch, on the right hand side of the road, several springs issue from the rocks that compose the base of the mountain, unite in the thicket, and form the Saco river. This little stream runs across the road into the meadow, where it almost loses itself in its meandering among the bogs, but again collects its waters and passes under the rock that makes the southerly wall of the Notch. It is here invisible for several rods, and its presence is indicated only by its noise, as it rolls through its rugged tunnel. In wet seasons and freshets, probably a portion of the water passes over the fragments of rock, which are here wedged together, and form an arch or covering for the natural bed of the stream.
‘The sensations which affect the corporeal faculties, as one views these stupendous creations of Omnipotence, are absolutely afflicting and painful. If you look at the summits of the mountains, when a cloud passes towards them, it is impossible for the eye to distinguish, at such a height, which is in motion, the mountain, or the cloud; and this deception of vision produces a dizziness, which few spectators have nerve enough to endure for many minutes. If the eye be fixed on the crags and masses of rock, that project from the sides of the mountains, the flesh involuntarily quivers, and the limbs seem to be impelled to retreat from a scene that threatens impendent destruction. If the thoughts which crowd upon the intellectual faculties are less painful than these sensations of flesh and blood, they are too sublime and overwhelming to be described. The frequent alterations and great changes, that have manifestly taken place in these majestic masses, since they were first piled together by the hand of the Creator, are calculated to awaken “thoughts beyond the reaches of the soul.” If the “everlasting hills” thus break in pieces, and shake the shaggy covering from their sides, who will deny that
“This earthly globe, the creature of a day,
Though built by God’s right hand, shall pass away?—
The sun himself, by gathering clouds oppressed,
Shall, in his silent, dark pavilion rest;
His golden urn shall break, and, useless, lie
Among the common ruins of the sky;
The stars rush headlong, in the wild commotion,
And bathe their glittering foreheads in the ocean?”
‘Reflection needs not the authority of inspiration to warrant a belief, that this anticipation is something more than poetical. History and philosophy teach its truth, or, at least, its probability. The melancholy imaginings which it excites are relieved by the conviction that the whole of God’s creation is nothing less
“Than a capacious reservoir of means,
Formed for his use, and ready at his will;”
and that, if this globe should be resolved into chaos, it will undergo a new organization, and be re-moulded into scenes of beauty, and abodes of happiness. Such may be the order of nature, to be unfolded in a perpetual series of material production and decay—of creation and dissolution—a magnificent procession of worlds and systems, in the march of eternity.’1
A few weeks after the slide mentioned in the above description, a disaster occurred which occasioned the destruction of the interesting family to which allusion is there made.
The afternoon had been rainy, and the weather continued so till eleven o’clock in the evening, when it cleared away. About the same hour, a great noise was heard, at the distance of several miles like the rushing down of rocks and much water from the mountains. The next morning, the people, at Conway, could perceive that some disaster, of no ordinary character, had happened, by the appearance of the mountains on each side of the road. On repairing to the spot, they found the house of Mr. Willey, standing near the Notch, unhurt, but destitute of any of the family. It is supposed that they left it in their fright, and were instantly swept away, and buried under the rocks and earth which were borne down by the freshet. This family consisted of Mr. Willey, his wife, five children, and two hired men, all of whom were suddenly swept from time to eternity, by this lamentable disaster. Had they remained in the house, they would probably have been safe.
The central and western parts of Maine are mountainous. The highest mountains are the Katahdin, situated near the centre of the state, the Speckled, Bald, Bigelow, and Ebeeme mountains. The range between the rivers Hudson and Connecticut, and this last and lake Champlain, is called the Green Mountains, an appellation which it has received from its perpetual verdure, being covered on its western side with hemlock, pine, spruce, and other evergreens. These mountains are from ten to fifteen miles wide, much intersected with valleys, and abounding in springs and streams. Vegetation decreases on approaching their summits; the trees diminish in size, and frequently terminate in a shrubbery of spruce and hemlock, two or three feet high, with branches so interwoven as to prevent all passage through them. The sides of the mountains are generally rugged and irregular; some of them have large apertures and caves. Their tops are coated with a compact and firm moss, which lies in extensive beds, and is sometimes of a consistency to bear the weight of a man without being broken through. These mosses absorb a great deal of moisture, and afford wet and marshy places, which in the warm season are the constant resort of water fowl. The loftiest summits are Killington Peak, near Rutland; Camel’s Rump, between Montpelier and Burlington, and Mansfield Mountain, a few miles farther north, all which are more than three thousand five hundred feet above the level of the sea. Ascutney, a single mountain near Windsor, is three thousand three hundred and twenty feet in height.
The range called Green Mountains in Vermont, enters the west part of Massachusetts from the north, and forms the Hoosac and Tagkannuc Ridges, which run nearly parallel to each other south, into Connecticut. The most elevated peaks of the Tagkannuc Ridge are Saddle Mountain in the north, four thousand feet high, and Tagkannuc Mountain in the south, three thousand feet. No summits of the Hoosac Ridge much exceed half these elevations. Mount Holyoke, in the neighborhood of Northampton, commands a prospect of the highest beauty; the waters of the Connecticut wind about its base, giving fertility and wealth of vegetation to the surrounding country. On its top a shanty is erected, in which refreshments are kept for the visitors who at favorable seasons make this excursion in great numbers.
There are two distinct chains belonging to the Alleghany range in the state of New York, the Catskill and the Wallkill. The Catskill, which is the most northern, is the continuation of the proper Alleghany or western chain; the eastern is called, by some geographers, Wallkill.
A visit to the Catskill is a favorite excursion of northern travellers, and several days may be spent very agreeably in examining the grand and romantic scenery of the neighborhood. Pine Orchard is a small plain, two thousand two hundred and fourteen feet above the Hudson, scattered with forest trees, and furnished with an elegant house of great size. Immediately below is seen a wild and mountainous region, finely contrasting with the cultivated country beyond, which presents every variety of hill and valley, interspersed with town, hamlet, and cottage.
The hills of Weehawken are on the west side of the Hudson, nearly opposite the city of New York.
Weehawken.
The Highlands of the Hudson, or Fishkill Mountains, which first appear about forty miles from New York, are marked for their sublimity and grandeur, and interesting from their connection with many great events of the revolution. This chain is sixteen miles in width, and extends twenty miles along both sides of the Hudson. The height of the principal has been estimated at one thousand five hundred and sixty-five feet. The Peruvian Mountains consist of a lofty tract in the northern part of New York, being round the sources of the Hudson, and separating the waters of Lake Champlain from those of the St. Lawrence. They received their name from the supposition that they contained mineral treasures. Their loftiest summit, called Whiteface, is about three thousand feet above the level of Lake Champlain.
Highlands.
The Apalachian chain in Pennsylvania spreads to its widest limits, and covers with its various ranges more than one half of the state. The greatest width of the chain equals two hundred miles. It consists of parallel ridges sometimes little distant from each other, and at other times with valleys twenty or thirty miles broad lying between them. The range nearest the coast is called the South Mountain, and is a continuation of the Blue Ridge of Virginia. This, however, is hardly a distinct ridge, but only an irregular series of rocky, broken eminences, sometimes disappearing altogether, and at others spreading out several miles in breadth. These eminences lie one hundred and fifty or two hundred miles from the sea, and their height does not exceed one thousand two hundred feet above the surrounding country. Beyond these are the Kittatinny or Blue Mountains, which extend from Maryland to New Jersey across the Susquehanna and Delaware. Farther westward are the ridges bearing the names of the Sideling Hills, Ragged Mountains, Great Warrior Mountain, East Will’s Mountain, till we come to the Alleghany Ridge, the highest range, and from which this whole chain has in common language received the name of the Alleghany Mountains. The highest summits are between three and four thousand feet above the level of the sea. West of the Alleghany are the Laurel and Chesnut Ridges.
These mountains are in general covered with thick forests. The Laurel Mountains are overgrown on their eastern front with the tree from which they are named. The wide valleys between the great ridges are filled with a multitude of hills, confusedly scattered up and down. The tops of the ridges sometimes exhibit long ranges of table land, two or three miles broad; some of them are steep on one side, and extend with a long slope on the other. These mountains are traversed by the great streams of the Susquehanna chain, and the head-waters of the Ohio.
The Wallkill, which crosses the Hudson at West Point, forty miles below the Catskill, is the continuation of the Blue Ridge, or Eastern Chain, which is the most general appellation for the extensive ridge which fronts the Atlantic. The eastern and western ranges run parallel to each other, south-west, till on the frontiers of North Carolina and Virginia they unite in a knot which has been called the Alleghany Arch, because the principal chain embraces there in a curve all its collaterals from the east. A little farther to the south, but still in North Carolina, a second knot unites all the collateral ridges from the west, and forms a culminating point of heads of rivers. The second bifurcation stretches south-west and then west, and the name of the 2Cumberland Mountains through the whole state of Tennessee, while the proper Alleghany Chain, left almost alone, continues its course to the south-west, and completes the boundary of Georgia and the two Carolinas. From the Alleghany Arch, there are three principal ridges or ramifications of the Alleghany, running north-east and nearly parallel to each other, namely, the Alleghany Proper, the North Mountain, and the Blue Ridge. Of the last ridge the highest summits are the Otter Peaks. The elevated district of South Carolina presents seven or eight mountains running in regular directions, the most distinguished of which is the 3Table Mountain. Mr. Jefferson, with peculiar felicity of illustration, called the range of the Alleghanies the spine of the United States separating the eastern from the western waters, and the whole of the territory from the Mississippi to the Atlantic into three natural divisions, materially differing from each other in climate, configuration, soil, and produce; namely, the coast, the mountains, and the western territory.
In extent, in elevation, and in breadth, the Rocky Mountains far exceed the Alleghanies of the Eastern States. Their mean breadth is two hundred miles, and where broadest, three hundred. Their height must be very great, since, when first seen by Captain Lewis, they were at least one hundred and fifty miles distant. On a nearer approach, the sublimity of the prospect is increased, by the appearance of range rising behind range, each yielding in height to its successor, till the most distant is mingled with the clouds. In this lofty region the ranges are covered with snow in the middle of June. From this last circumstance, these ranges have been sometimes denominated the Shining Mountains—an appellation much more appropriate than that of the Rocky or Stony Mountains, a property possessed by all mountains, but peculiar to none. The longitudinal extent of this great chain is immense, running as far north-west as sixty degrees north latitude, and perhaps to the Frozen Ocean itself. The snows and fountains of this enormous range, from the thirty-eighth to the forty-eighth degree of northern latitude, feed, with never-failing supplies, the Missouri and its powerful auxiliary streams.
Table lands at the foot of the Rocky Mountains.
In endeavoring to explore these Alpine heights, and the sources of the Red and Arkansaw rivers, Captain Pike and his party were bewildered amidst snows, and torrents, and precipices. The cold was so intense, that several of the party had their limbs frostbitten, and were obliged to be abandoned to their fate, by Pike and his surviving companions. In a lateral ridge, separating the valley of the Arkansaw from that of the Platte river, in north latitude forty-one degrees, is a remarkable peak, called the Great White Mountain; so remarkable, indeed, as to be known to all the savage tribes for hundreds of miles round, and spoken of in terms of admiration by the Spaniards of New Mexico, and which formed the boundary of their knowledge to the north-west. The altitude of this peak was taken on the base of a mile by Pike, and found to be ten thousand five hundred and eighty-one feet above the level of the meadow at its foot; and the height of this latter was estimated at eight thousand feet above the level of the sea; in all, eighteen thousand five hundred and eighty-one feet of absolute elevation; being six thousand feet higher than the peak of Teneriffe, by Humboldt’s measurement; or two thousand eight hundred and ninety-one feet short of that of Chimborazo, admitting the elevation of this last to be twenty-one thousand four hundred and seventy-two feet. Captain Pike and his companions never lost sight of this tremendous peak, unless in a valley, for the space of ten weeks, wandering amongst the mountains. What is the elevation at the sources of the Missouri can only be matter of mere conjecture. The level of the river, where they left their canoes, could not be less than six thousand feet above the sea; but how high the mountains rose above this point the narrative does not inform us, and hardly gives us any data to decide. The central chain, as usual, is marked in the map as highest, and covered with snow during the whole year. The latitude is between forty-five and forty-seven degrees; and between these parallels, in Europe, the lower limit of perpetual congelation is fixed at from nine to ten thousand feet above the level of the sea; and it can hardly be supposed that the summits of this snowy range were less than eight thousand five hundred or nine thousand feet high, making a reasonable allowance for the greater coldness of the American continent. Captain Clarke allows this central range to be sixty miles across, and that the shortest road across the different ranges is at least one hundred and forty miles, besides two hundred miles more, before we can reach a navigable river. In their first passage across these tremendous mountains, the American party suffered every thing which hunger, cold, and fatigue, could impose, during three weeks. They were compelled to melt the snow for their portable soup; many of their horses (which they used for conveying their baggage, or for riding,) were foundered by falls from precipices; the men became feeble through excessive toil, and sickly from want of food, as there are no wild animals in these inhospitable regions; and, but for an occasional meal of horse flesh, the whole party must have perished. In returning home from the mouth of the Columbia, their state was little better. Having again come in sight of the mountains, in the middle of May, they attempted to pass them but in vain, on account of the snow, which lay from six to ten feet deep, and were obliged to return, and rest in the plains to the twenty-fourth of June. These mountains are, therefore, a far more formidable barrier to the Pacific, than the Alleghanies to the back country, and can be passed with great difficulty only for three months in the year, namely, from the latter end of June to the latter end of September.
We are indebted to the Missouri Advocate for the following account of General Ashley’s discoveries in this quarter. He considers it quite possible to form a route across this formidable barrier to the Pacific Ocean. The route proposed, after leaving St. Louis, and passing generally on the north side of the Missouri river, strikes the river Platte, a short distance above its junction with the Missouri; then pursues the waters of the Platte to their sources, and, in continuation, crosses the head-waters of what General Ashley believes to be the Rio Colorado of the west, and strikes, for the first time, a ridge or single connecting chain of mountains, running from north to south. This however presents no difficulty, as a wide gap is found apparently prepared for the purpose of a passage. After passing this gap, the route proposed falls directly on a river, called by George Ashley the Buenaventura, and runs from that river to the Pacific Ocean. The face of the country, in general, is a continuation of high, rugged, and barren mountains; the summits of which are either timbered with pine, quaking-asp, or cedar; or, in fact, almost entirely destitute of vegetation. Other parts are hilly and undulating; and the valleys and table-lands (except on the borders of water-courses, which are more or less timbered with cotton-wood and willows,) are destitute of wood; but this indispensable article is substituted by an herb, called by the hunters wild sage, which grows from one to five feet high, and is found in great abundance in most parts of the country. The sterility of the country generally is almost incredible. That part of it, however, bounded by the three ranges of mountains, and watered by the sources of the supposed Buenaventura, is less sterile; yet the proportion of arable land, even within those limits, is comparatively small; and no district of the country visited by General Ashley, or of which he obtained satisfactory information, offers inducements to civilized people, sufficient to justify an expectation of permanent settlement. The river visited by General Ashley, and which he believes to be the Rio Colorado of the west, is, at about fifty miles from its most northern source, eighty yards wide. At this point, General Ashley embarked and descended the river, which gradually increased in width to one hundred and eighty yards. In passing through the mountains, the channel is contracted to fifty or sixty yards, and so much obstructed by rocks as to make its descent extremely dangerous, and its ascent impracticable. After descending this river about four hundred miles, General Ashley shaped his course northwardly, and fell upon what he supposed to be the sources of the Buenaventura; he represents those branches as bold streams, from twenty to fifty yards wide, forming a junction a few miles below where he crossed them, and then emptying into a lake (called Grand Lake,) represented by the Indians as being forty or fifty miles wide, and sixty or seventy miles long. This information is strengthened by that of the white hunters, who have explored parts of the lake. The Indians represent, that at the extreme west end of this lake, a large river flows out, and runs in a westward direction. General Ashley, when on those waters, at first thought it probable they were the sources of the Multnomah: but the account given by the Indians, supported by the opinion of some men belonging to the Hudson Bay Company, confirms him in the belief, that they are the head-waters of the river represented as the Buenaventura. To the north and north-west from the Grand Lake, the country is represented as abounding in salt. The Indians west of the mountains are remarkably well disposed towards the citizens of the United States; the Eutaws and Flatheads are particularly so, and express a great wish that the Americans should visit them frequently.
A large number of lateral ranges project to the south-east, east, and north-east of the main range. Where the Missouri enters the plains, is the most eastern projection; and from where the Jaune leaves the snowy range, there is a lateral range, running more than two hundred miles south-east, which is intersected by the Bighorn river. As these mountains have not yet been explored by the eye of geological science, it is impossible to say any thing respecting their component parts; but, from every thing that we can learn from Pike and Clarke, they seem to be chiefly granitic. No volcanoes have yet been discovered amongst them; but strange unusual noises were heard from the mountains, by the American party, when stationed above the falls of the Missouri. These sounds seemed to come from the north-west. ‘Since our arrival at the falls,’ says the narrative, ‘we have repeatedly heard a strange noise coming from the mountains, a little to the north of west. It is heard at different periods of the day and night: sometimes when the air is perfectly still and unclouded, and consists of one stroke only, or of five or six discharges in quick succession. It is loud, and resembles precisely the sound of a six pounder at the distance of three miles. The Indians had before mentioned this noise like thunder, but we had paid no attention to it. The watermen also of the party say, that the Pawnees and Ricaras give the same account of a similar noise made in the Black Mountains, to the westward of them.’ Again, near the same place, it is afterwards said: ‘They heard, about sunset, two discharges of the tremendous mountain artillery.’ Not a word more occurs upon the subject; but we know that similar explosions take place among the mountains near the head of the Washita, and among the mountains of Namhi, near the sources of the Red river.
In our present state of ignorance respecting these mountains, it is impossible to give a solution of this phenomenon, though it may proceed from some distant volcano, which, like Stromboli, may be in a state of constant activity, but more irregularly. It is well known that the sounds of volcanoes are heard at very great distances, as at Guatimala, where the sound of the volcano of Cotopaxi was distinctly heard, though more than two hundred and twenty miles distant. Some indications of volcanoes had been seen by the American party, when ascending the river, about sixty miles below the mouth of the Little Missouri, where they passed several very high bluffs on the south side, one of which had been lately a burning volcano, as the pumice stones lay very thick around it, and emitted a strong sulphureous smell. Similar appearances are mentioned by Mackenzie, as taking place among the Rocky Mountains on their eastern side, in north latitude fifty-six and one hundred and twenty degrees west longitude. ‘Mr. Mackay,’ says he, ‘informed me, that in passing over the mountains, he observed several chasms in the earth that emitted heat and smoke, which diffused a strong sulphureous stench.’ From all these circumstances combined, it is natural to infer that the sound proceeds from some very distant and unknown volcano.
On the west side of the Mississippi, and about midway between the Rocky Mountains and the Alleghanies, lies a broad range of mountains, called the Ozarks, six or seven hundred miles in length, about one hundred broad, and having an elevation varying from one to two thousand feet above the sea. This range of low mountains, which is penetrated by two branches of the Mississippi, the Arkansas and Red river, was nearly altogether unknown till within these few years. It is parallel with the range of the Alleghanies, making an angle of about forty degrees with the great range of the Andes. As far as the Ozarks have yet been explored, the granites and older primitive rocks are found at the lowest part, being surmounted by those of more recent formation. The reverse of this is observed in the Rocky Mountains. A similar range of broken and hilly country commences on the Ouisconsin river and extends north to Lake Superior. It is called the Wisconsin or Ouisconsin Hills.
GENERAL REMARKS ON MOUNTAINS.
Mountains are supposed by naturalists to have different origins, and to date their commencement from various periods. Those which form a chain, and are covered with snow, are accounted primitive, or antediluvian. They greatly exceed all other mountains in height; in general their elevation is very sudden, and their ascent steep and difficult. They are composed of vast masses of quartz, destitute of shells, and of all organized marine matter; and appear to descend almost perpendicularly into the body of the earth. Of this kind are the Pyrenees, the Alps, the Himmaleh ranges, the Atlas, and the Andes. Another class are of volcanic origin. These are either detached or surrounded with groups of lower hills, the soil of which is heaped up in disorder, and consists of gravel and other loose substances. Among these are Mount Ætna and Vesuvius. A third class of mountains, whether grouped or isolated, are such as are composed of stratified earth or stone, consisting of different substances of various colors. The interior consists of numerous strata, almost horizontally disposed, containing shells, marine productions, and fish bones in great quantities. The strata of mountains which are lower and of more recent date, sometimes appear to rise from the side of primitive mountains which they surround, and of which they form the first step in the ascent.
The mountains in Asia are the most elevated and imposing in the world. Of these the Himmaleh chain is the highest; one of its peaks, Dhawalaghiri, reaching the altitude of twenty-eight thousand and ninety-six feet, and several exceeding twenty-four thousand. Africa has some extensive chains of mountains, but the altitudes of only a few have been ascertained. Mont Blanc is the highest summit of Europe, reaching an elevation of fifteen thousand seven hundred and thirty-five feet. The Andes of South America present the most striking and stupendous features; cataracts, volcanoes, and immense chasms of an almost perpendicular descent. Chimborazo, the highest point of the Andes, reaches twenty-one thousand four hundred and sixty-four feet; in many places the peaks rise to upwards of twenty thousand feet, though in others they sink to less than one thousand.
In general, all the chains of mountains in the same continent, seem to have a mutual connection more or less apparent; they form a sort of frame-work to the land, and appear in the origin of things to have determined the shape which it was to assume; but this analogy, were we to generalize too much, would lead us into error. There are many chains, which have very little, or, rather, no affinity to each other. Such are the mountains of Scandinavia and of Scotland, mountains as independent as the character of the nations who inhabit them.
1. | Long’s Peak, the highest of the Rocky Mountains, Missouri Territory | 12,000 |
2. | James’s Peak, of the Rocky Mountains, Missouri Territory | 11,500 |
3. | Inferior peaks of the Rocky Mountains, varying from 10,700 to | 7,200 |
4. | Mt. Washington, the highest of the White Hills, New Hampshire | 6,234 |
5. | Inferior peaks of the White Hills, varying from 5,328 to | 4,356 |
6. | Moosehillock Mt., Grafton County, New Hampshire | 4,636 |
7. | Mansfield or Chin Mt., Chittenden County, Vermont | 4,279 |
8. | Camels’ Rump, Chittenden County, Vermont | 4,188 |
9. | Shrewsbury Peak, Rutland County, Vermont | 4,034 |
10. | Saddleback Mt., Berkshire County, Massachusetts | 4,000 |
11. | Table Mountain, Pendleton District, South Carolina | 4,000 |
12. | Peaks of Otter, Bedford County, Virginia | 3,955 |
13. | Killington Peak, Rutland County, Vermont | 3,924 |
14. | Round Top, the highest of the Catskill Mountains, New York | 3,804 |
15. | High Peak, one of the highest of the Catskill Mountains, New York | 3,718 |
16. | Grand Monadnock, Cheshire County, New Hampshire | 3,718 |
17. | Manchester Mountain, Bennington County, Vermont | 3,706 |
18. | Ascutney Mountain, Windsor County, Vermont | 3,320 |
19. | Ozark Mountains, Arkansas Territory, average height | 3,200 |
20. | Wachuset Mountain, or Mount Adams, Worcester County, Mass. | 2,990 |
21. | Whiteface Mountain, Essex County, New York | 2,690 |
22. | Kearsarge Mountain, Hillsborough County, New Hampshire | 2,460 |
23. | Alleghany Mountains, average height | 2,400 |
24. | Porcupine Mountains, Chippeway County, south of Lake Superior | 2,200 |
25. | Cumberland Mountains, average height | 2,200 |
26. | Moose Mountain, New Hampshire | 2,008 |
27. | New Beacon, the highest of the Highlands, New York | 1,658 |
THE Valley of the Mississippi is the largest in the world; and differs from any other of very great extent, in the peculiar distinctness of its outline. It is bounded south by the gulf of Mexico, west by the Rocky Mountains, north by the great lakes of British America, and east by the Apalachian Mountains. Its general surface may be classed under three distinct aspects; the thickly timbered, the barren, and the prairie country. This valley extends from the twenty-ninth to the forty-ninth parallel of north latitude, and exhibits every variation of temperature from the climate of Canada to that of Louisiana. It is a wide extent of level country, in which the various rivers, inclosed between two chains of mountains three thousand miles apart, find a common centre, and discharge their waters into the sea by a single channel. Geologically considered, this immense valley presents every where the aspect of what is called secondary formation. Its prevailing rocks are carbonate of lime, disposed in the most regular lamina, masses of limestone, in which seashells or organic remains are imbedded, retaining their distinct and original form. At every step, is presented the aspect of a country once covered by lakes or seas. The soil, stones, and exuviæ of lake or river formation, are, to all appearance, of comparatively recent origin. In the alluvial soils, to the depth of from twenty to an hundred feet, are found pebbles, smoothed by the evident attrition of waters, having the appearances of those masses of smoothed pebbles that are thrown on the seashore by the dashing of the surge. Leaves, branches, and logs are also found at great distances from the points where wood is seen at present, and at great depths below the surface. In the most solid blocks of limestone, split for building, deers’ horns and other animal exuviæ are found incorporated in the solid stone.
‘From its character of recent formation,’ says Mr. Flint, ‘from the prevalence of limestone every where, from the decomposition which it has undergone, and is constantly undergoing, from the prevalence of decomposed limestone in the soil, probably, results another general attribute of this valley—its character generally for uncommon fertility. We would not be understood to assert, that the country is every where alike fertile. It has its sterile sections. There are here, as elsewhere, infinite diversities of soil, from the richest alluvions, to the most miserable flint knobs; from the tangled cane brakes, to the poorest pine hills. There are, too, it is well known, towards the Rocky Mountains, wide belts that have a surface of sterile sands, or only covered with a sparse vegetation of weeds and coarse grass. But of the country in general, the most cursory observer must have remarked, that, compared with lands, apparently of the same character in other regions, the lands here obviously show marks of singular fertility. The most ordinary, third rate, oak lands, will bring successive crops of wheat and maize, without any manuring, and with but little care of cultivation. The pine lands of the southern regions are in many places cultivated for years, without any attempts at manuring them. The same fact is visible in the manner in which vegetation in this country resists drought. It is a proverb on the good lands, that if there be moisture enough to bring the corn to germinate, and come up, they will have a crop, if no more rain falls until the harvest. We have a thousand times observed this crop continuing to advance towards a fresh and vigorous maturity, under a pressure of drought, and a continuance of cloudless ardor of sun, that would have burned up and destroyed vegetation in the Atlantic country.
‘We have supposed this fertility to arise, either from an uncommon proportion of vegetable matter in the soil; from the saline impregnations mixed with the earth, as evidenced in the numberless licks, and springs of salt water, and the nitrous character of the soil, wherever, as in caves, or under buildings, it is sheltered from moisture; or, as we have remarked, from the general diffusion of dissolved limestone, and marly mixtures over the surface. In some way, spread by the waters, diffused through the soil, or the result of former decomposition, there is evidently much of the quickening and fertilizing power of lime mixed with the soil.’
The greatest length of the Valley of the Missouri is twelve hundred miles, its greatest breadth seven hundred. In the direction of the western rivers, the inclined plain of the Missouri extends eight hundred miles from the Chippewayan Mountains, and rather more than that distance from south to north, from the southern branches of the Kansas, to the extreme heads of the northern confluents of the valley. Ascending from the lower verge of this widely extended plain, wood becomes more and more scarce, until one naked surface spreads on all sides. Even the ridges and chains of mountains partake of these traits of desolation.
The celebrated valley called the American Bottom extends along the eastern bank of the Mississippi to the Piasa Hills, four miles above the mouth of the Missouri. It is several miles in width, and has a soil of astonishing fertility. It has all the disadvantages attending tracts of recent alluvion, the most valuable parts of it being liable to be swept away by the current of the Mississippi. ‘But the inexhaustible fertility of its soil,’ says Major Long, ‘makes amends for the insalubrity of the air, and the inconvenience of a flat and marshy situation, and this valley is undoubtedly destined to become one of the most populous parts of America. We were formerly shown here a field that had been cultivated, without manure, one hundred years in succession, and which when we saw it, (in August, 1816,) was covered with a very luxuriant growth of corn.’
The Ohio Valley is divided by the river into two unequal sections, leaving on the north-west side eighty thousand, and on the south-east one hundred and sixteen thousand square miles. The river flows in a deep ravine five hundred and forty-eight miles long in a straight line, and nine hundred and ninety-eight by the windings of the stream. In its natural state the Ohio valley, with the exception of the central plain, was covered with a dense forest. Open savannahs commence as far east as the sources of the Muskingum. Like the plain itself, those savannahs expand to the westward, and on the Illinois open into immense prairies. This valley may be regarded as a great plain inclining from the Apalachian system of the north-west, obliquely and deeply cut by the Ohio and its numerous confluents, into chasms from an elevation of four hundred feet to nearly the level of the streams. On the higher parts of the valley, the banks of the river rise by bold acclivities which wear almost a mountainous aspect. This boldness of outline imperceptibly softens in descending the Ohio, and on approaching the Mississippi, an extent of level woodland bounds the horizon. Ascending the rivers of the south-east slope, the scenery becomes more and more rugged, until it terminates in the ridges of the Apalachian chains: if the rivers of the north-west slope are followed, on the contrary, we find the landscape broken and varied near the Ohio, but around their sources flat and monotonous.
The Valley of the Hudson varies extremely in its width, being in some places contracted to the immediate neighborhood of the stream; in others extending forty miles. On the borders of the river the land is generally elevated. The Mohawk is bordered by two long ranges of hills presenting little variety of aspect. In the early part of its course it flows through extensive flats. The valleys of the Susquehanna and its branches are remarkably irregular. These streams traverse the whole width of the Apalachian chain of mountains, sometimes flowing in wide valleys between parallel ranges for fifty or sixty miles in a direct course, and at other times breaking through the mountain ridges. The valleys between the different ranges of the great chain extending throughout Pennsylvania are often twenty or thirty miles in width with a hilly or broken surface.
Valley of the Mohawk.
The only large valley in North Carolina lies between the Blue Ridge, and a parallel range called the Iron, Bald, and Smoky Mountains. It runs north-east and south-west, is one hundred and eighty miles in length, and from ten to forty in width.
The valleys of the small rivers of Tennessee are singularly beautiful and fertile, surpassing all others of the same description in the Western States. The valleys of the Cumberland and Tennessee differ little from the alluvions of the other great rivers of the west.
The Valley of the Connecticut is one of the most celebrated valleys of the United States for its fertility and beauty. It is a large tract of land extending from Long Island sound to Hereford Mountains in Canada, five miles beyond the forty-fifth degree of latitude. In the largest sense, it is from five to forty-five miles in width, and its surface is composed of a succession of hills, valleys and plains. The interval lands begin about twelve or fourteen miles from the mouth of the river. These are formed by a long and continued alluvion. The tributary streams of the Connecticut run every where through a soft and rich soil, considerable quantities of which, particularly the lighter and finer particles, are from time to time washed into their channels, by occasional currents springing from rains and melted snows. Wherever the stream moves with an uniform current these particles are carried along with it; but where the current is materially checked, they are in greater or less quantities deposited. In this manner a shoal is formed at first, which afterwards rises into dry land; this is almost invariably of good quality, but those parts which are lowest are commonly the best, as being the most frequently overflowed, and therefore most enriched by successive deposits of slime. Of these parts, that division which is farthest down the river is the most productive, consisting of finer particles, and being more plentifully covered with this manure. In the spring these grounds are almost annually overflowed. In the months of March and April, the snows, which in the northern parts of New England are usually deep, and the rains, which at this time of the year, are generally copious, raise the river from fifteen to twenty feet, and extend the breadth of its waters in some places a mile and a half or two miles. Almost all the slime conveyed down the current at this season, is deposited on these lands, for here, principally, the water becomes quiescent, and permits the earthy particles to subside; this deposit is a rich manure; the lands dressed with it are preserved in their full strength, and being regularly enriched by the hand of nature, cannot but be highly valuable. Nor are these grounds less distinguished by their beauty. The form of most of them is elegant; a river passing through them becomes, almost of course, winding; the earth of which they are composed is of a uniform texture, the impressions made by the stream upon the border are also nearly uniform; hence this border is almost universally a handsome arch, with a neat margin, frequently ornamented with a fine fringe of shrubs and trees.
Nor is the surface of these grounds less pleasing; their terraced forms and undulations are eminently handsome, and their universal fertility makes a cheerful impression on every eye. A great part of them is formed into meadows which are here more profitable, and every where more beautiful than lands devoted to any other culture; here they are extended from five to five hundred acres, and are every where covered with a verdure peculiarly rich and vivid. The vast fields also which are not in meadow, exhibit all the productions of the climate, interspersed in parallelograms, divided only by mathematical lines, and mingled in a charming confusion. In many places, large and thrifty orchards, and every where forest trees standing singly, of great height and graceful figures, diversify the landscape. Through its whole extent this valley is almost a continual succession of delightful scenery. The Connecticut is one of the most beautiful rivers in the world; the purity, salubrity and sweetness of its waters, the frequency and elegance of its meadows, its absolute freedom from aquatic vegetables, the enchanting elegance and grandeur of its banks, sometimes consisting of a smooth and winding beach, here covered with rich verdure, there fringed with bushes, now crowned with lofty trees, and now formed by the intruding hill, the rude bluff, and the shaggy mountain; these are objects which no description can equal.
GENERAL REMARKS ON VALLEYS.
Valleys are formed by the separation of chains of mountains or of hills. Those which are formed between high mountains, are commonly narrow and long, as if they had originally been only fissures dividing their respective chains, or for the passage of extensive torrents. The angles of their direction sometimes exhibit singular symmetry. In the Pyrenees there are said to be valleys whose salient and re-entrant angles so perfectly correspond, that if the force which separated them were to act in a contrary direction, and bring their sides together again, they would unite so exactly that even the fissure would not be perceived. There are some highly situated valleys containing rivers and lakes which have no outlets or streams. Most high valleys have their surface upon a level with the summits of the secondary mountains in the neighborhood. The lower valleys widen as they recede from the secondary mountains from which they originate, and gradually lose themselves in the plains. Their opposite angles correspond regularly, but are very obtuse.
The sort of narrow passage by which we enter into these high valleys is called a pass or defile. Between Norway and Sweden is one of these passes, formed by several masses of rock cut by nature into the shape of long parallelograms, and which have between them a passage shut in by perpendicular walls. This pass is near Skiærdal; another of the same kind is at Portfeld, or the Mountain of the Gate. These openings exactly resemble those by which the Hudson passes through successive chains of mountains, which seem desirous of checking its course. The Cordilleras of the Andes present the most stupendous passes of this kind that are known; they are from four to five thousand feet deep.
The valleys of the Hudson and Connecticut are equalled by few in the old world for natural beauty and romantic scenery. Of the valleys of Europe, that of the Rhine is most celebrated; and is only more interesting than the Hudson on account of its old historical associations, its populous cities, and the picturesque ruins and massive monuments of architecture which frown upon its banks.
ONE of the most remarkable features of the western country consists in its extensive prairies or savannahs, which prevail in all the vast region between the Alleghany and the Rocky Mountains, and also to the west of the Rocky Mountains. When seen from the summits of the Mexican and the Rocky Mountains, they seem absolutely boundless to the view. They are not to be considered merely as dead flat, but undulating into gentle swelling lawns, and expanding into spacious valleys, in the centre of which is always found a little timber, growing on the banks of the brooks and rivulets of the finest water. Pike, who viewed them from the summit of the Blue Mountain, under the source of the Arkansaw, says, ‘the unbounded prairie was overhung with clouds, which seemed like the ocean in a storm, wave piled on wave, and foaming; while the sky over our heads was perfectly clear, and the prospect was truly sublime.’ In these vast prairies the soil is dry, sandy, with gravel; but the moment we approach a stream, the land becomes more humid, with small timber. It is probable that these steppes or prairies were never well wooded, as, from the earliest ages, the aridity of the soil, having so few water-courses running through it, and these being principally dry in summer, no sufficient nourishment has been afforded to the growth of timber. In all timbered land, the annual discharge of the leaves, with the continual decay of old trees and branches, creates a manure and moisture, which are preserved from the heat—the sun not being permitted to direct his rays perpendicularly, but to shed them only obliquely through the foliage. But in Upper Louisiana, a barren soil, dried up for eight months in the year, presents neither moisture nor nutriment for the growth of wood.
These vast plains of Louisiana, near the upper courses of the Arkansaw, with its tributary streams, and the head-waters of the Kanzas, White and Grand Osage rivers, may become in time like the sandy deserts of Africa; ‘for,’ says Pike, ‘I saw in my route, in various places, tracts of many leagues, where the wind had thrown up the sand in all the fancied forms of the ocean’s rolling waves, and on which not a single speck of vegetation appeared.’ From this circumstance Pike deduces the following remark: ‘From these immense prairies may arise a great advantage to the United States, namely, the restriction of our population to some certain limits, and thereby a continuation of the Union. Our citizens being so prone to rambling, and extending themselves on the frontiers, will, through necessity, be compelled to limit their extent on the west to the borders of the Missouri and Mississippi; while they leave the prairies, incapable of cultivation, to the wandering and uncivilized aborigines of the country.’ These prairies, from the borders of the Mississippi, on the east, to the base of the Mexican Alps on the west, rise with a continually increasing acclivity for many hundred miles, till, at the base of the mountains, they attain an elevation of eight thousand feet, as we are informed by Pike, which is greater than the elevated level of the great desert of Gobi, on the north-west of China, estimated by Du Halde to be five thousand five hundred and eleven feet above the level of the sea, or the great arid desert, to the north of the cape of Good Hope, traversed by the Orange river, and lately visited by the Rev. Mr. Campbell, the elevation of which is estimated by Colonel Gordon at six thousand five hundred and sixty-one feet above the level of the sea. In addition to the aridity of the Louisiana prairies, they are so impregnated with nitre, and other salts, as to taint the waters that flow in various directions. Pike says, that for leagues together, they are covered with saline incrustations; and a number of tributary streams descending into the Arkansaw and Kanzas rivers are perfect salines; and beyond the river Platte, as we are informed by Colonel Lewis, the lands are not only destitute of timber, but even of good water, of which there is but a small quantity in the creeks, and even that is brackish. The same saline incrustations pervade the prairies on the Upper Missouri; and the same want of timber, little or no dew, with very little rain, continues till the neighborhood of the mountains.
The calcareous districts, which form the great portion of the region west of the Alleghanies, present certain tracts entirely divested of trees, which are called barrens, though capable of being rendered productive. The cause of this peculiarity has not been accurately examined. Those parts of this region which are elevated three or four hundred feet, and lie along deeply depressed beds of rivers, are clothed with the richest forests in the world. The Ohio flows under the shade of the plane and the tulip tree, like a canal dug in a nobleman’s park; while the lianas, extending from tree to tree, form graceful arches of flowers and foliage over branches of the river. Passing to the south, the wild orange tree mixes with the odoriferous and the common laurel. The straight silvery column of the papaw fig, which rises to the height of twenty feet, and is crowned with a canopy of large indented leaves, forms one of the most striking ornaments of this enchanting scene. Above all these, towers the majestic magnolia, which shoots up from that calcareous soil to the height of more than one hundred feet. Its trunk, perfectly straight, is surmounted with a thick and expanded head, the pale green foliage of which affects a conical figure. From the centre of the flowery crown which terminates its branches, a flower of the purest white rises, having the form of a rose, and to which succeeds a crimson cone. This, in opening, exhibits rounded seed of the finest coral red, suspended by delicate threads six inches long. Thus, by its flowers, its fruit, and its gigantic size, the magnolia surpasses all its rivals of the forest.
The following excellent description of the prairie country is from the pen of Mr. James Hall. ‘That these vast plains should be totally destitute of trees, seems to be an anomaly in the economy of nature. Upon the mind of an American, especially, accustomed to see new lands clothed with timber, and to associate the idea of damp and silent forests with that of a new country, the appearance of sunny plains, and a diversified landscape, untenanted by man, and unimproved by art, is singular and striking. Perhaps if our imaginations were divested of those associations, the subject would present less difficulty; and if we could reason abstractly, it might be as easy to account for the existence of a prairie as of a forest.
‘It is natural to suppose that the first covering of the earth would be composed of such plants as arrived at maturity in the shortest time. Annual plants would ripen, and scatter their seeds many times before trees and shrubs would acquire the power of reproducing their own species. In the mean time, the propagation of the latter would be likely to be retarded by a variety of accidents—the frosts would nip their tender stems in the winter—fire would consume, or the blasts would shatter them—and the wild grazing animals would bite them off, or tread them under foot; while many of their seeds, particularly such as assume the form of nuts or fruits, would be devoured by animals. The grasses, which are propagated both by the root and by seed, are exempt from the operation of almost all these casualties. Providence has, with unerring wisdom, fitted every production of nature to sustain itself against the accidents to which it is most exposed, and has given to those plants which constitute the food of animals, a remarkable tenacity of life; so that although bitten off, and trodden, and even burned, they still retain the vital principle. That trees have a similar power of self protection, if we may so express it, is evident from their present existence in a state of nature. We only assume that in the earliest state of being, the grasses would have the advantage over plants less hardy, and of slower growth; and that when both are struggling together for the possession of the soil, the former would at first gain the ascendancy; although the latter, in consequence of their superior size and strength, would finally, if they should ever get possession of any portion of the soil, entirely overshadow and destroy their humble rivals.
‘We have no means of determining at what period the fires began to sweep over these plains, because we know not when they began to be inhabited. It is quite possible they might have been occasionally fired by lightning, previous to the introduction of that element by human agency. At all events, it is very evident that as soon as fire began to be used in this country by its inhabitants, the annual burning of the prairies must have commenced. One of the peculiarities of this climate is the dryness of its summers and autumns. A drought often commences in August, which, with the exception of a few showers towards the close of that month, continues throughout the season. The autumnal months are almost invariably clear, warm, and dry. The immense mass of vegetation with which this fertile soil loads itself during summer, is suddenly withered, and the whole surface of the earth is covered with combustible materials. This is especially true of the prairies where the grass grows to the height of from six to ten feet, and being entirely exposed to the sun and wind, dries with great rapidity. A single spark of fire, falling any where upon these plains at such a time, would instantly kindle a blaze, which would spread on every side, and continue its destructive course as long as it should find fuel. Travellers have described these fires as sweeping with a rapidity which renders it hazardous to fly before them. Such is not the case; or it is true only of a few rare instances. The flames often extend across a wide prairie, and advance in a long line. No sight can be more sublime than to behold in the night a stream of fire of several miles in breadth, advancing across these wide plains, leaving behind it a black cloud of smoke, and throwing before it a vivid glare which lights up the whole landscape with the brilliancy of noonday. A roaring and cracking sound is heard like the rushing of a hurricane. The flame, which in general rises to the height of about twenty feet, is seen sinking and darting upwards in spires, precisely as the waves dash against each other, and as the spray flies up into the air; and the whole appearance is often that of a boiling and flaming sea, violently agitated. The progress of the fire is so slow, and the heat so great, that every combustible object in its course is consumed. Wo to the farmer whose ripe cornfields extend into the prairie, and who suffers the tall grass to grow in contact with his fences! The whole labor of the year is swept away in a few hours. But such accidents are comparatively unfrequent, as the preventive is simple, and easily applied.
‘It will be readily seen, that as soon as these fires commenced, all the young timber within their range must have been destroyed. The whole state of Illinois, being one vast plain, the fires kindled in different places, would sweep over the whole surface, with a few exceptions, of which we are now to speak. In the bottom-lands, and along the margins of streams, the grass and herbage remain green until late in the autumn, owing to the moisture of the soil. Here the fire would stop for want of fuel, and the shrubs would thus escape from year to year, and the outer bark acquire sufficient hardness to protect the inner and more vital parts of the tree. The margins of the streams would thus become fringed with thickets, which, by shading the ground, would destroy the grass, while it would prevent the moisture of the soil from being rapidly evaporated, so that even the fallen leaves would never become so thoroughly dry as the grass of the prairies, and the fire here would find comparatively little fuel. These thickets grow up into strips of forests, which continue to extend until they reach the high table-land of the prairie; and so true is this, in fact, that we see the timber now, not only covering all the bottom-lands and hill sides, skirting the streams, but wherever a ravine or hollow extends from the low grounds up into the plain, these are filled with young timber of more recent growth. But the moment we leave the level plane of the country, we see the evidences of a continual struggle between the forest and the prairie. At one place, where the fire has on some occasion burned with greater fierceness than usual, it has successfully assailed the edges of the forest, and made deep inroads; at another, the forest has pushed out long points or capes into the prairie.
‘It has been suggested that the prairies were caused by hurricanes, which had blown down the timber and left it in a condition to be consumed by fire, after it was dried by laying on the ground. A single glance at the immense region in which the prairie surface predominates, must refute this idea. Hurricanes are quite limited in their sphere of action. Although they sometimes extend for miles in length, their track is always narrow, and often but a few hundred yards in breadth. It is a well known fact, that wherever the timber has been thus prostrated, a dense and tangled thicket shoots up immediately, and, protected by the fallen trees, grows with uncommon vigor.
‘Some have imagined that our prairies have been lakes; but this hypothesis is not tenable. If the whole state of Illinois is imagined to have been one lake, it ought to be shown that it has a general concavity of surface. But so far from this being true, the contrary is the fact; the highest parts of the state are in its centre. If we suppose, as some assert, that each prairie was once a lake, we are met by the same objection; as a general rule, the prairies are highest in the middle, and have a gradual declivity towards the sides; and when we reach the timber, instead of finding banks corresponding with the shores of a lake, we almost invariably find valleys, ravines, and water-courses depressed considerably below the general level of the plain.
‘Wherever hills are found rising above the common plane of the country, they are clothed with timber; and the same fact is true of all broken lands. This fact affords additional evidence in support of our theory. Most of the land in such situations is poor; the grass would be short, and if burned at all, would occasion but little heat. In other spots, the progress of the fire would be checked by rocks and ravines; and in no case would there be that accumulation of dry material which is found on the fertile plain, nor that broad, unbroken surface, and free exposure, which are necessary to afford full scope to the devouring element.
‘By those who have never seen this region, a very tolerable idea may be formed of the manner in which the prairie and forest alternate, by drawing a colored line of irregular thickness, along the edges of all the water-courses laid down on the map. This border would generally vary from one to five or six miles, and often extend to twelve. As the streams approach each other, these borders would approach or come in contact; and all the intermediate spaces not thus colored would be prairie. It would be seen that in the point formed by the junction of the Ohio and Mississippi, the forest would cover all the ground; and that, as these rivers diverge, and their tributaries spread out, the prairies would predominate.’
Between the Platte river, and the head-waters of the Colorado and Sabine rivers, there is an extensive desert tract, which has been called the Great American Desert, stretching from the Ozark Mountains to the Chippewan. Over this desert the members of Long’s expedition travelled nearly a thousand miles. The intense reflection of light and heat, from this tract, added much to the fatigue and suffering of their journey. ‘We often met with extensive districts covered entirely with loose and fine sand, blown from the adjacent hills. In the low plains along the river where the soil is permanent, it is highly impregnated with saline substances, and too sterile to produce any thing except a few stinted carices and rushes. As we approached the mountains, we felt or fancied a very manifest change in the character of the weather, and the temperature of the air. Mornings and evenings were usually calm, and the heat more oppressive than in the middle of the day. Early in the forenoon, a light and refreshing breeze often sprung up, blowing from the west or south-west, which again subsided on the approach of night. This phenomenon was so often observed, that we were induced to attribute it to the operation of the same local cause, which in the neighborhood of the sea produces a diurnal change in the winds, which blow alternately to and from the shore. The Rocky Mountains may be considered as forming the shore of that sea of sand, which is traversed by the Platte, and extends northward to the Missouri above the great bend. The rarefaction of the air over this great plain, by the reverberation of the sun’s rays during the day, causes an ascending current, which is supplied by the rushing down of the condensed air from the mountains. * * * * For several days the sky had been clear, and in the morning we had observed an unusual degree of transparency in every part of the atmosphere. As the day advanced, and the heat of the sun began to be felt, such quantities of vapor were seen to ascend from every part of the plain, that all objects at a little distance appeared magnified, and variously distorted. An undulating and tremulous motion in ascending lines was manifest over every part of the surface. Commencing soon after sunrise it continued to increase in quantity until the afternoon, when it diminished gradually, keeping an even pace with the intensity of the sun’s heat. The density of the vapor was often such as to produce the perfect image of a pool of water in every valley upon which we could look down at an angle of about ten degrees. This aspect was several times seen so perfect and beautiful as to deceive almost every one of our party. A herd of bisons, at the distance of a mile, seemed to be standing in a pool of water, and what appeared to us the reflected image was as distinctly seen as the animal itself.4 Illusions of this kind are common in the African and Asiatic deserts, as we learn from travellers and from the language of poets.’
The Pine Plains are a district of sandy alluvion, bounded by the gravelly soil of Guilderland and Duanesburgh on the south-west, and by the river alluvions of Niskayuna and Watervliet, on the north-east, and covering an area of about seventy square miles. This tract is included in a triangle formed by the junction of the Mohawk with the Hudson, and of which the Helleberg, a lofty chain of highlands, visible from the plains at the distance of twenty miles, forms the south-western boundary. Situated near the centre of a state, computed at forty thousand square miles, and containing a population of nearly two million souls, this tract presents the topographical novelty of an unreclaimed desert, in the heart of one of the oldest counties in the state, and in the midst of a people characterized for enterprise and public spirit. Several attempts have lately been made to bring this tract into cultivation, and from the success which has attended the introduction of gypsum, and other improved modes of agriculture, it is probable the whole will, at some future period, be devoted to the cultivation of the various species of grasses, fruit trees, and esculent roots; three branches of agriculture to which its sandy soil seems admirably adapted.
GENERAL REMARKS ON PLAINS AND PRAIRIES.
Plains like valleys are of two classes; the high plains, which are found between two chains of mountains, are frequently of great extent, and are placed as it were upon the shoulders of secondary mountains; such are the elevated plains of Tartary, of Persia, and probably of the interior of Africa. The plains of Quito are twelve thousand feet above the level of the sea; those of Karakorum, in Chinese Mongolia, are probably as elevated. The low plains, whose soil is composed of sand, gravel and shells, seem formerly to have been the basins of interior seas. Such are the plains on the north side of the Caspian, the large plain to the south of the Baltic, and that through which the river of the Amazon flows; the Tehama of Arabia, the Delta of Egypt, and others of a similar nature, which seem to have been once covered by the waters of the ocean and its gulfs. The immense plains covered with grass, called prairies in the United States, are the steppes of Asia, and the pampas of South America.
ALL the rivers of the United States, of the first magnitude, have their sources, either in the Rocky Mountains, or in elevated spurs projecting from the sides of that range. Many of the rivers which descend from the western sides of the Alleghanies are of inconsiderable volume, and by no means remarkable for the rapidity or the directness of their course. Those which flow from the eastern and southern sides of these mountains are worthy of extended description, even in the same pages with the great tributaries of the Mississippi. They afford the advantages of a good inland navigation to most parts of the states.
The Mississippi with its branches drains the great central basin which lies between the Alleghany and the Rocky Mountains. This river has its rise in the table-lands within the territories of the United States, in north latitude forty-seven degrees and forty-seven minutes, at an altitude of thirteen hundred and thirty feet above the Atlantic, though the country at its source appears like a vast marshy valley. Mr. Schoolcraft fixes it in Cassina Lake, which is situated seventeen degrees north of the Balize on the gulf of Mexico, and two thousand nine hundred and seventy-eight miles, pursuing the course of the river. Estimating the distance to Lake La Beesh, its extreme north-western inlet at sixty miles, we have a result of three thousand and thirty-eight miles as the entire length of this wonderful river. Mr. Schoolcraft, in his very interesting Journal of Travels observed that he believed there was no one then living, beside himself who had visited both the sources and the mouth of this celebrated stream. As the description furnished by this gentleman is the clearest and most complete that we find, we have taken the liberty to transfer it to our pages, without mutilation:—
‘In deciding upon the physical character of the Mississippi, it may be advantageously considered under four natural divisions, as indicated by the permanent differences in the color of its waters—the geological character of its bed and banks,—its forest trees and other vegetable productions,—its velocity,—the difficulties it opposes to navigation,—and other natural appearances and circumstances.’
‘Originating in a region of lakes, upon the table-lands, which throw their waters north into Hudson’s Bay,—south into the gulf of Mexico,—and east into the gulf of St. Lawrence—it pursues its course to the falls of Peckagama, a distance of two hundred and thirty miles, through a low prairie, covered with wild rice, rushes, sword grass, and other aquatic plants. During this distance, it is extremely devious as to course and width, sometimes expanding into small lakes, at others, narrowing into a channel of about eighty feet. It is about sixty feet wide on its exit from Red Cedar or Cassina Lake, with an average depth of two feet; but from the junction of the Leech Lake fork, increases to a hundred feet in width, with a corresponding increase of depth. Its current, during this distance is still and gentle; and its mean velocity may be estimated at a mile and a half per hour, with a descent of three inches per mile. This is the favorite resort of water-fowl, and amphibious quadrupeds.
‘At the falls of Peckagama, the first rock stratum, and the first wooded island, is seen. Here the river has a fall of twenty feet; and from this to the falls of St. Anthony, a distance of six hundred and eighty-five miles, exhibits its second characteristic division. At the head of the falls of Peckagama, the prairies entirely cease; and below, a forest of elm, maple, birch, oak, and ash, overshadows the stream. The black walnut is first seen below Sandy Lake river, and the sycamore below the river De Corbeau. The river, in this distance, has innumerable well wooded islands, and receives a number of tributaries, the largest of which is the river De Corbeau, its great south-western fork. The Pine, Elk, Sac, and Crow rivers, also enter on the west, and the St. Francis and Missisawgaiegon, on the east. The course of the river, although serpentine, is less so, than above the falls of Peckagama, and its bends are not so short and abrupt. Its mean width may be estimated at three hundred feet until the junction of the De Corbeau, and below that at two hundred and fifty yards. Its navigation is impeded, agreeably to a memorandum which I have kept, by thirty-five rapids, nineteen ripples, and two minor falls, called the Little and the Big Falls, in all of which the river has an aggregate descent of two hundred and twenty-four feet in fourteen thousand six hundred and forty yards, or about eight miles. The mean fall of the current, exclusive of the rapids, may be computed at six inches per mile, and its velocity at three miles per hour. In the course of this distance it receives several small turbid streams, and acquires a brownish hue, but still preserves its transparency, and is palatable drink-water. A few miles above the river Corbeau, on the east side, we observe the first dry prairies, or natural meadows, and they continue to the falls of St. Anthony. These prairies are the great resort of the buffalo, elk, and deer, and are the only parts of the banks of the Mississippi where the buffalo is now to be found. Granite rocks appear at several of the rapids, in rolled pieces, and in beds; and in some places attain an elevation of one or two hundred feet above the level of the water, but the banks of the river are generally alluvial.
‘At the falls of St. Anthony, the river has a perpendicular pitch of forty feet, and from this to its junction with the Missouri, a distance of eight hundred and forty-three miles, it is bounded by limestone bluffs, which attain various elevations from one to four hundred feet, and present a succession of the most sublime and picturesque views. This forms the third characteristic change of the Mississippi. The river prairies cease, and the rocky bluffs commence precisely at the falls of St. Anthony. Nine miles below it receives the St. Peter’s from the west, and is successively swelled on that side by the Ocano, Iowa, Turkey, Desmoines, and Salt rivers, and on the east by the St. Croix, Chippeway, Black, Ouisconsin, Rock, and Illinois. One hundred miles below the falls of St. Anthony, the river expands into a lake, called Pepin, which is twenty-four miles long and four in width. It is, on issuing from this lake, that the river first exhibits, in a striking manner, those extensive and moving sandbars, innumerable islands and channels, and drifts and snags, which continue to characterize it to the ocean. Its bends from this point onward are larger, and its course more direct; and although its waters are adulterated by several dark colored and turbid streams, it may still be considered transparent. The principal impediments to navigation in this distance are the Desmoines, and Rock river rapids. The latter extends six miles, and opposes an effectual barrier to steam-boat navigation, although keel-boats and barges of the largest classes, may ascend. This rapid is three hundred and ninety miles above St. Louis.
‘The fourth change in the physical aspect of this river is at the junction of the Missouri, and this is a total and complete one, the character of the Mississippi being entirely lost in that of the Missouri. The latter is, in fact, much the larger stream of the two, and carries its characteristic appearances to the ocean. It should also have carried the name, but its exploration took place too long after the course of the Mississippi had been perpetuated in the written geography of the country, to render an alteration in this respect, either practicable or expedient. The waters of the Mississippi at its confluence with the Missouri, are moderately clear, and of a greenish hue. The Missouri is turbid and opake, of a grayish white color, and during its floods, which happen twice a year, communicates, almost instantaneously, to the combined stream its predominating qualities, but towards the close of the summer season, when it is at its lowest stage of water, the streams do not fully incorporate for twenty or thirty miles, but preserve opposite sides of the river; and I have observed this phenomenon at the town of Herculaneum, forty-eight miles below the junction.
‘The water in this part of the river cannot be drank until it has been set aside to allow the mud to settle. The distance from the mouth of the Missouri to the gulf of Mexico is one thousand two hundred and twenty miles, in the course of which it receives from the west, the Merrimac, St. Francis, White, Arkansas, and Red rivers; and from the east, the Kaskaskia, Great Muddy, Ohio, Wolf, and Yazoo. This part of the river is more particularly characterized by snags and sawyers, falling-in banks and islands, sand-bars and mud-banks; and a channel which is shifting by every flood, and of such extreme velocity, that it was formerly thought it could not be navigated by vessels propelled with sails. Subsequent experience has shown this conjecture to be unfounded, although a strong wind is required for its ascent. It is daily navigated in ships of from four hundred to eight hundred tons burden, from the Balize to New Orleans, a distance of one hundred miles, and could be ascended higher were it necessary; but the commerce of the river above New Orleans is now carried on, in a great measure, by steam-boats. The width of the river opposite St. Louis is one mile; it is somewhat less at New Orleans, and still less at its disembochure. A bar at its mouth prevents ships drawing more than eighteen feet water from entering. This river is occupied by different bands of the Chippeway Indians from its sources, to the Buffalo Plains in the vicinity of the upper St. Francis, the precise limit being a matter of dispute, and the cause of the long war between them and the Sioux. The Sioux bands claim from thence to the Prairie des Chiens, and the Foxes and Sacs to the river Desmoines. From this vicinity to the gulf of Mexico the Indian title has been extinguished by the United States’ government, either through purchase, treaty, or conquest, and we have now the complete control of this river and all its tributary streams, with the exception of the upper part of Red river. The wild rice is not found on the waters of the Mississippi south of the forty-first degree of north latitude, nor the Indian reed, or cane, north of the thirty-eighth. These two productions characterize the extremes of this river. It has been observed by McKenzie, that the former is hardly known, or at least does not come to maturity, north of the fiftieth degree of north latitude. The alligator is first seen below the junction of the Arkansas. The paroquet is found as far north as the mouth of the Illinois, and flocks have occasionally been seen as high as Chicago. The name of this river is derived from the Algonquin language, one of the original tongues of our continent, which is now spoken nearly in its primeval purity by the different bands of Chippeways.’
The navigation upon this river is very great. Ships seldom ascend higher than Natchez. It is navigable for boats of the largest size as far as the Ohio. The number of steam-boats upon the Mississippi is about three hundred. Their size is from five hundred and forty tons downwards. The passage from Cincinnati to New Orleans and back has been made in nineteen days. From New Orleans to Louisville the shortest passage has been eight days and two hours, the distance being one thousand six hundred and fifty miles, and against the current. The steam-boats have generally high-pressure power, and many fatal explosions have happened upon these waters. The first steam-vessel here was built in 1810.5
The Missouri rises in the Rocky Mountains in nearly the same parallel with the Mississippi, and about a mile distant from the head-waters of the Columbia. The most authentic information we have yet had of the sources of this mighty river is from its first intrepid American discoverers, Lewis and Clarke. What may properly be called the Missouri, seems to be formed by three considerable branches, which unite not far from the bases of the principal ranges of the mountains. To the northern they gave the name of Jefferson, to the middle Gallatin, and to the southern Madison. All these streams run with great velocity, throwing out large volumes of water; their beds are formed of smooth pebble and gravel, and their waters are perfectly transparent. One hundred and a half miles beyond the forks of the Missouri are the forks of Jefferson river; two subordinate branches of which are called Wisdom and Philanthropy, one coming from the north-west, and the former from the south-east. Wisdom river is fifty yards wide, cold, rapid, and containing a third more water than the Jefferson; it seems to be the drain of the melting snows on the mountains, but is unnavigable on account of its rapidity. One hundred and forty-eight miles farther up is the extreme navigable point of the river in north latitude forty-three degrees thirty minutes and forty-three seconds. Two miles beyond this is a small gap or narrow entrance, formed by the high mountains which recede on each side, at the head of an elevated valley, ten miles long and five broad, so as to form a beautiful cove several miles in diameter. From the foot of one of the lowest of these mountains, which rises with a gentle ascent of half a mile, issues the remotest water of the Mississippi. At the source, we are told that the weather is so cold at the end of August, that water standing in vessels exposed in the night air has been frozen to the depth of a quarter of an inch.
After the junction of the three branches before mentioned, the river continues a considerable distance to be still a foaming mountain torrent. It then spreads into a broad and comparatively gentle stream full of islands. Precipitous peaks of blackish rock frown above the river in perpendicular elevations of a thousand feet. The mountains whose bases it sweeps are covered with pines, cedars and firs; and mountain sheep are seen bounding on their summits where they are apparently inaccessible. In this distance the mountains have an aspect of inexpressible loneliness and grandeur. In the meadows and along the shore the tree most common is the cotton-wood, which with the willow forms almost the exclusive growth of the Missouri.
About forty-seven miles below the spot where the Missouri issues from the mountains to the plains, a most sublime and extraordinary spectacle presents itself, emphatically denominated the Gates of the Rocky Mountains. In ascending the stream it increases in rapidity, depth, and breadth, to the mouth of this formidable pass. Here the rocks approach it on both sides, rising perpendicularly from the edge of the water to the height of one thousand two hundred feet. Near the base they are composed of black granite; but above, the color is of a yellowish, brown, and cream color. Nothing can be imagined more tremendous than the frowning darkness of these rocks, which project over the river, and menace the passenger with instant destruction. For the space of five miles and three quarters, the rocks rise to the above degree of elevation, and the river, three hundred and fifty yards broad, seems to have forced its channel down the solid mass; or, to use Volney’s expression respecting the falls of Niagara, literally to have sawed a passage through this body of hard and solid rock, near six miles in length, being incased as it were, during all this distance, between two walls of one thousand and two hundred feet high. During the whole distance the water is very deep, even at the edges; and for the first three miles, there is not a spot, except one of a few yards, in which a man could stand between the water and the towering perpendicular precipice of the mountain.
The river, for the distance of about seventeen miles, becomes almost a continued cataract. In this distance its perpendicular descent is three hundred and sixty-two feet. The first fall is ninety-eight feet; the second, nineteen; the third, forty-seven; the fourth, twenty-six. Next to the Niagara these falls are the grandest in the world. The river continues rapid for a long distance beyond, but there is not much variation in its appearance till near the mouth of the Platte. That powerful river throws out vast quantities of coarse sand, which contribute to give a new face to the Missouri, which is now much more impeded by islands. The sand, as it is drifted down, adheres in time to some of the projecting points from the shore, and forms a barrier to the mud which at length fills to the same height with the sand-bar itself. As soon as it has acquired a consistency, the willow grows there the first year, and by its roots gives solidity to the whole; with further accumulations the cotton-wood tree next appears, till the soil is gradually raised to a point above the highest freshets. Thus stopped in its course, the water seeks a passage elsewhere, and as the soil on each side is light and yielding, what was only a peninsula becomes gradually an island, and the river compensates the usurpation by encroaching on the adjacent shore. In this way the Missouri, like the Mississippi, is continually cutting off the projections of the shore, and leaving its ancient channel, which may be traced by the deposits of mud and a few stagnant ponds.6
During the whole length of the Missouri below the Platte, the soil is generally excellent, and although the timber is scarce, there is still sufficient for the purpose of settlers. But beyond that river, although the soil is still rich, yet the almost total absence of timber, and particularly the want of good water, of which there is but a small quantity in the creeks, oppose very powerful impediments to its occupancy. The prairies for many miles on each side of the river produce abundance of good pasturage.
Above the mouth of the Osage, the immediate valley of the Missouri gradually expands, embracing some wide bottoms in which are many settlements gradually increasing in the number of inhabitants. The Manito Rocks, and some other precipitous cliffs, are the terminations of low ranges of hills, running in quite to the river. These hills sometimes occasion rapids, and opposite the Manito rocks a small group of islands stretches obliquely across the river, separated by narrow channels in which the current is stronger than below. This group is called the Thousand Islands. Some of the channels are obstructed by collections of floating trees, which usually accumulate about the heads of islands, and are here called rafts. After increasing to a certain extent, portions of these rafts become loosened, and float down the river, covering nearly its whole surface, and greatly impeding and endangering the progress of the ascending boats.
Council Bluffs, the seat of an important military establishment of the United States, about six hundred miles up the Missouri, is a remarkable bank, rising abruptly from the brink of the river to an elevation of one hundred and fifty feet. From the hill tops, a mile in the rear of the Bluffs, is presented a most extensive and beautiful landscape. On the east side of the river, the Bluffs exhibit a chain of peaks, stretching as far as the eye can reach. The river is here and there seen meandering in serpentine folds along its broad valley, chequered with woodlands and prairies, while, at a nearer view, you look down on an extensive plain, interspersed with a few scattered copses or bushes, and terminated at a distance by the Council Bluffs.
Taken in connection with the Mississippi into which it flows, this river is the longest on the globe.7 Its whole course, from its mouth in the gulf of Mexico to its source in the Rocky Mountains, is four thousand four hundred and twenty-four miles, including its windings; and for four thousand three hundred and ninety-six miles of this course it is navigable. From the point of its confluence with the Mississippi to fort Mandan, it is one thousand six hundred and nine miles; to the foot of the rapids at Great Falls two thousand five hundred and seventy-five miles; two thousand six hundred and sixty-four to where it issues from the mountains; two thousand six hundred and ninety to the Gates of the Mountains; three thousand and ninety-six to the extreme navigable point of Jefferson river; and three thousand one hundred and twenty-four miles to its remotest source. In this immense course it receives upwards of fifty large rivers, and one hundred and fifty smaller streams. Its principal tributaries are the Roche Jaune, or Yellowstone, the Kansas, Platte, Osage, Gasconade, Little Missouri, Running Water, Charaton, White, and Milk rivers.
The Yellowstone is the largest of these tributaries. Its sources are in the Rocky Mountains, near those of the Missouri and the Platte, and it may be navigated in canoes almost to its head. It runs first through a mountainous country, but in many parts fertile and well timbered; it then waters a rich, delightful land, broken into valleys and meadows, and well supplied with wood and water, till it reaches near the Missouri open meadows and low grounds, sufficiently timbered on its borders. In the upper country its course is said to be very rapid, but during the two last and largest portions, its current is much more gentle than that of the Missouri. On the sand-bars and along the margin of this river grows the small leafed willow; in the low grounds adjoining are scattered rose bushes three or four feet high, the red-berry, service-berry and redwood. The higher plains are either immediately on the river, in which case they are generally timbered, and have an undergrowth like that of the low grounds, with the addition of the broad leafed willow, gooseberry, purple currant and honeysuckle; or they are between the low grounds and the hills, and for the most part without wood, or any thing except large quantities of wild hyssop, a plant which rises to the height of about two feet, and, like the willow of the sand-bars, is a favorite food of the buffalo, elk, deer, grouse, porcupine, hare, and rabbit.8
The Platte is in fact much more rapid than the Missouri, and drives the current on the northern shore, on which it is constantly encroaching. At some distance below the confluence, the Missouri is two miles wide, with a rapid current of ten miles an hour in some parts, the rapidity increasing as we approach the mouth of the Platte; the velocity of which, combined with the vast quantity of rolling sands which are drifting from it into the Missouri, renders it completely unnavigable, unless for flats or rafts, though the Indians pass it in small flat canoes made of hides, and the Americans have contrived to navigate it by means of keel-boats, which, being constructed to draw but little water, and built upon a small keel, are remarkably well adapted for sailing up rapid and shallow streams. The Platte runs a course of fifteen degrees of longitude, from west to east, or more than eight hundred miles.
The Kansas River has a considerable resemblance to the Missouri, but its current is more moderate, and its water less turbid, except at times of high floods. Its valley, like that of the Missouri, has a deep and fertile soil, bearing forests of cotton-wood, sycamore, and other trees, interspersed with meadows; but in ascending, trees become more and more scattered, and at length disappear almost entirely, the country at its sources being one immense prairie.
The River Osage, so called from the well known tribe of Indians inhabiting its banks, enters the Missouri one hundred and thirty-three miles above its confluence with the Mississippi. Its sources are in the Ozark Mountains. Flowing along the base of the north-western slope of a mountainous range, it receives from the east several rapid and beautiful tributaries. In point of magnitude this river ranks with the Cumberland and Tennessee. It has been represented as navigable for six hundred miles, but this Major Long considers an exaggeration, on account of the great number of shoals and sand-bars in its current. In the lower part of its course it traverses broad and fertile bottom-lands, bearing heavy forests of sycamore and cotton trees.
Charaton River is seventy-five yards wide at its mouth, and navigable at high water one hundred and fifty miles. Half a mile from its confluence with the Missouri, it receives the Little Charaton, also a considerable stream, and navigable for many miles. The Charaton has its source near the De Moyen river of the Mississippi, and traverses a country which is of great importance, both on account of the fertility of its soil, and its inexhaustible mines of gold.
The Arkansas River rises in the Rocky Mountains in north latitude forty-two degrees, near the borders of the territory of the United States and Mexico. It is about two thousand miles in length, running in a direction east south-east. Tributary streams are little known; they are remarkable for being deeply impregnated with salt. That part of Arkansas that traverses the Missouri territory is skirted, in great part, by extensive prairies. Spurs of the Masserne Mountains often reach the river. It may be remarked as singular, that to the extent of upwards of three hundred miles in the lower part of the Arkansas, its valley is confined merely to the stream of the river; the waters of the Washita on one side, and White river on the other, rising almost from the very margin of the Arkansas. The land upon the Arkansas, in the Missouri territory, is in great part alluvial; and where not subject to overflow, excellent. The timber corresponds nearly to that of the state of Mississippi, in similar relative situations.
Red River rises about one hundred miles north-east of Santa Fé, in Mexico, at the base of a range of the Rocky Mountains, called the Caous, and after a very serpentine course of about two thousand five hundred miles, enters the Mississippi in thirty-one degrees fifteen minutes north latitude. There are many streams rising in the same mountains, flowing separately for three or four hundred miles, and then uniting to form the Red river. Of the regions in which the upper waters of these streams lie, but little is known. They are principally inhabited by the Pawnees. When the river enters Louisiana, its south bank is for a long distance the boundary between the United States and Texas. A great part of its course is through delightful prairies of a rich red soil, covered with grass and vines which bear delicious grapes. About a hundred miles above Natchitoches commences what is called the Raft; a swampy expansion of the alluvion to the width of twenty or thirty miles. The river divides into a great number of channels, many of them shallow; and for ages these channels have been becoming clogged with a mass of fallen timber carried down from the upper parts of the river.
At this place its navigation is effectually obstructed, except in a high stage of water, when keel-boats of ten or fifteen tons burden may pass it through devious channels, or bayoux, and ascend several miles above. That part of the river situated above the Raft is rendered impassable for boats of burden, by shoals and sand-bars in a moderate stage of water.9
The Washita, tributary to Red river, is navigable many miles. That portion of it situated within the valley of the Mississippi, denominated Black river, admits of constant navigation for boats of burden. White river is navigable in a moderate stage of water between three and four hundred miles. Of the rivers tributary to the Missouri, it is remarkable, that their mouths are generally blocked up with mud, after the subsiding of the summer freshet of that river, which usually takes place in the month of July. The freshets of the more southerly tributaries are discharged early in the season, and wash from their mouths the sand and mud previously deposited therein, leaving them free from obstructions. These freshets having subsided, the more northerly branches discharge their floods, formed by the melting of the snow, at a later period. The Missouri being thus swollen, the mud of its waters is driven up the mouth of its tributaries. These streams having no more freshets to expel it, their mouths remain thus obstructed till the ensuing spring.10
The St. Peter has its rise in a small lake about three miles in circumference, at the base of a remarkable ridge, distinguished by the name of Coteau des Prairies. It enters the Mississippi nine miles below the falls of St. Anthony. Its length in all its windings is about five hundred miles. Its course is exceedingly serpentine, and is interrupted by several rocky ridges, extending across the bed of the river and occasioning falls of considerable descent. During the times of spring freshets and floods, this river is navigable for boats from its mouth to the head of Big Stone Lake about fifteen miles from its sources. For a distance of about forty miles on the lower part of the river, it is from sixty to eighty yards only wide, and navigable for pirogues and canoes in all stages of the water; higher up, its navigation is obstructed in low water by numerous shoals and rapids. The aggregate descent of the St. Peter may be estimated at about one hundred and fifty feet, the general level of the country at its source having an elevation of about fifty feet above the river. The chief of its tributaries is the Blue-earth river, which flows in from the south a hundred miles west of the Mississippi by a mouth fifty yards in width. It is chiefly noted for the blue clay which the Indians procure upon its banks, and which is much employed in painting their faces and other parts of their bodies. The river St. Peter’s enters the Mississippi behind a large island, which is probably three miles in circumference, and is covered with the most luxuriant growth of sugar-maple, elm, ash, oak, and walnut. At the point of embouchure it is one hundred and fifty yards in width, with a depth of ten or fifteen feet. Its waters are transparent, and present a light blue tint on looking upon the stream. From this circumstance the Indians have given it the name of Clear-water river.
Red River of the north rises near the sources of the St. Peter’s; and by a northern and winding course runs nearly two hundred miles in our territorial limits; and then passes into the British dominions of Upper Canada, and empties into Lake Winnepeck. Its principal branches are Red Lake river and Moose river, the latter of which streams rises within a mile of fort Mandan on the Missouri. Red river is a broad, deep, and very interesting stream, abounding with fish, and the country along its banks with elk and buffaloes.
The name Ohio is an Indian appellation, signifying ‘the beautiful river.’ This epithet is not bestowed upon it for the whole of its course, but commences at the confluence of the two principal streams, at Pittsburg; above the junction it is called the Alleghany. The remotest source of the Alleghany is in the state of Pennsylvania, in north latitude forty-one degrees and forty-five minutes, and west longitude seventy-eight degrees. It is composed of two small streams. At Pittsburg, the Alleghany being joined by the Monongahela, the confluent stream receives the appellation of the Ohio. The Monongahela is formed by the confluence of two streams, both rising from the Alleghany chain, in the north-west angle of Virginia, and running parallel to each other for sixty miles in a direct line. The absolute course of the Monongahela is more than two hundred miles, but not above one hundred and thirty in a direct line from south to north. It seems a larger and deeper stream at Pittsburg than the Alleghany, which in the dry season has not above seven feet water where deepest. The waters of the Alleghany are always clear and limpid, while those of the Monongahela, on the contrary, become muddy and turbid, whenever there are a few days of successive rain in that part of the Alleghany Mountains where it rises. Each of the streams is four hundred yards wide at the conflux; and after the junction, the united stream is more enlarged in depth than in breadth.
The Ohio, formed by the junction of the Monongahela and Alleghany, appears to be rather a continuation of the former than the latter, which arrives at the confluence in an oblique direction. From Pittsburg to the mouth of the Ohio is one thousand and thirty-three miles by the course of the stream. It receives a vast number of tributary streams on both sides, in its progress to the Mississippi. For the space of three hundred miles below Pittsburg, the Ohio runs between two ridges of hills, rising from three hundred to four hundred feet in height. These appear frequently undulated at their summits, but at other times seem to be perfectly level. They sometimes recede, and sometimes approach the banks of the river, and have their direction parallel to that of the Alleghany chain. These ridges gradually recede farther down the river, till they disappear from the view of those who descend the Ohio. It is not till this river has burst its passage through a transverse chain, at the rapids, near Louisville, that it rolls its waters, through a level and expanded country, as far as the Mississippi. The general appearance of the river is beautiful, placid, gentle and transparent, except in the times of high water. There are two seasons of periodical inundations; namely, winter and spring. According to some, the vernal inundations of this river commence in the latter end of March, and subside in July; and, according to others, they commence early in February, and subside in May. It must be observed, however, that this period is forwarded or retarded as the rivers thaw sooner or later, which may reconcile these apparently discordant statements.
The Ohio is then swelled to a prodigious height, varying in different places, as it is more or less expanded in breadth. It is a favorable circumstance for the country in the upper course of the Ohio, that it has very high and steep banks; having gradually hollowed out for itself a deep and comparatively narrower bed, being, like all its southern tributary streams, inclosed as it were in a groove between them, which prevents the general level of the land from being overflowed for many miles, and thereby rendered marshy and unwholesome, as in the lower Missouri, and in the lower part of the Ohio. Yet high as these banks are, the Ohio is both a dangerous and troublesome neighbor to the towns which are not sufficiently far removed from them. That part of the town of Marietta situated at the junction of the Muskingum with the Ohio, though elevated forty-five feet above the ordinary level of the stream, has been twice inundated, and consequently abandoned by the inhabitants. The town of Portsmouth, at the mouth of the Great Sciota, and two hundred and eighteen miles below Marietta by water, though elevated sixty feet above the usual surface of the river, is also subjected to the same misfortune, which has materially affected the prosperity of the place. At Cincinnati, the breadth of the river is five hundred and thirty-five yards, and the banks fifty feet in perpendicular height, yet these are annually overflowed. The winter floods commence in the middle of October, and continue to the latter end of December. Sometimes, in the course of the summer, abundant rains fall among the Alleghany Mountains, by which the Ohio is suddenly raised, but such occurrences are rare. In the times of these two periodical floods, which taken together last for near half the year, ships drawing twelve feet water may sail with perfect ease from Pittsburg to New Orleans, a distance of near two thousand and two hundred miles. In these seasons the passage to the falls may be accomplished in nine or ten days, but it is generally effected in twelve days. The difficulty of navigating the Ohio during the dry season, is only confined to the upper part of its course, or between Pittsburg and Limestone, a space of four hundred and twenty-five miles by water; and this, not so much owing to the shallowness of the stream, as to its being divided by islands; for the depth of the Monongahela branch of the Ohio alone, at Pittsburg, is twelve feet. Michaux counted no less than fifty of these islands in the distance of three hundred and ninety miles; some of them only containing a few acres, and others exceeding a mile in length.
The Tennessee rises in the Alleghany Mountains, traverses East Tennessee, and almost the whole northern limit of Alabama, re-enters Tennessee, and crosses almost the whole width of it, into Kentucky, and passes into Ohio, fifty-seven miles above its junction with the Mississippi. It is near twelve hundred miles in length, and is the largest tributary of the Ohio. It has numerous branches, and is navigable for boats one thousand miles; most of the branches rise among the mountains, and are too shallow for navigation, except during the floods, which take place occasionally, at all seasons of the year, and admit flat boats to be floated down to the main stream.
The Muscle Shoals are about three hundred miles from its entrance into the Ohio. At this place the river spreads to the width of three miles, and forms a number of islands. The passage by boats is difficult and dangerous, except when the water is high.
From these shoals to the place called the Whirl or Suck, two hundred and fifty miles, the navigation all the way is excellent, to the Cumberland Mountain; where the river breaks through. This mountain is sometimes so steep, that even the Indians cannot ascend it on foot. In one place, particularly, near the summit of the mountain, there is a remarkable ledge of rocks, of about thirty miles in length, and two hundred feet high, with a perpendicular front facing the south-east, more noble and grand than any artificial fortification in the known world, and apparently equal in point of regularity. The Whirl, as it is called, is about latitude thirty-four degrees. It is considered a greater curiosity than the bursting of the river Potomac through the Blue Ridge.
The river, which above is half a mile wide, is here compressed to one hundred yards, or eighteen rods. Just at the entrance of the mountain, a large rock projects from the northern shore, in an oblique direction, which renders the channel still narrower. This causes a sudden bend, by which the waters are thrown with great force against the opposite shore. From thence they rebound about the point of the rock, and produce a whirl of eighty yards, or two hundred and forty feet in circumference. By the dexterity of the rowers, canoes drawn into this whirl have sometimes escaped without damage. In less than a mile below the whirl, the river spreads to its common width, down to Muscle Shoals; and thence runs in a regular and beautiful stream to its confluence with the Ohio.
The Wabash rises in the north-eastern part of Indiana, and flows south-westerly nearly across the state, when it turns to the south, and flows into the Ohio, forming towards its mouth the western boundary. Its length, from its mouth to its extreme source, exceeds five hundred miles. It is navigable for keel-boats, about four hundred miles, to Ouitanon, where there are rapids. From this village small boats can go within six miles of St. Mary’s river; ten of Fort Wayne; and eight of the St. Joseph’s of the Miami-of-the-lakes. Its current is gentle above Vincennes; below the town there are several rapids, but not of sufficient magnitude to prevent boats from ascending. The principal rapids are between Deche and White rivers, ten miles below Vincennes. White river and Tippecanoe river are branches of the Wabash.
The Cumberland rises in the Cumberland Mountains in Kentucky, and after a course of nearly two hundred miles in that state, passes into Tennessee, through which it makes a circuit of two hundred and fifty miles, when it re-enters Kentucky and falls into the Ohio, about fifty miles above the entrance of that river into the Mississippi. From the source of this river to its conflux with the Ohio, the distance in a direct line is three hundred miles, but by the course and windings of the stream, it is near six hundred miles, five hundred of which it is navigable for batteaux of fourteen or fifteen tons burthen.
The Muskingum rises in the north-eastern part of Ohio, and flows southerly into the Ohio river. It is two hundred miles in length, and is navigable for boats one hundred miles. It is connected by a canal with Lake Erie. The Sciota rises in the western part, and flows southerly into the Ohio. It is about two hundred miles long, and is navigable one hundred and thirty. There are rich and beautiful prairies on the river, and its valley is wide and fertile. A canal passes along this valley, and extends north-easterly to Lake Erie. The Licking and Kentucky rivers take their rise in the Cumberland Mountains, and flow north-westerly into the Ohio. They are each about two hundred miles in length. The latter is navigable for one hundred and fifty miles, and has a width of one hundred and fifty yards at its mouth. The current is rapid, and the shores are high. For a great part of its course, it flows between perpendicular banks of limestone. The voyager passing down this stream experiences an indescribable sensation on looking upwards to the sky from a deep chasm hemmed in by lofty parapets. Among the other tributaries of the Ohio are the Great and Little Miami, Saline,11 Green river, Big Sandy, Kanhawa.
The Illinois rises in the north-eastern parts of the state of that name, not more than thirty-five miles from the south-western extremity of Lake Michigan, and interlocking by a morass with the river Chicago, which empties into that lake. Its two main head-branches are Plein and Kankakee. Thirty miles from the junction of these rivers, enters Fox river from the north. Between this and the Vermilion, enter two or three inconsiderable rivers. The Vermilion is a considerable stream, which enters the Illinois from the south, two hundred and sixty miles above the Mississippi. Not far below this river, and two hundred and ten miles above the Mississippi, commences Peoria lake, which is no more than an enlargement of the river, two miles wide on an average, and twenty miles in length. Such is the depth and regularity of the bottom, that it has no perceptible current whatever. It is a beautiful sheet of water, with romantic shores, generally bounded by prairies; and no waters in the world furnish finer sport for the angler.
On the north side of the Illinois, the rivers that enter on that shore have their courses, for the most part, in mountainous bluffs, which often approach near the river. For a great distance above its mouth, the river is almost as straight as a canal; has in summer scarcely a perceptible current, and the waters, though transparent, have a marshy taste to a degree to be almost unfit for use. The river is wide and deep; and, for the greater part of its width, is filled with aquatic weeds, to such an extent, that no person could swim among them. Only a few yards width, in the centre of the stream, is free from them. It enters the Mississippi through a deep forest, by a mouth four hundred yards wide. Perhaps no river of the western country has so fine a boatable navigation, for such a great distance; or waters a richer and more luxuriant tract of country.
Rock River is one of the most clear and beautiful tributaries of the Mississippi. It has its source beyond the northern limits of Illinois, and in a ridge of hills that separates between the waters of the Mississippi and those of Lake Michigan. On its waters are extensive and rich lead mines. Its general course is south-west, and it enters the Mississippi, not far above the commencement of the military bounty lands. Opposite the mouth of this river, in the Mississippi, is the beautiful island, called from the name of the river, and on which is a military station of the United States.
Kaskaskia River rises in the interior of Illinois, nearly interlocking with the waters of Lake Michigan. It has a course, in a south-west direction, of between two and three hundred miles, for the greater part of which course, in high stages of water, it is boatable. It runs through a fine and settled country, and empties into the Mississippi a few miles below the town of the same name.
The Ouisconsin is the largest river of the North-West territory that flows into the Mississippi. It rises in the northern interior of the country, and interlocks with the Montreal of Lake Superior. It has a course of between three and four hundred miles, has a shallow and rapid current, which is, however, navigable by boats in good stages of the water, and is eight hundred yards wide at its mouth. There is a portage of only half a mile between this and Fox river. It is over a level prairie, across which, from river to river, there is a water communication for periogues in high stages of the water. Fox River has a course of two hundred and sixty miles. It runs through Winnebago lake. It has a fine country on its banks, with a salubrious climate. Chippeway is a considerable river of the Mississippi, and enters it just below Lake Pepin. It is half a mile wide at its mouth, and has communications by a short portage with Lake Superior. The other chief rivers of this territory, tributary to the ‘father of waters,’ are St. Croix, Rum, St. Francis, and Savanna.
Among the smaller tributaries to the Mississippi are the Obian, Forked Deer, Big Hatchet, and Wolf rivers, all of which flow into it from Tennessee; and the Yazoo and Big Black, from the state of Mississippi. The last named rivers are only navigable for boats.
Beside the rivers which flow into the Mississippi, and are thus emptied into the Gulf of Mexico, there are a few small streams which disembogue immediately into the gulf. The Alabama River rises in the mountainous parts of Georgia, in two head-streams named the Coosa and Tallapoosa, and running south-westerly through the centre of the state of Alabama, unites with the Tombeckbee; both the streams then take the name of Mobile, and flowing south for a short distance fall into Mobile Bay. The Tombeckbee is formed of two main branches rising in the mountains of the Mississippi. It has a boat navigation in the lower part of its course. The Alabama has a boat navigation for one hundred and fifty miles from the bay. Pearl River rises near the centre of the state of Mississippi. A number of branches unite to form the main river, which is afterwards increased by the Chuncka and other streams. It passes through a pleasant and fertile country, and derives much importance from being one of the chief points of communication between the state through which it flows and the Gulf of Mexico. The Pascagoula rises in latitude thirty three degrees, and after travelling for two hundred and fifty miles a tract of pine country, broadens at its mouth into an open bay, on which, at a town of its own name, is a resort for the inhabitants of New Orleans during the sickly months. Most of the rivers of Florida which flow into the gulf have their sources in Georgia. The most important of these is the Appalachicola. The topography of this country is as yet very imperfect, and the very numerous streams which intersect it have borne a variety of names. Most of them are barred at their mouth with sand.
The River St. Croix forms a part of the eastern boundary of Maine, and is little navigable except by rafts; most of it consists of a chain of small lakes. From Calais to the sea, thirty miles, its navigation is unobstructed.
The River Penobscot is the largest in the state of Maine. It rises in the highlands separating Maine from Lower Canada. Between the junction of its two upper branches is Moosehead lake, about forty miles long, and fifteen wide. From the Forks, as they are called, the Penobscot Indians pass to Canada, up either branch, principally the west, the source of which is said to be not more than twenty miles from the waters which fall into the St. Lawrence. The whole navigable course of the river for sloops, is forty-six miles from the head of the bay, to near the head of the side; and from the Forks to the sea is one hundred and thirty-four miles. This river has very numerous branches, navigable by rafts and abounding in mill sites.
The Saco rises in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, enters Maine at Fryeburg, and flows in an irregular course south-east to the sea; it is one hundred and sixty miles long, and has numerous falls which afford excellent mill sites and manufacturing stations.
The Androscoggin rises in Umbagog lake, among the highlands which form the north-west boundary of Maine, and descending through a succession of lakes enters New Hampshire at Errol; it re-enters Maine at Gilead, and flows east and south till it joins the Kennebec at Merrymeeting bay. Its length is one hundred and forty miles; the whole course is broken by rapids and falls, which prevent the transportation of any thing except timber and logs.
The Kennebec also rises in the highlands, near the sources of the Androscoggin, and flows nearly south to the sea; falls and rapids render the navigation difficult above the tide at Augusta, from which place it is navigable for vessels of one hundred tons, and from Hallowell and Gardiner for ships to the sea. The country watered by the Kennebec generally consists of excellent land; it is one of the best grazing districts in New England; and there are upon the banks of the river a number of flourishing and handsome towns.
The Merrimack rises in New Hampshire, and has two principal branches: one of them being the outlet of lake Winnipiseogee. The north or longer branch is called the Pemigewasset, and has its source near the Notch of the White Mountains. At its junction with the outlet of the lake this stream takes the name of Merrimack, and flows south seventy-eight miles to Chelmsford, where it enters Massachusetts, through which it runs east to the sea. Its whole course is about two hundred miles. There are numerous falls in the New Hampshire portion. Though not equal to the Connecticut for fine scenery, the Merrimack is a noble and beautiful stream. Its waters are pure and salubrious, and on its borders are many flourishing towns. Its name in the Indian language signifies a sturgeon. Its width varies from fifty to one hundred and twenty rods; it receives many minor streams and rivers, which form the outlet of several small lakes. Its obstructions have been partly remedied by locks at different places, and there is a good navigation for vessels of two hundred tons to Haverhill. Two chain bridges cross the river at Newburyport, and Salisbury.
The Piscataqua has its rise and its whole course in New Hampshire. It is formed by the junction of several small streams in a wide and deep bed; the longest of these streams is Salmon Fall river, which forms part of the boundary between New Hampshire and Maine.
The Connecticut is the largest river of the New England States. It rises beyond the high-lands which separate the states of Vermont and New Hampshire from Lower Canada. It has been surveyed to the head spring of its northern branch, about twenty-five miles beyond the forty-fifth degree of latitude, from which to its mouth it flows upwards of three hundred miles through a well inhabited country. Its navigation is much interrupted by falls. It receives several rivers, as the Chicapee, Deerfield, Miller’s, and Farmington. At Hartford it meets the tide, whence it passes on in a winding course, till it falls into Long Island sound, between Saybrook and Lyme. This river is navigable for sloops, as far as Hartford, fifty miles distant from its mouth; and the produce of the country, for two hundred miles above it, is brought thither in flat-bottomed boats, which are so light us to be portable in carts.
The Hudson, or the North River, is formed by the confluence of the Hudson proper and the Mohawk, which unite below Waterford, ten miles above Albany. The Hudson takes its rise in the forty-fourth degree of north latitude, from the foot of the mountains which separate the waters of the St. Lawrence from those of Lake Champlain, and the Mohawk in the table-land surrounding Oneida lake. The Mohawk river rises to the north-east of Oneida lake, about eight miles from Sable Water, a stream of Lake Ontario. It runs first twenty miles south to Rome; then south-east one hundred and thirty-four miles; and, after receiving many tributary streams in its course, falls into the Hudson by three mouths. It is a large stream of water; and is now navigable for boats from Schenectady to Rome, one hundred and four miles distant. From Albany to Schenectady is a portage of sixteen miles, on account of the falls and rapids, which render the river unnavigable. These falls and rapids, denominated the Cohoes, are three miles from the junction of the Mohawk with the Hudson. The river is one thousand feet wide at these falls; the rock over which the stream descends is forty feet perpendicular height; and the whole height of the cataract, including the descent above, is seventy feet. Properly speaking, the North river is no other than a narrow gulf of the sea, entering inland at New York, and penetrating across the double chain of the Alleghany Mountains, as far as the confluence of the above mentioned streams, one hundred and seventy miles from the sea. This is what distinguishes the Hudson from all other rivers in the United States. In no other does the tide ascend beyond the first range; but in the North river, it crosses the first chain at West Point, sixty miles north of New York; and the second at Catskill, after having burst the beds of granite which opposed its passage, and cut them into a thousand different shapes. Hence the deep valley of the Hudson has derived a most singular and magnificent aspect; the western bank being, in some places, five hundred feet of perpendicular height above the level of the river.12
Along the shore of the Hudson, a mural precipice extends twenty miles. It commences at Weehawken, four miles north of the city of Jersey, gradually rising towards the north, and mostly occupied by forests. It is known by the name of the Palisadoes.
Palisadoe Rocks.
Raritan River, in the northern part of New Jersey, is formed by two branches which unite about twenty miles above New Brunswick. It becomes navigable two miles above that city, at a place called Brunswick Landing. Flowing by New Brunswick, and gradually becoming broader and deeper, it passes Amboy and then widens into Raritan bay, which is immediately connected with the ocean. It is navigable for sloops of eighty tons as far as New Brunswick, seventeen miles.
The Delaware issues by two streams, called the Coquago and the Rappadon, the union of which, forty miles in a direct line from their sources, form the Delaware, from the Katskill Mountains, in the county of Delaware, state of New York. Running first south, it next turns to the south-east, forming, for the space of sixty miles, the boundary between Pennsylvania and New York; and thence, forms again the line of separation between the former state and that of New Jersey, for upwards of one hundred miles more to Trenton, where there are falls, but of no great height. Thence, with increased breadth, it pursues a course of thirty-six miles farther, to Philadelphia, where it is a mile broad. Thence it proceeds to Newcastle, forty miles below Philadelphia, where it is two miles broad. Thence it spreads out into a spacious bay, and falls into the Atlantic seventy miles below Newcastle, by an outlet of twenty-five miles. The whole course of the river, from the Atlantic to its source, is three hundred and fifty miles; and two hundred and eighty from the head of Delaware bay, including the windings. Its two chief tributary streams are the Lehigh and Schuylkill. The navigation betwixt the Delaware and Chesapeak is now improved by means of a canal.
The River Susquehannah, of all those of the eastern states, most resembles the Mississippi and the St. Lawrence, on account of its numerous and distant branches. The north-east branch, which is the remotest source, is formed by the junction of two small streams that issue from the lakes of Camadebago, Ustavantho, and Otsego, in the state of New York. It runs south and south-west in such a winding course, (receiving in its progress the Unadilla and Chenango rivers from the north,) that it crosses the boundary line between New York and Pennsylvania no less than three times. It forms a junction with the Tioga, in forty-one degrees and fifty-seven minutes north latitude; and thence pursues a south-east course of seventy miles to Wyoming; whence, making a sudden bend at a right angle, it runs a south-west course of eighty miles, and unites with the west branch at Northumberland. The river, now increased to the breadth of half a mile, flows south through the mountains, a course of forty miles, to its junction with the Juniata, when, turning to the east for ten miles, it emerges from the mountains above Harrisburg, and after a south-east course of eighty miles, falls into Chesapeak bay. The western branch of the Susquehannah is formed by many streams, beyond the Alleghany Mountains; and its most southern source is within a very few miles of the Conemaugh, or Kiskeminitas, which falls into the Alleghany a little above Pittsburg. After running a very winding course of two hundred miles, principally among the mountains, it joins with the east branch at Northumberland. The Juniata rises in the Alleghany Mountains, and, pursuing an eastern and very serpentine and mountainous course, falls into the Susquehannah, after running two hundred miles. The whole course of the Susquehannah, from Chesapeak bay to the head of the north-east branch, is four hundred and fifty miles; and, including all its branches, it waters a tract of forty thousand square miles. Where it falls into the sea it is fully a mile broad; at Harrisburg it is nearly of the same breadth, and from three to five feet deep. There are seven falls in this river, which, with the numerous islands and rocks, render it navigable only for a few miles by large vessels.
The River Potomac rises on the north-west side of the Alleghany Mountains, and after running a north-east course of sixty miles to Cumberland, is joined eighteen miles below, by a branch coming from the south-west. Thence fifty-four miles farther, it receives the waters of Licking Creek, and passes the north mountain into a fine limestone valley, which it waters in a very winding course of forty-five miles in a south-east direction. Here it receives a considerable number of tributary streams, particularly the Conecocheague at Williamsport, and the Shenandoah at the extremity of the valley, and just above the Blue Ridge, through which the combined stream has effected a singularly magnificent passage. About thirty miles farther, it descends one hundred and forty feet in the course of eight or ten miles, to the level of tide-water, which it meets at Georgetown. It is here a quarter of a mile wide; but expands to a mile opposite Washington, and enters the Chesapeak bay by a passage seven and a half miles broad. This is one of the most important of the Atlantic rivers. It is navigable for vessels of any burden to Alexandria, one hundred miles distant; and from thence, for ships of considerable burden, to Georgetown. A lock navigation has been constructed round the first falls, of which there are four in the whole. The largest of these falls is at Matilda, six miles above Georgetown, where the stream, nine hundred feet broad, after flowing through a valley skirted with hills wild as those of the Rhone in Vivari, (says Volney,) falls at once, like the Niagara, from the height of seventy-seven feet, into a deep chasm of solid micaceous granite. From this it escapes, several miles farther down, by a widening of the valley in the lower country. The whole course of the Potomac is three hundred and forty miles.
Passage of the Potomac through the Blue Ridge.
York River is formed by the junction of the Mattapony and Pamunky. Beyond the junction, the Mattapony is navigable for seventy miles; and thirty miles higher up is its source in the Blue Mountains. The Pamunky is formed by the junction of the North and South Anna rivers, which rise in the north-west about fifty miles distant. The mouth of this river is three miles wide; and at high tide there is four fathoms water, twenty-five miles above Yorktown, where it is a mile and a half wide in the wet season, but has a channel of only seventy-five fathoms in the dry season.
James’ River is one of the most important rivers in the state of Virginia. It rises in the Alleghany Mountains, near two hundred miles to the west of Richmond; and, after widening and contracting alternately in a very winding course, it enters Chesapeak bay fifteen miles west of Cape Henry; its whole length being three hundred miles. Its principal tributary streams are the Rivanna, the Appomatox, the Chickahomany, the Nansemond, and the Elizabeth, on which last is situated the town of Norfolk. This river, anciently called the Powhatan, affords harbor for vessels of any burden, in Hampton Road, seventy miles below Richmond. Vessels of two hundred and fifty tons may go up to Warwick; and those of one hundred and fifty to within a mile of Richmond.
The Roanoake is formed by the junction of the Dan and Staunton. It runs one hundred and twenty-five miles south-east till it enters Albemarle sound. Its whole course is two hundred miles. It is navigable by sloops sixty miles; the low lands on the banks are subjected to annual inundations.
Cape Fear River is the largest in North Carolina. It rises one hundred miles above Fayetteville; and thence running two hundred miles eastward, falls into the Atlantic ocean at Cape Fear, where it is three miles wide, and eighteen feet deep at high tide. It is navigable by vessels drawing ten feet water, up to Wilmington, a little below the confluence of its two principal streams.
The Great Pedee rises in the Blue Mountains, on the borders of North Carolina and Virginia, where it has the name of Yadkin river. Its whole course is upwards of three hundred miles, half of which is in North Carolina. It is navigable by ships to Georgetown; and for smaller vessels, one hundred miles higher up.
The Santee is the largest river in the state of South Carolina, and is formed by the junction of the Congaree and Wateree rivers. The whole course of the Santee, including that of the Catawbaw or Wateree, is three hundred and fifty miles. It is navigable up to the point of junction by ships of burden.
The Savannah River which forms the boundary between South Carolina and Georgia, is a bold and deep stream, and is formed by the junction of the Keowee and Tugeloo, two small streams issuing from the Blue Ridge, two hundred and fifty miles from the sea. It runs in a straight south-east course all the way to its mouth, seventeen miles below Savannah. It is navigable for ships of any burden to within three miles of Savannah; for vessels of two hundred and fifty tons to Savannah; and for boats of one hundred feet keel, to Augusta, above which the rapids commence; after passing them, the river can be navigated in small boats, eighty miles higher, to the junction of the tributary rivers.
The waters that rise on the western declivities of the Rocky Mountains flow into the Columbia, the Multnomah and the Lake Bueneventura. Columbia or Oregon river rises within a mile of the head-waters of the Missouri. It collects its tribute for a wide extent along the western dividing ridges of the mountains, and on emerging from them becomes at once a broad and deep stream. After receiving Clark’s and Lewis’ rivers, each a large stream, from the east, it widens to nine hundred and sixty yards, and forms a great southern bend through the second chain of mountains. One hundred and thirty-six miles below, are the great falls, where the river descends in one rapid, fifty-seven feet. Below these falls, it winds first to the north-west and then to the south-west, and passes through the third chain of mountains, where it is again compressed to the width of one hundred and fifty yards. Below this rapid, at one hundred and eighty miles from the sea, it meets the tide, beyond which it has a broad estuary to the sea. Sixty miles below the rapids, Multnomah, a very large and unexplored tributary, falls in from the north-east. The mouth of the river is in latitude forty-six degrees and twenty-four minutes, and the tide there rises eight feet and a half. The Columbia and its tributaries abound in the finest salmon, which is said to form the principal food of the savages west of the Rocky Mountains. Seals and other aquatic animals are taken in this river in great numbers, and the skins shipped to China constitute the chief article of trade from this great river. A number of the head streams of the Missouri interlock with the waters of the Columbia. The whole course of the river is about one thousand five hundred miles. As this river waters an immense territory which has recently become a subject of great interest, we have subjoined, in a note, a partial account of its navigation, from the interesting work of Mr. Ross Cox.13
The rivers which flow into the great lakes are, for the most part, small and unimportant. A permanent communication between their waters and those of the Mississippi might be formed by means of a short canal from the Fox or Chicago rivers, both of which empty into Lake Michigan. The Fox river rises near the Ouisconsin branch of the Mississippi, and afterwards flows within one and a half miles of its channel, separated from it only by a short portage over a prairie. During the season of high water, the intervening ground is overflowed, so that loaded boats may pass over it.
Saganaw River is a large and deep stream, with bold shores, and numerous tributaries, which water a large extent of very delightful and fertile country. The banks of this stream are inhabited by detached bands of Chippeway and Ottaway Indians, who have long derived an easy subsistence from the abundance of game and fish to be found in their neighborhood. The Saganaw empties into a fine bay of the same name, which is by far the largest of the numerous inlets which indent the very irregular shores of Lake Huron.
The Gennessee rises in Pennsylvania, and runs north across the west part of New York into Lake Ontario. Five miles from its mouth, at Rochester, are falls of ninety-six and seventy-five feet in descent; above these falls the stream is navigable for boats nearly seventy miles, where two other falls occur, of sixty and ninety feet, one of which is formed by the slope of land which extends from Lewiston on Niagara river. Black River receives its name from the color of its water. It rises in the highlands, north of the Mohawk, and its branches interlock with those of the Hudson; it pursues a northerly course of one hundred and twenty miles, and falls into Lake Ontario, near its outlet. It is a deep but sluggish stream, and the navigation is interrupted by falls; a series of which, called the Long Falls, extend fourteen miles. The land upon this stream is generally a rich, dark colored mould. The Oswegatchie consists of two branches, which unite four miles above their entrance into the St. Lawrence. The east branch is about one hundred and twenty miles long, and the west nearly one hundred; they are very crooked streams. The Oswego issues from Oneida Lake, and runs north-westerly into Lake Ontario; it is about forty miles long and is a rapid stream; its navigation is assisted by locks and canals. The Maumee rises in the north-eastern part of Indiana, and flows through the north-western part of Ohio into Lake Erie; it is broad and deep, but has an obstruction from shoals and rapids thirty-three miles above its mouth. The Sandusky rises in the northern part of Ohio, and flows northerly into Lake Erie; it is one hundred miles in length, and is navigable.
GENERAL REMARKS ON RIVERS.
The beds of rivers are the lowest parts of great chasms, formed by the same revolutions which produced the mountains. Running waters unceasingly wear away their beds and banks in places where their declivity is very rapid; they hollow out and deepen their channels in mountains composed of rocks of moderate hardness; they draw along stones, and form accumulations of them in the lower part of their course; and thus their beds are often gradually elevated in the plains, while they are deepened and depressed in the mountains. But these changes, though continually going on for thousands of years, could only give form to the banks of rivers; they in no wise created the banks themselves. Many great rivers flow with an almost imperceptible declivity. The river of the Amazons has only ten feet and a half declivity upon two hundred leagues of its course, making one twenty-seventh of an inch for every thousand feet. When a river is obstructed in its course by a bank of solid rocks, and finds beneath them a stratum of softer materials, its waters wear away the softer substance, and thus open for themselves a subterraneous passage, more or less long. Such are the causes which have formed the magnificent Rock Bridge in Virginia, an astonishing vault uniting two mountains, separated by a ravine two hundred and seventy feet in depth, in which the Cedar Creek flows. In Louisiana, trees, or rather whole forests, have been observed to fall on a river, covering it nearly with vegetable earth; and thus giving rise to a natural bridge which for leagues has hid the course of the river.
Rivers in running into the sea present a great variety of interesting phenomena; many form sand-banks, as the Senegal and the Nile; others, like the Danube, run with such force into the sea, that one can for a certain space distinguish the waters of the river from those of the sea. The waters of the little river Syre in Norway are discernable for a considerable distance in the sea. It is only by a very large mouth, like that of the Loire, the Elbe, or the Plata, that a river can peacefully mingle with the sea. Rivers even of this nature, however, sometimes experience the superior influence of the sea, which repels the waters into their bed. Thus the Seine forms at its mouth a bar of considerable extent; and the Garonne, unable to discharge with sufficient rapidity the waters which it accumulates in a kind of gulf between Bordeaux and its mouth, exhibits this aquatic mountain, stopped by the flow of the tide rolling backwards, inundating the banks, and stopping vessels in their progress both up and down. This phenomenon, termed the Mascaret, is only the collision of two bodies of water moving in opposite directions. The most sublime phenomenon of this kind which presents itself is that of the giant of rivers Orellana, called the river of the Amazons. Twice a day it pours out its imprisoned waves into the bosom of the ocean. A liquid mountain is thus raised to the height of one hundred and eighty feet; it frequently meets the flowing tide of the sea, and the shock of these two bodies of water is so dreadful that it makes all the neighboring islands tremble; the fishermen and navigators fly from it in the utmost terror. The next day, or the second day after every new or full moon, the time when the tides are highest, the river also seems to redouble its power and energy; its waters and those of the ocean rush against each other like the onset of two armies. The banks are inundated with their foaming waves; the rocks drawn along like light vessels, dash against each other, almost upon the surface of the water which bears them on. Loud roarings echo from island to island. It has been said that the Genius of the River and the God of the Ocean contended in battle for the empire of the waves. The Indians call this phenomenon Pororoca.
NORTH AMERICA. | |
---|---|
Names. | Length. |
Missouri | 4,400 |
Mississippi | 3,000 |
Arkansas | 2,100 |
St. Lawrence | 2,000 |
Mackenzie | 2,000 |
Del Norte | 2,000 |
Nelson | 1,500 |
Columbia | 1,500 |
Red River | 1,500 |
Platte | 1,500 |
Ohio | 1,350 |
Kansas | 1,200 |
White River | 1,200 |
Tennessee | 1,100 |
Alabama | 650 |
Savannah | 600 |
Potomac | 550 |
Connecticut | 410 |
Hudson | 324 |
Delaware | 300 |
SOUTH AMERICA. | |
Maranon | 4,500 |
La Plata | 3,000 |
Madeira | 2,500 |
Orinoco | 1,800 |
Tocantins | 1,800 |
Ucayale | 1,600 |
St. Francisco | 1,500 |
Paraguay | 1,400 |
Xingu | 1,400 |
Topajos | 1,300 |
EUROPE. | |
Volga | 2,040 |
Danube | 1,710 |
Don | 1,050 |
Dnieper | 1,080 |
Kemi | 780 |
Rhine | 670 |
Elbe | 570 |
Loire | 540 |
Vistula | 500 |
Dniester | 480 |
Tagus | 580 |
Dwina | 480 |
AFRICA. | |
Nile | 2,687 |
Senegal | 950 |
Orange | 900 |
Gambia | 700 |
ASIA. | |
Yangtse Kian | 3,300 |
Lena | 2,470 |
Amour | 2,360 |
Obi | 2,260 |
Yenisei | 2,150 |
Ganges | 2,040 |
Burrampooter | 2,040 |
Irrawaddy | 2,040 |
Cambodia | 2,000 |
Euphrates | 1,820 |
Hoang Ho | 2,900 |
Meinam | 1,600 |
THE Falls of Niagara have been very frequently and minutely described, though it must be acknowledged, as has been well said by the celebrated Audubon, that all the pictures you may see, all the descriptions you may read of these mighty falls, can only produce in your mind the faint glimmer of a glow-worm compared with the overpowering glory of the meridian sun. ‘What!’ said he, ‘have I come here to mimic nature in her grandest enterprise, and add my caricature of one of the wonders of the world to those which I here see? No.—I give up the vain attempt. I will look on these mighty cataracts, and imprint them where they alone can be represented,—on my mind!’ The following very full and accurate description by Mr. Schoolcraft, is the best with which we are acquainted.
‘On the first of May, I visited the celebrated Falls of Niagara.14 Keeping the American shore, the road lies over an alluvial country, elevated from ten to twenty feet above the water of the river, without a hill or a ledge of rocks, and with scarce an undulation of surface, to indicate the existence, or prepare the eye for the stupendous prospect which bursts, somewhat unexpectedly, into view. The day was clear and warm, with a light breeze blowing down the river. We stopped frequently on our approach to listen for the sound of the Fall, but at the distance of fifteen, ten, eight, and even five miles, could not distinguish any, even by laying the ear to the ground. It was not until within three miles of the precipice, where the road runs close to the edge of the river, and brings the rapids in full view, that we could distinctly hear the sound, which then, owing to a change in the wind, fell so heavily upon the ear, that in proceeding a short distance, it was difficult to maintain a conversation as we rode along. On reaching the Falls, nothing struck me with more surprise, than that the Baron La Hontan, who visited it in August, 1688, should have fallen into so egregious a mistake, as to the height of the perpendicular pitch, which he represents at seven or eight hundred feet. Nor does the narrator of the discoveries of the unfortunate La Salle, Monsieur Tonti, approach much nearer the truth, when he states it at six hundred feet. Charlevoix, whose work is characterized by more accuracy, learning, and research, than those who had preceded him, and who saw the Falls in 1721, makes, on the contrary, an estimate which is surprising for the degree of accuracy he has attained. “For my own part,” he says, “after examining it on all sides, where it could be viewed to the greatest advantage, I am inclined to think we cannot allow it less than a hundred and forty or fifty feet.” The latter, (one hundred and fifty,) is precisely what the Fall on the Canadian side is now estimated at. There is a rapid of two miles in extent above, and another of seven miles, extending to Lewiston, below the Falls. The breadth across, at the brink of the Fall, which is serrated and irregular, is estimated at four thousand two hundred and thirty feet, or a little more than three fourths of a mile. The Fall on the American shore is one hundred and sixty-four feet, being the highest known perpendicular pitch of so great a volume of water. The fall of the rapid above, commencing at Chippewa, is estimated at ninety feet, and the entire fall of Niagara river from Lake Erie to Lake Ontario, a distance of thirty-five miles, at three hundred feet. Goat Island, which divides the water into two unequal sheets, has recently been called Iris, (in allusion to the perpetual rainbows by which it is characterized) by the commissioners for settling the boundaries of the United States, acting under the treaty of Ghent.
‘In approaching this cataract from Lewiston, the elevated and rocky description of country it is necessary to cross, together with the increased distance at which the roar is heard in that direction, must serve to prepare the mind for encountering a scene which there is nothing to indicate on approaching from Buffalo; and this impression unquestionably continues to exercise an effect upon the beholder, after his arrival at the Falls. The first European visiters beheld it under this influence. Following the path of the Couriers de Bois, they proceeded from Montreal up the St. Lawrence, to Fort Caderacqui, and around the shores of Lake Ontario, to the alluvial tract which stretches from the mouth of Niagara river, to the site of Lewiston. Here the Ridge, emphatically so called, commences, and the number of elevations which it is necessary to ascend in crossing it, may, without a proper consideration of the intermediate descents, have led those who formerly approached that way into error, such as La Hontan and Tonti fell into. They must have been deprived also of the advantages of the view from the gulf at the foot of the Falls, for we are not prepared to admit the possibility of a descent without artificial stairs, or other analogous laborious and dangerous works, such, as at that remote period, must have been looked upon as a stupendous undertaking; and could not, indeed, have been accomplished, surrounded as the French then were, by their enemies, the jealous and ever watchful Iroquois. The descent at the present period, with every advantage arising from the labors of mechanical ingenuity, cannot be performed without feeling some degree of personal solicitude.
‘It is in this chasm that the sound of the water falls heaviest upon the ear, and that the mind becomes fully impressed with the appalling majesty of the Fall. Other views from the banks on both sides of the river, and from the Island of Iris in its centre, are more beautiful and picturesque; but it is here that the tremulous motion of the earth, the clouds of irridescent spray, the broken column of falling water, the stunning sound, the lofty banks of the river, and the wide spreading ruin of rocks, imprint a character of wonder and terror upon the scene, which no other point of view is capable of producing. The spectator, who, on alighting at Niagara, walks hastily to the brink, feels his attention imperceptibly riveted to the novel and striking phenomenon before him, and at this moment is apt either to overrate or to underrate the magnitude of the Fall. It is not easy to erect a standard of comparison; and the view requires to be studied, in order to attain a just conception and appreciation of its grandeur and its beauties. The ear is at first stunned by the incessant roar, and the eye bewildered in the general view. In proportion as these become familiarized, we seize upon the individual features of the landscape, and are enabled to distinguish between the gay and the sombre, the bold and the picturesque, the harsh and the mellow traits, which, like the deep contrasted shades of some high wrought picture, contribute to give effect to the scene.
‘It was some time before I could satisfy myself of the accuracy of the accredited measurements of the height of the Fall, and not until after I had made repeated visits, and spent a considerable time in the abyss below. There appears a great disproportion between the height and the width of the falling sheet, but the longer I remained, the more magnificent it appeared to me; and hence it is, that with something like a feeling of disappointment, on my first arrival, I left the Falls after a visit of two days, with an impression of the scene which every thing I had previously read, had failed to create. At the time of my visit, the wind drove the floating ice out of Lake Erie, with the drift-wood of its tributary rivers, and these were constantly precipitated over the Falls, but we were not able to discover any vestiges of them in the eddies below. Immediately in front of the sheet of falling water on the American side, there was also an enormous bank of snow, of nearly an hundred feet in height, which the power of the sun had not yet been fierce enough to dissolve, and which, by giving an Icelandic character to the landscape, produced a fine effect. It appeared to me to owe its accumulation to the falling particles of frozen spray.
‘What has been said by Goldsmith, and repeated by others, respecting the destructive influence of the rapids15 above to ducks and other water fowl, is only an effect of the imagination. So far from being the case, a wild duck is often seen to swim down the rapid to the brink of the Falls, and then fly out, and repeat the descent, seeming to take a delight in the exercise. Neither are small land-birds affected on flying over the Falls, in the manner that has been stated. I observed the blue-bird and the wren, which had already made their annual visit to the banks of the Niagara, frequently fly within one or two feet of the brink, apparently delighted with the gift of their wings, which enabled them to sport over such frightful precipices without danger. We are certainly not well pleased to find that some of the wonderful stories we have read of the Falls, during boyhood, do not turn out to be the truth; but, at the same time, a little attention is only necessary to discover that many interesting facts and particulars remain unnoticed, which fully compensate for others that have been over-strained or misstated. Among these, the crystalline appearances disclosed among the prostrate ruins, and the geological character of the Fall itself, are not the least interesting.
Bridge and Rapids above the Falls.
‘The scenes where nature has experienced her greatest convulsions, are always the most favorable for acquiring a knowledge of the internal structure of the earth. The peaks of the highest mountains, and the depths of the lowest ravines, present the greatest attractions to the geologist. Hence this cataract, which has worn its way for a number of miles, and to a very great depth, through the stony crust of the earth, is no less interesting for the geological facts it discloses, than for the magnificence of its natural scenery. The chain of highlands, called the Ridge, originates in Upper Canada, and running parallel with the south shore of Lake Ontario, forms a natural terrace, which pervades the western counties of New-York, from north to south, affording, by its unbroken chain, and the horizontal position of its strata, the advantages of a natural road, and terminates in an unexplored part of the county of Oswego, or thereabout. It is in crossing this ridge, that the falls of the Niagara, of the Gennessee, and of the Oswego rivers, all running into Lake Ontario, are produced; together with those of an infinite number of smaller streams and brooks. Through this, the Niagara has cut its way for a distance of seven miles, and to a depth of more than two hundred feet, disclosing the number, order of stratification, and mineral character, of the different strata of secondary rocks, of which it is composed.
‘These rocks, (sandstone, slate, and limestone,) however their properties may be found modified by future discoveries, will probably be found, with a proper allowance for local formations and disturbances, to pervade all that section of country, which lies between the Niagara and Seneca rivers, between lakes Ontario and Seneca, and between the Alleghany river and the south shore of Lake Erie, as general boundaries. All this section of country appears to be underlayed by a stratum of red sandstone, such as appears at the Gennessee Falls, but which is imbedded at various depths, as the country happens to be elevated above, or depressed below the level of the Niagara stratum, in which no inclination is visible. No order of stratification could have been effected by nature, which would have afforded greater facilities to the wasting effects of falling water, so visible as these Falls. The slate which separates the calcareous from the sandstone rock, by a stratum of nearly forty feet in thickness, is continually fretting away, and undermining the superincumbent stratum of limestone, which is thus precipitated in prodigious masses into the abyss below. The most considerable occurrence of this kind, that has recently taken place, is that of the Table Rock,16 on the Canadian shore, which fell during the summer of 1818, disclosing a number of those crystallized substances, which have already been alluded to. By these means, the Falls, which are supposed by the most intelligent visitors to have been anciently seated at Lewiston, have progressed seven miles up the river, cutting a trench through the solid rock, which is about half a mile in width, and two hundred feet in depth, exclusive of what is hidden by the water. The power, capable of effecting such a wonderful change, still exists, and may be supposed to operate with undiminished activity. The wasting effects of the water, and the yielding nature of the rocks, remain the same, and manifest the slow process of a change, at the present period, as to position, height, form, division of column, and other characters, which form the outlines of the great scene; and this change is probably sufficiently rapid in its operation, if minute observations were taken, to imprint a different character upon the falls, at the close of every century.’
The Great Falls of the Missouri are the grandest in all North America, those of Niagara excepted, and though inferior to these in volume of water, depth of descent, and awful grandeur, yet they are far more diversified and beautiful. These Falls are within sixty geographical miles of the easternmost range of the Rocky Mountains. Here the river, two hundred and eighty yards, or eight hundred and forty feet wide, is pressed in by a perpendicular cliff on the left, one hundred feet high, and extending for a mile up the river; on the right, the bluff, or high steep bank, is also perpendicular for three hundred yards above the falls. For ninety or one hundred yards from the left cliff, the water falls in one smooth even sheet over a precipice of eighty-seven feet eight inches, according to Captain Lewis; but ninety-eight feet, according to Cass, and Captain Clarke. The remaining part of the river precipitates itself with a more rapid current; but being received as it falls by the irregular and projecting rocks below, forms a splendid prospect of perfectly white foam, two hundred yards in length, and eighty in perpendicular elevation. This spray is dissipated into a thousand different shapes; sometimes flying up in columns of fifteen or twenty feet, which are then oppressed by larger masses of the white foam, on all which the sun impresses the brightest colors of the rainbow. As it rises from the fall, it beats with fury against a ledge of rocks extending across the river, at one hundred and fifty yards from the precipice. From the perpendicular cliff on the north, to the distance of one hundred and twenty yards, the rocks rise only a few feet above the surface of the water; and when the river is high, the stream finds a passage across them; but between the southern extremity of this ledge and the perpendicular cliff on the south, the whole body of water runs with great rapidity. At the distance of three hundred yards is a second abutment of solid perpendicular rock, sixty feet high, projecting at right angles from the small plain on the north for one hundred and thirty-four yards into the river. Below this, the Missouri regains its usual breadth of three hundred yards, but there is a continued succession of rapids and cascades. At the second grand fall, the river, four hundred yards wide, precipitates itself, for the space of three hundred yards, to a depth of nineteen feet perpendicular, and so irregularly, that Captain Lewis termed it the Crooked Fall.
Above this fall, the Missouri bends suddenly to the northward, where, four hundred and seventy-three yards wide, it is suddenly stopped by one shelving rock, which without a single niche, and with an edge as straight and regular as if it had been formed by art, stretches itself across from one side of the river to the other. Over this the Missouri precipitates itself in one even, uninterrupted sheet, of four hundred and seventy-three yards broad to the perpendicular depth of forty-seven feet eight inches; whence, dashing against the rocky bottom, it rushes rapidly down, leaving behind it a spray of the purest foam across the river. At the distance of less than half a mile, another of a similar kind is presented. Here a cascade stretches across the whole river, for a quarter of a mile, with a descent of fourteen feet seven inches, though the perpendicular pitch is only six feet seven inches. For the space of one thousand one hundred and seventy-seven yards above this cascade the river descends fifteen feet. Immediately above this, one of the largest springs in America falls into the river. Its water is cold, of the most perfect clearness, and of a bluish color, which it preserves, even for half a mile after falling into the Missouri, notwithstanding its rapidity. This fountain rises in the plain, twenty-five yards from the river, on the south side. In its course to the river, it falls over some steep, irregular rocks, with a sudden descent of eight feet perpendicular, in one part of its progress. The water boils up from among the rocks, and with such force near the centre that the surface seems higher than the earth on the sides of the fountain, which is a handsome turf of green grass. The water is pleasant to the taste, not being impregnated with lime or any adventitious substance. For the space of a mile and one thousand one hundred and sixty-six yards above the mouth of this spring, the descent of the river is thirteen feet six inches.
During the upper part of its course, this river is remarkable for a succession of rapids, cascades, and cataracts, and in a course of about three miles it has a descent of no less than three hundred and fifty-two feet.
On the Mississippi River are several sets of rapids. One called Les Rapides des Moines, is eleven miles long, and consists of successive ledges and shoals, extending from shore to shore across the bed of the river. One hundred miles higher up is another, about eighteen miles in length, and consisting of a continued chain of rocks, over which the water flows with turbulent rapidity.
About thirty miles from its source, the Mississippi, after winding through a dismal country, covered with high grass meadows, with pine swamps in the distance, which appear to cast a deeper gloom on its borders, is suddenly pent up in a channel about eighty feet wide, where it has a descent of twenty feet in three hundred yards. This fall is called Peckagama. Immediately at the head of the falls is the first island noticed in the river. It is small, rocky, covered with spruce and cedar, and divides the channel nearly in its centre.
St. Anthony’s Falls are situated on the Mississippi river, more than two thousand miles above its mouth. Above the falls, the river has a width of five or six hundred yards. Immediately below, it contracts to a width of two hundred yards; and there is a strong rapid for a considerable distance below. This beautiful spot in the Mississippi is not without a tale to hallow its scenery, and heighten the interest, which, of itself, it is calculated to produce. In the narrative of Long’s Second Expedition, we find the following romantic story, related by an old Indian, whose mother was an eye-witness to the transaction:
St. Anthony’s Falls.
‘An Indian of the Dacota nation had united himself early in life to a youthful female, whose name was Ampota Sapa, which signifies the Dark Day; with her he lived happily for several years, apparently enjoying every comfort which the savage life can afford. Their union had been blessed with two children, on whom both parents doated with that depth of feeling which is unknown to such as have other treasures besides those that spring from nature. The man had acquired a reputation as a hunter, which drew around him many families, who were happy to place themselves under his protection, and avail themselves of such part of his chase as he needed not for the maintenance of his family. Desirous of strengthening their interest with him, some of them invited him to form a connection with their family, observing, at the same time, that a man of his talent and importance required more than one woman to wait upon the numerous guests whom his reputation would induce to visit his lodge. They assured him that he would soon be acknowledged as a chief, and that, in this case, a second wife was indispensable.
‘Fired with the ambition of obtaining high honors, he resolved to increase his importance by an union with the daughter of an influential man of his tribe. He had accordingly taken a second wife without ever having mentioned the subject to his former companion; being desirous to introduce his bride into his lodge in the manner which should be least offensive to the mother of his children, for whom he still retained much regard, he introduced the subject in these words: “You know,” said he, “that I can love no woman so fondly as I doat upon you. With regret have I seen you of late subjected to toils which must be oppressive to you, and from which I would gladly relieve you, yet I know no other way of doing so, than by associating with you in the household duties, one who shall relieve you from the trouble of entertaining the numerous guests, whom my growing importance in the nation collects around me. I have, therefore, resolved upon taking another wife, but she shall always be subject to your control, as she will always rank in my affections second to you.”
‘With the utmost anxiety, and the deepest concern, did his companion listen to this unexpected proposal. She expostulated in the kindest terms, entreated him with all the arguments which undisguised love and the purest conjugal affections could suggest. She replied to all the objections which his duplicity led him to raise. Desirous of winning her from her opposition, the Indian still concealed the secret of his union with another, while she redoubled all her care to convince him that she was equal to the task imposed upon her. When he again spoke on the subject, she pleaded all the endearments of their past life; she spoke of his former fondness for her, of his regard for her happiness and that of their mutual offspring; she bade him beware of the consequences of this fatal purpose of his. Finding her bent upon withholding her consent to this plan, he informed her that all opposition on her part was unnecessary, as he had already selected another partner, and that if she could not receive his new wife as a friend, she must receive her as a necessary incumbrance, for he had resolved that she should be an inmate in his house.
‘Distressed at this information, she watched her opportunity, stole away from the cabin with her infants, and fled to a distance where her father was. With him she remained until a party of Indians with whom he lived, went up the Mississippi on a winter hunt. In the spring, as they were returning with their canoes loaded with peltries, they encamped near the Falls. In the morning as they left it, she lingered near the spot, then launched her light canoe, entered into it with her children, and paddled down the stream, singing her death-song. Too late did her friends perceive it; their attempts to prevent her from proceeding were of no avail; she was heard to sing in a doleful voice the past pleasures which she had enjoyed, while she was the undivided object of her husband’s affection; finally her voice was drowned in the sound of the cataract; the current carried down her frail bark with an inconceivable rapidity; it came to the edge of the precipice, was seen for a moment enveloped in spray, but never afterwards was a trace of the canoe or its passengers seen. Yet it is stated by the Indians, that often in the morning a voice has been heard to sing a doleful ditty along the edge of the fall, and that it dwells ever on the inconstancy of her husband. Nay, some assert that her spirit has been seen wandering near the spot with her children wrapped to her bosom. Such are the tales or traditions which the Indians treasure up, and which they relate to the voyager, forcing a tear from the eyes of the most unrelenting.’
There are many other falls in the United States, which have been the subject of no extended descriptions, but which would excite admiration in any quarter of the world. In New York, the Great Falls of the Genesee, about half a mile below Rochester, are ninety feet perpendicular, and a few rods above is another of five feet, surmounted by a rapid. On the same river are several other falls. Trenton Falls are on West Canada Creek, a tributary of the Mohawk, fourteen miles north of Utica; they consist of several grand and beautiful cascades, some of them forty feet in descent. The river here passes through a rocky chasm four miles in length, presenting the greatest variety of cascades and rapids, boiling pools and eddies. The rock is a dark limestone, and contains abundance of petrified marine shells. Glen’s Falls are upon the Hudson, eighteen miles above Saratoga, and are a grand rapid, falling sixty-seven feet in a course of one hundred and seventy yards. Jessup’s Falls and Hadley Falls are beautiful cataracts on the same stream, a few miles above. Claverack Falls are upon a stream near the city of Hudson; they descend down a precipice of dark rocks into a deep chasm shaded with forest trees. The cataracts near Ithaca comprise four hundred and thirty-eight feet of descent in a mile; the fall of the Cohoes on the Mohawk is seventy feet.
At Bellows Falls, five miles from the town of Walpole, on the Connecticut, the whole descent of the river, in the space of half a mile, is forty-four feet; and it includes several pitches, one below another, at the highest of which a large rock divides the stream into two channels, each about ninety feet wide. When the water is low, the eastern channel is dry, being crossed by a solid rock, and the whole stream falls into the western channel, where, being contracted to the breadth of sixteen feet, it flows with astonishing force and rapidity. A bridge has been built over these falls, from which an advantageous view is had of their interesting and romantic scenery. Some years ago a canal, over half a mile long, was dug through the rocks around the falls, for the passage of flat-bottomed boats and rafts. Notwithstanding the velocity of the current, salmon used to pass up the fall in great numbers. Amoskeag Falls, in the Merrimack, consist of three successive pitches, falling nearly fifty feet. The Housatonic Falls, in the north-west part of Connecticut, are the finest in New England.
The Passaic Falls, in Paterson, New Jersey, twenty-two miles north-west of New York, are highly picturesque and beautiful. The river Passaic rises in the northern part of New Jersey, and after a circuitous course, falls into Newark Bay. At the town of Paterson, about twenty miles from its mouth, is the Great Fall, where the river, about one hundred and twenty feet wide, and running with a very swift current, reaches a deep chasm, or cleft, which crosses the channel, and falls perpendicularly about seventy feet, in one entire sheet. One end of the cleft is closed up, and the water rushes out at the other with incredible rapidity, in an acute angle to its former direction, and is received into a large basin. It thence takes a winding course through the rocks, and spreads again into a very considerable channel. The cleft is from four to twelve feet in breadth, and is supposed to have been produced by an earthquake. When this cataract was visited by a late British traveller, the spray refracted two beautiful rainbows, primary and secondary, which greatly assisted in producing as fine a scene as imagination can conceive. It was also heightened by the effect of another fall, of less magnificence, about ninety feet above.
Source of Passaic Falls.
The spirit of utility, in its stern disregard of the picturesque, has diverted the current of the Passaic into so many channels for the supply of manufactories, that the cascade is now an object of interest only during the wet season.
The Potomac, which forms the boundary between the states of Maryland and Virginia, is navigable to the city of Washington; above which it is obstructed by several falls, of which the most remarkable are Little Falls, three miles above Washington, with a descent of thirty-seven feet: Great Falls, eight and a half miles further up, with a descent of seventy-six feet; which have been made navigable by means of five locks: Seneca Falls, six miles above, descending ten feet: Shenandoah Falls, sixty miles higher up the river, where the Potomac breaks through the Blue Ridge at Harper’s Ferry: Houre’s Falls, five miles above the Shenandoah.
In addition to the cataracts above enumerated, we may notice the Falling Spring, in Bath county, Virginia, which forms a beautiful cascade, streaming from a perpendicular precipice, two hundred feet high; and the Tuccoa Fall, in Franklin county, Georgia, which, though one of the most beautiful that can be conceived, is scarcely yet known to geographers. It is one hundred and eighty-seven feet in height, and the water is propelled over a perpendicular rock. When the stream is full, it pours over the steep in one expansive magnificent sheet, amid clouds of spray, on which the prismatic colors are reflected with a most enchanting effect.
The cascades of the Catskill Mountains are very romantic and beautiful. The Kasterskill is formed by the union of two branches, one rising in two lakes, about one and a half miles east of the western cascade, the other about half the distance in a northerly direction. The best view of the western fall is from below, the foliage above being so thick as in a great measure to obscure it. Below the fall the banks of the stream, which are nearly three hundred feet in height, rise almost perpendicularly from the surface of the water. The following description is from the pen of Mr. H. E. Dwight.
‘The rocks on each side of the stream project so as partially to eclipse the sides of the fall. They have fallen from time to time, in such a manner as to form seventeen natural steps, rising one above another. We stationed ourselves on these steps, to enjoy the scenery around us. Before us the stream fell in a beautiful sheet, exhibiting its transparent waters, when, striking the inclined plane, it rushed down with headlong fury, bearing on its surface a foam of silvery whiteness. On the right and left, the banks rose over our heads in silent grandeur, as if on the point of detaching their projecting masses into the ravine where we were standing, while below us, the water was visible for about thirty rods, descending in the form of a rapid, when, bending around the point of a projection of the mountain, it disappeared from our view. The spray was so thick as to make a dense cloud, on which the sun, shining with great brilliancy, and being nearly vertical, imprinted a perfect rainbow. This bow, which was not more than eight feet in diameter, formed a circle around us slightly elliptical, near the centre of which we stood. As we approached the fall, the spray thickened, the splendor of the colors increased, and the shrubs, the rocks, and the water, were tinged with its choicest hues. To complete the view, a small rivulet, caused by the late rains, fell about two hundred feet, in the form of a cascade, down the precipice, on the southern bank of the stream, displaying its crystal waters through the green foliage which adorned it. We remained here enjoying the prospect for some minutes, when, drenched with spray, we reluctantly bade it adieu, with all those emotions which the sublimity and beauty of such a scene would naturally awaken.
Catskill Falls.
‘I visited the eastern cascade immediately after viewing the western fall on the Kaaterskill, when the column of water was swollen to eight or ten times its common size, and shall describe it, as it then appeared. The rock over which the water descends, projects in such a manner that the cascade forms part of a parabolic curve. After striking a rock below, it runs down an inclined plane a few rods in length, when it rushes over another precipice of one hundred feet. The column of water remained entire for two thirds the descent, and its surface was covered with a rich sparkling foam, which, as it fell, presented to the eye a brilliant emanation. Here it was broken, and formed a continued succession of showers. Large globules of water, of a soft, pearly lustre, enriched with a prismatic reflection, shot off in tangents to the curve of the cascade, and being drawn by the attraction of gravitation, united again with the stream. The sun, shining through a clear atmosphere, imprinted on it his glittering rays, appearing like a moving column of transparent snow. The spray, rising to the height of several hundred feet, was continually agitated by a strong wind, which gave birth to a number of rainbows. They were elevated one above the other, and increased in brilliancy towards the base of the cascade, where, as well as at the lower fall, an iris spread its arch of glory, tinging the rocks and foliage with its brightest colors.
‘The ground below these cascades continued descending at an angle of forty-five degrees, forming a hollow like an inverted cone, of one thousand feet in depth. This was lined with lofty trees, whose verdant tops, varying from the dark hemlock to the light maple, were bending with the wind. Through this waving forest the cascade appeared at various distances, sparkling with the rays of the sun, and forming a fine contrast to the sombre rocks which surrounded it. From this cavity, at the distance of several miles, a peak rose to an elevation of two thousand feet, while the mountains on the right and left, impressed their bold outlines on the sky beyond them.
‘The best view of this scene, is a few rods from the base of the lower fall. These cascades are both of them in a direct line, and by standing in this position can be united in one. By raising your eyes, a fall of four hundred feet appears precipitated from the precipices above, apparently ready to overwhelm you, while the rocks above overhang the abyss in wild sublimity, threatening you with destruction.
‘The appearance of the upper cascade, in the middle of winter, is very interesting. The rock over which the stream descends, projects in such a manner, that the icicles, which form in that season, meet with no interruption in their descent towards the base of the fall. The water, which strikes the rocks below, begins to congeal and rise (between the column of water and the rock) towards the icicles above. These project towards the base, increasing in magnitude from day to day, while the column from below is greatly enlarged by the water and the spray, which, immediately congealing, in a short time surround the stream. A column of ice, resembling a rude cone, of between two and three hundred feet, is thus formed, through the centre of which the stream pours its current, dwindled, by the congelation of its waters, to one tenth its common size. When illumined by the rays of the sun, it presents a transparent column glowing with brilliancy, reflecting and refracting its rays in such a manner as to present all the colors of the prism. It remains some weeks, a striking example of the power of hoary frost, when, partly dissolved by the genial warmth of spring, it falls, scattering its thousand fragments on the rocks around it.’
GENERAL REMARKS ON CATARACTS AND CASCADES.
Rivers which descend from primitive mountains into the secondary lands often form cascades and cataracts. Such are the cataracts of the Nile, of the Ganges, and some other great rivers, which, according to Desmarets, evidently mark the limits of the ancient land. Cataracts are also formed by lakes, and of this description are the Falls of Niagara; but the most picturesque falls are those of rapid rivers, bordered by trees and precipitous rocks. Sometimes we see a body of water, which, before it arrives at the bottom, is broken and dissipated into showers, like the Staubach; sometimes it forms a watery arch, projected from a rampart of rock, under which the traveller may pass dry shod, as the Falling Spring of Virginia; in one place, in a granite district, we see the Trolhetta, and the Rhine not far from its source, urge on their foaming billows amongst the pointed rocks; in another, amidst lands of calcareous formation, we see the Czettina, and the Kerka, rolling down from terrace to terrace, and presenting sometimes a sheet and sometimes a wall of water. Some magnificent cascades have been formed, at least in part, by the hands of man: the cascades of Velino, near Terni, have been attributed to Pope Clement VIII.; other cataracts, like those of Tunguska in Siberia, have gradually lost their elevation by the wearing away of the rocks, and have now only a rapid descent. The Falls of Staubach are the highest ever known, being nine hundred feet according to trigonometrical measurement.
Lake Superior is the largest body of fresh water in the world, being four hundred miles in length, one hundred at its greatest breadth, and, according to the most moderate computation, over twelve hundred miles in circumference. Its shores are rocky and uneven, and it has a rocky bottom. Its waters are pure and transparent, and it has been remarked, that, although during the summer, the waters on its surface be warm, nevertheless, by letting a cup down about a fathom, water may be taken up nearly as cold as ice. It abounds in fish, particularly sturgeon and long trout, many of which are from fifty to seventy pounds weight, and constitute the principal food of the Algonquin Indians on its borders. This lake has five large islands,17 one of which, called Isle Royal, is not less than a hundred miles in length, and in some places forty in breadth. More than forty rivers discharge themselves into it, the two largest called the Nipegon and the Michipicooton, from the north and north-east sides. A small river which runs into it, not far from the Nipegon, falls from the top of a mountain more than six hundred feet perpendicular; appearing at a distance, to use Mr. Carver’s homely comparison, like a white garter suspended in the air. On the banks of one of the rivers which fall into its south side, virgin copper has been found. The storms which occur on this lake are felt as severely as on the Atlantic, the waves run equally high, and the navigation is perhaps more dangerous.18 When the wind blows from the east, the waters are driven against the high rocks of the northern and western shores, where they form a thick vapor resembling rain; and this action of the wind creates an irregular ebb and flow. This never exceeds ten or twelve inches; but the strong traces of the water on the rocks of the shore show, that, at no very remote period, they were elevated six feet above the present level. Mackenzie states, that some years ago the waters suddenly withdrew near the Great Portage; then rushed back with great velocity above the common mark; and, after rising and falling during several hours, they settled at their usual level.
Notwithstanding its being fed by so many rivers, Lake Superior has but one outlet by the Straits of St. Mary. At the upper end of these straits, there is a rapid which cannot be ascended, but has sometimes been descended, although the descent requires both skill and caution, and perhaps not a little good fortune. A canal has been cut by the North-West Company, along the northern banks, for the purpose of facilitating their commerce, and they have here a considerable establishment; but their chief fort and storehouses are situated at Kamenestiquia, on the banks of a river which flows into Lake Superior, on the north-west side, and affords an easy communication with the interior. The Strait of St. Mary, it is supposed, does not discharge one tenth of the waters which the lake receives from its numerous rivers; part of the remainder escapes by evaporation, but how the whole is discharged is yet a secret. It does not appear, however, that an exact calculation has hitherto been made, either of the quantity discharged or the quantity received. This lake lies between forty-six and fifty degrees north latitude, and eighty-four and ninety-three degrees west longitude.
Lake Huron, into which you enter by the Straits of St. Mary, is next in magnitude to Lake Superior. It lies between forty-three and forty-six degrees north latitude, and between eighty and eighty-five degrees west longitude; in shape it is nearly triangular, and its circumference is about a thousand miles. On the Canada side of this lake is an island one hundred miles in length, and no more than eight in breadth; it is called Manataulin, signifying a place of spirits, and is considered as sacred by the native Indians. About the middle of the south-west side of the lake is Saginaw Bay, about eighty miles in length, and twenty broad; Thunder Bay, so called from the continual thunder heard there, lies about half way between Saginaw Bay and the north-west corner of the lake: it is about nine miles across either way. The fish are the same as in Lake Superior. The promontory that separates this lake from Lake Michigan is a vast plain, more than one hundred miles long, and varying from ten to fifteen miles in breadth. At the north-east corner, this lake communicates with Lake Michigan by the Straits of Michilimackinac. It is very remarkable, that although there is no daily flood or ebb to be perceived in the waters of these straits, yet from an exact attention to their state, a periodical alteration in them has been discovered. It has been observed that they rise by gradual, but almost imperceptible degrees, till in seven years and a half they had reached the height of about three feet; and in the same space of time they gradually fell to their former state; so that in fifteen years they had completed this revolution. This, however, is not well established.19
Lake Michigan, formerly called Lake Illinois, and Lake Dauphin, extends from the western angle of Lake Huron in a southerly direction, and is separated from Lake Superior by the tongue of land which is described above. It lies wholly within the territory of the United States, between the parallels of forty-two and forty-six degrees. Its waters are said to be unfathomable. At the southern extremity of Lake Michigan is Chicago Creek, by which, in the rainy season, the head-waters of the Illinois communicate with the lake; but the bar at the mouth of the creek does not admit boats drawing above two feet of water. A number of streams flow into the lake, on both the western and the eastern sides. It abounds, like the others, with excellent fish.
‘Lake Michigan,’ says Mr. Schoolcraft, ‘from its great depth of water, its bleak and unguarded shores—and its singular length and direction, which is about four hundred miles from north to south, appears to be peculiarly exposed to the influence of the currents of the atmosphere, to whose agency we may attribute, at least in part, the appearances of a tide, which are more striking upon the shores of this, than of any of the other great lakes. The meteorological observations which have been made, in the Transalleghanian states, indicate the winds to prevail, either north or south, through the valley of the Mississippi; but seldom across it, so that the surface of this lake would be constantly exposed to agitation, from the atmosphere. These winds would almost incessantly operate, to drive the waters through the narrow strait of Michilimackinac, either into Lake Huron or Lake Michigan, until, by their natural tendency to an equilibrium, the waters thus pent, would react, after attaining a certain height, against the current of the most powerful winds, and thus keep up an alternate flux and reflux, which would always appear more sensibly in the extremities and bays of the two lakes; and with something like regularity, as to the periods of oscillation; the velocity of the water, however, being governed by the varying degrees of the force of the winds.’
Lake St. Clair lies about half way between Lakes Huron and Erie, and is about ninety miles in circumference. It receives the waters of the three great lakes, Superior, Michigan, and Huron, and discharges them through the river or strait called Detroit, into Lake Erie. It is of a circular form, and navigable for large vessels, except a bar of sand toward the middle, which prevents loaded vessels from passing.
Lake Erie is situated between forty-one and forty-three degrees of north latitude, and between seventy-nine and eighty-three degrees west longitude. It is two hundred and eighty miles long; opposite Cleveland, in the state of Ohio, it is about sixty miles broad, to the eastward it is above seventy. The average breadth is from fifty to sixty miles; and its medium depth from forty to one hundred and twenty feet. The water is pure and wholesome, and abounds with fish; such as sturgeon, white-fish, trout, and perch. The lake does not freeze in the middle, but is frequently frozen on both sides; and sometimes in winter, when the wind is variable, the ice exhibits a singular phenomenon; a south wind blows it all to the Canada shore, and a north wind again dislodges it, and brings it back to the American side. There are a number of islands in the west end of the lake, containing from eight hundred to two thousand acres of land, and the scenery amongst them is charming; but all these islands are so infested with snakes, that in the height of summer it is really dangerous to land. This is the more to be regretted, as the fine timber which grows upon them indicates that the soil must be uncommonly fertile. But, in defiance of the snakes, many of the islands are rapidly settling, and are found to be very healthy and agreeable places of residence. This and the other lakes are navigated by vessels of from seventy to eighty tons, which carry goods and provisions as far as the head of Lake Superior, and bring back furs and peltry. The navigation is good through the whole distance, except in Lake St. Clair, where the water is shallow, and vessels are sometimes obliged to lighten.
Lake Ontario is situated between forty-three and forty-four degrees of north latitude, and between seventy-six and eighty degrees west longitude. It is about two hundred miles in length and forty in width; its form nearly oval, and its circumference about six hundred miles. It abounds with fish of an excellent flavor, among which are the Oswego bass, weighing three or four pounds. Near the south-east part it receives the waters of the Oswego river, and on the north-east it discharges itself into the St. Lawrence. It is never entirely closed by ice, and is computed from some soundings to be five hundred feet deep. The Ridge Road, or Alluvial Way, is a remarkable ridge extending along the south shore of this lake, from Rochester on the Gennessee to Lewiston on the river Niagara, eighty-seven miles. It is composed of common beach sand and gravel stones worn smooth, and these are intermixed with small shells. Its general width is from four to eight rods, and it is raised in the middle with a handsome crowning arch, from six to ten feet. Its general surface preserves a very uniform level, bring raised to meet the unevenness of the ground which it covers. At the rivers Gennessee and Niagara, its elevation is about one hundred and twenty or thirty feet; and this is its elevation above Lake Ontario, from which it is distant between six and ten miles. There seems to be no way of accounting for this ridge, without supposing that the surface of Lake Ontario was one hundred and thirty feet higher at some former period than it is at present. There is a similar ridge for one hundred and twenty miles, on the south side of Lake Erie.
Lake Champlain lies between the states of New York and Vermont, and communicates with Lower Canada by the river Sorelle, which falls into the St. Lawrence forty-five miles below Montreal. It is about one hundred and twenty miles in length, and of various breadths: for the first thirty miles, that is, from South river to Crown Point, it is nowhere above two miles wide; beyond this, for the distance of twelve miles, it is five or six miles across, it then narrows, and again at the end of a few miles expands. That part called the Broad Lake, commences about twenty-five miles north of Crown Point, and is eighteen miles across in the widest part. Here the lake is interspersed with a great number of islands, the largest of which, named South Hero, is fifteen miles in length, and averages four in breadth. The soil of this island is very fertile, and more than seven hundred people are settled upon it. The Broad Lake is nearly fifty miles in length, and gradually narrows till it terminates in the river Sorelle. Lake Champlain, except at the narrow parts at either end, is in general very deep; in many places sixty and seventy, and in some even a hundred fathoms. The scenery along various parts of the lake is extremely beautiful, the shores being highly ornamented with hanging woods and rocks, and the mountains on the western side rise up in ranges, one behind the other, in the most magnificent manner.
Remains of Forts Ticonderoga and Crown Point, important positions during the old French wars, are found at two great bends of this lake. On the 11th of September, 1814, Commodore McDonough, commander of the American fleet, gained a complete victory over the British fleet in Cumberland Bay, directly in front of the town of Plattsburg.
This lake opens a ready communication between New York and the country bordering on the St. Lawrence. Through the town of Whitehall, which stands at the head of the lake, a considerable trade is carried on across Champlain with Lower Canada. On the British end of the lake, one hundred and fifty miles from Whitehall, stands the garrison town of St. John’s.
Lake George, which discharges itself into Lake Champlain, is the most beautiful sheet of water in the whole country. It is thirty-six miles long, and from two to four broad. It is situated in the eastern part of the state of New-York. Its waters are deep and remarkably transparent, and from their extreme limpidness, the French gave them the name of the Lake of the Holy Sacrament. The shores consist of abrupt and shelving points, and are bounded by two long ranges of mountains,20 sometimes rising boldly from the water, and at others ascending with a gentle and graceful sweep, exhibiting naked and weather-beaten cliffs and wild forests, intermixed with fine cultivated fields, lawns and pastures. The village of Caldwell stands on the south-eastern side of the lake, and is much visited by travellers who come to enjoy the fine scenery in the neighborhood. A steam-boat plies upon the lake in summer.
The islands of the lake are said to be three hundred and sixty-five in number. They are of every form and size, and contribute greatly to the romantic beauty of its surface. Some of them are covered with trees, others are thinly wooded, and others are abrupt and craggy rocks. Diamond Island abounds in crystals of quartz. Long Island contains one hundred acres, and is under cultivation. At a place called the Narrows, the lake is contracted, and its surface is covered with a most beautiful cluster of islands which extends for several miles. Some of them are covered with trees, some show little lawns or spots of grass, heaps of barren rocks, or gently sloping shores; and most of them are ornamented with pines, hemlocks, and other tall trees, solitary or in groups, and disposed with the most charming variety. Sometimes an island will be found just large enough to support a few fine trees, or perhaps a single one, while the next may appear like a solid mass of bushes and wild flowers; near at hand, perhaps, is a third, with a dark grove of pines, and a decaying old trunk in front of it; and thus, through every interval between the islands, as you pass along, another and another labyrinth is opened to view, among little isolated spots of ground, divided by narrow channels, from which it seems impossible for a man who has entered them ever to find his way out. Some of the islands look almost like ships with their masts; and many have an air of lightness, as if they were sailing upon the lake.
After passing the Narrows, the lake widens again, and the retrospect is for several miles through that passage with ranges of rounded mountain summits appearing at a great distance between them. The lake contains abundance of the finest perch, bass, and other fish; trout are found in a stream flowing into the southern part. Near the southern shore, are the ruins of Fort William Henry and Fort George, celebrated in the early wars of the French.
The state of New-York contains a vast number of small lakes. There is scarcely a stream in the northern part of this state, but that has its source in one of these, or runs through several in its progress, whether to the great lakes or to Hudson’s river. Seneca Lake, in the western part of the state, is about thirty-five miles in length, from two to four in breadth, and of great depth. The water of this lake has a gradual periodical rise and fall, once in several years, the cause of which has never been ascertained. The view from the height of land between Seneca and the adjacent lakes is extensive and agreeable. Cayuga Lake is thirty-eight miles long from north to south, and from one to four miles wide; in some places the shore of this lake is precipitous, but in general it is a gentle declivity from the surrounding country to the water. The waters are somewhat shallow, but sufficient for navigation. Several steam-boats ply upon them, and are often crowded by water parties in the fine season. A bridge of a mile in length crosses the north end of the lake.
Oneida Lake is a beautiful sheet of water, twenty miles long and four broad. It is famous for the abundance and excellence of its fish. ‘I made a small excursion along the border of this lake,’ says Mr. Schultz, ‘and although the shore was low, yet I found a firm, dry, white, sandy beach to walk upon; some other parts of it, however, I was informed, were low and swampy. I was much amused in the evening by a singular illumination upon the lake, which I was at first wholly unable to account for. The water at this part of the lake, it seems, is very shallow for nearly half a mile from the shore, and being perfectly transparent, and the bottom a white sand, the smallest object may be readily distinguished. The Indians have a method of taking salmon and other fish by means of an iron frame fixed in the bow of the canoe, projecting forward three or four feet, and elevated about five; upon this they kindle a bright fire of pine knots, and while one person sits in the stern with a paddle to impel the boat forward, another stands in the bow with a sharp spear ready to strike the fish who play about the light. Ten or twelve of these canoes moving about irregularly on the lake, on a fine calm evening, with the reflection of their lights, like so many lines of fire, extending from each object to a centre on which you stand, afford a most pleasing prospect, and far exceeds in my opinion the most brilliant display of artificial fireworks.’
Among the smaller lakes of New York are Onondago, Skeneatiles, Owasco, Canandaigua, Otsego, Caniadebago, Oswegatchie, Cross, Hemlock, Hanyaga, Canesus, Crooked, and Chatauque. The latter is the most western of all these lakes, near the north-east extremity of Lake Erie; it is only eight miles distant from its shore, and the descent to Lake Erie is by an easy slope. From this small lake issues one of the branches of the Alleghany river, called Conewango, which is navigable for small craft in all its extent.
New Hampshire contains several fine lakes, the largest of which is Winnipiseogee, situated east of the centre of the state, and towards the west side of Strafford county. It is a picturesque sheet of water, of irregular form, twenty-two miles in length, and varying in breadth from one to ten miles. Several long capes stretch into it from both sides, almost dividing it into several parts. From the southern extremity of this lake to the north-west corner, there is good navigation in the summer, and generally a good road in the winter; the lake is frozen about three months in the year, and many sleighs and teams, from the surrounding towns, cross it on the ice.
Dr. Dwight has described this lake, as it appears from the top of Red Mountain, with his usual felicity. ‘Immediately at the foot of the height on which we stood, and in the bottom of the immense valley below, spread south-eastward the waters of the Winnipiseogee in complete view; except that one or two of its arms were partially concealed by intervening peninsulas. A finer object of the same nature was perhaps never seen. The lakes, which I had visited in my northern and western excursions, were all of them undivided masses, bordered by shores comparatively straight. This was, centrally, a vast column, if I may be allowed the term, twenty-three miles in length, and from six to eight in breadth, shooting out with inimitable beauty a succession of arms, some of them not inferior in length to the whole breadth of the lake. These were fashioned with every elegance of figure, bordered with the most beautiful winding shores, and studded with a multitude of islands. Their relative positions, also, could scarcely be more happy.
Winnipiseogee Lake
‘Many of the islands are large, exquisitely fashioned, and arranged in a manner not less singular than pleasing. As they met the eye, when surveyed from this summit, they were set in groups on both sides the great channel, and left this vast field of water unoccupied between them. Their length was universally at right angles to that of the lake; and they appeared as if several chains of hills originally crossing the country in that direction, had, by some convulsion, been merged in the water so low, that no part of them was left visible, except the oblong segments of their summits. Of those, which, by their size and situation, were most conspicuous, I counted forty-five, without attempting to enumerate the smaller ones, or such as were obscured. The points, which intrude into this lake, are widely different from those of Lake George; bold, masculine bluffs, impinging directly upon the water. These, in several instances, were spacious peninsulas, fitted to become rich and delightful residences of man, often elevated into handsome hills, and sloping gracefully into the lake.’
Umbagog Lake is situated partly in the north-east corner of the state, and is next in size to Winnipiseogee; it lies chiefly in Maine. The others of New Hampshire are Ossipee, Sanapee, Squam, and Newfound.
There are several large, and a vast number of small lakes in the state of Maine. Moosehead Lake, the largest in New England, is the source of the east branch of the Kennebeck, and is fifty miles in length by ten or fifteen in breadth. Sebago Lake, in Cumberland county, is twelve miles long. Chesuncook Lake is twenty miles long and three broad. In Vermont, besides Lake Champlain, which separates this state from New York on the west, there are other lakes of minor importance, deserving of notice. Lake Memphremagog, thirty-five miles in length and three wide, lies chiefly in Canada, and communicates with the St. Lawrence by the river St. Francis. Willoughby Lake, six miles long and one wide, discharges its waters into Memphremagog by the river Barton. This lake furnishes fish resembling bass, of an excellent flavor, weighing from ten to thirty pounds.
A number of small lakes occur towards the sources of the Mississippi. Lake Pepin is an expansion of this mighty river, about one hundred miles below the Falls of St. Anthony. It has been very fully and beautifully described by Mr. Schoolcraft.
‘It is twenty-four miles in length, with a width of from two to four miles, and is indented with several bays, and prominent points, which serve to enhance the beauty of the prospect. On the east shore, there is a lofty range of limestone bluffs, which are much broken and crumbled, sometimes run into pyramidal peaks, and often present a character of the utmost sublimity. On the west, there is a high level prairie, covered with the most luxuriant growth of grass, and nearly destitute of forest trees. From this plain several conical hills ascend, which, at a distance, present the appearance of vast artificial mounds or pyramids, and it is difficult to reconcile their appearance with the general order of nature, by any other hypothesis. This lake is beautifully circumscribed by a broad beach of clean washed gravel, which often extends from the foot of the surrounding highlands, three or four hundred yards into the lake, forming gravelly points, upon which there is a delightful walk, and scalloping out the margin of the lake with the most pleasing irregularity. In walking along these, the eye is attracted by the various colors of the mineral gems, which are promiscuously scattered among the water-worn debris of granitic and other rocks, and the cornelian, agate, and chalcedony, are met with at every step. The size of these gems is often as large as the egg of the partridge, and the transparency and beauty of color is only excelled by the choicest oriental specimens. There is no perceptible current in the lake, during calm weather, and the water partakes so little of the turbid character of the lower Mississippi, that objects can be distinctly seen through it, at the depth of eight or ten feet.
‘In passing though Lake Pepin, our interpreter pointed out to us a high precipice, on the east shore of the lake, from which an Indian girl, of the Sioux nation, had, many years ago, precipitated herself in a fit of disappointed love. She had given her heart, it appears, to a young chief of her own tribe, who was very much attached to her, but the alliance was opposed by her parents, who wished her to marry an old chief, renowned for his wisdom and his influence in the nation. As the union was insisted upon, and no other way appearing to avoid it, she determined to sacrifice her life in preference to a violation of a former vow, and while the preparations for the marriage feast were going forward, left her father’s cabin, without exciting suspicion, and before she could be overtaken threw herself from an awful precipice, and was instantly dashed to a thousand pieces. Such an instance of sentiment is rarely to be met with among barbarians, and should redeem the name of this noble-minded girl from oblivion. It was Oola-Ita.’
Cassina or Red Cedar Lake derives some importance from having been designated as the true source of the Mississippi river. It is about eight miles long and six in breadth, and presents a beautiful sheet of transparent water. On its banks are elm, maple, and pine trees, fields of Indian rice, rushes and reeds; in other places there is an open beach of clean pebbles. Pike, carp, trout and cat-fish are caught in its waters. Towards its western extremity is an island covered with trees, from which it derives its name, though no red cedar is found around its shores.
Turtle Lake, Little Winnepeg Lake, Leech Lake, Swan Lake, Sandy Lake, Muddy Lake, Lake Peckagama, and White Fish Lake, are all near the source of the Mississippi. A narrow belt of high land separates Turtle Lake, the most northern source of the Mississippi, from Red River Lake, one of the sources of the Red river which runs into Hudson’s Bay. Otter Tail Lake is the most southern source of Red river; and from thence is a portage of only half a mile to a branch of Raven river, which falls into the Mississippi. The whole tract of high country, at the sources of the Mississippi and Red river, is full of marshes, morasses, and small lakes, whose waters afford never failing supplies to these streams.
The Lake of the Woods is of a circular figure, with a cluster of islands in the centre. The navigating course through the lake, is seventy-five miles; but, in direct distance, it is not above two-thirds of that extent in diameter. Its scenery is wild and romantic in a high degree. Its surface is covered with islands. From this lake there is a long succession of small lakes, and numerous portages, to the north-west end of Lake Superior, the chief of which is Rainy Lake. Two small lakes, Lake Biddle, which gives rise to the Big Horn river, and Lake Eustis, which is the source of the Jaune, or Yellow Stone river, are situated amongst the Rocky Mountains, in west longitude one hundred and twelve degrees, and north latitude forty-two degrees.
In the state of Louisiana are the lakes of Maurepas and Pontchartrain. The first of these is of a circular figure, twelve feet deep, and fourteen miles in diameter. In the time of high floods, it has a communication with the Mississippi, by means of the river Amité, or Ibberville; and this inundation, which lasts only four months annually, occasions what is erroneously called the island of New Orleans, to be then an island in fact, for at no other time is it environed with water, the city of New Orleans being situated on a peninsula.21 Lake Maurepas communicates with Lake Pontchartrain, by a stream seven miles long, and three hundred yards wide, and divided by an island extending from the lake to within a mile of Pontchartrain, into two branches, of which the southern is the safest and deepest. Lake Pontchartrain is nearly of a circular form, forty miles in its greatest length, and thirty miles in its greatest breadth, and eighteen feet deep. From this lake to the sea is ten miles, by a passage called the Regolets, four hundred yards wide, and lined with marshes on each side.
On the west side of the Mississippi are the lakes of Great and Little Barataria. The Catahoola Lake, sixteen miles long, and four broad, is the source of a stream of the same name, which, uniting with the Washita and Bayou Tenza rivers, form the Black river. This lake, during the dry months, is covered with the most luxuriant herbage; and is then the residence of immense herds of deer, and water-fowl, which feed on the grass and grain. The other lakes of Louisiana are Calcasin, Borgne, and Bistineau.
GENERAL REMARKS ON LAKES.
Extensive accumulations of water, surrounded on all sides by the land, and having no direct communication with the ocean, or with any sea, are called lakes. Lakes are of four distinct kinds. The first class comprehends those which have no issue, and which do not receive any running water. These are generally very small, and do not merit much attention. The second class comprises those lakes which have an outlet, but which do not receive any running water. These lakes are fed by a multitude of springs; they are naturally on great elevations, and are sometimes the sources of great rivers. The third class of lakes is very numerous, consisting of all such as receive and discharge streams of water. Each of the lakes of this class may be looked upon as forming a basin for receiving the neighboring waters; they have in general only one opening, which almost always takes its name from the principal river which flows into it. These lakes have often sources of their own, either near the borders, or in their bottom. The great lakes of North America are of this class, which in point of extent resemble seas, but which, by the flow of a continual stream of fresh river water, preserve their clearness and sweetness. The fourth class of lakes present phenomena much more difficult to explain. We mean those lakes which receive streams of water and often great rivers, without having any visible outlet. The most celebrated of these is the Caspian Sea; Asia contains a great many others besides. South America contains the Lake Titicaca, which has no efflux, though it is the receiver of another lake. These collections of water appear to belong to the interior of great continents; they are placed on elevated plains, which have no sensible declivity towards the sea, and thus afford no outlet. With respect to those situated in a hot climate, evaporation is sufficient to carry off their excess of water.
The physical phenomena which certain lakes present, have always excited the astonishment of the multitude. Those of the periodical lakes are the most common. In Europe these are nothing but pools, but between the tropics these pools sometimes cover spaces of several hundred leagues in length and breadth. Such are the famous lakes of Xarages and Paria, inscribed on maps of America, and expunged from them by turns; it is probable that Africa contains a great many of this description. The depth of lakes varies infinitely, and cannot form a subject of general physical geography. The popular opinion, however, that there are lakes without a bottom, is erroneous. Those which have been considered as such, owe this character solely to the existence of currents which carry along with them the lead attached to the sounding line. The waters of lakes, being derived from springs and rivers, partake of their different qualities. There are some lakes, whose waters are extremely limpid, such as the lake of Geneva, and that of Wetter in Sweden; in the latter, a farthing may be perceived at the bottom of the lake, at one hundred and twenty feet depth; but the lakes whose waters are motionless, saline, or bituminous, may be looked upon as equally unwholesome with those of marshes.
WESTERN HEMISPHERE. | |
---|---|
Surface. | Square miles. |
Lake Superior | 22,400 |
Lake Michigan | 12,600 |
Lake Huron | 15,800 |
Lake Erie | 4,800 |
Lake Ontario | 4,450 |
Great Slave Lake | 12,000 |
Great Bear Lake | 4,000 |
Winnepeg Lake | 7,200 |
Lake Maracaibo | 6,000 |
Athabasca Lake | 3,200 |
Lake Titicaca | 5,400 |
Lake St. George | 340 |
Lake Champlain | 350 |
Lake of the Woods | 1,600 |
EASTERN HEMISPHERE. | |
Lake Tchad, Africa | 11,600 |
Lake Ladoga, Russia | 5,200 |
Lake Onega, Russia | 3,300 |
Wetter Lake, Sweden | 945 |
Lake of Constance, Switzerland | 456 |
Geneva Lake, Switzerland | 400 |
Loch Lomond, Scotland | 27 |
Windermere Lake, England | 11 |
Killarney Lake, Ireland | 14 |
Loch Leven, Scotland | 6 |
IN the United States, salt springs are very numerous. They sometimes flow naturally, but are generally formed by sinking wells in those places where salt is known to exist, as in marshes, salt licks, and other similar places. The country on the Arkansas river furnishes some salt; it differs however, from most other places in the United States, by existing in pools, and forming incrustations on the soil of plains and prairies. There is no salt obtained in Arkansas by boring, the usual mode of procuring it in other localities. There are numerous salt springs in Missouri; the working of many of them, however, has been suspended or relinquished, on account of the reduced price of salt. Large quantities of the article are still made at Boon’s Lick, and near St. Genevieve and Herculaneum.
Salt springs are worked at Sciota; the quantity yielded, however, is comparatively small. There are no salt-works on the Tennessee river; but on the Holston, one of its tributaries, are extensive salt springs, situated near Abingdon, Virginia, and known by the name of King’s and Preston’s salt-works. These springs yield a considerable quantity of salt. Preston’s works have been rendered less productive, by being diluted by a spring of fresh water flowing into the midst of the salt.
Salt springs are very numerous in Kentucky, Ohio, and Virginia. Springs holding salt in solution are common in various parts of the bituminous coal region of Pennsylvania. They are generally weak near the surface, but deep springs, disclosed by boring, are often strong. One of these, which contains as much salt as the ordinary water of Salina, was discovered by boring, about twenty miles from Montrose, bordering on the state of New-York. The most considerable saline springs are on the banks of the Conemaugh and Kiskeminitas, about thirty miles east of Pittsburg. These rivers for many miles wind through rocky ravines, bordered by hills of three and four hundred feet in height, that rise with steep acclivities, presenting mural precipices of grey sand-stone, in places jutting over the road and torrent. Large quantities of salt are made at these springs.
In the town of Salina, in the state of New-York, about one hundred and thirty miles west of Albany, are situated the most extensive works in the United States for the manufacture of salt from natural brine. The indications of that substance along the margin of Onondaga Lake are supposed to have been similar to those found on the salt licks, so common in the interior of the country, and the knowledge of their existence was derived from the aborigines.
‘One of the earliest settlers in the county of Onondaga,’ says a writer in Silliman’s Journal, ‘has informed me, that to procure salt for his family, about forty years since, he, with an Indian guide in a canoe, descended a small river that discharges into the lake at its south-eastern termination, along the shore of which he passed, a short distance to the right, and, ascending a rivulet (now Mud Creek) a few rods, arrived at the spring or natural discharge of salt water, which was obtained by lowering to the bottom, then four or five feet beneath the surface of the fresh water of the lake, an iron vessel, which, filling instantly with the heavier fluid, was drawn up and the brine poured out. In this way, he got enough to make on the spot, by boiling, and without any separation of the earthy impurities that were held with the salt in solution, a small quantity of brownish colored and very impure salt. Since that time other springs have been discovered at various and almost opposite points on the shores of the lake, and many wells have been sunk to procure brine for the manufactories at the villages of Liverpool, Salina, Syracuse, and Geddesburg. The wells did not exceed eighteen feet in depth, and in the strength of the water which they respectively afforded there was great difference, which varied much with the seasons, with this remarkable circumstance, that it sometimes diminished fifteen to twenty per cent., and in some instances, one third, as the adjoining lands, on the advance of summer, became drained; and the lake, which in the spring overflowed the wells, had subsided six or eight feet.’ The salt springs of Salina are found on the margin of an extensive marsh.22
The mineral springs in the state of New York, in excellence and variety, are unsurpassed in any part of the world. The most famous are called by the general name of the Saratoga and Ballston Springs, and are embraced in an extent of about twelve miles in the county of Saratoga. The first spring discovered in the neighborhood of Ballston stands on a flat. It formerly flowed out of a common barrel, sunk around it, without any other protection from the invasion of cattle, who often slacked their thirst in its fountain. Afterwards the liberality of the citizens was displayed in a marble curb and flagging, and a handsome iron railing. The curb and flagging were finally removed, leaving the railing, which still serves the purposes of ornament and protection. The spring flows now, probably from the place where it originally issued, some feet below the surrounding surface, which has been elevated by additions of earth, for the purpose of improving the road in which it stands.
Near this spring, in boring about six or eight years ago, an excellent mineral fountain was discovered at a considerable depth beneath the surface. Its qualities are said to be superior to those of the spring already mentioned, and, by many, its waters are preferred to any other in the village.
The United States’ Spring is situated at the east end of the village. Near this fountain, a large and commodious bathing-house has been erected, to which, not only the waters of this, but of a number of other adjacent springs, are tributary, for the purpose of bathing. Between the springs already mentioned, there was discovered in the summer of 1817, a mineral spring, called the Washington Fountain. This latter spring rose on the margin of the creek in front of the factory building; it flowed through a curb twenty-eight feet in length, sunk to the depth of twenty-three feet, and was liberated at the top in the form of a beautiful jet d’eau; but the spring disappeared in 1821. Numerous attempts have since been made to recover it, but they have proved fruitless. The principal ingredients of these waters consist of muriate of soda, carbonate of soda, carbonate of lime, carbonate of magnesia, and carbonate of iron; all of which, in a greater or less degree, enter into the composition of the waters, both here and at Saratoga.
The justly celebrated springs of Saratoga are about six miles north-east of Ballston Spa. They are situated on the border of a valley, which bounds the village on the east, and form the continuation of a series of springs which first appear in Ballston about twelve miles to the south, and extend easterly in a semicircular line to the Quaker village. In the immediate neighborhood are about a dozen springs, the most celebrated of which are the Congress, the High Rock, the Flat Rock, the Hamilton, the Washington, the Columbian and the President. A cluster, known by the name of the Ten Springs, is found at the distance of a mile to the eastward.
The Congress Spring is situated at the south end of the village. It was first discovered about thirty years since, issuing from a crevice in the rock, a few feet from its present location. Here it flowed for a number of years, until an attempt to improve the surface around it produced an accidental obstruction of its waters, which afterwards made their appearance at the place where they now flow. It is inclosed by a tube sunk into the earth to the distance of twelve or fourteen feet, which secures it from the water of the stream, adjoining to which it is situated. Besides a handsome inclosure and platform for promenading, the proprietor has thrown an awning over the spring for the convenience of visitors.
The High Rock is situated on the west side of the valley, skirting the east side of the village, about half a mile north of the Congress. The rock inclosing this spring is in the shape of a cone, nine feet in diameter at its base, and five feet in height. It seems to have been formed by a concretion of particles thrown up by the water, which formerly flowed over its summit, through an aperture of about twelve inches in diameter, regularly diverging from the top of the cone to its base. This spring was visited in the year 1767 by Sir William Johnson, but was known long before by the Indians, who were first led to it, either by accident or by the frequent footsteps of beasts, attracted thither by the saline properties of the water. A building was erected near the spot previous to the revolutionary war, afterwards abandoned, and again resumed; since which, the usefulness of the water has, from time to time, occasioned frequent settlements within its vicinity. The water now rises within two feet of the summit, and a common notion prevails that it has found a passage through a fissure of the rock, occasioned by the fall of a tree; since which event, it has ceased to flow over its brink.
Between the Red spring in the upper village, and the Washington in the south part of the lower village, are situated most of the other mineral springs in which this place abounds. At three of the principal springs, the Hamilton, Monroe and Washington, large and convenient bathing-houses have been erected, which are the constant resort for pleasure as well as health, during the warm season.
The mineral waters, both at Ballston and Saratoga, are supposed to be the product of the same great laboratory, and they all possess nearly the same properties, varying only as to the quantity of the different articles held in solution. They are denominated acidulous saline and acidulous chalybeate. Of the former, are the Congress, (which holds the first rank,) the Hamilton, High Rock, and President, at Saratoga; and of the latter, are the Columbian, Flat Rock, and Washington, at Saratoga, and the Old Spring and United States, at Ballston. The waters contain muriate of soda, hydriodate of soda, carbonate of soda, carbonate of lime, carbonate of magnesia, oxide of iron, and some of them a minute quantity of silica alumina. Large quantities of carbonic acid gas are also contained in the waters, giving to them a sparkling and lively appearance. The Congress, in particular, the moment it is dipped, contains nearly one half more than its bulk of gas; a quantity unprecedented in any natural waters elsewhere discovered.
Doctor Steel, in his geological report of the county of Saratoga, published a few years since, remarks, that ‘the temperature of the water in all these wells is about the same, ranging from forty-eight to fifty-two degrees on Fahrenheit’s scale; and they suffer no sensible alteration from any variation in the temperature of the atmosphere; neither do the variations of the seasons appear to have much effect on the quantity of water produced.
‘The waters are remarkably limpid, and when first dipped sparkle with all the life of good champaigne. The saline waters bear bottling very well, particularly the Congress, immense quantities of which are put up in this way and transported to various parts of the world; not, however, without a considerable loss of its gaseous property, which renders its taste much more insipid than when drank at the well. The chalybeate water is likewise put up in bottles for transportation, but a very trifling loss of its gas produces an immediate precipitation of its iron; and hence this water when it has been bottled for some time, frequently becomes turbid, and finally loses every trace of iron; this substance fixing itself to the walls of the bottle.
‘The most prominent and perceptible effects of these waters, when taken into the stomach, are cathartic, diuretic, and tonic. They are much used in a great variety of complaints; but the diseases in which they are most efficacious, are, jaundice and bilious affections generally, dyspepsia, habitual costiveness, hypochondriacal complaints, depraved appetite, calculous and nephritic complaints, phagedenic or ill-conditioned ulcers, cutaneous eruptions, chronic rheumatism, some species or states of gout, some species of dropsy, scrofula, paralysis, scorbutic affections and old scorbutic ulcers, amenorrhea, dysmenorrhea, and chlorosis. In phthisis, and indeed all other pulmonary affections arising from primary diseases of the lungs, the waters are manifestly injurious, and evidently tend to increase the violence of the disease.
‘Much interest has been excited on the subject of the source of these singular waters; but no researches have as yet unfolded the mystery. The large proportion of common salt found among their constituent properties, may be accounted for without much difficulty; all the salt springs of Europe, as well as those of America, being found in geological situations exactly corresponding to these. But the production of the unexampled quantity of carbonic acid gas, the medium through which the other articles are held in solution, is yet, and probably will remain, a subject of mere speculation. The low and regular temperature of the water seems to forbid the idea, that it is the effect of subterranean heat, as many have supposed, and the total absence of any mineral acid, excepting the muriatic, which is combined with soda, does away the possibility of its being the effect of any combination of that kind. Its production is therefore truly unaccountable.’23
At Albany, in the summer of 1826, in boring for pure water for a brewery, a mineral spring was accidentally opened. The sensible qualities of this water have a great resemblance to those of the Congress Spring at Saratoga, but those who are acquainted with it, think it by no means so stimulating. Its temperature is uniformly from fifty-one to fifty-two degrees of Fahrenheit, at all seasons of the year; its specific gravity, when taken with great care, and after repeated trials, was found to be as one thousand and ten to one thousand. The taste of the water is purely saline, somewhat pungent, and not at all disagreeable; it has no sensible chalybeate taste, and no perceptible smell, which could lead to the suspicion of its holding sulphuretted hydrogen gas in solution.
New Lebanon Spring is situated in Columbia county, New-York about twenty-four miles south-east of Albany. It is a very remarkable fountain, issuing from a high hill. The water boils up in a space of ten feet wide by three and a half deep, and is so perfectly clear that the smallest objects may be seen at the bottom of the spring. Much gas issues from the pebbles and sand, and keeps the water in constant and pleasing agitation. The fountain is very copious, and more than eighteen barrels of water are discharged in a minute. This supply is not only sufficient to furnish the baths abundantly, but turns the wheels of several mills. The quantity of water does not perceptibly vary at any season; its temperature is uniformly seventy-three degrees of Fahrenheit. The water is without taste or odor, is very soft, is used for all culinary and domestic purposes, and differs but little from pure mountain water, except in its remarkable temperature. It is found very useful in salt rheums, and other cutaneous affections; it augments the appetite, and sometimes acts as a cathartic. For those who wish to enjoy fine rural scenery, bold, picturesque, and beautiful, and such advantages to health as this copious fountain presents, nothing can be better in its kind than New Lebanon.
The Bedford Springs rise near a romantic and frequented village of that name, situated among the mountains in the southern part of Pennsylvania. They rise from a limestone rock at the base of a hill. The water is pleasant and cold, and without any perceptible odor; the iron, lime, and magnesia, with which it is impregnated, render it useful in chronic and cutaneous disorders. Mineral springs abound among the mountains in the central parts of Virginia. The Yellow Springs, near the falls of the Little Miami, in Ohio, are esteemed for their medicinal properties; the water is a strong chalybeate. The country about them possesses much attraction in point of scenery, and is unusually salubrious.
Florida is remarkable for the large number of its springs; a substratum of soft and cavernous stone appearing to extend over the whole country, admitting the courses of subterraneous brooks, which burst out at frequent intervals in the form of springs. The most remarkable of these is the fountain of Walkulla river, twelve miles from Tallahassee. It is so large as to be navigable by boats directly below its sources. About a mile from its head-waters the channel becomes choked with weeds, but suddenly breaks on our view in the shape of a circular lake, that has been sounded with a line of two hundred and fifty fathoms. It is clear as crystal, and has the cerulean tinge which mark the waters of the gulf. This hue is attributed to the presence of the sulphuret of lime.
‘To a person placed in a skiff,’ says Mr. Flint, ‘in the centre of this splendid fountain basin, the appearance of the mild azure vault above, and the transparent depth below, on which the floating clouds and the blue concave above are painted, and repeated with an indescribable softness, create a kind of pleasing dizziness, and a novel train of sensations, among which the most distinguishable is a feeling, as if suspended between two firmaments. The impression only ceases, when the boat approaches the edge of the basin near enough to enable you to perceive the outlines of the neighboring trees pictured on the margin of the basin. It has been asserted, that limestone water, in its utmost purity, has less refractive powers for light, than freestone water. The water of this vast spring, even in this sultry climate, has a coldness almost like ice-water. The water, probably from the pressure of the sulphuret of lime, is slightly nauseous to the taste. Beautiful hammock lands rise from the northern acclivity of this basin. It was the site of the English factory in former days. Here resided the famous Ambrister. The force, which throws up this vast mass of waters from its subterranean fountains, may be imagined, when we see this pellucid water swelling up from the depths, as though it were a cauldron of boiling water. It is twelve miles from St. Marks, and twenty from the ocean.’
Burning springs, or springs of water charged with inflammable gas, are found in many places in the western part of the state of New-York, chiefly near Canandaigua Lake. Their positions are known by little hillocks of a dark bituminous mould, through which an inflammable gas escapes to the surface. The following description is taken from a Canandaigua Journal.
‘These springs are found in Bristol, Middlesex, and Canandaigua. The former are situated in a ravine on the west side of Bristol Hollow, about half a mile from the north Presbyterian meeting-house. The ravine is formed in clay slate, and a small brook runs through it. The gas rises through fissures of the slate, from both the margin and the bed of the brook. Where it rises through the water, it is formed into bubbles, and flashes only when the flame is applied; but where it rises directly from the rock, it burns with a steady and beautiful flame, which continues until extinguished by storms, or by design.
‘The springs in Middlesex are situated from one to two miles south-westerly from the village of Rushville, along a tract of nearly a mile in length, partly at the bottom of the valley called Federal Hollow, and partly at an elevation of forty or fifty feet on the south side of it.
‘The latter have been discovered within a few years, in a field which had been long cleared, and are very numerous. Their places are known by little hillocks of a few feet in diameter, and a few inches high, formed of a dark bituminous mould, which seems principally to have been deposited by the gas, and through which it finds its way to the surface, in one or more currents. These currents of gas may be set on fire, and will burn with a steady flame. In winter they form openings through the snow, and being set on fire, exhibit the novel and interesting phenomenon of a steady and lively flame in contact with nothing but snow. In very cold weather, it is said, tubes of ice are formed round these currents of gas, (probably from the freezing of the water contained in it,) which sometimes rises to the height of two or three feet, the gas issuing from their tops; the whole, when lighted in a still evening, presenting an appearance even more beautiful than the former.
‘Experiments made with the gas seem to prove, that it consists principally of a mixture of the light and heavy carburetted hydrogen gases, the former having greatly the preponderance; and that it contains a small proportion of carbonic acid gas. It seems also to hold a little oily or bituminous matter in solution. It burns with a lambent, yellowish flame, scarcely inclining to red, with small scintillations of a bright red at its base. It has the odor of pitcoal. It produces no smoke, but deposits, while burning, a small quantity of bituminous lampblack. It is remarkable that the hillocks, through which the gas rises, are totally destitute of vegetation. Whether the gas is directly deleterious to vegetable life, or indirectly, by interrupting the contact of the air of the atmosphere, it is certain that no plant can sustain life within the circle of its influence.
‘It is well known that this gas is found abundantly in coal mines; and being accidentally set on fire, mixed as it is in those mines with the air of the atmosphere, has many times caused terrible and destructive explosions. The writer cannot learn that it has ever been known to be generated in the earth, except in the presence of coal; and hence the inference is strong that it proceeds from coal.’
There is a burning spring much resorted to by travellers, at the distance of about two miles from Niagara Falls. At Dunkirk, on Lake Erie, there are marshy spots which emit gas, that has been used for lighting some of the houses in the village.
The Warm Springs of Arkansas territory are among the most interesting curiosities of the country. They are in great numbers. One of them emits a vast quantity of water. The ordinary temperature is that of boiling water. When the season is dry, and the volume of water emitted somewhat diminished, the temperature of the water increases. The waters are remarkably limpid and pure; and are used by the people, who resort there for health, for culinary purposes. They have been analyzed, and exhibit no mineral properties beyond common spring water. Their efficacy then, for they are undoubtedly efficacious to many invalids, that resort there, results from the shade of adjacent mountains, and from the cool and oxygenated mountain breeze; the conveniences of warm and tepid bathing; the novelty of fresh and mountain scenery; and the necessity of temperance, imposed by the poverty of the country, and the difficulty of procuring supplies. The cases in which the waters are supposed to be efficacious, are those of rheumatic affection, general debility, dyspepsia, and cutaneous complaints. The common supposition, that they are injurious in pulmonary complaints, seems to be wholly unfounded. It is a great and increasing resort for invalids from the lower country, Arkansas, and the different adjoining regions. During the spring floods of the Washita, a steam-boat can approach within thirty miles of them. At no great distance from them is a strong sulphur spring, remarkable for its coldness. In the wild and mountain scenery of this lonely region, there is much of grandeur and novelty, to fix the curiosity of the lover of nature.
The Warm Springs near Green Valley, in Virginia, are used for bathing, and are esteemed valuable in rheumatic complaints. The temperature of these springs is about ninety-six degrees, and sufficient water issues from them to turn a mill. The Bath, or Hot Spring, is about five miles distant. The stream is small, but the temperature is much greater than that of the Warm Springs, being one hundred and twelve degrees. These springs flow into the Jackson, a source of the James river.
The Warm Springs of Buncome county, in North Carolina, are found upon the margin of a river called the French Broad, about thirty-two miles from Ashville, and five and a half miles from the Tennessee line. Several springs have already been discovered, at various distances from each other, within the extent of a mile. They are generally so near the bank, that in moderate freshets the river enters them, and it is said that at a particular spot in the bed of the stream, about ten yards from the usual bank, there is a constant jet of warm water. The depth of the river varies from ten to fifteen feet, and in some places it is even shoaler. The supply of water in all of them is very abundant.
‘The original proprietor of these springs,’ says a writer in the Journal of Science, ‘informed me, that he supposed the first discovery of them to have been made about forty years since, at which time this part of the country was altogether uninhabited, and the persons who resorted to the waters, had to encamp in their vicinity. He has been personally acquainted with them, for upwards of twenty years, and made the first and lowest establishment for bathing, near to a ferry, which is opposite to his residence. Mr. Nelson further states, that he has known sundry cases of palsy, rheumatism, and cutaneous affections, &c. greatly benefited by the internal and external use of the waters. The large establishment, and the one that is now principally visited, is seated about half a mile higher up the river, and has at the present time two large baths, whose temperature at the boils of the springs is one hundred and four degrees of Fahrenheit; but at the surface the temperature of the old bath, which is very near to the river, is one hundred degrees, while that of the new, which is higher up the bank, is but ninety-four degrees. I was informed that this temperature was much increased when there was a considerable swell in the river, but I had no opportunity of witnessing the fact.
‘A smaller stream of water, which is usually limpid and shallow, comes into the French Broad on its southern side, and separates the first bathing establishment from that which is now used. The stream affords the conveniences of a saw, and grist-mill, within a very short distance of the establishment, and without the necessity of a mill-pond. The whole are situated in a beautiful and romantic spot upon a large flat, contiguous to the water, and embosomed in lofty mountains, among which the river winds, while the valley in this spot appears not to exceed a mile in width, and is much narrower in all others, both above and below.
‘These mountains seem to consist principally of rocks, of which a considerable proportion in the immediate vicinity are compact limestone, both blue and gray. About six miles above the springs there is said to be a vein of the sulphate of barytes, a specimen of which was given me; and in the vicinity of the ferry below, there is a cavern of limestone, which may be penetrated with convenience for thirty yards, and from the roof of which stalactites are pendant. Near to this cave there is another, containing a large quantity of yellow ochre.
‘There are said to be mines of cobalt, copper, and iron in the neighboring mountains, but these are lofty and not very accessible. I found that there was, from the local circumstances of the establishment, considerable humidity during the mornings and evenings, and a pretty high temperature for several hours of the day. There were also sudden and frequent thunder showers, but these were generally of short duration. These meteorological observations will perhaps lead to the conclusion, that this watering-place would not be advisable for persons laboring under pulmonic or dropsical affections, and I did not learn that any such had been benefited by their residence.
‘Persons using these waters, are in the habit of drinking from three to four quarts in a day, and also of bathing twice. They generally remain in the bath from a half hour to an hour, and find it so pleasant they are loth to leave it. It was stated to me by a very respectable gentleman, who has resorted to this watering-place for several summers past, that after drinking the water freely for several days, it generally had a brisk cathartic effect for a day or two, and after that produced no sensible result. This gentleman is afflicted with chronic rheumatism, and has always obtained decided relief from the long continued use of the waters, both internally and externally. Upon the record book of the establishment there are sundry interesting cases of benefit, imparted to persons laboring under rheumatism, palsy, or loss of motion from other causes. I am inclined to believe that long continued bathing in water of such an elevated and constant temperature, must produce some effect in such cases as have been alluded to, independent of the mineral ingredients, and, conjoined with them, it will probably be more efficacious. The healthy, cheap, and plentiful country, in which the Buncome Springs are situated, the novel and mountainous scenery and variety of company, present many attractions to the invalid, the idler, and the curious.’
GENERAL REMARKS ON SPRINGS.
The most common ingredient of mineral and medicinal springs, is iron under a variety of forms. But they also often contain magnesia, glauber salt, carbonic acid gas, and other substances, which, from their combinations, give great diversity to the waters. Springs impregnated with sulphur are also common in the vicinity of volcanoes, and in countries subject to earthquakes. They are usually warm, and the heat is sometimes accompanied by a violent ebullition which frequently projects the water to a great height. Iceland, the Azores, and various other places, afford striking examples of this kind. The celebrated fountain called the Geyser, in the first of these islands, often propels its contents the height of one hundred feet, and sometimes to double that height.
There are also springs which are inflammable without being hot. This generally arises from a quantity of inflammable gas, or oily matter, which floats on the surface of the water; as in the instance of a brook in the vicinity of Bergerac, in the south of France, the surface of which may be set on fire by a lighted straw. Others, being mixed with bitumen, which often floats on the surface, will easily take fire, as at Baku, and other places in Persia.
The waters of some springs and lakes have a petrifying, and others an incrusting quality. The former is impregnated with extremely fine silicious particles, which penetrate the pores of the substances immersed in them, and change their nature. This property is possessed by Lough Neagh. The Danube and the Pregel have also the same quality, but in a less degree. The waters which possess the incrusting property operate in a more rapid and manifest manner, by depositing the earthy particles they hold in solution, on the surfaces of bodies submitted to their action. This effect is produced by both hot and cold springs, particularly by the former. The matter deposited is usually calcareous, but in the instance of the Great Geyser it is silicious.
Waters holding salt in solution, or muriated waters, as they are commonly called, are perhaps the most common of all; but they are rarely found in a state of purity. Among the Uralian and Carpathian mountains, they are frequent, and in general in the zone comprised between the parallels fifty and thirty north latitude. More to the north they are rarely found; farther toward the south crystallized salt is abundant in certain regions, as in the great desert of Africa; but we find only a few salt springs there.
THE most celebrated cave in the United States, is that in Rockingham county, Virginia, known by the name of Madison’s Cave. It is in the heart of a mountain, about two hundred feet high, which is so steep on one side, that a person standing on the top, might easily throw a pebble into the river which flows round the base; the opposite side of it is, however, very easy of ascent, and on this side the path leading to the cavern runs, excepting for the last twenty yards, when it suddenly turns along the steep part of the mountain, which is extremely rugged, and covered with immense rocks and trees from top to bottom. The mouth of the cavern, on this steep side, about two thirds of the way up, is guarded by a huge pendant stone, which seems ready to fall every instant; it is impossible to stoop under it and not reflect with a degree of awe, that, were it to drop, nothing could save you from perishing within the dreary walls of that mansion to which it affords an entrance. The description which follows, is from the Travels of Mr. Weld.
‘Preparatory to entering, the guide, whom I had procured from a neighboring house, lighted the ends of three or four splinters of pitch pine, a large bundle of which he had brought with him: they burn out very fast, but while they last are most excellent torches. The fire he brought along with him, by the means of a bit of green hickory wood, which, when once lighted, will burn slowly without any blaze, till the whole is consumed.
‘The first apartment you enter is about twenty-five feet high, and fifteen broad, and extends a considerable way to the right and left, the floor ascending toward the former; here it is very moist, from the quantity of water continually trickling from the roof. Fahrenheit’s thermometer, which stood at sixty-seven degrees in the air, fell to sixty-one degrees in this room. A few yards to the left, on the side opposite to you on entering, a passage presents itself, which leads to a sort of anti-chamber, from whence you proceed to the sound room, so named from the prodigious reverberation of the sound of a voice or musical instrument on the inside. This room is about twenty feet square; it is arched at the top, and the sides of it as well as of the apartment which you first enter, are beautifully ornamented with stalactites. Returning from hence into the anti-chamber, and afterwards taking two or three turns to the right and left, you enter a long passage about thirteen feet wide, and, perhaps, about fifteen feet in height, perpendicularly; but if it was measured from the floor to the highest part of the roof obliquely, the distance would be found much greater, as the walls on both sides slope very considerably, and finally meet at the top.
‘This passage descends very rapidly, and is, I should suppose, about sixty yards long. Towards the end it narrows considerably, and terminates in a pool of clear water, about three or four feet deep. How far this pool extends, it is impossible to say. A canoe was once brought down by a party for the purpose of examination, but they said, that after proceeding a little way the canoe would not float, and they were forced to return. Their fears most probably led them to fancy so. I fired a pistol with a ball over the water, but the report was echoed from the after part of the cavern, and not from the part beyond the water, so that I should not suppose the passage extended much farther than could be traced with the eye. The walls of this passage consist of a solid rock of limestone on each side, which appears to have been separated by some convulsion. The floor is of a deep sandy earth, and it has repeatedly been dug up for the purpose of getting salt-petre, with which the earth is strongly impregnated. The earth, after being dug up, is mixed with water, and when the grosser particles fall to the bottom, the water is drawn off and evaporated; from the residue the salt-petre is procured. There are many other caverns in this neighborhood; and also farther to the westward in Virginia; from all of them great quantities of salt-petre are thus obtained. The gunpowder made with it, in the back country forms a principal article of commerce, and is sent to Philadelphia in exchange for European manufactures.
‘About two thirds of the way down this long passage just described, is a large aperture in the wall on the right, leading to another apartment, the bottom of which is about ten feet below the floor of the passage, and it is no easy matter to get down into it, as the sides are very steep and extremely slippery. This is the largest and most beautiful room in the whole cavern; it is somewhat of an oval form, about sixty feet in length, thirty in breadth, and in some parts nearly fifty feet high. The petrifactions formed by the water dropping from above are most beautiful, and hang down from the ceiling in the form of elegant drapery, the folds of which are similar to what those of large blankets or carpets would be, if suspended by one corner in a lofty room. If struck with a stick, a deep hollow sound is produced, which echoes through the vaults of the cavern.
‘In other parts of this room the petrifactions have commenced at the bottom, and formed in pillars of different heights; some of them reach nearly to the roof. If you go to a remote part of this apartment, and leave a person with a lighted torch moving about amidst these pillars, a thousand imaginary forms present themselves, and you might almost fancy yourself in the infernal regions, with spectres and monsters on every side. The floor of this room slopes down gradually from one end to the other, and terminates in a pool of water, which appears to be on a level with that at the end of the long passage; from their situation, it is most probable that they communicate together. The thermometer which I had with me stood in the remotest part of this chamber, at fifty-five degrees. From hence we returned to the mouth of the cavern, and on coming to the light it appeared as if we had really been in the infernal regions, for our faces, hands, and clothes were covered with soot from the smoke of the pine torches which are so often carried in. The smoke from the pitch-pine is particularly thick and heavy. Before this cave was much visited, and the walls blackened with smoke, its beauty, I was told by some of the old inhabitants, was great indeed; for the petrifactions on the roof and walls are all of a dead white kind.’
Wyer’s Cave is situated in the same county with the preceding, and is equally remarkable. Its entrance is narrow and difficult, and when first discovered was impeded by perpendicular columns of stalactites, which have since been removed. After advancing at first in a horizontal course, we descend into an echoing cavern, by a ladder fifteen or twenty feet in length. Over our heads hang silvery white stalactites, while we are surrounded by pillars of stalagmites, and rugged walls incrusted with a beautiful brown spar. The floor is composed of ledges of rocks, and presents rather an uneven pathway.
Advancing through a narrow passage in the rocks, we enter still other apartments, resembling the first in the beauty of their formations, but of different shape and extent. The sparry incrustations assume a thousand fantastic figures, sparkling with light, and more like the wonders of fairy land, than the original productions of nature. This cave is a mile and a half in extent, varying in perpendicular height from three to forty feet, and in breadth from two to thirty. Its dividing branches are numerous. Blue limestone is the base of the whole cave; every where covered with incrustations of carbonates. In some places the uneven sides of the rocks are quite covered with white crystals of the carbonate of lime, and appear like banks of salt. Sometimes the pavement sparkles as a floor of diamonds; and again the pathway is pebbled, and resembles the deserted bed of a river. It is impossible to convey any idea of the number and variety of shapes which the stalactites assume; resembling every thing in nature, and in the worlds of imagination, they are still unlike every thing but themselves.
The Nicojack Cave is situated in the Cherokee country, at Nicojack, the north-western angle in the map of Georgia. We believe it was first fully described by the Rev. E. Cornelius. It is twenty miles south-west of the Look-Out Mountain, and half a mile from the south bank of the Tennessee river. The Raccoon Mountain, in which it is situated, here fronts to the north-east. Immense layers of horizontal limestone form a precipice of considerable height. In this precipice the cave commences; not however with an opening of a few feet, as is common; but with a mouth fifty feet high, and one hundred and sixty wide. Its roof is formed by a solid and regular layer of limestone, having no support but the sides of the cave, and as level as the floor of a house. The entrance is partly obstructed by piles of fallen rocks, which appear to have been dislodged by some great convulsion. From its entrance, the cave consists chiefly of one grand excavation through the rocks, preserving for a great distance the same dimensions as at its mouth.
What is more remarkable than all, it forms for the whole distance it has yet been explored, a walled and vaulted passage for a stream of cool and limpid water, which, where it leaves the cave, is six feet deep and sixty feet wide. A few years since, Col. James Ore, of Tennessee, commencing early in the morning, followed the course of this creek in a canoe, for three miles. He then came to a fall of water, and was obliged to return, without making any further discovery. Whether he penetrated three miles of the cave or not, it is a fact he did not return till the evening, having been busily engaged in his subterranean voyage for twelve hours. He stated that the course of the cave, after proceeding some way to the south-west, became south; and south-east by south, the remaining distance.
There is a remarkable cave or grotto, situated on a bluff of limestone, on the south bank of the Holston river, in East Tennessee, which has been well described by Mr. Kain, in an article in Silliman’s Journal. The bluff is perhaps one hundred feet high, and fifty wide. The grotto is a large natural excavation of the rock, sixty feet high and thirty feet wide. It is very irregular, and to the very top bears marks of the attrition of waves. The river to have been so high, must have covered the valley through which it now winds its quiet way. The excavation gradually diminishes in size as you proceed backward, till one hundred feet from the entrance it terminates. A remarkable projection of the rock divides the back part into two stories.
This grotto, whose walls are hung with ivy, and the bluff crowned with cedars, and surrounded by an aged forest, on which the vine clambers most luxuriantly, viewed from the river which winds slowly around it, and reflects its image, is more than beautiful: it is even venerable. But what renders it most interesting to many visitors, is a number of rude paintings, which were, as tradition reports, left on it by the Cherokee Indians. These Indians are known to have made this cave a resting place as they passed up and down the river Holston. These paintings are still distinct, though they have faded somewhat within my remembrance. They consist of representations of the sun and moon, of a man, of birds, fishes, &c. They are all of red paint, and resemble, in this respect, the paintings on Paint Rock, near the warm springs.
Mammoth Cave is situated near the Green river in Kentucky, the entrance to which is by a pit forty feet deep, and one hundred and twenty in circumference. At the bottom of this pit is the mouth of the cave, which is open to the north, and is from forty to fifty feet in height, and thirty in width, for upwards of forty rods, when it becomes not more than ten feet wide and five feet high. ‘However,’ says Dr. Wood, ‘this continues but a short distance, when it expands to thirty or forty feet in width, and is about twenty feet in height, for about one mile, until you come to the first hopper, where salt-petre is manufactured. Thence it is about forty feet in width, and eighty in height, till you arrive at the second hopper two miles from the mouth. The loose limestone has been laid up into handsome walls on either side, almost the whole distance from the entrance to the second hopper. The road is hard, and as smooth as a flag pavement. The walls of the cavern are perpendicular in every passage that I traversed; the arches are regular in every part, and have bid defiance even to earthquakes. As you advance into the cave, the avenue leads from the second hopper west one mile, then south-west to the chief city, which is six miles distant from the entrance. This avenue is from sixty to one hundred feet high, and about the same broad, the whole distance from the second hopper, until you come to the cross-roads or chief city; and is nearly upon a level, the floor or bottom being covered with loose limestone and salt-petre earth. When I reached the immense area, (chief city,) containing upward of eight acres, without a single pillar to support the arch, which is entire over the whole, I was struck dumb with astonishment, and can give but a very faint idea of its splendor. Nothing under heaven can be more sublime and grand than this place, covered with one solid arch, at least one hundred feet in height, and to all appearance entire. After entering the chief city, I perceived five avenues leading out of it from sixty to one hundred feet in width, and from forty to eighty in height. The walls (all of stone) are arched, being from forty to eighty feet of perpendicular height, before the arch commences.
‘The next avenue which I traversed, after cutting arrows on the stones under our feet, pointing to the mouth of the cave, was one that led us in a southerly direction for more than two miles. We then left it, and took another that led us east, then north, more than two miles farther; and at last, in our windings, were brought out by another avenue into the chief city again, after having traversed more than five miles through different avenues. We rested ourselves for a few minutes on some limestone strata near the centre of this gloomy area, and having refreshed ourselves, and trimmed our lamps, again took our departure through an avenue almost due north, and parallel with the avenue leading from the chief city to the mouth of the cave, which we continued for more than two miles, when we entered the second city. This is covered with one arch nearly two hundred feet high in the centre, and very similar to the chief city, except in the number of avenues leading from it, this having but two. We passed through it over a very considerable rise in the centre, and descended through an avenue bearing to the east about three hundred rods, when we came upon a third area, about one hundred feet square and fifty in height, which had a pure and delightful stream of water, issuing from the side of the wall, about thirty feet high, and which fell upon some broken stones, and was afterwards entirely lost to our view. After passing this beautiful sheet of water a few yards, we came to the end of this passage.
‘We then returned about one hundred yards, and entered an avenue (over a considerable mass of stone) to our right, which led us south, through an uncommonly black avenue, something more than a mile, when we ascended a very steep eminence, about sixty yards, which carried us within the walls of a fourth city, which is not inferior to the second city, having an arch that covers at least six acres. In this last avenue, the farther end of which must be at least four miles from the chief city, and ten from the mouth of the cave, are twenty large piles of saltpetre earth on one side of the avenue, and broken limestone heaped up on the other, evidently the work of human hands. I had expected, from the course of my needle, that this avenue would have carried us round to the chief city; but was sadly disappointed, when I found the end a few hundred yards from the fourth city, which caused us to retrace our steps; and not having been so particular in marking the different entrances as I ought, we were very much bewildered, and once completely lost for fifteen or twenty minutes.
‘At length we found our way, and, weary and faint, entered the chief city at ten at night; however, much fatigued as I was, I determined to explore the cavern as long as my lights held out. We now entered the fifth and last avenue from the chief city, which carried us south-east about nine hundred yards, when we entered the fifth city, whose arch covers upwards of four acres of level ground, strewed with broken limestone. Fire beds of uncommon size, with brands of cane lying around them, are interspersed throughout this city. We crossed over to the opposite side, and entered an avenue that carried us east about two hundred and fifty rods; when, finding nothing remarkable in this passage, we turned back, and crossed a massy pile of limestone in the mouth of a large avenue, which I noticed but a few yards from this last-mentioned city as I came out of it. After some difficulty in passing over this mass of limestone, we entered a large avenue, whose walls were the most perfect of any that we had seen, running almost due south for five hundred rods, and very level and straight. When at the end of this avenue, and while I was sketching a plan of the cave, one of my guides, who had been some time groping among the broken stones, called out, requesting me to follow him. I gathered up my papers and compass, and also giving the guide who sat with me orders to remain where he was, until we returned, and moreover to keep his lamp in good order, I followed after the first, who had entered a vertical passage just large enough to admit his body. We continued to step from one stone to another, until at last, after much difficulty, from the smallness of the passage, which is about forty feet in height, we entered upon the side of a chamber eighteen hundred feet in circumference, and whose arch is one hundred and fifty feet high in the centre. After having marked arrows, pointing downwards, upon the slate-stones around the little passage through which we had winded, we walked nearly to the centre of this area. It was past midnight when I entered this chamber of eternal darkness, where “all things are hushed, and nature’s self lies dead.” I must acknowledge I felt a shivering horror at my situation, when, I looked back upon the different avenues through which I had passed, since I entered the cave at eight in the morning; and “at time of night, when church-yards groan,” to be buried several miles in the dark recesses of this awful cavern, the grave, perhaps, of thousands of human beings—gave me no very pleasant emotions. With the guide who was now with me, I took the only avenue leading from this chamber, and traversed it for the distance of a mile in a northerly direction, when my lamps forbade me going any farther, as they were nearly exhausted. The avenue, or passage, was as large as any that we had entered; and how far we might have entered, had our lights held out, is unknown.
‘It is supposed that Green river, a stream navigable several hundred miles, passes over three branches of this cave. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning, when we descended the passage of the chimney, as it is called, to the guide who sat on the rocks. He was quite alarmed at our long absence, and was heard by us a long time before we reached the passage to descend to him, hallooing with all his might, fearing we had lost our track in the ruins above. Very near the vertical passage, and not far from where I had left my guide sitting, I found some very beautiful specimens of soda, which I brought out with me. We returned over piles of saltpetre earth and fire beds, out of one avenue into another, until at last, with great fatigue and a dim light, we entered the walls of the chief city; where, for the last time, we trimmed our lamps, and entered the spacious avenue that lends to the second hopper. I found, when in the last-mentioned large avenue, or upper chamber, many curiosities; such as Glauber salts, Epsom salts, flint, yellow ochre, spar of different kinds, and some petrifactions, which I brought out together with the mummy, which was found at the second hopper. We happily arrived at the mouth of the cave at five in the morning, nearly exhausted and worn down with nineteen hours’ continued fatigue. I have described to you hardly one half of the cave, as the avenues between the mouth of the cave and the second hopper have not been named. There is a passage in the main avenue, about sixty rods from the entrance, like that of a trap-door. By sliding aside a large flat stone, you can descend sixteen or eighteen feet into a very narrow defile, where the passage comes upon a level, and winds about in such a manner us to pass under the main passage, without having any communication with it; and at last opens into the large passages, just beyond the second hopper. It is called the Glauber salt room, from salts of that kind being found there. There is also the sick room, the bat room, and the flint room, all of which are large, and some of them quite long. The last that I shall mention is a very winding avenue, which branches off at the second hopper, running west, and south-west, for more than two miles. This is called the haunted chamber, from the echo of the sound made in it. The arch of this avenue is very beautifully incrusted with limestone spar; and in many places the columns of spar are truly elegant, extending from the ceiling to the floor. I discovered in this avenue a very high dome, in or near the centre of the arch, apparently fifty feet high, hung in rich drapery, festooned in the most fanciful manner for six or eight feet above the hangings, and in colors the most rich and brilliant. The columns of spar, and the stalactites in this chamber, are extremely romantic in their appearance, with the reflection of one or two lights. There is a cellar formed of this spar, called Wilkins’s armed chair, which is very large, standing in the middle of the avenue, and is encircled with many smaller ones. Columns of spar, fluted and studded with knobs of spar and stalactites, drapery of various colors, superbly festooned and hung in the most graceful manner, are shewn with the greatest brilliancy from the reflection of lamps.
‘A part of the haunted chamber lies directly over the bat room, which passes under it, without having any connection with it. I was led into a very narrow defile on the left side of this chamber, and about a hundred yards from Wilkins’s armed chair, over the side of a smooth limestone rock, ten or twelve feet, which we passed with much precaution, for had we slipped from our hold, we had gone to that “bourne whence no traveller returns,” if I may judge from a cataract of water, whose dismal sound we heard at a very considerable distance in this pit, and nearly under us. However, we crossed in safety, clinging fast to the wall, and winding under the haunted chamber, and through a very narrow passage for thirty or forty yards, when our course was west, and the passage twenty or thirty feet in width, and from ten to eighteen feet high, for more than a mile. The air was pure and delightful in this, as well as in other parts of the cave. At the farther end of this avenue, we came upon a reservoir of water, very clear and delightful to the taste, apparently having neither inlet nor outlet. Within a few yards of this reservoir of water, on the right hand of the cave, there is an avenue leading to the north-west. We had entered it but forty feet, when we came to several columns of the most brilliant spar, sixty or seventy feet in height, and almost perpendicular, which stand in basins of water, that comes trickling down their sides, then passes off silently from the basin, and enters the cavities of stone, without being seen again. These columns of spar, and the basins they rest in, for splendor and beauty, surpass every similar work of art I ever saw. We passed by these columns, and entered a small but beautiful chamber, whose walls were about twenty feet apart, and the arch not more than seven feet high, white as white-wash could have made it; the floor was level as far as I could see, which was not a great distance, as I found many pit-holes in my path, that appeared to have been lately sunk, and which induced me to return. We returned by the beautiful pool of water, which is called the pool of Clitorius, after the Fons Clitorius of the classics, which was so pure and delightful to the taste, that, after drinking of it, a person had no longer a taste for wine. On our way back to the narrow defile, I found some difficulty in keeping my lights, for the bats were so numerous and continually in our faces, that it was next to impossible to get along in safety. I brought this trouble on myself, by my own want of foresight, for as we were moving on, I noticed a large number of these bats hanging by their hind legs to the arch, which was not a foot higher than my head. I took my cane and gave a sweep the whole length of it, when down they fell; but soon, like so many imps, they tormented us until we reached the narrow defile, when they left us. We returned by Wilkins’s armed chair, and back to the second hopper, where I found the mummy before-mentioned, and which had been placed there by Mr. Wilkins, for preservation in another cave.’
Indiana Cave.—In the southern part of Indiana there is a remarkable cave, which abounds in Epsom Salts, and which is thus described by Mr. Adams.—‘The hill in which it is situated, is about four hundred feet high, from the base to the most elevated point, and the prospect to the south-east, in a clear day, is exceedingly fine, commanding an extensive view of the hills and valleys bordering on Big Blue river. The top of the hill is covered principally with oak and chesnut. The side to the south-east is mantled with cedar. The entrance is about midway from the base to the summit, and the surface of the cave preserves in general about that elevation; although I must acknowledge this to be conjectural, as no experiments have been made with a view to ascertain the fact. It is probably owing to this middle situation of the cave, that it is much drier than is common.
‘After entering the cave by an aperture twelve or fifteen feet wide, and in height, in one place, three or four feet, you descend with easy and gradual steps into a large and spacious room, which continues about a quarter of a mile pretty near the same in appearance, varying in height from eight to thirty feet, and in breadth from ten to twenty. In this distance the roof is in some places arched, in others a plane, and in one place, particularly, it resembles an inside view of the roof of a house. At the distance above-named the cave forks, but the right hand fork soon terminates, while the left rises by a flight of rocky stairs nearly ten feet high, into another story, and pursues a course at this place nearly south-east. Here the roof commences a regular arch, the height of which from the floor varies from five to eight feet, and the width of the cave from six to twelve feet—which continues to what is called the Creeping Place, from the circumstance of having to crawl ten or twelve feet into the next large room. From this place to the Pillar, a distance of about one mile and a quarter, the visitor finds an alternate succession of large and small rooms variously decorated; sometimes mounting elevated points by gradual or difficult ascents, and again descending as far below; sometimes travelling on a pavement, or climbing over huge piles of rocks, detached from the roof by some convulsion of nature, and thus continues his route until he arrives at the Pillar.
‘The aspect of this large and stately white column, as it heaves in sight from the dim reflection of the torches, is grand and impressive. Visitors have seldom pushed their inquiries further than two hundred or three hundred yards beyond this pillar. This column is about fifteen feet in diameter, from twenty to thirty feet in height, and regularly reeded from the top to the bottom. In the vicinity of this spot are some inferior pillars of the same appearance and texture.
‘I have thus given you an imperfect sketch of the mechanical structure and appearance of the cave. It only remains to mention its productions.
‘The first in importance is sulphate of magnesia, or Epsom salts, which, as has been before remarked, abounds throughout this cave in almost its whole extent, and which, I believe, has no parallel in the history of that article. This neutral salt is found in a great variety of forms, and in many different stages of formation, sometimes in lumps, varying from one to ten pounds in weight. The earth exhibits a shining appearance, from the numerous particles interspersed through the huge piles of dirt collected in different parts of the cave. The foregoing remark applies with truth, not only to the surface, but to three feet below it. This is the greatest distance hitherto examined. The walls are covered in different places with the same article, and reproduction goes on rapidly. With a view to ascertain this fact, I removed from a particular place every vestige of the salt, and in four or five weeks the place was covered with small needle-shaped crystals, exhibiting the appearance of frost.
‘The quality of the salt in this cave is inferior to none, and, when it takes its proper stand in regular and domestic practice, must be of national utility. With respect to the resources of this cave, I will venture to say that every competent judge must pronounce them inexhaustible. The worst earth that has been tried will yield four pounds of salt to the bushel, and the best from twenty to twenty-five pounds.
‘The next production is the nitrate of lime, or saltpetre earth. There are vast quantities of this earth, and equal in strength to any that I have ever seen; and when potassium can be more conveniently obtained than at present, the manufacture of saltpetre must be a lucrative pursuit. There are also large quantities of the nitrate of allumina or nitrate of argyl, which will yield as much nitrate of potassium or saltpetre, in proportion to the quantities of earth, as the nitrate of lime.
‘The three articles above enumerated are first in quantity and importance; but there are several others, which deserve notice as subjects of philosophical curiosity. The sulphate of lime, or plaster of Paris, is to be seen variously formed; ponderous, crystallized, and impalpable, or soft, light, and rather spongy. Vestiges of the sulphate of iron, are also to be seen in one or two places. Small specimens of the carbonate, and also the nitrate of magnesia, have been found. The rocks in the cave principally consist of carbonate of lime, or common limestone.
‘I had almost forgotten to state, that near the forks of the cave are two specimens of painting, probably of Indian origin. The one appears to be a savage, with something like a bow in his hand, and furnishes the hint that it was done when that instrument of death was in use. The other is so much defaced, that it is impossible to say what it was intended to represent.’
Carver’s Cave.—‘About twelve miles below the new garrison at St. Peter’s,’ says Mr. Schoolcraft, ‘we stopped to examine a remarkable cavern, on the east banks of the Mississippi, called Wakon-teebe, by the Narcotah or Sioux Indians, but which, in compliment to the memory of its first European visitor, should be denominated Carver’s Cave. It is situated in a rock of the most beautiful white sand-stone, at the head of a small valley about four hundred yards from the banks of the river. Its mouth is about sixty or seventy feet wide and twenty in height, but the former soon decreases to about twenty feet, and the latter to seven. This width gradually lessens as you advance during the first hundred yards, but the height remains nearly the same, so that a man can walk without stooping. Then it tapers into a narrow passage, where it is necessary to creep, which suddenly opens into a spacious chamber. From this a narrow crevice continues as far as it has been explored. Some of our party pursued it four hundred yards by the light of wax candles. It is very damp and chilly. There is a handsome stream of pure water running from its mouth. The temperature of the air in the cave was fifty-four degrees, that of the water forty-seven. As it is situated in sand-stone rock, it affords no stalactites, or spars. Some parts of the rock at the mouth are colored green, probably by the carbonate of copper. The bed of the brook is composed of a crystalline sand of the most snowy whiteness, originating from the disintegration of the surrounding walls. Scattered over this are a number of small pebbles, of so intensely black a color, as to create a pleasing contrast, when viewed through the medium of a clear stream. These, on examination, proved to be masses of limestone, granite, and quartz, colored externally by a thin deposit of earthy matter, and I conclude the color to proceed from the gallic acid, with which the water, percolating into the cavern, through the beds of oak leaves of the superincumbent forest, may be partially saturated. This cave has been visited by most persons who have passed up the Mississippi, if we may judge from the number of names found upon the walls. Among them, we were informed, was that of Captain Carver, who visited it in 1768, but we did not observe it. His grant of land from the Indians is dated in this cave, but the cave itself appears to have undergone a considerable alteration since that period, for he says that “about twenty feet from the entrance begins a lake, the water of which is transparent, and extends to an unsearchable distance.” As the rock is of a very friable nature, and easily acted upon by running water, it is probable that the lake has been discharged, thus enlarging the boundaries of the cave. He also remarks, “at a little distance from this dreary cavern, is the burying-place of several bands of the Nawdowessie (Sioux) Indians. Though these people have no fixed residence, living in tents, and abiding but a few months in one spot, yet they always bring the bones of their dead to this place; which they take the opportunity of doing when the chiefs meet to hold their councils, and to settle the public affairs for the ensuing summer.” We noticed no bones or traces of interment about the cave, but perhaps a further examination of the adjacent region would have led to a discovery.’
In Kentucky and Tennessee, caves are numerous, which appear to have been used for burial-places. In the county of Ulster, in New York, is a cave three quarters of a mile in length, caused by a stream running under ground. The rock which constitutes the roof and sides of the cave is a dark colored limestone, containing impressions of shells, calcareous spar, and beautiful white and yellow stalactites. At one end is a fall of water, the depth of which has not been fathomed. At Rhinebeck, near the Hudson, is a cave in which a narrow entrance leads to several spacious rooms, abounding with columns of stalactites. At Chester, in Warren county, there is a stream which passes under a natural bridge, and among many deep caverns; the waters enter in two streams, unite in the subterranean passage, and issue in a single current under a precipice sixty feet in height.
In the Laurel Mountain, in Pennsylvania, is a cavern with a very narrow entrance, and various winding passages, which has been traversed two miles. It is formed of a soft sandstone, and its roof is covered with millions of bats. At Durham in Bucks county, on the Delaware, is a cave in the limestone rock, abounding with pools and rivulets of water. At Carlisle is another somewhat similar, in which human bones have been discovered.
GENERAL REMARKS ON CAVES.
Caves or grottoes are natural fissures in the solid crust of the earth, with walls and a natural roof. They are sometimes of immense extent and depth, and frequently the first excavation is only the vestibule to another much larger and deeper. Eldon Hole, in Derbyshire, has been sounded with a line of more than nine thousand six hundred feet, but without reaching its bottom. A cavern near Frederickshall, Norway, has been estimated at eleven thousand feet in depth. Many caverns are remarkable for various natural curiosities. The most interesting are those in which the dropping of water has caused the formation of stalactites, either suspended from the vaults of the caverns in the shape of long crystals, or assuming fantastic forms on the floor and along the wall. Antiparos and Peak caves in Derbyshire, England, owe their celebrity to those formations. Other caves are strewed with petrified bones, and have evidently been the burial-places of generations of human beings.
There are caverns which contain deep pits of water, or wells, of such an extent as to acquire the name of subterranean lakes. In some are the sources, and in others the receptacles, of large streams. In Norway you may sometimes walk upon an arched calcareous floor, and hear the roar of torrents under your feet. In Russia, many caverns have been evidently formed by means of water, and even masses of ice.
Fingal’s Cave in the Isle of Staffa, on the western coast of Scotland, is the grandest in the known world. Its sides are formed of majestic columns of basalt, which are almost as regular as if they had been formed by art. These columns support a lofty roof, under which the sea rolls its waves, while the vastness of the entrance admits the light of day to the recesses of the cave. The origin of these basaltic formations is uncertain.
The caves of Kirkdale, in England, and Gailenreuth, in Germany, are remarkable for the quantities of bones of the elephant, rhinoceros, and hyena found in them. The mine of fluor spar, in Castleton, Derbyshire, passes through several stalactic caverns. Other caverns in England contain subterraneous cascades. In the Rock of Gibraltar there are a number of stalactic caverns, of which the principal is called St. Michael’s, and is one thousand feet above the sea. The most famous caves of Germany are those of Bauman and Bielstein, in the Hartz.
Caves sometimes exhale poisonous vapors. Of these, the most remarkable is near Naples, named the Grotto del Cane. In Iceland, there are many formed by the lava from its volcanoes. In the volcanic country near Rome, are many natural cavities of great extent and coolness, which form pleasant places of resort in the hot weather. The grottoes in the Cevennes Mountains, in France, are both numerous and extensive, and abound in objects of curiosity. In South America is the cavern of Guacharo, which is said to extend for leagues.
MOST of the coast of Maine is thickly strewn with islands. The largest is Mount Desert, on the west side of Frenchman’s Bay; it is fifteen miles long, and twelve broad. Many fine islands lie in Penobscot Bay, as Long Island, on which is the town of Islesborough; the Fox Islands, containing the town of Vinalhaven; and Deer Isle, on the east side of the bay, about eight miles from Castine.
The Isles of Shoals belong partly to New Hampshire, and partly to Maine. They lie about eight miles out at sea, between Portsmouth and Newburyport, and are hardly more than a cluster of rocks rising above the waters; but they are, on many accounts, worthy of notice. They have but a thin and barren appearance, yet for more than a century previous to the revolution they were quite populous, containing at one time six hundred inhabitants, who found there an advantageous situation for carrying on fisheries. To this day the best cod in the world are those which are known in the market as Isle of Shoals dun fish. These islands were discovered by the celebrated Captain Smith in 1614, and called at first Smith’s Isles. The New Hampshire portion now constitutes the town of Gosport.
In all of them are chasms in the rocks apparently caused by earthquakes. There is a remarkable chasm on Star Island, where one of the female inhabitants secreted herself when the islands were invaded, and the people carried into captivity by the Indians. The largest is named Hog Island, and contains three hundred and fifty acres; Star Island has one hundred and fifty, Hayley’s one hundred; they are in all seven. The inhabitants are about one hundred; they live solely by fishing, and in connection with those of the shore in their immediate neighborhood, who follow the same mode of life, are the most rude and uncivilized beings in New England, except the Indians. They supply the markets of Newburyport with fish, and have long been known there by the name of Algerines. Efforts have recently been made to improve their social condition.
In the northern part of Massachusetts, at the mouth of the Merrimack, lies Plum Island, nine miles long and one wide. On the side towards the ocean it consists of sand hills twenty or thirty feet high, thrown into a thousand fantastic shapes like snow drifts in a storm. These hills are covered with low bushes bearing the beach plum, a fruit about the size of a musket ball, and of a pleasant taste; wild cherries and grapes also grow in different parts. In autumn it is much frequented by parties of pleasure from the neighborhood. At the northern extremity are two lighthouses and a hotel.
Nantucket, twenty miles south of the main land at Cape Cod, is an island of triangular form, about fifteen miles long and eleven broad in the widest part, containing twenty-nine thousand three hundred and eighty acres. It is removed at least twenty miles from the nearest land, and, during some parts of the winter, the water is frozen around it as far as the eye can reach, for a number of weeks. The climate is comparatively of an equal temperature. Springs of water on the island below a certain level have a peculiar taste, and are disagreeable to those unused to them. The frequency of dense and heavy fogs has frustrated the attempts made here, to manufacture salt by evaporation from sea-water.
The inhabitants of this island are a robust and enterprising race, chiefly seamen and mechanics; and those employed in the whale fishery are said to be superior to all others; the island, being sandy and barren, is calculated only for such people as are willing to depend almost entirely on the ocean for subsistence.24 The people are mostly of the society of Friends, and are warmly attached to their island; few wishing to remove to a more desirable situation.
There is a sand-bar at the entrance of the harbor of Nantucket, which effectually excludes large vessels, deeply laden. Some attempts have been recently made to remove this bank, and an appropriation of twenty-eight thousand dollars was made by government for this purpose; but the sand removed in summer was more than supplied in winter, and the project was abandoned. Ships now unlade at Edgartown, Martha’s Vineyard, and their cargoes are taken in small vessels to the island. Some months in the year, they can unload at the bar. South-east of the island, and out of sight of land, lie Nantucket Shoals, a dangerous reef of sand, fifty miles in extent.
Martha’s Vineyard, west of Nantucket, and lying nearer the continent, is twenty miles long, and ten broad. This island has a good soil, and in the western part is somewhat elevated; it has many productive farms, and contains the town of Edgartown, which has a good harbor. Holmes’s Hole is a safe and commodious harbor in the north part of the island, much frequented during the winter by inward bound vessels. The Elizabeth Islands are a chain of sixteen small islands lying north-west of Martha’s Vineyard, and forming the south-east side of Buzzard’s Bay; a part of them only are inhabited. They were discovered by Bartholomew Gosnold, in 1602. A multitude of islands lie in Boston Bay, many of them very beautiful, but none of sufficient importance to merit particular description.
Rhode Island, in Narraganset Bay, is fifteen miles long from north-east to south-west, and averages two and a half in width. In its most flourishing state it was called by travellers the Eden of America. It has a good soil well cultivated, and an agreeably varied surface, but it is destitute of trees, the whole island having been laid waste by the British in the revolutionary war. A mine of anthracite coal has been wrought to some extent in the north part of the island, but is not now much esteemed. The town of Newport, in the south-west part, is a fashionable summer resort.
Conanicut is an island lying on the west side of Rhode Island; it is eight miles long and about one in breadth. This is also a beautiful island, and has a fertile soil. At the southern extremity is a lighthouse. In the same part may be seen the ruins of an ancient circular fortification, which once defended the passage of the bay.
Prudence Island, farther up Narraganset Bay, is six miles in length. Block Island lies ten miles out at sea, and is eight miles long and from two to four broad; it has an uneven surface, but produces maize and other grain. A lighthouse stands upon it. Among the other islands in Narraganset Bay are Patience, Hope, Dyers’ and Hog Island.
Long Island extends along the coast of Connecticut, but belongs wholly to New-York. It is one hundred and forty miles long from east to west, and its average breadth is about ten miles. It is of alluvial formation, but there is a rocky ridge or spine, extending lengthwise through it, which presents summits of considerable elevation. On the south side of the island is Hempstead Plain, an extensive tract of wild savanna, fifteen miles in length and four in breadth. In favorable years, the best parts of the island have yielded thirty or forty bushels of wheat to the acre. In the western parts are many fine orchards. Deer are found in great numbers in the centre of the island; the shores abound with the finest oysters.
Shelter Island lies off the east end of Long Island. It contains about eight thousand acres of varied surface, with a soil generally light and sandy, but in some parts rich, level, and well cultivated. Fisher’s Island lies near the east extremity of Long Island; it is twelve miles long and one wide; the surface is broken, but it affords a good farm, and its dairies are very fine. Gardiner’s Island is on the north side of Long Island, and contains about three thousand acres of valuable land.
Staten Island lies at the mouth of New-York harbor; it is about eighteen miles long, and eight wide. The surface is generally rough and hilly, but on the south is a level tract of good land. This island forms the county of Richmond.25
Manhattan Island, the seat of the city of New York, is fifteen miles long, and one and a half in its average breadth. It is washed on the western side by the Hudson, and separated from the continent and Long Island on the east by narrow channels. It is generally level in the lower part, and the soil here rests upon a granite rock. At the northern extremity, the granite is succeeded by limestone, which affords excellent marble, and extends for some distance into the country. In the northern part, the shores are rocky, and the face of the island strongly marked by abrupt crags and ravines, hills and valleys, insulated rocks and marshy inlets. The gneiss rock, which is much used for side-walk pavements and the foundations of buildings, is found in abundance here. Small quantities of porcelain clay have also been found upon the island.
The Bay of Chesapeak contains many islands within the limits of Maryland. Kent Island, on the east side of the bay, opposite Annapolis, is twelve miles long. The Tangier Islands lie farther down the bay. On the seacoast is the island of Assatiegue, twenty miles long and two broad.
The coast of North Carolina is skirted by a range of low, sandy islands, thrown up by the sea. They are long and narrow, and inclose several bays or sounds. They are generally barren. The southern part of South Carolina exhibits a similar range, separated from the main land by narrow channels, which afford a steam-boat navigation. These islands, like the neighboring continent, are low and flat, but are covered with forests of live oak, pine, and palmetto. Before the cultivation of cotton, many of them were the haunts of alligators, and their thick woods and rank weeds rendered them impenetrable to man. At present, they are under cultivation and well inhabited; and as the voyager glides along their shores in a steam-boat, he is enchanted with the prospect of their lively verdure, interspersed with thick clumps of palmettoes, live oak, and laurel, and flowering groves of orange trees. The long sandy beaches which border these islands towards the sea, are covered with thousands of water-fowl. Georgia is also bordered with a range of small islands and marshy tracts, intersected by channels and rivulets which are navigable for small vessels. These islands consist of a rich gray soil called hammoc land. In their natural state, they are covered with forests of live oak, pine, and hickory, but under cultivation they produce the best cotton in the world, called Sea-Island cotton. There are many small islands scattered along the coast of Florida; and off the southern extremity, at some distance from the land, lies a cluster, on one of which, Key West, the United States have established a naval station.
The Chandeleur Islands lie on the eastern coast of Louisiana; they are little more than heaps of sand, covered with pine forests. West of the Mississippi are many others scattered along the coast. Here is the island of Barataria, formerly noted as a nest of pirates. It lies in a bay which receives the waters of a lake of the same name. The soil of these islands is generally rich; most of them are low and level. There are some very fertile islands in the Mississippi,26 and in the Great Lakes.
The Island of Michilimackinac, in the strait connecting Lake Huron and Lake Michigan, is important in a political point of view, being the Gibraltar of the north-west. It is of an elliptical form, about seven miles in circumference, rising gradually to the centre; its figure suggested to the mind of the Indians its appropriate name, Michi Mackina,27 (Great Turtle.) The greater part of the island is almost an impenetrable thicket of underwood and small trees, which contribute materially to the defence of the garrison. Fort Holmes stands on a summit of the island, several hundred feet above the level of Lake Huron, and is now one of the most formidable positions in the western country. The French were the first settlers, and their descendants, to a considerable number, reside near the Fort.
Maniton Island is situated near the eastern coast of Lake Michigan; it is six miles long and four wide, and is held sacred by the Indians. The Castor Islands are a chain of islets, extending from Grand Traverse Bay nearly across the lake; they are low and sandy, but afford a shelter for light boats in their passage to Green Bay. Grosse Isle is a valuable alluvion of several thousand acres, being five miles long, and from one to two wide.
GENERAL REMARKS ON ISLANDS.
It has been well observed, that a large island is a continent in miniature, with its chains of mountains, its lakes, rivers, and not unfrequently its surrounding islets. The smaller islands are found single, or in groups. Among the low or flat islands, there are some which are only banks of sand, scarcely raised above the surface of the water; sometimes they consist of masses of shells or petrifactions, as the Isles of Lachof to the north of Siberia, which are nothing but masses of ice, sand, and the bones of the mammoth. The Pacific contains a great many islands formed of coral reefs, which are sometimes covered with sand, and afford nourishment to a few plants.
Among the more elevated islands we find very many which owe their foundation, in a great measure, to volcanic agencies. Submarine islands, as they have been sometimes called, or immense sand-banks, covered with shoal water, are not unfrequent. Chains of islands in the neighborhood of continents seem to be often formed by the action of the waters washing away the less solid parts, which once occupied the spaces between the mountains and rocks. In this manner were probably formed the islands along the coast of the United States, which still appear above the surface of the waves.
One of the chief advantages that islands derive from their situation is, that the climate is generally rendered mild and salubrious, from the vapors of the surrounding sea, which generally moderate the violence of heat and cold, both of which are sensibly less than on the continent in the same latitude. Another advantage is found in their accessibility on every side, by which islands are open to receive and export commodities, and at times when the ports of the continent are closed. An island has on all sides the most extensive and effectual frontier, subsisting forever without repairs and without expense; and, which is still more, derives from this very frontier, a great part of the subsistence of its inhabitants, and a valuable article in its commerce, from fisheries.
The island of Acroteri, famous in ancient history, is represented to have risen from the sea, in a violent earthquake; its surface is composed of pumice-stone incrusted with a covering of fertile earth. Four neighboring islands have been attributed to a similar cause, and yet the sea about them cannot be fathomed by any sounding line. These have risen at different periods, the last in 1573, the first long before the birth of Christ. Similar eruptions of islands have occurred in the group of the Azores. Thus in December, 1720, a violent shock of an earthquake was felt at Tercera. During the night, the top of a new island appeared, which ejected a huge column of smoke. The pilot of a ship who attempted to approach it sounded on one side of the new formed island, but could not reach bottom with a line of sixty fathoms. On the opposite side, the sea was deeply tinged with various colors, white, blue and green, and was very shallow. This island gradually diminished in size, and finally altogether disappeared.
History abounds with accounts of floating islands, but they are either false or much exaggerated. These islands are generally found in lakes, and are composed of the light matter floating on the surface of the water in cakes, forming, with the roots of plants, collections of different sizes, which, not being fixed in any part to the shore, are driven about by the winds. In the course of time, some of them arrive at considerable size. The floating islands, however, mentioned by the old writers, have now disappeared or become fixed.
Cape Ann, the northern limit of Massachusetts Bay, is a rocky promontory, fifteen miles in length, containing several good harbors. The peninsula of Cape Cod, in the south-east part of Massachusetts, is about sixty-five miles long, and from one to twenty miles broad; its shape is nearly that of a man’s arm bent inward at the elbow and wrist. The greater part of the peninsula is a barren desert; in the south-western portion the land, though sterile, is under some little cultivation; but the northern part consists almost wholly of hills of white sand. The houses are built upon stakes driven into the ground, with open spaces between for the sand to drift through. The cape is well inhabited, notwithstanding its sterility, and supports a population of twenty-eight thousand, who derive their subsistence chiefly from the fisheries. The coast is beset with numerous shoals, and has long been the dread of mariners. At the first settlement of the country, there was an island east of the cape, about nine miles out at sea, which was twenty acres in extent, and covered with savin and cedar trees; for a century this island has been entirely submerged, and the water is above six fathoms deep.
The peninsula of Nahant, a few miles north of the harbor of Boston, is connected with the main land by Lynn beach, a smooth and level floor of sand two miles in length. It is divided into Great Nahant, Little Nahant, and Bass Neck: the two former being connected by a delightful beach ninety rods long. These beaches are hard and smooth, and of sufficient width at low water to accommodate thousands with a pleasant walk or ride. Great Nahant contains three hundred and five acres of land. The shores of this peninsula are bold and rocky. On its southern side is a large and curious cavern called the Swallows’ House, inhabited by a great number of swallows, which here make their nests. On the northern shore is a chasm thirty feet deep, called the Spouting Horn, into which, at about half-tide, the water rushes with great violence and a tremendous sound.
Nahant presents some of the most striking sea views in the world. After an easterly storm, the violent dashing of the huge waves against the rocks presents a spectacle possessing all the elements of the sublime. During the heat of summer, Nahant is a favorite place of resort for invalids, and people of fashion, on account of its cool and refreshing breezes.
Cape May, on the coast of New Jersey, and the northern point of the mouth of Delaware Bay, is the termination of a range of low, sandy, barren coast, commencing at Shrewsbury. It is eighteen miles north-east of Cape Henlopen, a point on the southern coast of the entrance to the same bay. On this cape is a lighthouse of an octagon form, handsomely built of stone, one hundred and fifteen feet high, and on a foundation nearly as much above the level of the sea. Cape Henry is the southern salient point at the mouth of Chesapeak Bay; and its northern salient point, twelve miles distant to the north, is the promontory of Cape Charles.
Cape Hatteras, the most remarkable and dangerous cape on the coast of North American, is situated in latitude thirty-five degrees and twelve minutes, and has occasioned the destruction of many a fine vessel, and the loss of hundreds of valuable lives. The water is very shoal at a great distance from the cape, which is remarkable for sudden and violent squalls of wind, and for the most severe storms of thunder, lightning, and rain, which happen almost every day for one half the year. The shoals lie about fourteen miles south-west of the cape, and are nearly five or six acres in extent, with about ten feet water. Here, at times, the ocean breaks in a tremendous manner, spouting as it were to the clouds, from the violent agitation of the Gulf Stream, which touches the edge of the banks.
Cape Fear and Cape Lookout are dangerous capes on the coast of North Carolina. The former is the southern extremity of Smith’s Island, at the mouth of the river of the same name. About sixty years ago, Cape Lookout afforded an excellent harbor, capacious enough for a large fleet in good deep water; but the basin is now filled up. Roman is the name of a cape on the coast of South Carolina, and of one on the western coast of East Florida. Cape Cannaveral is on the Atlantic coast of Florida, being the projecting point of a long, narrow and low sandy island between Indian river and the ocean. Cape Florida is a promontory of the south-eastern coast of Florida, projecting to the south, and inclosing on the north-east the Bay of Biscino. Cape Sable is the extreme point of Florida. Every part of the coast of the Southern States is low and flat, without a single lofty headland to warn the navigator of his approach to the land. The peninsula of East Florida may be considered an immense cape, and much the largest in the United States. The Mississippi has formed at its mouth, by the mud brought down in its waters, a cape forty miles in extent, the extreme point of which is called the Balize, through the whole length of which the river passes into the Gulf of Mexico.
GENERAL REMARKS ON CAPES AND PENINSULAS.
Parts of continents which shoot into the sea, and are connected with the main land by only a small portion of their circumference, are named peninsulas, and their figures often correspond with those of gulfs and inland seas. When such masses of land are attached to the continent by a greater extent of line than one fourth of their circumference, they are not considered as peninsulas. If the projection of land reach but a short distance, they are called capes, promontories, or simply points. The most remarkable capes in the world are, Cape Horn, St. Roque, Blanco, Cod, Verd, Good Hope, Gardafui, North, Comorin, and Taymour.
THE seacoast of Maine is indented with numerous bays. Of these the largest is Penobscot Bay, which forms the estuary of the river of that name, is about thirty miles in length, and eighteen in width at its entrance between the isle of Holt and Owl’s Head. It incloses Fox, Haut, Long, and Deer islands, besides a number of small islands and rocks. On a fine peninsula in this bay the British, in the late war, built a fort, and made a settlement, which is now the shire town of the county of Hancock, and is a very commodious place for the lumber trade. Broad Bay is situated about twelve miles westwardly, and is bounded by Pleasant-point on the east, and Pemaquid-point on the west, the latter of which projects considerably into the sea. Casco Bay lies between Cape Elizabeth and Cape Smallpoint, and averages twenty-five miles in width by fourteen in length; it forms the entrance into Sagadahok river, and has sufficient depth of water for vessels of any burden. This is a very handsome bay, and contains not less than three hundred small islands, some of which are inhabited, and nearly all more or less cultivated; the land on these islands, and on the opposite coast, being the best for agriculture of any near the seashore of this part of the country. Wells Bay lies between Cape Porpoise and Neddick, which are twenty-one miles apart. Passamaquoddy Bay, forming a part of the boundary between Maine and New Brunswick, is six miles long and twelve wide; it contains many islands, and receives the St. Croix river. Small harbors are numerous, and the shores are rocky and bold. Besides the bays here described, are the Saco and Machias bays.
Massachusetts Bay is about forty miles in extent, lying between Cape Ann on the north and Cape Cod on the south. Within this lies Boston Bay, comprising the space between Nahant on the north and Point Alderton on the south, and including the harbors of Boston, Lynn, Dorchester, Quincy, and Hingham, with Nantucket and President Roads, and the numerous islands within the Boston lighthouse. The most noted of these are Governor’s Island, and Castle Island, on both of which fortifications are erected; they lie about two and a half miles easterly from Boston, at the distance of about a mile from each other, dividing the inner from the outer harbor. The only channel for large ships passes between them. This harbor is of sufficient extent, and its water is sufficiently deep to admit five hundred ships of the largest class to ride at anchor in safety; while its entrance is so narrow as scarcely to admit two ships abreast.
In the south of Massachusetts Bay is Cape Cod Bay, fifteen or twenty miles in extent, lying between Cape Cod and Plymouth; within this are Barnstable and Plymouth Bays. In the south of the state is Buzzard’s Bay, on the south-west side of Cape Cod, twenty miles deep, and inclosing the harbor of New Bedford. ‘Buzzard’s Bay,’ says a recent and entertaining tourist, ‘has much that is interesting on its extensive shores. A beautiful little spot called Naushaw, will not fail to attract the attention of the voyager on his way to Nantucket. Parts of it are thickly covered with woods. From its centre, on an eminence, rises a picturesque spot, which was built by an English gentleman of wealth, for his summer residence. Some time previous to his death, he became impressed with the belief that, at the expiration of twenty years after his decease, he should return and resume the occupations of life. He accordingly gave orders that the house with its furniture, should remain unmolested until the expiration of that time, when he should again return to occupy it. Every thing remained as he would have it for some time after his death. But eventually the house and furniture were sold, and passed into other hands. Thirty or forty summers have reinvigorated the turf of his grave, but he has not yet returned, to claim his property, or to reinhabit the decaying mansion.’ The boat passes from the bay into the sound, through a narrow passage called Wood’s Hole, a place very intricate and difficult of navigation. Breakers run out from the shore in all directions; so that a straight course through, would be impossible. The boat in passing through this miniature Hurl Gate, makes a course in the form of the letter s.
Narraganset Bay intersects the state of Rhode Island, and is about twenty-eight miles long and ten miles broad. It contains fifteen islands; it has many excellent harbors, and affords great advantages for navigation. Newport harbor, in the channel between Conanicut and Rhode Island, is one of the finest in the world, being safe, deep, capacious, and easily accessible. Its entrance is defended by Fort Wolcott on Goat’s Island, and Fort Adams on Rhode Island; the latter is a large stone castle of great strength. The banks of this bay are covered with fine settlements, the view of which from the water is highly pleasing and picturesque.
The seacoast of New York is nearly all comprised within the shores of Long Island, which contain a few harbors and inlets, but none that are much frequented by shipping. The bay or harbor of New York is very safe and capacious; its boundaries towards the sea are Long Island and Staten Island; it extends nine miles below the city, and is from a mile and a half to five miles broad; inclosing several small islands, on which are fortifications. The Hudson enters this bay from the north. The East river, or channel between New York Island and Long Island, communicates with Long Island Sound on the east. The Kills, a strait between Staten Island and the Jersey shore, communicates with Newark Bay and the river Raritan on the west; and the Narrows open into the Atlantic towards the south. At low water, the entrance by the Narrows is somewhat difficult for large ships, and the entrance from the Sound is obstructed by the rocky strait of Hell Gate. There are several harbors on Lake Ontario, the most noted of which is Sacket’s Harbor, toward the east end of the lake; it is deep and safe, and was an important naval station during the war of 1812.
New Jersey has a long line of seacoast, but it is quite deficient in good harbors. Newark Bay is rather a small lake, communicating by long outlets with the sea. The Bay of Amboy, between Staten Island and Sandy Hook, affords little shelter for vessels. There is a long bay, formed by a beach four or five miles from the shore, extending along the coast from Manasquan river, in Monmouth county, almost to Cape May. Through this beach are a number of inlets, by which the bay communicates with the ocean. Delaware Bay lies between the states of Delaware and New Jersey, formed by the mouth of Delaware river and several other smaller ones. It is sixty-five miles long, and in the centre about thirty miles across, and about eighteen at its mouth, from Cape May to Cape Henlopen. This bay has many shoal places, but is in general deep and favorable to navigation. A breakwater and dike are now constructing by the United States’ government at the entrance of the bay. The anchorage ground is formed by a cove in the southern shore, directly west of the pitch of Cape Henlopen and the seaward, and of an extensive shoal called the Shears: the tail of which makes out from the shore about five miles up the bay, near the mouth of Broadkill Creek, from whence it extends eastward, and terminates at a point about two miles to the northward of the shore at the cape. The breakwater consists of an insulated dike or wall of stone, formed in a straight line from east south-east to west north-west, and twelve hundred yards in length. At the distance of three hundred and fifty yards from the western end of the breakwater, a similar dike of five hundred yards in length is projected in a direct line, west by south, one half south, forming an angle of one hundred and forty-six degrees fifteen minutes with the breakwater. This part of the works is more particularly designed as an ice-breaker. The whole length of the two dikes above described, is seventeen hundred yards. The entrance to the harbor is six hundred and fifty yards in width, between the north point of the cape and the east end of the breakwater. At this opening, the harbor will be accessible during all winds coming from the sea.28
The Chesapeak Bay is a deep gulf opening from the Atlantic ocean, between capes Henry and Charles, and lying in the states of Maryland and Virginia. It is one hundred and eighty-five miles in length, extending northwardly, and its entrance is sixteen miles wide. Its general breadth varies from seven to twenty miles, and its average depth is nine fathoms; it affords a safe and easy navigation, and many fine harbors. Among these may be mentioned that of Norfolk, in the southern part of the bay near the mouth of the James. The embouchure of this river forms a spacious haven, called Hampton Roads.
The channel which leads in from the capes of Virginia to Hampton Roads, is, at Old Point Comfort, reduced to a very narrow line. The shoal water, which, under the action of the sea, and re-acted upon by the bar, is kept in an unremitting ripple, has given the name of Rip Raps to this place. When the bar is passed, Hampton Roads afford the finest anchorage in the world, and in them all its navies might ride with perfect safety. With a view of making this a secure retreat for ships of war and for our commerce, in any future contest with a naval power, Fort Monroe was built on the point, on the right side of the channel at the entrance of the Roads; and the Castle of the Rip Raps is directly opposite the point, at the distance of about one thousand nine hundred yards. The two forts will completely command the channel, and it will be impossible for a single ship of war to pass without the permission of the power holding the fortresses. They are so constructed, as to present immense batteries of cannon upon an approaching ship, from the moment she comes in reach, from the capes, and throughout all the bendings of the channel.29
Chesapeak Bay, and its tributary streams, have been known from their discovery as the great place of resort for water-fowl in the United States. This is attributed to the great abundance of their favorite food, which is found on the immense flats or shoals near the mouth of the Susquehanna, the whole length of North, East, and Elk rivers, and on the shores of the Bay as far south as York and James rivers.
The harbors of North and South Carolina are generally bad. That of Charleston is obstructed at its entrance by a dangerous sand-bar; that of Georgetown will admit only small craft. The harbor of Beaufort or Port Royal is the best in the state, but is little frequented. The largest bays of Florida are those of Apalachicola, St. Andrew’s, Ochlockney, and Pensacola. Alabama has but about sixty miles of seacoast, containing the spacious Bay of Mobile, which extends thirty miles inland. It has two principal entrances, one of which has eighteen feet depth of water. To the west it communicates by a shallow passage with the Bay of Pascagoula, which lies within a number of islands, on the coast of this state and Mississippi.
Long Island Sound is an extensive gulf or channel, from three to twenty-five miles broad, and about one hundred and forty in length, extending the whole length of Long Island, and dividing it from Connecticut. It is narrow at the eastern entrance, and expands in the middle; it communicates with the ocean at both ends. Towards the west it contracts gradually, till it joins the harbor of New York by a narrow and crooked strait. It admits of a free navigation throughout its whole extent for the largest ships, except at the celebrated passage called Hell Gate,30 situated near the west end of this sound, about eight miles from the city of New York. It is a very singular strait, about three or four hundred yards in breadth, having a ledge of sunken rocks across it in an angular direction, which occasions many whirlpools and cross currents in the water. These, at certain periods of the tide, make a tremendous noise, and render a passage impracticable; but at other times the water is smooth, and the navigation easy.
Pamlico Sound is a kind of a lake or inland sea, from ten to thirty miles broad, and seventy miles in length. It is separated from the Atlantic ocean, in its whole length, by a beach of sand hardly a mile wide, generally covered with trees or bushes. Through this bank are several small inlets, by which boats may pass; but Ocrecock Inlet is the only one that will admit vessels of burden. This inlet communicates with Albemarle Sound, which is also a kind of inland sea, sixty miles in length, and from four to fifteen in breadth, lying north of Pamlico Sound. Core Sound lies south of Pamlico, and has a communication with it. These sounds are so large, when compared with their inlets from the sea, that no tide can be perceived in any of the rivers which empty into them, nor is the water salt, even in the mouths of these rivers.
Gulf of Mexico.—The Gulf of Mexico washes the shores of Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana, on the side of the United States. It extends between the eighteenth and thirtieth parallels of north latitude, and is nearly of a circular form, but somewhat elongated from east to west. In the latter direction it is one thousand one hundred and fifty miles long; in the transverse direction it is about nine hundred and thirty. It opens in a south-east direction, between the peninsula of Yucatan and Florida, or the capes Catoche and Sable, which are about four hundred and sixty-five miles distant from each other. The Island of Cuba divides this opening into two channels: the one to the south-west, communicating with the Sea of the Antilles, and the other to the north-east with the Atlantic, by means of the Straits of Bahama or Florida. South from the mouth of the Rio del Norte, round about the mouth of the Rio Alvarado, an extent of six hundred miles, this gulf does not present a single good port, as Vera Cruz is merely a bad anchorage amidst shallows. The Mexican coast may be considered a sort of dike, against which the waves, continually agitated by the trade-winds blowing from east to west, throw up the sands carried by the violent motion. The rivers descending from the Sierra Madre, have also contributed to increase these sands, and the land is gaining on the sea. No vessels, says Humboldt, drawing more than twelve and a half inches water, can pass over these sand-bars without danger of grounding.
The Mississippi is the principal tributary of the Gulf of Mexico, and carries down with it, besides its vast body of waters, a prodigious quantity of organic and unorganic debris. The town of New Orleans, near the mouth of this river, is the principal commercial station along the whole gulf. In the middle of the gulf the winds blow regularly from the north-east; but they vary considerably on approaching the shore. From the Mississippi, along the Florida coast, the south-west wind blows violently in the months of August, September, and October; the north wind prevails during the other nine months. Between the Mississippi and San Bernardo, the wind generally blows in the morning from the south-east or east-south-east, and in the evening from the south-west. Between Catoche and Campeachy the reigning wind, during a great part of the year, blows from the north-east; but from the end of April to September, it comes from the opposite direction. The most remarkable current in the gulf, is that called the Gulf Stream, described in the following chapter.
GENERAL REMARKS ON BAYS.
Many portions of the land and sea extend reciprocally the one into the other. If the sea penetrate into the interior of any continent, it forms there a mediterranean, or inland sea, almost surrounded by land, and having only a narrow opening into the sea. If the extent of such seas be less, and the opening larger, they are called gulfs or bays, two terms which geographical writers have wished to distinguish, but which customary language more frequently confounds. The still smaller portions of sea, surrounded as it were by land, and which afford a shelter for ships, are called ports, creeks, or roads. The first term means a secure asylum; the second is applied to places or ports of much smaller size, and which, when improved or completed by artificial aid, are styled harbors, and roads afford only a temporary anchorage and security from certain winds. The principal bays in the world are Baffin’s, Hudson’s, James’s, Fundy, Massachusetts, Narraganset, Delaware, Chesapeak, Campeachy, Honduras, Bristol, All Saints, Cardigan, Donegal, Galway, Biscay, Bengal, Walwich, Table, False, Angola, Natal, Saldanha, and Botany. The principal gulfs are St. Lawrence, Mexico, Amatique, California, Panama, Guayaquil, St. George, Bothnia, Finland, Riga, Genoa, Naples, Taranto, Venice, Salonica, Persian, Ormus, Siam, Tonquin, Corea, Obi, and Guinea. The principal sounds are Long Island, Albemarle, Pamlico, Prince William’s, Queen Charlotte’s and Nootka.
THE United States are washed by the Atlantic Ocean on nearly the whole of their eastern coast, and by the Pacific on a large portion of their western boundary.
Under the name of the Atlantic, is comprised that mass of water between the eastern coast of America and the western coast of Europe and Africa. In its narrowest part, between Europe and Greenland, it is one thousand miles wide, and opening thence to the south-west with the general range of the bounding continents, spreads under the northern tropic to a breadth of sixty degrees of longitude, or four thousand one hundred and seventy miles, without estimating the Gulf of Mexico. The general phenomena on the two opposing sides of the Atlantic have great resemblance. The Atlantic coast of the United States presents an elliptic curve in its entire extent, with three intermediate and similar curves; the first extending seven hundred miles from Cape Florida to Cape Hatteras, the second from Cape Hatteras five hundred miles to the outer capes of Massachusetts, and the third formed by the coasts of Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Maine. Opposite to the United States, the Atlantic admits soundings in every place near the shores, always deepening very gradually. We have not found an exact comparison of the natural history of the Atlantic with that of other oceans. The chief phenomenon that marks it along the coast of the states is the Gulf Stream.
Besides the regular periodical currents produced in the ocean by the tides, various others arise from different causes.31 The waters of the sea may be put in motion by an external impulse, by a difference in temperature and saltness, by the periodical meeting of the polar ice, or by the inequality of evaporation that takes place in different latitudes. Sometimes several of these causes concur in producing the same effect; at others, their actions are opposed to one another, and their effects wholly or partially destroyed. Some of those currents constantly follow the same direction, others are subject to periodical changes, whilst a third class are more accidental. The most regular and extensive current on the globe is that which constantly flows from east to west, between the tropics, and extends on each side of the equator to about the thirtieth degree of latitude.
This vast current necessarily results from the attraction of the heavenly bodies, the diurnal motion of the earth, and the direction of the trade winds. Its existence is incontestibly proved by the fact, that vessels sailing to the westward, are always ahead of their reckoning; that is, their real situation, as determined by observations of the heavenly bodies, is always found to be west of that estimated from the rate of which the vessel is supposed to sail, as impelled by the wind alone. This difference of situation is occasioned by the general movement of the waters in the same direction, and is, consequently, the proper measure of the current. This is the reason why navigators, in sailing from Europe to America and the West India Islands, make the latitude of the Canaries, and then shape their course in the direction of the wind and current across the Atlantic.
A general current also flows from the poles towards the equator. This arises from the increased evaporation in the equatorial regions, and the augmented temperature of the waters, which render them specifically lighter than those of the ocean in higher latitudes, as well as from the increased supplies produced by the melting of the polar ice; all of which render these currents necessary to maintain the equilibrium of this perpetually circulating fluid. Their existence and effects are fully attested by the enormous masses of polar ice, which they convey into the more temperate regions of the ocean, and which sometimes float as low as forty degrees of latitude.
These general currents are greatly modified, and changed into various directions by the obstacles they encounter in their progress. The coast of America, and the numerous islands with which it is flanked, intercept the general current of the Atlantic, and create what navigators call the Gulf Stream. This great current enters the Gulf of Mexico, and, sweeping round the shores of that gulf, issues with accelerated velocity towards the north, by the channel between the southern point of Florida and the Bahama Islands.32 It then rolls along the shore of North America, diminishing in velocity, but increasing in breadth, till it reaches the great bank of Newfoundland. There it suddenly turns towards the east and south-east, and flows with still decreasing velocity, towards the shores of Europe, the Azores, and the coasts of Africa. Navigators readily distinguish this current by the high temperature of its waters, their great saltness, their indigo color, and the shoals of sea-weed33 that cover their surface.
Humboldt, in May, 1804, observed its velocity in the twenty-seventh degree of latitude, and found it about eighty miles in twenty-four hours, though the north wind blew very strongly at the time of the observation. When it issues from the Gulf of Florida, its velocity resembles that of a torrent, and is sometimes five miles an hour, but at others not more than three. Between the nearest point of Florida, and the bank of Bahama, the breadth is only fifteen leagues, but a few degrees further north, it is seventeen; in the parallel of Charleston it is from forty to fifty leagues in breadth, and in latitude forty degrees and twenty-five minutes, this is increased to nearly eighty leagues. The waters of the torrid zone, being thus forcibly impelled towards the north-east, preserve their high temperature to such a degree, that, in latitude forty and forty-one degrees, it has been found to be seventy-two degrees of Fahrenheit, while out of the current the temperature of the water was only sixty-three degrees.
In the parallel of New York the temperature of the Gulf Stream is equal to that of the sea in latitude eighteen degrees. When the current reaches the western islands of the Azores, where the breadth is about one hundred and sixty leagues, the waters still preserve a part of the impulsion they receive in the Gulf of Florida, nearly one thousand leagues distant. Hence the current proceeds to the Canaries and the coast of Africa, and in the latitude of Cape Blanco, where the waters flow towards the south-west, they mingle with the current of the tropics, and recommence their tour from east to west.
From this it appears that the waters of the Atlantic, between the eleventh and forty-third degrees, are constantly drawn by currents into a kind of whirlpool; and if a drop of these waters be supposed to return precisely to the place from which it commenced its motion, Humboldt has calculated, from the known velocity of the current, that it would require two years and ten months to complete its circuit of three thousand eight hundred leagues.
‘A boat,’ he observes, ‘which may be supposed to receive no impulsion from the winds, would require thirteen months from the Canary Islands, to reach the coast of Caraccas, ten months to make the tour of the Gulf of Mexico and reach the Tortoise Shoals, opposite the port of Havana, while forty or fifty days might be sufficient to carry it from the straits of Florida to the bank of Newfoundland. Estimating the velocity of the water at seven or eight miles in twenty-four hours, in their progress from this bank to the coast of Africa, it would require ten or eleven months for this last distance. Such are the effects of this slow but regular motion, which agitates the waters of the ocean.’ The Gulf Stream furnished to Christopher Columbus indications of the existence of land to the west. This current had carried upon the Azores the bodies of two men of an unknown race, and pieces of bamboo of an enormous size. In latitude forty-five or fifty degrees, near Bonnet Flamand, an arm of the Gulf Stream flows from the south-west to the north-east, towards the coast of Europe. It deposits upon the coasts of Ireland and Norway, trees and fruits belonging to the torrid zone. Remains of a vessel burnt at Jamaica were found upon the coast of Scotland. It is likewise this river of the Atlantic which annually throws the fruits of the West Indies upon the shore of Norway.
The Pacific is also one of the great boundaries of the United States. By treaties with Spain and Russia our government possesses sovereignty along the Pacific ocean from latitude forty-two degrees to fifty-four degrees and forty minutes, which is equal to about eight hundred and eighty statute miles. This great ocean extends from Beering’s Straits to the antarctic circle, a distance of three thousand two hundred leagues, and from Asia and New Holland to America. It is separated from the Atlantic and Antarctic oceans only by imaginary lines. Its extreme breadth, a little north of the equator, is four thousand five hundred and fifty leagues; between South America and New Holland, latitude thirty degrees south, it is two thousand nine hundred and seventy leagues. It contains an immense number of islands spread over its surface, particularly between latitude thirty degrees north and fifty degrees south, to which modern geographers have given the general appellation of Oceanica. It was first called the South Sea by the European navigators who entered it from the north. Magellan gave it the name of Pacific, on account of the prevalence of calms which he experienced in it; but it by no means deserves the name, as it is remarkable for the fury of its storms, and the agitation of its waters. The trade-winds, which constantly blow between the tropics, render the passage from the western coast of America to Asia very short; but the return is proportionately difficult. The Portuguese were the first Europeans who entered the Pacific, which they did from the east. Balboa, in 1513, discovered it from the summit of the mountains which traverse the Isthmus of Darien. Magellan sailed across it from east to west in 1521.34
The Pacific, by its general motion, retreats from the coast of America, and flows from east to west; and this motion is very powerful in the vast and uninterrupted extent of that sea. Near Cape Corriantes, in Peru, the sea appears to flow from the land by this single cause. Ships are carried with rapidity from the port of Acapulco, in Mexico, to the Philippine Islands. But in order to return, they are obliged to go to the north of the tropics, to seek the polar current, and the variable winds. On the other side, the south polar current, finding no land to impede it, carries along with it the polar ice even to the latitude where the motion of the tropical current begins to be felt. This is the reason why, in the southern hemisphere, floating pieces of ice are met with at fifty and even at forty degrees.
In its motion towards the west, the Pacific is impeded by an immense archipelago of flats, islands, submarine mountains, and even land of considerable extent; it penetrates into this labyrinth, and there forms one current after another. The direction which the principal of these currents observe, is conformable to the general motion towards the west. But, as might be expected, the inequalities of the basin of the sea, the coasts, and the chains of submarine mountains, sometimes turn these currents toward the north or south. We may easily conceive that a strong repercussion of the waters of the ocean, in consequence of their meeting with a large mass of land, (as New South Wales,) may even produce a counter current, which will return towards the east, and which, by breaking, will also produce other currents, adverse and dangerous to navigators, and such as were encountered by Cook and La Perouse.
The Pacific Ocean is bounded on the east by Asia. Beering’s Straits connects it with the Arctic Ocean, and the line which indicates the one hundred and forty-seventh eastern meridian, arbitrarily separates it from the Indian Ocean. Geographers divide the Pacific into the northern and southern, the equator being the line of demarcation. This ocean occupies fifty millions of square miles; nearly one fourth part of the surface of the globe. It covers three times the extent of the Indian, and twice the extent of the Atlantic Ocean.
GENERAL REMARKS ON OCEANS.
The bed of the ocean is diversified by the same inequalities that are exhibited on the surface of the land. Its greatest depth that has been ascertained by experiment, is seven thousand two hundred feet. Its mean depth is a little over three thousand feet, about the same as the mean heights of the continents and islands above its surface. Parts of the sea differ in saltness, but the difference is slight. Though more bitter than that at a considerable depth, it has been ascertained that the water of the surface is less salt. Inland seas are less salt than the main ocean, on account of the large volumes of fresh water emptied into them. The coldness of the polar seas occasions a more rapid deposit of the saline substances, and renders them more salt than those of the equator. Various theories have been formed to account for the saltness of the sea; one attributes it to the existence of primitive beds of salt at its bottom, another to the corruption of vegetable and animal matter carried into it by rivers. A third theory considers the ocean as the residue of a primitive fluid, which, after depositing all the substances of which the earth is composed, retained the saline principle. Sea-water is freed from its salt only by distillation.
In the open ocean, the prevailing color is a deep greenish blue; other shades observed in the different seas seem to be owing to local causes. In shoal places the water takes a lighter hue. The luminous appearance of the sea by night is a magnificent phenomenon, that has not yet been entirely explained. The great divisions of the sea are inhabited by their peculiar fish, and frequented by peculiar species of birds. The level of the sea is, generally speaking, every where the same; though exceptions to this rule are sometimes found in land-locked bays and gulfs, where the waters become accumulated and stand higher than in the open ocean.
EVERY variety of soil is found within the territory of the United States, and an accurate general estimate is not of course to be formed. We will first describe that portion of the country known as the Atlantic Slope. Next to the ocean are salt meadows or marshes, but little elevated above the water, towards which, their surface has a very slight inclination. They are covered with a peculiar reddish grass, from six to twelve inches in height, growing very thick, and forming with its roots a compact turf or sward, which is only cut with a sharp instrument and by considerable force. These meadows are overflowed by the salt water a few inches deep, several times every spring, and to this their peculiar character is attributed; for when the water is kept from them by dikes, the upland grasses take root, the turf loses its tenacity and crumbles, and in a few years their appearance is entirely changed. A slope of about six feet in two or three rods lies between these meadows and low water mark; this is covered with a coarse tall grass called sedge, which requires the returns of the daily tides to bring it to maturity.
Adjoining the salt meadows, and on the same level, at the farthest extent of the overflowing of the spring tides, fresh meadows immediately commence, which generally extend to the upland; sometimes, however, there is an interval of wet ground covered with bushes, or a swamp between them and the upland. They are wet, and usually too soft to bear a wagon. Similar meadows are sometimes found several miles from any salt meadows or salt water, and generally at the heads of rivers, where the face of the country is level. These meadows bear a general resemblance, all being covered with wild grass, varying in height from twelve to thirty-six inches, according to the quantity of water in the soil; the more water there is, the more rank becomes the growth of the grass, until flags and rushes take its place. The meadows are much lower than the upland, and were evidently formed by the agency of water, depositing an alluvion composed of the fine particles from the high grounds, and decayed vegetable matter. When drained by means of ditches, they become hard, will produce cultivated grass, and even trees, and will in a few years lose all their former features, except their low situation and level aspect.
The soil of this section is to a great extent sandy; very light therefore, and sometimes barren, more especially near the coast, where there are much marsh land, and extensive swamps. In many places these swamps are covered with an impenetrable growth of timber, especially of the cypress, and some species of the pine, which are favored by the deep clayed soil, with its rich annual deposit; Louisiana, towards the sea, exhibits a great breadth of this country through its whole extent. Along the rivers a rich clay is found in considerable quantities; many fertile spots are likewise interspersed among the sands, and the land generally improves as it approaches the mountains. The best soil is in the central portions of the slope. In the alluvial district of Louisiana the soil is, for the most part, deep and rich; it is also strong and vigorous on the Red river. Along the range of the Apalachian Mountains a thin and poor soil prevails, mingled, however, with many rich and productive valleys. In the northern portion of it is a considerable extent of hilly, flinty, and consequently barren land.
When we cross the mountains, and come to the slope descending to the Mississippi, we survey a large extent of country almost universally fertile, and divided, as we have before mentioned, into the thickly timbered, the barren, and the prairie country. In the first division every traveller remarks a grandeur in the form and size of the trees, a depth of verdure in the foliage, and a luxuriance of growth of every sort, that distinguish this country from other regions. The trees are large, tall, and rise aloft free from branches, like columns. In the richer lands they are generally wreathed with a drapery of ivy, bignonia, grape vines, or other creepers. Intermingled with the foliage of the trees are the broad leaves of the grape vines, with trunks occasionally as large as the human body. Sometimes the forests are entirely free from undergrowth; at others, the only shrub is the graceful and splendid papaw; but often, particularly in the richer alluvions of the south, beneath the trees, are impenetrable cane brakes, and a tangle of brambles, briars, vines, and every sort of weed.
The country denominated barrens has a very distinct and singular configuration. It has usually a surface gently undulating, in long and uniform ridges. The soil is generally of a clayey texture, of a reddish or grayish color, covered with tall, coarse grass. The trees are thinly scattered, seldom either large or dwarfish. They are chiefly oaks, and have an appearance peculiar to the region they inhabit. The general quality of the land seldom exceeds the third rate; but in the proper latitudes, it is favorable to the growth of wheat and fruit trees. On the little elevations of the barrens, trees and grass grow; but grass and weeds are the only occupants of the low grounds. The soil of the barrens is alluvial to a greater or less depth, though on some of the highest points there is very little; and the lower the ground the deeper the alluvion. On the elevations, when there is no alluvion, a stiff blue clay is found, without pebbles. On the little ridges, where the dampness is not too great, the oak or the hickory has taken possession, and there grows to a moderate height in clusters; on the low lands the soil is too wet and the grass too thick for such a growth.
The barrens then are natural meadows, covered with tall coarse grass, varying in extent and figure, with here and there a piece of elevated ground, decked with a cluster of trees; add to this, a reddish stream running through ground but little lower than the surrounding plain, and you have the picture complete. There are large districts of this description in Kentucky, Tennessee, and Alabama; they are common in Illinois and Missouri, and are found more or less over the whole valley of the Mississippi. This region and the bushy prairies, abound in those singular cavities called sink-holes, which are generally in the shape of inverted cones, from ten to seventy feet in depth, and at the top from sixty to three hundred feet in circumference. Willows and other aquatic vegetables grow at the sides and bottom. There is little doubt that these cavities are caused by running waters, which find their way through the limestone cavities beneath the upper stratum of the soil.
The remaining surface is that of the prairies, and this is by far the most extensive. These may be classed under three general divisions, though they have great diversity of aspect; the heathy, or bushy; the alluvial, or wet; and the dry, or rolling prairies. The bushy prairies seem to be intermediate between the barrens and the alluvial prairies. They have springs, abound in bushes and shrubs, with grape vines, and in the summer with a great variety of flowers; the bushes are often overtopped with the common hop vine. Prairies of this description are very common in Illinois, Mississippi, and Indiana, and they occur among the other prairies to a considerable distance towards the Chippewayan Mountains. The dry prairies are for the most part without springs, and destitute of all vegetation except weeds, flowering plants, and grass. To the sight they are nearly level, but their inclination is proved by the quick motion of the water courses. This class of prairies is by far the most extensive. Here are the haunts of the buffaloes, and here the traveller may wander for days without wood or water, and the horizon on every side sinking to contact with the grass.
The alluvial or wet prairies form the last and smallest division. They occur generally on the margins of water courses, though they are sometimes found with all their distinctive peculiarities, far from the points where waters run at present. They are commonly basins, and their outline is strongly marked; their soil is black, deep, friable, and wonderfully rich. Native grasses spring on them in singular luxuriance, rising to a great height, but they are too loamy for the cultivated grasses. In proper latitudes they are excellent for wheat and maize. Still more than the rolling prairies, they appear to the eye a dead level, though they have slight inclinations and depressions; yet from the general equality, and immense amount of vegetation, small ponds and bayous are formed there, which fill from the rivers and rains, and are only exhausted during the intense heats of summer, by evaporation.
In the alluvial prairies that are connected with the rivers, these ponds are filled in the season of high waters with fish of various kinds; as the water becomes low, and their course connecting with the river become dry, the fish are taken by cartloads among the high grass, where the water is three or four feet deep. When the waters evaporate, the fish die, and thousands of buzzards are unable to prevent them from polluting the air. This decayed matter seriously affects the salubrity of the climate.
Along these rich plains, herds of deer are seen, flying with the rapidity of the wind, or feeding quietly with the domestic cattle. In the spring and autumn, water-fowl in innumerable flocks hover about the ponds and lakes of these prairies, to feast on the oily seeds of the plants and grasses. During the months of vegetation, the richer prairies are blooming with flowers, of whose variety, number, forms, hues, and odors, description can furnish no adequate idea. Most of the prairie plants have tall and arrowy stems, with spiked or tassellated heads, and the flowers have great size, gaudiness and splendor, without much delicacy or fragrance. In the spring their prevailing color is bluish purple; in mid-summer, red mingled with yellow; in autumn, the flowers are large, generally of the helianthus shape, and of a rich golden color.
The northern shores of Lake Ontario and Erie, the western shore of Lake Huron, and the general surface of the valleys of the Ohio, the Illinois, and the Mississippi, afford a highly productive soil. More to the southward, the extended valley of the Tennessee is one of the most fertile portions of the republic; and the same fertility extends itself beyond the Mississippi below the Missouri, until it is checked by the Ozark Mountains, whose productive portion is confined to the valleys. To the west of these mountains, and of the Missouri, the soil becomes less and less fertile, till we reach the Great American Desert, which has already been described. The eastern shores of Lake Michigan, and the southern coast of Lake Superior, are either sandy or rocky, and generally barren.
Among the Rocky Mountains are sheltered and fertile valleys, though their summits are of course rocky, sterile, and covered with snow the greater part of the year. The timber in the mountains is pine, spruce, fir, and other terebinthines. Though deficient in timber, the terrace plains below have generally a fine soil. The prairies, like those in the Mississippi valley, are covered with coarse grass and a variety of beautiful flowers. Among the prairie plants are two or three kinds of roots, which furnish food to the savages. Wild sage is found in abundance; it grows of the size and height of a small tree, and on these extensive plains is one of the principal articles of fuel. For a considerable distance into the interior, the seashore is skirted with deep and thick forests of evergreen. On the whole, it is believed that few countries on the earth have a more fertile soil, than the valleys west of the Rocky Mountains.
‘In estimating the quality of new lands in America,’ says Dr. Dwight, ‘serious errors are very commonly entertained, from want of due attention to the following fact: Wherever the forest has been undisturbed by fire, they have accumulated, by shedding their foliage through a long succession of ages, and by their own decay, a covering of vegetable mould from six to twelve inches deep, and sometimes from eighteen to twenty-four. This mould is the best of all soils, and eminently friendly to every species of vegetation. It is, indeed, no other than a mere mass of manure, and that of the very best kind, converted into mould; and so long as it remains in considerable quantities, all grounds produce plentifully. Unless a proper allowance be made, therefore, when we are forming an estimate of the quality of soils, for the efficacy of this mould, which, so far as my observation has extended, is not often done, those on which it abounds will be of course overrated. On the contrary, where it does not abound, the quality of the soil will, in a comparative view, be underrated. Hence all maple lands which, from their moisture, are incapable of being burnt, are considered as more fertile than they ultimately prove; while oak, and even pine lands, are, almost of course, regarded as being less fertile. The maple lands in Ballston are found to produce wheat in smaller quantities, and of a worse quality, than the inhabitants, misled by the exhuberance of their first crops, expected. Their pine lands, on the contrary, yield more and better wheat than, till very lately, they could have been induced to believe. The same things severally are true, as I have already observed, of the oak and maple lands in the county of Ontario.
‘From this source it has arisen that all the unburnt new lands in the northern, middle, southern, and western states, have been, and still are, uniformly valued beyond their real worth. When the tract on the mountains in Massachusetts was first settled, the same luxuriant fertility was attributed to it which has since characterized Kentucky. About the same time it was ascribed to the Valley of Housatonic, in the county of Berkshire. From these tracts it was transferred to the lands in New Hampshire and Vermont, on the Connecticut; and from thence to those in Vermont, on the western side of the Green Mountains. From these regions the paradise has travelled to the western part of the state of New York, to New Connecticut, to Upper Canada, to the countries on the Ohio, to the south-western territory, and is now making its progress over the Mississippi into the newly purchased regions of Louisiana. The accounts given of all these countries, successively, were extensively true, but the conclusions which were deduced from them were, in a great measure, erroneous. So long as this mould remains, the produce will be regularly great, and that with very imperfect cultivation,—for the mould in its native state is so soft and light, as scarcely to need the aid of the plough. But this mould, after a length of time, will be dissipated. Where lands are continually ploughed, it is soon lost; on those which are covered with grass from the beginning, it is preserved through a considerable period. At length, however, every appearance of its efficacy, and even of its existence, vanishes.
‘The true object of inquiry, whenever the quality of a soil is to be estimated, is the nature of the earth immediately beneath the vegetable mould, for this, in every case, will ultimately be the soil. If this is capable of being rendered, by skilful cultivation, regularly productive, the soil is good; if not, it is poor. With this object in view, I have formed the opinion expressed above, concerning the country under discussion. Throughout most of this tract, the earth beneath the mould is an excellent soil. The mould itself will speedily be gone. It is wisely and kindly provided by the Creator, to answer the immediate calls of the first settlers. These are of course few and poor,—are embarrassed by many wants and difficulties, and need their time and labor to build their houses, barns, and inclosures, as well as to procure, with extreme inconvenience, many articles of necessity and comfort, which are obtained in older settlements without labor or time. To them it is a complete and ample manure, on which whatever is sown springs with vigor, and produces, almost without toil or skill, a plentiful harvest. But it was not intended to be permanent; it is not even desirable that it should be. To interrupt, or even to slacken, the regular labor of man materially, is to do him an injury. One of the prime blessings of temperate climates is this, that they yield amply to skilful labor, and without it yield little or nothing. Where such is the fact, energy and effort will follow, and all their inestimable consequences. Where countries are radically barren, man will despair.’
We will now give a brief description of the soil of each of the states, commencing with the north-eastern divisions. The soil of Maine in general, when properly fitted to receive the seed, is friendly to the growth of Indian corn, rye, barley, oats, peas, hemp, and flax, as well as to the production of almost all kinds of culinary roots and plants; wheat is also grown, but not in large quantities. Excellent potatoes are raised in great quantities. For the most part, the lands are easily cleared, having very little underwood. The natural productions consist of white pine and spruce trees in large quantities, suitable for masts, boards, and shingles; and also of maple, beech, white and grey oak, and yellow birch. The land between the Kennebec and Penobscot rivers is well adapted to the purposes of agriculture, and is excellent for grazing. With good cultivation, land of average quality yields forty bushels of maize to the acre, from twenty to forty bushels of wheat, and from one to three tons of hay. Apple, pear, plum, and cherry trees, flourish; the peach tree does not thrive.
The soil of New Hampshire, near the seacoast, is in many places sandy; on the banks of the rivers it is generally good, and in the valleys among the mountains, which are rich on the brows, and usually covered with timber. The river land is most esteemed, producing every kind of grain in the utmost perfection; but it is not so good for pasture as the uplands. In the uncultivated parts of the state, the soil is distinguished by the various kinds of timber which grow upon it; thus, white oak land is hard and stony, the undergrowth consisting of brakes and fern; black and yellow birch, white ash, elm, and alder, are indications of a good soil, deep, rich and moist, which will admit grass and grain without ploughing; red oak and white birch are signs of strong land. Agriculture is, and always will be, the chief business of the people of New Hampshire. Apples and pears are fruits the most commonly cultivated, and no husbandman thinks his farm complete without an orchard.
A large portion of Vermont state is fertile, and adapted to the various purposes of agriculture. The soil is generally deep, rich, moist, of a dark color, loamy, and seldom parched with drought. On the border of the stream it is alluvial, and the richest in the state; though some of the uplands almost equal it in fertility. Wheat is extensively cultivated, particularly on the west side of the mountains. Barley, rye, oats, peas, flax, and potatoes, flourish in all parts of the state. Indian corn also thrives, and apples are abundant. Much of the land among the mountains is excellent for grazing, and great numbers of cattle are annually sent out of the state for sale.
No extensive alluvial tracts occur in Massachusetts; although limited patches of this stratum are sometimes found on the banks of every stream, and, with the adjoining elevated woodland and pasture ground, constitute many of the richest farms in the state. There are numerous uncultivated swamps, however, for ages the reservoir of rich soil, that may be reclaimed with considerable labor and expense, which they will amply repay by their singular fertility. The soil of Massachusetts is chiefly diluvial, of all soils the most unfriendly to rich vegetation, though capable of being made rich by clearing away its stone, and the extensive use of manure. The diluvium is most abundant in the south-east parts of the state, almost entirely overspreading the counties of Plymouth, Barnstable, Duke’s and Nantucket. Toward the extremity of Cape Cod, and on the Island of Nantucket, this stratum is composed almost entirely of sand. The most extensive tertiary formation in the state is found in the valley of the Connecticut. Here also are found tracts, from which the diluvium and tertiary have been swept away, and which exhibit the reddish aspect that characterises the red sand-stone formation. This soil is of a superior quality, and peculiarly well adapted for fruit.
The soil of Rhode Island is various, and a great part of it good; though better adapted for grazing than for grain. The north-western parts of the state are rocky and barren; but the tract in the neighborhood of Narraganset Bay is excellent pasture land, and is inhabited by wealthy farmers, who raise some of the finest neat cattle in America. The ground is well cultivated, and produces Indian corn, rye, barley, oats, wheat, (though not enough for home consumption,) fruits and vegetables, in great abundance. The soil of Connecticut is generally rich and well watered, and the whole state resembles a cultivated garden. In the central valley of the Connecticut river, and in the valleys of its tributary streams, large accumulations of alluvial deposit have formed extensive plains and meadows. The soil is adapted to Indian corn, rye, wheat, and flax; orchards are numerous, and of late years, tobacco has also been raised in not inconsiderable quantities. Much of the land, however, is better for grazing than tillage; and the beef, pork, butter and cheese, of Connecticut, are equal to any in the world. The meadows on the banks of the river are uncommonly rich.
The soil of the southern and eastern parts of New York, is dry and gravelly, intermixed with loam; the mountainous districts are well adapted for grazing, and there are many rich valleys on the rivers. The northern and western parts are generally rich and fertile. In the valley of the Gennessee35 is some of the best wheat country in the world; and the alluvial flats of the valley of the Mohawk are highly fertile. Around Lake Champlain is an extensive district of clayey soil, extending to the hills that skirt the Peruvian Mountains. West of Albany are extensive sandy plains interspersed with marshes. A large part of New York is under excellent cultivation; particularly the western end of Long Island, and the counties of Westchester and Duchess.
The soil of Pennsylvania is of many various kinds. To the east of the mountains it is generally good, and a considerable part of it is bedded on limestone. Among the mountains, the land is rough, and much of it poor, in some parts quite barren; but there are a great many rich and fertile valleys. In the neighborhood of York and Lancaster, the soil consists of rich, brown, loamy earth; and proceeding in a south-westerly course, parallel to the Blue Mountains, the same kind of soil is met with as far as Fredericktown, in Maryland. West of the mountains the country improves, and about the head-waters of the Ohio it is generally fertile. Pennsylvania has a soil much better adapted to grazing than tillage.
The southern parts of New Jersey are sandy and flat, sometimes marshy, almost perfectly sterile, though occasionally producing shrub oaks, and pines: the northern half of the state is well adapted either for grazing or tillage. A part of Delaware abounds with swamps and stagnant waters, which render it alike unfit for the purposes of agriculture, and injurious to the health of the inhabitants. At the southern extremity of the state is the Cypress Swamp, a morass twelve miles in length and six in breadth, including an area of nearly fifty thousand acres of land; the whole of which is a high and level basin, very wet, though undoubtedly the highest land between the sea and the bay. The swamp contains a great variety of trees, plants, wild beasts, birds, and reptiles. In the northern parts, along the Delaware river and bay, and from eight to ten miles into the interior, the soil is generally a rich clay, in which a great variety of the most useful productions can be conveniently and plentifully reared; from thence to the swamps before noticed, the soil is light, sandy, and of an inferior quality. In the central parts of the state, there is a considerable mixture of sand; and in the southern part it, renders the soil almost totally unproductive.
In the western part of Maryland, the soil is somewhat strong, and in other parts are tracts of thin, unproductive land. It is generally, however, a red clay or loam; much of it is excellent, and producing large crops. Wheat and tobacco are the staple commodities, but on the uplands of the interior, hemp and flax are raised in considerable quantities.
The soil in the low part of Virginia is sandy or marshy, except on the banks of the rivers, where it is very rich. This territory is alluvial, and under its surface every where exhibits bones and marine shells. Between the head of tide-waters and the mountains, it exhibits a great variety, and a considerable portion is good. Among the mountains there is a great deal of poor land, but it is interspersed with rich valleys. In the valley between the Blue Ridge and the Alleghany, we come to a country lying upon a bed of limestone. Here the soil is a deep clayey earth, well suited to the culture of small grain and clover, and produces abundant crops. Beyond the mountains the surface is broken, with occasional fertile tracts, but the soil is generally lean.
North Carolina, from the seacoast to sixty miles inward, is a level tract, of a lean and sandy soil, interspersed with swamps, and covered with pine forests. In the mountainous parts, and to the west of the mountains, the soil is moist and fertile. On the banks of some of the rivers, particularly the Roanoke, it is remarkably rich. It has been estimated that there are two millions five hundred thousand acres of swampy land within the state, capable of being drained at a trifling cost, and adapted to the purposes of agriculture. They have a clayey bottom, overlaid with a vegetable compost, and when drained have proved exceedingly fertile. One of these tracts is known by the name of the Dismal Swamp; it is thirty miles long and ten broad, overgrown with pine, juniper, and cypress trees. In the midst of it is a lake seven miles in length. The Alligator, or Little Dismal Swamp, lies to the south of Albemarle Sound, and incloses a lake eleven miles long and seven broad. This swamp has been partly drained by means of a canal, and many productive rice plantations occupy the reclaimed lands.
The soil of South Carolina may be divided into five classes: first, the pine barren, which is valuable only for its timber; interspersed among these barrens, are tracts destitute of every kind of growth except grass, called savannas, and forming a second kind of soil, good for grazing. The third, is that of the swamps and low grounds on the rivers, which is a mixture of black loam and rich clay, producing naturally canes in great plenty, cypress, and bays. In these swamps rice is cultivated. The high lands, commonly known by the name of oak and hickory lands, constitute the fourth kind of soil; this tract is comparatively small, and is situated in the north-western extremity of the state. The fifth class is that of the salt marsh, which borders on the seacoast and has been much neglected.
The greater part of the soil of Georgia is alluvial. On the islands which line its coast the soil is very fertile, and produces cotton of a superior quality. The soil of the main land, adjoining the marshes and creeks, is similarly fertile. This is succeeded by the pine barrens, which abound with swampy tracts. On the banks of the rivers are the valuable rice plantations. The soil between the rivers, after leaving the borders of the swamps, at the distance of twenty or thirty miles, changes from a gray to a red color, and is covered with oak, hickory, and pine. In some places it is gravelly, but fertile, and so continues for a number of miles, gradually deepening the reddish color of the earth, till it changes into what is called the mulatto soil, which is composed of black and red earth. These mulatto lands are generally strong, and yield large crops. To this kind of land succeeds by turns a soil nearly black and very rich. This succession of the different soils continues uniform and regular, though there are some large veins of all the different soils intermixed.
The soil of East Florida is generally poor, and circumstances have prevented the settlement and cultivation of the small proportion of really good lands. The parts on the western seashore are barren and sandy, abounding with marshes and lagoons. In the northern districts, gentle elevations of fertile land, supporting a vigorous growth of oaks and hickories, are found in the midst of marshes and pine barrens. Sugar cane is raised here with great facility, and a superior quality of long and short staple cotton.
In the lower parts of Alabama are extensive swamps, cypress land, and cane brakes. The central region is covered with gentle elevations, having a thin soil with a substratum of clay that cultivation will render productive. At present these hills are covered with pine, and, while there are tracts of rich land, will be held in little estimation; they include more than one half the surface of the state. On the banks of the Alabama and Tombeckbee there are wide and fertile alluvions, and the region between these rivers is the richest and best in Alabama. The French emigrants represent the soil of the slopes and hammoc lands of this state to be suitable for the vine.
In the northern section of Mississippi the land rises in regular undulations, and the soil is black, fertile, and deep, covered with high cane brake. The valleys north-west of the Yazoo are well watered and exceedingly rich. In the western parts of the state, the lands are unfortunately exposed to inundation; but, in other respects, the soil does not much differ from that of Alabama. The southern tract is a level alluvion.
A region of Louisiana, comprising about five millions of acres, is annually overflowed by the waters of the Mississippi. Of this tract a large portion is, in its present state, unfit for cultivation. This immense tract embraces soil of various descriptions; cypress swamps, sea marsh, small elevated prairie lands of great fertility, and a tract covered with cane brake, rank shrubbery, and a heavy growth of timber.36 The best soil of Louisiana is found in the region called the coast, which is that part of the bottom of the Mississippi commencing with the first cultivation above the Balize, and comprising forty miles below New Orleans, and one hundred and fifty above. This fertile belt, which varies in width from one to two miles, is secured from inundation by an embankment, broad enough to furnish a fine highway, from six to eight feet in height. In the northern part of this state, bordering on Arkansas, is a considerable extent of hilly, flinty, barren land.
Arkansas territory exhibits every variety and quality of soil. The cultivated belt below the Post of Arkansas bears some outward resemblance to the coast in Louisiana; though its soil is not so fertile, and needs manuring to produce large crops. Large prairies interspersed with forest bottoms, and large tracts of excellent soil, are found five or six hundred miles from the mouth of Arkansas river. Mount Prairie, which lies on the Washita, has a black soil of extreme richness. On the White river are some of the healthiest and most fertile situations in this country. The other parts of this territory are vast tracts of sterile and precipitous ridges, sandy prairies, and barrens.
The soil of Tennessee, in the valleys of its creeks and streams, is rich beyond any of the same description elsewhere in the western country. In East Tennessee it derives its fertility from the quantities of dissolved lime, and nitrate of lime that are mixed with it. In West Tennessee the strata are arranged in the following order: first, a loamy soil, or mixtures of clay and sand; next, yellow clay; then comes a mixture of red sand and red clay; and lastly, a white sand. In the southern parts of this state immense banks are found of uncommonly large oyster shells, situated on high table-grounds remote from any water-course.
Missouri contains a large proportion of friable, loamy, and sandy soil. The uplands are rich, and of a darkish gray color: excepting the region of the lead mines, where the soil is bright and reddish. The prairies are generally level, and of an intermediate character between the rich and the poorer uplands, the latter of which have a light, yellow soil, stiff and clayey. The bottoms of the great rivers and smaller streams of this state have uncommon fertility. On the upper Mississippi are rich uplands, interspersed with flinty knobs two or three hundred feet high. In the south-west part of the state are sterile tracts, covered with yellow pine, and scattered with hilly and rocky country.
Kentucky abounds in large bodies of fertile land, but even here are tracts too sterile for cultivation. Nothing can exceed in richness the great valley of which Lexington is the centre. A tract one hundred miles by fifty in extent is found in the centre of the state, with a substratum of limestone, which dissolves and so mingles with the soil as to impart to it great richness and vigor. Much of the soil is of that character known as mulatto land. An extensive tract of barrens occurs between the Rolling Fork and Green river, and between the latter and Cumberland river, in the northern and eastern parts of the state. Here the soil is generally good, and affords fine pasturage.
Illinois has but few elevations, and those of inconsiderable extent; it is generally a region perfectly level. Though containing tracts of barrens and rough lands, not to be easily cultivated, it perhaps includes a greater proportion of land of the best quality than any other state. This region was called by the French the Terrestrial Paradise; and its soil is said to be the richest in the world. ‘Our road,’ says a recent traveller, ‘passed through the prairie ground, of which above two thirds of the whole state of Illinois is composed, most beautiful at all times, but especially at this season, owing to the brilliancy of the flowers now in blossom. Plantations we saw here and there, but the general appearance of the country was that of a fine waving surface of strong grass, covered with strawberry plants, and the finest flowers, and with wood on the high grounds and hollows, and occasional dropping trees, and clumps or islets of wood. In general, there was quite enough of wood in the view, and far more happily disposed than if the trees had been planted by the hand of man.’
Indiana contains large tracts of excellent soil; and is generally level and fertile. The prairies bordering the Wabash, are particularly rich; wells have been sunk in them, where the vegetable soil was twenty-two feet deep, under which was a stratum of fine white sand; yet the ordinary depth is from two to five feet. Many of the prairies and intervals are too rich for wheat. The northern part of the state contains much good land, but is intersected by long narrow bogs and swamps, with a soil of stiff blue clay.
In Ohio, the land bordering on the river of the same name is hilly and broken; but most of these hills have a deep rich soil, and are capable of being cultivated to their very summits. The bottoms of the Ohio are of very unequal width; the bases of some of the hills approach close to the river, while others recede to the distance of two or three miles. There are usually three bottoms, rising one above the other like the glacis of a fortification; and they are heavily timbered with such trees as denote a very fertile soil. In such parts of these bottoms as have been cleared and settled, the soil is uniformly fertile in a high degree; producing in great abundance wheat, Indian corn, rye, oats, and barley, and apples and peaches of excellent quality. In the western counties, and in the north-western and northern portions of the state, there is a leveller surface, and a moister soil, interspersed with tracts of dry prairie, and forests of a sandy or gravelly soil. The north-western corner of the state contains a considerable district of level, rich land, too wet and swampy to admit of healthy settlements: the soil is a black, loose, friable loam, or a vegetable mould, watered by sluggish and dark-colored streams.
That part of the territory of Michigan, which forms the peninsula lying between the great lakes, is generally level. In its centre, however, is a ridge of table-land about three hundred feet above the lakes, running north and south, and dividing the waters emptying into Erie and Huron from those running to the westward. This peninsula is divided into about equal proportions of grass prairies and forests. Along the southern shore of Lake Michigan is a sandy and barren tract of country, bleak and desolate. But much of the soil of this country is excellent, and its productions are similar to those of the state of New York. The North-West territory has not yet been much explored. That portion of it situated between the Fox and Wisconsin rivers, and the western shore of Lake Michigan, has a rich, black, alluvial soil, and is well watered. The face of the country is unbroken by hills of any magnitude.
The most striking feature of the vast Missouri territory is its ocean of prairies. A belt of partially wooded country extends from two to four hundred miles west of the Mississippi and its waters. The immense extent of country west of the two great rivers is generally level, and is covered with grass plains, and sand deserts. On the banks of the streams there is usually a line of rich soil, but as we leave them it becomes barren and dry. Much of this country is as sterile as the deserts of Arabia, though in the most sandy parts there is a thin sward of grass and herbage. The Missouri, the Platte and the Yellow-stone run through a rich soil; but in its upper courses the Arkansas waters only a barren prairie.
GENERAL REMARKS ON SOIL.
The productiveness of soils is influenced by the nature of the sub-soil, or the earthy or stony strata on which they rest, and this should be attended to in all plans for their improvement. Thus sandy soil may owe its fertility to the power of the sub-soil to retain water; and an absorbent clay soil may occasionally be prevented from being barren by the influence of a substratum of sand and gravel. Those soils that are most productive of corn, contain always certain proportions of aluminous or calcareous earth in a finely divided state, and a certain quantity of vegetable or animal matter.
‘In cases,’ says Sir Humphrey Davy, ‘where a barren soil is examined with a view to its improvement, it ought, in all cases, if possible, to be compared with an extremely fertile soil in the same neighborhood, and in a similar situation; the difference given by their analyses would indicate the methods of cultivation, and thus the plan of improvement would be founded upon accurate scientific principles.
‘If the fertile soil contained a large quantity of sand, in proportion to the barren soil, the process of amelioration would depend simply upon a supply of this substance; and the method would be equally simple with regard to soils deficient in clay or calcareous matter. In the application of clay, sand, loam, marl, or chalk, to lands, there are no particular chemical principles to be observed; but, when quicklime is used, great care must be taken that it is not obtained from the magnesian limestone; for in this case, as has been shown by Mr. Pennant, it is extremely injurious to land. The magnesian limestone may be distinguished from the common limestone by its greater hardness, and by the length of time that it requires for its solution in acids; and it may be analyzed by the process for carbonate of lime and magnesia.
‘When the analytical composition indicates an excess of vegetable matter as the cause of sterility, it may be destroyed by much pulverization and exposure to air, by paring and burning, or the agency of lately made quicksilver; and the defect of animal and vegetable matter must be supplied by animal or vegetable manure. The general indications of fertility and barrenness, as found by chemical experiments, must necessarily differ in different climates, and under various circumstances. The power of soils to absorb moisture, a principle essential to their productiveness, ought to be much greater in warm and dry countries, than in cold and moist ones; and the quantity of fine aluminous earth they contain should be larger.
‘From the great difference of the causes that influence the productiveness of lands, it is obvious, that, in the present state of the science, no certain system can be devised for their improvement, independent of experiment; but there are few cases in which the labor of analytical trials will not be amply repaid by the certainty with which they denote the best methods of melioration; and this will particularly happen when the defect of composition is found in the proportions of the primitive earths. In supplying animal or vegetable manure, a temporary food only is provided for plants, which is in all cases exhausted by means of a certain number of crops; but when a soil is rendered of the best possible constitution and texture with regard to its earthy parts, its fertility may be considered as permanently established. It becomes capable of attracting a very large portion of vegetable nourishment from the atmosphere, and of producing its crops with comparatively little labor and expense.’
THE United States are most desirably situated. Placed in the northern temperate zone, they occupy just that portion of it, which is most likely to yield a healthy climate and rich soil. Happily removed from the parching heat of the torrid, and eternal frosts of the frigid zone, the republic is nevertheless of such an extent as almost to touch upon both. The climate of a country, stretching through twenty degrees of latitude, cannot but be of great diversity. In this respect it has been divided into five regions, which may be denominated the very cold, the cold, the temperate, the warm, and the hot.
1. The very cold, in the north-east, may be defined by running a line from St. Regis, on the St. Lawrence, along the high land in the state of New York to Tioga Point, in Pennsylvania; thence to Stony Point on Hudson’s river, and thence to Cape Cod in Massachusetts. In this region the summers continue from June through August, and the winters from November to the middle of April. The extremes of heat and cold are great, and the changes sudden, but the country is, notwithstanding, healthy. To the westward, north of a line drawn from the southern extremity of Lake Huron to the Rocky Mountains, the climate is also very cold, and the northern extremity in the winter is excessively so.
The winters of Maine are long and severe, with clear settled weather, which generally continues from the middle of December, till the latter end of March; during which time, the ponds and fresh water rivers are passable on the ice. There is scarcely any spring season; the summer is short, and warm; but autumn is in general pure, healthy, and pleasant.
The climate of New Hampshire is highly favorable to health; but the winters are long and severe. Cattle are housed about the first of November. Snow lies on the ground from four to five months, and the use of sleighs during that period is general. The spring is rapid, and the heat of summer great, but of short duration; autumn is very pleasant. Morning and evening fires are needed as early as the first of September, and as late as the first of June.
The climate of Vermont differs little from that of New Hampshire, and is extremely healthy. The earth is generally covered with snow from the middle of December till the end of March; but the winter seasons may be said to continue from the beginning of November till the middle of April, during which, the inhabitants enjoy a serene sky and a keen cold air. The ground is seldom frozen to any great depth, being covered with a great body of snow, in some high lands to the depth of four or five feet, before the severe frosts begin. In this way the earth is enriched and moistened, and in the spring vegetation advances with great rapidity.
The climate of Massachusetts is perhaps more variable than that of any other of the New England states; not having the steady winter cold of those to the north, nor the general mildness in summer of those immediately south. Fires are necessary from November to May; and there are days, even in June, when they are not only comfortable, but indispensable for comfort. Cattle are housed in November. In winter, travelling is not often impeded by great falls of snow; though heavy and severe snow storms occur. The rivers and ponds are frozen three months in the year; and the harbors are usually closed a week or fortnight, and sometimes for a much longer time. As there are many cold days in summer, so also there are many warm days in winter; and the field which is at night soft enough to receive the plough, may be chained with frost and buried in snow before morning. Winter sets in late; frequently not till December, but, recently, it has gone quite through the spring months. Indeed, the most disagreeable portion of the year, is during March and April and part of May, when the east are prevailing winds. In autumn there is much weather truly delightful. Apples and pears flourish well in Massachusetts, peach trees sometimes suffer from the late spring and the early autumnal frosts. It is difficult to find an accurate description of so variable a climate; as no tolerably correct account of it could be given, except in the details of a meteorological table.
The climate of Rhode Island and Connecticut does not differ very materially from that of Massachusetts. In the southern parts of these states, summer may set in a few days earlier, and the winter be generally a little more temperate, but the change of climate is slight.
In the very cold tract are included the eastern and northern parts of New York, being the mountainous country, and the region lying to the east of it. Here the winters are long and severe, being more so as you proceed to the north. The climate of this region may be generally described as similar to that of the New England states, which lies in the same latitude. In the parts of Michigan territory, lying within this region, the climate resembles that of Canada.
In the region we have called very cold, the range of the thermometer is from thirty degrees below zero to ninety-eight above it; including great extremes both of heat and cold.
2. The cold region comprehends a great and very unequal range of country. In the eastern division it extends from the foregoing line, to Lakes Ontario and Erie, westward; and south, on the Atlantic coast, to about Cape Henlopen on the Delaware. Hence a line may be protracted to Washington, and along by the foot of the first mountains in Virginia to about Morgantown, North Carolina; thence through the mountains to Kenaway river, and north-east on the west side of the mountains to the upper part of Chesnut Ridge, in Pennsylvania. In the westward, the southern boundary of the very cold region before-mentioned, may be assumed as the northern boundary of the cold; and the southern boundary of the cold may be protracted westward from the head of Chesnut Ridge to the high lands, dividing the waters falling into the Ohio from those falling into the great lakes, and along in a northern and western direction, crossing the Mississippi about thirty miles below Praire des Chiens, thence south and west, crossing the Missouri about thirty miles below the Platte river; thence southward to the west of the Great Osage village, and then eastward to the Arkansas river, above the Hot Springs. In this division the winters commence in December and end in March, and the heat of summer commences in May and ends in September. The heat and cold here also go to great extremes; but the weather is very changeable, particularly in winter, so that neither severe heat nor severe cold lasts long at a time. The country in this division is also generally healthy.
In this division are comprehended the south-eastern and western parts of New York, New Jersey, the northern and eastern parts of Pennsylvania, most of Delaware and Maryland, the central and mountainous parts of Virginia, the southern portion of Michigan territory, the northern extremities of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, and portions of the Missouri and Arkansas territories.
In the south-eastern parts of New York the prevailing winds, during the summer, are southerly; the weather is variable, and the change of temperature sudden and frequent. The mild and damp sea air penetrates far inland; indeed, as far as the Highlands, the climate differs little from that of the seacoast. In the parts of New York west of the mountains, the average temperature is about three degrees higher than in the same latitude farther east. South-westerly winds prevail through most of the year; and the chill easterly wind is nearly unknown.38
The climate of Pennsylvania is very various. On the east side of the Alleghany Mountains it differs little from that of Connecticut. It is, like the other countries east of the mountains, subject to great and sudden changes; but on the west side, it is much more agreeable and temperate, with a greater portion of cloudy weather, and winters milder and more humid than on the Atlantic. The winter season commences about the twentieth of December, and the spring sets in about two weeks earlier than in the eastern parts of New York. There is frost almost every month in the year in some places, and the extremes of heat and cold are considerable. The keenness of the north-west wind in winter is excessive, but the state is, upon the whole, extremely healthy, and numerous instances of longevity occur.
The climate of New Jersey is dissimilar in different sections of the state. In the northern parts, there is clear, settled weather, and the winters are exceedingly cold; but the whole is very healthy. In the districts towards the south, particularly near the extremity, the weather approaches more nearly to that of the southern states, and is subject to very sudden changes. The climate of Delaware is much influenced by the face of the country; for the land being low and flat, the waters stagnate, and the inhabitants are consequently subject to intermittent fevers and agues. The northern parts, however, are much more agreeable and healthy than those to the south.
Among the mountains of Virginia the summers are delightful, and the heat is never found to be so oppressive as it is in the Atlantic districts; the winters are so mild in general, that snow seldom lies three days together on the ground. The salubrity of the climate, also, is equal to that of any part of the United States; and the inhabitants have, in consequence, a healthy, ruddy appearance. Perhaps there is no part of North America possessing a more agreeable climate, than that section of Virginia which lies west of the Blue Ridge; and, in particular, the fertile county of Bottetourt, which is entirely surrounded by mountains. Here the frost in winter is regular, but not severe. In summer the heat is great; but there is not a night in the year that a blanket is not found comfortable. Before ten o’clock in the morning the heat is greatest; at that hour a breeze generally springs up from the mountains, and renders the air agreeable the whole day. Fever and ague are disorders unknown here, and persons who come hither afflicted with them from the low country, get rid of them in a very short time. Except in the neighborhood of stagnant waters, Virginia has, upon the whole, a healthy climate.
The climate of Maryland is various in different districts, but for the most part mild and agreeable, well suited to agricultural productions, and particularly fruit trees. The eastern parts are similar to Delaware, having large tracts of marsh, which, during the day, load the atmosphere with vapor, that falls in dew in the close of the summer and autumn, which are unhealthy, and during which the inhabitants are much exposed to fever and ague. In the interior hilly country the climate improves very much, and among the mountains it is delightful and healthy; the summers being cooled by fine breezes, while the winters are tempered by a southern latitude, which renders them much milder than to the northward.
In the southern portions of Michigan territory, the winters are not severe, and the spring sets in as early as in any other part of the state which lies in the same latitude. In 1820, at Detroit, the mean heat of December was twenty-seven degrees, and of July sixty-nine. The temperature of this territory is rendered milder by the neighborhood of such large bodies of water, and by the absence of great elevations. The portions of the Missouri and Arkansas territories, that lie within the boundaries of the cold region, partake of the character of the climate already described. As the country in these territories is open and generally level, the temperature depends chiefly on the latitude.
The northern and north-eastern parts of Illinois are cold in the winter; the air from the great lake is chill and bleak, and sensibly affects the country exposed to its influence. In the region of Ohio, sloping towards the lakes, the snow falls to a very considerable depth, and lies long; sleighs and sledges are much used. The transitions during the winter are violent and frequent. That part of Indiana contiguous to Lake Michigan is often exposed to heavy falls of rain, and is consequently marshy and unhealthy.
3. The temperate region is situated between the cold, and a line drawn from Morgantown, North Carolina, south-westward along the foot of the mountains to their termination in Georgia, thence in a north-west direction by Florence, in Alabama, and crossing the Mississippi river about the upper part of the Chickasaw Bluffs, thence north-west to the Delaware towns on White river, and thence south-west to the Arkansas, above the Hot Springs. The region described within these limits lies in the very heart of the country, the whole being on a considerable elevation. It comprehends Kentucky and Missouri, with nearly the whole of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Tennessee, the south part of Pennsylvania, the western part of Virginia, and small portions of North Carolina, Georgia, and Alabama. This climate is distinguished from the foregoing by an earlier spring, and by greater serenity, and fewer changes.
The climate of Tennessee forms a medium between the warmth of the south and the cold of the north; it may be correctly viewed as the middle climate of the United States, and proves peculiarly congenial to northern constitutions. There is no country in America where diseases are so rare, where physicians have so little practice, and where children are more robust and healthy. Snow falls in winter, and sometimes to a considerable depth; but the summer, particularly in the higher ground, is mild, and accompanied with excessive heat. Apples, pears, and plums are raised here in great perfection; and in sheltered situations it is thought that the fig might be cultivated to advantage. Maize is planted early in April; cotton is the staple of agriculture. Within the limits of this state, most of the forest trees of the western country are found in abundance.
In Kentucky the climate is not so mild as that of Tennessee. It is however mild and temperate. Grape vines flourish here of prodigious size. All the grains, pulses, garden vegetables, and fruits of the temperate climate abound. The wheat of Kentucky is excellent, but hemp and tobacco are her staples.
The climate of Missouri is temperate, though variable. Winter continues in its severity for about two months, from the latter part of December to the last of February; but even during this interval there are many warm and pleasant days. Snow seldom remains on the ground more than sixty hours; and its maximum depth is generally about six inches. Frequently the rivers are for weeks frozen sufficiently hard for the passage of loaded teams. Trees sometimes blossom in March, and the spring months with occasional cold, have days as pleasant as those of summer. From the sandy and warm texture of the soil, and the openness of the country, the heat in summer is very great, and would be oppressive, except for the prevalence of agreeable breezes. Another characteristic of the Missouri climate, is its extreme dryness; evaporation is rapid, and the average amount of rain falling in the year is estimated at eighteen inches. Long and steady rains so common in the eastern states, seldom occur; the summer rains are generally thunder showers. The autumn months are delightful, serene, temperate, and salubrious.
The part of Ohio lying within this division of climate is moderate in respect to climate; suffering neither from excessive cold or the reverse. Along the banks of the Ohio river it is more mild than in the central and mountainous regions; and the difference is owing to the difference of latitude and elevation. The winters vary in severity, being sometimes quite mild; in other years the rivers are frozen for eight or nine weeks. Severe cold generally continues from the last week in December through the first in February. Summer heat in the valley of the Ohio is oppressive, but of short duration. Autumn is temperate, pleasant, and healthy. Nowhere in the world, says Mr. Flint, is the grand autumnal painting of the forests, in the decay of vegetation, seen in more beauty than in the beech forests of Ohio. The richness of the fading colors, and the effect of the mingling hues baffles all description. On the whole, a great farming community, like that of Ohio, could scarcely desire a better climate for themselves, their cattle, and stock of all kinds; or one, in which a man can work abroad, with comfort, a greater number of days in the year.
Indiana has much the same temperature with Illinois and Missouri. The winters are mild, and seldom last in their severity more than six weeks; during this period, the slower streams are generally frozen, and afford a safe passage on the ice. In the middle and southern parts of the state snow seldom falls to a greater depth than six inches. Trees begin to be green early in April, and the peach blossoms in March. A large number of shrubs put forth their flowers before the leaves, and from this the spring vegetation is singularly beautiful. Illinois has in general the same climate with Missouri, and its productions are the same as those of that state; being, however, somewhat lower, it is more subject to inundation, and consequently the air is more humid. The portions of Pennsylvania, Virginia, North Carolina, Georgia and Alabama, comprehended within this division, partake the general character of climate with those we have particularly described.
4. The region possessing a warm climate lies between the temperate, and a line drawn from Cape Henry in a circular direction, and passing above Tarboro, and through Fayetteville, Columbia, Augusta, Milledgeville and Fort Jackson in Alabama, and thence a little south of west across the Mississippi, and on to the Sabine river, in the latitude of Nacogdoches, in Texas. In this region the winters continue from about the first of January to the first of March; and the summers from the first of May to the middle of October. The weather is pretty settled and steady, and, except in swampy or marshy situations, the country is generally healthy. This region includes the interior and central parts of North Carolina, the northern and western parts of South Carolina, the northern parts of Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana.
In the northern and western parts of South Carolina, the land is mountainous, and the climate generally salubrious. The air is dry, and in winter cold; but it is generally mild and delightful. The highlands of North Carolina that lie within this district are healthy and pleasant; the days in summer are hot, but the nights are refreshed by cool breezes. The northern and hilly region of Georgia is as healthy as any part of the states. Winter continues from the middle of December to the middle of February. The northern parts of Alabama, in the districts of hills, springs, and pine forests, are generally healthy. In winter the still waters often freeze; and the summers are not much hotter than they are many degrees farther to the north.
The climate of the northern part of Mississippi, in places removed from stagnant waters, is healthy. Heat in summer is intense; and during the latter month of that season and the first of autumn, even the residents in the healthy districts are exposed to severe bilious attacks. In compensation, however, they are free from the pulmonary affections which occasion so much destruction in the more northern regions. The productions of this state are the same with those of Louisiana.
5. The hot region extends from the southern extremity of the warm, to the Atlantic Ocean, and the Gulf of Mexico. It comprises all Florida, and the southern parts of the Carolinas,39 Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi, with the greater portion of Louisiana.
The climate of Florida may be considered in some respects as a tropical climate. From the first of July to the first of October, the air is sultry, and the heat exceedingly oppressive. This may be considered the unhealthy season, during which fevers are prevalent, but even at this time the climate of St. Augustine is salubrious and pleasant, and is a place of resort for those who are desirous of avoiding sickness. During this period the range of the thermometer is between eighty-four and eighty-eight degrees, and it sometimes rises above one hundred. Even in winter, the influence of the clear vertical sun is always uncomfortable; in the peninsular parts, water never freezes, though there are sometimes slight frosts. In this climate the most delicate orange trees flourish and bear delicious fruits; the air is generally pure and mild, and the breeze pleasant. Heavy dews fall, and the night air is exceedingly humid. The rainy season commences early in winter; in February and March there are severe thunder storms by night, followed by days of great clearness and beauty. The peninsula is visited by tornadoes, and at the time of the autumnal equinox, hurricanes and destructive gales occur.
In the southern and eastern portions of the Carolinas, the summers are very hot, sultry, moist and unhealthy. The extensive and rapid decomposition of vegetable matter engenders exhalations, which unite with the miasmata of the swamps, and create an atmosphere loaded with the most deleterious qualities. Intermittent and bilious fevers are frequent and severe. In the low country the summer lasts seven or eight months; and though the winter frost is sometimes severe enough to kill the tender plants, it seldom lasts more than three or four days, or penetrates the ground above two inches. Spring commences about the middle of February, and green peas are often in the market by the middle of March; but the weather varies very much till about the first of May, when it becomes steadily warm, and continues increasing in heat till September, when it begins to moderate. Almost every person whose circumstances permit, removes to a more healthy situation during this period, and a vast number go to the northern states in the summer, and return in the fall. The period of going north is mostly from the middle of May to the middle of July, and of returning, from the middle of October to the middle of November. The anxiety that prevails during that period is extreme, and when it is over, the inhabitants congratulate one another with the full prospect of ten or eleven months being added to their lives.
The climate of Georgia differs little from that already described of the Carolinas. The rice swamps, and the low country in general, are very unhealthy, and the planters are obliged, during the sickly season, to retire to the elevated parts of the state. A near approach to the tropical temperature is found in some portions of Georgia, where the cane, the olive, and sweet orange flourish luxuriantly. The climate of the southern part of Alabama, and of Mississippi, resembles that of Georgia and South Carolina in the same latitudes. In the thirty-first degree of latitude, the thermometer stands in spring water at sixty-nine degrees, which is nearly the mean temperature of the year. A series of thermometrical observations is mentioned by Mr. Flint, which gave the following result. The warmest part of the warmest day in April, gave eighty-two degrees; mean heat of July of the same year, eighty-six; coldest in January, fifty-four; coldest in February, forty-three; warmest in March, eighty-five degrees. In the same year, trees even in swamps, where the vegetation is most tardy, were in full leaf by the second of April; at which time peach blossoms were gone. Peas were in pod by the twelfth of April; when peaches were of the size of a hazel-nut, and the fig trees in full leaf. Green peas were on the table, and strawberries ripe by the second of May, and on the sixteenth of the same month, mulberries, dewberries, and whortleberries were ripe.
The climate of Louisiana bears a general resemblance to that of Florida. All the northern fruits come to perfection here, with the exception of apples. The pumpkin and melon tribe flourish, and the common garden vegetables are cultivated in abundance. Figs of different kinds might be extensively raised for exportation, but are much neglected. On the rich alluvial lands maize thrives wonderfully; but wheat and rye do not flourish. In the region of the sugar-cane, along the whole shore of the gulf, and on the lower courses of the rivers of Louisiana, the orange tree flourishes and bears a delicious fruit. In the year 1822, a severe frost destroyed these trees while in full bearing, but the roots have thrown out new trees. The cultivated grape, and various wild grapes abound. Berries are neither common nor good. Cotton grows to the height of six feet; and tobacco of the first quality is extensively raised.
In addition to the views of climate already given, we may add the following description of that of Mississippi Valley, for which we have been indebted to the industrious observation of Mr. Flint. ‘We may class four distinct climates, between the sources and the outlet of the Mississippi. The first, commencing at its sources, and terminating at Prairie du Chien, corresponds pretty accurately to the climate between Montreal and Boston; with this difference, that the amount of snow falling in the former is much less than in the latter region. The mean temperature of a year would be something higher on the Mississippi. The vegetables raised, the time of planting, and the modes of cultivating them, would, probably, be nearly the same. Vegetation will have nearly the same progress and periodical changes. The growing of gourd seed corn, which demands an increase of temperature to bring it to maturity, is not planted in this region. The Irish potatoe is raised in this climate in the utmost perfection. Wheat and cultivated grasses succeed well. The apple and the pear tree require fostering, and southern exposure, to bring fruit in perfection. The peach tree has still more the habits and the fragile delicacy of a southern stranger, and requires a sheltered declivity, with a southern exposure, to succeed at all. Five months in the year may be said to belong to the dominion of winter. For that length of time, the cattle require shelter in the severe weather, and the still waters remain frozen.
‘The next climate includes the opposite states of Missouri and Illinois, in their whole extent, or the country between forty-one and thirty-seven degrees. Cattle, though much benefited by sheltering, and often needing it, seldom receive it. It is not so favorable for cultivated grasses, as the preceding region. Gourd seed corn is the only kind extensively planted. The winter commences with January, and ends with the second week in February. The ice, in the still waters, after that time thaws. Wheat, the inhabitant of a variety of climates, is at home, as a native, in this. The persimon and the papaw are found in its whole extent. It is the favored region of the apple, the pear, and peach tree. Snows neither fall deep, nor lie long. The Irish potato succeeds to a certain extent, but not as well, as in the former climate; and this disadvantage is supplied by the sweet potato, which, though not at home in this climate, with a little care in the cultivation, flourishes. The grandeur of vegetation, and the temperature of March and April, indicate an approach towards a southern climate.
‘The next climate extends from thirty-seven to thirty-one degrees. Below thirty-five degrees, in the rich alluvial soils, the apple tree begins to fail in bringing its fruit to perfection. We have never tasted apples worth eating, raised much below New Madrid. Cotton, between this point and thirty-three degrees, is raised, in favorable positions, for home consumption; but is seldom to be depended upon for a crop. Below thirty-three degrees commences the proper climate for cotton, and it is the staple article of cultivation. Festoons of long moss hang from the trees, and darken the forests. The palmetto gives to the low alluvial grounds a grand and striking verdure. The muscadine grape, strongly designating climate, is first found here. Laurel trees become common in the forest, retaining their foliage and their verdure through the winter. Wheat is no longer seen, as an article of cultivation. The fig tree brings its fruit to full maturity.
‘Below this climate, to the gulf, is the region of the sugar-cane and the sweet orange tree. It would be, if it were cultivated, the region of the olive. Snow is no longer seen to fall, except a few flakes in the coldest storms. The streams are never frozen. Winter is only marked by nights of white frost, and days of north-west winds, which seldom last longer than three days in succession, and are followed by south winds and warm days. The trees are generally in leaf by the middle of February, and always by the first of March. Bats are hovering in the air during the night. Fireflies are seen in the middle of February. Early in March the forests are in blossom. The margins of the creeks and streams are perfumed with the meadow pink, or honeysuckle, yellow jessamine, and other fragrant flowers. During almost every night a thunder-storm occurs. Cotton and corn are planted from March to July. In these regions the summers are uniformly hot, although there are days when the mercury rises as high in New England, as in Louisiana. The heat, however, is more uniform and sustained, commences much earlier, and continues much later. From February to September thunder-storms are common, often accompanied with severe thunder, and sometimes with gales, or tornadoes, in which the trees of the forest are prostrated in every direction, and the tract of country, which is covered with the fallen trees, is called a ‘hurricane.’ The depressing influence of the summer heat results from its long continuance, and equable and unremitting tenor, rather than from the intensity of its ardor at any given time. It must however be admitted, that at all times the unclouded radiance of the vertical sun of this climate is extremely oppressive.—Such are the summers and autumns of the southern divisions of this valley.
‘The winters, in the whole extent of the country, are variable, passing rapidly from warm to cold, and the reverse. Near the Mississippi, and where there is little to vary the general direction of the winds, they ordinarily blow three or four days from the north. In the northern and middle regions, the consequence is cold weather, frost more or less severe, and perhaps storm, with snow and sleet. During these days the rivers are covered with ice. The opposite breeze alternates. There is immediately a bland and relaxing feeling in the atmosphere. It becomes warm; and the red-birds sing in these days, in January and February, as far north as Prairie du Chien. These abrupt and frequent transitions can hardly fail to have an unfavorable influence upon health. From forty to thirty-six degrees the rivers almost invariably freeze, for a longer or shorter period, through the winter. At St. Louis on the Mississippi, and at Cincinnati on the Ohio, in nearly the same parallels, between thirty-eight and thirty-nine degrees, the two rivers are sometimes capable of being crossed on the ice for eight weeks together.
‘Although the summers over all this valley must be admitted to be hot, yet the exemption of the country from mountains and impediments to the free course of the winds, and the circumstance, that the greater proportion of the country has a surface bare of forests, and, probably, other unexplained atmospheric agents, concur to create, during the sultry months, almost a constant breeze. It thence happens, that the air on these wide prairies is rendered fresh, and the heats are tempered, in the same manner, as is felt on the ocean.’
The annual and mean quantity of rain that falls in the United States is much greater than in most countries of Europe, certain mountainous regions and heads of gulfs excepted. This has been ascertained by numerous and accurate observations made on different parts of the Atlantic coast. It is said, on the authority of tabular views, that, on a medium, one third less rain falls in Europe than in the United States; yet Dr. Holyoke mentions, in his memoir on the climate of the United States, twenty cities in Europe, which, at a mean of twenty years, have had one hundred and twenty days of rain; while Cambridge has had but eighty-eight days, Salem ninety-five days of rain, and Philadelphia seventy-six days, at a medium of twenty years. The mean annual quantity of rain at Philadelphia is very little more than the mean annual quantity at Glasgow for a term of thirty years preceding 1790. The above greater quantity of rain, in fewer days, in America, indicates the rain to be much heavier there than in Europe. On the other hand, it is equally well ascertained, that the evaporation of these rains proceeds much quicker in America than in Europe; and that, consequently, the air is habitually drier, and less calm, unless Charleston be taken as an exception. It has been found, that the mean annual quantity of evaporation at Cambridge, near Boston, was fifty-six inches, for a term of seven years; while in seven German and Italian cities, on a mean of twenty years, the annual evaporation was forty-nine inches, or seven of difference; although the Italian cities are in a much more favorable situation for evaporation than the vicinity of Boston, adjacent to the Atlantic ocean. The same fact of greater evaporation was also observed to take place in Upper Louisiana, and along the higher Missouri, as far as the Rocky Mountains, by Captain Lewis.
The habitual dryness of the American climate increases, as we advance west and north-west from the Missouri, where there frequently is not a drop of rain for six months. This is owing to the great distance from any sea, the superior elevation, and the comparative want of timber, combined with the greater intensity and longer duration of the north-west wind, which sweeps with unobstructed force over the naked plains. It appears, then, that more rain falls in fewer days, in America, than in Europe; and that there are fewer cloudy days, more fair days, and quicker evaporation. It is to this last circumstance we must ascribe those immense dews, unknown in European climates, which occur in America, and which are so copious in summer, as to resemble heavy showers of rain. But it must also be observed, that dews are comparatively unknown in the tract watered by the Upper Missouri; and which, in all probability, is owing to the want of timber, wood being limited to the banks of the rivers, which are commonly bordered with trees.
GENERAL REMARKS ON CLIMATE.
It is the opinion of Professor Leslie, that all the varieties of climate are reducible to two causes; distance from the equator, and height above the level of the sea. ‘Latitude and local elevation form, indeed,’ says he, ‘the great basis of the law of climate, and any other modifications have only a partial and very limited influence.’
Climate is generally treated of under four divisions: the cold and humid; cold and dry; warm and humid; hot and dry. But these climates do not always exist according to the full import of the terms by which they are designated. They are subject to modifications, principally of two kinds; the one arising from the alternation of two different climates in the same region, the other from the greater or less prevalence of either of the four elements. Thus when heat, dryness, and humidity are duly combined, they render the climate comparatively temperate. In Egypt, for instance, the combinations of heat and humidity, during the inundation of the Nile, and of heat and dryness during the rest of the year, temper a climate, without which these alternations would be insupportable. In Holland the cold humidity of the autumn is succeeded by frost, which increases the salubrity of the climate, that would not otherwise be so healthy.
The sea exercises an important equalizing influence on the temperature of the globe. In the tropical regions a large extent of ocean spreads coolness on every side, and affords a perpetual succession of refreshing breezes. Islands are always, comparatively, of more temperate climates than continents, and those scattered over the expanse of the Pacific may be said to enjoy almost a perpetual spring. The influence of the winds is also very important; particularly that of the trade-winds. Blowing from east to west across the sands of Africa, the latter produce, on its western coast, a most intense heat, much greater than is experienced on the eastern. In passing the Atlantic they are considerably cooled; and though their temperature is again raised in traversing South America, yet, before reaching the opposite coast, they meet the tremendous snow-clad Andes, which stop their progress and diffuse a wide coolness.
Again, the mountain ranges of the earth not only present and retain on their sides a refreshing coolness, but, by the mighty rivers to which they give rise, diffuse a great amelioration of the temperature through extensive regions. They are particularly of this character, and give rise to the largest rivers in the torrid and burning zones of the earth. In the temperate climate, and those approaching to the poles, mountains are of moderate elevation, are almost always barren, and give rise to few considerable streams.
It appears probable that the climates of European countries were more severe in ancient times than they are at present. Cæsar says that the vine could not be cultivated in Gaul on account of its winter cold. The reindeer, now found only in the zone of Lapland, was then an inhabitant of the Pyrenees. The Tiber was frequently frozen over, and the ground about Rome covered with snow for several weeks together, which very rarely happens in our time. The Rhine and the Danube, in the time of Augustus, was generally frozen over for several months of winter. The barbarians who overran the Roman empire a few centuries afterwards, transported their armies and wagons across the ice of these rivers. Though the fact is well established, the causes of this change of climate do not seem to be satisfactorily explained.
IN the ordinary mineral productions, such as brick-earth, stone adapted to building, as well as for any kind of workmanship, and in sand of all qualities, the resources of the United States are inexhaustible. The same may be said of many minerals of less universal occurrence, that may seem to merit a more particular description. To begin with the precious metals. The gold region commences in Virginia, and extends south-west through North Carolina, along the northern part of South Carolina, thence north-westwardly into Alabama, and to its termination in Tennessee. In 1825, Professor Olmsted published a particular account of the gold region of North Carolina, as it was then explored; it has since been found to be vastly more extensive, but the richest mines are still worked in the region which he described, in the counties of Mecklenburg, Rowan, Cabarras, Anson, and Davidson. This account, which is quite minute and interesting, we present slightly abridged in the following pages:
A geographical description of the gold country, would present little that is interesting. The soil is, for the most part, barren, and the inhabitants generally poor and ignorant. The traveller passes a day without seeing a single striking or beautiful object, either of nature or of art, to vary the tiresome monotony of forest and sand-hills, and ridges of gravelly quartz, either strewed coarsely over the ground, or so comminuted as to form gravel. These ridges have an appearance of great natural sterility, which is, moreover, greatly aggravated by the ruinous practice of frequently burning over the forests, so as to consume all the leaves and undergrowth. The principal mines are three—the Anson mine, Reed’s mine, and Parker’s mine.
The Anson Mine is situated in the county of the same name, on the waters of Richardson’s creek, a branch of Rocky river. This locality was discovered by a ‘gold hunter,’ one of an order of people, that begin already to be accounted a distinct race. A rivulet winds from north to south between two gently sloping hills that emerge towards the south. The bed of the stream, entirely covered with gravel, is left almost naked during the dry season; the period which is usually selected by the miners for their operations. On digging from three to six feet into this bed, the workman comes to that peculiar stratum of gravel and tenacious blue clay, which is at once recognised as the repository of the gold. The stream itself usually gives the first indications of the richness of the bed through which it passes, by disclosing large pieces of the precious metal shining among its pebbles and sands. Pieces unusually large were found by those who first examined Anson’s mine, and the highest hopes were inspired. On inquiry, it was ascertained that part of the land was not held by a good title, and parcels of it were immediately entered; it has since been the subject of a constant litigation, which has retarded the working of the mine.
Reed’s Mine, in Cabarras, is the one which was first wrought; and at this place, indeed, were obtained the first specimens of gold that were found in the formation. A large piece was found in the bed of a small creek, which attracted attention by its lustre and specific gravity; but it was long retained in the hands of the proprietor, through ignorance whether or not it was gold. This mine occupies the bed of a branch of Rocky river, and exhibits a level between two hillocks, which rise on either side of the creek, affording a space between from fifty to an hundred yards in breadth. This space has been thoroughly dug over, and exhibits at present numerous small pits, for a distance of about one fourth of a mile on both sides of the stream. The surface of the ground, and the bed of the creek, are occupied by quartz, and by sharp angular rocks of the greenstone family. The first glance is sufficient to convince the spectator, that the business of searching for gold is conducted under numerous disadvantages, without the least regard to system, and with very little aid from mechanical contrivances.
Large pieces of gold are found in this region, although their occurrence is somewhat rare. Masses weighing four, five, and sometimes six hundred pennyweights are occasionally met with, and one mass was found that weighed in its crude state twenty-eight pounds avoirdupois. This was dug up by a negro at Reed’s mine, within a few inches of the surface of the ground. Marvellous stories are told respecting this rich mass; as that it had been seen by gold hunters at night reflecting so brilliant a light, when they drew near to it with torches, as to make them believe it was some supernatural appearance, and to deter them from further examination. No unusual circumstances, however, were really connected with its discovery, except its being found unusually near the surface. It was melted down and cast into bars soon after its discovery. The spot where it was found has been since subject to the severest scrutiny, but without any similar harvest.
Another mass, weighing six hundred pennyweights was found on the surface of a ploughed field in the vicinity of the Yadkin, twenty miles or more north of Reed’s mine. Specimens of great beauty are occasionally found, but, for want of mineralogists to reserve them for cabinets, they have always been melted into bars. Mr. Reed found a mass of quartz, having a projecting point of gold, of the size of a large pin’s head. On breaking it open, a brilliant display of green and yellow colors was presented. The gold weighed twelve pennyweights. Mineralogists may perhaps recognise, in this description, a congeries of fine crystals, but on that point the proprietor was uninformed. Although fragments of greenstone, and of several argillaceous minerals, occur among the gravel of the gold stratum yet, in the opinion of the miners, it is never found attached to any other mineral than quartz. Indeed, it is seldom attached to any substance, but is commonly scattered promiscuously among the gravel. Its color is generally yellow, with a reddish tinge, though the surface is not unfrequently obscured by a partial incrustation of iron or manganese, or adhering particles of sand. The masses are flattened and vascular, having angles rounded with evident marks of attrition.
Parker’s Mine is situated on a small stream, four miles south of the river Yadkin. As in the instance already mentioned, excavations were numerous in the low grounds adjacent to the stream; but the earth for washing, which was of a snuff color, was transported from a ploughed field in the neighborhood, elevated about fifty or sixty feet above the stream. The earth at this place, which contained the gold, was of a deeper red than that of either the other mines. The gold found here is chiefly in flakes and grains. Occasionally, however, pieces are met with that weigh one hundred pennyweights, and upwards; and one mass has been discovered that weighed four pounds and eleven ounces. This is said to have been found at the depth of ten feet.
The mines have given some peculiarities to the state of society in the neighboring country. The precious metal is a most favorite acquisition, and constitutes the common currency. Almost every man carries about with him a goose quill or two of it, and a small pair of scales in a box like a spectacle case. The value, as in patriarchal times, is ascertained by weight, which, from the dexterity acquired by practice, is a less troublesome mode of counting money than one would imagine.
The greatest part of the gold collected at these mines is bought up, by country merchants, at ninety or ninety-one cents a pennyweight. They carry it to market-towns, as Fayetteville, Cheraw, Charleston, and New York. Much of this is bought up by jewellers; some remains in the banks; and a considerable quantity has been received at the Mint of the United States. Hence it is not easy to ascertain the precise amount which the mines have afforded. The value of that portion received at the mint, before the year 1820, was forty-three thousand six hundred and eighty-nine dollars. It is alloyed with a small portion of silver and copper, but is still purer than standard gold, being twenty-three carats fine.
Since the year 1827, the gold mines of Virginia have attracted considerable attention. The belt of country in which they are found extends through Spotsylvania and some neighboring counties. The gold region abounds in quartz, which contains cubes of sulphuret of iron. These cubes are often partly or totally decomposed; and the cells thus created are sometimes filled with gold. The gold is found on the surface and in the structure of quartz; but in the greatest abundance resting upon slate and in its fissures. It is diffused over a large extent, and has not yet been found sufficiently in mass, except in a few places, to make mining profitable. The method of obtaining the metal is by filtration, or washing the earth, and by an amalgam of quicksilver. The average value of the earth yielding gold, is stated at twenty cents a bushel.
Habersham and Hall counties are the chief seat of the gold mines of Georgia, and its discovery there has been very recent. The search was commenced by a gentleman of the name of Wilhero, and proved eminently successful; deposits of gold were found in the counties mentioned, and discovery followed discovery. In the Cherokee nation, which was separated by the Chestetee river, the indications of gold were not strong, but report exaggerated them, and this unfortunate nation was intruded upon as a common; at one time, about five thousand adventurers were engaged in digging up the face of the country. The owners of the gold lands in Habersham and Hall counties were many of them poor and destitute, and, with the exception of a few deposits, the most valuable tracts were sold to speculators. Many of these have frequently changed owners at increased prices, and four companies have regularly commenced mining operations.40
Silver and its ores are not of frequent or extensive occurrence in the United States. Doctor Dana states the curious fact, that a mass three or four inches in diameter, composed principally of native silver in filaments, was found on the top of a wall near Portsmouth, New Hampshire; the surrounding hills are chiefly greenstone. Mercury, which has been found native in Kentucky, occurs more plentifully as a sulphuret in Ohio and the Michigan territory, more particularly on the shores of lakes Michigan, Huron, St. Clair, Detroit river, and Lake Erie, to the mouth of Vermilion river. It occurs in the soil in the form of a black and red sand, but is usually more abundant in banks of fine ferruginous clay. Near the mouth of Vermilion river, it is in the form of a very fine powder, or in grains and small masses, disseminated in clay. It yields by distillation about sixty per cent. of mercury.
Copper, in various forms, is found in the United States, but the ores do not appear to be brought into use. It is not found on the shores of Lake Superior so abundantly as was anticipated; but many specimens of copper ore have been found at different points in the Mississippi valley. Specimens of pure and malleable copper have been obtained; one of which, said to have been found in Illinois, weighed three pounds. Iron ores are abundant in the United States. Those hitherto worked are chiefly the magnetic oxide, brown hematite, and the argillaceous oxide, particularly bog ore. The more important ores are the following, viz.: in New Hampshire, the magnetic oxide; in Vermont, brown hematite and bog ore; in Massachusetts, bog ore; in Rhode Island, brown hematite; in Connecticut, brown hematite and bog ore; in New York, the magnetic, specular, and argillaceous oxides; in New Jersey, the magnetic and argillaceous oxides; in Pennsylvania, and the states south and west, the magnetic oxide, brown hematite, and the argillaceous oxide.
To these may now be added the carbonate of iron, which has recently been successfully smelted, and which produces iron having the carbonaceous impregnation of steel, whence it has been called steel ore. In New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania, the ore is found in abundance, and of a quality not exceeded in Sweden. The Connecticut and Virginia iron is highly esteemed.
Ores of lead are extensively found in the territories; and in Ohio it is said to have been met with native, forming slips, or slender prismatic masses, in crystallized galena. This mineral is found in various places, from the Arkansas river to the North-West territory, the precise line of the Ozark and Shawnee Mountains, a tract which seems to constitute one of the most important and extensive deposits of lead hitherto known. On the Arkansas, the ore is smelted by the Osage Indians for bullets. To the northward, some valuable mines at Prairie du Chien are imperfectly worked by the proprietors of the soil. But the most important mines are those of Cape Girardeau district, commonly known as the lead mines of Missouri. The mining district is situated between two prominent ridges of sandstone which bound the valley of Grand river, or the basin of Potosi. These ridges diverge in their course northward, and are intercepted by the Merameg, which receives the waters of Grand river, and forms a boundary to the mining district in that direction.
In Illinois are the richest lead mines in the world. The district which furnishes the ore, lies in the north-west part, and extends beyond the limits of the state. It comprises a tract of above two hundred miles in extent. The ore is inexhaustible. It lies in beds or horizontal strata, varying in thickness from one inch to several feet. It yields seventy-five per cent. of pure lead. For many years the Indians and hunters were accustomed to dig for the metal; they never penetrated much below the surface, but obtained great quantities of the ore, which they sold to the traders. The public attention was drawn to this quarter, and, from 1826 to 1828, the country was filled with miners, smelters, merchants, speculators, and adventurers. Vast quantities of lead were manufactured; the business was overdone, and the markets nearly destroyed. At present, the business is reviving, and in 1830, there were eight million three hundred and twenty-three thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight pounds of lead made at the mines. The whole quantity obtained, from 1821 to 1830, was forty million eighty-eight thousand eight hundred and sixty pounds. The principal mines are in the neighborhood of Galena.
Coal is found in the United States in great quantities, though the abundance of wood has hitherto impeded the working of the mines to their full capability. The coal found at different localities has been classed by Professor Eaton under the following heads: first, the genuine anthracite, or glance coal, found in the transition argillite, as at Worcester in Massachusetts, and Newport in Rhode Island; also in small quantities in the north and south range of argillites along the bed and banks of the river Hudson. Second, coal destitute of bitumen, usually called anthracite, but differing greatly in its character from the anthracite found in argillite. It may be called anasphaltic coal. This is embraced in slate rock, being the lowest of the lower series of secondary rocks. This coal formation is equivalent to the great coal measures of Europe. The principal localities of this coal are in the state of Pennsylvania; as at Carbondale, Lehigh, Lackawanna, and Wilkesbarre. Third, the proper bituminous coal, as at Tioga and Lyocoming. This coal is embraced in a slate rock, which is the lowest of the series of upper secondary rocks. The fourth formation is the lignite coal, which is found in a very extensive stratum in the state of New Jersey, along the south shore of the Bay of Amboy.
The anthracite of Pennsylvania is found in the Wyoming and Lackawanna valley, situated between the Blue Ridge and the Susquehanna. The coal district is chiefly occupied by mountains which run parallel to the Blue Ridge, and are fifteen hundred feet high. But little of this surface, with the exception of a few narrow valleys, invites cultivation. These mountains are mostly in a wild state, and offer a secure retreat to cougars, wolves, bears, and other animals.
The rocks of the above described region are of a transition class, and present little diversity. Gray wacke slate occurs in abundance, loose on the surface and in ledges. It is sometimes based on old red sand-stone, and surmounted by unstratified rock, and aggregate of quartz, pebbles of various dimensions, with a cement principally silicious. In the Blue Ridge, in addition to the above described rock, a silicious gray wacke, resembling fine grained granular quartz, is common. It appears in some places massive, but is often slaty. Its cement is chiefly silicious; some alumine, however, is indicated in its composition.
The beds and veins of anthracite range from north-east to south-west, and may often be traced for a considerable distance by the compass. The veins have the inclination of the adjacent strata of gray wacke, with which they often alternate, usually between twenty and forty-five degrees. In a few places they are horizontal and vertical. The beds and veins of anthracite have narrow strata of dark colored, fine grained, argillaceous schist, for the roof and floor. This slate generally contains sulphuret of iron, and disintegrates on exposure to the air. The sulphates of iron and alumine are often observed in the schist, and it frequently presents impressions of plants and sometimes of marine shells. Impure pulverulent coal is usually connected with this slate, and is said to be a good material for printers’ ink.
Anthracite has been found in the greatest quantity in sections of coal regions most accessible by water. Extensive beds and veins range from the Lehigh to the Susquehanna, crossing the head-waters of the Schuylkill and Swatara, about ten miles north-west of Blue Ridge, and it abounds contiguous to the Susquehanna and Lackawanna. But in no part of the district does anthracite occur in such apparently inexhaustible beds, or is so abundantly raised, as in the vicinity of Mauch Chunk, a village situated on the Lehigh, thirty-five miles from Easton, and one hundred and eight by water from Philadelphia.
The coal is there excavated on the flat summit of a mountain that rises nearly fifteen hundred feet above the ocean. It is of good quality, and presents beds of unparalleled extent; is disclosed for several miles on the summit, wherever excavations have been made, and is indicated in many places by coal slate in a pulverulent state, on the surface. The mountain rises with a steep acclivity, particularly on the north-west side, and when penetrated at various altitudes, discloses coal at about the same distance from the surface. Strata of grey wacke slate, containing mica, sometimes rest on the coal, parallel with the mountain side. In the deep excavations made on the summit, no termination of the coal bed has been found, and it is not improbable that the anthracite forms the nucleus of the mountain for a considerable distance.
This coal mountain range is described as extending in a south-west direction to the Susquehanna. To the north-east, beyond the Lehigh, it is connected with the Broad Mountain, the first considerable elevation west of the Blue Ridge. The Lehigh from Mauch Chunk to the water gap, eleven miles, winds between rocky mountains, with a brisk current, but presents no falls. The road usually runs near the stream, and sometimes at a considerable elevation above, on the side of the steep mountain. In its passage through the Kittetany, or Blue Ridge, the river has a tranquil but slightly inclined course. On the adjacent elevation, yellow pine, hemlock, and spruce, are interspersed with deciduous trees. From the water gap to the Delaware, the river pursues its course in a deep ravine, seldom with alluvial borders of much extent. In this district of country, the soil generally rests on limestone sinks, indicating caves; and fissures in the rocks are often observed, that must, in some places, render canalling difficult. From the confluence of the Lehigh with the Delaware to tide-water, the descent is one hundred and fifty feet.
The village of Mauch Chunk is situated on the western bank of the Lehigh, in a deep romantic ravine, between rocky mountains that rise in some parts precipitously to eight hundred or one thousand feet above the stream. Space was procured for dwellings, by breaking down the adjacent rocks and filling up a part of the ravine of Mauch Chunk Creek. A portion of this stream has been transferred to an elevated railway, and is used to propel a grist-mill. Within a few years the Lehigh Company have erected, and are proprietors of, a large number of dwellings and buildings of every description, including a spacious hotel, a store, furnaces, grist-mills, and several saw-mills: about eight hundred men are employed by the company.41
Next to Mauch Chunk, Mount Carbon, or Pottsville, as it is now called, situated at the head of the Schuylkill canal, has been the principal source of the supply of anthracite. Many large veins are worked within three miles of the landing; and some have been opened seven miles to the north-east; in the direction of the Lehigh beds.
On almost every eminence adjacent to Pottsville, indications of coal are disclosed. The veins generally run in a north-east direction, with an inclination of about forty-five degrees, and are from three to nine feet in thickness; commencing at or near the surface they penetrate to an unknown depth, and can often be traced on hills for a considerable distance, by sounding in a north-east or south-west direction. Some veins have been wrought to the depth of two hundred feet without the necessity of draining; the inclined slate roof shielding them from water.
Where the ground admits, it is considered the best mode of working veins, to commence at the back of a coal eminence, or as low as possible, and work up, filling the excavation with slate and fine coal, leaving a horizontal passage for the coal barrows. A section of a wide vein near Pottsville, has been wrought by this mode several hundred feet into the hill. The same vein is explored from parts of the summit by vertical and inclined shafts. The coal and slate handled, are raised by horse-power, in wagons by a rail-way that has the inclination of the vein. Veins of coal alternate with gray wacke slate in the hill. Vegetable impression sometimes occur in the argillaceous schist that forms the roof of the Pottsville coal veins.
The western part of Pennsylvania is abundantly supplied with bituminous coal, as the eastern is with anthracite. It is found on the rivers Conemaugh, Alleghany, and Monongahela, and in numerous places to the west of the Alleghany ridge, which is generally its eastern boundary; it occurs on this mountain at a considerable elevation, and elsewhere, in nearly a horizontal position, alternating with gray sand-stone that is often micaceous and bordered by argillaceous schist. The veins are generally narrow, rarely over six feet in width. This mineral is abundant and of good quality near Pittsburg, where it is valuable for their extensive manufactures. Beds of bituminous coal are reported as occurring in Bedford county, in the north-west part of Luzerne, and in Bradford county. In the last county, nine miles from the Susquehanna, there is an extensive bed of coal, regarded as bituminous. It has been penetrated thirty feet without fathoming the depth of the strata.
Bituminous coal is abundant in Tioga county, state of New York. The summit level is forty-four feet above the river, and upwards of four hundred above the lake. It occurs on the Tioga, and on the Chemung, a branch of that river. Bituminous coal exists on the numerous streams that descend the western side of the extensive peninsula, situated between the north and west branches of the Susquehanna.
The appearance of the Tioga, or bituminous coal, differs but little from the best Liverpool or Newcastle coal. Its color is velvet black, with a slight resinous lustre, its structure is slaty or foliated, and its layers as in the best English coal, divided in prismatic solids, with bases slightly rhomboidal; it is easily frangible, and slightly soils the finger. It burns with a bright flame and considerable smoke, with a slight bituminous smell, a sort of ebullition taking place, and, as the heat increases, an appearance of semi-fusion leaving a slight residue or scoria.
Graphite or plumbago, commonly but improperly called black lead, occurs extensively in primitive and transition rocks; from that which is obtained in New York, excellent pencils have been made. There are also numerous localities of petroleum, or mineral oil. It usually floats on the surface of springs, which in many cases are known to be in the vicinity of coal. It is sometimes called Seneca or Gennessee oil. In Kentucky, it occurs on a spring of water in a state sufficiently liquid to burn in a lamp; it is collected in considerable quantities.
Salt appears to be abundant in the United States, but it has not been found in the mass. It is principally obtained from the springs which have been noticed in another part of the work. Professor Eaton has suggested doubts whether masses of salt really exist. He conceives that an apparatus for the spontaneous manufacture of salt may be found within the bosom of the earth, in those rocks which contain the necessary elements, and in this opinion he is supported by experiment. Subsequently, however, Mr. Eaton had reason to think that salt has existed in a solid state in cubical crystals, the hollow forms of which he discovered abundantly in the lias and saline rocks of the west, and it seems still to be highly probable that masses of salt exist in the neighborhood of the salt springs. The brine contains, besides the muriate of soda, a considerable proportion of muriate of lime and magnesia. Recently, also, bromine has been detected in the brine of salina, by Dr. Silliman. Saltpetre is abundant in the west, being found in numberless caves along the Missouri; and the shores of the Arkansas are almost covered with nitre. The testimony of Mr. Schoolcraft, in relation to the recent formation of quartz crystals, is very striking. They have been found, it appears, upon the handle of a spade, and the edge of some old shoes, which had been left for some years in an abandoned lead mine of the Shawnee Mountains. Crystals of great beauty and dimensions have been found in numerous localities. Many minerals which are rare in Europe, are found abundantly, and often in finer forms, in the United States; some, which have subsequently been detected elsewhere, were first discovered here, and not a few may still be claimed as the peculiar treasure of our country.
GENERAL REMARKS ON MINERALS.
It is observed by Dr. Mead, that a general resemblance can be traced between the minerals of North America, and those which have been found in the north of Europe, particularly in Norway and Sweden. This resemblance is stated to exist, not merely in the properties of the minerals themselves, but in the geological character, and geognostic situation throughout the whole series. It is observed more particularly in those specimens which are found to accompany the primitive formation at Arendal, in Norway; it is not confined, however, to the primitive range of mountains alone, as the same resemblance can be frequently traced, on comparing American minerals with those of Piedmont, and even of the Hartz Mountains. Among the principal minerals of the north of Europe, there are none of more importance than the ores of iron for which Norway and Sweden are so remarkable; and every variety of this mineral which has been met with there, has been found in the same class of rocks in America in the greatest abundance, and of equally good quality. Titanium is one of those metals which have been found more particularly in the north of Europe. It is said to occur frequently in those primitive aggregates which contain beds of magnetic iron ore, associated with augite, scapolite, epidote and hornblende, precisely the same rocks in which we find it in this country. There is scarcely any part of Europe where a greater variety of augites are found than in Norway and Sweden; nor can there be any class of minerals in which the similitude between the specimens from those countries and America is more striking.
Mineralogy, considered as a pure science, is of very recent date. Early observations related merely to the usefulness of minerals to the purposes of society, and it was not before the lapse of many ages that they came to be investigated on account of their great variety, and the beautiful arrangements of which they are susceptible. No attempt was made to classify them before the introduction of alchemy into Europe by the Arabians; and to Avicenna belongs the merit of the first arrangement. He divided minerals into stones, metals, sulphurous fossils, and salts. In 1774, Werner published his great work on the External Properties of Minerals, which was of eminent service in first calling the attention of naturalists to the only correct method of arriving at a knowledge of this department of nature. The study of minerals has received considerable attention during the last twenty years in the United States.
The Black Bear (ursus Americanus) is found in considerable numbers in the northern districts of America. In size and form he approaches nearest to the Brown Bear; but his color is a uniform shining jet black, except on the muzzle, where it is fawn colored; on the lips and sides of the mouth it is almost gray. The hair, except on the muzzle, is long and straight, and is less shaggy than in most other species. The forehead has a slight elevation, and the muzzle is elongated, and somewhat flattened above. The young ones, however, are first of a bright ash color, which gradually changes into a deep brown, and ends by becoming a deep black.
Black Bear.
The American Black Bear lives a solitary life in forests and uncultivated deserts, and subsists on fruits, and on the young shoots and roots of vegetables. Of honey he is exceedingly fond, and as he is a most expert climber, he scales the loftiest trees in search of it. Fish, too, he delights in, and is often found in quest of it on the borders of lakes and on the seashore. When these resources fail, he will attack small quadrupeds, and even animals of some magnitude. As, indeed, is usual in such cases, the love of flesh in him grows with the use of it.
As the fur is of some value, the Indians are assiduous in the chase of the creature which produces it. ‘About the end of December, from the abundance of fruits they find in Louisiana and the neighboring countries, the bears become so fat and lazy that they can scarcely run. At this time they are hunted by the American Indians. The nature of the chase is generally this: the bear chiefly adopts for his retreat the hollow trunk of an old cypress tree, which he climbs, and then descends into the cavity from above. The hunter, whose business it is to watch him into this retreat, climbs a neighboring tree, and seats himself opposite to the hole. In one hand he holds his gun, and in the other a torch, which he darts into the cavity. Frantic with rage and terror, the bear makes a spring from his station; but the hunter seizes the instant of his appearance, and shoots him.’
The black bear, says Godman, like all the species of this genus, is very tenacious of life, and seldom falls unless shot through the brain or heart. An experienced hunter never advances on a bear that has fallen, without first stopping to load his rifle, as the beast frequently recovers to a considerable degree, and would then be a most dangerous adversary. The skull of the bear appears actually to be almost impenetrable, and a rifle ball, fired at a distance of ninety-six yards, has been flattened against it, without appearing to do any material injury to the bone. The best place to direct blows against the bear is upon his snout; when struck elsewhere, his dense woolly coat, thick hide, and robust muscles, render manual violence almost entirely unavailing.
When the bear is merely wounded, it is very dangerous to attempt to kill him with such a weapon as a knife or tomahawk, or indeed any thing which may bring one within his reach. In this way hunters and others have paid very dearly for their rashness, and barely escaped with their lives; the following instance may serve as an example of the danger of such an enterprise:
‘Mr. Mayborne, who resides in Ovid township, Cayuga county, between the Seneca and Cayuga lakes, in the state of New-York, went one afternoon through the woods in search of his horses, taking with him his rifle and the only load of ammunition he had in the house. On his return home, about an hour before dusk, he perceived a very large bear crossing his path, on which he instantly fired, and the bear fell, but immediately recovering his legs, made for a deep ravine a short way onwards. Here he tracked him awhile by the blood, but night coming on, and expecting to find him dead in the morning, he returned home. A little before daybreak the next morning, taking a pitchfork and hatchet, and his son, a boy of ten or eleven years of age, with him, he proceeded to the place in quest of the animal. The glen or ravine into which he had disappeared the evening before, was eighty or ninety feet from the top of the bank to the brook below; down this precipice a stream of three or four yards in breadth is pitched in one unbroken sheet, and, forming a circular basin or pool, winds away among the thick underwood.
‘After reconnoitering every probable place of retreat, he at length discovered the bear, who had made his way up the other side of the ravine, as far us the rocks would admit, and sat under a projecting cliff, steadfastly eyeing the motions of his enemy. Mayborne, desiring his boy to remain where he was, took the pitchfork, and, descending to the bottom, determined from necessity to attack him from below. The bear kept his position until the man approached within six or seven feet, when on the instant, instead of being able to make a stab with the pitchfork, he found himself grappled by the bear, and both together rolled towards the pond, at least twenty or twenty-five feet, the bear biting on his left arm, and hugging him almost to suffocation. By great exertion he thrust his right arm partly down his throat, and in that manner endeavored to strangle him, but was once more hurled headlong down through the bushes, a greater distance than before, into the water. Here, finding the bear gaining on him, he made one desperate effort, and drew the animal’s head partly under water, and repeating his exertions, at last weakened him so much, that calling to his boy, who stood on the other side, in a state little short of distraction for the fate of his father, to bring him the hatchet, he sunk the edge of it by repeated blows into the brain of the bear. This man, although robust and muscular, was scarcely able to crawl home, where he lay for nearly three weeks, the flesh of his arm being much crushed, and his breast severely mangled. The bear weighed upwards of four hundred pounds.’
Grisly Bear.—This animal, like the species just described, inhabits the northern part of America; but, unlike him, he is, perhaps, the most formidable of all bears in magnitude and ferocity. He averages twice the bulk of the black bear, to which, however, he bears some resemblance in his slightly elevated forehead, and narrow, flattened, elongated muzzle. His canine teeth are of great size and power. The feet are enormously large; the breadth of the fore foot exceeding nine inches, and the length of the hind foot exclusive of the talons, being eleven inches and three quarters, and its breadth seven inches. The talons sometimes measure more than six inches. He is, accordingly, admirably adapted for digging up the ground, but is unable to climb trees, in which latter respect he differs wholly from every other species. The color of his hair varies to almost an indefinite extent, between all the intermediate shades of a light gray and a black brown; the latter tinge, however, being that which predominates. It is always, in some degree, grizzled, by intermixture of grayish hairs, only the brown hairs being tipped with gray. The hair itself is, in general, longer, finer, and more exuberant than that of the black bear.
The neighborhood of the Rocky Mountains is one of the principal haunts of this animal. There, amidst wooded plains, and tangled copses of bough and underwood, he reigns as much the monarch as the lion is of the sandy wastes of Africa. Even the bison cannot withstand his attack. Such is his muscular strength, that he will drag the ponderous carcass of the animal to a convenient spot, where he digs a pit for its reception. The Indians regard him with the utmost terror. His extreme tenacity of life renders him still more dangerous; for he can endure repeated wounds which would be instantaneously mortal to other beasts, and, in that state, can rapidly pursue his enemy. So that the hunter who fails to shoot him through the brain, is placed in a most perilous situation.
One evening, the men in the hindmost of one of Lewis and Clark’s canoes, perceived one of these bears lying in the open ground about three hundred paces from the river; and six of them, who were all good hunters, went to attack him. Concealing themselves by a small eminence, they were able to approach within forty paces unperceived; four of the hunters now fired, and each lodged a ball in his body, two of which passed directly through the lungs. The bear sprang up and ran furiously with open mouth upon them; two of the hunters, who had reserved their fire, gave him two additional wounds, and one breaking his shoulder-blade, somewhat retarded his motions. Before they could again load their guns, he came so close on them, that they were obliged to run towards the river, and before they had gained it, the bear had almost overtaken them. Two men jumped into the canoe; the other four separated, and concealing themselves among the willows, fired as fast as they could load their pieces. Several times the bear was struck, but each shot seemed only to direct his fury towards the hunter; at last he pursued them so closely, that they threw aside their guns and pouches, and jumped from a perpendicular bank twenty feet high into the river. The bear sprang after them, and was very near the hindmost man, when one of the hunters on the shore shot him through the head and finally killed him. When they dragged him on shore, they found that eight balls had passed through his body in different directions.
On another occasion, the same enterprising travellers met with the largest bear of this species they had ever seen; when they fired he did not attempt to attack, but fled with a tremendous roar, and such was his tenacity of life, that although five balls had passed through the lungs, and five other wounds were inflicted, he swam more than half across the river to a sand-bar, and survived more than twenty minutes.
Mr. John Dougherty, a very experienced and respectable hunter, who accompanied Major Long’s party during their expedition to the Rocky Mountains, several times very narrowly escaped from the grizzly bear. Once, while hunting with another person on one of the upper tributaries of the Missouri, he heard the report of his companion’s rifle, and when he looked round, beheld him at a short distance endeavoring to escape from one of these bears, which he had wounded as it was coming towards him. Dougherty, forgetful of every thing but the preservation of his friend, hastened to call off the attention of the bear, and arrived in rifle shot distance just in time to effect his generous purpose. He discharged his ball at the animal, and was obliged in his turn to fly; his friend relieved from immediate danger, prepared for another attack by charging his rifle, with which he again wounded the bear, and saved Mr. D. from further peril. Neither received any injury from this encounter, in which the bear was at length killed.
The Raccoon.—This animal continues to be frequently found even in the populous parts of the United States. Occasionally their numbers are so much increased, as to render them very troublesome to the farmers in the low and wooded parts of Maryland, bordering on the Chesapeak Bay. Being peculiarly fond of sweet substances, they are sometimes destructive to plantations of sugar-cane, and of Indian corn. While the ear of this corn is still young and tender, it is very sweet, and at that time troops of raccoons frequently enter fields of maize, and in a single night commit the most extensive depredations.
Raccoon.
The size of the raccoon varies with the age and sex of the individual. When full grown, the male is about a foot in length, or a few inches longer; the highest part of the back is about a foot from the ground, whilst the highest part of the shoulder is ten inches. The head is about five inches, and the tail rather more than eight. The general color of the body is a blackish gray, which is paler on the under part. The feet have five toes each, terminated by strong curved and pointed claws; and each foot is furnished with five thick and very elastic tubercles beneath. The fur of the raccoon forms an article of considerable value in commerce, as it is extensively used in the manufacture of hats.
‘The raccoon,’ says Godman, ‘is an excellent climber, and his strong sharp claws effectually secure him from being shaken off the branches of trees. In fact, so tenaciously does this animal hold to any surface upon which it can make an impression with its claws, that it requires a considerable exertion of a man’s strength to drag him off; and as long as even a single foot remains attached, he continues to cling with great force. I have had frequent occasion to pull a raccoon from the top of a board fence, where there was no projection which he could seize by; yet, such was the power and obstinacy with which the points of his claws were stuck into the board, as repeatedly to oblige me to desist for fear of tearing his skin, or otherwise doing him an injury by the violence necessary to detach his hold.’
‘Water seems to be essential to their comfort, if not of absolute necessity for the preparation of their food. I have had for some time, and at the moment of writing this have yet, a male and female raccoon in the yard. Their greatest delight appears to be dabbling in water, of which a large tub is always kept for their use. They are frequently seen sitting on the edge of this tub, very busily engaged in playing with a piece of broken china, glass, or a small cake of ice. When they have any substance which sinks, they both paddle with their fore feet with great eagerness, until it is caught, and then it is held by one, with both paws, and rubbed between them; or a struggle ensues for the possession of it, and when it is dropped the same sport is renewed. The coldest weather in winter does not in the least deter them from thus dabbling in the water for amusement; nor has this action much reference to their feeding, as it is performed at any time, even directly after feeding till satiated. I have frequently broken the ice on the surface of their tub, late at night, in the very coldest winter weather, and they have both left their sleeping place with much alacrity, to stand paddling the fragments of ice about, with their fore legs in the water nearly up to the breast. Indeed, these animals have never evinced the slightest dislike to cold, or suffered in any degree therefrom; they have in all weathers slept in a flour-barrel thrown on its side, with one end entirely open, and without any material of which to make a bed. They show no repugnance to being sprinkled or dashed with water, and voluntarily remain exposed to the rain or snow, which wets them thoroughly, notwithstanding their long hair, which, being almost erect, is not well suited to turn the rain. These raccoons are very fond of each other, and express the greatest delight on meeting, after having been separated for a short time, by various movements, and by hugging and rolling one another about on the ground.’
‘My raccoons are, at the time of writing this, more than a year old, and have been in captivity for six or eight months. They are very frolicsome and amusing, and show no disposition to bite or injure any one, except when accidentally trodden on. They are equally free from any disposition to injure children, as has been observed of other individuals. We frequently turn them loose in the parlor, and they appear to be highly delighted, romping with each other and the children, without doing any injury even to the youngest. Their alleged disposition to hurt children especially, may probably be fairly explained by the fact above mentioned, that they always attempt to bite when suddenly hurt, and few children touch animals without pinching or hurting them. They exhibit this spirit of retaliation, not only to man, but when they accidentally hurt themselves against an inanimate body; I have many times been amused to observe the expression of spite with which one of them has sprung at and bit the leg of a chair or table, after knocking himself against it so as to hurt some part of his body.
‘These animals may be tamed while young, but as they grow to maturity, most generally become fierce and even dangerous. I have had one so tame as to follow a servant about through the house or streets, though entirely at liberty; this was quite young when obtained, and grew so fond of human society as to complain very loudly, by a sort of chirping or whining noise, when left alone. Nothing can possibly exceed the domesticated raccoon in restless and mischievous curiosity, if suffered to go about the house. Every chink is ransacked, every article of furniture explored, and the neglect of servants to secure closet doors, is sure to be followed by extensive mischief, the evil being almost uniformly augmented by the alarm caused to the author of it, whose ill-directed efforts to escape from supposed peril, increase at the same time the noise and the destruction.’
The Puma, or American Lion was once spread over the new world, from Canada to Patagonia, but it is not now common in any part of the United States, except the unsettled districts. It is usually called the panther, or painter by the common people. It is also called the catamount. The progress of civilization has, however, circumscribed his range, and has rooted him out in many places. Notwithstanding his size and strength, he is cowardly; and, like almost all cowards, he is sanguinary. If he find a flock of sheep unprotected, he will destroy the whole, merely that he may enjoy the luxury of sucking their blood. He has a small rounded head, a broad and rather obtuse muzzle, and a body which, in proportion, is slenderer and less elevated than that of his more dignified namesake. ‘The upper parts of his body,’ says Mr. Bennett, ‘are of a bright silvery fawn, the tawny hairs being terminated by whitish tips: beneath and on the inside of the limbs he is nearly white, and more completely so on the throat, chin, and upper lip. The head has an irregular mixture of black and gray; the outside of the ears, especially at the base, the sides of the muzzle from which the whiskers take their origin, and the extremity of the tail, are black.’ The fur of the cubs has spots of a darker hue, which are visible only in certain lights, and disappear when the animal is full grown. Both the sexes are of the same color.42
The Puma, or Cougar.
American Wild Cat. This animal bears a strong resemblance to the domestic cat, and its motions are very similar. It stands high upon its legs, and has a short curved tail. Its principal food consists of birds, squirrels, and other small animals which abound in the woody districts it inhabits. Though common in the western states, the wild cat is seldom found in New England.
The Moose.—This animal, which in Europe is called the elk, is an inhabitant of the northern parts of America, but is found in no part of the United States excepting Maine, where it is now met with but seldom. Its figure is ungraceful and clumsy. During summer, the moose frequents swampy or low grounds, on the borders of lakes, in which it is fond of bathing, and whose plants form a favorite article of its food. In winter, the moose seeks the depths of the forest for shelter, and a herd of fifteen or twenty take possession of a tract of about five hundred acres, where they subsist on the tender twigs and the mosses of the trees. To these places the Indians give the name of ‘moose-yards.’ Like other northern animals, the moose is much vexed by insects, which deposit their eggs in different parts of his body, and at certain seasons of the year render his skin worthless to the hunter. At other times, the skin is very valuable, and serves the Indians for clothing and tent covers. This species is much hunted, and has so rapidly diminished within a few years, that there are fears it will become extinct.
Moose.
The moose is hunted generally in March, when the snow is of sufficient depth and hardness to sustain the weight of a dog. Five or six hunters generally join in the pursuit and carry provisions to last them nearly a week. The chase is commenced at daybreak, when the dogs are set on, and the hunters who wear snow-shoes follow as closely as possible. When started and attacked by the dogs, the moose attempts to escape by flight. The crust of ice covering the snow breaks at every step, and the poor creature cuts his legs so severely that he is obliged to stand at bay, and endeavors to defend himself against his assailants by means of his fore feet. In this situation he is despatched by the rifle ball of the hunter.
The Elk.—The elk is still occasionally found in the remote and thinly settled parts of Pennsylvania, but the number is small; it is only in the western wilds that they are seen in considerable herds. They are fond of the great forests, where a luxuriant vegetation affords them an abundant supply of buds and tender twigs; or of the great plains, where the solitude is seldom interrupted, and all bounteous nature spreads an immense field of verdure for their support.
The elk is shy and retiring; having acute senses, he receives early warning of the approach of any human intruder. The moment the air is tainted by the odor of his enemy, his head is erected with spirit, his ears rapidly thrown in every direction to catch the sounds, and his large dark glistening eye expresses the most eager attention. Soon as the approaching hunter is fairly discovered, the elk bounds along for a few paces, as if trying his strength for flight, stops, turns half round, and scans his pursuer with a steady gaze, then, throwing back his lofty horns upon his neck, and projecting his taper nose forwards, he springs from the ground and advances with a velocity which soon leaves the object of his dread far out of sight.43
This animal appears to be more ready to attack with his horns than any other species of deer. When at bay, and especially if slightly wounded, he fights with great eagerness, as if resolved to be revenged. The following instance from Long’s Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, will, in some degree, illustrate this statement.
A herd of twenty or thirty elk were seen at no great distance from the party, standing in the water or lying upon the sand beach. One of the finest bucks was singled out by a hunter, who fired upon him, whereupon the whole herd plunged into the thicket and disappeared. Relying upon the skill of the hunter, and confident that his shot was fatal, several of the party dismounted and pursued the elk into the woods, where the wounded buck was soon overtaken. Finding his pursuers close upon him, the elk turned furiously upon the foremost, who only saved himself by springing into a thicket, which was impassable to the elk, whose enormous antlers becoming so entangled in the vines as to be covered to their tips, he was held fast and blindfolded, and was despatched by repeated bullets and stabs.
Black-tailed Deer.—The habits of this animal are similar to those of its kindred species, except that it has a manner of bounding along, instead of running at full speed. It is found in prairies and open grounds, west of the Rocky Mountains, and but seldom in the woodlands. It is larger than the common deer, and its flesh is considered inferior; its eye is larger, and the hair coarse. The ears are very long, being half the length of the whole antler. It was first observed by the members of Lewis and Clarke’s expedition, and was described by Say.
Common Deer.—This species, sometimes called the Virginia Deer, is found throughout the United States, with such varieties in its size and coloring, as naturally arise from variety of climate. Its form is slender and delicate, and its whole appearance indicates a degree of feebleness, which is counteracted only by the agility of its movements, and the animation of its eye. Its sense of hearing and seeing is wonderfully acute; and the hunter must approach his intended victim with the utmost caution, for he is discovered by the slightest noise. The resort of this species is in the forests and plains adjacent to rivers, where they feed chiefly on buds and twigs, and sometimes on grass. They are headed by one of the largest and strongest bucks, who appears to be the guardian of the general safety and directs his followers to combat or retreat. Though generally shy and timid, the males are much disposed to battle during the season of the sexual passion, and are almost always inclined to fight when wounded or brought to bay. At this time they fight with their fore feet, as well as their horns, and inflict severe wounds by leaping forward and striking with the edges of their hoofs. If a hunter misses his aim when attempting to despatch a wounded deer with his knife, he is placed in great peril. To serpents, of every description, the deer is particularly hostile, and it seems to have an instinctive horror of the rattlesnake. To destroy this enemy, the deer leaps into the air, and comes down on him with its four feet closed in a square, repeating its violent blows until the reptile is killed.
Virginia Deer.
The males frequently engage in combats, in which their horns sometimes become so interlocked that neither can escape, and they then remain engaged in fruitless struggles till they perish of famine, or become the prey of the wolf or the hunter. Heads of deer which have thus perished are frequently found, and there is scarcely a museum in this country which has not one or more specimens. The following instance is given by Say in Long’s Expedition to the Rocky Mountains. ‘As the party were descending a ridge, their attention was called to an unusual noise proceeding from a copse of low bushes, a few rods from the path. On arriving at the spot, they found two buck deer, their horns fast interlocked with each other, and both much spent with fatigue, one in particular being so much exhausted as to be unable to stand. Perceiving that it would be impossible that they should extricate themselves, and must either linger in their present situations or die of hunger, or be destroyed by the wolves, they despatched them with their knives, after having made an unavailing attempt to disentangle them. Beyond doubt, many of these animals must annually thus perish.’
Prong-horned Antelope.—This species was first described by the leaders of the first American expedition to the west of the Rocky Mountains. It is shy and timorous, wonderfully fleet, and with great acuteness of sight and smell. When once startled, they fly with the rapidity of the wind, and baffle all pursuit. In one instance, captain Lewis, after various fruitless attempts, by winding around the ridges, succeeded in approaching a party of seven that stood upon an eminence towards which the wind was unfortunately blowing. The only male of the party frequently encircled the summit of the hill, as if to announce any danger to the group of females which stood upon the top. Before they saw captain Lewis, they became alarmed by the scent, and fled while he was at the distance of two hundred yards. He immediately ran to the spot where they had stood; a ravine concealed them from him, but at the next moment they appeared on a second ridge, at the distance of three miles. He could not but doubt whether these were the same he had alarmed, but their number and continued speed convinced him they were so, and he justly infers that they must have run with a rapidity equal to that of the most celebrated race horse.
‘The chief game of the Shoshonees,’ say Lewis and Clarke, ‘is the antelope, which when pursued retreats to the open plains, where the horses have full room for the chase. But such is its extraordinary fleetness and wind, that a single horse has no possible chance of outrunning it, or tiring it down; and the hunters are therefore obliged to resort to stratagem. About twenty Indians, mounted on fine horses, armed with bows and arrows, left the camp; in a short time they descried a herd of ten antelopes; they immediately separated into squads of two or three, and formed a scattered circle round the herd for five or six miles, keeping at a wary distance, so as not to alarm them till they were perfectly inclosed, and usually selecting some commanding eminence as a stand. Having gained their positions, a small party rode towards the herd, and with wonderful dexterity the huntsman preserved his seat, and the horse his footing, as he ran at full speed over the hills and down the steep ravines, and along the borders of the precipices.
‘They were soon outstripped by the antelopes, which, on gaining the other extremity of the circle, were driven back and pursued by the fresh hunters. They turned and flew, rather than ran, in another direction; but there too they found new enemies. In this way they were alternately pursued backwards and forwards, till at length, notwithstanding the skill of the hunters, (who were merely armed with bows and arrows) they all escaped; and the party, after running for two hours, returned without having caught any thing, and their horses foaming with sweat. This chase, the greater part of which was seen from the camp, formed a beautiful scene, but to the hunters is exceedingly laborious, and so unproductive, even when they are able to worry the animal down and shoot him, that forty or fifty hunters will sometimes be engaged for more than half a day, without obtaining more than two or three antelopes.’
Rocky Mountain Goat.—This species is nearly the size of a common sheep, and has a shaggy appearance. Its hoofs and horns are black; the latter project but little, and are slightly curved. Great numbers of this goat are found about the head-waters of the north fork of Columbia river, where they are much hunted by the natives, and form an abundant though somewhat unsavory article of food. They are seldom seen far from the mountains, and are more numerous on their western than on their eastern slopes. The skin is thick and spongy, and is used for moccasins. The fleece is said to be as fine as that of which the celebrated cashmere shawls are manufactured.
Rocky Mountain Goat.
Argali.—The argali is found in the Rocky Mountains, from about the fiftieth degree of north latitude to California. Here troops of twenty or thirty are seen together, feeding on the most precipitous tracts, and bounding with wonderful agility from rock to rock. During the summer months, the color of this animal is a grayish fawn, with a reddish line across the back. The male has very large twisted horns, fixed near the eyes; its ears are straight, broad and pointed, and its tail quite short. This is said to be the species from which all the varieties of our domestic sheep are descended.
Bison.—This animal is found in herds in the prairies in the neighborhood of the Rocky Mountains: it is continually receding before the advance of man, and will soon be entirely banished to the far west. Schoolcraft says that the species is confined to the regions situated between the thirty-first and forty-ninth degrees of north latitude, and west of the Mississippi river. The only part of the country east of this river, where the bison now remains, is that included between the falls of St. Anthony and Sandy Lake, a range of about six hundred miles.
‘Being now in the region of buffalo,’ says Mr. Schoolcraft, ‘we concluded to land, in the course of the day, at some convenient place for hunting them. This we were soon invited to do by seeing one of these animals along the shore of the river, and on ascending the bank, we observed, upon a boundless prairie, two droves of them, feeding upon the grass. All who had guns adapted for the purpose, sallied forth in separate parties upon the prairie, while those who felt less ambition to signalize themselves upon the occasion, or were more illy accoutred for the activities of the chase, remained upon an eminence which overlooked the plain, to observe the movements of this animal while under an attack of musketry, and to enjoy the novel spectacle of a buffalo-hunt. The grass was so tall as to allow an unobserved approach towards the spot where they remained feeding, but the first fire proved unsuccessful, at the same time that it scattered the herd, which were now seen running in all directions across the prairie, and an incessant fire of random shots was kept up for about two hours; during which three buffaloes were killed, and a great number wounded, which made their escape.
‘While thus harrassed, they often passed within a few yards of us, and we enjoyed a fine opportunity of witnessing their form, size, color, and speed. The buffalo has a clumsy gait, like the domestic ox, which it also resembles in size and general appearance. Unlike the ox, however, this animal exhibits no diversity of color, being a uniform dark brown, inclining to dun. It is never spotted, with black, red, or white. It has short black horns growing nearly straight from the head, and set at a considerable distance apart. The male has a hunch upon its shoulders, covered with long flocks of shaggy hair, extending to the top of the head, from which it falls over the eyes and horns, giving the animal a very formidable appearance. The hoofs are cloven like those of the cow, but the legs are much stouter, and altogether, it is more clumsy and ill-proportioned. The tail is naked till towards the end, where it is tufted, in the manner of the lion.
‘The general weight of this animal is from eight hundred to a thousand pounds; but they sometimes attain an enormous size, and have been killed upon the Mississippi prairies weighing two thousand pounds. The skin of a buffalo bull, when first taken off, is three fourths of an inch in thickness, and cannot be lifted by the strongest man. A hundred and fifty pounds of tallow have been taken from one animal, and it is highly esteemed by the Indians in preparing their hommony. Instances of excessive fatness are, however, rare, and such over-fed animals become so unwieldy that they often fall a prey to wolves; particularly if they happen to stray a distance from the herd. The buffalo is a timid animal, and flies at the approach of man. It is however asserted by the hunters, that when painfully wounded, it becomes furious, and will turn upon its pursuers.
‘There is a particular art in killing the buffalo with a rifle, only known to experienced hunters, and when they do not drop down, which is often the case, it requires a person intimately acquainted with their habits, to pursue them with success. This has been fully instanced in the futile exertions of our party, upon the present occasion; for out of a great number of shots, few have reached the object, and very few proved effectual, and the little success we met with is chiefly attributable to the superior skill of the Indians who accompanied us. Unless a vital part is touched, the shot proves useless. It also requires a larger ball than the deer and elk. Lieutenant Pike thinks that in the open prairies, the bow and arrow could be used to better advantage than the gun, particularly on horseback, for you might ride immediately along side the animal and strike it where you pleased. The Indians employ both the rifle and arrow, and in the prairies of Missouri and Arkansas, pursue the herds on horseback; but on the upper Mississippi, where they are destitute of horses, they make amends for this deficiency by several ingenious stratagems.
‘One of the most common of these is the method of hunting with fire. For this purpose, a great number of hunters disperse themselves around a large prairie where herds of buffalo happen to be feeding, and setting fire to the grass encompass them on all sides. The buffalo, having a great dread of fire, retire towards the centre of the prairie as they see it approach, and here being pressed together in great numbers, many are trampled under foot, and the Indians rushing in with their arrows and musketry, slaughter immense numbers in a short period. It is asserted that a thousand animals have been killed by this stratagem in one day. They have another method of hunting by driving them over precipices, which is chiefly practised by the bands inhabiting the Missouri. To decoy the herds, several Indians disguise themselves in the skins of the buffalo, taken off entire, and by counterfeiting the lowing of this animal in distress, they attract the herds in a certain direction, and when they are at full speed, suddenly disappear behind a cleft in the top of a precipice, when those animals which are in front on reaching the brink, are pushed over by those pressing behind, and in this manner great numbers are crushed to death. These practices are less common now than formerly, the introduction of fire arms, among most of the tribes, putting it into the power of almost every individual to kill sufficient for the support of his family.
‘By a very bad policy, however, they prefer the flesh of the cows, which will in time destroy the species. Few of the native animals of the American forest contribute more to the comforts of savage society than the buffalo. Its skin, when dressed by a process peculiar to them, forms one of the principal articles of clothing. The Sioux tribes particularly excel in the method of dressing it, and are very much in the habit of ornamenting their dresses with porcupine quills, and paints. The skin, dressed with the hair on, supplies them with blankets, and constitutes those durable and often beautiful sleigh-robes which are now in such universal use in the United States and the Canadas. The tallow of this animal, as well as the beef, has also become an article of commerce, particularly in the south-western states and territories, and its horns are exported for the manufacture of powder-flasks. The tongue is considered superior in flavor to that of the domestic cow, and the animal is often hunted for no other purpose. I have seen stockings and hats manufactured from its wool, with a little addition of common wool, or of cotton. This practice is very common among the white hunters of Missouri and Arkansas. The flesh of the buffalo is not equal, in its fresh state, to that of the cow or ox, but is superior when dried, which is the Indian mode of preserving it.
‘The attempts which have been made to domesticate this animal, have not been attended with success. Calves which have been taken in the woods and brought up with the tame breed, have afterwards discovered a wild and ungovernable temper, and manifested their savage nature by breaking down the strongest enclosures, and enticing the tame cattle into the woods. The mixed breed is said to be barren, like the mule. The period of gestation is ascertained to be twelve months, whereas that of the cow is nine. A remarkable proof of the little affinity existing between it, and the domestic breed of cattle, was exhibited a few years ago in Canada, where the connexion resulted in the death of the cows submitted to the experiment.’
American Wolf.—The common wolf of America is considered as the same species with the wolf of Europe. Richardson remarks that he has travelled over thirty degrees of latitude in America, and has never seen there any wolves which had the gaunt appearance, the comparatively long jaw and tapering nose, the high ears, long legs, slender loins, and narrow feet of the Pyrenean wolf. He adds, that the American animal has a more robust form than the European wolf. Its muzzle is thicker and more obtuse, its head larger and rounder, and there is a sensible depression at the union of the nose and forehead. He notices six varieties of the wolf in North America: common gray wolf, white, pied, dusky, black, and prairie. There is little reason to doubt that all the wolves of America are of one species; and the variations of size, color, and habits, are to be referred to diversities of climate which have been gradually impressed upon these animals.
Prairie Wolf.—This species is found in large numbers in the prairies to the west of the Missouri, and also occurs in the vicinity of the Columbia river. Its general color is gray, mixed with black; the ears are erect, rounded at the tip, and lined with gray hair. It is about three feet and a half in length, and bears a very strong resemblance to the domestic dog, so common in the Indian villages. Its bark is also similar to that of the dog. It resembles the other species of wolves in rapacity and cunning, being very suspicious and mistrustful and shunning pitfalls and snares with intuitive sagacity.44
Horses.—The number of horses among the various tribes on the Columbia, and its tributary streams, differs with the circumstances of the country. Among the Flat-heads, Cootonais, and Spokans, whose lands are rather thickly wooded, there are not more than sufficient for their actual use, and every colt, on arriving at the proper age, is broken in for the saddle. But in the countries inhabited by the Wallah Wallahs, Nez Percés, and Shoshonés, which chiefly consist of open plains, well watered and thinly wooded, they are far more numerous, and thousands are allowed to go wild. Their general height is about fifteen hands, which they seldom exceed; and ponies are very scarce. Those reared in the plains are excellent hunters, and the swiftest racers; but are not capable of enduring the same hardships as those bred in the vicinity of the high and woody districts. Seven hundred or a thousand wild horses are sometimes seen in a band; and it is said that in parts of the country belonging to the Snake Indians, bands varying from three to four thousand are frequently seen; and further to the southward, they are far more numerous.
Wild Horses.
The Indian horses are never shod; and owing to this circumstance, their hoofs, particularly of such as are in constant work, are nearly worn away before they are ten or eleven years old, after which they are unfit for any labor except carrying children. They are easily managed, and are seldom vicious. An Indian horse is never taught to trot. The natives dislike this pace, and prefer to it the canter or light gallop. They are hard taskmasters; and the hair-rope bridles, with the padded deer-skin saddles which they use, lacerate the mouths and backs of the unfortunate animals in such a manner as to render them objects of commiseration. In summer they have no shelter from the heat, in winter no retreat from the cold; and their only provender throughout the year is the wild loose grass of the prairies, which, in the latter season, is generally covered with snow, and in the former is brown and arid, from the intense heat of the sun.
Foxes.—The Gray Fox is found in great numbers throughout the country, and ventures more boldly than any other species into the neighborhood of human habitations. It exhibits different colors at different seasons and ages; its general color is grizzly, growing gradually darker from the fore shoulders to the hinder part of the back. The inferior parts of the body are white, tinged slightly with faint reddish brown. The tail is thick and bushy. The Red Fox is a very beautiful species, and abounds in the middle and southern states, where it proves very troublesome to poultry-yards. In summer, its fur is long, fine, and brilliant; in winter, it becomes longer and more thick. The length of this species is about two feet, and of its tail, nearly a foot and a half. Its fur is valuable, and much used. When caught young, the red fox is very playful, and may be domesticated to a considerable degree; we have known it to live in perfect friendship with a number of dogs, and to take much pleasure in tumbling about and sporting with them.45
The Black Fox bears a striking resemblance to the common fox, from which it has nothing to distinguish it but its abundant and beautiful black fur. Its color is rich and lustrous, having a small quantity of white mingled with the prevailing black on different parts of its body. It is found throughout the northern parts of America, but no where in great numbers. The Swift Fox is a very interesting species, inhabiting the open plains which stretch from the base of the Rocky Mountains towards the Mississippi.
Black Fox.
Opossum.—This animal is found in the southern parts of the United States, and is easily distinguished from all others by two peculiarities: the first is that the female has a cavity under the belly in which she receives and suckles her young; the second is, that the male and the female have no claws on the great toe of the hind feet, which is separated from the others as a man’s thumb is separated from his fingers. The opossum produces often, and a great number of young at a time. It walks awkwardly, and seldom runs; but it climbs trees with great facility, and hangs from the branches by means of a very flexible and muscular tail. Though voracious and greedy of blood, it also feeds on reptiles, insects, sugar-canes, potatoes, and even leaves and bark of trees. It may be easily domesticated; but its smell is strong and offensive, though its flesh is eatable, and much liked by the Indians. So tenacious is it of life, that it has given rise to a saying in North Carolina, that if a cat has nine lives, an opossum has nineteen. The general color of the opossum is a whitish gray; the tail is thick and black, for upwards of three inches at its base, and is covered by small scales, interspersed with white, short, rigid hairs. It is a timid and nocturnal animal, depending for its safety more on cunning than strength.
Virginia Opossum.
American Hare.—This species, improperly called rabbit, is found throughout the states, and in some parts is exceedingly common. Its flesh is much esteemed as an article of food. During the summer it is tough, but after the first frosts of autumn, it is fat and delicate. In the north, during winter the hare feeds on the twigs of pine and fir, and is fit for the table during the season. It never burrows in the ground, but in the day time remains crouched, within its form, which is a mere spot of ground cleared of grass and sheltered by an overhanging plant. Sometimes it lives in the trunk of a hollow tree, or under a pile of stones. It wanders out at night, and makes sad havoc among the turnip and cabbage fields, and the young trees in nurseries. It is not hunted in this country as in Europe, but is caught in a trap, or roused by a dog and shot.
Varying Hare.—This animal appears to inhabit a great portion of North America, as it has been found in Virginia, and as far north as fifty-five degrees, whilst eastward it is found on the great plains of the Columbia. It appears generally to frequent plains and low grounds, where it lives like the common hare, never burrowing, but not resorting to the thick woods. The variabilis of Europe, on the contrary, is described as always inhabiting the highest mountains, and never descending into the plains, except when forced to seek for food, when the mountains are covered with snow. The American species is remarkably swift, never taking shelter when pursued, and capable of most astonishing leaps; Captain Lewis measured some of these, and found their length to be from eighteen to twenty feet. From the middle of November to the middle of April, this animal is of a pure white, with the exception of the black and reddish brown of the ears. During the rest of the year, the upper parts of the body are of a lead color; the under parts white, with a light shade of lead color.
Beaver.—The general appearance of the beaver is that of a large rat, and seen at a little distance, it might be readily mistaken for the common musk-rat. But the greater size of the beaver, the thickness and breadth of its head, and its horizontally flattened, broad, and scaly tail, render it impossible to mistake it for any other creature when closely examined. In its movements, both on shore and in the water, it also closely resembles the musk-rat, having the same quick step, and swimming with great vigor and celerity, either on the surface or in the depths of the water.46
Beaver.
Musk-Rat.—This animal is closely allied in form and habits to the beaver, and is found in the same parts of America as that animal, from thirty to sixty-nine or seventy degrees of latitude. But it is more familiar in its habits, as it is to be found only a short distance from large towns. The musk-rat is a watchful, but not a very shy animal. It may be frequently seen sitting on the shores of small muddy islands, not easily to be distinguished from a piece of earth, till, on the approach of danger, it suddenly plunges into the water. It forms burrows on the banks of streams and ponds, the entrance to which is in deep water. These burrows extend to great distances, and do extensive injury to the farms, by letting in the water upon the land. In some situations, these animals build houses of a conical form, resembling those of the beaver, formed of mud, grass and reeds, plastered together. They feed upon the roots and tender shoots of aquatic plants and on the leaves of grasses. They are excellent swimmers, dive well, and can remain for a long time under water. It is rare to have an opportunity of seeing the animal during the day, as it then lies concealed in its burrow, and it is not till night, that it issues forth for food or recreation. It does not, like the beaver, lay up a store of provision for the winter; but it builds a new habitation every season.
This animal is common in the Atlantic states, and its fur being valuable for hats, it is much hunted. The Indians kill them by spearing them through the walls of their houses. Between four and five thousand skins are annually imported into Great Britain from North America.
The American Badger, as compared with the European, is smaller and lighter, with different markings on its fur, and with a head less sharp towards the nose. It frequents the prairies and sand plains at the base of the Rocky Mountains, as far north as latitude fifty-eight degrees. It abounds on the plains watered by the Missouri. Timid and slow, the badger, on being pursued, takes to the earth like a mole, and makes his way with great rapidity. It is caught in spring, when the ground is frozen, by filling its hole with water, when the tenant is obliged to come out.
The Ermine Weasel is known in the middle and eastern states, by the name of weasel: farther north, it is called stoat in summer, and ermine in its winter dress. In its habits it resembles the common weasel of Europe. It is courageous, active, and graceful. His long and slender body, bright and piercing eye, sharp claws and teeth, and great strength, indicate that he is dangerous and destructive to the smaller animals, which he can follow into their smallest hiding places, from his peculiar flexibility of body. This animal frequents barns and out-houses, and is the particular enemy of mice, and other depredators upon the granary. To compensate for the service he thus renders the farmer, he helps himself without ceremony to a number of his fowls, and the henroost sometimes exhibits a sad proof of the value he sets upon his labors, in exterminating the mice. In winter, the fur of the weasel is much longer, thicker and finer, than in summer.
Pennant’s Marten is found in various parts of North America, from the state of Pennsylvania, to as far north as the Great Slave Lake, where it was seen by captain Franklin. It is easily domesticated, becomes fond of tea leaves, is very playful, and has a pleasant musky smell. This species is not very scarce, as Pennant says that five hundred and eighty skins were sent in one year from the states of New York and Pennsylvania; and Sabine remarks that the Hudson’s Bay Company sent eighteen hundred skins to England in one year.
The length of this marten is from twenty-four to thirty inches without the tail, which is from thirteen to seventeen inches long. The feet are very broad, and covered with hair, which conceals the sharp, strong, white claws. The fur on the head is short, but gradually increases in length towards the tail, and its color changes, losing much of the yellowish, and assuming a chestnut hue. The tail is full, bushy, black and lustrous, being smallest at the end.
The Maryland Marmot, or Woodchuck, is common in all the temperate parts of America. It does great injury to the farmers, as the quantity of herbage it consumes is really surprising. It burrows in the ground on the sides of hills, and these extend to great distances under ground, and terminate in various chambers. Here the marmot makes himself a comfortable bed of dry leaves, grass, and any soft rubbish, where he sleeps from the close of day, till the next morning is far advanced.
The Maryland marmot eats with great greediness, and in large quantities. It is fond of cabbage, lettuce, and other garden vegetables. When in captivity, it is exceedingly fond of bread and milk.
At the commencement of cold weather, the marmot goes into winter quarters, blocks up the door within, and remains torpid till the warm season. It is about the size of a rabbit, and of a dark brown color.
The Prairie Marmot, commonly called Prairie Dog, builds his dwelling in the barren tracts of the western country, and may often be seen sitting by the small mounds of earth, which indicate his abode, in an attitude of profound attention. Whole acres of land are occupied by these little tenants, and villages are found, containing thousands of inhabitants. Near the Rocky Mountains, these villages are found to reach several miles. The burrow extends under ground, but to what distance has not been determined.
This marmot, like the rest of the species, remains torpid during the winter. It is very much annoyed in its habitation by owls, rattlesnakes, lizards, and land tortoises, who appropriate these comfortable dwellings for their own use, and frequently destroy the young marmots.
The Fox Squirrel is found throughout the southern states, where it frequents the pine forests in considerable numbers, and derives its principal subsistence from the seed of the pine. Its color varies from white to pale gray and black, and is sometimes mottled, with various shades of red. The Cat Squirrel is one of the largest species, and is found in great abundance in the oak and chesnut forests of this country. It is a very heavy animal, and is slow in its movements, seldom leaping from tree to tree, unless it is alarmed or closely pursued. It is found of almost every variety of color. The Black Squirrel is very common, but is often confounded with the black varieties of the squirrels before described. In the winter, this animal is of a pure black; in the summer, it is of a grayish black, intermingled with a dark reddish brown. It is found in the United States, and inhabits the northern shores of Lakes Huron and Superior.
Black Squirrel.
The Common Gray Squirrel is remarkable for its beauty and activity, and is common throughout the United States. It is generally found in hickory and chesnut woods, where it feeds on nuts, and lays up a hoard for the winter. It is very easily domesticated, and in captivity is very playful and mischievous. The Great-tailed Squirrel, so called from the length of its tail, is common on the Missouri. It is of a grayish black color, and is very graceful and active. The Line-tail Squirrel inhabits the Missouri country, where it builds its nest in the holes and crevices of rocks. It is fond of the naked cliffs, where there are but few bushes, and very rarely ascends a tree. It feeds on the buds, leaves, and fruits of plants. It is of an ash color, intermixed with white hairs. Its fur is coarse, and the tail, which is very long, is marked with three black lines on each side. The Four-lined Squirrel is found on the Rocky Mountains. Its nest is composed of a great quantity of the branches of different kinds of trees, and of other vegetable productions. It does not ascend trees by choice.
The Columbian Pine Squirrel was seen by Lewis and Clarke on the banks of the Columbia river, but is supposed by Richardson to be a variety of the Hudson’s Bay Squirrel, its habits being similar.
The Common Red Squirrel is abundant in most parts of North America. It is one of the most lively and nimble of the squirrel race. It digs burrows at the roots of large trees, to which it forms four or five entrances. It does not leave its tree in cold and stormy weather, but when it is sporting in the sunshine, if any one approaches, it conceals itself, and makes a loud noise, similar to a watchman’s rattle. From this circumstance it has received the name of Chickaree. When pursued, it makes long leaps from tree to tree, and seeks for shelter as soon as possible in its burrow. The skin of this animal is of no value. It is of a reddish brown color, shaded with black. The tail is long and beautiful.
The Ground or Striped Squirrel is abundant in all our woods. It is sometimes called Harkee, and, in New England, is usually denominated the Chip Squirrel. It differs very much from other squirrels in its habits. It never makes its nest in the branches of trees, but burrows in the ground near the roots. These burrows extend a considerable distance under ground, and are always provided with two openings. The general color of this animal is of a reddish brown. The Common Flying Squirrel47 is very abundant in the United States, and is much admired for the softness of its fur, and the gentleness of its disposition. The skin of the sides is extended from the fore to the hind limbs, so as to form a sort of sail, which enables it to descend swiftly from a great height, in the easiest and most pleasant manner, often passing over a considerable space. This squirrel is small, of an ash color above, and white beneath, with large, prominent black eyes. It builds its nest in hollow trees. The Rocky Mountain Flying Squirrel lives in thick pine forests, and seldom leaves its retreats except at night.
The Urson, or Canada Porcupine, exhibits none of the long and large quills which are so conspicuous and formidable in the European species, and the short spines or prickles which are thickly set over all the superior parts of its body, are covered by a long coarse hair, which almost entirely conceals them. These spines are not more than two inches and a half in length, yet form a very efficient protection against every other enemy but man. This animal dislikes water, sleeps very much, and chiefly feeds upon the bark of the juniper. His flesh is eaten by the savages and American traders. He is still found in the remote and unsettled parts of Pennsylvania, but south of this state is almost unknown. It was formerly found, but very rarely, in Virginia. The porcupine is much prized by the aborigines, both for its flesh, and quills, which are used as ornaments to their pipes, weapons, and dresses. A large collection of dresses, thus ornamented, is exhibited in the Philadelphia Museum.
The Mink is found throughout the country, from Carolina to Hudson’s Bay, and in its habits and appearance strongly resembles the otter. It lives in the neighborhood of mill-seats, or farm-houses, frequenting holes near the water, or in the ruins of old walls. It feeds upon frogs and fish, and, like the weasel, sometimes pays an unwelcome visit to the poultry-yard. The length of this animal is about twenty inches; its feet are broad, webbed, and covered with hair. Hats are made of its fur.
The Skunk is of a brown color, marked sometimes with two white stripes. The faculty this animal possesses, of annoying its enemies by the discharge of a noisome fluid, causes it to be rather shunned than hunted, which the value of its skin would otherwise be sure to occasion. The smallest drop of this fluid is sufficient to render a garment detestable for a great length of time. Washing, smoking, baking, or burying articles of dress, seems to be equally inefficient for its removal. The skunk is generally found in the forests, having its den either in the stump of an old tree, or in an excavation in the ground. It feeds on the young of birds, and upon small quadrupeds, eggs, and wild fruits. It also does much mischief in the poultry-yard.
The American Otter is about five feet in length, including the tail, the length of which is eighteen inches. The color of the whole of the body, (except the chin and throat, which are dusky white) is a glossy brown. The fur throughout is dense and fine. The differences between this species and the European otter, are thus pointed out by Captain Sabine: ‘The neck of the American otter is elongated, not short, and the head narrow and long in comparison with the short, broad visage of the European species; the ears are consequently much closer together than in the latter animal. The tail is more pointed and shorter, being considerably less than one half of the length of the body, whilst the tail of the European otter is more than half the length of its body.’ The fur of the otter is much valued by the hatters and other consumers of peltries, and this animal must ultimately become as rare in North America as the kindred species has long since become in Europe.
The Ornithology of the United States is exceedingly rich and interesting. For their beauty of plumage, variety and melody of song, diversity of form, habits, disposition and faculties, our birds well merit the industrious observation which has been bestowed upon them. They have been highly fortunate in their historians, for no department of our animal kingdom has been so thoroughly investigated as this; and the indefatigable labor, science and genius of such men as Wilson, Audubon, Bonaparte, and Nuttall, have left us but little to expect from future researches.
The vulture called Turkey Buzzard, is found in large numbers in the southern states, where he is protected by law, on account of his services in the removal of carrion. This bird has never been known to breed in any of the Atlantic states north of New Jersey. In the southern cities, during the winter, they pass the night on the roofs of houses, and are fond of warming themselves in the smoke that issues from the chimneys. This bird is about two and a half feet in length, and six in breadth; the upper plumage is glossed with green and bronze, the fore part of the neck is bare. The Black Vulture is smaller, and flies in flocks; the range of this bird is confined by very narrow limits to the southern states. The Condor is not uncommon in the Rocky Mountains; but his peculiar residence is among the precipitous cliffs of the majestic Andes.
The Common or Wandering Falcon lives along the seacoast of the country, and is said to breed in the cedar swamps of New Jersey. The American Sparrow Hawk is found principally in the warmer parts of the states, and builds its nest in a hollow or decayed tree, on some elevated place. In the winter it becomes familiar, and approaches to the neighborhood of man; at this time it lives on such small game as it can find in the way of mice or lizards. The flight of this bird is irregular. It perches on the top of a dead tree or pole in the middle of a field, and sits there in an almost perpendicular position for an hour together, reconnoitering the ground below in every direction for the favorite articles of its food. The bluejays have a particular antipathy to this bird, who punishes their enmity by occasionally making a meal of one of them.
American Sparrow Hawk.
The American Fish Hawk is a formidable, vigorous-winged, and well-known bird, which subsists altogether on the fishes that swarm in our bays rivers, and creeks. It is doubtless the most numerous of its genus in the United States, and besides lining our seacoast from Georgia to Canada, it penetrates far into the interior.
Fish Hawk.
‘The motions of the fish hawk,’ says Mr. Audubon, ‘in the air are graceful, and as majestic as those of the eagle. It rises with ease to a great height by extensive circlings, performed apparently by mere inclinations of the wings and tail. It dives at times to some distance with the wings partially closed, and resumes its sailing, as if these plunges were made for amusement only. Its wings are extended at right angles to the body, and when thus flying, it is easily distinguishable from all other hawks by the eye of an observer, accustomed to note the flight of birds. Whilst in search of food, it flies with easy flappings at a moderate height above the water, and with an apparent listlessness, although in reality it is keenly observing the objects beneath. No sooner does it spy a fish suited to its taste, than it checks its course with a sudden shake of its wings and tail, which gives it the appearance of being poised in the air for a moment, after which it plunges headlong with great rapidity into the water, to secure its prey, or continue its flight, if disappointed by having observed the fish sink deeper.
‘When it plunges into the water in pursuit of a fish, it sometimes proceeds deep enough to disappear for an instant. The surge caused by its descent is so great as to make the spot around it present the appearance of a mass of foam. On rising with its prey, it is seen holding it in the manner represented in the plate. It mounts a few yards into the air, shakes the water from its plumage, squeezes the fish with its talons, and immediately proceeds towards its nest, to feed its young, or to a tree, to devour the fruit of its industry in peace. When it has satisfied its hunger, it does not, like other hawks, stay perched until hunger again urges it forth, but usually sails about at a great height over the neighboring waters.
‘The fish hawk has a great attachment to the tree to which it carries its prey, and will not abandon it, unless frequently disturbed, or shot at whilst feeding there. It shows the same attachment to the tree on which it has built its first nest, and returns to it year after year.’
The Swallow-tailed Hawk.—This beautiful kite breeds and passes the summer in the warmer parts of the United States, and is also probably resident in all tropical and temperate America, migrating into the southern as well as the northern hemisphere. In the former, according to Viellot, it is found in Peru, and as far as Buenos Ayres; and though it is extremely rare to meet with this species as far as the latitude of forty degrees in the Atlantic states, yet, tempted by the abundance of the fruitful valley of the Mississippi, individuals have been seen along that river as far as the Falls of St. Anthony, in the forty-fourth degree of north latitude. Indeed, according to Fleming, two stragglers have even found their devious way to the strange climate of Great Britain.
Swallow-tailed Hawk.
They appear in the United States about the close of April or beginning of May, and are very numerous in the Mississippi territory, twenty or thirty being sometimes visible at the same time, often collecting locusts and other large insects, which they are said to feed on from their claws while flying; at times also seizing upon the nests of locusts and wasps, and like the honey-buzzard, devouring both the insects and their larvæ. Snakes and lizards are their common food in all parts of America. In the month of October they begin to retire to the south, at which season Mr. Bartram observed them in great numbers assembled in Florida, soaring steadily at great elevations for several days in succession, and slowly passing towards their winter quarters along the Gulf of Mexico.48
Other hawks in the United States are the Sharp-shinned, the Great-footed or Duck, the Pigeon, Cooper’s White-tailed, Red-tailed, Broad-winged, Mississippi Kite, Black, Marsh, Stanley’s, Red-shouldered, Ash-colored, and Slate-colored Hawks.
Washington Eagle.—For the first accurate observation of this bird, we have been indebted to the untiring study and genius of Audubon, who first noticed it in the year 1814. He is three feet and seven inches long; the extent of his wings is ten feet two inches. His plumage is compact and glossy, the upper parts being of a dark, shining coppery brown; the throat, breast and belly of a bright rich cinnamon color. He lives in the neighborhood of the seashore, lakes and rivers, and subsists chiefly on fish. ‘The name which I have chosen for this new species of eagle,’ says its great discoverer, ‘the “Bird of Washington,” may, by some, be considered as preposterous and unfit; but as it is indisputably the noblest bird of its genus that has yet been discovered in the United States, I trust I shall be allowed to honor it with the name of one yet nobler, who was the savior of his country, and whose name will ever be dear to it. To those who may be curious to know my reasons, I can only say, that, as the new world gave me birth and liberty, the great man who insured its independence is next to my heart. He had a nobility of mind and a generosity of soul, such as are seldom possessed. He was brave, so is the eagle; like it, too, he was the terror of his foes; and his fame, extending from pole to pole, resembles the majestic soarings of the mightiest of the feathered tribe. If America has reason to be proud of her Washington, so has she to be proud of her great eagle.’
Washington Eagle.
White-headed or Bald Eagle.—This bird is abundant in all the latitudes of the United States, but shows a predilection for the warmer climates. He lives near the seacoast, where he usually selects some lofty pine or cypress for his eyry, which he builds of large sticks, sods, moss, reeds, pine tops and other coarse materials, arranged in a sort of level bed. This breeding place is never deserted as long us the tree lasts. Fish constitutes the chief article of food of this bird, and he usually obtains it by cunning and rapine, seldom by the exercise of honest industry. His principal occupation is to rob the osprey of the fruits of his labor, and he has sometimes been known to attack the vulture, and oblige him to disgorge his carrion.49
White-headed or Bald Eagle.
Royal or Golden Eagle.—This bird is found in all the cold and temperate regions of the northern hemisphere. It is supposed to live for a century, and is about three years in gaining its complete growth and permanent plumage. The neighborhood of Hudson’s Bay is more frequented by this eagle than any part of the United States, but it is not uncommon in the great plains of the larger western rivers. ‘The lofty mountains of New Hampshire,’ says Mr. Nuttall, ‘afford suitable situations for the eyry of this eagle, over whose snow-clad summits he is seen majestically soaring in solitude and grandeur. A young bird from this region, which I have in a state of domestication, showed considerable docility. He had, however, been brought up from the nest, in which he was found in the month of August; he appeared even playful, turning his head about in a very antic manner, as if desirous to attract attention; still his glance was quick and fiery. When birds were given to him, he plumed them very clean before he began his meal, and picked the subject to a perfect skeleton.’
The Ring-tailed Eagle is now found to be the young of this bird, as has been long supposed. Its tail feathers are highly valued by the aborigines as they serve for ornamenting their calumets.
Ring-tailed Eagle.
Owls.—One of the most common species of this bird in the United States is the Little Screech Owl, which is found throughout the country. It is noted for the melancholy wailing, which is heard in the evenings in autumn and the latter part of summer. On clear moonlight nights, they answer each other from the various parts of the fields or orchards, roost during the day in thick evergreens, and are rarely seen abroad during the sunshine. They construct their nests in the hollow of a tree, frequently in an orchard.
The Great-horned Owl is also an inhabitant of every part of the country. ‘All climates are alike,’ says Mr. Nuttall, ‘to this eagle of the night, the king of the nocturnal tribe of American birds. The aboriginal inhabitants of the country dread his boding howl, dedicating his effigies to their solemnities, and, as if he were their sacred bird of Minerva, forbid the mockery of his ominous, dismal, and almost supernatural cries. His favorite resort, in the dark and impenetrable swampy forests, where he dwells in chosen solitude secure from the approach of every enemy, agrees with the melancholy and sinister traits of his character. To the surrounding feathered race he is the Pluto of the gloomy wilderness, and would scarcely be known out of the dismal shades where he hides, but to his victims, were he as silent as he is solitary. Among the choaking, loud, guttural sounds which he sometimes utters, in the dead of night, and with a suddenness which always alarms, because of his noiseless approach, is the ’waugh ho! ’waugh ho! which, Wilson remarks, was often uttered at the instant of sweeping down round his camp fire. Many kinds of owls are similarly dazzled and attracted by fire-lights, and occasionally finding, no doubt, some offal or flesh, thrown out by those who encamp in the wilderness, they come round the nocturnal blaze with other motives than barely those of curiosity.’
The Burrowing Owl differs essentially from all others in his habits and manners. Instead of hiding his head in the daylight, he fearlessly flies abroad in search of prey, in the broadest glare of the sun; and far from seeking abodes of solitude and silence, he lives in company with animals in the recesses of the earth, where they all enjoy the pleasures of fellowship and good harmony. The mounds of the prairie dog or marmot, which are thrown up in such numbers near the Rocky Mountains, are about eighteen inches in height. The entrance is by a passage two feet in length, which terminates in a comfortable cell composed of dry grass, where the marmot takes up his winter abode. Around these villages, the burrowing owls may be seen moving briskly about, singly or in small flocks. They seem to have very little fear of man; either soaring to a distance when alarmed, or descending into the burrows, where it is very difficult to come at them. In countries where the marmot is not found, this owl is said to dig a hole for himself. Their food appears to consist entirely of insects. Its note is similar to the cry of the marmot, which sounds like cheh, cheh, pronounced in rapid succession.
The burrowing owl is nine inches and a half long. The general color of the plumage is a light burnt umber, spotted with whitish. The under parts are white, banded with brown.50
Other birds of this species found in the limits of the states are the Great Gray or Cinereous Owl, the Long-eared Owl, the Short-eared Owl, the Acadian Owl, and the White or Barn Owl.
The Baltimore Oriole is a gay, lively, and beautiful bird, which passes its summers among us, but retreats for the winter to South America. The most remarkable instinct of this bird is the ingenuity exhibited in building its nest, which is a pendulous cylindric pouch, from five to seven inches in depth, and usually suspended from the extremities of high and drooping branches of a tree. The leaves, as they grow out over the top, form a protection from the sun and rain for the young. Though naturally shy and suspicious, this bird usually selects his building place in the neighborhood of farm-houses, and along frequented roads. He is easily domesticated, becomes playful and attached, and sings in confinement.
The Baltimore Oriole.
The Orchard Oriole is a smaller and plainer species, of similar habits. The Red-winged Blackbird is an inhabitant of all North America, but is migratory in the northern states. This bird commits great depredations on the unripe corn, and on the rice fields. He is known by a variety of names. His flesh is tough, and but little esteemed. The Cow Blackbird is passing from one part of the states to another, and lives in winter in the warmer parts. In the latter part of March, he appears in Pennsylvania, and as the weather becomes milder, he gradually advances into Canada.51 The Rice Bunting is a small bird of beautiful plumage and musical song, and as much of a favorite with the sportsman and gourmand, as of an enemy to the farmer and planter. They are found in immense numbers in the middle states, where they do great damage to the barley, Indian corn, and early wheat.
The Rice Bunting.
Blackbirds.—The Great Crow Blackbird is found only in the southern parts of the union, where it appears early in February. It is gregarious, omnivorous, and its note is said sometimes to resemble a watchman’s rattle. The Common Crow Blackbird appears in every part of the country, at different seasons, and commits great havoc among the fields of maize. It is easily domesticated, and may be taught to articulate a few words. The numbers in which this species are found are almost beyond belief; and the damage they do to the crops is astonishing. Other birds of this genus are the Slender-billed and the Rusty Blackbird.
The Raven is found in greater numbers in the western than in the eastern part of the union; it is a resident, however, in almost every country in the world. He has been too often described to require extended notice. The Crow is also an inhabitant of nearly every region. In most of the settled districts of North America, he is frequently met with, and is as little liked as he is often seen. He is smaller than the raven, and is of a deep black color, with brilliant reflections. Easily domesticated, and quite intelligent, he becomes attached to his master, and learns a variety of amusing tricks, though he is apt to be thievish, and is sometimes noisy and disagreeable. The Fish Crow resembles the rook; it is peculiar to this country, and is met with along the coast of Georgia, and as far north as New Jersey. The Columbian Crow is another variety frequenting the shores of Columbia river.
The Magpie is found in the western parts of America, and is very numerous to the west of the Rocky Mountains. He is a restless, active, and impudent bird, bold, and easily domesticated. Like the crow, he is artful and thievish. His nest is built with great ingenuity and labor, in a place inaccessible to man. The body of it is composed of hawthorn branches, the thorns sticking outwards; it is lined with fibrous roots, wool, and long grass, and then nicely plastered with mud and clay. A canopy of sharp thorns is then built over the nest, so woven together as to deny all entrance except at the door. Here the male and female bring up their young brood in perfect security.
Magpie.
The Blue Jay is peculiar to North America, and is distinguished as a kind of beau among the feathered tenants of our woods, by the brilliancy of his dress, and, like most other coxcombs, makes himself still more conspicuous by his loquacity and the oddness of his tones and gestures. He is an almost universal inhabitant of the woods, frequenting the thickest settlements as well as the deepest recesses of the forest, where his squalling voice often alarms the deer, to the great disappointment of the hunter. He appears to be among his fellow musicians, what the trumpeter is in a band, some of his notes bearing no distant resemblance to the tones of that instrument. These he has the faculty of changing through a great variety of modulations. When disposed for ridicule, there is scarcely a bird to whose peculiarities of song he cannot tune his notes. When engaged in the blandishments of love, they resemble the soft chatterings of a duck, and are scarce heard at some paces distant; but no sooner does he discover your approach, than he sets up a sudden and vehement outcry, flying off and screaming with all his might. His notes a stranger might readily mistake for the repeated creakings of an ungreased wheelbarrow. All these he accompanies with various nods, jerks, and other gesticulations, for which the whole tribe of jays are so remarkable.52 Other jays are the Columbia, Canada, and Florida.
Blue Jay.
The Meadow Lark is a well-known agreeable bird, living in meadows, and is found throughout the states. There are two species of titmouse, the Tufted, and the Black-capt Titmouse. The Cedar Bird is a small and very beautiful creature, with a soft silky plumage, and crest of a bright brownish gray; it feeds on cherries, and whortle-berries, and late in the season on persimmons, small winter grapes, and other fruits.
The Great American Shrike is common in the northern parts of the continent, but sometimes summers in New England and Pennsylvania. He feeds on grasshoppers, spiders, and small birds, and after satisfying hunger, impales his remaining victims on thorns. When his supply of fresh game is abundant, he leaves his stores to dry up and decay. He is fearless, and will attack even the eagle in defence of his young. The Loggerhead Shrike is a species strongly resembling the one described.
Great American Shrike.
The Tyrant Flycatcher, or Kingbird, is the field martin of Maryland and some of the southern states, and the kingbird of Pennsylvania and several of the northern districts. The trivial name king, as well as tyrant, has been bestowed on this bird for its extraordinary behavior in breeding time, and for the authority it assumes over all other birds. His extreme affection for his mate, nest, and young, makes him suspicious of every bird that comes near his residence, so that he attacks every intruder without discrimination; his life at this season is one continued scene of broils and battles; in which, however, he generally comes off conqueror. Hawks and crows, the bald eagle, and the great black eagle, all equally dread a rencontre with this merciless champion, who, as soon as he perceives one of these last approaching, launches into the air to meet him, mounts to a considerable height above him, and darts down on his back, sometimes fixing there to the great annoyance of his sovereign, who, if no convenient retreat be near, endeavors by various evolutions to rid himself of his merciless adversary; but the kingbird is not so easily dismounted. He teazes the eagle incessantly, sweeps upon him and remounts that he may descend on his back with greater violence; all the while keeping up a shrill and rapid twittering. The purple martin, however, is sometimes more than a match for him. The general color of this bird is a dark slaty ash, the throat and lower parts are pure white; the plumage on the head, though not forming a crest, is frequently erected, and discovers a rich bed of orange color, called by the country people his crown; when the feathers lie close, this is concealed.
The other principal Flycatchers are, the Great-crested, Arkansas, Fork-tailed, Swallow-tailed, Says, Pewit, and Olive-sided; the last first described by Mr. Nuttall in his valuable work, from a specimen obtained at Mount Auburn, now the celebrated cemetery in the neighborhood of Boston.
The Mocking Bird is peculiar to the new world, and is found in much larger numbers in the southern than the northern states of the Union. A warm climate and low country seem to be most congenial to its nature. It feeds on berries and insects. ‘The mocking bird,’ says Wilson, whose description has never been surpassed, ‘builds his nest in different places, according to the latitude in which he resides. A solitary thorn bush; an almost impenetrable thicket; an orange tree, cedar, or holly bush, are favorite spots. Always ready to defend, but never over anxious to conceal his nest, he very often builds within a small distance of a house; and not unfrequently in a pear or apple tree, rarely higher than six or seven feet from the ground. The nest is composed of dry twigs, weeds, straw, wool and tow, ingeniously put together, and lined with fine fibrous roots. During the time when the female is sitting, neither cat, dog, man, or any animal can approach the nest without being attacked. But the whole vengeance of the bird is directed against his mortal enemy the black snake. Whenever this reptile is discovered, the male darts upon it with the rapidity of an arrow, dextrously eluding its bite, and striking it violently and incessantly against the head, where it is very vulnerable. The snake soon becomes sensible of his danger, and seeks to escape; but the intrepid bird redoubles his exertions, and as the snake’s strength begins to flag, he seizes and lifts it up from the ground, beating it with his wings, and when the business is completed, he returns to his nest, mounts the summit of the bush, and pours out a torrent of song in token of victory.
Mocking Birds.
‘The plumage of the mocking bird has nothing gaudy or brilliant in it, but that which so strongly recommends him, is his full, strong and musical voice, capable of almost every modulation, from the mellow tones of the woodthrush, to the savage screams of the bald eagle. In his native groves, mounted on the top of a tall bush, in the dawn of a dewy morning, while the woods are already vocal with a multitude of warblers, his admirable song rises pre-eminent over every competitor. The ear can listen to his music alone. Nor is the strain altogether imitative. His own native notes are bold and full, and varied seemingly beyond all limits. They consist of short expressions of two, three, or five and six syllables, generally interspersed with imitations, all of them uttered with great emphasis and rapidity, and continued for an hour at a time with undiminished ardor; his expanded wings and tail glistening with white, and the buoyant gaiety of his action arresting the eye, as his song most irresistibly does the ear. He sweeps round with enthusiastic ecstasy—he mounts and descends as his song swells or dies away—and, as Mr. Bartram has beautifully expressed it, “he bounds aloft with the celerity of an arrow, as if to recover or recall his very soul, expired in the last elevated strain.” While thus exerting himself, a bystander would suppose that the whole feathered tribes had assembled together on a trial for skill—so perfect are his imitations.
‘The mocking bird loses little of the power and energy of his song by confinement. In his domesticated state, when he commences his career of song, it is impossible to stand by uninterested. He whistles for the dog; Cæsar starts up, wags his tail, and runs to meet his master. He squeaks out like a hurt chicken, and the hen hurries about with hanging wings and bristling feathers, clucking to protect her injured brood. The barking of the dog, the mewing of the cat, the creaking of the passing wheelbarrow, follow with great truth and rapidity. He repeats the tune taught him by his master, though of considerable length, fully and faithfully. He runs over the quiverings of the canary, and the clear whistlings of the Virginia nightingale, or red bird, with such superior execution and effect, that the mortified songsters feel their own inferiority, and become silent, while he seems to triumph in their defeat by redoubling his exertions.’
Warblers.—The Summer Yellow Bird, or Warbler, is a brilliant and common species, found in every part of the American continent; he is about five inches in length, with an upper plumage of greenish yellow, and wings and tail deep brown, edged with yellow. He is a lively and familiar bird, and a great ornament to the gardens and orchards. His nest is built with great neatness in the fork of a small shrub. It is composed of flax or tow, strongly twisted round the twigs, and lined with hair and the down of fern. This interesting little bird will feign lameness to draw one from his nest, fluttering feebly along, and looking back to see if he is followed. His notes are few and shrill, hardly deserving the name of a song. There is a very great variety belonging to the family of warblers, of which we can only allude to the Prairie, Hemlock, Pine-swamp, Blue-mountain, Chesnut-sided, Mourning, and Blue-winged Warbler.
Ferruginous Thrush.—This is the Brown Thrush or Thrasher of the middle and eastern states, and the French Mocking-Bird of Maryland, Virginia, and the Carolinas. It is the largest of all our thrushes, and is a well-known and distinguished songster, and from the tops of hedge rows, apple or cherry trees, he salutes the opening morning with his charming song, which is loud, emphatical and full of variety. These notes are not imitative, but solely his own. He is an active and vigorous bird, flying generally low from one thicket to another, with his long broad tail spread out like a fan; he has a single note or chuck when you approach his nest.
Ferruginous Thrush.
There is a very numerous variety of thrushes in the states, of which the best known are the Cat Bird, Robin, Wood, Little or Hermit, Wilson’s, and the Golden-crowned Thrush.
Wren.—The House Wren, throughout the states, is a well-known and familiar bird, who builds his nest sometimes under the eaves, or in a hollow cherry tree; but most commonly in small boxes fixed on a pole, for his accommodation. He will even put up with an old hat, and if this also is denied him, he will find some hole or crevice, about the house or barn, rather than abandon the dwellings of man. A mower once hung up his coat, under a shed near a barn; two or three days elapsed before he had occasion to put it on; thrusting his arm up the sleeve, he found it completely filled with some rubbish as he expressed it, and on extracting the whole mass, found it to be the nest of a wren, completely finished and lined with a large quantity of feathers. In his retreat he was followed by the forlorn little proprietors, who scolded him with great vehemence, for thus ruining the whole economy of their domestic affairs.
The immense number of insects which this sociable little bird removes from the garden and fruit trees ought to endear him to every cultivator; and his notes, loud, sprightly and tremulous, are extremely agreeable. Its food is insects and caterpillars, and while supplying the wants of its young it destroys, on an average, many hundreds a day. It is a bold and insolent bird against those that venture to build within its jurisdiction; attacking them without hesitation, though twice its size, and compelling them to decamp. Even the blue bird, when attacked by this little impertinent, soon relinquishes the contest: with those of his own species, also, he has frequent squabbles. The varieties of the wren are very numerous.
The Blue Bird, is a familiar favorite throughout the continent. It is migratory, and his return is hailed in the northern states as the first presage of spring. ‘Towards autumn,’ says Mr. Nuttall, ‘in the month of October, his cheerful song nearly ceases, and is now changed into a single plaintive note. Even when the leaves have fallen, and the forest no longer affords a shelter from the blast, the faithful blue bird still lingers over his native fields, and only takes his departure in November, when, at a considerable elevation, in the early twilight of the morning, till the opening of the day, they wing their way in small roving troops to some milder regions in the south.’
Tanagers.—The Tanagers are gaudy birds, which annually visit the republic from the torrid regions of the south. The Scarlet Tanager is perhaps the most showy. He spreads himself over the United States, and is found even in Canada. He rarely approaches the habitations of man, unless perhaps in the orchard, where he sometimes builds; or in the cherry trees in search of fruit; the depth of the wood is his favorite abode. Among all the birds that inhabit our woods, there is none that strikes the eye of a stranger, or even a native, with so much brilliancy as this. Seen among the green leaves, with the light falling strongly on his plumage, he is really beautiful. Another species, the summer red bird, delights in a flat sandy country, covered with wood, and interspersed with pine trees; and is, consequently, more numerous towards the shores of the Atlantic than in the interior.
Tanager.
Finches.—The Song Sparrow is the most generally diffused over the United States, and is the most numerous of all our sparrows; and it is far the earliest, sweetest, and most lasting songster. Many of them remain during the whole winter in close-sheltered meadows and swamps. It is the first singing bird in spring. Its song continues through the summer and fall, and is sometimes heard even in the depths of winter. The notes or chant are short but very sweet, and frequently repeated, from a small bush or tree, where it sits chanting for an hour together. It is fond of frequenting the borders of rivers, meadows and swamps; and, if wounded and unable to fly, will readily take to the water, and swim with considerable rapidity. There are other familiar species of sparrows, as the Chipping, Field, and Tree, Yellow-winged, and White-throated sparrows.
The Indigo Bird is numerous in the middle and eastern states, and in the Carolinas and Georgia. Its favorite haunts are about gardens, fields of clover, borders of woods, and road sides, where it is frequently seen perched on fences. In its manners it is extremely neat and active, and a vigorous and pretty good songster. It mounts to the tops of the highest trees, and chants for half an hour at a time. Its song is not one continued strain, but a repetition of short notes, commencing loud and rapid, and falling by slow gradations till they seem hardly articulate, as if the little minstrel were quite exhausted; but after a pause of half a minute, it commences again as before. Notwithstanding the beauty of his plumage, and the vivacity of his song, the indigo bird is seldom seen domesticated. Its nest is built in a low bush among rank grass, grain, or clover, suspended by two twigs, one passing up each side, and is composed of flax, and lined with grass. This bird is five inches long, the whole body of a rich sky-blue, deepening in color toward the head, and sometimes varying to green.
The Yellow Bird, or Goldfinch, bears a great resemblance to the canary, and in song is like the goldfinch of Britain, but it is in general weak. In the spring, they associate in flocks, to bask and dress themselves in the morning sun, singing in concert for half an hour together; the confused mingling of their notes forming a kind of harmony not at all unpleasant. Their flight is not direct, but in alternate risings and sinkings, twittering as they fly at each successive impulse of the wings. They search the gardens in numbers, in quest of seeds, and pass by various names, such as lettuce-bird, sallad-bird, thistle-bird, yellow-bird. They are very easily tamed.
The goldfinch is four inches and a half in length: the male is of a rich lemon color. The wings and tail are black, edged with white. In the fall, this color changes to a brown olive, which is the constant color of the female. They build a nest in the twigs of an apple tree, neatly formed of lichen and soft downy substances.
The Cardinal Grosbeak is one of our most common cage birds, and is very generally known both in this country and in Europe. Numbers of them have been carried to England and France, in which last country they are called Virginia nightingales. They have great clearness and variety of tones; many of which resemble the clear notes of the fife, and are nearly as loud. They begin in the spring at daybreak, and repeat a favorite passage twenty or thirty times. The sprightly figure and gaudy plumage of this bird, with his vivacity and strength of voice, must always make him a favorite.
The Crossbill is an inhabitant of almost all the pine forests situated north of forty degrees, from the beginning of September to the middle of April. The great pine swamp in Pennsylvania appears to be their favorite rendezvous. They then appear in large flocks, feeding on the seeds of the hemlock and white pine; have a loud, sharp, and not unmusical note; chatter as they fly; alight during the prevalence of the deep snows before the door of the hunter, and around the house, picking off the clay with which the logs are plastered, and searching in corners where any substance of a saline nature had been thrown. At such times, they are so tame as only to settle on the roof of the cabin when disturbed, and a moment after, descend to feed as before. They are then easily caught in traps. When kept in a cage, they have many of the habits of the parrot, often climbing along the wires, and using their feet to grasp the cones in, while taking out the seeds.
Carolina Parrot.—This is the only species of parrot found native within the territory of the United States. The vast luxuriant tracts lying within the torrid zone seem to be the favorite residence of those noisy, numerous and richly plumaged tribes. The Carolina parrot inhabits the interior of Louisiana and the shores of the Mississippi and Ohio, east of the Alleghanies. It is seldom seen north of Maryland. Their private places of resort are low, rich, alluvial bottoms along the borders of creeks; deep and almost impenetrable swamps filled with sycamore and cypress trees, and the salines or licks interspersed over the western country. Here too is a great abundance of their favorite fruits. The seeds of the cypress tree and beech nuts are eagerly sought after by these birds.
Carolina Parrot.
The flight of the Carolina parrot is very much like that of the wild pigeon, in close compact bodies, moving with great rapidity, making a loud and outrageous screaming, like that of the red-headed woodpecker. Their flight is sometimes in a direct line, but most usually circuitous, making a great variety of elegant and easy serpentine meanders, as if for pleasure. They generally roost in the hollow trunks of old sycamores, in parties of thirty or forty together. Here they cling fast to the sides of the tree, holding by their claws and bills. They appear to be fond of sleep, and often retire to their holes during the day, probably to take their regular siesta. They are extremely social and friendly towards each other.
The Yellow-billed Cuckoo is not abundant any where; but it is found far north, though preferring a residence in the southern states. It feeds on berries and insects of various kinds. ‘In autumn,’ says Mr. Audubon, ‘they eat many grapes, and I have seen them supporting themselves by a momentary motion of their wings opposite a bunch, as if selecting the ripest, when they would seize it and return to a branch, repeating their visits in this manner, until satiated. They now and then descend to the ground, to pick up a wood-snail or a beetle. They are extremely awkward at walking, and move in an ambling manner, or leap along sidewise, for which the shortness of their legs is an ample excuse. They are seldom seen perched conspicuously on a twig, but on the contrary are generally to be found amongst the thickest boughs and foliage, where they emit their notes until late in autumn, at which time they discontinue them.’ It is shy and cowardly, robbing small birds of their eggs.
Woodpeckers.—The Red-headed Woodpecker is universally known from his striking and characteristic plumage, and the frequency of his depredations in the orchards and corn-fields. Towards the mountains, particularly in the vicinity of creeks and rivers, these birds are extremely abundant, especially in the latter part of the summer. Wherever you travel in the interior at that season, you hear them screaming from the adjoining woods, rattling on the dead limbs of trees, or on the fences, where they are perpetually seen flitting from stake to stake on the roadside before you. Wherever there are trees of the wild cherry, covered with ripe fruit, there you see them busy among the branches; and in passing orchards, you may easily know where to find the sweetest apples, by observing those trees on or near which this bird is skulking; for he is so excellent a connoisseur in fruit, that wherever an apple or pear is found broached by him, it is sure to be among the ripest and best flavored. When alarmed, he seizes a capital one by sticking his open bill deep into it, and bears it off to the woods. When the Indian corn is in its ripe, succulent, and milky state, he attacks it with great eagerness, opening a passage through the numerous folds of the husk, and feeding on it with voracity. The girdled or leadened timber, so common among the corn-fields in the back settlements, are his favorite retreats, whence he sallies out to make his depredations. He is fond of the ripe berries of the sour gum, and pays regular visits to the cherry trees, when loaded with fruit. Towards fall, he often approaches the barn or farm house, and raps on the shingles and weather-boards. He is of a gay and frolicsome disposition; and half a dozen of the fraternity are frequently seen diving and vociferating round the high dead limbs of some tree, pursuing and playing with each other, amusing the passenger with their gambols. Their note or cry is shrill and lively, and so much resembles that of a species of tree-frog, which frequents the same tree, that it is sometimes difficult to distinguish the one from the other.
Red-headed Woodpecker.
The Ivory-billed Woodpecker breeds in the Carolinas, and in strength and magnitude stands at the head of the tribe. He lives in the cypress swamps, seeking the tops of the most towering trees; his bill is like polished ivory, and his crest a superb carmine. His eye is brilliant and daring, and his manners are said to be dignified and noble. Among the other American birds of this tribe are the Pileated, Yellow-bellied, Golden-winged, and Red-bellied Woodpeckers.
Nuthatch.—The White-breasted Nuthatch is found almost every where in the woods of North America; his whole upper plumage is light-blue or lead, the under parts are white, and the crown of the head, black. Ants, seeds, insects, and larvæ, form his principal subsistence. There are two other species of this bird found in the United States.
The Ruby-throated Humming Bird is the only species of the genus found in the limits of the states, though there are upwards of one hundred in America. Its approach to the north is regulated by the advance of the season. He is extremely fond of tubular flowers, particularly of the blossoms of the trumpet flower. When arrived before a thicket of these, that are full blown, he suspends himself on wing for the space of two or three seconds, so steadily that his wings become almost invisible; the glossy golden green of his back, and the fire of his throat, dazzling in the sun, form altogether an interesting spectacle. When he alights, he prefers the small dead twigs of a bush, where he dresses and arranges his plumage with great dexterity. His flight from flower to flower greatly resembles that of a bee, but is infinitely more rapid. He poises himself on wing, while he thrusts his long slender tongue into the flowers in search of food. He sometimes enters a room by the window, examines the bouquets of flowers, and passes out by the opposite door or window. He feeds on the honey extracted from flowers, and on insects.
‘The old and young,’ says Mr. Nuttall, ‘are soon reconciled to confinement. In an hour after the loss of liberty, the little cheerful captive will often come and suck diluted honey, or sugar and water, from the flowers held out to it; and in a few hours more, it becomes tame enough to sip its favorite beverage from a saucer, in the interval flying backwards and forwards in the room for mere exercise, and then resting on some neighboring elevated object. In dark or rainy weather, they seem to pass the time chiefly dozing or on the perch. They are also soon so familiar as to come to the hand that feeds them. In cold nights, or at the approach of frost, the pulsation of this little dweller in the sunbeam becomes nearly as low as in the torpid state of the dormouse; but on applying warmth, the almost stagnant circulation revives, and slowly increases to the usual state.’
Belted Kingfisher.—This is the only species of its tribe found within the United States, where it frequents the banks of all the fresh water rivers from Maine to Florida. His voice is loud, rattling, and sudden. His flight is rapid, and is sometimes prolonged to very considerable distances. He follows up the course of the rivers to their very fountains, and his presence is a sign of abundant fish. Mill-ponds, where the water is calm, are favorite resorts of this bird, and its eggs are generally found in places not far from a mill worked by water. The kingfisher, for many successive years, returns to the same hole to breed and roost. Its flesh is oily and disagreeable.
Belted Kingfisher.
Swallows.—The beautiful Purple Martin is a great favorite of man in all parts of the country. The farmer prepares a little house for him, the Indian hollows a calabash, and as either mansion is to him indifferent, so is he equally acceptable to the husbandman and the hunter. Year after year he returns to the same mansion. In the middle states, the martins prepare their nest about the third week in April, and they rear two broods in the season. There are several other species, such as the Barn, Cliff, White-bellied, and Chimney.
Night-Hawks.—The Whip-poor-will is a remarkable nocturnal bird migratory through nearly the extent of the states. It is well known for its sad and peculiar song. The Chuck-will’s Widow is seldom found north of Virginia, and is particularly numerous in the vast forests of the Mississippi. Its note is strikingly different from that of the whip-poor-will. In sound and articulation it seems plainly to express the words which have been applied to it, pronouncing every syllable leisurely, and distinctly, putting the principal emphasis on the last word. In a still evening it may be heard at the distance of nearly a mile; the tones of its voice being strong and full.
The flight of this bird is slow, skimming about the surface of the ground, frequently settling on old logs or on the fences, and from thence sweeping around in pursuit of various insects that fly in the night. Like the whip-poor-will, it prefers the declivities of glens, and other deeply shaded places, making the mountains resound with echoes the whole evening.
Pigeons.—The Passenger Pigeon is the most remarkable American species. The head, throat, and upper parts of the body are ash colored; the sides of the neck are of a glossy variable purple; and there is a crimson mark round the eyes. These birds visit the different parts of North America in immense flocks. The most important facts connected with their habits relate to their extraordinary associations and migrations. No other species known to naturalists is more calculated to attract the attention of either the citizen or the stranger, as he has opportunity of viewing both of these characteristic habits while they are passing from north to south, east and west, and, vice versa, over and across the whole extent of the United States of America. These migrations are owing entirely to the dire necessity of providing food, and not merely to escape the severity of a northern latitude, or seek a southern one for the purpose of breeding. They consequently do not take place at any fixed period or season of the year. Indeed, it happens sometimes that a continuance of a sufficient supply of food in one district will keep these birds absent from another for years.
Passenger Pigeon.
Their rapidity of flight is wonderful. Pigeons have been killed in the neighborhood of New York, with their crops full of the rice they must have collected in the plantations of the Carolinas, or Georgia, and the flight necessary to account for this circumstance has been estimated at a mile a minute. Another well-known bird of this tribe is the Carolina Pigeon.
Wild Turkey.—This splendid bird is found from the North-West territory to the isthmus of Panama. They abound in the forests and unsettled parts of the Union, but are very rare in the northern and eastern parts. They were formerly abundant in Canada; but as their places of resort become settled and thickly peopled, they retire and seek refuge in the remotest recesses of the interior. In New England, it appears to have been destroyed many years ago; but it is still found in the eastern parts of Pennsylvania and New Jersey.
Wild Turkey.
These birds do not confine themselves to any particular food, but eat corn, berries, grapes, barley, tadpoles, young frogs and lizards. Their favorite food, however, is the pecan nut and acorn. Where there is an abundant crop of acorns, numerous flocks of turkeys may be expected. In the fall, they direct their courses in vast numbers to the rich lands on the borders of the Ohio and Mississippi. Before crossing a river, they assemble on the highest eminences, and remain there as if in consultation for a day or two. At length, after due preparation, the leader gives a signal note, and they all wing their way to the opposite shore. Some of the young and weak fall into the water, and many perish. It is observed that after these journeys, the turkeys are so familiar, that they fearlessly enter the plantations, in search of food. Great numbers are killed at this time, and kept in a frozen state to be sent to distant markets.
Wild Turkeys.
The flesh of the wild turkey is of excellent flavor, being more delicate and juicy than that of the domestic turkey; the Indians value it so highly, that they term it, when roasted, ‘the white man’s dish.’ The male of the wild turkey is nearly four feet in length; the female is only three feet and a quarter long. The plumage of the male is very brilliant, and of a variety of hues; that of the female is not so beautiful.53
The Quail.—The American quail is found throughout the union; and though in form and general appearance it somewhat resembles the European quail, the two birds differ very widely in their habits. The food of the quail consists of grain, seed and insects, but buckwheat and Indian corn are its favorites. The flight of this bird is accompanied with a loud whizzing sound, occasioned by the shortness of their wings and the rapidity with which they move. During winter, they often suffer severely from the inclemency of the weather, and whole coveys are found frozen in spots where they had endeavored to shelter themselves.
Quail.
Grouse.—The Ruffed Grouse is the partridge of the eastern states, and the pheasant of Pennsylvania and the southern districts. It is known in almost every quarter of the United States, and appears to inhabit a very extensive range of country. Its favorite places of resort are high mountains covered with the balsam, pine, hemlock, and such like evergreens. Unlike the pinnated grouse, it always prefers the woods; is seldom or never found in open plains, but loves the pine-sheltered declivities of mountains near streams of water. In the lower parts of Georgia, Carolina, and Florida, they are very seldom observed; but as we advance inland to the mountains, they again make their appearance. The Sharp-tailed Grouse, the Dusky Grouse, and the Cock of the Plains, are other species of this tribe.
The Woodcock, in its general figure and habits, greatly resembles the woodcock of Europe, but is considerably less, and very differently marked. This bird is universally known to our sportsmen. During the day they keep to the woods and thickets, and at the approach of evening seek the springs and open watery places to feed in. In hot weather, they descend to the marshy shores of our rivers, their favorite springs and watery recesses inland being dried up. To the former of these retreats they are pursued by sportsmen, flushed by dogs, and shot down in great numbers. The woodcock is properly a nocturnal bird, feeding chiefly at night, and seldom stirring about till after sunset; at such times he rises by a kind of spiral course to a considerable height in the air, uttering at times a sudden quack, till having gained his utmost height, he hovers round in a wild irregular manner, making a sort of murmuring sound, then descends with rapidity as he rose.
Ducks.—The Canvass-back Duck is peculiar to this country, and a witty gourmand of England, who made the tour of the states, thinks it the only production of nature or art of which America can with reason be proud. It was known to the epicure, long before it was described by the naturalist. Arriving in the United States from the north, about the middle of October, its chief place of resort is about the waters which flow into Chesapeak bay. On its first arrival it is lean, but from the abundance of its favorite food, it soon becomes fat. This bird is sometimes found in numbers so great as to cover acres.54
Canvass-Back Duck.
Among the American birds of this tribe are the Eider Duck, Black or Surf Duck, Ruddy Duck, Golden-eye, Buffel-headed Duck, Tufted Duck, Teal and some others. The Wood or Summer Duck, is the most beautiful bird of its kind in the world. Its head is adorned with a beautiful crest, and its plumage is most beautifully variegated. Its favorite places of resort are the border of ponds and lakes; but it passes the summer in the woods. It nestles in hollow trees, and when taken may be easily tamed.
Summer Duck.
Wild Goose.—The common wild goose is well known over the whole of the United States, and its periodical migrations are sure signs of returning spring or approaching winter. Its flight is heavy and laborious. When in good order this bird weighs from ten to fourteen pounds, and yields about half a pound of feathers. Mr. Wilson relates the following interesting anecdote.
Wild Geese.
‘Mr. Platt, a respectable farmer on Long Island, being out shooting in one of the bays which in that part of the country abound in water-fowl, wounded a wild goose. Being unable to fly, he caught it, and brought it home alive. It proved to be a female, and turning it into the yard with a flock of tame geese, it soon became quite familiar, and in a little time its wounded wing entirely healed. In the following spring, when the wild geese migrate to the northward, a flock passed over Mr. Platt’s barn yard, and just at that moment, their leader, happening to sound his bugle note, our goose, in whom its new habits had not quite extinguished the love of liberty, and remembering the well-known sound, spread its wings, mounted into the air, joined the travellers, and soon disappeared. In the succeeding autumn, the wild geese, as usual, returned from the northward, in great numbers, to pass the winter in our bays and rivers. Mr. Platt happened to be standing in his yard, when a flock passed directly over his barn. At that instant, he observed three geese detach themselves from the rest, and after wheeling round several times, alight in the middle of the yard. Imagine his surprise and pleasure, when, by certain well-remembered signs, he recognised in one of the three his long-lost fugitive. It was she indeed! She had travelled many hundred miles to the lakes; had there hatched and reared her offspring; and had now returned with her little family, to share with them the sweets of civilized life.’
Wild Swan.—This bird is found widely spread over the whole of the northern continent. During the winter, great numbers of them resort to the Chesapeak bay, and whilst there, form collections of from one to five hundred on the flats near the western shore. These birds are so exceedingly vigilant, that if but three of them are feeding together, one will generally be on guard, and when danger approaches, the alarm is given. While feeding and dressing, they make much noise, and through the night their vociferations can be heard for several miles. Their notes are extremely varied; some resembling the deepest base of the common tin horn, others running through the various modulations of the clarionet. The swan is five or six years in reaching its perfect growth. The aborigines employ the skin of this bird in making dresses for their women of rank, and the feathers as ornaments for the head.55
Wild Swan.
Rail.—This bird belongs to a genus of which naturalists enumerate about thirty species, distributed over almost every region of the earth. Their general character is every where the same. They run swiftly, fly slowly, and usually with the legs hanging down, are fond of concealment, and become at seasons extremely fat. The common American rail is migratory. It is feeble and delicate in every thing but the legs, which are strong and vigorous; their bodies are so remarkably thin that they are enabled to pass between the reeds like rats. They disappear on the first severe frost, from their usual residence along the reedy shores of the Delaware, and so sudden is their departure that no one knows how or when it is made.
American Rail.
Plovers.—The Black-bellied Plover is known in some parts of this country by the name of the large whistling field plover; the gunners along the coast call them the black-bellied plover. In Pennsylvania, this bird frequents the countries towards the mountains; seems particularly attached to newly ploughed fields, where it forms its nest, of a few slight materials, as slightly put together. It is an extremely shy and watchful bird, though clamorous during breeding time.
The Kildeer Plover is known to almost every inhabitant of the United States, being a common and pretty constant resident. During the severity of winter, when snow covers the ground, it retreats to the seashore, where it is found at all seasons; but no sooner have the rivers broken up than its shrill note is again heard, either soaring about high in the air, tracing the shore of the river, or running amidst the watery flats and meadows.
Flamingo.—This bird is common on the south frontiers of the states, and the peninsula of East Florida. When the Europeans first came to America, they found this bird on several shores on either continent gentle, and no way distrustful of mankind. When the fowler had killed one, the rest of the flock, far from attempting to fly, only regarded the fall of their companion in a kind of fixed astonishment: another and another shot was discharged; and thus the fowler often levelled the whole flock, before one of them began to think of escaping.
But at present it is very different in that part of the world; and the flamingo is not only one of the scarcest, but one of the shyest birds in the world, and the most difficult of approach. They chiefly keep near the most deserted and inhospitable shores; near salt water lakes and swampy islands. When seen by mariners in the day, they always appear drawn up in a long close line, of two or three hundred together; and present, at the distance of half a mile, the exact representation of a long brick wall. This line, however, is broken when they seek for food; but they always appoint one of the number as a watch, whose only employment is to observe and give notice of danger while the rest are feeding. As soon as this trusty sentinel perceives the remotest appearance of danger, he gives a loud scream, with a voice as shrill as a trumpet, and instantly the whole cohort are upon the wing.
Their time of breeding is according to the climate in which they reside: in North America, they breed in summer; on the other side of the line, they take the most favorable season of the year. They build their nests in extensive marshes, and where they are in no danger of a surprise.
Herons.—The Great Egret Heron is often seen in summer in our low marshes and inundated meadows; yet on account of its extreme vigilance, it is very difficult to be procured. It is found in Guiana, and probably beyond the line, to New York. It enters the territories of the United States late in February. The high inland parts of the country it rarely or never visits. Its favorite haunts are vast inundated swamps, rice fields, the low marshy shores of rivers, and such like places; where from its size and color it is very conspicuous even at a distance. The plumage of this elegant bird is of a snowy whiteness; the bill of a rich orange yellow; and the legs black.
The Great Heron is a constant inhabitant of the Atlantic coast from New York to Florida. They breed in the Carolinas and New Jersey, in the gloomy solitudes of the cedar swamps. Their nests are constructed of sticks and placed on the tallest trees.
The Louisiana Heron is a rare and delicately formed species, occasionally found on the swampy river shores of South Carolina, but more frequently along the borders of the Mississippi, particularly below New Orleans. In each of these places it is migratory, and in the latter builds its nests on trees amidst the inundated woods. Among the species of this tribe, are the Green Heron, Blue Heron, Night Heron, Yellow-crowned Heron, the Bittern, and several others.
Night Heron.
The Whooping Crane is the tallest and most stately species of all the feathered tribes of the United States; the watchful inhabitant of extensive salt marshes, desolate swamps, and open morasses, in the neighborhood of the sea. Its migrations are regular, and of the most extensive kind, reaching from the inundated shores and tracts of South America to the arctic circle. In these periodical journeys, they pass at such a prodigious height in the air as to be rarely observed. They wander along the marshes and muddy flats of the seashore, in search of marine worms; sailing occasionally from place to place with a loud and heavy flight. At times they utter a loud and piercing cry, which may be heard at a great distance. They have various modulations of this singular note, from the peculiarity of which they derive their name.
The Sand-hill Crane is a fine stately bird, taller than a swan, and in the water, said to be quite as majestic. They abound in countless numbers on the Missouri and Mississippi rivers, appearing at a distance like great droves of sheep. They migrate in company with the pelicans.
Pelican.—To those who have visited the estuaries of the Florida coast, the demure and awkward attitude of this bird is perfectly familiar. In that portion of our country, this species occurs in large flocks, and they are often to be seen along the shores of the Mississippi and Missouri, imparting a peculiar character to the otherwise solitary scene; their solemn and quiet demeanor being in strict unison with the stillness of the uninhabited plains which surround them. They build in societies, and are seldom found except in flocks. When they are disturbed, they rise in much confusion, but soon form in regular order, usually flying in long lines, though sometimes in a triangle, like geese, with their long bills resting on their breasts.
The Wood Ibis is found in the southern parts of the United States, in watery savannas and inland swamps, where it feeds on fish and reptiles. The neck, body, and lower parts of this bird are white; the bill is nearly nine inches long. The White Ibis is numerous in the same latitudes. The Scarlet Ibis frequents the borders of the sea, and the shores of the neighboring rivers, feeding on small fry, shell-fish, sea-worms, and crabs. The Purple Gallinule is sometimes met with in Georgia, but is a native of the southern continent.
The Roseate Spoonbill is an inhabitant of our southern seashore, and is sometimes found in the Mississippi in the summer. It wades about in search of shell-fish, marine insects, small crabs and fish, in pursuit of which it occasionally swims and dives. The Black-bellied Darter, or Snake Bird, is common in the Carolinas. Its head, neck, and breast are light brown; the belly and tail deep black. It sits on the shrubs that overhang the water, and often terrifies the passengers by darting out its long and slender neck, which bears strong resemblance to that of a serpent.
The natural history of American fishes is yet to be written, as very little progress has yet been made in the scientific observation of this interesting order of animals. The fishes which fill the bays and coasts of the United States are generally of the same species with those on the coasts of the opposite continent. Along the shores of New England they are particularly abundant, though there is no other bank that equals that of Newfoundland in extreme richness. Shad and salmon are fine fish abounding in the Atlantic rivers, and beautiful trout are taken in the mountain streams of the northern states. Among the fish of the western waters, probably in a great measure common to them and other rivers, are noticed several varieties of perch, one of which, the buffalo perch, derives its name from the singular grunting noise which it makes, and which is familiar to every one who has been much on the Ohio. It is a fine table fish, weighing from ten to thirty pounds. There are, also, varieties of the bass, the hog-fish, and the sun-fish, and sixteen species of minny found in these waters, besides trout, false herring, and shad. Of all the inhabitants of the western rivers, the brown buffalo-fish is, perhaps, as much esteemed as any; it is quite abundant, and is found from two to three feet in length. In the lower waters of the Ohio and Mississippi, we meet with the black buffalo-fish, sometimes weighing half a hundred. A larger buffalo, resembling the shad of the Atlantic states, is taken in immense numbers in the lakes and meadows of the Mississippi.
The trout of Florida and Louisiana is not identical with the beautiful fish of that name that is a tenant of the cold and swift streams of the northern Atlantic country; it is of the perch class, and takes the bait with a spring like the trout, and is beautifully marked with golden stripes. It is a sound, hard fish, with a pleasant flavor, and weighs from one to four pounds. ‘We have never witnessed angling,’ says Mr. Flint, ‘that could compare with that of this fish, in the clear pine-wood streams of the southern divisions of this country. With fresh bait a barrel may be taken in a few hours.’ Twelve species of cat-fish have been observed in the Ohio, and it is indeed the most common fish in the western waters. They are of all colors and sizes, without scales, and easily taken with a hook. Their English name is derived from the noise which they make when at rest, which is very similar to the purring of a cat. In the Mississippi, this fish is found of the weight of an hundred pounds.
The Ohio ‘toter’ is two or three inches in length; its name is derived from the barbarism ‘tote,’ meaning to ‘carry,’ because this fish makes itself a cell by surrounding a place with pebbles. Pike, pickerel, and jack-fish, weighing from six ounces to twenty pounds, are found in the western rivers. Of the gar-fish there are also numerous varieties. The alligator-gar is sometimes eight feet long, and is voracious, fierce and formidable, even to the human species. Its dart in rapidity equals the flight of a bird. Its mouth is long, round, and pointed, thickset with sharp teeth; its body is covered with scales so hard as to be impenetrable by a rifle-bullet, and, when dry, answer the purposes of a flint in striking fire from steel. Its weight is from fifty to two hundred pounds, and its appearance is hideous. It is, in fact, the shark of rivers, and is considered far more formidable than the alligator himself. The devil-jack-diamond fish is another monster of the rivers. One has been caught that weighed four hundred pounds; its usual length is from four to ten feet.
Eels vary in length from two to four feet. The best species for the table is the yellow eel. Of sturgeon there are six species in these rivers, some of them four feet in length; some of them are said to form a palatable food. The Mississippi saw-fish varies in length from three feet to six; it has twenty-six long teeth on either side, in the form of a saw. There is also a spotted horn-fish from two to three feet long, the horn being one quarter the length of the body. The beautifully striped bar-fish go in shoals in the southern streams; they weigh from one to three pounds, and are taken with a hook. The shovel-fish is found in the muddy lakes of the middle region of the valley; it weighs from ten to fifty pounds, is without scales, and has in front of the mouth a bony substance between six and twelve inches long, and two or three inches wide, with which it turns up the mud in search of its food. It is exceedingly fat, and is taken for its oil.
‘We have never remarked this fish in any museum,’ says Mr. Flint, ‘although to us the most strange and whimsical-looking fish we have seen. We have seen one instance of a horribly deformed animal, apparently intermediate between the class testudo and fishes. We saw it in a water of the Washita, and had not a fair opportunity to examine it. It is called toad-fish, has a shell like a tortoise, but in every thing else resembles a fish. It is said to be sufficiently strong to bear a man on its back; and, from the account of those who have examined it, this animal must be a lusus naturæ.’
The rock fish,56 drum and sheep’s-head are large fish, taken in saline lakes in the neighborhood of the gulf of Mexico. In size they correspond to the cod and haddock of the Atlantic, and are among the most common fish in the market of New Orleans. The fish of the gulf shore partake of the character both of salt and fresh water fish; this arises from their being taken in shallow lakes principally composed of fresh water, but having outlets in the gulf, through which in strong south winds the sea-water is forced in such quantities that they become salt. There are a vast number of craw-fish every where in the marshy grounds and shallow waters. By penetrating the bank of the Mississippi, they have more than once made perforations which have imperceptibly enlarged to crevices, by which the inundation of the river has been let in upon the country.
The fish of the western rivers are generally less esteemed than those of the Atlantic waters; and in truth, fresh-water fish generally will not vie with those of the sea. The fishes of the Mississippi and its tributary rivers are for the most part coarse, tough, large and unpleasant in their flavor. ‘Except the trout, the small yellow cat-fish, the pike, the bar-fish and the perch,’ says Mr. Flint, ‘we do not much admire the fish of the western waters.’
Dr. Mitchell gives the following account of a gigantic fish of the ray kind, which he calls the oceanic vampire. It had been taken near the entrance of the Delaware Bay, by the crew of a smack which had been fitted out for the express purpose of capturing some sea-monster. After an absence of about three weeks, the adventurers returned with the animal to which we refer. It was killed after a long and dangerous encounter. The weight was so considerable, that after it had been towed to the shore, three pair of oxen aided by a horse and twenty-two men could not drag it to the dry land; the weight was supposed to be between four and five tons. Its length was seventeen feet and three inches, from the tip of the head to the tip of the tail. The breadth from the extremity of one pectoral fin or wing to the other, measuring along the line of the belly, was sixteen feet; when measured over the convexity of the back, eighteen feet.
On each side of the mouth there was a vertical fin two feet and six inches long, twelve inches deep, and two inches and a half thick in the middle, whence it tapered towards the edges, which were fringed before with a radiated margin. The fin or organ thus constituted was so flexible as to bend in all directions, and be made in many respects to perform the function of a hand. The wings, flaps, or pectoral fins, were of very curious organization; they bore more resemblance to the wings of a bird than to any thing else, and were yet so different as to manifest a remarkable variety of mechanism, in organs intended substantially for the same use. Fish of the kind now under consideration may be aptly denominated submarine birds; for they fly through the water, as birds fly through the air.
Reptiles, or animals of the serpent, turtle, and lizard class, are found in various parts of the United States; and in some in pernicious abundance. All varieties of the rattlesnake57 are seen; of these, the largest is the yellow rattlesnake. This is sometimes seen from six to nine feet in length, and as large as a man’s leg. A species of small rattlesnake is numerous on the prairies; in the far west, they are said to live in the same burrows with the prairie dogs. The snapper, or ground rattlesnake, is very troublesome; it travels by night, and frequents house paths and roads. The copper head is a snake supposed to be more venomous even than the preceding, but is less frequently found. It is of a dirty brown color; but when it has recently shed its skin, some parts of its body resemble burnished copper.
There are three or four varieties of the moccasin snake inhabiting the southern country. The upland moccasin somewhat resembles the rattlesnake, but is still more disgusting in its appearance. The largest variety of the moccasin snake is similar to the water snake of the Atlantic country. It is a serpent of the largest size, exceedingly venomous, with a very large flat head, lazy, and unobservant of man. There is another species of the moccasin seldom seen on shore, of a brilliant copper color, striped with gray rings. The brown viper, or hissing snake, is from six to eight inches long, terminating in a sharp tail; when angry, the color of its back changes, its head flattens and dilates to twice its usual extent, and its hiss resembles that of a goose. It is extremely venomous, and of a very repulsive aspect. One that was confined by a stick across its back, instantly bit itself in two or three places; and when released, it soon become swollen and died.
Mr. Flint expresses his conviction that the Mississippi valley presents a greater number of serpents, and is more infested by them than the Atlantic shore, excepting perhaps its southern border. Wherever the population becomes dense, the swine prey upon them, and they quickly disappear. Their most permanent and dangerous resorts are near the bases of precipitous and rocky hills, about ledges and flint knobs, and in the southern countries along vast swamps and stagnant waters. The bite of these serpents is venomous, and the person that is bitten often becomes blind. During the latter part of the summer, the serpents themselves become blind; the popular belief on this subject is, that this blindness arises from the absorption of their own poison into the system. During this period, though their aim is less certain, their bite is most dangerous. Death seldom occurs, however, from this cause.
The country has the usual varieties of harmless serpents, such as the green garter, chicken, and coach-whip snakes. The glass snake is often seen with a body of the utmost brilliancy. A stroke across the back separates the body into several pieces, each of which continues for some time to exercise the powers of locomotion. The bull or prairie snakes are of hideous appearance and of large size; they inhabit holes in the ground, and run at the traveller with a loud hiss, but instantly retreat if he stands and faces them. They are believed to be perfectly harmless, but their aspect is such as to excite great horror.
Ugly animals of the lizard kind are seen in all the climates in a greater or less number; they are found under rotten logs, and are dug out of alluvions, the last description being lazy and disgusting. They appear to be harmless. Common small lizards are frequent in the southern districts, and also varieties of small chameleons. These will change in half an hour to all the colors of the rainbow. ‘We have placed them on a handkerchief,’ says Mr. Flint, ‘and they have gradually assumed all its colors. Placed on a black surface, they become brown; but they evidently suffer while under this color, as is manifested by uneasy movements, and by strong and quick palpitation, visible to the eye. They are very active and nimble animals, three or four inches in length.’ Some lizards of a larger class and with flatter heads, are called scorpions; they are ugly animals, and are considered poisonous. When attacked, they show the angry manner of the serpent, vibrating a fiery and forked tongue, and biting with great fury at the stick which arrests them.
Of this class, the most terrible is the alligator. The description of this animal by Mr. Audubon is so interesting, and so strongly marked by the agreeable peculiarities of his attractive and original style, that we shall transfer it to our pages with but slight abridgment. This distinguished naturalist, by his eminent services in the cause to which he has been so zealously devoted, has erected an eternal monument; and posterity will read the name which it records for ages, after every trace of the great warriors and ambitious politicians of our time has faded from the pages of history.
‘In Louisiana, all our lagoons, bayous, creeks, ponds, lakes and rivers, are well stocked with alligators; they are found wherever there is a sufficient quantity of water to hide them, or to furnish them with food; and they continue thus, in great numbers, as high as the mouth of the Arkansas river, extending east to North Carolina, and as far west as I have penetrated. On the Red river, before it was navigated by steam vessels, they were so extremely abundant that, to see hundreds at a sight along the shores, or on the immense rafts of floating or stranded timber, was quite a common occurrence, the smaller on the backs of the larger, groaning and uttering their bellowing noise, like thousands of irritated bulls about to meet in fight, but all so careless of man that, unless shot at, or positively disturbed, they remained motionless, suffering boats or canoes to pass within a few yards of them, without noticing them in the least. The shores are yet trampled by them in such a manner, that their large tracts are seen as plentiful as those of sheep in a fold. It was on that river particularly, thousands of the largest size were killed, when the mania of having shoes, boots, or saddle-seats, made of their hides, lasted. It had become an article of trade, and many of the squatters and strolling Indians followed for a time no other business. The discovery that their skins are not sufficiently firm and close-grained to prevent water or dampness long, put a stop to their general destruction, which had already become very apparent. The leather prepared from these skins was handsome and very pliant, exhibiting all the regular lozenges of the scales, and able to receive the highest degree of polish and finishing.
‘The usual motion of the alligator, when on land, is slow and sluggish; it is a kind of labored crawling, performed by moving alternately each leg, in the manner of a quadruped when walking, scarce able to keep up their weighty bodies from dragging on the earth, and leaving the track of their long tail on the mud, as if that of the keel of a small vessel. Thus they emerge from the water, and go about the shores and the woods, or the fields in search of food, or of a different place of abode, or one of safety to deposit their eggs. If, at such times, when at all distant from the water, an enemy is perceived by them, they droop and lie flat, with the nose on the ground, watching the intruder’s movements with their eyes, which are able to move considerably round, without affecting the position of the head. Should a man then approach them, they do not attempt either to make away or attack, but merely raise their body from the ground for an instant, swelling themselves and issuing a dull blowing, not unlike that of a blacksmith’s bellows. Not the least danger need be apprehended: then you either kill them with ease, or leave them. But to give you a better idea of the slowness of their movements and progress of travels on land, when arrived at a large size, say twelve or fifteen feet, believe me when I tell you, that having found one in the morning, fifty yards from a lake, going to another in sight, I have left him unmolested, hunted through the surrounding swamps all the day, and met the same alligator within five hundred yards of the spot when returning to my camp at dusk. On this account they usually travel during the night, they being then less likely to be disturbed, and having a better chance to surprise a litter of pigs or of land tortoises, for prey.
‘The power of the alligator is in his great strength; and the chief means of his attack or defence is his large tail, so well contrived by nature to supply his wants, or guard him from danger, that it reaches, when curved into half a circle, his enormous mouth. Woe be to him who goes within the reach of this tremendous thrashing instrument; for no matter how strong or muscular, if human, he must suffer greatly, if he escapes with life. The monster, as he strikes with this, forces all objects within the circle towards his jaws, which, as the tail makes a motion, are opened to their full stretch, thrown a little sideways, to receive the object, and, like battering-rams, to bruise it shockingly in a moment.
‘The alligator, when after prey in the water, or at its edge, swims so slowly towards it as not to ruffle the water. It approaches the object sideways, body and head all concealed, till sure of his stroke; then, with a tremendous blow, as quick as thought, the object is secured, as I described before.
‘When alligators are fishing, the flapping of their tails about the water may be heard at half a mile; but to describe this in a more graphic way, suffer me to take you along with me, in one of my hunting excursions, accompanied by friends and negroes. In the immediate neighborhood of Bayou-Sarah, on the Mississippi, are extensive shallow lakes and morasses; they are yearly overflowed by the dreadful floods of that river, and supplied with myriads of fishes of many kinds, amongst which trouts are most abundant, white perch, cat fish, and alligator-gars, or devil fish. Thither, in the early part of autumn, when the heat of a southern sun has exhaled much of the water, the squatter, the planter, the hunter, all go in search of sport. The lakes are then about two feet deep, having a fine sandy bottom; frequently much grass grows in them, bearing crops of seed, for which multitudes of water-fowl resort to those places. The edges of these lakes are deep swamps, muddy for some distance, overgrown with heavy large timber, principally cypress, hung with Spanish beard, and tangled with different vines, creeping plants, and cane, so as to render them almost dark during the day, and very difficult to the hunter’s progress. Here and there in the lakes are small islands, with clusters of the same trees, on which flocks of snake-birds, wood-ducks, and different species of herons, build their nests. Fishing-lines, guns, and rifles, some salt, and some water, are all the hunters take.
‘At last, the opening of the lake is seen: it has now become necessary to drag one’s self along through the deep mud, making the best of the way, with the head bent, through the small brushy growth, caring about nought but the lock of your gun. The long narrow Indian canoe kept to hunt those lakes, and taken into them during the fresh, is soon launched, and the party seated in the bottom, is paddled or poled in search of water game. There, at a sight, hundreds of alligators are seen dispersed over all the lake; their head, and all the upper part of the body, floating like a log, and in many instances, so resembling one that it requires to be accustomed to see them to know the distinction. Millions of the large wood-ibis are seen wading through the water, mudding it up, and striking deadly blows with their bills on the fish within. Here are a hoard of blue herons—the sand-hill crane rises with hoarse note—the snake-birds are perched here and there on the dead timber of the trees—the cormorants are fishing—buzzards and carrion-crows exhibit a mourning train, patiently waiting for the water to dry and leave food for them—and far in the horizon, the eagle overtakes a devoted wood-duck, singled from the clouded flocks that have been bred there.
‘It is then that you see and hear the alligator at his work,—each lake has a spot deeper than the rest, rendered so by those animals who work at it, and always situate at the lower end of the lake, near the connecting bayous, that, as drainers, pass through all those lakes, and discharge sometimes many miles below where the water had made its entrance above, thereby insuring to themselves water as long as any will remain. This is called by the hunters the alligators’ hole. You see them there lying close together. The fish that are already dying by thousands, through the insufferable heat and stench of the water, and the wounds of the different winged enemies constantly in pursuit of them, resort to the alligators’ hole to receive refreshment, with a hope of finding security also, and follow down the little currents flowing through the connecting sluices: but no! for, as the water recedes in the lake, they are here confined. The alligators thrash them and devour them whenever they feel hungry, while the ibis destroys all that make towards the shore. By looking attentively on this spot, you plainly see the tails of the alligators moving to and fro, splashing, and now and then, when missing a fish, throwing it up in the air. The hunter, anxious to prove the value of his rifle, marks one of the eyes of the largest alligator, and, as the hair trigger is touched, the alligator dies. Should the ball strike one inch astray from the eye, the animal flounces, rolls over and over, beating furiously about him with his tail, frightening all his companions, who sink immediately, whilst the fishes, like blades of burnished metal, leap in all directions out of the water, so terrified are they at this uproar. Another and another receives the shot in the eye, and expires; yet those that do not feel the fatal bullet, pay no attention to the death of their companions till the hunter approaches very close, when they hide themselves for a few moments by sinking backwards.
‘So truly gentle are the alligators at this season, that I have waded through such lakes in company of my friend Augustin Bourgeat, Esq. to whom I owe much information, merely holding a stick in one hand to drive them off, had they attempted to attack me. When first I saw this way of travelling through the lakes, waist-deep, sometimes with hundreds of these animals about me, I acknowledge to you that I felt great uneasiness, and thought it fool-hardiness to do so: but my friend, who is a most experienced hunter in that country, removed my fears by leading the way, and, after a few days, I thought nothing of it. If you go towards the head of the alligator, there is no danger, and you may safely strike it with a club, four feet long, until you drive it away, merely watching the operations of the point of the tail, that, at each blow you give, thrashes to the right and left most furiously.
‘The drivers of cattle from the Appelousas, and those of mules from Mexico, on reaching a lagoon or creek, send several of their party into the water, armed merely each with a club, for the purpose of driving away the alligators from the cattle; and you may then see men, mules, and those monsters, all swimming together, the men striking the alligators, that would otherwise attack the cattle, of which they are very fond, and those latter hurrying towards the opposite shores, to escape those powerful enemies. They will swim swiftly after a dog, or a deer, or a horse, before attempting the destruction of man, of which I have always remarked they were afraid, if the man feared not them.
‘Although I have told you how easily an alligator may be killed with a single rifle-ball, if well aimed, that is to say, if it strike either in the eye or very immediately above it, yet they are quite as difficult to be destroyed if not shot properly; and, to give you an idea of this, I shall mention two striking facts.
‘My good friend Richard Harlan, M.D. of Philadelphia, having intimated a wish to have the heart of one of these animals to study its comparative anatomy, I one afternoon went out about half a mile from the plantation and, seeing an alligator that I thought I could put whole into a hogshead of spirits, I shot it immediately on the skull bone. It tumbled over from the log on which it had been basking, into the water, and, with the assistance of two negroes, I had it out in a few minutes, apparently dead. A strong rope was fastened round its neck, and, in this condition, I had it dragged home across logs, thrown over fences, and handled without the least fear. Some young ladies there, anxious to see the inside of his mouth, requested that the mouth should be propped open with a stick put vertically; this was attempted, but at this instant the first stunning effect of the wound was over, and the animal thrashed and snapped its jaws furiously, although it did not advance a foot. The rope being still round the neck, I had it thrown over a strong branch of a tree in the yard, and hauled the poor creature up swinging, free from all about it, and left it twisting itself, and scratching with its fore feet to disengage the rope. It remained in this condition until the next morning, when finding it still alive, though very weak, the hogshead of spirits was put under it, and the alligator fairly lowered into it with a surge. It twisted about a little; but the cooper secured the cask, and it was shipped to Philadelphia, where it arrived in course.
‘Again, being in company with Augustin Bourgeat, Esq., we met an extraordinary large alligator in the woods whilst hunting; and, for the sake of destruction I may say, we alighted from our horses, and approached with full intention to kill it. The alligator was put between us, each of us provided with a long stick to irritate it; and, by making it turn its head partly on one side, afford us the means of shooting it immediately behind the fore leg and through the heart. We both discharged five heavy loads of duck-shot into its body, and almost all into the same hole, without any other effect than that of exciting regular strokes of the tail, and snapping of the jaws at each discharge, and the flow of a great quantity of blood out of the wound, and mouth, and nostrils of the animal; but it was still full of life and vigor, and to have touched it with the hand would have been madness; but as we were anxious to measure it, and to knock off some of its larger teeth to make powder charges, it was shot with a single ball just above the eye, when it bounded a few inches off the ground, and was dead when it reached it again. Its length was seventeen feet; it was apparently centuries old; many of its teeth measured three inches. The shot taken were without a foot only of the circle that we knew the tail could form, and our shots went en masse.
‘As the lakes become dry, and even the deeper connecting bayous empty themselves into the rivers, the alligators congregate into the deepest hole in vast numbers; and, to this day, in such places, are shot for the sake of their oil, now used for greasing the machinery of steam-engines and cotton mills, though formerly, when indigo was made in Louisiana, the oil was used to assuage the overflowing of the boiling juice, by throwing a ladleful into the kettle whenever this was about to take place. The alligators are caught frequently in nets by fishermen; they then come without struggling to the shore, and are killed by blows on the head given with axes.
‘When autumn has heightened the coloring of the foliage of our woods, and the air feels more rarefied during the nights and earlier part of the day, the alligators leave the lakes to seek for winter quarters, by burrowing under the roots of trees, or covering themselves simply with earth along their edges. They become then very languid and inactive, and, at this period, to sit or ride on one would not be more difficult than for a child to mount his wooden rocking-horse. The negroes, who now kill them, put all danger aside, by separating, at one blow with an axe, the tail from the body. They are afterwards cut up in large pieces, and boiled whole in a good quantity of water, from the surface of which the fat is collected with large ladles. One single man kills oftentimes a dozen or more of large alligators in the evening, prepares his fire in the woods, where he has erected a camp for the purpose, and by morning has the oil rendered.
‘I have frequently been very much amused when fishing in a bayou, where alligators were numerous, by throwing a blown bladder on the water towards the nearest to me. The alligator makes for it, flaps it towards its mouth, or attempts seizing it at once, but all in vain. The light bladder slides off; in a few minutes many alligators are trying to seize this, and their evolutions are quite interesting. They then put one in mind of a crowd of boys running after a football. A black bottle is sometimes thrown also, tightly corked; but the alligator seizes this easily, and you hear the glass give way under its teeth as if ground in a coarse mill. They are easily caught by negroes, who most expertly throw a rope over their heads when swimming close to shore, and haul them out instantly.’
The Tortoise is found in considerable numbers and variety. In the lakes west of the Mississippi, and near New Orleans, a soft shelled mud-tortoise is found, which epicures declare to be not much inferior to the sea-turtle of the West Indies. The gouffre is an animal apparently of the tortoise class, and is abundant in the pine barrens of the south-western states. Its shell is large and thick, and it burrows to a great depth in the ground; its strength and power are wonderful, and in many respects it is similar to the logger-head turtle. The siren is nearly two feet in length, and a very singular animal; it somewhat resembles the lamprey. It is amphibious, penetrates the mud easily, and seems to be of an order between fish and lizards. The whole of the republic is prolific in toads, frogs, and reptiles of that class; but they are found in the greatest number and variety in the regions of the warmest temperature.
The insects of the United States are numerous, and many of them beautiful; many of the species are entirely new, and science has been much indebted to Mr. Say for additions of no inconsiderable importance to entomology. The moths and butterflies are exceedingly splendid, and one of them, the atlas moth, is the largest hitherto known. Among the spiders, is a huge species called the tarantula, supposed to inflict a dangerous bite. The annoyance inflicted by moschetos in hot weather is well known; by these and other stinging insects, damp and low situations are rendered very disagreeable during the summer. The fire flies, which glitter especially in the southern forests, are very interesting. The copper colored centiped, a creature of cylindrical form, and as long as a man’s finger, is dreaded as noxious; a family is said to have been poisoned by taking tea in which one of them had been accidentally boiled.
One insect, the ægeria exitiosa, has committed great ravages among the peach trees. The larva begins the work of destruction about the beginning of October, by entering the tree, probably through the tender bark under the surface of the soil; thence it proceeds downwards, within the tree, into the root, and then turns its course upwards towards the surface, where it arrives about the commencement of the succeeding July. They voraciously devour both the alburnum and the liber, the new wood and the inner bark. The insects deposit from one to three hundred eggs within the bark of the tree, according to its capacity to support their progeny.
The United States are not free from the scourge of the locust. The males have under each wing a ribbed membrane as thin as a gossamer’s web, which, when inflated, constitutes their musical organ. The female has a sting or drill, the size of a pin, and near half an inch in length, of a hard and brittle substance, which lies on the under surface of the body; with this the insect drills a hole into the small limbs of trees, quite to the pith; there it deposits through this hollow sting or drill some dozen or two of small white eggs. The time required to drill the hole and deposit the egg is from two to five minutes. When undisturbed, they make some half dozen or more insertions of their drill in the same limb, perhaps an inch apart, and these punctures usually produce speedy death to the end of the limb. They sometimes swarm about the forests in countless multitudes, making ‘melancholy music,’ and causing no less melancholy desolation.
GENERAL REMARKS ON ZOOLOGY.
The zoology of the United States opens a wide and interesting field of observation: it is more peculiar and striking than either the mineralogy or botany. The following general view of the mammiferous animals inhabiting North America is given by Dr. Harman. The number of species now ascertained is one hundred and forty-six, in which we do not include man; of these twenty-eight are cetacea, and one hundred and eighteen are quadrupeds. Among the quadrupeds, Dr. Harman reckons eleven species, of which no living trace is found in any part of the world; which cannot of course be considered as forming a part of our present zoology. The number of living species of quadrupeds is therefore one hundred and seven. The comparative numbers of the several orders are stated as follows, omitting man:
Carnivora | 60 |
Glires | 37 |
Edentata | 6 |
Pachydermata | 2 |
Ruminantia | 13 |
Cetacea | 28 |
We may here introduce from Dr. Harman a statement of the number of North American quadrupeds, which he conceives to be common both to the new and old world.
Species. | |
---|---|
1 | Mole. |
2 | Shrew. |
1 | Bear. |
1 | Glutton. |
1 | Otter. |
2 | Wolf. |
2 | Fox. |
2 | Seal. |
2 | Weasel. |
1 | Beaver. |
1 | Field-mouse. |
1 | Campagnol (rat.) |
1 | Squirrel. |
2 | Deer. |
1 | Sheep. |
The whole number of common species is twenty one; leaving eighty-six species as peculiar to North America, though not all of them to the United States.
Charles Lucien Bonaparte has arranged the birds of the United States in twenty-eight families, eighty-one genera, and three hundred and sixty-two species, viz.: two hundred and nine land, and one hundred and fifty-three water-birds. Of the eighty-one genera, sixty-three are common to Europe and America, while eighteen have no representatives in Europe.
The vegetation of the United States is as various as the climate and soil. In Florida and the southern states, the superb magnolia, the majestic tulip tree and the deciduous cypress charm the traveller by their grandeur and beauty. The lofty oak, the stately fir and the gracefully-waving elm of the north, present a different and still a highly interesting study to the naturalist. As a general observation, the trees of the United States are larger, taller, and more generally useful for timber than those of Europe. As to height, it is observed by Michaux, that, while in France only thirty-seven species of trees arrive at thirty feet, in the transatlantic republic, one hundred and thirty exceed that elevation. A general idea of the American forest having thus been given, we will now notice, as largely as our limits will permit, the most remarkable trees.
Oak.—The White Oak is found throughout the United States, though it is by no means equally diffused. It abounds chiefly in the middle states, particularly in that part of Pennsylvania and Virginia which lies between the Alleghanies and the Ohio, a distance of about one hundred and fifty miles, where nine tenths of the forests are frequently composed of these trees, whose healthful appearance evinces the favorable nature of the soil. East of the mountains, this tree is found in every exposure, and in every soil which is not extremely dry or subject to long inundations; but the largest stocks grow in humid places. In the western districts, where it composes entire forests, the face of the country is undulated, and the yellow soil, consisting partly of clay with calcareous stones, yields abundant crops of wheat.
The white oak attains the elevation of seventy or eighty feet, with a diameter of six or seven feet; but its proportions vary with the soil and climate. Soon after their unfolding, the leaves are reddish above and white and downy beneath; when fully grown, they are smooth and of a light green on the upper surface. In autumn, they change to a bright violet color, and form an agreeable contrast with the surrounding foliage which has not yet suffered by the frost. This is the only oak on which a few of the dried leaves remain till the circulation is renewed in the spring. By this peculiarity and by the whiteness of the bark, from which it derives its name, it is easily distinguishable in the winter. This tree puts forth flowers in May, which are succeeded by acorns of an oval form, large, very sweet, contained in rough, shallow, grayish cups, and borne singly or in pairs, by peduncles eight or ten lines in length, attached, as in all species of annual fructification, to the shoots of the season. The fruit of the white oak is rarely abundant, and frequently, for several years in succession, a few handfuls of acorns could hardly be collected in a large forest where the tree is multiplied. Some stocks produce acorns of a deep blue color.
Of all the American oaks, this is the best and the most generally used, being strong, durable, and of large dimensions. It is less employed than formerly in building, only because it is scarcer and more costly. Among the uses of this wood, the most important is in ship-building. In all the dock yards of the northern and middle states, except Maine, it is almost exclusively employed for the keel, and always for the lower part of the frame and the sides: it is preferred for the knees, when sticks of a proper form can be found. In the smaller ports south of New York, the upper part of the frame is also made of white oak; but such vessels are less esteemed than those constructed of more durable wood. The medicinal properties of oak bark depend on its astringency, and that again on its tannin. The inner bark of the small branches is the strongest, the middle bark next, and the outer bark is almost useless.
The Gray Oak, Water Oak, Bear Oak, Upland, Willow Oak, and Bartram Oak are interesting varieties. The Laurel Oak is a stranger north of Philadelphia, and is rare in the more southern states. It is most abundant in the open savannas of Illinois. Rising to the height of forty or fifty feet, clad in a smooth bark, and for three fourths of its height laden with branches, it presents an uncouth appearance when bared by the winter blasts, but in the summer with its thick tufted foliage is really beautiful. The Black Oak is found throughout the country, with the exception of the northern part of New England. It is one of the loftiest of the American forest trees, rising to the height of eighty or ninety feet, with a diameter of four or five feet. The wood is reddish and coarse-grained, with empty pores, but is esteemed for strength and durability. It furnishes excellent fuel, and the bark is largely used for tanning. Other varieties of the oak are numerous.
Walnut.—The Black Walnut is met with in large numbers in the forests in the vicinity of Philadelphia, and with the exception of the lower parts of the southern states, where the soil is too sandy, or too wet as in the swamps, it is met with to the banks of the Mississippi throughout an extent of two thousand miles. East of the Alleghanies in Virginia, and in the upper parts of the Carolinas and Georgia, it is chiefly confined to the valleys where the soil is deep and fertile, and which are watered by creeks and rivers. On the banks of the Ohio and on the islands of this beautiful river, the black walnut attains the elevation of sixty or seventy feet, with a diameter of three to seven feet. Its powerful vegetation clearly points out this, as one of the largest trees of America. When it stands insulated, its branches, extending themselves horizontally to a great distance, spread into a spacious head, which gives it a very majestic appearance. The bark is thick, blackish, and on old trees deeply furrowed. The leaves when bruised emit a strong aromatic odor.
When the wood of this tree is freshly cut, the sap is white and the heart of a violet color, which, after a short exposure to the air, assumes an intenser shade, and becomes nearly black: hence probably is derived the name Black Walnut. There are several qualities for which its wood is principally esteemed: it remains sound for a long time, even when exposed to the influences of heat and moisture; but this observation is only applicable to the heart, the sap speedily decays: it is very strong and very tenacious: when thoroughly seasoned, it is not liable to warp and split; and its grain is sufficiently fine and compact to admit of a beautiful polish. It possesses, in addition to these advantages, that of being secure from worms. On account of these excellencies, it is preferred and successfully employed in many kinds of work. East of the Alleghanies, its timber is not extensively used in building houses, but, in some parts of Kentucky and Ohio, it is split into shingles which serve to cover them: sometimes also this timber enters into the composition of the frame. But it is chiefly in cabinet-making, that this wood is employed wherever it abounds.
There are several other species of the walnut. The Shell-bark Hickory sometimes grows to the height of eighty or ninety feet, with a diameter of less than two feet; the trunk is destitute of branches, regularly shaped, and almost of a uniform size for three fourths of its length. The Butternut is found in all the New England states, and in the middle states.
Maple.—The Sugar Maple, called also rock maple, has leaves five-parted, and yellowish green flowers, and is one of the loftiest trees in our forests. Its trunk is usually straight and entire, to the height of from forty to eighty feet, where it suddenly unfolds into a dense top, crowded with rich foliage. The bark of the older trees is gray, and marked with numerous deep clefts. The wood is firm and heavy, though not durable. It is much used by cabinet-makers, and when cut at the right season forms excellent fuel. Michaux says, that it grows in its greatest perfection, between the forty-third and forty-sixth degrees of north latitude.
The White Maple, sometimes called silver maple, is distinguished by having its leaves five-parted, and white beneath; its flowers reddish yellow, without flower-stalks. The trunk frequently divides near the ground, so as to appear like several trunks close together. These divisions diverge a little as they rise, and often at the height of from eight to twenty feet the top commences. This is generally larger in proportion to the trunk, than the top of any other tree. It blossoms earlier than the sugar maple. The fruit is larger than that of any other species: it advances with great rapidity towards perfection, ripens and falls about June in Georgia, and May in Pennsylvania. The fruit of the sugar maple does not ripen until October. The white maple is principally found on the banks of rivers, and on the banks of such only as have a clean gravelly bottom and clear water. It is most luxuriant on flats which are subject to annual inundations, and is usually the first settler on alluvial deposits. ‘The banks of the Sandy river, in Maine,’ says Michaux, ‘and those of the Connecticut in Windsor, Vermont, are the most northerly points at which I have seen the white maple. It is found more or less on all the rivers of the United States, flowing from the mountains to the Atlantic, but becomes scarce in South Carolina and Georgia. In no part of the United States is it more multiplied than in the western country, and no where is its vegetation more luxuriant than on the banks of the Ohio, and of the great rivers that empty into it. There, sometimes alone, and sometimes mingled with the willow, which is found all along these waters, it contributes singularly by its magnificent foliage to the embellishment of the scene. The brilliant white of the leaves beneath, forms a striking contrast with the bright green above, and the alternate reflection of these two surfaces in the water, heightens the beauty of this wonderful moving mirror, and aids in forming an enchanting picture, which during my long excursions in a canoe, in these regions of solitude and silence, I contemplated with unwearied admiration.’
The Red-flowering Maple is a beautiful tree, and in the swamps of New Jersey and Pennsylvania, it is found to the height of sixty or seventy feet, with a diameter of three or four. It blossoms earlier in the spring than any other tree, and flowers from the middle to the last of April. The blossoms, of a beautiful purple or deep red, unfold more than a fortnight before the leaves. This tree furnishes wood adapted to a variety of purposes; it is much used in making domestic wares and agricultural implements. Furniture of great richness and lustre is also made of it. It is not good fuel. The Mountain, Striped and Ash-leaved Maples are all beautiful trees.
Birch.—The Black Birch abounds in New England and the middle states; farther south it is confined to the summits of the Alleghanies. It often exceeds seventy feet in height. At the close of winter, the leaves, during a fortnight after their birth, are covered with a thick, silvery down, which soon after disappears. When bruised, the leaves and bark diffuse a very agreeable odor, and as they retain this property when dried and carefully preserved, they afford a pleasant infusion, with the addition of a little sugar and cream. The wood is applied to a variety of useful purposes; it is of a rosy hue, which deepens on exposure to the light. The Yellow, Canoe, White, and Red Birch are found in various localities throughout the country.
Pines.—The pines constitute a large and interesting class of American forest trees. The most valuable species is that which is known in England and the West Indies as the Georgia Pitch Pine; and which, in the United States, is variously called yellow pine, pitch pine, broom pine, southern pine, red pine, and long-leaved pine, a name which is adopted by Michaux. Towards the north, the long-leaved pine makes its appearance near Norfolk, in Virginia, where the pine-barrens begin. It seems to be especially assigned to dry sandy soils; and it is found, almost without interruption, in the lower part of Carolinas, Georgia, and the Floridas, over a tract more than six hundred miles long, from north-east to south-west, and more than a hundred miles broad, from the sea towards the mountains. Immediately beyond Raleigh, it holds almost exclusive possession of the soil, and is seen in company with other pines only on the edges of swamps, enclosed in the barrens; even there not more than one stock in a hundred is of another species, and with this exception, the long-leaved pine forms the unbroken mass of woods which covers this extensive country.
The mean stature of the long-leaved pine is sixty or seventy feet, with a uniform diameter of fifteen or sixteen inches for two thirds of this height. Some stocks, favored by local circumstances, attain much larger dimensions, particularly in East Florida. The timber is very valuable, being stronger, more compact, and more durable, than that of all the other species of pine: it is besides fine grained, and susceptible of high polish. Its uses are diversified, and its consumption great. But the value of the long-leaved pine does not reside exclusively in its wood; it supplies nearly all the resinous matter used in the United States in ship-building, with a large residue for exportation; and in this view, its place can be supplied by no other species, those which afford the same product being dispersed through the woods, or collected in inaccessible places. In the northern states, the lands, which at the commencement of their settlements were covered with pitch pine, were exhausted in twenty-five or thirty years, and for more than half a century have ceased to furnish tar. The pine-barrens are of vast extent, and are covered with trees of the forest growth; but they cannot all be rendered profitable, from the difficulty of communicating with the sea.
Among the varieties which we can only enumerate, without an attempt at description, are the New Jersey, Table Mountain, Gray, Pond, and White Pine.
Spruces.—The American Silver Fir is found in the colder regions of the states; towards the south, it is found only on the tops of the Alleghanies. It flourishes best in a moist, sandy loam. Its height rarely exceeds forty feet, with a diameter of twelve or fifteen inches. The trunk tapers from a foot in diameter at the surface of the ground to seven or eight inches at the height of six feet. When standing alone and developing itself naturally, its branches, which are numerous and thickly garnished with leaves, diminish in length in proportion to their height, and form a pyramid of perfect regularity. The bark is smooth and delicate. The leaves are six or eight lines long, and are inserted singly on the sides and on the top of the branches; they are narrow, rigid and flat, of a bright green above, and a silvery white beneath; whence probably is derived the name of the tree. The flowers appear in May, and are followed by cones of a fragrant odor, nearly cylindrical, four or five inches long, an inch in diameter, and always directed upwards. The seeds are ripe in autumn, and if permitted to hang late will fall apart and scatter themselves. The wood of the silver fir is light and slightly resinous, and the heart is yellowish.
The Hemlock Spruce inhabits a similar tract of country, though moist ground appears not to be the most favorable to its growth. It arrives at the height of seventy or eighty feet, with a circumference of six or nine feet, and is uniform for two thirds of its length. The White and Black Spruce are varieties of this genus.
Cypresses.—The Cypress is a very interesting tree, from its extraordinary dimensions, and the varied application of its wood. Its northern boundary is Indian river, in Delaware, in latitude about thirty-nine degrees. In proceeding southward, it becomes more abundant in the swamps, and in Louisiana those parts of the marshes where the cypress grows almost alone are called cypress swamps, and they sometimes occupy thousands of acres. In the swamps of the southern states and the Floridas, on whose deep, miry soil a new layer of vegetable mould is every year deposited by floods, the cypress attains its utmost developement. The largest stocks are one hundred and twenty feet in height, and from twenty-five to forty feet in circumference, above the conical base, which at the surface of the earth is three or four times as large as the continued diameter of the trunk: in felling them, the negroes are obliged to raise themselves upon scaffolds five or six feet from the ground. The base is usually hollow for three fourths of its bulk.
Amidst the pine forests and savannas of the Floridas is seen here and there a bog filled with cypresses, whose squalid appearance, when they exceed eighteen or twenty feet in height, proves how much they are affected by the barrenness of a soil which differs from the surrounding only by a layer of vegetable mould, a little thicker upon the quartzous sand. The summit of the cypress is not pyramidical like that of the spruce, but is widely spread and even depressed upon old trees. The foliage is open, light, and of a fresh agreeable tint; each leaf is four or five inches long, and consists of two parallel rows of leaflets upon a common stem. The leaflets are small, fine, and somewhat arching, with the convex side outwards. In autumn they change from a light green to a dull red, and are shed soon after. This tree blooms in Carolina about the first of February.
Among the resinous trees of the United States, the White Cedar is one of the most interesting for the varied utility of its wood. North of the river Connecticut, it is rare and little employed in the arts. In the southern states, it is not met with beyond the river Santee, but it is found, though not abundantly, on the Savannah: it is multiplied only within these limits and to the distance of fifty miles from the ocean. The white cedar is seventy or eighty feet high, and sometimes more than three feet in diameter. When the trees are close and compressed, the trunk is straight, perpendicular and destitute of branches to the height of fifty or sixty feet. When cut, a yellow transparent resin of an agreeable odor exudes, of which a few ounces could hardly be collected in a summer from a tree of three feet in circumference. The foliage is evergreen: each leaf is a little branch numerously subdivided, and composed of small, acute, imbricated scales.
The White Ash is one of the most interesting among the American species for the qualities of its wood, and the most remarkable for the rapidity of its growth and for the beauty of its foliage. A cold climate seems most congenial to its nature. It is everywhere called White Ash, probably from the color of its bark, by which it is easily distinguished. The situations most favorable to this tree are the banks of rivers and the edges and surrounding acclivities of swamps. The white ash sometimes attains the height of eighty feet, with a diameter of three feet, and is one of the largest trees of the United States. The trunk is perfectly straight and often undivided to the height of more than forty feet. On large stocks the bark is deeply furrowed, and divided into small squares from one to three inches in diameter. The leaves are twelve or fourteen inches long, opposite and composed of three or four pair of leaflets surmounted by an odd one. The leaflets are three or four inches long, about two inches broad, of a delicate texture and an undulated surface. Early in the spring they are covered with a light down, which gradually disappears, and at the approach of summer they are perfectly smooth, of a light green color above and whitish beneath. It puts forth white or greenish flowers in the month of May, which are succeeded by seeds that are eighteen lines long, cylindrical near the base, and gradually flattened into a wing, the extremity of which is slightly notched. They are united in bunches four or five inches long, and are ripe in the beginning of autumn. The shoots of the two preceding years are of a bluish gray color and perfectly smooth: the distance between their buds sufficiently proves the vigor of their growth.
Elm.—The White Elm inhabits an extensive tract of the states, being found from Nova Scotia to the extremity of Georgia. It is also found on the banks of the western rivers; growing in low, moist and substantial soils. In the middle states, this tree stretches to a great height, but does not approach the magnificence of vegetation which it displays in the countries peculiarly adapted to its growth. In clearing the primitive forests, a few stocks are sometimes left standing; insulated in this manner, it appears in all its majesty, towering to the height of eighty or one hundred feet, with a trunk four or five feet in diameter, regularly shaped, naked, and insensibly diminishing to the height of sixty or seventy feet, where it divides itself into two or three primary branches. This species differs from the red and European elm in its flowers and seeds; it blooms in the month of April, previous to the unfolding of the leaves; the flowers are very small, of a purple color, supported by short, slender footstalks, and united in bunches at the extremity of the branches. The Wahoo and the Red Elm are interesting species.
The American Chesnut sometimes attains the height of seventy or eighty feet, with a circumference of fifteen or sixteen feet. Though this tree nearly resembles that of Europe in its general appearance, its foliage, its fruit and the properties of its wood, it is treated by botanists as a distinct species. Its leaves are six or seven inches long, one and a half broad, coarsely toothed, of an elongated oval form, of a fine, brilliant color and of a firm texture, with prominent parallel nerves beneath. It flowers in June. The fruit is spherical, covered with fine prickles, and stored with two dark brown seeds or nuts, about as large as the end of the finger. They are smaller and sweeter than the wild chesnuts of Europe. They are ripe about the middle of October. The wood is strong, elastic and capable of enduring the succession of dryness and moisture.
Buttonwood or Sycamore.—Among trees with deciduous leaves, none in the temperate zones, either in the old or new continent, equal the dimensions of the planes. The species which we are about to describe is not less remarkable for its amplitude, and for its magnificent appearance, than the plane of Asia, whose majestic form and extraordinary size were so much celebrated by the ancients. In the Atlantic states, this tree is commonly known by the name of Buttonwood, and sometimes in Virginia, by that of Water Beach. On the banks of the Ohio, and in the states of Kentucky and Tennessee, it is most frequently called Sycamore, and by some persons Plane Tree. This tree, in no part of the United States, is more abundant and vigorous than along the rivers of Pennsylvania and Virginia; though in the more fertile valleys of the west, its vegetation is still more luxuriant, especially on the banks of the Ohio and of the rivers that flow into it.
On the margin of the great rivers of the west, the buttonwood is constantly found to be the loftiest and largest tree of the United States. Often with a trunk of several feet in diameter, it begins to ramify at the height of sixty or seventy feet, near the summit of other trees; and often the base divides itself into several trunks, equally vigorous and superior in diameter to any of the surrounding trees. On a little island in the Ohio, fifteen miles above the mouth of the Muskingum, Michaux mentions a buttonwood which, at five feet above the ground, was forty feet and four inches in circumference, and consequently more than thirteen feet in diameter. The American species is generally thought, in Europe, to possess a richer foliage, and to afford a deeper shade than the Asiatic plane: its leaves are of a beautiful green, alternate, from five to fifteen inches broad, and formed with more open angles than those of the plane of the eastern continent.
Beech.—The species of Red Beech is almost exclusively confined to the north-eastern parts of the United States. In the state of Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont, it is so abundant as often to constitute extensive forests, the finest of which grow on fertile, level or gently sloping lands which are proper for the culture of corn. The red beech equals the white species in diameter, but not in height; and as it ramifies nearer the earth and is more numerously divided, it has a more massy summit and the appearance of more tufted foliage. Its leaves are equally brilliant, a little larger and thicker, and have longer teeth. Its fruit is of the same form, but is only half as large, and is garnished with firmer and less numerous points.
The White Beech is one of the tallest and most majestic trees of the American forests. It grows the most abundantly in the middle and western states. On the banks of the Ohio, the white beech attains the height of more than one hundred feet, with a circumference of eight to eleven feet. In the forests, where these trees vegetate in a deep and fertile soil, their roots sometimes extend to a great distance even with the surface, and being entangled so as to cover the ground, they embarrass the steps of the traveller and render the land peculiarly difficult to clear. This tree is more slender and less branchy than the red beech; but its foliage is superb, and its general appearance magnificent.
Poplar or Tulip Tree.—This tree, which surpasses most others of North America in height and in the beauty of its foliage and of its flowers, is one of the most interesting from the numerous and useful applications of its wood.
In the Atlantic states, especially at a considerable distance from the sea, tulip trees are often seen seventy, eighty and one hundred feet in height, with a diameter of eighteen inches to three feet. But the western states appear to be the natural soil of this magnificent tree, and here it displays its most powerful vegetation. M. Michaux mentions a tulip tree, near Louisville, on the Ohio, which at five feet from the ground was twenty-two feet six inches in circumference, and whose elevation he judged to be from one hundred and twenty to one hundred and forty feet. The flowers bloom in June or July. They are large, brilliant, and on detached trees very numerous, variegated with different colors: they have an agreeable odor, and produce a fine effect. The fruit is composed of a great number of thin, narrow scales, attached to a common axis, and forming a cone two or three inches in length. Each cone consists of sixty or seventy seeds, of which never more than a third part are productive. For ten years before the tree begins to yield fruit, almost all the seeds are unproductive, and on large trees, those from the highest branches are the best.
Catalpa.—In the Atlantic states, the Catalpa begins to be found in the forests, on the banks of the river Savannah, and west of the Alleghanies, on those of the Cumberland, between the thirty-fifth and thirty-sixth degrees of latitude. Farther south it is more common, and abounds near the borders of all the rivers which empty into the Mississippi, or which water West Florida. In the regions where it grows most abundantly, it frequently exceeds fifty feet in height, with a diameter from eighteen to twenty-four inches. It is easily recognised by its bark, which is of a silver-gray color, and but slightly furrowed, by its ample leaves, and by its wide-spreading summit, disproportioned in size to the diameter of its trunk. It differs from other trees also by the fewness of its branches. The flowers which are collected in large bunches at the extremity of the branches, are white, with violet and yellow spots, and are beautiful and showy.
Magnolia Grandiflora.—‘Bartram and others,’ says Mr. Flint, ‘by overrating the beauty of this tree, have caused, that when strangers first behold it, their estimation of it falls too low. It has been described, as a very large tree. We have seen it in Florida, where Bartram saw it. We have seen it in its more congenial position for full developement, the rich alluvions of Louisiana; and we have never seen it compare with the sycamore, the cotton wood, or even the ash, in point of size. It is sometimes a tall tree; often graceful in form; but ordinarily a tree of fourth or fifth rate in point of comparative size in the forest, where it grows. Its bark is smooth, whitish, very thick, and something resembles that of the beech. The wood is soft, and for aught we know, useless. The leaves strongly resemble those of the orange tree, except in being larger, thicker, and having a hoary yellowish down upon the under side. The upper side has a perfect verdure, and a feel of smoothness, as if it was oiled. The flowers are large, of a pure white, nearest resembling the northern pond lily, though not so beautiful; and are, ordinarily, about twice the size. The fragrance is indeed, powerful, but to us rather sickly and offensive. We have felt, and we have heard others complain of feeling a sensation of faintness, in going into a room, where the chimney place was filled with these flowers. The tree continues to put forth flowers for two months in succession, and seldom displays many at a time.
‘We think, few have been in habits of examining flowering trees more attentively than ourselves, and we contemplated this tree for years in the season of flowers. Instead of displaying, as has been represented, a cone of flowers, we have seldom seen a tree in flower, which did not require some attention and closeness of inspection, to discover where the flowers were situated among the leaves. We have not been led to believe, that others possessed the sense of smell more acutely, than ourselves. In advancing from points, where these trees were not, to the pine forest, on the water courses of which they are abundant, we have been warned of our approach to them by the sense of smell, at a distance of something more than half a mile; and we question, if any one ever perceived the fragrance much farther, except by the imagination. The magnolia is a striking tree, and an observer, who saw it for the first time, would remark it, as such. But we have been unable to conceive whence the extravagant misconceptions, respecting the size, number, fragrance and beauty of its flowers, had their origin.
‘There are six or seven varieties among the laurels of the magnolia tribe, some of which have smaller flowers than those of the grandiflora, but much more delicate, and agreeably fragrant. A beautiful evergreen of this class is covered in autumn with berries of an intense blackness, and we remarked them in great numbers about St. Francisville. The holly is a well-known and beautiful tree of this class. But that one, which has struck us, as being the handsomest of the family, is the laurel almond. It is not a large tree. Its leaves strongly resemble those of the peach; and it preserves a most pleasing green through the winter. Its flowers yield a delicious perfume. It grows in families of ten or fifteen trees in a cluster. Planters of taste in the valley of Red river, where it is common, select the place of their dwelling amidst a cluster of these trees.’
The Bow Wood is a very striking tree, found about the upper courses of the Washita, the middle regions of Arkansas, and occasionally on the northern limits of Louisiana. Its leaves are large and beautiful, and its fruit, which somewhat resembles a large orange, is of a most inviting appearance, but is ‘the apple of Sodom to the taste.’ It is considered by many the most splendid of all forest trees.
The China Tree is much cultivated in the south-western region of the states, as an ornamental shade tree. Its leaves are long and spiked, set in correspondence on each side of the stem. The verdure is deep and brilliant. When in full flower, the top is one tuft of blossoms. The tree is of most rapid growth, and its beautiful color imparts delightful freshness to the landscape. After the fall of its leaves, a profusion of reddish berries remain, and give at a little distance the appearance of continuing in flower. This berry is a narcotic, and stupefies the birds that eat of it.
The Papaw is seldom found north of the river Schuylkill, and is extremely rare in the low, maritime parts of the southern states. It is not uncommon in the bottoms which stretch along the rivers of the middle states; but it is most abundant in the rich valleys intersected by the western waters, where at intervals, it forms thickets exclusively occupying several acres. In Kentucky and in the western part of Tennessee, it is sometimes seen also in forests where the soil is luxuriantly fertile; of which its presence is an infallible proof.
It seldom exceeds thirty feet in height, and a diameter of six or eight inches, though it generally stops short at half this elevation. The trunk is covered with a silver-gray bark, which is smooth and finely polished. The leaves are alternate, five or six inches in length, and of an elongated form, widening from the base to the summit. They are of a fine texture, and the superior surface is smooth and brilliant. The flowers are pendent, and of a purple hue. When the fruit is ripe, which takes place towards the beginning of August, it is about three inches long, one and a half thick, of a yellowish color, and of an oval form, irregular and swelling into inequalities. Its pulp is soft, and of an insipid taste, and it contains several large, triangular stones.
Persimon.—The banks of the river Connecticut, below the forty-second degree of latitude, may be uniformly considered as the northern limit of this tree; but it is rendered rare in these parts by the severity of the winter, while in New Jersey it is common, and still more so in Pennsylvania, Maryland, and the southern states; it abounds, also, in the western forests. The persimon varies surprisingly in size in different soils and climates. In New Jersey it is not more than half as large as in the more southern states, where, in favorable situations, it is sometimes sixty feet in height, and eighteen or twenty inches in diameter. The trunk of a full-grown tree is covered with a deeply-furrowed blackish bark, from which a greenish gum exudes, without taste or smell. The leaves are from four to six inches in length, oblong, entire, of a fine green above; in autumn they are often variegated with black spots. This tree belongs to the class of vegetables whose sexes are confined to different stocks. Both the barren and fertile flowers are greenish and not strikingly apparent. They put forth in June or July. The ripe fruit is about as large as the thumb, of a reddish complexion, round, fleshy, and furnished with six or eight semi-oval stones, slightly swollen at the sides, and of a dark purple color. It is not eatable till it has been touched with frost, by which the skin is shrivelled, and the pulp, which before was hard and extremely harsh to the taste, is softened and rendered palatable. The fruit is so abundant in the southern states, that a tree often yields several bushels. In the south, it adheres to the branches long after the shedding of the leaf, and when it falls, it is eagerly devoured by wild and domestic animals.
Dogwood and Red Bud.—These are plants between shrubs and trees. The former has a heart-shaped leaf, and an umbrella-shaped top. In spring, it adorns itself with brilliant, white flowers, and in autumn with fine scarlet berries. The latter is the first blossoming shrub on the Ohio; and its blossoms there resemble those of the peach tree. They are scattered every where through the wood, and impart a charm to the whole descent of the ‘beautiful river.’ The two are the most common, as they are the most beautiful shrubs of the great western valley.
Mountain Laurel.—This is a large shrub, which indifferently bears the name of Mountain Laurel, Laurel, Ivy, and Calico Tree. It abounds in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Proceeding thence south-west, it is found along the steep banks of all the rivers which rise in the Alleghanies; but it is observed to become less common in following these streams from their source, towards the Ohio and Mississippi on one side, and towards the ocean on the other. It is rare in Kentucky and in West Tennessee, and in the southern states it disappears entirely when the rivers enter the low country, where the pine-barrens commence.
In favorable situations, this shrub grows to the height of eighteen or twenty feet, with a diameter of three inches. The flowers put forth from May to July, are destitute of odor, and disposed in clusters at the extremity of the branches: in general they are of a beautiful rose color, and sometimes of a pure white. They are always numerous, and their brilliant effect is heightened by the richness of the surrounding foliage.
The Palmetto inhabits the southern states, as far north as Cape Hatteras. It is from forty to fifty feet in height, crowned with a tufted summit, which gives it a beautiful and majestic appearance. The Coral Tree is a brilliant and gaudy shrub, native of the open forests of the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida; it grows to the height of two or three feet. The Snow Berry is an ornamental shrub, inhabiting the banks of the upper Missouri. In the autumn, when the large bunches of ivory or wax-like berries are matured, the appearance is said to be extremely beautiful.
Fruit Trees.—The Chickasaw Plum is common from thirty-four degrees north latitude, to the gulf of Mexico. It is found in great abundance. Prairie plums are found in great quantities on the hazel prairies of Illinois and Missouri. When cultivated under favorable circumstances, the Osage plum is delicious. Crab apple shrubs are found in great quantities in the middle regions of the central valley. Their blossoms resemble those of the cultivated apple tree, and the tree is useful as a stock in which the cultivated apple and pear may be grafted. The Mulberry is rare in the Atlantic states, but abounds in every part of the Mississippi valley. Its wood is valuable, and scarcely less durable than that of the locust.
Vine.—The common grape vine is diffused through all the climates. It frequently happens that we see, in the rich lands, vines of the size of a man’s body, perpendicularly attached at the top to branches sixty or eighty feet from the ground, and at great lateral distance from the trunk of the tree. It is common to puzzle a man first brought into these woods, by asking him to account for the manner in which a vine of prodigious size has been able to rear itself to such a height. There can be no doubt that the vine in this case is coeval with the tree; that the tree, as it grew, supported the vine; and that the vine was carried from the trunk with the projection of the lateral branch, until, in the lapse of years, this singular appearance is the result. In many bottoms, half the trees are covered with these vines. In the deep forest, on the hills, in the barrens, in the hazel prairies, and in the pine woods, every form and size of the grape are found.
Of the plants of the winter grape, which so generally clings to the trees in the alluvial forests, probably not one in fifty bears any fruit at all. The fruit when produced is a small circular berry not unlike the wild black cherry. It is austere, sour, and unpleasant, until it has been softened by the winter frosts; but it is said, when fermented by those who have experience in the practice, to make a tolerable wine. The summer grape is found on the rolling barrens and the hazel prairies. It is more than twice the size of the winter grape, is ripe in the first month in autumn, and, when matured under the full influence of the sun, is a pleasant fruit. It grows in the greatest abundance, but is too dry a grape to be pressed for wine. The muscadine grape is seldom seen north of thirty-four degrees. More southerly, it becomes abundant, and is found in the deep alluvial forests, clinging to tall trees. The fruit grows in more scanty clusters than that of other grapes. Like other fruits, they fall as they ripen, and furnish a rich treat to bears and other animals that feed on them; they are of the size of a plum, of a fine purple black, with a thick tough skin, tasting not unlike the rind of an orange; the pulp is deliciously sweet, but is reputed unwholesome. The pine woods grape has a slender, bluish purple vine, that runs on the ground among the grass. It ripens in the month of June; is large, cone-shaped, transparent, with four seeds, reddish purple, and is fine fruit for eating.
Cane.—The Cane grows to the height of twenty or thirty feet on the lower courses of the Mississippi, Arkansas and Red rivers. Its leaves are dagger-shaped, long and narrow, and of a beautiful green. It grows in masses so compact that the smallest sparrow would find it difficult to fly in the intervals. A man could not make his way through a cane brake, at a rate more rapid than three miles a day.
Flax.—A species of flax was found by Lewis and Clarke growing in the valleys of the Rocky mountains, and on the banks of the Missouri. The bark possesses the same kind of tough fibres as the common flax, and the Indians are in the habit of making lint and gun-waddings of it.
Berries.—The gooseberry is indigenous to the United States, and in the western parts grows to great size. The red raspberry is also indigenous. Whortleberries, and blackberries high and creeping, are found in prodigious abundance; many of the prairies are red with strawberries. The cranberry is a native of the country, growing in morasses and rich bottom through its whole extent. Large cranberry swamps occur in New Jersey.
Other Plants.—There are many annual and evergreen creepers in the United States, of various kinds, form and foliage. The grasses are various and luxuriant. In the prairies they are rank and coarse; the Atlantic country is covered with a fine sward. The rush is a useful herbaceous plant, which grows on bottoms of an elevation between that of the cane brakes and the deeply-flooded lands. The pea-vine covers the richer soil of the forest lands; it is small and fibrous. The wild rice is a plant of great importance, found on the marshy margins of the northern lakes, and in the shallow waters of the upper courses of the Mississippi. One of the most striking of the forest productions is the wax-plant, which is nearly entirely of a snow-white, and resembles the most delicate wax preparation. It grows in rich shady woods, and is much prized.
The common kinds of water-plants are found in the marshy grounds and ponds; particularly a very beautiful and fragrant lily. This closely resembles the European water-lily. One of this genus is said to be unrivalled for size and beauty. Dr. Barton considers it to be the same as the sacred bean of Judea, and mentions it as abundant in Philadelphia, but rare otherwise, and refusing propagation. Mr. Flint found it in the southern states, and says that it attains great splendor on the lakes and stagnant waters of the Arkansas. There is a large variety of parasitic plants in the states, the most remarkable of which is the long moss.
It will be observed that in these chapters on the natural history of the United States, we have only intended to describe the most conspicuous objects, without reference to scientific arrangement. A mere scientific catalogue of the natural productions of our country would occupy all the space we have devoted to the subject, and possess no interest or attraction for the general reader.
GENERAL REMARKS ON BOTANY.
Botany, the science of plants, is generally divided into two branches, one of which describes their internal structure and organic action, and the other their external appearance. At the revival of learning, hardly fifteen hundred plants were known from the descriptions of the ancients. More than fifty thousand, at a reasonable estimate, have been described. Linnæus founded his system exclusively on the sexual relations of plants; dividing them all into two general divisions, one of which has, and the other has not, visible sexual parts. This division is generally adopted as the basis of elementary instruction, but many objections have been brought against it.
The second general division of this science begins with the anatomy of plants, or an investigation of their internal structure. This study has been recently cultivated to a great extent, particularly by the Germans. With this division is connected chemical botany, which investigates the constituent parts, the various changes, and the different combinations of the liquid and solid parts of plants. From these we rise to the laws of vegetable life, which are generally the same with those of animal life; the physiology of plants and of animals is thus of course intimately connected.
Of the two general divisions of botany, the physiological, or philosophical is the elder. It was created by Theophrastus of Eresus. Historical botany was founded by the Germans. In the seventeenth century, the foundation of botanical anatomy was laid by Grew and Malpighi; botanical chemistry was founded by Homberg, Dodart, and Mariotte: and the difference of sex was discovered by Grew, Morland and Camerarius.
The first important attempt toward a scientific view of the character and relations of the strata in the United States was made by Mr. Maclure, but a short time previous to the year 1812. His work was small and general, but has proved a valuable guide to subsequent inquirers. In order to obtain a view of the general geological formation of the territory of the states, it will be well to recapitulate its chief geographical features; the Apalachian mountains on the east, with the slope to the Atlantic ocean; the Rocky mountains to the west, with the valleys intervening between them and the Pacific ocean; and the extended valley between these elevated ranges, with the Ozark mountains dividing it in the centre, and the Black mountains occupying its north-western angle.
The summits of the Rocky mountains are formed entirely of primitive rocks, chiefly of granite itself. A red and saline sandstone rests on this granite, through the whole chain, as far as it has been explored. But few traces of that animal and vegetable life are found, which in other countries has reared mountains of limestone, clay-slate, and those other aggregates which are so often composed of the exuviæ of living beings. The western boundary of this sandstone formation corresponds to the side of the easternmost granite ranges. From the Platte toward the south, the sandstone increases in width, and on the Canadian it extends more than half the distance from the sources of that river to its confluence with the Arkansas. It consists of two members; red sandstone, and argillaceous or gray sandstone. This formation was at one time probably horizontal and uniform; it is now found in a state of entire disruption and disorder. This tract abounds in scenery of an interesting and majestic character. The angle of inclination of the strata varies from forty-five to ninety degrees. Though not very recent, the sandstone along the base of the mountains contains the relics of marine animals and plants, and embraces extensive beds of pudding stone.
South of the Arkansas are rocks of basaltic origin, overlaying the red sandstone. By the vastness and broken character of their masses, and their dark color, they present a striking contrast to the light, smooth and fissile sandstone on which they rest. Sometimes they are compact and apparently homogeneous in their composition, and in many particulars of structure, form and hardness, more analogous to the primitive rock than to those recent secondary aggregates with which they are associated. In other instances, dark and irregular masses of porous and amygdaloidal substances are seen scattered about the plain, or gathered in conical heaps, but having no immediate connection with the strata on which they rest. Most of the rocks of this class were observed in the neighborhood of the sources of the Canadian; and may be distinguished into two kinds, referable to the two divisions called greenstone and amygdaloid.
The valley immediately east of the Rocky mountain range is composed of an extensive accumulation of sand, seemingly the debris of the mountains. To an unknown depth, the soil is made up of rounded fragments of granite, varying in dimension from a grain of sand to a six pound shot. This accumulation has evidently been washed from the mountains, and slopes gradually from their base. The small particles derived from the quartzose portions of the primitive aggregates, being least liable to decomposition, have been borne to the greatest distance, and of these the eastern margin of the great sandy desert is almost entirely composed; the central portions are of coarser sand, intermixed with particles of mica and feldspar; nearer the mountains, boulders and pebbles occur abundantly, and at length cover almost the entire surface of the country.
In many other respects besides geological structure, the Apalachian range of mountains differs from that we have just been considering. The whole of their eastern front is composed of primitive rocks, comprehending both the granitic family and its associated strata of clay-slate and limestone. In New England, rocks of this class constitute the seacoast, and with some exceptions extend inwards towards the St. Lawrence. South of the Hudson, the edge of the primitive follows the general contour of the mountains, at a variable distance from the sea to their termination, and until it meets more recent deposits at the extremity of the mountain range. The breadth of this primitive belt is very unequal. In passing through the states of Pennsylvania and Maryland, it occupies but a small part of the country; in Virginia it increases in breadth, and proportionably in height, composing the greatest mass as well as the most elevated points of the mountains in Georgia and North Carolina. Besides this range, there is a great mass of primitive on the west side of lake Champlain.
In general, the primitive rocks run from a north and south to a north-east and south-west direction, and dip generally to the south-east at an angle of more than forty-five degrees with the horizon; their highest elevation is towards their north-western limit. The mountains of this formation consist generally of detached masses, with rounded flat tops and a circular waving outline. Granite in large masses constitutes but a small part of this formation, and is found indifferently in the plains and on the tops of mountains. Gneiss extends perhaps over a half of this formation, and includes in a great many places beds from three to three hundred feet thick. These beds are mixed, and alternate occasionally in the same gneiss with the primitive limestone, the beds of hornblende and hornblende slate, serpentine, magnetic iron ore, and feldspar rocks. In short, there are scarcely any of the primitive rocks that may not occasionally be found included in the gneiss formation.
The breadth of the transition district, like that of the primitive, is variable. Narrow towards the gulf of Mexico, it gradually widens towards the north-east, till it reaches the river Hudson. From its upper portion it sends off a considerable arm, which penetrates for several hundred miles into the granitic region, overlaying it, but running parallel with the principal body. After the primitive, it forms some of the highest mountains in the range, and seems to be both higher and wider to the west in Pennsylvania, Maryland and part of Virginia, where the primitive is least extended and lowest in height. It contains all the varieties of rocks found in the same formation in Europe.
It varies in breadth from twenty to one hundred miles. In the limestone of this formation there are many and extensive caves, some of which extend for miles under ground, and contain the bones of animals. It is the lowest, and is considered the most ancient of the rocks containing organized remains, which are those of cryptogamous plants, and animals without sight. The graywacke has been observed to contain impressions of organized remains, but they are usually those of zoophytic animals, and are exceedingly unlike those found so abundantly in the coal formations. Its colors are variable; it is, however, most commonly bluish, black, or dark brown. The graywacke seems to form the connecting link between the clay-slate and a rock which has been called the old red sandstone, and is usually found intimately blended either with the one or the other. This sandstone occurs throughout the whole extent of the transition formation, and evidently belongs to the oldest depositions of that rock. It is for the most part distinctly stratified, and in all cases its stratification is inclined.
Of the rocks thus described, the limestone occurs extensively all along the north-western side of the primitive strata. It is probable that transition limestone is the foundation through their whole extent of the Alleghany mountains of Pennsylvania, Maryland and the western parts of Virginia, on a level with the surface at the base of their eastern declivities. The clay-slate occurs in the central portions of that extensive field of transition, which skirts the western margin of the primitive of New York and New England, and forms the great body of the Catskill mountains. The old red sandstone in the transition district, along the whole range of mountains, is perhaps more abundant than any other aggregate. This region has also a considerable mixture of trap. Various large bodies of transition rock are thrown to a considerable distance into the primitive region; while in many instances, secondary rocks are found running along the valleys far into the bosom of the mountains.
With the edge of the transition strata, we approach the western summits of the Apalachian mountains, or the line from whence they begin to fall toward the Mississippi valley. Along this line commences a series of secondary rocks, stretching westward to an immense extent towards the Mississippi and the lakes, and constituting one of the most interesting and important geological formations in the United States. This secondary region extends unbroken across the whole country to the shores of the lakes, being bounded on the west probably by the river Wabash, and in descending the Mississippi by the more recent formations through which that river flows. It consists generally of various strata of sandstone, limestone and clay. Immense beds of secondary limestone, of all shades from light blue to black, sometimes intercepted by extensive tracts of sandstone and other secondary aggregates, appear to constitute the foundation of this formation, which extends from the head waters of the Ohio, with some interruptions, all the way to the waters of the Tombigbee, accompanied by slaty clay and freestone with vegetable impressions; but in no instance yet ascertained, covered by or alternating with any rock resembling basalt, or indeed any of those called the newest floetz trap formation. A grand peculiarity of this secondary region is the uniform, horizontal direction of the strata.
We will now briefly examine the region which occupies the centre of the Mississippi valley. The Ozark mountains consist chiefly of secondary and transition rocks; but there are two points at which the primitive makes its appearance. About fifteen miles south-east from the hot springs, near the Washita, granite is found in situ. It is very soft, and disintegrates rapidly when exposed to the air. It is compounded of greyish-white quartz, yellowish-white feldspar, and an unusually large proportion of mica in variously and brilliantly-colored masses. This granite, if of secondary formation, is much more extensive than any of the kind hitherto known. ‘We are ignorant,’ says Dr. James, ‘of the manner of its connection with any other rock, nor do we know of any formation of primitive granite from which it could, by the action of water, have been derived: one can have no hesitation, however, in considering the Ozark mountains as a separate system within themselves, and having no immediate connection with either the Apalachian or the Chippewayan mountains.’ Mr. Schoolcraft mentions another granite region as occurring in the north-eastern extremity of the Ozark range, in the mining district of Potosi.
In connection with the granite of the Washita is found a stratum of clay-slate, and another of transition sandstone, but neither of them of great extent. The hot springs of the Washita issue from the clay-slate, and it is supposed that a very large mass of clay-slate is interposed between the surface of the granite and the point at which the springs rise. The slate-rock about the hot springs is highly inclined, often flinty in its composition, and, as far as it has been hitherto examined, contains no organic remains. It is traversed by large upright veins, usually filled with white quartz. The mountains contain vast beds of secondary limestone, which from its peculiar crystalline appearance might be easily mistaken for the primitive. These vast beds of sparry limestone, almost exclusively made up of deposits from chemical solution, would seem to have been formed during periods of great tranquillity in the waters. The sandstones of this small group of mountains appear under almost every variety of character. A region similar in mineralogical character to the Ozark mountains extends northward from the confluence of the Missouri, to the Ouisconsin and Ontonagon rivers of lake Superior. The sandstones, limestones and other rocks have a striking resemblance. Of the Black mountains in the north-western part of the Mississippi valley, but little is known; they appear to be composed of sandstone lying horizontally, and to be destitute of valuable minerals. Between these mountains and the central district, is a wide alluvial tract containing the course of the Missouri. The same appellation has been given by Dr. James to a space between the Ozark mountains and the Chippewayan sands, and to the country on both sides of the lower Mississippi.
We must now turn our attention to the region which lies to the eastward of the Apalachian mountains. The eastern front of this range is composed of primitive rocks, which reach the sea as far south as the Hudson; from this point they take an inland course, and leave a considerable tract of land between them and the ocean all the way to the Mississippi. On this side, there is no appearance of any rocks of the transition class; the primitive terminates abruptly, and is skirted through its whole length by an extensive series of beds of shell-limestone, marl, clay, sand and gravel, constituting what has been described as the Atlantic slope. This class of strata begins at Long island, and gradually widens in its extent through the middle and southern states, forms the whole of Florida, and crossing the Mississippi, meets the secondary formation of that valley, and sends up a tongue for a considerable distance along the sides of that river. We may here notice one of the most peculiar features of our geology. This is the ridge of granite which forms the boundary between the primitive and secondary regions, and is conjectured to have been the ancient line of the seacoast. It commences in Georgia and extends as far north as New York, whence it seems to pass into Long island and under the sound into Connecticut.
The entire region to the eastward of the primitive was long considered as alluvial; but it has been found to comprehend secondary, as well as a large extent of tertiary formations. Decisive evidence of this fact has been furnished by the investigations of Dr. Morton of Philadelphia. The secondary strata are not, however, calcareous, but consist of beds of sand and clay analogous to the iron sand, green sand, and chalk marl or galt of England. Dr. Morton calls it the ferruginous sand formation. In Maryland commences a vast deposit of sand and clay, extending along the coast to the Mississippi; this tract abounds with tertiary fossils, which appear chiefly to belong to the upper marine formation of European geologists. The secondary strata are occasionally met with beneath it, and sometimes approach so near the surface as to be readily identified by their fossils. It is therefore reasonable to suppose, that the beds of ferruginous sand extend nearly the whole length of the Atlantic frontiers, of the states south of Long island. One of the most abundant mineral productions of these beds is lignite, which is found at the deep cut of the Chesapeak and Delaware canal, in almost every variety, from charred wood to well-characterized jet. It sometimes occurs in small fragments, and sometimes in large masses, presenting the trunks and limbs of trees thirty feet in length.
Though occurring largely on the Atlantic slope, the tertiary formations are by no means confined to it; they overlay the secondary strata to a great extent on both sides of the mountain chains. Of all visible strata, marly clay is one of the most universal; it is the common clay of all North America. In this clay, sulphate of magnesia frequently occurs, and sometimes muriate of soda. Bagshot sand and crag are next in extent to the marly clay, and generally overlie it. The plastic clay formation is stated to appear very distinctly on the west side of lake Champlain, and at various points from Martha’s Vineyard to the eastward of Long island, to Florida and the Mississippi. The silicious limestone of Georgia is asserted to be decidedly contemporaneous with the calcaire silicieuse of the Paris basin. In Virginia, the marly or London clay is found, and the sands of the upper marine formation are conceived to occur in the same state and in Staten island.
Of the geology of the region west of the Chippewayan mountains, nothing certain is known. The chains which stretch nearer to the Pacific are lofty, and are presumed to be primitive. Mr. Scrope represents the mountains which border the Pacific ocean as volcanic.
From the importance which fossil remains have recently assumed in geological science, much interest is naturally attached to those contained in the strata of the western world. It will be long before so vast a field of inquiry is fully explored, and with Mr. Maclure in 1812, we may still say that it has not yet been examined with that accuracy of discrimination necessary to form just conclusions. We derive such knowledge as is possessed on the subject from various sources. The fossils of the transition strata consist of the ancient coralline and encrinital families, and generally resemble those of similar rocks in other parts of the globe. Organic remains in the coal formations are found at Westfield, Connecticut; at Sunderland, Massachusetts; and it is said also in some other places. At Westfield they were found, in exploring for coal, lying upon bituminous shale.
The following information is furnished in an article by Mr. Caleb Atwater. ‘In the vicinity of the Ohio river, and on the waters of the Muskingum, I have carefully examined not a few of the fossil trees there existing. Among them I noticed the following, viz. black oak, black walnut, sycamore or button wood, white birch, sugar maple, the date or bread-fruit tree, cocoanut-bearing palm, the bamboo and the dogwood; and I have in my possession the perfect impression of the cassia and the tea leaf. Of ferns, I have beautiful impressions of the leaves, and of the bread-fruit tree flowers, fully expanded, fresh, and entire. I have specimens so perfect, and so faithful to nature, as to dispel all doubts as to what they once were. The larger trees are found mostly in sandstone, although the bark of the date tree, much flattened, I ought to say perfectly so, is found in shale covering coal. The date is a large tree, not very tall, and having numerous wide-spreading branches. Nine miles west of Zanesville, the body of a bread-fruit tree, now turned to sandstone, may be seen; it is exactly such sandstone as that in which M. Brongniart found tropical plants imbedded in France. It contains a considerable quantity of mica in its composition. The cassia was found in such sandstone in the Zanesville canal. The bamboo is mostly impressed upon ironstone, especially the roots, and the trunk and leaves are found in the micaceous sandstone. The ironstone is sometimes apparently made of bamboo leaves, the leaves of fern, and bamboo roots. It happens frequently that the trunks of small trees and plants are flattened by pressure, and the bark of them partially turned into coal. Thus the shale often contains a bark, now become coal, and a stratum of shale in succession, alternately, for several inches in thickness.’
Some further interesting particulars respecting fossil and other remains will be found in the following description of them by Mr. Atwater, as occurring in the state of Ohio. ‘I am credibly informed, that in digging a well at Cincinnati, in this state, an arrow-head was found more than ninety feet below the surface. At Pickaway plains, while several persons were digging a well several years since, a human skeleton was found seventeen feet six inches below the surface. This skeleton was seen by several persons, and among others, by Doct. Daniel Turney, an eminent surgeon; they all concurred in the belief, that it belonged to a human being. Pickaway plains are, or rather were, a large prairie, before the land was improved by its present inhabitants. This tract is alluvial to a great depth; greater, probably, than the earth has ever been perforated, certainly than it ever has been by the hand of man. The surface of the plain is at least one hundred feet above the highest freshet of the Scioto river, near which it lies. On the surface is a black vegetable mould, from three, to six, and nine feet in depth; then we find pebbles, and shells imbedded among them: the pebbles are evidently rounded and smoothed by attrition in water, exactly such as we now see at the bottom of rivers, ponds, and lakes.
‘I have examined the spot where this skeleton was found, and am persuaded that it was not deposited there by the hand of man, for there are no marks of any grave, or of any of the works of man; but the earth and pebbles appear to lie in the very position in which they were deposited by the water. On the north side of a small stream, called Hargus creek, which at this place empties itself into the Scioto, in digging through a hill composed of such pebbles as I have described in Pickaway plains, at least nine feet below the surface, several human skeletons were discovered, perfect in every limb. These skeletons were promiscuously scattered about, and parts of skeletons were sometimes found at different depths below the surface. This hill is at least fifty feet above the highest freshets in the Scioto, and is a very ancient alluvion, where every stratum of sand, clay, and pebbles has been deposited by the waters of some stream. Other skulls have been taken out of the same hill, by persons who, in order to make a road through it, were engaged in taking it away. These bones are very similar to those found in our mounds, and probably belonged to the same race of men; a people short and thick, not exceeding generally five feet in height, and very possibly they were not more than four feet six inches. The skeletons, when first exposed to the atmosphere, are quite perfect, but afterwards moulder and fall into pieces. Whether they were overwhelmed by the deluge of Noah, or by some other, I know not; but one thing appears certain, namely: that water has deposited them here, together with the hill in which, for so many ages, they have reposed. Indeed, this whole country appears to have been once, and for a considerable period, covered with water, which has made it one vast cemetery of the beings of former ages. Fragments of antique pottery, and even entire pots of coarse earthen ware, have been found likewise in the excavations of the Illinois salt-works, at the depth of eighty feet and more from the surface. One of these was ascertained to hold from eight to ten gallons, and some were alleged to be of much greater capacity. This fossil pottery is stated not to differ materially from that which frequently occurs in the mounds supposed to have been formed by the aboriginal Indians.’
The largest and most interesting fossils of this country are the remains of the mastodon, an enormous creature of an extinct race, nearly allied to the elephant, and long considered identical with it, but now allotted to a distinct genus under the name of mastodon. For a minute and detailed account of these remains, we must refer our readers to the valuable work of Godman. The size of the living animal may be conjectured when it is stated, that the head at the posterior part is thirty-two inches across, the lower jaw two feet ten inches long, and the tusks ten feet seven inches long, and seven inches and three fourths in diameter at the base. It is wonderful to reflect that but for the accidental preservation of a few bones, we should never have known the existence of an animal so huge in its dimensions, and necessarily of such vast strength and power.
We know not where, better than in the present connection, to introduce a circumstance hitherto unexplained, if not altogether inexplicable. There have been found, it appears beyond all question, in naked limestone of the elder secondary formation, close on the western margin of the Mississippi at St. Louis, the prints of human feet. The prints are those of a man standing erect, with his heels drawn in, and his toes turned outward, which is the most natural position. They are not the impressions of feet accustomed to a tight shoe, the toes being very much spread, and the foot flattened in the manner that happens to those who have been habituated to go a great length of time without shoes. The prints are strikingly natural, exhibiting every muscular impression and swell of the heel and toes, with great precision and faithfulness to nature. The length of each foot, as indicated by the prints, is ten inches and a half, and the width across the spread of the toes, four inches, which diminishes to two inches and a half at the swell of the heels, indicating, as it is thought, a stature of the common size.
Every appearance seems to warrant the conclusion that these impressions were made at a time when the rock was soft enough to receive them by pressure, and that the marks of feet are natural and genuine. ‘Such was the opinion of Governor Cass and myself,’ says Mr. Schoolcraft, ‘formed upon the spot, and there is nothing that I have subsequently seen to alter this view: on the contrary, there are some corroborating facts calculated to strengthen and confirm it.’ At Herculaneum, in the same neighborhood, similar marks have been found, as well as on some of the spurs of the Cumberland mountains, always in similar limestone. In the latter case it is stated that the impressions are elongated, as of persons slipping in ascending a slimy steep. Opinions are much divided as to the origin and import of these impressions. Should similar observations multiply, important inferences may perhaps be drawn from them; at present it seems impossible to speak respecting them decisively or satisfactorily.
The following extraordinary facts, respecting what may be termed living fossils, appear to be well authenticated. During the construction of the Erie canal, while the workmen were cutting through a ridge of gravel, they found several hundred of live molluscous animals. ‘I have before me,’ says Professor Eaton, ‘several of the shells from which the workmen took the animals, fried and ate them. I have received satisfactory assurances that the animals were taken alive from the depth of forty-two feet.’ In addition to this discovery in diluvial deposits, mention is made of a similar one in a much older formation. In laying the foundation of a house at Whitesborough, the workmen had occasion to split a large stone from the millstone grit. ‘It was perfectly close-grained and compact. On opening it, they discovered a black, or dark brown spherical mass, about three inches in diameter, in a cavity which it filled. On examining it particularly, they found it to be a toad, much larger than the common species and of a darker color. It was perfectly torpid. It was laid upon a stone, and soon began to give signs of life. In a few hours, it would hop moderately on being disturbed. They saw it in the yard, moving about slowly for several days; but it was not watched by them any longer, and no one observed its farther movements. They laid one half of the stone in the wall, so that the cavity may still be seen.
‘The millstone grit,’ says Professor Eaton, who gives this account, ‘in which this toad was found, is the oldest of the secondary rocks. It must have been formed many years before the deluge. Was this toad more than four thousand years old? or was it from an egg introduced, through a minute and undiscovered cleavage, into this cavity or geode, made precisely to fit the size and form of a toad? I was particular in my inquiry, and learned that the whole stone was perfectly compact, without any open cleavage which would admit an egg. Besides, it is well known that the millstone grit is neither porous nor geodiferous. If this rock stratum was deposited upon the toad, it must have been in aqueous, not in igneous solution, and the toad must have been full grown at the time. Toads are often found in compact, hard, gravelly diluvial deposits, in situations which demonstrate that they must have lived from the time of the deluge. I think I am warranted in saying this without citing authorities, as it is a common occurrence. Then why may they not have lived a few centuries longer, if we admit them a life of at least three thousand years?’
GENERAL REMARKS ON GEOLOGY.
Geological researches are made with much greater facility in America than in Europe, especially in the region of the secondary strata. The immense extent over which they can be traced, the undisturbed condition in which they are found, and their generally horizontal position, afford great facility for efforts of system and generalization. The absence of the newest floetz-trap rocks, and of the effects of the violent convulsions, so frequent in the vicinity of this disputed formation, unquestionably assist geological research. A second and more efficient cause is found in the extent of the changes that have been wrought in the different classes of rocks on the European continent since their original formation, by the effect of water, and the continual action of rivers wearing deep beds, and exposing the subordinate strata. Rivers also in North America have not generally cut so deep into the different strata, either in the mountains, or during their course in the level country, as materially to derange the stratifications. Broken masses of one formation covering the tops of mountains, whose foundations are composed of rocks of a different class, seldom occur. A third cause of the facility of geological observation in this continent is found in the fact that the whole continent east of the Mississippi follows the arrangement of one great chain of mountains. Europe, on the contrary, is intersected by five or six distinct ranges, which follow different laws of stratification, and frequently interrupt each other.
The effect of opening this new field of observation has been striking and important. It has been to confound every previous effort at the determination and arrangement of general strata. European geologists themselves have acknowledged that the general strata must be determined in America. The absence of the chalk forcibly illustrates this; the chalk being not only a very prominent feature in the geological structure of Europe, but the grand point of division between the secondary and tertiary formations. The English oolite is not found in this country. It has been affirmed by Professor Eaton that the old red sandstone is not a general stratum, and even the existence of primitive clay-slate is questioned; while Mr. Maclure informs us that though the primitive formation contains all the variety of rocks contained in the mountains of Europe, yet neither their relative situation in the order of succession, nor their relative heights in the range of mountains, correspond with European observations. The order of succession from the clay-slate to the granite, as well as the gradually diminishing height of the strata, from the granite through the gneiss, mica slate, and hornblende rock, down to the clay-slate, is so often inverted and mixed, as to render the arrangement of any regular series impracticable.
It is of course out of the question in these remarks to present a detailed account of the general science of geology. For valuable and well-digested treatises on this subject, we refer to Cuvier’s Theory of the Earth, and Lyell’s Principles of Geology. The volumes of Silliman’s Journal, and Professor Cleaveland’s works, abound in important matter on the geology of our continent.
It is our intention to collect under this general head a few miscellaneous descriptions, that could not have been properly placed under any other division. The space that we can devote to this subject is small, and it is impossible to enter into much detail. Among the most admired and interesting natural curiosities of our country, are the Pictured Rocks, of lake Superior, which have been described by an intelligent traveller to whose observation we have been already largely indebted.
‘The Pictured Rocks,’ says Mr. Schoolcraft, ‘are a series of lofty bluffs, which continue for twelve miles along the shore, and present some of the most sublime and commanding views in nature. We had been told, by our Canadian guide, of the variety in the color and form of these rocks, but were wholly unprepared to encounter the surprising groups of overhanging precipices, towering walls, caverns, waterfalls, and prostrate ruins, which are here mingled in the most wonderful disorder, and burst upon the view in ever-varying and pleasing succession. In order to convey any just idea of their magnificence, it is necessary to premise, that this part of the shore consists of a sandstone rock of a light gray color internally, and deposited stratum super-stratum to the height of three hundred feet, rising in a perpendicular wall from the water and extending from four to five leagues in length.
Pictured Rocks.
‘This rock is made up of coarse grains of sand, united by a calcareous cement, and occasionally imbedding pebbles of quartz and other water-worn fragments of rocks, but adhering with a feeble force, and, where exposed to the weather, easily crushed between the fingers. Externally, it presents a great variety of color, as black, red, yellow, brown, and white, particularly along the most permanent parts of the shore; but where masses have newly fallen, its color is a light gray. This stupendous wall of rock, exposed to the fury of the waves, which are driven up by every north wind across the whole width of lake Superior, has been partially prostrated at several points, and worn out into numerous bays and irregular indentations. All these front upon the lake, in a line of aspiring promontories, which, at a distance, present the terrible array of dilapidated battlements and desolate towers.
‘Among many striking features, two attracted particular admiration,—the Cascade La Portaille, and the Doric Arch. The cascade is situated about four miles beyond the commencement of the range of bluffs, and in the centre of the most commanding part of it. It consists of a handsome stream, which is precipitated about seventy feet from the bluff into the lake at one leap. Its form is that of a rainbow, rising from the lake, to the top of the precipice. We passed near the point of its fall upon the surface of the lake, and could have gone, unwetted, between it and the rocks, as it is thrown a considerable distance into the lake.
‘The Doric Rock is an isolated mass of sandstone, consisting of four natural pillars, supporting a stratum or entablature of the same material, and presenting the appearance of a work of art. On the top of this entablature rests a stratum of alluvial soil, covered with a handsome growth of pine and spruce trees, some of which appear to be fifty or sixty feet in height. To add to the factitious appearance of the scene, that part of the entablature included between the pillars is excavated in the form of a common arch, giving it very much the appearance of a vaulted passage into the court yard of some massy pile of antiquated buildings. A little to the west of this rock, the Miner’s river enters the lake by a winding channel, overshadowed with trees, and intersected by a succession of small rapids.’
Mineralized Tree.—About half a mile from the village of Chitteningo, in New York, a fossil or mineralized tree was some years ago discovered. It lies at the base of the Conasewago mountains, within a few yards of a branch of the Erie canal, which runs up to the village. The tree appears to have been blown down or broken off; there are eight or ten feet of stump remaining, with some part of the large end near the root; the stump is about three feet in diameter, the bark, the fibrous texture of the wood and two or three knots are very obvious; there is a substance very much resembling veins disseminated through what seems to have once been the sap vessels of the tree. The lower part of the root is imbedded in the soil, where it probably once grew. Vast quantities of mineralized wood, both in small and large masses, are scattered in all directions around this stump; fragments which from their loose and porous texture, seem to have been petrified, after the wood began to decay. Indeed so numerous are these fragments, that almost every stone in this vicinity appears to have been once a living plant.58
The Devil’s Diving Hole.—About four miles below the falls of Niagara, on the American side, is a very curious place called the Devil’s Diving Hole, which is nearly one hundred feet deep; the edge of it is so very near the road that they have taken the precaution to cut down some trees, so as to form a kind of barricado, in order to prevent cattle or strangers from falling into it. This hole, as it is called, is, more properly speaking, the narrow extremity of a considerable ravine, which has, at some remote period, been formed in the rock; it shelves off as it descends towards the river, and is in length about two hundred yards from the road to the river. The top is so overgrown with bushes that a hasty view would induce many to suppose it to be really a hole; but a closer examination soon leads their eye along the windings of its courses, and discovers a very considerable breadth at no great distance. A hemlock tree, firmly rooted at the bottom, stretches its top almost to the surface, and is so conveniently fitted to the hole or opening, that you have only to descend five or six feet, when its branches afford you a safe and easy step-ladder quite to the bottom, where you will find a copious spring of excellent water.
An occurrence is traditionally described as having taken place at this spot during the French war, the circumstances of which were as follows:—A British detachment, being pursued by a superior French force, were so hemmed in that their retreat to the road was cut off, and their escape effectually prevented by this ravine. Seeing their situation irretrievable, they laid down their arms, and surrendered themselves prisoners of war. Notwithstanding this surrender, the French rushed upon them with charged bayonets and precipitated the whole party down this precipice. Here they perished with the exception of a single soldier, who was preserved by falling on some of his comrades.
Natural Bridge.—This wonderful bridge is considered by many the greatest natural curiosity in this country. It has never been described so well as by Mr. Jefferson, and though his account of it has been so frequently reprinted, we have thought best to adopt it.
‘The Natural Bridge, the most sublime of nature’s works, is on the ascent of a hill, which seems to have been cloven through its length by some great convulsion. The fissure just at the bridge is by some admeasurements two hundred and seventy feet deep, by others only two hundred and five. It is about forty-five feet wide at the bottom, and ninety feet at the top: this of course determines the length of the bridge and its height from the water. Its breadth in the middle is about sixty feet, but more at the ends, and the thickness of the mass at the summit of the arch, about forty feet. A part of this thickness is constituted by a coat of earth, which gives growth to many large trees. The residue, with the hill on both sides, is one solid rock of limestone.
‘The arch approaches the semi-elliptical form, but the larger axis of the ellipsis, which would be the chord of the arch, is many times longer than the transverse. Though the sides of this bridge are provided, in some parts, with a parapet of fixed rocks, yet few men have resolution to walk to them and look over into the abyss. You involuntarily fall on your hands and feet, creep to the parapet, and peep over it. Looking down from this height about a minute, gave me a violent headache.
‘If the view from the top be painful and intolerable, that from below is delightful in an equal extreme. It is impossible for the emotions arising out of the sublime to be felt beyond what they are here, so beautiful an arch, so elevated, so light, and springing, as it were, up to heaven, the rapture of the spectator is really indescribable!
‘The fissure continuing narrow, deep, and straight for a considerable distance above and below the bridge, opens a short but very pleasing view of the North mountain on one side, and the Blue ridge on the other, at the distance each of them of about five miles. This bridge is in the county of Rockbridge, to which it has given name, and affords a public and commodious passage over a valley, which cannot be crossed elsewhere for a considerable distance. The stream passing under it is called Cedar creek. It is a water of James river, and sufficient in the driest seasons to turn a grist-mill, though its fountain is not more than two miles above.’
The description which follows is from another writer. ‘As we stood under this beautiful arch, we saw the place where visitors have often taken the pains to engrave their names upon the rock. Here Washington climbed up twenty-five feet and carved his own name, where it still remains. Some wishing to immortalize their names have engraved them deep and large, while others have tried to climb up and insert them high in this book of fame.
‘A few years since, a young man, being ambitious to place his name above all others, came very near losing his life in the attempt. After much fatigue, he climbed up as high as possible, but found that the person who had before occupied his place was taller than himself, and consequently had placed his name above his reach. But he was not thus to be discouraged. He opened a large jacknife, and in the soft limestone began to cut places for his hands and feet. With much patience and industry he worked his way upwards, and succeeded in carving his name higher than the most ambitious had done before him.
‘He could now triumph; but his triumph was short, for he was placed in such a situation that it was impossible to descend unless he fell upon the ragged rocks beneath him. There was no house near, from which his companions could get assistance. He could not remain in that condition, and, what was worse, his friends were too much frightened to do any thing for his relief. They looked upon him as already dead, expecting every moment to see him precipitated upon the rocks below and dashed to pieces. Not so with himself. He determined to ascend. Accordingly he plied himself with his knife, cutting places for his hands and feet, and gradually ascended with incredible labor. He exerted every muscle. His life was at stake, and all the terrors of death rose before him. He dared not look downwards lest his head should become dizzy, and perhaps on this circumstance his life depended.
‘His companions stood at the top of the rock exhorting and encouraging him. His strength was almost exhausted; but a bare possibility of saving his life still remained, and hope, the last friend of the distressed, had not yet forsaken him. His course upwards was rather oblique, than perpendicular. His most critical moment had now arrived. He had ascended considerably more than two hundred feet, and had still further to rise, when he felt himself fast growing weak. He now made his last effort and succeeded. He had cut his way not far from two hundred and fifty feet from the water, in a course almost perpendicular; and in a little less than two hours, his anxious companions reached him a pole from the top, and drew him up. They received him with shouts of joy; but he himself was completely exhausted. He immediately fainted away on reaching the spot, and it was some time before he could be recovered.
‘It was interesting to see the path up these awful rocks, and to follow in imagination this bold youth as he thus saved his life. His name stands far above all the rest, a monument of hardihood, of rashness, and of folly.’
Natural Stone Walls.—On the Missouri, at the distance of about one hundred miles from the Great Falls, are the natural stone walls which have thus been described by Lewis and Clarke:
‘We came to a high wall of black rock rising from the water’s edge on the south, above the cliffs of the river: this continued about a quarter of a mile, and was succeeded by a high open plain, till three miles further a second wall, two hundred feet high, rose on the same side. Three miles farther, another wall of the same kind, about two hundred feet high and twelve thick, appeared to the north. These hills and river cliffs exhibit a most extraordinary and romantic appearance. They rise in most places nearly perpendicularly from the water to the height of between two and three hundred feet, and are formed of very white sandstone, so soft as to yield readily to the impression of the water, in the upper part of which lie imbedded two or three horizontal strata of white freestone insensible to the rain, and on the top is a dark rich loam, which forms a gradually ascending plain, from a mile to a mile and a half in extent, when the hills again rise abruptly to the height of about three hundred feet more.
‘In trickling down the cliffs, the water has worn the soft sandstone into a thousand grotesque figures, among which, with a little fancy, may be discerned elegant ranges of freestone buildings, with columns variously sculptured, and supporting long and elegant galleries, while the parapets are adorned with statuary. On a nearer approach, they represent every form of elegant ruins; columns, some with pedestals and capitals entire, others mutilated and prostrate; and some rising pyramidically over each other till they terminate in a sharp point. These are varied by niches, alcoves, and the customary appearances of desolated magnificence. The illusion is increased by the number of martins that have built their globular nests in the niches, and hover over these columns; as in our country they are accustomed to frequent large stone structures.
‘As we advance, there seems no end to the visionary enchantment that surrounds us. In the midst of this fantastic scenery are vast ranges of walls, which seem the productions of art, so regular is the workmanship. They rise perpendicularly from the river, sometimes to the height of one hundred feet, varying in thickness from one to twelve feet, being equally broad at the top as below. The stones of which they are formed, are black, thick, and durable, and composed of a large portion of earth, intermixed and cemented with a small quantity of sand, and a considerable proportion of talc or quartz.
‘These stones are almost invariably regular parallelopipeds of unequal sizes in the wall, but equally deep, and laid regularly in ranges over each other like bricks, each breaking and covering the interstice of the two on which it rests. But though the perpendicular interstice is destroyed, the horizontal one extends entirely through the work. The stones, too, are proportioned to the thickness of the wall in which they are employed, being largest in the thickest walls. The thinner walls are composed of a single depth of the parallelopiped, while the thicker ones consist of two or more depths. These walls pass the river at several places, rising from the water’s edge much above the sandstone bluffs, which they seem to penetrate; thence they cross in a straight line, on either side of the river, the plains over which they tower to the height of from ten to seventy feet, until they lose themselves in the second range of hills. Sometimes they run parallel in several ranges near each other; sometimes intersect each other at right angles, and have the appearance of walls of ancient houses or gardens.’
PART II.
POLITICAL GEOGRAPHY.
UNITED STATES. The territory of the United States extends from twenty-five to fifty-four degrees north latitude, and from sixty-six degrees forty-nine minutes to one hundred and twenty-five degrees west longitude; comprising one million eight hundred and thirty-two thousand three hundred and fifteen square miles. It is bounded north by Russia and British America; east by the Atlantic and British America; south by the Atlantic, the gulf and territory of Mexico, and west by Mexico, Texas, and the Pacific ocean. This extent of country is divided into twenty-six states, six territories, and the district of Columbia. The states are familiarly classed under the Eastern or New England, the Middle, the Southern, and the Western states. The first division comprehends Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut; the second, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland; the third, Virginia, North and South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana; the fourth, Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Arkansas and Missouri. The territories are Florida, Wisconsin, Iowa, Missouri, Indiana, and Oregon. There are no territorial governments in the Missouri and Oregon territories. The whole extent of inhabited country includes more than eight hundred thousand square miles; and the whole population is seventeen million sixty-eight thousand one hundred and twelve.
Maine.—This state is bounded north and north-west by Lower Canada; east by New Brunswick; west by New Hampshire, and south by the Atlantic ocean. The north-eastern boundary is yet in dispute. Maine is divided into 18 counties.59 The towns are about four hundred in number; Augusta is the capital. The other principal towns are Portland, Brunswick, Bath, Wiscasset, Bangor, Castine, Hallowell, York, Saco, Kennebunk, Eastport, Machias, Belfast, Gardiner, and Waterville. The chief rivers are the Saco, Penobscot, Androscoggin, Kennebec, Walloostook and Allagash, head streams of the St. John, and the St. Croix. Among the mountains are Bald, Ebeeme, Spencer and Katahdin. The lakes are Moosehead, Umbagog, Chesuncook, and Sebago. Mount Desert is the largest of the islands with which the coast is strewn. The bays are Portland, Passamaquoddy, Casco and Penobscot. Population, five hundred and one thousand seven hundred and ninety-three.
New Hampshire is situated between forty-two degrees forty-one minutes and forty-five degrees eleven minutes north latitude, and between seventy degrees forty minutes, and seventy-two degrees twenty-three minutes west longitude. It is bounded on the north by Lower Canada; south by Massachusetts; east by Maine and the Atlantic ocean, and west by Connecticut river, which separates it from Vermont. Its extreme length from north to south, is one hundred and sixty-eight miles; and its greatest breadth from east to west, ninety miles; containing an area of nine thousand four hundred and ninety-one miles. This state is divided into ten counties. Portsmouth is the largest town, but Concord is the seat of government. The number of towns in the state is two hundred and 33, and besides those mentioned the principal are Dover, Exeter, Amherst, Hanover and Haverhill. The chief rivers are the Connecticut, Merrimac, and Piscataqua; the mountains are the Monadnock, Sunapee, Kearsarge, Carr’s, and Moosehillock. The White mountains are the most elevated in this state, and the highest east of the Mississippi. The lakes are Winnipiseogee, Squam, Ossipee, Newfound, Spafford’s, and Connecticut; Umbagog lies partly in this state, and partly in Maine. The population by the last census was two hundred eighty-four thousand five hundred and seventy-four.
Vermont is bounded on the west by lake Champlain and New York; south by Massachusetts; east by the Connecticut river, and north by Lower Canada. It is situated between forty-two degrees forty-four minutes, and forty-five degrees north latitude; and between seventy-one degrees thirty-three minutes, and seventy-three degrees twenty-six minutes west longitude. It is one hundred and fifty-seven miles in length; its breadth is ninety miles on the north line, and forty on the south. It is divided into thirteen counties, and two hundred and forty-five towns. None of the towns are very large. Montpelier is the seat of government. Among the chief towns are Middlebury, Bennington, Montpelier, Brattleboro’, Burlington, and Windsor. The rivers, all of which are small, are Lamoille, Onion, Otter, White, and Missisque; the west bank of the Connecticut forms the eastern boundary of the state. The mountains are Ascutney, Killington’s Peak, Camel’s Rump, and Mansfield, peaks of the Green mountains. The population in 1840 was two hundred and ninety-one thousand nine hundred and forty-eight.
Massachusetts is bounded east by the Atlantic; west by New York; north by Vermont and New Hampshire, and south by Connecticut, Rhode Island and the Atlantic. It lies between forty-one degrees fifteen minutes and forty-two degrees fifty-four minutes north latitude; and between sixty-nine degrees fifty-four minutes and seventy-three degrees thirty minutes west longitude. It is one hundred and eighty miles long from east to west; and ninety-six miles broad from north to south. Its area includes seven thousand and eight hundred square miles. The rivers are Connecticut, Merrimac, Charles, Concord, Blackstone, Miller’s, Chickopee, Deerfield, Westfield and Housatonic. The mountains are Saddle mountain, Tagkannuc, Holyoke, Tom and Wachuset. This state is divided into fourteen counties and three hundred and seven towns. Boston is the capital. Salem and New Bedford are next in size and importance; Lowell, Taunton, Springfield, and Waltham are extensively engaged in manufactures; Nantucket, Newburyport, Plymouth and Marblehead are fishing and commercial ports. Worcester, Northampton, and Pittsfield are pleasant inland towns. The population in 1840 was seven hundred and thirty-seven thousand six hundred and ninety-nine.
Connecticut is bounded north by Massachusetts; east by Rhode Island; south by Long Island sound, and west by New York. It lies between forty-one degrees and forty-two degrees two minutes north latitude; and between seventy-one degrees twenty minutes and seventy-three degrees fifteen minutes west longitude. Its length is eighty-eight miles, and its average breadth about fifty-three; its area is four thousand eight hundred and twenty-eight miles. It is divided into eight counties. Hartford, New Haven, Middletown, New London, Norwich and Bridgeport are incorporated cities; Danbury, Guilford, Killingworth, Newtown, Stamford, Stonington and Waterbury are boroughs. Hartford and New Haven are the seats of the state government; and the legislature holds its sessions alternately at the two places. The principal rivers are the Connecticut, Housatonic, Thames, Farmington and Naugatuck. The greatest elevations are a continuation of the Green mountains. The population of this state is three hundred and ten thousand and fifteen.
Rhode Island is bounded west by Connecticut; south by the Atlantic ocean; north and east by Massachusetts. It lies between forty-one and forty-two degrees north latitude; and between seventy-one degrees eight minutes and seventy-one degrees fifty-two minutes west longitude. The average length of the state from north to south is about forty-two miles; its mean breadth about twenty-nine miles; its whole area, including Narraganset bay, comprises one thousand one hundred and twenty-five miles. It contains five counties, and thirty-one towns. Providence is the capital, and in population and wealth the second town in New England. Newport, Bristol, Pawtucket and Warwick are the other chief towns. Pawtucket is the only river of any importance; the Pawtuxet is also the seat of a number of manufactories. The islands are Rhode Island, Conanicut, Prudence and Block. Narraganset bay extends more than thirty miles into the state. The population is one hundred and eight thousand eight hundred and thirty.
New York is bounded east by Vermont, Massachusetts and Connecticut; north by lake Ontario and the river St. Lawrence; west by Pennsylvania, lake Erie and Niagara river; south by New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Its length is three hundred and forty, its breadth three hundred and four miles; and, including Long island, it contains forty-six thousand and eighty-five square miles. It is comprised between forty degrees thirty minutes and forty-five degrees north latitude; and between seventy-three degrees and seventy-nine degrees fifty-five minutes west longitude. It is divided into eight districts, which are subdivided into fifty-six counties. There are seven hundred and sixty-two towns and cities. The population is 2,428,921. New York city is the largest in the western world; Albany is the seat of government, and the second city in the state. Brooklyn, Troy, Hudson, Poughkeepsie, Newburgh, Catskill, Plattsburgh, Rochester and Buffalo are all important towns. The mountains are the Peruvian, Catskill and Shawangunk. The Hudson, Mohawk, Gennessee, Black, Oswegatchie and Susquehannah are the chief rivers. The lakes are Ontario, Champlain, George, Oneida, Skeneateles, Owasco, Cayuga, Seneca, Crooked, Canandaigua, and Chatauque. The islands are Long, Shelter, Grand and Manhattan. The bay of New York is the only large harbor; there are several harbors on lake Ontario.
New Jersey is bounded north by New York and the Atlantic; south by the Atlantic; west by Delaware and Pennsylvania. Its length is one hundred and sixty-three, its breadth fifty-two miles; its area in square miles is seven thousand four hundred and ninety. It lies between thirty-eight degrees seventeen minutes and forty-one degrees twenty-one minutes north latitude; and seventy-five degrees thirty minutes and seventy-three degrees fifty-three minutes west longitude. The state is divided into fourteen counties. Trenton is the seat of government. The other principal towns are Newark, Paterson, Hackensack, Morristown, Newton, Perth Amboy, Belvidere and Elizabethtown. The chief rivers are Second, Hackensack, Passaic and Raritan. Raritan bay is a spacious estuary, on the eastern coast, affording ready access at all seasons to Perth Amboy, the chief seaport town of the state. The population of New Jersey is three hundred and seventy-three thousand three hundred and six.
Pennsylvania is bounded on the north by New York, and the north-west by lake Erie; on the east by the river Delaware which divides it from New York and New Jersey; on the south by Virginia, Maryland and a small portion of Delaware; on the west by Virginia and Ohio. It lies between thirty-nine degrees forty-three minutes and forty-two degrees north latitude; and between seventy-four degrees and eighty degrees forty minutes west longitude. It is divided into the eastern and the western districts; containing fifty-two counties, and six hundred and fifty-one townships. The population of the state is one million seven hundred and twenty-four thousand and thirty-three. Harrisburg is the seat of government. Philadelphia is the chief city, and the second in the union. Pittsburg, Reading, Lancaster, Easton and Bethlehem are large towns. The rivers of this state are the Delaware, Susquehanna, Tioga and Monongahela. The mountains are the South, Kittatiny, Sideling, Ragged, Great Warrior, East Wills, Alleghany, Laurel and Chesnut ridges.
Delaware is bounded south and west by Maryland; east by the ocean and Delaware river and bay, and north by Pennsylvania. Its greatest width is twenty-three miles, and its length ninety-two miles; it is the smallest state in the union with the exception of Rhode Island. It is comprised within thirty-eight degrees twenty-nine minutes and thirty-nine degrees forty-seven minutes north latitude; and within seventy-four degrees fifty-six minutes and seventy-five degrees forty minutes west longitude. Delaware is divided into three counties, which are subdivided into twenty-four hundreds. Dover is the capital; the other principal towns are Wilmington and Newcastle. Brandywine and Christiana creeks are the only streams; Delaware bay forms a large part of the eastern boundary. The population is seventy-eight thousand and eighty-five.
Maryland is bounded south and west by Virginia; east by Delaware and the ocean; north by Pennsylvania. It is divided into nineteen counties. Annapolis is the seat of government. Baltimore is the third commercial city in the union; the other important towns are Fredericktown and Hagerstown. The rivers are the Potomac, Susquehanna, Patapsco, Severn and Patuxent. The northern half of Chesapeak bay is comprised in this state, including many small islands. Maryland lies between thirty-eight degrees and thirty-nine degrees forty-four minutes north latitude; and between seventy-five degrees ten minutes and seventy-nine degrees twenty minutes west longitude. It contains thirteen thousand nine hundred and fifty square miles. Its population is four hundred and sixty-nine thousand two hundred and thirty-two.
Virginia is bounded south by North Carolina and Tennessee; north by Ohio, Pennsylvania and Maryland; east by Maryland and the Atlantic; and west by Ohio and Kentucky. It lies between thirty-six degrees forty minutes and forty degrees forty-three minutes north latitude; and seventy-five degrees twenty-five minutes and eighty-three degrees forty minutes west longitude. Its mean length from east to west is three hundred and fifty-five miles; its mean breadth from north to south is one hundred and eighty-five miles. It is divided into one hundred and sixteen counties, fifty of which are situated on the west, and sixty-six on the east of the Blue ridge. Richmond is the capital. The other principal towns are Norfolk, Petersburg, Fredericksburg, Lynchburg, Wheeling, Winchester, Shepardstown, Staunton, Martensburg, Lexington, Fincastle, Williamsburg and Charlottesville. The chief rivers are the Potomac, Shenandoah, Rappahanock, York and James; these empty into the Chesapeak bay, and other streams intersect different portions of the country. The mountains are ranges of the Apalachian chain; the Alleghany ridge is continued from Pennsylvania; the other ridges are Greenbriar, North mountain, Broad mountain, Back Bone, Jackson river mountain, Iron mountain and Great Flat Top. The highest summits are the Peaks of Otter in the Alleghany ridge. The population of Virginia is one million two hundred and thirty-nine thousand seven hundred and ninety-seven.
North Carolina is bounded west by Tennessee; south by South Carolina and the ocean; east by the ocean; and north by Virginia. It contains forty-three thousand and eight hundred square miles; extending from thirty-three degrees fifty minutes to thirty-six degrees thirty minutes north latitude; and seventy-five degrees forty-five minutes to eighty-four degrees west longitude. It is divided into sixty-seven counties. Raleigh is the seat of government; Newbern is the largest town. The other towns of importance are Fayetteville and Wilmington. The rivers are the Roanoke, Chowan, Pamlico, Cape Fear and Yadkin; the mountains, Iron, Bald and Smoky. The sounds are Albemarle and Pamlico; the coast is skirted by small islands. The population is seven hundred and fifty-three thousand four hundred and nineteen.
South Carolina is bounded south and west by Georgia; east by the Atlantic, and north by North Carolina. It is two hundred miles long and one hundred and twenty-five broad; lying between thirty-two degrees and thirty-five degrees eight minutes north latitude; and seventy-eight degrees twenty-four minutes and eighty-three degrees thirty minutes west longitude. It contains thirty thousand and eighty square miles; and is divided into twenty-nine districts. Charleston is the chief city and great commercial port; it was formerly the seat of government. Columbia is now the capital. Georgetown, Beaufort and Camden are the other principal towns. The rivers are the Great Pedee, Santee, Edisto and Savannah. The population of South Carolina is five hundred and ninety-four thousand three hundred and ninety-eight.
Georgia is bounded west by Alabama; south by Florida; east by South Carolina and the Atlantic; north by North Carolina and Tennessee. It extends from thirty degrees thirty minutes to thirty-five degrees north latitude; and from eighty degrees fifty minutes to eighty-six degrees six minutes west longitude; its length is two hundred and seventy, and its breadth two hundred and fifty miles. It is divided into ninety-three counties. Savannah is the largest town; Milledgeville is the seat of government. Augusta and Macon are the other principal towns. The chief rivers are the Savannah, Oakmulgee, Oconee, St. Mary’s, Alatahama and Chatahoochee. The mountains are the peaks of the southern extremity of the Blue ridge, and the Lookout mountain. Georgia is bordered by ranges of small islands. The population, exclusive of Indians, is six hundred and ninety-one thousand three hundred and ninety-two.
Alabama is bounded on the south by Florida and the gulf of Mexico; west by Mississippi; east by Georgia, and north by Tennessee. It lies between thirty degrees twelve minutes and thirty-five degrees north latitude; and eighty-five degrees and eighty-eight degrees thirty minutes west longitude. Its breadth is one hundred and sixty, and its length two hundred and eighty miles; the whole area including forty-six thousand square miles. This state is divided into forty-six counties. Tuscaloosa is the seat of government. Mobile is the great commercial depot, and the only town of consequence. Among the other towns are Blakely, St. Stephens’ and Cahawba. In the northern part of this state is the western extremity of the Apalachian mountains, consisting chiefly of limestone rocks. Alabama is the longest river; this unites with the Tombeckbee, and takes the name of Mobile. The population of Alabama, not including Indians, is five hundred and ninety thousand seven hundred and fifty-six.
Mississippi is bounded south by Louisiana; west by Louisiana and the state of Arkansas; north by Tennessee, and east by Alabama. Its breadth is one hundred and fifty, and its length three hundred and thirty-five miles; it contains forty-five thousand seven hundred and sixty square miles. It lies between thirty degrees ten minutes and thirty-five degrees north latitude; between eighty degrees thirty minutes and eighty-one degrees thirty-five minutes west longitude. It is divided into forty-three counties. Natchez is the only large town in the state. Jackson is the seat of government. Monticello, Warrenton and Vicksburgh are considerable places. The rivers that water this state are the Tombeckbee, Pascagoula, Pearl, Yazoo and Big Black. The Mississippi washes the western limit. The population is three hundred and seventy-five thousand six hundred and fifty-one.
Louisiana is bounded east by Mississippi, and the gulf of Mexico; west by Texas; south by the gulf, and north by the state of Arkansas and Mississippi. It is divided into the Eastern and Western districts; which are subdivided into thirty-three parishes. New Orleans is the seat of government, and the commercial mart of all the western country. Donaldsonville, Baton Rouge, St. Francisville, Point Coupee, Alexandria and Natchitoches are considerable places. The rivers are the Mississippi, Red, Washita, and Sabine. The lakes are Maurepas, Pontchartrain, and Borgne. The Chandeleur islands are mere heaps of sand; Barataria has been of some note as a resort for pirates. The population of Louisiana is three hundred and fifty-two thousand four hundred and twenty-two.
Tennessee is bounded south by Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi; west by the river Mississippi, separating it from Missouri and Arkansas; east by North Carolina, and north by Kentucky. Its breadth is one hundred and four, and its length is about four hundred and thirty miles; its area is forty thousand square miles. It lies between thirty-five and thirty-six degrees thirty-six minutes north latitude; and between eighty-one degrees thirty minutes and ninety degrees ten minutes west longitude. It is divided into East and West Tennessee; the former has twenty-two counties, and the latter forty. Nashville is the seat of government, and the largest town. Knoxville, Murfreesborough and Memphis are growing settlements. The mountains are the Laurel, Stone, Yellow, Iron, Bald and Unaka, peaks of a continued chain; Welling’s and Copper Ridge, Church, Powell’s and Bay’s mountains are in the north-east. The Cumberland Ridge intersects the state, running from north-east to south-west. The rivers are the Tennessee, Cumberland, Obian, Forked Deer, Big Hatchee and Wolf. The population of Tennessee is eight hundred and twenty-nine thousand two hundred and ten.
Kentucky is bounded west by Missouri and Illinois; east by Virginia; south by Tennessee; north by Indiana and Ohio. Its length is three hundred miles, its mean breadth one hundred and fifty; its area includes about forty thousand square miles. It lies between thirty-six degrees thirty minutes and thirty-nine degrees ten minutes north latitude; and between eighty-one degrees fifty minutes and eighty-nine degrees twenty minutes west longitude. It is divided into eighty-four counties. Frankfort is the seat of government. Lexington, Louisville, Maysville, Washington, Paris, Georgetown and Versailles are the chief towns. The rivers that water this state are the Ohio, Mississippi, Cumberland, Tennessee, Licking, Kentucky, Green and Big Sandy. The population is seven hundred and eighty thousand two hundred and ninety-seven.
Ohio is bounded north by the state of Michigan and lake Erie; east by Pennsylvania: south-east by the Ohio river, which separates it from Virginia, and west by Indiana. Its length is two hundred and ten miles, its mean breadth two hundred; its area includes forty thousand square miles. It lies between thirty-eight degrees thirty minutes and forty-one degrees nineteen minutes north latitude; and between eighty degrees thirty-five minutes and eighty-four degrees forty-seven minutes west longitude. It is divided into seventy-four counties. Cincinnati is the largest city; Columbus is the seat of government. Zanesville, Steubenville, Chilicothe, Dayton, Marietta and Circleville are flourishing towns. The chief rivers are the Ohio, Muskingum, Scioto, Great Miami, Little Miami, Maumee, Sandusky and Cuyahoga. The population one million five hundred and ten thousand four hundred and sixty-seven.
Indiana is bounded north by the lake and state of Michigan; south by the Ohio, which divides it from Kentucky; east by Ohio, and west by Illinois. Its breadth is one hundred and fifty, and its length two hundred and fifty miles. It lies between thirty-seven degrees forty-seven minutes and forty-one degrees fifty minutes north latitude; and eighty-four degrees forty-two minutes and eighty-seven degrees forty-nine minutes west longitude. It is divided into eighty-five counties. Indianapolis is the seat of government. Vincennes, New Albany, Jeffersonville, Vevay, and Madison are flourishing settlements. The rivers that water this state are the Ohio, Wabash, White Water and Tippecanoe. The population is six hundred and eighty-five thousand eight hundred and sixty-six.
Illinois is bounded north by Wisconsin, east by Lake Michigan and Indiana, south by Kentucky, and west by Missouri and Iowa. It extends from 37° to 42° 37′ north latitude, and from 87° 17′ to 81° 15′ west longitude. It is 380 miles in length, and 160 in mean breadth, and contains 59,000 square miles. It is divided into 87 counties. Springfield is the seat of government. Chicago, situated on Lake Michigan, at the mouth of the river Chicago, which forms a fine harbor and connects with the Illinois and Mississippi rivers by canal, offers great advantages for trade. Alton, on the Mississippi river, enjoys advantages only second to Chicago. Quincy, Galena, Peoria, Kaskaskia, Jackson, Cairo, and Shawneetown, are also thriving places. Nauvoo, the city of the Mormons, is in the western part of this State. The rivers are the Mississippi, Illinois, Rock, Kaskaskia, and Little Wabash. Population, according to the last census, 476,183.
Missouri is bounded south by Arkansas; east by Illinois, Kentucky and Tennessee; west by Missouri territory and north by Iowa. It contains about sixty thousand square miles; its length being two hundred and seventy, and its breadth two hundred and twenty miles. Its limits are between thirty-six degrees and forty degrees thirty minutes north latitude; and between eighty-nine degrees and ninety-four degrees ten minutes west longitude. It is divided into fifty-one counties. The city of Jefferson, which has been laid out within a few years, is the seat of government. St. Louis is the largest town. Potosi, St. Genevieve and Herculaneum are flourishing towns. The chief elevations are the Ozark and Iron mountains. The rivers are the Mississippi, Missouri, Osage, Gasconade, Maramec, St. Francis, White, Black, Currant, Grand and Chariton. The population is three hundred and eighty-one thousand one hundred and two.
State of Arkansas.—Arkansas lies in a very compact form between Louisiana and Missouri, having Zennepee and Mississippi on the east, and the western territory of Mexico on the west. It is 240 miles in length; 250 in breadth; and has an area of 54,500 square miles. The centre of the state is broken and hilly, and the western portion is even mountainous. In general it is covered with a heavy timber. The western part is level and marshy.
Arkansas formed a part of Louisiana, and afterward of Missouri territory, till 1819, when it became a territorial government, and in 1836 an independent state. It is divided into 34 counties; and its capital, Little Rock, is a small town. The population is 95,642.
State of Michigan.—This state consists of two peninsulas, separated by the waters of Lake Huron and Lake Michigan. The southern division has Lake Michigan on the west, and Lake Huron, the Detroit river, the river and Lake St. Clair, and Lake Erie on the east. It is 280 miles in length, and about 190 in breadth in the southern part, and has an area of 36,000 square miles. The southern peninsula is between lakes Michigan and Huron on the south, St. Mary’s river on the east, and Lake Superior on the North—Montreal river on the west. It is 300 miles long, and varies in width from 100 to a few miles. Its area is about 20,000 square miles. In fertility the state is not surpassed perhaps in the world. The northern peninsula has been imperfectly explored, but seems to be far more hilly than the southern. Lake Michigan is 360 miles long and has an area of near 26,000 square miles. Some settlements were made here by the French in the 17th century; and Detroit was an important trading post at an early period. Michigan passed into English hands in 1763, and was afterward part of the north-western Territory. It was made a distinct Territory in 1805, and in 1836 was received into the Union. Population 212,267.
In 1835 the population of Detroit was estimated at 8,000. It was beseiged in 1763 by Pontiac a celebrated Ottawa chief. In 1812 it was surrendered by Hull to the British.
Fort Gratiot is a military post of the United States, at the outlet of Lake Huron. There is another on the island of Michilimackinac.
Missouri Territory is nine hundred miles in length, and eight hundred in breadth. It is bounded north by the British possessions; east by the Iowa territory, Illinois and Missouri; south and south-west by the territories of the Mexican republic; west by the Rocky mountains. It lies between thirty-four and forty-nine degrees north latitude; and ninety and one hundred and twelve degrees west longitude; its area is estimated at four hundred and seventy thousand square miles. The United States have two military posts in this territory. The mountains of this territory are ranges of the Rocky mountains. The rivers are the Missouri, Rivière de Corbeau, St. Peter’s, Cannon, Ioway, Yellowstone, La Platte, Kansas, Osage, Runningwater, Arkansas, Negracka, and Grand Saline. This territory is inhabited by various Indian tribes, whose numbers are not known.
Oregon Territory is a vast country, whose southern boundary is on the forty-second parallel to the Pacific; our north-west boundary is in dispute with Russia; our division from the British possessions is in the forty-ninth parallel. The Pacific is its western limit; Indiana and Missouri territories form its eastern. It lies between forty-one and forty-nine degrees north latitude, and between one hundred and seven and one hundred and thirty west longitude; it contains about three hundred thousand square miles. The Rocky mountains, and the unnamed chain between this range and the Pacific, present great elevations. The chief rivers are the Oregon and its tributaries. This region is claimed by the United States on the ground of priority of discovery and occupation. A settlement called Astoria was formed in 1811 at the mouth of Oregon or Columbia river, by a number of American citizens. The number of Indian inhabitants is 140,000.
Florida Territory is bounded north by Georgia and Alabama; south and west by the gulf of Mexico, and east by the Atlantic. It extends from twenty-five to thirty-one degrees north latitude; and from eighty degrees thirty minutes to eighty-seven degrees twenty minutes west longitude; its length is three hundred and fifty, and its breadth one hundred and fifty miles. Its area includes about fifty thousand square miles. It is divided into fifteen counties. St. Augustine is the largest town; the other considerable places are Pensacola and Tallahassee. The rivers are the St. Mary’s, St. John’s, and Appalachicola. The population is fifty-four thousand two hundred and seven.
Wisconsin Territory.—This tract stretches from Lake Michigan to the Mississippi river, and from the northern boundary of Illinois to British America. It is a lofty table land, and contains the richest lead deposites in the world. The land is rich and of easy cultivation. It was erected into a territory in 1836. It is a portion of the tract known as the Black Hawk purchase, ceded to the United States by the Sacs and Foxes in 1832.—Population, thirty thousand seven hundred and fifty-two.
Iowa Territory.—This is a tract situated between the Mississippi and Missouri rivers, and reaches from Missouri to British America. This territory, as to soil and surface, resembles that of Wisconsin. It also contains rich lead deposites, and was a part of the Black Hawk purchase. It was erected into a territory in 1837. Population, forty-three thousand and thirty-five.
The Western or Indian Territory.—This region, which has been denominated in official papers the Western Territory, extends from Red river on the south, to the Running Water river and the north fork of the Platte on the north. Its greatest width is 600 miles; and its greatest breadth the same; with an area of 200,000 square miles. It is an extensive region, set aside by the federal government as a permanent home for the Indian tribes. It is truly to be hoped that this original intention of the United States may be carried out in full, both for the honor of our country, and the improvement and happiness of the rude races that may thus pitch their tents in a land they may call their own.
It is a noble region, watered by noble rivers; of which the Arkansas is the chief. It appears by the report of the commissioners on Indian affairs in 1834, that a considerable portion of the land is as good as is found in any of the western states.
The District of Columbia is a territory ten miles square, under the immediate government of Congress. It is divided into two counties and three cities. The cities are Washington, Alexandria and Georgetown. This district lies on both sides of the Potomac, one hundred and twenty miles from its mouth, and was ceded to the general government in 1790, by Virginia and Maryland, within whose territory it was situated. The capital at Washington, from which American geographers often compute their meridian, is in thirty-eight degrees fifty-three minutes north latitude, and seventy-seven degrees one minute and forty-eight seconds west longitude from Greenwich. Population 43,712.
Albany is the seat of government for the state of New York, and is situated on the west side of Hudson’s river, one hundred and forty-four miles from the city of New York, to which it is next in rank. This city is unrivalled for situation, being nearly at the head of sloop navigation, on one of the noblest rivers in the world. It enjoys a pure air, and is the natural emporium of the increasing trade of a large extent of country west and north. In the old part of the town, the streets are very narrow, and the houses mean, being all built in the Dutch taste, with the gable end towards the street, and ornamented, or rather disfigured, on the top with large iron weathercocks; but in that part which has been more recently erected, the streets are commodious, and many of the houses are handsome.
Albany.
The Capitol stands on an elevation at the end of the main street, and presents a fine appearance. It is a fine stone edifice, with an Ionic portico in front, supported by columns thirty-three feet in height. The public square adjacent is adorned with beautiful walks and avenues.
The Farmers’ and Mechanics’ bank and the Albany bank, both at the foot of State street, are both of white marble, and are handsome buildings. There are about sixteen churches in this city. Albany has received more permanent and evident advantages from the canals than any other place in the state. Since 1825, the population has increased from fifteen thousand nine hundred and seventy-one to 33,627. The first settlement at Albany was made about 1614, when a stockade was built on a spot just below the steam-boat dock. The charter of the city was granted in 1686, a few months before that of New York. The city and township are a mile in breadth, and extend thirteen miles along the river. The neighborhood of Albany abounds in pleasant villages.
Alexandria is a city and port of entry in the district of Columbia, on the west bank of the Potomac, six miles below Washington. It is a place of some business and resort during the session of Congress, and contains some fine buildings. Of late, Alexandria has not much increased, notwithstanding it enjoys good commercial advantages. This city is regularly built, and has good streets, well paved and clean. The trade is chiefly in flour. Population about eight thousand four hundred and sixty-two.
Amherst is a town of Hampshire county, Massachusetts, ninety-one miles west of Boston. It is the seat of a college which was incorporated in 1821, with the title of Amherst College. This seminary has professors and tutors. Amherst is the seat also of an academy, and a school called the Mount Pleasant Institution. Population, two thousand four hundred and fifteen.
Amherst College.
Annapolis, the capital of Anne Arundel county, and the seat of the government of Maryland, is situated at the mouth of the Severn river, about two miles from its entrance into Chesapeak bay, thirty miles south of Baltimore, and forty north-east of the city of Washington. It is a place of little note in the commercial world; but being in a pleasant situation, and commanding a beautiful prospect of the Chesapeak, and the shore on the other side of the bay, it is a very pleasant residence. The houses are built of brick, and for the most part large and elegant, denoting great wealth. The state house is one of the most superb structures in the United States. Here is the seat of the University of Maryland. Population two thousand six hundred and twenty-three.
Augusta, capital of Maine, stands on the west branch of the Kennebec river, two miles above Hallowell. It is a pleasant town, and contains some neat public buildings. The new state house is built of granite, and is a very handsome edifice. It contains a spacious hall for the house of representatives, and two smaller ones for the senate and the council. On the side of the river opposite to the state house is the United States Arsenal, consisting of about a dozen buildings of stone, some of which are large and handsome. This place has considerable trade, and the river below is navigable for vessels of one hundred tons. Population 5,314.
Augusta, capital of the state of Georgia, stands on the south-west bank of the river Savannah, about one hundred and forty miles from the sea. It is regularly built of brick upon a level spot, and surrounded by a fertile country. It has a good trade in cotton, and other productions of the interior. Population, six thousand three hundred and forty-one.
Baltimore is a large city, standing on the north side of the river Patapsco, in Maryland. The basin on which it stands has only five or six feet water at high tide, so that the city can be approached only by small vessels. For large ships, the harbor is at some distance, at a place called Fell’s point, where wharves have been built, along side which vessels of six hundred tons burden can lie with perfect safety. Numbers of persons have been induced to settle on this point on account of the shipping; and regular streets have been laid out, with a large market-place. But though these buildings, generally speaking, are considered as part of Baltimore, yet they are a mile distant from the other part of the town.
The city is the chief commercial mart for the country upon Chesapeak bay and its waters. It is finely situated, and regularly built, in great part of brick; the public buildings and monuments indicate great enterprise and opulence.
Baltimore was laid out in 1729, on an area of sixty acres, purchased at forty shillings per acre, and partly paid for in tobacco at a penny a pound. Its progress was slow and unpromising; and in 1752 it contained but twenty-five houses. With its population of more than eighty thousand, it may now be considered the third or fourth city in the union. According to its re-charter in 1816, Baltimore now includes ten thousand acres, and contains a lunatic asylum, three theatres, an exchange, a public library, and forty-five churches.
The Cathedral is built after the Ionic order, on a plan drawn by the celebrated architect Latrobe. Its width is one hundred and seventy-seven, its length one hundred and ninety, and its height to the summit of the cross surmounting the dome, is one hundred and twenty-seven feet. It contains several fine paintings, and the largest organ in the United States. The Merchants’ Exchange, built by private subscription for the accommodation of the citizens, is a spacious and splendid edifice.
The Battle Monument is an elegant marble structure, fifty-five feet high, erected in memory of those who fell in defence of the city on the twelfth and thirteenth of September, 1814. The Washington Monument is built of white marble, on an elevation in the north part of the city; it is one hundred and sixty-three feet high, and on its summit is placed a colossal statue of Washington. This monument is embellished with bas-reliefs, and other decorations.
Battle Monument, Baltimore.
Baltimore is the greatest flour market in the United States. In its immediate neighborhood, are above sixty flour mills, a single one of which has produced thirty-two thousand barrels in a year. Within the same compass are numerous manufactories of cotton, cloth, powder, paper, iron, glass, steam engines, and other articles. The Baltimore and Ohio rail-road extends a distance of three hundred miles, from this city to the Ohio river at Pittsburgh. The Baltimore and Susquehanna rail-road is to extend seventy-six miles to York in Pennsylvania. The Chesapeak and Ohio canal, of the proposed length of three hundred and forty-one miles was commenced in 1828. The population of Baltimore is one hundred and two thousand three hundred and thirteen.60
Bangor is a flourishing town of Penobscot county, Maine, situated thirty-five miles above Castine. It is built upon the banks of the rivers Kenduskeag and Penobscot. The increase of this town within a few years has been very surprising. Building-lots near the centre of the town, that in 1832 were held at three hundred dollars, are now valued at eight hundred or a thousand. Woodlands at three, four, or five miles distance, that were then sold at five, seven, or ten dollars the acre, are now selling from twenty to fifty. Rents and all marketable commodities are proportionably high.
‘Bangor,’ says a correspondent of the Portland Advertiser, ‘has much the appearance of a hundred villages springing up on the non-slave-holding side of the Ohio, with this difference, that the buildings there are chiefly of wood, cheaply built, and hastily thrown up; and here they are fine blocks of brick with granite fronts, or handsome white houses that would do credit to any estate in Virginia or Carolina. I do not remember seeing what can be called a miserable house in Bangor. The Exchange is a building that would do credit to many of our large cities. The churches are numerous, and often elegantly built. Already they are numerous enough for a city; and it is such a spectacle that distinguishes New England; for no where, not even in the middle states, are such churches, and so numerous to be seen, as any village in New England of any size can exhibit.’
The water power in this vicinity is said to be superior to that of any town in the United States. Its present great source of wealth is the lumber business, which has been carried on to a very great extent. Thirty years ago, Bangor was a wilderness; according to the last census, its population was eight thousand six hundred and twenty-seven.
Bath, a town of Maine, on the west side of the Kennebec, twelve miles from the sea, is at the head of the winter navigation; is pleasantly situated, and has great advantages for commerce. Ship-building is carried on here to a large extent; and in 1827 the value of the shipping of Bath was a million of dollars. This town is almost isolated by some of the numerous arms of the sea which penetrate that part of the coast. Population, five thousand one hundred and forty-one.
Baton Rouge, a beautiful village on the eastern bank of the Mississippi, one hundred and fifty miles above New Orleans, is the capital of a parish of the same name in the eastern district of Louisiana. It is a small town, situated on the last bluff that is seen on descending the river, and about thirty or forty feet above its highest overflow. The village is tolerably compact, and the United States’ barracks are built in a very handsome style. ‘The town itself,’ says Mr. Flint, ‘especially in the months when the greatest verdure prevails, when seen from a steam-boat in the river, rising with such a fine swell from the banks, and with its singularly shaped French and Spanish houses, and its green square, looks like a finely painted landscape.’ Population, two thousand eight hundred and sixty.
Beaufort, principal town of Beaufort district, South Carolina, situated on the western bank of Port Royal river, is a pleasant and healthy place, containing a college, three churches, and seven thousand six hundred and eighty-seven inhabitants. Its harbour is spacious.
Belfast, the capital of Waldo county, Maine, has a fine situation and good harbor, and is a flourishing town. It is twelve miles north-west of Castine, from which it is separated by Penobscot river. Its coasting trade is very considerable. Population, four thousand one hundred and ninety four.
Bennington is the chief town of the county of the same name in Vermont. It is situated at the foot of the Green mountains, near the south-west corner of the state. It has several manufactories, and a marble quarry, and is celebrated for two victories of General Stark, over the British, in 1777. It is the largest and oldest town in the state, having been chartered by Governor Wentworth in 1749, and first settled by the Separatists under Robinson in 1761. Population, two thousand six hundred and seventy-one.
Bethlehem, in Albany county, New York, includes much rich alluvial land near Hudson river, inhabited by descendants of early Dutch settlers. It contains several caverns. Population, 3209.
Bethlehem, in Northampton county, Pennsylvania, is situated on a fine acclivity rising from the Lehigh river. It was founded in 1741 by the United Brethren, or Moravians, under Count Zinzendorf. The same order still retain the ownership, and have established here a seminary of considerable note for female education. The houses are neat and substantial. There is but one place of public worship, in which service is performed in English and German. The situation of this village is remarkably picturesque and romantic. There are ten other towns of this name in the United States. Population, two thousand nine hundred and eighty-nine.
Beverly, town in Essex county, Massachusetts, is a seaport, and connected with Salem by a bridge. It was formerly a part of Salem. It is pleasantly situated, and is largely engaged in the fisheries and in commerce. Population, four thousand six hundred and eighty-six.
Blakely is a seaport of Baldwin county, Alabama, on the Tensa, a branch of the Mobile. It was founded in 1816, and is a flourishing place. Its situation is healthy, and it has a commodious harbor.
Boston, the capital of Massachusetts, and the chief city of New England, is situated at the head of Massachusetts bay, on a peninsula of an uneven surface, about a mile in width, and nearly three miles long. Its original Indian name was Shawmut, and it was afterwards called Trimountain; its present name was given in honor of the Rev. John Cotton, one of its earliest pastors, who emigrated from Boston in Lincolnshire, England. In the older parts of the city, the streets are crooked, narrow, and intricate; laid out with no reference to beauty or order. The more recent streets are wider, straight, and regular; with edifices of great elegance and large dimensions. The avenues leading into the adjacent country are the natural isthmus which connects the city with Roxbury, the mill dam, six bridges and three rail-roads. There is also a ferry between Boston and Chelsea, with steamboats for the conveyance of foot passengers and carriages. Of the bridges, four are thrown over Charles river, connecting the capital with Cambridge and Charlestown, and two unite it with South Boston.
The harbor has been before described. It is dotted with numerous islands, and affords ample accommodation for a fleet of five hundred sail. The approach to the city from the sea is highly picturesque and beautiful. The wharves and piers are ample, covered with spacious stores of brick and granite, and presenting as great conveniences for the transaction of business as are to be found in the world.
The local divisions of Boston are into North Boston, West Boston, South End, and South Boston. To these we may now add East Boston, comprehending what was formerly called Noddle’s Island, a tract of about six hundred acres, purchased by a company in 1832 for the purpose of extending the city in that direction. The Common is a beautiful promenade at the west end of the city, containing an extent of nearly fifty acres, agreeably varied by small eminences, the most prominent of which still exhibits the vestiges of a fortification thrown up by the British soldiers during the revolution. A little north of this mound is a small sheet of fresh water. This spacious green is surrounded by malls, lined with magnificent elms. On three sides are rows of fine private dwelling-houses, including some of the most elegant mansions in the city.
On an eminence overlooking the common stands the State House; a conspicuous and striking edifice, the view from whose dome is most interesting and extensive. The broad harbor with its green and picturesque islands, the adjacent country covered by pleasant villages, and with a pleasing alternation of hill and valley, interspersed with orchards and woodland—and at its base, the avenues of a crowded and busy city, form a combination of beauty that cannot fail to delight every beholder. Beyond the islands of the bay, the eye stretches eastward to the waters of the ocean; and to the north lies Charlestown with the navy-yard, and the monument erecting and soon to be completed on Bunker hill. To the west is a view of Cambridge, with the various edifices attached to the university. The state house was erected about thirty-eight years since. It is of an oblong form, one hundred and seventy-three feet front, and sixty-one deep; a dome thirty-five feet in height and fifty-two feet diameter, surmounts the edifice, and the whole terminates with a circular lantern twenty-five feet high. The basement story is ornamented with rows of Doric pillars; in an open chamber projected from the north centre of this story is placed Chantry’s noble statue of Washington. This building contains the usual accommodation for the various offices of state, besides the senate chamber, council chamber and representatives’ hall.
Faneuil Hall is famous in American annals. It is a building of good proportions, and convenient size, though of no great architectural pretensions; its history is sacred to the spirit of eloquence, courage and patriotism. The building has a cupola which presents a good view of the harbor; the great hall is nearly eighty feet square, and about twenty-eight feet high. It is decorated with an original full length painting of Washington, by Stuart, and another of the same size by Colonel Sargent, representing Mr. Faneuil, the noble donor of the edifice. Faneuil Hall Market is situated to the east of Faneuil hall. It is a splendid building of granite, five hundred and thirty-five feet and nine inches in length. The basement story is occupied by market stalls; on the second floor is a spacious hall, used for public assemblies and caucuses, called Quincy Hall, in honor of the distinguished gentleman in whose mayoralty the edifice was projected and built.
The City Hall, formerly known as the old state house, was built in nearly its present form in the year 1747. It stands at the head of State street, and on the line of Washington street, the principal avenue of the city. In this building are the post office, the marine news room, and the merchants’ exchange; from this there is a winding stair-case leading to the hall of the common council, and that of the mayor and aldermen together with various public offices connected with the city administration. Other public buildings, of great beauty to the city, are the old U. S. Branch Bank, and the Masonic Temple. The latter building fronts on the common; it is of the Gothic order.
City Hall.
King’s Chapel.
One of the most interesting of the churches of the city is that known as the King’s Chapel. Its exterior is plain, and in appearance it is unfinished being built entirely of unhammered stone. It was first opened for divine service in 1754. The tower is ornamented by a colonnade of large wooden pillars, and the whole presents the appearance of massy grandeur suited to distinguish in former days the place of worship for the public functionaries. In the interior, the governor’s pew was formerly distinguished above the rest, but was taken down a few years since. The style of architecture is of the Corinthian order. There are several monumental marbles, which add to the interest with which the church is visited. It is now the only house in which the old fashion of square pews is retained. Brattle street church is interesting from historical associations. Governors Hancock and Bowdoin were liberal benefactors of this society. The name of the former was inscribed on one of the rustic quoins at the south-west corner of the building. The British soldiery defaced it, and the stone remains in the condition in which they left it. A similar inscription, unmutilated, appears on one of the rustic quoins at the south-west corner of the tower; and on one in the north-west corner, the name of Dr. John Greenleaf appears, who, with Gov. Bowdoin, advanced the money for refitting the church, it having been improved as a barrack, during the siege. A shot, which was sent from the American army at Cambridge, struck the tower on the night preceding the evacuation of the town. It was picked up and preserved, and is now fastened in the spot where it struck. General Gage’s head quarters were in the house opposite. Trinity church in Summer street is a beautiful granite edifice, built in 1829. It is one of the chief architectural ornaments of the city; and for beauty of proportion, strength and solidity, is perhaps unsurpassed in this country. The number of worshipping assemblies in this city is between fifty and sixty.
Trinity Church.
The places of public amusement in Boston are not numerous, nor remarkably well patronized. The Tremont theatre affords the only dramatic entertainment that is much resorted to by strangers and people of fashion. It is a handsome building, with a front of Quincy and Hallowell granite. This front is in imitation of the Ionic order, with four pilasters and two antœs, one on each angle, supporting an entablature and pediment, and elevated on a basement seventeen feet. The Warren theatre is a minor establishment, and is much frequented. The New England Museum attracts numerous visitors.
Of the hotels of Boston, we can only particularly mention the Tremont House, a splendid building, in the pleasantest quarter of the city, and esteemed the best house in the country. ‘Most gratifying is it to a traveller in the United States,’ says a recent tourist, ‘when, sick to death of the discomforts of the road, he finds himself fairly housed in the Tremont hotel. The establishment is on a large scale, and admirably conducted.’ This stinted approbation is one of the few tokens of satisfaction that Mr. Hamilton gives in his unsparing though witty and entertaining volumes; it is not the less acceptable, because it is extorted.
Tremont House.
In the year 1841, there were thirty-one banks in the city, which employed a capital of twenty millions one hundred thousand dollars. The increase, of course, has been in proportion to the increasing enterprise and prosperity of the city. The oldest is the Massachusetts’ bank, which was incorporated in 1785. There are twenty-four insurance companies, with an aggregate capital of seven millions and a quarter. The charitable institutions of the city are numerous. Of these, one of the most important is the Institution for the Education of the Blind, recently established under very favorable circumstances. Besides this are the Asylum for Indigent Boys, the Female Asylum, Charitable Mechanic Association, Prison Discipline Society, and many others. The Massachusetts General Hospital is situated in the west part of the town; it has been pronounced the finest building in the state. The Quarantine Hospital is situated on Rainsford island, in the harbor, and about six miles from the city.
The number of periodicals issued in this city is above seventy, inclusive of dailies and annuals. The first paper published in the country was the Boston News Letter, commenced in 1704, and continued for nearly seventy-two years. The oldest surviving journal established since the revolution is the Columbian Centinel, which was commenced in 1784.
Boston is celebrated for her public schools, and the great efforts which have been made by her citizens in the cause of education. The expenditures for these institutions, during the year ending August, 1833, amounted to over seventy thousand dollars. Social libraries are numerous. The Boston Athenæum was established in 1806, and contains above twenty-eight thousand volumes. Though accessible only to men of fortune, as the price of a share is three hundred dollars, it is still a useful institution. Annual subscribers are admitted at ten dollars. This noble establishment is situated in Pearl street, in a fine building, for the half of which the proprietors were indebted to the munificence of the late James Perkins, Esq. Attached to the Athenæum is a gallery of the fine arts, in which is held an annual exhibition that has hitherto been the source of a considerable income. The American Academy of Arts and Sciences, and the Massachusetts Historical Society, are highly respectable institutions which have issued numerous volumes of great value, and possess considerable libraries. On the whole, the libraries of Boston are neither so large nor so generally accessible as might be expected from the wealth and liberality of her citizens.
Middlesex canal unites the water communication between Boston and the Merrimack river, at the bend in Chelmsford; the company for its construction was incorporated in 1793. The toll has amounted some years to about twenty-five thousand dollars. Rail-roads are now complete, connecting this city with Providence, Worcester, Lowell, Springfield and Salem. The marine rail-way, which affords facilities for the repair of large vessels, has been in successful operation since 1826. One of the greatest improvements of late years has been the building of Mercantile wharf, which ranges in front of the harbor, between City wharf and Lewis’s wharf. It has made access to the northern extremity of the city very convenient from the central parts, and has led to great improvements.
Since 1822, when the city was incorporated, Boston has been governed by a mayor, eight aldermen, and a common council of forty-eight members, chosen annually. With the town of Chelsea, it constitutes the county of Suffolk, and sends one representative to Congress. As a commercial city, it holds a second rank among the seaports of the United States. There are many manufactures in the city, and much wealth of the citizens is invested in the manufactories of Waltham, Lowell, and other towns. Population, ninety-three thousand three hundred and eighty-three.61
Bordentown, a town of New Jersey, in Burlington county, standing on a steep sand bank on the west side of the Delaware, is chiefly remarkable for the villa of Joseph Bonaparte, ex-king of Spain. This is a long white building, with two low square towers at the ends, and a shot-tower near it by the river. Pop. three thousand four hundred and thirty-four.
Brattleboro is a pleasant village, in Windham county, Vermont, on the Connecticut. It is situated on an elevated plain above the river; at the bridge over the stream are several manufactories, the chief of which are of paper and machinery, which are made here in large quantities. The situation of the village is quite romantic and picturesque. Population, two thousand and six hundred and twenty-four.
Bridgeport, in Fairfield county on Long Island sound, maintains an active intercourse with New York by means of sloops and steamboats, and furnishes that city with a great amount of produce. The harbor is shoal, but with a good channel; the town is pleasant and thriving. Population four thousand five hundred and seventy.
Brighton, a town of Middlesex county, Massachusetts, is celebrated for its annual cattle show and fair which has been held here ever since the revolution. Vast numbers of cattle for the Boston market are brought here from all quarters of the country. The soil is good, and well cultivated. Population, one thousand four hundred and five.
Bristol, a thriving town, situated on Narragansett bay, about half way between Providence and Newport, is distinguished for its pleasant situation, healthful climate, rich soil, and a commodious, safe harbor. This town suffered greatly during the revolutionary war, a great part of it having been destroyed by the British; but it is now in a very flourishing state, and has a good shipping trade: onions in great quantities, and a variety of provisions and garden roots, are raised here for exportation. Mount Hope, celebrated in the early history of New England as the residence of king Philip, is within the limits of Bristol; it is a cone-shaped hill, with a pointed summit, and exhibits a charming prospect. Population, three thousand four hundred and ninety.
Brooklyn, a large town on Long Island, separated from the city of New York by the narrow channel of East river. It is properly a suburb of that city, and is a place of great business. It is regularly built, and contains many fine houses, the residence of merchants from the city. The United States navy yard is in the east quarter, upon a bay called the Wallabout. Near this town a bloody and disastrous battle was fought with the British in 1776. The town stands on an eminence, and commands fine views of the city and bay. A constant intercourse is kept up with New York by steamboats. It is the third town in the state in regard to its population, which amounts to 36,221.
Brookville is pleasantly situated in the forks of Whitewater, and is the seat of justice of Franklin county, Illinois. It was laid out in the year 1811; but no improvements were made until the succeeding year, and then but partially, owing to the unsettled state of the frontiers; its vicinity to the Indian boundary being about fifteen miles. The late war completely checked the emigration to this country, and consequently the town ceased to improve; since that period, it has improved and been noted for the enterprise of its citizens. It is now, however, decaying. It contains about a hundred houses.
Brunswick is a town of Cumberland county, Maine, situated on the south side of Androscoggin river, twenty-six miles north-east of Portland. The river has many falls at this place, on which are situated numerous mills, and manufactories of cotton and woollen. It is chiefly distinguished as the seat of Bowdoin college, which was established here in 1794. This institution is partly supported by funds bequeathed by governor Bowdoin, of Massachusetts, from whom the college takes its name. Population of Brunswick, four thousand two hundred and fifty-nine.
Buffalo, delightfully situated near the margin of lake Erie, three hundred and twenty-seven miles from Albany, and twenty-two from the falls of Niagara, is a place of considerable importance, and the emporium of the lake commerce. The principal streets are from sixty-six to one hundred feet wide; these are intersected by others of equal width, and as many of the houses are of brick, two and three stories high, they make a neat and handsome appearance. Buffalo, standing on the great road leading from Albany to Ohio, possesses natural advantages for trade, equal to any internal place in the United States.
Its harbor is singularly fitted for the two kinds of navigation that are here brought together, the entrance from the lake being sheltered by the point on which the light-house is erected, and the two small rivers which here unite their waters affording every convenience for landing and re-shipping goods; a number of basins and lateral canals communicate with the great canal. This harbor is thronged with steamboats and every kind of water craft; it is one of the most busy and bustling places in the country.
‘In Buffalo,’ says a recent writer, ‘the miserable descendants of the Iroquois or Six Nations may constantly be seen in the streets. The Senecas have three villages within nine miles. If any man wishes to observe the effect of an intercourse between whites and Indians, let him go to Buffalo. There he may see red men, reeling drunk in the streets, begging in the most abject manner for liquor, and the women in the lowest stage of moral and physical degradation. They are in some measure civilized, some of them having adopted the costume of the whites, and living by the cultivation of the soil. Should they continue to reside in their present dwelling-place, it is to be hoped that the change will be complete. When the chase will no longer afford them a subsistence; when they are completely hemmed in by the whites, they must of necessity have recourse to agriculture for the means of living, and knowledge must be the attendant of industry—but as long as they are able to live, no matter how wretchedly, in idleness, they will not work, and will continue to retrograde.’ Population, eighteen thousand three hundred and fifty-six.
Burlington, in Chittenden county, Vermont, on lake Champlain, is a flourishing and commercial town. It is situated on the declivity of a hill, commanding an extensive view of the lake, and a beautiful prospect of the town. It is the seat of the university of Vermont, and of several manufactories. Its commerce is considerable. Population, four thousand two hundred and seventy-one.
Burlington City stands on the banks of the Delaware, eighteen miles north-east from Philadelphia. The main streets are conveniently spacious, and mostly ornamented with rows of trees in the fronts of the houses, which are regularly arranged. The river opposite the town is about a mile wide, and under shelter of two islands, affords a safe and convenient harbor; but, though well situated for trade, Burlington is too near the opulent city of Philadelphia to admit of any considerable increase of foreign commerce. Population, two thousand six hundred and seventy.
Cahokia, in St. Clair county, Illinois, is situated on a small stream, about one mile east of the Mississippi, and five miles below St. Louis. It is pleasantly situated, and is inhabited chiefly by French people. This town contains a post-office and a Roman catholic chapel, and is the seat of justice for the county.
Cambridge, a town of Middlesex county, Massachusetts, lies west of Boston, was settled in 1631. It is a fine village, containing many very pleasant residences, and is divided into three distinct portions. East Cambridge is a suburb of Boston, with which it is connected by Cragie’s bridge; it is flourishing, and has some glass and iron manufactories. Old Cambridge is about three miles from the city, and is the seat of Harvard college, the oldest and richest university in the United States; this institution is fully described in another portion of the volume. In the western part lies Fresh Pond, a fine sheet of water, much resorted to in summer by citizens of the neighboring towns. In the south-westerly part is a beautiful hilly grove called Mount Auburn, recently devoted to the purposes of a cemetery, and forming one of the most beautiful burial places in the world.62 The first printing-press in America was set up here, and was used by Stephen Day, who printed the Freeman’s Oath. During the siege of Boston, in 1776, the American army encamped here, and vestiges of some of their intrenchments still remain in the neighborhood. Population, eight thousand one hundred and twenty-seven.
Harvard University.
Camden, in Kershaw district, South Carolina, on the Wateree, is the seat of justice for the district. It is chiefly celebrated for the battles fought in its vicinity during the revolutionary war. Population, one thousand. A flourishing town of the same name in Oneida county, New York, has a population of about two thousand.
Canandaigua, capital of Ontario county, New York, on the outlet of the lake of the same name, is one of the pleasantest towns in the country. The principal street runs along the ridge of a hill, which rises from the north end of the lake, for the distance of a mile; it is handsomely planted with trees, and the houses, which are generally painted white with green blinds, present a very neat appearance. In the centre of the town is a large square; the neighborhood abounds with pleasant gardens. Population, five thousand six hundred and fifty-two.
Castine, a town of Maine, built on a promontory at the head of Penobscot bay, is placed in a commanding situation, and has an excellent harbor. It was taken by the British during the last war, but was restored in 1815. Population one thousand one hundred and eighty-eight.
Catskill, principal town of Greene county, New York, is situated on the west bank of the Hudson river, nearly opposite the city of Hudson, and thirty-one miles south of Albany. It exhibits gentle elevations in the neighborhood, and the soil is generally good; it is well watered, has fine meadows, and good mill sites. Population, 5,339.
Charleston, the chief city of South Carolina, stands upon a piece of land projecting into the bay, at the confluence of the Ashley and Cooper rivers, and has a deep and safe harbor. Ships drawing twenty feet of water pass the bar. The city is regularly built; the fine houses are very large, many of them inclosed like the great hotels in Paris, and all of them covered with verandas, and situated in gardens neatly dressed, and in summer and fall, not only adorned with the finest evergreen shrubs, but with a great variety of beautiful roses, jonquils, and other flowers. On the other hand, many of the streets are dirty and unpaved, and the houses in some parts of the town have a filthy appearance. The churches and public buildings are handsome, especially St. Michael’s church, with its steeple one hundred and sixty-eight feet high. The post office is a large, handsome building. Most of the finest buildings here were erected previously to the revolution. There are many charitable institutions, among which the Orphan Asylum stands in the first rank.
The society of Charleston is refined, intelligent and hospitable. The commerce of the place consists chiefly in the export of rice and cotton. On account of its level character, the city is liable to occasional inundation; but it is, nevertheless, a fine commercial mart, and highly prosperous, exhibiting most of the institutions which mark a liberal and opulent community. This city is celebrated in the history of the revolution. Population, twenty-nine thousand two hundred and sixty-one.
Charlestown, in Middlesex county, Massachusetts, is an irregular town, containing some fine situations. Here are the United States navy yard, and the finest dry-dock in the country; the Massachusetts state prison, an insane hospital, and the Ursuline convent. This town was burnt in 1775, by the British troops. On the eminence of Bunker Hill, a splendid monument of granite has been for some time in an unfinished state; but there is every hope of its immediate completion. Population ten thousand eight hundred and seventy-two.
Chilicothe, in Ross county, Ohio, formerly the seat of the state government, is situated on the west bank of the Scioto, on a beautiful and extensive plain. It is laid out on a large scale, with a great number of out-lots attached to it. The plan is regular; the streets cross each other at right angles, and every square is divided into four parts. In the vicinity are several mills and manufactories, and the Grand canal is cut through the town. The town was laid out in 1796, on the site of an old Indian village. Population, three thousand nine hundred and seventy-seven.
Cincinnati, the largest town in Ohio, is handsomely built, and surrounded by a range of fine wooded hills, which command a beautiful prospect. The plain on which it is situated occupies about four square miles; the height of the rising ground above the alluvial plain is about fifty feet. The population is much mixed, being composed of emigrants from all parts of the union, and most of the countries of Europe. Its progressive increase has been most wonderful. In 1813, Cincinnati numbered about four thousand inhabitants; in 1820, ten thousand; in 1840, forty-six thousand three hundred and eighty-two.
It has extensive flour and sawmills, worked by steam, and various manufactures. The public buildings are twenty-four churches, the College Athenæum, Medical College, Mechanics’ Institute, four market houses, a theatre, two museums, a famous and tasteless bazaar, a bank for the United States branch, court house, and other edifices. The charitable and religious associations are numerous. There are sixteen periodical publications. There are three city insurance companies, and two branches of companies at Hartford, Connecticut. Water is furnished for the inhabitants from the Ohio river, and is distributed over town at an average expense of eight dollars for a family.
Vast remains of ancient fortifications, embankments, stone walls, earthen mounds, the latter containing rude stone coffins filled with human bones, have been discovered within the precincts of this town; and many curious articles dug up, composed of jasper, rock crystal, cannel-coal, copper, sculptural representations on different substances, altogether tending to prove that this country was formerly inhabited by a race of men very different from the present American Indians.
Circleville, the seat of justice of Pickaway county, Ohio, is situated on the Pickaway bottom, about half a mile east of the Scioto. Its site is two mounds of earth, one circular, and the other square, containing about twenty acres. In the centre of the town is a small vacant circle. From this focus the streets diverge in regular radii. The growth of this town has been owing to the wealth of the surrounding plantations. Population, two thousand three hundred and twenty-nine.
Columbia, the capital city of South Carolina, is situated on the Congaree, one hundred and ten miles north-north-west of Charleston. It is the seat of the college of the state. The town is regularly built, and occupies an elevated plain gently sloping on every side. Population, four thousand two hundred ninety-five. There are eleven other towns called Columbia in the United States.
Columbus, the metropolis of the state of Ohio, is situated on the east bank of the Scioto, on an elevated plain of several hundred acres. It is situated near the middle of Franklin county, and within twenty miles of the centre of the state, in a fine fertile country. It was founded in 1812, in the midst of a thick forest. It contains a state house, court house, penitentiary, a classical seminary, three churches, and an asylum for the deaf and dumb. Population, six thousand and forty-eight.
Concord, a town of Merrimack county, New Hampshire, is the capital of the state. It is pleasantly situated on both sides of the Merrimack, along which spread some rich intervals. The chief village is on the west side, and forms a street two miles in length. It contains a state house and a state prison, both of granite. It was first settled in 1724, and twenty years afterwards suffered severely from the Indians. By the river and Middlesex canal, Concord has a boat navigation to Boston; and it is a place of considerable trade. Population, four thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight.
Concord, a village of Middlesex county, Massachusetts, is celebrated as the place of meeting of the first provincial congress in 1774, and the first opposition to the British arms. Population, one thousand eight hundred.63
Covington, a town of Genesee county, New York, has a soil of ordinary quality, well watered. Population, two thousand four hundred and thirty-eight.
Dayton, chief town of Montgomery county, Ohio, is situated on the left bank of Great Miami river, near the point where it is met by the canal. It is a flourishing place, with many mills and factories. Population six thousand and sixty-seven.
Detroit, the capital of Michigan territory, is situated on the bank of the river of the same name. During the French jurisdiction, it was the farthest post on the lakes except Macinac. Since 1815, this town has rapidly improved; before, it was small and of no importance except in a military view. It is famous for the siege here sustained by Major Gladwyn against the united tribes of Indians under Pontiac, and for its surrender to the British forces in the year 1812, by General Hull. The ground plan of the city of Detroit is laid out like that of Washington, and the buildings are very much scattered. The jail, state house, and two churches, constitute the chief public buildings. The Erie canal has done much to increase the prosperity of this town, and the Ohio canal will give it an additional impulse. Population nine thousand one hundred and two.
The streets of Detroit are generally crowded with Indians of one tribe or other, who collect here to sell their skins; at night, all those who are not admitted into private houses, and remain there quietly, are turned out of the town, and the gates shut upon them. The French inhabitants employed upon the lakes and rivers are very dexterous watermen, and will navigate a small bark in a rough sea with incredible skill. They have nothing like enterprise in business, and are very fond of music, dancing, and smoking tobacco; the women have generally lively and expressive countenances.
The fort stands on a low ridge, in the rear of the town, at the distance of about two hundred yards. From the summit of this ridge, the country gradually subsides to a low swampy plain, from five to nine miles across, covered with thick groves of young timber. Beyond this plain commences a surface moderately hilly.
Dover, a town of Kent county, Delaware, and capital of the state. It is handsomely laid out and built on a small stream that runs into the Delaware. The houses are mostly of brick, and in the centre of the town is a spacious square surrounded by the public buildings. Population, 3790.
Dover, a town of Strafford county, New Hampshire, is situated on the falls of the Cocheco, a stream running into the Piscataqua. The falls have several pitches, one of which is forty feet perpendicular, affording a vast water power, which has been applied to manufacturing purposes. This town was settled in 1623, and is the oldest in the state. The greater part of the timber exported from New Hampshire is brought to Dover. Population, five thousand four hundred and fifty-eight.
Easton, a town of Northampton county, Pennsylvania, situated on the Delaware, at the mouth of the Lehigh, is a handsome town, regularly laid out with a large square in the centre. The union of three canals at this point, gives it vast facilities for trade. The scenery of the neighborhood is remarkably picturesque. The town is laid out at right angles. Population, five thousand five hundred and ten.
Eastport, a town of Washington county, Maine, and the most eastern point of the United States. It is situated on Moose island in Passamaquoddy bay, and is favorably situated for an extensive traffic up the Passamaquoddy and the other rivers falling into the bay of Fundy. The principal business is afforded by the fisheries and the lumber trade. Population, two thousand eight hundred and seventy-six.
Economy, a beautiful village of Beaver county, Pennsylvania, on the Ohio, a few miles below Pittsburg. It is inhabited solely by the sect of Harmonists, under the celebrated Rapp. The village is regularly built, and the streets are laid out at right angles. Industry is the characteristic of the inhabitants, who are of German origin. The property purports to be held in common, though it has been stated that the legal tenure of it is in the hands of the principal. The grape is extensively cultivated here; a thriving trade is carried on with the neighboring country, and the establishment is in a thriving condition. Population, 1283.
Economy.
Elizabethtown, a town of Essex county, New Jersey, situated on a creek of Newark bay, was originally settled by emigrants from Connecticut. It has some good gardens, and supplies many agricultural products for the New York market. Population, four thousand one hundred and eighty-four.
Exeter, a town of Rockingham county, New Hampshire, fourteen miles south-west from Portsmouth, is situated at the head of the navigation on Swamscot river, a branch of the Piscataqua. Formerly, ship-building was carried on here to a great extent, and the vessels were employed in the West Indian trade; at present, this business is much decreased, but several manufactories have been established. Here is a celebrated academy, incorporated in 1781. Population, two thousand nine hundred and eighty-five.
Fayetteville, a village of Cumberland county, North Carolina, is situated at the head of uninterrupted boat navigation on Cape Fear river. In 1831, it was desolated by a destructive fire; but it is rapidly regaining its former flourishing condition. Population, four thousand two hundred and eighty-five.
Frankfort, the metropolis of Kentucky, and chief town of Franklin county, stands on the east bank of Kentucky river, sixty miles above its entrance into the Ohio. The river, which is here about one hundred yards wide, with bold limestone banks, forms a handsome curve, and waters the southern and western parts of the town. The bottoms on both sides of the river are very broad, but subject to inundation. Frankfort is about sixty-two miles from Louisville. Population, 1,917.
Fredericksburg, a port of entry, and chief town of Spottsylvania county, Virginia, situated on the right bank of the Rappahanoc river, is a flourishing place. It stands at the head of tide water. Population, three thousand nine hundred and seventy-four.
Fredericktown, in Frederick county, Maryland, is situated forty-seven miles from Baltimore, on the Pittsburg road, and is a flourishing place, carrying on considerable manufactures, and a brisk inland trade through a fertile and well-cultivated country. It is the second town in the state, and increases with rapidity. Population, five thousand eight hundred and fifty-eight.
Galena, a village in Illinois, the centre of a celebrated lead-mining district, from which it takes its name. It is situated on Fever river, five miles before it empties into the Mississippi.
Gardiner, a flourishing town in Kennebec county, Maine, on the west bank of the Kennebec river. It has a considerable trade in lumber, and in manufactures of cotton and iron, and many very valuable mills. In this town is a Gothic church, built of granite, and considered the finest specimen of architecture in the state. Population, five thousand six hundred and forty-four.
Church in Gardiner.
Georgetown, city of the district of Columbia, and separated from Washington only by a small creek, is finely situated on a series of heights at a bend of the Potomac. It is well laid out, and contains some good private residences. The Catholic college is an ancient pile of building, with a large library, and some good paintings. The Chesapeak and Ohio canal passes through this town. Tobacco and flour are exported in considerable quantities. Population, seven thousand three hundred and thirteen.
Gloucester, a seaport of Massachusetts, in Essex county, and on the peninsula of cape Ann, is one of the most considerable fishing towns in the country. The harbor, which is defended by a battery and forts, is accessible for large ships. This town suffered severely from fire a few years ago; but the damage has been nearly repaired. Population, six thousand three hundred and ninety-four.
Hagerstown, in Washington county, Maryland, is a well-built and flourishing place, surrounded by a fertile country. It is a handsome town, and the houses are generally of stone or brick. Population, three thousand four hundred.
Hallowell, in Kennebec county, Maine, is one of the most flourishing and wealthy towns in the state. The river is navigable to this place for vessels of one hundred and fifty tons. Hallowell granite is extensively quarried and wrought, and is much esteemed. The commerce of the place is considerable, confined chiefly to the lumber trade. Population, four thousand six hundred and fifty-five.
Hanover, in Grafton county, New Hampshire, situated on the Connecticut, is a pleasant village, and the seat of Dartmouth college, which was established in 1771. It received its name from one of its principal benefactors, the earl of Dartmouth. This town is crossed from north to south by Moose mountain. Population, two thousand six hundred and thirteen.
Dartmouth College.
Harrisburg, the seat of government of the state of Pennsylvania, is in Dauphin county, and situated on the eastern bank of the Susquehanna, ninety-six miles from Philadelphia. It is regularly built, and has a handsome state house, and other public edifices. A bridge here crosses the Susquehanna. Population, six thousand and twenty.
Hartford, city, the capital of Hartford county, and, jointly with New-Haven, the seat of government of Connecticut. It stands on the western bank of the Connecticut, at the head of sloop navigation. It is handsomely built, and contains many fine public edifices, among which are a Gothic church, much admired for its architecture; a state house, a deaf and dumb asylum, a retreat for the insane, and a seminary called Washington college. This institution was founded in 1826. Hartford enjoys a considerable commerce with Boston, New York, and the southern cities. The bookselling trade is carried on here extensively, and there is much inland traffic with the towns on the Connecticut, and in the neighborhood. On the opposite bank of the river is East Hartford, which is connected with the city by a bridge. The inhabitants point out to the stranger an ancient oak tree in the southern part of the city, which bears the name of the Charter Oak, and is interesting on account of its connection with our early history. Pop. twelve thousand seven hundred and ninety-three.
Hartford, Conn.
Haverhill, in Essex county, Massachusetts, on the Merrimack, twelve miles above Newburyport. Pop. four thousand three hundred and seventy-three. This is a pleasantly situated town, and has considerable ship-building and trade by the river. It was settled in 1640, and suffered much in the early Indian wars. In 1698, the Indians attacked and set fire to the town.
Hudson, a city of New York, in Columbia county, with considerable manufacturing business. The streets are spacious, and cross each other at right angles, and the houses are supplied with water brought in pipes from a spring two miles distant. The trade is considerable, and vessels of the largest size can unload here. It is seated on an eminence, on the east side of Hudson river. It is twenty-eight miles south of Albany. Population, five thousand six hundred and seventy.
Indianapolis, capital of Indiana, situated in Marion county, on the west bank of White river, in the centre of one of the most extensive and fertile bodies of land in the world, though recently settled, promises to be one of the largest towns between Cincinnati and the Mississippi. The country about it is said by Mr. Flint to be settling with unexampled rapidity. Population, two thousand six hundred and ninety-two.
Jameston, an ancient town in James City county, Virginia, the first English settlement in the states, was established in 1608. It stands on an island in James river, thirty-two miles above its mouth. It is now in ruins, and almost desolate. Two or three old houses, the ruins of an old steeple, a church-yard, and faint traces of rude fortifications, are the only memorials of its former importance.
Jefferson City, seat of justice for Cole county, Missouri, and capital of the state, is situated on the right bank of Missouri river, about nine miles above the mouth of the Osage. It is a new town, containing two hundred houses and twelve hundred inhabitants, and, after Little Rock in Arkansas, is the most western state capital of the United States.
Kaskaskia, an ancient village of Illinois, and seat of justice for Randolph county, is situated on Kaskaskia river, eleven miles from its mouth. It was one of the earliest French settlements in the Mississippi, and once contained seven thousand inhabitants; it is now very much reduced, numbering only one thousand. The situation of this town is represented as very beautiful.
Kennebunk, a town of York county, Maine, at the mouth of a river of the same name, has considerable lumber trade. The principal harbor is obstructed by a sandbar, and in 1820 an appropriation was made by Congress to build a pier at the mouth of the river. Population, two thousand three hundred and twenty-three.
Knoxville, the chief town of East Tennessee, is situated one hundred and eighty miles from Nashville, on the north side of Holston river, where it is three hundred yards wide; on a beautiful spot of ground, twenty-two miles above the junction of the Holston with the Tennessee. The college of this town is one of the oldest seminaries in the state. Population, three thousand.
Lancaster, a handsome town of Pennsylvania, and capital of a county of the same name. It is a pleasant and flourishing place, situate in a fertile and well-cultivated country, and contains a court house, a jail, two banks, and nine places of worship. A college was founded here in 1787; but the buildings are now appropriated to schools. Here are manufactures of guns and other hardware; and about a mile distant is a large cotton manufactory. The town has considerable trade, which increases with the surrounding country. It is seated near Conestoga creek, which runs into the Susquehanna, sixty-one miles west by north of Philadelphia. Population, eight thousand four hundred and nineteen.
Lancaster, oldest town in Worcester county, Massachusetts, finely situated on both sides of the Nashua, has manufactories of combs and cotton, and an extensive engraving and stereotyping establishment. In beauty of scenery the neighborhood is surpassed by that of few towns in New England. Population, two thousand and thirteen.
Lansinburg, a town of Rensselaer county, New York, is principally built on a single street parallel with the river. A high hill rises abruptly behind the town, on which is seen the celebrated diamond rock, emitting a brilliant lustre in the rays of the sun. Population, three thousand three hundred and thirty.
Lexington, a town of Middlesex county, Massachusetts, will ever be memorable in American history, for the early revolutionary struggles. The first battle was fought here between the British troops and the Americans on the nineteenth of April, 1775. A monument has been erected on the green at Lexington in commemoration of this event. Pop. 1559.
Lexington, capital of Fayette county, Kentucky, is the oldest town in the state, and was for many years the seat of government. It stands in a beautiful spot, on a branch of the Elkhorn river, in the centre of the richest tract in the state. The principal street is a mile and a quarter in length, spacious and well paved. The buildings are much superior in size and elegance to those of the other towns in the state, and may be compared to those of the Atlantic country. The Transylvania university is established here. The public inns are large and convenient. The town has manufactories of woolen, cotton, and paper. The general appearance of the town is neat, and the neighborhood is adorned with many handsome villas, and finely ornamented rural mansions. Population, six thousand nine hundred and ninety-seven.
Litchfield, capital of Litchfield county, Connecticut, is situated on an elevated plain, in the midst of a fertile and hilly country. It contains numerous mills and manufactories. A law school was established here in 1782, by Judge Reeve, which has been for many years highly celebrated. Population, four thousand and thirty-eight.
Little Rock, the seat of government of Arkansas territory, is situated on a high bluff on the south bank of the river Arkansas, and derives its name from the high masses of rock above it. It was laid out in 1820.
Lockport, a town of Niagara county, New York, on the Erie canal. Here are the most remarkable works on the canal, consisting of ten locks, overcoming an ascent of sixty feet. Besides these, there is an excavation through the mountain ridge, for three miles, cut in the rock. The town is a place of considerable trade. Population, five thousand eight hundred and seventy-three.
Louisville, a city of Jefferson county, Kentucky, on a plain elevated about seventy feet above the level of the Ohio, opposite to the rapids or falls, is a handsome town, and the largest in the state. Eight broad and straight streets run parallel with the river, and command a pleasant view of the opposite shore. They are paved with blocks of limestone; the houses are built chiefly of brick. This is the most commercial city of the west, commanding the trade of a great extent of country. Manufactures are yet in their infancy. The Louisville and Portland canal passes through this town, round the falls; it is about two miles in length, and cut through a limestone rock. It admits the passage of the largest steamboats, and thus opens a line of free navigation from Pittsburg to the sea. This canal was finished in 1831. It has been estimated that seventy-five thousand travellers pass through Louisville annually. The resident population is twenty-one thousand two hundred and ten.
Lowell, a town of Middlesex county, Massachusetts, situated at the junction of the Concord and Merrimack rivers, is celebrated for its extensive manufacturing establishments, and for its rapid increase. It was incorporated in 1826. In 1831, the quantity of cotton manufactured here was estimated at five million one hundred thousand pounds. The water power is held and managed by a company possessing a great amount of real estate, and a capital of six hundred thousand dollars. A rail-road from Boston to Lowell is in rapid progress. The two largest companies are the Merrimack, with a capital of a million and a half; and the Lawrence, with a capital of one million two hundred thousand dollars. Population twenty thousand nine hundred and eighty-one.
Lynchburg, a town of Columbia county, Virginia, is one of the most flourishing and commercial towns in the state. It has several tobacco warehouses and factories, cotton and woolen manufactories, and in the vicinity are extensive flour mills. The surrounding country is rugged and mountainous. Lynchburg was established in 1786. Population, four thousand six hundred and twenty-six.
Lynn, a town of Essex county, Massachusetts, is noted for its extensive manufacture of shoes. About a million and a half pair of women’s shoes are made here every year. There is a mineral spring in this town, with a hotel in its neighborhood. Population, nine thousand and seventy five.
Machias, on the bay of that name, in Washington county, Maine, consists of two villages, one at the falls at the east branch of Machias river, and the other at the falls of the west branch, six and a half miles apart, each containing a post office. The village at the east falls is at the head of the tide, two miles above the junction of the branches, and contains various mills. The village at the west falls, contains the court house, jail, and various mills; there are many saw mills in this town, which cut upwards of ten million feet of boards in a year. The tonnage of the shipping in 1827 amounted to five thousand two hundred and thirty-six; much of this is employed in the transportation of plaster from the British territory adjacent to Passamaquoddy bay. Population, one thousand three hundred and fifty-one.
Marblehead, a town of Essex county, Massachusetts, situated on a peninsula projecting into Massachusetts bay. It is compactly, though irregularly built; it was settled soon after Salem, and has been very flourishing and opulent. It suffered severely during the revolution and the last war. In the fishing business it has greatly excelled all other towns in the United States. Population in 1810, five thousand eight hundred; in 1840, five thousand five hundred and thirty-nine.
Marietta, in Washington county, Ohio, is finely situated near the mouth of Muskingum river, in the centre of a fertile neighborhood. It was one of the earliest settlements of the state; but it has suffered severely from sickness and inundations of the river. Ship-building was formerly carried on here, but has been discontinued. The inhabitants are noted for industry and sobriety. Population, one thousand eight hundred and fourteen.
Maysville, in Mason county, Kentucky, on the Ohio, stands on a narrow bottom below the mouth of Limestone creek, and has considerable trade and manufactures. It is the principal commercial depot for the north-east portions of the state. It is a very busy and flourishing town. Population, two thousand seven hundred and forty.
Middlebury, in Addison county, Vermont, situated on Otter creek, has a college, two academies, several churches, and manufactures of cotton, iron, and marble. A quarry of fine marble was discovered here in 1804, and is now wrought for a variety of purposes. Population, three thousand one hundred and sixty-two.
Middletown, a city of Middlesex county, Connecticut, on the west bank of the Connecticut river, and thirty-four miles from its mouth, is a pleasant place, and has considerable trade and manufactures. In 1816, it owned a larger shipping than any other town in the state. In the neighborhood is a lead mine, which was wrought during the war. A college, under the name of the Wesleyan University, was opened in this city in 1831. Population, seven thousand two hundred and ten.
Milledgeville, capital of Baldwin county, Georgia, and metropolis of the state, is situated on the west bank of the Oconee, eighty-seven miles south-west of Augusta. It is a depot of cotton for the Savannah and Darien markets. It contains several public buildings, and has four weekly papers. Population two thousand and ninety-five.
Mobile, a city of Mobile county, Alabama, on the west side of Mobile river, at its entrance into the bay. When this town came into the possession of the United States, in 1813, it contained about three hundred inhabitants; it now numbers twelve thousand seven hundred. It is pleasantly situated on a spot elevated above the overflow of the river; but the adjacent country is a marsh or a forest. Fire and the yellow fever have committed great ravages here; but trade has increased rapidly, and in the cotton business Mobile is inferior only to Charleston and New Orleans.
Montpelier, shire town of Washington county, Vermont, and seat of government, is situated on the north bank of Onion river, about ten miles north-east of the centre of the state, and is a great thoroughfare for travellers. It was incorporated in 1818, contains a number of public buildings and good seats for manufactories. Population, 3,725.
Nantucket, a town of Massachusetts, of the same extent with the island and county of that name, contains seven houses of public worship, two banks, and two insurance offices. It was formerly called Sherburne. The trade suffered greatly during the late war and the revolution, but has since been more flourishing. There are extensive spermaceti works here. Education is well attended to, and the people, who are chiefly Friends or Quakers, are generally moral and industrious. Population, nine thousand five hundred and twelve.
Nashville, capital of Davidson county, and seat of government of Tennessee, is regularly built, pleasantly situated on the south side of Cumberland river, and is much the largest town in the state. It is a rich and flourishing place. Steamboats from New Orleans ascend the river to this point. The state penitentiary, a fine stone building, is here erected. The University of Nashville was incorporated in 1806, and is now in a very prosperous condition. Pop. eight thousand one hundred and thirty-three.
Natchez, a city of Mississippi, and much the largest town of the state, stands on a bluff, upwards of one hundred and fifty feet above the surface of the river. The houses have an air of neatness, though few are distinguished for elegance or size. To enable the inhabitants to enjoy the evening air, almost every house has a piazza and balcony. The soil of the adjoining country is rich, and vegetation of most kinds attains to uncommon luxuriance; the gardens are ornamented with orange trees, figs plums, peaches, and grape-vines. Natchez is the principal town in this region for the shipment of cotton to New Orleans, and at the business seasons the streets are almost barricadoed with bales. In this place is the Planters’ bank, with a capital of three millions.
The reputation of Natchez in regard to morals seems to be rather at a discount. The lower town is said to have a worse character than any place on the river; and, particularly in the spring, to present a congregation of the most abandoned and desperate. The following picture by a recent traveller is probably overcharged: ‘In the evening, a steamer stops at Natchez to land or take in goods, the passengers observe several houses lighted up, and hear the sounds of fiddles and merriment, and they run up to see what is going on; they find men and women dancing, gambling and drinking; the bell of the steamboat rings to announce that she is about to continue her voyage, the lights in the houses of entertainment are immediately extinguished, and the passengers run out, afraid of being too late for the boat, and run down toward the landing; ropes are drawn across the road, the passengers fall heels over head, a number of stout ruffians throw themselves upon them, and strip them of their money and watches, and they get on board in doleful plight, and of course never see or hear more of their plunderers!’ Population, 4,826.
Natchitoches, commonly pronounced Nackitosh, a town of Louisiana, is beautifully situated on the south-west bank of Red river, at the head of steamboat navigation. The trade between Louisiana and the Mexican states centres here, and it must eventually become a place of great size and importance. This town was established more than a hundred years ago, and its population is a mixture of Americans, French, Spaniards, and Indians.
New Albany, in Floyd county, Indiana, is an industrious and flourishing village, with a ship-yard for building steamboats. During the summer, many steamboats are laid up here to be repaired. Population, four thousand two hundred and twenty-six.
Newark, capital of Essex county, New Jersey, is handsomely built, and finely situated on the west side of Passaic river. It is one of the most beautiful towns in the country. It has extensive manufactures of shoes, leather, coaches, and cabinet work. Morris canal passes through this town. Population, seventeen thousand two hundred and ninety-two.
New Bedford, port of entry in Bristol county, Massachusetts, stands on an arm of Buzzard’s bay, about fifty-two miles south of Boston. ‘We entered New Bedford,’ says a recent tourist, ‘through Fairhaven, by way of the ferry. From Fairhaven the town shows to better effect than from any other point. A stranger, perhaps, might be surprised at the great apparent extent of New Bedford as seen from this place. Passing through the villa of Fairhaven (a place of no inconsiderable size by the by,) it opens before him, with its spires, its shipping and buildings, like a beautiful panoramic painting of some great city. It appears much larger, however, than it is. Its population is 12,585. Its commerce is principally in the whale fishery, employing one hundred and fifty whale ships. The “county road” displays many elegant mansions, the dwellings of some of the more wealthy inhabitants. New Bedford is considered a very wealthy place, and the inhabitants active and enterprising. A large proportion of them are Quakers.’
Newbern, in Craven county, North Carolina, was once the capital, and is still the largest town of the state. It is situated on the Neuse, thirty miles above its entrance into Pamlico sound. The river is navigable to this place, and its commerce is considerable. Population, three thousand six hundred and ninety.
New Brunswick, a city of New Jersey, partly in Middlesex and partly in Somerset county, on the south-west side of Raritan river, is built on a low but healthy situation, and has considerable trade. Besides the other public institutions usually found in towns of similar size, this has a theological seminary, and a college; both established by the Dutch Reformed Church. Population, eight thousand seven hundred and eight.
Newburgh, a port of entry in Orange county, New York, is a well-built village, pleasantly situated on the west bank of the Hudson, commanding a delightful view of the river and the highlands. The principal streets are paved. A considerable amount of shipping is owned in this village; agriculture and manufactures are also extremely flourishing. Population, five thousand six hundred and sixty-two.
Newburgh.
Newburyport, in Essex county, Massachusetts, at the mouth of the Merrimack, is remarkable for the beauty of its situation, and the regularity of its streets. It stands upon a gentle declivity sloping down to the river, the streets are generally straight and at right angles, and the town lies along the bank of the river for about a mile. The principal streets pass through the whole width of the town, from the summit of the declivity to the river. The buildings are generally handsome, and the streets clean. Few towns in the United States surpass Newburyport in beauty. It was desolated by a fire, which broke out on the night of May 31, 1811, and destroyed nearly three hundred buildings. The place has never recovered from the effects of this calamity; at the present day, the traveller is struck with the view of a wide heap of grass-grown ruins, in the heart of a populous town.
The harbor of this place is good, but obstructed at the entrance by a dangerous bar; attempts are now making to improve it by a break-water on the south side of the channel. The mercantile enterprise of the place has latterly been diverted from commerce to the fisheries. Ship-building is carried on to a considerable extent, and a manufactory of hosiery has been established in the place. This town has seven churches, two banks, two insurance offices, and two newspapers. A handsome chain bridge crosses the river from the centre of the town. The celebrated preacher, George Whitefield, died in this town in 1760, and is now entombed in the Presbyterian church in Federal street, where an elegant monument has been erected recently to his memory. Population, seven thousand one hundred and twenty-four.
New Castle, seat of justice of the county of the same name, in Delaware, and formerly capital of the state. The village extends lengthwise along the Delaware river, on a rising plain, and is tolerably compact and well built. It once enjoyed considerable trade. Population two thousand seven hundred and thirty-seven.
New Harmony, or Harmony, a town in Posey county, in the south-western part of Indiana, on the Wabash, formerly the seat of the Harmonists, under the German, Rapp, and more recently of the followers of Owen, of Lanark. The former establishment was removed to Economy, and the latter abandoned.
New Haven, a city and seaport of Connecticut, in New Haven county, lies at the head of a bay that runs out of Long Island Sound, and is situated on a beautiful plain, bordered on the north by bold and perpendicular eminences. It is regularly laid out and consists of two parts, the old and new town. The old town is divided into squares of different extents. The public buildings of the city are handsome and well situated. The state house is a fine edifice, on the model of the Parthenon. Several of the churches have a commanding appearance; two of them are of Gothic architecture, and built of stone. Private dwelling-houses are mostly of wood, handsome and convenient. The public square and principal streets are finely ornamented with trees; and beautiful gardens attached to many of the residences, give the town a rural and delightful appearance.
New Haven.
The harbor of New Haven is shallow, and gradually filling with mud, but it is well defended from winds, and the maritime commerce of the port is greater than that of any other town in Connecticut. Its interior trade is assisted by the Farmington canal. Packets and steamboats ply regularly and frequently between this port and New York. The Indian name of this town was Quinipiack. It was first settled by the English in 1638, and was the capital of the colony of New Haven, which remained distinct from that of Connecticut till 1665. The state legislature meets here and at Hartford alternately. Yale College, one of the most distinguished literary institutions in America, is established in this city; connected with this are a theological, a medical, and a law school. Many academies and smaller seminaries are also established here. Population, fourteen thousand three hundred and ninety.
New London, a city of New London county, Connecticut, in the south-eastern part of the state, has a fine harbor near the mouth of the Thames. It is irregularly built, principally at the foot of a hill facing the east. There are many pleasant sites in the higher parts of the town, and several of the buildings are handsome; but the general appearance of the place is not flourishing. The neighboring region is rocky and sterile, and there are no great channels of communication with the interior. The recent attention of the merchants to the whale fisheries has given a considerable impulse to the place, and promises to restore it to its former importance as a commercial city. Fort Trumbull is situated at the south of the town, and to the east, on the opposite side of the river, are the remains of Fort Griswold, which, during the revolution, was the scene of a well-remembered and fearful tragedy. Population, five thousand five hundred and twenty-eight.
New Madrid, now an insignificant village, though historically interesting, is situated on the west bank of the Mississippi, eighty-one miles below the mouth of the Ohio. This town was founded in 1787, and was intended to become a great commercial city, and the emporium of the vast tract of fertile country watered by the Mississippi, the Missouri, and their branches. It was indeed happily situated for the purpose; but the river has swept away the ground on which it was originally placed, and the earthquakes of 1812 have sunk the remainder of the bluff below high-water mark. It is impossible to visit this spot, knowing any thing of its history, and not be struck with the air of desolation it now breathes. There was a fine lake in the rear of the town, on the banks of which public walks and plantations of trees were planned for the accommodation of its inhabitants; this is now a heap of sand. As the earthquakes are occasionally recurring in this neighborhood, even to the present time, people have been cautious in respect to settling here; but as they are becoming more assured, New Madrid is gradually emerging from her prostration.
New Orleans, the capital of the state of Louisiana, is situated directly on the east bank of the Mississippi, one hundred and five miles from the mouth of the river. In the year 1717, this city was founded; and at that period, there were not, perhaps, five hundred white inhabitants in the whole valley of the Mississippi. In the beginning of 1788, the town contained one thousand one hundred houses, built of wood; in March of that year, by a fire, the number of houses was reduced in five hours to two hundred. It has been rebuilt principally of brick, which is of so soft a nature, that the buildings are plastered on the outside with a thick coat of mortar, and then painted or whitewashed. Several warehouses with stone fronts have been recently erected. The city is regularly laid out, and the streets are generally forty feet wide, crossing each other at right angles. The public buildings are generally elegant, commodious and expensive. There are few churches. The Catholic cathedral is a noble edifice, ninety feet by one hundred and twenty, with four towers. The Place des armes is a beautiful green, which serves as a parade. Most of the houses in the suburbs have fine gardens, ornamented with orange groves. The general style of living is luxurious, and the private dwellings are elegantly furnished. The markets are plentifully supplied with the necessaries of life, and the luxuries of every country; but provisions are dear.
New Orleans will become to the United States the great emporium of commerce and wealth, if, by the draining of the marshy country in the neighborhood, it ever becomes a healthy city. The more we contemplate the present and prospective resourses of New Orleans, the more must we be convinced of its future greatness. Being built in the form of a crescent, the curve of the river constitutes a safe and commodious harbor. Defended on one side by the river, and on the other by a swamp that no effort can penetrate, the city can only be approached through a defile three quarters of a mile wide.
New Orleans is gradually becoming more purely American in all its characteristics; but many of its inhabitants are of French and Spanish descent, and the French language is more commonly spoken than the English. The charitable institutions of the city are highly creditable. Education is not so much attended to as in other parts of the country; but great improvements have been made in this respect within a few years. The police is efficient, and scenes of disorder rarely occur.
This city is the grand commercial metropolis of the Mississippi valley. The tributaries of the great river on which it stands afford an extent of more than twenty thousand miles, already navigated by steamboats, and passing through the richest soil and the pleasantest climates. Steamboats are departing and arriving every hour, and fifty or sixty are often seen in the harbor at one time; while many hundreds of flat boats are seen at the levee, laden with the various productions of the great valley. Measures have been adopted by the state legislature to have the neighboring country well explored, for the purpose of draining, raising, and improving it.64 The streets of the city have been paved, and gutters are washed by water from the river. Pop. one hundred and two thousand one hundred and ninety three. New Orleans will probably become the largest city of America.
Newport, a seaport and semi-metropolis of Rhode Island, is pleasantly situated on the south-west end of the island of Rhode Island, thirty miles south of Providence. During the summer months it is a place of fashionable resort, being celebrated for the salubrity of its climate. It formerly possessed considerable commerce, and contained more than nine thousand inhabitants; but during the revolution, it was a long time occupied by the enemy, and suffered severely. The principal street is a mile in length; the houses have an antique appearance. The harbor is very safe, sufficiently spacious for a whole fleet, and defended by three forts. Newport was first settled in 1638. A large stone mill is still standing here, which was erected before the date of the earliest records. Population, eight thousand three hundred and thirty-three.
Asylum at Newport.
New York.
New York, the largest and most populous city in the United States, lies in the state of that name, at the head of New York bay, about sixteen miles from the Atlantic ocean. Manhattan island, on which the city stands, and which is formed by the Hudson, the Hærlem, and East rivers, with the bay on the south, is fifteen miles in length, and from two to three in breadth. On the south-west point of the island, overlooking the bay, is a fine public promenade, of from five to six hundred yards in length, and one hundred and fifty in breadth, prettily laid out in walks, and planted with trees. In the evenings it is generally crowded with citizens, who assemble to derive the benefit from a pleasant breeze off the water, or listen to a band that frequently plays in the Castle garden, which is connected with the walk by a wooden bridge. The former promenade is called the Battery, from having, in the olden times of the Dutch settlers, or during the revolutionary war, mounted a few guns; and the Castle garden, in a similar manner, possessed no garden, nor could it ever have possessed one, being a modern stone fort, with twenty-eight embrasures, built upon a solid rock, which appeared but a short distance above the water. This being an unprofitable kind of investment of funds, has been let by the corporation to a publican, who has converted it to a much more profitable use charging sixpence for admission, and giving a ticket, so that the visitor may enjoy a stroll upon the upper platform of the fort, admire the view, and then call for a glass of liquor at the bar. The battery, nevertheless, is the most pleasant promenade in New York, and excels any thing else of the kind in America. Governor’s island, about three quarters of a mile distant in the bay, has a large stone circular fort, with three tiers of embrasures, and is calculated for more than one hundred guns at its western extremity.
Castle Garden and Battery.
Of the public buildings of New York, the City Hall, containing the supreme court, mayor’s court, and various public offices, situated in the park, a fine and handsome square, is the most remarkable; and being fronted with white marble, has a beautiful effect when seen through the trees in the park. The building is upwards of two hundred feet in length, with a dome and tower surmounted by a statue of justice. The Merchants’ Exchange, in Wall street, is a fine edifice, of the same material as the front of the City Hall. The basement story is occupied by the post-office, and above it the Exchange, eighty-five feet in length, fifty-five in width, and forty-five in height to the dome, from which it is lighted. The greater proportion of the other buildings in the street, are insurance offices, banks, and exchange offices.
‘The churches in New York,’ says Lieutenant Coke, ‘are handsomer edifices than those in the southern cities I visited, and contain some interesting monuments. St. Paul’s, in the park, is one of the finest in the states. In the interior, there is a tablet in the chancel to Sir Robert Temple, baronet, the first consul general to the United States from England, who died in the city; and one to the wife of the British governor of New Jersey, who died during the revolution, from distress of mind; being separated from her husband by the events of the time. In the yard, also, there is a large Egyptian obelisk of a single block of white marble, thirty-two feet in height, erected to Thomas A. Emmett, an eminent counsellor at law and brother of the Irish orator who suffered during the rebellion. When I visited New York again, some months afterwards, one front of it was embellished with an emblematical representation of his fortunes. Though it was in an unfinished state, and the canvass had not been removed from before the scaffolding, I could catch a glimpse of the representation of a hand, with a wreath or bracelet of shamrock round the wrist, clasping one with a similar ornament of stars, and the eagle of America sheltering the unstrung harp of Ireland. Mr. Emmett had emigrated to the states, and settled in New York, where he had acquired considerable reputation many years previous to his death. There is also another monument near it, under the portico of the church, to General Montgomery, who fell in the unsuccessful attack upon Quebec in 1775. This monument was erected previously to the declaration of independence by the congress; and in 1818, when his remains were removed from Quebec to New York, and interred at St. Paul’s, another tablet was added, recording the event; though at the time, great doubts were entertained whether they actually were the general’s remains which were exhumed. The matter was, however, subsequently set at rest beyond a doubt, by the publication of a certificate drawn up by the person who had actually buried the general in the first instance, and who was then living in Quebec, at a very advanced age, being the only survivor of the army which served under Wolfe.
Merchants’ Exchange.
‘There is a very handsome monument, near the centre of the church-yard, erected by Kean, of Drury Lane theatre, to Cooke, the actor. Trinity church, which is also in Broadway, was the oldest in the city, having been originally built in 1696, but destroyed by fire eighty years afterwards, although from the circumstance of a monument in the church-yard, of 1691, it appears it was used as a burial-ground some time previously. Though not containing much above an acre of ground, by a moderate calculation, not fewer than two hundred thousand bodies have been buried in it. Of late years there have been no burials, and weeping willows with various trees have been planted, which in time will make it ornamental to the city. In one corner are the ruins of a monument, erected but sixteen years since to Captain Lawrence, of the American navy, who fell defending his ship, the Chesapeak, against Sir P. Broke, in the Shannon. His body was taken to Halifax, in Nova Scotia, and buried there with all the honors of war, the pall being the American ensign supported by six of the senior captains in the royal navy, then in the harbor. But the Americans immediately after sent a vessel with a flag of truce to apply for the removal of the body, which being granted, it was re-buried in Trinity church-yard, and the present monument, no lasting memorial of his country’s grief, erected upon the spot. It is a most shabby economical structure, built of brick, and faced with white marble. The column, of the Corinthian order, is broken short, with part of the capital lying at the base of the pedestal, emblematic of his premature death. Owing to the summit being exposed to the weather, the rain has gained admittance into the interior of the brick work, and has given the column a considerable inclination to one side. Some of the marble front also, with two sides of that of the pedestal, have fallen down and exposed the shabby interior. Surely, such a man deserved a monument of more durable materials.’65
Among the most splendid public buildings is the Masonic hall, a Gothic edifice, in Broadway, fifty feet wide, and seventy feet high; it is composed of the eastern gray granite. Of collegiate institutions, Columbia college is the oldest in New York. It is finely situated on a square ornamented with majestic trees; and the standard of classical education here is very high. This institution possesses an estate valued at four hundred thousand dollars. In 1831, the University of New York was chartered; it is projected on the broad and liberal plan of the continental universities, and promises to be of great utility. Schools of all kinds are numerous; bible and missionary societies are numerous and well endowed. Literary and scientific institutions flourish. The most ancient of these is the Society Library, founded in 1754, and containing upwards of twenty-three thousand volumes. The Historical society was incorporated in 1809, and has collected a vast number of important documents in relation to the country in general, and particularly to New York. The Lyceum for Natural History, the Clinton Hall association, and the Mercantile Library association, are flourishing and useful institutions.
Masonic Hall.
The Academy of Arts was chartered in 1808. It has two exhibitions annually. The library consists of books of views, designs and drawings, relating chiefly to antique subjects. Among the presidents of this institution have been Edward Livingston, De Witt Clinton, and John Trumbull. The National Academy was founded in 1826, and, with a few exceptions, is altogether composed of artists. Of the dramatic entertainments of the city, we can say but little. The Park theatre is the place of most fashionable resort; it is a spacious edifice, adjoining the park. It is eighty feet long, and one hundred and sixty-five feet deep. The Bowery theatre is well attended. An opera house has been recently built.
The number of insurance offices in this city is upwards of forty. In 1827, the total of banking capital amounted to about sixteen millions of dollars. Several new banks have been since chartered, and this amount has been much increased. For its advantage of inland and external commerce, no city in the United States can be compared with New York. The number of vessels that arrived here from foreign parts during the first eight months of the year 1833, was thirteen hundred and forty-five, and the number of passengers was over thirty-two thousand. In 1832, the number of arrivals from foreign parts during the whole year, was one thousand eight hundred and ten; in 1829, it was thirteen hundred and four, being forty-one less in the whole year than during the first eight months of 1833.
The population of New York in 1697, was four thousand three hundred and two; in 1756, thirteen thousand and forty; in 1790, thirty-three thousand and thirty-one; in 1800, sixty thousand four hundred and eighty-nine; in 1810, ninety-six thousand three hundred and seventy-three; in 1820, one hundred and twenty-three thousand seven hundred and six; in 1825, one hundred and sixty-six thousand and eighty-six; and in 1830, two hundred and seven thousand and twenty-one. Its present population is three hundred and thirteen thousand six hundred and twenty-nine.
Norfolk, the commercial capital of Virginia, is situated on the east side of Elizabeth river, immediately below the junction of its two main branches, and eight miles above Hampton roads. The town lies low, and is in some places marshy, though the principal streets are well paved. Among the public buildings are a theatre, three banks, an academy, marine hospital, athenæum, and six churches. The harbor, which is capacious and safe, is defended by several forts. One is on Craney island, near the mouth of Elizabeth river. There are also fortifications at Hampton roads; the principal of which, Fort Calhoun, is not yet completed. Population, ten thousand five hundred and seventy-three.
Northampton is a post and shire town of Hampshire county, Massachusetts, on the west bank of Connecticut river, and ninety-five miles from Boston. Its population in 1840 was three thousand six hundred and seventy-two. It is built chiefly on two broad streets, in which are situated the churches and county buildings. This town is very beautiful, consisting of a number of villas of various sizes, and of pleasing, though irregular architecture, seeming to vie with each other in the taste and elegance of their external decorations. There is primitive white limestone in the vicinity, and much of the pavement and steps are of white marble. The trees in the neighborhood of the town are single spreading trees, principally elms, and of considerable age; the roads are wide, and the footpaths are excellent everywhere. Northampton is surrounded by rising grounds; but mount Holyoke, situated on the opposite side of the Connecticut river, is the hill which all strangers ascend, for the sake of the extensive and beautiful prospect from its summit. The valley that lies at its base, contains the most extensive and beautiful plain in New England, well cultivated and populous. The spires of thirty churches are seen from the top of mount Holyoke, and in a clear day the hills of New Haven are distinctly visible. Round Hill school, in this town, is an institution of some note, somewhat on the plan of a German gymnasium. There are two banks here, woolen manufactories, an insurance office, and a printing office; the public houses are good, and the town is somewhat a place of summer resort.
Norwich, a city of New London county, Connecticut, situated at the head of navigation on Thames river, contains three compact settlements; of which Chelsea Landing, situate at the point of land between the Shetucket and Yantic rivers, is the principal. Its location is peculiarly romantic; and it is a place of much enterprise and business. What is called the town is two miles north-west of Chelsea, containing the court house, and some other public buildings; and the third settlement is Bean Hill, in the western part of Norwich. The city contains a bank, four or five churches, and several manufacturing establishments. The Yantic falls, one mile from Chelsea, are beautiful, and afford facilities for mills and manufactories. From a rock seventy or eighty feet in height, which overhangs the stream, tradition says a number of Narragansetts once precipitated themselves when pursued by the Mohegans.
On an elevated bank, north of what is called the cove, and near the Yantic falls, is the burying-ground of the royal family of the Mohegans, commonly called ‘the burying-ground of the Uncasses.’ Many of their graves are still designated by coarse stones; on some of which are English inscriptions. Uncas was buried here, and many of his descendants; but his family is now nearly extinct. There are one or two living who claim a kindred, but who have very little of the magnanimity or valor for which he was so conspicuous. Population of Norwich, seven thousand two hundred and thirty-nine.
Pawtucket, a town of Bristol county, Massachusetts, four miles north-east of Providence, Rhode Island. It is finely situated on the falls of Pawtucket river, near the Blackstone canal, and is one of the most extensive manufacturing places in the union. It contains numerous cotton factories, and shops for machinery, and other purposes. Population, two thousand one hundred and eighty-four.
Pensacola, the capital of West Florida, and naval station of the United States, is situated on the north-west shore of the bay of the same name. It was founded by a Spanish officer in 1699, and is built in the form of a parallelogram, nearly a mile in length. The harbor is safe and commodious, and the anchorage is good, though toward shore the water is generally shallow. It is regarded as a comparatively healthy place. Population, about two thousand.
Petersburg, a borough and port of entry, in Dinwiddie county, Virginia, on the south bank of the Appomatox. The river is navigable to this point for vessels of one hundred tons. In 1815, three hundred buildings were destroyed by fire. It has since been rebuilt of brick, and the new houses are generally three stories in height; it is of the first class of towns in Virginia, and presents an appearance of enterprise and wealth. Population, eleven thousand one hundred and thirty-six.
Philadelphia, the second city in size and population in the United States, is situated in a county of the same name, five miles above the junction of the Schuylkill and Delaware rivers, and, by the course of the river, about one hundred and twenty miles distant from the Atlantic ocean. It was founded by William Penn, in 1682, and was originally laid out in the shape of a parallelogram, two miles in length by one in breadth. The city now extends from the lower part of Southwark to the upper part of Kensington, about four miles, and from one river to the other. For municipal purposes, the legislature has, from time to time, established corporate governments in different parts of the suburbs, so that Philadelphia is divided into the following districts: the corporations of the city of Philadelphia, of the Northern Liberties, Kensington, Spring Garden, Southwark, and Moyamensing. The municipal government of the city proper is vested in a mayor, a recorder, fifteen aldermen, and a select and common council, besides subordinate executive officers.
‘Philadelphia, the reverse of Lisbon,’ says a recent English traveller, ‘at first presents no beauties; no domes or turrets rise in the air to break the uniform stiff roof-line of the private dwellings; and, if I remember right, the only buildings which show their lofty heads above the rest, are the state house, Christ church, (both built prior to the revolution,) a presbyterian meeting-house, and a shot tower. The city, therefore, when viewed from the water, and at a distance, presents any thing but a picturesque appearance. It is somewhat singular, too, that there should be such a scarcity of spires, and conspicuous buildings, there being no fewer than ninety places of worship, besides hospitals, and charitable institutions in great numbers. In place, too, of noble piers and quays of solid masonry, which we might reasonably expect to find in a city containing near one hundred and forty-thousand inhabitants, and holding the second rank in commercial importance in North America, there are but some shabby wharves and piers of rough piles of timber, jutting out in unequal lengths and shapes, from one end to the other of the river front; and these, again, are backed by large piles of wooden warehouses, and mean-looking stores. On the narrow space between them and the water, are hundreds of negro porters, working at vast heaps of iron bars, barrels of flour, cotton bags, and all the various merchandise imported or exported, singing, in their strange broken English tone of voice, some absurd chorus.
‘Fifty paces hence, the stranger enters the city, which possesses an interior almost unrivalled in the world. On walking through the fine broad streets, with rows of locust or other trees, which, planted on the edge of the causeway, form a most delightful shade, and take away the glare of the brick buildings, he is struck immediately with the air of simplicity, yet strength and durability which all the public edifices possess, while the private dwellings, with their neat white marble steps and window sills, bespeak wealth and respectability. The neatness too, of the dress of every individual, with the total absence of those lazy and dirty vagabonds who ever infest our towns, and loiter about the corners of all the public streets, passing insolent remarks upon every well-dressed man, or even unattended female, impress a foreigner with a most pleasing and favorable idea of an American city.
‘The river in front of the town is about a mile wide, but the channel is considerably contracted by an island, which extends nearly the full length of the town, and, consequently renders the navigation more intricate. It is prettily planted with trees, and a ship has been run ashore at one end and converted into a tavern, a house being raised upon the upper deck. It was quite a gala day, numerous steam vessels and rowing boats proceeding up the stream to Kensington (part of the suburbs,) and we arrived just in time to see a large ship, of six hundred tons burthen, glide gracefully from the stocks.
‘I now commenced visiting all the public institutions. Of charitable societies the number is amazing; probably no city in the world, of the same population, possesses an equal number. It may be truly said, that it deserves its name of “Philadelphia;” there are upwards of thirty humane institutions and societies for the relief of the poor and orphans, besides above one hundred and fifty mutual benefit societies, on the principle of the English clubs; being associations of tradesmen and artisans for the support of each other in sickness, each member contributing monthly or weekly a small sum to the general fund. Of the public institutions, the “Pennsylvania Hospital” is on the most extensive scale. It is situated in a central part of the city, near Washington square, and was founded eighty-two years since, Benjamin Franklin being its greatest promoter. It contains an excellent library of about seven thousand volumes; and it is calculated that about fourteen hundred patients are annually admitted into it, of which number three fifths are paupers; the remainder paying for the advantages they derive from the institution. The building occupies an immense extent of ground, and on three sides of it an open space is left for a free circulation of air; the west end of the building is a ward for insane patients, of whom there are generally more than one hundred. The necessary funds for the support of the hospital are derived from the interest of its capital stock, and from the exhibition of West’s splendid painting of Christ healing the sick, which produces about five hundred dollars per annum and is exhibited in a building on the northern side of the hospital square.’
The United States bank is a splendid edifice, built on the plan of the Parthenon at Athens. Its length is one hundred and sixty-one, and its breadth eighty-seven feet. The main entrance is from Chesnut street, by a flight of six marble steps, extending along the whole front of the portico, which is supported by fluted columns four and a half feet in diameter. In the centre of the building is the banking room, which is eighty-one feet long, and forty-eight feet wide. The whole body of the edifice is arched in a bomb-proof manner, from the cellar to the roof, which is covered with copper. The New Bank of Pennsylvania is an extensive and elegant edifice of marble of the Ionic order, and constructed after the model of the ancient temple of the Muses, on the Ilyssus. There are at present seventeen banking houses within the city and the incorporated districts, with an aggregate capital of more than twenty millions of dollars.
The Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb is one of the most conspicuous edifices in the city. The association was established in April, 1820, and was incorporated in the following year. Philadelphia now contains about one hundred churches, few of which are distinguished for size, extent, or architectural beauty.
Deaf and Dumb Asylum.
The state house, in which the continental congress sat, and from whence the Declaration of Independence issued, is still standing. It is located in Chesnut street, is built of brick, comprising a centre and two wings, and has undergone no material alteration since its first erection. It has a venerable appearance, and is surmounted by a cupola, having a clock, the dial of which is glass, and is illuminated at night until ten or eleven o’clock, showing the hour and minutes until that time. The front is a considerable distance back from the street, the walk being paved to the curb-stone with brick, and two elegant rows of trees extending its whole length. East of the main entrance, in the front room, the sessions of congress were held, and the question of independence decided.
The arcade contains Peale’s museum, one of the best in the United States, comprising the most complete skeleton of the mammoth perhaps in the world. It is perfect, with the exception of a few bones, which have been supplied by imitating the others. This skeleton was found in Ulster county, New York.
The Academy of Arts, in Chesnut street, contains a large number of paintings, several of which are the property of Joseph Bonaparte. Among these is one executed by David, representing Napoleon crossing the Alps. Another is a full-length portrait of Joseph himself, as king of Spain.
Academy of Arts.
It is to Franklin that the city is indebted for its great library, which now numbers about thirty-five thousand volumes. It was incorporated in 1742, and in 1790, the present neat edifice was erected on the east side of Fifth street, opposite the state house square. The Athenæum is a valuable institution, established in 1814; it has a collection of about five thousand five hundred volumes, and more than seventy newspapers and periodical journals are regularly received in its reading room. The Philosophical society has a collection of six thousand, and the Academy of Natural Sciences a collection of five thousand volumes. The University of Pennsylvania is distinguished for its medical school, which is attended by a class of from four to five hundred. The United States Mint was established in 1791, and by successive acts of congress has been continued at Philadelphia. In 1829, a new building for the mint was commenced in Chesnut street; it has but recently been completed. It is of the Ionic order, and modelled after a celebrated Grecian temple.66
Franklin Institute.
Of the public works of Philadelphia, there is none of which its inhabitants are most justly proud than those at Fair Mount, by which the city is supplied with water of the best quality, in the greatest plenty. Fair Mount is in the rear of the city upon the bank of the Schuylkill. The reservoirs are situated on the top of a hill rising from the river, a part of it perpendicular rock, upwards of one hundred feet. They contain upwards of twelve millions of gallons, supplying the city through between fifteen and twenty miles of pipes. The water was formerly forced to the reservoirs by steam, which is no longer used; it is now raised by machinery propelled by the Schuylkill. The machinery is simple, and is turned by large water wheels, whose speed may be graduated to any required number of revolutions per minute; if all are in motion, they will raise seven millions of gallons in twenty-four hours. To turn them, the Schuylkill has been dammed its whole breadth, by which the water is thrown back into a reservoir lock, whence it is admitted as required to operate upon the wheels, and is discharged into the river below the dam. The whole expense of these works, including estimated cost of works abandoned, was one million seven hundred and eighty-three thousand. The quantity of water which they disseminate through the city, is not only sufficient for every family, but is used to wash the streets. It is of immense service in case of fire, as it is only necessary to screw the hose to hydrants, which are placed at convenient distances, to secure a constant stream of sufficient force to reach an ordinary height.
Fair Mount Water-Works.
There are three prisons in Philadelphia, one in Walnut street, a second in Arch street, and the Eastern Penitentiary. The latter is situated on high ground near the city, and is designed to carry the principle of solitary confinement into effect. The system pursued here will be fully explained in a different portion of the volume. Ten acres are occupied by the establishment, inclosed by massive walls of granite, thirty-five feet high, with towers and battlements.
Eastern Penitentiary.
There are two bridges across the Schuylkill, both of which are substantial and elegant structures. The Fair Mount bridge consists of a single arch, of three hundred and forty feet in length. The whole length of that on Market street, is one thousand three hundred feet, including abutments and wing walls.
Upper Ferry Bridge.
The public markets form a very striking feature of the city. One is nearly two thirds of a mile in extent. The harbor of Philadelphia possesses many natural advantages, though it is more liable to be impeded by ice than either that of New York or Baltimore. The Delaware is not navigable for the first class of ships of the line. For the amount of its commerce, Philadelphia is the fourth city in the United States.
By the will of the late Stephen Girard, Philadelphia received large bequests of land and money, to be appropriated to purposes of public improvement. To the Pennsylvania Hospital he gave thirty thousand dollars; to the city, for city improvements, five hundred thousand dollars; for a college for poor white male children, and its endowments, two millions. He made further donations to the city of unimproved lands in the western territories, and stock in the Schuylkill navigation company, valued at the sum of six hundred thousand dollars.
By the census of 1810, the population of Philadelphia was ninety-six thousand six hundred and sixty-four; in 1840 it was two hundred and thirty-five thousand.
Pittsburg, a city and capital of Alleghany county, Pennsylvania, two hundred and ninety-seven miles west by north of Philadelphia, is situated on a beautiful plain at the junction of the Alleghany and Monongahela rivers. It is built on the old site of the famous fort Du Quesne, whose ruins are still seen in the neighborhood. The situation of Pittsburg is as advantageous as can well be imagined; it is the key to the western country, and, excepting New Orleans and Cincinnati, is the first town of the whole valley of the Mississippi. It was created a city by the legislature of Pennsylvania, at the session of 1816. The principal cause which has contributed, after its fine position, to ensure the prosperity of, Pittsburg, is the exhaustless mass of mineral coal that exists in its neighborhood. The beds are 340 feet above low water level, and about two hundred and ninety above the level of the town. The great abundance of this valuable material has converted Pittsburg into a vast workshop, and a warehouse for the immense country below, upon the Ohio and the other large rivers of the valley. According to a list recently published in one of the Pittsburg papers, there are in operation in that city, and in its immediate vicinity, eighty-nine steam engines, on which there are two thousand one hundred and eleven hands employed, and coal consumed to the amount of one hundred and fifty-four thousand two hundred and fifty bushels per month. The great use of this coal has given a general dinginess of appearance to the town, arising from the smoke. The inhabitants of Pittsburg present specimens of almost every nation; they are distinguished for economy and industry. The Western university was established here in 1820. Among the buildings are three or four banks, a small theatre, a public library, and houses of worship for various sects. Population, twenty-one thousand two hundred and ninety-six.
Pittsfield, a town of Berkshire county, Massachusetts, situated on a hill at the junction of the principal branches of the Housatonic river. It contains a bank, an academy, a medical institution, and several extensive manufactories, among which is one of muskets, where arms have been frequently made for the United States. Population, four thousand and sixty.
Plattsburg, capital of Clinton county, New York, situated on a fine bay on the west side of lake Champlain, is handsomely laid out and contains a bank and several manufactories. It is celebrated in the history of the late war with Great Britain. Population, 6,416.
Plymouth, a port of entry and shire town of Plymouth county, Massachusetts, is the oldest town in New England, having been settled by the pilgrims who landed from the Mayflower, December 22d, 1620. It stands on a fine harbor of the same name, thirty-six miles south-east of Boston. Though often divided, the township is still sixteen miles long, and five broad. The Indian name was Accomack. It is a place of considerable commerce, and contains some manufacturing establishments. The harbor is large, but shallow, and in 1832 an appropriation was made by government to repair it. One of the principal buildings is Pilgrim’s hall, which was erected by the Pilgrim society. A part of the rock on which the pilgrims landed, has been conveyed to the centre of the town. Population, five thousand one hundred and eighty.
Portland, a port of entry, and commercial metropolis of Maine, in Cumberland county, is situated on an elevated peninsula in Casco bay. It has an excellent and spacious harbor, dotted with numerous islands, and defended by two forts. The town is well laid out, and neatly built. Among the public buildings are, that formerly occupied as the state house, a court house, town hall, a theatre, alms-house, six banks, fifteen churches, a custom-house, academy, and an athenæum, in which is a library of about three thousand volumes. Much attention is here paid to education, and there are many good schools. Portland has considerable commerce, the chief articles of export being fish and lumber. Its shipping amounts to about forty-five thousand tons. In 1775, this town, then called Falmouth, was set on fire by the British, and about two thirds of the houses were destroyed. It was incorporated under its present name in 1786. Population, fifteen thousand two hundred and eighteen.
Mariners’ Church, Portland.
Portsmouth, in Rockingham county, New Hampshire, is the largest town in the state, and the only seaport. It is situated on a beautiful peninsula on the south side of Piscataqua river, three miles from the sea. Its harbor is one of the best on the continent, having a sufficient depth of water for vessels of any burden. It is well protected by fort Constitution and fort M‘Clary; there are also, three other forts, built for the defence of the harbor, but not garrisoned. There is a light-house on Great island. This town has a number of churches and other public buildings, but none of any great pretensions. It has suffered severely from fires at different periods. The first settlement was made here in 1623, and, ten years afterwards, the town was incorporated by charter. The first ship of the line built in the United States, was built here during the revolution; it was called the North America. On Navy island, on the side of the Piscataqua, opposite to the town, is a navy yard of the United States. The amount of shipping owned in New Hampshire in 1828, amounted to above twenty-six thousand tons; and of this nearly all must have belonged to Portsmouth. Population, seven thousand eight hundred and eighty-four.
Poughkeepsie, in Dutchess county, New York, seventy-five miles south of Albany, is situated one mile on the Hudson river, and was incorporated in 1801. The village is handsomely situated, and a place of considerable trade. It is laid out in the form of a cross, the two principal streets cutting each other at right angles. The trade at the landings employs a number of packets. This town contains the county buildings, five churches, an academy, a bank, and several factories. Population, ten thousand and six.
Providence, city and seaport in the county of the same name, in Rhode Island, is situated at the head of tide water of Narragansett bay, about thirty miles from the Atlantic ocean, and forty miles south-south-west of Boston. In point of population it is the second town in New England. The town is built on both sides of what is commonly called Providence river; and vessels of nine hundred tons burden can come to the wharves. Many of the private residences in this town are finely situated, and of beautiful appearance. The chief public buildings are the state house, the arcade, fourteen houses of public worship, the halls of Brown university, an asylum, five public school-houses, and several large manufacturing establishments. The arcade is a splendid edifice of granite, with two fronts presenting colonnades of the pure Doric order. The building is two hundred and twenty-two feet in length, extending from street to street. Brown university was incorporated in 1769, and, under its present government, promises to take a high stand as a literary institution. The college buildings stand on a lofty elevation, and the approach to them is through a street decorated with fine mansions and elegant gardens.
Providence Arcade.
Providence became early distinguished as a place of commercial promise. During the first six months of the year 1791, the duties paid on imports and tonnage amounted to nearly sixty thousand dollars; in 1831, the whole amount collected was about two hundred and twenty-seven thousand. There are four insurance companies. The aggregate capital of the banks, which are fifteen in number, is four and a half millions; to this we may add eight hundred thousand dollars, which form the capital of the Branch bank of the United States, and one hundred thousand belonging to the Savings bank. The Blackstone canal, which extends to Worcester, in Massachusetts, was completed in 1828; its whole cost was seven hundred thousand dollars. Providence is most distinguished for its manufactures, which are very numerous, and embrace many varieties of articles. Capitalists of the city have also about two million of dollars invested in manufactures of other towns. The settlement of this place was commenced as early as 1636, by Roger Williams, a puritan clergyman who had been settled at Salem, but who had been banished beyond the jurisdiction of Massachusetts, on account of his contending for entire and unrestricted freedom in matters of religion. The population of Providence is twenty-three thousand and forty-two.
Quincy, in Norfolk county, Massachusetts, was settled in 1625, under the name of Mount Wollaston. Extensive quarries of fine granite are wrought here; the first rail-road constructed in America was built for the purpose of conveying the granite from the quarry to the landing. This town is very pleasant, and contains many handsome country seats; among which is that of ex-president Adams. Population, three thousand three hundred and nine.
Raleigh, city and capital of North Carolina, in Wake county, near the west bank of the river Neuse, is pleasantly situated in an elevated tract of country. Besides the government buildings, it contains other convenient and elegant public edifices. In the centre of the town is a large square, from which extend four wide streets, dividing the town into quarters. In the centre of this square stood the state house, with the splendid statue of Washington, by Canova; the edifice was burnt down in 1831, and the statue almost destroyed. In the neighborhood of the town is an excellent quarry of granite. Population, one thousand seven hundred.
Reading, the capital of Berks county, Pennsylvania, is a beautiful town, situated on Schuylkill river, fifty-four miles north-west of Philadelphia, on the road to lake Erie. It is a flourishing place, regularly laid out and inhabited chiefly by Germans; it contains the usual county buildings, an elegant church for German Lutherans, another for Calvinists, one for Roman Catholics, a meeting-house for Friends, and other public edifices. In the neighborhood of this town are a number of fulling mills, and several iron works. Population, eight thousand seven hundred and fourteen.
Richmond, the metropolis of Virginia, and seat of justice for Henrico county, is situated at the falls of James river, on the north side, one hundred and fifty miles above its mouth, and contains twelve thousand inhabitants. The site is very uneven, and the situation is healthy, beautiful and picturesque. On the opposite side of the river is Manchester, connected with Richmond by two bridges. The falls and rapids extend nearly six miles, in which distance the river descends eighty feet. A canal with three locks is cut on the north side of the river, terminating at the town in a basin of about two acres. Few cities situated so far from the sea, possess better commercial advantages than Richmond, being at the head of tide water, on a river navigable for batteaux, two hundred and twenty miles above the city. The back country is fertile, and abundant in the production of tobacco, wheat, corn, hemp, and coal. Some of the principal buildings are the capitol, penitentiary, armory, court house, and eight houses of public worship. The capitol stands on a commanding situation, and is a conspicuous object to the surrounding country. In 1811, the theatre at Richmond took fire during an exhibition, and in the conflagration, seventy-two persons lost their lives, among whom was the governor of the state. An elegant Episcopal church of brick, styled the Monumental Church, has been erected on the spot, with a monument in front, commemorative of the melancholy event. Population, 20,152.
Rochester, in Monroe county, in the western part of New York, is the most populous and important village in the state. Its growth has been wonderfully rapid. Thirty years ago there was a wild uninhabited tract, where now is a flourishing population of more than twenty thousand people. This growth has been owing to the passage of the Erie canal through the town, thus furnishing a conveyance to the numerous manufactures which the great water power of the Gennessee enabled them to carry on. The canal crosses the river three hundred yards above the falls. For the distance of three quarters of a mile in the village, the river is walled with hammer-dressed stone, to the height of from ten to twenty feet. The power which is furnished by this river, in the course of two miles at this place, at low water, is equal to that of six hundred and forty steam engines of twenty horse-power each. The manufactories are very numerous; they consist of sixteen flour mills, four woolen factories, two of cotton, three marble, and others of almost every description. There are twelve religious and seventeen benevolent societies; the literary institutions are numerous, and there are many well-conducted schools. The receipts of the canal toll office of this town are larger than those of any town in the state, except Albany. Population in 1815, three hundred and thirty-one; in 1840, twenty thousand one hundred and ninety-one.67
Rutland, seat of justice of Rutland county, Vermont, is a village of irregular form, and was first settled in 1770. During the revolution, two picket forts were built here. There are quarries of blue and white marble, in a range extending from Berkshire county, Massachusetts. Population, two thousand seven hundred and eight.
Saco, port of entry in York county, Maine, is situated at the head of tide water on Saco river. The falls at this place afford a great water power, and carry many saw mills; numerous factories might be erected on the shore. The lumber trade of this town is extensive and profitable. Population, four thousand four hundred and eight.
St. Augustine, city of Florida, situated on the Atlantic shore of that territory, is the oldest settlement in North America, having been founded by the Spaniards forty years before the landing of the English at Jameston, in Virginia. The breakers at the entrance of the harbor have formed two channels, whose bars have eight feet of water each. A fort, mounting thirty-six guns, defends the town. When Florida was ceded to the United States, in 1821, the number of inhabitants was about two thousand five hundred, and it has not increased.
St. Genevieve, a town of Missouri in the county of the same name, is situated on the second bank of the Mississippi, about one mile from the river, and twenty-one miles below Herculaneum. It was commenced about the year 1774, and is a depot for most of the mines in the neighborhood, and the store-house from whence are drawn the supplies of the miners. Its site is a handsome plain; the little river Gabourie, whose two branches form a junction between the town and the river, waters it on its upper and lower margins. The common field, inclosed and cultivated by the citizens, contains about six thousand acres. A road runs from this town to the lead mines, and the greater part of the inhabitants have an interest in, or are employed in some way in, the lead trade. Population about one thousand five hundred.
St. Louis, the principal town of Missouri stands nearly in the centre of the Great Valley on the right bank of the Mississippi, seventeen miles below the mouth of the Missouri, one hundred and seventy-five above the mouth of the Ohio, one thousand three hundred and fifty miles from the Gulf of Mexico, and eight hundred and fifty from Washington. It was founded in 1774, but remained a mere village while under the French and Spanish colonial governments. It has easy water communication with the country at the foot of the Rocky Mountains, two thousand six hundred miles distant, by the course of the river, on one side, and with Quebec and New-York, between one thousand eight hundred, and two thousand miles, on the other; and with New-Orleans, one thousand two hundred and fifty, to the south, and Fort Snelling, eight hundred and sixty miles to the north. The site of the town rises gently from the water, and is bounded on the west by an extensive plain. The buildings mostly occupy several parallel streets beside the river. Here are a Catholic College, and several other seminaries of learning. The Catholic Cathedral is a magnificent structure. The hospital, and orphan asylum, under the care of the sisters of Charity, the convent of the Sacred Heart, the City Hall, &c., are among the public buildings. The population is twenty-one thousand, five hundred and eighty five, including many Germans and French.
The fur-trade, the lead mines, the supplies for the Indians, create a good deal of business here, and St. Louis is the emporium of the vast regions on the upper Mississippi and the Missouri.
The manufactures are also extensive and increasing, and the abundance of coal in the neighborhood, and the mineral wealth of the State, must make this an important branch of industry.—There is a United States arsenal just below the city, and five miles distant are Jefferson Barracks, an important military station.
Salem, a seaport, and capital of Essex county, Massachusetts, in proportion to its size, is one of the wealthiest towns in the United States. The pop. fifteen thousand and fifty-one. It is chiefly built on a tongue of land formed by two inlets from the sea, called North and South rivers; over the former of which is a bridge one thousand five hundred feet long, connecting Salem with Beverly, and the latter forms the harbor. The situation is low, but pleasant and healthy. The appearance of the town is irregular, the streets having been laid out with little regard to symmetry or beauty. The public buildings, among which are fifteen houses of public worship, are neat, but not splendid. The private houses have generally the appearance of neatness, comfort, and convenience, and many of them indicate taste and opulence. The town was formerly built almost wholly of wood, but a large proportion of the houses, erected within the last twenty years, are of brick.
The Marine museum is a valuable collection of rare curiosities, collected from all quarters of the globe, and presented by the members of the East India society. The number of banks in this town is eight; there are six insurance companies. Three semi-weekly and two weekly papers are published. There are sixteen tanneries, eleven rope and twine factories, two white lead factories, and a chemical laboratory. Much attention is here paid to education, the schools being very numerous and well supported. With the exception of Plymouth, Salem is the oldest settlement in New England. It was founded in 1628. Its Indian name was Naumkeag, and this name it long retained.
Salina, a post township, and seat of justice of Onondaga county, New York, includes Onondaga lake, and the principal salt springs in the state. Very extensive works have been established for several years; the number of manufactories of salt by artificial heat is one hundred and thirty-five. In 1831, the amount of salt manufactured was nearly a million and a half of bushels. These waters are owned by the state of New York, and a duty of twelve and a half cents per bushel is exacted on all the salt manufactured from them. From sixteen to twenty-five ounces of salt are obtained from a gallon of water. Most of the salt hitherto made has been very fine. The price is about twenty-five cents a bushel. This township includes four considerable villages, which contain eleven thousand and thirteen inhabitants.
Saratoga, in a county of the same name in New York, is a pleasant town, and presents a surface agreeably diversified with ranges of hills. It is memorable for the surrender of Burgoyne to General Gates, on the seventeenth of October, 1777. Population, two thousand six hundred and twenty-four.
Saratoga Springs, an incorporated village in Saratoga county, New York, and the great fashionable resort during summer, on account of its mineral waters. The springs are numerous, and the accommodations for visitors extensive; but the surrounding country has few attractions. The village is built on a low sandy plain. Population, three thousand three hundred and eighty-four.
Saugerties, a town of Ulster county, New York, crossed by Esopus creek. One mile west of it is the village, and at its mouth are extensive manufacturing establishments, supplied with water by a canal cut deep through a rock round the head of the falls, and leading into an artificial basin. The creek is navigable for sloops to these mills. The inhabitants are generally of Dutch descent. Population, six thousand two hundred and sixteen.
Barclay’s Iron Works, Saugerties.
Savannah, in Chatham county, a port of entry, and the principal emporium of Georgia, is situated on the river of the same name, seventeen miles from its mouth. It is built on a sandy cliff, elevated forty feet above low tide. Vessels drawing fourteen feet of water come up to the city; larger vessels stop three miles below. The city is regularly laid out, and contains ten squares, that, with the public walks, are planted with the Pride of China trees, which contribute much to the salubrity, comfort and ornament of the place. The streets are unpaved, and very sandy. The principal public buildings are a court house, exchange, academy, and ten houses of public worship. The exchange is a brick building of five stories. The new Presbyterian church is a very elegant and, spacious edifice of stone The city, a few years ago, was built almost wholly of wood, with very few elegant houses; but a large proportion of the houses recently erected are handsomely built of brick. Population, eleven thousand two hundred and fourteen.
Interior of Presbyterian Church.
Saybrook, in Middlesex county, Connecticut, and the spot of the first settlement in the state, was founded in 1635. The ground was early laid out for a city, and it was supposed that it would become a place of commercial importance. Granite quarries near to navigable waters are found in the vicinity. Population, three thousand four hundred and seventeen.
Schenectady, a city in Schenectady county, New York, about sixteen miles north-west of Albany, is regularly built, and a pleasant and flourishing place. The Erie canal passes through it, and communication with the Hudson is facilitated by the rail-road to Albany; the rail-road to Saratoga is much travelled during the warm season. Many lines of stage coaches pass through this city. Union college was incorporated in 1794, and is a highly respectable institution. This town was one of the earliest settlements in New York; it was built on the site of a Mohawk village. Population, six thousand seven hundred and eighty-four.
Springfield, seat of justice in Hampden county, Massachusetts, is a flourishing town, standing at the foot of a high hill, the side of which is ornamented with fine buildings, the residences of some of the wealthier inhabitants, and the top occupied by the United States armory. This establishment occupies a large space of ground, and commands a fine view. In 1786, during the rebellion of Shays, he attacked the armory, at the head of a strong party of undisciplined men. General Shepard, who had command at the place, attempted to dissuade them from their attempt, and finally drove them off by firing twice. The first shot, over their heads, dispersed the raw troops, and the second drove off the remainder, who, being about two hundred revolutionary soldiers, did not desist until they had lost a few of their men. This was the first check the insurrection received, which was put down without much subsequent trouble.
Besides the usual county buildings, Springfield contains four churches, and two insurance offices. It is a thriving seat of manufactures, and in the division of the town called Chickapee village, there are four large cotton factories, and a bleaching establishment. Three of the factories give employment to six hundred persons. In this village there are also iron works. Population of Springfield, eleven thousand and thirteen.
Springfield, the capital of Illinois, near the centre of the State, and on the border of a beautiful prairie, is the most important town in the interior. Its principal growth has been within ten years past. It contains a State house, for the erection of which $50,000 has been appropriated; a court house; market house, on a fine public square; a jail, a U. S. land office, 6 churches, 3 academies, and 3 printing offices. Population 2579.
Steubenville, seat of justice of Jefferson county, Ohio, situated on the first and second banks of the Ohio river, was regularly laid out in 1798. It is a flourishing and pleasant place. Population, 5,203.
Tallahassee, seat of government of Florida territory, is situated in Middle Florida, about twenty-five miles north of Apalachee bay. It was incorporated as a city in 1825. It is pleasantly situated in a fertile neighborhood, and on a site considerably elevated. Population, about one thousand two hundred.
Taunton, shire town of Bristol county, Massachusetts, is pleasantly situated on Taunton river, which is navigable to this place for sloops. The first settlement was made here in 1637; the Indian name was Cohannet. It is a handsome and flourishing town, with excellent water power and numerous manufactories; the nail factories make from eight to ten tons daily. The first important iron works in America were erected here. Population, seven thousand five hundred and twenty-four.
Ticonderoga, a town of Essex county, New York, ninety-six miles north of Albany. There is a valuable iron mine in this township. Ticonderoga fort, famous in the American wars, stands on an elevation on the west side of lake Champlain, north of the entrance of the outlet from lake George. Considerable vestiges of the fortress still remain, of which a description is given in another part of the volume. About a mile south of the fort, stands mount Defiance, and mount Independence is half a mile distant on the opposite side of the lake. Population, 2,169.
Trenton, city of Hunterdon county, New Jersey, and capital of the state, is situated on the east bank of the river Delaware, opposite the falls, thirty-one miles from Philadelphia, and sixty from New York. It is a handsome town, standing nearly in the centre of the state, from north to south, and at the head of sloop navigation; the river not being navigable above the falls, except for boats carrying from five to seven hundred bushels of wheat. The streets are very commodious, and the houses neatly built. The public buildings are, the state house, two banks, and six churches. In the neighborhood are a number of gentlemen’s seats, finely situated on the banks of the river, and ornamented with taste and elegance. Trenton bridge, over the Delaware, is a beautiful structure. It consists of five arches of one hundred and ninety-four feet span each; the whole length is nine hundred and seventy feet, the breadth thirty-six. The Delaware and Raritan canal, extending from Trenton to New Brunswick, crosses the city, and is joined by the feeder, which enters the river above the falls. There are several mills and manufactories in the neighborhood. Trenton is connected with memorable events in our revolutionary history. Population, four thousand and seven.
Troy, a city and capital of Rensselaer county, New York, stands on the east bank of the Hudson, six miles north of Albany. It is built on a handsome elevation, is regularly laid out, and contains some beautiful private residences. Many of the streets are shaded by fine trees, and the general aspect of the city is attractive and elegant. The taxable property in 1831 amounted to nearly four millions of dollars. The situation of the town for trade and manufactures is very commanding. It enjoys excellent communication with the interior; large sloops and steamboats ascend the river to this place; and a dam across the Hudson, with a branch canal, locks, and a basin, opens a communication with the Erie and Champlain canals. Hourly stages run to Albany. The water power of the streams which rise in the neighboring eminences is well employed, and by means of it several manufactories are carried on. About twenty-five thousand barrels of beer, ninety-five thousand rolls of paper, seven hundred thousand pounds of tallow and soap, one hundred thousand pair of boots and shoes, two thousand tons of nails and spikes, and twenty-five thousand bells, are made here annually. Large quantities of lumber, flour, grain, beef, pork, wool, and other articles, besides manufactured goods, are shipped to the river towns, and to New York, New Jersey, and Boston. There are nine churches in this town, three banks, two insurance companies, a court house of Sing-Sing marble, a female seminary of considerable reputation, and a literary institution for the practical education of young men. Population, nineteen thousand three hundred and seventy-three.
Troy, in Bristol county. Massachusetts, lies on the west side of Taunton river, and includes Fall River village, an extensive manufacturing place. In this place are thirteen cotton factories, a satinet factory, a print factory, large iron works, and machine shops. This place has been of recent and rapid growth. Population, six thousand seven hundred and thirty-eight.
Tuscaloosa, seat of justice of Tuscaloosa county, and capital of the state of Alabama, is situated on the left bank of Black Warrior river, three hundred and twenty miles above Mobile. The name of this town is the Choctaw word for Black Warrior. The first settlement was made in 1816–17, and, by the last census, it contained one thousand nine hundred and forty-nine inhabitants.
Utica, city of Oneida county, New York, is pleasantly situated on the south side of the river Mohawk, and is one of the largest and most important of the western towns of this state. The river, the great road, and the Erie canal, all meet, and roads from a variety of directions concentrate at this point. The canal level is four hundred and twenty-five feet above the tide water at Albany. The streets are broad, straight, and commodious; the principal ones are well built, with rows of brick stores, or elegant dwelling-houses. The chartered institutions are fifteen, including three banks, two insurance companies, an aqueduct company, and associations for literary and benevolent purposes. There are also thirty-three charitable societies not chartered, and thirty-six private schools. Numerous manufactories are in operation in the neighborhood. The situation of Utica gives it superior advantages for trade, and has led to a flourishing business and considerable wealth. The canal commerce in 1831, yielded tolls to the amount of nine hundred and thirty-eight thousand dollars. In 1794, Utica contained nineteen families; its present population is estimated at 12 thousand 674. It was incorporated as a city in 1830; and it is worthy of mention that its charter expressly prohibits the licensing of shops for the retail of ardent spirits.
Vandalia, in Fayette county, Illinois, late the seat of government, is situated on a high bank of the river Kaskaskia, eighty miles north-east by east, from St. Louis. Though founded but a few years since, it is a place of respectable appearance, and will soon command an extensive business. Population, about five hundred.
Vergennes, a city of Addison county, Vermont, is situated at the head of navigation on Otter creek. It was incorporated in 1788. In 1814, Commodore M‘Donough’s flotilla was equipped here; and the large lake steamboats have laid up here for the winter. Some ship-building is carried on, and the trade of the place is considerable. Population, one thousand.
Vevay, the seat of justice of Switzerland county, Indiana, is situated on the Ohio river, about forty-five miles below Cincinnati. The settlement was commenced by a few emigrants from Switzerland, in the spring of 1805. There has been a gradual accession of numbers to this interesting colony. As early as 1810, they had eight acres of vineyard, from which they made two thousand four hundred gallons of wine. A part of this wine was made out of the Madeira grape. They have now greatly augmented the number of their vineyards, which, when bearing, present to the eye of the observer, the most interesting agricultural prospect, perhaps ever witnessed in the United States. They also cultivate Indian corn, wheat, potatoes, hemp, flax, and other articles necessary to farmers, but in quantities barely sufficient for domestic use. Some of their women manufacture straw hats, made quite differently from the common straw bonnets, by tying the straws together, instead of plaiting and sewing the plaits. They are sold in great numbers in the neighboring settlements, and in the states of Mississippi and Indiana. Population, about fifteen hundred.
Vincennes, the seat of justice for Knox county, Indiana, stands on the east bank of the Wabash, one hundred and fifty miles from its junction with the Ohio. The plan of the town is handsomely designed; the streets are wide, and cross each other at right angles. Almost every house has a garden in its rear, with high substantial picket fences. The common field near the town contains nearly five thousand acres, of excellent prairie soil, which has been cultivated for more than half a century, and yet retains its pristine fertility. Population about eighteen hundred. This town was settled in 1735, by French emigrants from Canada, and, next to Kaskaskia, is the oldest town in the western world. Of late years, it has rapidly improved, and now contains three hundred houses, besides churches, and the usual county buildings.
Waltham, in Middlesex county, Massachusetts, on the north side of Charles river, is a pleasant town, and contains three cotton factories, among the most extensive and best conducted in the country. These establishments were commenced in 1814. The proprietors of the factories support two schools at this place, where gratuitous instruction is regularly provided. Population, two thousand five hundred and ninety-three.
Warwick, seat of justice of Kent county, Rhode Island, is one of the most important manufacturing towns in the country. The fisheries are also extensive. The branches of the Pawtucket river unite here, and furnish valuable water power. Population, six thousand seven hundred and twenty-six.
Washington, capital of the District of Columbia, and seat of the general government of the United States, is situated on the left bank of the Potomac, near the head of tide water, and by the river and bay two hundred and ninety miles from the Atlantic. It is divided into three distinct divisions which are built about the navy yard, the capitol, and the Pennsylvania avenue. The principal streets meet from all points of the compass, at the capitol, and bear the names of the older states in the union. Some of the minor streets are distinguished by the letters of the alphabet, and tracts of ground have been reserved for public squares. Except during the sessions of congress, when the city is thronged with strangers from all parts of the country, there is little to interest one but the public buildings and the navy yard.
The president’s house is a large edifice of white marble, with Grecian fronts, situated about a mile west of the capitol, and near the public offices. It is two stories high with a lofty basement, and one hundred and eighty feet long, by eighty-five in width; it is surrounded by a wall. The entrance hall leads into the drawing room, where the company are received at the levees.
President’s House.
The capitol is placed in an area of above twenty acres of ground, inclosed by an iron railing, and commands, by the sudden declivity of the ground on one side, a very charming view of the city and adjoining country, and of the river Potomac. The building is three hundred and fifty-two feet in front, and the greatest height to the top is one hundred and forty-five feet.
Capitol.
The chamber of representatives is semi-circular, in the form of the ancient Grecian theatre. It is surrounded by twenty-four columns of variegated native marble, from the banks of the Potomac, which stand on a base of free-stone, and support the magnificent dome. The seats for the members are conveniently disposed; each member has his fixed place, a chair, and a small desk. An engraved plan of the house, a copy of which is easily procured at the door, points out the name and place of each member, so that by referring to the plan, every member is at once known.
Interior of the House of Representatives.
The hall of the senate is a good deal smaller than that of the representatives, and is very elegantly fitted up. It is also semi-circular, and the president’s chair is in the centre. In another part of the building is the library of congress; the great hall contains four national pictures, painted by Colonel Trumbull, and four relievos in marble, representing scenes connected with various portions of our history.
The treasury, navy, war, and land offices are all in the vicinity of the president’s house; as, also, are the residences of the foreign ministers. The patent office is in the same building with the general post office, and contains numerous models of inventions, in all branches of art. There are more than three thousand dwellings in Washington, and the population is twenty-three thousand two hundred and three.68
Department of State.
Waterville, a town of Kennebec county, Maine, on the west side of the river Kennebec, eighteen miles north by east of Augusta. The principal village stands at the head of boat navigation, and its trade is flourishing. The Wesleyan seminary is established here; in this institution, the students contribute to their support by manual labor. Population, two thousand nine hundred and thirty-nine.
Watervliet, a town of Albany county, New York, six miles north of Albany, belonging principally, to the manor of Rensselaerwick. At this place the Erie crosses the Mohawk canal, and descends by double locks to the Champlain canal. In the west part is Niskayuna, a settlement of the Shakers. At Gibbonsville, another village of the township, is an arsenal of the United States. Population, ten thousand one hundred and forty-one.
Wethersfield, in Hartford county, Connecticut, is a very pleasant town, having broad streets shaded with elms. It was founded in 1634, and is the oldest settlement on Connecticut river. Rich and extensive meadows border the river, and a broad and high level tract, at about a mile distant, affords a fine soil for onions, which are raised here in large quantities. The state prison at this place has been erected within a few years, and the discipline pursued here is similar to that of Auburn. For details on the subject, refer to the chapter on Prison Discipline. Population, three thousand eight hundred and twenty-four.
Wheeling, seat of justice for Ohio county, Virginia, is situated on a high bank of the river Ohio, ninety-five miles below Pittsburgh. It is surrounded by bold and steep hills abounding in coal. The great national road from Baltimore strikes the river at this place. Its position possesses many advantages, and its growth of late years has been very rapid. Wheeling fort, built at an early period of the revolution, was the origin of the settlement. It is a constant resort for travellers, and promises to be a place of much importance. Pop. eight thousand seven hundred and ninety-three.
Williamsburg, the seat of justice of James City county, Virginia, situated between York and James rivers, sixty miles south-east by east of Richmond, was formerly the metropolis of the state, but has greatly declined. The college of William and Mary was founded here in 1693, but is now in decay, though attempts are making to revive its former prosperous condition.
Williamstown, in Berkshire county, Massachusetts, is situated in the north-west corner of the state, one hundred and thirty-five miles north by west from Boston. It has two congregational churches, and a college. Williams college was incorporated in 1793. Population, two thousand and seventy-six.
Wilmington, city, and port of entry, of New Castle county, Delaware, between the Brandywine and Christiana creeks, one mile above their junction, twenty-eight miles south-west of Philadelphia, is pleasantly situated on moderately elevated ground. It is mostly built of brick, and the streets are regularly laid out. The water power in the vicinity is great, and is employed in saw mills, powder and paper mills, and a variety of manufactories to a very considerable extent. The finest collection of flour mills in the United States is at this place. Population, eight thousand three hundred and sixty-seven.
Wilmington, port of entry, and seat of justice of New Hanover county, North Carolina, is situated on the east side of Cape Fear river, and has an extensive trade. Most of the exports from the state are from this town. The entrance to the harbor is rendered difficult by a shoal, but it admits vessels of three hundred tons. Opposite the town are three islands, which afford excellent rice-fields. Population, 4,268.
Windsor, seat of justice of Windsor county, Vermont, pleasantly situated on the west bank of the Connecticut, is surrounded by romantic and picturesque scenery. It contains a state prison, and several handsome houses, and its manufactures are considerable. Population, two thousand seven hundred and forty-four.
Worcester, seat of justice of Worcester county, Massachusetts, forty miles west by south of Boston, is one of the most flourishing towns in New England, and is a great thoroughfare for travellers. It lies principally on one long and broad street, nearly level, and shaded with fine trees. It contains the usual county buildings, four churches, and the Massachusetts Lunatic hospital, a spacious structure of brick, admirably arranged, and calculated for the accommodation of one hundred and twenty patients. The American Antiquarian society was founded and endowed by the late Isaiah Thomas; it has a handsome building, containing a hall, a valuable cabinet, and a library of eight thousand volumes, including many ancient and rare works on American history. There are three printing offices, which issue four weekly newspapers. The Blackstone canal terminates in this town, and furnishes boat navigation to Providence. The great western rail road passes through the place. This town was first settled in 1674, and at an early period suffered much from the attacks of the Indians. It was called Quinsigamond by the natives. Population, seven thousand and sixty.
York, port of entry, and semi-metropolis of York county, Maine, was laid out originally for a large city, and is a place of considerable trade. York river runs through it, and empties into the ocean, affording a good harbor for vessels of two hundred tons. Population, three thousand one hundred and eleven.
Yorktown, port of entry, and seat of justice, York county, Virginia, is situated on the south side of York river. The river at this place affords the best harbor in the state; but the town has not become populous, nor the trade extensive. Yorktown will always be famous for the surrender of the British army under Cornwallis, at the close of the revolutionary war. The number of prisoners was seven thousand one hundred and seven, and the American contest for independence was thus happily concluded.
Zanesville, a flourishing town, and seat of justice for Muskingum county, Ohio, is situated on the east bank of Muskingum river, seventy-four miles west from Wheeling in Virginia. The river has falls here, which afford water power for a number of factories. The great Cumberland road passes through the town. Population, 4,766.
OUR sketch of the agriculture of the United States must be brief and general; as the numerous subjects to be treated in the present volume do not allow space for very minute details. The vast extent of the country, and its various soil and climate, afford growth to a great variety of productions. As a science, agriculture was formerly much neglected, and it is only of late years that it has received any thing of the attention it deserves. ‘It is indeed a lamentable truth,’ says Mr. Watson, ‘that, for the most part, our knowledge and practice of agriculture, at the close of the revolutionary war, were in a state of demi-barbarism, with some solitary exceptions. The labors, I may say, of only three agricultural societies in America, at that epoch, conducted by ardent patriots, by philosophers, and gentlemen, in New York state, Philadelphia, and Boston, kept alive a spirit of inquiry, often resulting in useful and practical operations; and yet these measures did not reach the doors of practical farmers, to any visible extent. Nor was their plan of organization calculated to infuse a spirit of emulation, which county, or state, should excel in the honorable strife of competition in discoveries and improvements, in drawing from the soil the greatest quantum of net profits within a given space; at the same time, keeping the land in an improving condition, in reference to its native vigor. These results, and the renovation of lands exhausted by means of a barbarous course of husbandry, for nearly two centuries, are the cardinal points now in progression in our old settled countries, stimulated by the influence of agricultural societies. Nor did their measures produce any essential or extensive effects in the improvement of the breeds of domestic animals; much less in exciting to rival efforts the female portion of the community, in calling forth the active energies of our native resources in relation to household manufactures. The scene is now happily reversed in all directions. Perhaps there is no instance, in any age or country, where a whole nation has emerged, in so short a period, from such general depression, into such a rapid change in the several branches to which I have already alluded; in some instances, it has been like the work of magic.’
The early neglect of agriculture may be traced to very obvious causes. The first settlements in the country were made along the shores of the sea, or on the banks of navigable rivers. Population was thin and scattered, and the ocean with its tributary waters offered by far the easiest means of subsistence. The fisheries and navigation naturally attracted their active attention, and the cultivation of the earth was limited to the supply of the necessaries of life, and a scanty surplus to answer the humble demands of colonial commerce. The circumstances of the country, down to the very era of the revolutionary struggle, were such as tended unavoidably to reduce agriculture below its just consequence in the scale of useful employments, and to elevate all the arts connected with navigation above their proper estimation. Capital was drawn off from the pursuits of agriculture and devoted to the more lucrative pursuits of commerce. When to this is added the unceasing drain upon the agricultural population, by the prospects which the extent of the interior, and the cheapness of lands, opened to their enterprise, and the consequent effect upon the demand for labor, there is more cause of surprise that the actual state of cultivation is so good, than of reproach that it did not receive higher improvement. The increase of population in the United States, and the long-continued peace in Europe, by limiting the sphere and diminishing the profits of commercial speculation, have operated to withdraw capital from the sea, and invest it in agriculture and manufactures.
The farms of the eastern, northern, and middle states consist, generally, of from fifty to two hundred acres, seldom rising to more than three hundred, and generally falling short of two hundred acres. These farms are inclosed, and divided either by stone walls, or rail fences made of timber, hedges not being common. The building first erected on a new lot, or on a tract of land not yet cleared from its native growth of timber, is what is called a log-house. This is a hut or cabin, made of round, straight logs, about a foot in diameter, lying on each other, and notched in at the corners. The intervals between the logs are filled with slips of wood, and the crevices generally stopped with mortar made of clay. The fire-place commonly consists of rough stones, so placed as to form a hearth, on which wood may be burned. Sometimes these stones are made to assume the form of a chimney, and are carried up through the roof; and sometimes a hole in the roof is the only substitute for a chimney. The roof is made of rafters, forming an acute angle at the summit of the erection, and is covered with shingles, commonly split from pine trees, or with bark, peeled from the hemlock.
When the occupant or first settler of this new land finds himself in comfortable circumstances, he builds what is styled a frame house, composed of timber, held together by tenons, mortises and pins, and boarded, shingled and clapboarded on the outside, and often painted white, sometimes red. Houses of this kind generally contain a dining-room and kitchen, and three or four bed-rooms on the same floor. They are rarely destitute of good cellars, which the nature of the climate renders almost indispensable. The farm-buildings consist of a barn, proportioned to the size of the farm, with stalls for horses and cows on each side, and a threshing-floor in the middle, and the more wealthy farmers add a cellar under the barn, a part of which receives the manure from the stalls, and another part serves as a store-room for roots, &c. for feeding stock. What is called a corn-barn is likewise very common, which is built exclusively for storing the ears of Indian corn. The sleepers of this building are generally set up four or five feet from the ground, on smooth stone posts or pillars, which rats, mice, or other vermin cannot ascend.
With regard to the best manner of clearing forest land from its natural growth of timber, the following observations may be of use to a first settler. In those parts of the country where wood is of but little value, the trees are felled in one of the summer months, the earlier in the season the better, as the stumps will be less apt to sprout, and the trees will have a longer time to dry. The trees lie till the following spring, when such limbs as are not very near the ground should be cut off, that they may burn the better. Fire must be put to them in the driest part of the month of May, or, if the whole of that month prove wet, it may be applied in the beginning of June. Only the bodies of the trees will remain after burning, and some of them will be burned into pieces. Those which require to be made shorter, are cut in pieces nearly of a length, drawn together by oxen, piled in close heaps, and burned, such trees and logs being reserved as may be needed for fencing the lot. The heating of the soil so destroys the green roots, and the ashes made by the burning are so beneficial as manure to the land, that it will produce a good crop of wheat or Indian corn, without ploughing, hoeing, or manuring. If new land lie in such a situation that its natural growth may turn to better account, whether for timber or fire-wood, it will be an unpardonable waste to burn the wood on the ground. But if the trees be taken off, the land must be ploughed after clearing, or it will not produce a crop of any kind.
The following remarks on this subject are extracted from some observations by Samuel Preston, of Stockport, Pennsylvania, a very observing cultivator. They were first published in the New England Farmer, issued at Boston, and may prove serviceable to settlers on uncleared lands. Previous to undertaking to clear land, Mr. Preston advises,—‘1st. Take a view of all large trees, and see which way they may be felled for the greatest number of small trees to be felled along-side or on them. After felling the large trees, only lop down their limbs; but all such as are felled near them should be cut in suitable lengths for two men to roll and pile about the large trees, by which means they may be nearly all burned up, without cutting into lengths, or the expense of a strong team, to draw them together. 2d. Fell all the other trees parallel, and cut them into suitable lengths, that they may be readily rolled together without a team, always cutting the largest trees first, that the smallest may be loose on the top, to feed the fires. 3d. On hill-sides, fell the timber in a level direction; then the logs will roll together; but if the trees are felled down hill, all the logs must be turned round before they can be rolled, and there will be stumps in the way. 4th. By following these directions, two men may readily heap and burn most of the timber, without requiring any team; and perhaps the brands and the remains of the log heaps may all be wanted to burn up the old, fallen trees. After proceeding as directed, the ground will be clear for a team and sled to draw the remains of the heaps where they may be wanted round the old logs. Never attempt either to chop or draw a large log, until the size and weight are reduced by fire. The more fire-heaps there are made on the clearing, the better, particularly about the old logs, where there is rotten wood.
‘The best time of the year to fell the timber, in a great measure, depends on the season’s being wet or dry. Most people prefer having it felled in the month of June, when the leaves are of full size. Then, by spreading the leaves and brush over the ground, (for they should not be heaped,) if there should be a very dry time the next May, fire may be turned through it, and will burn the leaves, limbs, and top of the ground, so that a very good crop of Indian corn and pumpkins may be raised among the logs by hoeing. After these crops come off, the land may be cleared and sowed late with rye and timothy grass, or with oats and timothy in the spring. If what is called a good burn cannot be had in May, keep the fire out until some very dry time in July or August; then clear off the land, and sow wheat or rye and timothy, harrowing several times, both before and after sowing; for, after the fire has been over the ground, the sod of timothy should be introduced as soon as the other crops will admit, to prevent briers, alders, fire-cherries, &c. from springing up from such seeds as were not consumed by the fire.
‘The timothy should stand four or five years, either for mowing or pasture, until the small roots of the forest trees are rotten; then it may be ploughed; and the best mode which I have observed, is to plough it very shallow in the autumn; in the spring, cross-plough it deeper, harrow it well, and it will produce a first rate crop of Indian corn and potatoes, and, the next season, the largest and best crop of flax that I have ever seen, and be in order to cultivate with any kinds of grain, or to lay down again with grass. These directions are to be understood as applying to what are generally called beech lands, and the chopping may be done any time in the winter, when the snow is not too deep to cut low stumps, as the leaves are then on the ground. By leaving the brush spread abroad, I have known such winter choppings to burn as well in a dry time in August, as that which had been cut the summer before.’69
‘The various crops,’ says Mr. Stuart, ‘raised in that part of the state of New York which I have seen, are very much the same as in Britain, with the addition of maize, for which the climate of Britain is not well adapted. Wheat, however, is the most valuable crop. A considerable quantity of buckwheat and rye is grown. The greater degree of heat is not favorable for oats and barley. Potatoes, turnips, and other green crops, are not at all generally cultivated in large fields. Rotation of crops is far too little attended to. I observe in the magazines and almanacs, that in the rotations, a crop of turnips, ruta-baga, or other green plants, is generally put down as one part of the course; but I have nowhere seen more than the margins or edges of the maize, or other grain, devoted to the green crop, properly so called. The attention of the farmers seems chiefly directed to the raising enough of maize for home consumption, and of wheat for sale; and when you talk to them of the necessity of manuring, with a view to preserve the fertility of the soil, they almost uniformly tell you that the expense of labor, about a dollar a day, for laborers during the summer, renders it far more expedient for them, as soon as their repeated cropping very much diminishes the quantity of the grain, to lay down their land in grass, and make a purchase of new land in the neighborhood, or even to sell their cleared land, and proceed in quest of a new settlement, than to adopt a system of rotation of crops, assisted by manure. There is great inconvenience, according to the notions of the British, in removing from one farm to another; but they make very light work of it here, and consider it to be merely a question of finance, whether they shall remain on their improved land, after they have considerably exhausted its fertilizing power, or acquire and remove to land of virgin soil. In a great part of the northern district of the state of New York, there is still a great deal of land to be cleared; and a farmer may, in many cases, acquire additions to his farm, so near his residence that his houses may suit the purpose of his new acquisition; but he is more frequently tempted to sell at a price from fifteen to thirty dollars an acre, supposing the land not to be contiguous to any village. If he obtains land near his first farm, after he has worn it out, he lays down the first farm in grass, allows it to be pastured for some years, and breaks it up again with oats.
‘Maize, or Indian corn, which, par excellence, is alone in this country called corn, is a most important addition to the crops which we are able to raise in Britain. It is used as food for man in a great variety of ways, as bread, as porridge, in which case it is called mush, and in puddings. When unripe, and in the green pod, it is not unlike green peas, and is in that state sold as a vegetable. One species, in particular, called green corn, is preferable for this purpose. Broom corn is another species, of the stalks of which a most excellent kind of clothes brush, in universal use at New York, is made, as well as brooms for sweeping house floors. Horses, cattle, and poultry, are all fond of this grain, and thrive well on it. The straw is very nutritive, and considerable in quantity. The usual period of sowing is from the fifteenth of May to the first of June, in drills from three and a half to four and a half feet apart, and the seed from four to six inches apart. It is harvested in October, sometimes later. The hoe weeding and cleaning of this crop is expensive, the whole work being performed by males,—females, as already noticed, never being allowed to work out of doors. Pumpkins are very generally sown between the rows of corn, and give the field quite a golden appearance, after the corn itself is harvested.
‘Thirty-five or forty bushels of corn per acre is considered a good average crop, on land suited to it, well prepared, and well managed; but one hundred and fifty bushels have been raised on an acre. Arthur Young remarks, “that a country whose soil and climate admit the course of maize, and then wheat, is under a cultivation that perhaps yields the most food for man and beast that is possible to be drawn from the land!” That course is frequently adopted here, and with success, where the soil, lately cleared, is of the best description, and might, without question, be continued for many years, if a sufficient quantity of manure was allowed; but where such a course is persisted in without manure, after the land has been severely cropped, the crops which follow are inferior in quantity to crops of the same description on similar soils in Britain. As a cleaning crop, maize is most valuable, but, being a culmiferous plant, it is, of course, far more exhausting than the green crops, which, in Britain, in most cases precede wheat.
‘Wheat is sown in the end of September, and some part of it in spring,—if after maize, it should be sown as soon as possible after that crop is harvested. It is reaped in July. It is excellent in quality; if the flour which we have seen in every place where we have been, and the bread we eat, are tests by which to judge of it. Thirty-five and forty bushels of wheat is considered a very abundant crop,—the average produce in that part of the United States in which wheat is grown, is said not to exceed thirteen bushels, while in England it is reckoned at twenty-five bushels.
‘Barley or oats very frequently succeed wheat before the land is laid down in grass, or again bears a crop of maize; but it is not to be understood that barley, and even oats, do not in many cases follow the crop of maize immediately, and precede the wheat crop.
‘Oats are sowed in the end of April and beginning of May, and are reaped in August or the beginning of September. We saw several fields not cut, but no very great crop in the northern part of this state in the beginning of September. The average crop is said to be twenty bushels per acre; but from forty to fifty bushels are often obtained by good management. The grain is not so plump as in Britain. In 1827, the premium of one of the agricultural societies was given for fifty-seven bushels on an acre. Barley is sown at about the same time as oats, and reaped two or three weeks earlier; the produce about one fifth less than oats.
‘Potatoes, turnips, ruta-baga, peas, lucern, &c. are all to be seen here in small quantities, but not so well managed as in well-cultivated districts of Britain. The high price of labor is the great obstacle to the management which those crops require. It is not because the farmer does not understand his business, that such crops are apparently not sufficiently attended to, but because he in all cases calculates whether it will not be more profitable for him to remove his establishment to a new and hitherto unimpoverished soil, than to commence and carry on an extensive system of cultivation, by manuring and fallow, or green crops. Such a system may be adopted in the neighborhood of great towns, where many green crops are easily disposed of, and where manure can be had in large quantity, and at a cheap rate; but it is in vain to look for its adoption at all generally, or to expect to see agricultural operations in their best style, until the land, even in the most distant states and territories, be occupied, so that the farmer may no longer find it more for his interest to begin his operations anew, on land previously uncultivated, than to manage his farm according to the method which will render it most productive.
‘Prices of grain vary much. Wheat is, of course, the grain which the farmer chiefly raises for market, and he considers himself remunerated, if the price is not below a dollar for a bushel. Flour, when wheat is at a dollar per bushel, is expected to bring somewhat more than five dollars per barrel of one hundred and ninety-six pounds. Indian corn, two shillings to two shillings and six pence per bushel; oats, one shilling and two pence to one shilling and four pence; barley, one shilling and six pence to one shilling and eight pence.
‘It is difficult to give any precise information as to the wages of labor. A hired servant gets from ten to twelve dollars a month, besides his board, which he very frequently has at table with his master, consisting of animal food three times a day. Laborers hired by the day for those sorts of farm work in which women are employed in Britain, such as hoeing, assisting in cleaning grain, and even milking of cows, get about three quarters of a dollar per day,—in time of hay-making or harvest work, frequently a dollar besides their board. The workmen work, or are said to work, from daylight to sunset: but I doubt, from any thing I have seen, whether the ordinary plan of keeping workmen employed for ten hours a day be not as profitable to the employer as to the workman. The days are never so long in summer, nor so short in winter, as in Britain. The sun rises on the twenty-first of June about half past four, and sets at half past seven; on the twenty-first of December, it rises at half past seven, and sets at half past four.
‘Manures are far too little attended to, as has been already noticed; but there are instances of individuals keeping their land in good heart with manure, especially where, as in many parts of the state of New York, gypsum and lime are in the neighborhood. Gypsum is more used than any other manure, and with great effect, generally in about the quantity of a ton to ten or fifteen acres. Manure for the villages is often sold at and under a shilling per ton. The question which the American settler always puts to himself is, whether it will be more expedient for him, in point of expense, to remove to a new soil covered with vegetable mould, or to remain on his cleared land, and to support its fertility by regularly manuring, and a systematic rotation of crops.
‘The horses and cattle are of mixed breeds, and are always, in consequence of the abundance of food in this country, and the easy circumstances of the people, in good order. A starved-looking animal of any kind is never seen on the one hand, nor very fat pampered cattle, nor very fine coated, over-groomed horses, on the other. Both horses and cattle are generally of middling size; the horses of that description that answer for all sorts of work, the saddle, the wagon, or the plough. The heaviest are selected for the stages. All carriages are driven at a trot. Horses are broken with great gentleness, and are, I think, better and more thoroughly broken than in England. An American driver of a stage, awkward looking as he appears, manages his team, as he calls his horses, with the most perfect precision. The law of the road is to keep to the right side of the road, not to the left as in Britain. Great exertions are, I observe from the newspapers here, making to improve the breeds of cattle and horses, by importations of the Teeswater cattle, and of stud-horses from England. The British admiral, Sir Isaac Coffin, has displayed great public spirit in sending over fine cattle and superior horses, from Britain to New England. The price of beef varies from two pence to five pence per pound, according to the prices and quality, from which the value of the animal may be computed. I have nowhere seen any beef equal to the best beef of an English market, or to the kyloe of the West Highlands of Scotland well fed; but beef of bad quality is never brought to market, and a great deal of it is good. I have looked into the markets wherever we have been. Oxen are much used in ploughing, and are so well trained, that they are very useful in many operations of carting on farms. The price of ordinary horses is from sixteen to twenty-five pounds.
‘I observe at the agricultural shows of last year, premiums awarded for milch cows yielding ten or eleven pounds of butter per week, one of them yielding thirteen, and twenty-three to twenty-four quarts of milk per day. One of the breeds of cows is called very appropriately the “fill-pail.” A premium was also awarded for a cow that calved on the 7th of January,—calf sold in March,—another calf put to her, and sold in June,—and a third at her side; the price of the three calves forty dollars.
‘Sheep are not so much attended to as they should be in this country, where the dryness of the weather preserves them from diseases to which they are subject in Britain. The merinos, and crosses with the merino, are those generally seen; but little care is paid to their being well fed before being killed and brought to market. The mutton is of course inferior in quality, and the people led to entertain prejudices against it. Even the slaves in the south are said to object to being fed on sheep’s meat. I have again and again seen good mutton, but far more rarely than good beef and pork. Hogs are universal in this country, and are well fed, frequently, first of all in the woods on chesnuts, hickory nuts, sometimes on fallen peaches and apples, but almost always, before being killed, they get a sufficient quantity of meal, either from Indian corn or barley. Steamed food is also supplied in some cases. The steam-boiler for food for cattle is well known here. General La Fayette saw one so well constructed somewhere in this country, that he had one of the same pattern made for himself and carried to France.
‘Poultry are excellent, well fed everywhere, and in great numbers about the farm-yards. Turkeys and guinea-fowls abound more than in Britain, which is not to be wondered at, as their relatively cheap price places them within the reach of all. The price of geese and turkeys, even at New York, is frequently not much above half a dollar; ducks and fowls, about one shilling. Eggs, a dollar for a hundred; cheese very good at four pence and five pence per pound.
‘Implements of husbandry are, on the whole, well suited to the country. The two-horse plough, driven by one man, is universally used, unless in bringing in rough stony land, when four oxen or horses are necessary. The cradle-scythe is in pretty universal use. A good workman can cut down an acre of wheat per day. The harvest work being altogether performed by males, and the crops ripening, and of course reaped, at seasons differing from each other much more than in England, the cheerful appearance of the harvest-field all over Britain, filled with male and female reapers and gleaners, is nowhere seen in this country. The prices of implements are not higher than in England. The lower price of wood makes up for the higher price of labor, especially as carpenters are very expert. Ploughing is well executed, and premiums given by agricultural societies at their yearly meetings. I observed, at a late meeting in Massachusetts, sixteen ploughs, drawn by oxen, started for the competition,—that the ploughs were of the improved kind, with cast-iron mould-boards, the ploughing five inches deep, and the furrows not more than ten inches in width. Premiums were at this meeting awarded for various agricultural implements. Threshing-machines are not yet so general as in Britain.’70
The principal products of the southern states are tobacco, cotton, rice, and sugar. The first of these is grown largely in Virginia and other of the middle and southern states, and together with the other staples of that portion of the country, is chiefly the product of slave labor. There are at present but two sorts of tobacco raised in the western states: the one with a long and sharp-pointed leaf,—and the other with a round and hairy leaf, which is evidently the best tobacco. The seed is sown in beds well prepared for the purpose, so that in May it is fit to be transplanted. The plants are then put into another piece of ground, at intervals of from three to four feet; they are carefully freed from weeds, and the earth is drawn up to their stems. When they have obtained a certain growth, the tops are taken off, that the remaining leaves may acquire a proper size; worms are carefully removed, and no sucker is allowed to remain. In August, the plants become spotted, and appear of a brownish color; by these tokens they are discerned to be ripe, and are therefore immediately pulled. They lie one night to sweat; next day, they are hung up to dry; when the tobacco has become sufficiently dry to ensure its preservation, it is stripped from the stalks, and barrelled up for exportation; or manufactured into various shapes, for those whom a species of luxury has taught to look upon it as almost one of the necessaries of life. Along with six thousand plants, yielding generally one thousand pounds of tobacco, one person may manage four acres of Indian corn.
There are four kinds of tobacco reared in Virginia, namely, the sweet-scented, which is the best; the big and little, which follow next; then the Frederick; and lastly, the one and all, the largest of all, and producing most in point of quantity. The Virginian tobacco is reckoned superior to any raised in the southern states; and great care is taken by the regulations of the state, that no frauds be practised upon the merchants, and that no inferior tobacco be palmed upon the purchaser. For this purpose, houses of inspection are established in every district where tobacco is cultivated, whose regulations are rigorously enforced; this contributes, as much as the real superiority of the article itself, to keep up its price in the market. Every person who intends his tobacco for exportation, packs it up in hogsheads, and thus sends it to one of the inspecting houses. Here the tobacco is taken from the cask, which is opened for the purpose; it is examined in every direction, and in every part, in order to ascertain its quality and its purity; if any defect is perceived, it is rejected and declared to be unfit for exportation. If no defect appear, it is pronounced to be exportable. It is then repacked in the hogshead, which is branded with a hot iron, marking the place of inspection, and the quality of the contents; and then lodged in the inspecting storehouses, there to await the disposal of the planter, who receives a certificate of the particulars, serving at the same time as an acknowledgment of the deposit. It is by selling this tobacco note to the merchant that the planter sells his tobacco. The purchaser, on viewing this note, is as well acquainted with the article, as if he had inspected it himself; and he has only to send the note and transfer to the store where the tobacco lies, and it is immediately delivered out, agreeably to his orders. This measure has insured a preference in the foreign market to the Virginian tobacco, and prevents the deterioration of the article.
The soil most proper for the cultivation of cotton is found in the islands lying on the coast. Those belonging to the state of Georgia produce the best, known in France by the name of Georgia cotton, and in Great Britain by the name of Sea Island cotton. This variety of cotton has a deep black seed, and very fine, long wool, which is easily separated from the seed by the roller gins, which do not injure the staple. In the middle and upper country, the green seed or inferior cotton is produced; this kind is less silky, and adheres so tenaciously to the seed, that it cannot be separated without the action of a saw-gin. Though the wool of the green seed, or bowed Georgia cotton, be cheaper than the other, yet its produce is more luxuriant. An acre, which will produce one hundred and fifty pounds of black seed cotton, will generally yield two hundred pounds of the green seed kind. The packing of the cotton is done in large canvass bags, which must be wetted as the cotton is put in, that it may not hang to the cloth, and may slide better down. The bag is suspended between two trees, posts, or beams; and a negro, with his feet, stamps it down. These bags are generally made to contain from three hundred and fifty pounds, to four hundred pounds each.
‘I have been lately favored,’ says Mr. Everett, in his valuable address before the New York Institute, in October, 1831, ‘with a minute statement of the average product of five or six cotton plantations in two of the south-western states, ascertained by putting together the income of a good and bad year. The result of this statement is, that the capital invested in these plantations yields from fifteen to twenty per cent. clear; and the net profit accruing to the proprietor, for the labor of each efficient hand, is two hundred and thirty-seven dollars and fifty cents per annum; being a clear gain of four dollars and fifty cents per week. It further appears that on one of these plantations, (and the same, though not stated, is believed to hold of the others in due proportion,) worth altogether, for land, labor, and stock, ninety-two thousand dollars, the entire amount of articles paying duty annually consumed, is two thousand three hundred dollars. The average crop of this plantation, taking a good and bad year, is fourteen thousand five hundred dollars. Suppose the duties to be thirty-three and one third per cent. and the whole amount of the duty to be actually assessed, in the shape of an enhanced price of the article, (the contrary of which is known to be true, for in several articles the entire price is little more than the duty,) it would amount to less than seven hundred and thirty dollars per annum on a clear profit of fourteen thousand five hundred dollars.’
Rice is extensively cultivated in the southern states. The grains of this plant grow on little fruit stalks springing from the main stalk. It is sown in rows, in the bottom of trenches, made entirely by slave labor. These ridges lie about seventeen inches apart, from centre to centre. The rice is put in by the hand, generally by women, and is cast so as to fall in a line. This is done about the seventeenth of March. By means of floodgates, the water is then permitted to flow over the fields, and to remain on the ground five days, at the depth of several inches. The object of this is to sprout the seeds, as it is technically called. The water is next drawn off, and the ground allowed to dry, till the rice is between three and four inches in height. This requires about a month. The fields are then again overflowed, and are allowed to remain in that state about a fortnight, to destroy the weeds. It is now about the middle of May, and for two months afterwards the ground is permitted to continue dry; during this interval it is repeatedly hoed, and the soil is kept loose and free. The fields are then once more submerged, in order that the crops may be ripened, and they actually do ripen while standing in the water. The harvest commences in August, and extends into October. The plants are then cut by the male slaves, and tied into bundles by the females. The grains are threshed out by means of hand flails. The outer husk is detached by passing the rice between a pair of mill-stones. The film which still envelopes the grain is removed by trituration under heavy pestles, consisting of upright bars, shod with iron, which are raised several feet by machinery, and then allowed to fall upon the rice, the particles of which are thus rubbed against each other, till the film is removed. When thus thoroughly winnowed, it is packed in casks holding about six hundred pounds each, and is ready for exportation.
The sugar cane is cultivated to a great extent in Louisiana, Georgia, and West Florida. In the first of these states, five kinds of the cane have been raised. The first is the Creole cane, which is supposed to have come originally from Africa. The second is the Bourbon cane, from Otaheite. Besides these, are the riband cane, green and red; the riband cane, green and yellow; and the violet cane of Brazil. The latter species was abandoned soon after its introduction, as it proved less productive in our climate than any of the others. The other species are the best suited to the nature of the soil. They are all more or less affected by the variations of the atmosphere, are very sensible to cold, and are killed in part by the frost every year. Experience has demonstrated that the cane may be cultivated in a latitude much colder than was generally supposed; for fine crops are now made in Louisiana, in places where a few years ago the cane froze before it was ripe enough to make sugar.
In the process of cultivation, the ground is ploughed as deep as possible, and harrowed; after it has been thus broken up, parallel drills or furrows are ploughed at the distance of two feet and a half to four feet from one another; in these the cane is laid lengthwise, and covered about an inch with a hoe. Small canals to drain off the water are commonly dug, more or less distant from each other, and these are crossed by smaller drains, so as to form squares like a chess board. These ditches are necessary to drain off the water from rains, as well as that which filters from the rivers, which would otherwise remain upon the plantations. The average quantity of sugar that may be produced upon an acre of land of the proper quality, well cultivated, is from eight hundred to one thousand pounds, provided that the cane has not been damaged, either by storms of wind, inundations, or frost. The strong soil is easiest of cultivation, and most productive, in rainy seasons. The light soils require less labor, and yield more revenue, in dry seasons. To these variations, others are to be added, resulting from the different exposure of the lands, the greater or less facility of draining, and also from the greater or less quantity of a weed known by the name of coco or grass nut. Sixty working hands are necessary to cultivate two hundred and forty acres of cane, planted in well-prepared land, and to do all the work necessary until the sugar is made and delivered. The sugar, up to the moment it is delivered to the merchant, costs the sugar planter about three and a half cents per pound, for expense incurred, without reckoning the interest on his capital.
The cultivation of the mulberry tree, and the raising of silk-worms, have occupied considerable attention in different parts of the United States. Before the revolution, the production of silk was attempted in Georgia, but without ultimate success. In Connecticut, and in some other places, for the last seventy years, an inferior kind of sewing silk has been manufactured; but its use has been chiefly confined to the neighborhood in which it has been produced. Of late years, however, efforts have been made to introduce the important branch of agriculture that affords the necessary materials for the manufacture of silk. Societies have been formed in different states for its promotion, and the national government have thought the subject worthy their particular attention.
During the year 1829, a series of essays were written by M. D’Homergue, the son of an eminent silk manufacturer, at Nismes, who had arrived in Philadelphia at the instance of an association for the promotion of the culture of silk; they have since been published in a separate form, and will repay the perusal of those who may feel peculiarly interested in the subject. The report of the committee of agriculture, who were instructed to inquire into the expediency of adopting measures to extend the cultivation of the mulberry tree, and to promote the cultivation of silk, by introducing the necessary machinery, made to the house of representatives, March 12, 1830, represents these essays and the facts contained in them as entitled to high confidence.
‘It appears from them,’ states the report, ‘that American silk is superior in quality to that produced in any other country;—in France and Italy, twelve pounds of cocoons are required to produce one pound of raw silk, whilst eight pounds of American cocoons will produce one pound of raw silk:—that cocoons cannot be exported to a foreign market, from several causes,—their bulk, their liability to spoil by moulding on ship board, and because they cannot be compressed without rendering them incapable of being afterwards reeled. It is further demonstrated in these essays, and in a memorial lately presented by the manufacturers of silk stuffs of Lyons, in France, to the minister of commerce and manufactures, that the art of filature can only be acquired by practical instruction, by some one intimately acquainted with, and accustomed to, that process: that no human skill or ingenuity, unaided by practical instruction, is capable of acquiring that art to any profitable extent. It is made manifest that, although the culture of silk has been carried on for many years in some parts of the United States, and more particularly in Connecticut, it has been conducted very unprofitably, compared with what the results might have been, if the art of filature had been understood. The sewing silk made in Connecticut is from the best of the silk, and is, after all, quite inferior to that of France and Italy: in these latter countries, sewing silk is manufactured from imperfect cocoons, or from refuse silk.
‘It appears also, that unless the silk is properly reeled from the cocoons, it is never afterwards susceptible of use in the finer fabrics. It is a gratifying consideration that the benefits from the culture of silk and the acquisition of the art of reeling the same, will be common to every part of the United States. The climate of every state in the union is adapted to the culture of silk: hatching the eggs of the silk-worms may be accelerated or retarded, to suit the putting forth the leaves of the mulberry. That tree is easily propagated from the seed of the fruit, and is adapted to almost any soil. The committee regard the general culture of silk as a vast national advantage in many points of view. If seriously undertaken and prosecuted, it will, in a few years, furnish an article of export of great value: and thus the millions paid by the people of the United States for silk stuffs will be compensated for by the sale of our raw silk. The importation of silk, during the year which ended on the 30th of September, 1828, amounted to eight million, four hundred and sixty-three thousand, five hundred and sixty-three dollars, of which, one million, two hundred and seventy-four thousand, four hundred and sixty-one were exported: but in the same year, the exportation of bread stuffs from this country amounted only to five million, four hundred and eleven thousand, six hundred and sixty-five dollars, leaving the balance against us of nearly two millions. The committee anticipate that at a period not remote, when we shall be in possession of the finest material produced in any country, the manufacture of silk stuffs will necessarily be introduced into the United States. The culture of silk promises highly moral benefits, in the employment of poor women and children in a profitable business, while it will detract nothing from agricultural or manufacturing labor. The culture of silk will greatly benefit those states which have abandoned slave labor, the value of whose principal productions, particularly in the article of cotton, has been depressed by overproduction.’
The vine grows in most parts of the United States, and yields a plentiful return for the labor of cultivation. We have already alluded to the vineyards in the vicinity of Vevay. A large grant of land, in the territory of Alabama, was made by the general government to a French association under M. Villar, for the purpose of encouraging the cultivation of the vine and the olive. About two hundred and seventy acres had been occupied with vines in 1827, and nearly four hundred olive trees had been planted. The latter, however, do not thrive, and it is apprehended that they will not attain an available degree of perfection in that climate.
Horticulture has not been entirely overlooked in the United States, though it has not yet received the attention that is paid to it in other countries. Some idea of the varieties of fruits and of flowers which the climate will admit of, may be formed from the following statement of the contents of a garden in the neighborhood of Philadelphia, which may be relied on as authentic, being extracted from the report of the committee, appointed by the Pennsylvania Horticultural society for visiting the nurseries and gardens in the vicinity of that city: ‘Here are to be found,’ say the committee, ‘one hundred and thirteen varieties of apples, seventy-two of pears, twenty-two of cherries, seventeen of apricots, forty-five of plums, thirty-nine of peaches, five of nectarines, three of almonds, six of quinces, five of mulberries, six of raspberries, six of currants, five of filberts, eight of walnuts, six of strawberries, and two of medlars. The stock, considered accor