VII. ――SPRINGS
I. SALT SPRINGS.
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]
II. MINERAL SPRINGS.
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.’
III. BURNING SPRINGS.
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.
IV. WARM AND HOT SPRINGS.
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.
VIII. ――CAVERNS
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.
IX. ――ISLANDS
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.
X. ――CAPES AND PENINSULAS
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.
XI. ――BAYS, HARBORS, SOUNDS, AND GULFS
I. BAYS AND HARBORS.
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.
II. SOUNDS.
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.
III. GULFS.
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.
XII. ――OCEANS
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-weed[33] 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.
XIII. ――SOIL
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 Gennessee[35] 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.’
XIV. ――CLIMATE.[37]
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.
XV. ――MINERALS
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.