The wonders of the world (part 3 of 5)

The wonders of the world (part 3 of 5)

The salt lies near the surface, in large, shapeless masses, from which blocks of sixty, eighty, or a hundred feet square, may be hewn; but at a considerable depth it is found in smaller lumps. About six hundred thousand quintals of salt are dug annually out of the mines of Cracow. The worst and cheapest is called green salt, from its greenish color, occasioned by a heterogenous mixture of a grayish mineral, or clay, and entirely consists of salt crystals of different dimensions. A finer sort is dug out in large blocks; and the third kind is the sal gemmæ, or crystal salt, which is found in small pieces interspersed in the rock, and, when detached from it, breaks into cubes of rectangular prisms. This is usually sold unprepared. The color of the salt stone is a dark gray mixed with yellow.

SALT MINES AND SPRINGS OF CHESHIRE, ENGLAND.

The Cheshire rock-salt, with very few exceptions, has hitherto been ascertained to exist only in the valleys bordering on the river Weaver and its tributary streams; in some places manifesting its presence by springs impregnated with salt, and in others being known by mines actually carried down into the substance of the salt strata. Between the source of the Weaver and Nantwich, many brine springs make their appearance; and occur again at several places, in proceeding down the stream. At Moulton, a mine has been sunk into the body of rock-salt, and a similar mine is wrought near Middlewich. At Northwich, brine springs are very abundant; and there also many mines have been sunk for the purpose of working out the fossil salt. In that vicinity a body of rock-salt has been met with in searching for coal.

The brines in this district are formed by the penetration of spring or rain waters to the upper surface of the rock-salt, in passing over which they acquire such a degree of strength, that one hundred parts have yielded twenty-seven of pure salt, thus nearly approaching to the perfect saturation of brine. Their strength is therefore much greater than that of the salt springs met with in Hungary, Germany and France. The brine having been pumped out of the pits, is first conveyed into large reservoirs, and afterward drawn off as it is needed, into pans made of wrought iron. Here heat is applied in a degree determined by the nature of the salt to be manufactured, and various additions are made to the brine, with a view either to assist the crystallization of the salt, or to promote the separation of the earthy particles, which exist in a very small proportion. The importance of the manufacture of Cheshire salt will be sufficiently obvious from the statement, that, besides the salt made for home consumption, the annual amount of which has exceeded sixteen thousand tuns, the average of the quantity sent yearly to Liverpool for exportation, has not been less than one hundred and forty thousand tuns.

The mine of rock-salt first worked was discovered by accident at Marbury, near Northwich about a century and a half ago; and this bed had been wrought for more than a century, when, in the same neighborhood, a second and inferior stratum was fallen in with, separated from the former by a bed of indurated clay. This lower stratum was ascertained to possess a very great degree of purity, and freedom from earthy admixture; on which account, and from the local advantages of Northwich for exportation, the fossil salt is worked in the vicinity of that place only. It occurs in two great strata or beds, lying nearly horizontally, and separated, the superincumbent from the subjacent stratum, by several layers of indurated clay, or argillaceous stone. These intervening beds possess, in conjunction, a very uniform thickness of from thirty to thirty-five feet, and are irregularly penetrated by veins of fossil salt. There is every reason to believe that the beds of rock-salt at Northwich, are perfectly distinct from any others in the salt district, and form what are termed by mineralogists incumbent bodies or masses of mineral.

These enormous masses stretch a mile and a half in a longitudinal direction from north-east to south-west; but their transverse extent, as measured by a line at right angles from the former, does not exceed forty-two hundred feet, somewhat more than three-quarters of a mile. Without this area, the brine which is met with, is of a very weak and inferior quality, and at a short distance disappears altogether. The thickness of the upper bed varies from sixty to ninety feet; and a general estimate made from its level, shows that its upper surface, which is ninety feet beneath that of the earth, is at least thirty-six feet beneath the low-water mark of the sea at Liverpool; a fact not unimportant in determining the nature of the formation of this mineral. The thickness of the lower bed has not hitherto been ascertained; but the workings are usually begun at the depth of from sixty to seventy-five feet, and are carried down for the space of fifteen or eighteen feet, through what forms the purest portion of the bed. In one of the mines a shaft has been sunk to a level of forty-two feet still lower, without passing through the body of rock-salt. There is thus an ascertained thickness of this bed of about a hundred and twenty feet, and without any direct evidence that it may not extend to a considerably greater depth.

Although two distinct beds, only, of fossil salt have been met with at Northwich, it has been ascertained that the same limitations do not exist throughout the whole of the salt district. At Lawton, near the source of the river Wheelock, three distinct beds have been found, separated by strata of indurated clay: one at the depth of one hundred and twenty-six feet, four feet in thickness; a second, thirty feet lower, twelve feet in thickness; and a third, forty-five feet further down, which was sunk into seventy-two feet, without passing through its substance. The intervening clay, the structure of which is very peculiar, is called the shaggy metal, and the fresh water which passes through its pores has the expressive appellation of Roaring Meg. This epithet will not appear too strong, when it is mentioned that in a mine in which the section of strata was taken, and where the “shaggy metal” was found at the depth of about eighty feet, the quantity of water ascertained to issue from its pores in one minute, was not less than three hundred and sixty gallons; a circumstance which greatly enhances the difficulty of passing a shaft down to the body of rock-salt.

In many of these beds of argillaceous stone, a portion of salt, sufficiently strong to affect the taste, is found to exist; and this saltness increases, as might be expected, in proportion as the body of rock-salt is approached. In the strata or layers immediately above the rock, which in all the mines are perfectly uniform in their appearance and structure, this is particularly remarkable, notwithstanding there are not, in these strata, any veins of rock-salt connected with the great mass below. On the contrary, the line between the clay and rock-salt is drawn with great distinctness in every instance, without presenting any of those inequalities which would arise from a mutual penetration of the strata. Not any marine exuviæ, or organic remains, are found in the strata above the rock-salt; and the almost universal occurrence of gypsum, in connection with beds of fossil salt, is a fact still more deserving of observation, because it appears, not only in these mines, but also in the salt mines of Hungary, Poland and Transylvania; on which account Werner, in his geognostic system, assigns to the rock-salt and fletz gypsum a conjunct situation.

The fossil salt extracted from the Northwich mines is of different degrees of purity, and more or less blended with earthy and metallic substances. The purer portion of the lower bed yields a rock-salt, which, being principally exported to the Baltic, obtains the name of Prussian rock. The extent of the cavity formed by the workings, varies in different mines, the average depth being about sixteen feet. In some of the pits, where pillars from eighteen to twenty-four feet square form the supports of the mine, the appearance of the cavity is singularly striking, and the brilliancy of the effect is greatly increased when the mine is illuminated by candles fixed to the sides of the rock. The scene thus formed almost appears to realize the magic palaces of eastern poets. Some of the pits are worked in aisles or streets, but the choice here is wholly arbitrary. Among the methods employed in working out the rock-salt, the operation of blasting is applied to the separation of large masses from the body of the rock, and these are afterward broken down by the mechanical implements in common use. The present number of mines is eleven or twelve, from which there are raised, on an annual average, fifty or sixty thousand tuns of rock-salt. The greater part of this quantity is exported to Ireland and the Baltic, the remainder being employed in the Cheshire district, in the manufacture of white salt, by solution and subsequent evaporation.

The general situation occupied by the rock-salt in Cheshire is very similar to that of the Transylvanian and Polish mines, the beds of this mineral being disposed in small plains, bounded by hills of inconsiderable hight, forming a kind of basin or hollow, from which there is usually only a narrow egress for the waters. The situation of the Austrian salt mines near Saltzburg is, however, very different. The mineral there appears to be disposed in beds of great thickness, which occur near the summits of limestone hills, at a great elevation above the adjoining country. This is a singular fact; and if the hypothesis be allowed that rock-salt is formed from the waters of the sea, it is necessary to suppose the occurrence on this spot of the most vast and surprising changes!

Though there are no salt mines in the United States, there are salt springs in several places. By far the most important and valuable of these, are in the neighborhood of Syracuse, in the state of New York. The land containing these springs, is owned by the state, and is leased free of rent, to be used only for the manufacture of salt. The wells are dug, and the water pumped up at the expense of the state, and the manufacturer pays a duty of one cent on each bushel he makes. Some of the wells are sunk to the depth of four hundred feet. Fine salt is prepared by boiling; and coarse by solar evaporation. In 1850, the number of salt manufactories in this vicinity was one hundred and ninety-two; and the quantity of salt produced in 1853, amounted to more than five million bushels. The salt of this region has been thoroughly tested, and found to be fully equal to any of foreign manufacture.

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PHENOMENA OF THE OCEAN.

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“They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep.”—PSALMS.

“With wonder mark the moving wilderness of waves, From pole to pole through boundless space diffused, Magnificently dreadful! where, at large, Leviathan, with each inferior name Of sea-born kinds, ten thousand thousand tribes, Find endless range for pasture and for sport. Adoring own The Hand Almighty, who in channeled bed Immeasurable sunk, and poured abroad, Fenced with eternal mounds, the fluid sphere; With every wind to waft large commerce on. Join pole to pole, consociate severed worlds, And link in bonds of intercourse and love Earth’s universal family.”—MALLET.

That huge mass of waters impregnated with salt, which encompasses all parts of the globe, and by the means of which, in the present improved state of navigation, an easy intercourse subsists between the most distant nations, is denominated the ocean, and has three grand divisions assigned to it. First, that vast expanse of water which lies to the westward of the northern and southern continents of America, and by which those continents are divided from Asia. On account of the uniform and temperate gales which sweep its surface within the tropics, it is named the Pacific ocean; and has again been distinguished into the northern and southern Pacific, (the equator being considered as the dividing line,) and the Southern ocean, or South sea, being consequently that part of the general assemblage of waters which is contained between the fortieth degree of south latitude and the south pole. Its general width is estimated at about ten thousand miles. Secondly, the Atlantic ocean, which divides Europe and Africa from the two American continents, and has a general width of about three thousand miles; while the waters which occupy the polar regions are named the Northern sea. And, lastly, the Indian ocean, which extends from the eastern shores of Africa along the southern coasts of Asia, and has the same general width with the preceding one.

Among the chief of those less expansive sheets of water, properly called seas, may be mentioned the Baltic, the Mediterranean sea, and the Black and Red seas. The Caspian sea, being entirely encompassed by land, might, with more propriety, have been styled a lake; but as its water possesses the quality of saltness, it is ranked among the seas. It is, notwithstanding, certain that Lake Superior has a still greater circumference, extending around its shores at least fourteen hundred miles, while the extent of the Caspian does not exceed twelve hundred.

Of the origin of this division into different seas, and seas of different depths, little is known; but it is highly probable that many of the larger excavations and partitions now met with, have existed, without much change as to their extent, from the creation. Others have undoubtedly been the result of that conflict which is perpetually taking place between the elements of land and water, and which has, for the greater part, given rise to islands, isthmuses and peninsulas; while subterraneous volcanoes, and the truly surprising and indefatigable exertions of coral, madrepores, tubipores, and other restless and multitudinous zoöphytes, have laid, and are daily laying, the foundation of new islands and continents in the middle of the widest and deepest seas.

The quantity of water in the ocean, not only remains constantly the same, but, notwithstanding its most violent and incessant motion, continues stable within certain limits. This, however, can not be inferred from observation; for, although in the almost infinite variety of disturbances to which the ocean is liable, from the action of irregular causes, it may appear to return to its former state of equilibrium, still it may be apprehended that some extraordinary cause may communicate to it a shock, which, though inconsiderable at first, may augment continually, and elevate it above the highest mountains. It is, therefore, interesting to investigate the conditions which are necessary for the absolute stability of the ocean. This has been effected by the celebrated Laplace, who has demonstrated that the equilibrium of the ocean must be stable, if the density be less than the mean density of the earth, which is known to be the case. He has likewise determined, by means of his refined analysis, that this stability would cease to exist, if the mean density of the sea were to exceed that of the earth; so that the stability of the equilibrium of the ocean, and the excess of the density of the terrestrial globe above that of the waters which cover it, are reciprocally connected with each other, and indicate infinite wisdom and contrivance in such an adjustment.

SALTNESS OF THE SEA.

Of the various phenomena of the sea, that of its saltness is one of the most obvious. No questions concerning the natural history of our globe have been discussed with more attention, or decided with less satisfaction, than that concerning its primary cause, which had perplexed the philosophers before the time of Aristotle, and surpassed even the great genius of that profound inquirer into natural causes. Kircher, after having consulted not less than thirty-three authors on this subject, could not help remarking, that the fluctuations of the ocean itself were scarcely more various than the opinions concerning the origin of its saline impregnation.

This question does not seem capable of admitting an illustration from experiment; at least, not from any experiments hitherto made for that purpose: it is, therefore, not surprising, that it remains nearly as problematical in the present age, as it has been in any of the preceding. Had observations been made three or four centuries ago, to ascertain the saltness of the sea, then, at any particular time and place, we might now, by making similar observations at the same place, in the same season, have been able to know, whether the saltness, at that particular place, was increasing or decreasing, or an invariable quantity. This kind and degree of knowledge would have served as a clue to direct us to a full investigation of this matter in general. It is to be regretted, however, that observations of this nature have not, in former days, been made with any degree of precision.

One of the principal opinions maintained on this subject by modern philosophers, and more particularly supported by Halley, is, that since river-water, in almost every part of the globe, is impregnated in a greater or less degree by sea-salt, the sea must have gradually acquired its present quantity of salt from the long continued influx of rivers. The water which is carried into the sea by these rivers, is again separated from it by evaporation, and being dispersed over the atmosphere by winds, soon descends in rain or vapor upon the surface of the earth, whence it hastens to pour into the bosom of the ocean the fresh tribute of salt it has collected in its inland progress. Thus the salt conveyed into the sea not being a volatile substance, nor performing an incessant circulation, must be a perpetually increasing quantity; and sufficient time, it is contended, has elapsed since the creation, for the sea to acquire, from this source, its present quantity of salt.

This opinion has been successfully combated; and it is denied that freshwater rivers could, in the course of thousands or even millions of years, have produced saltness in the sea. If this were the case, every sea, or great body of water, which receives rivers, must have been salt, and have possessed a degree of saltness in proportion to the quantity of water which these rivers discharge. But so far is this from being true, that the Palus Mæotis, and our great American lakes, do not contain salt water, but fresh. It may indeed be objected, that the quantity of salt which rivers carry along with them, and deposit in the sea, must depend on the nature of the soil through which they flow, which may in some places not contain any salt; and that this is the reason why the great lakes in America and the Palus Mæotis are fresh. But to this opinion, which is merely hypothetical, there are insurmountable objections. It is a curious fact, that the saltness of the sea is greatest under the equator, and diminishes gradually toward the poles; but it can not therefore be assumed that the earth contains more salt in the tropical regions than in the temperate zones, and more in these again than in the frigid zones. On the other hand, if it be allowed that the sea receives its saltness from the rivers, it must be equally salt, or nearly so, in every part of the earth; since, according to a simple and well-known principle in chemistry, when any substance is dissolved in water with the assistance of agitation, at whatever part of the water it is introduced, it will be equally diffused through the whole liquid. Now, though it were true that a greater quantity of salt should have been introduced into the sea under the equator, than toward the poles, from the constant agitation occasioned by the wind and tide, the salt must have soon pervaded the whole mass of water. Neither is this greater proportion of saltness owing to a superior degree of heat, since it is an established principle in chemistry, that cold water and hot water dissolve nearly the same proportion of salt.

The saltness of the sea has also been ascribed to the solution of subterraneous mines of salt, that are supposed to abound in the bottom of the sea, and along its shores. But this hypothesis can not be supported. If the sea were constantly dissolving salt, it would soon become saturated; for it can not be said that it is deprived of any portion of its salt by evaporation, since rain-water is fresh. If the sea were to become saturated, neither fishes nor vegetables could live in it. It may hence be inferred that the saltness of the sea can not be accounted for by secondary causes, and that it has been salt since the beginning of time. It is indeed impossible to suppose that the waters of the sea were at any time fresh since the formation of fishes and sea-plants; neither will they live in water which is fresh. It may hence be concluded that the saltness of the sea has, with some few exceptions, perhaps arising from mines of rock-salt dispersed near its shores, been nearly the same in all ages. This hypothesis, which is the simplest, and is involved in the fewest difficulties, best explains the various phenomena dependent on the saltness of the sea.

Although this saline property may be one of the causes by which the waters of the sea are preserved from putridity, still it can not be considered as the principal cause. The ocean has, like rivers, its currents, by which its contents are circulated round the globe; and these may be said to be the great agents which keep it sweet and wholesome. A very enlightened navigator, Sir John Hawkins, speaks of a calm, in which the sea, having continued for some time without motion, assumed a very formidable aspect. “Were it not,” he observes, “for the moving of the sea by the force of winds, tides and currents, it would corrupt all the world. The experiment of this I saw in the year 1590, lying with a fleet about the islands of the Azores, almost six months, the greater part of which time we were becalmed. Upon which, all the sea became so replenished with various sorts of gellies, and forms of serpents, adders and snakes, as seemed wonderful; some green, some black, some yellow, some white, some of divers colors, and many of them had life; and some there were a yard and a half, and two yards long; which, had I not seen, I could hardly have believed. And hereof are witnesses all the companies of the ships which were then present; so that hardly a man could draw a bucket of water clear of some corruption. In which voyage, toward the end thereof, many of every ship fell sick, and began to die apace. But the speedy passage into our country, was a remedy to the diseased, and a preservative to those who were not touched.”

CONGELATION OF SEA-WATER.

Although the assertion that salt water never freezes, has been contradicted by repeated experience, it is still certain that it requires a much greater degree of cold to produce its congelation, than fresh water. It is, therefore, one of the greatest blessings which we derive from this element, that when we find all the stores of nature locked up to us on the land, the sea is, with few exceptions, ever open to our necessities. It is well known that at particular seasons, the mouth of the river St. Lawrence, the entrance into the Baltic sea, &c., are so much frozen over as to be impassable by ships; while the vast mountains and fields of ice in the polar regions, have for ages past been insurmountable obstructions to the daring researches of modern navigators. These exceptions, however, will appear of comparatively trifling importance to navigation, when the number of ports which are, in almost every region, open at all seasons of the year, are considered; and this facility of intercourse would certainly not have been afforded, if sea-water had admitted of as easy a congelation as that of water not impregnated with salt.

On the origin of ice in the frozen seas, different opinions have been entertained. The authority of Capt. Cook and Lord Mulgrave, has been cited by Bishop Watson, to show that good fresh water may be procured from ice found in those seas; but he observes that, notwithstanding the testimonies of these very able navigators, it may still be doubted whether the ice from which the water was obtained, had been formed in the sea, and, consequently, whether sea-water itself would, when frozen, yield fresh water. He thinks it probable that the ice had either been formed at the mouths of large fresh-water rivers, and had thence, by tides or torrents been drifted into the sea, or that it had been broken by its own weight, from the immense cliffs of ice and frozen snow which, in countries where there are few rivers, are found in high latitudes to project a great way into the sea. An early navigator, Fotherbye, in the relation of his voyage toward the south pole, in 1614, considers snow to be the original cause of the ice found at sea, he himself having observed it to lie an inch thick on the surface; and Captain Cook, from his own observation in the South sea, was disposed to think that the vast floats of ice he met with in the spring, were formed from the congelation of snow. It is certain that the snow which falls upon the surface of the sea, being in a solid state, and, bulk for bulk, lighter than sea-water, will not readily combine with it, but may, by a due degree of cold in the atmosphere, be speedily converted into a layer of ice. The upper layer of this first surface of ice being elevated above the surface of the sea, will receive all the fresh water which falls from the atmosphere in the form of snow, sleet, rain or dew, by the successive congelation of which, the largest fields of ice may at length be formed.

It is a matter of little consequence to a navigator, whence the ice which supplies him with fresh water is produced. Leaving, therefore, these hypotheses relative to the formation of ice in frozen seas, it should be observed that the question, whether congealed sea-water will, when thawed, yield fresh water, has been satisfactorily decided by experiments made with every suitable attention. A quantity of sea-water having been taken up off the English coast, was exposed to a freezing atmosphere, and afforded an ice perfectly free from any taste of salt; and it has likewise been found, that not only sea-water, but water containing double the proportion of salt commonly found in our sea-water, and more than is contained in the sea-water of any climate, may be frozen by the cold prevailing in our atmosphere.

ICE-ISLANDS.

Ice-islands, or icebergs, as they are commonly called, is the name given by seamen to the huge, solid masses of ice which abound in the sea near or within the polar circles, and which often float down nearer to the equator, till they are gradually dissolved by the increasing warmth of the air and water. The cut gives a view of them as seen by Dr. Scoresby, who counted five hundred of them between latitude sixty-nine degrees and seventy degrees north, which were from one hundred to two hundred feet high, and from a few yards to a mile in circumference. Many of these fluctuating islands are met with on the coasts of Spitzbergen, to the great danger of the vessels employed in the Greenland fishery. In the midst of these tremendous masses, navigators have been arrested and frozen to death. In this manner the brave Sir Hugh Willoughby perished, with all his crew, in 1553; and in the year 1773, Lord Mulgrave, after every effort which the most accomplished seaman could make, to reach the termination of his voyage, was caught in the ice, and nearly experienced the same unhappy fate. The scene he describes, divested of the horrors attendant on the eventful expectation of change, was most beautiful and picturesque. Two large ships becalmed in a vast basin, surrounded on all sides by ice-islands of various forms; the weather clear; the sun gilding the circumambient ice, which was smooth, low, even, and covered with snow, except where pools of water, on a portion of the surface, shot forth new icy crystals, and on the smooth surface of the comparatively small space of sea in which they were hemmed. Such is the picture drawn by our navigator, amid the perils by which lie was surrounded.

After fruitless attempts to force their way through the fields of ice, the limits of these became at length so contracted, that the ships were immovably fixed. The smooth extent of surface was soon lost; the pressure of the pieces of ice, by the violence of the swell, caused them to pack; and fragment rose upon fragment, until they were in many places higher than the main-yard. The movements of the ships were tremendous and involuntary, in conjunction with the surrounding ice, actuated by the currents. The water having shoaled to fourteen fathoms, great apprehensions were entertained, as the grounding of the ice, or of the ships, would have been equally fatal: the force of the ice might have crushed them to atoms, or have lifted them out of the water, and have overset them; or, again, have left them suspended on the summits of the pieces of ice, at a tremendous hight, exposed to the fury of the winds, or to the risk of being dashed to pieces by the failure of their frozen dock. An attempt was made to cut a passage through the ice; but after a perseverance truly worthy of Britons, it proved ineffectual. The commander, who was at all times master of himself, directed the boats to be made ready to be hauled over the ice, till they should reach navigable water, proposing in them to make the voyage to England; but after they had thus been drawn over the ice, for three progressive days, a wind having sprung up, the ice separated sufficiently to yield to the pressure of the ships in full sail. After having labored against the resisting fields of ice, they at length reached the harbor of Smeerinberg, at the west end of Spitzbergen.

The vast islands of floating ice which abound in the high southern latitudes, are a proof that they are visited by a much severer degree of cold than equal latitudes toward the north pole. Captain Cook, in his second voyage, fell in with one of these islands in latitude fifty degrees, forty minutes, south. It was about fifty feet high, and half a mile in circuit, being flat on the top, while its sides, against which the sea broke exceedingly high, rose in a perpendicular direction. In the afternoon of the same day, the tenth of December, 1773, he fell in with another large cubical mass of ice, about two thousand feet in length, four hundred feet in breadth, and in hight two hundred feet. Mr. Foster, the naturalist of the voyage, remarks that, according to the experiments of Boyle and Marian, the volume of ice is to that of sea-water as ten to nine: consequently, by the known rules of hydrostatics, the volume of ice which rises above the surface of the water, is to that which sinks below it as one to nine. Supposing, therefore, this mass of ice to have been of a regular figure, its depth under water must have been eighteen hundred feet, and its whole hight, twenty hundred feet: estimating its length, as above, at twenty hundred feet, and its breadth at four hundred feet, the entire mass must have contained sixteen hundred millions of cubic feet of ice.

Two days after, several other ice-islands were seen, some of them nearly two miles in circuit, and six hundred feet high; and yet such was the force of the waves, that the sea broke quite over them. They exhibited for a few moments a view very pleasing to the eye; but a sense of danger soon filled the mind with horror; for had the ship struck against the weather-side of one of these islands, when the sea ran high, she must in an instant have been dashed to pieces. The route to the southward was afterward impeded by an immense field of low ice, the termination of which could not be seen, either to the east, west or south. In different parts of this field were islands, or hills of ice, like those which had before been found floating in the sea.

At length these ice-islands became as familiar to those on board as the clouds and the sea. Whenever a strong reflection of white was seen on the skirts of the sky, near the horizon, then ice was sure to be encountered; notwithstanding which, that substance itself was not entirely white, but often tinged, especially near the surface of the sea, with a most beautiful sapphirine, or rather berylline blue, evidently reflected from the water. This blue color sometimes appeared twenty or thirty feet above the surface, and was probably produced by particles of sea-water which had been dashed against the mass in tempestuous weather, and had penetrated into its interstices. In the evening, the sun setting just behind one of these masses, tinged its edges with gold, and reflected on the entire mass a beautiful suffusion of purple. In the larger masses, were frequently observed shades or casts of white, lying above each other in strata, sometimes of six inches, and at other times of a foot in hight. This appearance seemed to confirm the opinion entertained relative to the increase and accumulation of such huge masses of ice, by heavy falls of snow at different intervals; for snow being of various kinds, small-grained, large-grained, in light feathery locks, &c., the various degrees of its compactness may account for the different colors of the strata.

In his third attempt to proceed southward, in January, 1774, Capt. Cook was led, by the mildest sunshine which was, perhaps, ever experienced in the frigid zone, to entertain hopes of penetrating as far toward the south pole as other navigators have done toward the north pole; but on the twenty-sixth of that month, at four in the morning, his officers discovered a solid ice-field of immense extent before them, bearing from east to west. A bed of fragments floated around this field, which was raised several feet above the surface of the water. While in this situation, the southern part of the horizon was illuminated by the rays of light reflected from the ice, to a considerable hight. Ninety-seven ice-islands were distinctly seen within the field, besides those on the outside; many of them very large, and looking like a ridge of mountains, rising one above the other until they were lost in the clouds. The most elevated and most ragged of these ice-islands, were surmounted by peaks, and were from two to three hundred feet in hight, with perpendicular cliffs or sides astonishing to behold. The largest of them terminated in a peak not unlike the cupola of St. Paul’s.

The outer, or northern edge of this immense field of ice, was composed of loose or broken ice, closely packed together, so that it was not possible to find any entrance. Such mountains of ice, Captain Cook was persuaded, were never seen in the Greenland seas, so that no comparison could be drawn; and it was the opinion of most of the persons on board, that this ice extended quite to the pole, from which they were then less than nineteen degrees; or, perhaps, that it was joined to some land to which it had been fixed from the earliest time. Our navigator was of opinion that it is to the south of this parallel that all the ice is formed which is found scattered up and down to the northward, and afterward broken off by gales of wind, or other causes, and brought forward by the currents which are always found to set in that direction in high latitudes. “Should there,” he observes, “be land to the south behind this ice, it can afford no better retreat for birds, or any other animals, than the ice itself, with which it must be wholly covered. I, who was ambitious, not only to go further than any one had been before, but as far as it was possible for man to go, was not sorry at meeting with this interruption; as it in some measure relieved us, or at least shortened the dangers and hardships inseparable from the navigation of the southern polar regions.”

The approximation of several fields of ice of different magnitudes, produces a very singular phenomenon. The smaller of these masses are forced out of the water, and thrown on the larger ones, until at length an aggregate is formed of a tremendous hight. These accumulated bodies of ice float in the sea like so many rugged mountains, and are continually increased in hight by the freezing of the spray of the sea, and the melting and then freezing of the snow which falls on them. While their growth is thus augmented, the smaller fields, of a less elevation, are the meadows of the seals, on which these animals at times frolic by hundreds.

The collision of great fields of ice, in high latitudes, is often attended by a noise, which, for a time, takes away the sense of hearing anything beside; and that of the smaller fields, with a grinding of unspeakable horror. The water which dashes against the mountainous ice, freezes into an infinite variety of forms, and presents to the admiring view of the voyager ideal towns, streets, churches, steeples, and almost every form which imagination can picture to itself.

After such notices of the ice-islands from the earlier voyagers, it may be interesting to know how they have appeared to later beholders; and this may be seen in the following account from the journal of a seaman who was in the well known “Arctic Expedition,” in 1850-51. Under the date of the thirtieth of June, 1850, he writes: “Moored to an iceberg; weather calm; sky cloudless, and ‘beautifully blue;’ surrounded by a vast number of stupendous bergs, glittering and glistening beneath the refulgent rays of a midday sun. A great portion of the crew had gone on shore to gather the eggs of the wild sea-birds that frequent the lonely ice-bound precipices of Baffin’s bay, while those on board had retired to rest, wearied with the harassing toils of the preceding day. To me, walking the deck and alone, all nature seemed hushed in universal repose. Whilst thus contemplating the stillness of the monotonous scene around me, I observed in the offing a large iceberg, completely perforated, exhibiting in the distance an arch, or tunnel, apparently so uniform in its conformation, that I was induced to call two of the seamen to look at it, at the same time telling them, that I had never read or heard of any of our arctic voyagers passing through one of these arches, so frequently seen through large bergs, and that there would be a novelty in doing so; and if they chose to accompany me, I would get permission to take the small boat, and endeavor to accomplish the unprecedented feat.

“They readily agreed, and away we went. On nearing the arch, and ascertaining that there was a sufficiency of water for the boat to pass through, we rowed slowly and silently under, when there burst upon our view one of the most magnificent specimens of nature’s handiwork ever exhibited to mortal eyes; the sublimity and grandeur of which no language can describe, no imagination conceive. Fancy an immense arch of eighty feet span, fifty feet high, and upward of one hundred feet in breadth, as correct in its conformation as if it had been constructed by the most scientific artist, formed of solid ice, of a beautiful emerald green, its whole expanse of surface smoother than the most polished alabaster, and you may form some slight conception of the architectural beauties of this icy temple, the wonderful workmanship of time and the elements. When we had got about half-way through the mighty structure, on looking upward, I observed that the berg was rent the whole breadth of the arch, and in a perpendicular direction to its summit, showing two vertical sections of irregular surfaces, ‘darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,’ here and there illuminated by an arctic sun, which darted its golden rays between, presenting to the eye a picture of ethereal grandeur, which no poet could describe, no painter portray. I was so enraptured with the sight, that for a moment I fancied the ‘blue vault of heaven’ had opened, and that I actually gazed upon the celestial splendor of a world beyond this. But, alas! in an instant the scene changed, and I awoke as it were from a delightful dream, to experience all the horrors of a terrible reality. I observed the fracture rapidly close, then again slowly open. This stupendous mass of ice, millions of tuns in weight, was afloat, consequently in motion, and apparently about to lose its equilibrium, capsize, or burst into fragments.

“Our position was truly awful. My feelings at the moment may be conceived, but can not be described. I looked downward and around me; the sight was equally appalling; the very sea seemed agitated. I at last shut my eyes from a scene so terrible, the men at the oars, as if by instinct, ‘gave way,’ and our little craft swiftly glided from beneath the gigantic mass. We then rowed round the berg, keeping at a respectful distance from it, in order to judge of its magnitude. I supposed it to be about a mile in circumference, and its highest pinnacle two hundred and fifty feet. Thus ended an excursion, the bare recollection of which, at this moment, awakens in me a shudder; nevertheless, I would not have lost the opportunity of witnessing a scene so awfully sublime, so tragically grand, for thousands of pounds, but I would not again run such a risk for a world. We passed through the berg about two P. M., and at ten o’clock the same night, it burst, agitating the sea for miles around. I may also observe, that the two men who were with me in the boat, did not observe that the berg was rent until I told them, after we were out of danger, we having agreed, previously to entering the arch, not to speak a word to each other, lest echo itself should disturb the fragile mass.”

As further describing the appearances of icebergs, we give the following narrative by Mr. Abbott, who himself was a witness of the splendid scenery he so graphically describes. He says: “The trip of the Baltic, in March, 1854, is likely to be somewhat memorable. We left Sandy Hook, on Sunday morning, the fifth, and had a propitious and rapid run, until Friday the tenth, about three o’clock. When in latitude forty-six degrees and longitude forty-eight degrees, our attention was arrested by some small pieces of broken ice, floating in every direction around us. The weather was thick and hazy, so that we could nowhere see the horizon. In the course of an hour or two, the fog partly disappeared, and we found ourselves nearly half-surrounded by an immense field of drift-ice, and large numbers of icebergs, extending from north-east by south to south-west.

“Our speed was immediately slackened, and the course of the ship changed to the northward and westward. It soon appeared that we were completely hemmed in on every side, by immense fields of floating drift, sometimes in loose and broken masses, sometimes in a compact and immovable jam, and everywhere studded with vast and towering icebergs, of almost every conceivable form and size.

“The fog gradually lifted, now in one direction, and now in another, just sufficient to discover to us, that we were fairly surrounded, and that, to whatever point of the compass we could turn the eye or the ship, interminable masses of drift-ice, of uplift, and icebergs, seemed to cover the sea. So sudden and unexpected was this discovery, that it seemed more like fairy work than reality. Surprise and astonishment, at the novel and wonderful scene around us, seemed at first to make us all unconscious of our own critical situation. Separating from it the idea of danger, it would be difficult to imagine a scene combining and blending more of the elements of beauty, grandeur and sublimity. Far as the eye could reach, it was no longer sea and sky, but ice, ice, ice, floating like an archipelago of a thousand isles, great and small, of highland and lowland, mountain, peninsula, promontory, and Gibraltar rock.

“Running in countless directions through these masses, the ocean waves appeared in narrow but doubly dark currents, forming the most crooked and irregular passages, of rivulet and river, and endless indentations of inlet and bay. Through these labyrinthine passages, perpetually opening and closing by the action of winds and waves, our escape was to be made. Once, in attempting to force a passage through a long but narrow neck of broken blocks of ice, which had drifted across our way, the cutwater, bows and wheels of the ship, were pretty seriously battered.

“All night long the ship was kept running slowly, threading her way through these little passages of clear water, until four o’clock in the morning, when she was so pressed on every side, with sheets of ice, crowded and packed far above the surface of the water, and urged on by the momentum of vast masses of iceberg, that prudence required to stop the engine and wait for daylight. The morning brought little cheering prospect. The man at mast-head reported no clear water, as far as the eye could reach, excepting in narrow and scarcely navigable patches and veins. The surface of the sea all around the horizon, seemed an almost unbroken plain of field and mountain ice. As early as light allowed, the ship was again under way for the largest space of clear water that could be seen, and continued all day long to retrace her path to the westward, veering her course, however, through every point of the compass, to find the intricate passages toward the open sea. The wind, fresh from the north-west, came with intense and piercing cold. The man at the mast-head could not stand its severity more than half an hour. The masts, shrouds and cordage of the ship, were completely incrusted, and altogether what with field-ice, drift, and icebergs, snow, rain and hail, gale and storm, these days in the ice will not soon be forgotten.

“The different aspects of these scenes by day and night furnished an incessant source of interest. The vast fields of drift, in their varied forms, by daylight and by moonlight, were picturesque and beautiful in the highest degree. They ranged in extent from a quarter of a mile, to perhaps ten miles square. In some cases, the entire field seemed to be composed of small broken fragments, floating in close proximity to each other, yet yielding readily to the play of the waves, rising and falling with the swell of the sea. The superincumbent weight upon the surface of the water, diminished the elevation of the waves, but the reflected light from its uneven silver surface, revealed far more distinctly and beautifully, the extent of motion and the action of the waves. The long swells of the sea stretched away in graceful curves for miles, resembling more than anything else I can suggest, some of the rolling prairies of the west, as they must appear in snow, with this difference, that the swells seemed ‘all alive,’ as if some mighty monsters of the deep were working their way beneath, perpetually shifting their position, and vainly endeavoring to lift the load that covers them, to find a breathing in the open air. In other instances, these vast fields, stretching as far as the eye could reach over half the visible horizon, were one compact and apparently motionless mass of solid ice, as fixed as a ‘rock-bound coast.’

“Another form of peculiar interest was that of a wide field, of many miles in extent, apparently formed by a long succession of ‘uplifts.’ The action of the waves had gradually forced large blocks of ice beneath one edge, and the long continuation of this process, had lifted as it would seem, almost the entire mass, many feet out of water. The outer edge of these uplifts presented an abrupt and perpendicular wall. In one case, at night, the captain estimated that he had sailed for ten miles, along such a wall, the hight of the wheel-house, about forty feet. A very beautiful effect was once produced by a small mass of this kind. It was several miles distant, and of very considerable length. As it rolled and pitched, one side, apparently fifteen or twenty feet high, dipped in the waves, and rising again, lifted an immense volume of water, which then ran off, in a beautiful and magnificent torrent, over the rising edge. I watched with my glass for an hour, the graceful evolutions of this interesting cataract, which is probably still performing, by its regular rise and fall, a very respectable, but intermittent Niagara, in the middle of the Atlantic, with all the regularity of a pendulum.

“The icebergs, themselves, which we saw, were very numerous, and of almost every conceivable form and size. During our passage through three hundred miles, the number we observed was variously estimated from five hundred to one thousand. I counted at one time thirty-six, and at another forty-five, all of notable magnitude. They sometimes were of most curious and fantastic shapes. Hill and mountain of every imaginable outline, castle and tower, turret, and out-jutting and overhanging crags, magnificent needle forms shooting to the sky, like the spire of Trinity, crouching lions, and polar bears, trees of ice, and natural bridges, in short, you can scarcely fancy anything odd, that snow and ice can be made to resemble, that had not its type around us.

“But, perhaps, the most wonderful of all, was the great ‘plunging iceberg.’ It was a round, oblong mass of ice, estimated by careful comparison with our wheel-house, to be fifty by seventy-five feet. A side view made it appear about as large as the front of a large, double, four story dwelling. But it was as true and perfect an oval, as the most exquisitely beautiful bald head you have ever seen. It looked exactly like the upper part of a head of some gigantic being. This, as it floated past us, gradually descended in the waves, until it sunk beneath the surface. It then rose with a most majestic movement, lifting the pure white crown, to the hight of fifty feet. It presented on the whole, one of the grandest sights I ever beheld. It continued thus sinking and rising till it was out of our sight. It seemed like a creature of life, paying its respects to our noble ship.”

ICEBERGS.

Analogous to the ice-fields described above, are those large bodies of ice, perhaps more properly named icebergs, which fill the valleys between the high mountains in northern latitudes. Among the most remarkable, are those of the east coast of Spitzbergen. They are seven in number, and lie at considerable distances from each other, extending through tracts unknown, in a region totally inaccessible in the internal parts. The most distant of them exhibits over the sea a front three hundred feet in hight, emulating the color of the emerald; cataracts of melted snow fall down in various parts; and black, spiral mountains, streaked with white, bound the sides, rising crag above crag, as far as the eye can reach in the background. At times immense fragments break off, and precipitate themselves into the water with a most alarming dashing. A portion of this vivid green substance was seen by Lord Mulgrave, in the voyage above referred to, to fall into the sea; and, notwithstanding it grounded in twenty-four fathoms of water, it spired above the surface fifty feet. Similar icebergs are frequent in all the arctic regions; and to their fall is owing the solid mountainous ice which infests those seas.

The frost sports wonderfully with these icebergs, and gives them majestic, as well as other most singular forms. Masses have been seen to assume the shape of a Gothic church, with arches, windows and doors, and all the rich drapery of that style of architecture, composed of what the writer of an Arabian tale would scarcely have ventured to introduce among the marvelous suggestions of his fancy, crystals of the richest sapphirine blue. Tables with one or more feet; and often immense flat-roofed temples, like those of Luxor, on the bank of the Nile, supported by round transparent columns of cerulean hue, float by the astonished spectator. These icebergs are the creation of ages, and acquire annually additional hight by falls of snow and rain, which latter often freezes instantly, and more than repairs the loss occasioned by the influence of the sun’s heat.

LUMINOUS POINTS IN THE SEA.

Among the phenomena which have long exercised the sagacity of philosophers, that of the luminous appearance of the surface of the sea, during the obscurity of the night, is highly curious. A variety of experiments were made by a French naturalist at Cayenne, at different seasons, to ascertain its true cause; and to him it appeared that these luminous points were produced by motion and friction alone, as he could not, with the help of the best glasses, perceive any insects floating in the water. But it would seem, from the experiments and observations of many learned men, that this phenomenon is produced by various causes, both jointly and separately. It has been proved by one set of experiments, that the putrefaction of animal substances produces light and scintillation in the sea. A little white fish placed in seawater rendered it luminous in the space of twenty-eight hours. On another hand, it is certain that there is in the sea a prodigious quantity of shining insects or animalcules, which contribute to this phenomenon. A French astronomer, M. Dangelet, who returned from Terra Australis in 1774, brought with him several kinds of worms which shine in water, when it is set in motion; and M. Rigaud affirms, that the luminous surface of the sea, from Brest to the Antilles, contains a great quantity of little, round, shining polypi, of about a quarter of a line in diameter. Other learned men, who acknowledge the existence of these luminous animals, can not, however, be persuaded to consider them as the cause of all that light and scintillation which appear on the surface of the ocean. They imagine that some substance of a phosphoric nature, arising from putrefaction, must be admitted as one of the causes of this phenomenon. By other naturalists it has been ascribed to the oily and greasy substances with which the sea is impregnated; in proof of which a kind of fish, resembling the tunny, is cited, as being provided with an oil which shines with considerable luster.

The Abbe Nollent was convinced, by a series of experiments, that this phenomenon is caused by small animals, either by their luminous aspect, or by some liquor or effluvium which they emit. He did not, however, exclude other causes; and among these, the spawn or fry of fishes is deserving of attention. M. Dangelet, in sailing into the bay of Antongil, in the island of Madagascar, observed a prodigious quantity of fry, which covered the surface of the sea for the extent of more than a mile, and which he at first, on account of its color, mistook for a bank of sand. This immense accumulation of spawn or fry exhaled a disagreeable odor; and it should be remarked that the sea had, for some days before, appeared with uncommon splendor. The same accurate observer, perceiving the sea remarkably luminous in the road of the cape of Good Hope, during a perfect calm, remarked that the oars of the canoes produced a whitish and pearly kind of luster: when he took in his hand the water, which contained phosphorus, he discerned in it, for some minutes, globules of light as large as the heads of pins. On pressing these globules, they appeared to his touch like a soft and thin pulp; and some days after the sea was covered with entire banks of small fishes, in innumerable multitudes.

From all these facts it may be deduced, that various causes contribute to the light and scintillation of the sea; and that the light which the Cayenne naturalist attributed to agitation and friction, differs from that which is extended far and near, seeming to cover the whole surface of the ocean, and producing a very beautiful and striking appearance, particularly in the torrid zone, and in the summer season.

TIDES AND CURRENTS.

Alternate tides in sacred order run.—BLACKMORE.

Among the most wonderful phenomena of nature may be reckoned the tides of the sea. They were but little understood by the ancients, although Pliny, Ptolemy and Macrobius, were of opinion that they were influenced by the sun and moon. The former expressly says, that the cause of the ebb and flow is in the sun, which attracts the waters of the ocean; and he adds, that the waters rise in proportion to the proximity of the moon to the earth.

The phenomena of the tides have been ascribed to the principle of innate gravitation; but Sir Richard Phillips, in his theory of the system of the universe, refers them to that general law of motion which he considers as the primary and proximate cause of all phenomena, operating, in a descending series, from the rotation of the sun round the fulcrum of the solar system, to the fall of an apple to the earth. This motion being transferred through all nature from its source, serves as the efficient cause of every species of vitality, of every organic arrangement, and of all those accidents of body heretofore ascribed to attraction.

The waters of the ocean are observed to flow and rise twice a day, in which motion, or flux, which in the same direction lasts nearly six hours, the sea gradually swells, and, entering the mouths of rivers, drives back the river-waters toward their head. After a continued flux of six hours, it seems to repose for a quarter of an hour, and then begins to ebb, or retire back, for six hours more; in which time, by the subsidence of the waters, the rivers resume their usual course. After a quarter of an hour, the sea again flows and rises as before.

According to the theory of Newton, these phenomena were supposed to be produced by an imaginary power called attraction. The moon was supposed to attract the waters by the influence of an occult power inherent in all matter; just as the earth was supposed to attract the moon, the moon the earth, and the planets one another. Others, again, ridicule this idea, as unsustained and visionary, giving in their turn some theory that has no better argument to sustain it. And it is probable the time is yet future when we shall have any theory that will fully account for all the phenomena of the tides. On account of the shallowness of some seas, and the narrowness of the straits in others, there arises a great diversity in the phenomena, only to be accounted for by an exact knowledge of the place. For instance, in the English channel and the German ocean, the tide is found to flow strongest in those places that are narrowest, the same quantity of water being, in this case, driven through a smaller passage. It is often seen, therefore, rushing through a strait with great force, and considerably raised, by its rapidity, above that part of the ocean through which it runs.

The shallowness and narrowness of many parts of the sea, give rise also to a peculiarity in the tides of some parts of the world: for in many places, in the British seas in particular, the greatest swell of the tide is not while the moon is in its meridian hight, and directly over the place, but some time after it has declined thence. The sea, in this case, being obstructed, pursues the moon with what dispatch it can, but does not arrive with all its waters, until after the moon has ceased to operate. Lastly, from this shallowness of the sea, and from its being obstructed by shoals and straits, it happens that the Mediterranean, the Baltic and the Black sea, have not any sensible tides, to raise or depress them in a considerable degree.

Among the phenomena of the tides, one of the most singular is the bore, peculiar to several rivers: it is ascribed to the waters, which were before expansive, being suddenly pent up, and confined within a narrow space. This bore or impetuous rush of waters, accompanies the first flowing of the tide in the Ferret, in Somersetshire, and in the Seine, in France. It is also one of the peculiarities of the Severn, the most rapid river in England.

One of the greatest known tides is that of the Bristol channel, which sometimes flows upward of forty feet. At the mouth of the river Indus, the water rises thirty feet. The tides also are remarkably high on the coasts of Malay, in the straits of Sunda, in the Red sea, at the mouth of the river St. Lawrence, along the coasts of China and Japan, at Panama, and in the gulf of Bengal. The most remarkable tides, however, are those at Batsha, in the kingdom of Tonquin, in twenty degrees, fifty minutes, north latitude. In that port, the sea ebbs and flows once only in twenty-four hours, while in all other places there are two tides within that space. What is still more extraordinary, twice in each month, when the moon is near the equinoctial, there is not any tide, the water being for some time quite stagnant. These, with other anomalies of the tides there, Sir Isaac Newton, with peculiar sagacity, ascertained to arise from the concurrence of two tides, one from the South sea, and the other from the Indian ocean. Of each of these two tides there come successively two every day; two at one time greater, and two at another which are less. The time between the arrival of the two greater was considered by him as high tide; that between the two less, as ebb. In short, with these simple facts in his possession, that great mathematician solved every appearance, and so established his theory as to silence every opposer.

Besides the common and periodical tides, a variety of local currents are met with in different seas, on different parts of the ocean, and for the greater part at an inconsiderable distance from land. They have been usually ascribed to particular winds; but their origin is not easy to trace, as they have been occasionally found beneath the surface of the water, running in a contrary direction to the stratum above, and can not, therefore, have been owing to winds or monsoons. These particular currents have been ascribed to the immense masses of polar ice, which produce a greater degree of cold in the under than in the upper stratum of waters; and it has been suspected that there is an under-current of cold water flowing perpetually from the poles toward the equator, even where the water above flows toward the poles. The great disparity of temperature which is frequently found in deep and superficial soundings of the same space of water, is thus accounted for.

The most extraordinary current of this kind, is that of the gulf of Florida, usually called the Gulf stream, which sets along the coast of North America to the northward and eastward, and flows with an uninterrupted rapidity. It is ascribed to the trade-winds, which, blowing from the eastern quarter into the great Mexican gulf, cause there an accumulation above the common level of the sea. The water, therefore, constantly runs out by the channel where it finds least resistance, that is, through the gulf of Florida, with such force as to continue a distinct stream to a very great distance. A proof of its having thus originated is, that the water in the Gulf stream has been found to have retained a great portion of the heat it had acquired in the torrid zone.

A very singular upper current often prevails to the westward of Scilly, and is highly dangerous to ships which approach the British channel. Currents of this description are, however more frequently met with about the straits of Gibraltar, and near the West India islands, the coasts of which are so subject to counter-tides, or extraordinary currents, that it is often dangerous for boats to land. They proceed to the westward, along the coasts of Yucatan and Mexico, and running round into the gulf, return into the great ocean by the straits of Bahama, along the coasts of Florida, in order to pursue, in the north, the course ordained them by the great Author of nature. In this course the waters run with an extraordinary rapidity, passing on, however, by a motion so even and imperceptible, that their speed is not realized by the spectator. But against the shores and coasts of the various islands in their way, their progress becomes very manifest, and even dangerous, interrupting the navigation, and rendering it hardly possible to stem them in their course.

In addition to these regular currents, there are others, called counter-tides, which are observable on the sea-coasts and shores. In places where these flow, the sea rolls and dashes in an extraordinary manner, becoming furious without any apparent cause, and without being moved by any wind. The waves rise and open very high, breaking on the shore with such violence, that it is impossible for vessels to land. These counter-tides have been, by some, ascribed to the pressure of the heavy black wind-clouds which are occasionally seen to hang over an island, or over the sea where they occur, though it is far more probable that in every case they are caused by under-currents and hidden shoals, by which the ordinary currents are checked and broken so as to cause the effects described.

Somewhat similar to these, at least in its hidden cause, is the celebrated Maelstrom on the coast of Norway, a view of which is given in the cut. This is caused by the tides, in their violent passage between the Loffoden islands; and its terrors, though at all times great, are sometimes greatly increased by the winds. The roar of the sea, when the Maelstrom is in full action, is said to be terrific. It is stated that not only ships, but even whales, have been sucked into this vortex, and killed by being dashed against the hidden rocks. The following description, though imaginary, gives a correct idea of the destruction of a ship in this whirlpool.

“The breeze, which had been long flagging, now lulled into a calm, and soon a low continual hum, like that of an army of bees, which seemed to rise out of the stilled ocean, became audible to every ear. Not a word was spoken; every one held his breath whilst he listened with an intensity of eagerness that betokened the awe that was fast filling the heart. ‘It is the Moskoestrom!’ cried the boatswain. ‘The Moskoestrom!’ echoed the crew. ‘Away, men!’ shouted the mate; ‘down to the hold, bring up the spare sails, clear the deck, set up a spar for a mast; away, away!’

“The din of preparation drowned the stern hum of the distant whirlpool: there was, however, an anxious pause when the new sail was set into the air; and experienced sailors suffered themselves to be cheated with the hope that there was still breeze enough to make the good ship answer her helm. But, alas! the heavy canvas refused to expand its folds, and not a breath of wind ruffled the dull surface of the sullen waters. They had not another hope; the sailors looked on one another with blank dismay, and now they heard, with awful distinctness, the roar of the terrible Maelstrom, and the frowning rocks of Loffoden were but too plainly visible on the right. It became evident to all, that the ship, borne along by the tide, was fast drawing near the dreadful whirlpool. The vessel continued slowly to approach, and the certainty of unavoidable death became every moment more overpowering and intense. At first the sailors stood together in a group, gazing gloomily upon one another; but as the roar of the whirlpool became louder and louder, and the conviction of inevitable destruction became stronger, they all dispersed to various parts of the ship. * * *

“It was a beautiful day; the sun shone forth without a cloud to dim his luster, the waves sparkled beneath his influence, and the white plumage of a thousand busy sea-birds became more dazzling with his rays. The isle of Moskoe was close at hand, and looked cheerful and inviting, but the ship was not to approach nearer to its shores; the stream which bore her along never suffered any vessel to pause in its career. And now there arose at some distance ahead of the vessel, a horrible and dismal bellowing. It was the voice of the leviathan in his agony; and when those on deck who had still ears for exterior sounds looked forward to ascertain its cause, they beheld a huge black monster upon the surface of the sea, struggling against the irresistible stream, and with his immense tail lashing the waters into foam, as he vainly strove to escape from destruction. They beheld him borne away by the might of his furious enemy; and they heard his last roar above the noise of the whirlpool, as he was sucked down into the never satisfied abyss, and disappeared from their eyes to be torn to atoms; for such is the fate of everything that seeks the depths of the Maelstrom.

“The ship glides along faster and faster; she begins to toss and roll uneasily in the angry rapids that boil around her; her race is nearly run. Terrible! terrible moment! The ship hurries on to her doom with mad impetuosity. She is in the rapids! she hurries along swift as a flash of fire. She is in the whirl of water! round, round, round she goes; her inmates catch hold of her bulwarks and of each other, to steady themselves. And now her bow sprit is under the waves, and a wild shriek of despair rises into the sky! The whirlpool, with greedy jaws, has sucked her under.”

The water of the whirlpool is said to be two hundred and fifty feet deep, and at ebb its noise is as loud as a cataract. In 1645, it was so violently agitated by a storm, that in Moskoe the houses were so shaken as to cause the stones to fall to the ground. Fragments of vessels wrecked in the Maelstrom are frequently seen on the coast, brought up by the return of the tide, their edges mashed and jagged as with a saw, which would induce the belief that the bottom is composed of sharp rocks.

Similar in its cause to the Maelstrom, though on a much inferior scale, is the current, or whirlpool, called Hurlgate or Hellgate, between the East river and Long Island sound, near New York. In the narrow channel here, the tide flows backward and forward with great force; and there being large, irregular rocks in this channel, the water is thrown into the most violent agitation. In passing through the place, it is easy to see the waves seeming to boil as if in a pot. This place is dangerous to vessels, and many have been wrecked here; though the navigation is now so well understood, that fewer accidents happen than formerly. The steamboats generally pass in safety, but still the superb Oregon got upon the rocks here, within a few years, and came near being lost.

Between Sicily and the main land are the straits of Messina, where the current is rapid. Ancient mariners deemed this a terrible place; one side they called Scylla, and the other Charybdis. The poets depicted the sailor in this rapid, as beset by horrors; for if he escaped Scylla on one side, Charybdis was ready to dash him in pieces on the other. This idea has come down to our day, and has even passed into a proverb.

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CATARACTS AND CASCADES

It has often been remarked that no one is insensible to the beauty of flowing water. When it glides quietly on in a stream, its character is that of gentleness, and it suggests only the ideas of calm and tranquil beauty. But when it expands to a greater width, and its floods are poured forth in an impetuous tide, then it assumes the aspect of grandeur, and wakens in the beholder the emotions of sublimity.

The beauty of running water has, indeed, long been celebrated, and the river has often suggested an image illustrative of human life. Even Pliny, who wrote some two thousand years ago, likens a river to the progress of man. “Its beginnings,” he says, “are insignificant, and its infancy is frivolous; it plays among the flowers of a meadow, it waters a garden, or turns a mill. Gathering strength in its growth, it becomes wild and impetuous. Impatient of the restraint it meets with in the hollows of the mountains, it is restless and fretful, quick in its turnings, and unsteady in its course. Now it is a roaring cataract, tearing up and overturning whatever opposes its progress, and it shoots headlong down a rock; then it becomes a gloomy, sullen pool, buried in the bottom of a glen. Recovering breath by repose, it again dashes along, till, tired of uproar and mischief, it quits all that it has swept along, and leaves the opening of the valley strewed with the rejected waste. Now, quitting its retirement, it comes abroad into the world, journeying with more prudence and discretion through cultivated fields, yielding to circumstances, and winding round what would trouble it to overwhelm or remove. It passes through the populous cities, and all the busy haunts of man, tenders its services on every side, and becomes the support and ornament of the country. Increased by numerous alliances, and advanced in its course, it becomes grave and stately in its motions, loves peace and quiet, and in majestic silence rolls on its mighty waters, till it is laid to rest in the vast abyss.”

FALLS OF NIAGARA.

Cataracts or falls are formed by the descent of rivers over rocks, from a higher to a lower level. That of Niagara, is situated on the river Niagara, between Canada and the United States, which takes its rise in the eastern extremity of Lake Erie, and, after flowing for thirty-five miles, empties itself into Lake Ontario. Its breadth is nine hundred feet, and its depth very considerable; but its current is so exceedingly strong and irregular, and its channel so frequently interspersed with rocks, that it is navigable for small boats only. Proceeding lower, the stream widens, and the rocks gradually recede from the view, and the current though strong, is smooth and regular. At Fort Chippewa, however, situated one league above the cataracts, the scene is again changed, and the river so agitated, that a boat would be inevitably dashed in pieces, were it permitted to pass Fort Niagara, situated on its bank. So impetuously do the waves break among the rocks, that the mere sight of them, from the adjacent shore, is sufficient to strike terror in the spectator. As it approaches the falls, the stream rushes along, with redoubled fury, until it reaches the edge of the stupendous precipice, when it tumbles suddenly to the bottom, without meeting with any obstruction in its descent. Precisely at this place, the river strikes off to the right, and the line of cataracts winds obliquely across, instead of extending, in the shortest direction, from the one bank to the other. It ought to be observed, that the water does not precipitate itself down the vast abyss in one entire sheet, but, being separated by islands, forms three distinct, collateral falls.

One of these is called the great or Horseshoe fall, from the similarity of its form to that of a horseshoe. It is situated on the north-west extremity of the river, and is most deserving of the attention of the spectator, as probably seven-eighths of the water passes over it, and as its grandeur is evidently superior to that of the adjacent cataracts, although its hight may be somewhat less. As the extent of this fall can be ascertained by the eye only, it is impossible precisely to describe its limits; but its circumference is generally computed at eighteen hundred feet, somewhat more than one-third of a mile. Beyond the intervening island, the width of which may be equal to one thousand and fifty feet, is the second fall, about fifteen feet wide; and at the distance of ninety feet, occupied by the second island, is the third fall, the dimensions of which may be reckoned equal to those of the large island; so that the entire extent of the precipice, including the intermediate islands, is four thousand and five feet; a computation which certainly does not exceed the truth. The quantity of water precipitated from the falls is prodigious, and it has been estimated, amounts to six hundred and seventy thousand, two hundred and fifty tuns per minute.

From the eminence entitled the Table rock, the spectator has a fine prospect of the terrific rapids above the falls, and of the surrounding shores, embellished with lofty woods. He there sees to advantage the adjacent Horseshoe fall, and the dread abyss, into which he may look perpendicularly from the edge of the rock, if his courage be equal to his curiosity. The immensity of the various objects which here present themselves to the view, infallibly overwhelms a stranger with astonishment, and several minutes must elapse before he can possibly collect himself sufficiently to form any just conception of the awful and magnificent scene before him, which requires that all its component parts should be separately examined, and which affords so truly surprising an exhibition, that persons who have resided in its vicinity for several years, and who have been constantly habituated to its sublimity, ingenuously acknowledge, at their last visit, that they were never able before to discover its peculiar grandeur.

From a cliff nearly opposite to one extremity of the third fall, the falls are seen in a very interesting point of view: the scenery there, it is true, is less magnificent, but is infinitely more beautiful than from any other station. For several miles beneath the precipice the river is bounded, on either side, by steep and lofty cliffs, composed of earth and rocks, which in most parts are perpendicular. The descent to the bottom of the falls was formerly accomplished by two ladders, formed of long pine trees, with notches on their sides, on which the traveler rested his feet, and passed down amidst a variety of huge misshapen rocks and pendant trees, seeming to threaten him with instantaneous destruction. The breadth of the river in this part is about two furlongs; and toward the right, on the opposite side, the third fall appears in a very advantageous point of view. About one-half of the Horse-shoe fall is concealed by the projecting cliff, but its partial prospect is extremely fine. The bottom of the former of these falls is skirted with a beautiful white foam, which ascends from the rock in thick volumes, but does not rise into the air like a cloud of smoke, as is the case with that of the latter fall, although its spray is so considerable, as to descend like a shower of rain, near the second ladder, on the opposite side of the river. On its brink, and along the strand, to the great fall, are to be constantly seen shattered trees and bodies of animals, which have been carried away by the extreme violence of the current.

The color of the water of the cataracts, as it descends perpendicularly on the rocks, is occasionally a dark green, and sometimes a foaming, brilliant white, displaying a thousand elegant variations, according to the state of the atmosphere, the hight of the sun, or the force of the wind. A portion of the spray, resulting from the falls, frequently towers above the hight, and literally mingles with the clouds: while the remainder, broken in its descent by fragments of rocks, is in continual agitation. The noise, irregularity, and rapid descent of the stream, continue about eight miles further; and the river is not sufficiently calm to admit of navigation, till it reaches Queenstown, on the west side of the river, and nine miles from the falls.

A late tourist has given us a more recent and fresh view of this wonderful cataract, which will aid us more fully to understand its various aspects as taken from different points of observation. “From the bank just below the ‘Clifton House,’ he says, “is perhaps the finest panoramic view of the falls. The general outline bears a resemblance to the shape of a human ear; the great Horseshoe fall [which is represented on the right hand of the cut below] constituting the upper lobe, while Goat island and the American fall [as seen on the left] represent the remaining portion. The river, whose general course has been east and west, makes a sharp turn to the right just at the point where the fall now is. Its breadth is here contracted from three-fourths of a mile to less than one-fourth. The Horseshoe fall only occupies the head of the chasm, while the American cataract falls over its side; so that this fall and a part of the Horseshoe lie directly parallel with the Canada shore, and its whole extent can be taken in at a single glance. It is this oneness of aspect which renders the prospect from this side so much the more impressive for a first view of Niagara. It gives a strong, sharp outline which may afterward be filled up at leisure.

“The most complete view of the Horseshoe fall is that from the bottom of the cliff, at a point near the ferry landing. If, however, the water is unusually high, the quiet pool which is ordinarily seen in the foreground, becomes a fierce and angry rush of waters, foaming above and around the jagged rocks. If the water is very low, the bed of this pool is entirely dry. Last year [1852] there were but few days when the whole spot was not overflowed. The current nearest the Canada shore runs up-stream, as though seeking an outlet in the direction from which it came. The middle distance is marked by a line of white foam, beyond which the current runs downstream. The center of the Horse-shoe fall is directly in front, defined on the right by the verge of Table Rock, and on the left by the upper extremity of Goat island. Just below the tower which seems to rise from the midst of the waters on the American side, an immense mass of rock is dimly visible, which became detached from the precipice in February, 1852.

“A very charming glimpse of that portion of the fall directly in front of the tower, may be caught through a clump of trees which stand a little above the ferry landing. The limitation of view hightens the effect, when contrasted with the unlimited prospect of the fall presented from almost every other point on the Canada side.

“It is no very difficult task for a stout pedestrian to make his way along under the edge of the precipice from the ferry up to the foot of the fall. The path winds among huge fragments of rock which have tumbled from above, and is slippery with the falling spray. You stop to rest upon a huge rock, where a couple of rough-coated men are fishing. They tell you that it is named ‘Bass rock,’ and you recognize the propriety of the appellation, as you observe the finny spoil that has repaid their labor. The water rushes foaming and eddying around the fragments of rock, sometimes rising in great swells to the spot on which you stand. Fragments of timber, their ends rounded and worn like pebbles on a wave-beaten shore, are scattered around: some groaning and tossing in the water, others stranded high and dry upon the rocks, where they have been flung by some swell higher than usual. You are so near the foot of the fall that the descending sheet of water occupies the entire field of vision: the immense rock which interposes between Bass rock and the descending water has as yet received no distinctive name.

“The path now begins to ascend the sloping bank, winding around huge bowlders, and among gay shrubs which the perpetual spray nourishes in luxuriant greenness, wherever there is a resting-place for a patch of soil. At last you reach the dilapidated staircase which descends the perpendicular face of the cliff, and clambering around its base upon a rotten and slimy plank, you find yourself below the overhanging mass of Table Rock. You are close at the edge of the falling water, which descends in a mass apparently as solid as though carved from marble. You now begin to comprehend the hight of the fall. It makes you dizzy to look up to the upper edge of the rushing column. You stand just midway between the top and the bottom. Above you hangs the imminent mass of Table Rock; below, far down by the wet and jagged rocks, is the seething whirlpool, where the water writhes and eddies as though frenzied with its fearful leap. Round and round it goes in solemn gyrations, bearing with it whatever floating object may have been plunged into its vortex.

“A year ago this very month of August, a young woman walked in the cool gray morning down to the brink of the cliff and flung herself into the whirlpool below. So resolute was the leap, that she shot clear of the jagged rocks at the base, and plunged sheer into the water beyond. When the visitors came sauntering down to the fall, her body was seen whirling round and round in the mad eddies, now submerged for an instant, and then leaping up, as though imploring aid. A day or two afterward, I was one of a group to whom a rough-looking man was describing the scene. He told how he and two others had descended amid the blinding spray close to the foot of the fall. A rope was then fastened to his body, which was held fast from above by the others, while he groped his misty way down to the very edge of the waters, where he waited till they whirled the corpse close inshore. He then darted a spear with a spring-barb into the body, but the force of the current tore out the hold, and it drifted away. Again it came within reach, and again the hold of the spear was too weak to overcome the force of the current. A third time the body approached, and the spear was darted. This time it caught among the strong muscles of the thigh, and held, so that the body was drawn to shore. The narrator was a rough man, roughly clad, and told his story roughly; but there was in his voice a low thrill of horror as he told how he was obliged to cut the spear-head out of the flesh with his knife, before the weapon could be extracted: ‘It was too bad,’ said he; ‘but it couldn’t be helped.’ And it was with unconscious pathos that he told how they stripped off their own rough garments, and tenderly covered the poor maimed and mutilated body before they bore it up the bank. It was a commentary, wrought out into practice, upon Hood’s immortal ‘Bridge of Sighs.’

“With the exception of the fall itself, the Canada side presents little of interest. The brink of the gorge is bare and naked, the trees which once clothed it having been cut away. The regular drive seems to be up to the Burning Spring, and thence back by way of Drummondville and Lundy’s Lane. At the Burning Spring you register your name, pay your fee, and are introduced into a small apartment, in the floor of which is a spring in constant ebullition from the escape of an inflammable gas. The flaxen-pated children of the show-woman place a receiver over the spring, and set fire to the gas, as it comes out of the jet; they then remove the receiver, and light the gas as it rises to the surface of the water; and that is all. You take your departure, looking vastly edified; while the driver thrusts his tongue into his cheek, as though he were mentally quoting a certain proverb touching ‘a fool and his money.’

“In the early morning you commit yourself to the little boat in which you are to be ferried over to the American shore. Your half-felt misgivings are dissipated as you see the dexterous manner with which the brawny boatman handles his oars, and takes advantage of the ‘up-eddy’ and ‘down-eddy;’ and in a few minutes you are landed close at the foot of the American fall. Half-way up the ferry-stairs is an opening which gives access to a path along the foot of the perpendicular precipice to the verge of the falling water. From this point in the early morning, may be gained one of the most picturesque views of Niagara. Your position gives a fine view of the fall on the American side, as seen in the cut; the hight of which forms a standard by which you measure that of the Horseshoe fall, which stretches away in the distant perspective. Completing the ascent of the ferry-stairway, you reach Prospect point, at its head, from whence the same general view is gained, from a more elevated point. It is hard to say whether the view from above or below is the finer. The latter brings more into notice the hight of the falling column of water, thus gaining an additional element of grandeur, while the latter embraces a view of the wooded islands above the fall, adding greatly to the picturesque effect. The precise point from which the artist has taken this sketch is not now attainable. It was a projecting shelf of rock, a few feet below the precipice, which has been cut away to make room for the terribly unpicturesque, but most convenient stairway.

“This was apparently the point from which honest Father Hennepin, who has left us the earliest written account of Niagara, gazed upon that ‘prodigious Cadence of Waters, which falls down after a surprising and astonishing Manner, insomuch that the Universe can not afford its parallel.’ ‘The Waters,’ goes on the quaint narrative, ‘which fall from this horrible Precipice, do foam and boyle after the most hideous Manner imaginable, making an outrageous Noise more terrible than that of Thunder.’ The good Jesuit would seem to have been deeply moved by this ‘dismal Roaring;’ for in the curious picture which he gives of the falls, he represents the spectators holding their hands to their ears to shut out the din; and he hints that the Indians were forced to abandon the neighborhood of the falls, lest they should become deafened by the uproar. But the good father must have heard the ‘horrid Noise of the Falls,’ as he elsewhere calls it, with the imagination rather than with the ear. You hardly notice it as you loiter along the brink, except when some sudden atmospheric change varies its deep and solemn monotone. The sound is like the continuous and pervading murmur of the wind through a forest of somber pines. You are not forced to raise your voice in conversing with a friend by whose side you loiter along the brink of the fall, toward the bridge which gives you access to the wooded islands that beckon you on.

“Nothing can exceed the picturesque beauty of the small wooded islands which stud the rapids upon the American side. Two of rare beauty, known as Ship and Brig islands, stem the current a little above the bridge which connects Goat island with the shore. It needs but little effort of the imagination to fancy them vessels under full press of sail, endeavoring to sheer out of the current that hurries them inevitably down. The former of these islands is accessible by a bridge which connects it with Bath island, and is one of the loveliest spots imaginable. The old cedars, whose gnarled and contorted trunks overhang the waters, dipping their branches into the current, seem to cling with desperate clutch to the rocks, as though fearful of losing their hold and being swept away.

“From the bridge leading to Goat island, the rapids present that same appearance of plunging from the sky which renders their view from the Canadian shore so impressive. Goat island—so let it still be called, in spite of the foppery which has lately attempted to change its name to Iris island—presents an aspect almost as wild as it did before it had been rendered accessible to human foot. Were it not for the path which girdles its entire circumference, and the rustic seats disposed here and there, one might fancy that he was the first who had ever sauntered through its grand and stately woods. The beauty and variety of the trees on this island are wonderful. There is the maple, greeting the early spring sunshine with its fire-tipped buds; spreading out in summer its broad dome of dark green leaves in masses so thick, that beneath them you have no fear of the passing shower; and in autumn wearing its gorgeous crimson robe like an oriental monarch. The beech shows its dappled trunk and bright green foliage at every point, giving perpetual life and vivacity to the scene. The silvery trunks of the white birch gleam among the underwood. An occasional aspen, with its ever-quivering leaves, which almost shed a sense of breezy coolness in the stillest, sultriest day, contrasts finely with the dark evergreens by which it is relieved. Almost all of our northern fauna have their representatives here. Even upon the little Ship island, which can be crossed in any direction in a dozen strides, and which appears to a hasty view but a mass of twisted and gnarled cedars, there are at least seven distinct species of trees. Those trees, however, which immediately overhang the falls, have an aspect peculiar to themselves. They are bent, broken, twisted and contorted, in every direction. They seem to be starting back in horror from the abyss before them, and to wind their long finger-like roots around the rocks, in order to maintain their hold.

“One of these, an aged birch, growing upon the ridge known as the ‘Hog’s Back,’ affords a resting-place from which to gain one of the finest views of the American falls. Right in front is the small central fall, and the footbridge which leads to Luna island, with its trees dwarfed and stunted by the weight of frozen spray which loads them in the winter. Beyond is the serrated line of the American fall; while the distance is filled up with the receding lines of the banks of the river below.

“A few paces—past groups of blithe tourists, past companies of somber Indian girls in blue blankets and high-crowned hats, with their gay wares spread out at their feet—brings you to the Biddle staircase, down which you wind to the foot of the precipice. The path to the left leads along the foot of the overhanging cliff, up to the verge of the Horseshoe fall, only a portion of whose circumference is visible from any point on the American shore. You are here close upon the fragments of rock that fell from just in front of the tower, in February, 1852, the latest of those changes which are slowly and almost imperceptibly altering the form and position of the falls. This fall of rock was seen by an artist who has given us a faithful picture of its effects. He was just recovering from an illness, and while sitting in his room at the Clifton House, on the opposite Canadian shore, he was startled by a crash, almost like that of an earthquake. Tottering to the window, he beheld the immense curtain of rock in front of the tower precipitated from its ancient hold, and lying in huge masses upon the ice below; while a few streams of water trickled down the brown cliff, where but a moment before nothing had been seen but a surface of dazzling ice. The water at this extremity of the fall descends in light feathery forms, contrasting finely with the solid masses in which it seems to plunge down the center of the sweeping curve. The tower is perched upon the very brink of the precipice, so close that the next fall of rock must carry it along with it. The path to the right from the foot of the staircase, leads to the entrance to the Cave of the Winds, which lies behind the central fall. It is hard to imagine how this cavern missed being called the ‘Cave of Æolus,’ by those classicists who have exhausted ancient mythology for appellations for our American scenery. But it has escaped this infliction; and the ‘Cave of the Winds,’ it is, and will be. From the little house close by the entrance, where the requisite changes of dress are made, you look down into an abyss of cold gray mist, driven ever and anon like showers of hail into your face, as you grope your way down the rocky slope. Haste not, pause not. Here is the platform, half-seen, half-felt amid the blinding spray. Shade of Father Hennepin, this is truly a ‘dismal roaring’ of wind and water. We are across, and stand secure on the smooth, shaly bottom of the cave. Look up: what a magnificent arch is formed by the solid rock on the one side, and the descending mass of water on the other. Which is the solider and firmer you hardly know. Yet look again—for it is sunset—and see what we shall see nowhere else on earth, three rainbows one within another; not half-formed and incomplete, as is the scheme of our daily life, but filling up the complete circle, perfect and absolute.

“Upon an isolated rock at the very brink of the cataract stands a round tower. It is approached by a long, narrow bridge, resting now upon ledges of solid rock, and now upon loose bowlders. From the balcony upon its summit, you can lean far over the edge of the precipice, and there catch the freshness of the cloud of spray that rises evermore from the unseen foot of the great fall. Or you can climb down the low rock upon which the tower stands, and gather shells and pebbles from within arm’s length of the verge of the descent, so gentle, to all appearance, is the current. But be not over-bold. These waters, apparently so gentle, sweep down with a force beyond your power to stem. Not many months ago, a man fell from the bridge into their smooth flow, and was in the twinkling of an eye swept to the brink of the descent. Here he lodged against one of those rocks that lie apparently tottering upon the brow, looking over the fearful descent, with as little power to retrace his course, as he would have had to reascend the perpendicular fall. A rope was floated down to him, which he had just strength to fasten around his body, and he was drawn up from his perilous position.

“It is usual to speak of the Horseshoe fall as Canadian; and our rather slow neighbors across the river have been wont to plume themselves upon the possession of the more magnificent part of Niagara; while Young America has been heard to mutter between his teeth something about ‘annexation,’ on the ground that the lesser nation has no fair claim to the possession of the major part of the crowning wonder of the continent. But the portion of Niagara belonging to Canada is hardly worth contending for. The boundary line between the two countries is the deepest water, which runs far over toward the Canadian shore. The line passes through the lonely little isle in the center of the river, which has never been trodden by human foot. Right through the very center of the Horseshoe fall, where the water is greenest, cutting the thickest pillar of spray, through the inmost convolution of the whirlpool, through the calmest part of the quiet reach of water above the suspension bridge, through the maddest work of the rapids below, goes the boundary line, leaving to Canada nothing of Niagara except Table Rock, which yearly threatens to fall, and the half of the great fall: while to America it gives, together with full one-half of the Horseshoe fall, the varying beauties of the lesser cataracts, and the whole wealth of the lovely islands which gem the rapids.

“The general form of the falls is slowly changing from age to age. When Father Hennepin saw them, a century and three-quarters ago, they presented little of that curved and indented outline which now forms their most striking peculiarity. The fall on the western side extended in nearly a straight line from the head of Goat island to Table Rock, which terminated in a bluff that turned a portion of the water from its direct course, forming another cataract which fell to the east. A century later, this projecting rock had disappeared, but the spot which it had occupied was distinctly traceable. From the character of the strata through which the water has slowly worn its way back from the shores of Lake Ontario, we learn what must have been the appearances of the fall at any period of its history. Thus it can never have overcome the descent of three hundred and fifty feet at Lewiston at a single leap, but must have formed at least three cataracts separated by intervening rapids. When the falls occupied the position of the whirlpool, three miles below their present site, the descent was evidently greater than at any period before or since. But there never can have been a period when their beauty equaled that which they present at the present age. The immense breadth of the sheet of falling water, its graceful sweep of curves, and the picturesque islands that stud the brink, belong solely to our present Niagara. The falls recede at present, we are told, at the rate of something less than a foot in a year. Geology is able to predict that when a recession of a mile has taken place, some five or six thousand years hence, the hight of the fall will be reduced by a score of feet. Another five thousand years will subtract two score more of feet. Ten thousand years more, when the fall shall have worn its way four miles further back, all that constitutes Niagara will have disappeared, and the whole descent will be accomplished by a series of rapids like those near the whirlpool.

“It is strange how little of direct human interest is connected with Niagara. One would have supposed that it would have been a sacred spot with the Indians; but, with the exception of a few graves on the upper extremity of Goat island, no special memorial of the aborigines exists here. The falls have been known to the white race for too short a time to gather around them legendary associations. One or two points are associated with the memory of a young Englishman who, something like a score of years ago, set up as the ‘Hermit of the Falls.’ A picturesque little break in the rapids between Goat island and one of the rocky islets known as the Three Sisters, has been named from him the ‘Hermit’s cascade.’ It is a lovely spot, by the side of which one may lie under the overarching trees, and while away the noontide hour, lulled into dreamy slumber by the deep voice of the cataract. This hermit seems hardly worthy of being made the hero of the falls. Little is told of him except that he was fond of music and of pacing by night along the margin of the river; that he was alike indisposed for human society and for clean linen. It is said, indeed, that he was accustomed to record his musings in Latin, but as no fragments of these were discovered after his death, we may set the story down as apocryphal. A deeper tragic interest is attached to a tale, now some three years old, which will be told you as you stand by the margin of the lesser fall. A party of visitors stood here, in gay discourse. Among them were a young man and his affianced bride, and with them a laughing child. The young man, catching up the child, said sportively to her, ‘Now I shall throw you over;’ when she, gliding from his hold in affright, half real and half feigned, slipped, and falling, plunged headlong into the stream; he sprang after, but the current was stronger than his strength, and swept them both down the smooth slope, and over the fall. Their bodies, mangled and bruised, were recovered from the rocks below.

“The pedestrian can hardly find a pleasanter summer day’s ramble, than that along the river to Lewiston, descending on the American side, and returning by the opposite bank. For a mile below the falls, where the channel is narrowest, the current is so smooth, that one might fancy he was gazing down into some quiet tarn embosomed in the mountains, were it not that you catch the white margin of the lower rapids just where the suspension bridge stretches its slender line from the summits of the opposing cliffs.”

This bridge, a view of which is given in the cut below, is about two and a half miles below the falls, and spans the river near the head of the rapids, above the whirlpool. From pier to pier it is eight hundred feet long, and in breadth eight feet. It is suspended on eight wire cables, four on each side, which pass over towers fifty-four feet high, built of heavy timber. The present structure is only the scaffolding for constructing a larger bridge, intended for the passage of railroad cars. The towers for the large bridge will be of solid masonry, each eighty feet high. Each of the cables is eleven hundred feet long, and composed of seventy-two strong, No. 10 iron wires, closely wrapped round with small wire three times boiled in linseed oil, which anneals it, and prevents injury from rust or exposure to the weather. The cables, after passing over the piers on the banks, are fast anchored in solid masonry fifty feet back of them. The suspenders, which form the sides, are composed of eight wires each, and are four and a half feet apart. The bridge itself is two hundred feet above the water, and is a wonder alike of enterprise and art.

Our tourist proceeds as follows. “In the quiet reach of the water below this bridge, plies the little steamer, the Maid of the Mist. After passing the ugly, bustling little village growing up around the American extremity of the bridge, a path leads through quiet fields and woods along the very verge of the precipice. Here and there some tree growing upon the brink forms a safe balustrade over which you lean, and look down upon the green water dashing furiously through its confined channel far below.

“The whirlpool, three miles below the falls, is an adjunct worthy of Niagara. The stream makes a sharp bend just where the channel is narrowest and the descent of the rapids the steepest. At the angle the current has scooped out an immense basin, around whose whole circumference the water circles before it can find an outlet. All floating bodies that pass down the river are drawn into the whirlpool, where they are borne round and round for days, and weeks sometimes, it is said, before they make their escape. A practicable path winds down the bank to the water’s edge. The character of the banks gradually changes as we descend toward the outlet of the river. The hard limestone overlying the softer rock, and forming the perpendicular portion of the cliff, becomes thinner; the sloping talus at the foot grows higher, and the rocks are clothed with a luxurious forest growth. A half mile below the whirlpool is a deep cleft in the precipitous bank, which is connected with a wild Indian legend ascribing terrible convulsions of nature, and even the approach of the fatal white men, to an unauthorized violation of the privacy of a great demon who once abode here. This was the scene of a terrible tragedy in the old French wars. A convoy of British soldiers fell into an ambush of Indians at this point, and were all, with the exception of two, slain outright or driven over the edge of the chasm. The little rivulet which flows over the brink, ran red with the blood of the slaughtered, and thus gained the name, which it still bears, of the Bloody Run.

“Close by the Devil’s Hole, the railroad now in course of construction from Lewiston to the falls, gains the level of the top of the bank. From this point downward, it is excavated in the face of the cliff, forming a steep grade to its bottom. An almost continuous line of shanties, occupied by the laborers engaged in the excavation, extends along the very verge of the precipice. It was curious, as I passed along in the early April days, to see children whom we should scarcely trust out of the nurse’s arms, sprawling upon the very verge of the cliff. The laborers are apparently all Irish, and it is noteworthy to see how much more intelligent is the aspect of the younger than of the older children. I thought I could distinguish by their mere physical appearance, those who were born under the freer and happier auspices which surround them here. At the foot of the cliff the suspension bridge stretches like a slender thread across the stream, its supporting towers resting on a ledge above the level of the roadway. No line of guards watches the quiet frontiers of two great nations. The sole police is a small boy at the gate, and the only passport demanded is a shilling for toll. You climb the smooth slope to the summit, where the shattered monument to the noble Brock is the only memorial of the day when the thrice-won victory was at last wrenched from the hands of the Americans. A flock of sheep are cropping the tender herbage; a couple of lambs have found a shady resting-place in the crumbling archway of the monument. To the right the white village of Lewiston presents an aspect of bustling activity; while to the left, on the opposite Canadian shore, Queenstown rests gray and somber. At your feet, just below the dilapidated memorial of war, the bridge, symbol of union, binds the two shores: may it never be a pathway for the march of hostile armies!

“There are two or three things in the way of excursion which must sooner or later be performed. Some bright afternoon, when the west is all aglow, as you sit upon Table Rock, watching the clouds of spray momently torn from the face of the descending column, the guide with the hollow voice, whose mission is to conduct visitors behind the great sheet, presents himself. You commit yourself to his guidance, and donning the suit of yellow oil-skin, follow him down the spiral staircase, along the base of the precipice up to the verge of the cataract. You shudder, and hesitate to enter the blinding spray along that winding path, which seems in the dimness like a slender line drawn upon the face of the rock. The guide whispers a word of encouragement, deftly insinuating how boldly ‘the lady’ trod its slippery length. You take courage and advance. You can scarcely breathe, much less see; but you feel that the torrent is plunging from the immeasurable hight above into the unfathomable depth below. Somehow, how you hardly know, you have passed through the thick curtain of blinding spray, and are peering eagerly into the gray depth beyond. You are on Termination rock, and further than this mortal foot may never penetrate within the vail. Whichever way you turn, it is all cold gray mist, shrouding the overhanging rock and the overarching water above, and the profound depths below; all mist, cold gray mist above, below, around, except when you turn your eyes back along the path by which you entered, where you behold a strip of golden sky between the grim rock and the edge of the descending flood. Drenched and dripping, spent and exhausted, as a shipwrecked sailor flung by the surf upon some inhospitable shore, you follow your guide back along the misty path, and emerge gladly enough into the clear outer air, into the free sunshine, and beneath the bright sky. As you doff the heavy oil-skin integuments, a printed paper is put into your hand, certifying that you ‘have been under the great sheet of water, the distance of two hundred and forty feet from the commencement of the falls to the termination of Table Rock,’ verified by the signature of the proprietor of ‘Table Rock House.’ Your guide looks on you complacently, as though he would assure you that the great end of life was now attained, and you might take up your ‘=Nunc dimittis=.’

“Or you take your place upon the deck of the Maid of the Mist, hard by the suspension bridge, and are steamed up to the foot of the cataract. The little steamer answers but poorly to her romantic name. She swings wearily from her moorings, and goes panting and tugging up the current. Yet she manages to hold her course, unless the wind blows too strong down-stream, and slowly wins her way close up to the huge rocks on which the waters of the American fall are broken and shattered into the thickest of spray. In that spray a sharp and angry gust of wind tears a sudden rent, and through it you catch a glimpse of the green crest of the Horseshoe fall, sinking grandly into the ocean of vapor below. Or better still, if in some calm moonlight night, you glide, with the boatman, along the foot of the American fall, keeping just outside of the dark line of shadow, you will find there is nothing on earth so weird and ghost-like as the spectacle before you. The column of spray rises from the blackness below, like the specter of some gigantic tree, and spreads solemnly up into the clear air above.

“The mere summer tourist, however, sees but half the glory of Niagara. In the winter the great rocks at the foot of the fall are piled up with an accumulation of frozen spray to the depth of half a hundred feet. By creeping cautiously up the slippery ascent, you may stand face to face with the cataract, half-way up its giddy hight. Every shrub on its margin is loaded with glittering ice. The thick-branched evergreens are bowed beneath its weight, and bend to the ground like enormous plumes. The face of the cold gray rock is cased in the frozen element, and ribbed with pillars and pilasters which flash back the reflection of all the gems in the rays of the sun; and when in a clear, unclouded day, that sun shines down in its splendor, the scene is one of matchless magnificence and glory.”

Thus we have attempted a full description of Niagara; and yet words seem but feeble to set forth the magnificence and grandeur of the scene as it rises to the view of the actual beholder. There, in its vast volume and resistless power, it ever flows on with ceaseless, patient, unwearied tide. At midnight and noonday, through summer and winter, and seed-time and harvest, it is still the same. The drought of summer does not sensibly diminish, or the freshets of spring augment its mighty current. The scorching sun does not dry it up, and the chains of winter do not bind it. Emblem of God and of eternity, it rolls on, speaking in calm sublimity of Him who made it. Nor is sublimity the only characteristic of this greatest of waterfalls. There are traits of beauty, which seem even to highten the effect of its grandeur. The rainbow, ever playing in sunshine over its awful front, and seeming indifferent to the boiling whirlpool beneath; the tide of many-colored gems, into which the spray often seems converted, as it plunges over the rocks; the heaps of foam, white as wool, dancing on the billows that rush away from the foot of the fall; and more than all, an aspect of tranquillity and of repose, which settles upon the whole scene, when viewed at a little distance, are all incidents which blend in the majestic picture imprinted on the memory by this stupendous yet lovely work of nature’s God.

The falls of Niagara have been the frequent theme of poetry, but the following lines by Brainard are deemed the finest that have been produced upon the subject.

“The thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain, While I look upward to thee. It would seem As if God poured thee from his ‘hollow hand,’ And hung his bow upon thine awful front; And spoke in that loud voice, which seemed to him Who dwelt in Patmos for his Saviour’s sake, ‘The sound of many waters;’ and had bade Thy flood to chronicle the ages back, And notch His centuries in the eternal rocks!

“Deep calleth unto deep, and what are we, That hear the question of that voice sublime? Oh! what are all the notes that ever rung From war’s vain trumpet, by thy thundering side! Yea, what is all the riot man can make In his short life, to thine unceasing roar! And yet, bold babbler, what art thou to Him, Who drown’d a world, and heaped the waters far Above its loftiest mountains?—a light wave, That breaks and whispers of its Maker’s might!”

FALLS OF THE MONTMORENCI.

The Montmorenci empties itself at the distance of about eight miles northeast of Quebec, into the great river St. Lawrence, to the coast of which it gradually descends from the elevated mountain on which it has its source. At a station called La Motte, situated on the northern extremity of a sloping ground, its waters diffuse themselves into shallow currents, interrupted by rocks which break them into foam, and accompanied by murmuring sounds which enliven the solitude and solemn stillness prevailing throughout the surrounding forests and desolate hills. Further down, its channel is bounded by precipitous rocks, its breadth becoming extremely contracted, and the rapidity of its current proportionably augmented. At a place called “the natural steps,” there are several beautiful cascades of ten or twelve feet. These steps, which are extremely regular, have been gradually formed by the accession of waters the river receives in its progress, at the breaking up of winter, by the melting of the snows. From the middle of April to the end of May, its waters roll with increasing hight and rapidity. Being powerfully impelled in their course, they insinuate themselves between the strata of the horizontal rock, vast fragments of which are detached by the rushing violence of the sweeping torrent.

On the eastern side, the bank, which is almost perpendicular, and fifty feet high, is surmounted by lofty trees. The south-west bank rises beyond the steps, and terminates in a precipice. On the opposite side, the bank is regular, and of a singular shape, resembling the ruin of an elevated wall. The trees by which the banks are inclosed, united with the effect produced by the foaming currents, and the scattered masses of stone, form a scene wild and picturesque. The stream now taking a southern direction, is augmented in its velocity, and forms a grand cascade interrupted by huge rocks. A quarter of a mile further down a similar effect is produced. After exhibiting an agreeable variety through its course, the river is precipitated, in an almost perpendicular direction, over a rock two hundred and fifty feet in hight. A view of this latter cascade is given in the cut. Wherever it touches the rock, it falls in white clouds of rolling foam; and, beneath, where it is propelled with uninterrupted gravitation, it forms numerous flakes, like wool or cotton, which are gradually protracted in the descent, until they are received into the boiling profound abyss beneath.

The effect from the summit of the cliff is awfully grand, and truly sublime. The prodigious depth of the descent of the waters of this surprising fall; the brightness and volubility of their course; the swiftness of their movement through the air; and the loud and hollow noise emitted from the basin, swelling with incessant agitation from the weight of the dashing waters, forcibly combine to attract the attention, and to impress the mind of the spectator with sentiments of grandeur and elevation. The clouds of rising vapor, which assume the prismatic colors, contribute to enliven the scene. They fly off from the fall in the form of a revolving sphere, emitting with velocity pointed flakes of spray, which spread in receding, until they are interrupted by the neighboring banks, or dissolved in the atmosphere.

The breadth of the fall is one hundred feet; and the basin, which is bounded by steep cliffs, forms an angle of forty-five degrees. When viewed from the beach, the cataract is seen, with resplendent beauty, to flow down the gloomy precipice, the summit of which is crowded with woods. The diffusion of the stream, to the breadth of fifteen hundred feet, and the various small cascades produced by the inequalities of its rocky bed, on its way to the river St. Lawrence, display a very singular and pleasing combination.

THE TUCCOA FALL.

This fall, in Franklin county, Georgia, is as yet scarcely known to the best informed of our geographers, and is notwithstanding one of the most beautiful that can be conceived. It is much higher than the great fall of Niagara; and the water is charmingly propelled over a perpendicular rock. When the stream is full, it passes down the steep in one expansive sheet, magnificent to behold.

FALLS OF THE MISSOURI.

The most prominent features of this great river, which is fed by so many streams, having their sources in a great variety of soils and climates, are its wonderful falls, rapids and cascades, the following connected view of which is abstracted from the very accurate draught and survey made by Captain Clarke.

This river is nine hundred feet wide at the point where it receives the waters of Medicine river, which is four hundred and one feet in width. The united current continues five thousand, four hundred and twelve feet, somewhat more than a mile, to a small rapid on the north side, from which it gradually widens to four thousand, two hundred feet, and at the distance of nine thousand and forty-two feet, (nearly a mile and three-fourths,) reaches the head of the rapids, narrowing as it approaches them. Here the hills on the north, which had withdrawn from the bank, closely border the river, which, for the space of a mile, makes its way over the rocks with a descent of thirty feet: in this course the current is contracted to sixteen hundred and forty feet, and, after throwing itself over a small pitch of five feet, forms a beautiful cascade of twenty-six feet, five inches; this does not, however, fall quite perpendicularly, being stopped by a part of the rock, which projects at about one-third of the distance. After descending this fall, and passing the Cotton-wood island, on which the eagle has fixed its nest, the river goes on for eight thousand, seven hundred and seventy-eight feet, (more than a mile and a half,) over rapids and little falls, the estimated descent of which is thirteen feet six inches, till it is joined by a large fountain boiling up underneath the rocks near the edge of the river, and falling into it with a cascade of eight feet. It is of the most perfect clearness, and rather of a bluish cast; and even after falling into the Missouri it preserves its color for half a mile. From this fountain the river descends with increased rapidity for the distance of thirty-five hundred and thirty-one feet, during which the estimated descent is five feet: from this, for a distance of twenty-two hundred and twenty-seven feet, the river descends fourteen feet seven inches, including a perpendicular fall of six feet seven inches. The river has now become pressed into a space of fourteen hundred and nineteen feet, and here forms a grand cataract, by falling over a plain rock, the whole distance across the river, to the depth of forty-seven feet, eight inches: after recovering itself, the Missouri then proceeds with an estimated descent of three feet, till at the distance of sixteen hundred and eighty-three feet it again is precipitated down the crooked falls, nineteen feet perpendicularly; below this at the mouth of a deep ravine, is a fall of five feet, after which, for the distance of sixteen thousand and five feet, (upward of three miles,) the descent is much more gradual, not being more than ten feet, and then succeeds a handsome level plain for the space of twenty-nine hundred and thirty-seven feet, (more than half a mile,) with a computed descent of three feet, making a bend toward the north. Thence it descends, during seventy-nine hundred and twenty feet, about eighteen feet and a half, when it makes a perpendicular fall of two feet, which is fourteen hundred and eighty-five feet beyond the great cataract, in approaching which it descends thirteen feet, within a distance of about six hundred feet, and gathering strength from its confined channel, which is only eight hundred and forty feet wide, rushes over the fall to the depth of eighty-seven feet and three-quarters of an inch. After raging among the rocks, and losing itself in foam, it is compressed immediately into a bed of two hundred and seventy-nine feet in width; it continues for fifty-six hundred and ten feet to the entrance of a run or deep ravine, where there is a fall of three feet, which, joined to the decline of the river during that course, makes the descent six feet. As it goes on, the descent within the next thirty-nine hundred and sixty feet is only four feet; from this, passing a run or deep ravine, the descent for sixteen hundred feet is thirteen feet: within thirty-nine hundred and sixty feet, is a second descent of eighteen feet; thence twenty-six hundred and forty feet further, is a descent of six feet; after which, to the mouth of Portage creek, a distance of forty-six hundred and twenty feet, the descent is ten feet. From this survey and estimate it results that the river experiences a descent of three hundred and fifty-two feet in the course of fifteen or sixteen miles, from the commencement of the rapids, to the mouth of Portage creek, exclusive of almost impassable rapids which extend for a mile below its entrance.

CATSKILL FALLS.

The Catskill, or Kauterskill falls, represented in the cut below, are in the south-west part of the town of Catskill, about fourteen miles from the village, and two miles west from Pine Orchard, a celebrated summer resort on the brow of the Catskill mountain. Two ponds, uniting their outlets, pour the stream thus formed, by falls and rapids in a deep ravine, to the plain below. The first fall is a hundred and eighty feet perpendicular; and the second, which is within a short distance, about eighty feet. Behind the first fall is an immense natural amphitheater, into which the visitor can go, and look through the water as it falls from above. The view from the ‘Mountain house,’ near by, is extensive and varied. The landscape, in a clear atmosphere, is visible for sixty miles.

TRENTON FALLS.

Among the most beautiful and romantic cascades of the United States, may justly be reckoned Trenton falls, situated about eighteen miles north-east of Utica, in the state of New York, on West Canada creek. Here, within a course of two miles, there are six falls, with an aggregate descent of three hundred and twelve feet. The scenery is the most wild and picturesque imaginable; the stream flowing through a narrow ravine, between perpendicular walls of limestone, which in some places are one hundred and fifty feet high. The pathway of the spectator is mostly along the very margin of the chasm which forms the channel of the rushing waters, on a ledge, or shelf, so narrow and perilous, that the head often is giddy from the sight; and sometimes it is difficult to sustain one’s self. These cascades are more remarkable for the wildness and variety of scenery, than for the volume of water they present. The hight of the principal fall is estimated at one hundred feet.

WATERFALL OF SOUTH AFRICA.

The great chain of mountains which runs from north to south through the colony of the Cape of Good Hope, divides into two branches, one of which stretches south-east, and the other due south. At the extremity of the latter branch is “the waterfall mountain,” in one of the clefts of which a large stream of water falls from the high rock above, and presents, in the winter season, when swollen by the rains, a glorious spectacle. To view this fall to advantage, the traveler has to climb to a considerable hight over the steep and broken rocks which form one side of the mountain, and, on reaching the top, sees it on the other side. Its hight is estimated at between eighty and ninety feet, and its breadth at between thirty and forty. Adequate terms can not be found to describe the sublimity of this scene, after abundant rains, when it is in its full beauty. In the vale beneath, the water is collected in a vast and deep basin, excavated in the stone; and by the side of the stream is a grotto, which runs within the rock to the depth of between thirty and forty feet. The arched entrance to this grotto is close to the falling water, when the stream is full. The rocks about it are thickly grown over with shrubs, which are then sprinkled by the spray. The European travelers who proceed from Cape Town to the interior of South Africa, seldom fail to make a pilgrimage to this enchanting spot.

CATARACTS OF THE NILE.

This celebrated river, through its long and fertile range of about two thousand British miles, in winding through abrupt and precipitous countries, exhibits very considerable cataracts, ten or twelve of which, having a descent of more than twenty feet, occur, before it reaches the level of Egypt. The one which, by way of eminence, is called the cataract of the Nile, was visited by Mr. Bruce, from whose relation the following particulars are extracted.

At the distance of half a mile beneath the cataract, the river is confined between two rocks, over which a strong bridge of a single arch has been thrown, and runs into a deep trough, with great roaring, and an impetuous velocity. On ascending, the cataract presents itself amid groves of beautiful trees, and exhibits a most magnificent and stupendous sight, such as, Mr. Bruce observes, ages, added to the greatest length of human life, could not efface or eradicate from his memory. It struck him with a kind of stupor, and total oblivion of where he was, as well as of every sublunary concern. At the time of his visit, the river had been considerably increased by rains, and fell in one sheet of water, above half an English mile in breadth, and to the depth of at least forty feet, with a force and noise which were truly terrific, and which, for a time, stunned him, and made him giddy. A thick fume, or haze, covered the fall in every part, and hung over the course of the stream both above and below, marking its track, although the waters were not seen. The river, although much swollen, preserved its natural clearness, and fell, partly into a deep pool, or basin, in the solid rock, and partly in twenty different eddies to the very foot of the precipice. In falling, a portion of the stream appeared to run back with great fury on the rock, as well as forward in the line of its course, raising waves, or violent ebullitions, which chafed against each other.

CATARACT OF THE MENDER.

The cataract which constitutes the source of this river, the Scamander of the ancients, is thus beautifully described by Doctor Clarke. “Our ascent, as we drew near to the source of the river, became steep and rocky. Lofty summits towered above us, in the greatest style of alpine grandeur; the torrent, in its rugged bed below, all the while foaming on our left. Presently we entered one of the sublimest natural amphitheaters the eye ever beheld; and here the guides desired us to alight. The noise of waters silenced every other sound. Huge craggy rocks rose perpendicularly, to an immense hight; whose sides and fissures, to the very clouds, concealing their tops, were covered with pines. These grew in every possible direction, among a variety of evergreen shrubs; and enormous plane-trees waved their vast branches above the torrent. As we approached its deep gulf, we beheld several cascades, all of foam, pouring impetuously from chasms in the naked face of a perpendicular rock. It is said the same magnificent cataract continues all seasons of the year, wholly unaffected by the casualties of rain or melting snow. Having reached the chasms whence the torrent issues, we found, in their front, a beautiful natural basin, six or eight feet in depth, serving as a reservoir for the water during the first moments of its emission. It was so clear that the minutest object might be discerned at the bottom. The copious overflowing of this reservoir causes the appearance, to a spectator below, of different cascades, falling to the depth of about forty feet, but there is only one source. Behind are the chasms whence the water issues. We entered one of these, and passed into a cavern. Here the water appeared, rushing with great force, beneath the rock, toward the basin on the outside. The whole of the rock about the source was covered with moss; close to the basin grew hazel and plane trees; above were oaks and pines; and all beyond a naked and fearful precipice.”

The bold and precipitous country of the Alps offers a variety of waterfalls and perpendicular torrents which are well deserving of notice; more particularly those in the vicinity of Mount Rosa, a part of the northern boundary of Piedmont. The river Oreo, fed by numerous streams from Mount St. Gothard, Mount Cenis, and several branches of the Apennines, forms, at Cerosoli, a vertical cascade, estimated at four hundred fathoms, or twenty-four hundred feet; while the torrent Evanson, descending from another part of Mount Rosa, exhibits a fall of more than two hundred fathoms, rolling down pebbles of quartz, veined with the gold which is occasionally traced in the mountains of Challand. The Cascata del Marmore, or Marble Cascade, so denominated from the mountain down which the Velcino falls being almost wholly of marble, lies about three miles from Terni. In proceeding toward it, the traveler is struck with terror on viewing the precipices, which are of a romantic hight; but is sufficiently rewarded, when, on reaching the summit of the mountain, he regards the stupendous cataract, formed by the river as it rushes from the mountain. Having reached the declivity of its channel, the waters descend with a rapid course for a short space, and then fall from a perpendicular hight of three hundred feet, breaking against lateral rocks, which cause vapors to ascend much higher than the summit of the cataract, by which the neighboring valley receives a perpetual fall of rain. After this descent, the waters rush into the cavities of the rocks, and then bursting through several openings, at length reach the bed of the river.

The grand cascade of the Anio, near Tivola, flows down the edge of a steep rock; and at its foot, the water, in a succession of ages, has hollowed grottos of various shapes and sizes, in a manner so beautifully picturesque, as to baffle all description. Of these, the grotto of Neptune is the most celebrated. Near to it are three smaller cascades, which rush murmuring through the ruins of the villa Mecænas, down the woody steep which forms the opposite bank of the river, and present the painter with one of the most picturesque views imaginable, the foreground varying beautifully at every step he takes.

In Savoy, the Arve flows many miles between high, craggy and inaccessible rocks, which appear to have been purposely cleft to give its waters a free passage. The surprising echoes and continual sounds occasioned by its streams, the trampling of the horses and mules, the hallooing of passengers, &c., are, in these places, reverberated three, four, and even in some parts six or seven times, with a noise so deep and wild, as to strike with terror the traveler who is unaccustomed to them; and the firing of a gun or pistol, is there more terrible than the loudest claps of thunder. A steep precipice, with monstrous impending rocks, which seem ready to fall, joined to the roaring of the river, add largely to the general sublimity. The cataracts of this river are more or less loud and terrible, in proportion as the waters are more or less swollen by the melting snows, with which the tops of the mountains are covered. One in particular, called the Nun of Arpena, falls from a prodigiously high rock with great noise and violence: its descent is said to exceed eleven hundred feet.

In Dalmatia, the river Cettina forms a magnificent cascade, called by the inhabitants Velica Gubavisa, to distinguish it from a less fall a little below. The waters precipitate themselves from a hight of above one hundred and fifty feet, forming a deep majestic sound, which is caused by the echo resounding between the steep and naked marble banks. Many broken fragments of rocks, which impede the course of the river after its fall, break the waves, and render them still more lofty and sonorous. By the violence of the repercussion, their froth flies off in small white particles, and is raised in successive clouds, which are scattered, by the agitation of the air, over the valley. When these clouds ascend directly upward, the inhabitants expect the noxious south-east wind called the sirocco.

The fall of the Staub-Bach, in the valley of Lauterbrannen, is estimated at nine hundred feet of perpendicular hight; and about a league from Schaffhausen, at the village of Lauffen, in Switzerland, is a tremendous cataract of the Rhine, where that river precipitates itself from a rock said to be seventy feet in hight, and not less than four hundred and fifty feet broad.

In Sweden, near Gottenburgh, the river Gotha rushes down from a prodigiously high precipice into a deep pit, with a dreadful noise, and with such amazing force, that the trees designed for the masts of ships, which are floated down the river, are usually turned upside down in their fall, and shattered in pieces. They frequently sink so far under water, as to disappear for a quarter of an hour, half an hour, and sometimes for three-quarters of an hour. The pit into which the torrent precipitates them, is of a depth not to be ascertained, having been sounded with a line of several hundred fathoms, without the bottom being found.

In addition to the other North American cataracts already described, may be noticed the Passaic falls, formed by the river Passaic, which discharges itself into the sea at the northern extremity of the state of New Jersey. About twenty miles from the mouth of this river, where it has a breadth of about a hundred and twenty feet, and runs with a very swift current, it reaches a deep chasm, or cleft, which crosses its channel, and falls about seventy feet perpendicularly in an entire sheet. One end of the cleft is closed up, and the water rushes out of the other with incredible rapidity, in an acute angle to its former direction, and is received into a large basin. It thence takes a winding course through the rocks, and spreads again into a very considerable channel. The cleft is from four to twelve feet in breadth, and is supposed to have been produced by an earthquake. The falls of St. Anthony, on the river Mississippi, descend from a perpendicular hight of thirty feet, and are nearly eight hundred feet in width, while the shore on each side is a level flat, without any intervening rock or precipice.

In England, among the cataracts which merit a brief mention, may be cited the one in Devonshire, near the spot where the Tamer receives the small river Lid. The water there falls above a hundred feet: it proceeds from a mill at some distance, and after a course on a descent of nearly one hundred feet from the level of the mill, reaches the brink of the precipice, whence it falls in a most beautiful and picturesque manner, and, striking on a part of the cliff, rushes from it in a wider cataract to the bottom; where falling again with great violence, it makes a deep and foaming basin in the ground. This fine sheet of water causes the surrounding air at the bottom to be so impregnated with aqueous particles, that those who approach it find themselves in a mist. In Cumberland there are several cataracts; but these are exceeded in beauty by a remarkable fall of the Tees, on the western side of the county of Durham, over which is a bridge suspended by chains, seldom passed unless by the adventurous miners. Asgarth force, in Yorkshire, is likewise a very interesting fall.

In Scotland, the fall of Eyers, near Loch Ness, is a vast cataract, in a darksome glen of a stupendous depth. The water rushes beneath, through a narrow gap between two rocks, and thence precipitating itself more than forty feet lower into the bottom of the chasm, the foam, like a great cloud of smoke, rises and fills the air. The sides of this glen are stupendous precipices, blended with trees overhanging the water, through which, after a short space, the waters discharge themselves into the lake. About half a mile to the south of this fall, is another which passes through a narrow chasm, whose sides it has undermined for a considerable distance. Over the gap is a true alpine bridge, formed of the trunks of trees covered with sods, from the middle of which is an awful view of the water roaring beneath. In Perthshire, the river Keith presents a very considerable cataract, the noise produced by which is so violent as to stun those who approach it. The western coast of Ross-shire is, however, peculiarly distinguished by these natural wonders, among which may be cited the grand cataract of the river Kirkag, and the cascade of Glamma, which latter being situated amid the constant obscurity of woody hills, is truly sublime.

In Ireland, the noble river Shannon has a prodigious cataract, which, at about fifty miles from its mouth, prevents it from being longer navigable for vessels of a large burden.

SPRINGS AND WELLS.

ST. WINIFRED’S WELL.

Holywell, in Flintshire, is famous for St. Winifred’s well, one of the finest springs in the world. On account of the sanctity in which it was holden, it gave name to the town. This well pours out, each minute, twenty-one tuns of water, which, running to the middle of the town, down the side of a hill, is made use of by every house as it passes, after which it turns several mills, and is employed in various manufactures, which greatly increase the population of the place and its neighborhood. Over the spring, where a handsome bath has been erected, is a neat chapel, supported by pillars, and on the windows are painted the chief events of St. Winifred’s (or, as it was anciently written, Wenefrede’s) life. About the well grows moss, which the ignorant and superstitious devotees most stupidly imagine to be St. Winifred’s hair. This saint is reported to have been a virgin martyr, who lived in the seventh century, and, as the legend says, was ravished and beheaded in this place by a pagan tyrant; the spring having miraculously risen from her blood. Hence this bath was much frequented by popish pilgrims, out of devotion, as well as by those who came to bathe in it for medicinal purposes. Mr. Pennant says, “The custom of visiting this well in pilgrimage, and offering up devotions there, is not yet entirely laid aside: in the summer a few are to be seen in the water, in deep devotion, up to their chins for hours, sending up their prayers, or performing a number of evolutions round the polygonal well.”

It might have been supposed that the present enlightened age would have been secure against a repetition of impostures of this kind; but Doctor Milner, a Catholic bishop, of Wolverhampton, took much pains to persuade the world that an ignorant proselyte, of the name of Winefrid White, was there cured of various chronic diseases, so late as the year 1804, by a miracle. Sir Richard Phillips, having, in the Monthly Magazine, referred this pretended miracle to the known effect of strong faith on ignorant minds, in any proposed means of cure, was attacked by the Catholic clergy for his incredulity; but in number three hundred and two, of the Monthly Magazine, he replies in the following words.

“We have no doubt whatever that Winefrid White was cured by her journey to Holywell, and by bathing in the wonderful natural spring at that place; but we are not credulous enough to believe that her cure was effected by any antagonist properties of the water to the cause of her disease; nor impious enough so to sport with eternal omnipotence, as to assert that a capricious suspension of the laws of nature took place for this purpose. On the contrary, we believe that the poor woman was cured by causes well known to every medical practitioner, and proved in hundreds of recorded instances; that is to say, by her faith in the means proposed for her cure, wrought to the highest pitch by her religion, and by the assurances of those to whom she was accustomed to defer. We think, nevertheless, that the publication of this ‘case of Winefrid White,’ savors strongly of religious empiricism, and is exactly analogous to the ‘cases of cure’ which we every day see advertised in all the newspapers. We refrain from treating the subject theologically, yet it appears to us that Matthew xxiv. 24, proves that ‘signs and wonders’ are not only no evidence of divine interposition, but may be used even by ‘false prophets, so as to deceive the very elect.’ The continuance of miraculous powers will be found, we suspect, to depend on other circumstances than the date of the year. They disappear wherever the printing-press begins to be freely used, and, by its agency, fixes all the circumstances that attend them; and they still continue to flourish wherever the history of the circumstances depends for any period on traditional evidence. Miracles are, therefore, performed in abundance, even in our days, among the negroes, the Hottentots, the Caffres, the Tartars, the South Sea islanders, and the Indians of the two Americas. The last we believe on record are to be found in the Hon. M. Elphinstone’s published embassy to Cabul in 1808: he states that the sick were carried after him many days’ journey; and, at page twenty-eight, he says: ‘Some thought we could raise the dead; and there was a story current, that we had made and animated a wooden ram at Mooltaun; that we had sold him as a ram; and that it was not till the purchaser began to eat him, that the material of which he was made was discovered.’ We forbear to press the subject further.”

WIGAN WELL.

About a mile from Wigan, in Lancashire, is a spring, the water of which burns like oil. On applying a lighted candle to the surface, a large flame is suddenly produced, and burns vigorously. A dishful of water having been taken up at the part whence the flame issues, and a lighted candle held to it, the flame goes out; notwithstanding which the water in this part boils and rises up like water in a pot on the fire, but does not feel warm on introducing the hand. What is still more extraordinary, on making a dam, and preventing the flowing of fresh water to the ignited part, that which was already there having been drained away, a burning candle being applied to the surface of the dry earth at the same point where the water before burned, the fumes take fire, and burn with a resplendent light, the cone of the flame ascending a foot and a half from the surface of the earth. It is not discolored, like that of sulphureous bodies, neither has it any manifest smell, nor do the fumes, in their ascent, betray any sensible heat. The latter unquestionably consist of inflammable air, or hydrogen gas; and it ought to be observed that the whole of the country about Wigan, for the compass of several miles, is underlaid with coal. This phenomenon may therefore be referred to the same cause which occasioned the dreadful explosion of Felling colliery; but in the present case, this destructive gas, instead of being pent up in the bowels of the earth, accompanies the water in its passage to the surface.

DROPPING WELL AT KNARESBOROUGH.

This dropping well, or petrifying spring, rises at the foot of a limestone rock, at an inconsiderable distance from the bank of the river Nidd. The spring, after running about sixty feet, divides, and spreads itself over the top of the rock, whence it trickles very fast, from thirty or forty places, into a channel hollowed for the purpose, as seen in the cut, each drop producing a musical kind of tinkling, probably owing to the concavity of the rock, which, bending in a circular projection from the bottom to the top, occasions its brow to overhang about fifteen feet. This rock, which is about thirty feet in hight, forty-eight in length, and from thirty to fifty in breadth, started, in the year 1704, from the common bank, and left a chasm, from five to nine feet wide, over which the water passes by an aqueduct formed for the purpose. It is clothed with evergreen and other shrubs, which add greatly to the beauty of this very interesting scene.

The water is said to abound with fine particles of a nitrous earth, which it deposits, but when in a languid motion only, and leaves its incrustations on the leaves, moss, &c., which it meets with, in trickling thus slowly through the cavities of the rock. This spring is estimated to send forth twenty gallons of water in a minute. Here are to be seen pieces of moss, bird’s nests with their eggs, and a variety of other objects, some of them very curious which have been incrusted or petrified by the water.

BROSELEY SPRING.

This celebrated boiling spring, or well, at Broseley, in Shropshire, was discovered in the month of June, 1711. It was first announced by a terrible noise in the night, there having been a remarkable thunder-storm. Several persons who resided in the vicinity having been awakened in their beds by this loud and rumbling noise, arose, and proceeding to a bog under a small hill, about two hundred yards from the river Severn, perceived a surprising commotion and shaking of the earth, and a little boiling up of water through the grass. They took a spade, and digging up a portion of the earth, the water immediately flew up to a great hight, and was set on fire by a candle which was presented to it. To prevent the spring from being destroyed, an iron cistern has been placed over it, provided with a cover, and a hole in the center, through which the water may be viewed. If a lighted candle, or any burning substance, be presented to this aperture, the water instantly takes fire, and burns like spirit of wine, continuing to do so as long as the air is kept from it; but on removing the cover of the cistern, it quickly goes out. The apparent boiling and ascent of the water of this spring, are still more obviously the result of hydrogen gas, or inflammable air, than in the preceding instance of Wigan well.

HOT SPRINGS OF ST. MICHAEL.

In the eastern part of this island, (one of the Azores,) is a round, deep valley surrounded by high mountains, in which are many hot springs; but the most remarkable is that called the Caldeira, situated in the eastern part of the valley on a small eminence by the side of a river, on which is a basin about thirty feet in diameter, where the water continually boils with prodigious fury. A few yards distant from it, is a cavern in the side of a bank, in which the water boils in a dreadful manner, throwing out a thick, muddy, unctuous water, several yards from its mouth, with a hideous noise. In the middle of the river are several places where the water boils with so intense a heat, that a person can not dip his finger into it without being scalded. On its banks are several apertures, out of which the steam rises to a considerable hight, and is so hot that it can not be approached by the hand. In other parts, the spectator would be led to suppose that the bellows of a hundred forges were blowing in concert; while sulphureous streams issue out in a thousand places. The bushes even, near these spots, are covered with pure brimstone, condensed from the steam which issues from the ground. In the small caverns whence the steam issues, many of the inhabitants prepare their food.

HOT SPRINGS OF THE TROAD.

The Troad, a country of Phrygia, in Asia Minor, of which Troy was the capital, abounds with hot springs; the most interesting one of which is thus described by Doctor Clarke. It is situated near a place called Bonarbashy, signifying literally “the head of the springs,” and gushes perpendicularly out of the earth, rising from the bottom of a marble and granite reservoir, and throwing up as much water as the famous fountain of Holywell, in Wales. Its surface seems vehemently boiling; and, during cold weather, the condensed vapor above it causes the appearance of a cloud of smoke over the well. While the mercury stood at forty-six degrees in the open air, it rose, when the thermometer was plunged in the water, to sixty-two degrees. Notwithstanding the warmth of this spring, fishes were seen sporting in the reservoir. In every part of the district through which the Mender flows, from Ida to the Hellespont, are many of these springs, of different degrees of temperature.

The Geysers have already been described, in treating of Mount Hecla, and its surprising volcano. In following up the details of the phenomena of this nature given above, by a brief notice of other bubbling, tepid and boiling springs, it may not be improper to premise that heat, water and vapors of various kinds, exist in prodigious quantities beneath the surface of the earth; and frequently, as has been seen in the phenomena of volcanoes and earthquakes, burst forth from enormous openings, with tremendous destruction. It often happens, however, that the openings are small and porous, and that the vapors ascending through them, are simply combined with water. Hence that almost infinite variety in the characters of these springs, fountains and lakes, the waters of which are combined with extraneous substances. In some cases the clastic gases, or vapors, ascend from specific levity alone, and are destitute of all taste and odor; insomuch that springs are found which bubble without boiling, or betraying heat or any other foreign quality. In other cases they are strongly impregnated with heat; and are then either tepid or boiling, according to the proportion of extricated caloric they contain. Occasionally, whether hot or cold, they are blended with metallic, sulphureous, saline, and other substances, and hence assume the name of mineral waters; while, if the substance thus dissolved be combustible, as naphtha, bitumen, or turpentine, the fountain will often inflame and burn on the application of a lighted torch.

The water of the noted boiling spring at Peroul, near Montpelier, is observed to heave and boil up very furiously in small bubbles, which manifestly proceed from a vapor breaking out of the earth, and rushing through the water, so as to throw it up with noise, and in many bubbles; for on digging in the vicinity of the ditch where the spring lies, and pouring fresh water on the dry spot newly dug, the same boiling is immediately observed. A similar bubbling of the water is likewise found near Peroul, on the seashore. In several dry places near the spring, are small ventiducts, passages or clefts, whence steam issues; and at the mouths of these passages, small light bodies, such as feathers, pieces of straw, leaves, &c., being placed, are soon blown away. This vapor, on the application of a lighted candle or torch, does not flame or take fire, as is the case with that of the boiling spring at Wigan; so that there are two different sorts of steam, to occasion these boilings, at the same time that neither of the fountains is medicinal, or even warm.

Other boiling waters, of a very different temperature, possess, like those of the hot springs of St. Michael, a sufficient degree of heat to boil eggs, and to serve for other culinary purposes. Among these may be instanced those of the Solfatara, near Naples; those on the summit of Mount Zebio, in the Modenese territory; and those which constitute the source of the imperial bath at Aix la Chapelle. In Japan, a hot spring is said to burst forth which constantly maintains the boiling-point, and the water of which retains its heat much longer than common water. It does not flow regularly, but during an interval of two hours each day; and the force and violence of the vapors are then so great, that large stones are ejected, and raised to the hight of ten or twelve feet, with a noise like that of the explosion of a piece of artillery.

From the phenomena which have been adduced, it appears that the exhalations constantly escaping from the vast subterraneous magazines in which they are prepared, vary greatly in their qualities and effects. Some are cold and dry, resembling air or wind, as those near Peroul, and in the cavities of mountains, especially those of Æolus and other hills of Italy, as well as in particular mines. Others are inflammable, and of a bituminous nature, though not positively warm, as those of Wigan well. Others are very hot, sulphureous and saline, more especially those of the natural stoves, sweating-vaults, grottos, baths and volcanoes near Naples, Baiæ, Cuma and Pozzuoli, as also in some of the subterraneous works at Rome. And others, again, are of an arsenical, or other noxious quality, as those of the Grotta del Cane. Now, these various streams meeting with, and running through water, must occasion in it a great variety of phenomena and effects.

It is observed by Doctor Thomson, in his history of the Royal Society, that the hot spring at Bath, has continued at a temperature higher than that of the air for a period of not less than two thousand years, although it is so far distant from any volcano, that, without a very violent and improbable extension of the agency of volcanic fires, it can not be ascribed to them. There are various decompositions of mineral bodies, which generate considerable heat; or, to speak more properly, water is itself the decomposed substance generating heat by its decomposition. The evolution of azotic gas is a proof that the heat of the Bath waters is owing to a particular decomposition which takes place within the bowels of the earth. The greatest heat of these waters is one hundred and sixteen degrees of Fahrenheit’s scale; but that of the mineral waters of Carlsbad, in Bohemia, ascends to one hundred and sixty-five degrees.

There are several curious springs which are worthy of notice in this connection, though somewhat varying from the class thus far mentioned. One of these was recently discovered in California, about fifty miles east of San Felipe, in San Diego county. It was discovered by a party engaged in surveying the public lands, and consists of a collection of fountains or springs of soda water, situated in a sandy plain or depression of the surface of the desert. The spring is in a mound of symmetrical shape, tapering like a sugar-loaf, in the center of the top of which is a hole, apparently unfathomable, containing the carbonated beverage fresh from some natural laboratory below. Some of these mounds are six feet high, and clothed with a green and luxuriant coat of grass, while others are shaped like an inverted bowl, and fringed by a growth of cane. The water is described as having the same sparkling and effervescing quality as that ordinarily sold by apothecaries, and was drunk with avidity by both the men and animals belonging to the party discovering it. When impregnated with acid of any kind, it produced instant effervescence, and in that form was peculiarly refreshing as a drink.

Another singular spring has also been discovered on the way from the Great Salt lake, to Los Angelos, through the Cajon pass. The traveler who gives the account of it says: “We had crossed the great desert without any accident, and then camped on a stream of deliciously cool water, about twelve to eighteen inches wide, which distributes itself about half a mile lower down in a meadow covered with luxuriant grasses. This camp-ground is called by the Spaniards, ‘Las Vegas.’ Once more we had plenty of grass for our fatigued animals, and we determined to rest here for the day. During our journey we passed a number of deserted wagons, chairs, &c. An ox-train from Little Salt lake had preceded about ten days; and it was not difficult to follow their trail, for in the space of one hour I counted the putrid carcasses of nineteen oxen and horses. What a lesson to those who venture on such a journey unadvisedly and unprepared! The strong north wind which blew all day, raised a cloud of dust which almost blinded me, although I had goggles and a green vail to protect my eyes; however, the delightful and refreshing water of this oasis soon purified me; and I felt, having crossed the desert, breakfasted and bathed, much more comfortable, both mentally and physically. The acacia was the only tree on this stream. Having remained at this camp all one day, the next morning we were on the road to Cottonwood springs, some twenty miles distant, where we would find water and grass, and then commence a journey over another desert of fifty-five miles. We followed up this little stream for about three miles, when the road turned a little to the right; but I was anxious to see the head of the stream, for, from the appearance of the surrounding country, I judged it to be very near. Several gentlemen and myself continued up the stream, and after a ride of half a mile, we came to a large spring, thirty-five feet wide and forty long, surrounded by acacias in full bloom. We approached through an opening, and found it to contain the clearest and most delicious water I ever tasted; the bottom appeared to be not more than two feet from the surface, and to consist of white sand. One of the party prepared himself for a bath, and soon his body divided the crystal waters. While I was considering whether I should go in, I heard him calling to me that it was impossible to sink, the water was so buoyant. I hardly believed it, and, to be able to speak certainly, I also undressed and jumped in. What was my delight and astonishment to find that all my efforts to sink were futile. I raised my body out of the water, and suddenly lowered myself, but I bounded upward as if I had struck a springing-board; I walked about the water up to my armpits, just the same as if I had been walking on dry land. The water instead of being about two feet deep, was over fifteen, the length of the longest tent-pole we had along. It is impossible for a man to sink over his head in it; the sand on the banks is very fine and white; the temperature is seventy-eight degrees of Fahrenheit. I can form no idea as to the cause of this singular phenomenon. Great Salt lake also possesses this quality, but this water is perfectly sweet. In the absence of any other name I have called it Buoyant spring. I have never heard of it as possessing this quality, and should like some of the savants to explain the cause of buoyancy. We lingered in the spring for fifteen minutes, when we dressed and resumed our ride, highly delighted and gratified by our exploration. I made drawings of this spot and surrounding mountains.”

Still another singular spring, also in California, was discovered by a Mr. Dabney, when boring for water in San Jose. The auger penetrated through a stiff bed of clay fifty-eight feet thick, when a stream of water was struck which forced itself up the aperture with unprecedented power, and in a volume greater, it is believed, than all the other artesian streams in the neighborhood combined. From this well alone flowed a sufficiency of water to turn a mill. It boiled up with great force, and ran off in a stream four feet wide and six inches deep. At the mouth the current washed out a hole of several feet wide and very deep. Serious apprehensions were entertained, when the stream first burst forth, that it would be impossible to control it. The water was cold and delightful, and it was estimated that the spring would be sufficient to supply the whole city plentifully.

Reciprocating fountains, or springs, may be cited among the most curious phenomena of nature. An irregularity of flow is not uncommon in boiling springs; but there are other springs which evince a periodical influx and reflux, almost as regular as the tides of the ocean. These changes, it will be seen, frequently occur several times in a day, or even in an hour. They are ascribed to various causes, either subterraneous or superficial; but in general, springs and lakes of this description, have been ascertained to communicate with others beneath, through pores or apertures of various diameters, which serve equally to carry off the waters, and to supply them afresh. In such cases the flux and reflux of the upper head of water, must necessarily depend on the state of that beneath; and the causes which alternately augment and diminish the latter, must produce a similar effect on the former.

Paderborn spring, in Westphalia, disappears twice in twenty-four hours, returning constantly, after a lapse of six hours, with a great noise, and so forcibly as to drive three mills at a short distance from its source. The inhabitants call it the bolderborn, that is, the boisterous spring. Lay-well spring, near Torbay, is about six feet in length, five in breadth, and nearly six inches deep. The flux and reflux, which are very visible, are performed in about two minutes; when the spring remains at its lowest ebb for the space of about three minutes. In this way it ebbs and flows twenty times within the hour. As soon as the water begins to rise, many bubbles ascend from the bottom; but on its falling, the bubbling instantly ceases. Giggleswick spring, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, lies at the foot of a hill of limestone, named Giggleswick Scar. Its reciprocations are irregular, both with respect to duration and magnitude, the interval of time between any two succeeding flows being sometimes greater, and at other times less, insomuch that a just standard of comparison can not be formed. The rise of the water, in the stone trough or cistern which receives it, during the time of the well’s flowing, is equally uncertain, varying from one inch to nine or ten inches, in the course of a few reciprocations. This spring, like the preceding one, discharges bubbles of air at the time of its flowing. Near the lake of Bourget, in Savoy, is a reciprocating spring which rises and falls with a great noise, but not at stated and regular times. After Easter, its ebbings and flowings are frequently perceived six times in an hour; but in dry seasons not more than once or twice. It issues from a rock, and is called =La Fontaine de Merville=, the marvelous fountain.

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BITUMINOUS AND OTHER LAKES.

PITCH LAKE OF TRINIDAD.

Near Point la Braye, (Tar point,) the name assigned to it on account of its characteristic feature, in the island of Trinidad, is a lake which at the first view appears to be an expanse of still water, but which, on a nearer approach, is found to be an extensive plain of mineral pitch, with frequent crevices and chasms filled with water. On its being visited in the autumnal season, the singularity of the scene was so great, that it required some time for the spectators to recover themselves from their surprise, so as to examine it minutely. The surface of the lake was of an ash color, and not polished or smooth, so as to be slippery, but of such a consistence as to bear any weight. It was not adhesive, although it received in part the impression of the foot, and could be trodden without any tremulous motion, several head of cattle browsing on it in perfect security. In the summer season, however, the surface is much more yielding, and in a state approaching to fluidity, as is evidenced by pieces of wood and other substances, thrown upon it, having been found enveloped in it. Even large branches of trees, which were a foot above the level, had, in some way, become enveloped in the bituminous matter. The interstices, or chasms, are very numerous, ramifying and joining in every direction; and being filled with water in the wet season, present the only obstacle to walking over the surface. These cavities are in general deep in proportion to their width, and many of them unfathomable: the water they contain is uncontaminated by the pitch, and is the abode of a variety of fishes. The arrangement of the chasms is very singular, the sides invariably shelving from the surface, so as nearly to meet at the bottom, and then bulging out toward each other with a considerable degree of convexity. Several of them have been known to close up entirely, without leaving any mark or seam.

The pitch lake of Trinidad contains many islets covered with grass and shrubs, which are the haunts of birds of the most exquisite plumage. Its precise extent can not, any more than its depth, be readily ascertained, the line between it and the neighboring soil not being well defined; but its main body may be estimated at three miles in circumference. It is bounded on the north and west sides by the sea, on the south by a rocky eminence, and on the east by the usual argillaceous soil of the country.

MUD LAKE OF JAVA.

The following details relative to the volcanic springs of boiling mud in Java are extracted from the Penang Gazette.

Having received an account of a wonderful phenomenon in the plains of Grobogna, a party set off, from Solo, in September, 1814, to examine it. On approaching the place, they saw what at first appeared like the surf breaking over the rocks, with a heavy spray falling to the leeward. Alighting, they went to the “Bluddugs,” as the Javanese call them, which they found to be an elevated plain of mud, about two miles in circumference, in the center of which immense bodies of soft mud were thrown up to the hight of ten or fifteen feet, in the form of large bubbles, which bursting, emitted great volumes of dense white smoke. The largest bubbles, of which there were two, rose and burst some seven or eight times a minute, throwing up from one to three tuns of mud, the smell of the smoke from which was very offensive, like the washings of a gun-barrel. It was both difficult and dangerous to go near the large bubbles, as the surface, except where it had been hardened by the sun, was all a quagmire. They went, however, close to a small bubble, (the plain was full of them, of all sizes,) and observed it for some time. It appeared to heave and swell, and when the air within had raised it to some hight, it burst, and the mud fell down in concentric circles, and then remained quiet till again it was raised, again to burst; which was at intervals of from one to two minutes. The water drained from the mud was collected by the Javanese, and being exposed to the sun deposited crystals of salt.

Next morning the party rode to a place in the forest, to view a salt lake, a mud hillock, and various boiling pools. The lake was about half a mile in circumference, of dirty-looking water, boiling up all over in gurgling eddies; the water being cold, bitter and salt, with an offensive smell. The mud hillock, which was near, was about fifteen feet high, in the form of a cone, with a base of eighty, and a top of eight feet diameter. The top was open, and the interior, which was full of boiling and heaving mud, was found to be eleven fathoms deep. Every rise of the mud was attended by a rumbling noise from within; and the mud was more liquid than at the bluddugs, and unattended by smoke. Near the foot of this hillock was a small pool of water, like that of the lake, boiling violently; and some two hundred yards distant, two larger pools or springs of the same general description, the smell of which was very offensive, and the boiling of which could be heard at quite a distance, resembling the noise of a small waterfall. The water both of the bluddugs and of the lake, is used medicinally by the Javanese, and also, as stated above, for the making of salt, which is gathered in considerable quantities, and the government income from which adds not a little to the public revenues. The general cause of the phenomena here witnessed, is supposed, beyond all question, to be volcanic; the salt water being thrown up by this agency in a heated state, and thus mingling with the soil to produce the boiling and heaving mud above described.

SALT LAKE OF UTAH.

Before leaving the subject of lakes, springs, &c., we must not omit to mention the Great Salt lake of Utah territory, which has been gazed upon with interest by many an emigrant, passing with his family, as represented in the following cut, to his far western home. This lake lies in a region abounding with scenery of unrivaled magnificence and beauty. “Descend from the mountains,” says a late writer, “where you have the scenery and climate of Switzerland, to seek the sky of your choice among the many climates of Italy, and you may find, welling out of the same hills, the freezing springs of Mexico, and the hot springs of Iceland, both together coursing their way to the great salt sea in the plain below. The pages of Malte Brun provide me with a less truthful parallel to it, than those which describe the happy valley of Rasselas, or the continent of Balnibarbi. In the midst of this interesting region, the most remarkable object is the Great Salt lake: which, in the saltness of its waters, in the circumstance of its having no outlet, and being fed from another and smaller lake of fresh water, (with which it is connected by a stream which has appropriately been called the Jordan,) and in the rugged character of some portions of the surrounding region, bears a remarkable resemblance to the Dead sea of Palestine. Instead, however, of lying one thousand feet below, it is more than four thousand feet above the level of the sea; and its waters, being an almost pure solution of common salt, are free from the pungent and nauseous taste which characterizes those of the Dead sea. This lake is about seventy miles long, and thirty miles wide, and is so intensely salt that no living thing can exist in it; and by evaporation in hot weather, it leaves on its shores a thick incrustation of salt.

Some twenty-five miles south of this, and connected with it by the river Jordan, as mentioned above, is Utah lake, a body of fresh water, some thirty-five miles in length, which abounds with trout and other fish. And some seven hundred feet higher still, is Pyramid lake, on the slope of the Sierra Nevada mountains, so named from a singular pyramidal mount rising from its transparent waters to the hight of some six hundred feet; and walled in by almost perpendicular precipices, in some places three thousand feet high. Some distance from here, too, are the boiling springs, described by Fremont, the largest basin of which is several hundred feet in circumference, and has a circular space at one end some fifteen feet in diameter, entirely occupied with the boiling water. A pole sixteen feet in length, was entirely submerged on thrusting it down near the center; and the temperature of the water near the edge was two hundred and six degrees. In this vicinity also, are appearances similar to the mirages of the great deserts of the old world. In traveling over the salt deserts of the Fremont basin, his party saw themselves reflected in the air, probably, as Fremont himself suggests, from the saline particles floating in the atmosphere, and in some way affecting its refracting power. The entire region, is one of great wildness and grandeur.

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ATMOSPHERICAL PHENOMENA.

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METEORS.

From look to look, contagious through the crowd The panic runs, and into wond’rous shapes The appearance throws: armies in meet array, Thronged with aerial spears and steeds of fire; Till the long lines of full-extended war In bleeding fight commixt, the sanguine flood Rolls a broad slaughter o’er the plains of heaven. As thus they scan the visionary scene, On all sides swells the superstitious din. Incontinent; and busy frenzy talks Of blood and battle; cities overturned, And late at night in swallowing earthquake sunk, Or hideous wrapt in fierce ascending flame; Of sallow famine, inundation, storm; Of pestilence, and every great distress; Empires subversed, when ruling fate has struck The unalterable hour: even nature’s self Is deemed to totter on the brink of time. Not so the man of philosophic eye, And aspect sage; the waving brightness he Curious surveys, inquisitive to know The causes, and materials, yet unfixed, Of this appearance beautiful and new.—THOMSON.

The nature of those splendid phenomena of the heavens which are embraced under the general term meteors, can not be so well elucidated as by an extract from the travels of Messrs. Humboldt and Bonpland to the equinoctial regions of the new continent. The sublime wonders described by the former of these travelers were witnessed by them at Cumana, a city of Venezuela, in South America.

“The night of the eleventh of November, 1779, was cool and extremely beautiful. Toward the morning, from half after two, the most extraordinary luminous meteors were seen toward the east. M. Bonpland, who had risen to enjoy the freshness of the air in the gallery, perceived them first. Thousands of bolides (fire-balls) and falling stars, succeeded each other during four hours. Their direction was very regular, from north to south. They filled a space in the sky extending from the true east thirty degrees toward the north and south. In an amplitude of sixty degrees the meteors were seen to rise above the horizon at east-north-east, and at east to describe arcs more or less extended, falling toward the south, after having followed the direction of the meridian. Some of them attained a hight of forty degrees; and all exceeded twenty-five or thirty degrees. There was very little wind in the low regions of the atmosphere, and this blew from the east. No trace of clouds was to be seen. M. Bonpland relates, that from the beginning of the phenomenon, there was not a space in the firmament equal in extent to three diameters of the moon which was not filled at every instant with bolides and falling stars. The first were fewer in number, but as they were seen of different sizes, it was impossible to fix the limit between these two classes of phenomena. All these meteors left luminous traces from five to ten degrees in length, as often happens in the equinoctial regions. The phosphorescence of these traces, or luminous bands, lasted seven or eight seconds. Many of the falling stars had a very distinct nucleus, as large as the disk of Jupiter, from which darted sparks of vivid light. The bolides seemed to burst as by explosion; but the largest, those from one degree to one degree and fifteen minutes in diameter, disappeared without scintillation, leaving behind them phosphorescent bands (trabes) exceeding in breadth fifteen or twenty minutes, or sixtieth parts of a degree. The light of these meteors was white, and not reddish, which must be attributed, no doubt, to the absence of vapors, and the extreme transparency of the air. For the same reason, under the tropics, the stars of the first magnitude have, at their rising, a light evidently whiter than in Europe.

“Almost all the inhabitants of Cumana were witnesses of this phenomenon, and did not behold these bolides with indifference; the oldest among them remembered, that the great earthquakes of 1766 were preceded by similar phenomena. The fishermen in the suburbs asserted, that the fire-work had begun at one o’clock; and that, as they returned from fishing in the gulf, they had already perceived very small falling stars toward the east. They affirmed at the same time, that igneous meteors were extremely rare on those coasts after two in the morning.

“The phenomenon ceased by degrees after four o’clock, and the bolides and falling stars became less frequent; but we still distinguished some toward the north-east, by their whitish light, and the rapidity of their movement, a quarter of an hour after sunrise. This circumstance will appear less extraordinary, when I state that in full daylight, in 1788, the interior of the houses in the town of Popayan was highly illumined by an aerolite of immense magnitude. It passed over the town when the sun was shining clearly, about one o’clock. M. Bonpland and myself, during our second residence at Cumana, after having observed on the twenty-sixth of September, 1800, the immersion of the first satellite of Jupiter, succeeded in seeing the planet distinctly with the naked eye, eighteen minutes after the disk of the sun had appeared in the horizon. There was a very slight vapor in the east, but Jupiter appeared on an azure sky. These facts prove the extreme purity and transparency of the atmosphere under the torrid zone. The mass of diffused light is so much less, as the vapors are more perfectly dissolved. The same cause that weakens the diffusion of the solar light, diminishes the extinction of that which emanates either from a bolis, Jupiter, or the moon, seen on the second day after her conjunction.

“The researches of M. Chladni having singularly fixed the attention of the scientific world upon the bolides and falling stars, at my departure from Europe, we did not neglect during the course of our journey from Caraccas to the Rio Negro, to inquire everywhere, whether the meteors of the twelfth of November had been perceived. In the savage country, where the greater number of the inhabitants sleep out in the air, so extraordinary a phenomenon could not fail to be remarked, except when concealed by clouds from the eye of observation. The Capuchin missionary at San Fernando de Apura, a village situated amid the savannas of the province of Varinas, and the Franciscan monks stationed near the cataracts of the Orinoco, and at Maroa, on the banks of the Rio Negro, had seen numberless falling stars and bolides illumine the vault of heaven. Maroa is south-west of Cumana, and one hundred and seventy-four leagues’ distance. All these observers compared the phenomenon to a beautiful fire-work, which had lasted from three till six in the morning. Some of the monks had marked the day upon their ritual; others had noted it by the nearest festivals of the church. Unfortunately, none of them could recollect the direction of the meteors, or their apparent hight. From the position of the mountains and thick forest which surround the missions of the cataracts and the little village of Maroa, I presume that the bolides were still visible at twenty degrees above the horizon. On my arrival at the southern extremity of Spanish Guiana, at the little fort of San Carlos, I found a party of Portuguese, who had gone up the Rio Negro from the mission of St. Joseph of the Maravitains, and who assured me, that in that part of Brazil, the phenomenon had been perceived, at least as far as San Gabriel das Cachoeiras, consequently as far as the equator itself.

“I was powerfully struck at the immense hight which these bolides must have attained, to have been visible at the same time at Cumana, and on the frontiers of Brazil, in a line of two hundred and thirty leagues in length. But what was my astonishment, when at my return to Europe, I learned that the same phenomenon had been perceived, on an extent of the globe of sixty-four degrees of latitude, and ninety-one degrees of longitude; at the equator, in South America, at Labrador, and in Germany! I found accidentally, during my passage from Philadelphia to Bordeaux, in the memoirs of the Pennsylvanian society, the corresponding observations of Mr. Ellicott (latitude thirty degrees, forty-two minutes;) and, upon my return from Naples to Berlin, I read the account of the Moravian missionaries among the Esquimaux, in the library of Göttingen. Several philosophers had already discussed at this period the coincidence of the observation in the north with those at Cumana, which M. Bonpland and I had published in 1800.

“The following is a succinct enumeration of facts. First, the fiery meteors were seen in the east, and the east-north-east, to forty degrees of elevation, from two to six hours at Cumana, (latitude ten degrees, twenty-seven minutes, fifty-two seconds, longitude sixty-six degrees, thirty minutes;) at Porto Cabello, (latitude ten degrees, six minutes, fifty-two seconds, longitude sixty-seven degrees, five minutes;) and on the frontiers of Brazil, near the equator, in the longitude of seventy degrees west of the meridian of Paris. Secondly, in French Guiana, (latitude four degrees, fifty-six minutes, longitude fifty-four degrees, thirty-five minutes,) the northern part of the sky was seen all on fire. Innumerable falling stars traversed the heavens during an hour and a half, and diffused so vivid a light, that those meteors might be compared to the blazing sheaves shot out from fire-works. Thirdly, Mr. Ellicott, an astronomer in the United States, having terminated his trigonometric operations for the rectification of the limits on the Ohio, being, on the twelfth of November, in the gulf of Florida, in the latitude of twenty-five degrees, and longitude eighty-one degrees, fifty minutes, saw, in all parts of the sky, ‘as many meteors as stars, moving in all directions: some appeared to fall perpendicularly; and it was expected every minute that they would drop into the vessel.’ The same phenomenon was perceived upon the American continent as far as the latitude of thirty degrees, forty-two minutes. Fourthly, in Labrador, at Nain (latitude fifty-six degrees, fifty-five minutes) and Hoffenthal (latitude fifty-eight degrees, four minutes,) and in Greenland, at Lichtenau (latitude sixty-one degrees, five minutes) and New Herrnhutt, (latitude sixty-four degrees, fourteen minutes, longitude fifty-two degrees, twenty minutes,) the Esquimaux were frightened at the enormous quantity of bolides which fell during twilight toward all points of the firmament, some of them being a foot broad. Fifthly, in Germany, M. Zeissing, vicar of Itterstadt, near Weimar, (latitude fifty degrees, fifty-nine minutes, longitude nine degrees, one minute east,) perceived, on the twelfth of November, between the hours of six and seven in the morning, when it was half after two at Cumana, some falling stars, which shed a very white light. Soon after, toward the south and south-west, luminous rays appeared from four to six feet long: they were reddish, and resembled the luminous track of a sky-rocket. During the morning twilight, between the hours of seven and eight, the south-west part of the sky was seen, from time to time, strongly illuminated by white lightning, which ran in serpentine lines along the horizon. At night the cold increased, and the barometer rose.

“The distance from Weimar to the Rio Negro, is eighteen hundred sea leagues; and from Rio Negro to Herrnhutt, in Greenland, thirteen hundred leagues. Admitting that the same fiery meteors were seen at points so distant from each other, we must also admit, that their hight was at least four hundred and eleven leagues. Near Weimar, the appearance like sky-rockets was seen in the south and south-east; at Cumana, in the east and in the east-north-east. We may therefore conclude, that numberless aerolites must have fallen into the sea, between Africa and South America, to the west of the Cape Verde islands. But, since the direction of the bolides was not the same at Labrador and at Cumana, why were they not perceived in the latter place toward the north, as at Cayenne? I am inclined to think, that the Chayma Indians of Cumana did not see the same bolides as the Portuguese in Brazil, and the missionaries in Labrador; but, at the same time, it can not be doubted, and this fact appears to me very remarkable, that in the new world, between the meridians of forty-six degrees and eighty-two degrees, between the equator and sixty-four degrees north, at the same hour, an immense number of bolides and falling stars were perceived; and that those meteors had everywhere the same brilliancy, throughout a space of nine hundred and twenty-one thousand square leagues.

“The scientific men who have lately made such laborious researches on falling stars and their parallaxes, consider them as meteors belonging to the furthest limits of our atmosphere, between the region of the =aurora borealis= and that of the lightest clouds. Some have been seen, which had not more than fourteen thousand toises, or about five leagues of elevation. The highest do not appear to exceed thirty leagues. They are often more than a hundred feet in diameter; and their swiftness is such, that they dart, in a few seconds, over a space of two leagues. Some of these have been measured, the direction of which was almost perpendicularly upward, or forming an angle of fifty degrees with the vertical line. This extremely remarkable circumstance has led to the conclusion, that falling stars are aerolites, which, after having hovered about a long time in space, take fire on entering accidentally into our atmosphere, and fall toward the earth.

“Whatever may be the origin of these luminous meteors, it is difficult to conceive any instantaneous inflammation taking place in a region where there is less air than in the vacuum of our air-pumps; and where (twenty-five thousand toises high) the mercury in the barometer would not rise to twelve-thousandths of a line. We have ascertained the uniform mixture of atmospheric air to three-thousandths nearly, only to an elevation of three thousand toises: consequently, not beyond the last stratum of fleecy clouds. It might be admitted, that, in the first revolutions of the globe, gaseous substances which yet remain unknown to us, may have risen toward that region, through which the falling stars pass: but accurate experiments, made upon mixtures of gases which have not the same specific gravity, prove that we can not admit a superior stratum of the atmosphere entirely different from the inferior strata. Gaseous substances mix and penetrate each other with the least motion; and a uniformity of their mixture would have taken place in the lapse of ages, unless we suppose in them the effects of a repulsive action unexampled in those substances which we can subject to our observations. Further, if we admit the existence of a particular aerial fluid in the inaccessible region of luminous meteors, falling stars, bolides, and the =aurora borealis=, how can we conceive why the whole stratum of those fluids does not at once take fire, but that the gaseous emanations, like the clouds, occupy only limited spaces? How can we suppose an electrical explosion without some vapors collected together, capable of containing unequal charges of electricity, in air, the mean temperature of which is, perhaps, twenty-five degrees below the freezing-point of the centigrade thermometer, and the rarefaction of which is so considerable, that the compression of the electrical shock could scarcely disengage any heat? These difficulties would in great part, be removed, if the direction of the motion of falling stars allowed us to consider them as bodies with a solid nucleus, as cosmic phenomena (belonging to space beyond the limits of our atmosphere) and not as telluric phenomena (belonging to our planet only.)

“Supposing that the meteors of Cumana were only at the usual hight at which falling stars in general move, the same meteors were seen above the horizon in places more than three hundred and ten leagues distant from each other. Now, what an extraordinary disposition to incandescence must have reigned on the twelfth of November, in the higher regions of the atmosphere, to have furnished, during four hours, myriads of bolides and falling stars, visible at the equator, in Greenland, and in Germany.

“Mr. Benzenberg judiciously observes, that the same cause, which renders the phenomenon more frequent, has also an influence on the largeness of the meteors, and the intensity of their light. In Europe, the nights when there are the greatest number of falling stars, are those in which very bright ones are mixed with very small ones. The periodicalness of the phenomenon augments the interest which it excites. There are months, in which M. Brandes has reckoned in our temperate zone, only sixty or eighty falling stars in one night; and in other months their number has risen to two thousand. Whenever one is observed, which has the diameter of Sirius or of Jupiter, we are sure of seeing so brilliant a meteor succeeded by a great number of smaller meteors. If the falling stars be very frequent during one night, it is very probable that this frequency will continue during several weeks. It would seem that, in the higher regions of the atmosphere, near that extreme limit where the centrifugal force is balanced by gravity, there exists, at regular periods, a particular disposition for the production of bolides, falling stars, and the =aurora borealis=. Does the periodicalness of this great phenomenon depend upon the state of the atmosphere? or upon something which the atmosphere receives from without, while the earth advances in the ecliptic? Of all this we are still as ignorant as men were in the days of Anaxagoras.

“With respect to the falling stars themselves, it appears to me, from my own experience, that they are more frequent in the equinoctial regions than in the temperate zone; more frequent over the continents, and near certain coasts, than in the middle of the ocean. Do the radiation of the surface of the globe, and the electrical charge of the lower regions of the atmosphere, which varies according to the nature of the soil, and the positions of the continents and seas, exert their influence as far as those hights, where eternal winter reigns? The total absence even of the smallest clouds, at certain seasons, or above some barren plains destitute of vegetation, seems to prove, that this influence can be felt at least as far as five or six thousand toises high. A phenomenon analogous to that of the twelfth of November, was observed thirty years before, on the table-land of the Andes, in a country studded with volcanoes. At the city of Quito, there was seen, in one part of the sky, above the volcano of Gayambo, so great a number of falling stars, that the mountain was thought to be in flames. This singular sight lasted more than an hour. The people assembled in the plain of Exico, where a magnificent view presents itself of the highest summit of the Cordilleras. A procession was already on the point of setting out from the convent of St. Francis, when it was perceived that the blaze of the horizon was caused by fiery meteors, which ran along the skies in all directions, at the altitude of twelve or thirteen degrees.”

The bolides, or fire-balls, and falling stars, so striking an example of which is given above, are of all sizes, from a small shooting-star of the fifth magnitude, to a cone or cylinder of two or three miles in diameter. They differ in consistency as much as in dimensions, and in color as much as in either. Occasionally, they are a subtile, luminous and pellucid vapor; and sometimes a compact ball, or globe, as though the materials of which they are formed, were more condensed and concentrated. Not unfrequently they have been found to consist of both, and consequently to assume a comet-like appearance, with a nucleus or compact substance in the center, or toward the center, and a long, thin, pellucid or luminous main, or tail, sweeping on each side. They are sometimes of a pale white light; at others, of a deep igneous crimson; and, occasionally iridescent and vibratory. The rarer meteors appear frequently to vanish on a sudden, as though abruptly dissolved or extinguished in the atmospheric medium, their flight being accompanied by a hissing sound, and their disappearance by an explosion. The most compact of them, or the nuclei of those which are rarer, have often descended to the surface of the earth, and with a force sufficient to bury them many feet under the soil; generally exhibiting marks of imperfect fusion and considerable heat. The substance is, in these cases, for the greater part metallic; but the ore of which they consist is not anywhere to be found, in the same constituent proportions, in the bowels of the earth. Under this form the projected masses are denominated aerolites, or meteoric stones.

It may not be uninteresting to preface a succinct account of the most surprising of these meteors, by a notice of the hypotheses which have been imagined concerning them; however justly the learned Humboldt may have concluded, in the words of the extracts given above, that we are still “as ignorant on this subject as men were in the days of Anaxagoras.” Sir J. Pringle contended, with other philosophers, that they are revolving bodies, or a kind of terrestrial planets. Doctor Halley conjectured them to consist of combustible vapors, accumulated and formed into concrete bodies on the outskirts, or extreme regions of the atmosphere, and to be suddenly set on fire by some unknown cause; an opinion which, with little difference, has been since entertained by Sir W. Hamilton and Dr. King. Dr. Blagdon regarded them altogether as electrical phenomena. M. Izarn believed them to consist of volcanic materials, propelled into the atmosphere in the course of explosions of great violence. M. Chladni supposed them to be formed of substances existing exteriorly to the atmosphere of the earth and other planets, which have never incorporated with them, and are found loose in the vast ocean of space, being there combined and inflamed by causes unknown to us. Lastly, another and rather wild hypothesis is, that the whole, or at least the more compact division of these meteors, are made up of materials thrown from immense volcanoes in the moon. This hypothesis, which was started by M. Olbers, in 1795, has been since very plausibly supported by the celebrated Laplace, but does not apply to the smaller and less substantial meteors, named shooting-stars. Hence these philosophers derive the latter phenomena from some other cause, as electricity, or terrestrial exhalations; and observe, in support of the distinction they find it necessary to make, that shooting-stars must be of a different nature from fire-balls, since they sometimes appear to ascend as well as to fall. This observation has been especially dwelt on by Messrs. Chladni and Benzenberg, both of them favorably noticed, as accurate observers, by Humboldt.

By far the most plausible and satisfactory theory, however, is one somewhat like that of Dr. Halley, which may be illustrated thus. If a stick of wood, after being covered over night in the hot ashes, so as to become in part or wholly charred, be taken out in the morning, and waved back and forth in the air, every one has noticed that it will send forth sparks by hundreds and thousands. Now the more modern theory as to these aerolites, or falling-stars, is, that they are thrown off from small, opaque, planetary bodies, revolving in space, which when they come within the atmosphere of the earth, are heated from their rapid motion through it, and throw off small heated portions, like the sparks from the waving brand. And this theory is confirmed by the fact, that, of late years, these meteoric showers have been annual, and always at about the same period of the year, as if the earth was then passing in that part of her orbit where she meets with the planetary bodies spoken of, and they come in contact with her atmosphere. In the volumes of the “American Journal of Science,” may be found abundant facts on this subject, and also the various theories started to account for the facts.

On the twenty-first of March, 1676, two hours after sunset, an extraordinary meteor was seen to pass over Italy. At Bononia, its greatest altitude in the south-south-east, was thirty-eight degrees; and at Sienna, fifty-eight degrees toward the north-north-east. In its course, which was from east-north-east to west-south-west, it passed over the Adriatic sea, as if coming from Dalmatia. It crossed all Italy, being nearly vertical to Rimini and Savigniano, on the one side, and to Leghorn on the other: its perpendicular altitude was at least thirty-eight miles. At all the places near its course it was heard to make a hissing noise as it passed, like that of artificial fireworks. In passing over Leghorn, it gave a very loud report, like that of a cannon; immediately after which another sort of sound was heard, like the rattling of a deeply loaded wagon passing over the stones, which continued for several seconds. The professor of mathematics at Bononia, calculated the apparent velocity of this surprising meteor at not less than one hundred and sixty miles in a minute of time, which is above ten times as swift as the diurnal rotation of the earth under the equinoctial, and not many times less than that with which the annual motion of the earth about the sun is performed. It there appeared larger than the moon in one diameter, and above half as large again in the other; which, with the given distance of the eye, made its real smaller diameter above half a mile, and the larger one in proportion. It is, therefore, not surprising, that so great a body, passing with such an amazing velocity through the air, however rarefied it may be in its upper regions, should occasion so loud a hissing noise as to be heard at such a distance. It finally went off to sea toward Corsica.

Two luminous meteors of great magnitude were noted at Leipsic within the space of six years. On the twenty-second of May, 1680, about three in the morning, the first of these was seen, to the great terror of the spectators, descending in the north, and leaving behind it a long white streak where it had passed. As the same phenomena was witnessed in the north-north-east at Haarburg, and also at Hamburg, Lubeck and Stralsund, all of which places are about a hundred and fifty English miles from Leipsic, it was concluded that this meteor was exceedingly high above the earth. The second meteor was still more terrific. On the ninth of July, 1686, at half past one in the morning, a fire-ball with a tail was observed in eight and a half degrees of Aquarius, and four degrees north, which continued nearly stationary for seven or eight minutes, with a diameter nearly equal to half the moon’s diameter. At first, its light was so great that the spectators could see to read by it; after which it gradually disappeared. This phenomenon was observed at the same time in several other places, more especially at Schlaitza, a town distant from Dantzic forty English miles toward the south, its altitude being about six degrees above the southern horizon. At Leipsic it was estimated to be distant not more than sixty English miles, and to be about twenty-four miles perpendicular above the horizon, so that it was at least thirty miles high in the air.

A very extraordinary meteor, which the common people called a flaming sword, was first seen at Leeds, in Yorkshire, on the eighteenth of May, 1710, at a quarter after ten at night. Its direction was from south to north: it was broad at one end, and small at the other; and was described by the spectators as resembling a trumpet, moving, with the broad end foremost. The light was so sudden and intense, that they were startled at seeing their own shadows, when neither sun nor moon shone upon them. This meteor was, in its course, seen not only in Yorkshire and Lancashire, but also in the counties of Nottingham and Derby, notwithstanding which, each of those who observed it, although so many miles distant from each other, fancied it fell within a few yards of him. In disappearing, it presented bright sparklings at the small end.

A blazing meteor was, on the nineteenth of March, 1719, seen in every part of England. In the metropolis, about a quarter after eight at night, a sudden powerful light was perceived in the west, far exceeding that of the moon, which then shone very bright. The long stream it gave out appeared to be branched about the middle; and the meteor, in its course, turned pear-fashioned, or tapering upward. At the lower end it came at length to be larger and spherical, although not so large as the full moon. Its color was whitish, with an eye of blue of a most vivid, dazzling luster, which seemed in brightness very nearly to resemble, if not to surpass, that of the body of the sun in a clear day. This brightness obliged the spectator to turn his eyes several times from it, as well when it was a stream, as when it was pear-fashioned and a globe. It seemed to move, in about half a minute or less, about the length of twenty degrees, and to disappear about as much above the horizon. Where it had passed, it left behind a track of a cloudy or faint reddish-yellow color, such as red-hot iron or glowing coals have: this continued more than a minute, seemed to sparkle, and kept its place without falling. This track was interrupted, or had a chasm toward its upper end, at about two-thirds of its length. No explosion was heard; but the place where the globe of light had been, continued for some time after it was extinct, of the same reddish-yellow color with the stream, and at first sparks seemed to issue from it, such as proceed from red-hot iron beaten out on an anvil.

It was agreed by all the spectators in the capital, that the splendor of this meteor was little inferior to that of the sun. Within doors the candles did not give out any light; and in the streets, not only all the stars disappeared, but the moon, then nine days old, and high near the meridian, the sky being very clear, was so far effaced as scarcely to be seen: it did not even cast a shade, where the beams of the meteor were intercepted by the houses; so that, for a few seconds of time, there was in every respect, a resemblance of perfect day.

The perpendicular hight of this surprising meteor was estimated at sixty-four geometrical miles; and it was computed to have run about three hundred of these miles in a minute. It was seen, not only in every part of Great Britain and Ireland, but likewise in Holland, in the western parts of Germany, in France and in Spain, nearly at the same instant of time. The accounts from Devonshire, Cornwall, and the neighboring counties, were unanimous in describing the wonderful noise which followed its explosion. It resembled the report of a large cannon, or rather of a broadside at some distance, which was soon followed by a rattling noise, as if many small arms had been promiscuously discharged. This tremendous sound was attended by an uncommon tremor of the air; and everywhere in those counties, not only the windows and doors of the houses were sensibly shaken, but, according to several of the reports, even the houses themselves, beyond the usual effect of cannon, however near.

On the eleventh of December, 1741, at seven minutes past one in the afternoon, a globe of fire, somewhat larger than the horizontal full moon, and as bright as the moon appears at any time when the sun is above the horizon, was seen at Peckham, in Surrey, in a south-south-east direction, moving toward the east with a continued equable motion, and leaving behind it a narrow streak of light, whiter than the globe itself, throughout its whole course. Toward the end it appeared less than at the beginning of its motion; and within three or four seconds suddenly vanished. Its apparent velocity was nearly equal to half the medium velocity of the ordinary meteors called falling or shooting stars; and its elevation, throughout the whole of its course, about twenty degrees above the horizon.

On the eighteenth of August, 1783, an uncommon meteor was seen in several parts of Great Britain, as well as on the continent. Its general appearance was that of a luminous ball, which, rising in the north-north-east, nearly of a globular form, became elliptical, and gradually assumed a tail as it ascended. In a certain part of its course it underwent a remarkable change, which might be compared to bursting, and which, it ought to be observed, has been since frequently noticed in the passage of the aerolites, or meteoric stones, particular mention of which will be made hereafter. After this it no longer proceeded as an entire mass, but was apparently divided into a great number, or cluster of balls, some larger than others, and all carrying a tail, or leaving a train behind. Under this form, it continued its course with a nearly equable motion, dropping or casting off sparks, and yielding a prodigious light, which illumined all objects to a surprising degree; until, having passed the east, and verging considerably to the southward, it gradually distended, and was at length lost to the sight. The time of its appearance was sixteen minutes past nine in the evening, mean time of the meridian of London, and it continued visible about half a minute.

This beautiful meteor having been seen in Shetland, and in the northern parts of Scotland, ascending from the north, and rising like the planet Mars, little doubt was entertained of its course having commenced beyond the furthest extremity of Great Britain, somewhere over the northern ocean. Having passed over Essex and the straits of Dover, it probably entered the continent not far from Dunkirk, where, as well as at Calais and Ostend, it was thought to be vertical. Still holding on its course to the southward, it was seen at Brussels, at Paris, and at Nuits in Burgundy; insomuch that there was sufficient proof of its having traversed thirteen or fourteen degrees of latitude, describing a track of at least one thousand miles over the surface of the earth; a length of course far exceeding the extent of what had been then ascertained of any similar phenomenon.

During the passage of this meteor over Brussels, the moon appeared quite red, but soon recovered its natural light. The results of several observations give it an elevation of more than fifty miles above the surface of the earth, in a region where the air is at least thirty thousand times rarer than here below. Notwithstanding this great elevation, the fact of a report having been heard some time after it disappeared, rests on the testimony of too many witnesses to be controverted. It was compared to the falling of some heavy body in a room above stairs, or to the discharge of one or more large cannon at a distance: this report was loudest in Lincolnshire and the adjacent counties, and also in the eastern parts of Kent.

Supposing the transverse diameter of this meteor to have subtended an angle of thirty minutes when it passed over the zenith, and that it was fifty miles high, it must have been almost half a mile across. The tail sometimes appeared ten or twelve times longer than the body; but most of this was train, and the real elongation behind seems seldom to have exceeded twice or thrice its transverse diameter; it consequently was between one and two miles in length. Now if the cubical contents be considered, for it appeared equally round and full in all directions, such an enormous mass must afford just matter of astonishment, when the extreme velocity with which it moved is considered. This velocity, agreeably to the observations of Sir William Herschel and several other astronomers, could not have been less than twenty miles in a second, exceeding that of sound above ninety times, and approaching toward that of the earth in her annual orbit. At such a rate it must have passed over the whole island of Great Britain in less than half a minute, and would, in the space of less than seven minutes, have traversed the whole diameter of the earth!

On the fourth of October, of the above year, 1783, two meteors were seen in England. The first, at three in the morning, on account of the early hour, was witnessed by but few spectators, who represented it as rising from the north to a small altitude, and then becoming stationary with a vibratory motion, and an illumination like daylight: it vanished in a few moments, leaving a train behind. This sort of tremulous appearance has been noticed in other meteors, as well as their continuing stationary for some time, either before they begin to shoot, or after their course is ended. The second of these meteors appeared at forty-three minutes past six in the evening, and was much smaller, and also of much shorter duration, than the one seen in August. It was first observed to the north, like a stream of fire, similar to that of the common shooting-stars, but large; and having proceeded some distance under this form, suddenly burst out into that intensely bright bluish light, peculiar to such meteors, which may be most aptly compared to the blue lights of India, or to some of the largest electrical sparks. The illumination was very great; and on that part of its course where it had been so bright, a dusky red streak or train was left, which remained visible about a minute, and was thought by some gradually to change its form. Except this train, the meteor had not any tail, but was nearly of a round body, or, perhaps, somewhat elliptical. After moving not less than ten degrees in this bright state, it became suddenly extinct, without any appearance of bursting or explosion.

AEROLITES.

These phenomena, otherwise entitled meteoric stones, have been ascertained, by recent observations, to be connected with the bolides, or fire-balls, described above. Scoriaceous masses have frequently been either actually seen to fall at the time of the disappearance of the latter, or have been found soon after on the surface of the earth. Most of the stones which have fallen from the atmosphere, have been preceded by the appearance of luminous bodies, or meteors. These meteors burst with an explosion, and then the shower of stones falls to the earth. Sometimes the stones continue luminous till they sink into the earth; but most commonly their luminousness disappears at the time of their explosion. These meteors move in a direction nearly horizontal, and seem to approach the earth before they explode.

The stony bodies, when found immediately after their descent, are always hot. They commonly bury themselves some depth under ground. Their size differs, from fragments of a very inconsiderable weight, to masses of several tuns. They usually approach the spherical form, and are always covered with a black crust; in many cases they smell strongly of sulphur. The black crust consists chiefly of oxyd of iron; and from several accurate analyses of these stones, the following important inferences have been drawn: that not any other bodies have as yet been discovered on our globe which contain the same ingredients; and that they have made us acquainted with a species of pyrites not formerly known, nor anywhere else to be found.

The ancients were not unacquainted with these meteoric stones, a shower of which is reported by Livy to have fallen at Rome under the consulate of Tullus Hostilius, and another under that of C. Martius and M. Torquatus. Pliny relates that a shower of iron (for thus he designates these stones) fell in Lucania, a year before the defeat of Crassus, and likewise speaks of a very large stone which fell near the river Negos, in Thrace. In the chronicle of Count Marcellin, there is an account of three immensely large stones having fallen in Thrace, in the year 452 before the advent of Christ.

To proceed to more modern and well authenticated instances of the fall of aerolites. On the seventh of November, 1492, a little before noon, a dreadful thunder-clap was heard at Ensisheim, in Alsace, instantly after which a child saw a huge stone fall on a field newly sown with wheat. On searching, it was found to have penetrated the earth about three feet, and weighed two hundred and sixty pounds, making its size equal to a cube of thirteen inches the side. All the contemporary writers agree in the reality of this phenomenon, observing that, if such a stone had before existed in a plowed land, it must have been known to the proprietor. The celebrated astronomer Gassendi relates an instance of an aerolite descent of which he was himself an eye-witness. On the twenty-seventh of November, 1627, the sky being clear, he saw a burning stone fall on Mont Vasir, in the south-east extremity of France, near Nice. While in the air, it seemed to be about four feet in diameter, was inclosed in a luminous circle of colors like a rainbow, and in its fall produced a sound like the discharge of cannon. It weighed fifty-nine pounds, was very hard, of a dull metallic color, and had a specific gravity considerably greater than that of marble. In the year 1672, two stones fell near Verona, in Italy, the one weighing three hundred, the other two hundred pounds. This phenomenon was witnessed in the evening, by three or four hundred persons. The stones fell, with a violent explosion, in a sloping direction, and in calm weather. They appeared to burn, and plowed up the ground. Paul Lucas, the traveler, relates that when he was at Larissa, a town of Greece, near the gulf of Salonica, a stone weighing seventy-two pounds, fell in the vicinity. It was observed to come from the northward, with a loud hissing noise, and seemed to be enveloped in a small cloud, which exploded when the stone fell. It looked like iron dross, and smelt of sulphur. In September, 1753, several stones fell in the province of Bresse, to the west of Geneva: one in particular fell at Pont de Vesle, and another at Liponas, places nine miles distant from each other. The sky was clear, and the weather warm. A loud noise, and a hissing sound, were heard at those two places, and for several miles round, on the fall of these stones, which exactly resembled each other, were of a darkish, dull color, very ponderous, and manifesting on their surface that they had suffered a violent degree of heat. The largest weighed about twenty pounds, and penetrated about six inches into the plowed ground; a circumstance which renders it highly improbable that they could have existed there before the explosion. This phenomenon has been described by the astronomer Delalande, whose strict inquiries on the spot enabled him to testify the truth of the circumstances he relates. In the year 1768, three stones were presented to the French Academy of Sciences, which had fallen in different parts of France; one at Luce, in the Maine; another at Aire, in Artois; and the third in Cotentin. They were all externally of the same identical appearance; and on the former of them a particular report was drawn up by Messrs. Fougeraux, Cadet and Lavoisier. This report states, that on the eighteenth of September, 1768, between four and five in the afternoon, there was seen, near the above village of Luce, a cloud in which a short explosion took place, followed by a hissing noise, but without any flame. The same sound was heard by several persons about ten miles from Luce; and, on looking up, they perceived an opaque body describe a curve in the air, and fall on a piece of green turf near the high road. They immediately ran to the spot, where they found a kind of stone, half-buried in the earth, extremely hot, and weighing about seven pounds and a half.

In the particular instance now to be cited, very distinct traces were left to show the progress of aerolites through the air. During the explosion of a meteor near Bordeaux, on the twentieth of August, 1789, a stone, in diameter about fifteen inches, fell through the roof of a cottage, and killed a herdsman and some cattle. Part of this stone is now in the Greville museum, and part in the museum of Bordeaux. On the twenty-fourth of July, 1790, between nine and ten at night, a shower of stones fell near Agen, in Guienne, near the south-west angle of France. First a luminous ball of fire was seen traversing the atmosphere with great rapidity, and leaving behind it a train of light which lasted about fifty seconds; soon after this a loud explosion was heard, and sparks were seen to fly off in all directions. This was soon after followed by the fall of stones, over a considerable extent of ground, and at various distances from each other. These were all alike in appearance, but of many different sizes, the greater number weighing about two ounces, but many a vast deal more. Some fell with a hissing noise, and entered the ground; but the smaller ones remained on the surface. The only damage done by this shower of stones was, that they broke the tiles of several houses, in falling on which they had not the sound of hard and compact substances, but of matter in a soft, half-melted state. Such as fell on straws adhered to them, and could not be readily separated; a manifest proof that they were in a state of fusion.

On the eighteenth of December, 1795, several persons near the house of Captain Topham, in Yorkshire, heard a loud noise in the air, followed by a hissing sound, and soon after felt a shock, as if a heavy body had fallen to the ground at a little distance from them. In reality, one of them saw a huge stone fall to the earth, at the distance of eight or nine yards from the place where he stood. When he first observed it, it was seven or eight yards above the ground; and in its fall it threw up the mold on every side, burying itself twenty-one inches in the earth. This stone on being dug up, was found to weigh fifty-six pounds. On the seventeenth of March, 1798, a body, burning with an intense light, passed over the vicinity of Ville Franche, on the Saone, near Lyons, accompanied by a hissing sound, and leaving behind a luminous track. This phenomenon exploded with a great noise, about twelve hundred feet from the ground, and one of the splinters, still luminous, having been observed to fall in a neighboring vineyard, was traced. It was about a foot in diameter, and had penetrated twenty inches into the ground. On the fourth of July, 1803, a ball of fire struck a public house at East Norton, in Oxfordshire. The chimney was thrown down, the roof partly torn off, the windows shattered to atoms, and the dairy, &c., converted into a heap of rubbish. It was of considerable magnitude, and, on coming in contact with the house, exploded with great noise, and a very oppressive sulphureous smell. Several fragments of stones were found on the spot, having a surface of a dark color, and varnished, as if in a state of fusion, with numerous globules of a whitish metal, combining sulphur and nickel. The indentures on these surfaces render it probable that the ball was soft when it descended; and it was obviously in a state of fusion, as the grass was burned where the fragments fell. The motion of the fire-ball, while in the air, was very rapid, and apparently parallel to the horizon.

The latest remarkable fall of aerolites in Europe, of which there is a distinct account, was in the vicinity of Laigle, in Normandy, early in the afternoon of the twenty-sixth of April, 1812. A fiery globe of a very brilliant splendor, which moved in the air with great rapidity, was followed in a few seconds by a violent explosion, which lasted five or six minutes, and was heard to the extent of more than thirty leagues in every direction. Three or four reports, like those of a cannon, were followed by a discharge resembling a fire of musketry, after which a dreadful rumbling was heard like the beating of a drum. The air was calm, and the sky serene, with the exception of a few clouds, such as are frequently observed. The noise proceeded from a small cloud of a rectangular form, the largest side being in a direction from east to west. It appeared motionless all the time the phenomenon lasted; but the vapor of which it was composed was projected momentarily from the different sides by the effect of the successive explosions. This cloud was about half a league to the north-north-east of the town of Laigle, and was at so great an elevation, that the inhabitants of two hamlets, a league distant from each other, saw it at the same time over their heads. In the whole canton over which this cloud hovered, a hissing noise, like that of a stone discharged from a sling, was heard; and a multitude of meteoric stones were seen to fall at the same time. The district in which they fell forms an elliptical extent of about two leagues and a half in length, and nearly one in breadth; the greatest dimension being in a direction from south-east to north-west, forming a declination of about twenty-two degrees. This direction, which the meteor must have followed, is exactly that of the magnetic meridian; which is a remarkable fact. The number of these stones was reckoned to exceed three thousand; and the largest of them weighed nearly twenty pounds. They were friable some days after their fall, and smelt strongly of sulphur. They subsequently acquired the degree of hardness common to this kind of stones.

While, in Europe, these phenomena thus strongly confirmed the long exploded idea of the vulgar, that many of the luminous meteors observed in the atmosphere, are masses of ignited matter, an account of one of precisely the same description was received from the East Indies. On the nineteenth of December, 1798, at eight in the evening, a large fire-ball, or luminous meteor, was seen at Benares, and at several places in its vicinity. It was attended by a loud rumbling noise; and, about the same time, the inhabitants of Krakhut, fourteen miles from Benares, saw the light, heard what resembled a loud thunder-clap, and, immediately after, the noise of heavy bodies falling around them. Next morning the mold in the fields was found to have been turned up in many spots; and unusual stones of various sizes, but of the same substances, were picked from the moist soil, generally at a depth of six inches. One stone fell through the roof of a hut, and buried itself in the earthen floor.

From these multiplied evidences it is proved that, in various parts of the world, luminous meteors have been seen moving through the air with surprising rapidity, in a direction more or less oblique, accompanied with a noise, commonly like the whizzing of cannon-balls, followed by explosion, and the fall of hard, stony, or semi-metallic masses in a heated state. The constant whizzing sound; the fact of stones being found, like each other, but unlike all others in the vicinity, at the spots toward which the luminous body, or its fragments, had been seen to move; the scattering or plowing up of the soil at those spots, always in proportion to the size of the stones; the concussion of the neighboring ground at the same time; and especially, the impinging of the stones on bodies somewhat above the earth, or lying loose on its surface; all these are circumstances perfectly well authenticated in these reports, proving that such meteors are usually inflamed hard masses, descending rapidly through the air to the earth.

AURORA BOREALIS AND AURORA AUSTRALIS.

These splendid meteors are generally considered as the result of a combination of the two powers of magnetism and electricity. When the light, or aurora, appears chiefly in the north part of the heavens, it is called the aurora borealis, or northern lights; and when chiefly in the south part, the =aurora australis=, or southern lights. Where the coruscation is more than ordinarily bright and streaming, which, however, seldom occurs in the north, it is denominated =lumen boreale=; and where these streams have assumed a decided curvature, like that of the rainbow, they are distinguished by the name of luminous arches.

The aurora is chiefly visible in the winter season, and in cold weather. It is usually of a reddish color, inclining to yellow, and sends out frequent coruscations of pale light, which seem to rise from the horizon in a pyramidal, undulating form, shooting with great velocity up to the zenith. It never appears near the equator; but of late years has frequently been seen toward the south pole. The =aurora borealis= has appeared at some periods more frequently than at others. This phenomenon was so rare in England, or so little regarded, that its appearance was not recorded in the English annals between a remarkable one observed on the fourteenth of November, 1554, and a very brilliant one on the sixth of March, 1716, and the two succeeding nights, but which was much strongest on the first night. Hence it may be inferred, that the state of either the air or earth, or perhaps of both, is not at all times fitted for its production.

The extent of these appearances is surprisingly great. The very brilliant one referred to above was visible from the west of Ireland to the confines of Russia, and the east of Poland, extending over, at the least, thirty degrees of longitude, and, from about the fiftieth degree of latitude, over almost all the northern part of Europe. In every place, it exhibited, at the same time, the same wonderful features. The elevation of these lights is equally surprising: an =aurora borealis= which appeared on the sixteenth of December, 1737, was ascertained, by means of thirty computations, to have an average hight from the earth of one hundred and seventy-five leagues, equal to four hundred and sixty-four English miles.

Captain Cook, in his first voyage round the world, observed that these coruscations are frequently visible in southern latitudes. On the sixteenth of September, 1770, he witnessed an appearance of this kind about ten o’clock at night, consisting of a dull, reddish light, and extending about twenty degrees above the horizon. Its extent was very different at different times, but it was never less than eight or ten points of the compass. Rays of light, of a brighter color, passed through and without it; and these rays vanished and were renewed nearly in the same time as those in the =aurora borealis=, but had little or no vibration. Its body bore south-south-east from the ship, and continued, without any diminution of its brightness, till twelve o’clock, when the observers retired. The ship was at this time within the tropic of Capricorn.

On the seventeenth of February, 1773, during his second voyage, Captain Cook speaks of a beautiful phenomenon that was observed in the heavens. “It consisted of long columns of a clear white light, shooting up from the horizon to the eastward, almost to the zenith, and spreading gradually over the whole southern parts of the sky. These columns even sometimes bent sideways at their upper extremity; and, although in most respects similar to the northern lights, (the =aurora borealis= of our hemisphere,) yet differed from them in being always of a whitish color; whereas ours assume various tints, especially those of a fiery and purple hue. The stars were sometimes hidden by, and sometimes faintly to be seen through the substance of these southern lights, =aurora australis=. The sky was generally clear when they appeared, and the air sharp and cold, the mercury in the thermometer standing at the freezing-point; the ship being then in fifty-eight degrees south.” On six different nights of the following month (March) the same phenomenon was observed.

LUMEN BOREALE, OR STREAMING LIGHTS.

On the eighth of October, 1726, uncommon streams of light were exhibited in every part of the heavens, about eight o’clock in the evening. They were seen throughout England, as well as in the southern parts of Europe. They were mostly pointed, and of different lengths, assuming the appearance of flaming spires or pyramids; some again were truncated, and reached but half-way; while others had their points reaching up to the zenith, or near it, where they formed a sort of canopy, or thin cloud, sometimes red, sometimes brownish, sometimes blazing as if on fire, and sometimes emitting streams all around it. This canopy was manifestly formed by the matter carried up by the streaming on all parts of the horizon. It sometimes seemed to ascend with a force, as if impelled by the impetus of some explosive agent below; and this forcible ascent of the streaming matter gave a motion to the canopy, and sometimes a gyration, like that of a whirlwind. This was manifestly caused by the streams striking the outer part of the canopy; but if they struck the canopy in the center, all was then confusion. The vapors between the spires, or pyramids, were of a blood-red color, which gave those parts of the atmosphere the appearance of blazing lances and bloody-colored pillars. There was also a strange commotion among the streams, as if some large cloud or other body was moving behind and disturbing them. In the northern and southern parts the streams were perpendicular to the horizon; but in the intermediate points they seemed to decline more or less in one way or the other, or rather to incline toward the meridian. Several persons declared, that in the time of the streaming, they heard a hissing, and in some places a crackling noise, like that which is reported to be often heard in earthquakes.

At Naples, on the sixteenth of December, 1737, early in the evening, a light was observed in the north, as if the air was on fire, and flashing. Its intenseness gradually increasing, about seven o’clock it spread to the westward. Its greatest hight was about sixty-five degrees. Its extremities were unequally jagged and scattered, and followed the course of the westerly wind; so that for a few hours it spread considerably wider, yet without ever extending to the zenith. About eight o’clock, a very regular arch, of a parabolic figure, was seen to rise gently to two degrees of rectangular elevation, and to twenty degrees of horizontal amplitude. At ten the intenseness of the color disappeared; and by midnight not any traces of this phenomenon were left. It was seen throughout Italy, as the subsequent accounts will show. At Padua, on the appearance of this extraordinary meteor, the air was calm, and the barometer remarkably high. At five in the afternoon a blackish zone, with its upper limb of a sky-color, appeared near the horizon; and above this zone was another, very luminous, resembling the dawn pretty far advanced. The highest zone was of a red, fiery color. A little after six o’clock, the upper parts of these zones emitted an abundance of red streamings, or rays; their vivid color being occasionally intermixed with whitish and dark spots. In a few seconds after, there issued from the west, a red and very bright column, which ascended to the third part of the heavens, and a little after became curved like a rainbow. At half past eight, almost instantaneously, the bright zone, from eight degrees west to fifty degrees east, became more vivid, and rose higher; and above this appeared another and larger one, of a red, fiery color, with several successive streamings tending upward, and exceeding sixty degrees of altitude; the western part having assumed the form of a thin cloud. At midnight these splendid lights disappeared entirely. At Bononia, this surprising meteor spread to such an extent as to occupy about one hundred and forty degrees of the heavens. Its light was so vivid that houses could be distinguished, at eight in the evening, at a very considerable distance; and these were so reddened, that many persons thought there was a fire in the neighborhood. At that time the aurora formed itself into a concave arch toward the horizon; and in half an hour, at its eastern limit, a pyramid was displayed, of a more intense color toward the north, from the center of which there shot up vertically a streak of light, between a white and a yellow color. A very dark, narrow cloud crossed the whole phenomenon, and terminated in the pyramid. At the upper part, a very considerable tract of the heavens was enlightened by a very vivid red light, which was interrupted by several streaks or columns of a bright yellowish light. These streamings shot up vertically, and parallel to each other, the narrow cloud seeming to serve them as a basis. Under the cloud there issued forth two tails of a whitish light, hanging downward on a basis of a weak red, and seeming to kindle and dart the light downward. A white streak, which passed across these two tails, and extended from one end of the phenomenon to the other, in a position almost parallel to the above-mentioned cloud, gave a splendid effect to the whole. This surprising and beautiful meteor disappeared a short time after nine o’clock; but an abundance of falling stars were afterward seen in the south.

Similar observations were made at Rome; but in Great Britain, where this phenomenon was likewise seen, different appearances were displayed. At Edinburgh, at six in the evening, the sky appeared to be in flames. An arch of red light reached from the west, over the zenith, to the east, its northern border being tinged with a color approaching to blue. This aurora did not first form in the north, as usually happens, and after forming an arch there, rise toward the zenith; neither did the light shiver, and spread itself, by sudden jerks, over the hemisphere, as is common, but it gradually and gently stole along the face of the heavens, till it had covered the whole hemisphere: this alarmed the vulgar, and was indeed a strange sight. At Rosehill, in Sussex, it appeared as a strong and very steady light, nearly of the color of red ocher. It did not dart or flash, but kept a steady course against the wind, which blew fresh from the south-west. It began in the north-north-west, in the form of a pillar of light, at a quarter past six in the evening: in about ten minutes a fourth part of it divided from the rest, and never joined again. In ten minutes more it described an arch, but did not join at the top; and at seven o’clock it formed a bow, disappearing soon after. It was lightest and reddest at the horizon, and gave as much light as a full moon.

LUMINOUS ARCHES.

In the month of March, 1774, a very beautiful luminous arch was seen at Buxton. It was white, inclining to yellow: and its breadth in the crown was apparently equal to that of the rainbow. As it approached the horizon, each leg of the arch became gradually broader. It was stationary and free from any sensible coruscations. Its direction was from north-east to south-west; and its crown or most elevated part, not far from the zenith. This phenomenon lasted about half an hour.

The grandest spectacle of this kind which appears to have been seen in Great Britain, was observed at Leeds, in Yorkshire, on the twelfth of April, 1783, between the hours of nine and ten at night. A broad arch of a bright pale yellow, and having an apparent breadth of about fifteen degrees, arose in the heavens, and passed considerably south of the zenith. Such was its varied density, that it appeared to consist of small columns of light, having a sensible motion. After about ten minutes, innumerable bright coruscations shot out at right angles from its northern edge, elongating themselves more and more till they had nearly reached the northern horizon. As they descended, their extremities were tipped with an elegant crimson, such as is produced by the electric spark in an exhausted tube. After some time this beautiful northern light ceased to shoot, and, forming a line of bright yellow clouds, which extended horizontally about the fourth of a circle, its greatest portion, which darted from this arch toward the north, as well as the cloudlike and more stationary aurora, became so dense as to hide the stars from view. The moon was eleven days old, and shone brightly during this scene, but did not eclipse the splendor of these coruscations. The wind was in the north, a little inclined to the east. A similar phenomenon was observed at Leeds on the twenty-sixth of the same month. From a mass or broad column of light in the west, issued three luminous arches, each of which made a different angle with the horizon. They had not been viewed many minutes when they were rendered invisible by a general blaze of =aurora borealis=, which possessed the space just before occupied by these arches.

IGNES FATUI, OR MOCK FIRES.

These meteors, denominated by the vulgar, Will-with-a-wisp, and Jack-with-a-lantern, and at sea or on the coast, mariner’s lights, or St. Helmo’s fires, are now considered as real exhalations from the earth, produced by gas, vapor, or some other attenuated substance, emanating from vegetable, animal or mineral materials, and combined with the matter of light or heat, or both. Instead of being dense or solid, they are uniformly rare and subtile; and, instead of originating in the loftiest regions of the atmosphere, or beyond its range, are generated for the greater part in low, marshy plains or valleys. To the fearful and superstitious, they are a source of as much terror as the nobler and sublimer meteors which have just been contemplated; and it is probable that they have occasionally been the source of real and extensive damage, when in a state of actual combustion, and that they have still more frequently seduced a timid and benighted traveler into dangerous bogs and quagmires.

In Italy, in the Bolognese territory, they are so frequent, in the morassy grounds, that they are to be seen every night, some of them affording as much light as a kindled torch, and others not being larger than the flame of a candle, but all of them so luminous as to shed a luster on the surrounding objects. They are constantly in motion, but this motion is various and uncertain. They sometimes rise and at other times sink, sometimes suddenly disappearing, and appearing again in an instant in some other place. They usually hover about six feet from the ground, differing both in figure and size, and spreading out and contracting themselves alternately. Sometimes they break to appearance into two parts, soon after uniting again in one body, and at intervals float like waves, letting fall portions of ignited matter, like sparks from a fire. They are more frequently observed in winter than in summer, and cast the strongest light in rainy and moist weather. They are most friendly to the banks of brooks and rivers, and to morasses; but they are likewise seen on elevated grounds, where they are, however, of a comparatively diminutive size.

In the month of March, 1728, a traveler being in a mountainous road, about ten miles south of Bononia, perceived, as he approached the river Riovedere, between eight and nine in the evening, a light shining very brightly on some stones which lay on the banks. It was elevated about two feet above them; its figure describing a parallelopiped, more than a foot in length, and about six inches high, its longest side lying parallel to the horizon. Its light was so strong that he could distinguish by it very plainly a part of a neighboring hedge, and the water in the river. On a near approach, it changed from a bright red to a yellowish color, and on drawing still nearer, became pale; but when the observer reached the spot it vanished. On his stepping back, he not only saw it again, but found that the further he receded, the stronger and more luminous it became. This light was afterward seen several times, both in spring and autumn, precisely at the same spot, and preserving the same shape.

On the twelfth of December, 1776, several very remarkable =ignes fatui= were observed on the road to Bromsgrove, five miles from Birmingham, in England, a little before daylight. A great many of these lights were playing in an adjacent field, in different directions; from some of which there suddenly sprang up bright branches of light, somewhat resembling the explosion of a rocket, filled with many brilliant stars, if, in the case of the latter, the discharge be supposed to be upward, or vertical, instead of taking the usual direction. The hedge, and the trees on each side, were strongly illuminated. This appearance continued a few seconds only, when the =ignes fatui= played as before. The spectator was not sufficiently near to observe whether the apparent explosions were attended with any report.

In the month of December, 1693, between the twenty-fourth and thirtieth, a fiery exhalation, without doubt generated in the same way with the meteors described above, set fire to sixteen ricks of hay, and two barns filled with corn and hay, at the village of Hartech, in Pembrokeshire. It had frequently been seen before, proceeding from the sea, and in these instances lasted for a fortnight or three weeks. It not only fired the hay, but poisoned the grass, for the extent of a mile, so as to induce a distemper among the cattle. It was a weak blue flame, easily extinguished, and did not in the least burn any of the men who interposed their endeavors to save the hay, although they ventured, not only close to it, but sometimes into it. All the damage sustained happened constantly in the night.

Belonging to this class of meteors is the =draco volans=, a fiery exhalation, frequent in marshy and cold countries. It is most common in summer; and, although principally seen playing near the banks of rivers, or in boggy places, still it sometimes mounts up to a considerable hight in the air, to the no small terror of the amazed beholders. Its appearance is that of an oblong (sometimes roundish) fiery body, with a long tail. It is entirely harmless, frequently sticking to the hands and clothes of the spectators, without doing them the least injury.

SPECTER OF THE BROCKEN.

This is one of those curious and interesting atmospheric phenomena, or deceptions, which proceed from one common cause, an irregularity in the tenuity of the atmospheric fluid. This fluid is commonly of an homogeneous or equable tenuity, and consequently suffers the rays of the sun to penetrate it without any obstruction or change; but is at times irregular, and composed of parts of bodies of a denser medium than its general texture and constitution. Under these circumstances, the fluent ray, if it do not enter the denser medium in a direct or perpendicular line, will be either reflected, or refracted, or both; and the object surveyed through it, will assume a new, and, not unfrequently, a grotesque or highly magnified appearance.

The specter of the Brocken is an aerial figure which is sometimes seen among the Hartz mountains in Hanover. The phenomenon has been witnessed by various travelers, and among them by M. Haue, from whose relation the following particulars are extracted. “Having ascended the Brocken [mountain] for the thirtieth time, I was at length so fortunate as to have the pleasure of seeing this phenomenon. The sun rose about four o’clock, and the atmosphere being quite serene toward the east, its rays could pass without any obstruction over the Heinrichshohe mountain. In the south-west, however, toward the mountain Achtermannshohe, a brisk west wind carried before it thin transparent vapors. About a quarter past four, I looked round, to see whether the atmosphere would permit me to have a free prospect to the south-west, when I observed, at a very great distance toward the Achtermannshohe, a human figure of monstrous size! A violent gust of wind having almost carried away my hat, I clapped my hand to it; and in moving my hand toward my head, the colossal figure did the same.

“The pleasure which I felt at this discovery can hardly be described; for I had already walked many a weary step in the hope of seeing this shadowy image, without being able to gratify my curiosity. I immediately made another movement, by bending my body, and the colossal figure before me repeated it. I was desirous of doing the same once more, but my colossus had vanished. I remained in the same position, waiting to see whether it would return; and in a few minutes it again made its appearance on the Achtermannshohe. I then called the landlord of the neighboring inn, and having both taken the position which I had taken alone, we looked toward the Achtermannshohe, but did not perceive anything. We had not, however, stood long, when two such colossal figures were formed over the above eminence, [as represented in the cut,] which repeated their compliments by bending their bodies as we did, after which they vanished. We retained our position, kept our eyes fixed on the spot, and in a little time the two figures again stood before us, and were joined by a third, [that of a traveler who then came up and joined the party.] Every movement made by us, these figures imitated; but with this difference, that the phenomenon was sometimes weak and faint, sometimes strong and well defined.”

In Clarke’s “Survey of the Lakes,” a phenomenon similar to that of the specter of the Brocken, is recorded to have been observed in the years 1743 and 1744, on Souter-Fell, a mountain in Cumberland. It excited much conversation and alarm at the time, and exposed to great ridicule those who asserted they had witnessed it. It is, however, too well attested not to deserve a short notice here, and may be referred to the same causes by which the above aerial images on the Brocken mountain were produced. The relation is as follows. Souter-Fell is a mountain about half a mile in hight, inclosed on the north and west sides by precipitous rocks, but somewhat more open on the east, and easier of access. At Wilton Hall, within half a mile of this mountain, on a summer’s evening, in the year 1743, a farmer and his servant, sitting at the door, saw the figure of a man with a dog, pursuing some horses along Souter-Fell side, a place so steep that a horse could scarcely travel on it. They appeared to run at a very great pace, till they got out of sight at the lower end of the fell. On the following morning the farmer and his servant ascended the steep side of the mountain, in full expectation that they should find the man lying dead, being persuaded that the swiftness with which he ran must have killed him, and imagining also that they should pick up some of the shoes which they thought the horses must have lost, in galloping at so furious a rate. They were, however, disappointed in these expectations, as not the least vestige of either man or horses could be discovered, not so much, even, as the mark of a horse’s hoof on the turf.

On the twenty-third of June, of the following year, 1744, about half past seven in the evening, the same servant, then residing at Blakehills, at an equal distance from the mountain, being in a field in front of the farm-house, saw a troop of horsemen riding on Souter-Fell side in pretty close ranks, and at a brisk pace. Having observed them for some time, he called out his young master, who before the spot was pointed out to him, discovered the aerial troopers; and this phenomenon was shortly after witnessed by the whole of the family. The visionary horsemen appeared to come from the lowest part of Souter-Fell, and were visible at a place called Knott: they then moved in regular troops along the side of the fell, till they came opposite to Blakehills, when they went over the mountain. They thus described a kind of curvilinear path, and their first as well as their last appearance, was bounded by the foot of the mountain. Their pace was that of a regular swift walk, and they were seen for upward of two hours, when darkness intervened. Several troops were seen in succession, and frequently the last, or last but one in the troop, would quit his position, gallop to the front, and then observe the same pace with the others. The same change was visible to all the spectators; and the sight of this phenomenon was not confined to Blakehills, but was witnessed by the inhabitants of the cottages within a mile. It was attested before a magistrate by the two above-cited individuals in the month of July, 1745. Twenty-six persons are said in the attestation to have witnessed the march of these aerial travelers.

It should be remarked that these appearances were observed on the eve of the rebellion, when troops of horsemen might be privately exercising; and as the imitative powers of the specter of the Brocken demonstrate that the actions of human beings are sometimes pictured in the clouds, it seems highly probable, on a consideration of all the circumstances of this latter phenomenon on Souter-Fell, that certain thin vapors must have hovered round the summit of the mountain when the appearances were observed. It is also probable that these vapors may have been impressed with the shadowy forms which seem to “imitate humanity,” by a particular operation of the sun’s rays, united with some singular but unknown refractive combinations then taking place in the atmosphere.

THE MIRAGE.

This very curious phenomenon, which was remarked by M. Monge, one of the French savans belonging to the institute of Cairo, in the hot and sandy desert between Alexandria and that city, is described by him as resulting from an inverted image of the cerulean sky intermixed with the ground scenery, the neighboring villages appearing to be surrounded with a most beautiful sheet of water, and to exist, like islands, in its liquid expanse, tantalizing the eye by an unfaithful representation of what the thirsty traveler earnestly desires.

Doctor Clarke, in his interesting travels, introduces the following animated description of this phenomenon. “Here [at the village of Utko] we procured asses for our party, and, setting out for Rosetta, began to recross the desert, appearing like an ocean of sand, but flatter and firmer as to its surface, than before. The Arabs, uttering their harsh, guttural language, ran chattering by the side of our asses; until some of them calling out ‘Raschid!’ we perceived its domes and turrets, apparently upon the opposite side of an immense lake or sea, that covered all the intervening space between us and the city. Not having in my own mind, at the time, any doubt as to the certainty of its being water, and seeing the tall minarets and buildings of Rosetta, with all its groves of dates and sycamores, as perfectly reflected by it as by a mirror, insomuch that even the minutest detail of the architecture and of the trees might have been thence delineated, I applied to the Arabs to be informed in what manner we were to pass the water. Our interpreter, although a Greek, and therefore likely to have been informed of such a phenomenon, was as fully convinced as any of us, that we were drawing near to the water’s edge, and became indignant, when the Arabs maintained, that within an hour we should reach Rosetta, by crossing the sands in the direct line we then pursued, and that there was no water. ‘What!’ said he, giving way to his impatience, ‘do you suppose me an idiot, to be persuaded contrary to the evidence of my senses?’ The Arabs, smiling, soon pacified him, and completely astonished the whole party, by desiring us to look back at the desert we had already passed, where we beheld a precisely similar appearance. It was, in fact, the mirage, a prodigy to which all of us were then strangers, although it afterward became more familiar. Yet upon no future occasion did we ever behold this extraordinary illusion so marvelously displayed. The view of it afforded us ideas of the horrible despondency to which travelers must sometimes be exposed, who, in traversing the interminable desert, destitute of water, and perishing with thirst, have sometimes this deceitful prospect before their eyes.”

This appearance is often seen, when the sun shines, upon the extensive flat sand upon the shores of the Bristol channel, in Somersetshire, and probably on the sea-shore in other parts of England.

FATA MORGANA.

“As when a shepherd of the Hebride isles, Placed far amid the melancholy main, (Whether it be lone fancy him beguiles, Or that aerial beings sometimes deign To stand embodied to our senses plain,) Sees on the naked hill, or valley low, The whilst in ocean Phœbus dips his wain, A vast assemblage moving to and fro; Then all at once in air dissolves the wondrous show.”—THOMSON.

These optical appearances of figures in the sea and air, in the Faro of Messina, are the great delight of the populace, who, whenever the vision is displayed, run about the streets shouting for joy, and calling on every one to partake of the glorious sight. To produce this pleasing deception, many circumstances must concur which are not known to exist in any other situation. The spectator must stand with his back to the east, in some elevated place behind the city, that he may command a view of the whole bay, beyond which the mountains of Messina rise like a wall, and darken the background of the picture. The winds must be hushed, the surface of the water quite smooth, the tide at its hight, and the waters pressed up by currents to a great elevation in the middle of the channel. All these events coinciding, as soon as the sun surmounts the eastern hills behind Reggio, (on the Calabrian coast opposite,) and rises high enough to form an angle of forty-five degrees on the water before the city, every object, existing or moving at Reggio, will be repeated a thousand-fold in this marine mirror, which, by its tremulous motion, is, as it were, cut into facets. Each image will pass rapidly off in succession, as the day advances, and the stream carries down the wave on which it appeared. Thus the parts of this moving picture will vanish in the twinkling of an eye. Sometimes the air is at this time so impregnated with vapors, and undisturbed by winds, as to reflect objects in a kind of aerial screen, rising about thirty feet above the level of the sea. In cloudy, heavy weather, they are drawn on the surface of the water, bordered with fine prismatic colors.

Swinburne, in his travels, cites Father Angelucci as having been the first to describe this phenomenon accurately. His relation is as follows. “On the fifteenth of August, 1643, as I stood at my window, I was surprised with a most wonderful and delectable vision. The sea which washes the Sicilian shore, swelled up, and became, for twelve miles in length, like a chain of dark mountains; while the waters near our Calabrian coast grew quite smooth, and in an instant appeared as one polished mirror, reclining against the aforesaid ridge. On this glass was depicted, in chiar-oscura, a string of several thousands of pilasters, all equal in altitude, distance and degree of light and shade. In a moment they lost half their hight, and bent into arcades, like Roman aqueducts. A long cornice was next formed on the top, and above it rose castles innumerable, all perfectly alike. These soon split into towers, which were shortly after lost in colonnades, then in windows, and at last ended in pines, cypresses, and other trees, even and similar. This was the Fata Morgana, which, for twenty-six years, I had thought a mere fable.”

ATMOSPHERICAL REFRACTION.

A surprising instance of atmospherical refraction occurred at Hastings, England, on the twenty-sixth of July, 1798. W. Latham, Esq., sitting in his dining-room, situated on the parade, close to the sea-shore, and nearly fronting the south, about five in the afternoon, had his attention suddenly drawn by a great number of people running down to the seaside. On inquiring the reason, he was informed that the coast of France was plainly to be distinguished by the naked eye. On going down to the shore, he was surprised to find that, even without the assistance of a telescope, he could very plainly see the cliffs on the opposite coast; which, at the nearest part, are between forty and fifty miles distant, and are not to be discerned, from that low situation, by the aid of the best glasses. They appeared to be only a few miles off, and seemed to extend for some leagues along the coast. Pursuing his walk along the shore to the eastward, close to the water’s edge, and conversing on the subject with the sailors and fishermen, they could not, at first, be persuaded of the reality of the appearance; but soon became so thoroughly convinced, by the cliffs gradually appearing more elevated, and approaching nearer as it were, that they pointed out and named to him the different places they had been accustomed to visit, such as, the Bay, the Old Head or Man, the Windmill, &c., at Boulogne; together with St. Vallery, and other places on the coast of Picardy. This they afterward confirmed, when they viewed them, thus refracted, through their telescopes, observing that the above places appeared as near as if they had been sailing, at a small distance, into the harbors. From the eastern cliff, which is of a very considerable hight, a most beautiful scene presented itself to Mr. Latham’s view, for there he could at once see Dungeness, Dover cliffs, and the French coast, all along from Calais, Boulogne, &c., to St. Vallery; and, as some of the fishermen affirmed, as far to the westward even as Dieppe. By the telescope, the French fishing-boats were plainly to be seen at anchor, and the different colors of the land on the hights, with the buildings, were perfectly discernible. This curious phenomenon continued in the highest splendor till half past eight o’clock, notwithstanding a black cloud for some time totally obscured the face of the sun, and then vanished gradually. So remarkable an instance of atmospherical refraction had not been before witnessed by the oldest inhabitant of Hastings. It was likewise observed at Winchelsea, and other places along the coast. The day was remarkably hot, without a breath of wind stirring.

As another instance of this refracting power of the atmosphere, Dr. Vince, an English philosopher, was once looking through a telescope at a ship, which was so far off, that he could only see the upper parts of the masts. The hulk was entirely hidden by the bending of the water, but between himself and the ship he saw two perfect images of it in the air. These were of the same form and color as the real ship; but one of them was turned upside down. And when Captain Scoresby was in the polar sea with his ship, he was separated by the ice from that of his father for some time, and looked out for her every day with great anxiety. At length, one evening, to his utter astonishment, he saw her suspended in the air, in an inverted position, traced on the horizon in the clearest colors, and with the most distinct and perfect representation. He sailed in the direction in which he saw this visionary phenomenon, and actually found his father’s vessel by its indication. He was separated from the ship by immense masses of icebergs, and at such a distance that it was impossible to have seen her in her actual situation, or to have seen her at all, if her spectrum had not been thus raised several degrees above the horizon in the air by this most extraordinary refraction. It is by this bending of the rays of light that the images of people are often seen at a distance, and sometimes magnified to a gigantic size. We have given an account of such an appearance in the Hartz mountains, in Germany.

Another singular instance of the refracting power of the atmosphere, was witnessed within the present year, (1854,) by Mr. Elliott, the aeronaut, while ascending in his balloon from Petersburg, Virginia. After he had ascended about three thousand feet he discharged some five pounds of ballast, when he shot onward and upward with amazing rapidity till he began to approximate to the clouds. He then discharged about five pounds more of sand, the remainder of the bag, when he again darted upward among the clouds, which were so dense as to wholly exclude all terrestrial objects from his view, and of course he was lost to all observers below. These discharges were distinctly seen by persons watching him, and on the first occasion some one exclaimed that the balloon had burst. While among the clouds, it seemed to him as if he was in the midst of a large ground-glass globe, some two or three hundred feet in diameter, against the side of which opposite to the sun, the shadow of his balloon rested, some five or six times larger than the corporeal one. About half-way between him and the shadow, which seemed as if resting on the glass wall, another balloon was seen, of a size between the shadow and the real one, resting as if in a vacuum, which displayed every color of the original faithfully. He then saw another Elliott, clad and with features like himself, and seemingly self-like. He then extended his own fingers, when he was mimicked by his image; and whether he extended one finger or more, or whatever he did, this figure duplicated exactly. When he would cause his balloon to oscillate, this balloon would move exactly like his. When he threw out more ballast to elevate himself, this figure sank down instead of rising with him; and when he arose above the clouds into the rays of the unclouded sun, he left the mimic aeronaut below him.

In the rays of the sun above the clouds he found it so warm as to cause him to perspire freely, a state of heat never before experienced at this hight, nearly twenty-four thousand feet, where the air is very rarefied and generally very chilly. He then opened the valve for the purpose of descending, and as soon as he had sunk one or two thousand feet, which he ascertained by barometrical indications, he felt as if he had entered an ice-house, and a cold chill seized his whole person. Here he again met his mimic aerial voyager, whom he kept in company for some time, from philosophical motives. Whenever he moved sideways, this mum gentleman would move in the same direction. But when he moved up or down, the duplicate would move in a directly opposite way; and when he concluded to descend, the image moved upward until the tricolored flag was out of sight, when he could see the car and the aeronaut still standing in it as if in a basket attached to nothing. He continued to look until his head was Robespierred, and finally, piece by piece, his body, and, at last, his feet and basket, ascended out of his sight. Mr. Elliott said that he had been up a hundred and one times, but never had seen anything in the form of an illusion like this before.

But one of the most remarkable cases of atmospheric refraction of which we have any record, is that which occurred at New Haven, Connecticut, in the early settlement of the colony. The colonists had built a ship, and freighted her for England with a valuable cargo, with which she sailed from their harbor in the winter of 1647, having several of their principal men on board. They were obliged to cut their way through the ice to get out of the harbor; and the ship, never being heard of afterward, was supposed to have foundered at sea. No tidings arriving of the ship or of her fate, the colonists were deeply distressed, and “were very earnest in their prayers, both public and private, that God would in some way make manifest to them what had become of their friends.” In the following June, a violent thunder-storm arose out of the north-west, after which the atmosphere being very calm and serene, about an hour before sunset, a ship of the dimensions and form of the one they had lost, with all her canvas set and flags flying, appeared in the air, coming up the harbor, her sails filled as though by a fresh gale, and sailing against the wind, for the space of half an hour.

At length, as she came nearer, her maintop seemed to be blown off, though left hanging in the shrouds; then, her mizzen-top; then all her masting seemed blown away by the board; quickly after, her hulk careening, she overset, and seemed to sink and vanish in the clouds, and as these clouds passed away, the air where she was seen, was, as before, perfectly clear. The crowd of spectators could distinguish the appearance of the various parts of the ship, the principal rigging, and such proportions as made them satisfied that this was indeed their ship; and Mr. Davenport, the minister, declared, in public, that God, for the quieting of the hearts of the people, had given them this extraordinary exhibition and account of what he had done with their property and friends. But science gives us a more natural and less miraculous explanation of the matter, in the refracting power of the air when in certain states; and the probability is, that the ship, thus seen in the air, was some strange vessel (which they imagined looked like their own) coming up the harbor before the breeze, and then driven off and wrecked by the storm, which reached her after it had passed New Haven; or else that it was, indeed, their own ship, which after being driven about for months, was now coming back to her port, when she was thus caught in the tempest and destroyed. And as confirming this view of the matter, it may be added, in conclusion, that within the present century, it is said, a similar refraction of a ship in the air, has been witnessed in the same place.

PARHELIA, OR MOCK SUNS.

On the fifth of February, 1674, near Marienberg, in Prussia, the sky being everywhere serene, the sun, which was still some degrees above the horizon, was seen to lance out very long and reddish rays, forty or fifty degrees toward the zenith, notwithstanding it shone with great luster. Beneath this planet, toward the horizon, there hung a somewhat thin small cloud, at the inferior part of which there appeared a mock sun, of the same apparent size with the true sun, and of a reddish color. Soon after, the true sun descending gradually to the horizon, toward the said cloud, the spurious sun beneath it grew clearer and clearer, in so much that the reddish color in this apparent solar disk vanished, and it put on the genuine solar light, in proportion as it was approached by the genuine disk of the sun. The latter, at length, passed into the lower counterfeit sun, and thus remained alone. This phenomenon was considered the more wonderful, as it was perpendicularly under the sun, instead of being at its side, as parhelia usually are; not to mention the color, so different from that which is usual in mock suns, nor the great length of the tail cast up by the genuine sun, of a far more vivid and splendid light than parhelia commonly exhibit. This appearance was soon followed by an exceedingly intense frost, which lasted till the twenty-fifth of March, the whole bay being frozen up from the town of Dantzic to Hela in the Baltic sea.

On the twenty-eighth of August, 1698, about eight o’clock in the morning, there was seen at Sudbury, in Suffolk, England, the appearance of three suns, which were then extremely brilliant. Beneath a dark, watery cloud, in the east, nearly at its center, the true sun shone with such strong beams, that the spectators could not look at it; and on each side were the reflections. Much of the firmament was elsewhere of an azure color. The circles were not colored like the rainbow, but white; and there was also, at the same time, higher in the firmament, and toward the south, at a considerable distance from the other phenomena, the form of a half-moon, but apparently of double the size, with the horns turned upward. This appearance was, within, of a fiery red color, imitating that of the rainbow. These phenomena faded gradually, after having continued about two hours.

Two mock suns, an arc of a rainbow inverted, and a halo, were seen at Lyndon, in the county of Rutland, on the twenty-second of October, 1621, at eleven in the morning. There had been an =aurora borealis= the preceding night, with the wind at west-south-west. The two parhelia, or mock suns, were bright and distinct, and in the usual places, namely, in the two intersections of a strong and large portion of a halo, with an imaginary circle parallel to the horizon, passing through the true sun. Each parhelion had its tail of a white color, and in direct opposition to the true sun; that toward the east being some twenty or twenty-five degrees long, and that toward the west from ten to twelve degrees, both narrowest at the remote ends. The mock suns were evidently red toward the sun, but pale or whitish at the opposite sides, as was the halo also. Still higher in the heavens, was an arc of a curiously inverted rainbow, about the middle of the distance between the top of the halo and the vertex. This arc was as distinct in its colors as the common rainbow, and of the same breadth. The red color was on the convex, and the blue on the concave of the arc, which seemed to be about ninety degrees in length, its center being in or near the vertex. On the top of the halo was a kind of inverted bright arc. This phenomenon was seen on the following day, and, again, on the twenty-sixth. On the eleventh of the preceding month, September, a very splendid and remarkable =aurora borealis=, presenting truly unaccountable motions and removals, was witnessed in Rutlandshire, in Northamptonshire, and at Bath.

LUNAR RAINBOW.

This very rare phenomenon was witnessed at Glapwell Hall, in Derbyshire, England, on the twenty-fifth of December, 1710, about eight in the evening, with a remarkable and very unusual display of colors. The moon had passed her full about twenty-four hours, and the evening had been rainy; but the clouds were dispersed, and the moon then shone quite clear. This =iris lunaris= had all the colors of the solar iris, exceedingly beautiful and distinct, only faint in comparison with those which are seen in the day; as must necessarily have been the case, both from the different beams by which it was occasioned, and the disposition of the medium. What most surprised the observer was the largeness of the arc, which was not so much less than that of the sun, as the different dimensions of their bodies, and their respective distances from the earth, seemed to require; but the entireness and beauty of its colors furnished a charming spectacle.

CONCENTRIC RAINBOWS.

This extraordinary phenomenon, which is seen at sunrise on the Andes, in South America, was first witnessed by Ulloa and his companions in the wild heaths of Pambamarca, and is thus described by him. “At day-break the whole of the mountain was enveloped in dense clouds, which at sunrise were dissipated, leaving behind them vapors of so extreme a tenuity, as not to be distinguishable to the sight. At the side opposite to that where the sun rose on the mountain, and at the distance of about sixty yards from the spot where we were standing, the image of each of us was seen represented as if in a mirror, and three concentric rainbows, the last or most exterior colors of one of which touched the first of the following one, were centered on each head. Without the whole of them, and at an inconsiderable distance, was seen a fourth arc purely white. They were all perpendicular to the horizon; and in proportion as any one of us moved from one side to the other, he was accompanied by the phenomenon, which preserved the same order and disposition. What was, however, most remarkable, was this, that although six or seven persons were thus standing close together, each of us saw the phenomenon as it regarded himself, but did not perceive it in the others. This, adds Bouguer, is a kind of apotheosis, in which each of the spectators, seeing his head adorned with a glory formed of three or four concentric crowns of a very vivid color, each of them presenting varieties similar to those of the first rainbow, tranquilly enjoys the sensible pleasure of reflecting that the brilliant garland he can not discover in the others is destined for himself alone.”

A similar phenomenon is described by Mr. Hagarth, as having been seen by him in Wales, on the thirteenth of February, 1780. His relation is as follows. “In ascending, at Rhealt, the mountain which forms the eastern boundary of the vale of Clwyd, (in Denbighshire,) I observed a rare and curious phenomenon. In the road above me, I was struck with the peculiar appearance of a very white, shining cloud, which lay remarkably close to the ground. The sun was near setting, but shone extremely bright: I walked up to the cloud, and my shadow was projected into it, its superior part being surrounded, at some distance, by a circle of various colors, whose center appeared to be near the situation of the eye, and whose circumference extended to the shoulders. This circle was complete, except what the shadow of my body intercepted. It exhibited the most vivid colors, the red being outermost; and all of them appearing in the same order and proportion as they are presented to the view by the rainbow. It resembled very exactly what in pictures is termed a glory, surrounding the heads of saints; not indeed that it exhibited the luminous radiance that is painted close to the head, but an arch of concentric colors placed separately and distinctly from it. As I walked forward, this glory approached or retired, just as the inequality of the ground shortened or lengthened my shadow. The cloud being sometimes in a small valley below me, sometimes on the same level, or on higher ground, the variation of the shadow and glory became extremely striking and singular. To add to the beauty of the scene, there appeared, at a considerable distance to the right and left, the arches of a white, shining bow. These arches were in the form of, and broader than a rainbow; but were not completely joined into a semicircle above, on account of the shallowness of the cloud.”

THUNDER AND LIGHTNING.

To conceive justly of the nature of thunder and lightning, we have only to view the effects of a common electrical machine, and its apparatus, in an apartment. These experiments mimic the great, wonderful and terrific phenomena of nature. The stream, or spark, from the machine to the hand, represents the shaft of lightning from the clouds to the earth; and the snapping noise of the diminutive spark corresponds with the explosion produced by the lightning, which we call thunder. In what manner the clouds become electrified, and, in short, what is the nature of electricity itself, our present range of experiments so little qualify us to determine, that a century will perhaps elapse before a philosophical precision can be attained. At present we only know for certain that the electrical power displays itself merely on the surface of bodies; and whether it is a fluid =per se=, a vacuum restoring itself, or whatever its nature may be, the state of experimental knowledge does not enable us to determine.

The obvious analogy between lightning and electricity, had long been suspected, and was placed beyond a doubt by Franklin, who was the first to conceive the practicability of drawing down lightning from the clouds. Having found by previous experiments, that the electric fluid is attracted by points, he apprehended that lightning might likewise possess the same quality; although the effects of the latter would in that case surpass those of the former in an astonishing degree. Flashes of lightning, he likewise observed, are generally seen crooked and waving in the air; and the electric spark drawn from an irregular body at some distance, when it is drawn by an irregular body, or through a space in which the best conductors are disposed in an irregular manner, always exhibits the same appearance.

Lightning strikes the highest and most pointed objects in its way, in preference to others, as high hills, trees, spires, masts, &c.; and all pointed conductors receive and throw off the electric fluid more readily than those which are terminated by flat surfaces. Lightning is observed to take the best and readiest conductor; and this is also the case with electricity, in the discharge of the Leyden phial; whence Franklin inferred that, in a thunder-storm, it would be safer for a person to have his clothes wet than dry. Lightning burns, dissolves metals, rends some particular bodies, such as the roots and branches of trees, strikes persons with blindness, destroys animal life, deprives magnets of their virtue and reverses their poles; and these are well known properties of electricity. Lightning not only gives polarity to the magnetic needle, but to all bodies which have any portion of iron in them, as brick, &c.; and, by observing which way the poles of these bodies lie, the direction in which the stroke has passed may be known with the utmost certainty.

In order to demonstrate, by actual experiment, the identity of the electric fluid with the matter of lightning, Franklin contrived to bring lightning from the heavens by means of an electrical kite, which he raised on the approach of a thunder-storm; and, with the electricity thus obtained, charged phials, kindled spirits, and performed all other electrical experiments, as they are usually exhibited by an excited globe or tube. This happened in 1752, a month after the French electricians, pursuing the method which he had proposed, had verified the same theory; but without any knowledge on his part of what they had done. On the following year, he further discovered that the air is sometimes electrified positively, and sometimes negatively; and that in the course of one thunder-storm, the clouds change from positive to negative electricity several times. He was not long in perceiving that this important discovery was capable of being applied to practical use; and proposed a method, which he soon accomplished, of securing buildings from being damaged by lightning, by means of conductors, or lightning-rods, the use of which is now universally known.

From a number of judicious experiments made by him, Signor Beccaria concluded that the clouds serve as conductors to convey the electric fluid from those parts of the earth which are overloaded with it, to those where it is exhausted. The same cause by which a cloud is first raised, from vapors dispersed in atmosphere, draws to it those which are already formed, and still continues to form new ones, till the whole collected mass extends so far as to reach a part of the earth where there is a deficiency of the electric fluid, and where the electric matter will discharge itself on the earth. A channel of communication being thus produced, a fresh supply of electric matter is raised from the overloaded part, which continues to be conveyed by the medium of the clouds, till the equilibrium of the fluid is restored between the two places of the earth. He further observes that as the wind constantly blows from the place where the thunder-cloud proceeds, the sudden accumulation of such a prodigious quantity of vapors must displace the air, and repel it on all sides. Indeed, many observations of the descent of lightning confirm his theory of the mode of its ascent; for it often throws before it the parts of conducting bodies, and distributes them along the resisting medium through which it must force its passage; and on this principle the longest flashes of lightning seem to be produced, by its forcing in its way part of the vapors in the air. One of the chief reasons why the report of these flashes is so much protracted, is the vast length of the vacuum made by the passage of the electric matter; for although the air collapses the moment after it has passed, and the vibration, on which the sound depends, commences at the same moment, still, when the flash is directed toward the person who hears the report, the vibrations excited at the nearer end of the track will reach his ear much sooner than those from the remote end, and the sound will, without any echo or repercussion, continue till all the vibrations have successively reached him. The rattling noise of the thunder, which makes it seem as if it passed through arches or were variously broken, is probably owing to the sound being excited among clouds hanging over one another, and the agitated air passing irregularly between them.

Among other precautions pointed out by Franklin, he recommends to those who happen to be in the fields, at the time of a thunder-storm, to place themselves within a few yards of a tree, but not quite near it. Signor Beccaria, however, cautions persons not to depend on a higher, or, in all cases, a better conductor than their own body; since, according to his repeated observations, the lightning by no means descends in one undivided track, but bodies of various kinds conduct their share of it at the same time, in proportion to their quantity and conducting power. The late Earl of Stanhope, in his principles of electricity, observes that damage may be done by lightning, not only by the main stroke and lateral explosion, but likewise by what he calls the returning stroke; that is, by the sudden violent return of that part of the natural share of electricity of any conducting body, or any combination of conducting bodies, which had been gradually expelled from such body or bodies respectively, by the superinduced elastic electrical pressure of a thunder-cloud’s electrical atmospheres.

Among the awful phenomena of nature, none have excited more terror than thunder and lightning. It is recorded of several of the profligate Roman emperors, who had procured themselves to be deified, that when they heard the thunder, they tremblingly concealed themselves, acknowledging a divine power greater than their own; a Jupiter thundering in the heavens.

REMARKABLE THUNDER-STORMS.

A few instances in which the effects of these storms have been particularly characterized, will be both interesting and instructive.

That fermented liquors are apt to be soured and spoiled by thunder, is a fact well known; but that dried substances should be so acted on, is a still more remarkable phenomenon, and not so easy of explanation. It happened, however, some years ago, that in the immense granaries of Dantzic, the repositories of the corn, of Polish growth, intended for exportation, the wheat and rye, which were before dry and sweet, were, by the effect of a violent thunder-storm in the night, rendered clammy and stinking, insomuch that it required several weeks to sweeten them and render them fit for shipping.

The effects of a thunder-storm on a house and its furniture, at New Forge, Ireland, on the ninth of August, 1707, were very singular. It was observed that the day was, throughout, close, hot and sultry, with scarcely any wind, until toward evening, when a breeze came on with mizzling rain, which lasted about an hour. As the air darkened after sunset, several faint flashes of lightning were seen, and thunder-claps heard, as at a distance; but between ten and eleven o’clock they became, in their approach, very violent and terrible, progressively increasing in their intensity, and coming on with more frequency, until toward midnight. A flash of lightning, and a clap of thunder, louder and more dreadful than all the rest, came simultaneously, and shook and inflamed the whole house. The mistress being sensible, at that instant, of a strong sulphureous smell in her chamber, and feeling a thick, gross dust fall on her hands and face as she lay in bed, concluded that part of her house had been thrown down by the thunder, or set on fire by the lightning. The family being called up, and candles lighted, both the bed-chamber, and the kitchen beneath it, were found to be filled with smoke and dust. A looking-glass in the chamber had been broken with such violence, that not a piece of it was to be found of the size of half a crown: several of the pieces were stuck in the chamber-door, which was of oak, as well as on the other side of the room. The edges and corners of some of the pieces of broken glass were tinged of a light flame color, as if they had been heated by the fire. On the following morning it was found that the cornice of the chimney next the bed-chamber had been struck off, and a breach twenty inches in breadth, made in the wall. At this part there was seen on the wall a smutted scar or trace, as if left by the smoke of a candle, which pointed downward to another part of the wall, where a similar breach was made. Within the chamber, the boards on the back of a large hair trunk, filled with linen, were forced in, and two-thirds of the linen pierced or cut through, the cut appearing of a quadrangular figure. Several pieces of muslin and wearing apparel, which lay on the trunk, were dispersed about the room, not in any way singed or scorched, notwithstanding the hair on the back of the trunk, where the breach was made, was singed. In the kitchen, a cat was found dead, with its legs extended as in a moving posture, without any other sign of being hurt, except that the fur was singed a little about the rump.

In the parish of Samford Courtney, near Oakhampton, in Devon, on the seventh of October, 1811, about three in the afternoon, a sudden darkness came on. Several persons being in the church-porch, a great fire-ball fell among them, and threw them down in various directions, but without any one being hurt. The ringers in the belfry declared that they never knew the bells go so heavily, and were obliged to desist from ringing. Looking down from the belfry into the church, they perceived four fire-balls, which suddenly burst, and the church was filled with fire and smoke. One of the congregation received a blow in the neck, which caused him to bleed both at nose and mouth. He observed the fire and smoke to ascend to the tower, where a large beam, on which one of the bells was hung, was broken, and the gudgeon breaking, the bell fell to the floor. One of the pinnacles of the tower, next the town, was carried away, and several of the stones were found near a barn, at a considerable distance from the church.

On the fifteenth of December, 1754, a vast body of lightning fell on the great hulk at Plymouth. It burst out a mile or two to the westward of the hulk, and rushed toward it with incredible velocity. A portion of the derrick (a part of the apparatus which served to hoist in and fix the masts of the men-of-war) was cut out, of a diameter of at least eighteen inches, and about fifteen feet in length: this particular piece was in three or four places girt with iron hoops, about two inches broad, and half an inch thick, which were completely cut in two by the lightning, as if done by the nicest hand and instrument. The lightning was immediately succeeded by a dreadful peal of thunder, and that by a most violent shower of hail, the hailstones being as large as nutmegs, and for the greatest part of the same size and shape.

Among the many fatal accidents by lightning which have befallen ships, the following is a remarkable instance. In the year 1746, a Dutch ship lay in the road of Batavia, and was preparing to depart for Bengal. The afternoon was calm, and toward evening the sails were loosed, to take advantage of the wind which then constantly blows from the land. A black cloud gathered over the hills, and was brought by the wind toward the ship, which it had no sooner reached, than a clap of thunder burst from it, and the lightning set fire to the maintopsail: this being very dry, burned with great fury: and thus the rigging and mast were set on fire. An attempt was immediately made to cut away the mast, but this was prevented by the falling of the burnt rigging from the head of the mast. By degrees the fire communicated to the other masts, and obliged the crew to desert the ship, the hull of which afterward took fire, and burning down to the powder magazine, the upper part was blown into the air, and the lower part sunk where the ship was at anchor.

In crossing the Atlantic, in the month of November, 1749, the crew of an English ship observed a large ball of blue fire rolling on the water. It came down on them so fast, that before they could raise the main-tack, they observed the ball to rise almost perpendicularly, and within a few yards of the main chains: it went off with an explosion as if hundreds of cannon had been fired off simultaneously, and left behind it a great smell of brimstone. The maintopmast was shattered into a thousand pieces, and splints driven out of the mainmast which stuck in the main-deck. Five seamen were knocked down, and one of them greatly burnt, by the explosion. The fireball was apparently of the size of a large millstone, and came from the north-east.

The ingenious and indefatigable Professor Richman lost his life on the sixth of August, 1753, as he was observing, with M. Sokolow, engraver to the royal academy of St. Petersburgh, the effects of electricity on his gnomon, during a thunder-storm. It was ascertained that the lightning was more particularly directed into the professor’s apartment, by the means of his electrical apparatus, for M. Sokolow distinctly saw a globe of blue fire, as large as his clenched hand, jump from the rod of the right gnomon, toward the forehead of Professor Richman, who at that instant was about a foot distant from the rod, observing the electrical index. The globe of fire which struck the professor, was attended with a report as loud as that of a pistol. The nearest metal wire was broken in pieces, and its fragments thrown on M. Sokolow’s clothes, on which burnt marks of their dimensions were left. Half of the glass vessel was broken off, and the metallic filings it contained thrown about the room. Hence it is plain that the force of the lightning was collected on the right rod, which touched the filings of metal in the glass vessel. On examining the effects of the lightning in the professor’s chamber, the door-case was found split half through, and the door torn off, and thrown into the chamber. The lightning therefore seems to have continued its course along the chain conducted under the ceiling of the apartment. In a Latin treatise, published by M. Lomonosow, member of the royal academy of sciences of St. Petersburgh, several curious particulars are mentioned relative to this melancholy catastrophe. At the time of his death, Professor Richman had in his left coat-pocket seventy silver coins, called rubles, which were not in the least altered by the accident which befell him. His clock, which stood in the corner, of the next room, between an open window and the door, was stopped; and the ashes from the hearth thrown about the apartment. Many persons without doors declared that they actually saw the lightning shoot from the cloud to the professor’s apparatus at the top of his house. The author, in speaking of the phenomena of electricity, observes that he once saw during a storm of thunder and lightning, brushes of electrical fire, with a hissing noise, communicate between the iron rod of his apparatus and the sides of his window, and that these were three feet in length, and a foot in breadth.

Somewhat analogous to these movements of electricity, are those connected with the electric telegraph during the violent thunder-storms that so often take place in the summer season. When such storms are raging, and particularly when the lightning is abundant and near, not only is the operation of the telegraph entirely suspended, but sometimes the lightning itself passes with great violence over the wires, in some cases melting and destroying them, and in others passing by them as it does by the lightning-rod, and manifesting its violence chiefly at the point of their termination. In some instances, the wires have been instantly melted by the electric fluid, and in others the machinery of the offices injured or destroyed, while at other times persons have been struck, or dwellings set on fire by its power.

HAIL-STORMS.

On the seventeenth of July, 1666, a violent storm of hail fell on the English coast, in Norfolk and Suffolk. At North Yarmouth the hailstones were comparatively small; but at Snapebridge, one was taken up which measured a foot in circumference; at Seckford Hall, one which measured nine inches; and at Melton, one measuring eight inches. At Friston Hall, one of these hailstones, being put into a balance, weighed two ounces and a half. At Aldborough, it was affirmed that several of them were as large as turkeys’ eggs. A carter had his head broken by them through a stiff felt hat: in some places it bled, and in others tumors arose: the horses were so pelted that they hurried away his cart beyond all command. The hailstones were white, smooth without, and shining within.

On the twenty-fifth of May, 1686, the city of Lille, in Flanders, was visited by a tremendous hail-storm. The hailstones weighed from a quarter of a pound to a pound in weight, and even more. One was observed to contain in the center a dark brown matter, and being thrown into the fire, gave a very loud report. Others were transparent, and melted instantly before the fire. This storm passed over the city and citadel, leaving not a whole glass in the windows on the windward side. The trees were broken, and some beaten down, and partridges and hares killed in abundance.

In 1697, a horrid black cloud, attended with frequent lightnings and thunder, coming with a south-west wind out of Caernarvonshire, in Wales, and passing near Snowdon, was the precursor of a most tremendous hailstorm. In the part of Denbighshire bordering on the sea, all the windows on the weather side were broken by the hailstones discharged from this cloud, and the poultry and lambs, together with a large mastiff, killed. In the north part of Flintshire, several persons had their heads broken, and were grievously bruised in their limbs. The main body of this hail-storm fell on Lancashire, in a right line from Ormskirk to Blackburn, on the borders of Yorkshire. The breadth of the cloud was about two miles, within which compass it did incredible damage, killing all descriptions of fowl and small creatures, and scarcely leaving a whole pane of glass in any of the windows where it passed. What was still worse, it plowed up the earth, and cut off the blade of the green corn, so as utterly to destroy it, the hailstones burying themselves in the ground. These hailstones, some of which weighed five ounces, were of different forms, some round, others semi-spherical; some smooth, others embossed and crenulated, like the foot of a drinking-glass, the ice being very transparent and hard; but a snowy kernel was in the midst of most of them, if not of all. The force of their fall showed that they descended from a great hight. What was thought to be most extraordinary in this phenomenon was, that the vapor which disposed the aqueous parts thus to congeal, should have continued undispersed for so long a tract as upward of sixty miles, and should, during this extensive passage, have occasioned so extraordinary a coagulation and congelation of the watery clouds, as to increase the hailstones to so vast a bulk in so short a space as that of their fall.

On the fourth of May, 1767, at Hitchin, in Hertfordshire, after a violent thunder-storm, a black cloud suddenly arose in the south-west, about two o’clock in the afternoon, the wind then blowing strongly in the east, and was almost instantly followed by a shower of hail, several of the hailstones measuring from seven or eight to thirteen or fourteen inches in diameter. The extremity of the storm fell near Offley, where a young man was killed, and one of his eyes was beaten out of his head, his body being in every part covered with bruises. Another person, nearer to Offley, escaped with his life, but was much bruised. At a nobleman’s seat in the vicinity, seven thousand squares of glass were broken, and great damage was done to all the neighboring houses. The large hailstones fell in such immense quantities, that they tore up the ground, and split many large oaks and other trees, cutting down extensive fields of rye, and destroying several hundred acres of wheat, barley, &c. Their figures were various, some being oval, others round, others pointed, and others again flat.

HURRICANES.

The ruin and desolation accompanying a hurricane can scarcely be described. Like fire, its resistless force rapidly consumes everything in its track. It is generally preceded by an awful stillness of the elements, and a closeness and mistiness in the atmosphere, which make the sun appear red, and the stars of more than an ordinary magnitude. But a dreadful reverse succeeding, the sky is suddenly overcast and wild; the sea rises at once from a profound calm into mountains; the wind rages and roars like the noise of cannon; the rain descends in a deluge; a dismal obscurity envelops the earth with darkness; and the superior regions appear rent with lightning and thunder. The earth, on these occasions, often does, and always seems to tremble, while terror and consternation distract all nature: birds are carried from the woods into the ocean; and those whose element is the sea, fly for refuge to the land. The affrighted animals in the fields assemble together, and are almost suffocated by the impetuosity of the wind, in searching for shelter, which, when found, serves them only for destruction. The roofs of houses are carried to vast distances from their walls, which are beaten to the ground, burying their inmates beneath them. Large trees are torn up by the roots, and huge branches shivered off, and driven through the air in every direction, with immense velocity. Every tree and shrub that withstands the shock, is stripped of its boughs and foliage. Plants and grass are laid flat to the earth. Luxuriant spring is in a moment changed to dreary winter. This direful tragedy ended, when it happens in a town, the devastation is surveyed with accumulated horror: the harbor is covered with wrecks of boats and vessels; and the shore has not a vestige of its former state remaining. Mounds of rubbish and rafters in one place; heaps of earth and trunks of trees in another; deep gullies from torrents of water; and the dead and dying bodies of men, women and children, half-buried, and scattered about, where streets but a few hours before were, present to the miserable survivors a shocking conclusion of a spectacle, often followed by famine, and, when accompanied by an earthquake, by mortal diseases. Such is the true and terrific picture of a hurricane in the West Indies, as drawn by an actual observer.

On the Indian coast, hurricanes are both frequent and disastrous. On the second of October, 1746, the French squadron, commanded by Le Bourdonnai, being at anchor in Madras roads, a hurricane came on which in a few hours destroyed nearly the whole of the fleet, together with twenty other ships belonging to different nations. One of the French ships foundered in an instant, and only six of the crew were saved. On the thirtieth of December, 1760, during the siege of Pondicherry, a tremendous hurricane drove ashore and wrecked three British ships belonging to the besieging squadron: the crews were saved. On the twentieth of October of the following year, 1761, the British fleet, then lying in Madras roads, had to encounter a violent hurricane. The men-of-war put to sea, and were thus providentially saved; but all the vessels which still lay at anchor were lost, and scarcely a soul on board saved. On the twenty-ninth of October, 1768, another hurricane was, on the coast of Coromandel, fatal to the Chatham Indiaman, which neglected to put to sea.

In the West Indies, a tremendous hurricane on the twenty-first of October, 1817, was particularly severe at the island of St. Lucie. All the vessels in the port were entirely lost. The government-house was blown down, and all within its walls, comprising the governor, his lady and child, his staff, secretaries, servants, &c., amounting to about thirty persons, were buried in its ruins: not one survived the dreadful accident; and still more horrid to relate, the barracks of the officers and soldiers were demolished, and all within them (about two hundred persons) lost. All the estates on the island were reduced to a heap of ashes. At Dominica, nearly the whole of the town was inundated, with an immense destruction of property.

In Great Britain, a dreadful hurricane, commonly called the great storm, set in at ten at night on the twenty-sixth of November, 1703, and raged violently until seven the next morning. It extended its ravages to every part of the kingdom. In the capital, upward of two thousand stacks of chimneys were blown down. The lead on the tops of several churches was rolled up like skins of parchment. Many houses were leveled with the ground, and by the fall of the ruins, twenty-one persons were killed, and more than two hundred wounded. The ships in the Thames broke from their moorings: four hundred wherries were lost, and many barges sunk, with a great loss of lives. At sea the destruction was still greater: twelve ships of war, with upward of eighteen hundred men on board, were totally lost, together with many merchantmen.

THE MONSOONS.

The setting in of the monsoon, or tropical sea-wind, in the East Indies, is thus described by Forbes in his “Oriental Memoirs.” The scene was at Baroche, where the British army was encamped. “The shades of evening approached as we reached the ground, and just as the encampment was completed, the atmosphere grew suddenly dark, the heat became oppressive, and an unusual stillness presaged the immediate setting in of the monsoon. The whole appearance of nature resembled those solemn preludes to earthquakes and hurricanes in the West Indies, from which the east in general is providentially free. We were allowed very little time for conjecture; in a few minutes the heavy clouds burst over us. I had witnessed seventeen monsoons in India, but this exceeded them all in its awful appearance and dreadful effects. Encamped in a low situation, on the borders of a lake formed to collect the surrounding water, we found ourselves in a few hours in a liquid plain. The tent-pins giving way, in a loose soil, the tents fell down, and left the whole army exposed to the contending elements. It requires a lively imagination to conceive the situation of a hundred thousand human beings of every description, with more than two hundred thousand elephants, camels, horses and oxen, suddenly overwhelmed by this dreadful storm, in a strange country, without any knowledge of high or low ground; the whole being covered by an immense lake, and surrounded by thick darkness, which prevented our distinguishing a single object, except such as the vivid glare of lightning displayed in horrible forms. No language can describe the wreck of a large encampment thus instantaneously destroyed, and covered with water, and this amid the cries of old men and helpless women, terrified by the piercing shrieks of their expiring children, unable to afford them relief. During this dreadful night, more than two hundred persons and three thousand cattle perished, and the morning dawn exhibited a shocking spectacle.”

The south-west monsoon generally sets in very early in certain parts of India. “At Anjengo,” observes the above author, “it commences with great severity, and presents an awful spectacle; the inclement weather continues, with more or less violence, from May to October: during that period, the tempestuous ocean rolls from a black horizon, literally of ‘darkness visible,’ a series of floating mountains heaving under hoary summits, until they approach the shore, when their stupendous accumulations flow in successive surges, and break upon the beach; every ninth wave is observed to be generally more tremendous than the rest, and threatens to overwhelm the settlement. The noise of these billows equals that of the loudest cannon, and, with the thunder and lightning, so frequent in the rainy season, is truly awful. During the tedious monsoon I passed at Anjengo, I often stood upon the trembling sand-bank, to contemplate the solemn scene, and derive comfort from that sublime and omnipotent decree, ‘Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further; and here shall thy proud waves be stayed!’”

WHIRLWINDS AND WATERSPOUTS.

“The dreadful spout Which shipmen do the hurricano call Constring’d in mass by the almighty sun.” SHAKSPEARE (Troilus and Cressida.)

In number three hundred and two of the Monthly Magazine, Sir Richard Phillips, in describing a waterspout observed by him, points out the connection between those phenomena and hurricanes, and offers a very philosophical explanation of the formation of the former. It happened to him, he observes, on the twenty-seventh of June, 1817, about seven in the evening, to witness the formation, operation and extinction of what is called a waterspout. His attention was drawn to a sudden hurricane which nearly tore up the shrubs and vegetables in the western gardens, and filled the air with leaves and small collections of the recently cut grass. Very dark clouds had collected over the adjacent country, and some stormy rain, accompanied by several strokes of lightning, followed this hurricane of wind. The violence lasted a few minutes, and it was evident that a whirlwind agitated a variety of substances which had been raised into the air. The storm proceeded from west to east, that is, from Hampstead over Kentish-Town, toward Holloway. In about five minutes, in the direction of the latter place, a magnificent projection was visible from the clouds, somewhat like a tunnel, with the smallest part downward. It descended two-thirds of the distance from the clouds toward the earth, and evidently consisted of parts of clouds descending in a vortex, violently agitated like smoke from the chimney of a furnace recently supplied with fuel. It then shortened, and appeared to be drawn up toward the stratum of clouds, and finally drew itself into the cloud; but a small cone, or projecting thread, of varying size and length, continued for ten minutes. At the time, and for half an hour after, a severe storm of rain was visibly falling from the ruins of clouds connected with it, the extent being exactly defined by the breadth of Holloway, Highgate and Hornsey. About two hours after, it was found that one of the heaviest torrents of rain remembered by the inhabitants, had fallen around the foot of Highgate hill; and some persons having seen the projected cloud, an absolute belief existed that a waterspout had burst at the crossing of the new and old roads. On proceeding toward London, various accounts agreeing with the superstition or preconceived notions of the bystanders were given; and at one place it appeared that some haymakers were stacking hay from a wagon which stood between two ricks, and that the same whirlwind which passed over Kentish-Town, had passed over the loaded wagon with an impetus sufficient to carry it about twenty yards from its station, and to put the men on it and on the rick, in fear of their lives. Passing the road, it carried with it a stream of hay, and, nearly unroofing a shed on the other side, filled the air to a great hight with fragments of hay, leaves and boughs of trees, which resembled a vast flight of birds. A family in the vicinity beheld the descending cloud, or waterspout, pass over, and saw its train, which, at the time, they took to be a flight of birds. They afterward beheld the descending cloud draw itself upward, and they and other witnesses described it as a vast mass of smoke working about in agitation; to them it was nearly vertical in a northern direction; and to persons a quarter of a mile north, it was nearly vertical in a southern direction; and all agree that it drew itself up without rain, and was followed near the earth by the train of light bodies. It appeared also, on various testimony, to let itself down in a gradual and hesitating manner, beginning with a sort of knob in the cloud, and then descending lower, and curling and twisting about till it shortened, and gradually drew itself into the cloud.

The inferences which Sir Richard draws from what he saw and heard, are as follows. That the phenomenon called a waterspout is a mere collection of clouds, of the same rarity as the mass whence they are drawn. That the descent is a mechanical effect of the whirlwind, which creating a vacuum, or high degree of rarefaction, extending between the clouds and the earth, the clouds descend in it by their gravity, or by the pressure of the surrounding clouds or air. That the convolutions of the descending mass, and the sensible whirlwind felt at the earth, as well as the appearance of the commencement, increase and decrease of the mass, all demonstrate the whirl of the air to be the mechanical cause. That the same vortex, whirl or eddy of the air, which occasions the clouds to descend, occasions the loose bodies on the earth to ascend. That, if in this case the lower surface had been water, the same mechanical power would have raised a body of foam, vapor and water, toward the clouds. That, as soon as the vortex or whirl exhausts or dissipates itself, the phenomena terminate by the fall to the lower surface of the light bodies or water, and by the ascent of the cloud. That when water constitutes the light body of the lower surface, it is probable that the aqueous vapor of the cloud, by coalescing with it, may occasion the clouds to condense, and fall at that point, as through a siphon. That if the descending cloud be highly electrified, and the vortex pass over a conducting body, as a church steeple, it is probable it may be condensed by an electrical concussion, and fall at that spot, discharging whatever has been taken up from the lower surface, and producing the strange phenomena of showers of frogs, fish, &c. And, lastly, it appears certain, that the action of the air on the mass of clouds, pressing toward the mouth of the vortex as to a funnel, (which, in this case, it exactly represented,) occasioned such a condensation as to augment the simultaneous fall of rain to a prodigy.

In the month of July, 1800, a waterspout was seen rapidly to approach a ship navigating between the Lipari islands. It had the appearance of a viscid fluid, tapering in its descent, and proceeding from the cloud to join the sea. It moved at the rate of about two miles an hour, with a loud sound of rain, passing the stern of the ship, and wetting the after part of the mainsail. It was thence concluded that waterspouts are not continuous columns of water, which has been confirmed by subsequent observations.

In November, 1801, about twenty miles from Trieste, in the Adriatic sea, a waterspout was seen eight miles to the southward: round its lower extremity was a mist, twelve feet high, nearly of the form of an Ionian capital, with very large volutes, the spout resting obliquely on its crown. At some distance from this spout, the sea began to be agitated, and a mist rose to the hight of about four feet: a projection then descended from the black cloud which was impending, and met the ascending mist about twenty feet above the sea, the last ten yards of the distance being described with great rapidity. A cloud of a light color appeared to ascend in this cloud like quicksilver in a glass tube. The first spout then snapped at about one-third of its hight, the inferior part subsiding gradually, and the superior curling upward. Several other projections from the cloud, appeared with corresponding agitations of the water below, but not always in spouts vertically under them: seven spouts in all were formed, and two other projections reabsorbed. Some of the spouts were not only oblique, but curved, the ascending cloud moving most rapidly in those which were vertical. They lasted from three to five minutes, and their dissipation was not attended with any fall of rain. For some days before the weather had been very rainy, with a south-east wind, but not any rain had fallen on the day of observation.

In some cases, however, the waterspout at sea, is a continuous column of water, carried upward from the surface of the waves, and possibly meeting with water brought down from the clouds and condensed by the force of the revolving hurricane. Such waterspouts are now and then seen on the ocean, having an appearance like that represented in the cut on the next page. And as the wind blows first this way, and then that, they often writhe and bend, from one point to another, while the sea below, and all around, is agitated and covered with foam. Woe to that vessel that comes within the reach of one of these mighty phenomena. It would be crushed and sunk like a leaf on the waters. The usual defense at sea is to fire a cannon-shot into the whirling waterspout, which commonly breaks and dispels it, and causes the water to fall in a tremendous cataract or shower.

Waterspouts, however, are not confined to the ocean. They are occasionally witnessed on the great fresh-water lakes of our own country, as they have been on the inland seas of other parts of the globe. Several of these remarkable phenomena were seen in 1854, on Lake Ontario, two of which were visible at Sodus point. They were dense, cone-shaped columns, and formed a continuous line from the earth to the clouds. One of them, the largest, which was nearly thirty feet in diameter, was precipitated against the bluffs, and broke with a deafening noise upon the rocks below, causing so great a commotion of the waters that a large quantity of logs and lumber were torn from their moorings and washed far out into the lake. The smaller of the two pursued its terrific and onward course as far as the eye could reach, filling the beholders with wonder and astonishment, and awakening such a feeling of grandeur and sublimity that they stood almost mute and statue-like, until the sound of this gigantic column of water died far away in the distance. A portion of the pier of the light-house was swept away by the elements, and considerable damage was done to the light-house. There was a severe storm out on the lake, and several schooners, brigs, &c., came scudding in, under bare poles, seeking security from the tempestuous billows without, upon the placid bosom of the harbor. The velocity and power of the whirlwind which caused these waterspouts, were very great. As it passed on westward in its furious course, it is said that in a town in Ohio, a grove of oak-trees was almost entirely blown down by it. The trunk of one of these trees, on being measured, was found to be about three feet in diameter. Assuming, however, that its diameter was but two and a half feet, it would require to break it, a force of one hundred and forty-nine thousand pounds. The surface of the tree exposed to the action of the wind, was about one thousand square feet, which would give a pressure by the wind of one hundred and forty-seven pounds to the square foot, or a velocity of not less than one hundred and seventy-one miles per hour, which is nearly one-fourth the velocity of a cannon-ball just leaving the cannon. Allowing the hight of the hurricane or whirlwind to have been sixty feet, the whole force exerted, at one time, along its track, was equal to more than half the steam power of the globe!

These corresponding phenomena of whirlwinds have been occasionally productive of much mischief, as the following brief narratives will show. On the thirtieth of October, 1669, about six in the evening, the wind being then westwardly, a formidable whirlwind, scarcely of the breadth of sixty yards, and which spent itself in about seven minutes, arose at Ashly, in Northamptonshire, England. Its first assault was on a milkmaid, whose pail and hat were taken from off her head, and the former carried many scores of yards from her, where it lay undiscovered for some days. It next stormed a farmyard, where it blew a wagon body off the axletrees, breaking in pieces the latter, and the wheels, three of which, thus shattered, were blown over a wall. Another wagon, which did not, like the former, lie across the passage of the wind, was driven with great speed against the side of the farm-house. A branch of an ash-tree, so large that two stout men could scarcely lift it, was blown over a house without damaging it, although torn from a tree one hundred yards distant. A slate was carried nearly two hundred yards, and forced against a window, the iron bar of which it bent. Several houses were stripped; and in one instance, this powerful gust, or stream of air, forced open a door, breaking the latch; whence it passed through the entry, and, forcing open the dairy door, overturned the milk-pans, and blew out three panes of glass. It next ascended to the chambers, and blew out nine other panes. Lastly, it blew a gate-post, fixed two feet and a half in the ground, out of the earth, and carried it many yards into the fields.

On the thirtieth of October, 1731, at one in the morning, a very sudden and terrific whirlwind, having a breadth of two hundred yards, was experienced at Cerne-Abbas, in Dorsetshire. From the south-west side of the town, it passed to the north-east, crossing the center, and unroofing the houses in its progress. It rooted up trees, broke others in the middle, of at least a foot square, and carried the tops a considerable distance. A sign-post, five feet by four, was broken off six feet in the pole, and carried across a street forty feet in breadth, over a house opposite. The pinnacles and battlements of one side of the church-tower were thrown down, and the leads and timber of the north aisle broken in by their fall. A short time before, the air was remarkably calm. It was estimated that this sudden and terrible gust did not last more than two minutes.

About the middle of August, 1741, at ten in the morning, several peasants being on a heath near Holkham, in Norfolk, perceived, about a quarter of a mile from them, a wind like a whirlwind approach them gradually, in a straight line from east to west. It passed through the field where they were plowing, and tore up the stubble and grass in the plowed ground, for two miles in length, to the breadth of thirty yards. In reaching an inclosure at the top of a rising ground, it appeared like a great flash or ball of fire, emitting smoke, and accompanied by a noise similar to that of carts passing over a stony ground. Both before and after the wind passed, there was a strong smell of sulphur; and the noise was heard long after the smoke had been perceived. This fiery whirlwind moved so slowly forward, that it was nearly ten minutes in proceeding from the inclosure to a farm-house in the vicinity, where it did much mischief.

SOUNDS AND ECHOES.

Sound is propagated successively from the sounding body to the places which are nearest to it, then to those more distant, &c. Every observer knows that when a gun is fired at a considerable distance from him, he perceives the flash a certain time before he hears the report; and the same thing is true with respect to the stroke of a hammer, or of a hatchet, the fall of a stone, or, in short, any visible action which produces a sound or sounds. In general, sound travels through the air at the rate of eleven hundred and forty-two feet in a second, or about thirteen miles in a minute. This is the case with all kinds of sounds; the softest whisper flying as fast as the loudest thunder. Sound, like light, after it has been reflected from several places, may be collected into one point as a focus, where it will be more audible than in any other part; and on this principle whispering galleries are constructed. The particulars relative to the celebrated whispering gallery in the dome of St. Paul’s church, London, will be comprehended in the description of that noble edifice.

An echo is the reflection of sound striking against a surface adapted to the purpose, as the side of a house, a brick wall, hill, &c., and returning back again to the ear, at distinct intervals of time. If a person stand about sixty-five or seventy feet from such a surface, and perpendicularly to it, and speak, the sound will strike against the wall, and be reflected back, so that he will hear it as it goes to the wall, and again on its return. If a bell situated in the same way be struck, and an observer stand between the bell and the reflecting surface, he will hear the sound going to the wall, and also on its return. Lastly, if the sound strike the wall obliquely, it will go off obliquely, so that a person who stands in a direct line between the bell and the wall will not hear the echo. According to the greater or less distance from the speaker, a reflecting object will return the echo of several, or of fewer syllables; for all the syllables must be uttered before the echo of the first syllable reaches the ear, to prevent the confusion which would otherwise ensue. In a moderate way of speaking, about three and a half syllables are pronounced in one second, or seven syllables in two seconds: therefore, when an echo repeats seven syllables, the reflecting object is eleven hundred and forty-two feet distant; for sound travels at the rate of eleven hundred and forty-two feet per second, and the distance from the speaker to the reflecting object, and again from the latter to the former, is twice eleven hundred and forty-two feet. When the echo returns fourteen syllables, the reflecting object must be twenty-two hundred and eighty-four feet distant, and so on.

The most remarkable echo recorded, is at the palace of a nobleman, within two miles of Milan, in Italy. The building is of some length in front, and has two wings jutting forward; so that it wants only one side of an oblong figure. About one hundred paces before the mansion, a small brook glides gently; and over this brook is a bridge forming a communication between the mansion and the garden. A pistol having been fired at this spot, fifty-six reiterations of the report were heard. The first twenty were distinct; but in proportion as the sound died away, and was answered at a greater distance, the repetitions were so doubled that they could scarcely be counted, the principal sound appearing to be saluted in its passage by reports on either side at the same time. A pistol of a larger caliber having been afterward discharged, and consequently with a louder report, sixty distinct reiterations were counted. From this example it follows, that the further the reflecting surface is, the greater number of syllables the echo will repeat; but that the sound will be enfeebled nearly in the same proportion, until at length the syllables can not be distinctly heard. On the other hand, when the reflecting object is too near, the repetition of the sound reaches the ear, whilst the perception of the original sound still continues, in which case an indistinct resounding is heard, as may be observed in empty rooms, passages, &c. In such places, several reflections from the walls to the hearer, as also from one wall to the other, and then to the hearer, clash with each other, and increase the indistinctness of the sound.

BURIED CITIES.

THE YANAR, OR PERPETUAL FIRE.

Before passing on to the buried cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii, it may be as well to notice a singular phenomenon, supposed by some to be of volcanic origin, viz., the Yanar, or perpetual fire. Captain Beaufort, of the British navy, among the interesting details of his survey of Karamania, on the south coast of Asia Minor, describes this curious phenomenon; and from his account the following particulars are extracted, as supplementary to and connected with the details of volcanoes and their effects.

Having perceived during the night a small but steady light among the hills, he found that this was represented by the inhabitants as a yanar or volcanic light; and on the following morning curiosity led him to visit the spot. In the inner corner of a ruined building he came to a wall, so undermined as to leave an aperture of about three feet in diameter, and shaped like the mouth of an oven. From this aperture the flame issued, giving out an intense heat, but without producing any smoke on the wall; and although several small lumps of caked soot were detached from the neck of the opening, the walls were scarcely discolored. Trees, brushwood and weeds, grew close around this little crater; a small stream trickled down the hill in its vicinity; and the ground did not appear to feel the effect of its heat at more than a few yards’ distance. No volcanic productions were perceived near to it; but at a short distance, lower down on the side of the hill, was another hole or aperture, which had apparently been at some remote period the vent of a similar flame. It was asserted, however, by the guide, that, in the memory of the present race of inhabitants, there had been but one such volcanic opening, and that its size and appearance had been constantly the same. He added, that it was never accompanied by earthquakes or noises; and that it did not eject either stones, smoke or noxious vapors; but that its brilliant and perpetual flame could not be quenched by any quantity of water. At this flame, he observed, the shepherds were in the habit of cooking their food. This phenomenon appeared to Captain Beaufort to have existed for many ages, and he was persuaded that it is the spot to which Pliny alludes in the following passage: “Mount Chimera, near Phaselis, emits an unceasing flame, which burns day and night.” Within a short distance is the great mountain of Takhtalu, the naked summit of which rises, in an insulated peak, seventy-eight hundred feet above the level of the sea. In the month of August a few streaks of snow were discernible on the peak; but many of the distant mountains of the interior were completely white for nearly a fourth the way down their sides. It may hence be inferred, that the elevation of this part of Mount Taurus is not less than ten thousand feet, which is equal to that of Mount Etna.

Such a striking feature as this stupendous mountain, in a country inhabited by illiterate and credulous people, can not fail to have been the subject of numerous tales and traditions. Accordingly, the captain was informed by the peasants, that there is a perpetual flow of the purest water from the very apex; and that notwithstanding the snow, which was still lingering in the chasms, roses blew there all the year round. He was assured by the agha of Deliktash, that every autumn a midnight groan is heard to issue from the summit of the mountain, louder than the report of any cannon, but unaccompanied by fire or smoke. The agha professed his ignorance of the cause, but on being pressed for his opinion, gravely replied, that he believed it was an annual summons to the elect, to make the best of their way to Paradise. However amusing this theory may have been, it may possibly be true that such explosions take place. The mountain artillery heard by Lewis and Clarke, among the Rocky mountains, and similar phenomena which are said to have occurred in South America, seem to lend some probability to the account. The natives have also a tradition, that when Moses fled from Egypt, he took up his abode near this mountain, which was therefore named Moossa-Daghy, or the mountain of Moses. Between this story, and the Yanar, as it has been described above, may there not have been some fanciful connection? The site of this volcanic opening is at an inconsiderable distance from the mountain; and the flame issuing from the thicket which surrounds it, may have led to some confused association with the burning bush on Mount Horeb, of which we have the account in the book of Exodus.

POMPEII.

To every traveler through the southern part of Europe, Pompeii and Herculaneum are, of course, the objects of earliest attention and deepest interest. The tragic story of these buried towns is now familiar to most intelligent persons; while the vivid romance of Bulwer makes one feel as if he had known the inhabitants, and almost as though he had been a witness of the catastrophe. The story is recorded not more faithfully by the younger Pliny, in his celebrated letter to Tacitus, than it is plainly read in the material evidence, whose unexpected discovery, almost in our own day, has supplied both to the antiquarian and the geologist, most valued and truthful evidences; contemporary records, expounding to the antiquary an interesting chapter of human history, filled with the minutest details of personal interest, and to the geologist, the close of one and the commencement of another of those great cycles of change, whose history, strangely connected in this instance with the vicissitudes of his own race, engrosses his delighted attention.

A great and rich town, which, after sleeping eighteen centuries in its deep and dark grave, is again shone on by the sun, and stands among other cities as much a stranger to them as any one of its former inhabitants would be among men of the present day, is surely one of the wonders of the world; and such is Pompeii. The distance from Naples to Pompeii, is little more than ten English miles. Near the Torre dell’Annunziata, to the left, and amid hills planted with vineyards, the town itself, which, throwing off its shroud of ashes, came forth from its grave, breaks on the view. The buildings are without roofs, which are supposed to have been destroyed by the lava, or torn off by the hurricane which preceded it. The tracks of the wheels which anciently rolled over the pavement are still visible. An elevated path runs by the side of the houses, for foot-passengers; and, to enable them in rainy weather to pass more commodiously to the opposite side, large flat stones, three of which take up the width of the road, were laid at a distance from each other. As the carriages, in order to avoid these stones, were obliged to use the intermediate spaces, the tracks of the wheels are there most visible. The whole of the pavement is in good condition: it consists merely of considerable pieces of lava, which, however, are not cut as at present into squares, and may have been on that account the more durable.

The part which was first cleared, is supposed to have been the main street of Pompeii; but this is much to be doubted, as the houses on both sides, with the exception of a few, were evidently the habitations of common citizens, and were small and provided with booths. The street itself likewise is narrow: two carriages only could go abreast; and it is very uncertain whether it ran through the whole of the town; for, from the spot where the moderns discontinued digging, to that where they recommenced, and where the same street is supposed to have been again found, a wide tract is covered with vineyards, which may perhaps occupy the places of the most splendid streets and markets, still concealed underneath.

Among the objects which attract particular attention, is a booth in which liquors were sold; the marble table within which, bears the marks of the cups left by the drinkers. Next to this is a house, the threshold of which is inlaid with a salutation in black stone, as a token of hospitality. On entering the habitations, the visitor is struck by the strangeness of their construction. The middle of the house forms a square, something like the cross passages of a cloister, often surrounded by pillars: it is cleanly, and paved with party-colored mosaic, which has an agreeable effect. In the middle is a cooling well, and on each side a little chamber, about ten or twelve feet square, but lofty, and painted with a fine red or yellow. The floor is of mosaic; and the door is made generally to serve as a window, there being but one apartment which receives light through a thick blue glass. Many of these rooms are supposed to have been bed-chambers, because there is an elevated, broad step, on which the bed may have stood, and because some of the pictures appear most appropriate to a sleeping-room. Others are supposed to have been dressing-rooms, from the fact that on the walls a Venus is described decorated by the Graces, added to which, little flasks and boxes of various descriptions have been found in them. The larger of these apartments served for dining-rooms, and in some are suitable accommodations for cold and hot baths.

The manner in which a whole room was heated, is particularly curious. Against the usual wall a second was erected, standing at a little distance from the first. For this purpose large square tiles were taken, having, like modern tiles, a sort of hook, thus keeping the first wall as it were off from them: a hollow space was thus left all around, from the top to the bottom, into which pipes were introduced, that carried the warmth into the chamber, and as it were rendered the whole of the place one stove. The ancients were also attentive to avoid the vapor or smell from their lamps. In some houses there is a niche made in the wall for the lamp, with a little chimney in the form of a funnel, through which the smoke escaped. Opposite to the house-door the largest room is placed: it is properly a sort of hall, for it has only three walls, being quite open in the fore part. The side rooms have no connection with each other, but are divided off in little cells, the door of each leading to a fountain.

Most of the houses consist of one such square, surrounded by rooms. In a few, some decayed steps seem to have led to an upper story, which is no longer in existence. Some habitations, however, probably belonging to the richer and more fashionable, are far more spacious. In these, a first court is often connected with a second, and even with a third, by passages: in other respects their arrangements are similar to those above described. Many garlands of flowers and vine-branches, and many handsome pictures, are still to be seen on the walls. The guides were formerly permitted to sprinkle these pictures with fresh water, in the presence of travelers, and thus revive their former splendor for a moment: but this is now strictly forbidden; and, indeed, not without reason, since the frequent watering might at length totally rot away the wall.

One of the houses belonged to a statuary, whose workshop is still full of the vestiges of his art. Another appears to have been inhabited by a surgeon, whose profession is equally evident from the instruments discovered in his chamber. A large country-house near the gate, undoubtedly belonged to a very wealthy man, and would, in fact, still invite inhabitants within its walls. It is very extensive, stands against a hill, and has many stories. Its finely decorated rooms are unusually spacious; and it has airy terraces, from which you look down into a pretty garden, that has been now again planted with flowers. In the middle of this garden is a large fishpond, and near that an ascent from which, on two sides, six pillars descend. The hinder pillars are the highest, the middle somewhat lower, and the front the lowest: they appear, therefore, rather to have propped a sloping roof, than to have been destined for an arbor. A covered passage, resting on pillars, incloses the garden on three sides; it was painted, and probably served in rainy weather as an agreeable walk. Beneath is a fine arched cellar, which receives air and light by several openings from without; consequently its atmosphere is so pure, that in the hottest part of summer it is always refreshing. A number of amphoræ, or large wine-vessels, are to be seen here, still leaning against the wall, as the butler left them when he carried up the last goblet of wine for his master. Had the inhabitants of Pompeii preserved these vessels with stoppers, wine might still have been found in them; but as it was, the stream of ashes running in, of course forced out the wine. More than twenty human skeletons of fugitives, who thought to save themselves here under ground, but who must have experienced a tenfold more cruel death than those suffered who were in the open air, were found in this cellar.

The destiny of the Pompeians must have been dreadful. It was not a stream of fire that encompassed their abodes: they could then have sought refuge in flight. Neither did an earthquake swallow them up; sudden suffocation would then have spared them the pangs of a lingering death. But a rain of ashes buried them alive BY DEGREES! Hear the delineation of Pliny: “A darkness suddenly overspread the country; not like the darkness of a moonless night; but like that of a closed room, in which the light is of a sudden extinguished. Women screamed, children moaned, men cried. Here, children were anxiously calling their parents; and there, parents were seeking their children, or husbands their wives; all recognized each other only by their cries. The former lamented their own fate, and the latter that of those dearest to them. Many wished for death, from the fear of dying. Many called on the gods for assistance: others despaired of the existence of the gods, and thought this the last eternal night of the world. Actual dangers were magnified by unreal terrors. The earth continued to shake, and men, half-distracted, to reel about, exaggerating their own fears, and those of others, by terrifying predictions.”

Such is the frightful but true picture which Pliny gives us of the horrors of those who were, however, far from the extremity of their misery. But what must have been the feelings of the Pompeians, when the roaring of the mountain and the quaking of the earth, awaked them from their first sleep? They also attempted to escape the wrath of the gods; and, seizing the most valuable things they could lay their hands upon in the darkness and confusion, endeavored to seek their safety in flight. In this street, and in front of the house marked with the friendly salutation on its threshold, seven skeletons were found: the first carried a lamp, and the rest had still between the bones of their fingers something that they wished to save. On a sudden they were overtaken by the storm which descended from heaven, and buried in the grave thus made for them. Before the above mentioned country-house, was still a male skeleton, standing with a dish in his hand; and, as he wore on his finger one of those rings which were allowed to be worn by Roman knights only, he is supposed to have been the master of the house, who had just opened the back garden gate with the intent of flying, when the shower overwhelmed him. Several skeletons were found in the very posture in which they had breathed their last, without having been forced by the agonies of death to drop the things they had in their hands. This leads to a conjecture, that the thick mass of ashes must have come down all at once, in such immense quantities as instantly to cover them. It can not otherwise be imagined how the fugitives could all have been fixed, as it were by a charm, in their position; in which manner their destiny was the less dreadful, seeing that Death suddenly converted them into motionless statues, and thus was stripped of all the horrors with which the fears of the sufferers had clothed him in imagination. But what then must have been the pitiable condition of those who had taken refuge in the buildings and cellars! Buried in the thickest darkness, they were secluded from everything but lingering torment; and who can paint to himself without shuddering, a slow dissolution approaching, amid all the agonies of body and of mind? The soul recoils from the contemplation of such images.

To proceed now to the public edifices. The temple of Isis is still standing, with its Doric pillars, and its walls painted with emblems of the service of the deity, such as the hippopotamus, cocoa-blossom, ibis, &c. A view of it is given in the cut. The sacred vessels, lamps and tables of Isis, are still to be seen. From a little chapel within, a poisonous vapor is said to have formerly arisen, which the heathen priests may have used for every species of deception. This vapor is said to have increased after the violent eruption of Vesuvius; but it has not latterly given out the slightest smell. A small Grecian temple, of which only two pillars remain, had been probably already destroyed by an earthquake, which, in the reign of Titus, preceded the dreadful irruption of the volcano. On the opposite side of this temple there is still an edifice, called the quarters of the soldiers, because all sorts of arms, pictures of soldiers, and a skeleton in chains, were found there. By others it has been considered as the forum of Pompeii.

Two theaters, the smaller one particularly, are in an excellent state of preservation. The structure of this one is such as was usually adopted by the ancients, and is better arranged than some of modern construction, as it affords the spectators commodious seats, a free view of the stage, and facility of hearing. Although sufficiently large to contain two thousand persons, the plebeians, standing in a broad gallery at the top, were quite as able to see all that was passing on the stage, as the magistrate in his marble balcony. In this gallery the arrangements for spreading the sail-cloth over the spectators are still visible. The stage itself is very broad, as it has no side walls; and appears less deep than it really is. A wall runs across it, and cuts off just as much room as is necessary for the accommodation of the performers. But this wall has three very broad doors; the middle one is distinguished by its hight, and the space behind it is still deeper than in front. If these doors, as may be conjectured, always stood open, the stage was in fact large, and afforded besides the advantage of being able to display a double scenery: if, for example, the scene in front was that of a street, there might have been behind a free prospect into the open field.

The cemetery lies before the gate of the high road. The tomb of the priestess Mammea is very remarkable: it was erected, according to the epitaph, by virtue of a decree of the decemvirs. In the midst of little boxes of stone, in square piles, and on a sort of altar, the family urns were placed in niches; and without these piles the broken masks are still to be seen. In front of the cemetery, by the road-side, is a beautiful seat, forming a semicircle, that will contain twenty or thirty persons. It was probably overshaded by trees eighteen hundred years ago; under which the women of Pompeii sat in the cool evenings, while their children played before them, and viewed the crowds which were passing through the gate.

To the above particulars from the pen of the elegant and lively Kotzebue, the following details, given by a later and accurate traveler, are subjoined. The entrance into Pompeii is by a quadrangular court; and this court is surrounded on every side by a colonnade which supports the roof of a gallery; and the latter leads to several small apartments, not unlike the cells of a prison. The columns are of brick, stuccoed over, and painted of a deep red: they are in hight from ten to twelve feet, are placed at about a like distance from each other, and are of the Doric order, fluted two-thirds from the top, and well proportioned. After a variety of conjectures relative to the purpose to which this building was applied, it has been ascertained that it was either a barrack for soldiers, (various pieces of armor having been found in some of the cells,) or the prætorium of the governor, where a body of military must have been stationed. Adjacent to it stood the theaters, the forum, and one or two temples, all connected by very neat and well-paved courts. The smaller of the theaters is to the right, and is called the covered theater, because it was so constructed, that by the means of canvas awnings, the spectators were defended from the sun and rain. A door through the wall leads to the different galleries, and to the open space in the center, resembling the pit of a modern theater. The interior is beautifully neat; and with the exception of the spoliation of the marble slabs, removed to the palace at Naples, with which the whole of the inside, not excepting the seats, had been covered, it is in excellent preservation. On each side are the seats for the magistrates; the orchestra, as in modern theaters, is in front of the stage; and the latter, with its brick wings, is very shallow. This theater was calculated to contain about two thousand spectators. From its level a staircase leads to an eminence on which several public buildings are situated. The most conspicuous of these is a small temple said to have been dedicated to Isis, and having a secret passage, perforated in two places, whence the priests are supposed to have delivered to the deluded multitude the oracles of that deity.

Within a paved court is an altar, of a round shape, on the one side, and on the other side a well. A cistern, with four apertures, was placed at a small distance, to facilitate the procuring of water. In this court, sacrifices and other holy rites are conjectured to have taken place, various utensils for sacrifice, such as lamps, tripods, &c., having been found, when the place was first excavated. One of the tripods is of the most admirable workmanship. On each of the three legs, a beautiful sphinx, with an unusual head-dress, is placed, probably in allusion to the hidden meanings of the oracles which were delivered in the above-mentioned temple. The hoop in which the basin for the coals was sunk, is elegantly decorated with rams’ heads connected by garlands of flowers; and within the basin, which is of baked earth, the very cinders left from the last sacrifice (nearly two thousand years ago) are seen as fresh as if they had been the remains of yesterday’s fire!

From the above court, you enter on a somewhat larger, with a stone pulpit in the center and stone seats near the walls. The spot, therefore, was either the auditory of a philosopher, or the place where the public orators pleaded in the presence of the people. Everything here is in the highest order and preservation.

The great amphitheater proudly rears its walls over every other edifice on the same elevated spot. It is a stupendous structure, and has twenty-four rows of seats, the circumference of the lowest of which is about seven hundred and fifty feet. It is estimated to have contained about thirty thousand spectators. The upper walls are much injured, having partially projected above ground long before the discovery of Pompeii.

A corn-field leads to the excavated upper end of the high street, which consists of a narrow road for carts, with foot-pavements on each side. The middle is paved with large blocks of marble, and the ruts of the wheels proclaim its antiquity, even at the time of its being overwhelmed. The foot-paths are elevated about a foot and a half from the level of the carriage-road. The houses on each side, whether shops or private buildings, have no claim to external elegance: they consist of a ground-floor only, and, with the exception of the door, have no opening toward the street. The windows of the private houses look into an inner square court, and are in general very high. The apartments themselves are, with the exception of one in each house, which probably served as a drawing-room, both low and diminutive. In point of decoration they are neat, and, in many instances, elegant: the floors generally consist of figured pavements, either in larger stones of various colors, regularly cut and systematically disposed, or are formed of a beautiful mosaic, with a fanciful border, and an animal or figure in the center. The geometrical lines and figures in the design of the borders, have an endless variety of the most pleasing shapes, to display the fertile imagination of the artists. Their tesselated pavements alone must convince us that the ancients were well skilled in geometry. The ground is usually white, and the ornaments black; but other colors are often employed with increased effect.

The walls of the apartments are equally (if not still more) deserving attention. They are painted, either in compartments, exhibiting some mythological or historical event, or simply colored over with a light ground, adorned with a border and perhaps an elegant little vignette, in the center or at equal distances. But few of the historical paintings now exist in Pompeii; for wherever a wall was found to contain a tolerable picture, it was removed and deposited in the museum at Naples. To effect this, the greatest care and ingenuity were required, so as to peel off, by the means of sawing pieces of wall, twenty and more square feet in extent, without destroying the picture. This, however, was not a modern invention; for, among the excavated remains of Stabiæ, the workmen came to an apartment containing paintings which had been separated by the ancients themselves from a wall, with the obvious intent of their being introduced in another place. This was, however, prevented by the ruin of the city; and the paintings, therefore, were found leaning against the wall of the apartment.

Another excavated portion of Pompeii is likewise part of a street, and, being perfectly in a line with the one already described, is conjectured to be a continuation, or rather the extremity of the latter; in which case Pompeii must have been a city of considerable importance, and its main street nearly a mile in length. The houses here, as in the other instance, are distributed into shops and private dwellings, some of the latter of which are distinguished by the remains of former internal elegance, such as tesselated pavements, painted walls, &c.: most of them have likewise an interior court, surrounded by apartments.

THE MUSEUM AT NAPLES.

The museum was formerly at Portici, but was removed to Naples some years ago and is now called the Musæo Borbonico. The best statues, busts, vases, and in short, whatever was supposed, from its materials or construction, to have a superior value, were packed in fifty-two chests, and conveyed from Portici to Palermo, at the time the court sought refuge in that city, on the French penetrating into the Neapolitan territory. What still remains, however, in the museum, has a high intrinsic value; since no one can behold, without the strongest emotions of admiration, the relics of the most transitory things, which for nearly eighteen hundred years, have braved the ravages of time. Here are to be seen bread, corn, dough which was about to be placed in the oven, soap which had been used for washing, figs, and even egg-shells perfectly white, and in as good a state as if the cook had broken them an hour before. Here a kitchen presents itself provided with everything requisite: trivets and pots stand on the hearth; stew-pans hang on the wall; skimmers and tongs are placed in the corner; and a metal mortar rests on the shaft of a pillar. Weights, hammers, scythes, and other utensils of husbandry, are here blended with helms and arms. Sacrificing bowls and knives; a number of well shaped glasses; large and small glass bottles; lamps; vases; decorations for furniture; a piece of cloth; nets; and even shoe soles; all sorts of female ornaments—necklaces, rings and ear-rings; a wooden chess-board, reduced, indeed, to a cinder: all these things are more or less injured by the fire; but still are distinguishable at first sight.

Every apartment of the museum is laid with the most charming antique floors, which are partly mosaic, from Pompeii, and partly marble, from Herculaneum. Statues, vases, busts, chandeliers, altars, tables of marble and bronze, are all in as good a state as if they had just come from the hands of the artist. The coins which have been collected are very numerous, and fill several cases. Medallions of marble, containing on each side a bas-relief, are suspended by fine chains from the ceiling of one of the apartments, and are within the reach of the hand, so as to be conveniently turned and examined.

Most of the pictures found at Herculaneum, Pompeii and Stabiæ, and now deposited in the museum, have been sawed from the walls of the edifices they adorned. These unique relics of ancient art form an extensive gallery of genuine antique pictures, the only one in the world, and may on that account alone, be considered as an invaluable treasure. They are placed in a range of apartments on the ground floor, and are suspended against the walls in plain frames. Their size varies from a foot square, to whole-length groups, nearly as large as life. Beside the injury they have sustained by having been exposed to the heat of burning cinders, they have been impaired by the modern varnish which was intended to protect them: it would, therefore, not be right to subject their coloring to the rigid rules of art; but the grouping of the Minotaur, of the Telephus, of the sitting Orestes, and of the Bacchus and Ariadne, is admirable. In their paintings, as well as in their sculptures, the ancients were influenced by that love of simplicity which distinguishes their works from those of the moderns, and the result is, that in them the chief merits of composition are combined, unity of subject, and unity of interest. When, again, it is considered that the paintings collected in the museum at Naples were taken from the provincial towns, it must be inferred, that those which were admitted in the chief seats of art corresponded in excellence with the Laocoön and the Apollo. Such, at least, was the judgment of the ancients themselves, and their taste is not to be disputed.

The museum at Naples excels all others in ancient bronze, a substance which, although dearer, more difficult to be wrought, more inviting to the rude grasp of avarice, and less beautiful than marble, forms the greater proportion of the statues. The larger of them had been originally composed of pieces connected by dove-tail joints; and these promiscuous fragments have been recompiled into new figures, as in the instance of the single horse made from four, in the center of the court-yard of the museum. Those fragments which had escaped fusion, were rent, inflated, or bruised, by the burning lava. In addition to these misfortunes, they have been made up unhappily; for the eye of an artist can sometimes detect two styles of art, evidently different, the large and the exquisite, soldered together in the same statue. The figures the most admired are, the drunken Faun, the sleeping Faun, the sitting Mercury, the Amazon adjusting her robe, and an Augustus and a Claudius, both of heroic size.

The most remarkable objects in the museum at Naples are the manuscripts, found in two chambers of a house at Herculaneum. Although they have been so frequently described, they must be seen, to furnish a correct idea of them. Before they are unrolled, they resemble sticks of charcoal, or cudgels reduced to the state of a cinder, and partly petrified. Their general appearance before they are unrolled may be seen on the previous page. In color they are black and chesnut-brown: and they are unfortunately so decayed, that under each of them, as they lie in glass cases, a quantity of dust and detached fragments may be perceived. Their characters are legible in a certain light only, by a gloss and relief which distinguishes the ink, or rather black paint, from the tinder. Cut, crushed, crumbled on the edge, and caked by the sap remaining in the leaves of the papyrus, they require in the operator great sagacity to meet the variety of injuries they have received; since, in gluing rashly the more delicate parts, he might reach the heart of a volume, while working at the outside. At first, it appeared almost impracticable ever to decipher a syllable of them; but to the industry and talents of man nothing is impossible, and his curiosity impels him to the most ingenious inventions.

HERCULANEUM.

This city was, together with Pompeii and Stabiæ, involved in the common ruin occasioned by the dreadful eruption of Vesuvius, in the reign of Titus, which has already been described in our previous pages.

It was situated on a point of land stretching into the gulf of Naples, about two miles distant from that city, near where the modern towns of Portici and Resini, and the royal palace, by which they are separated, now stand. The neck of land on which it was built, and which has since disappeared, formed a small harbor. Hence the appellation of =Herculis Porticum=, (the small haven of Hercules,) sometimes given to Herculaneum, and thence in all probability, the modern name of Portici.

The latter being situated immediately above some of the excavations of Herculaneum, the just fear of endangering its safety, by undermining it, is given as a principal reason why so little progress has been made in the Herculanean researches.

The discovery of Herculaneum is thus explained. At an inconsiderable distance from the royal palace of Portici, and close to the seaside, Prince Elbeuf, in the beginning of the last century, inhabited an elegant villa. To obtain a supply of water a well was dug, in the year 1730, through the deep crust of lava on which the mansion itself had been reared. The laborers, after having completely pierced through the lava, which was of considerable depth, came to a stratum of dry mud. This event precisely agrees with the tradition relative to Herculaneum, that it was in the first instance overwhelmed by a stratum of hot mud, which was immediately followed by a wide stream of lava. Whether this mud was thrown up from Vesuvius, or formed by torrents of rain, does not appear to have been decided. Within the stratum the workmen found three female statues, which were sent to Vienna.

It was not until some years after this, that the researches at Herculaneum were seriously and systematically pursued. By continuing Elbeuf’s well, the excavators at once came to the theater, and from that spot carried on their further subterraneous investigation. The condition of Herculaneum was at that time much more interesting, and more worthy the notice of the traveler, than it is at present. The object of its excavation having unfortunately been confined to the discovery of statues, paintings, and other curiosities, and not carried on with a view to lay open the city, and thus to ascertain the features of its buildings and streets, most of the latter were again filled up with rubbish as soon as they were divested of everything movable. The marble even was torn from the walls of the temples. Herculaneum may therefore be said to have been overwhelmed a second time by its modern discoverers; and the appearance it previously presented, can now only be ascertained from the accounts of those who saw it in a more perfect state. Agreeably to them, it must at that time have afforded a most interesting spectacle.

The theater was one of the most perfect specimens of ancient architecture. It had, from the floor upward, eighteen rows of seats, and above these, three other rows, which, being covered with a portico, seem to have been intended for the female part of the audience, to screen them from the rays of the sun. It was capable of containing between three and four thousand persons. Nearly the whole of its surface, as well as the arched walls which led to its seats, was cased with marble. The area, or pit, was floored with thick squares of =giallo antico=, a beautiful marble of a yellowish hue. On the top stood a group of four bronze horses, drawing a car, with a charioteer, all of exquisite workmanship. The pedestal of white marble is still to be seen in its place; but the group itself had been crushed and broken in pieces by the immense weight of lava which fell on it. The fragments having been collected, might easily have been brought together again, but having been carelessly thrown into a corner, a part of them were stolen, and another portion fused, and converted into busts of their Neapolitan majesties. At length, it was resolved to make the best use of what remained, that is, to convert the four horses into one, by taking a fore leg of one of them, a hinder leg of another, the head of a third, &c., and, where the breach was irremediable, to cast a new piece. To this contrivance the bronze horse now shown in the museum of Naples owes its existence; and, considering its patchwork origin, it still conveys a high idea of the skill of the ancient artist.

In the forum, which was contiguous to the theater, beside a number of inscriptions, columns, &c., two beautiful equestrian statues of the Balbi family were found. These were of white marble, and were deposited in the hall of the left wing of the palace at Portici. Adjoining to the forum stood the temple of Hercules, an elegant rotunda, the interior of which was decorated with a variety of paintings, such as Theseus returning from his Cretan adventure with the Minotaur, Telephus’s birth, Chiron, the centaur, instructing Achilles, &c. These were carefully separated from the walls, and are deposited in the museum at Naples.

The most important discovery, however, was that of a villa, at a small distance from the forum; not only on account of the peculiarity of its plan, but because the greater number of the works of art were dug out of its precinct; and more especially because it contained a library consisting of more than fifteen hundred volumes, which are likewise safely deposited in the museum, and which, were they legible, would form a great classic treasure. These have been mentioned in the account of the museum at Naples, which will be found on a previous page. The villa is conjectured to have belonged to one of the Balbi family. Although elegant, it was small, and consisted of a ground-floor only, like those of Pompeii. Beside a number of small closets round an interior hall, it contained a bathing-room, curiously fitted up with marble and water-pipes, and a chapel of a diminutive size, without any window or aperture for daylight, the walls of which were painted with serpents, and within which a bronze tripod, filled with cinders and ashes, was found standing on the floor. The apartment which contained the library was fitted up with wooden presses around the walls, about six feet in hight: a double row of presses stood insulated in the middle of the room, so as to admit a free passage on every side. The wood of which the presses had been made, was burned to a cinder, and gave way at the first touch; but the volumes, composed of a much more perishable substance, the Egyptian or Syracusan papyrus, were, although completely carbonized through the effect of the heat, still so far preserved as to admit of their removal to a similar set of modern presses, (provided, however, with glass doors,) in the museum.

In the middle of the garden belonging to this villa, was a large basin, having its edges faced with stone, and the two narrow ends rounded off in a semicircular form. This piece of water was surrounded by beds or parterres of various shapes; and the garden was on every side inclosed by a covered walk supported by columns. Of these columns there were sixty-four, ten for each of the shorter, and twenty-two for each of the longer sides of the quadrangle: they were made of brick, neatly stuccoed over, exactly similar to those in the Pompeian barracks. Each pillar supported one end of a wooden beam, the other extremity of which rested on the garden wall, thus forming an arbor, in all probability planted with vines around the whole garden. Under this covered walk, several semicircular recesses, which appear to have served as bathing-places, were built. The spaces between the pillars were decorated with marble busts and bronze statues, alternately arranged. This garden was surrounded by a narrow ditch; and another covered walk, of a considerable length, led to a circular balcony, or platform, the ascent to which was by four steps, but which overhung the sea about fifteen feet. The floor of the balcony consisted of a very beautiful tesselated pavement. From this charming spot the prospect over the whole bay of Naples, including the mountains of Sorrento, the island of Capri, and Mount Posilipo, must have been delightful.

POMPEII.

Having thus given the accounts of Kotzebue, and also of an English tourist, as to Pompeii and Herculaneum, we will now add the narrative of our distinguished fellow-citizen, Professor Silliman, who passed over the same ground in 1851. All these views are given, because the subject is one of so much intrinsic interest, and because some objects are mentioned by each writer that are not by the others. Professor Silliman says: “We passed rapidly along through Portici, Resina, and Torre del Greco,[6] which form one long-continued street, lying over Herculaneum, a large city, whose entombed remains were far beneath our carriage wheels. Vesuvius was on our left, quiet and sublime. Clouds vailed its crater from our view, but its venerable sides were enveloped in the black drapery of its own lava floods. The currents have often flowed over the road on which we were traveling. Here and there, the lava had been cut through in the streets, and it protrudes in black, rocky masses, upon which many of the houses have been erected. Lava formed the walls of the houses, and the fences around the fields, and lava, only lava, was everywhere around us. After a short interval of cultivated fields, we arrived in Torre del Annunciata, in a street similar to those we had passed, and surrounded by a country in the highest state of cultivation, where every foot of the rich volcanic soil is made available. Farm-houses and villas appeared clustering around the eastern and southern foot of Vesuvius, and creeping up its sloping sides, so reckless are the people of past catastrophes, although Herculaneum reposes in its profound grave at the foot of the mountain, and the great sepulcher of Pompeii, with its funereal monuments, is in full view before them. They have also been very recently warned again, by the terrific eruption of February, 1850, which, bursting out back of Vesuvius, on the east, took an unwonted direction, thus giving another proof that no situation on or near the mountain is safe; but still the inhabitants repose in careless security.

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Footnote 6:

“Torre del Greco, a town containing eighteen thousand people, was overwhelmed, in 1794, by an eruption of lava from Vesuvius, flowing from the middle of its western slope, only five miles above the town. The melted torrent buried the place, and inundated the sea, encroaching upon it one-third of a square mile.”

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“As we drove slowly onward, checking the horses from time to time, in order to realize the scenes around us, Antonio, from the coach-box, suddenly exclaimed, ‘There is Pompeii!’ We eagerly looked, and saw a low, green ridge of land, covered by grass and shrubs. It appeared as an extended mound, over which the traveler might have driven, as thousands have heedlessly done in centuries past, unconscious that a city of the dead slumbered beneath the hoofs of the horses. Only a few minutes elapsed, before standing erect in the carriage, we discerned the still naked heaps of pumice that have been thrown out during the excavations; and immediately after, in breathless silence, we were at the door of the house of Diomede! An elegant country-house, a Roman villa, just outside of the walls of the city, still stands, almost eighteen hundred years after the great catastrophe. Its columns are erect, its walls entire, and its open doors seem to invite the stranger to enter; but the family are not there, and silence reigns in the halls of Diomede!

“I never before felt as I did when I entered this deserted house—pensive, solemn, and in full sympathy with the tragical story. Sentinels still keep these doors; not the helmeted Roman, who, firm and unmoved, surveyed the storm of fire but yielded not to fear, preferring to die at his post,[7] but Neapolitans stationed there by the government to prevent invasion of the ruins. One there was, a veteran, whose snowy hair, and visage so deeply marked by time, made us almost feel as if he must have been present when the volcanic tempest raged, and had, Salathiel-like, come down to our time to relate the events of those dreadful days. But a garrulous guide, who spoke tolerable English, placed himself at the head of our party, and was our =cicerone= through an intensely interesting day. We mused for a few minutes in the vacant rooms of the house of Diomede, walked upon the still beautiful mosaic pavements and floors, passed through the dormitories, the triclinium, the impluvium, and the hall for conversation; observed the water-cistern, and the channels worn in the stone curb by the friction of the rope, and then descended to the vaults beneath, in which so many members of the family met their fate. This gallery is strongly arched with brick, and was used as a wine-cellar, as appears from twenty-five amphoræ still remaining there, and which were found filled with volcanic matter.

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Footnote 7:

“In the Pompeian museum at Naples, we afterward saw the skull of such a Roman, whose head was still covered by his helmet, and whose skeleton was found at his station in the gate of Pompeii.”

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“On the twenty-fourth of August, in the year 79 of our own era, and not long after midday, Vesuvius broke the repose of untold ages, and resumed, with tragical energy, his ancient reign of fire, awakening the slumbering echoes of his power with terrible detonations and fearful earthquakes. A darkness that might be felt, shrouded in the profoundest gloom the midday sun, and ashes fell like snow upon the mountain, the plain, the bays of Naples and Baiæ, and far into the surrounding country. Rain from the condensed steam of the eruption deluged the whole district; torrents of fluid mud, formed by the ashes and water, swept over every obstruction, and filled to overflowing every depression of the surface. The terrified inhabitants, overwhelmed by superstitious fears, joined the droves of domestic animals, whose keener instincts had already impelled them to desert a district filled with sulphureous vapors, and vibrating with ominous and unwonted sounds, wandering, they knew not where, in search of some place where the frightful evidences of the wrath of the gods might be avoided.

“But the family of Diomede sought refuge from the falling pumice under the strong arch of the wine-cellar, strong enough to resist and sustain the load of falling materials, but not proof against the deluge of volcanic mud, whose unexpected inundation brought death to the mistress, her children, and fifteen female slaves. The record of the manner of their death is even now perfectly legible. The form of the mistress, with her back and head to the wall, with outstretched arms, is clearly delineated by the difference of color. Surrounding her are the impressions of the persons of seventeen others, various in stature, but all standing, save one infant in the arms. When these silent vaults were excavated, here stood the skeletons of these unfortunate people, the rich jewels of the mistress and of her daughter circling the bony fingers and wrists and neck. These we afterward saw in the museum at Naples, the left shoulder of the mother, as also the skull of the daughter, whose name, Julia, was engraved upon her bracelet. Equally strange and wonderful was it to see the cast of the bosom of this Roman matron, taken with lifelike precision, in the soft and fluid tufa. Her hand still grasped the purse, whose contents are also among the wonderful treasures of the same museum. Beyond the garden and the fish-pond, which are contiguous to the wine-cellar, there is a gateway where were found two skeletons, with valuable vessels and money; one hand held a rusted key, and the other a bag with coin and cameos, and vessels of silver and bronze were here. These are believed to have been the remains of the master Diomede and his servant. A wrapper contained eighty pieces of silver money, ten of gold, and some bronze. It appears highly probable that, having left the family in a place which was believed to be safe, they were engaged in transporting valuables to a place of deposit, when they were overtaken by the same deluge which destroyed their friends.

“The water-line to which the fluid magma rose in this quadrangular vaulted gallery, is still visible upon the walls, (some twelve to fifteen inches above the tallest head,) nearly even with several small apertures through which, as well as through the door, it probably flowed. It is not unlikely that this inundation was accompanied by torrents of carbonic acid and other noxious gases, so abundantly exhaled in more modern eruptions of Vesuvius, by which these refugees from the dangers above ground were perhaps so suddenly suffocated as to remain unmoved in the positions where they were found. The sudden death of the elder Pliny, who, his nephew says, was suffocated by a noxious exhalation upon the same occasion, and at no great distance from Pompeii, may, with much probability, be ascribed to the same cause.

“The facts now detailed clearly show that vast torrents of mud must have passed through the streets of Pompeii, since dry ashes and ejections of lapilli and pumice, unaided by water, could never have found their way into the interior of closed amphoræ, nor made perfect molds of the human form, nor left a level water-line upon the inner walls of close arched passages. The shower of materials which buried the city, was mainly composed of small pieces of white pumice and rounded lapilli of various colors, interspersed with some large projected masses of rock-bombs, such as Vesuvius has often thrown out in later times. These by their fall broke through the roofs, and at the places where they struck, depressed the mosaic pavements into a concave form, as we saw in several of the houses. A darker colored sand appears to have alternated with the pumice, and often forms a distinct and thick layer upon it. Numerous such alternations have been made out by the Neapolitan geologists, and we afterward saw the same order of stratification distinctly in another part of the town, where fresh excavations were going on. The fresh section here showed, that these loose materials fell much as snow falls in our northern climates when driven by the wind, being thicker in the angles than in the centers of the houses, and rising in curves corresponding to the elevations and depressions of the surface.

“The celebrated Appian way passed by the house of Diomede, and through Pompeii to Stabiæ. The road is now above ground, and is evidently as perfect as when Pompeii was buried. It is paved with large blocks of the ancient lava of Mount Somma, which, of course, proves the occurrence of early eruptions of the volcano, although at an unknown era. Deep ruts are worn by the wheels in the solid lava, which is as firm as trap, while the stones are strongly marked by the rust of the iron worn off from the wheel-tires. The furrows prove that the wheels were not more than four feet apart. This is proved also by the position of the stepping-stones for crossing the streets, which were so placed that the wheels passed between them. The stepping-stones were very large, and two and a half or three feet long, their longest diameter coinciding with the direction of the street; and they were laid so near to each other that the passengers could pass quite across the street from one side-walk to the opposite, without stepping down. There were side-walks in the principal streets, about three feet wide, and two feet above the pavement. The streets were paved with the same hard lava rock, and in many places it was worn into deep hollows by human feet, thus proving the high antiquity of the city. The street near the barracks is only thirteen feet wide. We passed through one street in which the pavement was in very bad order; the ruts were worn irregularly and very deep, the stones were tilted out of the proper level, and there, as sometimes happens in modern cities, the street commissioners had evidently not done their duty.

“The Appian way, near to Pompeii, but outside of the walls and immediately contiguous to them, is, as at Rome, bordered on both sides by tombs. and in general they are in good condition, having been preserved during seventeen centuries equally from injuries by the weather and by wanton violation. They are of marble, and their Latin inscriptions still commemorate their tenants. One tomb, constructed in the manner of the columbaria, is dedicated to the gladiators, and is decorated with bas-reliefs representing their combats. Near the tombs, and outside of the walls, we saw sheds for the horses of those who arrived after the gates of the city were closed. No stables have been discovered in the town, but skeletons of horses were found at this place, where there was a large tavern.

“Pompeii was first discovered in 1748. It lies about twelve miles south-east from Naples. The town was extremely compact, and appears to have been only three-fourths of a mile long by half a mile wide. The houses were joined together. Twenty streets, which are only fifteen feet wide, had been uncovered twenty years since. Although only one-third part of the city has been cleared of its covering, five or six hours were industriously employed by us, with our two guides, in visiting the most interesting private dwellings and the public buildings. We were indeed richly rewarded for our effort. Here we were, walking in the very streets and on the very pavements on which the ancient Romans trod; we were surveying the very houses in which they dwelt: we saw the vestibules, the impluvium (an interior and central receptacle for the rain-water from the roofs;) their triclinia, or dining-halls; their colonnades, surrounding an interior open area, in which they walked and conversed with their families and friends; the fish-ponds, also in an open area; the private marble baths; the kitchens and other arrangements for culinary purposes; the gardens in the rear of the houses, the halls and colonnades opening into the garden; the whole forming a domestic dominion secure from public inspection. All these arrangements were perfectly intelligible to us; and as we walked from house to house, it was not difficult to imagine that we were making calls, and that the people were not at home.

“Everywhere, even in the smaller houses, the floors were adorned with mosaic; many of the best designs have been sent to Naples, but, including what is still covered, much more remains in place, and not essentially injured. When it is considered that no melted lava flowed into Pompeii, but that it was covered solely by a volcanic shower of comminuted pumice and other pulverulent materials, which accumulated until the roofs were crushed inward by the weight, it will be easily understood that the mosaic floors may have remained for seventeen or eighteen hundred years, substantially uninjured. The mosaic of Pompeii is uncovered in many places, and when the dust is brushed away and the surface is wiped with a wet cloth, as was done for our gratification, all the original brightness and beauty of the figures shine forth, and in the finest patterns, the execution was in a high degree tasteful and elegant. At the door of the mansion of the edile Glaucus, which was one of the largest and best in the city, there was, in the vestibule and before entering the house, a very startling mosaic figure of a large and powerful dog, secured by a chain around his neck, but crouching and fierce, as if about to spring upon the visitor; and immediately before this vigilant sentinel, you read in large Roman letters, CAVE CANEM—beware of the dog! The inscription is preserved in the original place where we saw it, but the dog has been removed to the museum at Naples. It is still a perfect figure of a Roman dog.

“The frescoes of Pompeii and Herculaneum, have put us in possession of very perfect specimens of the skill of the Romans in the art of painting. The only examples of their pictorial talent previously known, were the comparatively imperfect decorations in the baths of Titus at Rome. In these buried cities nearly all the walls of the houses are frescoed, and among these, have been found many superb specimens of ancient art. Most of the best have been removed to the museum of Naples, but some of considerable merit still remain in place, and no doubt further excavations will show numerous others now unknown. The colors are somewhat faded, but are bright when wet. The copies in water-colors, sold at Naples, give very perfectly the idea of these frescoes, but with more brilliancy than is possessed by the original. Many of these figures are nude, although many are draped. We were particularly struck with the singularity of some of the figures on the walls, having shoes very much like our modern ones. As the great object of art is to present Nature in her forms of greatest purity and grace, these nude figures can not meet with more objections than their modern representatives. We saw nothing in Pompeii or Herculaneum, worthy of so much criticism in point of taste, as may be seen in almost any of the European galleries of modern painting. Titian’s Loves of the Gods in Blenheim palace, certainly surpass the ancients in this respect.

“An expected visit of the Duke d’Aumale (son of Louis Philippe, and allied by marriage to the royal family of Naples) has been made the occasion of an additional excavation, which is now being carried on by order of the king. We thought it rare good fortune, that we could stand by and see the moving of materials which had not been disturbed since the catastrophe. They are entirely unconsolidated, and are easily moved by the shovel. The accumulations did not appear to be more than ten feet above the tops of the houses, but if measured from the level of the streets, they might have been twenty feet in thickness. In it were distinctly visible the alternation of fine pumice, coarse pumice, lapilli and dark colored sand, before mentioned.

“We had the pleasure of seeing apartments that had been recently opened, and of going into several of them. In these, the pictures are fresh, and far less faded than in those that have been long exposed. In one of these houses, all the marble figures found around the impluvium, and colonnade, and fountain, have been allowed to remain intact, as the Romans left them, when they fled for their lives. Around the fountain in one of these houses, there were numerous grotesque jets formed of marble, in the shape of miniature bulls, ducks and dolphins, and associated with them was a Bacchus. A leaden tube which formerly conveyed water for the fountain, remains in place as it passed through the wall. We observed, as illustrating the condition of the art of working this metal among the Romans, that the pipe was not drawn nor cast, but was made by folding up a sheet into the tubular form, and closing the joint by a lap without solder. In this house was a large vaulted music room, the walls of which are nearly perfect. The object for which the room was constructed, was sufficiently indicated by figures of musical instruments, and of persons playing upon them. Columns were in general use in the better houses, around the included area, in the gardens, and in other places. In the best dwellings they are of polished marble, in many they are stuccoed. Some of the Roman houses, in their most perfect and uninjured condition, must have been very beautiful, although their accommodations were much more limited than those of modern times. The rooms, the dormitories especially, were much smaller, and the houses were low, and rarely rose above two stories. They were so constructed as to admit of the most perfect domestic seclusion: no eye could scrutinize the family privacy from the street, or from another house. Various names have been given to several of the larger and more beautiful houses in Pompeii, sometimes fanciful, but more frequently from some statue, mosaic, painting, or other distinctive work of art found in them, referring, as is sometimes supposed, to the owner. Thus we saw the houses of the Faun, of the Medusa, of the three Fountains, and those of Pansa, of Glaucus, of Sallust, and of Cicero. It is doubtful whether Cicero had a house at Pompeii, and still more doubtful whether the one called by his name had any connection with him. The three fountains in the house of that name, are decorated with modern sea-shells, such as now abound in the Mediterranean, and in a style of patterns still prevalent in Naples. The fountains in the two houses newly exposed were very elegant, and in perfect condition.

“The forum was large and handsome, and surrounded with double rows of columns for a covered colonnade. In connection with it, was a temple of Jupiter, and another opposite to it, of Venus, both decorated with massive monolithic columns. Half-dressed blocks of marble and portions of columns lie on the ground in the forum, where they were in process of preparation, to repair the injuries done to the building by the shocks of an earthquake, before the destructive eruption. Numerous dislocated and propped walls in the city bear testimony to the same event, which occurred in the year 63. Connected with the forum, was the basilica or hall of justice, a structure adorned with columns, and provided with an elevated tribune for the judges. Vaulted apartments beneath, were used as a prison, communicating by a circular opening in the crown of the arch, with the hall above. In this prison, which we entered, were found three skeletons of prisoners, ironed to the floor, doubtless waiting their examination at the time of the catastrophe, which so unexpectedly changed the venue of their trial to another bar! Many acres are inclosed by the various structures of the forum, whose very ruins, with their numerous columns, make a grand appearance. Among the ruins, are those of a temple to Esculapius, one for Hercules, and another for Fortune.

“Numerous monuments and inscriptions in Pompeii, indicate the Greek origin of the original colony, and the Egyptian customs and society which preceded the Roman dynasty. The temple of Isis still shows its sacrificial altar, and inscriptions in Egyptian characters cover the columns. Some of the largest and most beautiful of the silver vessels in the museum at Naples, were found in this temple. Curiously enough, as we entered these ancient precincts, in which the serpent was held sacred, a snake, reputed by the guide as venomous, crossing our path, was made a victim, which we offered on the altar.

“Beneath a superb portico in the street of the tombs, the skeletons of a female and several children were discovered; in the street near the temple of Isis, another skeleton was found at the depth of ten feet, and below it, a large collection of gold and silver medals in perfect preservation, chiefly of the reign of Domitian.

“The theaters, whose remains are distinct, are the comic, the tragic, and the amphitheater. They were lined with polished marble, and were, in every way, highly finished and elegant. Of the two former, the entire plan and the greater part of the structure are visible, and most of the seats are in place.

“The amphitheater was in a remote part of the city, near the eastern wall. It has undergone so little dilapidation, that it appears almost perfect. We approached it by ascending the ground until we were quite at the top, and we then descended by the stone seats, quite to the arena, which, by pacing, we found to be two hundred and forty feet by one hundred and twenty. From the arena we looked up over the entire circuit and elevation of the seats, which are almost perfectly preserved—thanks to the sepulture of seventeen hundred years. Had this amphitheater been in the midst of Naples, as the Coliseum was at Rome, it would, no doubt, have fared as ill at the hands of the architects. It was easy for us now to people it in imagination, with the thousands of Romans who have so often gazed and applauded from these seats, while blood, both brute and human, was flowing in the arena where we were standing. Such may have been the scenes when the tempest of fire broke forth, for the people of Pompeii are said to have been then engaged in the amphitheater.

“There are two buildings for public baths, which are well preserved; the bronze seats and braziers still remain in them. For men, there was a common bath, circular and large enough for entire immersion; it is of marble, and is now in good condition. The dome, or ceiling, has in part fallen in, but the portion over the bath is preserved. We measured the room and found it to be sixty feet by twenty. There was another bath for women, contiguous to this, but at a proper distance. This marble bath is quite perfect, and the room being entirely arched has been preserved uninjured. It is most interesting. There is a living fountain at one end, and there was an arrangement, whose object is even now quite apparent, for warming the room by hot air or steam. Here, in this ancient ladies’ bath, we dined upon our stores brought out from Naples. Intruding upon this retreat, once so sacred, we seated ourselves quite conveniently, on the side of the bath, in a fine frescoed room of sixty feet by sixteen. This was the most perfect building that we saw in Pompeii. In this vicinity, there is a living fountain still abundant, and the river Sarno runs at this moment beneath Pompeii. Through a wide opening we saw its copious and lively stream still flowing in its ancient channel, apparently undisturbed by volcanic and earthquake convulsions.

“The walls of Pompeii are still in good condition; they were three miles in circuit, from eighteen to twenty feet high, and twenty feet thick. Seven gates have been discovered; the gate of Herculaneum, of Vesuvius, of Capua, of Nola, of Sarno, of Stabiæ, and of the theaters. The sites of nine towers have been ascertained. We ascended the wall by stairs of stone, doubtless coeval with the wall itself: the view was imposing. Vesuvius rose above the desolated city, looking down upon its naked walls and roofless houses. The volcanic mound still covers two-thirds of the city, and nothing on its upper surface tells of what lies below. It were greatly to be desired, that an enlightened and energetic government, with adequate means, would uncover the entire city, with its numerous hidden works of art and materials of history.

“The baker’s shop, with his oven of arched and modern form, the tub of stone in which he wet his broom, and the hourglass-shaped mills of hard lava for grinding the grain, we saw all perfect. There were mills of two sizes: one small, such as could be turned by hand, as when ‘two women were grinding at the mill,’ and one much larger, and provided with square holes to receive the ends of levers, requiring, of course, much more force to turn them, and doubtless worked by men. The shops of the wine and oil merchants were provided with large amphoræ set in masonry under the counter, for storing those fluids, and numerous other arrangements for the convenience of the occupants were visible.

“In one house we saw a small circular window, in which part of the glass plate which originally filled it still remains. One other similar glass is said to have been found, although shutters were in general use for most of the windows. As there were no windows, as with us, opening upon the street, and all the doors and windows of the house opened upon private courts and gardens, there was in this mild and equable climate far less occasion for the use of glass than might seem at first requisite. That they understood the manufacture of glass, and how to color it, by the use of the oxyds of cobalt and copper, is abundantly proved by the remains of this ancient art now in the Borbonico museum, at Naples.

“One peculiarity in the construction of the Pompeian houses favors the removal and preservation of the frescoes. The walls upon which the pictures are painted are not solid, but the frescoed surface is supported by studs of masonry or iron, at a distance of some four or five inches in front of the brick walls. Security from dampness is thus obtained, and the task of removing the valued surface much simplified and facilitated. The declining sun found us still lingering on the seats of the amphitheater, at the remotest angle of the city wall, dwelling with delight upon these memorials of the past, and speculating upon the probability of renewed activity in Vesuvius, whose quiet blue cone rose over our right shoulders crowned with a soft cloud of vapor. It was late in the evening of this most interesting day when we reached the door of our hotel, long after darkness had hidden the landscape.

THE MUSEUM.

“The Musæo Borbonico (as it is now called) contains all the most choice and valued works of art and objects of interest which the excavations at Herculaneum and Pompeii have brought to light. To this we repaired on the day following our visit to Pompeii, to follow up our researches into the details of these most interesting discoveries. Here we saw the golden ornaments found upon the skeletons in the house of Diomede, as before mentioned, and many others also. One pair of bracelets weighed a pound each. As for the workmanship, all that was said of the Etruscan golden ornaments is substantially true of the Pompeian. The ladies of these cities were certainly well provided with costly jewelry, both of pure gold and of the same metal set with precious stones. There was one ribbon of wrought gold. Ring stones and brooches without number are preserved here, and among the cameos in agate, are the largest as well as the smallest and most exquisite of these elaborate works of art ever found. Many of the latter can be appreciated only when examined under a strong magnifier.

“Utensils in earthen ware are abundant, but porcelain seems to have been unknown to the Romans. Blown and molded glass of various forms and colors, and designed for various uses, is also common. Pickle jars and olive jars, still retaining their preserved fruits in good condition, were found, and others contained cosmetics or colors. One elegant vase, of the color of =lapis lazuli=, has figures in white enamel cut on its sides, reminding us of the celebrated Portland vase. The Romans seldom employed iron for culinary purposes, but almost every vessel of this description was fashioned from bronze. A very extensive collection is found in this museum, reproducing nearly all our modern metallic vessels both of utility and ornament. They are generally elegant in form, and are often ornamented with artistic designs, especially in the attachment of the spouts, handles, feet or other prominent parts. They are generally also in a remarkable state of preservation, being for the most part merely covered by a thin coating of greenish rust, easily removed. Sometimes, however, they are corroded through and through with holes. Among the bronze vessels in the collection is one showing that the Romans were well acquainted with the modern device of a heater to keep liquids hot in a large vessel. It is quite on the model of the coffee urn of our day. They also employed, as is evident, steam and hot water to keep dishes hot; for there is a very pretty affair in bronze, like a shallow pan, to hold water, set on legs, with a fire beneath, and provided with valves for the escape of steam.

“Among the objects most frequently found in Pompeii are fishing-nets and tackle, showing the habits of the people in this particular to be similar to those of the modern towns of the same coast, although now Pompeii is a mile from the sea. The iron rings in the walls for fastening vessels were also found, and prove still more conclusively the accumulations in seventeen hundred years. Two vases were discovered in Pompeii full of water; in one it was tasteless and limpid, and in the other brown and alkaline. Among the things preserved in the buried cities were walnuts, chestnuts, almonds, dates, dried figs, prunes, corn, oil, peas, lentils, pies and hams. Papyri were found in large numbers, but the rolls were blackened, as were the timber and the corn, as vegetables are by inhumation in coal beds. Beside the pickles, and olives, and roe of fish, already mentioned, we saw in a glass globe, in this part of the museum, wheat, and barley also, blackened by age and dampness. The loaves of bread, bearing the baker’s stamp, which were found in the shop already named, are singularly perfect, showing distinctly the lines of quartering in which the loaf was designed to be cut.

“The works of art found in Herculaneum are in general much better than those from Pompeii, and every external sign proves it to have been a town of more refinement and wealth than its neighbor. Numerous statues in bronze and marble have been collected from these cities, and a large hall in the museum is devoted to their exhibition. Many are mythological, but busts and statues of the several emperors are also common. One bronze horse, considerably injured and corroded, has been found, and an admirable bronze Hercules. The candelabra were numerous and elegant. One we observed fitted to take apart for the convenience of traveling; its sliding rod drops into a case or sheath, and the tripod foot folds together as snugly as the wing of a bird. A very beautiful candelabrum, taken from the house of Diomede, has a basis formed of a small flat table of bronze standing upon feet. It is elegantly inlaid with silver in the form of a running vine and of leaves; some portions have been burnished, to give an idea of its original beauty. A perpendicular rod rises three feet in hight, and supports a cross upon which are suspended four lamps. All the parts are preserved; and were this tasteful candelabrum put in order and burnished, it would be a fine form for our modern artists to copy, who, indeed, often profit by ancient models.

“The Roman steelyards had a scale suspended so as to receive the thing to be weighed, and the weight slid, as with us, upon a graduated beam; in one the counterpoise is fashioned into an elegant female head. There is a collection of surgical instruments, some of them very similar to those used at the present day. Iron probes, iron teeth extractors, elevators for the operation of trepanning, a cauterizing iron, lancets, catheters, amputating instruments, spatulas and obstetric forceps. Along with these things are rolls of the apothecary, ready to be divided into pills. The articles of the toilet are abundant; pins of ivory in large numbers and great variety for the hair; combs, curling-tongs, boxes for perfumes and rouge, which is preserved in a small glass bottle; mirrors of metal, small, but sufficient for a lady’s face, and reflectors, to be used probably in a position to give seasonable notice of the approach of a visitor from the vestibule, similar to the arrangement now common in Holland and Germany. Numerous small objects attracted our attention, among which were the ivory dice, and tickets of bone or ivory for admission to the theater, marked and numbered. Musical instruments were common; among them numerous flutes or flageolets, prepared from bone. Numerous bronze penates, truly =dii minores=, often less than a finger’s length in hight, some partly finished, are to be seen in the museum at Naples.

“There is an apartment here, finished in the style of an ancient Roman house. This is in the extreme end of one of the long suites of rooms. The sky-blue panels have each, in the center, a female figure, volant or quiet; the upper part of the side walls, and of the dome, is divided into compartments, which are decorated by colored lines and forms of great beauty, the entire effect of which is charming. The eye delights to dwell upon them, and would never be tired, because the beauty, although exquisite, is simple and tasteful. We saw in the museum, as already mentioned, the helmet and skull of the Roman sentinel found at his post in the city gate at Pompeii, with his short sword by his side; there, too, was the complete armor of a Roman knight with a decorated and crested helmet, with figures embossed upon the breast-plate, and the coverings of the arms and limbs. We must not forget the iron stocks for punishment. A bar of iron or bronze of great weight had metallic projections standing upward, between which the feet were placed, and secured by a cross pin. It does not appear that the head was pinioned, as in modern times; but we could well understand how the feet of the apostles were rendered lame by confinement in the Roman stocks.

“The hall of ancient sculpture, chiefly from Pompeii and Herculaneum, with some figures from Rome, powerfully attracted our attention. These sculptures, usually of full size, and sometimes colossal, are very fine. Excellent, manly forms, and noble, elevated features of men, and of women, worthy of such companions, with great variety of characteristic attitude, and in general, in full costume, served to convey to us, as we may believe, a very perfect idea of the personal appearance of Roman citizens of that age. The family of Balbus found in Herculaneum, is particularly interesting. It is composed of the father, a noble figure, the mother, equally impressive, and sons and daughters worthy of such parentage. Their features are calm and mild. It is a most interesting group, and in perfect preservation. The moral and intellectual expression of the figures in these rooms—through a long series of apartments and a host of figures—is as various as that of living people.

“It is convenient to introduce here a notice of the Farnesian bull; for this inimitable piece of sculpture is in this place, although it was not found interred in Pompeii or Herculaneum, but buried among the ruins of the baths of Caracalla. A large bull, of perfect and beautiful form, is rearing upon his hind legs, as if about to bound away in his course; but this he is prevented from doing, as he is powerfully held by the horns and the nose by two resolute, athletic young men, one on each side, who have him in such durance that his massive neck is wrinkled in large folds, as he turns his head backward in his efforts to escape from their grasp. The cause of the struggle becomes apparent, when we glance at a fine female form recumbent, and see that her abundant tresses are interwoven with the strands of a rope which is noosed around the horns of the bull, and it flashes at once on the mind, that should the maddened animal escape from his keepers, she will be quickly torn in pieces. Her noble sons have, in a critical moment, sprung forward to her rescue, and are just able to arrest her impending fate. Filial love proves to be stronger than disapprobation of an imputed fault, for which their mother was to have been immolated by this horrible death. In such a crisis we are not careful to balance the moral question: we instinctively applaud the filial piety, and do not ask for the spirit of Brutus. This wonderful group was sculptured out of a single block of marble of nine feet eight inches by thirteen feet, by Appollonius and Tauriscus, two artists in Greece, from which country it was brought, to grace the baths of Caracalla. It is truly wonderful that such a ponderous mass, embracing so many figures, could be brought over seas, from a distant country, to Rome, and again be transported from that city to Naples, without injury, after being buried for fifteen centuries in the baths of Caracalla.

HERCULANEUM.

“The same eruption which destroyed Pompeii, Stabiæ, Oplontia and Teglanum, entombed Herculaneum also. Its site was, however, unknown, as well as that of the other buried towns; and the fatal event is only occasionally alluded to by the Roman writers. In the year 63, an earthquake had shattered these cities, a precursor of their coming doom. In 1711, a peasant, in digging a well, discovered, at twenty feet depth, pieces of colored marble. In 1713, the digging being continued, they struck down into a temple, and discovered the statues of Cleopatra and Hercules; and subsequent explorations disclosed the theater. Our time being very fully occupied with Pompeii on the day when we were there, we reserved to another opportunity a visit to Herculaneum. We descended quite conveniently down steps of stone, and arrived at the pit of the theater, seventy-nine feet below the level of the main street of Portici, and Torre del Greco. With a guide, we proceeded, by the light of candles and torches, until we came to this subterranean theater, which had been filled with volcanic materials. I do not call it lava, because there is every reason to believe that, like Pompeii, Herculaneum was buried by pumice, cinders, ashes, lapilli and sand. There has been much discussion on this subject; but had the buildings of Herculaneum been inclosed in heated lava, it is obvious that every fresco painting and marble would have been destroyed, and much more, the numerous papyri and other substances of an organic character, which have been found there. Now it happens that the frescoes of Herculaneum, so far as it has been uncovered, are not only of a higher character in respect of art than those in Pompeii, but also in better preservation. The solidity of the material enveloping Herculaneum is easily understood, when we remember that it has been for over seventeen hundred years under the enormous pressure of seventy or eighty feet of superincumbent rock. Since the catastrophe of August, A. D. 79, numerous flows of molten lava have passed over the site of Herculaneum; and these successive accumulations have amounted to the thickness just named. Add the effects of water, dissolving lime and silica, and infiltrating these materials among the loose pumice, and we see cause enough to account for the solidification of these loose materials. Moreover, no sluggish and semi-viscid lava (such as the Vesuvian lavas a short distance from their outlet always are) could ever have entered all the intricate passages of the theater and other buildings; while a fluid magma of volcanic mud would act in the same situation just as it is now found, like plaster of Paris in a mold.

“When we see with what labor and expense the excavations have been made in Herculaneum, and how difficult it is to dispose of the materials, which must be borne a long way through narrow passages like the galleries of a mine, and raised nearly one hundred feet to the surface, where a populous town forbids the accumulation of rubbish; we are the more easily reconciled to the suspension of the labor, and to the throwing of the fragments into cavities that had been previously excavated, and from which all interesting matters had been removed.

“Discoveries in Herculaneum have been very numerous, but are so similar to those made in Pompeii that it is unnecessary to go much into detail beyond what has been already mentioned. This city being, in fact, contemporary with Pompeii, we should, of course, expect to find great similarity. It would seem, however, to have been a grander city, and probably more populous. It has been computed that the theater would contain ten thousand people, which would imply a large population. Two temples were discovered, one of them one hundred and fifty feet by sixty. This contained a statue of Jupiter. Opposite to this was another building of two hundred and twenty-eight feet by one hundred and thirty-two, supposed to have been constructed for the courts of justice. It had a colonnade supporting a portico; its pavement was of marble, its walls were frescoed, and there were bronze statues standing between the forty-two columns that supported the roof.

“The theater is now the only public place that can be seen in Herculaneum, and the excavations have brought its form very distinctly into view. Its marble seats and the pit have been so far cleared, that we distinctly comprehend the design and plan. The galleries of access from the streets, and some of the rooms that were appendages of the theater, have been opened. It appears to have had two principal gates and seven entrances, called vomitories. Many statues, and mosaics, and frescoes, have been found in Herculaneum, and some of them, especially the statues, are of surpassing beauty. We were desirous to see the famed impression of a mask, and by holding a candle near to it the form could be distinctly seen. The impression is in concave, and is that of a strongly marked face of an adult; the copy is well defined, and corresponds perfectly with a molding made by soft aqueous materials, and not at all to one made by lava.

“The well, by which the light was originally let down upon the theater, of course attracted our attention. It is now enlarged into a pit of fifteen to twenty feet in diameter, and narrowed toward the bottom to the size of a common well; it descends far below the bottom of the theater, and, like other wells, contains water. A flood of light flows down through this orifice; and it is cheering to pass from the dark chambers of the theater, to look up again upon the light of heaven. The subterranean walk, aided by candles, of which each person carries one, is, however, far from being unpleasant. Steps are cut in the solid mass, all obstacles are cleared away, and although we find it cool and damp, it is not gloomy, but in a high degree solemn and impressive. We are walking in an ancient tomb—the tomb of a buried city—a city which was large and populous. It was active with pleasure and business long before our Saviour was on earth, and it was overwhelmed while some of his apostles were still alive. How different was our situation here and at Pompeii. In the latter city we walked the streets in open day and on the common level: here, we were deep down in a stony sepulcher; the mansions of the departed were all around us, but they were wrapped in solid rock. The rumbling of the carriages in the streets of another city, whose busy population was passing nearly one hundred feet above our heads, was loud and incessant. It was an earthquake from above, and we could easily understand how the earthquake from below should so readily propagate its vibrations through many miles, or hundreds of miles, of solid materials. Among the interesting places heretofore excavated, but now filled again, were the basilica, the market, the scholæ, a columbarium, and the so-called villa of Aristides, in which papyrus, bronzes, rare mosaics, and all things that attested to the wealth and taste of the proprietor, were found. In excavations made prior to 1728 they found the most splendid house of the ancients that had ever been seen by modern eyes.

“A great work on Herculaneum was published by royal authority, in the thirty-eight years intervening between 1754 and 1792, in nine folio volumes, including the pictures, lamps, bronzes and candelabra; seven hundred and thirty-eight pictures were named in the catalogue, and the other articles were proportionally numerous. The work was presented, by royal munificence, to the principal public libraries of Europe.

“Both Herculaneum and Pompeii were mentioned with commendation by Cicero. Both appear to have been favorite residences of the opulent Romans; both towns were in the first class of provincial cities, and Herculaneum especially was adorned by many villas. They had all the public establishments that were usual in Rome. Indeed, the entire circuit, from Cape Misenum around through the towns and villages of the bay of Baiæ, and onward through Naples to Herculaneum, and Pompeii, and Stabiæ, appears to have been within the range of Roman sumptuousness, and a cherished resort for rural retirement from the eternal city.

“The =papyri= of Pompeii are generally illegible, being penetrated by the pulverulent material, which, aided by water, had usurped the place of the vegetable matter, or assimilated it to coal; a portion of it was found to be soluble in naphtha. Those buried in Herculaneum were not penetrated by the enveloping matter; and the inscriptions, although black like tinder, could still be read, as writing can often be seen upon burnt paper. The papyri MSS. were generally written in Greek; a few are in Latin. There is much variety of chirography, and there are many erasures. Tickets were attached to the bundles, stating the title of the work. In a single villa in Herculaneum were found sixteen hundred and ninety-six rolls of papyrus, of the eighteen hundred thus far known. In 1819, four hundred and seven of the sixteen hundred and ninety-six had been unrolled, of which only eighty-eight were legible; twenty-four had been sent as presents to foreign princes; of the remaining twelve hundred and sixty-five, only from eighty to one hundred and twenty were in a state to promise any success, according to the chemical method at that time recommended by Sir Humphrey Davy. The titles of four hundred of those least injured, which have been read, although new are unimportant, music, rhetoric and cookery being the chief subjects. There are two volumes of Epicurus on Nature, and there are other works by that school. The rolls, in their coiled condition, were scarcely a span long, and two or three inches thick; they were made of pieces of Egyptian papyrus, glued together; some of the rolls were, when extended, forty or fifty feet long. The method found most successful for unrolling the papyri is to suspend them by silk cords in a glass case; and by attaching the delicate lining membrane of some species of bird to the back, with the aid of silken cords and regulated weights suspended by pulleys, gravity slowly unfolds the brittle tissue at a rate of almost inappreciable tardiness. We were permitted to see this curious process.

“A little further from Vesuvius than Pompeii, but in the same direction, was Stabiæ, which was covered at the same time with the other cities. The town of Castel del Mare is built over a portion of it. A part of Stabiæ was excavated, but has been covered again, so that at present there is nothing of it to be seen. Some manuscripts on papyrus were found there, as at Herculaneum, but very few skeletons have been discovered; it is probable that most of the inhabitants had time to make their escape. I have elsewhere alluded to the death of the elder Pliny, which happened here. As commander of the Roman fleet, he was stationed on the opposite side of the bay, at Cape Misenum; but the splendid outburst of Vesuvius, then novel, induced him, prompted by his humanity and by his zeal in natural science, to cross over with a few attendants; he approached too near, and was constrained to remain over night. Being corpulent and of an asthmatic habit, he was suffocated by the deadly gases exhaled in the volcanic tempest, which proved too much for his peculiar condition, and he died on the spot. The affecting and beautiful narrative written by his nephew, the younger Pliny, addressed to the historian Tacitus, is familiar to the readers of Roman literature, and can never be perused without a deep and painful interest.”

We would merely add, in closing this long but deeply interesting narrative of the buried cities, that it is supposed that about one-third of the entire city of Pompeii is now uncovered, including four principal streets, and all the important buildings of the ancient city. A long street, leading to the Stabian gate, is now being excavated; and in this street, one of the most remarkable discoveries has been made of any which have yet occurred; viz., that of the complete roofing of a house. As already stated, Pompeii, having been destroyed by falling ashes, and then covered with earth, had suffered the loss of the roofs of its houses. Indeed, some supposed they had been carried away by a whirlwind which they imagined must have preceded or attended the volcanic eruption. The little care used in clearing away the incumbent matter, had left us in the dark as to the construction of the ancient roofings. But quite recently, this discovery has been made of a complete roof of a house, formed of tiles, each about twelve inches square, with coping tiles running between them; and over the backbone, so to speak, of the construction, a cement was applied to make the roofing water-tight. So perfect is this roof, that it might have been constructed yesterday; and it would suit a modern English or American cottage as well as a Roman dwelling. The whole is now inclosed in a railing, and for the present will not probably be removed.

EARTHQUAKES.

“He looketh on the earth, and it trembleth: he toucheth the hills, and they smoke.”—PSALMS.

“Towers, temples, palaces, Flung from their deep foundations, roof on roof Crushed horrible, and pile on pile o’erturned, Fall total.”—MALLET.

“The globe around earth’s hollow surface shakes, And is the ceiling of her sleeping sons. O’er devastation we blind revels keep; Whose buried towns support the dancer’s heel.”—YOUNG.

That fires, to a very great extent, and produced by various causes, exist at different depths beneath the surface of the earth, must be entirely evident to those who have perused the accounts of volcanoes in our previous pages; and recent experiments have shown, that where the substances in which such fires occur, lie at a considerable depth, and are surmounted by a very deep and heavy superincumbent pressure, more especially when they contain large portions of elastic gases, the effect of such fires will be much greater, and more diversified, than where these circumstances are absent.

Among the most powerful and extraordinary of these effects earthquakes are to be reckoned. They are unquestionably the most dreadful of the phenomena of nature, and are not confined to those countries which, from the influence of climate, their vicinity to volcanic mountains, or any other similar cause, have been considered as more particularly subject to them, their effects having oft been felt in North America, although not in so extensive and calamitous a degree. Their shocks and the eruptions of volcanoes, have been considered as modifications of the effects of one common cause; and where the agitation produced by an earthquake extends further than there is reason to suspect a subterraneous commotion, it is probably propagated through the earth nearly in the same way that a noise is conveyed through the air. The different hypotheses which have been imagined on this subject may be reduced to the following. Some naturalists have ascribed earthquakes to water, others to fire, and others, again, to air; each of these powerful agents being supposed to operate in the bowels of the earth, which they assert to abound everywhere with huge subterraneous caverns, veins and canals, some filled with water, others with gaseous exhalations, and others replete with various substances, such as niter, sulphur, bitumen and vitriol. Each of these opinions has its advocates, who have written copiously on the subject.

In a paper published in the “Philosophical Transactions,” Dr. Lister ascribes earthquakes, as well as thunder and lightning, to the inflammable breath of the pyrites, a substantial sulphur, capable of spontaneous combustion; in a word, as Pliny had observed before him, he supposes an earthquake to be nothing more than subterraneous thunder. Dr. Woodward thinks, that the subterraneous fire which continually raises the water from the abyss, or great reservoir, in the center of the earth, for the supply of dew, rain, springs and rivers, being diverted from its ordinary course by some accidental obstruction in the pores through which it is used to ascend to the surface, becomes, by such means, preternaturally assembled in a greater quantity than usual, in one place, and thus causes a rarefaction and intumescence of the water of the abyss, throwing it into greater commotions, and at the same time making the like effort on the earth, which, being expanded on the surface of the abyss, occasions an earthquake. Mr. Mitchell supposes these phenomena to be occasioned by subterraneous fires, which, if a large quantity of water be let loose on them suddenly, may produce a vapor, the quantity and elastic force of which may fully suffice for the purpose. Again, M. Amontus, a member of the French Academy of Sciences, endeavors to prove, that, on the principle of experiments made on the weight and elasticity of the air, a moderate degree of heat may bring that element into a state capable of causing earthquakes.

Modern electrical discoveries have thrown much light on this subject. Dr. Stukely strenuously denies that earthquakes are to be ascribed to subterraneous winds, fires or vapors, and thinks that there is not any evidence of the cavernous structure of the earth, which such a hypothesis requires. Subterraneous vapors he thinks, are altogether inadequate to the effects produced by earthquakes, more particularly in cases where the shock is of considerable extent: for a subterraneous power, capable of moving a surface of earth only thirty miles in diameter, must be lodged at least fifteen or twenty miles below the surface, and move an inverted cone of solid earth, whose basis is thirty miles in diameter, and its axis fifteen or twenty miles, which he thinks absolutely impossible. How much more inconceivable is it, then, that any such power could have produced the earthquake of 1755, which was felt in various parts of Europe and Africa, and in the Atlantic ocean; or that which in Asia Minor, in the seventeenth year of the Christian era, destroyed thirteen great cities in one night, and shook a mass of earth three hundred miles in diameter. To effect this, the moving power, supposing it to have been internal fire or vapor, must have been lodged two hundred miles beneath the surface of the earth! Besides, in earthquakes, the effect is instantaneous; whereas the operation of elastic vapor, and its discharge, must be gradual, and require a long space of time; and if these be owing to explosions, they must alter the surface of the country where they happen, destroy the fountains and springs, and change the course of its rivers, results which are contradicted by history and observation.

To these and other considerations the doctor adds, that the strokes which ships receive during an earthquake, must be occasioned by something which can communicate motion with much greater velocity than any heaving of the earth under the sea, caused by the elasticity of generated vapors, which would merely produce a gradual swell, and not such an impulsion of the water as resembles a violent blow on the bottom of a ship, or its striking on a rock. Hence he deems the common hypothesis insufficient, and adduces several reasons to show that earthquakes are in reality electric shocks. To confirm this opinion, he notices, among other phenomena, either preceding or attending earthquakes, that the weather is usually dry and warm for some time before they happen, and that the surface of the ground is thus previously prepared for that kind of electrical vibration in which they consist; while, at the same time, in several places where they have occurred, the internal parts, at a small depth beneath the surface, were moist and boggy. Hence he infers, that they reach very little beneath the surface. That the southern regions are more subject to earthquakes than the northern, he thinks is owing to the greater warmth and dryness of the earth and air, which are qualities so necessary to electricity. It may here be noticed, that, before the earthquakes of London, in 1749, all vegetation was remarkably forward; and it is well known, that electricity quickens vegetation. The frequent and singular appearance of boreal and austral auroræ, and the variety of meteors by which earthquakes are preceded, indicate an electrical state of the atmosphere; and the doctor apprehends that, in this state of the earth and air, nothing more is necessary to produce these phenomena, than the approach of a non-electric cloud, and the discharge of its contents, on any part of the earth, when in a highly electrified state. In the same way as the discharge from an excited tube occasions a commotion in the human body, so the shock produced by the discharge between the cloud and many miles in compass of solid earth, must be an earthquake, and the snap from the contact the noise attending it.

The theory of M. de St. Lazare differs from the above hypothesis, as to the electrical cause. It ascribes the production of earthquakes to the interruption of the equilibrium between the electrical matter diffused in the atmosphere, and that which belongs to the mass of our globe, and pervades its bowels. If the electrical fluid should be superabundant, as may happen from a variety of causes, its current, by the laws of motion peculiar to fluids, is carried toward those places where it is in a similar quantity; and thus it will sometimes pass from the internal parts of the globe into the atmosphere. This happening, if the equilibrium be reëstablished without difficulty, the current merely produces the effect of what M. de St. Lazare calls ascending thunder; but if this reëstablishment be opposed by considerable and multiplied obstacles, the consequence is then an earthquake, the violence and extent of which are in exact proportion to the degree of interruption of the equilibrium, the depth of the electric matter, and the obstacles which are to be surmounted. If the electric furnace be sufficiently large and deep to give rise to the formation of a conduit or issue, the production of a volcano will follow, its successive eruptions being, according to him, nothing more in reality than electric repulsions of the substances contained in the bowels of the earth. From this reasoning he endeavors to deduce the practicability of forming a counter-earthquake, and a counter-volcano, by means of certain electrical conductors, which he describes, so as to prevent these convulsions in the bowels of the earth.

The opinion of Signior Beccaria is nearly similar; and from his hypothesis and that of Dr. Stukely, the celebrated Priestly has endeavored to form one still more general and more feasible. He supposes the electric fluid to be, in some mode or other, accumulated on one part of the surface of the earth, and, on account of the dryness of the season, not to diffuse itself readily: it may thus, as Beccaria conjectures, force its way into the higher regions of the air, forming clouds out of the vapors which float in the atmosphere, and may occasion a sudden shower, which may further promote its progress. The whole surface being thus unloaded, will, like any other conducting substance, receive a concussion, either on parting with, or on receiving any quantity of the electric fluid. The rushing noise will likewise sweep over the whole extent of the country; and, on this supposition also, the fluid, in its discharge from the surface of the earth, will naturally follow the course of the rivers, and will take the advantage of any eminences to facilitate its ascent into the higher regions of the air.

Such are the arguments in favor of the electrical hypothesis; but, since it has been supported with so much ability, an ingenious writer, Whitehurst, in his “Inquiry into the Original State and Formation of the Earth,” contends that subterraneous fire, and the steam generated from it, are the true and real causes of earthquakes. When, he observes, it is considered that the expansive force of steam is to that of gunpowder as twenty-eight to one, it may be conceded that this expansive force, and the elasticity of steam, are in every way capable of producing the stupendous effects attributed to these phenomena. This is, now, the almost universally received theory as to the cause of earthquakes, that they originate in the same general causes which produce volcanoes; that is, from the action of the heat and fires that are found in the interior of the earth. When these fires find ready vent, they produce the overflowing volcano; but when shut up and confined, their force is so great as to shake the solid crust of the globe which covers them.

Among the most striking phenomena of earthquakes, which present a fearful assemblage of the combined effects of air, earth, fire and water, in a state of unrestrained contention, may be noticed the following. Before the percussion a rumbling sound is heard, proceeding either from the air, or from fire, or, perhaps, from both in conjunction, forcing their way through the chasms of the earth, and endeavoring to liberate themselves: this, as has been seen, likewise happens in volcanic eruptions. Secondly, a violent agitation or heaving of the sea, sometimes preceding, and sometimes following the shock: this is also a volcanic effect. Thirdly, a spouting up of the waters to a great hight, a phenomenon which is common to earthquakes and volcanoes, and which can not be readily accounted for. Fourthly, a rocking of the earth, and, occasionally, what may be termed a perpendicular rebounding: this diversity has been supposed by some naturalists to arise chiefly from the situation of the place, relatively to the subterraneous fire, which, when immediately beneath, causes the earth to rise, and when at a distance, to rock. Fifthly, earthquakes are sometimes observed to travel onward, so as to be felt in different countries at different hours of the same day. This may be accounted for by the violent shock given to the earth at one place, and communicated progressively by an undulatory motion, successively affecting different regions as it passes along, in the same way as the blow given by a stone thrown into a lake, is not perceived at the shore until some time after the first concussion. Sixthly, the shock is sometimes instantaneous, like the explosion of gunpowder, and sometimes tremulous, lasting for several minutes. The nearer to the observer the place where the shock is first given, the more instantaneous and simple it appears; while, at a greater distance, the earth seems to redouble the first blow, with a sort of vibratory continuation. Lastly, as the waters have in general so great a share in the production of earthquakes, it is not surprising that they should generally follow the breaches made by the force of fire, and appear in the great chasms opened by the earth.

EARTHQUAKES OF ANCIENT TIMES.

The earliest earthquake, worthy of notice, of which we have any record, was that which in the year 63 so severely injured Herculaneum and Pompeii, and from the effects of which they had not been restored when they were overwhelmed by the volcano. Some of the most remarkable earthquakes of ancient times are described by Pliny. Among the most extensive and destructive of these, was the one already noticed, by which thirteen cities in Asia Minor were swallowed up in one night. Another which succeeded, shook the greater part of Italy. But the most extraordinary one, described by him, happened during the consulate of Lucius Marcus and Sextus Julius, in the Roman province of Mutina. He relates, that two mountains felt so tremendous a shock, that they seemed to approach and retire with a most dreadful noise. They at the same time, and in the middle of the day, cast forth fire and smoke, to the dismay of the astonished spectator. By this shock several towns were destroyed, and all the animals in their vicinity killed. During the reign of Trajan, the city of Antioch was, together with a great part of the adjacent country, destroyed by an earthquake; and about three hundred years after, during the reign of Justinian, it was again destroyed, with the loss of forty thousand of its inhabitants. Lastly, after an interval of sixty years, that ill-fated city was a third time overwhelmed, with a loss of sixty thousand souls. The earthquake which happened at Rhodes, upward of two hundred years before the Christian era, threw down the famous colossus, together with the arsenal, and a great part of the walls of the city. In the year 1182, the greater part of the cities of Syria, and of the kingdom of Jerusalem, were destroyed by a similar catastrophe; and in 1594, the Italian writers describe an earthquake at Puteoli, which occasioned the sea to retire two hundred yards from its former bed.

EARTHQUAKE IN CALABRIA.

The dreadful earthquake which happened in Calabria, in 1638, is described by the Jesuit Kircher, who was at that time on his way to Sicily to visit Mount Etna. In approaching the gulf of Charybdis, it appeared to whirl round in such a manner as to form a vast hollow, verging to a point in the center. On looking toward Etna, it was seen to emit large volumes of smoke, of a mountainous size, which entirely covered the whole island, and obscured from his view the very shores. This, together with the dreadful noise, and the sulphurous stench, which was strongly perceptible, filled him with apprehensions that a still more dreadful calamity was impending. The sea was agitated, covered with bubbles, and had altogether a very unusual appearance. His surprise was still more increased by the serenity of the weather, there not being a breath of air, nor a cloud, which might be supposed to put all nature thus in motion. He therefore warned his companions that an earthquake was approaching, and landed with all possible diligence at Tropæa, in Calabria.

He had scarcely reached the Jesuits’ college, when his ears were stunned with a horrid sound, resembling that of an infinite number of chariots driven fiercely forward, the wheels rattling, and the thongs cracking. The tract on which he stood seemed to vibrate, as if he had been in the scale of a balance which still continued to waver. The motion soon becoming more violent, he was thrown prostrate on the ground. The universal ruin around him now redoubled his amazement: the crash of falling houses, the tottering of towers, and the groans of the dying, all contributed to excite emotions of terror and despair. Danger threatened him wherever he should flee; but, having remained unhurt amid the general concussion, he resolved to venture for safety, and reached the shore, almost terrified out of his reason. Here he found his companions, whose terrors were still greater than his own. He landed on the following day at Rochetta, where the earth still continued to be violently agitated. He had, however, scarcely reached the inn at which he intended to lodge, when he was once more obliged to return to the boat: in about half an hour the greater part of the town, including the inn, was overwhelmed, and the inhabitants buried beneath its ruins.

Not finding any safety on land, and exposed, by the smallness of the boat to a very hazardous passage by sea, he at length landed at Lopizium, a castle midway between Tropæa and Euphæmia, the city to which he was bound. Here, wherever he turned his eyes, nothing but scenes of ruin and horror appeared: towns and castles were leveled to the ground; while Stromboli, although sixty miles distant, was seen to vomit flames in an unusual manner, and with a noise which he could distinctly hear. From remote objects his attention was soon diverted to contiguous danger: the rumbling sound of an approaching earthquake, with which he was by this time well acquainted, alarmed him for the consequences. Every instant it grew louder, as if approaching; and the spot on which he stood shook so dreadfully, that being unable to stand, he and his companions caught hold of the shrubs which grew nearest to them, and in that manner supported themselves.

This violent paroxysm having ceased, he now thought of prosecuting his voyage to Euphæmia, which lay within a short distance. Turning his eyes toward that city, he could merely perceive a terrific dark cloud, which seemed to rest on the place. He was the more surprised at this, as the weather was remarkably serene. Waiting, therefore, until this cloud had passed away, he turned to look for the city; but, alas! it was totally sunk, and in its place a dismal and putrid lake was to be seen. All was a melancholy solitude, a scene of hideous desolation. Such was the fate of the city of Euphæmia; and the other devastating effects of this earthquake were so great, that along the whole coast of that part of Italy, for the space of two hundred miles, the remains of ruined towns and villages were everywhere to be seen, and the inhabitants, without dwellings, dispersed over the fields. Kircher at length terminated his distressful voyage, by reaching Naples, after having escaped a variety of perils both by sea and land.

THE GREAT EARTHQUAKE OF 1755.

This very remarkable and destructive earthquake extended over a tract of at least four millions of square miles. It appears to have originated beneath the Atlantic ocean, the waves of which received almost as violent a concussion as the land. Its effects were even extended to the waters, in many places where the shocks were not perceptible. It pervaded the greater portions of the continents of Europe, Africa and America; but its extreme violence was exercised on the south-western part of the former.

Lisbon, the Portuguese capital, had already suffered greatly from an earthquake in 1531; and, since the calamity about to be described, has had three such visitations, in 1761, 1765, and 1772, which were not, however, attended by equally disastrous consequences. In the present instance it had been remarked that since the commencement of the year 1750, less rain had fallen than had been known in the memory of the oldest of the inhabitants, unless during the spring preceding the calamitous event. The summer had been unusually cool; and the weather fine and clear for the last forty days. At length, on the first of November, about forty minutes past nine in the morning, a most violent shock of an earthquake was felt; its duration did not exceed six seconds; but so powerful was the concussion, that it overthrew every church and convent in the city, together with the royal palace, and the magnificent opera house adjoining to it; in short, no building of any consequence escaped. About one-fourth of the dwelling-houses were thrown down; and, at a moderate computation, thirty thousand persons perished. The sight of the dead bodies, and the shrieks of those who were half-buried in the ruins, were terrible beyond description; and so great was the consternation, that the most resolute man durst not stay a moment to extricate the friend he loved most affectionately, by the removal of the stones beneath the weight of which he was crushed. Self-preservation alone was consulted; and the most probable security was sought, by getting into open places, and into the middle of the streets. Those who were in the upper stories of the houses, were in general more fortunate than those who attempted to escape by the doors, many of the latter being buried beneath the ruins, with the greater part of the foot-passengers. Those who were in carriages escaped the best, although the drivers and horses suffered severely. The number, however, of those who perished in the streets, and in the houses, was greatly inferior to that of those who were buried beneath the ruins of the churches; for, as it was a day of solemn festival, these were crowded for the celebration of the mass. There were very many of these churches; and the lofty steeples in most instances, fell with the roof, insomuch that few escaped.

The first shock, as has been noticed, was extremely short, but was quickly succeeded by two others; and the whole, generally described as a single shock, lasted from five to seven minutes. About two hours after, fires broke out in three different parts of the city; and this new calamity prevented the digging out of the immense riches concealed beneath the ruins. From a perfect calm, a fresh gale immediately after sprang up, and occasioned the fire to rage with such fury, that in the space of three days the city was nearly reduced to ashes. Every element seemed to conspire toward its destruction; for, soon after the shock, which happened near high-water, the tide rose in an instant forty feet, and at the castle of Belem, which defended the entrance of the harbor, fifty feet higher than had ever been known. Had it not subsided as suddenly, the whole city would have been submerged. A large new quay sunk to an unfathomable depth, with several hundreds of persons, not one of the bodies of whom was afterward found. Before the sea thus came rolling in like a mountain, the bar was seen dry from the shore.

The terrors of the surviving inhabitants were great and multiplied. Amid the general confusion, and through a scarcity of hands, the dead bodies could not be buried, and it was dreaded that a pestilence would ensue; but from this apprehension they were relieved by the fire, by which these bodies were for the greater part consumed. The fears of a famine were more substantial; since, during the three days succeeding the earthquake, an ounce of bread was literally worth a pound of gold. Several of the corn magazines having been, however, fortunately saved from the fire, a scanty supply of bread was afterward procured. Next came the dread of the pillage and murder of those who had saved any of their effects; and this happened in several instances, until examples were made of the delinquents. The great shock was succeeded about noon by another, when the walls of several houses which were still standing, were seen to open, from the top to the bottom, more than a fourth of a yard, and afterward to close again so exactly as not to leave any signs of injury. Between the first and the eighth of November twenty-two shocks were reckoned.

A boat on the river, about a mile distant from Lisbon, was heard by the passengers to make a noise as if it had run aground, although then in deep water: they at the same time saw the houses falling on both sides of the river, in front of which, on the Lisbon side, the greater part of a convent fell, burying many of its inmates beneath the ruins, while others were precipitated into the river. The water was covered with dust, blown by a strong northerly wind; and the sun entirely obscured. On landing, they were driven by the overflowing of the waters to the high grounds, whence they perceived the sea, at a mile’s distance, rushing in like a torrent, although against wind and tide. The bed of the Tagus was in many places raised to its surface; while ships were driven from their anchors, and jostled together with such violence that their crews did not know whether they were afloat or aground. The master of a ship, who had great difficulty in reaching the port of Lisbon, reported that, being fifty leagues at sea, the shock was there so violent as to damage the deck of the vessel. He fancied he had mistaken his reckoning, and struck on a rock.

The following observations, relative to this fatal earthquake, were made at Colares, about twenty miles from Lisbon, and within two miles of the sea. On the last day of October, the weather was clear, and remarkably warm for the season. About four o’clock in the afternoon a fog arose, proceeding from the sea, and covering the valleys, which was very unusual at that season of the year. The wind shifted soon after to the east, and the fog returned to the sea, collecting itself, and becoming exceedingly thick. As the fog retired, the sea rose with a prodigious roaring. On the first of November, the day broke with a serene sky, the wind continuing at the east; but about nine o’clock the sun began to be obscured; and about half an hour after a rumbling noise was heard, resembling that of chariots, and increasing to such a degree, that at length it became equal to the explosions of the largest artillery. Immediately a shock of an earthquake was felt; and this was succeeded by a second and a third, at the same time that several light flames of fire, resembling the kindling of charcoal, issued from the mountains. During these three shocks, the walls of the buildings moved from east to west. In another spot, where the sea-coast could be descried, a great quantity of smoke, very thick, but somewhat pale, issued from the hill named the Fojo. This increased with the fourth shock, at noon, and afterward continued to issue in a greater or less degree. At the instant the subterraneous rumblings were heard, the smoke was observed to burst forth at the Fojo; and its volume was constantly proportioned to the noise. On visiting the spot whence it was seen to arise, no sign of fire could be perceived near it. After the earthquake, several fountains were dried up; while others, after undergoing great changes, returned to their pristine state. In places where there had not been any water, springs burst forth, and continued to flow; several of these spouted to the hight of nearly twenty feet, and threw up sand of various colors. On the hills, rocks were split, and the earth rent; while toward the coast several large portions of rock were thrown from the eminences into the sea.

At Oporto, the earthquake was felt with great violence. The river continued to rise and fall five or six feet, for four hours; the houses of the city were rocked as if by convulsions, and the earth was seen to heave up. St. Ubes, twenty miles distant, was entirely swallowed up by the repeated shocks, and by the vast surf of the sea. And at Cadiz it was so violent, that, but for the great solidity of the buildings, everything would have been destroyed. Those who had quitted the houses and churches, seeking safety in the open air, had scarcely recovered from their first terror, when they were plunged into a new alarm. At ten minutes after eleven o’clock, a wave was seen coming from the sea at the distance of eight miles, and at least sixty feet higher than usual. It dashed against the west part of the city, which is very rocky. Although its force was much broken by these rocks, it at length reached the walls, and beat in the breastwork, which was sixty feet above the ordinary level of the water, removing pieces of the fabric, of the weight of eight or ten tuns, to the distance of forty or fifty yards. At half past eleven came a second wave; and this was followed by four others of equal magnitude. Others, but smaller, and gradually lessening, continued at uncertain intervals until the evening. A considerable part of the rampart was thrown down, and carried by the torrent above fifty paces. Several persons perished on the causeway leading to the isle of Lesu. The accounts brought to Cadiz reported that Seville had been much damaged, and that a similar fate had attended St. Lucar and Cheres. Conel was said to have been destroyed; and, indeed, with the exception of the provinces of Catalonia, Aragon and Valencia, the effects of this earthquake were felt throughout Spain.

At Madrid the shock was very sensibly felt soon after ten in the morning, and lasted five or six minutes. At first the inhabitants fancied they were seized with a swimming in the head; and, afterward, that the houses were falling. In the churches the sensations were the same, and the terror so great, that the people trod each other under foot in getting out. Those who were within the towers were still more affrighted, fancying every instant while the shock lasted, that they were falling to the ground. It was not sensible to those who were in carriages, and very little so to foot-passengers.

At Gibraltar it was felt about the same time as at Madrid, and began with a tremulous motion of the earth, which lasted about half a minute. A violent shock succeeded; and this again was followed by a second tremulous motion, of the duration of five or six seconds. Another shock, not so violent as the first, subsided gradually; and the whole lasted about two minutes. Several of the guns on the batteries were seen to rise, and others to sink, while the earth had an undulating motion. The greater part of the garrison and inhabitants were seized with giddiness and sickness: several fell prostrate; others were stupefied; and many who were walking or riding, became sick, without being sensible of any motion of the earth. Every fifteen minutes the sea rose six feet; and then fell so low, that the boats and small vessels near the shore were left aground, as were also numbers of small fish. The flux and reflux lasted till next morning, having decreased gradually from two in the afternoon.

In Africa, this earthquake was felt almost as severely as it had been in Europe. A great part of the city of Algiers was destroyed. At Arzilla, a town belonging to the kingdom of Fez, about ten in the morning, the sea suddenly rose with such impetuosity, that it lifted up a vessel in the bay, and impelled it with such force on the land, that it was shattered in pieces; and a boat was found two musket-shots within land from the sea. At Fez and Mequinez, great numbers of houses fell down, and a multitude of people were buried beneath the ruins. At Morocco, similar accidents occurred; and at Salle also, much damage was done. At Tangier the earthquake began at ten in the morning, and lasted ten or twelve minutes. At Tetuan it commenced at the same time, but was of less duration; three of the shocks were so extremely violent, that it was feared the whole city would be destroyed.

In the city of Funchal, in the island of Madeira, a shock of this earthquake was felt at thirty-eight minutes past nine in the morning. It was preceded by a rumbling noise in the air, like that of empty carriages passing hastily over a stone pavement. The observer felt the floor beneath him immediately to be agitated by a tremulous motion, vibrating very quickly. The shock continued more than a minute; during which space the vibrations, although continual, were twice very sensibly weakened and increased in force. The increase after the first remission of the shock was the most intense. During the whole of its continuance it was accompanied by a noise in the air; and this lasted some seconds after the motion of the earth had ceased, dying away like a peal of distant thunder rolling through the air. At three-quarters past eleven, the sea, which was quite calm, suddenly retired several paces; when rising with a great swell, and without any noise, it as suddenly advanced, overflowed the shore, and entered the city. It rose fifteen feet perpendicularly above high-water mark, although the tide, which there flows seven feet, was at half-ebb. The water immediately receded; and after having fluctuated four or five times between high and low water mark, it subsided, and the sea remained calm as before. In the northern part of the island the inundation was more violent, the sea there retiring above a hundred paces at first, and suddenly returning, overflowed the shore, forcing open doors, breaking down the walls of several magazines and storehouses, and leaving great quantities of fish ashore and in the streets of the village of Machico. All this was the effect of one rising of the sea, for it never afterward flowed high enough to reach the high-water mark. It continued, however, to fluctuate here much longer before it subsided than at Funchal; and in some places further to the westward, it was hardly, if at all, perceptible.

These were the phenomena with which this remarkable earthquake was attended, in those places where it was most violent. The effects of it, however, reached to an immense distance; and were perceived chiefly by the agitations of the waters, or some slight motion of the earth. Its utmost boundaries to the south are unknown; the barbarousness of the African nations rendering it impossible to procure any intelligence from them, except where the effects were dreadful. On the north, however, we are assured, that it reached as far as Norway and Sweden. In the former kingdom, the waters of several rivers and lakes were violently agitated. In the latter, shocks were felt in several provinces, and all the rivers and lakes were strongly agitated, especially in Dalecarlia. The river Dala suddenly overflowed its banks, and as suddenly retired. At the same time, a lake at the distance of a league from it, and with which it had no manner of communication, bubbled up with great violence. At Fahlun, a town in Dalecarlia, several strong shocks were felt.

In many places of Germany the effects of this earthquake were very perceptible; but in Holland, the agitations were still more remarkable. At Alphen on the Rhine, between Leyden and Woerden, in the afternoon of the first of November, the waters were agitated to such a violent degree, that buoys were broken from their chains, large vessels snapped their cables, small ones were thrown out of the water upon the land, and others lying on land were set afloat. At Amsterdam, about eleven in the forenoon, the air being perfectly calm, the waters were suddenly agitated in the canals, so that several boats broke loose; chandeliers were observed to vibrate in the churches; but no motion of the earth, or concussion of any building was observed. At Haerlem, in the forenoon, for nearly four minutes, not only the waters in the rivers, canals, &c., but also all kinds of fluids in smaller quantities, as in coolers, tubs, &c., were surprisingly agitated, and dashed over the sides, though no motion was perceptible in the vessels themselves. In these small quantities also the fluid apparently ascended prior to its turbulent motion; and in many places, even the rivers and canals rose one foot perpendicularly.

The agitation of the waters was also perceived in various parts of Great Britain and Ireland. At Barlborough, in Derbyshire, between eleven and twelve in the forenoon, in a boat-house on the west side of a large body of water, called Pibley Dam, supposed to cover at least thirty acres of land, was heard a surprising and terrible noise; a large swell of water came in a current from the south, and rose two feet on the sloped dam-head at the north end of the water. It then subsided, but returned again immediately, though with less violence. The water was thus agitated for three-quarters of an hour; but the current grew every time weaker and weaker, till at last it entirely ceased.

At Busbridge, in Surrey, at half an hour after ten in the morning, the weather being remarkably still, without the least wind, in a canal nearly seven hundred feet long, and fifty-eight in breadth, with a small spring constantly running through it, a very unusual noise was heard at the east end, and the water there observed to be in great agitation. It raised itself in a heap or ridge in the middle; and this heap extended lengthwise about thirty yards, rising between two and three feet above the usual level. After this, the ridge heeled or vibrated toward the north side of the canal, with great force, and flowed above eight feet over the grass walk on that side. On its return back into the canal, it again ridged in the middle, and then heeled with yet greater force to the south side, and flowed over its grass walk. During this latter motion, the bottom on the north side was left dry for several feet. This appearance lasted for about a quarter of an hour, after which the water became smooth and quiet as before. During the whole time, the sand at the bottom was thrown up and mixed with the water; and there was a continual noise like that of water turning a mill. At Cobham, in Surrey, Dunstall, in Suffolk, Earsy Court, in Berkshire, Eatonbridge, Kent, and many other places, the waters were variously agitated.

At Eyam bridge, in Derbyshire Peak, the overseer of the lead mines, sitting in his writing-room, about eleven o’clock, felt a sudden shock, which very sensibly raised him up in his chair, and caused several pieces of plaster to drop from the sides of the room. The roof was so violently shaken, that he imagined the engine-shaft had been falling in. Upon this he immediately ran to see what was the matter, but found everything in perfect safety. At this time two miners were employed in carting, or drawing along the drifts of the mines, the ore and other materials to be raised up at the shafts. The drift in which they were working was about a hundred and twenty yards deep, and the space from one end to the other fifty yards or upward. The miner at the end of the drift had just loaded his cart, and was drawing it along; but he was suddenly surprised by a shock, which so terrified him, that he immediately quitted his employment, and ran to the west end of the drift to his partner, who was no less terrified than himself. They durst not attempt to climb the shaft, lest that should be running in upon them: but while they were consulting what means they should take for their safety, they were surprised by a second shock, more violent than the first; which frightened them so much, that they both ran precipitately to the other end of the drift. They then went down to another miner, who worked about twelve yards below them. He told them that the violence of the second shock had been so great, that it caused the rocks to grind upon one another. His account was interrupted by a third shock, which, after an interval of four or five minutes, was succeeded by a fourth, and, about the same space of time after, by a fifth; none of which were so violent as the second. They heard, after every shock, a loud rumbling in the bowels of the earth, which continued about half a minute, gradually descending, or seeming to remove to a greater distance.

At Shireburn Castle, Oxfordshire, a little after ten in the morning, a very strange motion was observed in the water of a moat which encompassed the building. There was a pretty thick fog, not a breath of air, and the surface of the water all over the moat was smooth as a looking-glass, except at one corner, where it flowed into the shore, and retired again successively, in a surprising manner. How it began to move is uncertain, as it was not then observed. The flux and reflux, when seen were quite regular. Every flood began gently, its velocity increasing by degrees, until at length it rushed in with great impetuosity, till it had attained its full hight. Having remained for a little time stationary, it then retired, ebbing gently at first, but afterward sinking away with great swiftness. At every flux the whole body of water seemed to be violently thrown against the bank; but neither during the time of the flux, nor that of the reflux, did there appear even the least wrinkle of a wave on the other parts of the moat. Lord Parker, who had observed this motion, being desirous to know whether it was universal over the moat, sent a person to the other corner of it, at the same time that he himself stood about twenty-five yards from him to examine whether the water moved there or not. He could not perceive any motion there; but another person, who went to the north-east corner of the moat, diagonally opposite to his lordship, found it as considerable there as where he was. His lordship imagining, that in all probability the water at the corner diagonally opposite to where he was would sink as that by him rose, ordered the person to signify by calling out, when the water by him began to sink, and when to rise. This he did; but to his lordship’s great surprise, immediately after the water began to rise at his own end, he heard the voice calling that it began to rise with him also; and in the same manner he heard that it was sinking at that end, soon after he perceived it to sink by himself. A pond just below was agitated in a similar manner; but the risings and sinkings happened at different times from those at the pond where Lord Parker stood.

At White Rock, in Glamorganshire, about two hours’ ebb of tide, and near a quarter to seven in the evening, a vast quantity of water rushed up with a great noise, floated two large vessels, the least of them above two hundred tuns’ burden, broke their moorings, drove them across the river, and nearly overset them. The whole rise and fall of this extraordinary body of water did not last above ten minutes, nor was it felt in any other part of the river, so that it seemed to have gushed out of the earth at that place.

Similar instances occurred at Loch Lomond and Loch Ness, in Scotland. At Kinsale, in Ireland, and all along the coast to the westward, many similar phenomena were observed.

Shocks were also perceived in several parts of France, as at Bayonne, Bourdeaux and Lyons; and commotions of the waters were observed at Angoulesme, Belleville, Havre de Grace, &c., but not attended with the remarkable circumstances above mentioned.

These are the most striking phenomena with which the earthquake of the first of November, 1755, was attended on the surface of the earth. Those which happened below ground can not be known but by the changes observed in springs, &c., which were in many places very remarkable.

At Tangier, all the fountains were dried up, so that there was no water to be had till night. A very remarkable change was observed in the medicinal waters of Toplitz, a village in Bohemia, famous for its baths. These waters were discovered in the year 762; from which time the principal spring had constantly thrown out hot water in the same quantity, and of the same quality. On the morning of the earthquake, between eleven and twelve, in the forenoon, this principal spring cast forth such a quantity of water, that in the space of half an hour all the baths ran over. About half an hour before this great increase of the water, the spring flowed turbid and muddy; then, having stopped entirely for a minute, it broke forth again with prodigious violence, driving before it a considerable quantity of reddish ocher. After this, it became clear, and flowed as pure as before. It still continued to do so, but the water was in greater quantity, and hotter, than before the earthquake. At Angoulesme, in France, a subterraneous noise, resembling thunder, was heard; and presently after, the earth opened, and discharged a torrent of water, mixed with red sand. Most of the springs in the neighborhood sunk in such a manner, that for some time they were thought to be quite dry. In Britain, no considerable alteration was observed in the earth, except that, near the lead mine above-mentioned, in Derbyshire, a cleft was observed about a foot deep, six inches wide, and one hundred and fifty yards in length.

At sea the shocks of this earthquake were felt most violently. Off St. Lucar, the captain of the Nancy frigate felt his ship so violently shaken, that he thought she had struck the ground; but, heaving the lead, he found she was in a great depth of water. Captain Clark, from Denia, in north latitude thirty-six degrees, twenty-four minutes, between nine and ten in the morning, had his ship shaken and strained as if she had struck upon a rock, so that the seams of the deck opened, and the compass was overturned in the binnacle. Tho master of a vessel bound to the American islands, being in north latitude twenty-five degrees, west longitude forty degrees, and writing in his cabin, heard a violent noise as he imagined, in the steerage; and while he was asking what the matter was, the ship was put into a strange agitation, and seemed as if she had been suddenly jerked up, and suspended by a rope fastened to the mast-head. He immediately started up with great terror and astonishment, and looking out at the cabin-window, saw land, as he took it to be, at the distance of about a mile. Coming upon the deck, the land was no more to be seen, but he perceived a violent current cross the ship’s way to the leeward. In about a minute, this current returned with great impetuosity; and at a league’s distance, he saw three craggy-pointed rocks throwing up waters of various colors, resembling fire. This phenomenon, in about two minutes, ended in a black cloud, which ascended very heavily. After it had risen above the horizon, no rocks were to be seen; though the cloud, still ascending, was long visible, the weather being extremely clear. Between nine and ten in the morning, another ship, forty leagues west of St. Vincent, was so strongly agitated, that the anchors, which were lashed, bounced up, and the men were thrown a foot and a half perpendicularly up from the deck. Immediately after this, the ship sunk in the water as low as the main-chains. The lead showed a great depth of water, and the line was tinged of a yellow color, and smelt of sulphur. The shock lasted about ten minutes; but they felt smaller ones for the space of twenty-four hours.

EARTHQUAKES IN SICILY, AND IN THE TWO CALABRIAS.

These earthquakes began on the fifth of February, 1783, and continued until the latter end of the May following, doing infinite damage, and exhibiting at Messina, in the parts of Sicily nearest to the continent, and in the two Calabrias, a variety of phenomena. The part of the Calabrian provinces most affected by this heavy calamity, lies between the thirty-eighth and thirty-ninth degrees of latitude, being the extreme point of the continent; and the greatest force of the earthquakes was exerted at the foot of the particular mountains of the Apennines, named Monte Deio, Monte Sacro and Monte Caulone, extending westward to the Tyrrhene sea. The towns, villages and farm-houses, nearest to these mountains, whether situated on the hills, or in the plains, were totally ruined by the first shock, which happened about noon; and there the destruction of lives was the greatest. The towns still more remote, were, however, greatly damaged by the subsequent shocks, particularly those of the seventh, twenty-sixth and twenty-eighth of February, and that of the first of March. The earth was in a constant tremor, and its motions were various, being either vortical, horizontal or oscillatory, that is, by pulsations or beatings, from the bottom upward. This variety increased the apprehensions of the unfortunate inhabitants, who momentarily expected that the earth would open beneath their feet, and swallow them up. The rains had been continual and violent, often accompanied by lightning and furious gusts of wind. There were many openings and cracks in the earth; and several hills had been lowered, while others were quite level. In the plains, the chasms were so deep, that many roads were rendered impassable. Huge mountains were severed, and portions of them driven into the valleys, which were thus filled up. The course of several rivers was changed; and many springs of water appeared in localities which had before been perfectly dry.

From the city of Amantea, situated on the coast of the Tyrrhene sea, in lower Calabria, proceeding along the western coast to Cape Spartivento, in upper Calabria, and thence along the eastern coast to Cape Alice, a part of lower Calabria, on the Ionian sea, the towns and villages, amounting to nearly four hundred, whether on the coast or inland, were either totally destroyed, or suffered greatly. At Casal Nuovo, the Princess Gerace, and upward of four thousand of the inhabitants, lost their lives. At Bagnara, the number of dead amounted to upward of three thousand; and Radicina and Palmi experienced a similar loss. The total amount of the mortality occasioned by these earthquakes, in Sicily and the two Calabrias, was, agreeably to the official returns, thirty-two thousand, three hundred and sixty-seven; but Sir William Hamilton thought it still greater, and carries his estimate to forty thousand, including foreigners. On the first shock of the earthquake, on the fifth of February, the inhabitants of Scylla escaped from their houses, built on the rock, and, following the example of their prince, took shelter on the sea-shore. By this shock the sea had been raised and agitated so violently, that much damage had been done on the point of the Faro of Messina; but here it acted with still greater violence, for, during the night, an immense wave, which was falsely represented to have been boiling hot, and to have scalded many persons on its rising to a great hight, flowed furiously three miles inland, and swept off in its return two thousand, four hundred and seventy-three of the inhabitants, with the prince at their head, who were either at that time on the strand, or in boats near the shore.

The shocks felt since the commencement of these formidable earthquakes, amounted to several hundreds; and among the most violent may be reckoned the one which happened on the twenty-eighth of March. It affected most of the higher part of upper Calabria, and the inferior part of lower Calabria, being equally tremendous with the first. Indeed, these shocks were the only ones sensibly felt in Naples. With relation to the former, two singular phenomena are recorded. At the distance of about three miles from the ruined city of Oppido, in upper Calabria, was a hill, having a sandy and clayey soil, nearly four hundred feet in hight, and nearly nine hundred feet in circumference at its basis. This hill is said to have been carried to the distance of about four miles from the spot where it stood, into a plain called Campo di Bassano. At the same time, the hill on which the city of Oppido stood, and which extended about three miles, divided into two parts: being situated between two rivers, its ruins filled up the valley, and stopped their course, forming two large lakes, which augmented daily. The accounts from Sicily were of a most alarming nature. The greatest part of the fine city of Messina was destroyed by the shock of the fifth of February, and what remained was greatly injured by the subsequent shocks. The quay in the port had sunk considerably, and was in some places more than a foot beneath the water. That superb building, the palazzata, which gave the port a more magnificent appearance than any other in Europe could boast, was entirely thrown down; and the lazaretto greatly damaged. The citadel suffered little; but the cathedral was destroyed, and the tower at the point of the entrance of the harbor much damaged. The wave which had done so much mischief at Scylla, had passed over the point of land at the Faro, and swept away twenty-four persons. The accounts from Melazzo, Patti, Terra di Santa Lucia, Castro Reale, and from the island of Lipari, were very distressing, but the damage done there by the earthquakes not so considerable as at Messina.

Sir William Hamilton, from the limited boundaries of these earthquakes, was persuaded that they were caused by some great operation of nature, of a volcanic kind. To ascertain this, he began his tour by visiting the parts of the coasts of the two Calabrias which had suffered most from this severe visitation. He everywhere came to ruined towns and houses, the inhabitants of which were in sheds, many of them built on such insalubrious spots, that an epidemic had ensued. These unfortunate people agreed that every shock they had felt, seemed to come with a rumbling noise from the westward, beginning usually with the horizontal motion, and ending with the vortical (or whirling) motion, which last had ruined most of the buildings. It had also been generally observed, that, before a shock, the clouds seemed to be fixed and motionless; and that, after a heavy shower of rain, a shock quickly followed. By the violence of some of the shocks, many persons had been thrown down; and several of the peasants described the motion of the earth as so violent, that the tops of the largest trees almost touched the ground from side to side. During a shock, the oxen and horses, they said, kept their legs wide asunder, to prevent being thrown down, and gave evident signs of being sensible of the approach of each shock. Being thus warned, the neighing of a horse, the braying of an ass, or the cackling of a goose, drove them from their temporary huts.

From Monteleone, Sir William descended into the plain, and passed many towns and villages in a ruined state: the city of Mileto, lying in a bottom, was totally destroyed, without a house standing. Among the many examples afforded by these earthquakes, of animals being able to live a long time without food, was that of two hogs, which had remained buried under a heap of ruins at Soriano for forty-two days, and were dug out alive. He had frequent opportunities for observing that the habitations situated on high grounds, having a soil of a gritty sandstone, somewhat like granite, but without its consistence, suffered less than those in the plain, the soil of which is a sandy clay. The latter were universally leveled with the ground. During the first shock, he was told, a fountain of water, mixed with sand, had been forced to a considerable hight: prior to this phenomenon, the river was dry, but it soon returned and overflowed its banks. The other rivers in the plain underwent the like vicissitudes; to account for which, Sir William supposes the first impulsion of the earthquake to have come from the bottom upward; and that such was the fact, the inhabitants attested. The surface of the plain having suddenly risen, the rivers, which are not deep, would naturally disappear; and the plain seeking with violence its former level, the rivers would necessarily return and overflow, at the same time that the sudden depression of the boggy grounds would as naturally force out the water which lay hidden beneath the surface.

It had been stated, in the reports made to the government, that two tenements, named Macini and Vaticano, had, by the effect of the earthquake, changed their situation. In this fact Sir William agrees, and he accounts for it in the following manner. They were situated in a valley surrounded by high grounds, and the surface of the earth which had been removed, had probably been long undermined by the little rivulets which flow from the mountains, and which were in full view on the bare spot the tenements had deserted. He conjectures besides, that, the earthquake having opened some depositions of rain-water in the clayey hills which surrounded the valley, the water, mixing with the loose soil, and taking its course suddenly through the undermined surface, had lifted it up, together with the large olive and mulberry trees, and a thatched cottage, floating the entire piece of ground, with all its vegetation, about a mile down the valley, where he saw it, with most of the trees erect. These two tenements occupied a space of ground about a mile in length, and half a mile in breadth. There were in the vicinity several deep cracks in the earth, not one of which was then more than a foot in breadth; but Sir William was credibly assured, that, during the earthquake, one had opened wide, and had swallowed up an ox and nearly a hundred goats. In this valley he saw hollows, in the form of inverted cones, from which water and sand had been ejected violently at the time of the earthquakes, similar to those which had been pointed out to him at Rosarno. As well at the latter place, as in every ruined town he visited, an interesting remark was made to him, namely, that the male dead were generally found under the ruins, in the attitude of struggling against the danger; but that the attitude of the females was usually with the hands clasped over the head, as if giving themselves up to despair, unless they had children near them: in this case they were always found clasping them in their arms, or in some attitude which indicated their anxious care to protect them. How striking an instance of maternal tenderness!

Sir William traveled four days in the plain, in the midst of indescribable misery. Such was the force of the first shock, on the fifth of February, that the inhabitants of the towns were buried in an instant beneath the ruins of their houses. Of the population of the town of Polistene, which was badly situated between two rivers, wont to overflow their banks, twenty-one hundred individuals perished out of six thousand. It was built near a ravine of great depth; and, by the violent motion of the earth, two huge portions of the ground on which a considerable part of the town, consisting of several hundreds of houses, stood, were detached into the ravine, and nearly across it, to the distance of about half a mile from their original position. What was most extraordinary, many of the inhabitants of these houses, who had taken this singular leap in them, were dug out alive, and several unhurt. Terra Nuova lost three-fourths of a population of sixteen hundred inhabitants; and near to this town and to the ravine, many acres of land covered with trees and corn-fields had been detached and thrown into the latter, often without having been overturned, insomuch that the trees and crops were growing as well as if they had been planted there. Other such pieces of ground were lying in the bottom, in an inclined situation; and others, again, were quite overturned. Two immense portions of land, having been detached opposite to each other, filled the valley, and stopped the course of the river, the waters of which formed a great lake.

Having walked over the ruins of Oppido, Sir William descended into the ravine, which he carefully examined. Here he saw the wonderful force of the earthquake, which had produced exactly the same effects as in the ravine of Terra Nuova, but on a scale infinitely greater. The enormous masses of the plain, detached from each side of the ravine, lay in confused heaps, forming real mountains; and, having stopped the course of two rivers, great lakes were formed. He occasionally met with a detached piece of the surface of the plain, many acres in extent, with the large oaks and olive-trees, having lupines and corn beneath them, growing as well, and in as good order at the bottom of the ravine, as their companions from which they had been separated, were in the plain, at least five hundred feet higher, and at the distance of about three-quarters of a mile. Entire vineyards, which had taken a similar journey, were in the same order in the bottom. In another part of the ravine was a mountain, composed of a clayey soil, which was probably a portion of the plain, detached by an earthquake at some former period: it was in hight about two hundred and fifty feet, and about four hundred feet in diameter at its basis. It was well attested, Sir William observes, that this mountain traveled down the ravine nearly four miles, having been put in motion by the first shock. The abundance of rain which fell at that time; the great weight of the newly detached pieces of the plain, which were heaped up at its back; the nature of its soil; and particularly its situation on a declivity: these, in his opinion, satisfactorily account for this phenomenon. The Prince of Cariati showed him two girls, one of the age of about sixteen years, who had remained eleven days without food under the ruins of a house in Oppido; and the other, about eleven years of age, who had been under the same circumstances six days, but in a very confined and distressing posture.

Sir William describes the port of Messina, and the town, in their half-ruined state, when viewed by moonlight, as strikingly picturesque. On landing, he was assured by several fishermen, that, during the earthquake of the fifth of February, at night the sand near the sea was hot, and that in many parts they saw fire issue from the earth. This had been often repeated to him in the Calabrian plain; and the idea he entertained was, that the exhalations which issued during the violent commotions of the earth, were full of electric fire, just as the smoke of volcanoes is constantly observed to be during violent eruptions; for he did not, during any part of his tour, perceive an indication of volcanic matter having issued from the fissures of the earth. He was, therefore, convinced that the whole damage had been done by exhalations and vapors only. In this city, where they had so long an experience of earthquakes, he was told, that all animals and birds are, in a greater or less degree, more sensible of an approaching shock of an earthquake than any human being; but that geese, above all, were the soonest and the most alarmed at the approach of a shock: if in the water, they quit it immediately, and they can not be driven into it for some time after.

The force of the earthquakes, although very violent at Messina, and at Reggio, on the opposite side of the strait, was not to be compared to that which was felt in the plain. In the former city the mortality did not exceed seven hundred, of a population of thirty thousand. A curious circumstance happened there also, to prove that animals can sustain life for a long time without food. Two mules belonging to the Duke of Belviso, remained under a heap of ruins, the one twenty-two, and the other twenty-three days: for some days after they refused their food, but drank plentifully, and finally recovered. There were numberless instances of dogs remaining many days in the same situation; and a hen, belonging to the British vice-consul, having been closely shut up beneath the ruins of his house, was taken out on the twenty-second day, and recovered, although at first it showed but little signs of life: like the mules, it did not eat for some days, but drank freely. From these instances, and from those above related, of the girls at Oppido, and the hogs at Soriano, as well as from several others of the same kind, it may be concluded, that long fasting is always attended with great thirst, and a total loss of appetite.

A circumstance worth recording, and which was observed throughout the whole coast of the part of the Calabrian provinces which had been most affected by the earthquakes, was, that a description of small fishes, named =cicirelli=, resembling what in England are called white-bait, but larger, and which usually lie at the bottom of the sea, buried in the sand, were, from the commencement of these earthquakes, and for a considerable time after, taken near the surface, and in such abundance as to become the common food of the poorer sort of people; whereas, before these events, they were rare, and reckoned among the greatest delicacies. Fishes in general having been taken, wherever the effects of the shocks had reached, in much greater abundance, and with greater facility than before, Sir William conjectures, either that the bottom of the sea may have been heated by the volcanic fire beneath it, or that the continual tremor of the earth had driven the fishes out of their strongholds, in the same way as an angler, when he wants a bait, obliges the worms to come out of a turf on the river-side, by trampling on it with his feet, which motion never fails of its effect.

The commandant of the citadel of Messina, assured him, that on the fatal fifth of February, and the three following days, the sea, at the distance of about a quarter of a mile from that fortress, rose and boiled in a most extraordinary manner, and with a horrid and alarming noise, while the water in the other parts of the Faro was perfectly calm. This appeared to him to point out exhalations or eruptions from cracks at the bottom of the sea, which were probably made during the violence of the earthquakes; and to these phenomena he ascribes a volcanic origin. He thus attempts to explain the nature of the formidable wave which was represented as boiling hot, and which, as has been already noticed, was so fatal to the inhabitants of Scylla.

Sir William concludes by remarking, that the local earthquakes here described, appear to have been caused by the same kind of matter as that which gave birth to the Æolian or Lipari isles. He conjectures that an opening may have been made at the bottom of the sea, most probably between Stromboli and upper Calabria; for from that quarter, it was agreed by all, the subterraneous noises seemed to proceed. He adds, that the foundation of a new island, or volcano, may have been laid, although it may be ages, which to nature are but moments, before it shall be completed, and appear above the surface of the sea. Nature is ever active; but her acts are in general carried on so very slowly, as scarcely to be perceptible to the mortal view, or recorded in the very short space of what we call history, let it be ever so ancient. It is probable, also, he observes, that the whole of the destruction he has described, may have simply proceeded from the exhalations of confined vapors, generated by the fermentation of such minerals as produce volcanoes, which would escape where they met with the least resistance, and would consequently affect the plain in a greater degree than the high and more solid grounds by which it is surrounded.

Count Francesco Ippolito, in speaking of the last great shock of the twenty-eighth of March, as it affected the Calabrian territory, is persuaded that it arose from an internal fire in the bowels of the earth, for it took place precisely in the mountains which cross the neck of the peninsula formed by the two rivers, the Lameto and the Corace, the former of which flows into the gulf of St. Euphemia, and the latter into the Ionian sea. All the phenomena it displayed, made this evident. Like the other shocks, it came in a south-west direction: the earth at first undulated, then shook, and finally rocked to and fro to such a degree, that it was scarcely possible to stand. It was preceded by a terrible groan from beneath the ground; and this groan, which was of the same duration with the shock, terminated with a loud noise, like that of the explosion of a mine. These thunderings accompanied not only the shock of that night, and of the succeeding day, but likewise all the others which were afterward felt; at the same time that the earth was continually shaken, at first every five minutes, and subsequently each quarter of an hour. During the night, flames were seen to issue from the ground in the neighborhood of Reggio, toward the sea, to which the explosion extended, insomuch that many of the peasants ran away through fear. These flames issued precisely from a spot where some days before an extraordinary heat had been perceived. After this great shock there appeared in the air, in a slanting direction, and toward the cast, a whitish flame, resembling electric fire: it was seen for the space of two hours.

Several hills were either divided or laid level; and within the surface of the earth apertures were made, from which a great quantity of water, proceeding either from subterraneous concentrations, or from the rivers adjacent to the ground thus broken up, spouted for several hours. From one of these openings, in the territory of Borgia, and about a mile from the sea, there issued a large quantity of salt water, which for several days imitated the motions of the sea. Warm water likewise issued from the apertures made in the plains of Maida. In all the sandy parts, where the explosion took place, there were observed, from distance to distance, apertures in the form of an inverted cone, emitting water, and which seemed to prove the escape of a flake of electric fire. Amid the various phenomena which either preceded or followed this particular shock, the following are well deserving of notice. The water of a well at Maida, which was of an excellent quality, was affected, just before the shock, with so disgusting a sulphurous flavor, that it could not even be smelled. On the other hand, at Catanzaro, the water of a well, which before could not be used, on account of its possessing a strong smell of calcination, became drinkable. For a long time before the earth shook, the sea was considerably agitated, so as to terrify the fishermen, at the same time that there was not a breath of wind. On the side of Italy, the volcanoes had not emitted any eruptions for a considerable time before; but in the same way as, during the first great shock, Etna was in flames, so Stromboli emitted fire during this last.

EARTHQUAKES IN PERU, &c.

South America has been at all times very subject to earthquakes; and it is remarkable, that the city of Lima, the capital of Peru, situated in about twelve degrees of south latitude, although scarcely ever visited by tempests, and equally unacquainted with rain as with thunder and lightning, has been singularly exposed to their fury. They, indeed, happen so frequently there, that the inhabitants are under continual apprehensions of being, from their suddenness and violence, buried beneath the ruins of their houses. Still they have their presages, one of the principal of which is a rumbling noise in the bowels of the earth, heard about a minute before the shocks are felt, and seeming to pervade all the subterraneous adjacent parts. This is followed by the dismal howlings of the dogs, who seem to give notice of the approaching danger; while the beasts of burden, in their passage through the streets, stop suddenly, as it were by a natural instinct, and seek the attitude which may best secure them from falling. On these portents, the terrified inhabitants flee from their houses into the streets, forming large assemblies, in the midst of which cries of children are blended with the lamentations of the females, whose agonizing prayers to the saints increase the common fear and confusion. In a word, the entire city exhibits a dreadful scene of consternation and horror.

Since the establishment of the Spaniards in Peru, the first earthquake in this capital happened in 1582; but the damage it did was much less considerable than that of some of those which succeeded. Six years after Lima was again visited by an earthquake, the results of which were so dreadful, that it is still solemnly commemorated every year. In 1609, a third convulsion threw down many houses: and on the twenty-seventh of November, 1630, so much damage was done by an earthquake, that in acknowledgment of the city not having been entirely demolished, a festival is also on that day annually celebrated. On the third of November, 1654, the most stately edifices in Lima, and a great number of houses, were destroyed by a similar event; but the inhabitants having had timely presages, withdrew themselves from their houses, insomuch that few perished. In 1678, another dreadful concussion took place.

Among the most tremendous earthquakes with which the Peruvian capital has been visited, may be reckoned that which happened on the twenty-eighth of October, 1687. The first shock was at four in the morning, when several of the finest public buildings and houses were destroyed, with the loss of many lives. This was, however, merely a prelude to what followed; for, two hours after, a second shock was felt, with such impetuous concussions, that all was laid in ruins, and every description of property lost. During this second shock the sea retired considerably, and then returned in mountainous waves, entirely overwhelming Callao, the seaport of Lima, distant five miles, as well as the adjacent country, together with the wretched inhabitants. From that time six other earthquakes were felt at Lima, prior to that of 1746, which likewise happened on the twenty-eighth of October, at half past ten at night. The early concussions were so violent, that in somewhat more than three minutes, the greater part (if not all) of the buildings in the city, were destroyed, burying under their ruins such of the inhabitants as had not made sufficient haste into the streets and squares, the only places of safety. At length the horrible effects of the first shock ceased; but the tranquillity was of short duration, the concussions swiftly succeeding each other. The fort of Callao was dilapidated; but what this building suffered from the earthquake, was inconsiderable when compared with the dreadful catastrophe which followed. The sea, as is usual on such occasions, receding to a considerable distance, returned in mountainous waves, foaming with the violence of the agitation, and suddenly buried Callao and the neighboring country in its flood. This, however, was not entirely effected by the first swell of the waves; for the sea, retiring still further, returned with greater impetuosity, and covered not only the buildings, but also the lofty walls of the fortress: so that what had even escaped the first inundation, was totally overwhelmed by these succeeding mountainous waves. Of twenty-three ships and vessels of light burden, then in the harbor, nineteen were sunk; and the four others, among which was a frigate, named the San Firmin, were carried by the force of the waves to a considerable distance up the country. This terrible inundation extended, as well as the earthquake, to other parts of the coast, and several towns underwent the fate of Lima. The number of persons who perished in that capital, within two days after the earthquake commenced, on an estimate of the bodies found, amounted to thirteen hundred, beside the wounded and maimed, many of whom survived their tortures but a short time.

The earthquake of Jamaica, in 1692, was one of the most dreadful history has had to record. In the space of two minutes it destroyed the town of Port Royal, and sunk the houses in a gulf forty fathoms deep. It was attended with a hollow, rumbling noise, like that of thunder. In less than a minute, the greater part of the houses, on one side of the streets, were, with their inhabitants, sunk beneath the water, while those on the other side were thrown into heaps, the sandy soil on which they were built rising like the waves of the sea, and suddenly overthrowing them on its subsidence. The water of the wells was discharged with a most vehement agitation; and the sea was equally turbulent, bursting its mounds, and deluging whatever came in its way. The fissures in the earth were in some places so great, that one of the streets appeared of more than twice its original breadth. In many places the earth opened and closed again; and this agitation continued for a considerable time. Several hundreds of these openings were to be seen at the same moment: in some of them the wretched inhabitants were swallowed up; while in others, the earth suddenly closing, caught them by the middle, and thus crushed them to death. Other openings, still more dreadful, swallowed up entire streets; while others, again, spouted up cataracts of water, drowning those whom the earthquake had spared. The whole was attended with a most noisome stench. The thunderings of the distant falling mountains, the sky overcast with a dusky gloom, and the crash of the falling buildings, gave unspeakable horror to the scene. This dreadful calamity having ceased, the whole island exhibited a scene of desolation. Few of the houses which had not been swallowed up were left standing; and whatever grew on the plantations shared in the universal ruin. These cultivated spots were now converted into large pools of water, which when dried up by the sun, left so many plains of barren sand. The greater part of the rivers had, during the earthquake, been choked by the falling in of the detached masses of mountains; and it was not until some time after, that they made themselves new channels. The mountains seem to have been more particularly exposed to the force of the first tremendous shock; and it was conjectured that the principal seat of the concussion was among them. Such of the inhabitants as were saved, sought shelter on board the ships in the harbor, and remained there above two months, the shocks continuing during that interval with more or less violence every day.

EARTHQUAKE IN VENEZUELA.

On the twenty-sixth of March, 1812, between four and five in the afternoon, Venezuela was visited by one of those tremendous earthquakes which now and then ruin whole provinces. During a minute and fifteen seconds the earth was convulsed in every direction, and nearly twenty thousand persons fell victims. The towns of Caraccas, La Guayra, Mayquetia, Merida and San Felipe, were totally destroyed. Barquisimeto, Valencia, La Vittoria, and others, suffered considerably. This catastrophe happened on Holy Thursday, a day when the Romish church peculiarly commemorates the sufferings of our blessed Redeemer, and at the very hour when the people were crowding into the churches to attend the processions which are usual in Roman Catholic countries, and to see the representation of our Saviour led to the cross. Troops are placed on such occasions at the entrance of the churches to follow the procession; and many churches, and the principal barracks at Caraccas, being thrown down, there was a considerable number of soldiers killed, and many thousand persons crushed under their ruins. The arms and ammunition destined for the defense of the country were buried in a similar manner; and what was worse, an unconquerable enemy to the independence of Venezuela seemed to raise its head from among the ruins—that religious prejudice which the earthquake inspired. In an era less remarkable, a mere convulsion of nature would have had no influence on a new government; but, notwithstanding the prosperity Venezuela then enjoyed, the seeds of discontent had fallen on one class of the community. The principles which formed the basis of the new constitution were democratical, and it had been necessary to deprive the priesthood of some of their privileges, which of course created enmity in their minds to the present government. Immediately after the earthquake, the priests proclaimed, that the Almighty condemned the revolution: they denounced his wrath on all who favored it; and a counter-revolution, attended by great bloodshed, was the unhappy consequence.

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CONNECTION OF EARTHQUAKES WITH VOLCANOES.

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ISLAND OF JAVA.

The connection of earthquakes with volcanoes has been already noticed; and a remarkable occurrence of this nature happened in Java. Papandayang was formerly one of the largest volcanoes in that island; but in the month of August, 1772, the greatest part of it was, after a short but severe combustion, swallowed up by a dreadful convulsion of the earth. This event was preceded by an uncommonly luminous cloud, attended with flashes of light, by which the mountain was completely enveloped, and which so terrified the inhabitants dwelling at the foot and on its declivities, that they betook themselves to flight. Before they could all save themselves, however, the mountain began to give way, and the greater part of it actually fell in and disappeared in the earth. At the same time, a tremendous noise was heard, resembling the discharge of the heaviest cannon; while the immense quantities of volcanic substances which were thrown out, and spread in every direction, extended the effects of the explosion through the space of many miles.

It was estimated that an extent of ground, belonging to the mountain itself, and to its immediate environs, fifteen miles in length, and six in breadth, was by this commotion swallowed up in the bowels of the earth. Six weeks after the catastrophe, persons who were sent to examine the condition of the surrounding territory, reported, that it was impossible to approach the mountain, on account of the heat of the substances which covered its circumference, and which were piled on each other to the hight of three feet. It has been reported, that forty villages, partly swallowed up by the opening of the earth, and partly covered by the substances ejected, were destroyed on this melancholy occasion, with the loss of nearly three thousand lives. A proportionate number of cattle was destroyed; and the greater part of the plantations of cotton, indigo and coffee, in the adjacent districts, were buried beneath the volcanic matter. The effects of this explosion were long apparent on the remains of the volcanic mountain.

We here introduce a sketch of several curious and novel details of volcanic phenomena in Java, on account of their intimate connection with the subterraneous operations of nature in the production of earthquakes. It may be considered as supplementary to the detailed account of volcanoes given at the beginning of this work.

There are in Java thirty-eight large mountains, which, although they differ from each other in external figure, agree in the general attribute of volcanoes, by their having a broad base, which gradually verges toward the summit, in the form of a cone. One of these is named Tankuban-Prahu, on account of its resembling, at a distance, a boat turned upside down: it forms a vast truncated cone. Its base extends to a considerable distance, and it is not only one of the largest mountains in the island, but a most interesting volcano. Although it has not for many ages had any violent eruption, as is evident from the progress of vegetation, and from the depth of black mold which covers its sides, its interior has continued in a state of uninterrupted activity. Its crater is large, and has, in general, the shape of a funnel, but with its sides very irregular: the brim, or margin, which bounds it at the top, has also different degrees of elevation, rising and descending along the whole course of its circumference. This may be estimated at a mile and a half; and the perpendicular depth on the south side, where it is very steep, is at least two hundred and fifty feet: toward the west it rises considerably higher. The bottom of the crater has a diameter of nine hundred feet, but is not regular in its form, which depends on the meeting of the sides below.

Near the center it contains an irregular oval lake, or collection of water, the greatest diameter of which is nearly three hundred feet. The water being white, it exhibits the appearance of a lake of milk, boiling with a perpetual discharge of large bubbles, occasioned by the development of fixed air. Toward its eastern extremity are the remaining outlets of the subterraneous fires, consisting of several apertures, from which an uninterrupted discharge of sulphurous vapors takes place. These vapors rush out with an incredible force, with violent subterraneous noises, resembling the boiling of an immense caldron in the bowels of the mountain. When at the bottom, the force of the impression made on the spectator by this grand and terrific scene, is increased by the recollection of the dangers he had to encounter in the descent; while the extent of the crater, and the remains of the former explosions, afford an indescribable enjoyment, and fill his mind with the most awful satisfaction.

The explosions of mud, called by the natives bledeg, are, as we have already seen, a great curiosity. This volcanic phenomenon is in the center of a limestone district, and is first discovered, on approaching it from a distance, by a large volume of smoke, which rises and disappears at intervals of a few seconds, and resembles the vapors arising from a violent surf. A dull noise, like that of thunder, is at the same time heard; and on a nearer approach, when the vision is no longer impeded by the smoke, a large hemispherical mass is observed, consisting of black earth, mixed with water, about sixteen feet in diameter, rising up to the hight of twenty or thirty feet in a perfectly regular manner, and, as it were, pushed up by a force beneath. This mass suddenly explodes with a dull noise, and scatters, in every direction, a volume of black mud. After an interval of a few seconds, the hemispherical body of earth or mud again rises and explodes. In the same manner this volcanic ebullition goes on without interruption, throwing up a globular body of mud, and dispersing it with violence through the neighboring plain. The spot where the ebullition occurs is nearly circular, and perfectly level, and is entirely covered with the earthy particles, impregnated with salt water, which are thrown up from below. The circumference may be estimated at about half a mile. In order to conduct the salt water to the circumference, small passages, or gutters, are made in the loose muddy earth, which lead it to the borders, where it is collected in holes, or salt wells, dug in the ground, for the purpose of evaporation. The mud recently thrown up, possesses a degree of heat greater than that of the surrounding atmosphere, and emits a strong, pungent and sulphurous smell. This volcanic phenomenon is situated near the center of the large plain which interrupts the series of the more considerable volcanoes, and owes its origin to the general cause of the numerous volcanic eruptions which occur in the island of Java.

The tremendous violence with which nature marks the operations of volcanoes in these regions, will be best exemplified by the following details of the extraordinary and wide-spreading phenomena which accompanied the eruption of the Tomboro mountain, in the island of Sumbawa, one of the Javanese cluster. This eruption, which happened in April, 1815, was sensibly felt over the whole of the Molucca islands, over Java, and over a considerable portion of Celebes, Sumatra and Borneo, to a circumference of a thousand statute miles from its center, by tremulous motions and loud explosions; while, within the range of its more immediate activity, embracing a space of three hundred miles around it, it produced the most astonishing effects and excited the most alarming apprehensions. On Java, at the distance of three hundred miles, it seemed to be awfully present. The sky was overcast at noonday with a cloud of ashes; the sun was enveloped in an atmosphere, the palpable density of which it was unable to penetrate; showers of ashes covered the houses, the streets and the fields, to the depth of several inches; and, amid this darkness, explosions were heard at intervals, like the report of artillery, or the noise of distant thunder. Every one conceived, that the effects experienced might be caused by eruptions of some of the numerous volcanoes on the island; but no one could have conjectured, that the shower of ashes which darkened the air, and covered the ground of the eastern district of Java, could have proceeded from a mountain in Sumbawa, at the distance of several hundred miles.

The first explosions were heard at Java, on the evening of the fifth of April, and continued until the following day, when the sun became obscured, and appeared to be enveloped in a fog. The weather was sultry; the atmosphere close; and the pressure of the latter, added to the general stillness, seemed to forebode an earthquake. This lasted for several days, the explosions continuing, but not with so much violence as at first. On the evening of the tenth, the eruptions, however, were more loud and more frequent; ashes fell in abundance; the sun was nearly obscured; and in several parts of the island a tremulous motion of the earth was felt. On the following day, the explosions were so tremendous as to shake the houses perceptibly in the more eastern districts.

In the island of Sumbawa itself, there was a great loss of lives, and the surviving inhabitants were reduced to extreme misery. It appears from the account of the rajah, who was a spectator of the eruption, that on the evening of the tenth of April, three distinct columns of flame, all apparently within the verge of the crater of the Tomboro mountain, burst forth, and, after ascending separately to a very great hight, united their tops in the air. The whole of the mountain now appeared like a body of liquid fire, extending itself in every direction. Stones and ashes were precipitated; and a whirlwind ensued, which blew down the greater part of the houses in an adjoining village. It tore up by the roots the largest trees, and carried them into the air, together with men, horses, cattle, and whatever came within its influence. The sea rose nearly twelve feet higher than usual, a phenomenon commonly attendant on earthquakes, overwhelming the plantations of rice, and sweeping away houses, with whatever came within its reach. It is calculated that full twelve thousand individuals perished. The trees and herbage of every description, along the whole of the north and west sides of the peninsula, were completely destroyed, with the exception of a high point of land near the spot where the village of Tomboro stood.

The extreme misery to which the inhabitants of the western part of the island were reduced, was dreadful to behold. The roads were strewed with dead bodies; the villages were almost entirely deserted, and the houses fallen down. The peasants wandered in all directions in search of food; and the famine became so severe, that one of the daughters of the rajah died of hunger. To judge of the violence of the eruption, it will suffice to state, that the cloud of ashes which had been carried with so much celerity as to produce utter darkness, extended, in the direction of the island of Celebes, two hundred and seventeen nautical miles from the seat of the volcano; and, in a direct line toward Java, upward of three hundred geographical miles.

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BASALTIC AND ROCKY WONDERS.

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THE GIANT’S CAUSEWAY.

This vast collection of basaltic pillars is in the vicinity of Ballimony, in the county of Antrim, Ireland. The principal, or grand causeway, (there being several less considerable and scattered fragments of a similar nature,) consists of an irregular arrangement of many hundred thousands of columns, formed of a black rock, nearly as hard as marble. The greater part of them are of a pentagonal figure, but so closely and compactly situated on their sides, though perfectly distinct from top to bottom, that scarcely anything can be introduced between them. These columns are of an unequal hight and breadth: several of the most elevated, visible above the surface of the strand, and at the foot of the impending angular precipice, are of the hight of about twenty feet, which they do not exceed, at least not any of the principal arrangement. How deeply they are fixed in the strand, has never yet been ascertained.

This grand arrangement extends nearly two hundred yards, as it is visible at low water; but how far beyond is uncertain: from its declining appearance, however, at low water, it is probable that it does not reach beneath the water as far as it is seen above. The breadth of the principal causeway, which runs out in one continued range of columns, is in general from twenty to thirty feet: in some parts it may, for a short distance, be nearly forty. From this account are excluded the broken and scattered pieces of the same kind of construction, which are detached from the sides of the grand causeway, as they do not appear to have ever been contiguous to the principal arrangement, although they have been frequently comprehended in the width, which has led to such wild and dissimilar representations of this causeway, in the different accounts that have been given. Its highest part is the narrowest, at the very spot of the impending cliff, whence the whole projects; and there, for about the same space in length, its width is not more than from twelve to fifteen feet. The columns of this narrow part incline from a perpendicular a little to the westward, and form a slope on their tops, by the unequal hight of their sides; and in this way a gradual ascent is made at the foot of the cliff, from the head of one column to the next above, to the top of the great causeway, which, at the distance of about eighteen feet from the cliff, obtains a perpendicular position, and lowering from its general hight, widens to between twenty and thirty feet, being for nearly three hundred feet always above the water. The tops of the columns being, throughout this length, nearly of an equal hight, form a grand and singular parade, which may be walked on, somewhat inclining to the water’s edge. But from the high-water mark, as it is perpetually washed by the beating surges at every return of the tide, the platform lowers considerably, becoming more and more uneven, so as not to be walked on but with the greatest care. At the distance of a hundred and fifty yards from the cliffs, it turns a little to the east for the space of twenty or thirty yards, and then sinks into the sea. The figure of these columns is, with few exceptions, pentagonal, or composed of five sides; and the spectator must look very narrowly indeed to find any of a different construction, having three, four or six sides. What is very extraordinary, and particularly curious is, that there are not two columns in ten thousand to be found, which either have their sides equal among themselves, or display a like figure.

The composition of these columns or pillars, is also deserving the attention of the curious observer. They are not of one solid stone in an upright position, but composed of several short lengths, nicely joined, not with flat surfaces, but articulated into each other like a ball and socket, or like the joints in the vertebræ of some of the larger kinds of fish, the one at the joint having a cavity, into which the convex end of the opposite is exactly fitted. This is not visible unless on disjointing the two stones. The depth of the concavity or convexity is generally about three or four inches. It is still further remarkable, that the convexity and correspondent concavity of the joint, are not conformable to the external angular figure of the column, but exactly round, and as large as the size or diameter of the column will admit; consequently, as the angles of these columns are in general very unequal, the circular edges of the joints are seldom coincident with more than two or three sides of the pentagonal, and are, from the edge of the circular part of the joint to the exterior sides and angles, quite plain. It ought likewise to be noticed as a singular curiosity, that the articulations of these joints are frequently inverted, in some of them the concavity being upward, in others the reverse. This occasions that variety and mixture of concavities and convexities on the tops of the columns, which is observable throughout the platform of this causeway, without any discoverable design or regularity with respect to the number of either.

The length of these particular stones, from joint to joint, is various: they are in general from eighteen inches to two feet long; and for the greater part, longer toward the bottom of the columns than nearer the top, the articulation of the joints being there somewhat deeper. The size, or diameter, likewise of the columns, is as different as their length and figure: in general they are from fifteen to twenty inches in diameter. Throughout the whole of this combination there are no traces of uniformity or design, except in the form of the joint, which is invariably by an articulation of the convex into the concave of the piece next above or below it: nor are there traces of a finishing in any part, whether in the hight, length or breadth. If there be particular instances in which the columns above water have a smooth top, others near them, of an equal hight, are more or less convex or concave, which shows them to have been joined to pieces that have been washed away, or by other means taken off. It can not be doubted but that those parts which are constantly above water have gradually become more and more even, at the same time that the remaining surfaces of the joints must necessarily have been worn smoother, by the constant action of the air, and by the friction in walking over them, than where the sea, at every tide, beats on the causeway, continually removing some of the upper stones, and exposing fresh joints. As all the exterior columns, which have two or three sides exposed to view, preserve their diameters from top to bottom, it may be inferred, that such is also the case with the interior columns, the tops of which alone are visible.

Notwithstanding the general dissimilitude of the columns, relatively to their figure and diameter, they are so arranged and combined at all the points, that a knife can scarcely be introduced between them, either at the sides or angles. It is most interesting to examine the close contexture and nice insertion of the infinite variety of forms exhibited on the surface of this grand parade. From the great dissimilarity of the figures of the columns, the spectator would be led to believe the causeway a work of human art, were it not, on the other hand, inconceivable that the genius or invention of man should construct and combine such an infinite number of columns, which should have a general apparent likeness, and still be so universally dissimilar in their figure, as that on the minutest examination, not two in ten or twenty thousand should be found having their angles and sides equal among themselves, or those of one column to those of another. As there is an infinite variety in the configuration of the several parts, so there are no traces of regularity or design in the outlines of this curious phenomenon: including the broken or detached pieces of a similar structure, they are extremely scattered and confused. Whatever may have been their original state, they do not at present appear to have any connection with the grand or principal causeway, as to any supposable design or use in its first construction; and as little design can be inferred from the figure or position of the several constituent parts.

This singular formation is not confined to the Giant’s Causeway; but to quite a distance from it, the cliffs exhibit, in many parts, similar columns. At the depth of ten or twelve feet from the summit of the cape of Bengore, the rock begins to assume a columnar tendency, and forms a range of massy pillars of basalt, which stand perpendicular to the horizon, presenting in the sharp face of the promontory, the appearance of a magnificent gallery or colonnade, upward of sixty feet in hight. This colonnade is supported on a solid base of coarse, black, irregular rock, nearly sixty feet thick, abounding in what are called blebs, (that is, little blisters as it were on the rock,) and also in air holes; but, though comparatively irregular, it evidently affects a peculiar figure, tending in many places to run into regular forms, resembling the shooting of salts and many other substances during a hasty crystallization. Beneath this great bed of stone, stands a second range of pillars from forty to fifty feet high, more exactly defined, and emulating in the neatness of its columns, those of the Giant’s Causeway. This lower range is upborne by a layer of red ocher stone, which serves as a relief to show it to greater advantage. The two admirable natural galleries, with the interjacent masses of irregular rock, form a perpendicular hight of one hundred and seventy feet, from the base of which the promontory, covered with rock and grass, slopes down to the sea a considerable space, so as to give an additional hight of two hundred feet, making in all nearly four hundred feet of perpendicular elevation, and presenting a mass, which for beauty and variety of coloring, for elegance and novelty of arrangement, and for the extraordinary magnitude of its objects, can not, perhaps, be rivaled by anything at present known.

The promontory of Fairhead raises its lofty summit more than four hundred feet above the level of the sea, and forms the eastern termination of Ballycastle bay. It presents a vast compact mass of rude columnar stones, the forms of which are extremely gross, many being a hundred and fifty feet in length. At the base of these gigantic columns lies a wild waste of natural ruins of an enormous size, which, in the course of successive ages, have been tumbled down from their foundations by storms, or some more powerful operations of nature. These massive bodies have occasionally withstood the shock of their fall, and often lie in groups, and clumps of pillars, resembling artificial ruins, and forming a very novel and striking landscape.

Many of these pillars lie to the east, in the very bottom of the bay, at the distance of about one-third of a mile from the causeway. There the earth has evidently fallen away from them upon the strand, and exhibits a very curious arrangement of pentagonal columns, in a perpendicular position, apparently supporting a cliff of different strata of earth, clay, rock, &c., to the hight of a hundred and fifty feet. Some of these columns are from thirty to forty feet high, from the top of the sloping bank beneath them; and being longer in the middle of the arrangement, shortening on either of the sides, have obtained the appellation of organs, from a rude likeness in this particular to the exterior or frontal tubes of that instrument. As there are few broken pieces on the strand, near this assemblage of columns, it is probable that the outside range, as it now appears, is in reality the original exterior line toward the sea; but how far these columns extend internally into the bowels of the incumbent cliff is unknown. The very substance, indeed, of that part of the cliff which projects to a point, between the two bays on the east and west of the causeway, seems composed of similar materials; for, besides the many pieces which are seen on the sides of the cliff, as it winds to the bottom of the bays, particularly on the eastern side, there is at the very point of the cliff, and just above the narrow and highest part of the causeway, a long collection of them, the heads or summits of which just appearing without the sloping bank, make it evident that they lie in a sleeping position, and about half-way between the perpendicular and horizontal. The heads of these columns are likewise of mixed surfaces, convex and concave; and they evidently appear to have been removed from their original upright position, to the inclining or oblique one they have now assumed, by the sinking or falling of the cliff.

BASALTIC COLUMNS.

In the country surrounding Padua, in Italy, there are several basaltic columns, similar to those of the Giant’s Causeway, although less magnificent in appearance. About seven miles in a southern direction from that city, is a hill named Monte Rosso, or the Red mount, which presents a natural range of prismatic columns, of different shapes and sizes, placed in a direction nearly perpendicular to the horizon, and parallel to each other, nearly resembling that part of the Giant’s Causeway, called the organs.

At an inconsiderable distance is another basaltine hill, called Il monte del Diavolo, or the Devil’s hill, along the sides of which prismatic columns are arranged in an oblique position. This causeway extends along the side of the vale beneath, with nearly the same arrangement of the columns as is displayed on the hill. Although the columns of both these hills are of the simple, or unjointed kind, still they differ very remarkably from each other in many respects, but principally in their forms, and in the texture and quality of their parts. Those of the Monte del Diavolo commonly approach a circular form, as nearly as their angles will allow; which is also observable in the columns of the Giant’s Causeway and of most other basaltic groups. On the contrary, those of Monte Rosso assume an oblong or oval figure. The columns of the former measure, one with the other, nearly a foot in diameter, varying but little in their size; while those of the latter present a great variety in their dimensions, the diameter of some of them being nearly a foot, and that of others scarcely three inches: their common width may be estimated at six or eight inches. They differ, therefore, very considerably in size from those of the Giant’s Causeway, some of which measure two feet in width. The length of the columns of the Monte del Diavolo can not be ascertained, as they present only their summits to the view: their remaining parts are deeply buried in the hill, and in some places entirely covered. Those of Monte Rosso, as far as they are visible, measure from six to eight or ten feet in hight; an inconsiderable size when compared with the hight of those of the Giant’s Causeway. The columns of these groups display, however, all the varieties of prismatic forms, which are observable in those of the latter, and other similar groups. They are usually of five, six or seven sides; but the hexagonal form seems chiefly to prevail.

The texture and quality of these columns are not less different than their forms. Those of the Monte del Diavolo present a smooth surface, and, when broken, appear within of a dark iron-gray color, manifesting also a very solid and uniform texture; in which characters they correspond with the columns of the Giant’s Causeway, and those of most other basaltic groups. But the columns of Monte Rosso are in these respects very different, having not only a very rough (and sometimes knotty) surface, but displaying likewise, when broken, a variegated color and unequal texture of parts. They are commonly speckled, more or less distinctly, and resemble an inferior sort of granite, of which Monte Rosso is itself formed, and which serves as a base to the range of columns in question. It is, in general, not quite so hard as the alpine and oriental granites, and is sometimes even friable. This species of granite abounds in France, where large tracts of it are to be seen in Auvergne, and the adjoining regions. But it is still more common in Italy, seeing that, besides Monte Rosso, the bulk of the Euganean hills, of which that is a part, principally consists of it; and these hills occupy a considerable tract in the plains of Lombardy. It is also common in the Roman and Tuscan states; and of this substance the mountain close to Viterbo, on the road to Rome, is entirely composed. The columns of Monte Rosso appear, therefore, of a different character from any hitherto described by mineralogists, who mention those only of an uniform color and texture. But the great singularity here is, that such a range of prismatic columns should be found, bedded as it were, in a mass of granite, and composed nearly of the same substance. An instance of this kind, relative to any other causeway, is not recorded; and this circumstance seems to render that of Monte Rosso, in one respect at least, more curious and singular than the celebrated Giant’s Causeway is known to be, from the regular articulation of its columns. It is certain, that the basaltic group of Monte Rosso is not only highly curious in itself, but interesting on account of the great light it throws on the origin of granites in general.

It is likewise remarkable, that the columns in the two groups of Monte Rosso and Monte del Diavolo, preserve respectively the same position, nearly parallel to each other; which is not usually the case in basaltic groups. For, although the principal aggregate of which the Giant’s Causeway is formed, stands in a direction perpendicular to the horizon, still other small detached groups of columns also appear on the eminence above, assuming by their position different degrees of obliquity. Among the numerous basaltic hills of Auvergne and the adjoining regions, in France, phenomena which seem to abound in those provinces more than in any other part of Europe, and, perhaps, of the known globe, nothing is more common than to see the columns of the same group lying in all possible directions, as irregularly almost as the prisms in a mass of common crystal. Nor is this variety of position so observable in single columns as in whole masses or ranges of them, that often present themselves on the same hill, disposed in different strata or stages, as it were, one above the other, many of them assuming very different, and even opposite directions. The columns of the Monte del Diavolo are bedded in a kind of volcanic sand, by which, in many parts of the hill, they are entirely covered: it is probable, however, that they repose beneath on a base of basaltic rock of a similar nature. Nothing is more common, in the provinces of France, above mentioned, than to see insulated basaltic hills almost exclusively composed of different layers of columns, which present themselves in stages, one above the other, often without any other stratum between them, resembling in some measure, if the comparison can be allowed, a huge pile or stack of cleft wood. Although the columnar crystallization of Monte Rosso is the only one yet known or described, in a mass of granite, still other groups of columns have elsewhere been met with, which are equally of a heterogeneous substance or texture, however they may otherwise differ from those of Monte Rosso, as well as from the common basalts.

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NATURAL BRIDGES.

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NATURAL BRIDGES OF ICONONZO.

Amid the majestic and varied scenery of the Cordilleras of South America, that of their valleys most forcibly strikes the imagination of foreign travelers. The enormous hight of these mountains is not discoverable but at a considerable distance, and while the spectator is on one of those plains which extend from the sea-coasts to the foot of the central chain. The flats, or table-lands, which surround the snow-clad summits of the mountains, are themselves, for the greater part, of an elevation of from seven to nine thousand feet, or nearly a mile and three-quarters, above the level of the sea. This circumstance diminishes, to a certain degree, the impression of greatness produced by the colossal masses of Chimborazo, Cotopaxi, Pichincha, &c., when seen from the flats of Riobamba, or from those of Quito. It is not, however, with the valleys as with the mountains: deeper and narrower than those of the Alps and the Pyrenees, the valleys of the Cordilleras present situations still more wild than these, and more adapted to fill the soul with admiration and with terror. Fissures and chasms present themselves, having their bottoms and sides ornamented with a vigorous vegetation, and of such a depth, that Vesuvius and the Puy-de-Dome might be placed within several of them, and not show their summits above the edge of the neighboring mountains. In passing along the back of the Andes, from Pasto to Villa d’Ibarra, and in descending the Loxa toward the banks of the river Amazon, the traveler reaches the celebrated fissures of Chota and Cutaco, the former of which is nearly a mile, and the latter upward of three-quarters of a mile, in perpendicular depth. To give a more complete idea of the grandeur of these geological phenomena, it should be observed, that the bottoms of these fissures are by one-fourth only, less elevated above the level of the sea, than the passages of St. Gothard and Mount Cenis.

The valley of Icononzo, or of Pandi, is less remarkable for its dimensions, than for the extraordinary form of its rocks, which appear as if shaped by the hand of man. Their naked and barren summits form the most picturesque contrasts with the tufts of trees and herbaceous vegetables which cover the edges of the fissure. The little torrent which has worked itself a passage through the valley of Icononzo, bears the name of Rio de la Summa Paz. It descends from the eastern chain of the Andes, which, with the republic of New Grenada, separates the basin of the river of Magdelena from the vast plains of the Meta, Guaviare and Oronoco. This torrent, confined within a bed almost inaccessible, could not have been crossed without many difficulties, had not Nature herself formed TWO BRIDGES OF ROCKS, which are justly regarded in the country as among the objects most worthy of the attention of travelers. These NATURAL BRIDGES are on the route from Bogota to Popayan and Quito.

Icononzo is the name of an ancient village of Muyscas Indians, situated on the south side of the valley, and of which scarcely any vestige now remains, except a few scattered huts. The nearest inhabited place to this remarkable spot is the little village of Pandi, or Mercadillo, distant about a mile. The road from Bogota to Fusagasuga, and thence to Pandi, is one of the most difficult and least beaten to be met with in the Andes. None but those who passionately love the beauties of Nature, would fail to prefer the usual road which leads from the flat of Bogota to the banks of the Magdelena, to the perilous descent from the Paramo de San-Fortunato, and the mountains of Fusagasuga, toward the natural bridges of Icononzo.

The deep chasm through which the torrent of Summa Paz precipitates itself, occupies the center of the valley of Icononzo. Near the first natural bridge, it maintains, for a length of nearly four-fifths of a mile, a direction from east to west. The river forms two fine cascades, the one at the spot where it enters the chasm on the west of Doa, and the other at that where it leaves it, in descending toward Melgar. It is possible that this chasm, which resembles, but on an enormous scale, the gallery of a mine, may have been the result of an earthquake, and that, at its formation, the compact bed of quartz, composing the superior stratum of rock, had resisted the force which tore asunder these mountains. The uninterrupted continuation of this quartzose bed would thus form the bridge, which affords a passage from one part of the valley to the other. This surprising natural arch is forty-eight feet in length, forty in width, and eight feet in thickness at the center. By experiments carefully made on the fall of bodies, its hight above the level of the water of the torrent, has been ascertained to be about three hundred and twenty feet. The depth of the torrent at the mean hight of the water, may be estimated at twenty feet. The Indians of the valley of Icononzo, for the security of travelers, have formed a fence of reeds, which extends to the road leading to this first natural bridge.

At the distance of sixty feet below is another, to which the traveler is conducted by a path descending along the edge of the chasm. Three enormous masses of rock have fallen into such positions as enable them reciprocally to support each other. The one in the center forms the key of the vault, an accident which may have conveyed to the natives of this spot an idea of arched masonry, which was unknown to the people of the new world, as well as to the ancient inhabitants of Egypt. It is uncertain whether these portions of rock have been projected from a distance, or are merely the fragments of an arch which has been destroyed on the spot, but which was originally similar to the upper natural bridge. This last supposition is rendered probable by an analogous accident, observable in the Coliseum at Rome, where there are seen, in a wall half-fallen, several stones which were arrested in their descent, because in falling they happened to form an arch. In the midst of this second natural bridge is an aperture of about twenty-five feet in every direction, through which the eye reaches the bottom of the abyss. The torrent appears to run into a dark cavern, whence a mournful sound proceeds, formed by the cries of an infinity of nocturnal birds which inhabit the chasm, and which at first sight may be taken for those bats of a monstrous size, so well known in the equinoctial regions. They can only be perceived by the help of lighted brands, thrown into the chasm to illuminate its sides; and thousands of them may thus be distinguished, skimming along the surface of the water. Their plumage is uniformly of a brown gray color; and M. Humboldt, from whose account these particulars are extracted, was assured by the Indians, that these hitherto undescribed birds are of the size of a chicken, with the eyes of an owl, and a curved beak. On account of the depth of the valley, it was impossible to obtain a near view of them.

The elevation of the bridges of Icononzo, these surprising productions of nature, above the level of the ocean, is two thousand seven hundred feet, somewhat more than half a mile. In concluding his description of them, M. Humboldt has noticed several other natural bridges, among which is that in Virginia, noticed more particularly below. He considers this, as well as the bridge of earth, called Rumichaca, which is on the declivity of the porphyritic mountains of Chumban, in South America; together with the bridge of Madre de Dios, named Dantcu, near Totonilco, in Mexico; and the perforated rock near Grandola, in the province of Alemtejo, in Portugal, as geological phenomena, which have some resemblance to the natural bridges of Icononzo; but he doubts whether, in any other part of the world, there has yet been discovered an accidental arrangement so extraordinary as that of three masses of rock, which, reciprocally sustaining each other, form a natural arch.

NATURAL BRIDGE IN VIRGINIA.

This natural bridge, which has been described by Mr. Jefferson, and many other writers, is one of the most sublime productions of nature, as well as one of the great curiosities and wonders of the world. It is situated in Rockbridge county, in Virginia, on the ascent of a hill which seems to have been cloven through its length by some mighty convulsion. It consists of a stupendous arch of limestone, spanning a small stream, called Cedar creek. Its hight above the stream to the top, is two hundred and fifteen feet; its average width, eighty feet; its extreme length at the top, ninety-three feet; and its thickness, from the under to the upper side, fifty-five feet. The chasm over which it passes, is fifty feet wide at the bottom, and ninety feet at the top. The view from the top is exceedingly grand and impressive; from below, equally sublime and more interesting, because divested of associations of fear. The bridge is of important use, forming a road over this immense chasm, which is not otherwise passable for several miles in either direction. The top of the bridge is covered with a coat of earth, which affords growth to many large trees. The residue, with the hill on both sides, is a solid rock of limestone. The arch, as is seen in the engraving of the bridge, approaches the semi-elliptical form; though the larger axis of the ellipsis, which would be the chord of the arch, is many times longer than its transverse. Although the sides of this bridge are provided in some parts with a parapet of rocks, yet few persons have sufficient resolution to stand on them, and look over into the abyss. The passenger involuntarily falls on his hands, creeps to the parapet and peeps over it. Looking down from this hight, for the space of a minute, occasions giddiness and sometimes headache. But if the view from above be so painful as not long to be borne, that from beneath is delightful in the extreme. It is impossible for the emotions arising from the sublime, to be felt in a greater degree than at this spot. The sensations of the spectator can not be described, when he surveys an arch at once so beautiful, so elevated, and so light, springing up, as it were, to heaven!

This grand natural bridge, as already mentioned, is of limestone; and this is so soft that it may easily be cut with a knife. In this fact there may be a foundation for the following interesting, though somewhat overdrawn sketch, from the graphic pen of Elihu Burritt, designed to illustrate the effect of perseverance and an honorable ambition.

“The scene opens with a view of the great natural bridge in Virginia. There are three or four lads standing in the channel below, looking up with awe to that vast arch of unhewn rocks, which the Almighty bridged over those everlasting butments ‘when the morning stars sang together.’ The little piece of sky spanning those measureless piers, is full of stars, although it is midday. It is almost five hundred feet from where they stand, up those perpendicular bulwarks of limestone, to the key-rock of that vast arch, which appears to them only of the size of a man’s hand. The silence of death is rendered more impressive by the little stream that falls from rock to rock down the channel. The sun is darkened, and the boys have unconsciously uncovered their heads, as if standing in the presence-chamber of the Majesty of the whole earth. At last, this feeling begins to wear away; they look around, and find that others have been there before them. They see the names of hundreds cut in the limestone butments. A new feeling comes over their young hearts, and their knives are in their hands in an instant. ‘What man has done, man can do,’ is their watchword, while they draw themselves up, and carve their names a foot above those of a hundred full-grown men who have been there before them. They are all satisfied with this feat of physical exertion, except one, whose example illustrates perfectly the forgotten truth, that there is no royal road to intellectual eminence. This ambitious youth sees a name just above his reach, a name that will be green in the memory of the world, when those of Alexander, Cæsar, and Bonaparte, shall rot in oblivion. It was the name of Washington. Before he marched with Braddock to that fatal field, he had been there, and left his name a foot above all his predecessors. It was a glorious thought of the boy, to write his name side by side with that of the great father of his country. He grasps his knife with a firmer hand; and, clinging to a little jutting crag, he cuts again into the limestone, about a foot above where he stands; he then reaches up and cuts another for his hands. ’Tis a dangerous adventure; but as he puts his feet and hands into those gains, and draws himself up carefully to his full length, he finds himself a foot above every name chronicled in that mighty wall. While his companions are regarding him with concern and admiration, he cuts his name in rude capitals, large and deep, into that rocky album. His knife is in his hand, and strength in his sinews, and a new created aspiration in his heart. Again he cuts another niche, and again he carves his name in larger capitals. This is not enough. Heedless of the entreaties of his companions, he cuts and climbs again. The graduations of his ascending scale grow wider apart. He measures his length at every gain he cuts. The voices of his friends wax weaker and weaker, till their words are finally lost on his ear. He now for the first time casts a look beneath him. Had that glance lasted a moment, that moment would have been his last. He clings with a convulsive shudder to his little niche in the rock. An awful abyss awaits his almost certain fall. He is faint with severe exertion, and trembling from the sudden view of the dreadful destruction to which he is exposed. His knife is worn half-way to the haft. He can hear the voices, but not the words, of his terror-stricken companions below. What a moment! What a meager chance to escape destruction! There is no retracing his steps. It is impossible to put his hands into the same niche with his feet, and retain his slender hold a moment. His companions instantly perceive this new and fearful dilemma, and await his fall with emotions that ‘freeze their young blood.’ He is too high, too faint, to ask for his father and mother, his brothers and sisters, to come and witness or avert his destruction. But one of his companions anticipates his desire. Swift as the wind, he bounds down the channel, and the situation of the fated boy is told upon his father’s hearth-stone.

“Minutes of almost eternal length roll on, and there are hundreds standing in that rocky channel, and hundreds on the bridge above, all holding their breath, and awaiting the fearful catastrophe. The poor boy hears the hum of new and numerous voices both above and below. He can just distinguish the tones of his father, who is shouting with all the energy of despair, ‘William! William! Don’t look down! Your mother, and Henry, and Harriet are all here, praying for you! Don’t look down! Keep your eye toward the top!’ The boy didn’t look down. His eye is fixed like a flint toward heaven, and his young heart on Him who reigns there. He grasps again his knife. He cuts another niche, and another foot is added to the hundreds that remove him from the reach of human help from below. How carefully he uses his wasting blade! How anxiously he selects the softest places in that vast pier! How he avoids every flinty grain! How he economizes his physical powers! resting a moment at each gain he cuts. How every motion is watched from below! There stand his father, mother, brother, sister, on the very spot where, if he falls, he will not fall alone. The sun is now half-way down the west. The lad has made fifty additional niches in that mighty wall, and now finds himself directly under the middle of that vast arch of rocks, earth and trees. He must cut his way in a new direction, to get from under this overhanging mountain. The inspiration of hope is dying in his bosom; its vital heat is fed by the increasing shouts of hundreds perched upon cliffs and trees, and others who stand with ropes in their hands on the bridge above, or with ladders below. Fifty gains more must be cut before the longest rope can reach him. His wasting blade strikes again into the limestone. The boy is emerging painfully, foot by foot, from under that lofty arch. Spliced ropes are ready in the hands of those who are leaning over the outer edge of the bridge. Two minutes more, and all will be over. That blade is worn to the last half-inch. The boy’s head reels; his eyes are starting from their sockets. His last hope is dying in his heart; his life must hang upon the next gain he cuts. That niche is his last. At the last faint gash he makes, his knife, his faithful knife, falls from his little nerveless hand, and, ringing along the precipice, falls at his mother’s feet. An involuntary groan of despair runs like a death-knell through the channel below, and all is still as the grave. At the hight of nearly three hundred feet, the devoted boy lifts his hopeless heart and closing eyes to commend his soul to God. ’Tis but a moment—there!—one foot swings off!—he is reeling—trembling—toppling over into eternity! Hark! a shout falls on his ear from above! The man who is lying with half his length over the bridge, has caught a glimpse of the boy’s head and shoulders. Quick as thought, the noosed rope is within reach of the sinking youth. No one breathes. With a faint, convulsive effort, the swooning boy drops his arms into the noose. Darkness comes over him, and with the words, God! and Mother! whispered on his lips just loud enough to be heard in heaven, the tightening rope lifts him out of his last shallow niche. Not a lip moves while he is dangling over that fearful abyss; but when a sturdy Virginian reaches down and draws up the lad, and holds him up in his arms before the tearful, breathless multitude, such shouting and leaping and weeping for joy, never greeted the ear of a human being so recovered from the yawning gulf of eternity.”

We will only add before leaving the subject of natural bridges, that the one in Virginia is not, as has been generally supposed, the only geological wonder of the kind in the United States. In Carter county, Kentucky, there is a natural bridge across the Rockbridge branch of the Cany fork of Little Sandy. It has a span of one hundred and ninety-five feet, and is twelve feet wide, twenty feet thick in the middle of the arch, and one hundred and seven feet above the water. In the county of Walker, in Alabama, there is another similar natural curiosity, which was discovered in a recent geological exploration. The span is one hundred and twenty feet, and the hight nearly seventy feet. This bridge is formed of sandstone, and is very symmetrical. Large beech and hemlock trees grow on the bridge, and the surrounding scenery is represented as sublime.

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PRECIPICES AND PROMONTORIES.

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BESSELY GHAUT.

The precipitous pathways which frequently occur in the Indian Apennines, a chain of mountains extending along the western or Malabar coasts of the peninsula, are called ghauts; and of these abrupt and perpendicular precipices, Bessely ghaut is considered as the most romantic. It is admirably described in the travels of Lord Valentia, from which the following particulars are extracted.

On entering the defiles of the chain of mountains by which the table-land of Mysore is separated from the low country of Canara and Malabar, the scenery becomes extremely wild and romantic. Having reached Purneah Chuttoor, situated on the summit of this celebrated ghaut, his lordship began his descent at three in the morning, by a road formed with great labor out of a bed of loose rock, over which the torrents of the preceding winter had run with such force, as to wash away all the softer parts, and in several places to leave single rocks, of four or five feet diameter, standing in the center of the road, and not more than two feet asunder. He alighted from his palanquin to admire the sublimity of the scene, and entered a forest of the largest oriental trees, several of which were one hundred feet in the stem before a single branch extended itself; notwithstanding which, the descent was so steep, that he was frequently on a level with their tops, at so small a distance as to be able to distinguish them, by the gleam of the numerous torches by which his party was accompanied, but which were insufficient to enlighten the impenetrable canopy of foliage which for miles concealed the face of heaven, or the deep gloom of the abyss into which he appeared to descend. In the day-time the scene could not have been half so awful or magnificent. The descent was impeded by numerous droves of oxen which were ascending the ghaut. At break of day an opening, in a winding part of the road, displayed the lofty mountain the party had descended, covered with forests nearly to its summit. They passed several rivulets, which at one spot had united, and formed a small stream. The surrounding vegetation was richly variegated; and the branches of the loftiest trees covered by plants of the parasitical tribe. The inhabitants of a small village, in the center of this immense forest, were employed in thrashing their grain in a truly patriarchal manner: on a floor of hard earth the grain was trodden out by oxen, which, agreeably to the Mosaical law, were unmuzzled.

THE CAPE OF THE WINDS.

The fortress of Mankoop, in the Crimea, is of a very extraordinary magnitude, and may be described as being literally stationed on the clouds. It covers the summit of a semicircular insulated mountain, which, from its frightful aspect, its altitude, and craggy perpendicular sides, independently of every other consideration than as a surprising work of nature, fills the mind with wonder on entering the defile. In this singular situation, where there are no visible means of ascent toward the hight, and still less of conveying the necessary materials for the completion of so astonishing a work, the Genoese constructed this citadel, perhaps without a parallel in Europe, the result of their wealth, address and enterprise. Being at a remote distance from the coast, it is natural to conjecture that it was employed to curb the hostile spirit of the natives toward the maritime colonial possessions. The latest possessors of this fortress were Jews, in the cemetery of whose colony the traveler meets with ruined tombs of marble and stone, lying beneath the trees he has to pass in his ascent.

The whole of the passage up the mountain is steep and difficult; nor is it rendered more practicable by the amazing labors of its original possessors, whose dilapidated works occur almost at every step. On reaching the summit, caverns and gloomy galleries, perforated in the rock, present on every side their dark mouths. On the most elevated part of this extraordinary eminence, is a beautiful plain, covered with fine turf: it is partly fenced in by the moldering wall of the fortress, but otherwise open to the surrounding precipices. From this spot the adjacent mountains, valleys, hills, woods and villages, may be discerned. “While,” observes the traveler by whom these details are supplied, “with dismay and caution we crept on our hands and knees to look over the brink of these fearful hights, a half-clad Tartar, wild as the winds of the north, mounted without a saddle, and without any other bridle except the twisted stem of a wild vine, on a colt equally unsubdued, galloped to the very edge of the precipice, where, as his horse stood prancing on the borders of eternity, he amused himself with pointing out to us the different places in the vast district which the eye commanded. We entered one of the excavated chambers, a small square apartment, which led to another on our right hand; and, on our left, a narrow passage conducted us to an open balcony, with a parapet in front, formed of the rock, on the very face of one of the principal precipices, whence the depth below might be contemplated with less danger. The vultures which hovered over the valleys did not appear larger than swallows; and the tops of the hills, covered by tufted woods, with the villages scattered amid the rocks and defiles, appeared at so intimidating a depth, that the blood chilled at the view. At length, being conducted to the north-eastern point of the crescent, that being the shape of the summit on which the fortress of Mankoop was built, and descending a few stone steps, neatly hewn out in the rock, we entered by a square door the cavern, called by the Tartars, the Cape of the Winds. It has been chiseled, like the rest, out of the solid stone; but is open on four sides. From the amazing prospect here commanded of all the surrounding country, it probably served as a post of military observation. The apertures, or windows, are large arched chasms in the rock: through these, a most extensive range of scenery over the distant mountains and rolling clouds, forms a sublime spectacle. There is nothing in any part of Europe to surpass the tremendous grandeur of the place. Beneath the cavern is another chamber leading to the several cells on its different sides: these have all been cut out of the same rock.”

The party, in descending, pursued a route, which, if they had taken in their ascent, would, our traveler observes, have afforded them a view of the sublimest scenery imaginable. They now passed beneath an old arched gateway of the citadel, once its principal entrance. This road flanks the northern side of the mountain; and the fall into the valley is so bold and profound, that a single false step would precipitate both horse and rider headlong to it. By alighting, the danger is avoided; and the terror of the descent is compensated by the noblest scenery the eye ever beheld. It was dark before they reached the bottom; and they had some difficulty to regain the principal road which leads through the defile, owing principally to the trees which project over all the lanes in the vicinity of Tartar villages, and so effectually obstruct the passage of persons on horseback, that they are in continual danger of being thrown. The defile itself is not without danger in certain seasons of the year, immense masses of limestone detaching themselves from the rocks above, and carrying all before them in their descent. Several of these masses, detached from the northern precipices, had crossed the river at the bottom, and, by the prodigious velocity acquired in their descent, had actually rolled nearly half-way up the opposite side.

THE NORTH CAPE.

This cape forms the most northerly point of the continent of Europe, and may be regarded as one of the wonders of nature. It is situated within the arctic circle, in seventy-one degrees, ten minutes, north latitude. It has been accurately described by a voyager, from whose account the following particulars are extracted.

In approaching the cape, a little before midnight, its rocks at first appeared to be nearly of an equal hight, until they terminated in a perpendicular peak; but, on a nearer view, those within were found to be much higher than those of the extreme peak, or point. Their general appearance was highly picturesque. The sea, breaking against this immovable rampart, which had withstood its fury from the remotest ages, bellowed, and formed a thick border of white froth. This spectacle, equally beautiful and grand, was illumined by the midnight sun; and the shade which covered the western side of the rocks rendered their aspect still more sublime and almost terrific. The hight of these rocks could not be ascertained; but here everything was on so grand a scale, that a point of comparison could not be afforded by any ordinary known objects. On landing, the party discovered a grotto, formed of rocks, the surface of which had been washed smooth by the waves, and having within a spring of fresh water. The only accessible spot in the vicinity was a hill, some hundred paces in circumference, surrounded by enormous crags. From the summit of this hill, turning toward the sea, they perceived to the right a prodigious mountain, attached to the cape, and rearing its sterile mass to the skies. To the left, a neck of land, covered with less elevated rocks, against which the surges dashed with violence, closed the bay, and admitted but a limited view of the ocean. To see as far as possible into the interior, our navigators climbed almost to the summit of the mountain, where a most singular landscape presented itself to the view. A lake in the foreground had an elevation of at least ninety feet above the level of the sea; and on the top of an adjacent, but less lofty mountain, was another lake. The view was terminated by peaked rocks, checkered by patches of snow.

At midnight the sun still remained several degrees above the horizon, and continued to ascend higher and higher till noon, when having again descended, it passed the north, without dipping below the horizon. This phenomenon, which is as extraordinary to the inhabitants of the torrid and temperate zones, as snow is to the inhabitants of the torrid zone, could not be viewed without a particular interest. Two months of continued daylight, during which space the sun never sets, seem to place the traveler in a new state of existence; while the effect on the inhabitants of these regions is singular. During the time the sun is perpetually above the horizon, they rise at ten in the morning, dine at five or six in the evening, and go to bed at one. But, during the winter season, when, from the beginning of December until the end of January, the sun never rises, they sleep above half of the twenty-four hours, and employ the other half in sitting over the fire, all business being at an end, and a constant darkness prevailing. The cause of this phenomenon, as it affects the northern and southern regions of the earth, may be readily understood. The sun always illumines half the earth at once, and shines on every side ninety degrees from the place where he is vertical. When he is vertical over the equator, or equidistant from both poles, he shines as far as each pole; and this happens in spring and autumn. But, as he declines to the north in summer, he shines beyond the north pole, and all the countries near that pole turn round in perpetual sunshine: while at the same time, he leaves the south pole an equal number of degrees, so that those parts turn round in darkness.

PRECIPICES OF SAN ANTONIA.

The mountain of San Antonia, on the route from Guyaquil to Quito, is described by Ulloa as presenting a series of the most fearful precipices. In crossing this mountain, the declivity was in some parts so great, that the mules could not have kept their footing, had not the paths been filled with holes, upward of two feet in depth, in which the mules placed their fore and hinder feet, occasionally dragging their bellies, and the legs of the rider, along the ground. Without these holes which serve as steps, the precipice would not be practicable. Should the creature happen, however, to place his foot between two of these holes, or to falter in the slightest degree, the rider would fall, and perish inevitably. To lessen the difficulties and dangers of these craggy paths, the Indians who go before the travelers, dig small trenches across.

The descent from the hights was a task of imminent danger. Owing to the excessive steepness, the water had washed away a greater part of the holes; while, on the one side were steep eminences, and on the other, the most frightful abysses. The mules were themselves sensible of the caution requisite in descending; for, on reaching the top of an eminence, they stopped, and having placed their fore feet close together, as in a posture of stopping themselves, they also placed their hinder feet together a little forward, as if going to lie down. In this attitude, having, as it were, taken a survey of the road, they slid down with great swiftness to the bottom. All the rider had to do, was to keep himself fast in his saddle, without checking his beast; as the slightest motion would have been sufficient to destroy its equilibrium, and both would have inevitably perished. The address of the creatures was truly wonderful, for, in this rapid motion, when they seemed to have lost all government of themselves, they followed exactly the different windings of the road, as if they had previously reconnoitered, and settled in their minds the route they were to follow, and taken every precaution for their safety, amid so many irregularities. The safety of the rider depended entirely on their experience and address; but, long as they had been accustomed to travel these roads, they seemed to feel a degree of horror on reaching the top of a steep declivity. Without being checked by their rider, they stopped; and if he inadvertently endeavored to spur them on, they were immovable until they had placed themselves in a secure posture. They seemed as if they were actuated by reason; for they not only viewed the road attentively, but trembled and snorted at the danger; emotions which inspired the party with the most dreadful apprehensions. The Indians went before, and, placing themselves along the sides of the mountain, where they held by the roots of trees, animated the beasts with shouts, until they at last started down the declivity.

There were some parts where the declivities were not on the side of the precipices; but the road was so narrow and hollow, and the sides so nearly perpendicular, that the danger was almost equal. The track being extremely narrow, with scarcely a sufficient width of the road to admit the mule with its rider, if the former had fallen, the latter would necessarily have been crushed, and, for want of room to disengage himself, would have been mutilated in his limbs, if he had escaped with life. It was truly wonderful to consider with what exactness these animals, after having overcome the first emotions of their fear, and when they were going to slide down the declivity, stretched out their fore-legs, to the end that they might preserve their equilibrium. The gentle inclination they made with the body, at a proper distance, in following the several windings of the road, was also a mark of surprising sagacity; and, lastly, their address in stopping themselves at the end of the impetuous career, was truly deserving of observation. Greater prudence and conduct could not have been exhibited by man!

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GEOLOGICAL CHANGES OF THE EARTH.

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There are more things in heaven and earth Than are dreamt of in our philosophy.—SHAKSPEARE.

The variety of fossil substances, many of them marine productions, which are found in mountains remote from the sea, are undeniable proofs that the earth’s surface has undergone considerable changes, some of which indicate an alteration of climate not easily to be explained. The remains of animals inhabiting hot countries, and the marine productions of hot climates, which are frequently found in high northern latitudes, lead to a suspicion that the earth’s axis was at a very remote period differently inclined from what it is at present. The tropics now extend twenty-three degrees and a half on each side the equator; but if they were extended to forty-five degrees, then the arctic circle and the tropics would coincide, and thence would arise inconceivable variations in the productions and phenomena of the earth. All this would form an amusing speculation to a person possessed of a terrestrial globe, who might tie a thread round it to represent the tropics at forty-five degrees of elevation.

By the gradual operation of the sea and of rivers, the face of the globe has, in the course of ages, undergone very material changes. The former has encroached in particular parts, and retired from others; and the mouths of large rivers, running through low countries, have often been variously modified, by a deposition and transfer of the matter washed down from the land. At Havre, the sea undermines the steep coast; while it recedes at Dunkirk, where the shore is flat. In Holland the Zuyder Zee was probably formed, in the middle ages, by continual irruptions of the sea, where only the small lake Flevo had before existed. The mouths of the Rhine have been considerably altered, as well in their dimensions as in their directions. The mud, as it is deposited by large rivers, generally causes a delta, or a triangular piece of land, to grow out into the sea. Thus the mouth of the Mississippi is said to have advanced above fifty miles since the discovery of America. The island called Sandy Hook, at the entrance of the harbor of New York, was formerly a peninsula attached to the main land. The old citizens of New Haven, Connecticut, point out places where once boats, and even small vessels, used to anchor, but which are now at quite a distance from the water and covered with the dwellings of the inhabitants. Most of the large rivers of the United States are more or less changing their banks, and the places of their channels, from year to year. The sea, within the space of forty years, has retired more than a mile from Rosetta, in Egypt; and the mouths of the Arno, and of the Rhone, consist in a great measure of new land.

The Javanese have a tradition, that in former times the islands of Sumatra, Java, Bali and Sumbawa, were united, and afterward separated into nine different parts. They add, that when three thousand rainy seasons shall have passed away, they will be united. In the Mediterranean, geological phenomena evince, that the island of Malta, and that of Gozo, its dependency, now separated by a wide channel, and the intermediate small island of Cumino, formed, together with the latter, a single island. By the encroachments of the sea, and the subsidence of some parts of the land, the islands of Scilly, the aboriginal inhabitants of which carried on a considerable trade in tin with the Phenicians, Greeks and Romans, are now little more than barren rocks, with small patches of earth interspersed in the hollows. Strabo describes the Phenicians as having been so jealous of their lucrative traffic with these islands, that they ran a vessel purposely on shore, and risked the lives of the crew, rather than have it made known to the Romans. The land within which these tin mines were worked, must now be sunk, and buried beneath the sea. On the shifting of the sands between the islands, walls and ruins are frequently seen; the difference of level, since these walls or fences were made, to prevent the encroachments of the sea, being estimated at sixteen feet. There is little doubt but that there must have been a subsidence of the land, followed by a sudden inundation. This, indeed, seems to be confirmed by tradition, there being a strong persuasion in the western parts of Cornwall, that there formerly existed a large country between the Land’s-end and the islands of Scilly, now laid many fathoms under water. Although there are no positive evidences of such an ancient connection between the main land and these islands, still it is extremely probable, that the cause of the inundation which destroyed the greater part of them, may have reached the Cornish shores, there being several proofs of a subsidence of the land in Mount’s bay. The principal anchoring place, which was called a lake, is now a haven, or open harbor; and the mount, from its Cornish name, signifying the gray rock in a wood, must have formerly stood in a wood, but is now at full tide half a mile in the sea.

Examples of a similar kind, relative to every known country, might be multiplied. One of the most considerable inundations to be met with in history, is that which happened in the reign of Henry I. and which overflowed the estates of Earl Goodwin, forming the banks called the Goodwin or Godwin sands. In the year 1546, a similar irruption of the sea destroyed a hundred thousand persons in the territory of Dort, in the United Provinces, and a still greater number round Dollart. In Friezland and Zealand more than three hundred villages were overwhelmed; and their remains are still visible, on a clear day, at the bottom of the water. The Baltic sea has, by slow degrees, covered a large part of Pomerania; and, among others, overwhelmed the famous port of Vineta. The Norwegian sea has formed several little islands from the main land, and still daily advances on the continent. The German sea has advanced on the shores of Holland, near Catt, to such a degree, that the ruins of an ancient citadel of the Romans, formerly built on that coast, are now under water. The country surrounding the isle of Ely was, in the time of Bede, about a thousand years ago, one of the most delightful and highly cultivated spots in Great Britain: it was overwhelmed, and remained for several centuries under the water, until at length, the sea, by a caprice similar to the one which had prompted its invasions, abandoned the earth, but without the latter being able to recover its primitive state, that of one of the most fertile valleys in the world.

On the other hand, the sea has in many instances, deserted the land; and by the deposition of its sediment in some places, and the accumulation of its sands in others, has also formed new lands. In this manner the isle of Oxney, near Romney marsh, was produced. In France, the town of Aigues Mortes, which was a seaport in the time of Louis IX., is now removed more than four miles from the sea. Psalmodi, also in that kingdom, was an island in the year 815, and is now upward of six miles within the land. In Italy, a considerable portion of land has been gained at the mouth of the river Arno; and Ravenna, which once stood by the sea-side, is now between four and five miles from it. Every part of Holland seems to be a conquest from the sea, and to have been rescued, in a manner, from its bosom. The industry of man, however, in the formation of dikes, is here to be brought into account; for the surface of the earth, in that country, is for the greater part below the surface of the sea.

Three-fifths of the surface of the globe are covered by the sea, the average depth of which has been estimated at from five to ten miles. Demonstrative proofs exist in Great Britain, and in various parts of the world, that great changes have taken place in the relative positions of the present continents with the ocean, which, in former ages, rolled its waves over the summits of our present elevated mountains. To illustrate this subject, and before these proofs are entered on, in the consideration of the geological phenomena named extraneous fossils, it will be proper to introduce the pleasing and truly philosophical view of the successive changes the earth has undergone, contained in Sir Richard Phillips’s Morning Walk to Kew. In passing near the banks of the Thames, Sir Richard was led, in two several places, to introduce the following observations and reflections on this highly curious and interesting subject. They apply the principles and facts of geology in a way in which they may be applied to any river, and indicate how much we are daily surrounded by the wonders of creation, the process of which, as Sir Richard observes, is never ceasing. In passing over the alluvial flat of Barnes common, he introduces the following thoughts, which are given in very nearly his own language.

“On this common, nature still appears to be in a primeval and unfinished state. The entire flat from the high ground to the Thames, is evidently a mere fresh-water formation, of comparatively modern date, created out of the rocky ruins which the rains, in a series of ages, have washed from the high grounds, and further augmented by the decay of local vegetation. The adjacent high lands, being elevated above the action of the fresh water, were no doubt marine formations, created by the flowing of the sea during the long period when the earth was last in its perihelion during our summer months; which was probably thousands of years since. The flat, or freshwater formation, on which I was walking, still only approaches its completion; and the desiccated soil has not yet fully defined the boundaries of the river. At spring-tides, particularly when the line of the moon’s apsides coincides with the syzygies, or when the ascending node is in the vernal equinox, or after heavy rains, the river still overflows its banks, and indicates its originally extended site under ordinary circumstances.

“The state of transition also appears in marshes, bogs and ponds, which, but for the interference of man, would, many ages ago, have been filled up with decayed forests and the remains of undisturbed vegetation. Rivers thus become agents of the never-ceasing creation, and a means of giving greater equality to the face of the land. The sea as it retired, either abruptly from some situations, or gradually from others, left dry land, consisting of downs and swelling hills, disposed in all the variety which would be consequential on a succession of floods and ebbs during several thousand years. These downs, acted upon by rain, were mechanically, or in solution, carried off by the water to the lowest levels, the elevations being thereby depressed, and the valleys proportionally raised. The low lands became, of course, the channels through which the rains returned to the sea, and the successive deposits on their sides, hardened by the wind and sun, have in five or six thousand years, created such tracts of alluvial soil, as those which now present themselves in contiguity with most rivers. The soil, thus assembled and compounded, is similar in its nature to the rocks and hills whence it was washed; but, having been so pulverized, and so divided by solution, it forms the finest medium for the secretion of all vegetable principles, and hence the banks of the rivers are the favorite residences of man. Should the channel constantly narrow itself more and more, till it becomes choked in its course, or at its outlet, then, for a time, lakes would be formed, which, in like manner, would narrow themselves and disappear. New channels would then be formed, or the rain would so diffuse itself over the surface, that the fall and the evaporation would balance each other.

“Such are the unceasing works of creation, constantly taking place on the exterior surface of the earth; where, though less evident to the senses and experience of man, matter apparently inert is in as progressive a state of change, from the operation of unceasing and immutable causes, as in the visible generations of the animal and vegetable kingdoms. Thus water, wind and heat, the energies of which never cease to be exerted, are constantly producing new combinations, changes and creations; which, if they accord with the harmony of the whole, are fit and ‘good;’ but, if discordant, are speedily re-organized or extinguished by contrary and opposing powers. In a word, whatever is, is fit; and whatever is not fit, is not, or soon ceases to be! Such seems to be the governing principle of Nature, the key of all her mysteries, the primary law of creation! All things are the proximate effects of a balance of immutable powers; those powers are results of a primordial cause; while that cause is inscrutable and incomprehensible to creatures possessing but a relative being, who live only in time and space, and who feel and act merely by the impulse of limited senses and powers.”

And, again, the same writer introduces the following apposite remarks on this very interesting subject.

“As I approached a sequestered mansion-house, and the other buildings connected with it, I crossed a corner of the meadow toward an angle formed by a rude inlet of the Thames, which was running smoothly toward the sea, at the rate of four miles an hour. The tide unites here with the ordinary current, and running a few miles above this place, exhibits twice a day the finely reduced edge of that physical balance-wheel, or oscillating fluid-pendulum, which creates the earth’s centrifugal power, and varies the center of its forces. In viewing the beautiful process of nature, presented by a majestic river, we cease to wonder that priestcraft has often succeeded in teaching nations to consider rivers of divine origin, and as proximate living emblems of omnipotence. Ignorance, whose constant error is to look only to the last term of every series of causes, and which charges impiety on all who venture to ascend one term higher, and atheism on all who dare to explore several terms, (though every series implies a first term,) would easily be persuaded by a crafty priesthood to consider a beneficent river as a tangible branch of the Godhead. But we now know that the waters which flow down a river, are but a portion of the rains and snows which, having fallen near its source, are returning to the ocean, there to rise again and re-perform the same circle of vapors, clouds, rains and rivers. What a process of fertilization, and how still more luxuriant would have been this vicinity, if man had not leveled the trees, and carried away the crops of vegetation. What a place of shelter would thus have been afforded to tribes of amphibiæ, whose accumulated remains often surprise geologists, though necessarily consequent on the fall of crops of vegetation on each other, near undisturbed banks of rivers. Happily, in Britain, our coal-pits, or mineralized forests, have supplied the place of our living woods; or man, regardless of the fitness of all the parts to the perfection of every natural result, might here, as in other long-peopled countries, ignorantly have thwarted the course of nature by cutting down the timber, which, acting on the electricity of the clouds, affects their destiny, and causes them to fall in fertilizing showers. Such has been the fate of all the countries famous in antiquity. Persia, Syria, Arabia, parts of Turkey, and the Barbary coast, have been rendered arid deserts by this inadvertency. The clouds from the Western ocean would long since have passed over England without disturbance from the conducting power of leaves of trees, or blades of grass, if our coal-works had not saved our natural conductors; while the Thames, the agent of so much abundance and of so much wealth, might, in that case, have become a shallow brook, like the once equally famed Jordan, Granicus, or Ilyssus.

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