proofreading team ice-caves of france and switzerland. a narrative of subterranean exploration. by the rev. g.f. browne, m.a. fellow and assistant tutor of st. catharine's college, cambridge; member of the alpine club. . preface. the existence of natural ice-caves at depths varying from to feet below the surface of the earth, unconnected with glaciers or snow mountains, and in latitudes and at altitudes where ice could not under ordinary circumstances be supposed to exist, has attracted some attention on the continent; but little or nothing seems to be practically known in england on the subject. these caves are so singular, and many of them so well repay inspection, that a description of the twelve which i have visited can scarcely, as it seems to me, be considered an uncalled-for addition to the numerous books of travel which are constantly appearing. in order to prevent my narrative from being a mere dry record of natural phenomena, i have interspersed it with such incidents of travel as may be interesting in themselves or useful to those who are inclined to follow my steps. i have also given, from various sources, accounts of similar caves in different parts of the world. a pamphlet on _glacières naturelles_ by m. thury, of geneva, of the existence of which i was not aware when i commenced my explorations, has been of great service to me. m. thury had only visited three glacières when he published his pamphlet in , but the observations he records are very valuable. he had attempted to visit a fourth, when, unfortunately, the want of a ladder of sufficient length stopped him. i was allowed to read papers before the british association at bath ( ), in the chemical section, on the prismatic formation of the ice in these caves, and in the geological section, on their general character and the possible causes of their existence. it is necessary to say, with regard to the sections given in this book, that, while the proportions of the masses of ice are in accordance with measurements taken on the spot, the interior height of many of the caves, and the curves of the roof and sides, are put in with a free hand, some of them from memory. and of the measurements, too, it is only fair to say that they were taken for the most part under very unfavourable circumstances, in dark caves lighted by one, or sometimes by two candles, with a temperature varying from slightly above to slightly below the freezing-point, and with no surer foot-hold than that afforded by slippery slopes of ice and chaotic blocks of stone. in all cases, errors are due to want of skill, not of honesty; and i hope that they do not generally lie on the side of exaggeration. cambridge: _june_ . contents. chapter i. page the glaciÈre of la genolliÈre, in the jura ............. chapter ii. the glaciÈre of s. georges, in the jura ................ chapter iii. the lower glaciÈre of the prÉ de s. livres, in the jura ............................................... chapter iv. the upper glaciÈre of the prÉ de s. livres ............. chapter v. the glaciÈre of grÂce-dieu, or la baume, near besanÇon, in the vosgian jura .................................... chapter vi. besanÇon and dÔle ...................................... chapter vii. the glaciÈre of monthÉzy, in the val de travers ........ chapter viii. the glaciÈre and neigiÈre of arc-sous-cicon ............ chapter ix. the schafloch, or trou-aux-moutons, near the lake of thun ................................................... chapter x. the glaciÈre of grand anu, near annecy ................. chapter xi. the glaciÈre of chappet-sur-villaz, near annecy ........ chapter xii. the glaciÈres of the brezon, and the valley of reposoir ............................................ chapter xiii. la borna de la glace, in the duchy of aosta ............ chapter xiv. the glaciÈre of fondeurle, in dauphinÉ ................. chapter xv. other ice-caves:-- the cave of scelicze, in hungary ..................... the cave of yeermalik, in koondooz ................... the surtshellir, in iceland .......................... the gypsum cave of illetzkaya zastchita, orenburg .... the ice-cavern on the peak of teneriffe .............. chapter xvi. brief notices of various ice-caves ..................... chapter xvii. history of theories respecting the causes of subterranean ice ....................................... chapter xviii. on the prismatic structure of the ice in glaciÈres ..... chapter xix. on the mean temperature of the regions in which some of the glaciÈres occur ............................ appendix ............................................... list of illustrations. ice-columns in the glaciÈre of la genolliÈre ........... entrance to the glaciÈre of s. georges ................. vertical sections of the glaciÈre of s. georges ........ lower glaciÈre of the prÉ de s. livres ................. section of the lower glaciÈre of the prÉ de s. livres ....................................... second cave of the upper glaciÈre of the prÉ de s. livres .............................................. vertical sections of the upper glaciÈre of the prÉ de s. livres ........................................... vertical section of the glaciÈre of grÂce-dieu, near besanÇon ............................................... bath in the doubs, at besanÇon ......................... vertical section of the glaciÈre of monthÉzy, in the val de travers ......................................... ground plan of the glaciÈre of monthÉzy ................ vertical section of the glaciÈre of grand anu, near annecy ................................................. ice-cave in the surtshellir ............................ * * * * * chapter i. the glaciÈre of la genolliÈre, in the jura. in the summer of , i found myself, with some members of my family, in a small rustic _pension_ in the village of arzier, one of the highest villages of the pleasant slope by which the jura passes down to the lake of geneva. the son of the house was an intelligent man, with a good knowledge of the natural curiosities which abound in that remarkable range of hills, and under his guidance we saw many strange things. more than once, he spoke of the existence of a _glacière_ at no great distance, and talked of taking us to see it; but we were sceptical on the subject, imagining that _glacière_ was his patois for _glacier_, and knowing that anything of the glacier kind was out of the question. at last, however, on a hot day in august, we set off with him, armed, at his request, with candles; and, after two or three hours of pine forests, and grass glades, and imaginary paths up rocky ranges of hill towards the summits of the jura, we came to a deep natural pit, down the side of which we scrambled. at the bottom, after penetrating a few yards into a chasm in the rock, we discovered a small low cave, perfectly dark, with a flooring of ice, and a pillar of the same material in the form of a headless woman, one of whose shoulders we eventually carried off, to regale our parched friends at arzier. we lighted up the cave with candles, and sat crouched on the ice drinking our wine, finding water, which served the double purpose of icing and diluting the wine, in small basins in the floor of ice, formed apparently by drops falling from the roof of the cave. a few days after, our guide and companion took us to an ice-cavern on a larger scale, which, we were told, supplies geneva with ice when the ordinary stores of that town fail; and the next year my sisters went to yet another, where, however, they did not reach the ice, as the ladder necessary for the final drop was not forthcoming. in the course of the last year or two, i have mentioned these glacières now and then in england, and no one has seemed to know anything about them; so i determined, in the spring of , to spend a part of the summer in examining the three we had already seen or heard of, and discovering, if possible, the existence of similar caves. the first that came under my notice was the glacière of la genollière; and, though it is smaller and less interesting than most of those which i afterwards visited, many of its general features are merely reproduced on a larger scale in them. i shall therefore commence with this cave, and proceed with the account of my explorations in their natural order. it is probable that some of the earlier details may seem to be somewhat tedious, but they are necessary for a proper understanding of the subject. la genollière is the _montagne_, or mountain pasturage and wood, belonging to the village of genollier, an ancient priory of the monks of s. claude.[ ] the cave itself lies at no great distance from arzier--a village which may be seen in profile from the grand quai of geneva, ambitiously climbing towards the summit of the last slope of the jura. to reach the cave from geneva, it would be necessary to take train or steamer to nyon, whence an early omnibus runs to s. cergues, if crawling up the serpentine road can be called running; and from s. cergues a guide must be taken across the fruitière de nyon, if anyone can be found who knows the way. from arzier, however, which is nine miles up from nyon, it was not necessary to take the s. cergues route; and we went straight through the woods, past the site of an old convent and its drained fish-pond, and up the various rocky ridges of hill, with no guide beyond the recollection of the previous visits two and three years before, and a sort of idea that we must go north-west. as it was not yet july, the cows had not made their summer move to the higher châlets, and we found the mountains uninhabited and still. the point to be made for is the upper châlet of la genollière, called by some of the people _la baronne_, [ ] though the district map puts la baronne at some distance from the site of the glacière. we had some difficulty in finding the châlet, and were obliged to spread out now and then, that each might hunt a specified portion of the wood or glade for signs to guide our further advance, enjoying meanwhile the lilies of the mountain and lilies of the valley, and fixing upon curious trees and plants as landmarks for our return. in crossing the last grass, we found the earliest vanilla orchis (_orchis nigra_) of the year, and came upon beds of moonwort (_botrychium lunaria_) of so unusual a size that our progress ceased till such time as the finest specimens were secured. some time before reaching this point, we caught a glimpse of a dark speck on the highest summit in sight, which recalled pleasantly a night we had spent there three years before for the purpose of seeing the sun rise.[ ] my sisters had revisited the châlet des chèvres, which this dark speck represented, in , and found that the small chamber in which we had slept on planks and logs had become a more total ruin than before, in the course of the winter, so that it is now utterly untenable. from arzier to the châlet of la genollière, would be about two hours, for a man walking and mounting quickly, and never losing the way; and the glacière lies a few minutes farther to the north-west, at an elevation of about , feet above the lake, or , feet above the sea.[ ] a rough mountain road, leading over an undulating expanse of grass, passes narrowly between two small clumps of trees, each surrounded by a low circular wall, the longer diameter of the enclosure on the south side of the road being feet. in this enclosure is a natural pit, of which the north side is a sheer rock, of the ordinary limestone of the jura, with a chasm almost from the top; while the south side is less steep, and affords the means of scrambling down to the bottom, where a cave is found at the foot of the chasm, passing under the road. the floor of this small but comparatively lofty cave is feet below the surface of the earth, and slopes away rapidly to the west, where, by the help of candles, the rock which forms the wall is seen to stop short of the floor, leaving an entrance or feet high to an inner cave--the glacière. the roof of this inner cave rises slightly, and its floor falls, so that there is a height of about feet inside, excepting where a large open fissure in the roof passes high up towards the world above. at one end, neither the roof nor the floor slopes much, and in this part of the cave the height is less than feet. it would be very imprudent to go straight into an ice-cave after a long walk on a hot summer's day, so we prepared to dine under the shade of the trees at the edge of the pit, and i went down into the cave for a few moments to get a piece of ice for our wine. my first impression was that the glacière was entirely destroyed, for the outer cave was a mere chaos of rock and stones; but, on further investigation, it turned out that the ruin had not reached the inner cave. in our previous visit we had noticed a natural basin of some size and depth among the trees on the north side of the road, and we now found that the chaos was the result of a recent falling-in of this basin; so that from the bottom of the first cave, standing as it were under the road, we could see daylight through the newly-formed hole. the total length of the floor of the inner cave, which lies north-east and south-west, is feet; and of this floor a length of about feet was more or less covered with ice, the greatest breadth of the ice being within an inch or two of feet. excepting in the part of the cave already mentioned as being less than feet high, we found the floor not nearly so dry, nor so completely covered with ice, as when we first saw the glacière, three years before, in the middle of an exceptionally hot august. under the low roof all was very dry, though even there the ice had not an average thickness of more than inches. it may be as well to say, once for all, that the ice in these caves is never found in a sheet on a pool of water; it is always solid, forming the floor of the cave, filling up the interstices of the loose stones, and rising above them, in this case with a surface perfectly level. [illustration: ice-columns in the glaciÈre of la genolliÈre.] we found four principal columns of ice, three of which, in the loftiest part of the cave, are represented in the accompanying engraving: i call them three, and not two, because the two which unite in a common base proceeded from different fissures. the line of light at the foot of the rock-wall is the only entrance to the glacière. the lowest column was - / feet high and - / feet broad, not more than inches thick in the middle, half-way up, and flattened symmetrically so as to be comparatively sharp at the edges, like a huge double-edged sword. it stood clear of the rock through its whole height, but scarcely left room between itself and the wall of the cave for a candle to be passed up and down. the other two columns shown in the engraving poured out of fissures in the rock, streaming down as cascades, the one being - / and the other feet high; and when we tied a candle to the end of an alpenstock, and passed it into the fissures, we found that the bend of the fissures prevented our seeing the termination of the ice. an intermittent disturbance of the air in these fissures made the flame flicker at intervals, though generally the candle burned steadily in them, and we could detect no current in the cave. the fourth column was in the low part of the cave, and we were obliged to grovel on the ice to get its dimensions: it was - / feet broad and - / feet high, the roof of the cave being only - / feet high; and it poured out of the vertical fissure like a smooth round fall of water, adhering lightly to the rock at its upper end like a fungus, and growing out suddenly in its full size. this column was dry, whereas on the others there were abundant symptoms of moisture, as if small quantities of water were trickling down them from their fissures, though the fissures themselves appeared to be perfectly dry. in one of the fissures there was a patch of what is known as sweating-stone, [ ] with globules of water oozing out, and standing roundly upon it: the globules were not frozen. this stone was exceedingly hard, and defied all our efforts to break off a specimen, but at last we got two small pieces, hard and heavy, and wrapped them in paper; ten weeks after, we found them of course quite dry, and broke them easily, small as they were, with our fingers. the fissure from which the shortest of the four columns came was full of gnats, as were also several crevices in the walls of the cave, especially in the lowest part; and we found a number of large red-brown flies, [ ] nearly an inch long, running rapidly on the ice and stones, after the fashion of the flies with which trout love best to be taken. the central parts of the cave, where the roof is high, were in a state provincially known as 'sloppy,' and drops of water fell now and then from above, either splashing on wet stones, or hollowing out basins in the remaining ice, or, sometimes, shrewdly detecting the most sensitive spot in the back of the human neck. we placed one of casella's thermometers on a piece of wood on one of the wet stones, clear of the ice, and it soon fell to °. probably the temperature had been somewhat raised by the continued presence of three human beings and two lighted candles in the small cavern; and, at any rate, the cold of two degrees above freezing was something very real on a hot summer's day, and told considerably upon my sisters, so that we were compelled to beat a retreat,--not quite in time, for one of our party could not effect a thaw, even by stamping about violently in the full afternoon sun. while we were in the cave, we noticed that the surfaces of the columns were covered by very irregular lines, marked somewhat deeply in the ice, and dividing the surface into areas of all shapes, a sort of network, with meshes of many different shapes and sizes. these areas were smaller towards the edges of the columns; the lines containing them were not, as a rule, straight lines, and almost baffled our efforts to count them, but, to the best of my belief, there were meshes with three, four, and up to eight sides. the column which stood clear of the rock was composed of very limpid ice, without admixture of air; but the cascades were interpenetrated by veins of looser white ice, and, where the white ice came, the surface lines seemed to disappear. as we sat on the grass outside, arranging our properties for departure, my attention was arrested by the columnar appearance of the fractured edge of the block of ice which we had used at luncheon. it was about inches thick, and had formed part of a stalagmite whose horizontal section, like that of the free column, would be an ellipse of considerable eccentricity; and, on examination, it turned out that the surface areas, which varied in size from a large thumb-nail to something very small, were the ends of prisms reaching through to the other side of the piece of ice, at any rate in the thinner parts, and presenting there similar faces. not only so, but the prisms could be detached with great ease, by using no instrument more violent than the fingers; while the point of a thin knife entered freely at any of the surface lines, and split the ice neatly down the sides of the prisms. when one or two of the sides of a prism were exposed, at the edge of the piece of ice, the prism could be pushed out entire, like a knot from the edge of a piece of wood. in some cases there seemed to be capillary fissures coincident with the lines where several sides of prisms met. considering the shape of the whole column, it is clear that the two ends of each prism could not be parallel; neither was one of the ends perfectly symmetrical with the other, and i do not think that the prisms were of the nature of truncated pyramids. on descending again, i found that the columns were without exception formed of this prismatic ice, either in whole, as in the clear column, or in part, as where limpid prisms existed among the white ice which ran in veins down the cascades. in the free vertical column the prisms seemed to be deposited horizontally, and in the thicker parts they did not pass clear through. we carried a large piece of ice down to arzier in a botanical tin, and on our arrival there we found that all traces of external lines had disappeared. this visit to the glacière was on saturday, and on the following monday i determined to go up alone, to take a registering thermometer, and leave it in the cave for the night; which, of course, would entail a third visit on the next day. monday brought a steady penetrating rain, of that peculiar character which six scotch springs had taught me to describe as 'just a bit must;' while in the higher regions the fog was so hopeless, that a sudden lift of the mist revealed the unpleasant fact that considerable progress had been made in a westerly direction, the true line being north-west. instead of the rocks of la genollière, the foreground presented was the base of the dôle, and the chasm which affords a passage from the well-known fortress of les rousses into vaud. there was nothing for it but to turn in the right direction, or attempt to do so, and force a way through the wet woods till something should turn up. this something took the form of a châlet; but no amount of hammering and shouting produced any response, and it was only after a forcible entrance, and a prolonged course of interior shouting, that a man was at length drawn. he said that he had been asleep--and why he put it in a past tense is still a mystery--and could give no idea of the direction of the châlet on la genollière, beyond a vague suggestion that it was somewhere in the mist; a suggestion by no means improbable, seeing that the mist was ubiquitous. one piece of information he was able to give, and it was consoling: i was now, it seemed, on the fruitière de nyon, and therefore the desired châlet could not be far off, if only a guide could be found. on the whole, he thought that a guide could not be found; but there were men in the châlet, and i might go up the ladder with him and see what could be done. he led to a chamber with a window of one small pane, dating apparently from the first invention of glass, and never cleaned since. an invisible corner of the room was appealed to; but the voice which resided there, and seemed like everything else to be asleep, pleaded dreamily a total ignorance of the whereabouts of the châlet in question. just as, by dint of steady staring through the darkness, an indistinct form of a mattress, with a human being reclining thereon, began to be visible, another dark corner announced that this new speaker had heard of a _p'tit sentier_ leading to the châlet, but knew neither direction nor distance. here the space between the two corners put in a word; and, as the darkness was now becoming natural, seven or eight mattresses appeared, ranged round the room, some holding one, some two men, most of whom were sitting up on end with old caps on, displaying every variety of squalor. the voice which had spoken last declared that the distance was three-quarters of an hour, and that if the day were clear there would be no difficulty in reaching the châlet; as it was, the man would be very glad to try. a change of cap was the only dressing necessary for the volunteer, and we faced the fog and rain, which elicited from him such a disgraceful amount of swearing, that it was on all accounts well when the rain ceased for a few minutes, the mists rolled off, and the clouds lifted sufficiently to betray the surface of the lake of geneva, luxuriating in the clear warmth of an early summer's day, and making us shiver by the painful contrast which our own altitude presented. the deep blue of the lake brought to mind the story of the shepherd of gessenay (saanen), of whom it is told that when he was passing the hills with some friends for a first visit to vevey, and came in sight of the lake, which he had never seen before, he turned and hurried home incontinent, declaring that he would not enter a country where the good god had made the blue sky to fall and fill the valleys. in this bright interval we came upon a magnificent fox, and the peasant's impulse was, 'oh, for a good gun!' an exclamation which would have sounded horrible to english ears, if i had not been previously broken in to it by an invitation from a scotch gamekeeper to a fox-hunt, when he promised an excellent gun, and a _stance_ which the foxes were sure to pass. the rain now came on again, and the guide thought he had had plenty of it, and must return for the afternoon milking; and just then, as good luck would have it, we stumbled upon an immense clump of nettles which had been one of our landmarks two days before, so that he was no longer necessary, and we said affectionate adieux. the glacière was in a state of ruin. only the right-hand column, not speaking heraldically, was standing, the others lying in blocks frozen hard together on the ground. the column which still stood was much shrunken, and seemed too small for its fissure, the sides of which it scarcely touched. the wind blew down the entrance slope so determinedly, that a candle found it difficult to live at the bottom of the first cave; and a portion of the current blew into the glacière, and in its sweep exactly struck the fallen columns, the edges of which were already rounded by thaw. much of this must be attributed to the recent opening of the second shaft (p. ), which admits a thorough draught through the first cave, and so exposes the glacière to currents of warmer air; and i should expect to find that in future the ice will disappear from that part of the cave every summer, [ ] whereas in we found it thick and dry (excepting a few small basins containing water) and evidently permanent, in the middle of a very hot august. the low part of the cave was so completely protected from the current, that the candle burned there quite steadily for an hour and a half: still, like the others, the column at that end of the glacière was broken down, and it therefore became necessary to attribute its fall to some other agency than the current of external air. there had been a very large amount of rain, and the surface of the rock in the fissures was evidently wet; so i have no doubt that the filtering through of the warm rain-water had thawed the upper supports of the ice-cascades, and then, owing to their slightly inclined position, the pedestal had not provided sufficient support, and so they had fallen. one of them, perhaps, had brought down in its fall the free column, which had stood two days before on its own base, without any support from the rock. very probably, too--indeed, almost certainly,--the fall of the large mass of rock, which once formed the bottom of the basin on the north side of the road, has affected the old-established fissures, by which rain-water has been accustomed to penetrate in small quantities to the glacière, so that now a much larger amount is admitted. on this account, there will probably be a great diminution of the ice in the course of future summers, though the amount formed each winter may be greater than it has hitherto been. constant examination of other columns and fissures has convinced me, that, before the end of autumn, the majority of the glacières will have lost all the columns which depend upon the roof for a part of their support, or spring from fissures in the wall; whereas those which are true stalagmites, and are self-supporting, will have a much better chance of remaining through the warm season, and lasting till the winter, and so increasing in size from year to year. free stalagmites, however, which are formed under fissures capable of pouring down a large amount of water on the occasion of a great flood of rain, must succumb in time, though not so soon as the supported columns. a curious appearance was presented by a small free stalagmite in the retired part of the cave. the surface of the stalagmite was wet, from the drops proceeding from a fissure above, and was lightly covered in many parts with a calcareous deposit, brought down from the fissures in the roof by the water filtering through. the stalagmite was of the double-edged-sword shape, and the limestone deposit collected chiefly at one of its edges, the edge nearer to that part of the cave where thaw prevailed; so that the real edge was a ridge of deposit beyond the edge of the ice.[ ] patches of limestone paste lay on many parts of the ice-floor. in the loftier part of the cave, water dropped from the roof to so large an extent, that ninety-six drops of water in a minute splashed on to a small stone immediately under the main fissure. this stone was in the centre of a considerable area of the floor which was clear of ice; and it struck me that if the columns were formed by the freezing of water dropping from the roof, there ought to have been at some time a large column under this, the most plentiful source of water in the cave. accordingly, i found that the edge of the ice round this clear area was much thicker than the rest of the ice of the floor, and was evidently the remains of the swelling pedestal of a column which had been about feet in circumference. this departed column may account for a fact which i discovered in another glacière, and found to be of very common occurrence, viz., that in large stalagmites there is a considerable internal cavity, extending some feet up from the ground, and affording room even for a man to walk about inside the column. when the melted snows of spring send down to the cave, through the fissures of the rock, an abundance of water at a very low temperature, and the cave itself is stored with the winter's cold, these thicker rings of ice catch first the descending water, and so a circular wall, naturally conical, is formed round the area of stones; the remaining water either running off through the interstices, or forming a floor of ice of less thickness, which yields to the next summer's drops. in the course of time, this conical wall rises, narrowing always, till a dome-like roof is at length formed, and thenceforth the column is solid. of course, the interior cannot be wholly free from ice; and it will be seen from the account of one of these cavities, which i explored in the schafloch, that they are decked with ice precisely as might be expected.[ ] another possible explanation of this curious and beautiful phenomenon will be given hereafter.[ ] the temperature was half a degree lower than when there were three of us in the cave two days before. i deposited one of casella's registering thermometers, on wood, on a stone in that part of the floor which was free from ice, though there was ice all round it at some little distance. the thermometer was well above the surface of the ice, and was protected from chance drops of water from the roof. the next morning i started early from arzier, having an afternoon journey in prospect to the neighbourhood of another glacière, and was accompanied by captain douglas smith, of the th regiment. on our way to la genollière, we came across the man who had served as guide the day before, and a short conversation respecting the glacière ensued. he had only seen it once, many years before, and he held stoutly to the usual belief of the peasantry, that the ice is formed in summer, and melts in winter; a belief which everything i had then seen contradicted. his last words as we parted were, '_plus il fait chaud, plus ça gèle_;' and, paradoxical as it may appear, i believe that some truth was concealed in what he said, though not as he meant it. considering that his ideas were confined to his cattle and their requirements, and that water is often very difficult to find in that part of the jura, a _hot_ summer would probably mean with him a _dry_ summer, that is, a summer which does not send down much water to thaw the columns in the cave. extra heat in the air outside, at any season, does not, as experience of these caves proves abundantly, produce very considerable disturbance of their low temperature, and so summer water is a much worse enemy than extra summer heat; and if the caves could be protected from water in the hot season, the columns in them would know how to resist the possible--but very small--increase of temperature due to the excess of heat of one summer above another. and since the eye is most struck by the appearance of the stalagmites and ice-cascades, it may well be that the peasants have seen these standing at the end of an unusually hot and dry summer, and have thence concluded that hot summers are the best time for the formation of ice. of course, at the beginning of the winter after a hot summer, there will be on these terms a larger nucleus of ice; and so it will become true that the hotter the year, the more ice there will be, both during the summer itself and after the following winter. the further process of the formation of ice will be this:--the colds of early winter will freeze all the water that may be in the glacières from the summer's thaw, in such caves as do not possess a drainage, and then the frost will have nothing to occupy itself upon but the ice already formed, for no water can descend from the frost-bound surface of the earth.[ ] as soon as the snow begins to melt to so great a degree that the fissures are opened up once more, the extremely cold water resulting therefrom will descend through the limestone into a cave perfectly dry, and filled with an atmosphere many degrees below the freezing point, whose frost-power eagerly lays hold of every drop of water which does not make its escape in time by the drainage of the cave. thus the spring months will be the great time of the formation of ice, and also of the raising of the temperature from some degrees below freezing to the more temperate register at which i have generally found it, viz., rather above than below °. professor tyndall very properly likens the external atmosphere to a ratchet-wheel, from its property of allowing the passage of hot rays down to the surface of the earth, and resisting their return: it may equally be so described on other grounds, inasmuch as the cold and heavy atmosphere will sink in the winter into the pits which lead to glacières, and will refuse to be altogether displaced in summer by anything short of solar radiation. we found the one column of the previous day still standing, though evidently in an unhappy state of decay. the sharpness of its edges was wholly gone, and it was withered and contorted; there were two cracks completely through it, dividing it into three pieces or feet long, which were clearly on the point of coming down. externally, the day was fine and warm, and so we found the cave comparatively dry, only one drop falling in a minute on to the stone where ninety-six had fallen in the same time the day before. the thermometer registered ° as the greatest cold of the night, and still stood at that point when we took it up. we spent some little time in exploring the neighbourhood of the pits, in order to find, if possible, the outlet for the drainage, but the ground did not fall away sufficiently for any source from so low an origin to show itself. the search was suggested by what i remembered of the glacière of s. georges three years before, where the people believe that a small streamlet which issues from the bottom of a steep rock, some distance off, owes its existence to the glacière. footnotes: [footnote : in this neighbourhood, the _montagne_ of any _commune_ is represented by the feminine form of the name of the village: thus, _l'arzière_ is the _montagne_ of arzier, and _la bassine_ of bassin. this has a curious effect in the case of some villages--such, for instance, as s. georges--one of the landmarks of the district between the lakes of joux and geneva being the _châlet de la s. georges_, a grammatical anomaly which puzzles a stranger descending the southernmost slope of the jura from the asile de marchairuz. this law of formation is not universal; for the _montagnes_ of rolle and s. livres are called the _prè de rolle_ and the _prè de s. livres_, while the _fruitière de nyon_ is the rich upland possession of the town of that name.] [footnote : probably a relic of the time when the earlier barons of coppet possessed this district. the families of grandson, lesdiguières, and dohna successively held the barony; and in later times the title _de coppet_ hid a name more widely known, for on the châlet of _les biolles_, some distance to the east of la baronne, the name of _auguste de staël de holstein de coppet_ is carved, after the fashion of swiss châlets. this was madame de staël's son, who built biolles in ; it was afterwards sold to the commune of nyon, and finally purchased by arzier two or three years ago.] [footnote : 'cornhill magazine,' june , 'how we slept at the châlet des chèvres.'] [footnote : this is only a guess, made from a comparison with the ascertained heights of neighbouring points.] [footnote : the patois of vaud has a prettier name for this kind of stone--_le sex_ (or _scex) qui plliau_, the weeping-stone.] [footnote : i brought one of these to england, and am told that it is the _stenophylax hieroglyphicus_ of stephens, or something very like that fly.] [footnote : since writing this, i have been told that some english officers who visited the cave in the august of found no ice in any part.] [footnote : see also p. .] [footnote : p. .] [footnote : p. .] [footnote : it is possible that the freezing of the surface may play a curious part in the phenomena of the spring season in such caves. supposing the surface to be completely frost-bound, all atmospheric pressure will be removed from the upper surface of the water in the long fissures, and thus water may be held in suspension, in the centre of large masses of fissured rock, during the winter months. the first thorough thaw will have the same effect as the removal of the thumb from the upper orifice in the case of the hand-shower-bath; and the water thus rained down into the cave will have a temperature sufficiently high to destroy some portion of the cold stored up by the descent of the heavy atmosphere of winter, or at least to melt out the ice which may have blocked up the lower ends of the fissures.] * * * * * chapter ii. the glaciÈre of s. georges, in the jura. the best way of reaching this glacière from geneva would be to take the steamer to rolle, or the train to one of the neighbouring stations, between geneva and lausanne, and thence pass up the slope of the jura by the road which leads through gimel. for the train, the allaman station would be the most convenient, as an omnibus runs from allaman to aubonne, where the poste for gimel may be caught. but from arzier there is a short cut of less than two hours along the side of the hills, leaving that village by a deep gorge not unfitly named _l'enfer_, and a dark wood which retains an odour of more savage bygone times in its name of the 'bear's wood,' as containing a cavern where an old bear was detected in the act of attempting to winter.[ ] the village of s. georges has very respectable accommodation for a single traveller, _au cavalier_. the common day-room will be found untenable by most englishmen, however largely they may delight in rough quarters; but there is a double-bedded room at the end of a bricked passage up-stairs, which serves well for bedroom and sitting-room in one. the chief drawback in this arrangement is, that the landlady inexorably removes all washing apparatus during the day, holding that a pitcher and basin are unseemly ornaments for a sitting-room. the deal table, of course, serves both for dressing and for feeding purposes, but it is fortunately so long that an end can be devoted to each; and on the whole it is possible to become considerably attached to the room, with its three airy windows, and the cool unceasing hum of a babbling fountain in the village-street below. the auberge is a large building, with a clock-tower of considerable height, containing the clock of the commune: as soon as the candle is put out at night, it becomes painfully evident that a rectangular projection in one corner of the room is in connection with this tower, and in fact forms a part of the abode of the pendulum, which plods on with audible vigour, growing more and more audible as the hours pass on, and making a stealthy pervading noise, as if a couple of lazy ghosts were threshing phantom wheat. the clocks of vaud, too, are in the habit of striking the hour twice, with a short interval; so that if anyone is not sure what the clock meant the first time, he has a second chance of counting the strokes. this is no doubt an admirable plan under ordinary circumstances, but it does certainly try the patience of a sleepless dyspeptic after a surfeit of café-au-lait and honey; and when he has counted carefully the first time, and is bristling with the consciousness that it is only midnight, it is aggravating in the extreme to have the long slow story told a second time within a few feet of his head. the cavalier had retained a guide overnight, henri renaud by name, and he appeared punctually at eight o'clock in the morning, got up in the short-tail coat of the country, and a large green umbrella with mighty ribs of whalebone. the weather was extremely unpleasant, a cold pitiless rain rendering all attempts at protection unavailing; but, fortunately, the glacière is only an hour and a quarter from the village. the path is tolerably steep, leading across the _petit pré de rolle_, and through woods of beech and fir, till the summit of one of the minor ridges of the jura is reached, whence a short descent leads to the mouth of the glacière, something more than , feet above the sea. the ground here slopes down towards the north; and on the slope, among fir-trees, an irregular circular basin is seen, some seven or eight yards across,[ ] and perhaps two yards deep, at the bottom of which are two holes. one of these holes is open, and as the guide and i--for my sisters remained at arzier--stood on the neck of ground between the holes, we could see the snow lying at the bottom of the cave; the other is covered with trunks of trees, laid over the mouth to prevent the rays of the sun from striking down on to the ice. this protection has become necessary in consequence of an incautious felling of wood in the immediate neighbourhood of the mouth, which has exposed the ice to the assaults of the weather. the commune has let the glacière for a term of nine years, receiving six or seven hundred francs in all; and the _fermier_ extracts the ice, and sells it in geneva and lausanne. in hot summers, the supplies of the artificial ice-houses fail; and then the hotel-keepers have recourse to the stores laid up for them by nature in the glacières of s. georges and s. livres. hence the importance of protecting the ice; the necessity for so doing arising in this case from the fact that the entrance to the cave is by a hole in the roof, which exposes the ice to direct radiation, unlike all other glacières, excepting perhaps the _cueva del hielo_ on the peak of teneriffe.[ ] autumn appears to be the usual time for cutting the ice, when it is carried from the cave on men's backs as far as the commencement of the rough mountain-road, and is there packed on chars, and so conveyed to the nearest railway station. renaud had worked in the cave for two years, and asserted that they did not choose the night for carrying the ice down to the station, and did not even care to choose a cool day. he believed that, in the autumn of , they loaded two chars a day for fifteen days, and each char took from to quintaux; the quintal containing kilos, or livres.[ ] in professor pictet's time ( ) this glacière supplied the hospital of geneva, whose income depended in part on its privilege of _revente_ of all ice sold in the town, with quintaux every other day during the summer. in my anxiety to learn the exact amount of ice now supplied by the glacière, i determined to find out the _fermier_; but renaud could tell nothing of him beyond the fact that he lived in geneva, which some promiscuous person supplemented by the information that his name was boucqueville, and that he had something to do with comestibles. on entering upon a hunt for m. boucqueville a fortnight later, it turned out that no one had heard of such a person, and the directory professed equal ignorance; but, under the head of 'comestibles,' there appeared a gignoux-bocquet, no. , marché. thirty-four, marché, said, yes--m. bocquet--it was quite true: nevertheless, it was clear that monsieur meant sebastian aîné, on the molard. the molard knew only a younger sebastian, but suggested that the right man was probably m. gignoux-chavaz, over the way; and when it was objected that gignoux-bocquet, and not gignoux-chavaz, was the name, the molard replied that it made no matter,--chavaz or bocquet, it was all the same. when m. gignoux-chavaz was found, he said that he certainly was a man who had something to do with a glacière, but, instead of farming the glacière of s. georges, he had only bought a considerable quantity of ice two years ago from the glacière of s. livres, and he did not believe that the _fermier_ of s. georges lived in geneva. part of the confusion was due to the custom of placing a wife's maiden name after her husband's name: thus gignoux-chavaz implies that a male gignoux has married a female chavaz; and when a swiss marries an english lady with a very english name, the result in the continental mouth is sufficiently curious. on arriving at the entrance to the glacière, the end of a suggestive ladder is seen under the protecting trunks; and after one or two steps have been taken down the ladder, the effect of the cave below is extremely remarkable, the main features being a long wall covered thickly with white ice in sheets, a solid floor of darker-coloured ice, and a high pyramid of snow reaching up towards the uncovered hole already spoken of. the atmosphere of the cave is damp, and this causes the ladders to fall speedily to decay, so that they are by no means to be trusted: indeed, an early round gave way under one of my sisters, when they visited the cave with me in , and suggested a clear fall of feet on to a cascade of ice.[ ] there are three ladders, one below the other, and a hasty measurement gave their lengths as , , and feet. the rock-roof is only a few feet thick in the neighbourhood of the hole of entrance. [illustration: entrance to the glaciÈre of s. georges.] the total length of the cave is feet, lying ne. and sw., in the line of the main chain of the jura. the lowest part of the floor is a sea of ice of unknown depth, feet long by broad; and renaud tried my powers of belief by asserting that in the level of this floor was higher by half the height of the cave than now; a statement, however, which is fully borne out by professor pictet's measurements in , when the depth of the glacière was less than feet. indeed, the floor had sunk considerably since my previous visit, when it was all at the same level down to the further end of the cave; whereas now, as will be seen in the section, there was a platform of stones resting on ice at that end. there are two large fissures passing into the rock, one only of which can be represented in the section, and these were full of white ice, not owing its whiteness apparently to the admixture of air in bubbles, but firm and compact, and very hard, almost like porcelain. small stalactites hung from round fissures in the roof, formed of the same sort of ice, and broken off short, much as the end of a leaden pipe is sometimes seen to project from a wall. with this exception, there was no ice hanging from the roof, though there were abundant signs of very fine columns which had already yielded to the advancing warmth: one of these still remained, in the form of broken blocks of ice, in the neighbourhood of the open hole in the roof, immediately below which hole the stones of the floor were completely bare, and the thermometer stood at °. at the far end of the cave, the thermometer gave something less than °; a difference so remarkable, at the same horizontal level, that i am inclined to doubt the accuracy of the figures, though they were registered on the spot with due care. the uncovered hole, it must be remembered, is so large, and so completely open, that the rain falls freely on to the stones on the floor below. by far the most striking part of this glacière is the north-west wall, which is covered with a sheet of ice feet long, and feet high at the highest part: in the neighbourhood of the ladders, this turns the corner of the cave, and passes up for about feet under the second ladder. the general thickness of the sheet is from a foot to a foot and a half; and this is the chief source from which the _fermier_ draws the ice, as it is much more easily quarried than the solid floor. some of my friends went to the cave a few weeks after my visit, and found that the whole sheet had been pared off and carried away. on some parts of the wall the sheet was not completely continuous, being formed of broad and distinct cascades, connected by cross channels of ice, and uniting at their upper and lower ends, thus presenting many curious and ornamental groupings. on cutting through this ice, it was found not to lie closely on the rock, a small intermediate space being generally left, almost filled with minute limestone particles in a very wet state; and the whole cavern showed signs of more or less thaw. [illustration: the glaciÈre of s. georges. vertical sections of the glaciÈre of s. georges.] it was natural to examine the structure of the ice in this glacière, after what we had observed on la genollière. the same prismatic structure was universal in the sheet on the wall, and in the blocks which lay here and there on the floor and formed the sole remains of former columns. it was to be observed also in many parts of the ice-floor itself. the base of one large column still remained standing in its original position, and its upper end presented a tolerably accurate horizontal section of the column. the centre was composed of turbid ice, round which limpid prisms were horizontally arranged, diverging like the feathers of a fan; then came a ring of turbid ice, and then a second concentric ring of limpid prisms, diverging in the same manner as those which formed the inner ring. there were in all three or four of these concentric rings, the details showing a considerable amount of confusion and interference: the general law, however, was most evident, and has held in all the similar columns which i have since examined in other glacières. the rings were not accurately circular, but presented rather the appearance of having been formed round a roughly-fluted pillar on an elliptical base. the examination of the ice on the wall gave some curious results. the horizontal arrangement of the prisms, which we had found to prevail in vertical columns, was here modified to suit the altered conditions of the case, and the axes of the prisms changed their inclination so as to be always perpendicular to the surface on which the ice lay, as far as could be determined by the eye. thus, in following the many changes of inclination of the wall, the axes of the prisms stood at many different angles with the vertical, from a horizontal position where the wall chanced to be vertical, to a vertical position on the horizontal ledges of the rock. the extreme edges, too, of the ice, presented a very peculiar appearance. the general thickness, as has been said, varied from a foot to a foot and a half; and this diminished gradually along horizontal lines, till, at the edges of the sheet, where the ice ceased, it became of course nothing. the extreme edge was formed of globular or hemispherical beads of ice, like the freezing of a sweating-stone, lying so loosely on the rock that i could sweep them off in detail with one hand, and catch them with the other as they fell. passing farther on towards the thicker parts of the ice, these beads stood up higher and higher, losing their roundness, and becoming compressed into prisms of all shapes, in very irregular imitation of the cellular tissue in plants, the axes of the prisms following the generally-observed law. there seems to be nothing in this phenomenon which cannot be accounted for by the supposition of gradual thaw of small amount being applied to a sheet of prismatic ice. one fact was remarkable from its universal appearance. wherever an incision was made in this sheet of ice, the prisms snapped off at the depth of an inch, and could be mowed down like corn by means of a stout knife. although they broke naturally at this constant depth, and left a surface of limpid ice without any signs of external or internal division, still the laminae obtained by chiselling this lower surface carefully, broke up regularly into the shapes to be expected in sections of prisms cut at right angles to the axis. the roughness of my instruments made it impossible to discover how far this extended, and whether it ceased to be the case at any given depth in the ice. the sea of ice on the floor was in a very wet state at the surface, being at a lower level than the stones on to which the rain from the open hole fell; and here the prismatic structure was not apparent to the eye, nor do i know whether it existed at all. in the glacière of la genollière i carried a large block of perfectly prismatic ice into the outer cave, where it was exposed to the free currents of air passing from the pit of entrance to the hole newly opened by the falling in of the ground; and, two days after, the external lines were scarcely perceptible, while on the occasion of our third visit i found that they had entirely disappeared, and the whole block was rapidly following their example. this disappearance of the surface-lines under the action of atmospheric thaw is probably the same thing as their absence when the flooring of ice is thinly covered with water. wherever the flooring rose slightly towards the edges of the sea of ice, the usual structure appeared again. there were no currents of air in the cave, the candles burning steadily through the whole time of our visit. excepting for the purpose of detecting disturbance in the air, there is no need of candles, as the two holes in the roof supply sufficient light. some account of the careful observations made here by m. thury, at different seasons of the year, will be found in other parts of this book. we passed, on our return, by the source of water which springs from the foot of a rock at some distance from the glacière, and is supposed to form the outlet for the drainage of the cave; but it is difficult to understand how this can be the case, considering the form and character of the intervening ground. the two ice-caves so far described are the least interesting of all that i have visited; but a peasant informed me, a day or two after, that if we had penetrated to the back of the pyramid of snow which lay half under the open hole, being the remains of the large collection which is formed there in the winter, we might have found a deep pit which is sometimes exposed by the melting of the snow. he had some idea that its depth was feet a few years ago, and that its sides were solid ice. i shall have occasion to mention such pits in another glacière; if one does exist here, it has probably been quarried in the ice by the drops from the hole in the roof, and there might be some interest attached to an attempt to investigate it.[ ] we reached s. georges again in a wretched state of wet and cold, and renaud went off to bed, and imbibed abundant and super-abundant kirsch,--at least, when drawn thence the next morning, his manner left no doubt about either the fact or the abundance of the potations overnight. warned by many experiences, i had gone no nearer to a specification of the bill of fare than a vague suggestion that _quelque chose_ must be forthcoming, with an additional stipulation that this must be something more than mere onions and fat. the landlady's rendering of _quelque chose_ was very agreeable, but, for the benefit of future diners _au cavalier_, it is as well to say that those who do not like anisette had better make a private arrangement with their hostess, otherwise they will swallow with their soup an amount sufficient for many generations of the drag: they may also safely order savoury rice, with browned veal and wine-sauce, which is evidently a strong point with the cavalier. all meals there are picturesque; for the omelette lay on the castle of grandson and a part of the lake of neufchâtel, while the butter reposed on the ruined cathedral of sion, and the honey distilled pleasantly from the comb on to the walls of wufflens. no one should put any trust in the spoons, which are constructed apparently of pewter shavings in a chronic state of semi-fusion. on the evening of the second day, the landlady allowed a second knife at tea, as the knife-of-all-work had begun to knock up under the heavy strain upon its powers; but this supplementary instrument was of the ornamental kind, and, like other ornamental things, broke down at a crisis, which took the form of a piece of crust. lest this account should raise anyone's expectations too high, it is as well to add that they have no snuffers in s. georges, beyond such as nature provided when she gave men fingers; and they burn attenuated tallow candles with full-bodied wicks. also, the tea is flavoured with vanille, unless that precious flavouring is omitted by private contract. footnotes: [footnote : on our previous visit, in , we passed from arzier through longirod and marchissy, stopping to measure and admire the huge lime-tree in the churchyard of the latter village. our swiss companion on that occasion was anxious that we should carry home some ice from the cave; and as the communal law forbade the removal of the ice by strangers, he hunted up a cousin in marchissy, and sent him with a _hotte_ across country, while we went innocently by the ordinary route through s. georges. the cousin, however, contrived to lose himself in the woods, and we never heard of him again.] [footnote : the size of this basin is exaggerated in the engraving on page , owing to the roughness of the original sketch.] [footnote : see p. .] [footnote : for further details on this point see pages and .] [footnote : these ladders have at best but little stability, as they consist of two uprights, careless about the coincidence of the holes, with bars poked loosely through and left to fall out or stay in as they choose, the former being the prevailing choice. one of the ladders happened to be firmer than the generality of its kind; but, unfortunately, its legs were of unequal lengths, and so it turned round with one of my sisters, leaving her clinging like a cat to the under side. when the bars are sufficiently loose, a difference of a few inches in the lengths of the legs is not of so much importance.] [footnote : m. thury found this hole, and fathomed it to a depth of - / mètres.] * * * * * chapter iii. the lower glaciÈre of the prÉ de s. livres. i had intended to walk on from s. georges to bière, after returning from the glacière last described, and thence, the next morning, to the pré de s. livres, the mountain pasturage of the commune of s. livres,[ ] a village near aubonne. but renaud advised a change of plan, and the result showed that his advice was good. he said that the _fermier_ of the glacière of s. livres generally lived in s. georges, and, if he were at home, would be the best guide to the glacière; while the distance from s. georges was, if anything, rather less than the distance from bière; so that by remaining at the cavalier for another night the walk to bière would be saved, and the possibility of finding no competent guide there would be evaded. jules mignot, the farmer in question, was at home, and promised to go to the glacière in the morning, pledging his word and all that he was worth for the existence and soundness of the ladders; a matter of considerable importance, for m. thury had been unable to reach the ice, as also my sisters, by reason of a failure in this respect. in the course of the evening mignot came in, and confidentially took the other chair. he wished to state that he had three _associés_ in working the glacière, and that one of them knew of a similar cave, half an hour from the one more generally known; the _associé_ had found it two years before, and had not seen it since, and he believed that no one else knew where it was to be found. if i cared to visit it, the _associé_ would accompany us, but there was some particular reason--here he relapsed into patois--why this other man could not by himself serve as guide to both glacières. as this meant that i must have two guides, and suggested that perhaps the right rendering of _associé_ was 'accomplice,' the negotiation nearly came to a violent end; but the farmer was so extremely explanatory and convincing, that i gave him another chance, asking him how much the two meant to have, and telling him that, although i could not see the necessity for two guides, i only wished to do what was right. he expressed his conviction of the truth of this statement with such fervour, that i could only hope his moderation might be as great as his faith. he took the usual five minutes to make up his mind what to say, going through abstruse calculations with a brow demonstratively bent, and, to all appearance, reckoning up exactly what was the least it could be done for, consistently with his duty to himself and his family. then he asked, with an air of resignation, as if he were throwing himself and his _associé_ away, 'fifteen francs, then, would monsieur consider too much?' 'certainly, far too much; twelve francs would be enormous. but, for the pleasure of his company and that of his friend, i should be happy to give that sum for the two, and they must feed themselves.' he jumped at the offer, with an alacrity which showed that i had much under-estimated his margin in putting it at three francs; and with many expressions of anticipatory gratitude, and promises of axes and ropes in case of emergency, he bowed himself out. the event proved that both the men were really valuable, and they got something over the six francs a-piece. the rain had been steadily increasing in intensity for the last twenty-four hours, from the insidious steeping of a scotch mist to the violence of a chronic thunderstorm, and had about reached this crisis when we started in the morning for the pré de s. livres. i had already tested its effects before breakfast, in a search for the renaud of the day before, who had made statements regarding the ice at s. georges, and the time of cutting it, which a night's reflection showed to be false. to search for henri renaud in the village of s. georges, was something like making an enquiry of a certain porter for the rooms of mr. john jones. the landlady of the cavalier was responsible for the first stage of the journey, asserting that he lived two doors beyond the next auberge, evidently with a feeling that it was wrong so far to patronise the rival house as to live near it. that, however, was not the same henri renaud; and a house a few yards off was recommended as a likely place, where, instead of henri, a louis renaud turned up, shivering under the eaves in company with the _fermier_, who introduced louis in due form as the accomplice. they received conjointly and submissively a lecture on the absurdity of calling it a rainy morning, and the impossibility of staying at home, even if it came on much worse, and then pointed the way to the true henri renaud, half-way down the village. when i arrived at the place indicated, and consulted a promiscuous swiss as to the abode of the object of my search, he exclaimed, 'henri renaud? i am he.' 'but,' it was objected, 'it is the _marchand de bois_ who is wanted.' 'precisely, henri renaud, marchand de bois; it is i.' 'but, it is the cutter of ice in the glacière.' 'ah, a different henri. that henri is in bed in the house yonder,' and so at last he was found. when finally unearthed, henri confessed that when he had said _spring_ the day before, he ought to have said _autumn_, and that by autumn he meant november and december. enquiries elsewhere showed that the end of summer was what he really meant, if he meant to tell the truth. our route for the glacière followed the high road which leads by the asile de marchairuz to la vallée, as far as the well-known châlet de la s. georges; and then the character of the way changed rapidly for the worse, and we took to the wet woods. after a time, the wood ceased for a while, and a large expanse of smooth rock showed itself, rising slightly from the horizontal, and so slippery in its present wet condition that we could not pass up it. then woods again, and then the montagnes of _sous la roche_, and _la foireuse_, till at last, in two hours, the pré de s. livres was achieved. the fog was so dense that nothing could be seen of the general lie of the country; but the _thalweg_ was a sufficient guide, and after due perseverance we came upon the glacière, not many yards from that line, on the north slope of the open valley, about , feet above the sea. to prevent cattle from falling into the pit, a wall has been built round the trees in which it lies. the circumference of this wall is feet, but there are so many trees at the upper end of the enclosure that this gives an exaggerated idea of the size of the pit. the men fed while the preliminary measurements were being made; and when this was accomplished, they pressed their bottle of wine upon me so hospitably that i was obliged to antedate the result which its appearance promised, and plead _mal d'estomac_. of all things, it is most unwise to give a reason for a negative, and so it proved in this instance; for they promptly felicitated themselves and me on the good luck by which it happened that they had brought a wine famous on all the côte as a remedy for that somewhat vague complaint--a homoeopathic remedy in allopathic doses. the glacière is entered by a natural pit in the gentle slope of grass, not much unlike the pit of la genollière, but wider, and covered at the bottom with snow.[ ] the first ladder leads down to a ledge of rock on which bushes and trees grow, and this ledge it is possible to reach without a ladder; the next ladder leads on to the deep snow, and descent by any ordinary manner of climbing is in this case quite impossible.[ ] the snow slopes down towards a lofty arch in the rock which forms the north-west side of the pit, and this arch is the entrance to the glacière; it is - / feet wide, and as soon as we passed under it we found that the snow became ice, and it was necessary to cut steps; for the surface of underground ice is so slippery, unlike the surface of ordinary glaciers, that the slightest defect from the horizontal makes the use of the axe advisable. the stream of ice falls gradually, spreading out laterally like a fan, so as to accommodate itself to the shape of the cave, which it fills up to the side walls; it increases in breadth from - / feet at the top to feet at the bottom of the slope, and the distance from the top of the first ladder to this point is feet. here we were arrested by a strange wall of ice feet high, down which there seemed at first no means of passing; but finding an old ladder frozen into a part of the wall, we chopped out holes between the upper steps, and so descended, landing on a flooring composed of broken blocks and columns of ice, with a certain amount of what seemed to be drifted snow. this wall of ice, which was feet long and feet high, was not vertical, but sloped the wrong way, caving in under the stream of ice; and from the projecting top of the wall a long fringe of vast icicles hung down, along the whole breadth of the fan. the effect of this was, that we could walk between the ice-wall and the icicles as in a cloister, with solid ice on the one hand and gothic arcades of ice on the other, the floor being likewise of ice, and the roof formed by the junction of the wall with the top of the icicle-arcade. the floor of this cloister was not feet below the top of the wall, for it formed the upper part of a gentle descending slope of ice, rounded off like a fall of water, which seemed to flow from the lower part of the wall; and the height of feet is reckoned from the foot of this slope, which terminated at a few feet of horizontal distance from the foot of the wall. the wall of ice was plainly marked with horizontal bands, corresponding, no doubt, to a number of years of successive deposits; sometimes a few leaves, but more generally a strip of minuter débris, signified the divisions between the annual layers. there had been many columns of ice from fissures in the rock, but all had fallen except one large ice-cascade, which flowed from a hole in the side of the cave on to the main stream, about two-thirds of the distance down from the snow. one particularly grand column had stood on the very edge of the ice-wall, and its remains now lay below. the flooring of mingled ice and snow, on which we stood, sloped through about five vertical feet from the foot of the wall, and came to an end on broken rocks, from which the terminal wall of the cave sprang up. the effect of the view from this point, as we looked up the long slope of ice to where the ladders and a small piece of sky were visible, was most striking. the accompanying engraving is from a sketch which attempts to represent it; the reality is much less prim, and much more full of beautiful detail, but still the engraving gives a fair idea of the general appearance of the cave. while i was occupied in making sketches and measurements, mignot was engaged in chopping discontentedly at the floor, in two or three different places. at length he seemed to find a place to his mind, and chopped perseveringly till his axe went through, and then he suggested that we should follow. the hole was not tempting. it opened into the blackest possible darkness, and mignot thrust his legs through, feeling for a foothold, which, by lowering himself almost to his armpits, he soon discovered: the foothold, however, proved to be a loose stone, which gave way under him and bounded down, apparently over an incline of like stones, to a distance which sounded very alarming. but he would not give in, and at length, descending still further by means of the snow in which the hole was made, he was rewarded by finding a solid block which bore his weight, and he speedily disappeared altogether, summoning me to follow. i proposed to light a candle first, not caring to go through such a hole, in such a floor, into no one knew what; but he was so very peremptory, evidently thinking that if he had gone through without a pioneering candle his monsieur might do the same, that there was nothing for it but to obey. the hole was very near the junction of the floor with the slope of stones where the floor terminated, and the space between the hole and the slope seemed to be filled up with a confused mass of snow and ice, in which the snow largely predominated; so that there was good hold for hands and feet in passing down to the stones, which might be about feet below the upper surface of the floor. here we crouched in the darkness, with our faces turned away from the presumed slope of stones, till a light was struck. the accomplice did not find it in the bond that he should go down, and he preferred to reserve his energies for his own peculiar glacière. [illustration: lower glaciÈre of the prÉ de s. livres.] as soon as the candle had mastered a portion of the darkness, we found that we were squatting on a steeply sloping descent of large blocks of stone, while in face of us was a magnificent wall of ice, evidently the continuation of the wall above, marked most plainly with horizontal lines. this wall passed down vertically to join the slope on which we were, at a depth below our feet which the light of the candle had not yet fathomed. the horizontal bands were so clear, that, if we had possessed climbing apparatus, we could have counted the number of layers with accuracy. of course we scrambled down the stones, and found after a time that the angle formed by the ice-wall and the slope of stones was choked up at the bottom by large pieces of rock, one piled on another just as they had fallen from the higher parts. these blocks were so large, that we were able to get down among the interstices, in a spiral manner, for some little distance; and when we were finally stopped, still the ice-wall passed on below our feet, and there was no possible chance of determining to what depth it went. the atmosphere at this point was a sort of frozen vapour, most unpleasant in all respects, and the candles burned very dimly. the thermometer stood at °, half-way down the slope of stones. we were able to stretch a string in a straight line from the lowest point we reached, through the interstices of the blocks of stone, and up to the entrance-hole, and this measurement gave feet. considering the inclination of the upper ice-floor, and the sharpness of the angle between the wall of ice and the line of our descent to this lowest point, i believe that feet will fairly represent the height of the ice-wall from this point to the foot of the slope from the upper wall; so that feet will be the whole depth of ice, from the top of the third ladder to the point where our further progress downwards was arrested. the correctness of this calculation depends upon the honesty of mignot, who had charge of the farther end of the string, and was proud of the wonders of his cave. a dishonest man might easily, under the circumstances, have pulled up a few feet more of string than was necessary, but feet seemed in no way an improbable result of the measurement. [illustration: section of the lower glaciÈre of the prÉ de s. livres.] the ice was as solid and firm as can well be conceived. the horizontal bands would seem to prove conclusively that it was no coating of greater or less thickness on the face of a vertical wall of rock, an idea which might suggest itself to anyone who had not seen it, and i think it probable that the amount of ice represented in the section of the cave is not an exaggeration. we were unable to measure the whole length of the wall in the lower cave, from the large number of blocks of stone which had fallen at one end, and lay against its face. probably, from the nature of the case, it was not so long as the feet of wall above; but we measured feet, and could see it still passing on to the right hand as we faced it. in trying to penetrate farther along the face, i found a wing of the brown fly we had seen in considerable abundance on the ice in la genollière, frozen into the remains of a column. there was so very much to be observed on all sides, and the measurements took up so much time, owing to the peculiar difficulties which attended them, that i did not examine with sufficient care the curious floor of ice through which we cut our way to the lower cavern. neither did i notice the roof of the cavern thus reached, which may be very different from the shape of the upper surface of the floor composing it. if the ice-wall goes straight up, and the roof is formed of the ice-floor alone, then it is a very remarkable feature indeed. but, more probably, the lower wall leans over more and more towards the top, and so forms as it were a part of the roof. it is possible that, as the wall has grown, each successive annual layer has projected farther and farther, till at last some year very favourable to the increase of ice has carried the projection for that year nearly to the opposite stones, and then an unfavourable year or two would form the foot of the upper wall. this seems more probable, from the loose constitution of the floor at the point where it joins the stones, as if it were there only made up of drift and débris, while the part of the floor nearer the foot of the wall is solid ice. it has been suggested to me that possibly water accumulates in the time of greatest thaw to a very large extent in the lower parts of the cave, and the ice-floor is formed where the frost first takes hold of this water. but the slope of the ice-floor is against this theory, to a certain extent; and the amount of water necessary to fill the cavity would be so enormous, that it is contrary to all experience to imagine such a collection, especially as the cave showed no signs of present thaw. the appearance of the rocks, too, in the lower cave, and the surface of the ice-wall there, gave no indications of the action of water; and there was no trace of ice among the stones, as there certainly would have been if water had filled the cave, and gradually retired before the attacks of frost, or in consequence of the opening up of drainage. there were pieces of the trunks of trees, also, and large bones, lying about at different levels on the rocks. i never searched for bones in these caves, owing to the absence of the stalagmitic covering which preserves cavern-bones from decay; nor did i take any notice of such as presented themselves without search, for the _bergers_ are in the habit of throwing the carcases of deceased cows into any deep hole in the neighbourhood of the place where the carcases may be found, in consequence of the general belief that living cows go mad if they find the grave of a companion; so that i should probably have made a laborious collection of the bones of the _bos domesticus_. this belief of the bergers respecting the cows is supported by several circumstantial and apparently trustworthy accounts of fearful fights among herds of cattle over the grave of some of the herd. the sight of a companion's blood is said to have a similar effect upon them. thus a small pasturage between anzeindaz and the col de cheville, on the border of the cantons vaud and valais, is still called _boulaire_ from legendary times, when the herdsmen of vaud (then berne) won back from certain valaisan thieves the cattle the latter were carrying off from la varraz. some of the cows were wounded in the battle, and the sight of their blood drove the others mad, so that they fought till almost all the herd was destroyed; whence the name boulaire, from _ébouëler_, to disembowel,--a word formed from _bouë_, the patois for _boyau_. when we left the lower darkness and ascended to the floor of ice once more, mignot expressed a desire to see my attempt at a sketch of the glacière from that point, as he had been much struck during his negotiatory visit of the night before by the sketch of the entrance to the glacière of s. georges, chiefly because he had guessed what it was meant for. he was evidently disappointed with the representation of his own cave, for he could see nothing but a network of lines, with unintelligible words written here and there, and after some hesitation he confessed that it was not the least like it. a little explanation soon set that right, and then he began to plead vigorously for the wall which surrounded the trees at the mouth of the pit. why was it not put in? he was told, because it could not be seen from below; but nevertheless he strongly urged its introduction, on the ground that he had built it himself, and it was such a well-built wall; facts which far more than balanced any little impossibility that might otherwise have prevented its appearance. after we had reached the grass of the outer world again, he made me sketch the entrance to the pit, pointing to the containing wall with parental pride, and standing over the sketch-book and the sketcher with an umbrella which speedily turned inside out under the combined pressure of wind, and rain, and years; a feat which it had already performed _des fois_, he said, in the course of his acquaintance with it. before finally leaving the glacière, i examined the structure of the great stream of ice, at different points near the top of the limiting wall. from its outward appearance it might have been expected to be rough, but it was not so; it was knotty to the eye, but perfectly smooth to the foot, and, when cut, showed itself perfectly clear and limpid. it did not separate under the axe into misshapen pieces, with faces of every possible variation from regularity, that is, with what is called vitreous fracture, but rather separated into a number of nuts of limpid ice, each being of a prismatic form, and of much regularity in shape and size. it was smooth, dark-grey, and clear; free from air, and free from surface lines; very hard, and suggesting the idea of coarse internal granulation. in the large ice-streams of some darker glacières, this ice assumed a rather lighter colour by candle-light, but always presented the same granular appearance, and cut up into the same prismatic nuts, and was evidently free from constitutional opacity. footnotes: [footnote : _sancti liberii locus_, the swiss dryasdust explains. there is nothing to connect any known s. liberius with this neighbourhood, unless it be the armenian prince who secretly left his father's court for jerusalem, and was sought for throughout burgundy and other countries. it seems that saint oliver is merely a corruption of s. liberius, the italian form of the latter, santo liverio, having become sant-oliverio, as s. otho became in another country sant odo, and thence san todo, thus creating a new saint, s. todus.--act ss. may .] [footnote : my sisters made a two-days' excursion from arzier to this glacière in the autumn of , and found no snow in the bottom of the pit. they took the route by gimel to bière, intending to defer the visit to the glacière to the morning of the second day; but being warned by the appearance known locally as _le sappeur qui fume_, a vaporous cloud at the mouth of a cavern near the dent d'oche, on the other side of the lake of geneva, they caught the communal forester at once, and put themselves under his guidance. the distance from bière is two hours' good walking, and an hour and a half for the return. there was no ladder for the final descent, and the neighbouring châlet could provide nothing longer than feet, the drop being feet. two frenchmen had attempted to make their way to the cave a week before; but the old -foot ladder of the previous year broke under the foremost of them, and he fell into the pit, whence he was drawn up by means of a cord composed of rack-ropes from the châlet, tied together. however useful a string of cow-ties may be for rescuing a man from such a situation, a. and m. did not care to make use of that apparatus for a voluntary descent, so they were perforce contented with a distant view of the ice from the lower edge of the pit.] [footnote : see the section of this cave and pit on page .] * * * * * chapter iv. the upper glaciÈre of the prÉ de s. livres. we now put ourselves under the guidance of the accomplice, louis, who began to express doubts of his ability to find the upper glacière, administering consolation by reminding us that if he could not find it no one else could. as we walked on through the mist and rain, it became necessary to circumvent a fierce-looking bull, and mignot and the accomplice told rival tales of the dangers to which pedestrians are exposed from the violence of the cattle on some montagnes, where the bulls are allowed to grow to full size and fierceness. mignot was quite motherly in his advice and his cautions, recommending as the surest safeguard a pocket-pistol, loaded with powder only, to be flashed in the bull's face as he makes his charge. when informed that in england an umbrella or a parasol is found to answer this purpose, he shook his head negatively, evidently having no confidence in his own umbrella, and doubting its obeying his wishes at the critical moment; indeed, it would require a considerable time, and much care and labour, to unfurl a lumbering instrument of that description. he had the best of the tale-contest with renaud in the end, for he had himself been grazed by a bull which came up with him at the moment when he sprang into a tree. before very long we reached a little kennel-like hut of boughs, which no decent dog would have lived in, and no large dog could have entered, and from this we drew a charcoal-burner. no, he said, he did not know the glacière; he had heard that one had been discovered near there, and he had spent hours in searching for it without success. a herdsman on his way from one pasturage to another could give no better help, and we began to despair, till at length louis desired us to halt in a place sheltered from the rain, while he prosecuted the search alone. we had abundant time for observing that, like other leafy places sheltered from the rain, our resting-place was commanded by huge and frequent drops of water; but at last a joyful _jodel_ announced the success of the accomplice, and we ran off to join him. at first sight there was very little to see. louis had lately been enunciating an opinion that the cave was not worth visiting, and i now felt inclined to agree with him. the general plan appeared to be much the same as in the one we had just left, but the scale was considerably smaller. the pit was not nearly so deep or so large, and, owing to the falling-in of rock and earth at one side, the snow was approached by a winding path with a gradual fall. as soon as the snow was reached, the slope became very steep, and led promptly to an arch in the rock, where the stream of ice began. the cave being shallow, the stream soon came to an end, and, unlike that in the lower glacière, it filled the cave down to the terminal wall, and did not fill it up to the left wall. here the ground of the cave was visible, strewn with the remains of columns, and showing the thickness of the bottom of the stream to be about feet only. the arch of entrance had evidently been almost closed by a succession of large columns, but these had succumbed to the rain and heat to which they had been exposed by their position. the left side of the cave, in descending, that is the west side, was comparatively light, being in the line from the arch; but the other side was quite dark, and after a time we found that the ice-stream, instead of terminating as we had supposed with the wall of rock at the end of the cavern, turned off to the right, and was lost in the darkness. of course candles were brought out, though louis assured us that he had explored this part of the cave on his previous visit, and had found that the right wall of the cave very soon stopped the stream: we, on the contrary, by tying a candle to a long stick, and thrusting it down the slope of ice, found that the stream passed down extremely steeply, and poured under a narrow and low arch in the wall of the cave, beyond which nothing could be seen. we despatched pieces of ice along the slope, and could hear them whizzing on after they had passed the arch, and landing apparently on stones far below; so i called for the cords, and told louis that we must cut our way down. but, alas! the cords had been left at the other glacière! one long bag, with a hole in the middle like an old-fashioned purse, had carried the luncheon at one end and the ropes at the other; and when the luncheon was finished, the bag had been stowed away under safe trees till our return. this was of course immensely annoying, and i rang the changes on the few words of abuse which invention or knowledge supplied, as we sat damp and shivering on the verge of the slope, idly sending down pieces of broken columns which brought forth tantalising sounds from the subterranean regions. at length renaud was moved to shame, and declared that he would cut his way down, rope or no rope; but this seemed so horribly hazardous a proceeding under all the circumstances, that i forbad his attempting it. seeing, however, that he was determined to do something, we arranged ourselves into an apparatus something like a sliding telescope. louis cut a first step down the slope, and there took his stand till such time as mignot got a firm grasp of the tail of his blouse with both hands, i meanwhile holding mignot's tail with one hand, and the long stick with the candle attached to it with the other; thus professedly supporting the whole apparatus, and giving the necessary light for the work. even so, we tried again to persuade renaud to give it up, but he was warmed to his work, and really the arrangement answered remarkably well: when he wished to descend to a new step, mignot let out a little blouse, and, being himself similarly relieved, descended likewise a step, and then the remaining link of the chain followed. the leader slipped once, but fortunately grasped a projecting piece of rock, for the stream was here confined within narrow walls, and so the strength of the apparatus was not tested; it could scarcely have stood any serious call upon its powers. after a considerable period of very slow progress, renaud asked for the candlestick, never more literally a stick than now, and thrust it under the arch, stooping down so as to see what the farther darkness might contain. we above could see nothing, but, after an anxious pause, he cried _on peut aller!_ with a lively satisfaction so completely shared by mignot, that that worthy person was on the point of letting renaud's blouse go, in order to indulge in gestures of delight. the step-cutting went on merrily after this announcement, and one by one we came to the arch and passed through, finding it rather a trough than an arch; the breadth was about feet, and the height from - / to - / feet, and, as we pushed through, our breasts were pressed on to the ice, while our backs scraped against the rock which formed the roof. [illustration: second cave of the upper glaciÈre of the prÉ de s. livres.] as soon as this trough was passed, the ice spread out like a fan, and finally landed us in a subterranean cavern, feet long by feet broad, to which this was the only entrance. the breadth of the fan at the bottom was feet; and near the archway a very striking column poured from a vertical fissure in the wall, and joined the main stream. the fissure was partially open to the cave, and showed the solid round column within the rock: this column measured - / feet in circumference, a little below the point where it became free of the fissure, and it had a stream of ice feet long pouring from its base. the colour of the column was unusual, being a dull yellowish green, and the peculiar structure of the ice gave the whole mass the appearance of coursing down very rapidly, as if the water had been frozen while thus moving, and had not therefore ceased so to move. at the bottom of the fan, the flooring of the cave consisted of broken stones for a small space, and then came a black lake of ice, which occupied all the centre of the cave, and afforded us no opportunity of even guessing at its depth. from the manner, however, in which it blended with the stones at its edge, i am not inclined to believe that this depth was anything very great. renaud, in his impetuosity, had ceased to cut steps towards the bottom of the slope, and had slipped down the last few feet, of course cutting the remaining steps before attempting to reascend. we found him strutting about the floor of the cave, tossing his wet cap in the air, and crying _no one! no one! i the first!_, declining to take any part in measurements until the full of his delight and pride had been poured out. he shouted so loud that i was obliged to stop him, lest by some chance the unwonted disturbance of the air should bring down an unstable block from the roof of the arch, and seal us up for ever. there was no sign of incipient thaw in the cave, and the air was very dry, so much so as at once to call attention to the fact. at the farthest end, a lofty dome opened up in the roof; and possibly at some time or other the rock may here fall through, and afford another means of entrance. beneath this dome a very lovely cluster of columns had grouped itself, formed of the clear porcelain-like ice, and fretted and festooned with the utmost delicacy, as if andersen's ice maiden had been there in one of her amiable moods, and had built herself a palace. this dome in the roof was similar to many which i afterwards observed in other glacières, being a vertical fissure with flutings from top to bottom--not a spherical dome, but of that more elegant shape which the female dress of modern times assumes on a tall person. [illustration: vertical sections of the upper glaciÈre of the prÉ de s. livres. [ ]] between the base of the circular column and the wall, we found a rare instance of clear jelly-like ice, without any lines external or internal, such as is formed in the open air under very favourable circumstances. the ordinary number of undergraduate may terms had afforded various opportunities for studying the comparative clearness of different pieces of ice, but certainly no one ever saw a lemon pippin through an inch and a half of that material so clearly as we now saw the white rock through - / feet. mignot, indeed, said feet; but it was his way to make a large estimate of dimensions, and he constantly interrupted my record of measurements by the assertion that i had made them _moins que plus_. we were all disappointed by the actual size of the ice-fall which it had cost us so much time and trouble to descend, the distance from the first step to the last being only feet: as this, however, was given by a string stretched from the one point to the other, and not following the concave surface of the ice, the real distance was something more than this. it was now getting rather late, considering the journey one of us had yet to perform, and we walked quickly away from the glacière, agreeing that it was not improbable that in that part of the jura there might be many hidden caves containing more or less ice, with no entrance from the world outside, except the fissures which afford a way for the water. the entrance to this cave was so small, that the same physical effect might well be produced by one or two cracks in the rock, such as every one is well acquainted with who has walked on the fissured limestone summits of the lower mountains; and, indeed, renaud positively affirmed that at the time of his former visit there was not even this entrance to the lower cave, for the ice-stream reached then a higher point of the wall, and completely filled and hid the arch we had discovered. it is very difficult to see how ice can exist in a cave which has no atmospheric communication with the colds of winter, as would apparently be the case with this cave if the one entrance were closed; but where the cracks and small fissures in the rock do provide such communication, there is no reason why we should not imagine all manner of glacial beauties decorating unknown cavities, beyond the general physical law to which all the glacières would seem to be exceptions. mignot now became communicative as to the amount of ice supplied by his glacière, the lower of the two we had seen; and his statistics were so utterly confused, that i gave him ten centimes and an address, and charged him to write it all down from his account-book, and send it by post. the letter was accordingly written on july , and after trying many unsuccessful addresses in various parts of switzerland, it finally reached england in the middle of september. it tells its own tale sufficiently well, and is therefore given here with all the mistakes of the original. 'mon cher monsieur browne,--j'ai beaucoup tardé a vous écrire les détails promis, sans doute je ne voulait pas vous oublier; nous sommes affligés dans nôtre maison ma femme et gravement malade ce qui me donne beaucoup de tourment jour et nuit, enfin ce n'est pas ce qui doit faire nôtre entretient. en . nous avons exploité comme suit. (dépenses.) aoust journées pour confectionner les echelles et les poser. " journées pour couper la glasse. " journées pour sortir la glasse avec les hôtes. " chars a deux chevaux pour ammener menés la charge a deux: dès st. georges a septembre gland plusieurs autres journées pour accompagner les chars. pots de vin bu en faisant ces chargements, pour trois cordes pour se tenir. septembre trois journées pour couper. le journées pour sortir. 'cher monsieur.--je ne vous ait pas mis le prix de chaque articles; ni tout-a fait tous les traveaux mais pour vous donner une idée, je veux vous donner connaissance du coût général des dépences pour deux chargements s'élève a francs. je vous donne aussi connaissance de la quantité de glasse rendue quinteaux a francs, qui produit francs reste net sur ces deux chargements francs: par conséquent mon cher monsieur je n'ai pas besoin de vous donner des détails des chargements suivants c'est a peu près les mêmes frais, et la quantité de glasse aussi. 'nous en avons refait trois chargements:-- un le septembre. le octobre. le novembre. 'cela comprend toute l'exploitation de . 'vous m'excuserez beaucoup de mon retard. 'je termine en vous présentant mes respectueuses salutations. vous noublierez pas ce que vous mavez promis'[ ]st. georges, le juillet, . _dimanche_. 'jules mignot.' instead of three francs the quintal, mignot had previously told me that he got four francs, delivered at gland, and five at geneva. his ordinary staff during the time of the exploitation was ten men to carry and load, and two to cut the ice in the cave. it was a matter of considerable importance to catch the poste at gimel, and the two swiss groaned loudly on the consequent pace, unnecessary, as far as they were concerned, for the poste was nothing to them. as a general rule, the swiss of this district cannot walk so fast as their burgundian or french neighbours, unless it is very much to their interest to do so, and then they can go fast enough. a legend is still preserved in the valleys of joux and les rousses, to the following effect. while the franche comté was still spanish, in , commissioners were appointed to fix the boundaries between berne and burgundy, on the other side of the range of hill we were now descending, and they decided that one of the boundary stones must be placed at the distance of a common league from the lake of les rousses. unfortunately, no one could say what a common league was, beyond the vague definition of 'an hour's walk;' so two men were started from the shore of the lake, the one a burgundian and the other a swiss, with directions to walk for an hour down the orbe towards chenit, the stone to be placed half-way between the points they should respectively reach at the end of the hour. it was for the interest of the franche comté that the stone should be as near the lake as possible, and accordingly the swiss champion made such walking as had never been seen before, and gained for berne a considerable amount of territory. there was no such tragic result in this case as that which induced the carthaginians to pay divine honours to the brothers whose speed, on a like occasion, had added an appreciable amount to the possessions of the republic. at length we reached the point where the roads for gimel and s. georges separate, and there, under a glorious sapin, we said our adieux, and wished our _au revoirs_, and settled those little matters which the best friends must settle, when one is of the nature of a monsieur, and the others are guides. they burdened their souls with many politenesses, and so we parted. the inclemency of the weather was such, that the people in the lower country asked, as they passed, whether snow had fallen in the mountains, and the cold rain continued unceasingly down to the large plain on which the federal camp of bière[ ] is placed. here for a few moments the sun showed itself, lighting up the white tents, and displaying to great advantage the masses of scented orchises, and the feathery _reine-des-prés_, which hemmed the road in on either side. all through the earlier part of the day, flowers had forced themselves upon our notice as mere vehicles for collected rain, when we came in contact with them; but now, for a short time, they resumed their proper place,--only for a short time, for the rain soon returned, and did not cease till midnight. not all the garden scenery about aubonne and allaman (_ad lemannum_), nor all the vineyards which yield the choice white wine of the côte, could counterbalance the united discomfort of the rain, and the cold which had got into the system in the two glacières; and matters were not mended by the discovery that _bradshaw_ was treacherous, and that a junction with dry baggage at neufchâtel could not be effected before eleven at night. there are some curious natural phenomena in this neighbourhood, due to the subterranean courses which the fissured limestone of the jura affords to the meteoric waters. not far from bière, the river aubonne springs out at the bottom of an amphitheatre of rock, receiving additions soon after from a group of twenty natural pits, which the peasants call unfathomable--an epithet freely applied to the strange holes found in the jura. it is remarkable that the way seems to stand at different levels in the various pits.[ ] the plain of champagne, in which they occur, is unlike the surrounding soil in being formed of calcareous detritus, evidently brought down by some means or other from the jura, and is dry and parched up to the very edges of the pits. the toleure, a tributary of the aubonne, frequently large enough to be called a confluent, flows out from the foot of a wall of rock composed of regular parallelopipeds, and in the spring, when the snows are melting freely, its sources burst out at various levels of the rock. farther to the west, the versoie, famous for its trout, pours forth a full-sized stream near the château of divonne, which is said to take its name (_divorum unda_) from this phenomenon. passing to the northern slope of this range of the jura, the orbe is a remarkable example of the same sort of thing, flowing out peacefully in very considerable bulk from an arch at the bottom of a perpendicular rock of great height. this river no doubt owes its origin to the superfluous waters of the lake of brenets, which have no visible outlet, and sink into fissures and _entonnoirs_ in the rock at the edge of the lake. notwithstanding that the lake is three-quarters of a league distant, horizontally, and nearly feet higher, the belief had always been that it was the source of the stream, and in this was proved to be the fact. for some years before that date, the waters of the lake of joux had been inconveniently high, and the people determined to clean out the _entonnoirs_ and fissures of the lake of brenets, which is only separated from the lake of joux by a narrow tongue of land, in the expectation that the water would then pass away more freely. in order to reach the fissures, they dammed up the outlet of the upper into the lower lake; but the pressure on the embankment became too great, and the waters burst through with much violence, creating an immense disturbance in the lake; and the orbe, which had always been perfectly clear, was troubled and muddy for some little time. the source of the loue, near pontarlier, is more striking than even that of the orbe.[ ] footnotes: [footnote : a point common to the two sections, which are made by planes nearly at right angles to each other.] [footnote : the dimensions of the two caves, and of the various masses of ice.] [footnote : the cartulary of lausanne states that the wealthy village of bière received its name from the following historical fact:--in , the bishop of lausanne, s. prothais, was superintending the cutting of wood in the jura for his cathedral, when he died suddenly, and was carried down on a litter to a place where a proper _bier_ could he procured, whence the place was named bière.] [footnote : the most curious pit of this kind is the _frais-puits_ of vesoul, in the vosgian jura, which pours forth immense quantities of water after rain has fallen in the neighbourhood. the water rushes out in the shape of a fountain, and on one occasion, in november , saved the town of vesoul from pillage by a passing army. this pit is carefully described by m. hassenfratz, in the _journal de physique_, t. xx. p. (an. ), where he says that cæsar was driven away from the town of vesoul, which he had intended to besiege, by the floods of water poured forth from the _frais-puits_. i know of no such incident in cæsar's life, though m. hassenfratz quotes cæsar's own words: the town of vesoul, too, had no historical existence before the th or th century of our era. there is also a pit near vesoul which contains icicles in summer, and may be the same as the _frais-puits_, for the old historian of franche comté, gollut, in describing the latter, mentions that it is so cold that no one cares to explore it (pp. . ).] [footnote : see p. .] * * * * * chapter v. the glaciÈre of the grÂce-dieu, or la baume, near besanÇon. the grand and lovely scenery of the val de travers has at length been opened up for the ordinary tourist world, by the railway which connects pontarlier with neufchâtel. the beauties of the valley are an unfortunate preparation for the dull expanse of ugly france which greets the traveller passing north from the former town; but the country soon assumes a pleasanter aspect, and nothing can be more charming than the soft green slopes, dotted with the richest pines, which form the approach to the station of boujeailles. it is impossible for the most careless traveller to avoid observing the ill effects produced upon the trees on the south side of the forest of chaux, by the crowded and neglected state in which they have been left, and the wet state of the soil. the branches become covered with moss, which first kills them, and then breaks them off, so that many tall and tapering sapins point their heads to the sky with trunks wholly guiltless of branches; while in other cases, where decay has not yet gone so far, the branches wear the appearance of gigantic stags' horns, with the velvet; and when a number of these interlace, the mosses unite in large dark patches, giving a cedar-like air to the scene of ruin. up to this point, an elderly frenchman in the carriage had been extremely offensive, from the evil odour of his macintosh coat; but in answer to a remark upon the improvement which the railway would effect, by providing ventilation for the forest, he gave so much information on that subject, and gave it so pleasantly, and had evidently so good a knowledge of the topography of franche comté, that his coat speedily lost its smell, and we became excellent friends. it is a tantalising thing to be whirled on a hot and dusty day through districts famous for their wines, the dust and heat standing out in more painful colours by contrast with the recollection of cooling draughts which other occasions have owed to such vineyards; though, after all, the true method of facing heat with success is to drink no wine. at any rate, the vineyards of arbois must always be interesting, and if the stories of the templars' orgies be true, we may be sure that the chapelry which they possessed in that town would be a favourable place of residence with the order; possibly rule xvi. might there be somewhat relaxed. 'the good wine of arbois,' _la meilleure cave de bourgougne_, a judicious old writer says, had free entry into all the towns of the comté; and when burgundy was becoming imperial, maximilian extended this privilege through all the towns of the empire. a hundred years later, it had so high a character, that the troops of henri iv. turned away from the town, announcing that they did not wish to attack _ceulx estoient du naturel de leur vin, qui frappe partout_;[ ] and the king was forced to come himself, with his constable and marshals, to beat down the walls, in the course of which undertaking his men felt the vigour of the inhabitants to a greater extent than he liked. it is said that when he had taken the town, the municipality received him in state, and supplied him with wine of the country. he praised the wine very highly, on which one of the body had the ill taste to assure him that they had a better wine than that. 'you keep it, perhaps,' was the royal rebuke, 'for a better occasion.' henry had a great opinion of this wine; and the duc de sully states, in his memoirs, that when the duc de mayenne retired from the league against the king, and came to monceaux to tender his allegiance, henry punished him for past offences by walking so fast about the grounds of the château, that the poor duke, what with his sciatica, and what with his fat, at last told him with an expressive gesture that a minute more of it would kill him. the king thereupon let him go, and promised him some _vin d'arbois_ to set him right again.[ ] the present appearance of the town, as seen from the high level followed by the railway, scarcely recalls the time when arbois was known as _le jardin de noblesse_, and barbarossa dated thence his charters, or jean sans-peur held there the states of burgundy. gollut[ ] tells a story of a dowager of arbois, mother-in-law to philip v. and charles iv. of france, which outdoes legend of bishop hatto. mahaut d'artois was an elderly lady remarkable for her charities, and was by consequence always surrounded by large crowds of poor folk during her residence at the châtelaine, the ruins of which lie a mile or two from arbois. on the occasion of a severe famine in burgundy, she collected a band of her mendicant friends in a stable, and burned them all, saying that '_par pitié elle hauoit faict cela, considerant les peines que ces pauvres debuoient endurer en temps de si grande et tant estrange famine_.' there is a val d'amour near arbois, but the more beautiful valley of that name lies between dôle and besançon, and, as we passed its neighbourhood, my friend with the macintosh informed me that as it was clear from my questions that i was drawing up a history of the franche comté, he must beg me to insert a legend respecting the origin of this name, val d'amour, which, he believed, had never appeared in print. i disclaimed the history, but accepted the legend, and here it is:--the seigneur of chissey was to marry the heiress of a neighbouring seigneurie, and, it is needless to add, she was very lovely, and he was handsome and brave. a lake separated the two châteaux, and the young man not unfrequently returned by water rather late in the evening; and so it fell out that one night he was drowned. the lady naturally grieved sorely for her loss, and put in train all possible means for recovering her lover's body. time, however, passed on, and no success attended her efforts, till at length she caused the hills which dammed up the waters to be pierced, and then de chissey was found. a village sprang up near the outlet thus made, and took thence its name percée, or, as men now spell it, parcey; and the rich vegetation which speedily covered the valley, where once the lake had been, gave it such an air of happiness and beauty, that the people remembered its origin, and called it the valley of love. it is a fact that parcy was not always so spelled, for noble constantin thiehault, sieur de perrecey, was a witness to the treaty for the transference of a miraculous host from faverney to dôle in , and old maps and books give it as perrecey and parrecey indifferently. the de chisseys, whose names may be found among the female prebends of château-chalon, with its necessary sixteen quarters, filled a considerable place in the history of the comté from the crusades downwards, and known as _les fols de chissey_, the brave[ ] and dashing, and witty de chisseys--qualities which no doubt were possessed by the poor young man for whom the fair chatelaine drained the val d'amour. as we drew nearer to besançon, each turn of the small streams, and each low rounded hill, might have served as an illustration to cæsar's 'commentaries.' now at length it was seen how, whatever the result of a battle, there was always a _proximus collis_ for the conquered party to retire to; and it would have been easy to find many suitable scenes for the critical engagement, where the woods sloped down to a strip of grass-land between their foot and the stream. the frenchman knew his cæsar, but he put that general in the fourth century b.c. he made mistakes, too, in quoting him, which were easily detected by a memory bristling with the details of his phraseology, the indelible result of extracting the principal parts of his verbs, and the nominatives of his irregular nouns, from half a dozen generations of small boys. he promised me a rich julian feast in besançon, and was greatly affected when he found that the englishman could give him cæsar's description of his native town. he wholly denied the amphitheatre with which one of our handbooks has gifted it; and this denial was afterwards echoed by every one in besançon, some even thinking it necessary to explain the difference between an amphitheatre and an arch of triumph, the latter still existing in the town. the jesuit dunod relates that the amphitheatre was to be seen at the beginning of the seventeenth century, in the ruined state in which the alans and vandals had left it after their successful siege in . it seems to have stood near the present site of the madeleine. it was a great satisfaction to find that the frenchman had himself visited the glacière which was the object of my search, and was able to give some idea as to the manner of reaching it, for my information on the subject was confined to a vague notice that there was an ice-cave five leagues from besançon. as so often happened in other cases, he advised me not to go to it, but rather, if i must see a cave, to go to the grotto of ocelles,[ ] a collection of thirty or more caverns and galleries near the doubs, below besançon. seeing, however, that i was bent on visiting the glacière, he advised me not to go on sunday, for the cardinal archbishop had ordered the trappists at the chartreuse near not to receive guests on that day; while saturday, he thought, was almost as bad, for nothing better than an omelette could be obtained on days of abstinence. saturday, then, was clearly the day to be chosen. the first sight of besançon explains at once why cæsar was so anxious to forestall ariovistus by occupying vesontio, although the hill on which the citadel stands is not so striking as the similar hill at salins, and the engines of modern warfare would promptly print their telegrams on every stone and man in the place, from the neighbouring heights. the french government has wisely taken warning from the bombardment by the allies, and has covered the heights which command it on either side with friendly fortifications, in which lie the keys of the place. historically, besançon is a place of great interest. it witnessed the catastrophe of julius vindex, who had made terms with rufus, the general sent against him by nero, but was attacked by the troops of rufus before they learned the alliance concluded between the two generals. vindex was so much grieved by the slaughter of his troops, and the blow thus struck, by an unhappy accident, at his designs against the emperor, that he put himself to death at the gates of the town, while the fight was still going on.[ ] the bisuntians claim to themselves the glory acquired by the sequani, whose chief city vesontio was, by the overthrow of julius sabinus, who asserted that he was the grandson of a son of julius cæsar, and proclaimed himself emperor in the time of vespasian. the sequani proceeded against him of their own accord, and conquered him in the interest of the reigning emperor; and he and his wife peponilla lived hid in a tomb for nine years. here two sons were born to them; and when they were all discovered and carried to rome, peponilla prettily told the emperor that she had brought up two sons in the tomb, in order that there might be other voices to intercede for her husband's life besides her own. they were, however, put to death.[ ] to judge from the style of the hotels, besançon is not visited by many english travellers; and yet it well repays a visit, providing those who care for such things with a full average of vaulted passages, and feudal gateways, and arcaded court-yards, with much less than the average of evil smell. there are gates of all shapes and times--louis-quatorze towers, and fortifications specially constructed under vauban's own eye; while the approach to the town, from the land side, is by a tunnel, cut through the live rock which forms a solid chord to the arc described by the course of the river doubs. this excavation, called appropriately the _porte taillée_, is attributed by the various inhabitants to pretty nearly all the famous emperors and kings who have lived from julius cæsar to louis xiv.: it owes its origin, no doubt, to the construction of the aqueduct which formerly brought into the town the waters pouring out of the rock at arcier, two leagues from besançon, and was the work probably of m. aurelius and l. verus. local antiquaries assign the aqueduct to agrippa, the son-in-law of augustus, apparently for no better reason than because he built a similar work in rome. the arch of triumph[ ] at the entrance to the upper town has been an inexhaustible subject of controversy for many generations of antiquaries, and up to the time of dunod was generally attributed to aurelian: that historian, however, believed that its sculptures represented the education of crispus, the son of constantine, and that the name chrysopolis, by which besançon was very generally known in early times, was only a corruption of crispopolis. earlier writers are in favour of the natural derivation of chrysopolis, and assert that when the senones lost their famous chief, the brennus of roman history, before delphos, they built a town where byzantium afterwards stood, and called it bisantium and chrysopolis, in memory of their city of those names at home. the hôtel du nord is a rambling old house, comfortable after french ideas of comfort, and rejoicing in an excellent cuisine; though it is true that on one occasion, at least, _haricots verts à l'anglaise_ meant a mass of fibrous greens, swimming in a most un-english sea of artificial fat. it is a good place for studying the natural manners of the untravelled frenchman, who there sits patiently at the table, for many minutes before dinner is served, with his napkin tucked in round his neck, and his countenance composed into a look of much resignation. the waiters are for the most part shock-headed boys, in angular-tail coats well up in the back of the neck, who frankly confess, when any order out of the common run of orders is given, that a german patois from the left bank of the rhine is their only extensive language. one of these won my eternal gratitude by providing a clean fork at a crisis between the last savouries and the _plat doux_; for the usual practice with the waiters, when anyone neglected to secure his knife and fork for the next course, was to slip the plate from under the unwonted charge, and leave those instruments sprawling on the tablecloth in a vengeful mess of gravy. chickens' bones were there dealt with on all sides as nature perhaps intended that they should be dealt with, namely, by taking them between finger and thumb, and removing superfluities with the teeth; and french officers with wasp-like waists, and red trousers gathered in plaits to match, boldly despised the sophistication of spoons, and ate their vanilla cream like men, by the help of bread and fingers. the manners and broken french of the stranger formed an open and agreeable subject of conversation, and the table was much quieter than a frenchman's _table d'hôte_ is sometimes known to be: on one occasion, however, all decorum was scattered to the winds, and the guests rushed out into the court-yard with disordered bibs and tuckers, on the announcement by the head waiter of a '_chien à l'anglaise_, not so high as a mustard-pot,' which one of the company promptly bought for twenty-four francs, commencing its education on the spot by a lesson in cigar-smoking. it frequently happens in france that _café noir_ is a much more ready and abundant tap than water, and so it was here; notwithstanding which, the bedroom apparatus was most comfortable and complete. the chambermaid was a boy, and under his auspices a sheet of postage-stamps and a lead pencil vanished from the table. when it was suggested to him that possibly they had been blown into some corner, and so swept away, he brought a dustpan from a distant part of the house, and miraculously discovered the stamps perched upon a small handful of dust therein, deferring the discovery and his consequent surprise till he reached my room. it was curious that the stamps, which had before been in an open sheet, were now folded neatly together, and curled into the shape of a waistcoat-pocket. he was inexorable about the pencil. no certain information could be obtained in the hotel respecting the glacière; so an owner of carriages was summoned, and consulted as to the best means of getting there. he naturally recommended that one of his own carriages should be taken as far as the abbey of grâce-dieu, and that we should start at five o'clock the next morning, with a driver who knew the way to the glacière from the point at which the carriage must be left.[ ] five o'clock seemed very early for a drive of fifteen miles; but the man asserted that instead of five leagues it was a good seven or eight, and so it turned out to be. this glacière may be called a historical glacière, being the only one which has attracted general attention; and the mistake about its distance from besançon arose very many years ago, and has been perpetuated by a long series of copyists. the distance may not be more than five leagues when measured on the map with a ruler; but until the tunnels and via-ducts necessary for a crow line are constructed, the world must be content to call it seven and a half at least. the man bargained for two days' pay for the carriage, on the plea that the horse would be so tired the next day that he would not be able to do any work, and as that day was sunday, the great day for excursions, it would be a dead loss. it so happened that the charge for two days, fifteen francs, was exactly what i paid elsewhere for one day, so there was no difficulty about the price. we started, accordingly, at five o'clock. the day was delightfully fine, and in spite of the driver's peculiarity of speech, caused by a short tongue, and aggravated by a villanous little black pipe clutched between his remaining teeth, we got through a large amount of question and answer respecting the country through which we passed. of course, the reins were carried through rings low down on the kicking-strap, ingeniously placed so that each whisk of the horse's tail caught one or other rein; and then the process of extraction was a somewhat dangerous one, for there was no splashboard, and the driver had to stow his legs away out of reach, before commencing operations. the landlord of the inn at mühlinen, on the road from kandersteg to thun, has a worse arrangement than even this, both reins passing through one small leather loop at the top of the kicking-strap; so that when the horse on one occasion ran away down a steep hill in consequence of the break refusing to act, the man in his flurry could not tell which rein to pull, to steer clear of the wall of rock on one side, and the unfenced slope on the other, and finally flung himself out in despair, leaving his english cargo behind. there has evidently been at some time a vast lake near besançon, and the old bottom of the lake is now covered with heavy meadow-grass, while the corn-fields and villages creep down from the higher grounds, on the remains of promontories which stretch out into the plain. the people are in constant fear of inundation, and the driver informed me that in winter large parts of the plain are flooded, the superfluous waters vanishing after a time into a great hole, whose powers of digestion he could not explain. the villages which lie on the shores, as it were, of the lake, rejoice in church-towers with bulbous domes, rising out of rich clusters of trees, and the early bells rang out through the crisp air with something of a belgian sweetness. farther on, the road passed through glorious wheat, clean as on an english model farm, save where some picturesque farmer had devoted a corner to the growth of poppies. here, as elsewhere, potatoes did not grow in ridges, but each root had a little hillock to itself; an unnatural early training which may account for the strange appearance of _pommes de terre au naturel_. anyone who has driven through the morning air for an hour or two before breakfast, will understand the satisfaction with which, about seven o'clock, we deciphered a complicated milestone into kilomètres from besançon, which meant breakfast at the next village, nancray. the breakfast was simple enough, owing to the absence of butter and other things, and consisted of coffee in its native pot, and dry bread: the milk was set on the table in the pan in which it had been boiled, and a soup-ladle and a french wash-hand basin took the place of cup and spoon. a cat kept the door against sundry large and tailless dogs, whose appetites had not gone with their tails; and an old woman kindly delivered a lecture on the most approved method of making a ptisan from the flowers of the lime-tree, and on the many medicinal properties of that decoction, to which she attributed her good health at so advanced an age. i silently supplemented her peroration by attributing her garrulity to a more stimulating source. when we started again, it was time to learn something about the scene of our further proceedings, and the driver enunciated his views on monks in general, _à propos_ to the convent of grâce-dieu, the chartreuse at which we were to leave our carriage, and obtain food for man and horse. the brothers, he said, were possessed of many mills, and were in consequence enormously rich. among the products of their industry, a liqueur known as _chartreuse_ seemed to fill a high place in his esteem, for he considered it to be better--and he said it as if that comparative led into an eighth heaven--better even than absinthe. i had an opportunity of tasting this liqueur some weeks after, a few minutes below the summit of mont blanc, and certainly no one would suspect its great strength, which is entirely disguised by an innocent and insidious sweetness, as unlike absinthe as anything can possibly be: impressions, however, respecting meat and drink, and all other matters, are not very trustworthy when received near the top of the calotte. it has lately been found that the worthy brothers of the grande chartreuse have been systematically defrauding the revenue, by returning their profits on the manufacture of this liqueur at something merely nominal as compared with the real gains. i could not learn whether the ceremony of blessing each batch of the liqueur, before sending it out to intoxicate the world, is performed with so much solemnity at grâce-dieu as at grenoble; and, indeed, it rests only on the assertion of the short-tongued bisuntian that the manufacture is carried on at all at the former place.[ ] having communicated such information as he possessed, the man seemed to think he had a right to learn something in return, and administered various questions respecting customs which he believed to prevail in england. he evidently did not credit the denial of the truth of what he had heard, nor yet the assertion, in answer to another question, that english hothouse grapes are three or four times as large as the ordinary grapes of france, and well-flavoured in at least a like proportion. the roadside was planted with apple-trees, and these were overgrown with mistletoe; so, by way of correcting his idea that the english are a sad and gloomy people, i informed him of the use made of this parasite by young people in the country at christmas-time. instead, however, of being thereby impressed with our national liveliness, he looked with a sort of supercilious contempt upon a people who could require the intervention or sanction of anything external in such a matter, and turned the conversation to some more worthy subject. at length we passed into a pleasant valley, with thrushes singing, and much chirping of those smaller birds, in the murder of which, sitting, consists _le sport_ in the eyes of many gentlemen of france. up to this point, nothing could have been more unlike the scenery which i had so far found to be associated with glacières; but now the country became slightly more jurane, and limestone precipices on a small scale rose up on either hand, decked with the corbel towers which result from the weathering of the rock. it was the jura in softer as well as smaller type, for all the desolate wildness which characterises the more rocky part of that range was gone, and there were no signs of the grand pine-scenery, or needle-foliage, as the germans call it; the trees were all oak and ash and beech, and the rocks were much more neat and orderly, and of course less grand, than their contorted kindred farther south. the valley speedily became very narrow, and a final bend brought us face-to-face with the buildings of the abbaye de grâce-dieu, striking from their position--filling, as they do, the breadth of the valley,--but in no way remarkable architecturally. the journey had been so long that it was now ten o'clock; and as we were due in besançon at five in the evening, we put the horse up as quickly as possible, in a shed provided by the brothers, and set off on foot for the glacière, half an hour distant. about a mile and a half from the convent, the valley comes to an end, the rocks on the opposite sides approaching so close to each other as only to leave room for a large flour-mill, belonging to the brothers, and for the escape-channel of the stream which works the mill. this building is quite new, and might almost be taken for a fortification against inroads by the head of the valley, especially as the words _posuerunt me custodem_ appear on the face, applying, however, to an image of the virgin, which presides over the establishment. the monks have expended their superfluous time and energies upon the erection of crosses of all sizes on every projecting peak and point of rock, one cross more sombre than the rest marking the scene of a recent death. as i had no means of determining the elevation of this district above the sea,[ ] i made enquiries as to the climate in winter; and one of the brothers told me, that it was an unusual thing with them to have a fall of snow amounting to two joints of a remarkably dirty finger. at the mill, the path turns up the steep wooded hill on the right, and leads through young plantations to a small cottage near the glacière, where the plantations give place to a well-grown beech wood. here my conductor startled me by announcing that there was centimes to pay to the farmer of the cave for entrance; an announcement which seemed to take all the pleasure out of the expedition, and invested it with the disagreeable character of sightseeing. the poor driver thought, no doubt, with some trepidation upon the small amount of _pour-boire_ he could expect from a monsieur on whom a demand for two pence produced so serious an effect, and it was difficult to make him understand that the fact and not the amount of payment was the trouble. when i illustrated this by saying that i would gladly give a franc to be allowed to enter the glacière free, he seemed to think that if i would entrust him with the franc, he might possibly arrange that little matter for me. the immediate approach to the glacière is very impressive. the surface of the ground slopes slightly upwards, and the entrance, from north to south, is by a broad inclined plane, of gentle fall at first, which rapidly becomes steep enough to require zigzags. the walls of rock on either side are very sheer, and increase of course in height as the plane of entrance falls. the whole length of the slope is about feet, and down a considerable part of this some grasses and flowers are to be found: the last feet are covered more or less with ice; though, at the time of my visit, the furious rains of the end of june, , had washed down a considerable amount of mud, and so covered some of the ice. there were no ready means of determining the thickness of this layer of ice, for the descent of which ten or eleven zigzags had been made by the farmer. in one place, within feet of its upper commencement, it was from - / to feet thick; but the prominence of that part seemed to mark it out as of more than the average thickness. even where to all appearance there was nothing but mud and earth, an unexpected fall or two showed that all was ice below. whether the driver had previously experienced the treacherousness of this slope of ice, or whatever his motive might be, he left me to enter and explore alone. the roof of the entrance is at first a mere shell, formed by the thin crust of rock on which the surface-earth and trees rest high overhead; but this rapidly becomes thicker, as shown in the section of the cave, and thus a sort of outer cave is formed, the real portal of the glacière being reached about feet above the bottom of the slope. this outer cave presents a curious appearance, from the distinctness with which the several strata of the limestone are marked, the lower strata weathered and rounded off like the seats of an amphitheatre of the giants, and all, up to the shell-like roof, arranged in horizontal semicircles of various graduated sizes, showing their concavity; while at the bottom of the whole is seen a patch of darkness, with two masses of ice in its centre, looming out like grey ghosts at midnight. this darkness is of course the inner cave, the entrance to which, though it seems so small from above, is feet broad. the glacière itself may be said to commence as soon as this entrance, or perpendicular portal, is passed, and thus includes feet of the long slope of ice, from the foot of which to the farther end of the cave is feet, the greatest breadth of the cave being feet. immediately below the portal i found a piece of the trunk of a large column of ice, feet long and feet in girth, its fractured ends giving the idea of the interior of a quickly-grown tree, in consequence of the concentric arrangement of convergent prisms described in the account of the glacière of s. georges. the wife of the farmer told me afterwards that there had been two glorious columns at this portal, which the recent rains had swept away. excepting a short space at the foot of the slope, and another towards the farther end of the cave, the floor was covered with ice, in some parts from to feet thick: of this a considerable area had been removed to a depth of / or feet, leaving a pond of water a foot deep, with bottom and banks of ice. the rock which composes the true floor rises at the farthest end of the cave, and the roof is so arranged that a sort of private chapel is there formed; and from a fissure in the dome a monster column of ice had been constructed on the floor, which, at the time of my visit, had lost its upper parts, and stood as a hollow truncated cone with sides a foot thick, and with seas of ice streaming from it, and covering the rising pavement of the chapel. without an axe, and without help, i was unable to measure the girth of this column, which had not been without companions on a smaller scale in the immediate neighbourhood. at the west end of the cave, the wall was thickly covered for a large space with small limestone stalactites, producing the effect of many tiers of fringe on a shawl; while from a dark fissure in the roof a large piece of fluted drapery of the same material hung, calling to mind some of the vastly grander details of the grottoes of hans-sur-lesse in belgium: down this wall there was also a long row of icicles, on the edges of a narrow fissure. the north-west corner was very dark, and an opening in the wall of rock high above the ground suggested a tantalising cave up there: the ground in this corner was occupied by the shattered remains of numerous columns of ice, which had originally covered a circular area between and feet in circumference. [illustration: vertical section of the glaciÈre of grÂce-dieu, near besanÇon.] the three large masses of ice which rendered this glacière in some respects more remarkable than any of those i have seen, lay in a line from east to west, across the middle of the cave, on that part of the floor where the ice was thickest. the central mass was extremely solid, but somewhat unmeaning in shape, being a rough irregular pyramid; its size alone, however, was sufficient to make it very striking, the girth being - / feet at some distance from the ice-floor with which it blended. the mass which lay to the east of this was very lovely, owing to the good taste of some one who had found that much ice was wont to accumulate on that spot, and had accordingly fixed the trunk of a small fir-tree, with the upper branches complete, to receive the water from the corresponding fissure in the roof. the consequence was, that, while the actual tree had vanished from sight under its icy covering, excepting on one side where a slight investigation betrayed its presence, the mass of ice showed every possible fantasy of form which a mould so graceful could suggest. at the base, it was solid, with a circumference of feet. the huge column, which had collected round the trunk of the fir-tree, branched out at the top into all varieties of eccentricity and beauty, each twig of the different boughs becoming, to all appearance, a solid bar of frosted ice, with graceful curve, affording a point of suspension for complicated groups of icicles, which streamed down side by side with emulous loveliness. in some of the recesses of the column, the ice assumed a pale blue colour; but as a rule it was white and very hard, not so regularly prismatic as the ice described in former glacières, but palpably crystalline, showing a structure not unlike granite, with a bold grain, and with a large predominance of the glittering element. but the westernmost mass was the grandest and most beautiful of all. it consisted of two lofty heads, like weeping willows in carrara marble, with three or four others less lofty, resembling a family group of lions' heads in a subdued attitude of grief, richly decked with icy manes. similar heads seemed to grow out here and there from the solid sides of the huge mass. the girth was - / feet, measured about feet from the floor. when this column was looked at from the side removed from the entrance to the cave, so that it stood in the centre of the light which poured down the long slope from the outer world, the transparency of the ice brought it to pass that the whole seemed set in a narrow frame of impalpable liquid blue, the effect of light penetrating through the mass at its extreme edges. the only means of determining the height of this column was by tying a stone to the end of a string, and lodging it on the highest head; but this was not an easy process, as i was naturally anxious not to injure the delicate beauty which made that head one of the loveliest things conceivable; and each careful essay with the stone seemed to involve as much responsibility as taking a shot at a hostile wicket, in a crisis of the game, instead of returning the ball in the conventional manner. when at last it was safely lodged, the height proved to be feet. i had hoped to find it much more than this, from the grandeur of the effect of the whole mass, and i took the trouble to measure the knotted string again with a tape, to make sure that there was no mistake. the column formed upon the fir-tree was or feet lower. i have since found many notices of this glacière in the memoirs of the french academy and elsewhere, extracts from which will be found in a later chapter. these accounts are spread over a period of years, extending from to , and almost all make mention of the columns or groups of columns i have described; but, without exception, the heights given or suggested in the various accounts are much less than those which i obtained as the result of careful measurement. the latest description of a visit to the glacière states a fact which probably will be held to explain, the present excess of height above that of earlier times.[ ] the citizen girod-chantrans, who wrote this description, had procured the notes of a medical man living in the neighbourhood, from which it seemed that dr. oudot made the experiment, in , of fixing stakes of wood in the heads of the columns, then from to feet high, and found that these stakes were the cause of a very large increase in the height of the columns, ice gathering round them in pillars a foot thick. so that it is not improbable that the largest of the three masses of the present day owes its height, and its peculiar form, to a series of stakes fixed from time to time in the various heads formed under the fissures in the roof, though nothing but the most solid ice can now be seen. it would be very interesting to try this experiment in one of the caves where, without any artificial help, such immense masses of ice are formed; and by this means columns might, in the course of a year or two, be raised to the very roof. further details on this subject will be given hereafter. there was no perceptible draught of air in any part of the cave, and the candles burned steadily through the whole time of my visit, which occupied more than two hours. the centre was sufficiently lighted by the day; but in the western corner, and behind the largest column, artificial light was necessary. the ice itself did not generally show signs of thawing, but the whole cave was in a state of wetness, which made the process of measuring and investigating anything but pleasant. i had placed two thermometers at different points on my first entrance--one on a drawing-board on a large stone in the middle of the pond of water which has been mentioned, and the other on a bundle of pencils at the entrance of the end chapel, in a part of the cave where the ice-floor ceased for a while, and left the stones and rock bare. the former gave °, the latter, till i was on the point of leaving, / °, when it fell suddenly to °. it was impossible, however, to stay any longer for the sake of watching the thermometer fall lower and lower below the freezing point; indeed, the results of sundry incautious fathomings of the various pools of water, and incessant contact of hands and feet with the ice, had already become so unpleasant, that i was obliged to desert my trusty hundred feet of string, and leave it lying on the ice, from want of finger-power to roll it up. the thermometers were both casella's, but that which registered ° was the more lively of the two, the other being mercurial, with a much thicker stem: the difference in sensitiveness was so great, that when they were equally exposed to the sun in driving home, the one ran up to ° before the other had reached °. in leaving the glacière, i found a little pathway turning off along the face of the rock on the left hand, a short way up the slope of entrance, and looking as if it might lead to the opening in the dark wall on the western side of the cave. after a time, however, it came to a corner which it seemed an unnecessary risk to attempt to pass alone; and my prudence was rewarded by the discovery that, after all, the supposed cave could not be thus reached. it is said that this other cave was the place to which the inhabitants fled for refuge when their district was invaded, probably by the duke of saxe-weimar with his , swedes, and that a ladder feet long is necessary for getting at it. the driver had long ago absconded when i returned to the upper regions; but the wife of the farmer of the grotto was there, and communicated all that she knew of the statistics of the ice annually removed. she said that in two chars were loaded every day for two months, each char taking about kilos, the wholesale price in besançon being francs the hundred kilos. since the quintal contains kilos, it will be seen that this account does not agree with the statement of renaud as to the amount of ice each char could take. no doubt, a char at s. georges may mean one thing, and a char in the village of chaux another; but the difference between quintaux and or is too great to be thus explained, and probably madame briot made some mistake. her husband, louis briot, works alone in the cave, and has twelve men and a donkey to carry the ice he quarries to the village of chaux, a mile from the glacière, where it is loaded for conveyance to besançon. he uses gunpowder for the flooring of ice, and expects the eighth part of a pound to blow out a cubic metre; and if, by ill luck, the ice thus procured has stones on the lower side, he has to saw off the bottom layer. madame briot said i was right in supposing march to be the great time for the formation of ice, as she had heard her husband say that the columns were higher then than at any other time of the year: she also confirmed my views as to the disastrous effects of heavy rain. as with every other glacière of which i could obtain any account, excepting the lower glacière of the pré de s. livres, she complained that the ice had not been so beautiful and so abundant this year as last, although the winter had been exceptionally severe. footnotes: [footnote : jean bontemps, conseiller au bailliage d'arbois.] [footnote : 'allez vous en reposer, rafraischir et boire un coup au chasteau, car vous en avez bon besoin; j'ay du vin d'arbois en mes offices, dont je vous envoyeray deux bouteilles, car je scay bien que vous ne le hayés pas.'--_petitot_. iii. .] [footnote : mém. de la comté de bourgougne, dôle, , p. .] [footnote : one of the seigneurs de chissey, michaud de changey, who died in high office in , was known by preeminence as _le brave_.] [footnote : dr. buckland visited these caves in , to look for bones, of which he found a great number. gollut (in ) spelled the name _aucelle_, and derived it from _auricella_, believing that the romans worked a gold mine there. it is certain that both the doubs and the loue supplied very fine gold, and the seigneurs of longwy had a chain made of the gold of those rivers, which weighed crowns.] [footnote : dion cass. lib. lxiii.] [footnote : ib. lib. lxvi.] [footnote : known locally as the _porte noire_, like the great _porta nigra_ at treves, and other roman gates in gaul.] [footnote : i should be inclined, from what i saw of the country, to go to the station of baume-les-dames on any future visit, and walk thence to the glacière, perhaps three leagues from the station.] [footnote : he was in error. the paris correspondent of the 'times' gave, some months since (see the impression of jan. , ), an account of an interesting trial respecting the manufacture of the liqueur peculiar to the abbey of grâce-dieu. from this account it appears that the liqueur was formerly called the liqueur of the grâce-dieu, but is now known as trappistine. it is limpid and oily; possesses a fine aroma, a peculiar softness, a mild but brisk flavour, and so on. it was invented by an ecclesiastic who was once the brother marie-joseph, and prior of the convent, but is now m. stremler, having been released by the pope from his vows of obedience and poverty, in order that he might teach christianity to the infidels of the new world. the brothers took the question of the renunciation of poverty into their own hands, by declining to give up the money which brother marie-joseph had originally brought into the society; so m. stremler, being now moneyless, commenced the secular manufacture of the seductive trappistine, in opposition to the regular manufacture within the walls of the abbey, abstaining, however, from the use of the religious label which is the brothers' trade-mark. the unfortunate inventor was fined and condemned in costs for his piracy.] [footnote : see p. .] [footnote : _journal des mines_, prairial, an iv., pp. , &c.] * * * * * chapter vi. besanÇon and dÔle. the afternoon was so far advanced when i returned to the convent, that it was clearly impossible to reach besançon at five o'clock, and consequently there was time to inspect the brothers and their buildings. the field near the convent was gay with haymakers; and the brown monks, with here and there a priest in _ci-devant_ white, moved among the hired labourers, and stirred them up by exhortation and example,--with this difference, that while it was evidently the business of the monks so to do, the priests, on the other hand, had only taken fork in hand for the sake of a little gentle exercise. one unhappy jacques bonhomme made hot and toilsome hay in thick brown clothes, plainly manufactured from a defunct brother's gown; for, to judge from appearances, a cast-off gown is a thing unknown. it was good to see a brother, in horn spectacles of mediæval cut, tenderly chopping a log for firewood, and peering at it through his spectacles after each stroke, as a man examines some delicate piece of natural machinery with a microscope; to see another brother, the sphere of whose duties lay in the flour-mill, standing in the doorway with brown robe and shaven crown all powdered alike with white, and a third covered from head to foot with sawdust; or, best of all, to see an antique brother, with scarecrow legs, and low shoes which had presumably been in his possession or that of his predecessors for a long series of years, wheeling a barrow of liquid manure, with his gown looped up high by means of stout whipcord and an arrangement of large brass rings. the brother whose business it was to do such cooking as might be required by visitors, grinned in the most friendly and engaging manner from ear to ear when he was looked at; and, by fixing him steadily with the eye, he could be kept for considerable spaces of time standing in the middle of the kitchen, knife in hand, with the corners of his mouth out of sight round his broad cheeks. his ample front was decked with a blue apron, suspended from his shoulders, and confined round the convexity of his waist by an old strap which no respectable costermonger would have used as harness. the soup served was by courtesy called _soupe maigre,_ but it was in fact _soupe maigre_ diluted by many homoeopathic myriads, and the brother showed much curiosity as to my opinion of its taste--a curiosity which i could not satisfy without hurting his professional pride. when that course was finished, the large-faced cook suggested an omelette, as the most substantial thing allowed on eves, proceeding to draw the materials from a closet which so fully shared in the general abstinence from water as a means of cleansing, that i shut my eyes upon all further operations, and ate the eventual omelette in faith. its excellence called forth such hearty commendations, that there seemed to be some danger of the mouth not coming right again. then salads, and bread and butter, and wine, and various kinds of cheese were brought, which made in all a very fair dinner for a fast-day. the culinary monk knew nothing of the history of his convent, beyond the bare year of its foundation, and displayed a monotonous dead level of ignorance on all topographical and historical questions: to him the _pain d'abbaye_[ ] meant nothing further than the staff of life there provided, and he neither knew himself nor could recommend any brother who knew anything about the glacière. he was a german, and we talked of his native baiern and the modern glories of his capital; and when his questions elicited a declaration of my profession, he passed up to saxony, and pinned me with luther. finding that i objected to being so pinned, and repudiated something of that which his charge involved, he waived luther, of whom he knew nothing beyond his name, and came down upon me triumphantly with the word protestant. i explained to him, of course, that the worthy elector, and his friends who protested, had not much to do with the anglican branch of the church catholic; and then the old task had to be gone through of assuring the assembled brothers that we in england have sacraments, have orders, have a trinitarian creed. at length, about half-past three, we started for besançon, paying of course _à volonté_ for food and entertainment, as we did not choose to qualify as paupers. the driver told me on the way that there was another glacière at vaise, a village three or four kilomètres from besançon, and at no great distance from the road by which we should approach the town; so, when we reached the crest above morre, where the road passes the final ridge by means of a tunnel, i paid the carriage off, and walked to the village of vaise. the public-house knew of the glacière--knew indeed of two,--further still, kept the keys of both. this was good news, though the idea of keys in connection with an ice-cave was rather strange; and i proposed to organise an expedition at once to the glacières. the male half of the auberge declared that he was forbidden to open them to strangers, except by special order from a certain monsieur in besançon; but the female half, scenting centimes, stated her belief that the monsieur in besançon could never wish them to turn away a stranger who had come so many kilomètres through the dust to see the ice. she put the proposed disobedience in so persuasive and christian a form, that i was obliged to take the husband's side,--not that he was in any need of support, for he had been longer married than adam was, and showed no signs of giving way. it turned out, after all, that though there was no doubt about the existence of the glacières, there was equally no doubt that they were _glacières artificielles_, being simply ice-houses dug in the side of a hill, and the property of a _glacier_ in besançon; so that my friend the driver had sent me to a mare's-nest. the pathway across the hills to besançon was rather intricate, and by good fortune an old frenchman appeared, who was returning from his work at a neighbouring church, and served as companion and guide. he had bid farewell to sixty some years before, and, being a builder, had been going up and down a ladder all day, with full and empty _hottes_, to an extent which outdid the shanars of missionary meetings; and yet he walked faster than any foreigner of my experience. he talked in due proportion, and told some interesting details of the bombardment of besançon, which he remembered well. when he learned that i was not german, but english, he told me they did not say _anglais_ there, but _gaudin_,--i was a _gaudin_. this he repeated persistently many times, with an air worthy of general cyrus choke, and half convinced me that there was something in it, and that i might after all be a gaudin. it was not till some hours after, that i remembered the indelible impression made by the piety of speech of recent generations of englishmen upon the french nation at large, and thus was enabled to trace the origin of the name _gaudin_. the old man evidently believed that it was the proper thing to call an englishman by that name; thus reminding me of a story told of a french soldier in the austrian service during the long early wars with switzerland. the austrians called the swiss, in derision, kühmelkers--a term more opprobrious than _bouviers_; and it is said that, after the battle of frastens--one of the battles of the suabian war,--a frenchman threw himself at the feet of some grisons soldiers, and innocently prayed thus for quarter; '_très-chers, très-honorables, et très-dignes kühmelkers! au nom de dieu, ne me tuez pas_!' the town of besançon seems to spend its sunday in fishing, and is apparently well contented with that very limited success which is wont to attend a frenchman's efforts in this branch of _le sport_. there is a proverb in the patois of vaud which says '_kan on vau dau pesson, sé fo molli_;'[ ] and on this the bisuntians act, standing patiently half-way up the thigh in the river, as the swiss on the lake of geneva and other lakes may be seen to do. it is all very well to wade for a good salmon cast, or to spend some hours in a swift-foot[ ] scotch stream for the sake of a lively basket of trout; but to stand in a sunday coat and hat, and - / feet of water, watching a large bung hopelessly unmoved on the surface, is a thing reserved for a frenchman indulging in a weekly intoxication of sabbatical sport, under the delirious form of the _chasse aux goujons_. clean as the town within the circuit of the river is, the houses which overhang the water on the other side are picturesque and dirty in the extreme, story rising above story, and balcony above balcony. it does not increase their beauty, and to a fastidious nose it must militate against their eligibility as places of residence, that there is apparently but one drain, an external one, which follows the course of the pillars supporting the various balconies: nevertheless, from the opposite side of the river, and when the wind sets the other way, they are sufficiently attractive. in this quarter is found the finest church, the madeleine, with a very effective piece of sculpture at the east end. the sculpture is arranged on the bottom and farther side of a sort of cage, which is hung outside the church, but is visible from the inside through a corresponding opening in the east wall. the subject of the sculpture is 'the sepulchre,' and the ends of the cage or box are composed of rich yellow glass, through which the external light streams into the cave of the sepulchre; and when the church itself is becoming dark, the effect produced by the light from the evening sky, passing through the deep-toned glass, and softly illuminating the sepulchre, is indescribably solemn. [illustration: bath in the doubs, at besanÇon.] when besançon was supplied by the aqueduct with the waters of arcier, there was a great abundance of baths, as the remains discovered in digging new foundations show; but in the present state of the town such things are not easily met with. the floating baths on the river are appropriated to the other sex, and the only thing approaching to a male bath was of a nature entirely new to me, being constructed as follows:--there is a water-mill in the town, with a low weir stretching across the river, down which the water rushes with no very great violence. at the foot of this weir a row of sentry-boxes is placed, approached by planks, and in these boxes the adventurer finds his bath.[ ] a stout piece of wood-work is fixed horizontally along the face of the weir, and has the effect of throwing the downward water out of its natural direction, and causing it to describe an arch, so that it descends with much force on to the weir at a point below the wood-work. here two planks are placed, forming a seat and a support for the back, and a little lower still another plank for the feet to rest upon, without which the bather would have a good chance of being washed away. the water boils noisily and violently on all sides and in all directions, coming down upon the subject's shoulders with a heavy thud, which calls to mind the tender years when something softer than a cane was used, and sends him forth like a fresh-boiled lobster. all this, with towels, is not dear at fourpence. the citadel is the great sight of besançon, and the polite colonel-commandant attends at his office at convenient hours to give passes. what it might be to storm the position under the excitement of the sport of war, i cannot say; but certainly it is a most trying affair on a hot sunday's afternoon, even when all is made smooth, and the gates are opened, by a comprehensive pass. the wall mentioned by cæsar as a great feature of the place cut the site of the citadel off from the town, and many signs of it were found when the cathedral of s. stephen was built, the unfortunate church which went down before the exigencies of a siege under louis xiv. the barrack-master proved to be a most interesting man, knowing many details of cæsar's life and campaigns which i suspect were not known to that captain himself. he had served in algeria, and assented to the proposition that more soldiers died there of absinthe than of arabs, stating his conviction that three-fourths of the whole deaths are caused by that pernicious extract of wormwood, and that he ought himself to have died of it long ago. he pointed out the difference between the massive masonry of the period of the spanish occupation and the less impressive work of more recent times, and showed the dungeon from which marshal bourmont bought his escape, in the time of the first napoleon. the floor of one of the little look-out towers is composed of a tombstone, representing a priest in full ecclesiastical dress, and my question as to how it came there elicited the following story:--when louis xiv. was besieging the citadel, he placed his head-quarters, and a strong battery, on the summit of the mont chaudane,[ ] which commands the citadel on one side as the brégille does on the other. among the besieged was a monk named schmidt, probably one of the low-country men to whom the franche comté was then a sort of home, as forming part of the dominions of spain; and this monk was the most active supporter of the defence, against the large party within the walls which was anxious to render the town. he was also an admirable shot; and on one of the last days of the siege, as he stood in the little tower where the tombstone now lies, the king and his staff rode to the front of the plateau on the mont chaudane to survey the citadel; whereupon some one pointed out to schmidt that now he had a fair chance of putting an end at once to the siege and the invasion. accordingly, he took a musket from a soldier and aimed at the king; but before firing he changed his aim, remarking, that he, a priest, ought not to destroy the life of a man, and so he only killed the horse, giving the majesty of france a roll in the mud. when the town was taken, the king enquired for the man who killed his horse, and asked the priest whether he could have killed the rider instead, had he wished to do so. 'certainly,' schmidt replied, and related the facts of the case. louis informed him, that had he been a soldier, he should have been decorated for his skill and his impulse of mercy; but, being a priest, he should be hung. the sentence was carried out, and the priest's body was buried in the floor of the tower from which he had spared the king's life. if this be true, it was one of the most unkingly deeds ever done.[ ] this siege took place in the second invasion or conquest of the franche comté by louis xiv., when besançon held out for nine days against vauban and the king: on the first occasion it had surrendered to condé after one day's siege, making the single stipulation that the holy shroud should not be removed from the town.[ ] the _saincte suaire_ was the richest ecclesiastical treasure of the bisuntians, being one of the two most genuine of the many suaires, the other being that of turin, which was supported by papal infallibility. both were brought from the crusades; and the one was presented to besançon in , the other to turin in . bede tells a story of the proving of a shroud by fire in the eighth century, by one of the caliphs; and as its dimensions were feet by , like that of besançon, while the shroud of turin measured feet by , the people of besançon claimed that theirs was the one spoken of by bede. the cathedral of besançon is no longer s. stephen, since the destruction of that church by louis xiv. the small church of the citadel is now dedicated to that saint, an inscription on the wall stating that it takes the place of the larger church, _ex urbis obsidio anno lapsae_, and offering an indulgence of days for every visit paid to it, with the sensible proviso _una duntaxat vice per diem._ soldiers not being generally made of the confessing sex, or of confessing material, there is only one confessional provided for the , souls which the citadel can accommodate. the cavalry barracks are in the lower part of the town, and near them is a large building with evident traces of ecclesiastical architecture on the outside. it is, in fact, a very fine church converted into stables, retaining its interior features in excellent preservation. under the corn-bin lies a lady who had two husbands and fifteen children, _antigone in parentes, porcia in conjuges, sempronia in liberos_; while a few yards further east, less agreeably placed, is an ecclesiastic of the gorrevod family, who reckoned prince and bishop and baron among his titles. the nave of this church of s. michael accommodates thirty horses, and the north aisle thirteen; the south is considered more select, and is boarded off for the decani, in the shape of officers' chargers. the north side of the chancel gives room for six horses, and the south side for a row of saddle-blocks. it had been an oversight on the part of the original architect of the church that no place was prepared for the daily hay; a fault which the military restorers have remedied by improvising a lady-chapel, where the hay for the day is placed in the morning. with spelman in my mind, i asked if the stables were not unhealthy; but the soldiers said they were the healthiest in the town.[ ] the glacière of vaise had proved, as has been seen, to be a mare's-nest; and yet, after all, it produced a foal; for while i was endeavouring to overcome the evening heat of besançon in a _spécialité_ for ice, i found that the owner of the establishment was also the owner of the two glacières of vaise; and in the course of the conversation which followed, he told me of the existence of a natural glacière near the village of arc-sous-cicon, twenty kilomètres from pontarlier, which he had himself seen. as i had arranged to meet my sisters at neufchâtel, in two days' time, for the purpose of visiting a glacière in the val de travers, this piece of information came very opportunely, and i determined to attempt both glacières with them. some of the trains from besançon stop for an hour at dôle in passing towards switzerland by way of pontarlier, and anyone who is interested in the burgundian and spanish wars of france should take this opportunity of seeing what may be seen of the town of dôle and its massive church-tower. the sieges of dôle made it very famous in the later middle ages, more especially the long siege under charles d'amboise, at the crisis of which that general recommended his soldiers to leave a few of the people for seed,[ ] and the old sobriquet _la joyeuse_ was punningly changed to _la dolente_. it has had other claims upon fame; for if besançon possessed one of the two most authentic holy shrouds, dôle was the resting-place of one of the undoubted miraculous hosts, which had withstood the flames in the abbey of faverney. it was for the reception of this host that the advocates of the brotherhood of monseigneur saint yves built the sainte chapelle at dôle.[ ] footnotes: [footnote : one of the rights of the sovereigns of burgundy was known by this name. the sovereign had the power of sending one soldier incapacitated by war to each abbey in the county, and the authorities of the abbey were bound to make him a prebendary for life. in , after the siege of ostend, the archduke albert exercised this right in favour of his wounded soldiers, forcing lay-prebendaries upon almost all the abbeys of the county of burgundy. the archduchess isabella attempted to quarter such a prebendary upon the abbey of migette, a house of nuns, but the inmates successfully refused to receive the warrior among them (dunod, _hist. de l'Église de besançon_, i. ). for the similar right in the kingdom of france, see pasquier, _recherches de la france_, l. xii. p. . louis xiv. did not exercise this right after his conquest of the franche comté, perhaps because the hôtel des invalides, to which the church was so large a contributor, met all his wants.] [footnote : '_quand on veut du poisson, il se faut mouiller_;' referring probably to the method of taking trout practised in the ormont valley, the habitat of the purest form of the patois. a man wades in the grand' eau, with a torch in one hand to draw the fish to the top, and a sword in the other to kill them when they arrive there; a second man wading behind with a bag, to pick up the pieces.] [footnote : 'swift-foot almond, and land-louping braan.'] [footnote : the sentry-box is omitted in the accompanying illustration.] [footnote : believed to be derived from _collis dianæ_. dunod found that _chaudonne_ was an early form of the name, and so preferred _collis dominarum_, with reference to the house of nuns placed there.] [footnote : schmidt was not without the support of example in the indulgence of his warlike tastes. thirty-eight years before, the religious took so active a part in the defence of dôle against louis xiii., that the capuchin father d'iche had the direction of the artillery; and when an officer of the enemy had seized the brother claude by the cowl, the father barnabas made the officer loose his hold by slaying him with a demi-pique. when arbois was besieged by henry iv., the sieur chanoine pécauld is specially mentioned as proving himself a _bon harquebouzier._] [footnote : there is a painting by vander meulen, representing this siege, in the fitzwilliam museum in cambridge.] [footnote : the church of s. philibert, in dijon, now a forage magazine, has an inscription let into the wall almost ludicrously out of keeping with the present desecrated state of the building,--_dilexi domine decorem domus tuæ_, .] [footnote : 'qu'on les laisse pour grain!'] [footnote : in the year , it was suspected that some decay was going on in the material of this host, and the following translation from the latin describes the investigation entered into by the dean and a large body of clergy and laity, in order to quiet the public mind:--'après que tous les susnommés (viz. the dean, canons, president of the parliament, &c.) étant présents eurent adorés le s. sacrement, la custode fut ouverte avec tout le respect possible; et alors le dit doyen aperçut un vermisseau roulé en spirale, qu'il saisit avec la pointe d'une épingle et plaça sur un corporal où chacun l'examina; puis on le brûla avec un charbon pris dans l'encensoir, et ses cendres furent jetées dans la piscine. on put alors constater tout le dommage que ce misérable petit animal avait causé aux espèces sacrées dont les débris ici tombaient en poussière, là se trouvaient rongés et lacérés, de telle sorte que l'hostie n'avait presque plus rien de sa forme circulaire, et présentait de profondes découpures partout où le vermisseau s'était livré à ses sinueus es évolutions.'] * * * * * chapter vii. the glaciÈre of monthÉzy, in the val de travers. i rejoined my sisters at neufchâtel on the th of july, and proceeded thence with them by the line which passes through the val de travers. one of them had been at fleurier, in , on the day of the opening of this line, and she added an interest to the various tunnels, by telling us that a swiss gentleman of her acquaintance, who had taken a place in one of the open carriages of the first train, found, on reaching the daylight after one of the tunnels, that his neighbour had been killed by a small stone which had fallen on to his head. where the stone came from, no one could say, nor yet when it fell, for the unfortunate man had made no sign or movement of any kind. every one must be delighted with the wonders of the line of rail, and the beauties through which the engineer has cut his way. in valleys on a less magnificent scale, cuttings and embankments on the face of the hill are sad eyesores, as in railway-ruined killiecrankie; but here nature's works are so very grand, that the works of man are not offensively prominent, being overawed by the very facts over which they have triumphed. when we reached the more even part of the valley, where the reuse no longer roars and rushes far below, but winds quietly through the soft grass on a level with the rail, the whole grouping was so exceedingly charming, and the river itself so suggestive of lusty trout, and the village of noiraigue[ ] looked so tempting as it nestled in a sheltered nook among the headlong precipices, that i registered in a safe mental pigeon-hole a week at the auberge there with a fishing-rod, and excursions to the commanding summit in which the _creux de vent_ is found. the engine-driver knew that he was in a region of beauties, and, when he whistled to warn his passengers that the train was about to move on, he remained stationary until the long-resounding echoes died out, floating lingeringly up the valley to neighbouring france. we had no definite idea as to the _locale_ of the glacière we were now bent upon attacking. m. thury's list gave the following information:--'_glacière de motiers, canton de neufchâtel, entre les vallées de travers et de la brévine, près du sentier de la brévine_;' and this i had rendered somewhat more precise by a cross-examination of the guard of the train on my way to besançon. he had not heard of the glacière, but from what i told him he was inclined to think that couvet would be the best station for our purpose, especially as the 'ecu' at that place was, in his eyes, a commendable hostelry. some one in geneva, also, had believed that couvet was as likely as anything else in the valley; so at couvet we descended.[ ] this is a very clean and cheerful village, devoted to the lucrative manufacture of _absinthe_, and producing inhabitants who look like gentlemen and ladies, and promenade the ways in bonnets and hats, after a most un-swiss-like fashion. they carefully restrict themselves to the making of the poisonous product of their village, and have nothing to do with the consumption thereof:[ ] hence nature has a fair chance with them, and they are a healthy and energetic race. the beauties of the surrounding mountains, with their fitful alternations of pasture and wood, and grey face of rock, are not marred by the outward appearance, at least, of that which bishop heber lamented in a country where 'every prospect pleases.' an old lady is commemorated in the annals of couvet as an example of the healthiness of the situation, who saw seven generations of her family, having known her great-grandfather in her early years, and living to nurse great-grandchildren in her old age. the landlord of the inn informed us, with much pride, that couvet was the birthplace of the man who invented a clock for telling the time at sea; by which, no doubt, he meant the chronometer, invented by m. berthoud. at motiers, the next village, rousseau wrote his _lettres de la montagne_, and thence it was that he fled from popular violence to the island on the lake of bienne. the 'ecu' promised us dinner in half an hour, and we strolled about in the garden of that unsophisticated hotel for an hour and a half, reconciled to the delay by the beauty of the neighbouring hills, the winding of the valley giving all the effect of a mountain-locked plain, with barriers decked with firs. it will readily be conceived, however, that three practical english people could not be satisfied to feed on beauty alone for any very great length of time, and we caught the landlady and became peremptory. she explained that dinner was quite ready, but she had intended to give us the pleasure of an agreeable society, consisting of sundry swiss who were due in another half-hour or so: she yielded, nevertheless, to our representations, and promised to serve the meal at once. we were speedily summoned to the _salle-à-manger,_ and entered a low smoke-stained wooden chamber, with no floor to speak of, and with huge beams supporting the roof, dangerous for tall heads. the date on the door was , and the chamber fully looked its age. there was a long table of the prevailing hue, with a similar bench; and on the table three large basins, presumably containing soup, were ranged, each covered with its plate, and accompanied by a ricketty spoon of yellow metal and a hunch of black bread. a., who was hungry enough and experienced enough to have known better, began promptly a most pathetic 'why surely!' but the landlady stopped her by opening a side door, and displaying a comfortable room in which a well-appointed table awaited us:--she had taken us through the kitchen rather than through the _salon_, in which were peasants smoking. we were somewhat disconcerted when we heard that the unwashed-looking place was the kitchen; but the landlady had made up for it by scrubbing her husband, who waited upon us, to a high pitch of presentability, and further experience showed that the 'ecu' is to be highly commended for the excellence and abundance and cheapness of its foods. there are many natural curiosities in and near the val de travers, which well repay the labour that must be expended upon them. the _temple des fées_, on the western side of the valley of verrières, used to be called the most beautiful grotto in switzerland; and the great cavern of la baume, near motiers, is said to be exceedingly wonderful. we were shown the entrance to a line of caverns in the hills above couvet, and were informed that it was possible to pierce completely through the range, and pass out at the other side within sight of yverdun. one of the caverns in this valley had been explored by some of a. and m.'s swiss friends, and the account of what they had gone through was by no means inviting, seeing that the prevailing material was damp clay of a solid character, arranged in steep slopes, up which progression must be made by inserting the fingers and toes as far as might be into the clay; and, of course, when the handful of unpleasant mud came away, the result was the reverse of progression. to anyone who has only known the rope up the pure white side of some snow mountain, the idea of being roped for the purpose of grappling with underground banks of adhesive mud and clay must be horrible in the extreme. another interesting natural phenomenon is presented by the source of the reuse, that river gushing out from the rock in considerable volume, probably formed by the drainage of the lake of etallières, in the distant valley of la brévine; while the longe-aigue, on the contrary, is lost in a gulf of such horror that the people call the mill which stands on its edge the _moulin d'enfer_. as usual, we were assured that many of these remarkable sights were far better worth a visit than the glacière, of which no one seemed to know anything. a guide was at length secured for the next morning, who had made his way to the cave once in the winter-time and had been unable to enter it, and we settled down quietly to an evening of perfect rest. the windows of the bedrooms being guiltless of blinds and curtains, the effect of waking, in the early morning, to find them blocked up, as it were, by the green slopes of pasture and the dark bands of fir-woods which clothed the limiting hills, seemed almost magical, the foreground being occupied solely by the graceful curve of the dome of the church-tower, glittering with intercepted rays, and forming a bright omen for the day thus ushered in. in due time the promised guide appeared, a sickly boy of unprepossessing appearance, and of _patois_ to correspond. i was at first tempted to propose that we should attack him stereoscopically, a. administering french and i simultaneous german, in the hope that the combination might convey some meaning to him; but, after a time, we succeeded with french alone. perhaps latin would have made a more likely _mélange_ than german, and to give it him in three dimensions would not have been a bad plan. the route for the glacière runs straight up the face of the hill along which the railway has been constructed; and as we passed through woods of beech and fir, with fresh green glades rolling down below our feet, or emerged from the woods to cross large undulating expanses of meadow-land, we were almost inclined to believe that we had never done so lovely a walk. the scenery through which we passed was thoroughly that of the lower districts of the alps, with nothing jurane in its character, and the elevation finally achieved was not very great: indeed, at a short distance from the glacière, we passed a collection of very neat châlets, with gardens and garden-flowers, one of the châlets rejoicing in countless beehives, with three or four 'ekes' apiece. up to the time of reaching this little village, which seemed to be called sagnette, our path had been that which leads to _la brévine_, the highest valley in the canton; but now we turned off abruptly up the steeper face on the left hand, and in a very few minutes came upon a dry wilderness of rock and grass, which we at once recognised as 'glacière country;' and when i told our guide that we must be near the place, he replied by pointing to the trees round the mouth of the pit. shortly after we first left couvet, a gaunt elderly female, with a one-bullock char, had joined our party, and tried to bully us into giving up the cave and going instead to a neighbouring summit, whence she promised us a view of unrivalled extent and beauty. she told us that there was nothing to be seen in the glacière, and that it was a place where people lost their lives. the guide said that was nonsense; but she reduced him to silence by quoting a case in point. she said, too, that if a man slipped and fell, there was nothing to prevent him from going helplessly down a run of ice into a subterranean watercourse, which would carry him for two or three leagues underground; and on this head our boy had no counter-statement to make. she asserted that without ladders it was utterly impossible to make the descent to the commencement of the glacière; and she vowed there was no ladder now, nor had been for some time. here the boy came in, stating that the cave belonged to a mademoiselle of neufchâtel, who had a summer cottage at no great distance, and loved to be supplied with ice during her residence in the country, for which purpose she kept a sound ladder on the spot, and had it removed in the winter that it might not be destroyed. there was a circumstantial air about this statement which for the moment got the better of the old woman; but she speedily recovered herself, and repeated positively that there was no ladder of any description, adding, somewhat inconsequently, that it was such a bad one, no christian could use it with safety. the boy retorted, that it was all very well for her to run the glacière down, as she lived near it, but for the world from a distance it was a most wonderful sight; and, as for the ladder, he happened to know that it was at this time in excellent preservation. the event proved that in saying this he drew entirely upon his imagination. it is, perhaps, only fair to suppose that they don't mean anything by it, and it may be mere ignorance on their part; but the simple fact is, that some of those swiss rustics tell the most barefaced lies conceivable,--_unblushing_ is an epithet that cannot be safely applied without previous soap and water,--and tell them in a plodding systematic manner which takes in all but the experienced and wary traveller. i have myself learned to suspend my judgment regarding the most simple thing in nature, until i have other grounds for forming an opinion than the solemn asseverations of the most stolid and respectable swiss, if it so be that money depends upon his report.[ ] as in the case of two of the glacières already described, the entrance is by a deep pit, which has the appearance of having been at one time two pits, one less deep than the other; and the barrier between the two having been removed by some natural process, a passage is found down the steep side of the shallower pit, which lands the adventurer on a small sloping shelf, feet sheer above the surface of the snow in the deeper pit, the sides of the latter rising up perpendicularly all round. it is for this last feet that some sort of ladder is absolutely necessary. our guide flung himself down in the sun at the outer edge of the pit, and informed us that as it was cold and dangerous down below, he intended to go no farther: he had engaged, he said, to guide us to the glacière, and he felt in no way bound to go into it. he was not good for much, so i was not sorry to hear of his determination; and when my sisters saw the sort of place they had to try to scramble down, they appeared to be very glad that only i was to be with them. leaving them to make such arrangements with regard to dress as might seem necessary to them, i proceeded to pioneer the way down the first part of the descent. this was extremely unpleasant, for the rocks were steep and very moist, with treacherous little collections of disintegrated material on every small ledge where the foot might otherwise have found a hold. these had to be cleared away before it could be safe for them to descend, and in other places the broken rock had to be picked out to form foot-holes; while, lower down, where the final shelf was reached, the abrupt slope of mud which ended in the sheer fall required considerable reduction, being far too beguiling in its original form. here there was also a buttress of damp earth to be got round, and it was necessary to cut out deep holes for the hands and feet before even a man could venture upon the attempt with any comfort. the buttress was not, however, without its advantage, for on it, overhanging the snow of the lower pit, was a beautiful clump of cowslips (_primula elatior_, fr. _primevère inodore_), which was at once secured as a trophy. the length of the irregular descent to this point was between and feet. on rounding the buttress, the upper end of the ladder presented itself, and now the question, between the boy and the old woman was to be decided. i worked down to the edge of the shelf, and looked over into the pit, and, alas! the state of the remaining parts of the ladder was hopeless, owing partly to the decay of the sidepieces, and partly to the general absence of steps--a somewhat embarrassing feature under the circumstances. a further investigation showed that for the feet of ladder there were only seven steps, and these seven were not arranged as conveniently as they might have been, for two occurred at the very top, and the other five in a group at the bottom. a branchless fir-tree had at some time fallen into the pit, and now lay in partial contact with the ruined ladder; and there were on the trunk various little knobs, which might possibly be of some use as a supplement to the rare steps of the ladder. the snow at the bottom of the pit was surrounded on all sides by perpendicular rock, and on the side opposite to the ladder i saw an arch at the foot of the rock, apparently or feet high, leading from the snow into darkness; and that, of course, was the entrance to the glacière. i succeeded in getting down the ladder, by help of the supplement, and looked down into the dark hole to see that it was practicable, and then returned to report progress in the upper regions. we had brought no alpenstocks to couvet, so we sent the guide off into the woods, where we had heard the sound of an axe, to get three stout sticks from the woodmen; but he returned with such wretched, crooked little things, that a. went off herself to forage, and, having found an impromptu cattle-fence, came back with weapons resembling bulbous hedge-stakes, which she skinned and generally modified with a powerful clasp-knife, her constant companion. she then cut up the crooked sticks into _bâtons_ for a contemplated repair of the ladder, while m. and i investigated the country near the pit. we found two other pits, which afterwards proved to communicate with the glacière. we could approach sufficiently near to one of these to see down to the bottom, where there was a considerable collection of snow: this pit was completely sheltered from the sun by trees, and was feet deep and or feet in diameter. the other was of larger size, but its edge was so treacherous that we did not venture so near as to see what it contained: its depth was about feet, and the stone and a foot or two of the string came up wet. the sides of the main pit, by which we were to enter the glacière, were, as has been said, very sheer, and on one side we could approach sufficiently near the edge to drop a plummet down to the snow: the height of this face of rock was feet, measuring down to the snow, and the level of the ice was eventually found to be about feet lower. although it was now not very far from noon, the sun had not yet reached the snow, owing partly to the depth of the pit as compared with its diameter, and partly to the trees which grew on several sides close to the edge. one or two trees of considerable size grew out of the face of rock. we were now cool enough to attempt the glacière, and i commenced the descent with a. the precautions already taken made the way tolerably possible down to the buttress of earth and the shelving ledge, and so far the warm sun had accompanied us; but beyond the ledge there was nothing but the broken ladder, and deep shade, and a cold damp atmosphere, which made the idea, and still more the feel, of snow very much the reverse of pleasant. a. was not a coward on such occasions, and she had sufficient confidence in her guide; but it is rather trying for a lady to make the first step off a slippery slope of mud, on to an apology for a ladder which only stands up a few inches above the lower edge of the slope, and so affords no support for the hand: nor, after all, can bravery and trust quite make up for the want of steps. we were a very long time in accomplishing the descent, for her feet were always out of her sight, owing to the shape which female dress assumes when its wearer goes down a ladder with her face to the front, especially when the ladder has suffered from ubiquitous compound fracture, and the ragged edges catch the unaccustomed petticoats. it was quite as well the feet were out of sight, for some of the supports to which they were guided were not such as would have commended themselves to her, had she been able to see them. at length, owing in great measure to the opportune assistance of two of the batons we had brought down with us for repairs, thanks also to the trunk of the fir-tree, we reached the snow; and poor a. was planted there, breaking through the top crust as a commencement of her acquaintance with it, till such time as i could bring m. down to join her. the experience acquired in the course of a.'s descent led us to call to m. that she must get rid of that portion of her attire which gives a shape to modern dress; for the obstinacy and power of _mal-à-propos_ obstructiveness of this garment had wonderfully complicated our difficulties. she objected that the guide was there; but we assured her that he was asleep, or if he wasn't it made no matter; so when i reached the top, she emerged shapeless from a temporary hiding-place, clutching her long hedge-stake, and feeling, she said--and certainly looking--a good deal like a gorilla. the most baffling part of the trouble having been thus got over, we soon joined a., blue already, and shivering on the snow. the sun now reached very nearly to the bottom of the pit, and i went up once more for thermometers and other things, leaving a measure with my sisters, and begging them to amuse themselves by taking the dimensions of the snow: on my return, however, to the top of the ladder, i found them combining over a little bottle, and they informed me plaintively that they had been taking medicinal brandy and snow instead of measurements,--a very necessary precaution, for anyone to whom brandy is not a greater nuisance than utter cold. we found the dimensions of the bottom of the pit, i.e. of the field of snow on which we stood, to be - / feet by ; but we were unable to form any idea of the depth of the snow, beyond the fact that 'up to the ancle' was its prevailing condition. the boy told us, when we rejoined him, that when he and others had attempted to get ice for the landlord, when it was ordered for him in a serious illness the winter before, they had found the pit filled to the top with snow. [illustration: vertical section of the glaciÈre of monthÉzy, in the val de travers.] as we stood at the mouth of the low entrance, making final preparations for a plunge into the darkness, i perceived a strong cold current blowing out from the cave--sufficiently strong and cold to render knickerbocker stockings a very unavailing protection. while engaged in the discovery that this style of dress is not without its drawbacks, i found, to my surprise, that the direction of the current suddenly changed, and the cold blast which had before blown out of the cave, now blew almost as strongly in. the arch of entrance was so low, that the top was about on a level with my waist; so that our faces and the upper parts of our bodies were not exposed to the current, and the strangeness of the effect was thus considerably increased. as a matter of curiosity, we lighted a _bougie_, and placed it on the edge of the snow, at the top of the slope of or feet which led down the surface of the ice, and then stood to watch the effect of the current on the flame. the experiment proved that the currents alternated, and, as i fancied, regularly; and in order to determine, if possible, the law of this alternation, i observed with my watch the exact duration of each current. for twenty-two seconds the flame of the _bougie_ was blown away from the entrance, so strongly as to assume a horizontal position, and almost to leave the wick: then the current ceased, and the flame rose with a stately air to a vertical position, moving down again steadily till it became once more horizontal, but now pointing in towards the cave. this change occupied in all four seconds; and the current inwards lasted--like the outward current--twenty-two seconds, and then the whole phenomenon was repeated. the currents kept such good time, that when i stood beyond their reach, and turned my back, i was enabled to announce each change with perfect precision. on one occasion, the flame performed its semicircle in a horizontal instead of a vertical plane, moving round the wick in the shape of a pea-flower. the day was very still, so that no external winds could have anything to do with this singular alternation; and, indeed, the pit was so completely sheltered by its shape, that a storm might have raged outside without producing any perceptible effect below. it would be difficult to explain the regularity of these opposite currents, but it is not so difficult to see that some such oscillation might be expected. it will be better, however, to defer any suggestions on this point till the glacière has been more fully described. [illustration: ground plan of the glaciÈre of monthÉzy. note: the candle stood at this point.] we passed down at length through the low archway, and stood on the floor of ice. as our eyes became accustomed to the darkness, we saw that an indistinct light streamed into the cave from some low point at a considerable distance, apparently on a level with the floor; and this we afterwards found to be the bottom of the larger of the two pits we had already fathomed, the pit a of the diagram; and we eventually discovered a similar but much smaller communication with the bottom of the pit b. in each of these pits there was a considerable pyramid of snow, whose base was on a level with the floor of the glacière: the connecting archway in the case of the pit a was or feet high, allowing us to pass into the pit and round the pyramid with perfect ease, while that leading to the pit b was less than a foot high, so that no passage could be forced. as we stood on the ice at the entrance and peered into the comparative darkness, we saw by degrees that the glacière consisted of a continuous sea of smooth ice, sloping down very gently towards the right hand. the rock which forms the roof of the cave seemed to be almost as even as the floor, and was from to feet high in the neighbourhood in which we now found ourselves, gradually approaching the floor towards the bottom of the pit b, where it became about a foot high, and rising slightly in that part of the cave where the floor fell, so as to give or feet as the height there. the ice had all the appearance of great depth; but there were no means of forming a trustworthy opinion on this point, beyond the fact that i succeeded in lowering a stone to a considerable depth, in the small crevice which existed between the wall and the block of ice which formed the floor. the greatest length of the cave we found to be ft. in., and its breadth ft., the general shape of the field of ice, which filled it to its utmost edges, being elliptical. the surface was unpleasantly wet, chiefly in the line of the currents, which were now seen to pass backwards and forwards between the pits a and c. in the neighbourhood of the pit b the water stood in a very thin sheet on the ice, which there was level, and rendered the style of locomotion necessitated by the near approach of the roof extremely disagreeable, as i was obliged to lie on my face, and push myself along the wet and slippery ice, to explore that corner of the cave, being at length stopped by want of sufficient height for even that method of progression. the circle marked d represents a column from the roof, at the foot of which we found a small grotto in the ice, which i entered to a depth of feet, the surface of the field of ice showing a very gracefully rounded fall at the edges of the grotto. at the point e there was a beautiful collection of fretted columns, white and hard as porcelain, arranged in a semicircle, with the diameter facing the cave, measuring ft. in. along this face. on the farther side of these columns there were signs of a considerable fall in the ice; and by making use of the roots of small stalagmitic columns of that material, which grew on the slope of ice, i got down into a little wilderness of spires and flutings, and found a small cave penetrating a short way under the solid ice-floor. g marks the place of a free stalagmite of ice, formed under a fissure in the roof; and each f represents a column from the roof, or from a lateral fissure in the wall. the most striking features of this cave were the three domes, marked h in the ground-plan, in which they ought strictly not to appear, as being confined to the roof: one of them is shown also in the vertical section of the cave. they occur where the roof is from to feet above the floor. it will be understood, that the bent attitude in which we were obliged to investigate these parts of the cave was exceedingly fatiguing, and we hailed with delight a sudden circular opening in the roof which enabled us to stand upright. this delight was immensely increased when our candles showed us that the walls of this vertical opening were profusely decorated with the most lovely forms of ice. the first that we came under passed up out of sight; and in this, two solid cascades of ice hung down, high overhead, apparently broken off short, or at any rate ending very abruptly: the others did not pass so far into the roof, and formed domes of very regular shape. in all three, the details of the ice-decoration were most lovely, and the effect produced by the whole situation was very curious; for we stood with our legs exposed to the alternating cold currents, the remaining part of our bodies being imbedded as it were in the roof; while the candles in our hands brought out the crystal ornaments of the sides, flashing fitfully all round us and overhead, when one or other of us moved a light, as if we had been surrounded by diamonds of every possible size and setting. one of the domes was so small, that we were obliged to stand up by turn to examine its beauties; but in the others we all stood together. on every side were branching clusters of ice in the form of club-mosses, with here and there varicose veins of clear ice, and pinnacles of the prismatic structure, with limpid crockets and finials. the pipes of ice which formed a network on the walls were in some cases so exquisitely clear, that we could not be sure of their existence without touching them; and in other cases a sheet or inches thick was found to be no obstruction to our view of the rock on which it was formed. in one of the domes we had only one candle, and the bearer of this after a time contrived to let it fall, leaving us standing with our heads in perfect darkness; while the indistinct light which strayed about our feet showed faintly a circle of icicles, hanging from the lower part of the dome, the fringe, as it were, of our rocky petticoats. in one of the lower parts of the cave, where darkness prevailed, and locomotion was only possible on the lowest reptile principles, m. announced that she could see clear through the ice-floor, as if there were nothing between her and the rock below. i ventured to doubt this, for there was an air of immense thickness about the whole ice; and as soon as a. and i had succeeded in grovelling across the intervening space, and converged upon her, we found that the appearance she had observed was due to a most perfect reflection of the roof, as shown by the candles we carried, which may give some idea of the character of the ice. we did not care to study this effect for any very prolonged time, inasmuch as we were obliged meanwhile to stow away the length of our legs on a part of the ice which was thinly covered with water,--one result of its proximity to the arch communicating with the smallest pit. it has been said that the whole ice-floor sloped slightly towards one side of the cave, the slope becoming rather more steep near the edge.[ ] clearly, ever so slight a slope would be sufficiently embarrassing, when the surface was so perfectly smooth and slippery; and this added much to the difficulty of walking in a bent attitude. on coming out of one of the domes, i tried progression on all-fours--threes, rather, for the candle occupied one hand,--and i cannot recommend that method, owing to the impossibility of putting on the break. the pace ultimately acquired is greater than is pleasant, and the roof is too near the floor to allow of any successful attempt to bring things to an end by the reassumption of a biped character. we placed a thermometer in the line of greatest current, and another in a still part of the cave. the memorandum is lost of their register--if, indeed, we ever made one, for we were more concerned with the beauties than the temperature was surprisingly high in the line of current, as compared with the ordinary temperature of ice-caves. when we came to compare backs, after leaving the cave, we mutually found that they were in a very disreputable condition. the damp and ragged roof with which they had been so frequently in contact had produced a marked effect upon them, and i eventually paid a tailor in geneva three francs for restoring my coat to decency. m. took great credit to herself for having been more careful of her back than the others, and declined to be laughed at for forgetting that she was only about half as high as they, to begin with. a. still remembers the green-grey stains, as the most obstinate she ever had to deal with, especially as her three-days' knapsack contained no change for that outer part of her dress. the 'ecu' gave us a charming dinner on our return; then a moderate bill, and an affectionate farewell; and we succeeded in catching the early evening train for pontarlier.[ ] footnotes: [footnote : _aigue_, or _egue_, in the patois of this district, is equivalent to _eau_, the latin _aqua_.] [footnote : ebel, in his _swiss manual_ (french translation of , t. iii.), mentions this glacière under the head _motiers_, and observes that it and the grotto of s. georges are the only places in the jura where ice remains through the summer. this statement, in common with a great part of ebel, has been transferred to the letterpress of _switzerland illustrated_.] [footnote : switzerland sent , , gallons of absinthe to france in .] [footnote : _point d'argent, point de suisse_, is a proverbial expression which the swiss twist into a historical compliment, asserting that it arose in early mercenary times, from the fact that they were too virtuous to accept the suggestion of the general who hired them, and wished them to take their pay in kind from the defenceless people of the country they had served.] [footnote : it is probable that the ice is on the increase in this glacière, and that an archway, now filled up by the growing ice, has at one time existed in the wall on this side of the care, through which the ice and water used to pour into the subterranean depths of which the old woman had told us. at the time of our visit, we could find no outlet.] [footnote : the following remarks may give some explanation of the phenomenon of alternating currents in this cave, i should suppose that during the night there is atmospheric equilibrium in the cave itself, and in the three pits a, b, c. when the heat of the sun comes into operation, the three pits are very differently affected by it, c being comparatively open to the sun's rays, while a is much less so, and b is entirely sheltered from radiation. this leads naturally to atmospheric disturbance. the air in the pit c is made warmer and less heavy than that in a and b, and the consequence is, that the column of air in c can no longer balance the columns in a and b, which therefore begin to descend, and so a current of air is driven from the cave into the pit c. owing to the elasticity of the atmosphere, even at a low temperature, this descent, and the consequent rush of air into c, will be overdone, and a recoil must take place, which accounts for the return current into the cave from the pit c. the sun can reach a more easily than b, and thus the air is lighter and more moveable in the former pit, so that the recoil will make itself more felt in a than in b: accordingly, we found that the main currents alternated between a and c, with very slight disturbance in the neighbourhood of b. b will, however, play its part, and the weighty column of air contained in it will oscillate, though with smaller oscillations than in the case of a. probably, when the sun has left a, while acting still upon c, the return current from c will be much slighter, and there will be a general settling of the atmosphere in the pits a and b, until c also is freed from the sun's action, when the whole system will gradually pass into a state of equilibrium. with respect to the action of the more protected pits, the principle of the hydraulic ram not unnaturally suggests itself. in considering the minor details of the currents, such elements as the refrigeration of the air in its passage across the face of the ice must be taken into account. it may be observed that the candle did not occupy an _intermediate_ position with respect to two opposing currents, for it was practically on the floor of the cave, owing to the continuity of the slope of snow on which it stood, as shown in the vertical section on p. .] * * * * * chapter viii. the glaciÈre and neigiÈre of arc-sous-cicon. the beauties of the val de travers end only with the valley itself, at the head of which a long tunnel ushers the traveller into a tamer country,--a preparation, as it were, for france. after the border is passed, the scenery begins to improve again, and the effect of the two castles of joux, the new and the old, crowning the heights on either side of the narrow gorge through which the railway runs, is very fine. the guide-books inform us that the château of joux was the place of imprisonment of the unfortunate toussaint l'ouverture, and that there he died of neglect and cold; and it was in the same strong fortress that mirabeau was confined by his father's desire. the old castle, however, is more interesting from its connection with the history of charles the bold, who retired to la rivière after the battle of morat, and spent here those sad solitary weeks of which philip de comines tells with so many moral reflections; weeks of bodily and mental distress, which left him a mere wreck, and led to his wild want of generalship and his miserable death at nancy. he had melted down the church-bells in this part of burgundy and vaud, to make cannon for the final effort which failed so fatally at morat; and the old chroniclers relate--without any allusion to the sacrilege--that the artillery was wretchedly served on that cruel[ ] day. it is some comfort to englishmen to know that their ancestors under the duke of somerset displayed a marvellous courage on the occasion. we reached pontarlier in time for a stroll through the quiet town; but we searched in vain for the tempting convents and gates, which were marked on my copy of an old plan of the place, dedicated to the prince d'arenberg, in the well-known times when he governed the franche comté. the convents had become for the most part breweries, and the gates had been improved away. our enquiries respecting the place of our destination were fortunately more successful. the idea of a glacière was new to the world of pontarlier; but the landlord of the hôtel national had heard of arc-sous-cicon, and had no doubt that we could find a carriage of some sort to take us there. his own horses were all engaged in haymaking, but his neighbours' horses might be less busy, and accordingly he took us first to call upon m. paget, a friend who added to his income by keeping a horse and voiture for hire. the pagets in general had gone to bed, and the door was fastened; but our guide seemed to know the ways of the house, and we found madame in the stables, and arranged with her for a carriage at seven o'clock the next morning. at the time appointed, m. paget did not come, and i was obliged to go and look him up. he proved to me that it was all right, somehow, and evidently understood that his convenience, not ours, was the thing to be consulted. the hotel is in a narrow street, and, apparently on that account, a stray passer-by was caught, and pressed into m. paget's service to help to turn the carriage,--a feat accomplished by a bodily lifting of the hinder part, with its wheels. after-experience showed that the narrowness of the street had nothing to with it, and we discovered that the necessity for the manoeuvre was due to a chronic affection of some portion of the voiture; so that whenever in the course of the day it became necessary for us to turn round, m. paget was constrained to call in foreign help. the country through which we passed was uninteresting in the extreme, although we had been told by the landlord that our drive would introduce us to a succession of natural beauties such as few countries in the world could show. the line of hills, at the foot of which we expected our route to lie, looked exceedingly tempting as seen from pontarlier; but, to our disappointment, we left the hills and struck across the plain. about ten or eleven kilomètres from pontarlier, however, the character of the country changed suddenly, and we found the landlord's promise in some part fulfilled. rich meadow-slopes were broken by solitary trees arranged in nature's happiest style, and grey precipices of jurane grimness and perpendicularity encroached upon the woods and grass. we were coming near the source of the loue, m. paget said, which it would be necessary for us to visit. he told us that we must leave the carriage at an _auberge_ on the roadside, and walk to the neighbouring village of ouhans, which was inaccessible for voitures, and thence we should easily find our way to the source. the distance, he declared, was twenty minutes. the woman at the _auberge_ strongly recommended the source, but did her best to dissuade us from the glacières, of which she said there were two. she had visited them herself, and told her husband, who had guided her, that there was nothing to see. that, we thought, proved nothing against the glacières, and her dulness of appreciation we were willing to accept without further proof than her personal appearance. besides, to go to the source, and not to arc, would mean dining with her; so that she was not an impartial adviser. m. paget was a short square man, of very few words, and his one object in life seemed to be to save his black horse as much as possible; a very creditable object in itself, so long as he did not go too far in his endeavours to accomplish it. on the present occasion he certainly did go too far. the road was quite as good as that which we had left, and there was no reason in the world why the carriage should not have taken us to the village. worse still, we discovered eventually that the 'twenty minutes' meant twenty minutes from the village to the source, and represented really something like half the time necessary for that part of the march, while there was a hot and dusty walk of half an hour before we reached the village. as he accompanied us in person, we had the satisfaction of frequently telling him our mind with insular frankness. he pretended to be much distressed, but assured us each time we returned to the charge--about every quarter of an hour--that we were close to the desired spot. from the village to the source, the way led us through such pleasant scenery and such acceptable strawberries, that we only kept up our periodical remonstrances on principle, and, after we had wound rapidly down through a grand defile, and turned a sudden angle of the rock, the first sight of that which we had come to see amply repaid us all the trouble we had gone through. the source of the orbe is sufficiently striking, but the loue is by far more grand at the moment of its birth. the former is a bright fairy-like stream, gushing out of a small cavern at the foot of a lofty precipice clothed with clinging trees; but the loue flows out from the bottom of an amphitheatrical rock much more lofty and unbroken. the stream itself is broader and deeper, and glides with an infinitely more majestic calmness from a vast archway in the rock, into the recesses of which the eye can penetrate to the point where the roof closes in upon the water, and so cuts off all further view. the calmness of the flow may be in part attributed to a weir, which has been built across the stream at the mouth of the cave, for the purpose of driving a portion of the water into a channel which conveys it to various mill-wheels; for, at a very short distance below the weir, the natural stream makes a fall of feet, so that, if left to itself, it might probably rush out more impetuously from its mysterious cavern. the weir is a single timber, below the surface, fixed obliquely across the stream on a shelving bank of masonry, and the farther end meets the wall of rock inside the cave. near it we saw some glorious hart's-tongue ferns, which excited our desires, and i took off boots and stockings, and endeavoured to make my way along the weir; but the face of the masonry was so very slippery, and the nails in the timber so unpleasant for bare feet, and the stream was so unexpectedly strong, that i called to mind the proverbial definition of the better part of valour, and came back without having achieved the ferns. the biting coldness of the water, and the boiling of the fall close below the weir, did not add to my confidence in making the attempt, but i should think that in a more favourable state of the water the cave might be very well explored by two men going alone. the day penetrated so completely into the farthest corners, that when i got half-way along the weir, i could detect the oily look on the surface where it first saw the light, which showed where the water was quietly streaming up from its unknown sources. the people in the neighbourhood were unable to suggest any lake or lakes of which this river might be the subterranean drainage. it is liable to sudden and violent overflows, which seldom last more than twenty-four hours; and from the destruction of property caused by these outbursts, the name of _la loue_, sc. _la louve_, has been given to it. the rocky valley through which the river runs, after leaving its underground channel, is exceedingly fine, and we wandered along the precipices on one side, enjoying the varying scenes so much that we could scarcely bring ourselves to turn; each bend of the fretting river showing a narrow gorge in the rock, with a black rapid, and a foaming fall. it is said that although the mills on the doubs are sometimes stopped from want of water, those which derive their motive power from this strange and impressive cavern have never known the supply to fail. before we started for our ramble among the woods and precipices which overhang the farther course of the loue, we had sent off m. paget to the _auberge_, with strict orders that he should at once get out the black horse, and bring the carriage to meet us at ouhans, as one of us was not in so good order for walking as usual, and the day was fast slipping away. of course we saw nothing of him when we reached ouhans; and as it was not prudent to wait for his arrival there, which might never take place, we walked through the broiling sun in the direction of the _auberge_, and at last saw him coming, pretending to whip his horse as if he were in earnest about the pace. we somewhat sullenly assisted him to turn the old carriage round, and then bade him drive as hard as he could to arc-sous-cicon, still a long way off. this he said he would do if he knew which was the way; but since he was last there, as a much younger man, there had been a general change in the matter of roads, and how the new ones lay he did not know. this was not cheerful intelligence, especially as we had set our hearts upon getting back to pontarlier in time for the evening train, which would give us a night at the charming _bellevue_ at neufchâtel, instead of the poisonous coffee and the trying odours of the _national_: the old man's instinct, however, led him right, and we reached arc at half-past twelve. one obstacle to our journey on the new road promised at first to be insurmountable, being an immense _sapin_, the largest i have seen felled, which lay on a combination of wood-chairs straight across the road. it had been brought down a narrow side-road through a wheat-field, and one end occupied this road, while the other was jammed against the wall on the opposite side of the main road; and half-a-dozen men, with as many draught oxen, were mainly endeavouring to turn it in the right direction. m. paget knew how much was required to turn his own carriage, and he calculated that the road would not be free for two or three hours, which involved a rest for his black horse, a pipe for himself, and, possibly, a short sleep. the oxen were lazy, and their hides impervious; the whips were cracked in vain, and in vain were brought more directly to bear upon the senses of the recusants; the men howled, and rattled the chains, and re-arranged the clumsy head-gear, but all to no purpose. the man who did most of the howling was a black burgundian dwarf, in a long blouse and moustaches; and he did it in so frightful a patois, that the oxen were right in their refusal to understand. we represented to m. paget that it would be possible to make our way through the wheat; but he declared himself perfectly happy where he was, and declined to take any steps in the matter; whereupon i assumed the command of the expedition, and led the horse through the corn, thus turning the flank of the _sapin_ and its attendants. our driver submitted to this act of violence much as a member of the society of friends allows a chamberlain to remove his hat from behind when he is favoured with an audience of the sovereign; and when we regained the high road, he meekly took up the reins and drove us at a good pace to arc. the village lies in a curiously open plain, with a girdle of hills, in one of which the glacières were supposed to lie. the first _auberge_ refused us admittance, on the ground that the dinner was all pre-engaged, and the result was that we found a pleasanter place higher up the village, near a vast new _maison de ville_ with every window shattered by recent hail. the people groaned over the unnecessary expense of this huge building, which might well, from its size, have been a home for the whole village; and they told us that the communal forests had been terribly over-cut to provide the money for it. our first demand was for food; our next, for a guide to the glacières. food we could have; but why _should_ we wish to go to the glacières, when there was so much else worth seeing at a little distance?--a guide might without doubt be found, but there was nothing to be seen when we got there. we ordered prompt dinner, anything that happened to be ready, and desired the landlord to look out for a man to show us the way up the hills. when the dinner came, it was cold; and the main dish consisted apparently of something which had made stock for many generations of soup, and had then been kept in a half-warm state, ready to be heated for any passer-by who called for hot meat, till the cook had despaired of its ever being used, and had allowed it to become cold: at least, no other supposition seemed to account for its utter want of flavour, and the wonderful development of its fibres. as a matter of politeness, i asked the man what it was; when he took the dish from the table, smelled at it, and pronounced it veal. there were also several specimens of the original old turnip-radish, with large shrubs of heads, and mature feelers many inches long. as all this was not very inviting, we ordered an omelette and some cheese; and when the omelette came, we found that the cook had combined our ideas and understood our order to mean a cheese-omelette, which was not so bad after all. by this time, the landlord's visit to his drinking-room had procured a man willing to act as our guide. he was, unfortunately, more willing than able; for his sojourn in the drinking-room had told upon his powers of equilibrium. he asserted, as every one seemed in all cases to assert, that neither rope nor axe was in any way necessary. when i pressed the rope, he said that if monsieur was afraid he had better not go; so we told the landlord privately that the man was rather too drunk for a guide, and we must have another. the landlord thereupon offered himself, at the suggestion of his wife, who seemed to be the chief partner in the firm, and we were glad to accept his offer; while the incapacitated man whom we had rejected acquiesced in the new arrangement with a bow so little withering, and with such genuine politeness, that, in spite of his over-much wine, he won my heart. the landlord himself did not profess to know the glacières; but he knew the man who lived nearest to them, and proposed to lead us to his friend's châlet, whence we should doubtless be able to find a guide. we stole a few moments for an inspection of the church of arc, and found, to our surprise, some very pleasing paintings in good repair, and open sittings which looked unusually clean and neat. then we crossed the plain towards the north, and proceeded to grapple with a stiff path through the woods which climb the first hills. it turned out that there was no one available for our purpose in the châlet to which the landlord led us; but a small child was despatched in search of the master or the domestic, and returned before long with the latter individual, who received the mistress's instruction respecting the route, and received also an axe which i had begged in case of need. the accounts we had heard of the glacière or glacières--every one declined to call them caves--were so various, and the total denials of their existence so many, that we quietly made up our minds to disappointment, and agreed that what we had seen at the source of the loue was quite sufficient to repay us for the trouble we had taken; while the idea of a rapid raid into france had something attractive in it, which more than counterbalanced the old charms of soleure. besides, we found that we were now in a good district for flowers, and the abundant _gnaphalium sylvaticum_ brought back to our minds many a delightful scramble in glacier regions, where its lovely velvet kinsman the _pied-de-lion_ grows. on the broad top of the range of hills, covered with rich grass, we came upon large patches of a plant, with scented leaves and pungent seeds, which we had not known before, _meum athamanticum_, and, to please our guide, we went through the form of pretending that we rather liked its taste. my sisters were in ecstasies of triumph over a wild everlasting-pea, which grew here to a considerable height--_lathyrus sylvestris_, they said, fr. _gesse sauvage_, distinct from _g. hétéropyhlle,_ which is still larger, and is almost confined to a favourite place of sojourn with us, the little swiss valley of les plans. it is said that on the top of these hills springs of water rise to the surface, though there is no higher ground in the neighbourhood; a phenomenon which has been accounted for by the supposition of a difference of specific gravity between these springs and the waters which drive them up. the character of the ground on the plateau changed suddenly, and we passed at one step, apparently, from a meadow of flowers to a wilderness of fissured rock, lying white and skeleton-like in the afternoon sun. we only skirted this rock in the first instance, and made for a clump of trees some little way off, in which we found a deep pit, with a path of sufficient steepness leading to the bottom. here we came to a collection of snow, much sheltered by overhanging rocks and trees; and this, our guide told us, was the _neigière_, a word evidently formed on the same principle as _glacière_. the snow was half-covered with leaves, and was unpleasantly wet to our feet, so that we did not spend much time on it, or rather in it. a huge fragment of rock had at some time or other fallen from overhead, and now occupied a large part of the sloping bottom of the pit: by squeezing myself through a narrow crevice between this and the live rock, which looked as if it ought to lead to something, i found a veritable ice-cave, unhappily free from ornament, and of very small size, like a round soldier's tent in shape, with walls of rock and floor of ice. we afterwards found an easier entrance to the cave; but the floor was so wet, and the constant drops of water from the roof so little agreeable, that we got out again as soon as possible, especially as this was not the glacière we had come to see. when we reached the surface once more, the landlord and the domestic both assured us that the _neigière_ was the great sight, the glacière being nothing at all, but, such as it was, they would lead us to it. they took us to the fissured rock mentioned above; and when we looked down into the fissures, we saw that some of them were filled at the bottom with ice. they were not the ordinary fissures, like the crevasses of a glacier, but rather disconnected slits in the surface, opening into larger chambers in the heart of the rock, where the ice lay. in one part of this curious district the surface sank considerably, and showed nothing but a tumbled collection of large stones and rocks, piled in a most disorderly manner. by examining the neighbourhood of the larger of these rocks, we found a burrow, down which one of the men and i made our way, and thus, after some windings in the interior, reached a point from which we could descend to the ice. the impression conveyed to my mind by the whole appearance of the rock and ice was not unlike that of the domes in the glacière of monthézy; only that now the lower part of the dome was filled with ice, and we stood in the upper part. there were two or three of these domes, communicating one with another, and in all i found abundant signs of the prismatic structure, though no columns or wall-decoration remained. my sisters were accomplished in the art of burrowing, but they did not care to come down, and we soon rejoined them, spending a little time in letting down lighted _bougies_ into the various domes and fissures, in order to study the movements of the air, but our experiments did not lead to much. the landlord had evidently not believed in the existence of ice in summer, and his first thought was to take some home to his wife, to prove that we had reached the glacière and had found ice: such at least were the reasons he gave, but evidently his soul was imbued with a deep obedience to that better half, and the offering of a block of ice was suggested by a complication of feelings. when we reached the _auberge_ again, we found the rejected guide still there, and more unstable than before. the general impression on his mind seemed to be that he had been wronged, and had forgiven us. in our absence he had been meditating upon the glacière, and his imagination had brought him to a very exalted idea of its wonders. whereas, in the former part of the day, he had stoutly asserted that no cord could possibly be necessary, he now vehemently affirmed that if i had but taken him as guide, he would have let me down into holes mètres deep, where i should have seen such things as man had never seen before. had monsieur seen the source of the loue? yes, monsieur had. very fine, was it not? yes, very fine. which did monsieur then prefer--the glacière, or the source? the source, infinitely. _then_ it was clear monsieur had not seen the glacière:--he was sure before that monsieur had not, _now_ it was quite clear, for in all the world there was nothing like that glacière. the loue!--one might rather see the glacière once, than live by the source of the loue all the days of one's life. it was now five o'clock, and the train left pontarlier at half-past seven. we represented to m. paget that he really ought to do the twenty kilomètres in two hours and a quarter, which would leave us a quarter of an hour to arrange our knapsacks and pay the _national_. he promised to do his best, and certainly the black horse proved himself a most willing beast. there was one long hill which damped our spirits, and made us give up the idea of catching the train; and here our driver came to the rescue with what sounded at first like a promising story--the only one we extracted from him all through the day--_à propos_ of a memorial-stone on the road-side, where a man had lately been killed by two bears; but, when we came to examine into it, the romance vanished, for the man was a brewer's waggoner with a dray of beer, and the bears were tame bears, led in a string, which frightened the brewer's horses, and so the man was killed. contrary to our expectations and fears, we did catch the train, and arrived in a thankful frame of mind at comfortable quarters in neufchâtel. footnotes: [footnote : _cruel comme à morat_ was long a popular saying.] * * * * * chapter ix. the schafloch, or trou-aux-moutons, near the lake of thun. the next morning, my sisters went one way and i another; they to a valley in the south-west of vaud, where our head-quarters were to be established for some weeks, and i to soleure, where a swiss _savant_ had vaguely told us he believed there was a glacière to be seen. that town, however, denied the existence of any approach to such a thing, with a unanimity which in itself was suspicious, and with a want of imagination which i had not expected to find. one man i really thought might be persuaded to know of some cave where there was or might be ice, but after a quarter of an hour's discussion he finally became immovable on the negative side. a frenchman would certainly have been polite enough to accommodate facts to my desires. it was all the more annoying, because the weissenstein stood overhead so engagingly, and i should have been only too glad to spend the night in the hotel there, if anyone had given me the slightest encouragement. i specially pointed at the neighbourhood of this hotel to my doubtful friend, as being likely for caves; but he was not in the pay of the landlord, and so failed to take the hint. there is a curious hole in which ice is found near weissenstein in carniola,[ ] and it is not impossible that this may have originated the idea of a glacière near soleure. the schweizerhof at berne is a very comfortable resting-place; but, in spite of its various excellences, if a tired traveller is told that no. is to be his room, he will do well to seek a bed elsewhere. no. is a sort of closet to some other number, with a single window opening low on to the passage, and is adjudged to the unfortunate individual who arrives at that omnipresent crisis which raises the charge for bed-rooms, and silences all objections to their want of comfort--namely, when there is only one bed left in the house. in itself, no. would be well enough; but the throne of the chambermaid is in the passage, by the side of the window, and the male attendant on that particular stage naturally gravitates to the same point, when the bells of the stage do not summon him elsewhere, and often enough when they do. this combination leads of course to local disturbances of a somewhat noisy character, and however entirely a sleepy man may in principle sympathise with the causes of the noise, it becomes rather hard to bear after midnight. the precise actors on the present occasion have, no doubt, quarrelled or set up a _café_ before now, or perhaps have achieved both results by taking the latter first; but there is reason to believe that so long as the window of no. is the seat of the chambermaid for the time being, so long will that room be--as the landlord neatly expressed it when a protest was made--_etwas unruhig_. all switzerland has been playing at soldiers for some time, and as we left berne the next morning, we saw three or four hundred federal men of war marching down the road which runs parallel with the rails. the three officers at the head of the column were elderly and stout; moreover, they were mounted, and that fact was evidently due rather to the meekness of their chargers than to the grip of their own legs. when they saw the train coming, they took prompt measures. they halted the troops, and rode off down a side lane to be out of harm's way; and when we had well passed, they rejoined the column, and the march was resumed. the early train from berne catches the first boat on the lake of thun, and i landed at the second station on the lake, the village of gonten or gunten. m. thury's list states that the glacière known as the schafloch is on the rothhorn, in the canton of berne, , mètres of horizontal distance from merligen, a village on the shore of the lake; and from these data i was to find the cave. gonten was apparently the nearest station to merligen, and as soon as the small boat which meets the steamer had deposited me on the shore, i asked my way, first to the _auberge_, and then to merligen. the _auberge_ was soon found, and coffee and bread were at once ordered for breakfast; but when the people learned my eventual destination, they would not let me go to merligen. a man, to whom--for no particular reason--i had given two-pence, called a council of the village upon me, and they proceeded to determine whether i must have a guide from gonten, or only from a nameless châlet higher up. the discussion was noisy, and was conducted without words: they do not speak, those men of gonten--they merely grunt, and each interprets the grunts as he wills. my two-penny friend told me what it all meant, in an obliging manner, but in words less intelligible than the grunts; and one member of the council drew out so elaborate a route--the very characters being wild patois--splitting the morning into quarter-stundes and half-quarter-stundes, with a sharp turn to the right or left at the end of each, that, as i drank my coffee, i determined to take a guide from the village, whatever the decision of the council might be. fortunately, things took a right turn, and when breakfast was finished, a deputation went out and found a guide, suspiciously like one of their number who did not return, and i was informed that christian opliger would conduct me to the schafloch for five francs, and a _trinkgeld_ if i were satisfied with him. in order to prove to me that he had really been at the cave, six days before, with two bernese gentlemen, he seized my favourite low-crowned white hat, and endeavoured to knead it into the shape of the cave. our affairs took a long time to arrange, for grunts and pantomime are not rapid means of communication, when it comes to detail. the great question in christian's mind seemed to be, what should we take with us to eat and drink? and when he propounded this to me with steady pertinacity, i, with equal pertinacity, had only one answer--a cord and a hatchet. at last he provided these, vowing that they were ridiculously unnecessary, but comprehending that they must be forthcoming, as a preliminary to anything more digestible; and then i told him, some dry bread and no wine. this drove him from grunts to words. no wine! it would be so frightfully hot on the mountains!--i told him i never drank wine when i was hot. but it would be so terribly cold in the cave!--i never drank wine when i was cold. but the climbing was _sehr stark_--we should need to give ourselves strength!--i never needed to give myself strength. there was no good water to be found the whole way!--i never drank water. then, at last, after a brief grunt with the landlord, he struck:--he simply would not go without wine! i never wished him to do so, i explained; he might take as much as he chose, and i would pay for it, but he need not count me for anything in calculating how much was necessary. this made him perfectly happy; and when i answered his question touching cheese in a similar manner, only limiting him to a pound and a half, he rushed off for a large wicker _hotte_, spacious enough for the stowage of many layers of babies; and in it he packed all our properties, and all his provisions. the landlord had made his own calculations, and put it at lbs. of bread and lbs. of cheese; but i cut down the bread on account of its bulk, before i saw the size of the _hotte_, and christian seemed to think he had quite enough to carry. it was about half-past nine when we started from the _auberge_; and after a short mount in the full sun, we were not sorry to reach the pleasant shade of walnut trees which accompanied us for a considerable distance. the blue lake lay at our feet on the right, and beyond it the niesen stood, with wonted grandeur, guarding its subject valleys; more in front, as we ascended transversely, the well-known snow-peaks of the bernese oberland glittered high above the nearer foreground, and, sheer above us, on the left, rose the ragged precipices whose flank we were to turn. the rothhorn of the canton berne lies inland from the lake of thun, and sends down towards the lake a ridge sufficiently lofty, terminating in the ralligstöcke, or ralligflue, the needle-like point, so prettily ridged with firs, which advances its precipitous sides to the water. these precipices were formed in historic times, and the sheer face from which half a mountain has been torn stands now as clear and fresh as ever, while a chaos of vast blocks at its foot gives a point to the local legends of devastation and ruin caused by the various berg-falls. two such falls are clearly marked by the _débris_: one of these, a hundred and fifty years ago, reduced the town of ralligen to a solitary schloss; and the other, in , overwhelmed the village of merligen, and converted its rich pastures into a desert cropped with stones. a traveller in switzerland, at the beginning of this century, found that the inhabitants of merligen were considered in the neighbourhood to be _d'une stupidité et d'une bêtise extrêmes_, and i am inclined to believe that after the last avalanche a general migration to gonten must have taken place. christian's patois was of so hopeless a description, that i was tempted to give it up in despair, and walk on in silence. still, as we were together for a whole long day, for better or for worse, it seemed worth while to make every effort to understand each other, else i could learn no local tales and legends, and christian would earn but little _trinkgeld_; so we struggled manfully against our difficulties. a confident american lady, meditating europe, and knowing little french and no german, is said to have remarked jauntily that if the worst came to the worst she could always talk on her fingers to the peasants; but i did not attempt to avail myself of the results of early practice in that universal language. christian's answers--the more intelligible parts of them--were a stratified succession of _yes_ and _no_, and as he was a man naturally polite and acquiescent, the assentient strata were of more frequent occurrence; but of course, beyond showing his good-will, such answers were of no practical value. at length, after long perseverance, we were rewarded by the appearance of a curiosity which eventually gave each the key to the other's cipher. this was a strong stream of water, flowing out of the trunk of a growing tree, at a height of six feet or so from the ground; and i was so evidently interested in the phenomenon, that christian exerted himself to the utmost, at last with success, to explain the construction of the fountain. a healthy poplar, seven or eight years old, is taken from its native soil, and a cold iron borer is run up the heart of the trunk from the roots, for six feet or more, by which means the pith is removed, and the trunk is made to assume the character of a pipe. a hole is then bored through from the outside of the trunk, to communicate with the highest point reached by the former operation, and in this second hole a spout is fixed. the same is done at a very short distance above the root, in the part of the trunk which will be buried in the earth when the tree is replanted, and the poplar is then fixed in damp ground, with the pipe at its root in connection with one of the little runs of water which abound in meadows at the foot of hills. a well-known property of fluids produces then the strange effect of an unceasing flow of water from an iron spout in the trunk of a living tree; and, as poplars love water, the fountain-tree thrives, and is more vigorous than its neighbours. this sort of fountain may be common in some parts of switzerland, but i have not seen them myself except in this immediate neighbourhood. there is said to be one near stachelberg. in the endeavour to explain all this to me, christian succeeded so perfectly, that for the rest of the day we understood each other very well. when i told him that he spoke much better german than the rest of the people in gonten, he informed me that he had worked among foreigners, in proof whereof he held out his fingers; but all that i could gather from the invited inspection was, that, whatever his employment might have been, he could not be said to have come out of it with clean hands. he had been employed, he explained, in german dye-works, and there had learned something better than the native patois. about this time, too, i was able to make him understand that, as he carried more than i, he must call a halt whenever he felt so inclined; upon which he patted me affectionately on the back, and, if i could remember the word he used, i believe that i should now know the swiss-german for a brick. our object was to pass along the side of the lake, at a considerable elevation, till we reached the east side of the rothhorn range, when we were to turn up the jüstisthal, and mount towards the highest point of the ridge, the glacière lying about an hour below the summit, in the face of the steep rock. the cliffs became very grand on either side, as soon as we entered this valley, the jüstisthal, especially the precipices of the beatenberg on the right; and our path lay through woods which have sprung up on the site of an early _berg-lauine._ the guide-books call attention to a cavern with a curious intermittent spring in this neighbourhood. english tourists should feel some interest in the cave of s. beatus, inasmuch as its canonised occupant went from our shores to preach the gospel to the wild men of the district, and died in this cave at a very advanced age. his relics remaining there, his fête-day attracted such crowds of pilgrims, that reforming berne sent two deputies in to carry off the saint's skull, and bury it between the lakes; but still the pilgrimages continued, and at length the protestant zeal of berne went to the expense of a wall, and they built the pilgrims out in . s. beatus is said to have been converted by s. barnabas in britain, and to have gone to rome, whence s. peter sent him out to preach. his relics were conveyed to lucerne in , because heresy prevailed in the country where his cave lies, and an arm is among the proud possessions of pilgrim-pressed einsiedeln. the saint was originally a british noble, by name suetonius; and dempster drops a letter from his name, and with much ingenuity makes him collateral ancestor of a scottish family--'the setons, tall and proud.'[ ] when we arrived at the last châlet, christian turned to mount the grass slope on our left hand, which led to the part of the rocks in which the entrance to the schafloch was to be sought. i never climbed up grass so steep, and before we had gone very far we were hailed by a succession of grunts, which my companion interpreted into assurances from some invisible person that we were going wrong. the man soon appeared, in the shape of a charcoal-burner, and told us that we were making the ascent much more difficult than it need be made, and also, that we should come to some awkward rock-climbing by the route we had chosen. it was too late, however, to turn back; so we persevered. before long, i heard a _meinherr_! from christian, in a tone which i knew meant rest and some food. he explained that he would rather take two small refreshments, one here and one at the schafloch, than one large refreshment at the cave; so we propped ourselves on the grass, and tapped the _hotte_. the cheese proved to be delightful--six years old, the landlady told us afterwards, and apparently as hard as a bone, but when once mastered its flavour was admirable. christian persuaded me to taste the wine, of which he had a high opinion, and he was electrified by the universal shudder the one taste caused. the grapes from which it was brewed had been grown in a gooseberry garden, and all the saccharine matter carefully extracted; the wine had been left without a cork since the first dawn of its existence, and the heat and jolting of its travels on christian's back had reduced it to the condition of warm flat vinegar. he drank it with the utmost relish, and was evidently reconciled to my verdict by the consideration that there would be all the more for him. from the appearance of the bread and cheese when the meal had come to an end, i concluded that my companion had changed his mind in the course of feeding, and had resolved to compress the whole eating of the day into one large refreshment here. the consumptive powers of the swiss-german peasant, when his meal is franked, has not unfrequently reminded me of the miraculous eating performed by a yellow domino of that nation, at the fête by which louis xiv. celebrated the second marriage of the dauphin. this domino was of large size, and ate and drank voraciously throughout the entertainment, which lasted many hours, retiring every five minutes or so, and returning speedily with unabated appetite. the thing became at length so portentous, that enquiries were instituted, and it was found that the trusty _cent-suisses_ had joined at a domino, and were drawing lots all through the evening for the next turn at eating; so that each man's time was necessarily limited, and he accordingly made the most of it. we soon took to the rocks, and found them, as the charcoal-burner had promised, sufficiently stiff work. colonel (now general) dufour visited the schafloch with a party of officers in , and he describes[ ] the path as a dangerous one, so much so that several of the gallant members of his party could not reach the cave: he uses rather large words about the precipices, and it is a matter of observation that military service on the continent tends to induce a habit of body which is not the most suitable for doubtful climbing. the mountain seemed to be composed, in this part, of horizontal layers of crumbling shale, with a layer now and then of stone, about the thickness of an ordinary house-tile. the stone layers project from the looser masonry, and afford an excellent foot-hold; but a slip might be unpleasant. every one who has done even a small amount of climbing has met with an abundance of places where 'a slip would be certain death,' as people are so fond of saying; but equally he has discovered that a slip is the last thing he thinks of making in such situations. christian had told me that if i had the slightest tendency to _schwindelkopf_, i must not go by the improvised route; but it proved that there were really no precipices at all, much less any of sufficient magnitude to turn an ordinary head dizzy. he chose these rocks as the text for a long sermon on the necessity for great caution when we should arrive at the cave, telling of an englishman who had tried to visit it two years before, and had cut his knee so badly with his guide's axe that he had to be carried down the mountain to gonten, and thence to the steamer for thun, in which town he lay for many weeks in the hands of the german doctor; this last assertion being by no means incredible. also, of a native who attempted the cave alone, and, making one false step near the top of a fall of ice, slipped down and down almost for ever, and finally landed with broken limbs on a floor of ice, where he was found, two days after, frozen stiff, but still alive. it was not necessary to mount much, for we were almost as high as the mouth of the cave, according to christian's belief, and our work consisted chiefly in passing along the face of the rock, round projecting buttresses and re-entering angles, till we reached that part of the mountain where we might expect to find our glacière. while we were thus engaged, two hoarse and ominous ravens took us under their charge, and accompanied us with unpleasant screams, which argued the proximity of food or nest. we soon found that we had disturbed their meal, for we came to marks of blood, and saw that some animal had slipped on the rocks above, and landed on the ledge on which we were walking, bounding off again on to a shelf below, where the ravens had already torn the body to pieces. i must confess to a very considerable shudder when we discovered the reason of their screams, and neither of us seemed to enjoy the circling and croaking of the unclean birds. very soon after this, christian announced that we had reached the cave, and a steep little climb of six feet or so brought us to the entrance. here we were haunted still by the presence of pieces of the fallen goat, which lay about here and there on the ground; and the flutter of wings overhead explained to us that the old ravens had built their nest in the mouth of the cave, and had brought morsels of raw flesh to their young ones, which were scarcely able to fly. i am ashamed to say that we were so angry with the old birds for shrieking so suggestively in our ears, and parading before us the results of a slip on the rocks, that we charged ourselves with stones, and put an end to the most noisy member of the foul brood; christian making some of the worst shots it is possible to conceive, and raining blocks of stone and lumps of wood in all directions, with such reckless impartiality, that the only safe place seemed to be between him and the bird. one of us, at least, regretted the useless cruelty as soon as it was perpetrated, and it came back upon me very reproachfully at an awkward part of our return journey. the schafloch does not take its name from the bones contained in it, as is the case with the kühloch in franconia,[ ] but from the fact that when a sudden storm comes on, the sheep and goats make their way to the cave for shelter, never, i was told, going so far as the commencement of the ice. the entrance faces ese., and is of large size, with a low wall built partly across it to increase the shelter for the sheep: dufour calls the entrance feet wide and feet high, but i found the width at the narrowest part, a few yards within the entrance, to be feet.[ ] for a short distance the cave passes horizontally into the rock, in a westerly direction, and is quite light; it then turns sharp to the south, the floor beginning to fall, and candles becoming necessary. here the height increases considerably, and the way lies over a wild confusion of loose masses of rock, which have apparently fallen from the roof, and make progression very difficult. we soon reached a point where ice began to appear among the stones; and as we advanced it became more and more prominent, till at length we lost sight of the rock, and stood on solid ice. on either side of the cave was a grand column of ice forming the portal, as it were, through which we must pass to further beauties. the ice-floor rose to meet these columns in a graceful swelling curve, perfectly continuous, so that the general effect was that of two columns whose roots expanded and met in the middle of the cave; and, indeed, that may have been really the order of formation. the right-hand column was larger than its fellow, but, owing to the more gradual expansion of the lower part of its height, and the steepness of the consequent slope, we were unable to measure its girth at any point where it could be fairly called a column. christian had been in the cave a few days before, and he assured me that the swelling base of this column had increased very considerably since his last visit, pointing out a solid surface of ice, at one part of our track, where he had before walked on bare rock. the cave was by no means extremely cold, that is to say, it was rather above than below the freezing point, and the splashing of drops of water was audible on all sides; so that, if christian spoke the truth,--it was sad to be so often reminded of legree's plaintive soliloquy in the opening pages of 'uncle tom's cabin,'--the explanation, i suppose, might be that the drops of water, falling on the top of the column or stalagmite, run down the sides, and carry with them some melted portion from the upper part of the column, and after a course of a few yards become so far refrigerated as to form ice.[ ] the pillar on the left was more approachable, but we were unable to determine its dimensions; for on the outer side, where it stood a few feet or yards clear of the side of the cave, the rounded ice at its foot fell off at once into a dark chasm, a sort of smooth enticing _bergschrund_, which we did not care to face. christian declared that this column was not so high as it was a day or two before, which may go to support the theory expressed above, or at least that part of it which depends upon the supposition of water dropping on to the head of the column, and melting certain portions of it. if we were unable to take the external dimensions of this column, i had no doubt that we should find internal investigations interesting; so, to christian's surprise, i began to chop a hole in it, about two feet from the ground, and, having made an entrance sufficiently large, proceeded to get into the cavity which presented itself. the flooring of the dome-shaped grotto in which i found myself, was loose rock, at a level about two feet below the surface of the ice-floor on which christian still stood. the dome itself was not high enough to allow me to stand upright, and from the roof, principally from the central part, a complex mass of delicate icicles passed down to the floor, leaving a narrow burrowing passage round, which was itself invaded by icicles from the lower part of the sloping roof, and by stubborn stalagmites of ice rising from the floor.[ ] the details of this central cluster of icicles, and in fact of every portion of the interior of the strange grotto, were exceedingly lovely, and i crushed with much regret, on hands and knees, through fair crystal forests and frozen dreams of beauty. in making the tour of this grotto, contorting my body like a snake to get in and out among the ice-pillars, and do as little damage as might be, but yet, with all my care, accompanied by the incessant shiver and clatter of breaking and falling ice, i came to a hole in the ground, too dark and deep for one candle to show its depth; so i called to christian to come in, thinking that two candles might show it better. he asked if i really meant it, and assured me he could be of no use; but i told him that he must come, and informed him that he, being the smaller man, would find the passage quite easy. it was very fortunate that i had not waited a minute longer before summoning him, for just as he had dropped into the hollow, and was beginning his journey to the side where i now was, a drop of water and a simultaneous icicle came upon my candle, and left me in darkness, curled up like a dormouse in a nest of ice, at the edge of the newly discovered shaft; while my troubles were brought to a climax by an incursion of icy drops, which had me at their mercy. if all this had happened while christian was still outside, he would probably have staid there wringing his hands till it was time to go home, and i should certainly not have liked to move without a light. as it was, i did not inform him of the catastrophe, but let him come toiling on, wondering audibly what madness could drive herrschaft into such places; and when he arrived, we cut off the wet wick, and lighted the candle again. we could make nothing of the hole, so he returned by the way he had come, and i completed the tour of the grotto, finding the same difficult passage, and the same ice beauties, all the way round. having squeezed ourselves out again through the narrow hole, we now passed between the two gigantic columns, and found that the sea of ice became still broader and bolder. i much regret that i neglected to take any measurements in this part of the cave; but farther down, where it was certainly not so broad, i found the width of the ice to be feet. it was throughout of the crystalline character which prevails in all the large masses in the glacières i have visited. for some distance beyond the columns, we found neither stalactites nor stalagmites--indeed, i forgot to look at the roof--until we came to the edge of a glorious ice-fall, down which christian said it was impossible to go--no one had ever been farther than where we now stood. i have seen no subterranean ice-fall so grand as this, round and smooth, and perfectly unbroken, passing down, like the rapids of some river too deep for its surface to be disturbed, into darkness against which two candles prevailed nothing. the fall in the upper glacière of the pré de s. livres was strange enough, but it was very small, and led to a confined corner of the cavern; whereas this of the schafloch rolls down majestically, cold and grey, into a dark gulf of which we could see neither the roof nor the end, while the pieces of ice which we despatched down the steep slope could be heard going on and on, as m. soret says, _à une très-grande distance_. the shape, also, of the fall was very striking. beginning at the left wall of the cave, the edge ran out obliquely towards the middle, when it suddenly turned and struck straight across to the right-hand wall, so that we were able to stand on a tongue, as it were, in the middle of the top of the fall. to add to the effect, precisely from this tongue or angle a fine column of ice sprang out of the very crest of the fall, rising to or towards the roof, and to this we clung to peer down into the darkness. the rope we had brought was not long, and the idea was hopeless of cutting steps down this great fall, leading we knew not where, with an incline which it frightened christian even to look at. i began to consider, however, whether it was not possible to make our way down the left branch of the ice, which fell rather towards the side wall than into the dark gulf below. on examining more closely, i found that a large stone, or piece of rock, projected from the face of this branch of the fall, about feet from the top, and to this i determined to descend, as a preliminary to further attempts, the candles not showing us what there was beyond. accordingly, i tied on the rope, and planted christian where he had a safe footing, telling him to hold tight if i slipped, for he seemed to have little idea what the rope was meant for. the ice was very hard, and cutting steps downwards with a short axe is not easy work; so when i came within or feet of the rock, i forgot the rope, and set off for a short glissade. christian, of course, thought something was wrong, and very properly put a prompt strain upon the rope, which reduced his herr to a spread-eagle sort of condition, in which it was difficult to explain matters, so as to procure a release. when that was accomplished, i saw it would be easy to reach the point where the ice met the wall, so i called to christian to come down, which he did in an unpremeditated, avalanche fashion; and then, by cutting steps here and there, and making use of odd points of rock, we skirted down the edge of the great fall, and reached at last the lower regions. when i came to read dufour's account of his visit in , i found that the ice must have increased very much since his time. he uses sufficiently large words, speaking of the _vaste, horrible et pourtant magnifique_--of the _horreur du séjour_, and the _grandeur des demeures souterraines_; but he only calls the glorious ice-fall a _plan incliné_, and says that the whole was less remarkable for the amount of ice, than for the characteristics indicated by the words i have quoted. he says that it required _une assez forte dose de courage_ to slip down to the stone of which i have spoken; the fact being that at the time of my visit it would have been impossible to do so with any chance of stopping oneself, for the flat surface of the stone was all but even with the ice. m. soret, who saw the cave in , determined that cords were then absolutely necessary for the descent, which he did not attempt; and the only englishman i have met who has seen this cave, tells me that he and his party went no farther than the edge of the fall.[ ] probably each year's accumulation on the upper floor of ice has added to the height and rapidity of the fall; but at any rate, when dufour was there, _des militaires_--as he dashingly tells--were not to be stopped, and he and his party--such of them as had not been already stopped by the precipices outside--let themselves slip down to the stone, and thence descended as we did. we soon found that the larger ice-fall looked extremely grand when seen from below, and that in a modified form it reached far down into the lower cave, and terminated in a level sea of ice; but, before making any further investigations into its size, we pressed on to look for the end of the cave. this soon appeared, and as a commentary on christian's assertion that no one had ever been beyond the head of the fall, i called his attention to some initials smoked on the wall by means of a torch. there was an abrupt piece of rock-floor between this end and the termination of the ice. the western wall was ornamented with a long arcade of lofty columns of very white ice, looking strangely ghostlike by the light of two candles, crystallised, and with the porcelain appearance i have described before. we could not measure the height of these columns, but we found that they extended continuously, so as to be in fact one sheet of columns, connected by shapes of ice now graceful and now grotesque, for yards. the ice from their feet flowed down to join the terminal lake, which formed a weird sea yards by . my notes, written on the spot, tell me that between this lake, which i have called terminal, and the end of the cave, there is a sheet of ice yards long, but it has entirely vanished from my recollection. i now sent christian back with a ball of string, up the steps we had cut for the descent, with directions to get as near as he could to the top of the main fall, and then send down a stone tied to the string, as i wished to determine the length of the fall. while he was making his way up, i amused myself by chopping and carving at the ice at various points to examine its structure, until at length a _jodel_ from above announced that christian had reached his post; and a vast amount of hammering ensued, of which i could not understand the meaning. presently he called out that 'it' was coming, and assuredly it did come. there was a loud crash on the upper part of the fall, and a shower of fragments of ice came whizzing past, and almost dislodged me; while the sound of pieces of ice bounding and gliding down the slope seemed as if it never would cease. it turned out to mean that my friend had not been able to find a stone; so he had smashed a block of ice from the column which presided over the fall, and having attached the string to this, had hurled the whole apparatus in my direction, fortunately not doing as much damage as he might have done. my end of the string was not to be seen, so he repeated the experiment, with a piece of wood in place of the block of ice, and this time it succeeded. we found that from top to bottom of the fall was yards. there was all the appearance of immense thickness, especially towards the upper part. christian had placed his candle in a niche in the column, while he arranged the string for measuring the fall, and the effect of the spark of light at the top of the long steep slope was extremely strange from below. the whole scene was so remarkable, that it required some effort to realise the fact that i was not in a dream. christian stood at the top invisible, jodeling in a most unearthly manner, and developing an astonishing falsetto power, only interrupting his performance to assure me that he was not coming down again; so i was obliged to measure the breadth of the fall by myself. i chose a part where the ice was not very steep, and where occasional points of rock would save some of the labour of cutting steps; but even so it was a sufficiently tedious business. the string was always catching at something, and mere progression, without any string to manage, would have been difficult enough under the circumstances. it was completely dark, so a candle occupied one hand, and, as every step must be cut, save where an opportune rock or stone appeared, an axe occupied the other; then there was the string to be attended to, and both hands must be ready to clutch at some projecting point when a slip came, and now and then a ruder rock required circumvention. add to all this, that hands and feet had not been rendered more serviceable by an hour and a half of contact with ice, and it will easily be understood that i was glad when the measurement was over. at this point the breadth was yards, and, a few feet above the line in which i crossed, all traces of rock or stone disappeared, and there was nothing but unbroken ice. i had of course abundant opportunities for examining the structure of the ice, and i found in all parts of the fall the same large-grained material, breaking up, when cut, into the usual prismatic nuts. i now rejoined christian, and we worked our way upwards to the mouth of the cave, penitently desisting from stoning a remaining raven. we observed at the very mouth, by watching the flame of the candles, a slight current outwards, extremely feeble, and on our first arrival i had fancied there was a current, equally slight, inwards, but neither was perceptible beyond the entrance of the cave. m. soret was fortunate enough to witness a curious phenomenon, at the time of his visit to the schafloch, in september , which throws some light upon the atmospheric state of the cave. the day was externally very foggy, and the fog had penetrated into the cavern; but as soon as m. soret began to descend to the glacière itself, properly so called, he passed down out of the fog, and found the air for the rest of the way perfectly clear.[ ] m. soret states that he has not absolute confidence in his thermometrical observations, but as he had more time than i to devote to such details, inasmuch as he did not pass down into the lowest part of the cave, i give his results rather than my own, which were carelessly made on this occasion:--on a stone near the first column of ice, °· c.; on a stick propped against the column on the edge of the great ice-fall, °· c.; in a hole in the ice, filled with water by drops from the roof, ° c. approximately.[ ] the second result is sufficiently remarkable. my own observations would give nearer ° f. than ° as the general temperature of the cave. christian was so cold when we had finished our investigations, that he determined to take his second refreshment _en route_, and, moreover, time was getting rather short. we had started from gonten at half-past nine in the morning, and reached the glacière about half-past twelve. it was now three o'clock, and the boat from gonten must reach the steamer at half-past six precisely, so there was not too much time for us; especially as we were to return by a more mountainous route, which involved further climbing towards the summit of the rothhorn, and was to include a visit to the top of the ralligflue. on emerging from the cave, we were much struck by the beauty of the view, the upper half of the jungfrau, with its glittering attendants and rivals, soaring above a rich and varied foreground not unworthy of so glorious a termination. there was not time, however, to admire it as it deserved, and we set off almost at once up the rocks, soon reaching a more elevated table-land by dint of steep climbing. the ground of this table-land was solid rock, smoothed and rounded by long weathering, and fissured in every direction by broad and narrow crevasses or feet deep, at the bottom of which was luxuriant botany, in the shape of ferns, and mallows, and monkshood, and all manner of herbs. the learned in such matters call these rock-fallows _karrenfelden_. when we had crossed this plateau, and came to grass, we found a gorgeous carpet of the huge couched blue gentian (_g. acaulis_, fr. _gentiane sans tige_), with smaller patterns put in by the dazzling blue of the delicate little flower of the same species (_g. verna_ ); while the white blossoms of the grass of parnassus, and the frailer white of the _dryade à huit petales_, and the modest waxen flowers of the _azalea procumbens_ and the _airelle ponctuée_ (_vaccineum vitis idaea_), tempered and set off the prevailing blue. there were groves, too, rather lower down, of alpine roses (the first i had come across that year), not the fringed or the green-backed species which botanists love best, but the honest old rust-backed rhododendron, which every swiss traveller has been pestered with in places where the children are one short step above mere mendicity, but, equally, which every swiss traveller hails with medean delight when he comes upon it on the mountain-side. we were now, too, in the neighbourhood of the first created alpen rose. the story is, that a young peasant, who had climbed the precipices behind oberhausen for rock-flowrets, as the price of some maiden's love, fell at the moment when he had secured the flowers, and was killed. from his blood the true alpen rose sprang, and took its colour. we were now passing along the summit of one of the lower spurs of the rothhorn range, and making for the peak of the ralligflue, which lay considerably below us. in descending near the line of crest, we found a large number of very deep fissures, narrow and black, some of them extending to a great distance across the face of the hill; sometimes they appeared as mere holes, down which we despatched stones, sometimes as unpleasant crevasses almost hidden by flowers and the shrubs of rhododendron. in many of these we dimly discovered accumulated snow at the bottom, and we observed that the alpine roses which overhung the snow-holes were by far the deepest coloured and most beautiful we could find. to reach the ralligflue, we had to cross a smooth green lawn completely covered with the sweet vanilla orchis (_o. nigra_), which perfumed the air almost too powerfully. no one can ever fully appreciate the grandeur of the lion-like niesen till he has seen it from this verdant little paradise, on the slope near the bergli châlet, with a diminutive limpid lake in the meadow at his feet, and the blue lake of thun below. the kanderthal and the simmenthal lie exposed from their entrance at the foot of the niesen; and when the winding kanderthal is lost, the adelbodenthal takes up the telescope, and guides the eye to the parent glaciers. this view i was fortunately able to enjoy rather longer than that from the mouth of the schafloch; for we had made such rapid way, that christian found there was time for a meal of milk in the châlet, and meanwhile left me lying in perfect luxury on the sweet grass. from the ralligflue a long and remarkably steep zigzag leads to the lower ground, and down this christian ran at full speed, jodeling in a most trying manner; indeed, at one of the sudden turns of the path he went off triumphantly into a falsetto so unearthly, that he lost his legs, and landed in a promiscuous sort of way on a lower part of the zigzag, after which he was slower and less vocal. we eventually reached gonten so soon, that there was time to cool and have a bath in the lake; and when that was nearly finished, christian brought a plate of cherries and a detachment of the village, and i ate the cherries and held a levée in the boat--very literally a levée, as the dressing was by no means accomplished when the deputation arrived. my late guide, now, as he said, a friend for life, made a speech to the people, setting forth that he had done that day what he had never thought to do; for, often as he had been to the entrance of the schafloch--five or six times at the least--he had never before reached the end of the cave. and to whom, he asked, did he owe it? all previous herrschaft under his charge had cried _immer zurück!_ but this present herr had known but one cry, _immer vorwärts!_ luckily the steamer now approached, so the speech came to an end, and he shook hands affectionately, with a vigour that would certainly have transmitted some of the dye, if that material had not become a part of the skin which it coloured. then the village also shook hands, having evidently understood what christian said, notwithstanding the fact that it was intelligible german, and i returned to thun and berne. no. was still the only bed disengaged, for it was very late when i reached berne; but on my vehement protestations against that unquiet chamber, the landlord most obligingly converted a sofa in his own sitting-room into a temporary bed, and made it over to me. this room was separated by a door of ground-glass from another sitting-room brilliantly lighted, in which a number of german young gentlemen were fêting the return of a comrade after the national manner. the landlord said he thought it must soon be over, for he doubted whether they could last much longer; but their powers of endurance were greater than he had supposed. it will readily be imagined that german songs with a good chorus, the solo parts being very short, and received with the utmost impatience by the chorus, were even less soporific in their effect than the flirtations--though boisterous beyond all conventional propriety--of german housemaids and waiters.[ ] footnotes: [footnote : see p. .] [footnote : acta ss. bolland. may .--if possessed of the characteristics of his race--'tall and proud'--his activity belies the first line of the old saying, 'lang and lazy, little and loud; red and foolish, black and proud:' though possibly the personal habits which a modern spirit loves to point out, as the great essential of hermit-life, united with the family characteristic of the early seton to verify the last line of the saying.] [footnote : _bibl. univ. de genève_, first series, xxi. . see also _edinburgh philosophical journal_, viii. .] [footnote : _philosophical magazine_, aug. .] [footnote : colonel dufour guessed the elevation of the cave, in , at two-thirds the height of the niesen, and forty years after, as general dufour, he published the result of the scientific survey of switzerland, which makes it , mètres; so that his early guess was not a bad one.] [footnote : there is a hint of something of this kind in an editorial note in the _journal des mines_ (now _annales des mines_) of prairial, an. iv. pp. , , in connection with the glacière near besançon.] [footnote : m. soret, who visited the schafloch in september , and communicated his notes to m. thury, speaks of many columns in this part of the glacière, where we found only two. 'l'un d'entre eux,' he says, 'présentait dans sa partie inférieure une petite grotte ou cavité, assez grande pour qu'un homme pût y entrer en se courbant.'] [footnote : see also the note at the end of this chapter.] [footnote : 'toute la couche supérieure au plan de niveau passant par le seuil était chargée de brouillard; toute la couche inférieure à ce niveau était parfaitement limpide.' (_thury_, p. .)] [footnote : respectively, °· , °· , and °, fahrenheit.] [footnote : since i wrote this chapter, my attention has been called to a tourist's account of the schafloch in _once a week_ (nov. , ), in an article called _an ice-cavern in the justis-thal._ the writer says--'we proceeded to the farther end of the cavern, or at least as far as we thought it prudent, to ascertain where the flooring of ice rounded off into the abyss of unfathomable water we heard trickling below.' one of the party 'having taken some large stones with him, he began hurling them into the profound mystery. presently a heavy double-bass gurgle issued forth with ominous depth of voice, indicating the danger of farther progress. having thus ascertained that if either of us ventured farther he would most probably not return by the way he went, the signal of retreat was given, and in about forty minutes, after encountering the same amusing difficulties which had enlivened our descent, Æneas-like we gained the upper air.' it will be seen from my account of what we found in the 'abyss of unfathomable water,' that a little farther exploration might have effected a change in the writer's views.] * * * * * chapter x. the glaciÈre of grand anu, on the montagne de l'eau, near annecy. m. thury's list contained a bare mention of two glacières on the m. parmelan, near annecy, without any further information respecting them, beyond the fact that they supplied ice for lyons. their existence had been apparently reported to him by m. alphonse favre, but he had obtained no account of a visit to the caves. under these circumstances, the only plan was to go to annecy, and trust to chance for finding some one there who could assist me in my search. after spending a day or two in the library at geneva, looking up m. thury's references, with respect to various ice-caves, and trying to discover something more than he had found in the books there, i started for annecy at seven in the morning in the banquette of the diligence. on a fresher day, no doubt the great richness of the orchards and corn-fields would have been very striking; but on this particular morning the fields were already trembling with heat, and the trees and the fruit covered with dust; and there was nothing in the grouping of the country through which the road lay to refresh the baked and half-choked traveller. the voyage was to last four and a half hours, and it soon became a serious question how far it would be possible to face the heat of noon, when the earlier morning was so utterly unbearable. before very long, a counter-irritant appeared in the shape of a fellow-traveller, whose luggage consisted of a stick and an old pair of boots. the man was not pleasant to be near in any way, and he was evidently not at all satisfied with the amount of room i allowed him. he kept discontentedly and doggedly pushing his spare pair of boots farther and farther into my two-thirds of the seat, and once or twice was on the point of a protest, in which case i was prepared to tell him that as he filled the whole banquette with his smell, he ought in reason to be satisfied with less room for himself; but instead of speaking, he brought out a tobacconist's parcel and began to open it. tobacco-smoke is all very well under suitable circumstances, but it is possible to be too hot and dusty and bilious to be able to stand it, and i watched his proceedings with more of annoyance than of resignation. the parcel turned out, however, to be delightful snuff, tastefully perfumed and very refreshing; and the politeness with which the owner gave a pinch to the foreign monsieur, after apportioning a handful to the driver and conductor, won him a good three inches more of seat. the inevitable cigar soon came; but it was a very good one, and no one could complain: all the same, i could not help feeling a malicious satisfaction when the _douaniers_ on the french frontier investigated the spare boots--guiltless, one might have thought, of anything except the extremity of age and dirt--and drew from them a bundle or two of smuggled cigars, the owner trying in vain to look as if he rather liked it. the hôtel de genève is probably the least objectionable of the hotels of annecy; but the poste-bureau is at the hôtel d'angleterre, and it was much too hot for me to fight with the waiters there, and carry off my knapsack to another house. it is generally a mistake--a great mistake--to sleep at a house which is the starting-place and the goal of many diligences. all the night through, whips are cracking, bells jingling, and men are shouting hoarsely or blowing hoarser horns. moreover, the hôtel d'angleterre had apparently needed a fresh coat of paint and universal papering for many years, and the latter need had at this crisis been so far grappled with that the old paper had been torn down from the walls and now lay on the various floors, while large pies of malodorous sizing had been planted at the angles of the stairs. the natural _salle-à-manger_ was evidently an excellent room, with oleander balconies, but it was at present in the hands of joiners, and a card pointed the way to the 'provisionary _salle-à-manger'_--not a bad name for it--in the neighbourhood of the kitchen. there was one redeeming feature. the people of the house were nice-looking and well-dressed. but experience has taught me to view such a phenomenon in french towns of humbler rank with somewhat mixed feelings. when the house is superintended with a keen and watchful eye by a young lady of fashionable appearance, who takes a personal interest in a solitary traveller, and suggests an evening's _course_ on the lake, or a morning's drive to some good view, and makes herself most winning and agreeable; who takes the words, moreover, out of the mouth of a man meditating an ordinary dinner, and assures him that she knows exactly what he wants, and he shall be well satisfied, with a sisterly air that makes the idea of francs and sous not sordid only, but impossible; i have slowly learned to expect that this fashion and condescension will appear in the bill. prettiness is a very expensive item in such a case; and as these three were all combined to a somewhat remarkable degree at the hôtel d'angleterre, the eventual bill made me angry, and i should certainly try the hôtel de genève on any future visit to annecy. the first thing to be done was to determine the position of the mont parmelan. i was prepared to find the people of the town denying the existence of such a mountain; but, as it was visible from the door of the hotel, they could not go quite so far as that. the small crowd at the door repudiated the glacières with one voice, and pointed out how unlikely it was that lyons should be supplied with ice from annecy; nevertheless, i continued to ask my way in spite of protestation, till at length a lame man passed by, who said monsieur was quite right--he himself knew two glacières on the mont parmelan very well. he had never seen either of them, but he knew them as well as if he had. it was useless to go to them now, he added, for the owners extracted all the ice early in the year, and stored it in holes in the lower part of the mountain. he had no idea by what route they were to be approached from annecy, or on which side of the mont parmelan they lay. i now looked on the local map, and determined that the best plan would be to take the bonneville diligence as far as charvonnaz, the point on the road which seemed to lie nearest to the roots of the mont parmelan, and then be guided by what i might learn among the peasants. everyone said there was no chance of getting to anything by that means; but as the hotel people saw that it was of no use to deny the glacières any longer, they proposed to take me to a man who knew the m. parmelan well, and could tell me all about it. this man proved to be a keeper of voitures,--an ominous profession under the circumstances,--and he assured me that i could make a most lovely _course_ the next day, through scenery of unrivalled beauty; and he eloquently told on his fingers the villages and sights i should come to. i suggested--without in the least knowing that it was so--that the drive might be all very well in itself, but it would not bring me to the glacières; on which he assured me that he knew every inch of the mountain, and there was not such a thing as a glacière in the whole district. at this moment, a gentlemanlike man was brought up by the waiter, and introduced to me as a monsieur who knew a monsieur who knew the proprietor of one of the glacières, and would he happy to conduct me to this second monsieur: so, without any very ceremonious farewell to the owner of the proffered voiture, we marched off together down the street, and eventually turned into a _café_, whose master was the monsieur for whom we were in search. know the glacière?--yes, indeed! he had ice from it one year every morning. his wife and he had made a _course_ to the campagne of m. the maire of aviernoz, and he--the cafétier--had descended for miles, as it were, down and down, till he came to an underground world of ice, wonderful, totally wonderful: there he perceived so immense a cold, that he drank a bottle of rhoom--a whole bottle--and drank it from the neck, _à l'anglaise_. and when they had gone so far that great dread came upon them, they rolled a stone down the ice, and it went into the darkness--boom, boom, boom,--and he put on a power of ventriloquism which admirably represented the strange suggestive sound. hold a moment! had monsieur a crayon? yes, monsieur had; so the things were impetuously swept off a round marble table, and the excited little man drew a fancy portrait of the glacière. the way to reach it? go by diligence to charvonnaz--exactly what i had determined upon--and walk up to aviernoz, where his good friend the maire would make me see his beautiful glacière, through the means of a letter which he went to write. it was absurd to see this hot little man sign himself 'dugravel, _glacier_,' that being the style of his profession, naturally recalling the contradictory conduct of the latin noun _lucus_. the bones of s. francis of sales lie in the church of s. françois in annecy, and i made a pilgrimage in search of them through very unpleasant streets. after a time, the italian west front of the church appeared; but the main door led into a demonstrative bakery, and the door of the north aisle was obscured by oleanders and a striped awning, and over it appeared the legend, '_entrée de l'hôtel_.' as a man politely explained, they had built s. francis another church, and utilised the old one. the town itself seemed to be of the squalid style of antiquity--old, no doubt, but very dirty. it is pervaded by streams, which crop up among the houses, and flow through dark alleys and vaulted passages, rarely coming into daylight, and suggesting all manner of dark crimes. the red-legged french kettledrums are, if possible, more insolent here than in other places, and it is evident that the dogs are not yet reconciled to the annexation, for the guard swept through the streets amid a perfect tornado of howls from the negligent scavengers of the place. for my own part, i was not pleased with the change of rule, when i found that since annecy has become french, the _vin d'asti_ has become dear, as being now a foreign wine. the diligence for bonneville was to leave annecy at half-past four in the morning; so i told them to call me at four, intending to breakfast somewhere on the way. but of course, when four o'clock came, i had to call myself, and in a quarter of an hour a knock at the door announced half-past four. i pounced upon the man, and remonstrated with him, but he assured me it did not matter; and when i reminded him that the diligence was to leave at half-past four, he observed philosophically that it was quite true, and i had better make haste, for the poste was very punctual. at the door of the bureau a loaded diligence stood, marked _annecy--aix_, and i asked had the bonneville diligence gone? it did not go till six, the clerk told me; but i reminded him he had said half-past four when i asked him last night. half-past four?--true, here was the carriage standing at the door. but that was for aix, not bonneville, i pointed out to him. pardon--it was marked aix, but was in fact meant for bonneville. the diligence reached the end of the by-road leading to villaz in about half an hour, and all the fever of geneva and annecy seemed to fly away before the freshness of this green little lane, with clematis in full flower pervading the hedges, and huge clusters of young nuts peeping out, and promising later delights to fortunate passers-by. but, alas! the little lane soon came to an end, and as i faced the fields of corn up the mountain-side, the hot thunderous air came rolling down in palpable billows, and oppressive clouds took possession of the surrounding hills. three-quarters of an hour brought me to villaz, a close collection of houses on the hill-side, with arched stone gateways leading into the farmyards,--a fortified style of agricultural building which seems to prevail in that district. after an amount of experience in out-of-the-way places which makes me very cautious in saying that one in particular is dirtier than a dozen others, i venture to say that the _auberge_ of villaz is the most squalid i have come across; and i would not feed there again, except in very robust health, even for a new glacière. still, it was absolutely necessary to eat something, and the landlady promised coffee and bread. she showed me first into the kitchen; but as it was also the place where the domestics slept, with many quadrupeds, i declined to sit there. upon this she led me to the _salon_, where the window resisted all our efforts for some little time, and then opened upon such a choice assortment of abominations, that i fled without my baggage. the next attempt she made was the one remaining room of the house, the family bedroom; but that was so much worse than all, that i took final refuge on the balcony, a sort of ante-room to the hen-house. the cocks at the _auberge_ of villaz are the loudest, the hens the most talkative, and the cats the most shaggy and presuming, i have ever met with. even here, however, all was not unmitigated darkness; for they ground the coffee while the water was boiling, and the consequent decoction was admirable. moreover, the bread had a skin of such thickness and impervious toughness, that the inside was presumably clean. aviernoz lay about an hour farther. almost as soon as i left villaz, the thunderstorm came on in earnest, with sheets of rain, a regular _wolkenbruch_.[ ] the rain was most refreshing; but lightning is not a pleasant companion in presence of a bright ice-axe, and i was glad when the houses of aviernoz came in sight. the village had the appearance of being lost; and the houses were scattered about so irregularly, that it was difficult to know which was the best point to make for. the road studiously avoided the scattered houses, and the _mairie_ seemed especially difficult to find. when at length it was found, the maire, like the queen in the poets, was in the kitchen; and he sat affably on the end of a bench and read the letter of introduction aloud, asking me, at the conclusion, how was our friend dugravel, a man amazing in many ways. when i confessed that i had only made the acquaintance of the amazing man the night before, and therefore did not feel competent to give any reliable account of the state of his health, beyond the fact that he seemed to be in excellent spirits, the maire looked upon me evidently with great respect, as having won so far upon a great character like dugravel in so short a time, and determined to accompany me himself. meantime, we must drink some kirsch. the maire was a young man, spare and vehement. he talked with a headlong impetuosity which caused him to be always hot, and his hair limp and errant; and at the end of each sentence there were so many laggard halves of words to come out together, with so little breath to bring them out, that he eventuated in a stuttering scream. his clothes were of such a description, that the most speculative israelite would not have gone beyond copper for his wardrobe, all standing. there were two women in the house, to whom he was exceedingly imperious: one of them received his orders and his vehemence with a certain amount of defiance, but the other was subdued and obedient, and i believe her to have been the mayoress. he poured himself and his household at my feet, knocked a child one way and his wife another, and, from the air with which he dragged off the tablecloth they had laid, and ordered a better, and swept away the glasses because they were not clean enough--which in itself was sufficiently true,--and screamed for poached eggs for monsieur, and then impetuously ate them himself--i fancy that he might have been taught to play petrucio with success. when we had sat for a quarter of an hour or so, a heavy-looking young man, in fustian clothes and last year's linen, came into the room, and was introduced as the communal schoolmaster. we shook hands with much impressment on the strength of the similarity of our professions, and the maire explained that the new arrival acted also as his secretary, for there was really so much writing to be done that it was beyond his own powers; and as the schoolmaster lived _en pension_ at the _mairie_, it was very convenient. m. rosset, the schoolmaster, stated that he had heard us, as he sat in his room, talking of the proposed visit to the glacière, and he should much wish to accompany us. we both expressed the warmest satisfaction; but the maire suggested--how about the boys? that, m. rosset said, was simple enough. the world would go to the school at nine o'clock, and, finding no schoolmaster, would go home again, or otherwise employ itself; and he could have school on the weekly holiday, to make up for the lost day. this weekly holiday is universally on thursday, he said, because that day divides the week so well; and i failed to persuade him that there was a commemoration intended in the choice of that day, as in the observance of friday and sunday. the maire utterly refused to take a cord, on the ground that there was no possibility of such a thing being of the least use. fortunately, i had now my own axe, which in more able hands had mounted more than once mont blanc and monte rosa, so i had not the usual fight to procure that instrument. half an hour from the _mairie_, when we had well commenced the steep ascent of the mountain-side, the maire turned suddenly round and exclaimed, 'but the inspector!' rosset was a sallow man, but he contrived to turn white, while m. métral (the maire) explained to me that the inspector of schools was to visit aviernoz that day. the schoolmaster recovered before long, and said he should inform the inspector that a famous _savant_ had come from england, and required that the maire and the _instituteur_ should accompany him to the glacière, to aid him in making scientific observations. in order that he might have documentary proof to advance, he asked for my card, and made me write on it my college and university in full. as i have already said, the maire's style of talking required a good deal of breath, and so it was not unnatural that the ascent should reduce him to silence. the schoolmaster talked freely about scholastic affairs, and gave me an account of the ordinary tariff in village schools, though each commune may alter the prices of its school if it please. under seven years of age, children pay francs a year, or, for shorter periods than a year, at the rate of centimes a month; between seven and thirteen, francs a year, or franc a month; from thirteen to eighteen, francs a year, or f. c. a month. there is the same difficulty in france, of course, as with us, in keeping children at school after they are old enough to earn a few centimes by cattle-keeping; and the ministry of education had shortly before addressed questions to every schoolmaster in the country, asking what remedy each could suggest. my present friend had replied, that if the government would give the education gratis, something might be done; but he had expressed his opinion that nothing short of an actual subsidy to parents of children beyond eight or nine years of age would ensure a general improvement. having given me this information, he observed that it was every man's business to learn, though he and i might be teachers also, and therefore he was sure monsieur would pardon him if he asked what those black patches on monsieur's hands might mean,--pointing to certain large areas of epsom plaster which covered the tokens of many glacières. when his mind was set at rest as to this phenomenon, the maire called a halt, and took his turn of talking. he began to tell me about himself and his wealth, rosset backing him up and putting in the most telling parts. he had very extensive property, and the more level parts of it were certainly valuable, consisting of _journaux_ of good arable land: the forests through which we walked were his, and he possessed three _montagnes_ and châlets higher up on the mountain. the glacière was his own property; and two years ago he had discovered another in the neighbourhood, which he had not since visited. he was assisted in his capacity of maire by twelve councillors--in a larger commune it would have been fifteen--and the council met four times in the year. if it was desirable that they should meet on any other occasion, he must write to the prefect of the arrondissement for permission, specifying the business which they wished to conduct, and to this specified business they must confine themselves entirely. then he wished to know, had we maires such as he in england? hereupon i drew a fancy picture of the lord mayor of london, receiving the queen and the royal family in general in a friendly way, and giving them a dinner,--which, he observed, must cost a good deal, a great deal. however, he looked round upon his fields and houses and mountains, and seemed to think that he could himself stand a considerable drain upon his purse for the reception of royalty; and possibly he is now anxious that the emperor should pass that way, during the five years to which the tenure of the mayoralty is restricted. both of my companions were strong in their french sympathies--the one because under the new rule all communal affairs were so much better organised, the other because a wonderful change for the better had taken place in the government superintendence of schools. theirs was formerly an odd corner of a kingdom that did not care much about them, and was not homogeneous; it was now an integral part of a well-ordered empire. they confessed that the present state of things cost them much more in taxes, &c., excepting in the upper mountains, where rosset had a cousin who paid even less than under sardinian rule. of course, we talked a little on church questions; and they were astonished to hear that i was not only an ecclesiastic, but an ordained priest,--a sort of thing which they had fancied did not exist in the english church. rosset said the _curés_ of small communes had about £ a year, but i must have more than that, or i could not afford to travel so far from home. had i already said the mass that morning? had i my robes in the _sac_ i had left at the _mairie_? was the red book they had seen in my hands (bädeker's _schweiz_) a breviary? they branched off to matters of doctrine, and discussed them warmly; but some things they so accommodatingly understated, and others they stated so fairly, that i was able to tell them they were excellent anglicans. higher up in the forest, we were nearly overwhelmed by a party of charcoal-porters, who came down with their _traîneaux_ like a black avalanche. a _traîneau_ is nothing more than a wooden sledge, on two runners, which are turned up in front, to the height of a yard, to keep the cargo in its place. in the more level parts the porter is obliged to drag this, but on the steep zigzags its own weight is sufficient to send it down; and here the porter places himself in front, with his back leaning against the sacks of charcoal and the turned-up runners, and the whole mass descends headlong, the man's legs going at a wild pace, and now one foot, now the other, steering a judicious course at the turns of the zigzags. the charcoal is made by italians, who live on polenta and cheese high up in the mountains, and bring their manufacture down to a certain distance, after which the porters take it in charge. the men we saw told us that by hard work they could make four journeys in the day, earning a franc by each; out of which, as they said, they must support stomach and boots, one journey making them ready for a meal, and eight journeys finishing a pair of soles. it cost us an hour and a half to reach the maire's first châlet, where we were to lunch on such food as the old woman who managed it might have on hand; that is to say, possibly bread, and, beyond that, milk only, in some shape or other. the forms under which milk can be taught to appear are manifold. a young swiss student, who in the madness of his passion for beetle-hunting had spent fifteen days in a small châlet at anzeindaz, sleeping each night on the hay,[ ] gave me, some time since, a list of the various foods on which he lived and grew fat. the following is the _carte_, as he arranged it:-- viandes. vins. du séret. du lait de vache.[ ] du caillé. du lait froid. du beurre. du lait de chèvre. du fromage gras. petit lait. du fromage mi-gras. de la crême. du fromage maigre. du lait de beurre.[ ] tome de vache. petit lait de chèvre. tome de chèvre. _pour les cochons_. du lait gâté. cuite. some of the solids and fluids in the earlier part of this _carte_ we felt tolerably sure of finding at the maire's châlet, and accordingly any amount of cream and _séret_ proved to be forthcoming. the maire asserted that _cérac_ was the true name of this recommendable article of food, _céré_ being the patois for the original word. others had told us that the real word was _serré_, meaning _compressed_ curds; but the french writers who treat learnedly of cheese-making in the _annales de chimie_ adopt the form _sérets_; and in the _annales scientifiques de l'auvergne_ i find both _seret_ and _serai_, from the latin _serum_. there was also bread, which arrived when we were sitting down to our meal: it had been baked in a huge ring, for convenience of carriage, and was brought up from the low-lands on a stick across a boy's shoulder. when the old woman thought it safe to expose a greater dainty to our attacks, at a later period of the meal, she brought out a pot of _caillé_, a delightful luxury which prevails in the form of nuggets of various size floating in sour whey. owing to a general want of table apparatus, we placed the pot of caillé on a broken wall, and speared the nuggets with our pocket-knives. after the meal, the two frenchmen found themselves wet and exceedingly cold; for frenchmen have not yet learned the blessing of flannel shirts under a broiling sun. they set to work to dry themselves after an original fashion. the fire was little more than a collection of smouldering embers, confined within three stone walls about a foot high; so they took each a one-legged stool--_chaises des vaches_, or _chaise des montagnes_--and attached themselves to the stools by the usual leathern bands round the hips; then they cautiously planted the prods of the stools in the middle of the embers, maintaining an unstable equilibrium by resting their own legs on the top of the walls. here they sat, smoking and being smoked, till they were dry and warm. of course, in case of a slip or an inadvertent movement, they would have gone sprawling into the fire. a well-known swiss botanist, who has seen many strange sleeping-places in the course of sixty years of flower-hunting in the mountains of vaud and valais, has told me that on one occasion he had reached with great difficulty the only châlet in the neighbourhood of his day's researches, at a late hour of the night, the whole mountain being soaked with rain. it was a little upland châlet, which the people had deserted for the autumn and winter; and meantime a mud avalanche had taken possession, and covered the floor to a depth of several inches. no plank was to be found for lying on; but he discovered a broken one-legged stool, and on this he sat and slept, propped as well as might be in a corner. it is difficult to say which would be worse--a fall from the stool by daylight into the embers of a wood fire, or the shuddering slimy waking about midnight, after a nod more vigorous than the rest, to find oneself plunged in eight cold inches of soft mud. about half an hour beyond the châlet, we found the mouth of the glacière, on a large plateau almost bare of vegetation, and showing the live rock at the surface. they told me that in a strong winter there would be an average of feet of snow on the ground here.[ ] the glacière itself is approached by descending one side of a deep pit, whose circumference is larger than that of any other of the pit-glacières i have seen. a few yards off there is a smaller shaft in the rock, which we afterwards found to communicate with the glacière. the nw. side of the larger pit, being the side at the bottom of which is the arch of entrance, is vertical, and we spent the time necessary for growing cool in measuring the height of this face of rock from above. the plummet ran out feet of string, and struck the slope of snow, down which the descent to the cave must be made, about feet above the junction of the snow with the floor of the glacière, which was visible from the s. side of the edge of the pit; so that the total depth from the surface of the rock to the ice-floor was feet. [illustration: vertical section of the glaciÈre of grand anu, near annecy.] when we were sufficiently cool, we scrambled down the side of the pit opposite to that in which the archway lies, finding the rock extremely steep, and then came to a slope of feet of snow, completely exposed to the weather, which landed us at the mouth of the glacière. the arch is so large, that we could detect the change of light in the cave, caused by the passage of clouds across the sun, and candles were not necessary, excepting in the pits shortly to be described. we saw at once that rapid thaw was going on somewhere or other; and when we stepped off the snow, we found ourselves in a couple of inches of soft green vegetable mud, like a _compote_ of dark-coloured duckweed--or, to use a more familiar simile, like a mass of overboiled and ill-strained spinach. to the grief of one of us, there was ice under this, of most persuasive slipperiness. the maire said that he had never seen these signs of thaw in his visits in previous years; and as we went farther and farther into the cave, he was more and more surprised at each step to find such a large quantity of running water, and so much less ice than he had expected. the shape of the glacière is a rough circle, feet in diameter; and the floor, which is solid ice, slopes gradually down to the farther end. the immediate entrance is half-closed by a steep and very regular cone of snow, lying vertically under the small shaft we had seen in the rock above. the snow which forms the cone descends in winter by this shaft; and the formation must have been going on for a considerable time, since the lower part of the cone has become solid ice, under the combined influences of pressure and of _dégel_ and _regel_. i climbed up the side of this, by cutting steps in the lower part, and digging feet and hands deep into the snow higher up; and i found the length of the side to be feet. i had no means of determining the height of the cave, and a guess might not be of much value. at first sight, the farther end of the cave was the most striking. the water which comes from the melting snow down which we had passed in reaching the glacière, had cut itself deep channels in the floor, and through these it coursed rapidly till it precipitated itself into a large pit or _moulin_ in the ice, at the lowest point. this pit, a will be seen by the section of the cave given on p. ,[ ] terminates the glacière; and the rock-wall at the farther edge falls away into a sort of open fissure, down which magnificent cascades of ice stream emulously, clothing that side of the pit, which would otherwise be solid rock. we cut a few steps about the upper edge of this _moulin_, to make all safe, and proceeded to let down a lighted candle, which descended safely for feet, showing nothing but ice on all sides; it then came in contact with one of the falls of water, and the light was of course extinguished. we next tied a stone to the string, and found that after feet it struck on ice and turned inwards, under our feet, stopping finally at the end of feet; but whether it was really the bottom of the pit that stopped it, or only some ledge or accidental impediment, we could not determine. the diameter of this pit might be yards, but we took no measure of it. at the extreme right of the cave we found another pit, a yard and a half across, two-thirds of the circumference of which was formed by the plateau of ice on which we stood, and the remaining third by a fluting in the wall of rock. the maire said that, two years ago, this hole was not visible, being concealed by a large ice-column which had since fallen in. here again i let down a lighted candle, with more hopes of getting it to the bottom, as no part of the cave drained into the pit. the candle descended steadily, the flame showing no signs of atmospheric disturbance, and revealing the fact that the opposite side of the pit, viz. the rock, which alone was visible from our position, became more and more thickly covered with ice, of exquisite clearness, and varied and most graceful forms. as foot after foot, and yard after yard, ran out, and our heads craned farther and farther over the edge of the pit to follow the descending light, (we lay flat on the ice, for more safety,) the cries of the schoolmaster became mere howls, and the maire lapsed into oaths heavy enough to break in the ice. it is always sufficiently disagreeable to hear men swear; but in situations which have anything impressive, either of danger or of grandeur, it becomes more than ever unbearable. i remember on one occasion over-taking a large party in the descent from the plateau to the grands mulets, in a place where the snow was extremely soft, and any moment might land one of us in a crevasse; and i shall never forget the oaths which caught my ear, from a floundering fellow-countryman enveloped from the waist downwards. when feet had run out, the candle stopped, and on stretching over i saw that it had reached a slope of ice which inclined very steeply northwards, and passed away under the rock, apparently into a fresh cavern. by raising the candle slightly and then letting it drop, we made it glide down this slope for feet; and then it finally rested on a shelf of ice, showing us the shadowy beginnings of what should be a most glorious ice-cave. the little light which the candle gave was made the most of by the reflecting material which surrounded it; and we were able to see that the archway in the rock was rounded off with grey ice, and rested, as it were, on icy pillars. as far as we could judge, there would have been abundant room to pass down the slope under the archway, if only the preliminary feet could by any means have been accomplished; and i shall dream for long of what there must be down there. as i was anxious to know whether the side of the pit was vertical ice under our feet, i contrived to get about a third of the way round the edge, so as almost to reach the fluting in the rock which formed the farther side of the pit, and then desired the schoolmaster to raise the candle slowly from the ledge on which it still rested. as he pulled it gradually up, i was startled to find that the ice fell away sharply immediately below the spot where we had been collected, and then formed a solid wall; so that we had been standing on the mere edge of a shelf, with nothing but black emptiness below. how far the solid wall receded at the bottom i was unable to determine, for the light of one candle was of very little use at so great a distance, and in darkness so profound. i persuaded the maire to make an effort to reach a point from which he could see the insecurity of the ice which had seemed to form so solid a floor; and he was so much impressed by what he saw, that he fled with precipitation from the cave, and we eventually found him asleep under a bush on the rocks above. in reaching the farther side of the pit, we crossed unwittingly an ice-bridge formed by a transverse pit or tunnel in the ice, which opened into the pit we were examining. the maire afterwards promised to rail off all that end of the glacière, and forbid his workmen to venture upon it. considering that the hole itself was only opened two years before by the fall of a column, and has already undergone such changes, i shall be surprised if the ice-bridge, and all that part on which we lay to fathom the pit, does not fall in before very long; and then, by means of steps and ropes and ladders, it may be possible to reach the entrance to the lower cave, feet below the surface of the earth. may i be there to see![ ] the left side of the glacière, near the entrance, was occupied by a columnar cascade, behind which i forced a passage by chopping away some lovely ornaments of ice. here also the solid ground-ice falls away a little under the surface, leaving a cavern or feet deep, on the rock side of which every possible glacial fantasy was to be found. the stalactites here presented the peculiar prismatic structure so often noticed; but on the more exposed side of the column they were tipped with limpid ice, free from all apparent external or internal lines. this reminded me of what we had observed in the glacière of la genollière, namely, that the surface-lines tended to disappear under thaw; so i cut a piece of prismatic ice and put it in my mouth. in a short time it became perfectly limpid, and on breaking it up i could discover no signs of prism. on some parts of the floor of the glacière, the ice was apparently unprismatic, generally in connection with running water or other marks of thaw; but, to my surprise, i found that it split into prisms very readily. the maire could not understand how it was that, after a winter especially severe, as that of - had been, there should be even less ice than in the preceding summer, and we could see the marks of last year's cutting, down to the edge of the _moulin_. he said that they had never before cut down in that direction; but in the summer of they had been so much struck by the clearness of the ice which formed the floor, that they had cut it freely, and removed a large quantity. this, i believe, was the cause of the absence of any great amount of fresh ice. the slope of the whole ice-floor is considerable, and the workmen increased the slope by cutting away the ice in the neighbourhood of the edge of the _moulin_: they had also, as we could see quite plainly, excavated the clearer parts of the ice between the entrance to the cave and the _moulin_, so that a sort of trough ran down from near the foot of the snow to the pit at the lower end of the glacière. when we were there, the water rushed down this trough, and was lost in the pit; and very probably the same may have been the case in the earlier parts of the year, when, according to the view i have already expressed, the ice would under ordinary circumstances have been formed. if this be so, the caverns below must have received immense additions to their stores of ice or water. we observed, by the way, that the slope of ice to which the candle descended in the deeper pit, and the shelf on which it rested, were quite dry, or at any rate free from all apparent signs of the abundant water we should have seen, had that been the outlet for the streams which poured into the _moulin_. the maire said that the columns and cascades of ice in the cave had been much more beautiful in the previous summer. the whole cavern would thus appear to be something of the shape of an egg, with the longer axis vertical, and the entrance about half-way up the side. the lower end of this egg-shaped cavity in the rock is filled with ice, which in some parts shrinks from the rock below the surface, though, as far as outward appearance goes, it fills the cavern to its farthest corners. the depth of this ice at one side is feet, and how much more it may be in the middle it is impossible to say. as we have seen, there is a second ice-cave opening out of the principal one, at a depth of feet below the surface; and with respect to this second cave imagination may run riot. rosset told me that he had noticed, the year before, a strong source of water springing out of the side of a rock, at some little distance from the glacière; but he could not reach it then, and could not find it now. this may possibly be the drainage of the glacière in its summer state. the thermometer stood at ° in the middle of the cave; and though the others felt the cold very much, i was myself surprised to find so low a register, for the atmosphere seemed to be comparatively warm, judging from what i had experienced in other glacières. the only current of air we could detect was exceedingly slight, and came from the deeper of the two pits in the ice. it was so slight, that the flame of the candle burned apparently quite steadily when we were engaged in determining the depth and shape of the pit. the sun had by this time produced such an effect upon the slope of snow outside the glacière, that we found the ascent sufficiently difficult, especially as our hands were full of various instruments. the schoolmaster was not content to choose the straight line up, and in attempting to perform a zigzag, he came to a part of the slope where the snow lay about inches thick on solid ice, and the result was an unscholastic descent in inverted order of precedence. he got on better over the rolling stones after the snow was accomplished, but the clumsy style of his climbing dislodged an unpleasant amount and weight of missiles; and though he was amiable enough to cry '_garde_!' with every step he took, it will be found by experiment that it is not much use to the lower man to have '_garde_!' shouted in his ears, when his footing is insecure to begin with, and a large stone comes full at his head, at the precise moment when two others are taking him in the pit of the stomach. we found the maire, as was said, asleep under a bush near the mouth of the pit; and he pronounced himself completely recovered from the effects of the cold, and ready to guide us to a second glacière. he told us that the amount of ice he sold averaged , _quintaux métriques_ a week, for the three months of july, august, and september; but the last winter had been so severe, that the lake had provided ice for the artificial glacières of annecy, and no one had as yet applied to him this year. as only a fortnight of his usual season had passed, he may have since had plenty of applications, later in the year. the railways have opened up more convenient sources of ice for lyons, and for some time he has sent none to that town. footnotes: [footnote : a yorkshire farmer unconsciously adapts the german _wolkenbruch_, declaring on occasion that the rain is so heavy, it is 'ommust as if a clood had brussen someweers.'] [footnote : i tried the hay in this châlet one night, with such results that the next time i slept there, two years after, i preferred a combination of planks.] [footnote : _i.e._ new milk, warm.] [footnote : otherwise graphically called _battu_.] [footnote : i had no means of determining the elevation of the ground. the fact of feet of snow is of no value as a guide to the height. last winter ( - ) there was feet of snow on the jura, at a height of less than , feet, and the position of some of the larger châlets was only marked by a slight boss on the plane surface.] [footnote : in the section of the cave, i have brought out the deeper pit from the side into the middle, so as to show both in one section: i have also slightly shaded the pits, instead of leaving them blank like shafts in the rock.] [footnote : i have made arrangements for completing the exploration of this cave, and the one which is next described, in the course of the present summer.] * * * * * chapter xi. the glaciÈre of chappet-sur-villaz, on the mont parmelan, near annecy. we started southwards from the glacière of _grand anu_, for such they said was the proper name for the cave last described, and passed over some of the wildest walking i have seen. all the most striking features of a glacier were here reproduced in stone: now narrow deep crevasses which only required a slight spring; now much more formidable rents, which we were obliged to circumvent by a détour; now dark mysterious holes with vertical shell-like partitions at various depths; and now a perfect _moulin_, with fluted sides and every detail appertaining to those remarkable pits, the hollow plunge of falling water alone excepted. in other parts, the smooth slab-like appearance of the surface reminded me of a curious district on one of the summits of the jura, where the french frontier takes the line of crest, and the old stones marked with the _fleur-de-lys_ and the helvetic cross are still to be found. in those border regions the old historic distinctions are still remembered, and the frontier vaudois call the neighbouring french _bourguignons_--or, in their patois, _borgognons_. they keep up the tradition of old hatreds; and the strange bleak summit, with its smooth slabs of jura-chalk lying level with the surface, is so much like a vast cemetery, that the wish in old times has been father to the thought, and they call it still the cemetery of the burgundians, _cimetiros ai borgognons_.[ ] after a time, we reached a tumbled chaos of rock, much resembling the ice-fall of a glacier, and, on descending, and rounding a low spur of the mountain so as to take a north-westerly course, we found ourselves in a perfect paradise of flowers. one orchis i shall always regret. there seemed to be only a single head, closely packed with flowerets, and strongly scented; it was a pure white, not the green and straw-coloured white of other scented orchises. there were large patches of the delicate _faux-lis (paradisia liliastrum)_; and though there might not be anything very rare, and the lovely glacier-flowers were of course wanting, the whole was a rich feast for anyone who cares more for delicacy and colour than for botany. the maire told us that he had found the glacière, for which we were now in search, two years before, when he accompanied the government surveyor to show him the forests and mountains which formed his property. as he had on that occasion approached the spot from the other side, we walked a long way to place him exactly where the surveyor and he had crossed the ridge of the mountain, and then started him down from the col in the direction they had taken. he was certain of two things: first, that they had passed by the col between the mont parmelan and the montagne de l'eau; and, secondly, that the glacière was within five minutes of the highest point of the col. for three-quarters of an hour we all broke our shins, and the officials the third commandment. they invoked more saints than i had ever heard of, and, in default, did not scruple to appeal with shocking volubility to darker aid. it was all of no use,--and well it might be; for when we had given it up in despair, after long patience and a considerable period of the contrary, and had descended for half an hour in the direction of a third glacière, i chanced to look back, and saw that the col in the neighbourhood of which we had been searching lay between two points of the montagne de l'eau; while the true col between that mountain and the mont parmelan lay considerably to the west. when it appears that a guide has probably made a mistake, the only plan is to assume quietly that it is so, as if it were a matter of no consequence, and then he may sometimes be decoyed into allowing the fact: i therefore pointed out to the maire the true col, and told him that was the one by which he had passed southwards, when he found the glacière; to which, with unnecessary strength of language, he at once assented. but all my efforts to take him back were unavailing. nothing in the world should carry him up the mountain again, now that he had happily got so far down. i worked his best and his worst feelings with equal want of success; even national jealousy failed, and he was content to know that a french maire had not pluck to face three-quarters of an hour of climbing, when an english priest was ready to lead the way. the schoolmaster declined to go alone with me, on the ground that neither of us knew the mountain, and threatening clouds were gathering all around. when, at last, i proposed to go by myself, they became menacingly obstructive, and declared that i should certainly not be allowed to face the intricacy of the mountain in a fog. besides, as the maire put it, he was sure of the way to the third glacière; and if i were to go up alone to look for the second, i should lose a certainty for a chance, as there was not time to visit both. so with an ill grace i continued the descent with them, being restored to good humour before long by the beauty of the lake of annecy, as seen from our elevated position. it is so impossible to accept in full the accounts one picks up of natural curiosities, that i give the maire's description of the stray glacière only for what it is worth. it was not extracted without much laborious cross-examination--_sais paw vous le dire_ being the average answer to my questions. the entrance to the cave is about twice as high as a man, and is in a small shallow basin of rock and grass. the floor is level with the entrance, and the roof rises inside to a good height. in shape it is like a continental bread-oven; and at the time of the maire's visit, the floor was a confused mass of ice and stones, the former commencing at the very entrance. there was no ice except on the floor, the area of which might be as large as that of the surface of the ice in the glacière of grand anu. no pit was to be seen, and not a drop of water. snow could have drifted in easily, but they saw no signs of any remaining. if this account be true, especially with respect to the position of the entrance and the horizontal direction of the floor, i have seen no glacière like it. we descended for a time through fir-woods, and then again down steep and barren rocks, till we reached the sharp slope of grass which so frequently connects the base of a mountain with the more civilised forests and the pasturages below. the maire led us for some distance along the top of this grass slope, towards the west, skirting the rocks till they became precipitous and lofty, when he said we must be near our point. still we went on and on without seeing any signs of it, and our guide seemed in despair; and i, for one, entirely gave up the third cave to the same fate as the second, and became very sulky and remonstrative. the entrance to the glacière, the maire told us, was a hole in the face of the highest rocks, or yards only above the grass; and as we had now reached a part of the mountain where the rock springs up smooth and high, and we could command the whole face, and yet saw nothing, the schoolmaster came over to my side, and told the maire he was a humbug. however, we were then within a few yards of the desired spot, and half-a-dozen steps showed us a small _cheminée_, down which a strong and icy current of wind blew. the maire shouted a shout of triumph, and climbed the _cheminée_; and when we also had done the necessary gymnastics, we found a hole facing almost due north, all within being dark. the current blew so determinedly, that matches were of no use, and i was obliged to seek a sheltered corner before i could light a candle; and, when lighted, the candle was with difficulty kept from being blown out. no ice was visible, nor any signs of such a thing,--nothing but a very irregular narrow cave, with darkness at the farther end. as we advanced, we found that the floor of the cave came to a sudden end, and the darkness developed into a strange narrow fissure, which reached out of sight upwards, and out of sight below; and down this the maire rolled stones, saying that _there_ was the glacière, if only one could get at it without a _tourneau_. considering the persistency with which he had throughout declared that there was no possible need for a rope, i gave him some of my mind here, in that softened style which his official dignity demanded; but he excused himself by saying that the gentleman who owned the glacière, and extracted the ice for private use only, was now living at his summer châlet, a mile or two off, and he, the maire, had felt confident that the _tourneau_ would have been fitted up for the season. on letting a candle down from the termination of the floor, we found that the perpendicular drop was not more than feet, and from the shelf thus reached it seemed very possible to descend to the farther depths of the fissure; but i had become so sceptical, that i persisted in asserting that there was no ice below. the maire's manner, also, was strange, and i suspected that the cold current of air had caused the place to be called a glacière, with any other qualification on the part of the cave. one thing was evident,--no snow could reach the fissure. m. métrai was determined that i must not attempt the descent, pointing out, what was quite true, that though the fall was not great, there seemed no possibility of getting back up the smooth rock. his arguments increased my suspicions; so, leaving all apparatus behind, i dropped down to join the candle, rather hoping to have the satisfaction of sending them off for a rope, in case i could not achieve the last few feet in returning, and knowing that there was no danger of the fate which once threatened the chamois-hunting kaiser max.[ ] the drop turned out to be a mere nothing, and, taking the candle, i scrambled on, down the sloping floor of the fissure, towards the heart of the mountain, expecting every moment that my further passage would be stopped by solid rock. but, after reaching a part so narrow that i was obliged to mount by both sides at once in order to get past it, i found a commodious gallery, opening out into a long and narrow and very lofty cavern, still only a fissure, the floor of which continued the regular and rapid slope down which i had so far come. a short way farther down, an opening appeared to the left; and i turned off the main passage into a horizontal gallery or chamber, with a floor of ice resting on rock and stones. this chamber seemed to be or yards wide at the entrance, narrowing regularly to / feet. it was feet long, and at the farther end, which would not have been visible from the entrance, on account of a slight bend in the ice-gallery, even if there had been any light, it was closed by an ice-cascade yards high and / feet broad at the bottom. the ice of much of this cascade was so clear, that i saw the rock upon which it rested, or in some parts did not rest, quite plainly, and the large air-cavities in the structure were beautifully shown by the richly-coloured rock behind. none of the current which we had observed above, and which had nearly baffled my protecting care of the candle during the descent, came from this gallery; but i find it written in my notes that the gallery was _very_ cold. thaw was going on, rather rapidly; and the water stole out by the entrance, and ran down the main descent, over ice and among rocks, into the farther darkness. when i came out again from this gallery, i mounted the slope towards my companions, and tried to tempt them down. the maire felt himself to be too valuable to his country to be lightly risked, and declined to come; but rosset took a bold heart, and dropped, after requiring from me a solemn promise that i would give him a back for his return up the rock. we visited the gallery i had already explored, and, as we stood admiring the cascade of ice, a skilful drop of water came from somewhere, and extinguished our only candle. my matches were with the maire; and i was equally sure that he would not bring them down to us, and that we could not go up to fetch them without a light. rosset, however, very fortunately, had a box in his pocket for smoking purposes; and we cut off the wet wick, and cut down the composition to form another, and so contrived to light the candle again. while we were thus engaged, i chanced to look up for a moment, and saw far above our heads a small opening in the roof, through which a few rays of light entered from the outer world. it was so very far above us, that the uncertain rays were lost long before they got down to our level, being absorbed in the universal darkness, and being in fact rather suggested than visible even at their strongest. those who have been at lauterbrunnen in a very dry season, will understand how these rays presented the appearance of a ghostly staubbach of unreal light. we must have been at an immense depth below the surface in which the opening lay; and if there had been a long day before us, it would have been curious to search for the fissure above. sir thomas browne says, in the _religio medici,_ 'conceive light invisible, and that is a spirit.' we very nearly saw a spirit here. the descent from the mouth of this chamber to the deeper recesses of the main fissure was very rough, but was speedily accomplished, and we reached a point where solid rock stopped us in face; while, to the right, a chamber with a threshold of ice was visible, and, to the left, a dark opening, down which the descent appeared to continue. from this opening all the strong cold current came. we took the ice-chamber first. the entrance had evidently been closed till very lately by a large column of ice, and we passed over the débris, between rock portals and on a floor of solid grey ice, into a triangular cave of any height the imagination might choose to fix. the entire floor of the cave was of ice, giving the impression of infinite thickness and firmness. a little water stood on it, near the threshold, so limpid that we could not see where it commenced. the base of this triangular floor we found to be feet, and its altitude feet; and though these dimensions may seem comparatively small, the whole effect of the thick mass of ice on which we stood, with the cascades of ice in the corners, and the ice-figures on the walls, and the three sides of the cave passing up into sheer darkness, was exceedingly striking, situated, as it all was, so deep down in the bowels of the earth. the original entrance to the fissure, at the top of the _cheminée_, was, as has been said, at the base of lofty rocks, and we had descended very considerably from the entrance; so that, even without the strange light thrown upon the matter by the small hole overhead, through which we had seen the day struggling to force its way into the cavern, we should have been sure that we were now at an immense distance below the surface. one corner of the cave was occupied by a broad and solid-looking cascade, while another corner showed the opening of a very narrow fissure, curved like one of the shell-shaped crevasses of a glacier. into this fissure the ice-floor streamed; and rosset held my coat-tails while i made a few steps down the stream, when the fall became too rapid for further voluntary progress. i let down a stone for feet, when it stuck fast, and would move neither one way nor the other. the upper wall of this fissure was clothed with moss-like ice, and ice of the prismatic structure,--with here and there large scythe-blades, as it were, attached by the sharp edge to the rock, and lying vertically with the heel outwards. one of these was inches deep, from the heel to the rock, and only one-eighth of an inch thick at the thickest part. the angle occupied by the cascade or column was the most striking. the base of the column was large, and apparently solid, like a smooth unbroken waterfall suddenly frozen. it fitted into the angle of the cave, and completely filled up the space between the contiguous walls. i commenced to chop with my axe, and before long found that this ice was hollow, though very thick; and when a sufficient hole was made for me to get through, i saw that what had looked like a column was in truth only a curtain of ice hung across the angle of the cave. within the curtain the ice-floor still went on, streaming down at last into a fissure something like that in the other corner. the curtain was so low, that i was obliged to sit on the ice inside to explore; and after a foot or two of progress, the slope towards the fissure became sufficiently great to require steps to be cut. the stream of ice turned round a bend in the fissure, very near the curtain, and was lost to view; but rosset stood by the hole through which i had passed--on the safer side of it--and despatched blocks of ice, which glided past me round the corner, and went whizzing on for a long time, eventually landing upon stones, and sometimes, we fancied, in water. it is very awkward work, sitting on a gentle slope of the smoothest possible ice, with a candle in one hand, and an axe in the other, cutting each step in front; especially when there is nothing whatever to hold by, and the slope is sufficient to make it morally certain that in case of a slip all must go together. of course, a rope would have made all safe. when i groaned over the maire's obstinacy, rosset asked what could possibly be the use of a rope, if i were to slip; and, to my surprise, i found that he had no idea what i wanted a rope for. when he learned that, had there been one, he would have played a large part in the adventure, and that he might have had me dangling over an ice-fall out of sight round the corner, he added his groans to mine, and would evidently have enjoyed it all very much. at the same time, he was prudent, and, as each block of ice made its final plunge, he told me that was what would happen to me if i went any farther: and, really, the pictures he drew of deep lakes of icy water and jagged points of rock, between which i must make my choice down there, were so unpleasant, that at last i desisted, and pushed myself up backwards, still in a sitting posture, calling rosset and the maire the worst names i could feel justified in using. on the way, i found one of the large brown flies which we had seen in the glacière of la genollière, and in the lower glacière of the pré de s. livres. rosset now told me he was so cold he could stand it no longer; but, after a little pressure, and a declaration on my part that he should not have a candle for going up again, he consented to remain with me while i explored the remaining chamber, the lowest of all. this chamber may be called a continuation of the main passage. it is of about the same width as the highest of the three chambers, and the floor descends rapidly, the cold current of air becoming very strong and biting as we penetrated into the darkness. as the genevese _savans_ seemed to believe in 'cold currents' as the cause of underground ice, i was naturally anxious to see as much as possible of the state of this gallery, from which every particle of the current seemed to come. we very soon reached a narrow dark lake, and, exclaiming that here was ice again, i stepped, not on to, but into it, and found that it was water. when our solitary candle was brought to bear upon it, we saw that it was so clear as not in any way to impede our view, producing rather the effect of slightly-clouded spectacles upon the stones at the bottom. this lake filled up the whole breadth of the gallery, here perhaps or feet, and rapidly passed to the depth of a yard; but for a little distance there were unstable stones at one edge, and steps in the rock-wall, by which i could pass on still into the darkness, supported by an alpenstock planted in the water. the current of cold air blew along the surface of the water from the farther extremity of the gallery, wherever that might be. as far as our eyes could reach, we saw nothing but the black channel of water, with its precipitous sides passing up beyond our sight. it might have been possible to progress in a spread-eagle fashion, with one hand and one foot on each side; but a fall would have been so bitterly unpleasant, that i made a show of condescension in acceding to rosset's request that i would not attempt such a thing. in the course of my return to the rocks where he stood, i involuntarily fathomed the depth of the lake, luckily in a shallower part, and was so much struck by the coldness of the water, that i left rosset with the candle, and struggled up without a light to the place where we had left the maire, or rather to the bottom of the drop from the entrance-cave, to get the thermometer. the maire was sunning himself on the rock, out of reach of the cold current; but he came in, and let down the case, and i quickly rejoined the schoolmaster. at first, it would have been impossible to move about without a light; but our eyes had now become to some extent accustomed to the darkness, and i had learned the difficulties of the way. when the thermometers were suspended in the water, rosset asked how long they must stay there. i rashly answered, a quarter of an hour; on which he demanded indignantly whether i supposed he meant to stay in that cold for a quarter of an hour. he had now the candle in his own possession, and i was propped on a stone and an alpenstock in the lake, so he turned to go, vowing that he would leave me alone in the dark if i did not come out at once. there was no help for it, as the thermometer would have been of no use without a candle, and a step in the dark is not pleasant when all around is water, so i slowly drew up the thermometer and read ° f. in making final arrangements for departure, i let it lie in the water for a few seconds longer, and it fell to ½°; but rosset would not stay a moment longer, and i was obliged to be content with that result. he made himself very easy about the matter, and said we must call it zero; and in the evening i heard him telling the maire that the greatest of the wonders he had missed, by his patriotic care for his neck, was a lake of water which did not freeze, though its temperature was zero (centigrade). among the stones at the bottom of this water, i saw here and there patches of a furry sort of ice. i have often watched the freezing of a rapid scotch stream, where, in the swifter parts, the ice forms first at the bottom and gradually creeps up the larger stones till it appears on the surface, and becomes a nucleus, round which pieces of floating ice collect; and the substance in the glacière-lake had exactly the same appearance as the scotch ground-ice. but it could not be the same thing in reality, for, as far as i understand the phenomenon of ground-ice, some disturbed motion of the water is necessary, to drive down below the surface the cold particles of water, which become ice the moment they strike upon any solid substance shaped like fractured stone;[ ] the specific gravity of freezing water being so much less than that of water at a somewhat higher temperature, that without some disturbing cause it would not sink to the bottom.[ ] so that it seems probable that the ice at the bottom of the lake was the remains of a solid mass, of which the greater part had been converted into water by some warm influence or other. we noticed that a little water trickled down among the stones which formed the slope of descent into the lowest gallery, so that perhaps the lake was a collection of water from all parts of the various ramifications of the fissure. whence came the icy wind, it is impossible to say, without further exploration. it was satisfactory to me to find that the 'cold current' of the genevese _savans_ was thus associated with water, and not with ice, in the only cave in which i had detected its presence to any appreciable extent, the currents of the glacière of monthézy being of a totally different description. when we reached the final rock, in ascending, i offered rosset the promised back, but he got up well enough without it. before leaving the entrance-cave, we inspected the thermometer which we had left to test the temperature of the current of air, and, to my surprise, found it standing at °. we saw, however, that it had been carelessly propped on a piece of rock which sheltered it from the influence of the current, so i exposed it during the time occupied in arranging the bag of tapes, &c., and it fell to °: whether it would have fallen lower, the impatience of rosset has left me unable to say. if i can ever make an opportunity for visiting the mont parmelan again, i shall hope to take a cord, in order to investigate the mysterious corner of the triangular chamber; and i shall certainly make myself independent of shivering frenchmen while i measure the temperature of the lake and the current of air. we met a man outside who said that he was employed by the owner, m. de chosal of annecy, to cut the ice; he had been down three times to the lowest gallery in different years, in the end of july, and had always found the same collection of water there. the glacière, he told us, was discovered about thirty years ago. the maire had basked in the sun all the time we were down below, and he expressed himself as much pleased that we had found so much to interest us, in spite of the miscarriage of our efforts to reach the second glacière. we set off down the steep grass at a scrambling sliding run, against which i was speedily obliged to protest, explaining that a certain ugly inflammation above the left knee was becoming worse every other step, and as the leg must last three days longer, it would be as well to humour it. they saw the force of this reasoning, and we descended with much gravity till we came in sight of the _mairie_, still half an hour off, when rosset cried out that he smelled supper, and rushed off at an infectious pace down the remainder of the mountain-side. we reached the _mairie_ at six o'clock, and sat down at once 'to eat something.' the first course was bread and kirsch; and when that was finished, six boiled eggs appeared, and a quart _carafe_ of white wine. these having vanished, their place was taken by a dish of sodden cabbage, and another quart of wine; but, to save the credit of the maire and the schoolmaster, i will not say how often the former functionary descended to the cellar with a quart pitcher, with increasing impetuosity. next came a dish of onions, with a pretence of _mange-tout,_ broiled brown after boiling, and served in a compound fat; and then haricots with a like condiment, and with a flavour reminiscent of the previous course. there was some talk of a _poulet_; but the bird still lived, and the talk came to nothing. the dinner ended with the haricots, and we then relapsed into dessert, namely, bread and kirsch. the mayoress came in with the dessert, and sat on the end of the bench, below the hats and the bread-tin, eating the remaining onions off the dish with the spoon of nature. during one of the maire's frequent visits to the cellar, i propounded a question to the schoolmaster which had puzzled me for some time: was i to pay the maire? m. rosset said that it was certainly not _necessary_, but i had better propose it, and i should then see how m. métral took it. this i accordingly did, when the adieux in the house had been said, and my host was showing me the way to thorens, where i was to sleep, he, also, declared that it was not necessary--the pleasure he had experienced in accompanying me had already fully recompensed him: still, if i wished to reimburse him for that which i had actually cost, he was a man reasonable, and in all cases content. i calculated that the dinner and wine which had fallen to my share would be dear at a franc, and the day's wage of a substitute to do the maire's neglected work could not come to much, so i boldly and unblushingly gave that great man four francs, and he said regretfully that it was more than enough. to his son and heir--the identical boy who had brought the ring of bread up the mountain to the châlet where we lunched. i gave something under two-pence, for guiding me across two doubtful fields into a beaten track, and he expressed himself as even more content than the maire. they both told me that it was impossible to miss the way; but i imagine that i achieved that impossibility, as i had to walk through two streams in the deepening twilight, and the prevailing fear of water in that region is very considerable. the _auberge_ at thorens to which the maire had recommended me, as being the best, and kept by a personal friend of his, bore the sign _à la parfaite union_. the entry was by the kitchen, and through the steam and odour of onions, illuminated by one doubtful oil-lamp, i saw the guest-room filled with people in sunday dress, while two fiddles played each its own tune in its own time. nothing but the potent name of m. the maire of aviernoz gained me even a hearing; and, for a bed, i was obliged to stretch my intimacy with that exalted personage to the very furthest bounds of truth. chappaz nicolai, whose name the maire had written in my note-book, that there might be no mistake, appeared to be of that peculiar mental calibre which warrants yorkshire peasants in describing a man as 'half-rocked,' or 'not plumb.' his wife, on the other hand, was one of those neat, gentle, sensible women, of whom one wonders how they ever came to marry such thick-lipped and blear-eyed men. between them they informed me that if i did not object to share a room, i could be taken in; otherwise--maire or no maire--not. i asked whether they meant half a bed; but they said no, that would not be necessary at present; and i accepted the offered moiety of accommodation, as it was now seventeen hours since i had started in the morning, and i was not inclined to turn out in the dark to look for a whole room elsewhere. the stairs were a sort of cross between a ladder and nothing, and when we reached the proposed room a large mastiff was in possession, who would not let us enter till the master was summoned to expel him. the furniture consisted of a table and five chairs, with no bed or beds. on the chairs were various articles of clothing, blouses and garments more profound, belonging probably to members of the party below; and on the table, a bottle of water and a soup-plate, the pitcher and basin of the house. it was a mere slip of a room, with two diamond-shaped holes in one wall, whose purpose i discovered when my guide opened a papered door, in which were the holes, and displayed two beds foot to foot in an alcove. one of these, she was sure, would be too short for me, but she feared i must be satisfied with it, as the other was much broader and would therefore hold the two messieurs. how the _two_? i asked, and was told that two _pensionnaires_ lived in this room; but they were old friends, and for one night would sleep in the same bed to oblige monsieur. the ideas of length and breadth in connection with the beds were entirely driven from my head by the fact of their dirtiness; and i determined that if the two _pensionnaires_ occupied the one, the other should be unoccupied. after arranging things a little, i struggled down the steps again, and ordered coffee and bread in a little room, which commanded the assembly with the fiddles in the larger _salle_. the head waitress, busy as she was, found time to come now and then to an open window near where i sat, and talked to a male friend sitting outside in the dark: indeed, she did more than talk, and people had to rattle their glasses very hard before they could make her hear. from her i learned that this was a marriage party which had arrived; and when i asked why they did not dance, as the fiddles were engaged at that moment with unwonted unanimity upon dance-music, she gave me to understand that these were not people of thorens, but only a party from another village, making the evening promenade after the wedding: from which it would seem that it is not the etiquette for people to dance under such circumstances, except in the home village. they sat round a table, men and women alternately, with their hats on, and with glasses before them. the bride and bridegroom were accommodated with a bench to themselves at the head of the table, he likewise with his hat on, and with a pipe in his mouth, which, seeing that he was a demonstrative bridegroom, one might have supposed to be an inconvenience. he managed very well, however, and every one seemed contented: indeed, the pipe must, i think, be held to be no difficulty; for the men all smoked, and yet, to judge from appearances, there was a prospect of as many marriages as there were couples in the room. the unruffled gravity, however, and the apparent want of zest, both in giving and receiving, which characterised the proceedings specially referred to, led me to suppose that it might be only a part of the etiquette, and so meant nothing serious. between ten and eleven the fiddles and the party vanished, and i went up-stairs more determined than ever not to touch a bed, after my experience of the room below. three chairs were speedily arranged between the table and wall, and on these i lay and tried to sleep. but the very chairs were populous, as i had found below, and sleep was impossible. moreover, soon after eleven, a soldier came into the room, to arrange about his breakfast with one of the maidens in the house. he had heard me order fresh butter for six o'clock, and he was anxious to know, whether, by breakfasting at five o'clock, he could get my butter. the chairs which formed my bed were under the lee of the table, so that the figure recumbent on them was invisible, and the gallant soldier, under the impression that there was no one in the room, enforced his arguments by other than conventional means. but military lips, when applied personally, proved to be a rhetoric as unsuccessful as military words. the maid was platonic, and something more than platonic; and the hero got so much the worst of it, that he gave up the battle, and changed the subject to a conscript in his charge, who had locked himself in his bed-room and would not answer. how was he to know whether he had the conscript safe? all this lasted some time; and when they were gone, one of the _pensionnaires_ came in. with him i had to fight the battle of the window, which i had opened to its farthest extent. after he had got over the first surprise and shock of finding me on the chairs instead of in the bed, for whose comfort he vouched enthusiastically, he became confident that it was merely out of complaisance to him and his comrade that i had opened the window, and assured me that they really did not care for fresh air, even if they could feel the difference in the alcove, which he declared they could not. as soon as that was arranged to my satisfaction, the other _pensionnaire_ came in, and with him the battle was fought with only half success, for he peremptorily closed one side of the window. he was a particularly noisy _pensionnaire_, and shied his boots into every corner of the room before they were posed to his satisfaction. as far as i could tell, the removal of the boots was the only washing and undressing either of them did; and then they arranged their candles in the alcove, lighted cigars, and got into bed. there the wretches sat up on end, smoking and talking vehemently, till sheer exhaustion came to my aid, and i fell asleep; but the edges of the rush-bottomed chairs speedily became so sharp that a recumbent posture ceased to be possible, and i sat dozing on one chair. a little before four o'clock, the noisier man got up to look for his boots; and as the friends continued their discussion, i also turned out and made for the nearest stream, where i bathed in a rapid at half-past four, to wash away, if possible, the horrors of the night. footnotes: [footnote : the true _cimetière des bourguignons_ is the enclosure where rené, the victor of nancy, buried the burgundians who fell on the sad sunday when charles the bold went down before the deaf châtelain claude de bagemont.] [footnote : neither of my companions, i fear, would have acted as sejanus did, when another emperor was in danger of his life in the cave on the gulf of amyclæ. (tacit. ann. iv. .)] [footnote : water reduced to a temperature below ° without freezing, begins to freeze as soon as a crystal is dropped into it, the ice forming first on the faces of the crystal.] [footnote : water attains its maximum of specific gravity at °. below ° it becomes lighter.] * * * * * chapter xii. the glaciÈres of the brezon, and the valley of reposoir. the bill _à la parfaite union_ was as small as the accommodation at that _auberge_, and it was an immense relief to get away from the scene of my sufferings. the path to bonneville lies for the earlier part of the way through pleasant scenery; and when the highest ground is reached, there is a lovely view of the lake of geneva, which may be enjoyed under the cool shade of a high hedge of trees, in the intervals of browsing upon wild strawberries. but after passing the curious old town of la roche, two hours' walk from thorens, the heat and dust of the dreary high road became insupportable; and no pedestrian who undertakes that march with a heavy knapsack, under a blazing noonday sun, will arrive at bonneville without infinite thankfulness that he has got through it. the road is of the same character as that between bonneville and geneva, and that will sufficiently express its unpleasantness in baking times of drought. the glacière of the brezon lies at no great distance from bonneville--perhaps not more than four or five miles to the se.--but its elevation is more than , feet, and the approach is steep. the glacière of the valley of reposoir, a valley which falls into the main road between bonneville and chamouni at the village of scionzier, is considerably higher, and a good deal of climbing is necessary in visiting it. when i arrived at bonneville, the whole mass of mountains in which these caves lie was enveloped in thick dark clouds, and the faint roar of thunder reached our ears now and then, so that it seemed useless to attempt to penetrate into the high valleys. moreover, i was due for an attempt upon mont blanc in the beginning of the next week, and an incipient bilious fever, with a painful lameness of one leg, warned me that my powers were coming to an end, and that another day such as the last had been would put a total stop upon the proposed ascent; and so i determined to take the fever and the leg to geneva, and submit them to medical skill. this determination was strengthened by the exhortations of a belgian, who called himself a _grand amateurdes montagnes_, on the strength of an ascent of the môle and the voiron, and in this character administered alpine advice of that delightful description which one meets with in the coffee-rooms at chamouni. this belgian was the only other guest of the hôtel des balances; and his amiability was proof even against the inroads of some nameless species of _vin mousseux_, recommended to me by the waiter, which supplied _mal-à-propos_ wine-sauce to the various dishes from which the belgian was making his dinner, and did not leave his face and waistcoat free from stain. he had but one remark to make, however wild might be the assertions advanced from the english side of the table, '_vous avez raison, monsieur, vous avez parfait-e-ment raison_!' it is not quite satisfactory to hold the same sentiments, in every small particular, with a man who clips his hair down to a quarter of an inch, and eats haricots with his fingers; but it was impossible to find any subject on which he could be roused to dissentience. this phenomenon was explained afterwards, when he informed me that he was a flannel-merchant travelling with samples, and pointed out what was only too true, namely, that the english monsieur's coat was no longer fit to be called a coat. professor pictet read a paper on these glacières before the _société helvétique des sciences naturelles_ at berne, in , which is to be found in the _bibl. universelle de genève._[ ] m. pictet left geneva in the middle of july to visit the caves, but found himself so much knocked up by the first day's work, that he sent on his grandson to the glacière of the brezon, and gave up the attempt himself. the young man found it to be of small dimensions, feet by , with a height of or feet. the ice on the floor was believed by the guide to be formed in summer only, and was placed too irregularly to admit of measurement. calcareous blocks almost choked the entrance, and an orifice in the shape of a funnel admitted the snow freely from above, and was partly filled with snow in july. cold currents of air proceeded from the rocks in the neighbourhood of the glacière, giving in one instance a temperature of °· , the temperature in the shade being °. within the cave, the temperature was °. m. morin visited this glacière in august . he describes it as a sheltered hole, in which the snow collects and is preserved. m. thury examined it in august , and gives the same account. he, too, found the current of air which the younger pictet discovered, but in the cave itself the air was perfectly still. it was clearly, then, no great loss to miss the glacière of the brezon; but that on the mont vergy, in the valley of reposoir, appears to be much more interesting. professor pictet found himself sufficiently strong after a day's rest to pass on to scionzier, and up the valley of reposoir, accompanied by the well-known guide timothée, whose botanical knowledge of the district is said to be perfect. he had conducted mm. necker and colladon to the glacière in , and believed that no _savant_ had since seen it. the rocks are all calcareous, with large blocks of erratic granite. the glacière lies about minutes from the châlet of montarquis, whence its local name of _la grand' cave de montarquis_. before reaching it, a spacious grotto presents itself, once the abode of coiners: this grotto is cold, but affords no ice, and near it m. morin found a narrow fissure, leading into a circular vaulted chamber feet in diameter, in which stood a solitary stalagmite of ice feet high. the entrance to the glacière itself is elliptical in shape, feet broad at the base, and the cave increases in size as it extends farther into the rock, the floor descending gently till a horizontal esplanade of ice is reached. this esplanade was feet by at the time of pictet's visit, deeper in the middle than at the sides, and mounting the rock at the farther side of the cave; there was a small stalagmite at one side, but that would seem to have been the only ornamentation displayed. the temperature was °· , a foot above the ice, and ° in the external air. timothée had been in the glacière in the previous april, and had found no ice,--nothing but a pool of water of considerable depth. m. thury, in august , found two sheets of ice in the lowest part of the cave: one, nearly feet long, was partially covered with water; the other, presenting an area of about square yards, showed more water still. there were no stalactites and columns such as m. morin had found in august , nor even the low stalagmite which pictet saw in . the summers of and were exceptionally hot, and this fact has been held to account for the smaller quantity of ice seen in those years. m. thury found the cold due to evaporation to be considerably less than ° f.,[ ] and he and m. morin both fixed the general temperature of the cave at °. ; they also found a current of air entering by a fissure in the lowest part of the cave, but it did not disturb the whole of the interior, for in one part the air was in perfect equilibrium. m. gampert,[ ] in the summer of , found a strong and very cold current of air descending by this fissure, along with water which ran from it over the ice; he believed that this was refrigerated by evaporation, in passing through the thickness of the moist rock. two peasants visited this cave three times in the winter season, viz. on october , november , and on christmas day; and one of them, by name chavan, drew up an account of their experiences, which was read by m. colladon before the _société de physique et d'histoire nat. de genève_ in .[ ] the peasants found very little ice in columns at the time of the october visit, and there were signs of commencing thaw. the thaw was much more pronounced in november, when the ice had nearly disappeared even from the lowest parts of the cave, and they found the air within quite warm. on christmas day they had great difficulty in reaching the glacière, and narrowly escaped destruction by an avalanche, which for a time deterred them from prosecuting the adventure: they persisted, however, and were rewarded by finding only water where in summer all was ice, and a temperate warmth in the cave. they observed that the roof had fissures like chimneys. this account was so circumstantial, that the only thing left was to attempt an explanation of the phenomena reported, and such explanations have not been wanting. but m. thury was not quite satisfied, and he determined to visit the cave in the winter of - . accordingly, accompanied by m. andré gindroz, who had already joined him in his unsuccessful attempt to reach the glacière of the pré de s. livres, he left geneva on the th of january, and slept at the chartreuse in the valley of reposoir. as the party passed through the village of pralong du reposoir, the peasants told them with one accord that they would find nothing but warmth and water in the cave; but when m. thury asked had any of them seen it themselves, they were equally unanimous in saying no, explaining that it was not worth anyone's while to go in the winter, as there was no ice to be seen then,--a circular line of argument which did not commend itself to the strangers. at the very entrance of the grotto, they found beautiful stalactites of clear ice; and here they paused, till such time as they should be cool enough to enter, for the thermometer stood at ° in the sun, and their climb had made them hot. on penetrating to the farther recesses of the cave, where the true glacière lies, they found an abundance of stalactites, stalagmites, and columns of ice, with flooring and slopes of the same material: not a drop of water anywhere. the stalagmites were very numerous, but none of them more than three feet high; some of the stalactites, fifteen or so in number, were six or seven feet long, and there were many others of a smaller size. m. thury was particularly struck by the milky appearance of much of the ice, one column in particular resembling porcelain more than any other substance. this is a not unusual character of the most beautiful part of the decorations of the more sheltered ice-caves, as for instance the lowest cave in the upper glacière of the pré de s. livres; the white appearance is not due to the presence of air, for the ice is transparent and homogeneous, and the naked eye is unable to detect bubbles or internal fissures. the temperatures at . p.m. and . p.m. respectively were as follows:--in the sun, between and feet above the snow, °. and °· ; in the shade, outside the cave, °· and °· ; at the observatory of geneva, in the shade, °· and °· , having risen from °· since noon. in the cave, foot above the surface of the ice-floor, the thermometer stood at °. ; and in a hole in the ice, some few inches below the surface, °· . in the large fissure, which has been already mentioned as the source of the summer currents of air, the temperature at various points was from °· to °· . the circumstances of these currents of air were now of course changed. instead of a steady current passing from the fissure into the cave, and so out by the main entrance into the open air, strong enough to incline the flame of a candle °, m. thury found a gentle current passing from the cave into the fissure, sufficient only to incline the flame °, and near the entrance °, while in the entrance itself no current was perceptible at p.m. m. thury remarks that less current was to be expected in winter than in summer, because the upper ends of the fissures would be probably choked with snow, and their lower ends with ice. it is evident that the current which passes up into the fissure in winter, is favourable to the introduction of the colder air from without; while the opposite current in summer keeps up a supply of cold air in the cave, and so increases its powers of resisting the attempts of the heated external air to make a partial entrance. both these currents, then, favour the glacial conditions of the cave, and to some extent counterbalance the disadvantages of its situation: viz., its aspect, towards the south-east; the large size of its opening to the air, and the absence of all shelter near the mouth, such as is so often provided by trees or rocks. the small depth of the cave, scarcely amounting to feet below the level of the entrance, is also a great disadvantage. the people of pralong asked, on the return of the party, what had been found in the _grand' cave_, and the answer reduced them to silence for a few moments. their prejudices, however, were invincible, and they persisted in their belief that a true glacière ought to have no ice in it in the winter. m. thury did not enquire from what source they drew their ideas of a true glacière. there is a book, in three volumes, on the 'glacières of the alps,' by m. bourrit, dedicated to buffon, in which is a description of the valley of reposoir; but no mention whatever is made of the _grand' cave_. indeed, m. bourrit merely meant by _glacière_, a glacial district, something more extensive than a _glacier_, and he had evidently no knowledge of the existence of caves containing ice. footnotes: [footnote : première série, t. xx. pp. , &c.] [footnote : less than / ° c., he says.] [footnote : _bibl. univ. de genève_, première série, t. xxv. pp. , &c.] [footnote: : _bibl. univ_. l.c.] * * * * * chapter xiii. la borna de la glace, in the duchy of aosta. the chanoine carrel, of aosta, whose name is so well and so favourably known to alpine men, sent a brief account of an ice-cave in his neighbourhood to the _bibliothèque universelle_ of geneva[ ] in the year , and, as far as i know, there is no other account of it. my plan had been to pass from chamouni by the col du géant to courmayeur, and thence to aosta for a visit to the canon and his glacière; but, unfortunately, the symptoms which had put an end to the expedition to the brezon and the valley of reposoir came on with renewed vigour, as a consequence of mont blanc, and the projected fortnight with peter pernn collapsed into a hasty flight to geneva. it was fortunate that medical assistance was not necessary in chamouni itself; for one of the members of our large party there was mulcted in the sum of £ , with a hint that something beyond that would be acceptable, for an extremely moderate amount of attendance by the local french doctor. the glacière was thus of necessity given up. it is known among the people as _la borna de la glace_, and lies about , feet above the sea, on the northern slope of the hills which command the hamlet of chabaudey, commune of la salle, in the duchy of aosta, to the north-east of larsey-de-là, in a place covered with firs and larches, and called plan-agex. the entrance has an east exposure, and is very small, being a triangle with a base of feet and an altitude of - / feet. after descending a yard or two, this becomes larger, and divides into two main branches, with three other fissures penetrating into the heart of the mountain, too narrow to admit of a passage. the roof is very irregular, and the stones on the floor are interspersed with ice, which appears also in the form of icicles upon the walls; and, in the eastern branch of the cave, there is a cylindrical pillar more than feet long, with a diameter of rather more than a foot. the temperature at p.m. on july , , was as follows:--the external air, °; the cave, at the entrance, · º; near the large cylinder, °· ; and in different parts of the western branch, from °· to °· . m. carrel was evidently not aware of the existence of similar caves elsewhere. he recommends, in his communication to the _bibliothèque universelle_, that some scientific man should investigate the phenomena, and explain the great cold, and the fact of the formation of ice, which common report ascribed to the time of the dog-days. he doubts whether rapid evaporation can be the only cause, and suggests that possibly there may be something in the interior of the mountain to account for this departure from the laws generally recognised in geology. footnotes: [footnote : nouvelle série, t. xxxiv. p. .] * * * * * chapter xiv. the glaciÈre of fondeurle, in dauphinÉ. there cannot be any better place for recruiting strength than the lovely primitive valley of _les plans_, two hours up the course of the avençon from hot and dusty bex. here i rejoined my sisters, intending to spend a month with them before returning to england; and the neighbouring glaciers afforded good opportunities for quietly investigating the structure of the ice which composes them, with a view to discovering, if possible, some trace of the prismatic formation so universal in the glacières. on one occasion, after carefully cutting steps and examining the faces of cleavage for an hour and a half, i detected a small patch of ice, under the overhanging rim of a crevasse, marked distinctly with the familiar network of lines on the surface; but i was unable to discover anything betokening a prismatic condition of the interior. this was the only case in which i saw the slightest approach to the phenomena presented in ice-caves. there remained one glacière on m. thury's list, which i had so far not thought of visiting. it was described as lying three leagues to the north of die in dauphiné, department of the drôme, at an altitude of more than , feet above the sea. m. héricart de thury discovered this cavern in , and published an account of it in the _annales des mines_[ ] to which m. thury's list gave a reference. i have since found that this account has been translated into various scientific periodicals, among others the philosophical journal of edinburgh.[ ] it occurred to me that, by leaving les plans a few days earlier than i had intended, i could take advantage of the new line connecting chambéry and grenoble and valence, and so visit this glacière without making the journey too long; and accordingly i bade farewell to madame chérix's comfortable room, leaving my sisters in their quarters in a neighbouring châlet, and started for geneva. the line was advertised to open on the th of august; but on the th the officials declared that it was not within a month and a half of completion, so that i was compelled to go round by lyons. i was easily reconciled to this by the opportunity thus afforded of a visit to the ancient city of vienne, which well repays inspection. its history is a perfect quarry of renowned names, roman, burgundian, and ecclesiastical. tiberius gracchus left his mark upon the city, by bridling the rhône--_impatiens pontis_--with the earliest bridge in gaul: and here tradition has it that the great pompey loved magnificently one of his many loves; while the site of the prætorium in which pontius pilate is said to have given judgment can still be pointed out. the true mount pilate lies between vienne and lyons, being one of the loftiest northern summits of the cevennes, on the borders of the lyonnaise.[ ] the romans recognised the fitness of the neighbourhood of vienne for the cultivation of the grape, and the first vine in gaul was planted on the mont d'or in the second century of the christian era. in burgundian times the city held a very prominent place, and became infamous from the frequent shedding of royal blood; so that early historians describe it as '_tousiours fatale à ceux qui vueillent la corone des bourgougnons,'[ ]_ and as '_fatale et de malencõtre aux tyrãs et mauvais princes.'[ ]_ ecclesiastically, its interest dates of course from a very early period, from the times of the martyrs of gaul and the first rogations. the festival of _les merveilles_ long commemorated the restoration of the bodily forms of the lyonnese martyrs, as their scattered dust floated past the home of blandina and ponticus; and the dedication of the cathedral to s. maurice keeps alive the tradition that paschasius, bishop of vienne, was warned by an angel to watch on the banks of the rhône, and so rescued the head and trunk of the soldier-martyr, which had been cast into the river at agaunum (s. maurice in valais), and had floated down--probably on sounder hydrostatical principles than the 'floating martyr'--through the lake of geneva, and so to vienne. there are still many very interesting roman remains in the city, as the temple of augusta and livia, the arcade of the forum, and the monument seen from the railway to the south of the town. the temple is being carefully restored, and the large collection of roman curiosities which it contained is to be removed to the church of s. peter, now in course of restoration, which will in itself be worth a visit to vienne when the restoration is completed.[ ] all the buildings connected with the great council in have disappeared; and the only relic of the council seems to be the chalice, _or_, surmounted by the sacred host, _argent_, in the city arms, in remembrance of the institution of the fête of the _s. corps_. if the emperor would but have the town and its inhabitants deodorised, few places would be better worth visiting than vienne. the poste leaves valence--the home of the white hermitage--for die at . p.m., and professes to reach its destination in six hours; but sad experience showed that it could be unfaithful to the extent of an hour and a half. so long as the daylight lasted, there was no dearth of objects of interest; but when darkness came on, the monotonous roll of the heavy diligence became aggravating in the extreme. the village of beaumont, once the residence of an important branch of the great beaumont family,[ ] retains still its square tower and old gateway; and the remains of a château near montmeyran, the end of the first stage, mark the scene of the victory of marius over the ambrons and teutons, local antiquaries believing that the name of montmeyran is from _mons jovis mariani_.[ ] the road lies through the bright cool green of wide plantations of the silkworm mulberry,[ ] with its trim stem and rounded head; and, in the more open parts of the valley, walnut trees of size and shape fit for an ornamental park in england relieve the monotony. the nearer hills are covered to the top with vines, and the higher and more distant ranges have a naked and thoroughly burned appearance, which suggests the idea of volcanoes to a traveller ignorant of volcanic facts. the villages which lie at the foot of these rocky hills are built of stones taken from the beds of the streams, and are so completely of one colour with the background of rock, that in many instances it is difficult to determine whether a distant mass of grey is a village or not. ruined castles and towers abound; and these, and still more the walls which surround many of the villages, point unmistakeably to times of great disturbance. the valley of the drôme, up which the road after a time turns, was an important locality in the religious wars; and the town and fort of crest especially, as its name might suggest, was a famous stronghold, and resisted all the efforts of the reformed party. in yet earlier times, simon de montfort had frequently tried to take it, without success; and four years after s. bartholomew, lesdiguières met with a like repulse.[ ] the same story of sieges and battles might be told of almost every village and defile of the valley. thus, saillans, the third stage, was taken by the protestant leader mirabel, and the catholic gordes, in , and its fortifications were razed by the duc de mayenne in . pontaix, again, a remarkable place, with a vaulted street and fortified houses overhanging the river, which here fills up the whole valley and leaves room only for the road and the narrow village-town, was the scene of an obstinate and murderous fight between the marquis de gordes on one side, and lesdiguières and dupuy-montbrun on the other, when the latter was captured, and shortly after beheaded at grenoble. the town of die, _dea vocontiorum_, lies in a broad part of the valley. it claims to be not _dea vocontiorum_ only, but also _augusta vocontiorum_, thereby apparently defrauding the village of aouste, near crest, of the earliest form of its name. die is possessed of old walls, and has four gates with towers. the great goddess from whose worship it derives its name was cybele, notwithstanding the vehement assertions of the official in the poste-bureau in favour of ceres; and three different tauroboles have been discovered here, one of which is in excellent repair, and shows a roman inscription surmounted by three bulls' heads. the ceremony of the taurobolium was new to me, and appears to have been conducted as follows:--a small cave was hollowed out, with a thin roof formed by the outer surface of the earth; and immediately above this a bull was sacrificed, so that the blood ran through the earth and dropped on to a priest who was placed in full robes in the cave. the priest and the blood-stained garments were thenceforth specially sacred, the garments retaining their sanctity for twenty years. the inscription on the tauroboles which have been found in and near die record the names of the priest, the dendrophore, the person who provided the victim, and the emperor for whose safety the sacrifice was offered. the people of die have been quarrelsome from the earliest times. a century before the estates of the dauphins of the viennois were known as dauphiné,[ ] the chronic contests between the bishops and the counts of die had come to such a crisis, that the dauphin guiges andré intervened, and produced a certain amount of peace; but, twenty years after, the people killed bishop humbert before the gate which thence received its name of _porte rouge_. when the counts of valentinois had succeeded to the fiefs of the counts of die, gregory x. became so weary of the constant wars, that he suppressed the bishopric, and united it to valence in ; but the canons, who were not suppressed, raised a mercenary army and carried on the struggle. eventually, the canons and the people made common cause, and joined the pope during the seventy years; but when he left avignon they came to terms with charles vi. of france, and so the diois was united to dauphiné in . louis xiv. restored the separate bishopric, but ruined the town by the revocation of the edict of nantes. the large number of mosaics and inscriptions found in die prove conclusively that in roman times it was a favourite place of residence; and, so far as situation goes, it is not difficult to understand how this should have been the case. but in the condition in which the town found itself in the pitiless heat of august , the only question for an english visitor was whether he could live through the time it was absolutely necessary to spend there. the poste arrived, as has been said, an hour and a half after its time; and the sole occupant of the coupé, who had lived on fruit and gooseberry syrup, and three penny worth of sweet cake at crest, since a seven-o'clock breakfast, had wiled away the last hour by inventing choice bills of fare for the meditated supper. when the lumbering vehicle stopped in the main street of die, which is here something under seven yards wide, an elderly woman stepped out from the dim crowd, with an uncovered tallow candle in her hand, and asked if there was anyone for the hotel. the unwonted 'yes' seemed to create some surprise; but she led the way promptly to her hotel, diplomatically meeting the rapid volley of questions respecting supper with an unpromising silence, and the first sight of the house itself dispelled for ever all hope. an entrance was effected by the kitchen; and not only was there no fire, but there was no light of any description; and the one dip we brought on to the scene betrayed such squalor on all sides, that the suggestion of a _salle-à-manger_ in connection with such a kitchen became at once an impudent mockery. when this farther room was reached, it proved to be even worse than the kitchen. it was shut up for the night--had been shut up apparently for a week--and was in the possession of the cats of the town, and the flies of egypt. two monstrous hounds entered with us; and the cats fled hastily by a window which was slightly open at the top, spitting and howling with fear when they missed the first spring, and came within the cognisance of their mortal foes. the first thing to be done was to wash off some of the accumulated dust; but when i asked for a bedroom for that purpose, i was conducted to a copper in the kitchen, the water in which had been a permanency for some time past, and was told to wash there. as for supper, there was some cold mutton; but the landlady unfortunately opened the door of the cupboard as she said so, and displayed a state of things which decided the point against the mutton. there was nothing else in the house, and there was no fire for cooking anything; but when they discovered that i really would not wait till the next morning, they proposed to light a fire and warm some soup, which i declined to see in its present state. in the way of wine, i had been recommended to make a great point of the _clairette de die_, an excellent species of _vin mousseux_; but the chief of the women rather recommended the ordinary wine of the country, as the monsieur might not like to give a strong price. 'was it, then, so strong?' 'yes, the price was undoubtedly strong.' 'how much, then?' 'a franc a bottle.' with an eye to the future bill, the monsieur pretended to ponder awhile, as if in doubt whether his resources could stand such a strain, and then, with a reckless air, decided upon the extravagance. the clairette proved to be quite worthy of the praise which had been bestowed upon it, being a very pleasant and harmless sparkling white wine.[ ] the neighbours kept dropping into the kitchen, to see how the landlady got on with the stranger of uncouth speech; and four of the female part of her company brought in at various times to the _salle-à-manger_ some piece of table-furniture, in order to indulge in a closer view than the open door of the room afforded. one of them told me she had seen an englishman once before, a few months back; but he only had one eye, and she seemed to think i was out of order in possessing two. at length the soup came, and the first attempt upon it proved it to be utterly impossible. the landlady was called in, and this fact was announced to her. 'what to do, then?--it was a good soup, a soup which the people of die loved,--it was a soup the household eat morning and night.' all the same, it was not a soup the present englishman could eat, and some other sort of food must be provided, for she declined to furnish soup without garlic and fat. she suggested an omelette; but a natural generalisation from all i had so far seen drew an untempting picture of the probable state of the frying-pan, and i declined to face the idea until i was convinced there was nothing else to be had. but, alas! notwithstanding the righteous indignation with which the landlady met my request that the omelette might not be all fat, the manipulation of the eggs eventuated in a dish even more impracticable than the soup, flooded with unmentionable grease, and so at last the cold mutton became a necessity. to show how hunger may work upon the feelings, i may say that, in spite of the marks of the feet of mice in the cold gravy which remained on the dish, i forced myself to cut off a wedge, and, after removing a thick layer of meat on the exposed sides, essayed to eat the heart of the wedge. the sheep and its progenitors had been fed on garlic from all time, and the mutton had been boiled in a decoction of that noxious herb; and this dish was in its turn rejected like the others. there was nothing for it but salad, and bread, and wine; but when the salad appeared, after a long time had been spent in the kitchen in saturating the withered greens with oil and vitriolic vinegar, there, perched on the top like one of those animals which sometimes spoil one's enjoyment of a strawberry-bed, was a huge onion, with numerous satellites peeping out from under the leaves. about this time, a short diversion was caused by the reappearance of one of the large hounds, whose mind was not at ease as to the completeness of the previous elimination of the cats from the _salle-à-manger;_ and the diabolical noise and scuffle which ensued upon his investigation of a dark corner, showed that his doubts had been well grounded. then i discovered that there was no butter to be had, and no milk; and when coffee was mentioned, a pan was brought out for making that beverage, which a bullet-maker with any regard for appearances would have declined to use for melting his lead in. finally, under the pressure of dire hunger, i returned to the mutton, and contrived to swallow a small piece, the taste of which did not leave me for four or five days. the interior of the house, where the bedrooms were, gave forth an odour which must be familiar to all who have burrowed in out-of-the-way places in france, approaching more nearly, perhaps, to the smell of damp cocks and hens than anything else; and the bedroom door was guarded by a huge mis-shapen dog, which evidently intended to pass the night there, if it could not get into the room itself. the street on to which the window looked was still populous with the inhabitants of die; and a man with whom i had already had a conversation respecting the glacière, who appeared to perform some of the functions of landlord of the hotel, was audibly engaged in hiring a man to accompany me on the following day. the man whom he was attempting to persuade was evidently of an independent turn of mind, and said that as it would be an affair of fifteen or sixteen hours at least, he would not go through so much unless his proposed comrade were a true _bonhomme_; a difficulty which the landlord set at rest by asseverations so ready and so circumstantial, that i determined to take everything he might tell me, on any subject, with many grains of allowance. it was only natural to expect a night of horrors; but in this i was most agreeably disappointed, and the few hours passed quietly enough till it was time to get up. by morning light, the _salle-à-manger_ did so bristle with squalor that the kitchen was made the breakfast-room; though as that meal only lasted two minutes, and meant nothing beyond an attempt to eat some of the bread i had been unable to eat the night before, one place was much the same as another. it is generally believed that coffee is to be obtained in perfection in france; but that belief is not founded on experience of the provinces, and had long ceased to be a part of my creed: nevertheless, with the idea that there is always some redeeming-point in the darkest situation, i had hopes of the coffee of die, in spite of the appearance of the pan; and if these hopes had been realised, the place might still have been tolerable. but they were not realised. when the landlady was asked for the promised coffee, she brought out a small earthenware pitcher containing a black liquid, and proceeded to bury its lower extremity in the hot embers of the wood fire, by which means the liquid was speedily warmed up, and also thickened with unnecessary ashes. when served--in the same dusty pitcher--it had a green and mouldy taste, combined with a sour bitterness which made it utterly impossible as an article of food, and so the breakfast was confined to the rejected fragments of the loaf of the preceding night. the guide, or comrade as he preferred to call himself, appeared in good time, and we started about half-past six, under a sun already oppressively hot, and through heavy flaky dust, which made us feel very thankful when our route branched off from the high road. liotir was strong in mulberry trees and vines, for he was a keeper of silkworms, and a wine-merchant. silkworms had not been profitable for a year or two, and he was almost in low spirits when he talked of them.[ ] an epidemic had visited the district, and the worms ate voraciously and refused to spin--a disease which he believed to be beyond the power of medicine.[ ] as is so often the case with the frenchman, as compared with the englishman of corresponding social status, he had his information cut and dried, and poured it out without hesitation. silkworms' eggs cost , , or francs an ounce, according to quality; and an ounce of good seed should produce from two to three hundred francs' worth of cocoons. a man who 'makes' an ounce of seed requires six tables, feet by , for his cages; and as some men make thirty-five ounces, chambers of great size are necessary for the accommodation of their worms; but breeders to so large an extent as this are the princes of the trade. as we passed a farmhouse surrounded by mulberry trees and vineyards, my companion informed me that the farmer was his partner in worms and wine both, and that the wine promised to be the better speculation this year, for the fruit was in immense abundance. i saw afterwards that, at the time of vintage, grapes sold for pressing at from to francs the hundred kilos, while and francs was the price in , and that in some districts of the drôme the owners of the presses had not barrels enough for even the first pressing. the great want of wood on the hills in whose neighbourhood we now found ourselves, attracted attention in the time of louis xiv., and that sovereign passed severe laws for the protection of the forests that still remained. as usual, the mere severity of the laws made them fail of their object. banishment and the galleys were the punishment for unauthorised cutting of forest trees, and death if fire were used. there is a paper in the _journal de physique_ of ,[ ] on the disappearance of the forests of dauphiné, pointing out that when the woods are removed from the sides of mountains, the soil soon follows, and the district becomes utterly valueless. the writer traced the mischief to the emancipation of serfs, and the consequent formation of _communes_, where each man could do that which was right in his own eyes. at any rate, whatever the reason, nothing can be conceived more bare than the dun-coloured rounded hills between the town of die and the col de vassieux, towards which we were making our way. the whole face of the country had the same parched look, and the soil seemed to be composed entirely of small stones, without any signs of moisture even in the watercourses. the col de vassieux is not much more than , feet high, and forms a saddle between the pic de s. genix ( , feet) and the but de l'aiglette ( , feet). a new foot-road has been made to the col, with many windings; and great care has been taken to plant the sides of the hill with oak and hazel; so that already there is some appearance of coppice, and in the course of time there will be shade by the way--a luxury for which we longed in vain. the lower ground was covered with little scrubs of box, and with lavender, dwarfed and dry; but near the summit of the col the lavender became vigorous and luxuriant, and carpeted the hillside with a rich abundance of blue, tempting us more than once to lie down and roll on the fragrant bed; though some of the older roots were not sufficiently yielding to make that performance as satisfactory as it might have been. this lavender is highly prized by the silkworm-keepers of die, its bushy heads being almost exclusively used for the worms to spin their cocoons in. when we reached the top of the col, liotir confessed that he did not know which way to turn, and we agreed to follow the path till we should find some one to direct us. there was a farmhouse at no great distance, and thither we bent our steps; but the sole inhabitant could give no assistance, and, in default of information, liotir generously proposed to treat me to a bottle of wine, over which we might discuss our further proceedings. the state of fever, however, to which the garlic and the dirt of die had brought me, made it seem impossible to eat or drink anything; so i suggested instead that i should treat him, and that seemed to be rather what he had meant by his proposal. nothing much came of our discussion, and we marched on hot and faint for an hour more, when a casual man told us that our straight line to the _foire de fondeurle_ lay across the plain on our left hand, and up a most objectionable-looking hill beyond, thickly covered with brushwood and showing no signs of a path. as we crossed the plain, there was still the same total absence of water, and we reached the bottom of the hill in a state of mind and body which rebelled against the exertion of struggling with the sand and shingle and brushwood. liotir thought it was useless to attempt it with no hope of water, and i held much the same view, only it was impossible really to think of giving it up. when at last we had surmounted all the difficulties which beset us, and stood on the highest point which had so far been in sight, we found ourselves on the edge of a vast plain of parched grass, with nothing to guide us in one direction rather than another. there was no human being in sight, no sign of water, nor any particle of shade; nothing but grass, brown and monotonous, with white cliffs miles away at the extremity of the plain. this was evidently the _foire de fondeurle_, and in it somewhere lay the glacière, if only we could make out in which direction to begin to traverse the plain. in the earlier part of this century, a very famous fair was held on this wild and out-of-the-way table-land, to which many thousands of horses and mules and cattle of various kinds were brought from all quarters; but the fair has fallen off so much, that the man who had turned us up the last hill said there were only fourteen head of cattle in , and very few of those were sold. m. héricart de thury describes this plain as lying in the calcareous sub-alpine range of the south-east of france. the woods here terminate at a height of , feet above the sea, and the _foire de fondeurle_ lies immediately above this point. at last we made a bold dash across the plain, and after a time came upon some sheep, standing in a thick row, with their heads thrust under a low bank which afforded a little shade; and at no great distance from them sat the shepherd. he was a cripple, and his clothes were something worse than rags. he offered us a portion of the water he had in a detestable-looking skin; but he assured us it was quite warm, and had not been good to begin with, so we did not try it, though we were thirsty enough to have hailed a muddy pool with delight. our new acquaintance knew nothing of the glacière, but he belonged himself to the chalêt of fondeurle, and as that was the only house on the whole plain, he told us to make for it. the surface of the plain seemed to have fallen through in many places, forming larger and smaller pits with steep sides of limestone. these were often of the size of a large field, and, as the deeper of them required circumvention, the shepherd told us that we must follow the line of little cairns which we should find here and there on our way, the only guide across the plain. he could not be sure himself in what direction the châlet lay; but if we kept to a certain tortuous line, we should come to it in time. the way proved to be so very long, that we doubted whether such a consummation of our wishes would ever arrive: but at length, in a small dip at the farthest extremity of the plain, we saw the châlet, and, what was much more to us, saw a little run of water, carried from the rising ground by wooden pipes. it will be well for any future visitor to the châlet to go very warily, and to intrench himself in a strong position when he sees half-a-dozen huge dogs like black and white bears come out to attack him. liotir had a stout stick, and i had a formidable ice-axe; and, moreover, we fortunately secured a wall in our rear: but with all this the dogs were nearly too much for us, and liotir was pressing me earnestly to chop at the ringleader's head, when a man came and called off 'dragon,' and the others then dispersed. the new-comer wished to know our business, but, without satisfying his curiosity, we rushed to the water-trough, and drank and used in washing an amount of water which he evidently grudged us. then we were able to tell him that our business was something to eat for liotir, and a guide to the glacière; though i trembled when i suggested the latter, for, after all our labours, i had a sort of fear that the cave would prove a myth. on this point the man cleared away all doubts at once,--we could certainly have a guide, as the _patron_ would be sure to let one of them go with us. as to food, there was more doubt, for the master was not yet at home, and his wife would not be able to give us an answer without consulting him. the wife confirmed this statement: they saw very few strangers, and did not profess to supply food to people crossing the plain. i assured her that we intended to pay well for anything she could let us have, but she merely rejoined that they did not keep an auberge; however, her husband would be home some time in the course of the afternoon--it was now about half-past twelve--and she could ask his opinion on the subject. but liotir objected that he was meanwhile dying of hunger, and the monsieur of thirst which only milk or cream could assuage; he suggested that some one should be sent to look for the husband, and obtain his permission for us to be fed. to this she assented, very dubiously, and with a constrained air, as if there were some mysterious reason why the presence of strangers was peculiarly unacceptable on that particular afternoon. at any rate, she said when pressed, she thought there could be no harm in our entering the châlet and sitting down on a bench, where we should be sheltered from the sun. here accordingly we sat, more or less patiently, till the master himself appeared. he had no welcome for us; but he was willing that we should eat some of his black bread, and try his wine. liotir begged for cheese, and the wife was told she might supply cheese of two kinds, and also cream, for the monsieur evidently was _malade_ and could not swallow wine. the cream and the black bread were delicious; but still the horrors of die hung about me, and i could only dispose of such a small amount, that liotir waxed funny, and told me it would never do for me to die there, as there was not earth enough to scrape a grave in on the whole plain. then, being a practical man, he declared he should like to contract for my keep, and thought he could afford to do it at very small cost to me, and still leave a fair margin for himself. he thought it right to make up for my want of appetite; and so, in addition to his own share, he took in an exemplary manner the share of wine which i should have taken, had i been a man like himself. the master of the châlet sat on the family bed, smoking silently and sullenly; and as soon as liotir had come to an end of his second bottle, he proposed to accompany us himself to the cave, as he doubted whether any of his men knew the way, and he was sure they were all busy. when i came to pay his wife for what we had consumed, i administered thanks as well as money; to which she sternly rejoined, 'who pays need not give thanks;' and to that surly view she held, in spite of my attempts to soften her down. there was, after all, much force in what she said, under the circumstances. they had given us no welcome, nothing but mere food, and all they expected in return was a due amount of money; thanks were a mockery in their eyes. the cavern was reached in a few minutes, when once we got away from the châlet. two large pits, formed apparently by the subsidence of the surface, lay in a line about east and west, and there proved to be an underground communication between them. from this tunnel, as it were, a long low archway led to a broad slope of chaotic blocks of stone, down which we scrambled by the aid of such light as our candles afforded. the roof of this inner cave was horizontal for some distance, and then suddenly descended in a grand wall; and in consequence of a series of such inverted steps, the cave never assumed any great height. the whole length of the slope was feet, and its greatest breadth about feet; but the breadth varied very much. half-way down the slope the ice commenced, fitfully at first, and afterwards in a tolerably continuous sheet. the most careless explorer could not have failed to notice the polygonal figures stamped upon its surface. they were larger and bolder than any i had seen before; and the prismatic nuts into which the ice broke, when cut with the axe, were of course in proportion larger than in the previous caves. the signs of thaw, too, were unmistakeable. though the upper surface of the earth had seemed to be utterly devoid of moisture of any kind, large drops fell freely from the roof of the cave,[ ] and the ice itself was wet. the _patron_ said there was no ice whatever in the winter months, and that from june to september was the time at which alone it could be found. he declined to explain how it was that we found it so evidently in a state of general thaw in the very height of its season. to give us some idea of the climate of the plain in winter, he informed us that the snow lay for long up to the top of the door of his châlet. there were in all four columns of ice in the cave, only two of which were of any considerable size. one of these was peculiarly striking from the very large grain which its structure displayed; it measured feet across the base, being flat towards the extremity of the cave, and round towards the entrance. three thermometers in various parts of the glacière gave all the same temperature, namely, a fraction under ° f.: a rough french thermometer gave / ° c. the extreme wall of the cavern was completely covered by a layer of stalagmitic material, and some of the forms the substance assumed were sufficiently striking. in contact with the wall, though standing clear of it in parts where the wall fell inwards, stood a thick round column of the same material, shaped like the ordinary ice-columns of the glacières, with a cavity near the base, and in all ways following the usual laws of such columns. considering that i had observed a layer of limestone-paste collecting on one of the ice-columns of the glacière of la genollière, i could not help imagining that this stalagmitic column had been originally moulded on a norm of that description. it had a girth of feet in the part where we were able to pass the tape round it. its surface was smooth; but when we drove a hole through this, with much damage to the _pic_ of my axe, we found that the interior was in a crystalline form. there was, on the whole, very little to be seen in the glacière. had it been my first experience of an ice-cave, it would doubtless have seemed very remarkable, as it did to liotir, who, by the way, had steadily disbelieved the possibility of natural ice in summer except in the glaciers; but as i had now seen so many, several of them much more wonderful than this, i did not care to stay longer than was absolutely necessary for measurements and investigation. besides, the food of dauphiné rather takes the energy and love of adventure out of an unaccustomed visitor. without long delay, then, we bade farewell to the _patron_, not returning to the inhospitable châlet, and started on our way for die, each carrying a large block of ice slung in a network of string. liotir's purpose was to convince some mysterious female friend that he really had seen ice in summer, within five or six hours of die; and mine, to apply the ice to the butter which i had specially ordered the landlady to have ready for me, that so i might be able to get through the night, and leave die by the diligence the first thing next morning. it was remarkable how well the ice bore the great heat. for long the bulk of the masses we carried seemed scarcely to diminish; and if it had not been for a course of heavy falls as we descended through the brushwood, we should have succeeded in getting a large proportion of it safely to die. the precision of the prismatic structure also showed itself in a very marked manner; and when we came to a crisis of thirst, which happened at shorter and shorter intervals as the afternoon wore on, we separated the prisms with our fingers from the edges of the ice without any difficulty, and made ourselves more hot and thirsty by eating them. when we arrived at the farmhouse at the col de vassieux, we reaped full benefit from our ice. the wine, which had been hot and heavy and unpalatable in the morning, when we had tried it unmixed, became delightfully refreshing when disguised with an abundance of water and sugar and ice; and liotir found that contracting for my keep at a low rate would not, after all, secure him the comfortable income he had before calculated. after this refreshment, he became communicative, and told me he had served seven years in the french army, three of which were spent in working on railways. he had fought the italian campaign, and was full of details of the battle of solferino, on which occasion his _bataillon_ was led on by the emperor in person. according to his account, four _bataillons_ were drawn up for the assault of a tower, and when the first advanced it was swept away to a man. the second met with a like fate, and liotir was in the third. his officers had all been killed, and a corporal was in command. the emperor rode up and called to them to advance as far as he advanced. this was about a hundred yards; and then, after halting them for a moment, the emperor cried, '_allez, mes enfants! nous ne sommes pas tous perdus!'_ sending the fourth _bataillon_ close upon their heels. in answer to my question, liotir said, slowly and solemnly, that he did not think the emperor was under fire; a few dropping shots reached them while he was yet addressing them, but he believed the emperor napoleon was not in the fire at solferino. i took the opportunity of asking whether he was green on that occasion, as mr. kinglake believes that he is in times of personal danger; but my companion utterly scouted the idea, and declared that he saw no man through all that day so cool and capable as the emperor. pale he undoubtedly was, but that was his habit. like all other french soldiers with whom i have had much conversation, liotir complained of the army arrangements in the matter of food; on all other points he was most amiable, but when he spoke of the extortions of the _cantinière_ he completely lost his temper. at a _café_, the soldiers could get their cup for centimes, or with liqueur; whereas the _cantinière_ charged a franc, and gave them very bad coffee. wine, too, which would cost them centimes the kilo in the town, was valued at francs by their grasping enemy. he had an idea that english soldiers are allowed to take their whole pay in money, and spend it as they will; whereas the french foot-soldier, according to his account, gets centimes a day in money, and has everything found except coffee. a young trooper at besançon was very eloquent on this subject. he represented himself as a man of small appetite and a gay spirit; he could well live on very little solid food, and yet he had as much deducted from his pay on that account as anyone in the army--as much, for instance, he groaned, as a certain stout old warrior who was then reposing on a corn-bin. if he could have drawn all his pay in money, and lived on almost nothing for food, he would have had abundance of sous for cards and tobacco; and what a career would that be! the blocks of ice were by this time becoming rather small; and as we had now once more reached the region of lavender, we cut a large quantity and wrapped the ice in it, and thus protected it from further thaw. for some time before arriving at the farm where my companion's partner lived, he indulged in praises of the wine which their vineyard produced, and assurances of the safety with which it would perform a journey to england. he urged its excellent _bouquet_, and gave me a card of prices which certainly seemed marvellously reasonable. finally, he proposed to join me at a bottle of white _muscat_, from the farmer's _cave_, in order that i might have an opportunity of seeing how true was his account of the wine. we seated ourselves accordingly in the farmyard, and drank a bottle of delightful wine at centimes the bottle, clear and sparkling, and with a strong muscat flavour. liotir combined with it intoxication of a different kind, and showed unmistakeable signs of his determination to take another member of the farmer's household into partnership,--the mysterious friend, in fact, for whose astonishment the ice was intended. the white muscat, they told me, would not keep over the year; but they had a wine at the same price which they highly recommended, and warranted to keep for a considerable number of years. liotir was very anxious that we should have a bottle of this, for he was confident that i should give them an order if i once tasted it; but we had been in at the death of so many bottles that day, that i declined to try the _muscat rosat_. i have since had a hundred _litres_ sent over by liotir, and find it very satisfactory. it has a rich, clear, port-wine colour, sparkling, and with the true _frontignac_ flavour. the effect of the wine on liotir was peculiar. in the earlier part of the walk, he had never seen algeria; but after half a bottle of muscat, he had spent six months in that country, and he enlivened the remainder of the way with many details of his experiences there. we reached die about half-past seven, and the arrival of real ice was hailed as a marvel. although i had been sent off so unhesitatingly by the landlord in the morning, it seemed that they none of them knew what a glacière meant. they had determined that we should never reach the _foire de fondeurle_, and that if we did, we should find nothing there to repay our toil. as i sat at an open window afterwards, liotir's voice was to be heard holding forth in a neighbouring café upon the wonders of the day; and among the crowd which is a normal condition of the evening streets of die, the words _fondeurle_, _vassieux_, _anglais_, _glace_, &c., showed what the general subject of conversation was. the landlady had obeyed orders, and was provided with butter and bread. the tea was served in an open earthenware pitcher, with the spout at right angles with the handle. there was no cup; but the woman remarked that if monsieur was particular about that, he could turn out the sugar and use the basin, which he did. the milk had a basin to itself; but it had offered so large and tempting a surface to the flies of the town, that it remained untouched. the knife and spoon were imbued with ineradicable garlic, and my own trusty clasp-knife was the only weapon i could use for all table purposes. if it had not been for the ice and the lavender, i think i should never have got away from die. the former made it possible to eat some bread-and-butter; and of the latter i made a sort of respirator for nose and mouth, which modified the odour of cocks and hens prevailing in the house. next morning the diligence was to start early, and, in preparation for the six hours' drive, i ordered two eggs to be boiled for breakfast. as the first proved to have been boiled in tepid water, i requested the landlady to boil the second afresh, which she did in a manner that may partly account for the observed fact that the very eggs of some towns taste of garlic. there was household soup simmering on the fire, reeking with onion and garlic, and many other abominations; and, as if it was quite the right and usual thing to do, she slipped the unfortunate egg into this, and left it there to be cooked. after all, garlic must be cheap as an article of food, for the whole bill amounted only to - / francs. this was the last glacière on my list. it was quite as well that such was the case; for the trials of dauphiné had been too great, and i should scarcely have been inclined to face further adventures of a like kind. footnotes: [footnote : t. xxx. p. .] [footnote : vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : jean de choul, _de variâ quercûs historia_, .] [footnote : gollut, mém. des bourg. de la franche comté, p. .] [footnote : paradin de cuyseaulx, annales de bourgougne, , p. .] [footnote : several churches in vienne are used as foundries and workshops. s. peter's church was an iron-foundry four or five years ago, and is in future to be a museum--a considerable improvement upon its former use. the grand old church of s. john in dijon has been rescued from the hands which made it a depôt of flour, and is being restored to its original purposes: but such instances are very rare.] [footnote : this family took its rise in dauphiné, before the district had that name: the chief place of the family was the château of beaumont, near grenoble.] [footnote : the final victory was near aquæ sextiæ (aix).] [footnote : the cultivation of the silkworm mulberry will probably die out before very long. the silk crop has lately failed in dauphiné, and a commission for enquiring into the relative merits of different worms has determined that the senegal worm produces millegrammes of silk, while the worm, fed on the mulberry produces only . the first mulberry trees in france were planted in that part of provence which is enclosed by dauphiné. the bishop of nismes has lately issued a pastoral letter, commanding prayers to be offered up for the cessation of the malady affecting the silkworms in his own and the surrounding dioceses.] [footnote : the feudal buildings were razed by order of richelieu, but the tower remains a landmark for the valley. three hundred _détenus_ were confined here after the _coup d'état_ of december , .] [footnote : the origin of the name dauphin seems to be lost in obscurity, though of comparatively recent date. the counts d'albon took the title first in , and their estates were not called the terra dalphini, or dalphinatus, till . the first dauphins bore a castle, not a dolphin.] [footnote : the old historian gollut speaks of the _clairets_ and _clerets_ as red wines.] [footnote : the 'times' of oct. , , stated that almost no raw silk was offered at the last markets at valence and romans, and but for foreign supplies the mills must have been closed. the small amount that was offered sold at from to francs the kilogramme, while foreign cocoons from calamata fetched only francs at marseilles.] [footnote : pausanias says that silkworms are apt to die of indigestion, the cocoons lying heavy on the stomach.] [footnote : t. xxxv. pp. , &c.] [footnote : m. de thury calculated that the thickness of the roof at the lower part of the cave was about feet of rock. he also noticed the peculiar structure of the ice, which afforded great surprise to his party. it was discovered by means of the coloured rays which were thrown into the different parts of the cave, when some one had casually placed a torch in a cavity in one of the columns.] * * * * * chapter xv. other ice caves. _the cave of szelicze, or szilitze, in hungary_.[ ] matthew bell, the historian of hungary, sent an account of this cavern to england, in the middle of the last century, which was printed in the original latin in the 'philosophical transactions' of - (pp. , &c.). this account states that the cave is in the county of thorn,[ ] among the lowest spurs of the carpathians. the entrance, which faces the north, and is exposed to the cold winds from the snowy part of the carpathian range, is fathoms high and broad; and the cave spreads out laterally, and descends to a point fathoms below the entrance, where it is fathoms in breadth, and of irregular height. beyond this no one had at that time penetrated, on account of the unsafe footing, although many distant echoes were returned by the farther recesses of the cave; indeed, to get even so far as this, much step-cutting was necessary. when the external frost of winter comes on, the account proceeds, the effect in the cave is the same as if fires had been lighted there: the ice melts, and swarms of flies and bats and hares take refuge in the interior from the severity of the winter. as soon as spring arrives, the warmth of winter disappears from the interior, water exudes from the roof and is converted into ice, while the more abundant supplies which pour down on to the sandy floor are speedily frozen there. in the dog-days, the frost is so intense that a small icicle becomes in one day a huge mass of ice; but a cool day promptly brings a thaw, and the cave is looked upon as a barometer, not merely feeling, but also presaging, the changes of weather. the people of the neighbourhood, when employed in field-work, arrange their labour so that the mid-day meal may be taken near the cave, when they either ice the water they have brought with them, or drink the melted ice, which they consider very good for the stomach. it had been calculated that weekly carts would not be sufficient to keep the cavern free from ice. the ground above the cave is peculiarly rich in grass. in explanation of these phenomena, bell threw out the following suggestions, which need no comment. the earth being of itself cold and damp, the external heat of the atmosphere, by partially penetrating into the ground, drives in this native cold to the inner parts of the earth, and makes the cold there more dense. on the other hand, when the external air is cold, it draws forth towards the surface the heat there may be in the inner part of the earth, and thus makes caverns warm. in support and illustration of this view, he states that in the hotter parts of hungary, when the people wish to cool their wine, they dig a hole feet deep, and place in it the flagon of wine, and, after filling up the hole again, light a blazing fire upon the surface, which cools the wine as if the flagon had been laid in ice. he also suggests that possibly the cold winds from the carpathians bring with them imperceptible particles of snow, which reach the water of the cave, and convert it into ice. further, the rocks of the carpathians abound in salts, nitre, alum, &c., which may, perhaps, mingle with such snowy particles, and produce the ordinary effect of the snow and salt in the artificial production of ice. townson[ ] visited this cave half a century later, and concluded that bell was in error with regard to the supposed winter thaw and summer frost, although he himself received information at kaschau which corroborated the earlier account. he describes the approach to the village of szilitze as leading by a by-road through a pleasant country of woods and hills, with much pasture-land, the cave lying a mile beyond the village, and displaying an entrance feet broad, and or feet high, turned towards the north. the descent of the floor of the cave is rapid, and was covered with thin ice, at the time of his visit, for the last third of the way: from the roof at the farther end, where the cave is not so high as at the entrance, a congeries of icicles was seen to hang; and in a corner on the right, completely sheltered from the rays of the sun, there was a large mass of the same material. it was a fine forenoon in july, and all was in a state of thaw, the icicles dropping water, and the floor of ice covered with a thin layer of water; while the thermometer in all parts of the cave stood at zero of réaumur's scale. the rock is compact unstratified limestone, in which so many of the famous caverns of the world are found. _the cave of yeermalik, in koondooz_[ ] in the year , captain burslem, of the th light infantry, made an expedition from cabul to the north-west, accompanied by lieutenant sturt of the bengal engineers, who was afterwards killed in the terrible pass where lady sale, whose daughter he had married, was shot through the arm. after crossing the high and wild pass of karakotul ( , feet), these travellers reached the romantic glen of the doaub, which lies at the foot of the pass, and is surrounded on all sides by lofty mountains. here they were hospitably entertained by shah pursund khan, the chief of the small territory, and their curiosity was roused by the account given by an old moollah of a cavern seven miles off, which the shah strongly advised them not to attempt to visit, for the sheitan (the devil), whose ordinary place of abode it was, never allowed a stranger to return from its recesses. the moollah, however, scouted this idea, on the ground that it was much too cold for such an inhabitant; and the shah eventually agreed to accompany them to the cave with a band of his followers. as they rode through long and rich grass, following the course of a gentle stream, and tormented by swarms of forest flies, or blood-suckers, the shah informed them that he had once endeavoured to explore the cave, and had already penetrated to a considerable distance, when he came upon the fresh prints of a naked foot, with an extraordinary impression by their side, which he suspected to be the foot of sheitan himself, and so he beat a precipitate retreat. the moollah told them that there was a large number of skeletons in the cave, the remains of men who took refuge there during the invasion of genghis khan, with their wives and families, and defended themselves so stoutly, that, after trying in vain the means by which the m'leods were destroyed in barbarous times, and the opponents of french progress in algeria in times less remote, the invader built them in with huge natural blocks of stone, and left them to die of hunger. the entrance is half-way up a hill, and is feet high, with about the same breadth. not far from the entrance they found a passage between two jagged rocks, possibly the remains of genghis khan's fatal wall, so narrow that they had some difficulty in squeezing through; and then, before long, came to a drop of feet, down which they were lowered by ropes made from the cotton turbans of the shah and his attendants. here they left two men to haul them up on their return, and bade farewell to the light of day. the narrow path led by the edge of a black abyss, sometimes over a flooring of smooth ice for a few feet, and widened gradually till they reached a damp and dripping hall, of dimensions so vast that the light of their torches did not enable them to form a conception of its size. in this hall they found hundreds of skeletons in a perfectly undisturbed state, one, for instance, still holding the skeletons of two infants in its bony arms, while some of the bodies had been preserved, and lay shrivelled like those at the great st. bernard. they were very much startled here by the discovery of the prints of a naked human foot, and by its side the distinct mark of the pointed heel of an affghan boot,[ ] precisely what had so thoroughly frightened the shah twelve years before. the prints retained all the sharpness of outline which marks a recent impression, and led towards the farther recesses of the cave; but the englishmen were called away from their investigation by the announcement that if they did not make haste, there would not be oil enough for lighting them to the ice-caves. proceeding through several low arches and smaller caves, they reached at length a vast hall, in the centre of which was[ ] an enormous mass of clear ice, smooth and polished as a mirror, and in the form of a gigantic beehive, with its dome-shaped top just touching the long icicles which depended from the jagged surface of the rock. a small aperture led to the interior of this wonderful congelation, the walls of which were nearly feet thick; the floor, sides, and roof were smooth and slippery, and their figures were reflected from floor to ceiling and from side to side in endless repetition. the inside of this chilly abode was divided into several compartments of every fantastic shape: in some the glittering icicles hung like curtains from the roof; in others, the vault was smooth as glass. beautifully brilliant were the prismatic colours reflected from the varied surface of the ice, when the torches flashed suddenly upon them as they passed from cave to cave. around, above, beneath, everything was of solid ice, and being unable to stand on account of its slippery nature, they slid, or rather glided, mysteriously along the glassy surface of this hall of spells. in one of the largest compartments the icicles had reached the floor, and gave the idea of pillars supporting the roof. the cavern in which this marvellous mass of ice stood, branched off into numerous galleries, one of which led the party to a sloping platform of rapidly increasing steepness, where they were startled by the reappearance of the naked foot-prints, passing down the slope. the toes were spread out in a manner which showed that they belonged to some one who had been in the habit of going barefoot, and captain burslem took a torch and determined to trace the steps: a large stone, however, gave way under his weight; and this, sliding down at first, and then rolling and bounding on for ever, raised such a tumult of noise and echoes that the natives with one accord cried 'sheitan! sheitan!' and fled precipitately, extinguishing all the lights in their fear; so that but for sturt's torch the whole party must have been lost in the darkness. shah pursund khan at once called a retreat, vowing that it was of no use to attempt to follow the footsteps, as it was well known that the cave extended to cabul! the guides had now lost their small allowance of pluck, and wandered about despairingly for a long time before they could find their way back to the ice-cave, and thence to the foot of the rock where the two men and the turban-ladders had been left. as soon as they came in sight of this, their comrades above cried out to them that they must make all haste, for sheitan himself had appeared an hour before, running along the ledge where they now were, and finally vanishing into the gloom beyond; an announcement which of course produced a stampede in the terrified party of natives. five or six rushed to the spot where the turbans hung, and only an opportune fall of stones from above prevented their destroying the apparatus in their blind hurry to escape. the chief claimed the privilege of being drawn up first, and he and all his followers declared that nothing should ever tempt them to visit again the cave of yeermalik.[ ] _the surtshellir, in iceland_. the first account of this lava-cavern is given by olafsen,[ ] who visited it in and . ebenezer henderson[ ] explored it in , and captain forbes gives some account of it in his recent book on iceland.[ ] it is mentioned in some of the sagas,[ ] and appears to have been a refuge for robbers in the tenth century, and sturla sigvatson, with a large band of followers, spent some time here. the landnama saga derives the name surtshellir from a huge giant called surtur, who made his abode in the cave; but olafsen believed that the name merely meant _black hole_, from _surtur_ or _svartur_, and was due to the darkness of the cave and the colour of the lava: in accordance with this view, it is called _hellerin sortur_, or _black hole_, in some of the earlier writings. the common people are convinced that it is inhabited by ghosts; and olafsen and his party were assured that they would be turned back by horrible noises, or else killed outright by the spirits of the cave: at any rate, their informants declared they would no more reach the inner parts of the cavern than they had reached the traditional green valley of aradal, isolated in the midst of glaciers, with its wild population of descendants of the giants, which they had endeavoured to find some time before.[ ] the cave is in the form of a tunnel a mile or more in length, with innumerable ramifications, in the lava which has flowed from the bald yökul. it lies on the edge of the uninhabited waste called the arnavatns-heidi, in a district described by captain forbes as distorted and devilish, a cast-iron sea of lava. the approach is through an open chasm, to feet in depth, and feet broad, leading to the entrance of the cave, where the height is between and feet, and the breadth rather more than . henderson found a large quantity of congealed snow at this entrance, and along pool of water resting on a floor of ice, which turned his party back and forced them to seek another entrance, where again they found snow piled up to a considerable height. olafsen also mentions collections of snow under the various openings in the lava which forms the roof of the cave. the latter explorer discovered interesting signs of the early inhabitants of the surtshellir, as, for instance, the common bedstead, built of stones, - / feet high, feet long, and feet broad, with a pathway down the middle, forming the only passage to the inner parts of the cave. the spaces enclosed by these stones were strewn with black sand, on which rough wool was probably laid by way of mattress. this could scarcely have been a bedstead in the time of the giants, for a total breadth of feet, deducting for the pathway down the middle, will not give more than feet for the layer of men on either side, unless indeed they lay parallel to the passage, and required a length of feet. he also found an old wall, built with blocks of lava across one part of the cave, as if for defence, and a large circular heap of the bones of sheep and oxen, presumably the remains of many years of feasting. captain forbes scoffs at these bones, and suggests errant wild ponies as the depositors thereof. olafsen had found in his earlier visit that the way was stopped, far in the recesses of the cave, by a lake of water, which filled the tunnel to a depth of feet or more, lying on ice; but in there was not more than a foot of water, through which they waded without much difficulty. the air soon became exceedingly cold and thick, and for some hundreds of paces they saw no light of day, till at length they reached a welcome opening in the roof. beyond this, the air grew colder and more thick, and the walls were found to be sheeted with ice from roof to floor, or covered with broad and connected icicles. the ground also was a mass of ice, but an inch or two of fine brown earth lay upon it, which enabled them to keep their footing. this earth appeared to have been brought down by the water which filtered through the roof. 'the most wonderful thing,' olafsen remarks, 'that we noticed here, was, that the stalactites of ice were set with regular figures of five and seven sides, joined together, and resembling those seen on the second stomach of ruminating animals. the condensed cold of the air must have imparted these figures to the ice; they were not external (merely?), but in the ice itself, which otherwise was clear and transparent.' henderson and his party appear to have had much more wading to do than olafsen, walking in one instance through a long tract of water up to the knees. in the deeper recesses of the cave, apparently in the part where the earlier explorers had found the reticulated ice, they found the whole floor of the passage covered with thick ice, with so steep a dip that they sat down and slid forward by their own weight--a most undignified proceeding for a grave gentleman on a mission from the bible society. on holding their torches close to the floor, they saw down to a depth of or feet, the ice being as clear as crystal. 'the roof and sides of the cave were decorated with most superb icicles, crystallised in every possible form, many of which rivalled in minuteness the finest zeolites; while from the icy floor rose pillars of the same substance, assuming all the curious and phantastic shapes imaginable, mocking the proudest specimens of art, and counterfeiting many well-known objects of animated nature. many of them were upwards of feet high, generally sharpened at the extremity, and about feet in thickness. a more brilliant scene perhaps never presented itself to the human eye, nor was it easy for us to divest ourselves of the idea that we actually beheld one of the fairy scenes depicted in eastern fable. the light of the torches rendered it peculiarly enchanting.' captain forbes found much ice on the floor, but he did not enjoy the cold and wet, and seems to have ascended by the last opening in the roof, mentioned by olafsen, before reaching the cavern where the more beautiful parts of the ice-decoration were found by his predecessors. the two engravings of the interior of the cave given in his book are copied from the magnificent lithographs of paul gaimard,[ ] but much of the effect has been lost in the process of copying. mr. baring gould mentions this cavern in his book on iceland, and believes that its interest has been much overrated. he seems to have visited the cave, but makes no allusion to the existence of ice.[ ] mr. e.t. holland visited the surtshellir in the course of his tour in iceland, in , and an account of his visit is given in the first volume of 'peaks, passes, and glaciers.'[ ] after following in olafsen's steps for some time, the party reached a cave whose floor was composed of very clear ice, apparently of great thickness, for they could not see the lava beneath it. the walking on this smooth ice-floor mr. holland describes as being delightful, the whole sloping considerably downwards. 'in five minutes,' he continues, 'we reached the most beautiful fairy grotto imaginable. from the crystal floor of ice rose up group after group of transparent icy pillars, while from the glittering roof most brilliant icy pendants hung down to meet them. columns and arches of ice were ranged along the crystalline walls ... i never saw a more brilliant scene; and indeed it would be difficult to imagine anything more fairy-like. the pillars were many of them of great size, tapering to a point as they rose. the largest were at least feet high, and feet in circumference at their base. the stalactites were on an equally grand scale. through this lovely ice-grotto we walked for nearly ten minutes.' [illustration: ice-cave in the surtshellir.] the temperature of the caves, mr. holland states in a note, was from ° to ° c. ( · ° to ° f.), that of the air outside being · ° f. _the gypsum cave of illetzkaya-zastchita, in the steppes of the kirghis, south of orenburg_. the district in which this cavern occurs is a small green oasis on the undulating steppe, lying on a vast bed of rock-salt, which extends over an area of two versts in length, and a mile in breadth, with a thickness of more than feet. when the thin cover of red sand and marl is removed, the white salt is exposed, and is found to be so free from all stain, or admixture of other material, excepting sometimes minute filaments of gypsum, that it is pounded at once for use, without any cleansing or recrystallising process. in the immediate neighbourhood of illetzkaya-zastchita there are two or three gypseous hillocks, and a cavern in one of these is used by the inhabitants as a cellar, having been artificially enlarged for that purpose. sir roderick murchison and his colleagues visited this cavern on a hot day in august, with the thermometer at ° in the shade, in the course of their travels under the patronage of the late emperor of russia.[ ] they found the hillock to be an irregular cone feet in height; the entrance was by a frail door, on a level with the village street, and fully exposed to the rays of the sun; and yet, when the door was opened, so piercing a current of cold air poured forth, that they were glad to beat a retreat for a while; and on eventually exploring farther, they found the quass and provisions, stored in the cave, half-frozen within three or four paces of the door. the chasm soon opened out into a natural vault from to feet high, or paces long, and or in width, which seemed to have numerous small ramifications into the impending mound of gypsum and marl. the roof of this inner cavern was hung with undripping solid icicles, and the floor was a conglomerate of ice and frozen earth. they were assured that the cold is always greatest within when the external air is hottest and driest, and that the ice gradually disappears as winter approaches, and vanishes when the snow comes. the peasants were unanimous in these statements, and asserted that they could sleep in the cave without sheepskins in the depth of winter. sir roderick murchison and his friends were at first inclined to explain these phenomena by supposing that the chief fissure communicated with some surface of rock-salt, 'the saliferous vapours of which might be so rapidly evaporated or changed in escaping to an intensely hot and dry atmosphere as to produce ice and snow.' but sir john herschel, to whom they applied for assistance, rejected the evaporation theory, and suggested that the external summer wave of heat might possibly only reach the cave at christmas, being delayed six months in its passage through the rock; the cold of winter, in the same manner, arriving at midsummer. to this the explorers objected, that the mound contained many caves, but' only in this particular fissure was any ice found. dr. robinson, astronomer at armagh, endeavoured to explain the matter by referring to de saussure's explanation of the phenomena of _cold caves_ in italy and elsewhere; but this, too, was considered unsatisfactory. at length, professor wheatstone referred them to the memoir by professor pictet, in the _bibliothèque universelle_ of geneva, where that _savant_ improves upon de saussure's theory, and applies it in its new form to the case of caves containing permanent ice, in tracts whose mean cold is above the freezing point. this they seem to have accepted, adding that the climatological circumstances of orenburg--a wet spring, caused by the melting of the abundant snows, followed by a summer of intense and dry asiatic heat--must be particularly favourable for the working out of the theory, and must also act powerfully in producing the refrigerating effects of evaporation.[ ] the traveller pallas visited illetzkaya in july , and describes this gypseous hillock.[ ] in his time the entrance by the side of the hill was unknown, as also was the existence of ice in the cavern. he saw at the top of the kraoul-naï-gora, or watch-mountain, as it was called, a fissure which had once formed a large cavern, into which the kirghis were in the habit of throwing furs and other materials as religious offerings. although the cave had since fallen in, they still kept up a part of the ceremony, marching solemnly round the base of the hill once a year, and bathing in the neighbouring water. in earlier times, a man had descended through the fissure by means of cords, and found the cold within insupportable, having very probably reached the present ice-cave. pallas describes many caves in various parts of russia, but never seems to hint at the existence of ice in them, though he specially mentions their extreme cold. some of these occurred in gypsum, and some in limestone; and the gypseous caves showed universally a very low temperature, though still far above the freezing-point.[ ] thus in the dark cavern of barnoukova,[ ] on the piana, in a rock of gypsum, while the thermometer in the shade stood at °. , the temperatures at various points in the cave were,--at the entrance °. , feet from the entrance °. , and in the coldest part °. . this cold he describes as insupportable. the temperature of the water which had accumulated in the coldest parts of the cave was °. , considerably higher than the surrounding atmosphere; from which pallas concluded that the cold of gypsum-caves is due to the acid vapours which are generally observed in grottoes of this description. in may , he found snow on the sloping entrance to the cavern of loeklé, in the neighbourhood of the oufa; but the air of the interior was not colder than was to be expected in a deep cave. sir r. murchison wrote to russia for further information with respect to this cave in january , and again in the beginning of april, addressing his second enquiry to the secretary of the imperial academy. in reply, the secretary says that he is not aware that any thermometric observations have been made in the cavern. he encloses a short statement by m. helmersen, one of the members of the academy, to the following effect:--about versts se. of miask, in the chain of the ural, is a copper mine, called kirobinskoy, which was abandoned more than fifty years ago. on the th july, , m. helmersen found a thick wainscoting of ice on the sides and roof and floor of the horizontal gallery, within feet of the entrance. he was assured that this ice never melts, and that its thickness is greater in summer than in winter. m. helmersen adds, that to the best of his belief no one has investigated the cavern of illetzkaya zastchita since sir r. murchison's visit. _the ice-cavern of the peak of teneriffe_.[ ] this cave is at a height of , feet above the sea, and is therefore not far below the snow-line of the latitudes of the canary isles. the entrance is by a hole or feet square, in the roof of the cave, which may be about feet from the floor. the peasants who convey snow and ice from the cave to the lower regions, enter by means of knotted ropes; but professor smyth had caused his ship's carpenter to prepare a stout ladder, by which photographic instruments and a lady were taken down. on alighting on a heap of stones at the bottom, the party found themselves surrounded by a sloping wall of snow, feet high, and or feet broad, the basin in which they stood being formed in the snow by the vertical rays of the sun, and by the dropping of water from the edges of the hole[ ]. beyond this ring-fence, large surfaces of water stretched away into the farther recesses of the cave, resting on a layer of ice, which appeared to be generally about feet thick. at one of the deeper ends of the cave, water dropped continually from the crevices of the roof; a fact which professor smyth attributed to the slow advance of the summer wave of heat through the superincumbent rock, which was only now reaching the inner recesses of the loose lava, and liquefying the results of the past winter. there would seem to be immense infiltration of meteoric water on the peak; for, notwithstanding the great depth of rain which falls annually in a liquid or congealed form, the sides of the mountain are not scored with the lines of water-torrents. though occurring in lava, this cavern is quite different from lava-tunnels, such as the surtshellir, which are recognised formations, produced by the cooling of the terminal surface-crust of the stream of lava, and the subsequent bursting forth of the molten stream within. this, on the contrary, proved to be a smooth dome-shaped cave, running off into three contracting lobes or tunnels which might be respectively , , and feet long, and were all filled to a certain depth with water: in the smoothness of the interior surfaces, professor smyth believed that he detected the action of highly elastic gases on a plastic material. the astronomer takes exception to the term 'underground glacier'[ ] which had been applied to this cavern. he represents that the mountain is abundantly covered each winter with snow, in the neighbourhood of the ice-cave, which is nearly within the snow-line, and the stores of snow thus accumulated in the cave have no great difficulty in resisting the effects of summer heat, since all radiation is cut off by the roof of rocks. the importance of this protection may be understood from the fact that in the middle of july the thermometer at this altitude gave ° in the sun, but fell to ° when relieved from the heat due to radiation. at the time of this observation, there were still patches of snow lying on the mountain-side, exposed to the full power of direct radiation; and, therefore, there is not anything very surprising in the permanence of snow under such favourable circumstances as are developed in the cave. mr. airy, a few summers ago, found the rooms of the casa inglese, on mount etna, half filled with snow, which had drifted in by an open door, and had been preserved from solar radiation by the thick roof.[ ] humboldt remarks, that the mean temperature of the region in which the cueva del hielo (ice-cave) occurs, is not below ° c. ( . ° f.), but so much snow and ice are stored up in the winter that the utmost efforts of the summer heat cannot melt it all. he adds, that the existence of permanent snow in holes or caves must depend more upon the amount of winter snow, and the freedom from hot winds, than on the absolute elevation of the locality. the natives of teneriffe are men of faith. they have large belief in the existence and intercommunication of numerous vast caverns in the peak, one of which, on the north coast, is said to communicate with the ice-cavern, notwithstanding miles of horizontal distance, and , feet of vertical depth. the truth of this particular article of their creed has been recently tested by several worthy and reverend hidalgos, who drove a dog into the entrance of the cavern on the sea-coast, in the belief that he would eventually come to light again in the ice-cave: he was accordingly found lying there some days after, greatly fatigued and emaciated, having in the interval accomplished the , feet of subterranean climbing. how he could enter, from below, a water-logged cave, does not appear to have been explained. footnotes: [footnote : the _caves of szelicze_ are mentioned in murray's _handbook of southern germany_ ( , p. ), where the following account is given of them:--'during the winter a great quantity of ice accumulates in these caves, which is not entirely melted before the commencement of the ensuing winter. in the summer months they are consequently filled with vast masses of ice broken up into a thousand fantastic forms, and presenting by their lucidity a singular contrast to the sombre vaults and massive stalactites of the cavern.' the _drachenhöhle_ (murray, . c.p. ), a series of caverns not far from neusohl in hungary, afford another instance of an ice-cave, one of the largest of them being said to be coated with a sheet of translucid ice, through which the stalactitic fretwork of the vault is seen to great advantage.] [footnote : not far from kaschau.] [footnote : _travels in hungary_, , pp. , &c.] [footnote : _a peep into toorkistan_; london, ; chapters x. and xi.] [footnote : they were now in a country far removed from the affghans, and hostile to that people.] [footnote : the remainder of this paragraph is in captain burslem's own words.] [footnote : i am indebted for the knowledge of the existence of these caves to w.a. sandford, esq., f.g.s., who informed me that an account of them was to be found in a book of travels by an english officer. i am not aware that they have been visited on any other occasion than this.] [footnote : _reise durch island_, copenhagen, (being a german translation from the original danish), i. sqq.] [footnote : _henderson's iceland_, ii. sqq.] [footnote : pp. sqq.] [footnote : the sturlunga, landnama, and holmveria sagas.] [footnote : two priests determined to solve the mystery of this unapproachable valley, the aradal, or thoris-thal, with its rich meadows and gigantic inhabitants, and made an expedition for this purpose in . they reached a point where the glaciers fell off into a valley so deep that they could not see whether there were meadows at the bottom or not, and the slope was so rapid that it was impossible to descend.] [footnote : _voyage en islande; atlas historique_; t. ii., pl. - .] [footnote : _iceland: its scenes and sagas_: pp. , .] [footnote : page .] [footnote : _russia and the ural mountains_, i. , sqq.] [footnote : see the papers read before the geological society of london, on march , , by sir john herschel and sir e. murchison, the substance of which has been given above. see also the _edinburgh philosophical journal_ for (xxxv. ), for an attempt by dr. hope to explain the phenomena of this cave by a reference to the slow penetration of the winter and summer waves of cold and heat. dr. hope believes that, although the external changes do not travel to any great depth, they reach far enough to communicate with some of the fissures leading to the cave.] [footnote : _voyages_ (french translation); paris, ; i. .] [footnote : in the gypsum to the ne. of kungur, on the banks of the iren, there is a cave containing ice. four of its chambers have ice, in one of which a stalagmite of ice rises almost to the roof. the farthest chamber, fathoms from the entrance, contains a lake of water which stretches away out of sight under the low roof. (_taschenbuch für die gesammte mineralogie_; leonhard, ; b. , s. . published as _zeitschrift für mineralogie_.)] [footnote : pallas, _voyages_, i. .] [footnote : _teneriffe_, by professor smyth, ch. viii., and humboldt, _voyage aux régions Équinoctiales_; paris, ; i. .] [footnote : they afterwards discovered smoke issuing from the centre of this patch of stones; so that volcanic heat may possibly have had something to do with the disappearance of the snow.] [footnote : '_ce petit glacier souterrain_,' humboldt, l.c.] [footnote : see p. for an account of the underground glacier in the neighbourhood of the casa inglese.] * * * * * chapter xvi. brief notices of other ice-caves.[ ] on the brandstein in styria, in the district of gems, there is an ice-hole closely resembling some of the glacières of the jura. it is described by sartori,[ ] as lying in a much-fissured region, reached after four hours of steep ascent from the neighbouring village, through a forest of fir. some of the fissures contain water and some snow, while others are apparently unfathomable. from one of the largest of these, a strong and cold current blows in summer, and in this fissure is the ice-hole. sartori found _crimpons_ necessary for descending the frozen snow which led from the entrance to the floor of the cave, where he discovered pillars and capitals and pyramids of ice of every possible shape and variety, as if the cave had contained the ruins of a gothic church, or a fairy palace. at the farther end, after passing large cascades of ice, his party reached a dark grey hole, which lighted up into blue and green under the influence of the torches; they could not discover the termination of this hole, and the stones which they rolled down into it seemed to go on for ever. the greatest height of the cave is about feet, and its length feet, with a maximum breadth of feet. towards the end of autumn, the temperature of the ice-hole rises so much, that the glacial decorations disappear, and various wild animals are driven by the cold of winter to take shelter in the comparative warmth of the cave. the elevation of the district in which this ice-hole occurs is about , german feet above the sea. in upper styria, where the frauenmauer overlooks the basin in which the mining town of eisenerz is situated, an ice-cave has been explored, and a description of it has been given by certain members of the austrian alpine club.[ ] the brandstein is spoken of as one of the peaks in the immediate neighbourhood; and as the cave previously described is stated by sartori to be on the brandstein, that district would seem to be rich in glacières. the cavern is most easily explored from eisenerz, and on that side the entrance is , vienna feet above the sea. its other outlet, in the tragöss valley, is feet higher. the total length of the cave is , vienna feet. after passing the entrance, which is an archway from to feet high, the main course of the cave is soon left, and a branch is followed which leads to the _eis-kammer_. this ice-chamber consists of a grotto from to fathoms long, decked with ice-crystals, pillars of ice, and cascades of the same material, the floor being composed of ice as smooth as glass. in the summer, pleasure-parties assemble in the cave and amuse themselves with the game of _eisschiessen_, so popular in upper styria as a winter diversion. the hotter the summer, the more ice is found in the eiskammer, and the general belief is that it all disappears in winter. the cave proper, which assumes stupendous dimensions in its long course, shows no ice. it seems to be formed in the muschelkalk of the trias formation, and so far no limestone stalactites have been discovered. it has not, however, as yet been fully explored. the editor of the proceedings of the austrian alpine club gives a reference to scheiner, '_ausflug nach der höhle der frauenmauer,' (steiermarkische zeitschrift, neue folge_, i. , , p. .) at latzenberg, near weissenstein in carniola, there is another ice-cave, described by rosenmüller.[ ] it is entered by a long dark passage in which are pillars of ice arranged like the pipes of an organ, varying from the thickness of a man's body to the size of a straw. all these are said to melt in winter. farther on are two other passages, one of which passes upwards over _stufe_, and is coated in summer with ice; the other has not been explored. near glaneck in the untersberg, not far from salzburg, is a cave called the kolowrathöhle, of which a description is given by gümbel in his great geological work on the bavarian alps.[ ] it is a spacious cavern, opening in a steep wall of rock above the _rositenschlucht_ between the platten and _dachstein-kalk._[ ] an ice-current rushes from within, and ice is found on the threshold, becoming more prevalent in the farther recesses of the cave. the lower parts are tolerably roomy, and masses of ice of various shapes are found piled one upon another, lighting up with magical effect when torches are brought to bear upon them. gümbel believes that the cold currents which stream into the cave from the numerous fissures in its walls are the cause of the ice; and though this is the only known ice-cave far and near, he imagines that the icy-currents which are frequently met with in that district, and in the _hochgebirge_, would be found to proceed in reality from like caves, if the fissures from which they blow could be penetrated. behrens[ ] describes two ice-caves near questenberg, in the county of stollberg, on the harz mountains. they both occur in limestone, and are known as the great and little ice-holes. the one is close to the village of questenberg, and consists of a chasm several fathoms deep, so cold that in summer the water trickling down its edges is frozen into long icicles. the opening is large and faces due south, and yet the hotter the day the more ice is found; whereas in winter a warm steam comes out, as if from a stove. the other cave is farther into the mountain; it is spacious and light, and very cold in summer. in gehler's _physik. wörterbuch_ (art höhle), a small hole is mentioned near dôle, which is said to be remarkable for the large and curiously-shaped icicles found there; but no sufficient account of it seems to have been given. an ice-hole is also spoken of in the same article, which occurs on the east side of the town of vesoul.[ ] the hole is described as being small, with a little rivulet of water: this water, and also that which trickles down the walls of the cave, is converted into ice, and so much is formed on a cold day that it requires eight warm days to melt it. gollut, in his description of the _fré-puits_ of vesoul,[ ] observes that the remarkable pit known by that name was so cold, that in his time it had never been fully explored. gehler's expression, however, 'a small hole,' cannot possibly apply to the _fré-puits_; so that these would seem to be two different examples of cold caves near vesoul. there is an interesting account in poggendorff's annalen[ ] of a visit made by professor a. pleischl to a mountain in the circle of leitmeritz, where ice is found in summer under very curious circumstances. the mountain is called pleschiwetz, and lies above kameik, in bohemia, not far from the town of leitmeritz. on the th of june in each year, large numbers of pilgrims assemble at the romantic chapel of s. john the baptist in the wilderness; and it is a part of their occupation to search for ice under the basaltic rocks, and carry it home wrapped in moss, as a proof that they have really made the pilgrimage. professor pleischl visited this district at the end of may . the weather was hot for the season, as had been the case in april also, and there had been very little snow in the winter. a path leads from the chapel of s. john through the woods which deck the pleschiwetz, and then over a small plain to the foot of the basaltic rocks. here the mountain slopes away very steeply to the south, and the slope is thickly strewn with basaltic _débris_. from east to west this slope measures about fathoms, and its length is about fathoms. it is surrounded on both sides and at the foot by trees and shrubs. the sun burned so directly on to the _débris_, that the basaltic blocks were in some cases too hot to be touched by the naked hand. professor pleischl spent three hours of the early afternoon on this spot. the upper surface of the basaltic blocks had a temperature of at least ° f. the presence of an icy current was detected by inserting the hand into the lower crevices; and on removing the loose stones to a depth of - / or feet, ice was found in considerable quantities. on the th of august, he proceeded to make a further investigation of this phenomenon; but he found the temperature of the blocks only ° f., and in the crevices, at a depth of or feet, the lowest temperature reached was °· f. the external temperature in the shade was at the same time ° f. a third visit, in january , gave no results; but on january , , the professor succeeded in determining some very remarkable facts. a depression in the sloping plain is called, _par excellence_, the ice-hole; and this is surrounded by firs and birches, which grow within three or four fathoms of the edge of the hole, so that the rays of the sun do not reach the hole in winter. fresh snow lay on these trees; and there was nowhere any sign of melted snow, or of the formation of icicles. the basaltic _débris_, in which ice had been found in the summer, covers here a space of fathoms long by or broad, immediately at the foot of a steep basaltic precipice. at eleven in the morning the temperature was ° f. in the shade; and snow lay all round the ice-hole, to a thickness of - / or feet. the snow which covered the _débris_ was pierced by holes, which could not have been caused by the sun, for its rays did not penetrate the trees; and, indeed, no sun had been visible for some days. these holes were generally turned towards the north, and were like chimneys. on investigation, it was found that icicles hung down into them, showing, of course, past or present thaw, and within the cavities no ice was found. the thermometer gave here from °· f. to °· f.; but in the crevices, into which the thermometer could not be pushed, the hand discovered a warm air. the moss drawn from these crevices was found to be steeped in unfrozen water, and it froze promptly when brought into the outer air. the party afterwards climbed up the precipitous basalt, and reached, at p.m., a level covered with large blocks of the same material, where the thermometer was slightly under ° f. in the shade. the blocks were for the most part stripped of snow, and in some cases thin shields of ice were observed standing out two or three inches from them, forming hollow chambers, in which an agreeable warmth was found. these shields were invariably on the south side of the stones, the north side being free from ice and snow alike. in some places vapours were seen to rise. the thermometer gave ° f. at a depth of six inches among the stones, though the external temperature, as has been said, was ° f. for eight days previously, the thermometer had been always far below the freezing point, and on the th (four days before) had been ° below zero (f.). on the th and th heavy snow had fallen. all these facts seem to show that the warmth which had caused the chimneys in the snow over the ice-holes, and the heated vapours on the higher parts of the mountains, proceeded from within, and not from without. the people of the district assured professor pleischl that the hotter the summer, the more ice is formed; and that it disappears when the nights become long and the days short. dr. weiss, for six years head of the gymnasium of leitmeritz, stated that when one of the holes was emptied of ice in the summer, it filled again in a few days. the explanation given by the professor of this phenomenon is, that the blocks of basalt, that being an excellent conductor of heat, pass so much warmth through to their under surfaces--which form the roof of small chambers filled with a spongy mass of decaying leaves--that the rapid evaporation thereby caused produces the cold air and the ice. he omits to explain why there should be anything exceptional in the winter phenomenon of the crevices among the stones. there are two other places in bohemia where ice is found in summer. one is on the steinberg, in the county of konaged;[ ] it is a small basin, surrounded by trees, where, in the middle of summer, lumps of ice are found under basaltic _débris_. this ice is only formed, according to sommer, in the hottest part of the year. the other is on the zinkenstein, one of the highest points of the vierzehnberg, in the circle of leitmeritz. it is described by sommer[ ] as a cleft, five fathoms deep, in the basaltic rock, where ice is found in the hottest seasons. professor pleischl put this assertion to the test by visiting the spot in the end of august, when he found no signs of ice. another writer in poggendorff[ ] describes a somewhat similar appearance on the saalberg. here ice is found on the surface from june to the middle of august; and that, too, with a west exposure and in moderate shade. in july, the ice was so abundant that it could be seen from some distance: it was half a foot thick, and yielded neither to sun nor rain. in the middle of august there was no ice on the surface; but when the loose _débris_ was removed, the most beautiful ice appeared, and at a little depth all was frozen as hard as if it had been the depth of winter.[ ] the people who work in the neighbourhood declare that the place remains open, and free from ice or snow, in the greatest cold, and that no ice begins to form till the month of june. when the writer of the account in poggendorff visited the ice-hole, the peasants were in the habit of carrying large masses of ice down to their houses, through a temperature of ° f. reich[ ] gives a detailed and valuable account of the prevalence of subterranean ice on the sauberg, a hill which forms one side of a ravine near ehrenfriedersdorf. the surface is about , feet above the sea, and its mean temperature, as determined by many careful observations, about ° f. there are several tin-mines in this district, and the extended observations made by the authorities establish the curious fact that the mean temperature is considerably lower beneath than at the surface. for instance, in the s. christoph pit, it is found that the mean temperature, at fathoms below the surface, is only slightly above ° f.; while at the morgenröther cross-cut the same mean temperature is found at a depth of fathoms. the annual change of temperature is very small in these mines, and the maximum and minimum are reached very late; so that, if a point could be found with a mean temperature of ° f., ice would increase there up to june or even july, and then diminish until december or january; in which case the phenomenon so often said to be observed in connection with subterranean ice--the melting in winter and forming in summer--would really be presented. the ice on the sauberg is frequently found to commence at a depth of or fathoms, and in the years and it extended to fathoms below the surface: this depth, however, was exceptionally great, and as a rule the limit is reached at about fathoms.[ ] the ice is usually not very firm, and can be broken by stout blows with a stick; but between the years and , when it was found at a depth of from to fathoms, it was so hard that blasting became necessary, and at that time the miners were with difficulty protected from the effects of the severe cold. the greatest quantity of ice is found in the interstices of the rubbish-beds of old workings, and here it assumes a crystalline form, the rocks being covered with a 'fibrous' structure, arranged perpendicularly to their surface. reich reports the universal presence of cold currents of air in these shafts and mines, and, in consequence, takes the opportunity of contradicting a statement in horner's _physik. wörterbuch,_[ ] that the absence of all current of air is essential to the formation of subterranean ice. he quotes the case of the cheese-caves of roquefort as a further confirmation of his own observations with regard to the connection between ice in caves and cold currents of air; but of the many accounts which i have met with of the curious caves referred to, both in books and from the lips of those who have visited them, not one has made any mention of ice.[ ] he states, too, that when the strength of the current is diminished, its temperature is increased; a fact which all observations of the cold currents in caves, especially those made with so much care by m. saussure, abundantly establish. in the way of explanation, reich mentions the possibility of rocks of peculiar formation possessing actually a low degree of temperature;[ ] but he rejects this suggestion, preferring to believe that in some cases the cold resulting from evaporation is the cause of ice, and in others the greater specific gravity of cold as compared with warmer air. in the _bulletin des sciences naturelles_,[ ] it is stated that a large quantity of ice is found in one of the recesses of the grotto of antiparos--a fact which i have not seen mentioned elsewhere. after penetrating a long way through difficult fissures, a square chamber is at length reached, measuring feet in length and breadth, with a height of about feet. the walls and roof and floor are beautifully decorated with ice, and reflect all the colours of the rainbow. there are groups of pyramidal and round columns, and in some parts of the cave screens or curtains of ice or feet broad hang down to the floor. in a later volume of the same periodical,[ ] there is a description of a hill in virginia where ice is found in summer. this hill lies near the road between winchester and romney, on the north river, latitude º n. one side of the hill is entirely composed of loose stones from ten to twenty pounds in weight, and under these the ice is found, although their upper surface is exposed to the full sun from or a.m. till sunset. in all seasons there is an abundance of ice. a writer in the 'london and paris observer'[ ] visited the spot on the th of july, after a time of stifling heat, and in ten minutes he found more ice than the whole party could have carried away. he did not explore any farther than the foot of the hill; but the neighbours, who used the ice regularly in summer, assured him that it was to be found high up also. a constant and strong current issued from the crevices, stronger and infinitely colder than the current in the famous 'blowing cave' of virginia. a man had built a store-room for meat within the influence of one of these currents, and hard dry icicles were seen hanging from the wooden supports inside: the flies, too, which had been attracted by the meat, were found frozen on to the stones. this is not the only district where ice is found within temperate latitudes in north america. in professor silliman's 'american journal of science,'[ ] in a sketch of the geology of the township of salisbury, con. (latitude ° n.), 'natural ice-houses' are mentioned. these consist of chasms of considerable extent in the mica-state, where ice and snow remain during the greater part of the year. the principal of these chasms lies in the east part of the town, and is several hundred feet long, sixty feet deep, and about forty wide. the slate is of a very compact kind; and the walls are perpendicular, and correspond with much exactness. at the bottom is a cold spring, and a cave of considerable extent, in which it is probable that the ice lies--for the writer does not specify the position in which it is found. the chasm is a favourite retreat in summer, and is called the wolf-hollow, from its having formerly been a famous haunt for wolves. similar receptacles for summer-ice are found in several places in north america. in the forty-ninth volume of the _sitzungsberichte der kaiserl. akademie in wien_ ( te. abth.), a list of references to various ice-holes is appended to a paper by dr. boué on the geology of servia. many of the passages referred to have nothing to do with ice-caves, as, for instance, the sections of de saussure's book describing his observations of 'cold caves', or the account of the mass of ice and snow from which the river jumna springs, for which dr. boué refers to the 'philosophical magazine' for november , meaning, in fact, the 'london magazine'. the 'description des glacières' of m. bourrit is also given as a part of the literature on ice-caves; whereas (see the account of the glacière of montarquis, in the valley of reposoir) by 'glacière' m. bourrit meant only a locality where ice is to be found, or a glacier district. dr. boué, however, gives some references to the 'american journal of science' which it is possible to make out by a careful search in the neighbourhood of the volume and page he mentions. in vol. iv. ( ,--dr. boué says ) there is an account by the editor[ ] of a natural ice-house in the township of meriden, con., between hartford and newhaven, at an elevation of not more than feet above the level of the sea. the ice is found in a narrow defile, which is hemmed in by perpendicular sides of trap-rock, and displays a perfect chaos of fallen blocks of stone. the defile is so narrow, that the sun's rays only reach it for an hour in the course of the day; and even the trees and rocks, and beds of leaves, protect the ice from any very material damage. dr. silliman visited this defile on the rd july, ,[ ] with dr. isaac hough, the keeper of a neighbouring inn, and found that the ice was only partially visible, in consequence of the large collection of leaves which lay on it: they sent a boy down with a hatchet, and he brought up some large firm masses, one of which, weighing several pounds, they carried twenty miles to newhaven, where it did not entirely disappear till the morning of the third day. seven miles from newhaven, in the township of branford, there is a similar collection of ice. in both of these cases, the ice is mixed with a considerable quantity of leaves and dirt. in the same volume (p. ,--dr. boué says p. ), two accounts are given of a natural ice-house near the summit of a hill in the neighbourhood of williamstown (mass.). in the next volume there is a further account of it by professor dewey, stating that since the trees in the neighbourhood had been cut, the snow and ice had disappeared each year about the first of august. in vol. xlvi. (p. ) an ice mountain in wallingford, rutland county (vt.), is described, which is ordinarily known in the neighbourhood as the ice-bed. an area of thirty or fifty acres of ground is covered with massive _débris_ of grey quartz from the mountains which overhang it; and here--especially in a deep ravine into which many of the falling blocks of stone have penetrated--ice is found in large quantities. it appears to be formed during the melting of the snow in february, march, and april, and vanishes in the course of the summer, in hot years as early as the last days of june. these descriptions call to mind the glacière of arc-sous-cicon, in which many of the features of the american ice-caves are reproduced. an american photograph is current in this country, in the form of a stereoscopic slide, representing an ice-cave in the white mountains, new hampshire; but it is only a winter cave, and in no way resembles any of the glacières i have seen. it is merely a collection of long and slender icicles, with beds of ice formed upon stones and trunks of trees on the ground; nothing more, in fact, than is to be seen in any tolerably severe winter in the neighbourhood of a cascade in a sheltered scotch burn. the 'american journal of science' (xxxvi. ) gives a curious instance of a freezing-well near the village of owego, three-quarters of a mile from the susquehanna river. the depth of the well is feet, and for four or five months in the year the surface of the water is frozen so hard as to render the well useless. large masses of ice have been found in it late in july. a thermometer, which stood at ° in the sun, fell to ° in fifteen minutes at the bottom of the well; and the men who made the well were forced to put on thick clothing in june, and even so could not work for more than two hours at a time. no other well in that neighbourhood presents the same phenomenon. a lighted candle was let down, and the flame became agitated and thrown in one direction at a depth of feet, but was quite still at the bottom; where, however, it soon died out. the water is hard or limestone water. rocks of volcanic formation would seem to afford favourable opportunities for the formation of ice. scrope mentions this fact in an account of the curious district called eiffel or eifel, in rhenish prussia, which was published originally in the 'edinburgh journal of science,'[ ] and has since been translated in keferstein's deutschland.[ ] the village of roth, near andernach, is built on a current of basalt, derived from the cone above it, which has at some time sent down a stream of lava to the north and west. a small cavern near the village, forming the mouth of a deep fissure in the lava-stream, half-way up the cone, displays a phenomenon which the writer says he has often observed in volcanic formations. the floor of the cavern was covered with a crust of ice at the time of his visit, about noon on a very hot day in august. the peasants report that there is always ice in summer, and never in winter, when the sheep retreat to the cave on account of its warmth. steininger[ ] found a thickness of feet of ice on september , , but it was evidently in a melting state, and the thermometer stood at · f. in the cavern. he describes it as possessing a narrow entrance facing north, entirely sheltered from the sun by lava-rocks, and by the trees of a wood which covers the cone of scoria. scrope believes that this is the mouth of one of the arched galleries so frequently met with under lava in iceland, bourbon, and elsewhere; and on this he founds his explanation of the phenomenon. if the other extremity is connected with the external air at a much lower level, a current of air must be constantly driven up this gallery, and in its passage will be dried by the absorbent nature of the rock--which is perhaps partly owing to the sulphuric or muriatic acid it contains[ ]--and the evaporation caused by this current produces a coating of ice on the floor of the grotto, where there is a superficial rill of water. the more rarified the lower external air, the more rapid will be the current of cool air; and, therefore, the greater the evaporation. the winter phenomenon is to be explained by the fact that the current of air will be about the mean annual temperature of the district, taking its temperature, in fact, from the rocks through which it passes; and, therefore, by contrast the grotto will appear warm. the same writer mentions a similar example of summer ice in auvergne.[ ] there is a natural grotto in the basalt near pont gibaud, some miles to the north-west of clermont, in which a small spring is found partly frozen during the greatest heats of summer, while the water is said to be warm in winter; probably, scrope observes, only seeming to be warm by contrast with the external temperature. the water is apparently frozen by means of the powerful evaporation produced by a current of very dry air proceeding from some long fissures or arched galleries which communicate with the cave. in this case also the writer suggests that the air owes its dryness to the absorbent qualities of the lava through which it passes: he repeats, too, the remark that the phenomenon is of common occurrence in caverns in volcanic districts.[ ] there is a remarkable instance of ice occurring under lava, near the _casa inglese_ on mount etna, which it may be as well to mention, though the causes of its existence have probably nothing in common with the phenomena of ice-caves, or summer ice. an account of it is to be found in sir charles lyell's 'elements of geology.'[ ] it appears that the summer and autumn of were so hot, that the artificial ice-houses of catania and the adjoining parts of sicily failed. signer m. gemmellaro had long believed that a small mass of perennial ice at the foot of the highest cone of etna was only a part of a large and continuous glacier covered by a lava current, and from this he expected to derive an abundant supply of ice. he procured a large body of workmen, and quarried into the ice; but though he thus proved the superposition of lava for several hundred yards, the ice was so hard, and the expense of quarrying consequently so great, that the works were abandoned. this was on the south-east of the cone, not far from the _casa inglese_. sir charles lyell suggests that, probably, at the commencement of some eruption, a large mass of snow has been thickly covered with volcanic sand, showered upon it before the arrival of the lava itself. this sand is a non-conductor of heat, and would therefore tend to preserve the snow from complete fusion when the hot lava-stream passed over it, and thus the existence of the underground glacier may be explained. the peasants of the district are so well acquainted with the non-conducting properties of volcanic sand, that they secure an annual store of snow, for providing water in summer, by strewing a layer of sand a few inches thick upon a field of snow, thus effectually shutting out the heat of the sun. it is curious that when de saussure visited chamouni for the first time, his attention was arrested by the sight of women sowing what seemed to be grain of some kind in the snow; but, on enquiring, he found that it was only black earth, which the inhabitants spread on the snow in spring, in order to make it disappear sooner. he was told that snow thus treated would melt a fortnight or three weeks before the ordinary time for its disappearance in the valley; but it will be seen that this does not contradict the theory of the sicilian peasants.[ ] sir charles lyell adds that, after what he saw on mount etna, he should not be surprised to find layers of glacier and lava alternating in some parts of iceland. something similar was observed by von kotzebue, near the sound which bears his name.[ ] his party was encamped on a large plain covered with moss and grass, when they discovered a fissure which revealed the fact that the moss and grass were but a thin coating on a layer of ice a hundred feet thick. this was not mere frozen ground, but aboriginal ice; for, in the ice which formed the walls of the fissure, they found the bones and teeth of mammoths embedded. the frozen soil of jakutsk, in siberia, has for many years attracted considerable attention. the ordinary law of increase of temperature in descending below the surface of the earth would appear, however, to be only modified here; for it is found in sinking a well which has afforded opportunities for observing the state of the soil, that the temperature gradually increases with the depth.[ ] two ice-caverns were examined by georgi, in the course of his travels in russia.[ ] one occurs near the mines of lurgikan, on the east side of a hill about feet high, not far from the confluence of the lurgikan stream with the schilka (a tributary of the amur), in the province of nertschinsk. in the course of driving an adit in one of the lead-mines, in the year , the workmen were struck by the hollow sound given forth by the rock, and, on investigation, they found an immense grotto or fissure, of which the entrance was so much blocked up by ice that they had much difficulty in sliding down by means of ropes. the fissure extended under the hill, in a direction from north to south, and was fathoms long, from to broad, and from to high. where it approached nearest the surface, the thickness of the roof was about fathoms. the rock is described by georgi as _quarzig, bräunlich, und von einem starken kalkschuss_. he found the greater part of the walls covered with ice, and many pillars and pyramids of ice on the floor. the cold was moderate, and was said to be much the same in summer and winter. patrin has given a fuller description of the same cavern in the _journalde physique_.[ ] the lead-mine is in limestone rock, containing a third part of clay. the entrance to the glacière was still difficult at the time of his visit, and it was necessary to use a rope, and also to cut steps, for the descent was made along a ridge of ice with almost perpendicular sides. the spectacle presented by the decoration of the roof was remarkably beautiful, long festoons and tufts of ice hanging down, light and brilliant as silver gauze: this ice was supposed to be formed from the abundant vapours of the beginning of winter, and resembled glass blown to the utmost tenuity. it was crystallised, too, in a wonderful manner. patrin found long bundles of hexahedral tubes, the walls of which were formed of transverse needles: the diameter of these tubes was from two to six lines only, but at the lower extremities they opened out into hollow six-sided pyramids, more than an inch in diameter, so that the festoons, sometimes as large round as a man, presented terminal tufts of some feet in diameter, which glittered like diamonds under the influence of the torches. towards the farther end of the fissure, stalactites of solid ice were found, displaying all the forms and more than all the beauty of limestone stalactites. the other instance mentioned by georgi occurred in the mines of serentvi, where two of the levels yielded perennial ice, and were thence (georgi says) called _ledenoi_. a spring of water flowed from the rock at a depth of thirty fathoms below the surface, and was promptly frozen into a coating of ice a foot thick. patrin[ ] visited serentvi, but he did not observe any ice in the mines. he believed the rock to be very ancient lava. reich[ ] mentions a cavern on mount sorano which contains ice, quoting kircher;[ ] but he seems to have misinterpreted his author's latin.[ ] he also refers to the existence of ice in the mines of herrengrund in hungary, and dannemora in sweden. kircher, who has the credit of having been the first to call attention to the increase of temperature in the earth, made full enquiries into the temperature of the mines at herrengrund, but he was not informed of the existence of ice.[ ]; townson visited these mines in the course of his travels in hungary, and neither does he make any mention of ice in connection with them. he describes them as lying south of teplitz, in a limestone district, with sandstone in the more immediate neighbourhood. the mines themselves (copper mines) are in a kind of mica-schist, which the people call granite. the superintendent of mines informed reich that one of the shafts is called the ice-mine, from the fact that when the workmen attempted to drive a gallery from south to north, they came upon ice filling up the interstices of the _haldenstein_, within five fathoms of the commencement of the gallery. the temperature was so low, and the expense caused by the frozen mass so great, that the working was stopped. the iron mines of dannemora, eleven leagues from upsal, contain a large quantity of ice, according to a manuscript account by mr. over-assessor-of-the-board-of-mines winkler:[ ] jars, however, in his _voyages métallurgiques_,[ ] gives a full description of them without mentioning the existence of ice. he states that ice is found in the mines of nordmarck, three leagues from philipstadt in wermeland, a province of sweden: these mines are merely numerous shafts sunk in the earth, reaching to the bottom of the vein of ore, so that they are fully exposed to the light, and yet the walls of the shafts become covered with ice at the end of winter, which remains there till the middle of september. jars believed that, if it were not for the heat caused by blasting, and by the presence of the workmen, the ice would be perennial. humboldt[ ] speaks of the ice in these mines and on the sauberg. reich states that ice is found in the mill-stone quarry of nieder-mendig, quoting karsten's _archiv für bergbau_.[ ] the ice is found in the hottest days of summer, although the interior of the quarry is connected with the outer air by many side shafts. the porous nature of the stone is assigned as the cause of the phenomenon. daubeny (on volcanoes) describes the remarkable basaltic deposits at niedermennig--as he spells it--but says nothing of the existence of ice. daubuisson[ ] speaks of a _schneegrube_, on a summit of the _riesengebirge_, in silesia, , feet above the sea; but such holes are common enough at that elevation, and i have seen two or three remarkable instances on the jura, within the compass of one day's walk. voigt[ ] describes an _eisgrube_ in the rhöngebirge, on the _ringmauer_, the highest point of the _tagstein_, where abundant ice is found in summer under irregular masses of columnar basalt. reich had received from a forest-inspector an account of an ice-hole in this neighbourhood, called _umpfen_, which is apparently not the same as that mentioned by voigt. in the saxon erzgebirge there are three points remarkable for their low temperature,[ ] in addition to the mines on the sauberg mentioned above. these are the _heinrichssohle_, in the stockwerk at altenberg, where the mean of two years' observations gives the temperature °· f. lower at a depth of feet than at the surface; the adit of _henneberg_, on the ingelbach, near johanngeorgenstadt, where the temperature was again °· f. lower than in shafts some hundred feet higher; and the _weiss adler_ adit, on the left declivity of the valley of the schwarzwasser, above the antonshütte. it would appear that there are local causes which affect the temperature in the erzgebirge, for reich found that in several places the mean temperature of the soil was higher than that of the air: for instance-- soil. air. height above the sea. altenberg ... · ° fahr. · ° , feet markus röhling ... · ° " · ° , " johanngeorgenstadt. · ° " · ° , " the temperature at markus röhling is peculiarly anomalous, considering the elevation of the surface above the sea. there is said to be an ice-cave in nassau, but i have been unable to obtain any account of it, unless it be the same as the _ice-field_ mentioned on page . there is a cave in the south-east of hungary[ ] which presents the same features as several of the glacières i have visited. it is called the ice-hole of scherisciora, and is described as lying in the jura-kalk, at a distance of - / hours north-east from the forest-house of distidiul. the approach is by ladders, down a pit fathoms wide and deep; and when the bottom of this pit is reached, an entrance is found to the cave in the north wall, in the neighbourhood of which is congealed snow which shortly becomes ice. the floor of the first chamber is composed of glacier-ice, separated from the side walls by a cleft from to feet wide, where it shows a depth of from to feet; it is as smooth as glass, and about fathoms from the entrance a cone of ice stands upon it, or feet high. both the floor and the cone are at once seen to be transformed remains of ancient masses of snow, and are of a dirty yellow colour. at the back of this chamber, a narrow passage opens towards the interior of the mountain, and winds steeply down with a height of feet, and a length of a few fathoms, till a magnificent dome is reached, on the beauties of which herr peters becomes eloquent. the floor is so smooth that crimpons are necessary, and stalagmites and stalactites of ice are found in rich profusion, the latter being generally formed on small limestone stalactites, while the former have no such nucleus. there is another opening near the original entrance to the cave, a sort of fissure covered with elegant forms of ice, leading to a steep shaft. the imperial forester of topfanalva was bold enough to let himself down the slope of ice which formed the edge of the shaft, on a rope ladder feet long, notwithstanding the difficulty of grasping the iron steps which of course lay pressed on to the ice; but when he had descended about feet, the shaft became perpendicular, and stones thrown in showed a very considerable depth. there appeared to be no sound of water in the abyss below. both entrances, that to the shaft as well as that to the second chamber, were ornamented with delicate ice crystals, which occurred both on the limestone stalactites and on the walls, and presented almost the appearance of plants of cauliflower. the ice-floor of the first chamber is described as consisting of a 'coarse-grained' material. in the south-east of servia, on the western slope of mount rtagn, is a pit feet in diameter, and or feet deep, the bottom of which is reached by a succession of trunks of trees with the branches lopped off, a sort of ladder called _stouba_ by the natives.[ ] the peasants assert that the snow and ice disappear from this pit in september, and do not reappear before june. the swiss peasants have never yet got so far as to say that the _snow_ in their pits disappears in winter and returns in summer. boué[ ] found the temperature of the bottom of the pit to be °. f., while that of the air outside was ° f. the same writer[ ] mentions a source in a mill-stone quarry in bosnia which is frozen till the end of june. footnotes: [footnote : several of these caves are referred to by reich, _beobachtungen über die temperatur des gesteins in verschiedenen tiefen in den gruben des sächsischen erzgebirges;_ freiberg, .] [footnote : _naturwunder des oesterr. kaiserthums_, iii. .] [footnote : _mittheil. des oesterr. alpen-vereins_, ii. . i am indebted to g.c. churchill, esq., one of the authors of the well-known book on the dolomite mountains, for my knowledge of the existence of this cave, and of the kolowrathöhle.] [footnote : _beschreibung merkwürdiger höhlen_, ii. .] [footnote : _geognostísche reschreibung des bayerischen alpengebirges_; gotha, .] [footnote : these constitute the upper bone bed and dachstein limestone beds of the uppermost part of the trias formation.] [footnote : _hereynia curiosa_, cap. v. the same account is given in behren's _natural history of the harz forest_, of which an english translation was published in .] [footnote : see also muncke, _handbuch der naturlehre_, iii. ; heidelberg, .] [footnote : see page . the more modern spelling is _frais-puits_.] [footnote : liv. .] [footnote : described by schaller, _leitmeritzer kreis_, p. , and by sommer, in the same publication, p. . i have not been able to procure this book.] [footnote : _böhmens topogr._, i. . this reference is given by professor pleischl.] [footnote : _annalen_, lxxxi. .] [footnote : i was told, in , by a chamois-hunter of les plans, a valley two hours above bex, that some years before he was cutting a wood-road through the forest early in september, when, at a depth of inches below the surface, he found the ground frozen hard. we visited the place together, but could find no ice. the whole ground was composed of a mass of loose round stones, with a covering of earth and moss, and the air in the interstices was peculiarly cold and dry.] [footnote : _beobachtungen_, &c. (see note on p. ), .] [footnote : reich found the temperature of the ice to be · ° f., that of the air in the immediate vicinity · °, and the rock, at a little distance, · °.] [footnote : iii. .] [footnote : see many careful descriptions of these caves in the _annales de chimie_; also, an account by professor ansted, in his _science, scenery, and art_, p. . m. chaptal (_ann. de chimie_, iv. ) found the lowest temperature of the currents of cold air to be º· f.; but m. girou de buzareingues _(ann. de chimie et de phys_., xlv. ) found that with a strong north wind, the temperature of the external air being º· f., the coldest current gave º· f.; with less external wind, still blowing from the north, the external air lost half a degree centigrade of heat, while the current in the cave rose to º· f. the cellars in which the famous cheese of roquefort is ripened are not subterranean, but are buildings joined on to the rock at the mouths of the fissures whence the currents proceed. they are so valuable, that one, which cost , francs in construction, sold for , francs. the cheese of this district has had a great reputation from very early times. pliny (_hist. nat_. xi. ) mentions, with commendation, the cheeses of lesura (_m. lozère_ or _losère_) and gabalum (_gevaudan, javoux_). the idolaters of gevaudan offered cheeses to demons by throwing them into a lake on the mons helanus _(laz des helles?_) and it was not till the year that s. hilary, bishop of mende, succeeded in putting a stop to this practice.] [footnote : it would seem from his own account of the sauberg, and from the description given above of the presence of ice among the rocky _débris_, as well as from the account on this page of ice in virginia, that a formation of loose stones is favourable to the existence of a low degree of temperature. see also the note on p. , with respect to the loose stones near les plans. forchhammer found, on the faroë islands, that springs which rise from loose stones are invariably colder than those which proceed from more solid rock at the same elevation, as indeed might have been expected.] [footnote : xvii. . the account is taken from a dutch journal.] [footnote : xix. p. .] [footnote : october , .] [footnote : viii. .] [footnote : pp. - .] [footnote : thermometer about ° f.] [footnote : v. .] [footnote : iv. .] [footnote : _die erlöschenen vulkane in der eifel_, s. .] [footnote : dr. gmelin, of tubingen, detected the presence of ammonia both in clinkstone lava and in columnar basalt (_american journal of science_, iv. ).] [footnote : _geology and extinct volcanoes of central france_, p. (second edition).] [footnote : mr. william longman has informed me that some years ago he had ice given him in summer, when he was on a visit to the inspector of mines at pont gibaud, and he was told that it was formed in a neighbouring cavern during the hot season.] [footnote : original edition of , i. .] [footnote : see professor tyndall's _glaciers of the alps_, for an account of glacier-tables, sand-cones, &c. anyone who has walked on a glacier will have noticed the little pits which any small black substance, whether a stone or a dead insect, sinks for itself in the ice.] [footnote : gilbert, _annalen_, lxix. .] [footnote : according to the latest accounts i have been able to obtain, a temperature of · ° f. had already been reached some years ago; the temperature, a few feet from the surface, being ° below freezing. the soil here only thaws to a depth of feet in the hottest summer. sir r. murchison wrote to russia, in february last, for further information regarding this well. since i wrote this, sir roderick murchison has applied to the secretary of the imperial academy of st. petersburg for further information respecting the investigations at jakutsk. the secretary gives a reference to middendorff's _sibirische reise_, bd. iv. th. i., te lieferung, _klima_, . i have only been able to find the edition of - ; but in that edition, under the heading _meteorologische beobachtungen_, elaborate tables of the meteorological condition of jakutsk are given (i. - ). also, under the heading _geothermische beobachtungen_, very careful information respecting the frozen earth will be found (i. , &c., and , &c.). the point at which a temperature of ° will be attained, is reckoned variously at from to , feet below the surface.] [footnote : reise im russischen reich_, i. ; st. petersburg, .] [footnote : xxxviii. (an. ), in an article called _notice minéral, de la daourie] [footnote : l.c., p. .] [footnote : _beobachtungen_, &c., .] [footnote : _mundus subterraneus_, i. (i. , in the edition of ).] [footnote : 'vidi ego in monte sorano cryptam veluti glacie incrustatam, ingentibus in fornice hinc inde stiriis dependentibus, e quibus vicini mentis accolæ pocula æstivo tempore conficiunt, aquæ vinoque quæ iis infunduntur refrigerandis aptissima, extremo rigore in summas bibentium delicias commutato.'] [footnote : both here and at schemnitz, kircher made particular enquiries on a subject of which scientific men have altogether lost sight. at schemnitz he asked the superintendent, _an comparcant dæmunculi vel pygmæi in fodinis?--respondit affirmative, et narrat plura exempla_; and at herrengrund, _utrum appareant dæmunculi seu pygmæi?--respondit tales visos fuisse, et auditos pluries_. (edition of , ii. , .)] [footnote : reich, .] [footnote : i. (lyon, ).] [footnote : _ueber die unterirdischen gasarten_, .] [footnote : xvii. .] [footnote : _mém. sur les basaltes de la saxe_, p. .] [footnote : _mineralog. reisen_, ii. .] [footnote : reich, , ; bischof, _physical researches on the internal heat of the globe_, , .] [footnote : peters, _geologische und mineralogische studien aus dem sudöstlichen ungarn_, in the _sitzungsberichte der kais. ak. in wien_, b. xliii., te abth., s. . see also pages and of the same volume (year ).] [footnote : such ladders are in ordinary use in the jura.] [footnote : _turquie d'europe,_ i. (he quotes himself as i. , in the _sitzungsb, der k. ak. in wien_, xlix. l. ).] [footnote : l.c., p, .] * * * * * chapter xvii. history of theories respecting the causes of subterranean ice. the only glacière which is in any sense historical, is that near besançon; and a brief account of the different theories which have been advanced in explanation of the phenomena presented by it, will include almost all that has been written on ice-caves. the first mention i have found of this cave is contained in an old history of the franche comté of burgundy, published at dôle in , to which reference has been already made. gollut, the author, speaks more than once of a _glacière_ in his topographical descriptions, and in a short account of it he states that it lay near the village of _leugné_, which i find marked in the delphinal atlas very near the site of the chartreuse of grâce-dieu; so that there can be no doubt that his glacière was the same with that which now exists. his theory was, that the dense covering of trees and shrubs protected the soil and the surface-water from the rays of the sun, and so the cold which was stored up in the cave was enabled to withstand the attacks of the heat of summer.[ ] in the case of many of the glacières, there can be no doubt that this idea of winter cold being so preserved, by natural means, as to resist the encroachments of the hotter seasons, is the true explanation of the phenomenon of underground ice. the next account of this glacière is found in the history of the royal academy of sciences (french), under the year ,[ ] but no theory is there suggested. the writer of the account states that in his time the floor of the cave was covered with ice, and that ice hung from the roof in festoons. in winter the cave was full of thick vapours, and a stream of water ran through it. the ice had for long been less abundant than in former times, in consequence of the felling of some trees which had stood near the entrance. the academy received in the same year another letter on this subject, confirming the previous account, and adding some particulars. from this it would seem that people flocked from all sides to the glacière with waggons and mules, and conveyed the ice through the various parts of burgundy, and to the camp of the saone; not thereby diminishing the amount of ice, for one hot day produced as much as they could carry away in eight days. the ice seemed to be formed from a stream which ran through the cave and was frozen in the summer only. the writer of this second account saw vapours in the glacière (the editor of the _histoire de l'académie_ does not say at what season the visit to the cave took place), and was informed that this was an infallible sign of approaching rain; so much so, that the peasants were in the habit of determining the coming weather by the state of the grotto. in , m. billerez, professor of anatomy and botany in the university of besançon, communicated to the academy[ ] an account of a visit made by him to this cave in september . he found feet of ice on the floor of the cave, in a state of incipient thaw, and three pyramids, from to feet high and or feet in diameter, which had been already considerably reduced in size by thaw. a vapour was beginning to pass out from the cave, at the highest part of the arch of entrance; a phenomenon which, he was told, continued through the winter, and announced or accompanied the departure of the ice: nevertheless, the cold was so great that he could not remain in the glacière more than half an hour with any sort of comfort. the thermometer stood at ° outside the cave, and fell to °[ ] when placed inside; but thermometrical observations of that date were so vague as to be useless for present purposes. the ice appeared to be harder than the ordinary ice of rivers, less full of air-bubbles, and more difficult to melt. m. billerez enunciated a new theory to account for the phenomena presented by the cave. he observed that the earth in the immediate neighbourhood, and especially above the roof of the grotto, was full of a nitrous or ammoniac salt, and he accordingly suggested that this salt was disturbed by the heat of summer and mingled itself with the water which penetrated by means of fissures to the grotto, and so the cave was affected in the same way as the smaller vessel in the ordinary preparation of artificial ice. he had heard that some rivers in china freeze in summer from the same cause.[ ] in , a further communication was made to the academy by m. des boz,[ ] royal engineer, describing four visits which he had made to the grotto near besançon at four different seasons of the year, viz., in may and november , and in march and august . in all cases he found the air in the cave colder than the external air,[ ] and its variations in temperature corresponded with the external variations, the cold being greater in winter than in summer. m. des boz ascribed the existence of ice in the cave to natural causes. the opening being towards the north-east, and corresponding with a gorge in the hills opposite, running in the same direction, none but cold winds could reach the mouth of the grotto. moreover, the soil above was so thickly covered with trees and brushwood, that the rays of the sun could not reach the earth, much less the rock below. credible persons asserted that since some of the trees had been felled, there had not been so much ice in the cave. in order to test the presence of salt, m. des boz melted some of the ice, and evaporated the resulting water, but found no taste of salt in the matter which remained.[ ] he denied the existence of the spring of water which previous accounts had mentioned, and believed that the water which formed the ice came solely from melted snow, and from the fissures of the rock. in , the duc de lévi caused the whole of the ice to be removed from the cave, for the use of the army of the saone, which he commanded. in the ice had formed again, and the grotto was subjected to a very careful investigation by m. de cossigny, chief engineer of besançon, in the months of august and october.[ ] the thermometer he used had been presented to him by the academy, and was very probably constructed by m. de réaumur himself, for de cossigny's account was sent through m. de réaumur to the academy, but still the observations made with it cannot be considered very trustworthy. on the th of august, at . a.m., the temperature in the cave was / ° above the zero point of this thermometer, and at . a.m. it had risen to ° above zero. on the th of october, at a.m., the thermometer stood at / °, and at p.m. it gave the same register. m. de cossigny found that the entrance to the cave was rather more than feet above the abbey of grâce-dieu, and about half a league distant by the ordinary path. a great part of his account is occupied by contradictions of previous accounts, especially in the matter of dimensions,[ ] the people of besançon had urged him to stay only a short time in the cave, because of the sulphureous and nitrous exhalations, but he detected no symptoms of anything of that kind. the most curious thing which he saw was the soft earth which lay, and still lies, at the bottom of the long slope of ice by which the descent is made; and he subjected this to various chemical tests and processes, but could not find that it contained anything different from ordinary earth.[ ] when m. de cossigny visited the cave, there were thirteen or fourteen columns of ice, from to feet high, and he was in consequence inclined to doubt the accuracy of the statement of m. billerez, that in his time ( ) there were three columns only, from to feet high. but my own observation of the shape of the columns suggested that the largest of all was probably an amalgamation of several others; so that it is not unreasonable to suppose that after the duc de lévi removed the large columns seen by m. billerez, a number of smaller columns were formed on the old site, and that these had not become large enough to amalgamate in . not satisfied with these visits of august and october, m. de cossigny visited the cave in april . he found the temperature at a.m. to be exactly at the freezing point, and at noon it had risen °. from this he concluded that the stories of the greater cold in the cave during the summer, as compared with the winter, were false. in , m. prévost, of geneva, visited the cave, as a young man; and in , he wrote an account of his visit in the _journal de genève_ (march), which was afterwards inserted as an additional chapter in his book on heat.[ ] he believed that one or two hundred _toises_ was the utmost that could be allowed for the height of the hill in which the glacière lies,--a sufficiently vague approximation. he rejected the idea of salt as the cause of ice, and came to the conclusion that the cave was in fact nothing more than a good natural ice-house, being protected by dense trees, and a thick roof of rock, while its opening towards the north sheltered it from all warm winds. he accounted for the original presence of ice as follows:--in the winter, stalactites form at the edges of various fissures in the roof, and snow is drifted on to the floor of the cave by the north winds down the entrance-slope. when the warmer weather comes, the stalactites fall by their own weight, and, lying in the drifted and congealed snow, form nuclei round which the snow is still further congealed, and the water which results from the partial thaw of portions of the snow is also converted into ice. thus, a larger collection of ice forms in winter than the heat of summer can destroy; and if none of it were removed, it might, in the course of years, almost fill the cave. at the time of his visit (august), m. prévost found only one column, from to feet high. in (august ), m. girod-chantrans visited the glacière of chaux (so called from a village near the glacière, on the opposite side from the abbey of grâce-dieu), and his account of the visit appeared in the _journal des mines_[ ] of prairial, an iv., by which time the writer had become the citizen girod-chantrans. he found a mass of stalactites of ice hanging from the roof, as if seeking to join themselves with corresponding stalagmites on the floor of the cave; the latter, five in number, being not more than or feet high, and standing on a thick sheet of ice. there was a sensible interval between this basement of ice and the rock and stones on which it reposed: it was, moreover, full of holes containing water, and the lower parts of the cave were unapproachable by reason of the large quantity of water which lay there. the thermometer stood at °· f. two feet above the floor, and at ° f. in the shade outside. m. girod-chantrans determined, from all he saw and heard, that the summer freezing and winter thaw were fables, and he believed that the cave was only an instance of nature's providing the same sort of receptacle for ice as men provide in artificial ice-houses. he was fortunate enough to obtain by chance the notes of a neighbouring physician, who had made careful observations and experiments in the glacière at various seasons of the year, and a _précis_ of these notes forms the most valuable part of his account. dr. oudot, the physician in question, found ten columns in january , the largest of which was - / feet high. the flooring of ice was nowhere more than inches thick, and the parts of the rock which were not covered with ice were perfectly dry. the thermometer--m. girod-chantrans used réaumur, so i suppose that he gives dr. oudot's observations in degrees of réaumur, though some of the results of that supposition appear to be anomalous--gave ° f. within the cave, and ° f. outside. in april of the same year, the large column had increased in height to the extent of inches; and the floor of ice on which it stood was - / inch thicker, and extended over a larger area than before; the thermometer stood at °. f. and ° f. respectively in the same positions as in the former case. in july, the large column had lost inches of its height, and the thermometer gave °. f. and °. f. in october, the large column was only feet high, and many of the others had disappeared, while their pedestal had become much thinner than it had been in the preceding months. there was also a considerable amount of mud in the cave, brought down apparently by the heavy rains of autumn. the thermometer gave °. f. and °. f. on the th of january, , there were nine columns of very beautiful ice, and one of these, as before, was larger than the rest, being feet high and feet in circumference. the temperatures were ° f. and °. f. in the cave and in the open air respectively. tradition related that, before the removal of the ice in , one of the columns reached the roof, (prévost calculated the limits of the height of the cave at and feet,) and this suggested to dr. oudot the idea of placing stakes of wood in the heads of the columns he found in the cave, in the hope that ice would thus collect in greater quantities under the fissures of the roof. accordingly, he made holes in three of the columns, and established stakes , , and feet high, returning on the nd of february, after an interval of six weeks, to observe the result of his experiment. he found the two shorter stakes completely masked with ice, forming columns a foot in diameter; and the longest stake, though not entirely concealed by the ice which had collected upon it, was crowned with a beautiful capital of perfectly transparent ice. the columns which had no stakes fixed upon them had also increased somewhat in size, but not nearly in the same proportion as those which were the subject of dr. oudot's experiment. the thermometer on this day gave °. f. and ° f. as the temperatures. it may be remembered that i found one very beautiful column, far higher than any of those mentioned by dr. oudot, and higher than those which m. billerez saw, formed upon the trunk and branches of a fir-tree. i have now no doubt that the peculiar shape of another--the largest of the three columns which were in the cave at the time of my visit--is due to the fact of its being a collection of several smaller columns, which have in course of time flowed into one as they increased separately in bulk, and that its height has been augmented by a device similar to that adopted by dr. oudot. the two magnificent capitals which this column possessed, as well as the numerous smaller capitals which sprang from its sides, will thus be completely accounted for. one more account may be mentioned, before i proceed to the theory which has found most favour in switzerland of late years. m. cadet published some _conjectures_ on the formation of the ice in this cavern, in the _annales de chimie,_ nivôse, an xi.[ ] he saw the cave in the end of september , and found very little ice--not a third of what there had been a month before, according to the account of his guide. the _limonadier_ of a public garden in besançon informed him that the people of that town resorted to the glacière for ice when the supplies of the artificial ice-houses failed, and that they chose a hot day for this purpose, because on such days there was more ice in the cave. ten _chars_ would have been sufficient to remove all the ice m. cadet found, and the air inside the cave seemed to be not colder than the external air; but, nevertheless, m. cadet believed the old story of the greater abundance of ice in summer than in winter, and he attempted to account for the phenomenon. the ground above and near the cave is covered with beech and chestnut trees, and thus is protected from the rays of the sun. the leaves of these trees give forth abundant moisture, which has been pumped up from their roots; and as this moisture passes from the liquid to the gaseous state, it absorbs a large quantity of caloric. thus, throughout the summer, the atmosphere is incessantly refrigerated by the evaporation produced by the trees round the cave; whereas in winter no such process goes on, and the cave assumes a moderate temperature, such as is usually found in ordinary caves. unfortunately for m. cadet's theory, the facts are not in accordance with his imaginary data, nor yet with his conclusions. he adds, on the authority of one of his friends, that the intendant of the province, m. de vanolles, wishing to preserve a larger amount of ice in the cave, built up the entrance with a wall feet high, in which a small door was made, and the keys were left in the hands of the authorities of the neighbouring village, with orders that no ice should be removed. the effect of this was, that the ice diminished considerably, and they were obliged to pull down the wall again. m. cadet saw the remains of the wall, and the story was confirmed by the brothers of grâce-dieu. it would be very interesting to know at what season this wall was built, and when it was pulled down. if my ideas on the subject of ice-caves are correct, it would be absolutely fatal to shut out the heavy cold air of winter from the grotto. in , m.a. pictet, of geneva, took up the question of natural glacières, and read a paper before the helvetic society of natural sciences,[ ] describing his visits to the caves of the brezon and the valley of reposoir. in order to explain the phenomena presented by those caves, m. pictet adopted de saussure's theory of the principle of _caves-froides_, rendering it somewhat more precise, and extending it to meet the case of ice-caves. it is well known that, in many parts of the world, cold currents are found to blow from the interstices of rocks; and these are utilised by neighbouring proprietors, who build sheds over the fissures, and so secure a cool place for keeping meat, &c. examples of such currents are met with near rome (in the _monte testaceo_), at lugano, lucerne (the caves of hergiswyl), and in various other districts. it is found that the hotter the day, the stronger is the current of cold air; in winter the direction of the current is changed, and it blows into the rock instead of out from it.[ ] de saussure's theory, as developed by m. pictet, was no doubt satisfactory, so far as it was used to account for the phenomenon of 'cold-caves,' but it seems to be insufficient as an explanation of the existence of large masses of subterranean ice; of which, by the way, de saussure must have been entirely ignorant, for he makes no allusion to such ice, and the temperatures of the coldest of his caves were considerably above the freezing point. pictet represents the case of a cave with cold currents of air to be much the same as that of a mine with a vertical shaft, ending in a horizontal gallery of which one extremity is in communication with the open air, at a point much lower, of course, than the upper extremity of the shaft. the cave corresponds to the horizontal gallery, and the various fissures in the rock take the place of the vertical shaft, and communicate freely with the external air. in summer, the columns of air contained in these fissures assume nearly the temperature of the rock in which they rest, that is to say, the mean temperature of the district, and therefore they are heavier than the corresponding external columns of air which terminate at the mouth of the cave; for the atmosphere in summer is very much above the mean temperature of the soil, or of the interior of the earth at moderate depths. the consequence is, that the heavy cool air descends from the fissures, and streams out into the cave, appearing as a cold current; and the hotter the day is--that is, the lighter the columns of external air--the more violent will be the disturbance of equilibrium, and therefore the more palpable the cold current. naturally, in this last case, the air which enters by the upper orifices of the fissures is more heated, to begin with, than on cooler days; but external heat so very slightly affects the deeper parts of the fissures, that the columns of air thus introduced are speedily impressed with the mean temperature of the district. in winter, the external columns of air are as much heavier than the columns in the fissures as they are lighter in summer; and so cold currents of air blow from the cave into the fissures, though such currents are not of course colder than the external air. thus the mean temperature of the cave is much lower than that of the rock in which it occurs; for the temperature of the currents varies from the mean temperature of the rock to the winter temperature of the external atmosphere. the descending columns of warmer air, in summer, must to some extent raise the temperature of the fissures above that which they would otherwise possess, that is, above the mean temperature of the place; but that may be considered to be counteracted by the corresponding lowering of the temperature of the fissures by the introduction of cold air from the cave in winter. by a similar reasoning, it will be seen that for some time after the spring change of direction in the currents takes place, the temperature of the cave will be less than would have been expected from a calculation founded on the true mean temperature of the rock through which the fissures pass. this, together with the fact of the porous nature of the rock in which most of the curious caves in the world occur, which allows a considerable amount of moisture to collect on all surfaces, and thereby induces a depression of temperature by evaporation, may be held to explain the presence of a greater amount of cold than might otherwise have been fairly reckoned upon in ice-caves. the idea of cold produced by evaporation pictet took up warmly, believing that when promoted by rapid currents of air it would produce ice in the summer months; and he thus explained what he understood to be the phenomena of glacières. but it will have been seen, from the account of the caves i have visited, that the glacières are more or less in a state of thaw in the summer; and m. thury's observations in the winter prove conclusively that they are then in a state of utter frost, so that the old belief with respect to the season at which the ice is formed may be supposed to have been exploded. the facts recorded by mr. scrope[ ] would appear to depend upon the peculiar nature of rocks of volcanic formation; and i am inclined to think there is very little in common between such instances as he mentions and the large caves filled with ice which are to be found in the primary or secondary limestone. one of de saussure's experiments, in the course of his investigation of the phenomena and causes of cold currents in caves, is worth recalling. he passed a current of air through a glass tube an inch in diameter, filled with moistened stones, and by that means succeeded in reducing the temperature of the current from ° c. to ° c.; and when the refrigerated current was directed against a wet-bulb thermometer, it fell to ° c., thus showing a loss of °· f. of heat. no one can see much of limestone caverns without discovering that the surfaces over which any currents there may be are constrained to pass, present an abundance of moisture to refrigerate the currents; and it is not unreasonable to suppose that the large number of evaporating surfaces, which currents passing through heaps of débris--such as the basaltic stones described on page --come in contact with, are the main cause of the specially low temperature observed under such circumstances. pictet's theory, however, did not convince all those into whose hands his paper fell, and m.j. deluc wrote against it in the _annales de chimie et de physique_ of the same year, .[ ] deluc had not seen any glacière, but he was enabled to decide against the cold-current theory by a perusal of pictet's own details, and of one of the accounts of the cave near besançon. he objected, that in many cases the ice is found to melt in summer, instead of forming then; and also, that in the glacière of s. georges, which pictet had described, there was no current whatever. further, in all the cases of cold currents investigated or mentioned by de saussure, the presence of summer ice was never even hinted at, and the lowest temperatures observed by him were considerably above the freezing point. i may add, from my own experience, that on the only occasions on which i found a decided current in a glacière--viz., in the glacière of monthézy, and that of chappet-sur-villaz,--there was marked thaw in connection with the current. in the latter case, the channel from which the current came was filled with water; and in the former, water stood on the surface of the ice. the view which deluc adopted was one which i have myself independently formed; and he would probably have written with more force if he had been acquainted with various small details relating to the position and surroundings of many of the caves. the heavy cold air of winter sinks down into the glacières, and the lighter warm air of summer cannot on ordinary principles of gravitation dislodge it, so that heat is very slowly spread in the caves; and even when some amount of heat does reach the ice, the latter melts but slowly, for ice absorbs ° c. of heat in melting; and thus, when ice is once formed, it becomes a material guarantee for the permanence of cold in the cave. for this explanation to hold good, it is necessary that the level at which the ice is found should be below the level of the entrance to the cave; otherwise the mere weight of the cold air would cause it to leave its prison as soon as the spring warmth arrived. in every single case that has come under my observation, this condition has been emphatically fulfilled. it is necessary, also, that the cave should be protected from direct radiation, as the gravitation of cold air has nothing to do with resistance to that powerful means of introducing heat. this condition, also, is fulfilled by nature in all the glacières i have visited, excepting that of s. georges; and there art has replaced the protection formerly afforded by the thick trees which grew over the hole of entrance. the effect of the second hole in the roof of this glacière is to destroy all the ice which is within range of the sun. a third and very necessary condition is, that the wind should not be allowed access to the cave; for if it were, it would infallibly bring in heated air, in spite of the specific weight of the cold air stored within. it will be understood from my descriptions of such glacières as that of the grand anu, of monthézy, and the lower glacière of the pré de s. livres, how completely sheltered from all winds the entrances to those caves are. there can be no doubt, too, that the large surfaces which are available for evaporation have much to do with maintaining a somewhat lower temperature than the mean temperature of the place where the cave occurs. this had been noticed so long ago as kircher's time; for among the answers which his questions received from the miners of herrengrund, we find it stated that, so long as mines are dry, the deeper they are the hotter; but if they have water, they are less warm, however deep. from the mines of schemnitz he was informed that, so long as the free passage of air was not hindered, the mines remained temperate; in other cases they were very warm. another great advantage which some glacières possess must be borne in mind, namely, the collection of snow at the bottom of the pit in which the entrance lies. this snow absorbs, in the course of melting, all heat which strikes down by radiation or is driven down by accidental turns of the wind; and the snow-water thus forced into the cave will, at any rate, not seriously injure the ice. it is worthy of notice that the two caves which possess the greatest depth of ice, so far as i have been able to fathom it, are precisely those which have the greatest deposit of snow; and the ice in a third cave, that of monthézy, which has likewise a large amount of snow in the entrance-pit, presents the appearance of very considerable depth. the schafloch, it is true, which contains an immense bulk of ice, has no snow; but its elevation is great, as compared with that of some of the caves, and therefore the mean temperature of the rock in which it occurs is less unfavourable to the existence of ice. i believe that the true explanation of the curious phenomena presented by these caves in general, is to be found in deluc's theory, fortified by such facts as those which i have now stated. the mean temperature of the rock at besançon, where the elevation above the sea is comparatively so small, renders the temptation to suggest some chemical cause very strong. the question of ice in summer where thaw prevails in winter, may fairly be considered to have been eliminated from the discussion of such caves as i have seen, in spite of the persistent assertions of some of the peasantry. the observations, however, in caverns in volcanic formations, and in basaltic débris, are so circumstantial that it is impossible to reject them; and in such cases a theory similar to that enunciated by mr. scrope[ ] seems to be the only one in any way satisfactory, though i have not heard of such marvellous results being produced elsewhere by evaporation. one observer, for instance, of the cavern near the village of both, in the eiffel, found a thickness of feet of ice; and in that case it was melting in summer, instead of forming. in some cases it has been suggested that the length of time required for external heat or cold to penetrate through the earth and rock which lie above the caves is sufficient to account for the phenomenon of summer frost and winter thaw. thus, it is said, the thickness of the superincumbent bed may be such that the heat of summer only gets through to the cave at christmas, and then produces thaw, while in like manner the greatest cold will reach the cave in mid-summer. but there is a fatal objection to this idea in the fact that the invariable stratum--i.e., the stratum beyond which the annual changes of external temperature are not felt--is reached about feet below the surface in temperate latitudes,[ ] while at the tropics such changes are not felt more than a foot below the surface. humboldt calculated that in the latitude of central france the whole annual variation in temperature at a depth of feet would not amount to more than one degree.[ ] footnotes: [footnote : as gollut's phraseology is peculiar, it may be as well to reproduce his account of the cave:--'je ne veux pas omettre toutefois (puisque je suis en ces eaux) de mettre en memoire la commodité que nature hat doné à quelques delicats, puis qu'au fond d'un mõntagne de leugné, la glace (_glasse_ in the index), se treuve en esté, pour le plaisir de ceux qui aim[~e]t a boire frais. néanmoins dans ce t[~e]ps cela se perd, nõ pour autre raison (ainsi que íe pense) que pour ce que lon hat dépouillé le dessus de la mõtagne d'une époisse et aulte fustaie de bois, qui ne permettoit pas que les raions du soleil vinsent échauffer la terre et déseicher les distillations, que se couloi[~e]t iusques au plus bas et plus froid de la montagne: ou (par l'antipéristase) le froid s'epoississoit, et se reserroit, contre les chaleurs, entornantes et environnantes le long de l'esté, toute la circonference extérieure du mont.'--_histoire_, &c., p. .] [footnote : _hist. de l'acad._, t. ii., p. .] [footnote : _hist. de l'acad._, an , p. .] [footnote : _c'est à dire_--m. billerez explains--_à degrés au-dessous du très-grand froid._ what the ° may be worth, i cannot say.] [footnote : tournefort (_voyage du levant_, iii. ) believed that the ammoniac salt, of which the earth was full in some districts near erzeroum, had something to do with the persistence of snow on the ground there.] [footnote : _hist, de l'acad.,_ an , p. .] [footnote : but see on this point the experience of m. thury, in the glacière of s. georges (appendix).] [footnote : sir roderick murchison's suggestion of the possible influence of salt in producing the phenomena of his ice-cave in russia, did not, of course, proceed upon the supposition of salt actually mingling with water, but only of its increasing the evaporation of the air which came in contact with it.] [footnote : _mém. présentés à l'académie par divers sçavans_, i, .] [footnote : a long account was published in a history of burgundy, printed at dijon, in quarto, in , which i have not been able to find. it was from the same source as the account in the hist. of the academy, in .] [footnote : i took this earth to be a collection of the particles carried down the slope of ice by the heavy rains of the month preceding my visit. m. de cossigny speaks of the abundant rains of july, his visit being in august.] [footnote : _recherches sur la chaleur_; geneva and paris, .] [footnote : p. . now called _annales des mines_.] [footnote : t. xlv. p. .] [footnote : _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, première série, t. xx.] [footnote : see de saussure's account of his numerous observations of such caves in the _voyage dans les alpes_, sections - .] [footnote : p. .] [footnote : p. .] [footnote : xxi. .] [footnote : p. .] [footnote : daubuisson estimated the depth in question at from to feet, while kupffer put it at feet.] [footnote : de saussure found a variation of °· f. at a depth of · feet; but this was in a well, where the influence of the atmosphere was allowed to have effect. naturally, the fissures which there may be in the rock surrounding a cave will increase the annual variation of temperature, by affording means of easier penetration to the heat and cold. sir k. murchison's cavern in russia would seem to be entirely _sui generis_.] * * * * * chapter xviii. on the prismatic structure of the ice in glaciÈres. it was natural to suppose that the prismatic structure which i found so very general in the glacières was the result of some cause or causes coming into operation after the first formation of the ice. on this point m. thury's visit to the glacière of s. georges in the spring of affords valuable information, for at that time the coating of ice on the wall, evidently newly formed, did not present the _structure aréolaire_ which he had observed in his summer visit to the cave. he suggests that, since ice is less coherent at a temperature of ° f.--which is approximately the temperature of the ice-caves during several months of the year--than when exposed to a greater degree of cold, its molecules will then become free to assume a fresh system of arrangement.[ ] on the other hand, professor faraday has found that ice formed under a temperature some degrees below the ordinary freezing point has a well-marked crystalline structure.[ ] m. thury suggests also, as a possibility, what i have found to be the case, by frequent observations, that the prismatic ice has greater power of resisting heat than ordinary ice; and on this supposition he accounts for the fact of hollow stalactites being found in the cavern of s. georges.[ ] at the commencement of the hot season, the atmospheric temperature of the glacières rises gradually; and when it has almost reached ° f., the prismatic change takes place in the ice, extending to a limited depth below the surface. the central parts of the stalactites retain their ordinary structure, and are after a time exposed to a general temperature rather above than below the freezing point; and thus they come to melt, the water escaping either by accidental fissures between some of the prisms, or by the extremity of the stalactite, or by some part of the surface which has chanced to escape the prismatic arrangement, and has itself melted under increased temperature.[ ] m. héricart de thury describes the peculiar structure of the ice which he found in the glacière of the foire de fondeurle.[ ] he found that the crystallised portions were very distinctly marked, displaying for the most part a six-sided arrangement; and in the interior of a hollow stalactite he found numerous needles of ice perfectly crystallised, the crystals being some triangular and some six-sided. he was unable to detect any perfect pyramid.[ ] i have already quoted olafsen's observations on the polygonal lining which he saw on the surface of the ice in the surtshellir. the french encyclopædia [ ] relates that m. hassenfratz saw ice served up at table at chambéry which broke into hexagonal prisms; and when he was shown the ice-houses where it was stored, he found considerable blocks of ice containing hexahedral prisms terminated by corresponding pyramids. in vol. xv. (new series) of the american journal of science,[ ] an extract is given from a letter describing the 'ice spring' in the rocky mountains, which the mountaineers consider to be one of the curiosities of the great trail from the states to oregon and california. it is situated in a low marshy 'swale' to the right of the sweetwater river, and about forty miles from the south pass. the ground is filled with springs; and about inches below the turf lies a smooth and horizontal sheet of ice, which remains the year round, protected by the soil and grass above it. on july th, , it was from to inches thick; but one of the guides stated that he had seen it a foot deep. it was perfectly clear, and disposed in hexagonal prisms, separating readily at the natural joints. the ice had a slightly saline taste,[ ] the ground above it being impregnated with salt, and the water near tasting of sulphur. the upper surface of the stratum of ice was perfectly smooth. in poggendorff's _annalen_ ( , erganzsband, - ,--boué, an old offender in that way, says ) there is an account of ice being found in the westerwald, near the village of frickhofen at the foot of the _dornburg_, among basaltic débris about feet above the sea.[ ] commencing at a depth of feet below the surface, the ice reaches from to feet farther down, where the loose stones give place to dry sand. the ice is in thin layers on the stones, and is deposited in the form of clear and regular hexagonal crystals. the lateral extent through which this phenomenon obtains is from to feet each way, and is greater in winter than in summer. as in other cases that have been noticed in basaltic débris, the snow which falls upon the surface here is speedily melted. the _allgemeine zeitung_ ( , no. ), from which the account in poggendorff is taken, suggested that the melted snow-water which would thus run down among the interstices would readily freeze below the surface, while the heavy cold air of winter would be stored up at the lower levels, and the poor conducting powers of basaltic rock[ ] would favour its permanence through the summer. the temperature of the cold current which was perceptible in the parts of the mass of débris where the ice existed was ° r. ( °· f.). nothing but a few lichens grow on the surface of the débris. these are, i think, all the references i have met with to the prismatic structure of subterranean ice. but there is an interesting account in poggendorff 's _annalen_,[ ] by a private teacher in jena, of the crystalline appearance of ice under slow thaw near that town. in the winter of , the saale was frozen, and the ice remained unbroken till the middle of january, when the thermometer rose suddenly, and the river in consequence overflowed the lower grounds, and carried large masses of ice on to the fields, where it was left when the water subsided. on the th of january the thermometer fell again, and remained below the freezing point till the th of february: some of the ice did not disappear till the following month. when the ice had lain a short time, cracks appeared on the surface exposed to the sun, and spread like a network from the edges towards the centre of the surface. at first there was no regularity in the connection of these lines, and the several meshes were of very different sizes. after a time, the larger meshes split up into smaller, and the system of network was found to penetrate below the surface, the cracks deepening into furrows, which descended perpendicularly from the surface, and divided the ice into long thin rhomboidal pillars. the surface-end of some of these pillars was strongly marked with right lines parallel to one of the sides of the mesh, and it was found that there was a tendency in the ice to split down planes through these lines and parallel to the corresponding side-plane. parallel to the original surface of the mass of ice, the pillars broke off evenly. the side-planes had a rounded, wrinkled appearance; and their mutual inclinations--as far as could be determined--were from ° to °, and from ° to °. when these ice-pillars were examined by means of polarised light, they were found to possess a feeble double-refracting power. the writer of the article in poggendorff suggests a question which he was not sure how to answer:--is this appearance in correspondence with the original formation of the ice, or does it only appear under slow thaw? it is worthy of remark, that from the st to the th of february the thermometer was never higher than °· f., and during that time fell as low as ° below zero, i.e. ° below the freezing point. professor tyndall has informed me that in the winters of , , , he found the banks of a river in germany loaded with massive layers of drift-ice, in a state of thaw, and was struck by the fact that every layer displayed the prismatic structure described above, the axes of the prisms being at right angles to the surfaces of freezing. it may be, he adds, that this structure is in the first place determined by the act of freezing, but it does not develop itself until the ice thaws. m. hassenfratz observed an appearance in ice on the danube at vienna[ ] corresponding to that described at jena. he gives no information as to the state of the weather or the temperature at the time, nor any of the circumstances under which the ice came under his notice. one of the masses of ice which he describes was crystallised in prisms of various numbers of sides: of these prisms the greater part were hexahedral and irregular. another mass was composed of prisms in the form of truncated pyramids; and in another he found quadrilateral and octahedral prisms, the former splitting parallel to the faces, and also truncated pyramids with five and six sides. he adds, that he had frequently seen in the upper valleys tufts of ice growing, as it were, out of the ground, and striated externally, but had never succeeded in discovering any internal organisation, until one evening in a time of thaw, when he found by means of a microscope that the striated tufts of ice had assumed the same structure on a small scale as that which he had observed on the danube. a frenchman who was present in the room in which the chemical section of the british association met at bath, and heard a paper which i read there on this prismatic structure, suggested that it was probably something akin to the rhomboidal form assumed by dried mud; and i have since been struck by the great resemblance to it, as far as the surface goes, which the pits of mud left by the coprolite-workers near cambridge offer, of course on a very large scale. this led me to suppose that the intense dryness which would naturally be the result of the action of some weeks or months of great cold upon subterranean ice might be one of the causes of its assuming this form, and the observations at jena would rather confirm than contradict this view: competent authorities, however, seem inclined to believe that warmth, and not cold, is the producing cause.[ ] professor tyndall found, in the course of his experiments on the discs and flowers produced in the interior of a mass of ice by sending a warm ray through the mass, that the pieces of ice were in some cases traversed by hazy surfaces of discontinuity, which divided the apparently continuous mass into irregular prismatic segments. the intersections of the bounding surfaces of these segments with the surface of the slab of ice formed a very irregular network of lines.[ ] i am inclined, however, to think that the irregularity in these cases proved to be so much greater than that observed in the glacières, that this interior prismatic subdivision must be referred to some different cause. footnotes: [footnote : the continued extrication of latent heat by ice, as it is cooled a few degrees below ° f., appears to indicate a molecular change subsequent to the first freezing.--_phil. trans._, as quoted in the next note.] [footnote : see the paper 'on liquid diffusion as applied to analysis,' by the master of the mint (_phil. trans._ , p. ).] [footnote : compare the description of one of the hollow stalagmites i explored in the schafloch, p. .] [footnote : professor tyndall has pointed out that, owing to the want of perfect homogeneity, some parts of a block of ice exposed to a temperature of ° f. will melt, while others remain solid _(phil. trans_. , p. ). he also arrived at the conclusion (p. ) that heat could be conducted through the substance of a mass, and melt portions of the interior, without visible prejudice to the solidity of the other parts of the mass.] [footnote : _journal des mines_, xxxiii. . see also an english translation of his account in the second volume of the _edinburgh journal of science_.] [footnote : it is to be hoped that the accuracy of his scientific descriptions exceeds that of his topographical information; for he states that the glacière is two leagues from valence, whereas it cost me six hours' drive on a level road, and five and a half hours' walking and climbing, to reach it from that town.] [footnote : branch _physique_, article _glace_] [footnote : p. (an. ).] [footnote : dr. lister experimented on sea-water in december (_ph. trans_, xiv. ), and found that though it took two nights to freeze, it was much harder when once frozen than common ice, lasting for three-quarters of an hour under a heat which melted times its bulk of common ice at once. it was marked with oblong squares, and had a salt taste. ice formed from water with an admixture of sulphuric acid is said to assume a crystalline appearance.] [footnote : see also a pamphlet entitled _das unterirdische eisfeld bei der dornburg am südlichen fusse des westerwaldes_, by thomä of wiesbaden ( pages, with a map of the district), published in .] [footnote : but see page .] [footnote : lv. (an ), .] [footnote : _journal de physique_, xxvi. (an ), .] [footnote : in looking through some early volumes of the _philosophical transactions_, i found an 'extract of a letter written by mr. muraltus of zurich (september ), concerning the icy and chrystallin mountains of helvetia, called the gletscher, english'd out of latin' (_phil. trans._ iv. ), which at first looked something like an assertion of the prismatic structure of ice on a large scale. the english version is as follows:--'the snow melted by the heat of the summer, other snow being faln within a little while after, and hardened into ice, which by little and little in a long tract of time depurating itself turns into a stone, not yielding in hardness and clearness to chrystall. such stones closely joyned and compacted together compose a whole mountain, and that a very firm one; though in summer-time the country-people have observed it to burst asunder with great cracking, thunder-like.'] [footnote : see the woodcut illustrating professor tyndall's remarks in the th volume of the _philosophical transactions_ ( , p. ).] * * * * * chapter xix. on the mean temperature of the regions in which the glaciÈres occur. many interesting experiments have for long been carried on with a view to determine the mean temperature at various depths below the surface of the earth. the construction of artesian wells has afforded useful opportunities for increasing the amount of our knowledge on this subject; and the well at pregny, near geneva,[ ] and the monk wearmouth coal-mines, as observed by professor phillips while a fresh shaft was being sunk,[ ] have supplied most valuable facts. without entering into any detail, which would be an unnecessary trouble, it may be stated generally, that, under ordinary circumstances, ° f. of temperature is gained for every or feet of vertical descent into the interior of the earth. i have only met with one account of an experiment made in a horizontal direction, and it is curious that the law of the increase of temperature then observed seemed to be very much the same as that determined by the mean of the vertical observations. boussingault[ ] found several horizontal adits in a precipitous face of porphyritic syenite among the mountains of marmato. in one of these adits--a gallery called cruzada, at an elevation of , mètres--he found an increase of ° c. of mean temperature for every mètres of horizontal penetration, or, approximately, ° f. for feet.[ ] again, observations have been made, in various latitudes, of the decrease of temperature consequent upon gradual rising from the general surface of the earth; as, for instance, in the ascent of mountains. speaking without any very great precision, but with sufficient accuracy for ordinary purposes, ° f. is lost with every feet of ascent.[ ] it is evident that this decrease will be less rapid where the slope of ascent is gradual, from such considerations as the angle at which the sun's rays strike the slope, and the larger amount of surface which is in contact with a stratum of atmosphere of any given thickness. with these data, it is easy to arrive at some idea of the probable mean temperature of the rock containing several of the glacières i have described. the elevation of some of them has not been determined with sufficient accuracy to make the results of any calculation trustworthy; but four cases may be taken where the elevation is known--namely, the glacières of s. georges, s. livres, monthézy, and the schafloch. if we take as a starting point the mean temperature of the town of geneva, which has been determined at °· f., the elevation of that town being nearly , feet, we obtain the following approximate results for the mean temperature of the surface at the points in question:-- s. georges .... °· fahr. s. livres (lower) .... °· " schafloch .... °· " monthézy .... °· " the law of decrease of temperature enunciated by m. thury gives a higher mean temperature for the surface of the earth in these places, as in the following table:-- s. georges .... °· fahr. s. livres .... °· " schafloch .... °· " monthézy .... °· " if any certain information could be obtained of the elevation of the abbey of grâce-dieu, i am sure that a result more surprising than that in the case of the glacière of monthézy would appear. the elevation of the floor of the church in the citadel of besançon is · mètres, and the plateau on the north side of the town of baume-les-dames is · mètres. i am inclined to think, from the look of the country, that the latter possesses much the same elevation as the valley in which the abbey lies; and in that case we should have comparatively a very high mean temperature for the surface in the neighbourhood where the glacière occurs. but if these are the mean temperatures of the surface, the natural temperatures of the caves themselves should be still higher, on account of the allowance to be made for increase of temperature with descent into the interior of the earth. this element will very materially affect our calculations in such a case as the lower part of the ice in the glacière of the pré de s. livres, and the strange suggestive beginning of a new ice-cave feet below the surface, on the montagne de l'eau, near annecy. in any open pit or cave, the ordinary atmospheric influences find such easy access, that the temperature cannot be expected to follow the law observed when perforations of small bore are made in the earth, as in the case of the preliminary boring before commencing to dig a well;[ ] but the two glacières mentioned above are so completely protected in their lowest parts, that they may be treated as if they were isolated from external influence of all ordinary kinds; and it may fairly be said that the mean temperature there ought to be considerably higher than at the surface. it is not very likely that the results of the above calculations are strictly in accordance with what a careful series of observations on the spot might show. the distance between geneva and the glacières of s. georges and s. livres is sufficiently small to make it probable that the reality is not very far different from the calculated temperature; but the other two caves are comparatively so far off, that the temperature and elevation of geneva are not very safe data to build upon. footnotes: [footnote : bischof, _physical researches_, .] [footnote : _philosophical magazine_, v. ( ).] [footnote : _annules de chimie et de physique_, liii. - . see also bischof, .] [footnote : the english edition of bischof affords here a proof of the danger of frequent changes from one scale to another. bischof in the first instance rendered boussingault into degrees réaumur, and this was in turn reduced to degrees fahrenheit; the result being that the authorised english edition of his book gives °· f. for · feet, which does not come within feet of boussingault's statement.] [footnote : m. thury calculates a decrease of ° c. for every mètres between geneva and s. bernard, which is less than the decrease given in the text. he arrives at this conclusion by correcting the mean temperature of geneva from °· c., the observed mean of eighteen years, to °· c., in consequence of supposed local causes, which unduly depress the temperature of geneva. with the mean °· c. a result nearly in accordance with that of the text is obtained.] [footnote : professor phillips found, in the course of his investigations in the monk wearmouth mines, some hundreds of yards below the sea, that when a new face of rock was exposed, its temperature was considerably higher than that of the gallery or shaft in which it lay. in some cases the difference amounted to and degrees. the rock soon cooled down to an agreement with the surrounding temperature.] * * * * * appendix. m. thury's observations during his winter visit to the glacière of s. georges are so curious and valuable, that i give the principal results of them here. it will be remembered that this glacière consists of a roomy cave, feet long and feet high, with two orifices in the higher part of the roof, one of which is kept covered with the trunks of trees to shut out the direct radiation of the sun. a little thought suggested to m. thury that the cold in the cave in mid-winter would most probably be greater than the external cold of the day, and less than that of the night; so that there should be a time in the later evening when a column of colder and heavier air would begin, to descend through the hole in the roof. to test the correctness of this supposition, he took up his abode in the cavern for the evening of the th january, , with a lighted candle. the flame burned steadily for some time; but at . p.m. it began to flicker, and soon inclined downwards through an angle of about °; and when m. thury placed himself under the principal opening, the flame was forced into an almost horizontal position. at p.m. the current of air had all but disappeared. this violent and temporary disturbance of equilibrium was a matter of much surprise to m. thury; for he had naturally expected a quiet current downwards, continuing through the greater part of the night. at . p.m. the external temperature was · ° f., and the temperature of the atmosphere in the cave at the same time was °· f.;[ ] so that there is no wonder the current of air should be strong. it is very difficult to say, however, why it did not commence much earlier, considering that the external air must have been heavier than that in the cave long before o'clock. m. thury refers to the mirage as a somewhat similar instance, that phenomenon being explained by the supposition that atmospheric layers of different temperatures lie one above another in clearly-defined strata. he suggests, also, that as the heavier air tends to pass down into the cave, the less cold air already in the cave tends to pass out; and the narrow entrance confining the struggle between the opposing tendencies to a very small area, the weaker initial current is able for a time to hold its own against the intruder. on this supposition, it is easy to see that when the rupture does occur it will be violent. the next day, m. thury arrived at the glacière at . a.m. he had determined, in the summer, that the temperature of the cave was invariable, at any rate through the - / hours of his visit (from . to a.m.); but his winter experience was very different. the following are the results of his observations. in the cave:-- january , at . p.m.[ ]... °· fahr. " " . " ... °· " " " . " ... °· " " " . " ... °· " january , at . a.m. ... °· " " " . " ... °· " " " . " ... °· " " " . p.m. ... °· " " " . " ... °· " " " . " ... °· " " " . " ... °· " " " . " ... °· " supposing the weather to have been much the same on the th and th of january, as m. thury's account seems to say, there is something very strange in the great difference between the temperatures registered at p.m. on the one day, and at . p.m. on the other. the external temperatures at the mouth of the cave were as follows:-- january , at . a.m. °· fahr. " " . " °· " " " . " °· " " " . p.m. °· " " " . " °· " " " . " °· " " " . " °· " " " . " °· " the minimum temperature of the external air during the night of january - was °· f., and that of the glacière °· f.[ ] during the preceding night, the minimum in the cave was °· f., which may throw some light upon the difference between the temperatures at . p.m. on the th, and at p.m. on the th. m. thury bored a hole, of about inches in depth, in the flooring of ice, and placed a thermometer in it, at . p.m., closing it up with cotton. at . p.m., and at . . p.m., the thermometer marked the same temperature, namely, °· f. m. thury's views on glacières in general, based upon the details of the three which he has visited, are much the same as those which i have expressed. he has, however, more belief than i in 'cold currents.' footnotes: [footnote : this was given by a thermometer only placed in the cave at p.m., and by construction not very sensible.] [footnote : the moment when the disturbance of the atmosphere commenced.] [footnote : m. thury gives-- °· c. as the minimum in the glacière during the night in question; but on the next page he gives-- °· c. (= °· f.). it is evident, from a comparison with other details of his observations, that the latter is the correct account.] * * * * * [illustration: _dunes at ipswich light, massachusetts. note the effect of bushes in arresting the movement of the wind-blown sand._] outlines of the earth's history a popular study in physiography by nathaniel southgate shaler professor of geology in harvard university dean of lawrence scientific school illustrated with index new york and london d. appleton and company , preface. the object of this book is to provide the beginner in the study of the earth's history with a general account of those actions which can be readily understood and which will afford him clear understandings as to the nature of the processes which have made this and other celestial spheres. it has been the writer's purpose to select those series of facts which serve to show the continuous operations of energy, so that the reader might be helped to a truer conception of the nature of this sphere than he can obtain from ordinary text-books. in the usual method of presenting the elements of the earth's history the facts are set forth in a manner which leads the student to conceive that history as in a way completed. the natural prepossession to the effect that the visible universe represents something done, rather than something endlessly doing, is thus re-enforced, with the result that one may fail to gain the largest and most educative impression which physical science can afford him in the sense of the swift and unending procession of events. it is well known to all who are acquainted with the history of geology that the static conception of the earth--the idea that its existing condition is the finished product of forces no longer in action--led to prejudices which have long retarded, and indeed still retard, the progress of that science. this fact indicates that at the outset of a student's work in this field he should be guarded against such misconceptions. the only way to attain the end is by bringing to the understanding of the beginner a clear idea of successions of events which are caused by the forces operating in and on this sphere. of all the chapters of this great story, that which relates to the history of the work done by the heat of the sun is the most interesting and awakening. therefore an effort has been made to present the great successive steps by which the solar energy acts in the processes of the air and the waters. the interest of the beginner in geology is sure to be aroused when he comes to see how very far the history of the earth has influenced the fate of men. therefore the aim has been, where possible, to show the ways in which geological processes and results are related to ourselves; how, in a word, this earth has been the well-appointed nursery of our kind. all those who are engaged in teaching elementary science learn the need of limiting the story they have to tell to those truths which can be easily understood by beginners. it is sometimes best, as in stating such difficult matters as those concerning the tides, to give explanations which are far from complete, and which, as to their mode of presentation, would be open to criticism were it not for the fact that any more elaborate statements would most likely be incomprehensible to the novice, thus defeating the teacher's aim. it will be observed that no account is here given of the geological ages or of the successions of organic life. chapters on these subjects were prepared, but were omitted for the reason that they made the story too long, and also because they carried the reader into a field of much greater difficulty than that which is found in the physical history of the earth. n.s.s. _march, ._ contents. chapter page i.--introduction to the study of nature ii.--ways and means of studying nature iii.--the stellar realm iv.--the earth v.--the atmosphere vi.--glaciers vii.--the work of underground water viii.--the soil ix.--the rocks and their order list of full-page illustrations. facing page dunes at ipswich light, massachusetts _frontispiece_ seal rocks near san francisco, california lava stream, in hawaiian islands, flowing into the sea waterfall near gadsden, alabama south shore, martha's vineyard, massachusetts pocket creek, cape ann, massachusetts muir glacier, alaska front of muir glacier mount Ætna, seen from near catania mountain gorge, himalayas, india outlines of the earth's history. chapter i. an introduction to the study of nature. the object of this book is to give the student who is about to enter on the study of natural science some general idea as to the conditions of the natural realm. as this field of inquiry is vast, it will be possible only to give the merest outline of its subject-matter, noting those features alone which are of surpassing interest, which are demanded for a large understanding of man's place in this world, or which pertain to his duties in life. in entering on any field of inquiry, it is most desirable that the student should obtain some idea as to the ways in which men have been led to the knowledge which they possess concerning the world about them. therefore it will be well briefly to sketch the steps by which natural science has come to be what it is. by so doing we shall perceive how much we owe to the students of other generations; and by noting the difficulties which they encountered, and how they avoided them, we shall more easily find our own way to knowledge. the primitive savages, who were the ancestors of all men, however civilized they may be, were students of nature. the remnants of these lowly people who were left in different parts of the world show us that man was not long in existence before he began to devise some explanation concerning the course of events in the outer world. seeing the sun rise and set, the changes of the moon, the alternation of the seasons, the incessant movement of the streams and sea, and the other more or less orderly successions of events, our primitive forefathers were driven to invent some explanation of them. this, independently, and in many different times and places, they did in a simple and natural way by supposing that the world was controlled by a host of intelligent beings, each of which had some part in ordering material things. sometimes these invisible powers were believed to be the spirits of great chieftains, who were active when on earth, and who after death continued to exercise their power in the larger realms of nature. again, and perhaps more commonly, these movements of nature were supposed to be due to the action of great though invisible beasts, much like those which the savage found about him. thus among our north american indians the winds are explained by the supposition that the air is fanned by the wings of a great unseen bird, whose duty it is to set the atmosphere into motion. that no one has ever seen the bird doing the work, or that the task is too great for any conceivable bird, is to the simple, uncultivated man no objection to this view. it is long, indeed, before education brings men to the point where they can criticise their first explanations of nature. as men in their advance come to see how much nobler are their own natures than those of the lower animals, they gradually put aside the explanation of events by the actions of beasts, and account for the order of the world by the supposition that each and every important detail is controlled by some immortal creature essentially like a man, though much more powerful than those of their own kind. this stage of understanding is perhaps best shown by the mythology of the greeks, where there was a great god over all, very powerful but not omnipotent; and beneath him, in endless successions of command, subordinate powers, each with a less range of duties and capacities than those of higher estate, until at the bottom of the system there were minor deities and demigods charged with the management of the trees, the flowers, and the springs--creatures differing little from man, except that they were immortal, and generally invisible, though they, like all the other deities, might at their will display themselves to the human beings over whom they watched, and whose path in life they guided. among only one people do we find that the process of advance led beyond this early and simple method of accounting for the processes of nature, bringing men to an understanding such as we now possess. this great task was accomplished by the greeks alone. about twenty-five hundred years ago the philosophers of greece began to perceive that the early notion as to the guidance of the world by creatures essentially like men could not be accepted, and must be replaced by some other view which would more effectively account for the facts. this end they attained by steps which can not well be related here, but which led them to suppose separate powers behind each of the natural series--powers having no relation to the qualities of mankind, but ever acting to a definite end. thus plato, who represents most clearly this advance in the interpretation of facts, imagined that each particular kind of plant or animal had its shape inevitably determined by something which he termed an idea, a shape-giving power which existed before the object was created, and which would remain after it had been destroyed, ever ready again to bring matter to the particular form. from this stage of understanding it was but a short step to the modern view of natural law. this last important advance was made by the great philosopher aristotle, who, though he died about twenty-two hundred years ago, deserves to be accounted the first and in many ways the greatest of the ancient men of science who were informed with the modern spirit. with aristotle, as with all his intellectual successors, the operations of nature were conceived as to be accounted for by the action of forces which we commonly designate as natural laws, of which perhaps the most familiar and universal is that of gravitation, which impels all bodies to move toward each other with a degree of intensity which is measured by their weight and the distance by which they are separated. for many centuries students used the term law in somewhat the same way as the more philosophical believers in polytheism spoke of their gods, or as plato of the ideas which he conceived to control nature. we see by this instance how hard it is to get rid of old ways of thinking. even when the new have been adopted we very often find that something of the ancient and discarded notions cling in our phrases. the more advanced of our modern philosophers are clear in their mind that all we know as to the order of nature is that, given certain conditions, certain consequences inevitably follow. although the limitations which modern men of science perceive to be put upon their labours may seem at first sight calculated to confine our understanding within a narrow field of things which can be seen, or in some way distinctly proved to exist, the effect of this limitation has been to make science what it is--a realm of things known as distinct from things which may be imagined. all the difference between ancient science and modern consists in the fact that in modern science inquirers demand a businesslike method in the interpretation of nature. among the greeks the philosopher who taught explanations of any feature in the material world which interested him was content if he could imagine some way which would account for the facts. it is the modern custom now to term the supposition of an explanation a _working hypothesis_, and only to give it the name of theory after a very careful search has shown that all the facts which can be gathered are in accordance with the view. thus when newton made his great suggestion concerning the law of gravitation, which was to the effect that all bodies attracted each other in proportion to their masses, and inversely as the square of their distance from each other, he did not rest content, as the old greeks would have done, with the probable truth of the explanation, but carefully explored the movements of the planets and satellites of the solar system to see if the facts accorded with the hypothesis. even the perfect correspondence which he found did not entirely content inquirers, and in this century very important experiments have been made which have served to show that a ball suspended in front of a precipice will be attracted toward the steep, and that even a mass of lead some tons in weight will attract toward itself a small body suspended in the manner of a pendulum. it is this incessant revision of the facts, in order to see if they accord with the assumed rule or law, which has given modern science the sound footing that it lacked in earlier days, and which has permitted our learning to go on step by step in a safe way up the heights to which it has climbed. all explanations of nature begin with the work of the imagination. in common phrase, they all are guesses which have at first but little value, and only attain importance in proportion as they are verified by long-continued criticism, which has for its object to see whether the facts accord with the theory. it is in this effort to secure proof that modern science has gathered the enormous store of well-ascertained facts which constitutes its true wealth, and which distinguishes it from the earlier imaginative and to a great extent unproved views. in the original state of learning, natural science was confounded with political and social tradition, with the precepts of duty which constitute the law of the people, as well as with their religion, the whole being in the possession of the priests or wise men. so long as natural action was supposed to be in the immediate control of numerous gods and demigods, so long, in a word, as the explanation of nature was what we term polytheistic, this association of science with other forms of learning was not only natural but inevitable. gradually, however, as the conception of natural law replaced the earlier idea as to the intervention of a spirit, science departed from other forms of lore and came to possess a field to itself. at first it was one body of learning. the naturalists of aristotle's time, and from his day down to near our own, generally concerned themselves with the whole field of nature. for a time it was possible for any one able and laborious man to know all which had been ascertained concerning astronomy, chemistry, geology, as well as the facts relating to living beings. the more, however, as observation accumulated, and the store of facts increased, it became difficult for any one man to know the whole. hence it has come about that in our own time natural learning is divided into many distinct provinces, each of which demands a lifetime of labour from those who would know what has already been done in the field, and what it is now important to do in the way of new inquiries. the large divisions which naturalists have usually made of their tasks rest in the main on the natural partitions which we may readily observe in the phenomenal world. first of all comes astronomy, including the phenomena exhibited in the heavens, beyond the limits of the earth's atmosphere. second, geology, which takes account of all those actions which in process of time have been developed in our own sphere. third, physics, which is concerned with the laws of energy, or those conditions which affect the motion of bodies, and the changes which are impressed upon them by the different natural forces. fourth, chemistry, which seeks to interpret the principles which determine the combination of atoms and the molecules which are built of them under the influence of the chemical affinities. fifth, biology, or the laws of life, a study which pertains to the forms and structures of animals and plants, and their wonderful successions in the history of the world. sixth, mathematics, or the science of space and number, that deals with the principles which underlie the order of nature as expressed at once in the human understanding and in the material universe. by its use men were made able to calculate, as in arithmetic, the problems which concern their ordinary business, as well as to compute the movements of the celestial bodies, and a host of actions which take place on the earth that would be inexplicable except by the aid of this science. last of all among the primary sciences we may name that of psychology, which takes account of mental operations among man and his lower kindred, the animals. in addition to the seven sciences above mentioned, which rest in a great measure on the natural divisions of phenomena, there are many, indeed, indefinitely numerous, subdivisions which have been made to suit the convenience of students. thus astronomy is often separated into physical and mathematical divisions, which take account either of the physical phenomena exhibited by the heavenly bodies or of their motions. in geology there are half a dozen divisions relating to particular branches of that subject. in the realm of organic life, in chemistry, and in physics there are many parts of these sciences which have received particular names. it must not be supposed that these sciences have the independence of each other which their separate names would imply. in fact, the student of each, however, far he may succeed in separating his field from that of the other naturalists, as we may fitly term all students of nature, is compelled from time to time to call in the aid of his brethren who cultivate other branches of learning. the modern astronomer needs to know much of chemistry, or else he can not understand many of his observations on the sun. the geologists have to share their work with the student of animal and vegetable life, with the physicists; they must, moreover, know something of the celestial spheres in order to interpret the history of the earth. in fact, day by day, with the advance of learning, we come more clearly to perceive that all the processes of nature are in a way related to each other, and that in proportion as we understand any part of the great mechanism, we are forced in a manner to comprehend the whole. in other words, we are coming to understand that these divisions of the field of science depend upon the limitations of our knowledge, and not upon the order of nature itself. for the purposes of education it is important that every one should know something of the great truths which each science has disclosed. no mortal man can compass the whole realm of this knowledge, but every one can gain some idea of the larger truths which may help him to understand the beauty and grandeur of the sphere in which he dwells, which will enable him the better to meet the ordinary duties of life, that in almost all cases are related to the facts of the world about us. it has been of late the custom to term this body of general knowledge which takes account of the more evident facts and important series of terrestrial actions physiography, or, as the term implies, a description of nature, with the understanding that the knowledge chosen for the account is that which most intimately concerns the student who seeks information that is at once general and important. therefore, in this book the effort is made first to give an account as to the ways and means which have led to our understanding of scientific problems, the methods by which each person may make himself an inquirer, and the outline of the knowledge that has been gathered since men first began to observe and criticise the revelations the universe may afford them. chapter ii. ways and means of studying nature. it is desirable that the student of nature keep well in mind the means whereby he is able to perceive what goes on in the world about him. he should understand something as to the nature of his senses, and the extent to which these capacities enable him to discern the operations of nature. man, in common with his lower kindred, is, by the mechanism of the body, provided with five somewhat different ways by which he may learn something of the things about him. the simplest of these capacities is that of touch, a faculty that is common to the general surface of the body, and which informs us when the surface is affected by contact with some external object. it also enables us to discern differences of temperature. next is the sense of taste, which is limited to the mouth and the parts about it. this sense is in a way related to that of touch, for the reason that it depends on the contact of our body with material things. third is the sense of smell, so closely related to that of taste that it is difficult to draw the line between the two. yet through the apparatus of the nose we can perceive the microscopically small parts of matter borne to us through the air, which could not be appreciated by the nerves of the mouth. fourth in order of scope comes the hearing, which gives us an account of those waves of matter that we understand as sound. this power is much more far ranging than those before noted; in some cases, as in that of the volcanic explosions from the island of krakatoa, in the eruption of , the convulsions were audible at the distance of more than a thousand miles away. the greater cannon of modern days may be heard at the distance of more than a hundred miles, so that while the sense of touch, taste, and smell demand contact with the bodies which we appreciate, hearing gives us information concerning objects at a considerable distance. last and highest of the senses, vastly the most important in all that relates to our understanding of nature, is sight, or the capacity which enables us to appreciate the movement of those very small waves of ether which constitute light. the eminent peculiarity of sight is that it may give us information concerning things which are inconceivably far away; it enables us to discern the light of suns probably millions of times as remote from us as is the centre of our own solar system. although much of the pleasure which the world affords us comes through the other senses, the basis of almost all our accurate knowledge is reported by sight. it is true that what we have observed with our eyes may be set forth in words, and thus find its way to the understanding through the ears; also that in many instances the sense of touch conveys information which extends our perceptions in many important ways; but science rests practically on sight, and on the insight that comes from the training of the mind which the eyes make possible. the early inquirers had no resources except those their bodies afforded; but man is a tool-making creature, and in very early days he began to invent instruments which helped him in inquiry. the earliest deliberate study was of the stars. science began with astronomy, and the first instruments which men contrived for the purpose of investigation were astronomical. in the beginning of this search the stars were studied in order to measure the length of the year, and also for the reason that they were supposed in some way to control the fate of men. so far as we know, the first pieces of apparatus for this purpose were invented in egypt, perhaps about four thousand years before the christian era. these instruments were of a simple nature, for the magnifying glass was not yet contrived, and so the telescope was impossible. they consisted of arrangements of straight edges and divided circles, so that the observers, by sighting along the instruments, could in a rough way determine the changes in distance between certain stars, or the height of the sun above the horizon at the various seasons of the year. it is likely that each of the great pyramids of egypt was at first used as an observatory, where the priests, who had some knowledge of astronomy, found a station for the apparatus by which they made the observations that served as a basis for casting the horoscope of the king. in the progress of science and of the mechanical invention attending its growth, a great number of inventions have been contrived which vastly increase our vision and add inconceivably to the precision it may attain. in fact, something like as much skill and labour has been given to the development of those inventions which add to our learning as to those which serve an immediate economic end. by far the greatest of these scientific inventions are those which depend upon the lens. by combining shaped bits of glass so as to control the direction in which the light waves move through them, naturalists have been able to create the telescope, which in effect may bring distant objects some thousand times nearer to view than they are to the naked eye; and the microscope, which so enlarges minute objects as to make them visible, as they were not before. the result has been enormously to increase our power of vision when applied to distant or to small objects. in fact, for purposes of learning, it is safe to say that those tools have altogether changed man's relation to the visible universe. the naked eye can see at best in the part of the heavens visible from any one point not more than thirty thousand stars. with the telescope somewhere near a hundred million are brought within the limits of vision. without the help of the microscope an object a thousandth of an inch in diameter appears as a mere point, the existence of which we can determine only under favourable circumstances. with that instrument the object may reveal an extended and complicated structure which it may require a vast labour for the observer fully to explore. next in importance to the aid of vision above noted come the scientific tools which are used in weighing and measuring. these balances and gauges have attained such precision that intervals so small as to be quite invisible, and weights as slight as a ten-thousandth of a grain, can be accurately measured. from these instruments have come all those precise examinations on which the accuracy of modern science intimately depends. all these instruments of precision are the inventions of modern days. the simplest telescopes were made only about two hundred and fifty years ago, and the earlier compound microscopes at a yet later date. accurate balances and other forms of gauges of space, as well as good means of dividing time, such as our accurate astronomical clocks and chronometers, are only about a century old. the instruments have made science accurate, and have immensely extended its powers in nearly all the fields of inquiry. although the most striking modern discoveries are in the field which was opened to us by the lens in its manifold applications, it is in the chemist's laboratory that we find that branch of science, long cultivated, but rapidly advanced only within the last two centuries, which has done the most for the needs of man. the ancients guessed that the substances which make up the visible world were more complicated in their organization than they appear to our vision. they even suggested the great truth that matter of all kinds is made up of inconceivably small indivisible bits which they and we term atoms. it is likely that in the classic days of greece men began to make simple experiments of a chemical nature. a century or two after the time of mohammed, the arabians of his faith, a people who had acquired greek science from the libraries which their conquests gave them, conducted extensive experiments, and named a good many familiar chemical products, such as alcohol, which still bears its arabic name. these chemical studies were continued in europe by the alchemists, a name also of arabic origin, a set of inquirers who were to a great extent drawn away from scientific studies by vain though unending efforts to change the baser metals into gold and silver, as well as to find a compound which would make men immortal in the body. by the invention of the accurate balance, and by patient weighing of the matters which they submitted to experiment, by the invention of hypotheses or guesses at truth, which were carefully tested by experiment, the majestic science of modern chemistry has come forth from the confused and mystical studies of the alchemists. we have learned to know that there are seventy or more primitive or apparently unchangeable elements which make up the mass of this world, and probably constitute all the celestial spheres, and that these elements in the form of their separate atoms may group themselves in almost inconceivably varied combinations. in the inanimate realm these associations, composed of the atoms of the different substances, forming what are termed molecules, are generally composed of but few units. thus carbonic-acid gas, as it is commonly called, is made up of an aggregation of molecules, each composed of one atom of carbon and two of oxygen; water, of two atoms of hydrogen and one of oxygen; ordinary iron oxide, of two atoms of iron and three of oxygen. in the realm of organic life, however, these combinations become vastly more complicated, and with each of them the properties of the substance thus produced differ from all others. a distinguished chemist has estimated that in one group of chemical compounds, that of carbon, it would be possible to make such an array of substances that it would require a library of many thousand ordinary volumes to contain their names alone. it is characteristic of chemical science that it takes account of actions which are almost entirely invisible. no contrivances have been or are likely to be invented which will show the observer what takes place when the atoms of any substance depart from their previous combination and enter on new arrangements. we only know that under certain conditions the old atomic associations break up, and new ones are formed. but though the processes are hidden, the results are manifest in the changes which are brought about upon the masses of material which are subjected to the altering conditions. gradually the chemists of our day are learning to build up in their laboratories more and more complicated compounds; already they have succeeded in producing many of the materials which of old could only be obtained by extracting them from plants. thus a number of the perfumes of flowers, and many of the dye-stuffs which a century ago were extracted from vegetables, and were then supposed to be only obtainable in that way, are now readily manufactured. in time it seems likely that important articles of food, for which we now depend upon the seeds of plants, may be directly built up from the mineral kingdom. thus the result of chemical inquiry has been not only to show us much of the vast realm of actions which go on in the earth, but to give us control of many of these movements so that we may turn them to the needs of man. animals and plants were at an early day very naturally the subjects of inquiry. the ancients perceived that there were differences of kind among these creatures, and even in aristotle's time the sciences of zoölogy and botany had attained the point where there were considerable treatises on those subjects. it was not, however, until a little more than a century ago that men began accurately to describe and classify these species of the organic world. since the time of linnæus the growth of our knowledge has gone forward with amazing swiftness. within a century we have come to know perhaps a hundred times as much concerning these creatures as was learned in all the earlier ages. this knowledge is divisible into two main branches: in one the inquirers have taken account of the different species, genera, families, orders, and classes of living forms with such effect that they have shown the existence at the present time of many hundred thousand distinct species, the vast assemblage being arranged in a classification which shows something as to the relationship which the forms bear to each other, and furthermore that the kinds now living have not been long in existence, but that at each stage in the history of the earth another assemblage of species peopled the waters and the lands. at first naturalists concerned themselves only with the external forms of living creatures; but they soon came to perceive that the way in which these organisms worked, their physiology, in a word, afforded matters for extended inquiry. these researches have developed the science of physiology, or the laws of bodily action, on many accounts the most modern and extensive of our new acquisitions of natural learning. through these studies we have come to know something of the laws or principles by which life is handed on from generation to generation, and by which the gradations of structure have been advanced from the simple creatures which appear like bits of animated jelly to the body and mind of man. the greatest contribution which modern naturalists have made to knowledge concerns the origin of organic species. the students of a century ago believed that all these different kinds had been suddenly created either through natural law or by the immediate will of god. we now know that from the beginning of organic life in the remote past to the present day one kind of animal or plant has been in a natural and essentially gradual way converted into the species which was to be its successor, so that all the vast and complicated assemblage of kinds which now exists has been derived by a process of change from the forms which in earlier ages dwelt upon this planet. the exact manner in which these alterations were produced is not yet determined, but in large part it has evidently been brought about by the method indicated by mr. darwin, through the survival of the fittest individuals in the struggle for existence. until men came to have a clear conception as to the spherical form of the earth, it was impossible for them to begin any intelligent inquiries concerning its structure or history. the greeks knew the earth to be a sphere, but this knowledge was lost among the early christian people, and it was not until about four hundred years ago that men again came to see that they dwelt upon a globe. on the basis of this understanding the science of geology, which had in a way been founded by the greeks, was revived. as this science depends upon the knowledge which we have gained of astronomy, physics, chemistry, and biology, all of which branches of learning have to be used in explaining the history of the earth, the advance which has been made has been relatively slow. geology as a whole is the least perfectly organized of all the divisions of learning. a special difficulty peculiar to this science has also served to hinder its development. all the other branches of learning deal mainly, if not altogether, with the conditions of nature as they now exist. in this alone is it necessary at every step to take account of actions which have been performed in the remote past. it is an easy matter for the students of to-day to imagine that the earth has long endured; but to our forefathers, who were educated in the view that it had been brought from nothingness into existence about seven thousand years ago, it was most difficult and for a time impossible to believe in its real antiquity. endeavouring, as they naturally did, to account for all the wonderful revolutions, the history of which is written in the pages of the great stone book, the early geologists supposed this planet to have been the seat of frequent and violent changes, each of which revolutionized its shape and destroyed its living tenants. it was only very gradually that they became convinced that a hundred million years or more have elapsed since the dawn of life on the earth, and that in this vast period the march of events has been steadfast, the changes taking place at about the same rate in which they are now going on. as yet this conception as to the history of our sphere has not become the general property of the people, but the fact of it is recognised by all those who have attentively studied the matter. it is now as well ascertained as any of the other truths which science has disclosed to us. it is instructive to note the historic outlines of scientific development. the most conspicuous truth which this history discloses is that all science has had its origin and almost all its development among the peoples belonging to the aryan race. this body of folk appears to have taken on its race characteristics, acquired its original language, its modes of action, and the foundations of its religion in that part of northern europe which is about the baltic sea. thence the body of this people appear to have wandered toward central asia, where after ages of pastoral life in the high table lands and mountains of their country it sent forth branches to india, asia minor and greece, to persia, and to western europe. it seems ever to have been a characteristic of these aryan peoples that they had an extreme love for nature; moreover, they clearly perceived the need of accounting for the things that happened in the world about them. in general they inclined to what is called the pantheistic explanation of the universe. they believed a supreme god in many different forms to be embodied in all the things they saw. even their own minds and bodies they conceived as manifestations of this supreme power. among the aryans who came to dwell in europe and along the eastern mediterranean this method of explaining nature was in time changed to one in which humanlike gods were supposed to control the visible and invisible worlds. in that marvellous centre of culture which was developed among the greeks this conception of humanlike deities was in time replaced by that of natural law, and in their best days the greeks were men of science essentially like those of to-day, except that they had not learned by experience how important it was to criticise their theories by patiently comparing them with the facts which they sought to explain. the last of the important greek men of science, strabo, who was alive when christ was born, has left us writings which in quality are essentially like many of the able works of to-day. but for the interruption in the development of greek learning, natural science would probably have been fifteen hundred years ahead of its present stage. this interruption came in two ways. in one, through the conquest of greece and the destruction of its intellectual life by the romans, a people who were singularly incapable of appreciating natural science, and who had no other interest in it except now and then a vacant and unprofitable curiosity as to the processes of the natural world. a second destructive influence came through the fact that christianity, in its energetic protest against the sins of the pagan civilization, absolutely neglected and in a way despised all forms of science. the early indifference of christians to natural learning is partly to be explained by the fact that their religion was developed among the hebrews, a people remarkable for their lack of interest in the scientific aspects of nature. to them it was a sufficient explanation that one omnipotent god ruled all things at his will, the heavens and the earth alike being held in the hollow of his hand. finding the centre of its development among the romans, christianity came mainly into the control of a people who, as we have before remarked, had no scientific interest in the natural world. this condition prolonged the separation of our faith from science for fifteen hundred years after its beginning. in this time the records of greek scientific learning mostly disappeared. the writings of aristotle were preserved in part for the reason that the church adopted many of his views concerning questions in moral philosophy and in politics. the rest of greek learning was, so far as europe was concerned, quite neglected. a large part of greek science which has come down to us owes its preservation to a very singular incident in the history of learning. in the ninth century, after the arabs had been converted to mohammedanism, and on the basis of that faith had swiftly organized a great and cultivated empire, the scholars of that folk became deeply interested in the remnants of greek learning which had survived in the monastic and other libraries about the eastern mediterranean. so greatly did they prize these records, which were contemned by the christians, that it was their frequent custom to weigh the old manuscripts in payment against the coin of their realm. in astronomy, mathematics, chemistry, and geology the arabian students, building on the ancient foundations, made notable and for a time most important advances. in the tenth century of our era they seemed fairly in the way to do for science what western europe began five centuries later to accomplish. in the fourteenth century the centre of mohammedan strength was transferred from the arabians to the turks, from a people naturally given to learning to a folk of another race, who despised all such culture. thenceforth in place of the men who had treasured and deciphered with infinite pains all the records of earlier learning, the followers of mohammed zealously destroyed all the records of the olden days. some of these records, however, survived among the arabs of spain, and others were preserved by the christian scholars who dwelt in byzantium, or constantinople, and were brought into western europe when that city was captured by the turks in the fifteenth century. already the advance of the fine arts in italy and the general tendency toward the study of nature, such as painting and sculpture indicate, had made a beginning, or rather a proper field for a beginning, of scientific inquiry. the result was a new interest in greek learning in all its branches, and a very rapid awakening of the scientific spirit. at first the roman church made no opposition to this new interest which developed among its followers, but in the course of a few years, animated with the fear that science would lead men to doubt many of the dogmas of the church, it undertook sternly to repress the work of all inquirers. the conflict between those of the roman faith and the men of science continued for above two hundred years. in general, the part which the church took was one of remonstrance, but in a few cases the spirit of fanaticism led to the persecution of the men who did not obey its mandates and disavow all belief in the new opinions which were deemed contrary to the teachings of scripture. the last instance of such oppression occurred in france in the year , when the great buffon was required to recant certain opinions concerning the antiquity of the earth which he had published in his work on natural history. this he promptly did, and in almost servile language withdrew all the opinions to which the fathers had objected. a like conflict between the followers of science and the clerical authorities occurred in protestant countries. although in no case were the men of science physically tortured or executed for their opinions, they were nevertheless subjected to great religious and social pressure: they were almost as effectively disciplined as were those who fell under the ban of the roman church. some historians have criticised the action of the clerical authorities toward science as if the evil which was done had been performed in our own day. it should be remembered, however, that in the earlier centuries the churches regarded themselves as bound to protect all men from the dangers of heresy. for centuries in the early history of christianity the defenders of the faith had been engaged in a life-and-death struggle with paganism, the followers of which held all that was known of nature. quite naturally the priestly class feared that the revival of scientific inquiry would bring with it the evils from which the world had suffered in pagan times. there is no doubt that these persecutions of science were done under what seemed the obligations of duty. they may properly be explained particularly by men of science as one of the symptoms of development in the day in which they were done. it is well for those who harshly criticise the relations of the church to science to remember that in our own country, about two centuries ago, among the most enlightened and religious people of the time, quakers were grievously persecuted, and witches hanged, all in the most dutiful and god-fearing way. in considering these relations of science to our faith, the matter should be dealt with in a philosophical way, and with a sense of the differences between our own and earlier ages. to the student of the relations between christianity and science it must appear doubtful whether the criticism or the other consequences which the men of science had to meet from the church was harmful to their work. the early naturalists, like the greeks whom they followed, were greatly given to speculations concerning the processes of nature, which, though interesting, were unprofitable. they also showed a curious tendency to mingle their scientific speculations with ancient and base superstitions. they were often given to the absurdity commonly known as the "black art," or witchcraft, and held to the preposterous notions of the astrologists. even the immortal astronomer kepler, who lived in the sixteenth century, was a professional astrologer, and still held to the notion that the stars determined the destiny of men. many other of the famous inquirers in those years which ushered in modern science believed in witchcraft. thus for a time natural learning was in a way associated with ancient and pernicious beliefs which the church was seeking to overthrow. one result of the clerical opposition to the advancement of science was that its votaries were driven to prove every step which led to their conclusions. they were forced to abandon the loose speculation of their intellectual guides, the greeks, and to betake themselves to observation. thus a part of the laborious fact-gathering habit on which the modern advance of science has absolutely depended was due to the care which men had to exercise in face of the religious authorities. in our own time, in the latter part of the nineteenth century, the conflict between the religious authority and the men of science has practically ceased. even the roman church permits almost everywhere an untrammelled teaching of the established learning to which it was at one time opposed. men have come to see that all truth is accordant, and that religion has nothing to fear from the faithful and devoted study of nature. the advance of science in general in modern times has been greatly due to the development of mechanical inventions. among the ancients, the tools which served in the arts were few in number, and these of exceeding simplicity. so far as we can ascertain, in the five hundred years during which the greeks were in their intellectual vigour, not more than half a dozen new machines were invented, and these were exceedingly simple. the fact seems to be that a talent for mechanical invention is mainly limited to the peoples of france, germany, and of the english-speaking folk. the first advances in these contrivances were made in those countries, and all our considerable gains have come from their people. thus, while the spirit of science in general is clearly limited to the aryan folk, that particular part of the motive which leads to the invention of tools is restricted to western and northern europe, to the people to whom we give the name of teutonic. mechanical inventions have aided the development of our sciences in several ways. they have furnished inquirers with instruments of precision; they have helped to develop accuracy of observation; best of all, they have served ever to bring before the attention of men a spectacle of the conditions in nature which we term cause and effect. the influence of these inventions on the development of learning has been particularly great where the machines, such as our wind and water mills, and our steam engine, make use of the forces of nature, subjugating them to the needs of man. such instruments give an unending illustration as to the presence in nature of energy. they have helped men to understand that the machinery of the universe is propelled by the unending application of power. it was, in fact, through such machines that men of science first came to understand that energy, manifested in the natural forces, is something that eternally endures; that we may change its form in our arts as its form is changed in the operations of nature, but the power endures forever. it is interesting to note that the first observation which led to this most important scientific conclusion that energy is indestructible however much it may change its form, was made by an american, benjamin thompson, who left this country at the time of the revolution, and after a curious life became the executive officer, and in effect king, of bavaria. while engaged in superintending the manufacture of cannon, he observed that in boring out the barrel of the gun an amount of heat was produced which evaporated a certain amount of water. he therefore concluded that the energy required to do the boring of the metal passed into the state of heat, and thus only changed its state, in no wise disappearing from the earth. other students pursuing the same line of inquiry have clearly demonstrated what is called the law of the conservation of energy, which more than anything has helped us to understand the large operations of nature. through these studies we have come to see that, while the universe is a place of ceaseless change, the quantities of energy and of matter remain unaltered. the foregoing brief sketch, which sets forth some of the important conditions which have affected the development of science, may in a way serve to show the student how he can himself become an interpreter of nature. the evidence indicates that the people of our race have been in a way chosen among all the varieties of mankind to lead in this great task of comprehending the visible universe. the facts, moreover, show that discovery usually begins with the interest which men feel in the world immediately about them, or which is presented to their senses in a daily spectacle. thus benjamin franklin, in the midst of a busy life, became deeply interested in the phenomena of lightning, and by a very simple experiment proved that this wonder of the air was due to electrical action such as we may arouse by rubbing a stick of sealing-wax or a piece of amber with a cloth. all discoveries, in a word, have had their necessary beginnings in an interest in the facts which daily experience discloses. this desire to know something more than the first sight exhibits concerning the actions in the world about us is native in every human soul--at least, in all those who are born with the heritage of our race. it is commonly strong in childhood; if cultivated by use, it will grow throughout a lifetime, and, like other faculties, becomes the stronger and more effective by the exertions which it inspires. it is therefore most important that every one should obey this instinctive command to inquiry, and organize his life and work so that he may not lose but gain more and more as time goes on of this noble capacity to interrogate and understand the world about him. it is best that all study of nature should begin not in laboratories, nor with the things which are remote from us, but in the field of nature which is immediately about us. the student, even if he dwell in the unfavourable conditions of a great city, is surrounded by the world which has yielded immeasurable riches in the way of learning, which he can appropriate by a little study. he can readily come to know something of the movements of the air; the buildings will give him access to a great many different kinds of stone; the smallest park, a little garden, or even a few potted plants and captive animals, may tell him much concerning the forms and actions of living beings. by studying in this way he can come to know something of the differences between things and their relations to each other. he will thus have a standard by which he can measure and make familiar the body of learning concerning nature which he may find in books. from printed pages alone, however well they be written, he can never hope to catch the spirit that animates the real inquirer, the true lover of nature. on many accounts the most attractive way of beginning to form the habit of the naturalist is by the study of living animals and plants. to all of us life adds interest, and growth has a charm. therefore it is well for the student to start on the way of inquiry by watching the actions of birds and insects or by rearing plants. it is fortunate if he can do both these agreeable things. when the habit of taking an account of that most important part of the world which is immediately about him has been developed in the student, he may profitably proceed to acquire the knowledge of the invisible universe which has been gathered by the host of inquirers of his race. however far he journeys, he should return to the home world that lies immediately and familiarly about him, for there alone can he acquire and preserve that personal acquaintance with things which is at once the inspiration and the test of all knowledge. along with this study of the familiar objects about us the student may well combine some reading which may serve to show him how others have been successful in thus dealing with nature at first hand. for this purpose there are, unfortunately, but few works which are well calculated to serve the needs of the beginner. perhaps the best naturalist book, though its form is somewhat ancient, is white's natural history of selborne. hugh miller's works, particularly his old red sandstone and my schools and schoolmasters, show well how a man may become a naturalist under difficulties. sir john lubbock's studies on wasps, and darwin's work on animals and plants under domestication are also admirable to show how observation should be made. dr. asa gray's little treatise on how plants grow will also be useful to the beginner who wishes to approach botany from its most attractive side--that of the development of the creature from the seed to seed. there is another kind of training which every beginner in the art of observing nature should obtain, and which many naturalists of repute would do well to give themselves--namely, an education in what we may call the art of distance and geographical forms. with the primitive savage the capacity to remember and to picture to the eye the shape of a country which he knows is native and instinctive. accustomed to range the woods, and to trust to his recollection to guide him through the wilderness to his home, the primitive man develops an important art which among civilized people is generally dormant. in fact, in our well-trodden ways people may go for many generations without ever being called upon to use this natural sense of geography. the easiest way to cultivate the geographic sense is by practising the art of making sketch maps. this the student, however untrained, can readily do by taking first his own dwelling house, on which he should practise until he can readily from memory make a tolerably correct and proportional plan of all its rooms. then on a smaller scale he should begin to make also from recollection a map showing the distribution of the roads, streams, and hills with which his daily life makes him familiar. from time to time this work from memory should be compared with the facts. at first the record will be found to be very poor, but with a few months of occasional endeavour the observer will find that his mind takes account of geographic features in a way it did not before, and, moreover, that his mind becomes enriched with impressions of the country which are clear and distinct, in place of the shadowy recollections which he at first possessed. when the student has attained the point where, after walking or riding over a country, he can readily recall its physical features of the simpler sort, he will find it profitable to undertake the method of mapping with contour lines--that is, by pencilling in indications to show the exact shape of the elevations and depressions. the principle of contour lines is that each of them represents where water would come against the slope if the area were sunk step by step below the sea level--in other words, each contour line marks the intersection of a horizontal plane with the elevation of the country. practice on this somewhat difficult task will soon give the student some idea as to the complication of the surface of a region, and afford him the basis for a better understanding of what geography means than all the reading he can do will effect. it is most desirable that training such as has been described should be a part of our ordinary school education. very few people have clear ideas of distances. even the men whose trade requires some such knowledge are often without that which a little training could give them. without some capacity in this direction, the student is always at a disadvantage in his contact with nature. he can not make a record of what he sees as long as the element of horizontal and vertical distance is not clearly in mind. to attain this end the student should begin by pacing some length of road where the distances are well known. in this way he will learn the length of his step, which with a grown man generally ranges between two and a half and three feet. learning the average length of his stride by frequent counting, it is easy to repeat the trial until one can almost unconsciously keep the count as he walks. properly to secure the training of this sort the observer should first attentively look across the distance which is to be determined. he should notice how houses, fences, people, and trees appear at that distance. he will quickly perceive that each hundred feet of additional interval somewhat changes their aspect. in training soldiers to measure with the eye the distances which they have to know in order effectively to use the modern weapons of war, a common device is to take a squad of men, or sometimes a company, under the command of an officer, who halts one man at each hundred yards until the detachment is strung out with that interval as far as the eye can see them. the men then walk to and fro so that the troops who are watching them may note the effects of increased distance on their appearance, whether standing or in motion. at three thousand yards a man appears as a mere dot, which is not readily distinguishable. schoolboys may find this experiment amusing and instructive. after the student has gained, as he readily may, some sense of the divisions of distance within the range of ordinary vision, he should try to form some notion of greater intervals, as of ten, a hundred, and perhaps a thousand miles. the task becomes more difficult as the length of the line increases, but most persons can with a little address manage to bring before their eyes a tolerably clear image of a hundred miles of distance by looking from some elevation which commands a great landscape. it is doubtful, however, whether the best-trained man can get any clear notion of a thousand miles--that is, can present it to himself in imagination as he may readily do with shorter intervals. the most difficult part of the general education which the student has to give himself is begun when he undertakes to picture long intervals of time. space we have opportunities to measure, and we come in a way to appreciate it, but the longest lived of men experiences at most a century of life, and this is too small a measure to give any notion as to the duration of such great events as are involved in the history of the earth, where the periods are to be reckoned by the millions of years. the only way in which we can get any aid in picturing to ourselves great lapses of time is by expressing them in units of distance. let a student walk away on a straight road for the distance of a mile; let him call each step a year; when he has won the first milestone, he may consider that he has gone backward in time to the period of christ's birth. two miles more will take him to the station which will represent the age when the oldest pyramids were built. he is still, however, in the later days of man's history on this planet. to attain on the scale the time when man began, he might well have to walk fifty miles away, while a journey which would thus by successive steps describe the years of the earth's history since life appeared upon its surface would probably require him to circle the earth at least four times. we may accept it as impossible for any one to deal with such vast durations save with figures which are never really comprehended. it is well, however, to enlarge our view as to the age of the earth by such efforts as have just been indicated. when we go beyond the earth into the realm of the stars all efforts toward understanding the ranges of space or the durations of time are quite beyond the efforts of man. even the distance of about two hundred and forty thousand miles which separates us from the moon can not be grasped by even the greater minds. no human intelligence, however cultivated, can conceive the distance of about ninety-five million miles which separates us from the sun. in the celestial realm we can only deal with relations of space and time in a general and comparative way. we can state the distances if we please in millions of miles, or we can reckon the ampler spaces by using the interval which separates the earth from the sun as we do a foot rule in our ordinary work, but the depths of the starry spaces can only be sounded by the winged imagination. although the student has been advised to begin his studies of nature on the field whereon he dwells, making that study the basis of his most valuable communications with nature, it is desirable that he should at the same time gain some idea as to the range and scope of our knowledge concerning the visible universe. as an aid toward this end the following chapters of this book will give a very brief survey of some of the most important truths concerning the heavens and the earth which have rewarded the studies of scientific men. of remoter things, such as the bodies in the stellar spaces, the account will be brief, for that which is known and important to the general student can be briefly told. so, too, of the earlier ages of the earth's history, although a vast deal is known, the greater part of the knowledge is of interest and value mainly to geologists who cultivate that field. that which is most striking and most important to the mass of mankind is to be found in the existing state of our earth, the conditions which make it a fit abode for our kind, and replete with lessons which he may study with his own eyes without having to travel the difficult paths of the higher sciences. although physiography necessarily takes some account of the things which have been, even in the remote past, and this for the reason that everything in this day of the world depends on the events of earlier days, the accent of its teaching is on the immediate, visible, as we may say, living world, which is a part of the life of all its inhabitants. chapter iii. the stellar realm. even before men came to take any careful account of the nature immediately about them they began to conjecture and in a way to inquire concerning the stars and the other heavenly bodies. it is difficult for us to imagine how hard it was for students to gain any adequate idea of what those lights in the sky really are. at first men imagined the celestial bodies to be, as they seemed, small objects not very far away. among the greeks the view grew up that the heavens were formed of crystal spheres in which the lights were placed, much as lanterns may be hung upon a ceiling. these spheres were conceived to be one above the other; the planets were on the lower of them, and the fixed stars on the higher, the several crystal roofs revolving about the earth. so long as the earth was supposed to be a flat and limitless expanse, forming the centre of the universe, it was impossible for the students of the heavens to attain any more rational view as to their plan. the fact that the earth was globular in form was understood by the greek men of science. they may, indeed, have derived the opinion from the egyptian philosophers. the discovery rested upon the readily observed fact that on a given day the shadow of objects of a certain height was longer in high latitude than in low. within the tropics, when the sun was vertical, there would be no shadow, while as far north as athens it would be of considerable length. the conclusion that the earth was a sphere appears to have been the first large discovery made by our race. it was, indeed, one of the most important intellectual acquisitions of man. understanding the globular form of the earth, the next and most natural step was to learn that the earth was not the centre of the planetary system, much less of the universe, but that that centre was the sun, around which the earth and the other planets revolved. the greeks appear to have had some idea that this was the case, and their spirit of inquiry would probably have led them to the whole truth but for the overthrow of their thought by the roman conquest and the spread of christianity. it was therefore not until after the revival of learning that astronomers won their way to our modern understanding concerning the relation of the planets to the sun. with galileo this opinion was affirmed. although for a time the church, resting its opposition on the interpretation of certain passages of scripture, resisted this view, and even punished the men who held it, it steadfastly made its way, and for more than two centuries has been the foundation of all the great discoveries in the stellar realm. yet long after the fact that the sun was the centre of the solar system was well established no one understood why the planets should move in their ceaseless, orderly procession around the central mass. to newton we owe the studies on the law of gravitation which brought us to our present large conception as to the origin of this order. starting with the view that bodies attracted each other in proportion to their weight, and in diminishing proportion as they are removed from each other, newton proceeded by most laborious studies to criticise this view, and in the end definitely proved it by finding that the motions of the moon about the earth, as well as the paths of the planets, exactly agreed with the supposition. the last great path-breaking discovery which has helped us in our understanding of the stars was made by fraunhofer and other physicists, who showed us that substances when in a heated, gaseous, or vaporous state produced, in a way which it is not easy to explain in a work such as this, certain dark lines in the spectrum, or streak of divided light which we may make by means of a glass prism, or, as in the rainbow, by drops of water. carefully studying these very numerous lines, those naturalists found that they could with singular accuracy determine what substances there were in the flame which gave the light. so accurate is this determination that it has been made to serve in certain arts where there is no better means of ascertaining the conditions of a flaming substance except by the lines which its light exhibits under this kind of analysis. thus, in the manufacture of iron by what is called the bessemer process, it has been found very convenient to judge as to the state of the molten metal by such an analysis of the flame which comes forth from it. [illustration: _seal rocks near san francisco, california, showing slight effect of waves where there is no beach._] no sooner was the spectroscope invented than astronomers hastened by its aid to explore the chemical constitution of the sun. these studies have made it plain that the light of our solar centre comes forth from an atmosphere composed of highly heated substances, all of which are known among the materials forming the earth. although for various reasons we have not been able to recognise in the sun all the elements which are found in our sphere, it is certain that in general the two bodies are alike in composition. an extension of the same method of inquiry to the fixed stars was gradually though with difficulty attained, and we now know that many of the elements common to the sun and earth exist in those distant spheres. still further, this method of inquiry has shown us, in a way which it is not worth while here to describe, that among these remoter suns there are many aggregations of matter which are not consolidated as are the spheres of our own solar system, but remain in the gaseous state, receiving the name of nebulæ. along with the growth of observational astronomy which has taken place since the discoveries of galileo, there has been developed a view concerning the physical history of the stellar world, known as the nebular hypothesis, which, though not yet fully proved, is believed by most astronomers and physicists to give us a tolerably correct notion as to the way in which the heavenly spheres were formed from an earlier condition of matter. this majestic conception was first advanced, in modern times at least, by the german philosopher immanuel kant. it was developed by the french astronomer laplace, and is often known by his name. the essence of this view rests upon the fact previously noted that in the realm of the fixed stars there are many faintly shining aggregations of matter which are evidently not solid after the manner of the bodies in our solar system, but are in the state where their substances are in the condition of dustlike particles, as are the bits of carbon in flame or the elements which compose the atmosphere. the view held by laplace was to the effect that not only our own solar system, but the centres of all the other similar systems, the fixed stars, were originally in this gaseous state, the material being disseminated throughout all parts of the heavenly realm, or at least in that portion of the universe of which we are permitted to know something. in this ancient state of matter we have to suppose that the particles of it were more separated from each other than are the atoms of the atmospheric gases in the most perfect vacuum which we can produce with the air-pump. still we have to suppose that each of these particles attract the other in the gravitative way, as in the present state of the universe they inevitably do. under the influence of the gravitative attraction the materials of this realm of vapour inevitably tended to fall in toward the centre. if the process had been perfectly simple, the result would have been the formation of one vast mass, including all the matter which was in the original body. in some way, no one has yet been able to make a reasonable suggestion of just how, there were developed in the process of concentration a great many separate centres of aggregation, each of which became the beginning of a solar system. the student may form some idea of how readily local centres may be produced in materials disseminated in the vaporous state by watching how fog or the thin, even misty clouds of the sunrise often gather into the separate shapes which make what we term a "mackerel" sky. it is difficult to imagine what makes centres of attraction, but we readily perceive by this instance how they might have occurred. when the materials of each solar system were thus set apart from the original mass of star dust or vapour, they began an independent development which led step by step, in the case of our own solar system at least, and presumably also in the case of the other suns, the fixed stars, to the formation of planets and their moons or satellites, all moving around the central sun. at this stage of the explanation the nebular hypothesis is more difficult to conceive than in the parts of it which have already been described, for we have now to understand how the planets and satellites had their matter separated from each other and from the solar centre, and why they came to revolve around that central body. these problems are best understood by noting some familiar instances connected with the movement of fluids and gases toward a centre. first let us take the case of a basin in which the water is allowed to flow out through a hole in its centre. when we lift the stopper the fluid for a moment falls straight down through the opening. very quickly, however, all the particles of the water start to move toward the centre, and almost at once the mass begins to whirl round with such speed that, although it is working toward the middle, it is by its movement pushed away from the centre and forms a conical depression. as often as we try the experiment, the effect is always the same. we thus see that there is some principle which makes particles of fluid that tend toward a centre fail directly to attain it, but win their way thereto in a devious, spinning movement. although the fact is not so readily made visible to the eye, the same principle is illustrated in whirling storms, in which, as we shall hereafter note with more detail, the air next the surface of the earth is moving in toward a kind of chimney by which it escapes to the upper regions of the atmosphere. a study of cyclones and tornadoes, or even of the little air-whirls which in hot weather lift the dust of our streets, shows that the particles of the atmosphere in rushing in toward the centre of upward movement take on the same whirling motion as do the molecules of water in the basin--in fact, the two actions are perfectly comparable in all essential regards, except that the fluid is moving downward, while the air flows upward. briefly stated, the reason for the movement of fluid and gas in the whirling way is as follows: if every particle on its way to the centre moved on a perfectly straight line toward the point of escape, the flow would be directly converging, and the paths followed would resemble the spokes of a wheel. but when by chance one of the particles sways ever so little to one side of the direct way, a slight lateral motion would necessarily be established. this movement would be due to the fact that the particle which pursued the curved line would press against the particles on the out-curved side of its path--or, in other words, shove them a little in that direction--to the extent that they departed from the direct line they would in turn communicate the shoving to the next beyond. when two particles are thus shoving on one side of their paths, the action which makes for revolution is doubled, and, as we readily see, the whole mass may in this way become quickly affected, the particles driven out of their path, moving in a curve toward the centre. we also see that the action is accumulative: the more curved the path of each particle, the more effectively it shoves; and so, in the case of the basin, we see the whirling rapidly developed before our eyes. in falling in toward the centre the particles of star dust or vapour would no more have been able one and all to pursue a perfectly straight line than the particles of water in the basin. if a man should spend his lifetime in filling and emptying such a vessel, it is safe to say that he would never fail to observe the whirling movement. as the particles of matter in the nebular mass which was to become a solar system are inconceivably greater than those of water in the basin, or those of air in the atmospheric whirl, the chance of the whirling taking place in the heavenly bodies is so great that we may assume that it would inevitably occur. as the vapours in the olden day tended in toward the centre of our solar system, and the mass revolved, there is reason to believe that ringlike separations took place in it. whirling in the manner indicated, the mass of vapour or dust would flatten into a disk or a body of circular shape, with much the greater diameter in the plane of its whirling. as the process of concentration went on, this disk is supposed to have divided into ringlike masses, some approach to which we can discern in the existing nebulæ, which here and there among the farther fixed stars appear to be undergoing such stages of development toward solar systems. it is reasonably supposed that after these rings had been developed they would break to pieces, the matter in them gathering into a sphere, which in time was to become a planet. the outermost of these rings led to the formation of the planet farthest from the sun, and was probably the first to separate from the parent mass. then in succession rings were formed inwardly, each leading in turn to the creation of another planet, the sun itself being the remnant, by far the greater part of the whole mass of matter, which did not separate in the manner described, but concentrated on its centre. each of these planetary aggregations of vapour tended to develop, as it whirled upon its centre, rings of its own, which in turn formed, by breaking and concentrating, the satellites or moons which attend the earth, as they do all the planets which lie farther away from the sun than our sphere. [illustration: fig. .--saturn, jan. , (antoniadi).] as if to prove that the planets and moons of the solar system were formed somewhat in the manner in which we have described it, one of these spheres, saturn, retains a ring, or rather a band which appears to be divided obscurely into several rings which lie between its group of satellites and the main sphere. how this ring has been preserved when all the others have disappeared, and what is the exact constitution of the mass, is not yet well ascertained. it seems clear, however, that it can not be composed of solid matter. it is either in the form of dust or of small spheres, which are free to move on each other; otherwise, as computation shows, the strains due to the attraction which saturn itself and its moons exercise upon it would serve to break it in pieces. although this ring theory of the formation of the planets and satellites is not completely proved, the occurrence of such a structure as that which girdles saturn affords presumptive evidence that it is true. taken in connection with what we know of the nebulæ, the proof of laplace's nebular hypothesis may fairly be regarded as complete. it should be said that some of the fixed stars are not isolated suns like our own, but are composed of two great spheres revolving about one another; hence they are termed double stars. the motions of these bodies are very peculiar, and their conditions show us that it is not well to suppose that the solar system in which we dwell is the only type of order which prevails in the celestial families; there may, indeed, be other variations as yet undetected. still, these differences throw no doubt on the essential truth of the theory as to the process of development of the celestial systems. though there is much room for debate as to the details of the work there, the general truth of the theory is accepted by nearly all the students of the problem. a peculiar advantage of the nebular hypothesis is that it serves to account for the energy which appears as light and heat in the sun and the fixed stars, as well as that which still abides in the mass of our earth, and doubtless also in the other large planets. when the matter of which these spheres were composed was disseminated through the realms of space, it is supposed to have had no positive temperature, and to have been dark, realizing the conception which appears in the first chapter of genesis, "without form, and void." with each stage of the falling in toward the solar centres what is called the "energy of position" of this original matter became converted into light and heat. to understand how this took place, the reader should consider certain simple yet noble generalizations of physics. we readily recognise the fact that when a hammer falls often on an anvil it heats itself and the metal on which it strikes. those who have been able to observe the descent of meteoric stones from the heavens have remarked that when they came to the earth they were, on their surfaces at least, exceedingly hot. any one may observe shining meteors now and then flashing in the sky. these are known commonly to be very small bits of matter, probably not larger than grains of sand, which, rushing into our atmosphere, are so heated by the friction which they encounter that they burn to a gas or vapour before they attain the earth. as we know that these particles come from the starry spaces, where the temperature is somewhere near ° below ° fahr., it is evident that the light and heat are not brought with them into the atmosphere; it can only be explained by the fact that when they enter the air they are moving at an average speed of about twenty miles a second, and that the energy which this motion represents is by the resistance which the body encounters converted into heat. this fact will help us to understand how, as the original star dust fell in toward the centre of attraction, it was able to convert what we have termed the energy of position into temperature. we see clearly that every such particle of dust or larger bit of matter which falls upon the earth brings about the development of heat, even though it does not actually strike upon the solid mass of our sphere. the conception of what took place in the consolidation of the originally disseminated materials of the sun and planets can be somewhat helped by a simple experiment. if we fit a piston closely into a cylinder, and then suddenly drive it down with a heavy blow, the compressed air is so heated that it may be made to communicate fire. if the piston should be slowly moved, the same amount of heat would be generated, or, as we may better say, liberated by the compression, though the effect would not be so striking. a host of experiments show that when a given mass of matter is brought to occupy a less space the effect is in practically all cases to increase the temperature. the energy which kept the particles apart is, when they are driven together, converted into heat. these two classes of actions are somewhat different in their nature; in the case of the meteors, or the equivalent star dust, the coming together of the particles is due to gravitation. in the experiment with the cylinder above described, the compression is due to mechanical energy, a force of another nature. there is reason for believing that all our planets, as well as the sun itself, and also the myriad other orbs of space, have all passed through the stages of a transition in which a continually concentrating vapour, drawn together by gravitation, became progressively hotter and more dense until it assumed the condition of a fluid. this fluid gradually parted with its heat to the cold spaces of the heavens, and became more and more concentrated and of a lower temperature until in the end, as in the case of our earth and of other planets, it ceased to glow on the outside, though it remained intensely heated in the inner parts. it is easy to see that the rate of this cooling would be in some proportion to the size of the sphere. thus the earth, which is relatively small, has become relatively cold, while the sun itself, because of its vastly greater mass, still retains an exceedingly high temperature. the reason for this can readily be conceived by making a comparison of the rate of cooling which occurs in many of our ordinary experiences. thus a vial of hot water will quickly come down to the temperature of the air, while a large jug filled with the fluid at the same temperature will retain its heat many times as long. the reason for this rests upon the simple principle that the contents of a sphere increase with its enlargement more rapidly than the surface through which the cooling takes place. the modern studies on the physical history of the sun and other celestial bodies show that their original store of heat is constantly flowing away into the empty realms of space. the rate at which this form of energy goes away from the sun is vast beyond the powers of the imagination to conceive; thus, in the case of our earth, which viewed from the sun would appear no more than a small star, the amount of heat which falls upon it from the great centre is enough each day to melt, if it all could be put to such work, about eight thousand cubic miles of ice. yet the earth receives only / , , , part of the solar radiation. the greater part of this solar heat--in fact, we may say nearly all of it--slips by the few and relatively small planets and disappears in the great void. the destiny of all the celestial spheres seems in time to be that they shall become cooled down to a temperature far below anything which is now experienced on this earth. even the sun, though its heat will doubtless endure for millions of years to come, must in time, so far as we can see, become dark and cold. so far as we know, we can perceive no certain method by which the life of the slowly decaying suns can be restored. it has, however, been suggested that in many cases a planetary system which has attained the lifeless and lightless stage may by collision with some other association of spheres be by the blow restored to its previous state of vapour, the joint mass of the colliding systems once again to resume the process of concentration through which it had gone before. now and then stars have been seen to flash suddenly into great brilliancy in a way which suggests that possibly their heat had been refreshed by a collision with some great mass which had fallen into them from the celestial spaces. there is room for much speculation in this field, but no certainty appears to be attainable. the ancients believed that light and heat were emanations which were given off from the bodies that yielded them substantially as odours are given forth by many substances. since the days of newton inquiry has forced us to the conviction that these effects of temperature are produced by vibrations having the general character of waves, which are sent through the spaces with great celerity. when a ray of light departs from the sun or other luminous body, it does not convey any part of the mass; it transmits only motion. a conception of the action can perhaps best be formed by suspending a number of balls of ivory, stone, or other hard substance each by a cord, the series so arranged that they touch each other. then striking a blow against one end of the line, we observe that the ball at the farther end of the line is set in motion, swinging a little away from the place it occupied before. the movement of the intermediate balls may be so slight as to escape attention. we thus perceive that energy can be transmitted from one to another of these little spheres. close observation shows us that under the impulse which the blow gives each separate body is made to sway within itself much in the manner of a bell when it is rung, and that the movement is transmitted to the object with which it is in contact. in passing from the sun to the earth, the light and heat traverse a space which we know to be substantially destitute of any such materials as make up the mass of the earth or the sun. judged by the standards which we can apply, this space must be essentially empty. yet because motions go through it, we have to believe that it is occupied by something which has certain of the properties of matter. it has, indeed, one of the most important properties of all substances, in that it can vibrate. this practically unknown thing is called ether. the first important observational work done by the ancients led them to perceive that there was a very characteristic difference between the planets and the fixed stars. they noted the fact that the planets wandered in a ceaseless way across the heavens, while the fixed stars showed little trace of changing position in relation to one another. for a long time it was believed that these, as well as the remoter fixed stars, revolved about the earth. this error, though great, is perfectly comprehensible, for the evident appearance of the movement is substantially what would be brought about if they really coursed around our sphere. it was only when the true nature of the earth and its relations to the sun were understood that men could correct this first view. it was not, indeed, until relatively modern times that the solar system came to be perceived as something independent and widely detached from the fixed stars system; that the spaces which separate the members of our own solar family, inconceivably great as they are, are but trifling as compared with the intervals which part us from the nearer fixed stars. at this stage of our knowledge men came to the noble suggestion that each of the fixed stars was itself a sun, each of the myriad probably attended by planetary bodies such as exist about our own luminary. it will be well for the student to take an imaginary journey from the sun forth into space, along the plane in which extends that vast aggregation of stars which we term the milky way. let him suppose that his journey could be made with something like the speed of light, or, say, at the rate of about two hundred thousand miles a second. it is fit that the imagination, which is free to go through all things, should essay such excursions. on the fancied outgoing, the observer would pass the interval between the sun and the earth in about eight minutes. it would require some hours before he attained to the outer limit of the solar system. on his direct way he would pass the orbits of the several planets. some would have their courses on one side or the other of his path; we should say above or below, but for the fact that we leave these terms behind in the celestial realm. on the margin of the solar system the sun would appear shrunken to the state where it was hardly greater than the more brilliant of the other fixed stars. the onward path would then lead through a void which it would require years to traverse. gradually the sun which happened to lie most directly in his path would grow larger; with nearer approach, it would disclose its planets. supposing that the way led through this solar system, there would doubtless be revealed planets and satellites in their order somewhat resembling those of our own solar family, yet there would doubtless be many surprises in the view. arriving near the first sun to be visited, though the heavens would have changed their shape, all the existing constellations having altered with the change in the point of view, there would still be one familiar element in that the new-found planets would be near by, and the nearest fixed stars far away in the firmament. with the speed of light a stellar voyage could be taken along the path of the milky way, which would endure for thousands of years. through all the course the journeyer would perceive the same vast girdle of stars, faint because they were far away, which gives the dim light of our galaxy. at no point is it probable that he would find the separate suns much more aggregated or greatly farther apart than they are in that part of the milky way which our sun now occupies. looking forth on either side of the "galactic plane," there would be the same scattering of stars which we now behold when we gaze at right angles to the way we are supposing the spirit to traverse. as the form of the milky way is irregular, the mass, indeed, having certain curious divisions and branches, it well might be that the supposed path would occasionally pass on one or the other side of the vast star layer. in such positions the eye would look forth into an empty firmament, except that there might be in the far away, tens of thousands of years perhaps at the rate that light travels away from the observer, other galaxies or milky ways essentially like that which he was traversing. at some point the journeyer would attain the margin of our star stratum, whence again he would look forth into the unpeopled heavens, though even there he might discern other remote star groups separated from his own by great void intervals. * * * * * the revelations of the telescope show us certain features in the constitution and movements of the fixed stars which now demand our attention. in the first place, it is plain that not all of these bodies are in the same physical condition. though the greater part of these distant luminous masses are evidently in the state of aggregation displayed by our own sun, many of them retain more or less of that vaporous, it may be dustlike, character which we suppose to have been the ancient state of all the matter in the universe. some of these masses appear as faint, almost indistinguishable clouds, which even to the greatest telescope and the best-trained vision show no distinct features of structure. in other cases the nebulous appearance is hardly more than a mist about a tolerably distinct central star. yet again, and most beautifully in the great nebula of the constellation of orion, the cloudy mass, though hardly visible to the naked eye, shows a division into many separate parts, the whole appearing as if in process of concentration about many distinct centres. the nebulas are reasonably believed by many astronomers to be examples of the ancient condition of the physical universe, masses of matter which for some reason as yet unknown have not progressed in their consolidation to the point where they have taken on the characteristics of suns and their attendant planets. many of the fixed stars, the incomplete list of which now amounts to several hundred, are curiously variable in the amount of light which they send out to the earth. sometimes these variations are apparently irregular, but in the greater number of cases they have fixed periods, the star waxing and waning at intervals varying from a few months to a few years. although some of the sudden flashings forth of stars from apparent small size to near the greatest brilliancy may be due to catastrophes such as might be brought about by the sudden falling in of masses of matter upon the luminous spheres, it is more likely that the changes which we observe are due to the fact that two suns revolving around a common centre are in different stages of extinction. it may well be that one of these orbs, presumably the smaller, has so far lost temperature that it has ceased to glow. if in its revolution it regularly comes between the earth and its luminous companion, the effect would be to give about such a change in the amount of light as we observe. the supposition that a bright sun and a relatively dark sun might revolve around a common centre of gravity may at first sight seem improbable. the fact is, however, that imperfect as our observations on the stars really are, we know many instances in which this kind of revolution of one star about another takes place. in some cases these stars are of the same brilliancy, but in others one of the lights is much brighter than the other. from this condition to the state where one of the stars is so nearly dark as to be invisible, the transition is but slight. in a word, the evidence goes to show that while we see only the luminous orbs of space, the dark bodies which people the heavens are perhaps as numerous as those which send us light, and therefore appear as stars. besides the greater spheres of space, there is a vast host of lesser bodies, the meteorites and comets, which appear to be in part members of our solar system, and perhaps of other similar systems, and in part wanderers in the vast realm which intervenes between the solar systems. of these we will first consider the meteors, of which we know by far the most; though even of them, as we shall see, our knowledge is limited. from time to time on any starry night, and particularly in certain periods of the year, we may behold, at the distance of fifty or more miles above the surface of the earth, what are commonly called "shooting stars." the most of these flashing meteors are evidently very small, probably not larger than tiny sand grains, possibly no greater than the fragments which would be termed dust. they enter the air at a speed of about thirty miles a second. they are so small that they burn to vapour in the very great heat arising from their friction on the air, and do not attain the surface of the earth. these are so numerous that, on the average, some hundreds of thousands probably strike the earth's atmosphere each day. from time to time larger bodies fall--bodies which are of sufficient bulk not to be burned up in the air, but which descend to the ground. these may be from the smallest size which may be observed to masses of many hundred pounds in weight. these are far less numerous than the dust meteorites; it is probable, however, that several hundred fragments each year attain the earth's surface. they come from various directions of space, and there is as yet no means of determining whether they were formed in some manner within our planetary system or whether they wander to us from remoter realms. we know that they are in part composed of metallic iron commingled with nickel and carbon (sometimes as very small diamonds) in a way rarely if ever found on the surface of our sphere, and having a structure substantially unknown in its deposits. in part they are composed of materials which somewhat resemble certain lavas. it is possible that these fragments of iron and stone which constitute the meteorites have been thrown into the planetary spaces by the volcanic eruption of our own and other planets. if hurled forth with a sufficient energy, the fragments would escape from the control of the attraction of the sphere whence they came, and would become independent wanderers in space, moving around the sun in varied orbits until they were again drawn in by some of the greater planets. as they come to us these meteorites often break up in the atmosphere, the bits being scattered sometimes over a wide area of country. thus, in the case of the cocke county meteorite of tennessee, one of the iron species, the fragments, perhaps thousands in number, which came from the explosion of the body were scattered over an area of some thousand square miles. when they reach the surface in their natural form, these meteors always have a curious wasted and indented appearance, which makes it seem likely that they have been subject to frequent collisions in their journeys after they were formed by some violent rending action. in some apparent kinship with the meteorites may be classed the comets. the peculiarity of these bodies is that they appear in most cases to be more or less completely vaporous. rushing down from the depths of the heavens, these bodies commonly appear as faintly shining, cloudlike masses. as they move in toward the sun long trails of vapour stream back from the somewhat consolidated head. swinging around that centre, they journey again into the outer realm. as they retreat, their tail-like streamers appear to gather again upon their centres, and when they fade from view they are again consolidated. in some cases it has been suspected that a part at least of the cometary mass was solid. the evidence goes to show, however, that the matter is in a dustlike or vaporous condition, and that the weight of these bodies is relatively very small. [illustration: fig. .--the great comet of , one of the many varied forms of these bodies.] owing to their strange appearance, comets were to the ancients omens of calamity. sometimes they were conceived as flaming swords; their forms, indeed, lend themselves to this imagining. they were thought to presage war, famine, and the death of kings. again, in more modern times, when they were not regarded as portents of calamity, it was feared that these wanderers moving vagariously through our solar system might by chance come in contact with the earth with disastrous results. such collisions are not impossible, for the reason that the planets would tend to draw these errant bodies toward them if they came near their spheres; yet the chance of such collisions happening to the earth is so small that they may be disregarded. motions of the spheres. although little is known of the motions which occur among the celestial bodies beyond the sphere of our solar family, that which has been ascertained is of great importance, and serves to make it likely that all the suns in space are upon swift journeys which in their speed equal, if they do not exceed, the rate of motion among the planetary spheres, which may, in general, be reckoned at about twenty miles a second. our whole solar system is journeying away from certain stars, and in the direction of others which are situated in the opposite part of the heavens. the proof of this fact is found in the observations which show that on one side of us the stars are apparently coming closer together, while on the other side they are going farther apart. the phenomenon, in a word, is one of perspective, and may be made real to the understanding by noting what takes place when we travel down a street along which there are lights. we readily note that these lights appear to close in behind us, and widen their intervals in the direction in which we journey. by such evidence astronomers have become convinced that our sphere, along with the sun which controls it, is each second a score of miles away from the point where it was before. there is yet other and most curious evidence which serves to show that certain of the stars are journeying toward our part of the heavens at great speed, while others are moving away from us by their own proper motion. these indications are derived from the study of the lines in the light which the spectrum reveals to us when critically examined. the position of these cross lines is, as we know, affected by the motion of the body whence the light comes, and by close analysis of the facts it has been pretty well determined that the distortion in their positions is due to very swift motions of the several stars. it is not yet certain whether these movements of our sun and of other solar bodies are in straight lines or in great circles. it should be noted that, although the evidence from the spectroscope serves to show that the matter in the stars is akin to that of our own earth, there is reason to believe that those great spheres differ much from each other in magnitude. we have now set forth some of the important facts exhibited by the stellar universe. the body of details concerning that realm is vast, and the conclusions drawn from it important; only a part, however, of the matter with which it deals is of a nature to be apprehended by the student who does not approach it in a somewhat professional way. we shall therefore now turn to a description of the portion of the starry world which is found in the limits of our solar system. there the influences of the several spheres upon our planet are matters of vital importance; they in a way affect, if they do not control, all the operations which go on upon the surface of the earth. the solar system. we have seen that the matter in the visible universe everywhere tends to gather into vast associations which appear to us as stars, and that these orbs are engaged in ceaseless motion in journeys through space. in only one of these aggregations--that which makes our own solar system--are the bodies sufficiently near to our eyes for us, even with the resources of our telescopes and other instruments, to divine something of the details which they exhibit. in studying what we may concerning the family of the sun, the planets, and their satellites, we may reasonably be assured that we are tracing a history which with many differences is in general repeated in the development of each star in the firmament. therefore the inquiry is one of vast range and import. following, as we may reasonably do, the nebular hypothesis--a view which, though not wholly proved, is eminently probable--we may regard our solar system as having begun when the matter of which it is composed, then in a finely divided, cloudy state, was separated from the similar material which went to make the neighbouring fixed stars. the period when our solar system began its individual life was remote beyond the possibility of conception. naturalists are pretty well agreed that living beings began to exist upon the earth at least a hundred million years ago; but the beginnings of our solar system must be placed at a date very many times as remote from the present day.[ ] [footnote : some astronomers, particularly the distinguished professor newcomb, hold that the sun can not have been supplying heat as at present for more than about ten million years, and that all geological time must be thus limited. the geologist believes that this reckoning is far too short.] according to the nebular theory, the original vapour of the solar system began to fall in toward its centre and to whirl about that point at a time long before the mass had shrunk to the present limits of the solar system as defined by the path of the outermost planets. at successive stages of the concentration, rings after the manner of those of saturn separated from the disklike mass, each breaking up and consolidating into a body of nebulous matter which followed in the same path, generally forming rings which became by the same process the moons or satellites of the sphere. in this way the sun produced eight planets which are known, and possibly others of small size on the outer verge of the system which have eluded discovery. according to this view, the planetary masses were born in succession, the farthest away being the oldest. it is, however, held by an able authority that the mass of the solar system would first form a rather flat disk, the several rings forming and breaking into planets at about the same time. the conditions in saturn, where the inner ring remains parted, favours the view just stated. before making a brief statement of the several planets, the asteroids, and the satellites, it will be well to consider in a general way the motions of these bodies about their centres and about the sun. the most characteristic and invariable of these movements is that by which each of the planetary spheres, as well as the satellites, describes an orbit around the gravitative centre which has the most influence upon it--the sun. to conceive the nature of this movement, it will be well to imagine a single planet revolving around the sun, each of these bodies being perfect spheres, and the two the only members of the solar system. in this condition the attraction of the two bodies would cause them to circle around a common centre of gravity, which, if the planet were not larger or the sun smaller than is the case in our solar system, would lie within the mass of the sun. in proportion as the two bodies might approach each other in size, the centre of gravity would come the nearer to the middle point in a line connecting the two spheres. in this condition of a sun with a single planet, whatever were the relative size of sun and planet, the orbits which they traverse would be circular. in this state of affairs it should be noted that each of the two bodies would have its plane of rotation permanently in the same position. even if the spheres were more or less flattened about the poles of their axes, as is the case with all the planets which we have been able carefully to measure, as well as with the sun, provided the axes of rotation were precisely parallel to each other, the mutual attraction of the masses would cause no disturbance of the spheres. the same would be the case if the polar axis of one sphere stood precisely at right angles to that of the other. if, however, the spheres were somewhat flattened at the poles, and the axes inclined to each other, then the pull of one mass on the other would cause the polar axes to keep up a constant movement which is called nutation, or nodding. the reason why this nodding movement of the polar axes would occur when these lines were inclined to each other is not difficult to see if we remember that the attraction of masses upon each other is inversely as the square of the distance; each sphere, pulling on the equatorial bulging of the other, pulls most effectively on the part of it which is nearest, and tends to draw it down toward its centre. the result is that the axes of the attracted spheres are given a wobbling movement, such as we may note in the spinning top, though in the toy the cause of the motion is not that which we are considering. if, now, in that excellent field for the experiment we are essaying, the mind's eye, we add a second planet outside of the single sphere which we have so far supposed to journey about the sun, or rather about the common centre of gravity, we perceive at once that we have introduced an element which leads to a complication of much importance. the new sphere would, of course, pull upon the others in the measure of its gravitative value--i.e., its weight. the centre of gravity of the system would now be determined not by two distinct bodies, but by three. if we conceive the second planet to journey around the sun at such a rate that a straight line always connected the centres of the three orbs, then the only effect on their gravitative centre would be to draw the first-mentioned planet a little farther away from the centre of the sun; but in our own solar system, and probably in all others, this supposition is inadmissible, because the planets have longer journeys to go and also move slower, the farther they are from the sun. thus mercury completes the circle of its year in eighty-eight of our days, while the outermost planet requires sixty thousand days (more than one hundred and sixty-four years) for the same task. the result is not only that the centre of gravity of the system is somewhat displaced--itself a matter of no great account--but also that the orbit of the original planet ceases to be circled and becomes elliptical, and this for the evident reason that the sphere will be drawn somewhat away from the sun when the second planet happens to lie in the part of its orbit immediately outside of its position, in which case the pull is away from the solar centre; while, on the other hand, when the new planet was on the other side of the sun, its pull would serve to intensify the attraction which drew the first sphere toward the centre of gravity. as the pulling action of the three bodies upon each other, as well as upon their equatorial protuberances, would vary with every change in their relative position, however slight, the variations in the form of their orbits, even if the spheres were but three in number, would be very important. the consequences of these perturbations will appear in the sequel. in our solar system, though there are but eight great planets, the group of asteroids, and perhaps a score of satellites, the variety of orbital and axial movement which is developed taxes the computing genius of the ablest astronomer. the path which our earth follows around the sun, though it may in general and for convenience be described as a variable ellipse, is, in fact, a line of such complication that if we should essay a diagram of it on the scale of this page it would not be possible to represent any considerable part of its deviations. these, in fact, would elude depiction, even if the draughtsman had a sheet for his drawing as large as the orbit itself, for every particle of matter in space, even if it be lodged beyond the limits of the farthest stars revealed to us by the telescope, exercises a certain attraction, which, however small, is effective on the mass of the earth. science has to render its conclusions in general terms, and we can safely take them as such; but in this, as in other instances, it is well to qualify our acceptance of the statements by the memory that all things are infinitely more complicated than we can possibly conceive or represent them to be. we have next to consider the rotations of the planetary spheres upon their axes, together with the similar movement, or lack of it, in the case of their satellites. this rotation, according to the nebular hypothesis, may be explained by the movements which would set up in the share of matter which was at first a ring of the solar nebula, and which afterward gathered into the planetary aggregation. the way of it may be briefly set forth as follows: such a ring doubtless had a diameter of some million miles; we readily perceive that the particles of matter in the outer part of the belt would have a swifter movement around the sun than those on the inside. when by some disturbance, as possibly by the passage of a great meteoric body of a considerable gravitative power, this ring was broken in two, the particles composing it on either side would, because of their mutual attraction, tend to draw away from the breach, widening that gap until the matter of the broken ring was aggregated into a sphere of the star dust or vapour. when the nebulous matter originally in the ring became aggregated into a spherical form, it would, on account of the different rates at which the particles were moving when they came together, be the surer to fall in toward the centre, not in straight lines, but in curves--in other words, the mass would necessarily take on a movement of rotation essentially like that which we have described in setting forth the nebular hypothesis. in the stages of concentration the planetary nebulæ might well repeat those through which the greater solar mass proceeded. if the volume of the material were great, subordinate rings would be formed, which when they broke and concentrated would constitute secondary planets or satellites, such as our moon. for some reason as yet unknown the outer planets--in fact, all those in the solar system except the two inner, venus and mercury and the asteroids--formed such attendants. all these satellite-forming rings have broken and concentrated except the inner of saturn, which remains as an intellectual treasure of the solar system to show the history of its development. to the student who is not seeking the fulness of knowledge which astronomy has to offer, but desires only to acquaint himself with the more critical and important of the heavenly phenomena which help to explain the earth, these features of planetary movement should prove especially interesting for the reason that they shape the history of the spheres. as we shall hereafter see, the machinery of the earth's surface, all the life which it bears, its winds and rains--everything, indeed, save the actions which go on in the depths of the sphere--is determined by the heat and light which come from the sun. the conditions under which this vivifying tide is received have their origin in the planetary motion. if our earth's path around the centre of the system was a perfect circle, and if its polar axis lay at right angles to the plane of its journey, the share of light and heat which would fall upon any one point on the sphere would be perfectly uniform. there would be no variations in the length of day or night; no changes in the seasons; the winds everywhere would blow with exceeding steadiness--in fact, the present atmospheric confusion would be reduced to something like order. from age to age, except so far as the sun itself might vary in the amount of energy which it radiated, or lands rose up into the air or sunk down toward the sea level, the climate of each region would be perfectly stable. in the existing conditions the influences bring about unending variety. first of all, the inclined position of the polar axis causes the sun apparently to move across the heavens, so that it comes in an overhead position once or twice in the year in quite half the area of the lands and seas. this apparent swaying to and fro of the sun, due to the inclination of the axis of rotation, also affects the width of the climatal belts on either side of the equator, so that all parts of the earth receive a considerable share of the sun's influence. if the axis of the earth's rotation were at right angles to the plane of its orbit, there would be a narrow belt of high temperature about the equator, north and south of which the heat would grade off until at about the parallels of fifty degrees we should find a cold so considerable and uniform that life would probably fade away; and from those parallels to the poles the conditions would be those of permanent frost, and of days which would darken into the enduring night or twilight in the realm of the far north and south. thus the wide habitability of the earth is an effect arising from the inclination of its polar axis. [illustration: fig. .--inclination of planetary orbits (from chambers).] as the most valuable impression which the student can receive from his study of nature is that sense of the order which has made possible all life, including his own, it will be well for him to imagine, as he may readily do, what would be the effect arising from changes in relations of earth and sun. bringing the earth's axis in imagination into a position at right angles to the plane of the orbit, he will see that the effect would be to intensify the equatorial heat, and to rob the high latitudes of the share which they now have. on moving the axis gradually to positions where it approaches the plane of the orbit, he will note that each stage of the change widens the tropic belt. bringing the polar axis down to the plane of the orbit, one hemisphere would receive unbroken sunshine, the other remaining in perpetual darkness and cold. in this condition, in place of an equatorial line we should have an equatorial point at the pole nearest the sun; thence the temperatures would grade away to the present equator, beyond which half the earth would be in more refrigerating condition than are the poles at the present day. in considering the movements of our planet, we shall see that no great changes in the position of the polar axis can have taken place. on this account the suggested alterations of the axis should not be taken as other than imaginary changes. it is easy to see that with a circular orbit and with an inclined axis winter and summer would normally come always at the same point in the orbit, and that these seasons would be of perfectly even length. but, as we have before noted, the earth's path around the sun is in its form greatly affected by the attractions which are exercised by the neighbouring planets, principally by those great spheres which lie in the realm without its orbit, jupiter and saturn. when these attracting bodies, as is the case from time to time, though at long intervals, are brought together somewhere near to that part of the solar system in which the earth is moving around the sun, they draw our planet toward them, and so make its path very elliptical. when, however, they are so distributed that their pulling actions neutralize each other, the orbit returns more nearly to a circular form. the range in its eccentricity which can be brought about by these alterations is very great. when the path is most nearly circular, the difference in the major and minor axis may amount to as little as about five hundred thousand miles, or about one one hundred and eighty-sixth of its average diameter. when the variation is greatest the difference in these measurements may be as much as near thirteen million miles, or about one seventh of the mean width of the orbit. the first and most evident effect arising from these changes of the orbit comes from the difference in the amount of heat which the earth may receive according as it is nearer or farther from the sun. as in the case of other fires, the nearer a body is to it the larger the share of light and heat which it will receive. in an orbit made elliptical by the planetary attraction the sun necessarily occupies one of the foci of the ellipse. the result is, of course, that the side of the earth which is toward the sun, while it is thus brought the nearer to the luminary, receives more energy in the form of light and heat than come to any part which is exposed when the spheres are farther away from each other in the other part of the orbit. computations clearly show that the total amount of heat and the attendant light which the earth receives in a year is not affected by these changes in the form of its path. while it is true that it receives heat more rapidly in the half of the ellipse which is nearest the source of the inundation, it obtains less while it is farther away, and these two variations just balance each other. although the alterations in the eccentricity of its orbit do not vary the annual supply of heat which the earth receives, they are capable of changing the character of the seasons, and this in the way which we will now endeavour to set forth, though we must do it at the cost of considerable attention on the part of the reader, for the facts are somewhat complicated. in the first place, we must note that the ellipticity of the earth's orbit is not developed on fixed lines, but is endlessly varied, as we can readily imagine it would be for the reason that its form depends upon the wandering of the outer planetary spheres which pull the earth about. the longer axis of the ellipse is itself in constant motion in the direction in which the earth travels. this movement is slow, and at an irregular rate. it is easy to see that the effect of this action, which is called the revolution of the apsides, or, as the word means, the movement of the poles of the ellipse, is to bring the earth, when a given hemisphere is turned toward the sun, sometimes in the part of the orbit which is nearest the source of light and heat, and sometimes farther away. it may thus well come about that at one time the summer season of a hemisphere arrives when it is nearest the sun, so that the season, though hot, will be very short, while at another time the same season will arrive when the earth is farthest from the sun, and receives much less heat, which would tend to make a long and relatively cool summer. the reason for the difference in length of the seasons is to be found in the relative swiftness of the earth's revolution when it is nearest the sun, and the slowness when it is farther away. there is a further complication arising from that curious phenomenon called the precession of the equinoxes, which has to be taken into account before we can sufficiently comprehend the effect of the varying eccentricity of the orbit on the earth's seasons. to understand this feature of precession we should first note that it means that each year the change from the winter to the summer--or, as we phrase it, the passage of the equinoctial line--occurs a little sooner than the year before. the cause of this is to be found in the attraction which the heavenly bodies, practically altogether the moon, exercises on the equatorial protuberance of the earth. we know that the diameter of our sphere at the equator is, on the average, something more than twenty-six miles greater than it is through the poles. we know, furthermore, that the position of the moon in relation to the earth is such that it causes the attraction on one half of this protuberance to be greater than it is upon the other. we readily perceive that this action will cause the polar axis to make a certain revolution, or, what comes to the same thing, that the plane of the equator will constantly be altering its position. now, as the equinoctial points in the orbit depend for their position upon the attitude of the equatorial plane, we can conceive that the effect is a change in position of the place in that orbit where summer and winter begin. the actual result is to bring the seasonal points backward, step by step, through the orbit in a regular measure until in twenty-two thousand five hundred years they return to the place where they were before. this cycle of change was of old called the annus magnus, or great year. if the earth's orbit were an ellipse, the major axis of which remained in the same position, we could readily reckon all the effects which arise from the variations of the great year. but this ellipse is ever changing in form, and in the measure of its departure from a circle the effects on the seasons distributed over a great period of time are exceedingly irregular. now and then, at intervals of hundreds of thousands or millions of years, the orbit becomes very elliptical; then again for long periods it may in form approach a circle. when in the state of extreme ellipticity, the precession of the equinoxes will cause the hemispheres in turn each to have their winter and summer alternately near and far from the sun. it is easily seen that when the summer season comes to a hemisphere in the part of the orbit which is then nearest the sun the period will be very hot. when the summer came farthest from the sun that part of the year would have the temperature mitigated by its removal to a greater distance from the source of heat. a corresponding effect would be produced in the winter season. as long as the orbit remained eccentric the tendency would be to give alternately intense seasons to each hemisphere through periods of about twelve thousand years, the other hemisphere having at the same time a relatively slight variation in the summer and winter. at first sight it may seem to the reader that these studies we have just been making in matters concerning the shape of the orbit and the attendant circumstances which regulate the seasons were of no very great consequence; but, in the opinion of some students of climate, we are to look to these processes for an explanation of certain climatal changes on the earth, including the glacial periods, accidents which have had the utmost importance in the history of man, as well as of all the other life of the planet. it is now time to give some account as to what is known concerning the general conditions of the solar bodies--the planets and satellites of our own celestial group. for our purpose we need attend only to the general physical state of these orbs so far as it is known to us by the studies of astronomers. the nearest planet to the sun is mercury. this little sphere, less than half the diameter of our earth, is so close to the sun that even when most favourably placed for observation it is visible for but a few minutes before sunrise and after sunset. although it may without much difficulty be found by the ordinary eye, very few people have ever seen it. to the telescope when it is in the _full moon_ state it appears as a brilliant disk; it is held by most astronomers that the surface which we see is made up altogether of clouds, but this, as most else that has been stated concerning this planet, is doubtful. the sphere is so near to the sun that if it were possessed of water it would inevitably bear an atmosphere full of vapour. under any conceivable conditions of a planet placed as mercury is, provided it had an atmosphere to retain the heat, its temperature would necessarily be very high. life as we know it could not well exist upon such a sphere. next beyond mercury is venus, a sphere only a little less in diameter than the earth. of this sphere we know more than we do of mercury, for the reason that it is farther from the sun and so appears in the darkened sky. most astronomers hold that the surface of this planet apparently is almost completely and continually hidden from us by what appears to be a dense cloud envelope, through which from time to time certain spots appear of a dark colour. these, it is claimed, retain their place in a permanent way; it is, indeed, by observing them that the rotation period of the planet has, according to some observers, been determined. it therefore seems likely that these spots are the summits of mountains, which, like many of our own earth, rise above the cloud level. recent observations on venus made by mr. percival lowell appear to show that the previous determinations of the rotation of that planet, as well as regards its cloud wrap, are in error. according to these observations, the sphere moves about the sun, always keeping the same side turned toward the solar centre, just as the moon does in its motion around the earth. moreover, mr. lowell has failed to discover any traces of clouds upon the surface of the planet. as yet these results have not been verified by the work of other astronomers; resting, however, as they do on studies made with an excellent telescope and in the very translucent and steady air of the flagstaff station, they are more likely to be correct than those obtained by other students. if it be true that venus does not turn upon its axis, such is likely to be the case also with the planet mercury. next in the series of the planets is our own earth. as the details of this planet are to occupy us during nearly all the remainder of this work, we shall for the present pass it by. beyond the earth we pass first to the planet mars, a sphere which has already revealed to us much concerning its peculiarities of form and physical state, and which is likely in the future to give more information than we shall obtain from any other of our companions in space, except perhaps the moon. mars is not only nearer to us than any other planet, but it is so placed that it receives the light of the sun under favourable conditions for our vision. moreover, its sky appears to be generally almost cloudless, so that when in its orbital course the sphere is nearest our earth it is under favourable conditions for telescopic observation. at such times there is revealed to the astronomer a surface which is covered with an amazing number of shadings and markings which as yet have been incompletely interpreted. the faint nature of these indications has led to very contradictory statements as to their form; no two maps which have been drawn agree except in their generalities. there is reason to believe that mars has an atmosphere; this is shown by the fact that in the appropriate season the region about either pole is covered by a white coating, presumably snow. this covering extends rather less far toward the planet's equator than does the snow sheet on our continents. taking into account the colour of the coating, and the fact that it disappears when the summer season comes to the hemisphere in which it was formed, we are, in fact, forced to believe that the deposit is frozen water, though it has been suggested that it may be frozen carbonic acid. taken in connection with what we have shortly to note concerning the apparent seas of this sphere, the presumption is overwhelmingly to the effect that mars has seasons not unlike our own. the existence of snow on any sphere may safely be taken as evidence that there is an atmosphere. in the case of mars, this supposition is borne out by the appearance of its surface. the ruddy light which it sends back to us, and the appearance on the margin of the sphere, which is somewhat dim, appears to indicate that its atmosphere is dense. in fact, the existence of an atmosphere much denser than that of our own earth appears to be demanded by the fact that the temperatures are such as to permit the coming and going of snow. it is well known that the temperature of any point on the earth, other things being equal, is proportionate to the depth of atmosphere above its surface. if mars had no more air over its surface than has an equal area of the earth, it would remain at a temperature so low that such seasonal changes as we have observed could not take place. the planet receives one third less heat than an equal area of the earth, and its likeness to our own temperature, if such exists, is doubtless brought about by the greater density of its atmosphere, that serves to retain the heat which comes upon its surface. the manner in which this is effected will be set forth in the study of the earth's atmosphere. [illustration: fig. .--mars, august , (guiot), the white patch is the supposed polar snow cap.] as is shown by the maps of mars, the surface is occupied by shadings which seem to indicate the existence of water and lands. those portions of the area which are taken to be land are very much divided by what appear to be narrow seas. the general geographic conditions differ much from those of our own sphere in that the parts of the planet about the water level are not grouped in great continents, and there are no large oceans. the only likeness to the conditions of our earth which we can perceive is in a general pointing of the somewhat triangular masses of what appears to be land toward one pole. as a whole, the conditions of the martial lands and seas as regards their form, at least, is more like that of europe than that of any other part of the earth's surface. europe in the early tertiary times had a configuration even more like that of mars than it exhibits at present, for in that period the land was very much more divided than it now is. if the lands of mars are framed as are those of our own earth, there should be ridges of mountains constituting what we may term the backbones of the continent. as yet such have not been discerned, which may be due to the fact that they have not been carefully looked for. the only peculiar physical features which have as yet been discerned on the lands of mars are certain long, straight, rather narrow crevicelike openings, which have received the name of "canals." these features are very indistinct, and are just on the limit of visibility. as yet they have been carefully observed by but few students, so that their features are not yet well recorded; as far as we know them, these fissures have no likeness in the existing conditions of our earth. it is difficult to understand how they are formed or preserved on a surface which is evidently subjected to rainfalls. it will require much more efficient telescopes than we now have before it will be possible to begin any satisfactory study on the geography of this marvellous planet. we can not hope as yet to obtain any indications as to the details of its structure; we can not see closely enough to determine whether rivers exist, or whether there is a coating which we may interpret as vegetation, changing its hues in the different seasons of the year. an advance in our instruments of research during the coming century, if made with the same speed as during the last, will perhaps enable us to interpret the nature of this neighbour, and thereby to extend the conception of planetary histories which we derive from our own earth. [illustration: fig. .--comparative sizes of the planets (chambers).] beyond mars we find one of the most singular features of our solar system in a group of small planetary bodies, the number of which now known amounts to some two hundred, and the total may be far greater. these bodies are evidently all small; it is doubtful if the largest is three hundred and the smaller more than twenty miles in diameter. so far as it has been determined by the effect of their aggregate mass in attracting the other spheres, they would, if put together, make a sphere far less in diameter than our earth, perhaps not more than five hundred miles through. the forms of these asteroids is as yet unknown; we therefore can not determine whether their shapes are spheroidal, as are those of the other planets, or whether they are angular bits like the meteorites. we are thus not in a position to conjecture whether their independence began when the nebulous matter of the ring to which they belonged was in process of consolidation, or whether, after the aggregation of the sphere was accomplished, and the matter solidified, the mass was broken into bits in some way which we can not yet conceive. it has been conjectured that such a solid sphere might have been driven asunder by a collision with some wandering celestial body; but all we can conceive of such actions leads us to suppose that a blow of this nature would tend to melt or convert materials subjected to it into the state of vapour, rather than to drive them asunder in the manner of an explosion. the four planets which lie beyond the asteroids give us relatively little information concerning their physical condition, though they afford a wide field for the philosophic imagination. from this point of view the reader is advised to consult the writings of the late r.a. proctor, who has brought to the task of interpreting the planetary conditions the skill of a well-trained astronomer and a remarkable constructive imagination. the planet jupiter, by far the largest of the children of the sun, appears to be still in a state where its internal heat has not so far escaped that the surface has cooled down in the manner of our earth. what appear to be good observations show that the equatorial part of its area, at least, still glows from its own heat. the sphere is cloud-wrapped, but it is doubtful whether the envelope be of watery vapour; it is, indeed, quite possible that besides such vapour it may contain some part of the many substances which occupy the atmosphere of the sun. if the jovian sphere were no larger than the earth, it would, on account of its greater age, long ago have parted with its heat; but on account of its great size it has been able, notwithstanding its antiquity, to retain a measure of temperature which has long since passed away from our earth. in the case of saturn, the cloud bands are somewhat less visible than on jupiter, but there is reason to suppose in this, as in the last-named planet, that we do not behold the more solid surface of the sphere, but see only a cloud wrap, which is probably due rather to the heat of the sphere itself than to that which comes to it from the sun. at the distance of saturn from the centre of the solar system a given area of surface receives less than one ninetieth of the sun's heat as compared with the earth; therefore we can not conceive that any density of the atmosphere whatever would suffice to hold in enough temperature to produce ordinary clouds. moreover, from time to time bright spots appear on the surface of the planet, which must be due to some form of eruptions from its interior. beyond saturn the two planets uranus and neptune, which occupy the outer part of the solar system, are so remote that even our best telescopes discern little more than their presence, and the fact that they have attendant moons. from the point of view of astronomical science, the outermost planet neptune, of peculiar interest for the reason that it was, as we may say, discovered by computation. astronomers had for many years remarked the fact that the next inner planetary sphere exhibited peculiarities in its orbit which could only be accounted for on the supposition that it was subjected to the attraction of another wandering body which had escaped observation. by skilful computation the place in the heavens in which this disturbing element lay was so accurately determined that when the telescope was turned to the given field a brief study revealed the planet. nothing else in the history of the science of astronomy, unless it be the computation of eclipses, so clearly and popularly shows the accuracy of the methods by which the work of that science may be done. as we shall see hereafter, in the chapters which are devoted to terrestrial phenomena, the physical condition of the sun determines the course of all the more important events which take place on the surface of the earth. it is therefore fit that in this preliminary study of the celestial bodies, which is especially designed to make the earth more interpretable to us, we should give a somewhat special attention to what is known under the title of "solar physics." the reader has already been told that the sun is one of many million similar bodies which exist in space, and, furthermore, that these aggregations of matter have been developed from an original nebulous condition. the facts indicate that the natural history of the sun, as well as that of its attendant spheres, exhibits three momentous stages: first, that of vapour; second, that of igneous fluidity; third, that in which the sphere is so far congealed that it becomes dark. neither of these states is sharply separated from the other; a mass may be partly nebulous and partly fluid; even when it has been converted into fluid, or possibly into the solid state, it may still retain on the exterior some share of its original vaporous condition. in our sun the concentration has long since passed beyond the limits of the nebulous state; the last of the successively developed rings has broken, and has formed itself into the smallest of the planets, which by its distance from the sun seems to indicate that the process of division by rings long ago attained in our solar system its end, the remainder of its nebulous material concentrating on its centre without sign of any remaining tendency to produce these planet-making circles. the constitution of the sun. before the use of the telescope in astronomical work, which was begun by the illustrious galileo in , astronomers were unable to approach the problem of the structure of the sun. they could discern no more than can be seen by any one who looks at the great sphere through a bit of smoked glass, as we know this reveals a disklike body of very uniform appearance. the only variation in this simple aspect occurs at the time of a total eclipse, when for a minute or two the moon hides the whole body of the sun. on such occasions even the unaided eye can see that there is about the sphere a broad, rather bright field, of an aspect like a very thin cloud or fog, which rises in streamer like projections at points to a quarter of a million miles or more above the surface of the sphere. the appearance of this shining field, which is called the corona, reminds one of the aurora which glows in the region about either pole of the earth. one of the first results of the invention of the telescope was the revelation of the curious dark objects on the sun's disk, known by the name of spots from the time of their discovery, or, at least, from the time when it was clearly perceived that they were not planets, but really on the solar body. the interest in the constitution of the sphere has increased during the last fifty years. this interest has rapidly grown until at the present time a vast body of learning has been gathered for the solution of the many problems concerning the centre of our system. as yet there is great divergence in the views of astronomers as to the interpretation of their observations, but certain points of great general interest have been tolerably well determined. these may be briefly set forth by an account of what would meet the eye if an observer were able to pass from the surface of the earth to the central part of the sun. [illustration: _lava stream, in hawaiian islands, flowing into the sea. note the "ropy" character of the half-frozen rock on the sides of the nearest rivulet of the lava._] in passing from the earth to a point about a quarter of a million miles from the sun's surface--a distance about that of the moon from our sphere--the observer would traverse the uniformly empty spaces of the heavens, where, but for the rare chance of a passing meteorite or comet, there would be nothing that we term matter. arriving at a point some two or three hundred thousand miles from the body of the sun, he would enter the realm of the corona; here he would find scattered particles of matter, the bits so far apart that there would perhaps be not more than one or two in the cubic mile; yet, as they would glow intensely in the central light, they would be sufficient to give the illumination which is visible in an eclipse. these particles are most likely driven up from the sun by some electrical action, and are constantly in motion, much as are the streamers of the aurora. below the corona and sharply separated from it the observer finds another body of very dense vapour, which is termed the chromosphere, and which has been regarded as the atmosphere of the sun. this layer is probably several thousand miles thick. from the manner in which it moves, in the way the air of our own planet does in great storms, it is not easy to believe that it is a fluid, yet its sharply defined upper surface leads us to suppose that it can not well be a mere mass of vapour. the spectroscope shows us that this chromosphere contains in the state of vapour a number of metallic substances, such as iron and magnesium. to an observer who could behold this envelope of the sun from the distance at which we see the moon, the spectacle would be more magnificent than the imagination, guided by the sight of all the relatively trifling fractures of our earth, can possibly conceive. from the surface of the fiery sea vast uprushes of heated matter rise to the height of two or three hundred thousand miles, and then fall back upon its surface. these jets of heated matter have the aspect of flames, but they would not be such in fact, for the materials are not burning, but merely kept at a high temperature by the heat of the great sphere beneath. they spring up with such energy that they at times move with a speed of one hundred and fifty miles a second, or at a rate which is attained by no other matter in the visible universe, except that strange, wandering star known to astronomers as "grombridge, ," which is traversing the firmament with a speed of not less than two hundred miles a second. below the chromosphere is the photosphere, the lower envelope of the sun, if it be not indeed the body of the sphere itself; from this comes the light and heat of the mass. this, too, can not well be a firm-set mass, for the reason that the spots appear to form in and move over it. it may be regarded as an extremely dense mass of gas, so weighed down by the vast attraction of the great sphere below it that it is in effect a fluid. the near-at-hand observer would doubtless find this photosphere, as it appears in the telescope, to be sharply separated from the thinner and more vaporous envelopes--the chromosphere and the corona--which are, indeed, so thin that they are invisible even with the telescope, except when the full blaze of the sun is cut off in a total eclipse. the fact that the photosphere, except when broken by the so-called spots, lies like a great smooth sea, with no parts which lie above the general line, shows that it has a very different structure from the envelope which lies upon it. if they were both vaporous, there would be a gradation between them. on the surface of the photosphere, almost altogether within thirty degrees of the equator of the sun, a field corresponding approximately to the tropical belt of the earth, there appear from time to time the curious disturbances which are termed spots. these appear to be uprushes of matter in the gaseous state, the upward movement being upon the margins of the field and a downward motion taking place in the middle of the irregular opening, which is darkened in its central part, thus giving it, when seen by an ordinary telescope, the aspect of a black patch on the glowing surface. these spots, which are from some hundred to some thousand miles in diameter, may endure for months before they fade away. it is clear that they are most abundant at intervals of about eleven years, the last period of abundance being in . the next to come may thus be expected in . in the times of least spotting more than half the days of a year may pass without the surface of the photosphere being broken, while in periods of plenty no day in the year is likely to fail to show them. [illustration: fig. .--ordinary sun-spot, june , .] it is doubtful if the closest seeing would reveal the cause of the solar spots. the studies of the physicists who have devoted the most skill to the matter show little more than that they are tumults in the photosphere, attended by an uprush of vapours, in which iron and other metals exist; but whether these movements are due to outbreaks from the deeper parts of the sun or to some action like the whirling storms of the earth's atmosphere is uncertain. it is also uncertain what effect these convulsions of the sun have on the amount of the heat and light which is poured forth from the orb. the common opinion that the sun-spot years are the hottest is not yet fully verified. below the photosphere lies the vast unknown mass of the unseen solar realm. it was at one time supposed that the dark colour of the spots was due to the fact that the photosphere was broken through in those spaces, and that we looked down through them upon the surface of the slightly illuminated central part of the sphere. this view is untenable, and in its place we have to assume that for the eight hundred and sixty thousand miles of its diameter the sun is composed of matter such as is found in our earth, but throughout in a state of heat which vastly exceeds that known on or in our planet. owing to its heat, this matter is possibly not in either the solid or the fluid state, but in that of very compressed gases, which are kept from becoming solid or even fluid by the very high temperature which exists in them. this view is apparently supported by the fact that, while the pressure upon its matter is twenty-seven times greater in the sun than it is in the earth, the weight of the whole mass is less than we should expect under these conditions. as for the temperature of the sun, we only know that it is hot enough to turn the metals into gases in the manner in which this is done in a strong electric arc, but no satisfactory method of reckoning the scale of this heat has been devised. the probabilities are to the effect that the heat is to be counted by the tens of thousands of degrees fahrenheit, and it may amount to hundreds of thousands; it has, indeed, been reckoned as high as a million degrees. this vast discharge is not due to any kind of burning action--i.e., to the combustion of substances, as in a fire. it must be produced by the gradual falling in of the materials, due to the gravitation of the mass toward its centre, each particle converting its energy of position into heat, as does the meteorite when it comes into the air. it is well to close this very imperfect account of the learning which relates to the sun with a brief tabular statement showing the relative masses of the several bodies of the solar system. it should be understood that by mass is meant not the bulk of the object, but the actual amount of matter in it as determined by the gravitative attraction which it exercises on other celestial bodies. in this test the sun is taken as the measure, and its mass is for convenience reckoned at , , , . table of relative masses of sun and planets.[ ] +------------------------------------------------------------+ | the sun , , , | | mercury | | venus , | | earth , | | mars | | asteroids ? | | saturn , | | jupiter , | | uranus , | | neptune , | | combined mass of the four inner planets , | | combined mass of all the planets , , | +------------------------------------------------------------+ [footnote : see newcomb's popular astronomy, p. . harper brothers, new york.] it thus appears that the mass of all the planets is about one seven hundredth that of the sun. those who wish to make a close study of celestial geography will do well to procure the interesting set of diagrams prepared by the late james freeman clarke, in which transparencies placed in a convenient lantern show the grouping of the important stars in each constellation. the advantage of this arrangement is that the little maps can be consulted at night and in the open air in a very convenient manner. after the student has learned the position of a dozen of the constellations visible in the northern hemisphere, he can rapidly advance his knowledge in the admirable method invented by dr. clarke. having learned the constellations, the student may well proceed to find the several planets, and to trace them in their apparent path across the fixed stars. it will be well for him here to gain if he can the conception that their apparent movement is compounded of their motion around the sun and that of our own sphere; that it would be very different if our earth stood still in the heavens. at this stage he may well begin to take in mind the evidence which the planetary motion supplies that the earth really moves round the sun, and not the sun and planets round the earth. this discovery was one of the great feats of the human mind; it baffled the wits of the best men for thousands of years. therefore the inquirer who works over the evidence is treading one of the famous paths by which his race climbed the steeps of science. the student must not expect to find the evidence that the sun is the centre of the solar system very easy to interpret; and yet any youth of moderate curiosity, and that interest in the world about him which is the foundation of scientific insight, can see through the matter. he will best begin his inquiries by getting a clear notion of the fact that the moon goes round the earth. this is the simplest case of movements of this nature which he can see in the solar system. noting that the moon occupies a different place at a given hour in the twenty-four, but is evidently at all times at about the same distance from the earth, he readily perceives that it circles about our sphere. this the people knew of old, but they made of it an evidence that the sun also went around our sphere. here, then, is the critical point. why does the sun not behave in the same manner as the moon? at this stage of his inquiry the student best notes what takes place in the motions of the planets between the earth and the sun. he observes that those so-called inferior planets mercury and venus are never very far away from the central body; that they appear to rise up from it, and then to go back to it, and that they have phases like the moon. now and then venus may be observed as a black spot crossing the disk of the sun. a little consideration will show that on the theory that bodies revolve round each other in the solar system these movements of the inner planets can only be explained on the supposition that they at least travel around the great central fire. now, taking up the outer planets, we observe that they occasionally appear very bright, and that they are then at a place in the heavens where we see that they are far from the solar centre. gradually they move down toward the sunset and disappear from view. here, too, the movement, though less clearly so, is best reconcilable with the idea that these bodies travel in orbits, such as those which are traversed by the inner planets. the wonder is that with these simple facts before them, and with ample time to think the matter over, the early astronomers did not learn the great truth about the solar system--namely, that the sun is the centre about which the planets circled. their difficulty lay mainly in the fact that they did not conceive the earth as a sphere, and even after they attained that conception they believed that our globe was vastly larger than the planets, or even than the sun. this misconception kept even the thoughtful greeks, who knew that the earth was spherical in form, from a clear notion as to the structure of our system. it was not, indeed, until mathematical astronomy attained a considerable advance, and men began to measure the distances in the solar system, and until the newtonian theory of gravitation was developed, that the planetary orbits and the relation of the various bodies in the solar system to each other could be perfectly discerned. care has been taken in the above statements to give the student indices which may assist him in working out for himself the evidence which may properly lead a person, even without mathematical considerations of a formal kind, to construct a theory as to the relation of the planets to the sun. it is not likely that he can go through all the steps of this argument at once, but it will be most useful to him to ponder upon the problem, and gradually win his way to a full understanding of it. with that purpose in mind, he should avoid reading what astronomers have to say on the matter until he is satisfied that he has done as much as he can with the matter on his own account. he should, however, state his observations, and as far as possible draw the results in his note-book in a diagrammatic form. he should endeavour to see if the facts are reconcilable with any other supposition than that the earth and the other planets move around the sun. when he has done his task, he will have passed over one of the most difficult roads which his predecessors had to traverse on their way to an understanding of the heavens. even if he fail he will have helped himself to some large understandings. the student will find it useful to make a map of the heavens, or rather make several representing their condition at different times in the year. on this plot he should put down only the stars whose places and names he has learned, but he should plot the position of the planets at different times. in this way, though at first his efforts will be very awkward, he will soon come to know the general geography of the heavens. although the possession or at least the use of a small astronomical telescope is a great advantage to a student after he has made a certain advance in his work, such an instrument is not at all necessary, or, indeed, desirable at the outset of his studies. an ordinary opera-glass, however, will help him in picking out the stars in the constellations, in identifying the planets, and in getting a better idea as to the form of the moon's surface--a matter which will be treated in this work in connection with the structure of the earth. chapter iv. the earth. in beginning the study of the earth it is important that the student should at once form the habit of keeping in mind the spherical form of the planet. many persons, while they may blindly accept the fact that the earth is a sphere, do not think of it as having that form. perhaps the simplest way of securing the correct image of the shape is to imagine how the earth would appear as seen from the moon. in its full condition the moon is apt to appear as a disk. when it is new, and also when in its waning stages it is visible in the daytime, the spherical form is very apparent. imagining himself on the surface of the moon, the student can well perceive how the earth would appear as a vast body in the heavens; its eight thousand miles of diameter, about four times that of the satellite, would give an area sixteen times the size which the moon presents to us. on this scale the continents and oceans would appear very much more plain than do the relatively slight irregularities on the lunar surface. with the terrestrial globe in hand, the student can readily construct an image which will represent, at least in outline, the appearance which the sphere he inhabits would present when seen from a distance of about a quarter of a million miles away. the continent of europe-asia would of itself appear larger than all the lunar surface which is visible to us. every continent and all the greater islands would be clearly indicated. the snow covering which in the winter of the northern hemisphere wraps so much of the land would be seen to come and go in the changes of the seasons; even the permanent ice about either pole, and the greater regions of glaciers, such as those of the alps and the himalayas, would appear as brilliant patches of white amid fields of darker hue. even the changes in the aspect of the vegetation which at one season clothes the wide land with a green mantle, and at another assumes the dun hue of winter, would be, to the unaided eye, very distinct. it is probable that all the greater rivers would be traceable as lines of light across the relatively dark surface of the continents. by such exercises of the constructive imagination--indeed, in no other way--the student can acquire the habit of considering the earth as a vast whole. from time to time as he studies the earth from near by he should endeavour to assemble the phenomena in the general way which we have indicated. the reader has doubtless already learned that the earth is a slightly flattened sphere, having an average diameter of about eight thousand miles, the average section at the equator being about twenty-six miles greater than that from pole to pole. in a body of such large proportions this difference in measurement appears not important; it is, however, most significant, for it throws light upon the history of the earth's mass. computation shows that the measure of flattening at the poles is just what would occur if the earth were or had been at the time when it assumed its present form in a fluid condition. we readily conceive that a soft body revolving in space, while all its particles by gravitation tended to the centre, would in turning around, as our earth does upon its axis, tend to bulge out in those parts which were remote from the line upon which the turning took place. thus the flattening of our sphere at the poles corroborates the opinion that its mass was once molten--in a word, that its ancient history was such as the nebular theory suggests. although we have for convenience termed the earth a flattened spheroid, it is only such in a very general sense. it has an infinite number of minor irregularities which it is the province of the geographer to trace and that of the geologist to account for. in the first place, its surface is occupied by a great array of ridges and hollows. the larger of these, the oceans and continents, first deserve our attention. the difference in altitude of the earth's surface from the height of the continents to the deepest part of the sea is probably between ten and eleven miles, thus amounting to about two fifths of the polar flattening before noted. the average difference between the ocean floor and the summits of the neighbouring continents is probably rather less than four miles. it happens, most fortunately for the history of the earth, that the water upon its surface fills its great concavities on the average to about four fifths of their total depth, leaving only about one fifth of the relief projecting above the ocean level. we have termed this arrangement fortunate, for it insures that rainfall visits almost all the land areas, and thereby makes those realms fit for the uses of life. if the ocean had only half its existing area, the lands would be so wide that only their fringes would be fertile. if it were one fifth greater than it is, the dry areas would be reduced to a few scattered islands. from all points of view the most important feature of the earth's surface arises from its division into land and water areas, and this for the reason that the physical and vital work of our sphere is inevitably determined by this distribution. the shape of the seas and lands is fixed by the positions at which the upper level of the great water comes against the ridges which fret the earth's surface. these elevations are so disposed that about two thirds of the hard mass is at the present time covered with water, and only one third exposed to the atmosphere. this proportion is inconstant. owing to the endless up-and-down goings of the earth's surface, the place of the shore lines varies from year to year, and in the geological ages great revolutions in the forms and relative area of water and land are brought about. noting the greater divisions of land and water as they are shown on a globe, we readily perceive that those parts of the continental ridges which rise above the sea level are mainly accumulated in the northern hemisphere--in fact, far more than half the dry realm is in that part of the world. we furthermore perceive that all the continents more or less distinctly point to the southward; they are, in a word, triangles, with their bases to the northward, and their apices, usually rather acute, directed to the southward. this form is very well indicated in three of the great lands, north and south america and africa; it is more indistinctly shown in asia and in australia. as yet we do not clearly understand the reason why the continents are triangular, why they point toward the south pole, or why they are mainly accumulated in the northern hemisphere. as stated in the chapter on astronomy, some trace of the triangular form appears in the land masses of the planet mars. there, too, these triangles appear to point toward one pole. besides the greater lands, the seas are fretted by a host of smaller dry areas, termed islands. these, as inquiry has shown, are of two very diverse natures. near the continents, practically never more than a thousand miles from their shores, we find isles, often of great size, such as madagascar, which in their structure are essentially like the continents--that is, they are built in part or in whole of non-volcanic rocks, sandstones, limestones, etc. in most cases these islands, to which we may apply the term continental, have at some time been connected with the neighbouring mainland, and afterward separated from it by a depression of the surface which permitted the sea to flow over the lowlands. geologists have traced many cases where in the past elevations which are now parts of a continent were once islands next its shore. in the deeper seas far removed from the margins of the continents the islands are made up of volcanic ejections of lava, pumice, and dust, which has been thrown up from craters and fallen around their margin or are formed of coral and other organic remains. next after this general statement as to the division of sea and land we should note the peculiarities which the earth's surface exhibits where it is bathed by the air, and where it is covered by the water. beginning with the best-known region, that of the dry land, we observe that the surface is normally made up of continuous slopes of varying declivity, which lead down from the high points to the sea. here and there, though rarely, these slopes centre in a basin which is occupied by a lake or a dead sea. on the deeper ocean floors, so far as we may judge with the defective information which the plumb line gives us, there is no such continuity in the downward sloping of the surface, the area being cast into numerous basins, each of great extent. when we examine in some detail the shape of the land surface, we readily perceive that the continuous down slopes are due to the cutting action of rivers. in the basin of a stream the waters act to wear away the original heights, filling them into the hollows, until the whole area has a continuous down grade to the point where the waters discharge into the ocean or perhaps into a lake. on the bottom of the sea, except near the margin of the continent, where the floor may in recent geological times have been elevated into the air, and thus exposed to river action, there is no such agent working to produce continuous down grades. looking upon a map of a continent which shows the differences in altitude of the land, we readily perceive that the area is rather clearly divided into two kinds of surface, mountains and plains, each kind being sharply distinguished from the other by many important peculiarities. mountains are characteristically made up of distinct, more or less parallel ridges and valleys, which are grouped in very elongated belts, which, in the case of the american cordilleras, extend from the arctic to the antarctic circle. only in rare instances do we find mountains occupying an area which is not very distinctly elongated, and in such cases the elevations are usually of no great height. plains, on the other hand, commonly occupy the larger part of the continent, and are distributed around the flanks of the mountain systems. there is no rule as to their shape; they normally grade away from the bases of the mountains toward the sea, and are often prolonged below the level of the water for a considerable distance beyond the shore, forming what is commonly known as the continental shelf or belt of shallows along the coast line. we will now consider some details concerning the form and structure of mountains. in almost any mountain region a glance over the surface of the country will give the reader a clew to the principal factor which has determined the existence of these elevations. wherever the bed rocks are revealed he will recognise the fact that they have been much disturbed. almost everywhere the strata are turned at high angles; often their slopes are steeper than those of house roofs, and not infrequently they stand in attitudes where they appear vertical. under the surface of plains bedded rocks generally retain the nearly horizontal position in which all such deposits are most likely to be found. if the observer will attentively study the details of position of these tilted rocks of mountainous districts, he will in most cases be able to perceive that the beds have been flexed or folded in the manner indicated by the diagram. sometimes, though rarely, the tops of these foldings or arches have been preserved, so that the nature of the movement can be clearly discerned. more commonly the upper parts of the upward-arching strata have been cut off by the action of the decay-bringing forces--frost, flowing water, or creeping ice in glaciers--so that only the downward pointing folds which were formed in the mountain-making are well preserved, and these are almost invariably hidden within the earth. [illustration: fig. .--section of mountains. rockbridge and bath counties, va. (from dana). the numbers indicate the several formations.] by walking across any considerable mountain chain, as, for instance, that of the alleghanies, it is generally possible to trace a number of these parallel up-and-down folds of the strata, so that we readily perceive that the original beds had been packed together into a much less space than they at first occupied. in some cases we could prove that the shortening of the line has amounted to a hundred miles or more--in other words, points on the plain lands on either side of the mountain range which now exists may have been brought a hundred miles or so nearer together than they were before the elevations were produced. the reader can make for himself a convenient diagram showing what occurred by pressing a number of leaves of this book so that the sheets of paper are thrown into ridges and furrows. by this experiment he also will see that the easiest way to account for such foldings as we observe in mountains is by the supposition that some force residing in the earth tends to shove the beds into a smaller space than they originally occupied. not only are the rocks composing the mountains much folded, but they are often broken through after the manner of masonry which has been subjected to earthquake shocks, or of ice which has been strained by the expansion that affects it as it becomes warmed before it is melted. in fact, many of our small lakes in new england and in other countries of a long winter show in a miniature way during times of thawing ice folds which much resemble mountain arches. at first geologists were disposed to attribute all the phenomena of mountain-folding to the progressive cooling of the earth. although this sphere has already lost a large part of the heat with which it was in the beginning endowed, it is still very hot in its deeper parts, as is shown by the phenomena of volcanoes. this internal heat, which to the present day at the depth of a hundred miles below the surface is probably greater than that of molten iron, is constantly flowing away into space; probably enough of it goes away on the average each day to melt a hundred cubic miles or more of ice, or, in more scientific phrase, the amount of heat rendered latent by melting that volume of frozen water. j.r. meyer, an eminent physicist, estimated the quantity of heat so escaping each day of the year to be sufficient to melt two hundred and forty cubic miles of ice. the effect of this loss of heat is constantly to shrink the volume of the earth; it has, indeed, been estimated that the sphere on this account contracts on the average to the amount of some inches each thousand years. for the reason that almost all this heat goes from the depths of the earth, the cool outer portion losing no considerable part of it, the contraction that is brought about affects the interior portions of the sphere alone. the inner mass constantly shrinking as it loses heat, the outer, cold part is by its weight forced to settle down, and can only accomplish this result by wrinkling. an analogous action may be seen where an apple or a potato becomes dried; in this case the hard outer rind is forced to wrinkle, because, losing no water, it does not diminish in its extent, and can only accommodate itself to the interior by a wrinkling process. in one case it is water which escapes, in the other heat; but in both contraction of the part which suffers the loss leads to the folding of the outside of the spheroid. although this loss of heat on the part of the earth accounts in some measure for the development of mountains, it is not of itself sufficient to explain the phenomena, and this for the reason that mountains appear in no case to develop on the floors of the wide sea. the average depth of the ocean is only fifteen thousand feet, while there are hundreds, if not thousands, of mountain crests which exceed that height above the sea. therefore if mountains grew on the sea floor as they do upon the land, there should be thousands of peaks rising above the plain of the waters, while, in fact, all of the islands except those near the shores of continents are of volcanic origin--that is, are lands of totally different nature. whenever a considerable mountain chain is formed, although the actual folding of the beds is limited to the usually narrow field occupied by these disturbances, the elevation takes place over a wide belt of country on one or both sides of the range. thus if we approach the rocky mountains from the mississippi valley, we begin to mount up an inclined plane from the time we pass westward from the mississippi river. the beds of rock as well as the surface rises gradually until at the foot of the mountain; though the rocks are still without foldings, they are at a height of four or five thousand feet above the sea. it seems probable--indeed, we may say almost certain--that when the crust is broken, as it is in mountain-building, by extensive folds and faults, the matter which lies a few score miles below the crust creeps in toward those fractures, and so lifts up the country on which they lie. when we examine the forms of any of our continents, we find that these elevated portions of the earth's crust appear to be made up of mountains and the table-lands which fringe those elevations. there is not, as some of our writers suppose, two different kinds of elevation in our great lands--the continents and the mountains which they bear--but one process of elevation by which the foldings and the massive uplifts which constitute the table-lands are simultaneously and by one process formed. looking upon continents as the result of mountain growth, we may say that here and there on the earth's crust these dislocations have occurred in such association and of such magnitude that great areas have been uplifted above the plain of the sea. in general, we find these groups of elevations so arranged that they produce the triangular form which is characteristic of the great lands. it will be observed, for instance, that the form of north america is in general determined by the position of the appalachian and cordilleran systems on its eastern and western margins, though there are a number of smaller chains, such as the laurentians in canada and the ice-covered mountains of greenland, which have a measure of influence in fixing its shore lines. [illustration: _waterfall near gadsden, alabama. the upper shelf of rock is a hard sandstone, the lower beds are soft shale. the conditions are those of most waterfalls, such as niagara._] the history of plains, as well as that of mountains, will have further light thrown upon it when in the next chapter we come to consider the effect of rain water on the land. we may here note the fact that the level surfaces which are above the seashores are divisible into two main groups--those which have been recently lifted above the sea level, composed of materials laid down in the shallows next the shore, and which have not yet shared in mountain-building disturbances, and those which have been slightly tilted in the manner before indicated in the case of the plains which border the rocky mountains on the east. the great southern plain of eastern and southern united states, extending from near new york to mexico, is a good specimen of the level lands common on all the continents which have recently emerged from the sea. the table-lands on either side of the mississippi valley, sloping from the alleghanies and the cordilleras, represent the more ancient type of plain which has already shared in the elevation which mountain-building brings about. in rarer cases plains of small area are formed where mountains formerly existed by the complete moving down of the original ridges. there is a common opinion that the continents are liable in the course of the geologic ages to very great changes of position; that what is now sea may give place to new great lands, and that those already existing may utterly disappear. this opinion was indeed generally held by geologists not more than thirty years ago. further study of the problem has shown us that while parts of each continent may at any time be depressed beneath the sea, the whole of its surface rarely if ever goes below the water level. thus, in the case of north america, we can readily note very great changes in its form since the land began to rise above the water. but always, from that ancient day to our own, some portion of the area has been above the level of the sea, thus providing an ark of refuge for the land life when it was disturbed by inundations. the strongest evidence in favour of the opinion that the existing continents have endured for many million years is found in the fact that each of the great lands preserves many distinct groups of animals and plants which have descended from ancient forms dwelling upon the same territory. if at any time the relatively small continent of australia had gone beneath the sea, all of the curious pouched animals akin to the opossum and kangaroo which abound in that country--creatures belonging in the ancient life of the world--would have been overwhelmed. we have already noted the fact that the uplifting of mountains and of the table-lands about them, which appears to have been the basis of continental growth, has been due to strains in the rocks sufficiently strong to disturb the beds. at each stage of the mountain-building movement these compressive strains have had to contend with the very great weight of the rocks which they had to move. these lands are not to be regarded as firm set or rigid arches, but as highly elastic structures, the shapes of which may be determined by any actions which put on or take off burden. we see a proof of this fact from numerous observations which geologists are now engaged in making. thus during the last ice epoch, when almost all the northern part of this continent, as well as the northern part of europe, was covered by an ice sheet several thousand feet thick, the lands sank down under their load, and to an extent roughly proportional to the depth of the icy covering. while the northern regions were thus tilted down by the weight which was upon them, the southern section of this land, the region about the gulf of mexico, was elevated much above its present level; it seems likely, indeed, that the peninsula of florida rose to the height of several hundred feet above its present shore line. after the ice passed away the movements were reversed, the northern region rising and the southern sinking down. these movements are attested by the position of the old shore lines formed during the later stages of the glacial epoch. thus around lake ontario, as well as the other great lakes, the beaches which mark the higher positions of those inland seas during the closing stages of the ice time, and which, of course, were when formed horizontal, now rise to the northward at the rate of from two to five feet for each mile of distance. recent studies by mr. g.k. gilbert show that this movement is still in progress. other evidence going to show the extent to which the movements of the earth's crust are affected by the weight of materials are found in the fact that wherever along the shores thick deposits of sediments are accumulated the tendency of the region where they lie is gradually to sink downward, so that strata having an aggregate thickness of ten thousand feet or more may be accumulated in a sea which was always shallow. the ocean floor, in general, is the part of the earth's surface where strata are constantly being laid down. in the great reservoir of the waters the _débris_ washed from the land, the dust from volcanoes, and that from the stellar spaces, along with the vast accumulation of organic remains, almost everywhere lead to the steadfast accumulation of sedimentary deposits. on the other hand, the realms of the surface above the ocean level are constantly being worn away by the action of the rivers and glaciers, of the waves which beat against the shores, and of the winds which blow over desert regions. the result is that the lands are wearing down at the geologically rapid average rate of somewhere about one foot in five thousand years. all this heavy matter goes to the sea bottoms. probably to this cause we owe in part the fact that in the wrinklings of the crust due to the contraction of the interior the lands exhibit a prevailing tendency to uprise, while the ocean floors sink down. in this way the continents are maintained above the level of the sea despite the powerful forces which are constantly wearing their substance away, while the seas remain deep, although they are continually being burdened with imported materials. [illustration: fig. .--diagram showing the effect of the position of the fulcrum point in the movement of the land masses. in diagrams i and ii, the lines _a b_ represent the land before the movement, and _a' b'_ its position after the movement; _s_, _s_, the position of the shore line; _p_, _p_, the pivotal points; _l_, _s_, the sea line. in diagram iii, the curved line designates a shore; the line _a b_, connecting the pivotal points _p_, _p_, is partly under the land and partly under the sea.] it is easy to see that if the sea floors tend to sink downward, while the continental lands uprise, the movements which take place may be compared with those which occur in a lever about a fulcrum point. in this case the sea end of the bar is descending and the land end ascending. now, it is evident that the fulcrum point may fall to the seaward or to the landward of the shore; only by chance and here and there would it lie exactly at the coast line. by reference to the diagram (fig. ), it will be seen that, while the point of rotation is just at the shore, a considerable movement may take place without altering the position of the coast line. where the point of no movement is inland of the coast, the sea will gain on the continent; where, however, the point is to seaward, beneath the water, the land will gain on the ocean. in this way we can, in part at least, account for the endless changes in the attitude of the land along the coastal belt without having to suppose that the continents cease to rise or the sea floors to sink downward. it is evident that the bar or section of the rocks from the interior of the land to the bottoms of the seas is not rigid; it is also probable that the matter in the depths of the earth, which moves with the motions of this bar, would change the position of the fulcrum point from time to time. thus it may well come about that our coast lines are swaying up and down in ceaseless variation. in very recent geological times, probably since the beginning of the last glacial period, the region about the dismal swamp in virginia has swayed up and down through four alternating movements to the extent of from fifty to one hundred feet. the coast of new jersey is now sinking at the rate of about two feet in a hundred years. the coast of new england, though recently elevated to the extent of a hundred feet or more, at a yet later time sank down, so that at some score of points between new york and eastport, me., we find the remains of forests with the roots of their trees still standing below high-tide mark in positions where the trees could not have grown. along all the marine coasts of the world which have been carefully studied from this point of view there are similar evidences of slight or great modern changes in the level of the lands. at some points, particularly on the coast of alaska and along the coast of peru, these uplifts of the land have amounted to a thousand feet or more. in the peninsular district of scandinavia the swayings, sometimes up and sometimes down, which are now going on have considerably changed the position of the shore lines since the beginning of the historical period. there are other causes which serve to modify the shapes and sizes of the continents which may best be considered in the sequel; for the present we may pass from this subject with the statement that our great lands are relatively permanent features; their forms change from age to age, but they have remained for millions of years habitable to the hosts of animals and plants which have adapted their life to the conditions which these fields afford them. chapter v. the atmosphere. the firm-set portion of the earth, composed of materials which became solid when the heat so far disappeared from the sphere that rocky matter could pass from its previous fluid condition to the solid or frozen state, is wrapped about by two great envelopes, the atmosphere and the waters. of these we shall first consider the lighter and more universal air; in taking account of its peculiarities we shall have to make some mention of the water with which it is greatly involved; afterward we shall consider the structure and functions of that fluid. atmospheric envelopes appear to be common features about the celestial spheres. in the sun there is, as we have noted, a very deep envelope of this sort which is in part composed of the elements which form our own air; but, owing to the high temperature of the sphere, these are commingled with many substances which in our earth--at least in its outer parts--have entered in the solid state. some of the planets, so far as we can discern their conditions, seem also to have gaseous wraps; this is certainly the case with the planet mars, and even the little we know of the other like spheres justifies the supposition that jupiter and saturn, at least, have a like constitution. we may regard an atmosphere, in a word, as representing a normal and long-continued state in the development of the heavenly orbs. in only one of these considerable bodies of the solar system, the moon, do we find tolerably clear evidence that there is no atmosphere. the atmosphere of the earth is composed mainly of very volatile elements, known as nitrogen and argon. this is commingled with oxygen, also a volatile element. into this mass a number of other substances enter in varying but always relatively very small proportions. of these the most considerable are watery vapour and carbon dioxide; the former of these rarely amounts to one per cent of the weight of the air, considering the atmosphere as a whole, and the latter is never more than a small fraction of one per cent in amount. as a whole, the air envelope of the earth should be regarded as a mass of nitrogen and argon, which only rarely, under the influence of conditions which exist in the soil, enters into combinations with other elements by which it assumes a solid form. the oxygen, though a permanent element in the atmosphere, tends constantly to enter into combinations which fix it temporarily or permanently in the earth, in which it forms, indeed, in its combined state about one half the weight of all the mineral substances we know. the carbon dioxide, or carbonic-acid gas, as it is commonly termed, is a most important substance, as it affords plants all that part of their bodies which disappear on burning. it is constantly returned to the atmosphere by the decay of organic matter, as well as by volcanic action. in addition to the above-noted materials composing the air, all of which are imperatively necessary to the wonderful work accomplished by that envelope, we find a host of other substances which are accidentally, variably, and always in small quantities contained in this realm. thus near the seashores, and indeed for a considerable distance into the continent, we find the air contains a certain amount of salt so finely divided that it floats in the atmosphere. so, too, we find the air, even on the mountain tops amid eternal snows, charged with small particles of dust, which, though not evident to the unassisted eye, become at once visible when we permit a slender ray of light to enter a dark chamber. it is commonly asserted that the atmosphere does not effectively extend above the height of forty-five miles; we know that it is densest on the surface of the earth, the most so in those depressions which lie below the level of the sea. this is proved to us by the weight which the air imposes upon the mercury at the open end of a barometric tube. if we could deepen these cavities to the extent of a thousand miles, the pressure would become so great that if the pit were kept free from the heat of the earth the gaseous materials would become liquefied. upward from the earth's surface at the sea level the atoms and molecules of the air become farther apart until, at the height of somewhere between forty and fifty miles, the quantity of them contained in the ether is so small that we can trace little effect from them on the rays of light which at lower levels are somewhat bent by their action. at yet higher levels, however, meteors appear to inflame by friction against the particles of air, and even at the height of eighty miles very faint clouds have at times been discerned, which are possibly composed of volcanic dust floating in the very rarefied medium, such as must exist at this great elevation. the air not only exists in the region where we distinctly recognise it; it also occupies the waters and the under earth. in the waters it occurs as a mechanical mixture which is brought about as the rain forms and falls in the air, as the streams flow to the sea, and as the waves roll over the deep and beat against the shores. in the realm of the waters, as well as on the land, the air is necessary for the maintenance of all animal forms; but for its presence such life would vanish from the earth. owing to certain peculiarities in its constitution, the atmosphere of our earth, and that doubtless of myriad other spheres, serves as a medium of communication between different regions. it is, as we know, in ceaseless motion at rates which may vary from the speed in the greatest tempests, which may move at the rate of somewhere a hundred and fifty miles an hour, to the very slow movements which occur in caverns, where the transfer is sometimes effected at an almost microscopic rate in the space of a day. the motion of the atmosphere is brought about by the action of heat here and there, and in a trifling way, by the heat from the interior of the earth escaping through hot springs or volcanoes, but almost altogether by the heat of the sun. if we can imagine the earth cut off from the solar radiation, the air would cease to move. we often note how the variable winds fall away in the nighttime. those who in seeking for the north pole have spent winters in the long-continued dark of that region have noted that the winds almost cease to blow, the air being disturbed only when a storm originated in the sunlit realm forced its way into the circumpolar darkness. the sun's heat does not directly disturb the atmosphere; if we could take the solid sphere of the world away, leaving the air, the rays would go straight through, and there would be no winds produced. this is due to the fact that the air permits the direct rays of heat, such as come from the sun, to pass through it with very slight resistance. in an aërial globe such as we have imagined, the rays impinging upon its surface would be slightly thrown out of their path as they are in passing through a lens, but they would journey on in space without in any considerable measure warming the mass. coming, however, upon the solid earth, the heat rays warm the materials on which they are arrested, bringing them to a higher temperature than the air. then these heated materials radiate the energy into the air; it happens, however, that this radiant heat can not journey back into space as easily as it came in; therefore the particles of air next the surface acquire a relatively high temperature. thus a thermometer next the ground may rise to over a hundred degrees fahrenheit, while at the same time the fleecy clouds which we may observe floating at the height of five or six miles above the surface are composed of frozen water. the effect of the heated air which acquires its temperature by radiation from the earth's surface is to produce the winds. this it brings about in a very simple manner, though the details of the process have a certain complication. the best illustration of the mode in which the winds are produced is obtained by watching what takes place about an ordinary fire at the bottom of a chimney. as soon as the fire is lit, we observe that the air about it, so far as it is heated, tends upward, drawing the smoke with it. if the air in the chimney be cold, it may not draw well at first; but in a few minutes the draught is established, or, in other words, the heated lower air breaks its way up the shaft, gradually pushing the cooler matter out at the top. in still air we may observe the column from the flue extending about the chimney-top, sometimes to the height of a hundred feet or more before it is broken to pieces. it is well here to note the fact that the energy of the draught in a chimney is, with a given heat of fire and amount of air which is permitted to enter the shaft, directly proportionate to the height; thus in very tall flues, between two and three hundred feet high, which are sometimes constructed, the uprush is at the speed of a gale. whenever the air next the surface is so far heated that it may overcome the inertia of the cooler air above, it forces its way up through it in the general manner indicated in the chimney flue. when such a place of uprush is established, the hot air next the surface flows in all directions toward the shaft, joining the expedition to the heights of the atmosphere. owing to the conditions of the earth's surface, which we shall now proceed to trace, these ascents of heated air belong in two distinct classes--those which move upward through more or less cylindrical chimneys in the atmosphere, shafts which are impermanent, which vary in diameter from a few feet to fifty or perhaps a hundred miles, and which move over the surface of the earth; and another which consists of a broad, beltlike shaft in the equatorial regions, which in a way girdles the earth, remains in about the same place, continually endures, and has a width of hundreds of miles. of these two classes of uprushes we shall first consider the greatest, which occurs in the central portions of the tropical realm. under the equator, owing to the fact that the sun for a considerable belt of land and sea maintains the earth at a high temperature, there is a general updraught which began many million years ago, probably before the origin of life, in the age when our atmosphere assumed its present conditions. into this region the cooler air from the north and south necessarily flows, in part pressed in by the weight of the cold air which overlies it, but aided in its motion by the fact that the particles which ascend leave place for others to occupy. over the surfaces of the land within the tropical region this draught toward what we may term the equatorial chimney is perturbed by the irregularities of the surface and many local accidents. but on the sea, where the conditions are uniform, the air moving toward the point of ascent is marked in the trade winds, which blow with a steadfast sweep down toward the equator. many slight actions, such as the movement of the hot and cold currents of the sea, the local air movements from the lands or from detached islands, somewhat perturb the trade winds, but they remain among the most permanent features in this changeable world. it is doubtful if anything on this sphere except the atoms and molecules of matter have varied as little as the trade winds in the centre of the wide ocean. so steadfast and uniform are they that it is said that the helm and sails of a ship may be set near the west coast of south america and be left unchanged for a voyage which will carry the navigator in their belt across the width of the pacific. rising up from the earth in the tropical belt, the air attains the height of several thousand feet; it then begins to curve off toward the north and south, and at the height of somewhere about three to five miles above the surface is again moving horizontally toward either pole; attaining a distance on that journey, it gradually settles down to the surface of the earth, and ceases to move toward higher latitudes. if the earth did not revolve upon its axis the course of these winds along the surface toward the equator, and in the upper air back toward the poles, would be made in what we may call a square manner--that is, the particles of air would move toward the point where they begin to rise upward in due north and south lines, according as they came from the southern or northern hemisphere, and the upper currents or counter trades would retrace their paths also parallel with the meridians or longitude lines. but because the earth revolves from west to east, the course of the trade winds is oblique to the equator, those in the northern hemisphere blowing from northeast to southwest, those in the southern from southeast to northwest. the way in which the motion of the earth affects the direction of these currents is not difficult to understand. it is as follows: let us conceive a particle of air situated immediately over the earth's polar axis. such an atom would by the rotation of the sphere accomplish no motion except, indeed, that it might turn round on its own centre. it would acquire no velocity whatever by virtue of the earth's movement. then let us imagine the particle moving toward the equator with the speed of an ordinary wind. at every step of its journey toward lower latitudes it would come into regions having a greater movement than those which it had just left. owing to its inertia, it would thus tend continually to lag behind the particles of matter about it. it would thus fall off to the westward, and, in place of moving due south, would in the northern hemisphere drift to the southwest, and in the southern hemisphere toward the northwest. a good illustration of this action may be obtained from an ordinary turn-table such as is used about railway stations to reverse the position of a locomotive. if the observer will stand in the centre of such a table while it is being turned round he will perceive that his body is not swayed to the right or left. if he will then try to walk toward the periphery of the rotating disk, he will readily note that it is very difficult, if not impossible, to walk along the radius of the circle; he naturally falls behind in the movement, so that his path is a curved line exactly such as is followed by the winds which move toward the equator in the trades. if now he rests a moment on the periphery of the table, so that his body acquires the velocity of the disk at that point, and then endeavours to walk toward the centre, he will find that again he can not go directly; his path deviates in the opposite direction--in other words, the body continually going to a place having a less rate of movement by virtue of the rotation of the earth, on account of its momentum is ever moving faster than the surface over which it passes. this experiment can readily be tried on any small rotating disk, such as a potter's wheel, or by rolling a marble or a shot from the centre to the circumference and from the circumference to the centre. a little reflection will show the inquirer how these illustrations clearly account for the oblique though opposite sets of the trade winds in the upper and lower parts of the air. the dominating effect of the tropical heat in controlling the movements of the air currents extends, on the ocean surface, in general about as far north and south as the parallels of forty degrees, considerably exceeding the limits of the tropics, those lines where the sun, because of the inclination of the earth's axis, at some time of the year comes just overhead. between these belts of trade winds there is a strip or belt under the region where the atmosphere is rising from the earth, in which the winds are irregular and have little energy. this region of the "doldrums" or frequent calms is one of much trouble to sailing ships on their voyages from one hemisphere to another. in passing through it their sails are filled only by the airs of local storms, or winds which make their way into that part of the sea from the neighbouring continents. beyond the trade-wind belt, toward the poles, the movements of the atmosphere are dependent in part on the counter trades which descend to the surface of the earth in latitudes higher than that in which the surface or trade winds flow. thus along our atlantic coast, and even in the body of the continent, at times when the air is not controlled by some local storm, the counter trade blows with considerable regularity. the effect of the trade and counter-trade movements of the air on the distribution of temperature over the earth's surface is momentous. in part their influence is due to the direct heat-carrying power of the atmosphere; in larger measure it is brought about by the movement of the ocean waters which they induce. atmospheric air, when deprived of the water which it ordinarily contains, has very little heat-containing capacity. practically nearly all the power of conveying heat which it possesses is due to the vapour of water which it contains. by virtue of this moisture the winds do a good deal to transfer heat from the tropical or superheated portion of the earth's surface to the circumpolar or underheated realms. at first, the relatively cool air which journeys toward the equator along the surface of the sea constantly gains in heat, and in that process takes up more and more water, for precisely the same reason that causes anything to dry more rapidly in air which has been warmed next a fire. the result is that before it begins to ascend in the tropical updraught, being much moisture-laden, the atmosphere stores a good deal of heat. as it rises, rarefies, and cools, the moisture descends in the torrential rains which ordinarily fall when the sun is nearly vertical in the tropical belt. here comes in a very interesting principle which is of importance in understanding the nature of great storms, either the continuous storm of the tropics or the local and irregular whirlings which occur in various parts of the earth. when the moisture-laden air starts on its upward journey from the earth it has, by virtue of the watery vapour which it contains, a store of energy which becomes applied to promoting the updraught. as it rises, the moisture in the air gathers together or condenses, and in so doing parts with the heat which caused it to evaporate from the ocean surface. for a given weight of water, the amount of heat required to effect the evaporation is very great; this we may roughly judge by observing what a continuous fire is required to send a pint of water into the state of steam. this energy, when it is released by the condensation of water into rain or snow, becomes again heat, and tends somewhat, as does the fire in the chimney, to accelerate the upward passage of the air. the result is that the water which ascends in the equatorial updraught becomes what we may term fuel to promote this important element in the earth's aërial circulation. trades and counter trades would doubtless exist but for the efficiency of this updraught, which is caused by the condensation of watery vapour, but the movement would be much less than it is. whirling storms. in the region near the equator, or near the line of highest temperature, which for various reasons does not exactly follow the equator, there is, as we have noticed, a somewhat continuous uprushing current where the air passes upward through an ascending chimney, which in a way girdles the sea-covered part of the earth. in this region the movements of the air are to a great extent under the control of the great continuous updraught. as we go to the north and south we enter realms where the air at the surface of the earth is, by the heat which it acquires from contact with that surface, more or less impelled upward; but there being no permanent updraught for its escape, it from time to time breaks through the roof of cold air which overlies it and makes a temporary channel of passage. going polarward from the equator, we first encounter these local and temporary upcastings of the air near the margin of the tropical belt. in these districts, at least over the warmer seas, during the time of the year when it is midsummer, and in the regions where the trade winds are not strong enough to sweep the warm and moisture-laden air down to the equatorial belt, the upward tending strain of the atmosphere next the earth often becomes so strong that the overlying air is displaced, forming a channel through which the air swiftly passes. as the moisture condenses in the way before noted, the energy set free serves to accelerate the updraught, and a hurricane is begun. at first the movement is small and of no great speed, but as the amount of air tending upward is likely to be great, as is also the amount of moisture which it contains, the aërial chimney is rapidly enlarged, and the speed of the rising air increased. the atmosphere next the surface of the sea flows in toward the channel of escape; its passage is marked by winds which are blowing toward the centre. on the periphery of the movement the particles move slowly, but as they win their way toward the centre they travel with accelerating velocity. on the principle which determines the whirling movement of the water escaping through a hole in the bottom of a basin, the particles of the air do not move on straight lines toward the centre, but journey in spiral paths, at first along the surface, and then ascending. we have noted the fact that in a basin of water the direction of the whirling is what we may term accidental--that is, dependent on conditions so slight that they elude our observation--but in hurricanes a certain fact determines in an arbitrary way the direction in which the spin shall take place. as soon as such a movement of the air attains any considerable diameter, although in its beginning it may have spun in a direction brought about by local accidents, it will be affected by the diverse rates of travel, by virtue of the earth's rotation, of the air on its equatorial and polar sides. on the equatorial side this air is moving more rapidly than it is on the polar side. by observing the water passing from a basin this principle, with a few experiments, can be made plain. the result is to cause these great whirlwinds of the hurricanes of higher latitudes to whirl round from right to left in the northern hemisphere and in the reverse way in the southern. the general system of the air currents still further affects these, as other whirling storms, by driving their centres or chimneys over the surface of the earth. the principle on which this is done may be readily understood by observing how the air shaft above a chimney, through which we may observe the smoke to rise during a time of calm, is drawn off to one side by the slight current which exists even when we feel no wind; it may also be discerned in the little dust whirls which form in the streets on a summer day when the air is not much disturbed. while they spin they move on in the direction of the air drift. in this way a hurricane originating in the gulf of mexico may gradually journey under the influence of the counter trades across the antilles, or over southern florida, and thence pursue a devious northerly course, generally near the atlantic coast and in the path of the gulf stream, until it has travelled a thousand miles or more toward the north atlantic. the farther it goes northward the less effectively it is fed with warm and moisture-laden air, the feebler its movement becomes, until at length it is broken up by the variable winds which it encounters. a very interesting and, from the point of view of the navigator, important peculiarity of these whirls is that at their centre there is a calm, similar in origin and nature to the calm under the equator between the trade-wind belts. both these areas are in the field where the air is ascending, and therefore at the surface of the earth does not affect the sails of ships, though if men ever come to use flying machines and sail through the tropics at a good height above the sea it will be sensible enough. the difference between the doldrum of the equator and that of the hurricane, besides their relative areas, is that one is a belt and the other a disk. if the seafarer happens to sail on a path which leads him through the hurricane centre, he will first discern, as from the untroubled air and sea he approaches the periphery of the storm, the horizon toward the disturbance beset by troubled clouds, all moving in one direction. entering beneath this pall, he finds a steadily increasing wind, which in twenty miles of sailing may, and in a hundred miles surely will, compel him to take in all but his storm sails, and is likely to bring his ship into grave peril. the most furious winds the mariner knows are those which he encounters as he approaches the still centre. these trials are made the more appalling by the fact that in the furious part of the whirl the rain, condensing from the ascending air, falls in torrents, and the electricity generated in the condensation gives rise to vivid lightning. if the storm-beset ship can maintain her way, in a score or two of miles of journey toward the centre, generally very quickly, it passes into the calm disk, where the winds, blowing upward, cease to be felt. in this area the ship is not out of danger, for the waves, rolling in from the disturbed areas on either side, make a torment of cross seas, where it is hard to control the movements of a sailing vessel because the impulse of the winds is lost. passing through this disk of calm, the ship re-encounters in reverse order the furious portion of the whirl, afterward the lessening winds, until it escapes again into the airs which are not involved in the great torment. in the old days, before dove's studies of storms had shown the laws of hurricane movement, unhappy shipmasters were likely to be caught and retained in hurricanes, and to battle with them for weeks until their vessels were beaten to pieces. now the "sailing directions," which are the mariner's guide, enable him, from the direction of the winds and the known laws of motion of the storm centre, to sail out of the danger, so that in most cases he may escape calamity. it is otherwise with the people who dwell upon the land over which these atmospheric convulsions sweep. fortunately, where these great whirlwinds trespass on the continent, they quickly die out, because of the relative lack of moisture which serves to stimulate the uprush which creates them. thus in their more violent forms hurricanes are only felt near the sea, and generally on islands and peninsulas. there the hurricane winds, by the swiftness of their movement, which often attains a speed of a hundred miles or more, apply a great deal of energy to all obstacles in their path. the pressure thus produced is only less destructive than that which is brought about by the tornadoes, which are next to be described. there is another effect from hurricanes which is even more destructive to life than that caused by the direct action of the wind. in these whirlings great differences in atmospheric pressure are brought about in contiguous areas of sea. the result is a sudden elevation in the level of one part of the water. these disturbances, where the shore lands are low and thickly peopled, as is the case along the western coast of the bay of bengal, may produce inundations which are terribly destructive to life and property. they are known also in southern florida and along the islands of the caribbean, but in that region are not so often damaging to mankind. fortunately, hurricanes are limited to a very small part of the tropical district. they occur only in those regions, on the eastern faces of tropical lands, where the general westerly set of the winds favours the accumulation of great bodies of very warm, moist air next the surface of the sea. the western portion of the gulf of mexico and the caribbean, the bay of bengal, and the southeastern portion of asia are especially liable to their visitations. they sometimes develop, though with less fury, in other parts of the tropics. on the western coast of south america and africa, where the oceans are visited by the dry land winds, and where the waters are cooled by currents setting in from high latitudes, they are unknown. only less in order of magnitude than the hurricanes are the circular storms known as cyclones. these occur on the continents, especially where they afford broad plains little interrupted by mountain ranges. they are particularly well exhibited in that part of north america north of mexico and south of hudson bay. like the hurricanes, they appear to be due to the inrush of relatively warm air entering an updraught which had been formed in the overlying, cooler portions of the atmosphere. they are, however, much less energetic, and often of greater size than the hurricane whirl. the lack of energy is probably due to the comparative dryness of the air. the greater width of the ascending column may perhaps be accounted for by the fact that, originating at a considerable height above the sea, they have a less thickness of air to break through, and so the upward setting column is readily made broad. the cyclones of north america appear generally to originate in the region of the rocky mountains, though it is probable that in some instances, perhaps in many, the upward set of the air which begins the storm originates in the ocean along the pacific coast. they gather energy as they descend the great sloping plain leading eastward from the rocky mountains to the central portion of the great continental valley. thence they move on across the country to the atlantic coast. not infrequently they continue on over the ocean to the european continent. the eastward passage of the storm centre is due to the prevailing eastward movement of the air in its upper part throughout that portion of the northern hemisphere. commonly they incline somewhat to the northward of east in their journey. in all cases the winds appear to blow spirally into the common storm centre. there is the same doldrum area or calm field in the centre of the storm that we note between the trade winds and in the middle of a hurricane disk, though this area is less defined than in the other instances, and the forward motion of the storm at a considerable speed is in most cases characteristic of the disturbance. on the front of one of these storms in north america the winds commonly begin in the northeast, thence they veer by the east to the southwest. at this stage in the movement the storm centre has passed by, the rainfall commonly ceases, and cold, dry winds setting to the northwestward set in. this is caused by the fact that the ascending air, having attained a height above the earth, settles down behind the storm, forming an anticyclone or mass of dry air, which presses against the retreating side of the great whirlwind. in front of the storm the warm and generally moist relatively warm air, pressing in toward the point of uprise and overlaid by the upper cold air, is brought into a condition where it tends to form small subordinate shafts up through which it whirls on the same principle, but with far greater intensity than the main ascending column. the reason for the violence of this movement is that the difference in temperature of the air next the surface and that at the height of a few thousand feet is great. as might be expected, these local spinnings are most apt to occur in the season when the air next the earth is relatively warm, and they are aptest to take place in the half of the advancing front lying between the east and south, for the reason that there the highest temperatures and the greatest humidity are likely to coexist. in that part of the field, during the time when the storm is advancing from the rocky mountains to the atlantic, a dozen or more of these spinning uprushes may be produced, though few of them are likely to be of large size or of great intensity. the secondary storms of cyclones, such as are above noted, receive the name of tornadoes. they are frequent and terrible visitations of the country from northern texas, florida, and alabama to about the line of the great lakes; they are rarely developed in the region west of central kansas, and only occasionally do they exhibit much energy in the region east of the plain-lands of the ohio valley. although known in other lands, they nowhere, so far as our observations go, exhibit the paroxysmal intensity which they show in the central portion of the north american continent. there the air which they affect acquires a speed of movement and a fury of action unknown in any other atmospheric disturbances, even in those of the hurricanes. the observer who has a chance to note from an advantageous position the development of a tornado observes that in a tolerably still air, or at least an air unaffected by violent winds--generally in what is termed a "sultry" state of the atmosphere--the storm clouds in the distance begin to form a kind of funnel-shaped dependence, which gradually extends until it appears to touch the earth. as the clouds are low, this downward-growing column probably in no case is observed for the height of more than three or four thousand feet. as the funnel descends, the clouds above and about it may be seen to take on a whirling movement around the centre, and under favourable circumstances an uprush of vapours may be noted in the centre of the swaying shaft. as the whirl comes nearer, the roar of the disturbance, which at a distance is often compared to the sound made by a threshing machine or to that of distant musketry, increases in loudness until it becomes overwhelming. when a storm such as this strikes a building, it is not only likely to be razed by the force of the wind, but it may be exploded, as by the action of gunpowder fired within its walls, through the sudden expansion of the air which it contains. in the centre of the column, although it rarely has a diameter of more than a few hundred feet, the uprush is so swift that it makes a partial vacuum. the air, striving to get into the space which it is eager to occupy, is whirling about at such a rate that the centrifugal motion which it thus acquires restrains its entrance. in this way there may be, as the column rapidly moves by, a difference of pressure amounting probably to what the mercury of a barometer would indicate by four or five inches of fall. unless the structure is small and its walls strong, its roof and sides are apt to be blown apart by this difference of pressure and the consequent expansion of the contained air. in some cases where wooden buildings have withstood this curious action the outer clapboards have been blown off by the expansion of the small amount of air contained in the interspaces between that covering and the lath and plaster within (see fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--showing effect of expansion of air contained in a hollow wall during the passage of the storm.] the blow of the air due to its rotative whirling has in several cases proved sufficient to throw a heavy locomotive from the track of a well-constructed railway. in all cases where it is intense it will overturn the strongest trees. the ascending wind in the centre of the column may sometimes lift the bodies of men and of animals, as well as the branches and trunks of trees and the timber of houses, to the height of hundreds of feet above the surface. one of the most striking exhibitions of the upsucking action in a tornado is afforded by the effect which it produces when it crosses a small sheet of water. in certain cases where, in the northwestern states of this country, the path of the storm lay over the pool, the whole of the water from a basin acres in extent has been entirely carried away, leaving the surface, as described by an observer, apparently dry enough to plough. fortunately for the interests of man, as well as those of the lower organic life, the paths of these storms, or at least the portion of their track where the violence of the air movement makes them very destructive, often does not exceed five hundred feet in width, and is rarely as great as half a mile in diameter. in most cases the length of the journey of an individual tornado does not exceed thirty miles. it rarely if ever amounts to twice that distance. in every regard except their small size and their violence these tornadoes closely resemble hurricanes. there is the same broad disk of air next the surface spirally revolving toward the ascending centre, where its motion is rapidly changed from a horizontal to a vertical direction. the energy of the uprush in both cases is increased by the energy set free through the condensation of the water, which tends further to heat and thus to expand the air. the smaller size of the tornado may be accounted for by the fact that we have in their originating conditions a relatively thin layer of warm, moist air next the earth and a relatively very cold layer immediately overlying it. thus the tension which serves to start the movement is intense, though the masses involved are not very great. the short life of a tornado may be explained by the fact that, though it apparently tends to grow in width and energy, the central spout is small, and is apt to be broken by the movements of the atmosphere, which in the front of a cyclone are in all cases irregular. on the warmer seas, but often beyond the limits of the tropics, another class of spinning storms, known as waterspouts, may often be observed. in general appearance these air whirls resemble tornadoes, except that they are in all cases smaller than that group of whirlings. as in the tornadoes, the waterspout begins with a funnel, which descends from the sky to the surface of the sea. up the tube vapours may be seen ascending at great speed, the whole appearing like a gigantic pillar of swiftly revolving smoke. when the whirl reaches the water, it is said that the fluid leaps up into the tube in the form of dense spray, an assertion which, in view of the fact of the action of a tornado on a lake as before described, may well be believed. like the tornadoes and dust whirls, the life of a waterspout appears to be brief. they rarely endure for more than a few minutes, or journey over the sea for more than two or three miles before the column appears to be broken by some swaying of the atmosphere. as these peculiar storms are likely to damage ships, the old-fashioned sailors were accustomed to fire at them with cannon. it has been claimed that a shot would break the tube and end the little convulsion. this, in view of the fact that they appear to be easily broken up by relatively trifling air currents, may readily be believed. the danger which these disturbances bring to ships is probably not very serious. the special atmospheric conditions which bring about the formation of waterspouts are not well known; they doubtless include, however, warm, moist air next the surface of the sea and cold air above. just why these storms never attain greater size or endurance is not yet known. these disturbances have been seen for centuries, but as yet they have not been, in the scientific sense, observed. their picturesqueness attracts all beholders; it is interesting to note the fact that perhaps the earliest description of their phenomena--one which takes account in the scientific spirit of all the features which they present--was written by the poet camoëns in the lusiad, in which he strangely mingles fancy and observation in his account of the great voyage of vasco da gama. the poet even notes that the water which falls when the spout is broken is not salt, but fresh--a point which clearly proves that not much of the water which the tube contains is derived from the sea. it is, in fact, watery vapour drawn from the air next the surface of the ocean, and condensed in its ascent through the tube. in this and other descriptions of nature camoëns shows more of the scientific spirit than any other poet of his time. he was in this regard the first of modern writers to combine a spiritual admiration for nature with some sense of its scientific meaning. in treating of the atmosphere, meteorologists base their studies largely on changes in the weight of that medium, which they determine by barometric observations. in fact, the science of the air had its beginning in pascal's admirable observation on the changes in the height of a column of mercury contained in a bent tube as he ascended the volcanic peak known as puy de dome, in central france. as before noted, it is to the disturbances in the weight of the air, brought about mainly by variations in temperature, that we owe all its currents, and it is upon these winds that the features we term climate in largest measure depend. every movement of the winds is not only brought about by changes in the relative weight of the air at certain points, but the winds themselves, owing to the momentum which the air attains by them, serve to bring about alterations in the quantity of air over different parts of the earth, which are marked most distinctly by barometric variations. these changes are exceedingly complicated; a full account of them would demand the space of this volume. a few of the facts, however, should be presented here. in the first place, we note that each day there is normally a range in the pressure which causes the barometer to be at the lowest at about four o'clock in the morning and four o'clock in the afternoon, and highest at about ten o'clock in those divisions of the day. this change is supposed to be due to the fact that the motes of dust in the atmosphere in the night, becoming cooled, condense the water vapour upon their surfaces, thus diminishing the volume of the air. when the sun rises the water evaporated by the heat returns from these little storehouses into the body of the atmosphere. again in the evening the condensation sets in; at the same time the air tends to drift in from the region to the westward, where the sun is still high, toward the field where the barometer has been thus lowered; the current gradually attains a certain volume, and so brings about the rise of the barometer about ten o'clock at night. in the winter time, particularly on the well-detached continent of north america, we find a prevailing high barometer in the interior of the country and a corresponding low state of pressure on the atlantic ocean. in the summer season these conditions are on the whole reversed. under the tropics, in the doldrum belt, there is a zone of low barometer connected to the ascending currents which take place along that line. this is a continuous manifestation of the same action which gives a large area of a disklike form in the centre or eye of the hurricane and in the middle portion of the tornado's whirl. in general, it may be said that the weight of the air is greatest in the regions from which it is blowing toward the points of upward escape, and least in and about those places where the superincumbent air is rising through a temporary or permanent line of escape. in other words, ascending air means generally a relatively low barometer, while descending air is accompanied by greater pressure in the field upon which it falls. in almost every part of the earth which is affected by a particular physiography we find that the movements of the atmosphere next the surface are qualified by the condition which it encounters. in fact, if a person were possessed of all the knowledge which could be obtained concerning winds, he could probably determine as by a map the place where he might chance to find himself, provided he could extend his observations over a term of years. in other words, the regimen of the winds--at least those of a superficial nature--is almost as characteristic of the field over which they go as is a map of the country. of these special winds a number of the more important have been noted, only a few of which we can advert to. first among these may well come the land and sea breezes which are remarked about all islands which are not continuously swept by permanent winds. one of the most characteristic instances of these alternate winds is perhaps that afforded on the island of jamaica. the island of jamaica is so situated within the basin of the caribbean that it does not feel the full influence of the trades. it has a range of high mountains through its middle part. in the daytime the surface of the land, which has the sun overhead twice each year, and is always exposed to nearly vertical radiation, becomes intensely hot, so that an upcurrent is formed. the formation of this current is favoured by the mountains, which apply a part of the heat at the height of about a mile above the surface of the sea. this action is parallel to that we notice when, in order to create a draught in the air of a chimney, we put a torch some distance up above the fireplace, thus diminishing the height of the column of air which has to be set in motion. it is further shown by the fact that when miners sought to make an upcurrent in a shaft, in order to lead pure air into the workings through other openings, they found after much experience that it was better to have the fire near the top of the shaft rather than at the bottom. the ascending current being induced up the mountain sides of jamaica, the air is forced in from the sea to the relatively free space. before noon the current, aided in its speed by a certain amount of the condensation of the watery vapour before described, attains the proportions of a strong wind. as the sun begins to sink, the earth's surface pours forth its heat; the radiation being assisted by the extended surfaces of the plants, cooling rapidly takes place. meanwhile the sea, because of the great heat-storing power of water, is very little cooled, the ascent of the air ceases, the temporary chimney with its updraught is replaced by a downward current, and the winds blow from the land until the sun comes again to reverse the current. in many cases these movements of the daily winds flowing into and from islands induce a certain precipitation of moisture in the form of rain. generally, however, their effect is merely to ameliorate the heat by bringing alternately currents from the relatively cool sea and from the upper atmosphere to lessen the otherwise excessive temperature of the fields which they traverse. although characteristic sea and land winds are limited to regions where the sun's heat is great, they are traceable even in high latitudes during the periods of long-continued calm attended with clear skies. thus on the island of martha's vineyard, in massachusetts, the writer has noted, when the atmosphere was in such a state, distinct night and day, or sea and land, breezes coming in their regular alternation. during the night when these alternate winds prevail the central portion of the island, at the distance of three miles from the sea, is remarkably cold, the low temperature being due to the descending air current. to the same physical cause may be attributed the frequent insets of the sea winds toward midday along the continental shores of various countries. thus along the coast of new england in the summer season a clear, still, hot day is certain to lead to the creation of an ingoing tide of air, which reaches some miles into the interior. this stream from the sea enters as a thin wedge, it often being possible to note next the shore when the movement begins a difference of ten degrees of temperature between the surface of the ground to which the point of the wedge has attained, and a position twenty feet higher in the air. this is a beautiful example to show at once how the relative weight of the atmosphere, even when the differences are slight, may bring about motion, and also how masses of the atmosphere may move by or through the rest of the medium in a way which we do not readily conceive from our observations on the transparent mass. very few people have any idea how general is the truth that the air, even in continuous winds, tends to move in more or less individualized masses. this, however, is made very evident by watching the gusts of a storm or the wandering patches of wind which disturb the surface of an otherwise smooth sea. [illustration: _south shore, martha's vineyard, massachusetts, showing a characteristic sand beach with long slope and low dunes. note the three lines of breakers and the splash flows cutting little bays in the sand._] among the notable local winds are those which from their likeness to the föhn of the swiss valleys receive that name. föhns are produced where a body of air blowing against the slope of a continuous mountain range is lifted to a considerable height, and, on passing over the crest, falls again to a low position. in its ascent the air is cooled, rarefied, and to a great extent deprived of its moisture. in descending it is recondensed, and by the process by which its atoms are brought together its latent heat is made sensible. there being but little watery vapour in the mass, this heat is not much called for by that heat-storing fluid, and so the air is warmed. so far föhn winds have only been remarked as conspicuous features in switzerland and on the eastern face of the rocky mountains. in the region about the head waters of the missouri and to the northward their influence in what are called the chinook winds is distinctly to ameliorate the severe winter climate of the country. in almost all great desert regions, particularly in the typical sahara, we find a variety of storm belonging to the whirlwind group, which, owing to the nature of the country, take on special characteristics. these desert storms take up from the verdureless earth great quantities of sand and other fine _débris_, which often so clouds the air as to bring the darkness of night at midday. their whirlings appear in size to be greater than those which produce tornadoes or waterspouts, but less than hurricanes or cyclones. little, however, is known about them. they have not been well observed by meteorologists. in some ways they are important, for the reason that they serve to carry the desert sand into regions previously verdure-clad, and thus to extend the bounds of the desolate fields in which they originate. where they blow off to the seaward, they convey large quantities of dust into the ocean, and thus serve to wear down the surface of the land in regions where there are no rivers to effect that action in the normal way. notwithstanding its swift motion when impelled by differences in weight, the movements of the air have had but little direct and immediate influence on the surface of the earth. the greater part of the work which it does, as we shall see hereafter, is done through the waters which it impels and bears about. yet where winds blow over verdureless surfaces the effect of the sand which they sweep before them is often considerable. in regions of arid mountains the winds often drive trains of sand through the valleys, where the sharp particles cut the rocks almost as effectively as torrents of water would, distributing the wearing over the width of the valley. the dust thus blown, from a desert region may, when it attains a country covered with vegetation, gradually accumulate on its surface, forming very thick deposits. thus in northwestern china there is a wide area where dust accumulations blown from the arid districts of central asia have gradually heaped up in the course of ages to the depth of thousands of feet, and this although much of the _débris_ is continually being borne away by the action of the rain waters as they journey toward the sea. such dust accumulations occur in other parts of the world, particularly in the districts about the upper mississippi and in the valleys of the rocky mountains, but nowhere are they so conspicuous as in the region first mentioned. where prevailing winds from the sea, from great lakes, and even from considerable rivers, blow against sandy shores or cliffs of the same nature, large quantities of sand and dust are often driven inland from the coast line. in most cases these wind-borne materials take on the form of dunes, or heaps of sand, varying from a few feet to several hundred feet in height. it is characteristic of these hills of blown sand that they move across the face of the country. under favourable conditions they may journey scores of miles from the shore. the marching of a dune is effected through the rolling up of the sand on the windward side of the elevation, when it is impelled by the current of air to the crest where it falls into the lee or shelter which the hill makes to the wind. in this way in the course of a day the centre of the dune, if the wind be blowing furiously, may advance a measurable distance from the place it occupied before. by fits and starts this ongoing may be indefinitely continued. a notable and picturesque instance of the march of a great dune may be had from the case in which one of them overwhelmed in the last century the village of eccles in southeastern england. the advancing sand gradually crept into the hamlet, and in the course of a decade dispossessed the people by burying their houses. in time the summit of the church spire disappeared from view, and for many years thereafter all trace of the hamlet was lost. of late years, however, the onward march of the sands has disclosed the church spire, and in the course of another century the place may be revealed on its original site, unchanged except that the marching hill will be on its other side. in the region about the head of the bay of biscay the quantity of these marching sands is so great that at one time they jeopardized the agriculture of a large district. the french government has now succeeded, by carefully planting the surface of the country with grasses and other herbs which will grow in such places, in checking the movement of the wind-blown materials. by so doing they have merely hastened the process by which nature arrests the march of dunes. as these heaps creep away from the sea, they generally come into regions where a greater variety of plants flourish; moreover, their sand grains become decayed, so that they afford a better soil. gradually the mat of vegetation binds them down, and in time covers them over so that only the expert eye can recognise their true nature. only in desert regions can the march of these heaps be maintained for great distances. characteristic dunes occur from point to point all along the atlantic coast from the state of maine to the northern coast of florida. they also occur along the coasts of our great lakes, being particularly well developed at the southern end of lake michigan, where they form, perhaps, the most notable accumulations within the limits of the united states. when blown sands invade a forest and the deposit is rapidly accumulated, the trees are often buried in an undecayed condition. in this state, with certain chemical reactions which may take place in the mass, the woody matter is apt to become replaced by silex dissolved from the sand, which penetrates the tissues of the plants. in this way salicified forests are produced, such as are found in the region of the rocky mountains, where the trunks of the trees, now very hard stone, so perfectly preserve their original structure that when cut and polished they may be used for decorative purposes. conspicuous as is this work of the dunes, it is in a geological way much less important than that accomplished by the finer dust which drifts from one region of land to another or into the sea. because of their weight, the sand grains journey over the surface of the earth, except, indeed, where they are uplifted by whirl storms. they thus can not travel very fast or far. dust, however, rises into the air, and journeys for indefinite distances. we thus see how slight differences in the weight of substances may profoundly affect the conditions of their deportation. the system of waters. the envelope of air wraps the earth completely about, and, though varying in thickness, is everywhere present over its surface. that of the waters is much less equally distributed. because of its weight, it is mainly gathered in the depths of the earth, where it lies in the interstices of the rocks and in the great realm of the seas. only a very small portion of the fluid is in the atmosphere or on the land. perhaps less than a ten thousandth part of the whole is at any one time on this round from the seas through the air to the land and back to the great reservoir. the great water store of the earth is contained in two distinct realms--in the oceans, where the fluid is concentrated in a quantity which fills something like nine tenths of the hollows formed by the corrugations of the earth's surface; and in the rocks, where it is stored in a finely divided form, partly between the grains of the stony matter and partly in the substance of its crystals, where it exists in a combination, the precise nature of which is not well known, but is called water of crystallization. on the average, it seems likely that the materials of the earth, whether under the sea or on the land, have several per cent of their mass of the fluid. it is not yet known to what depth the water-bearing section of the earth extends; but, as we shall see more particularly hereafter when we come to consider volcanoes, the lavas which they send up to the surface are full of contained water, which passes from them in the form of steam. the very high temperature of these volcanic ejections makes it necessary for us to suppose that they come from a great depth. it is difficult to believe that they originate at less than a hundred miles below the earth's surface. if, then, the rocks contain an average of even five per cent of water to the depth of one hundred miles, the quantity of the fluid stored within the earth is greater than that which is contained in the reservoir of the ocean. the oceans, on the average, are not more than three miles deep; spread evenly over the surface of the whole earth, their depth would be less than two miles, while the water in the rocks, if it could be added to the seas, would make the total depth seven miles or more. as we shall note hereafter, the processes of formation of strata tend to imprison water in the beds, which in time is returned to the earth's surface by the forces which operate within the crust. although the water in the seas is, as we have seen, probably less than one half of the store which the earth possesses, the part it plays in the economy of the planet is in the highest measure important. the underground water operates solely to promote certain changes which take place in the mineral realm. its effect, except in volcanic processes, are brought about but slowly, and are limited in their action. the movements of this buried water are exceedingly gradual; the forces which impel it about and which bring it to do its work originate in the earth. in the seas the fluid has an exceeding freedom of motion; it can obey the varied impulses which the solar energy imposes upon it. the rôle of these wonderful actions which we are about to trace includes almost everything which goes on upon the surface of the planet--that which relates to the development of animal and vegetable life, as well as to the vast geological changes which the earth is undergoing. if the surface of the earth were uniformly covered with water to the depth of ten thousand feet or more, every particle of fluid would, in a measure, obey the attraction of the sun, of the moon, and, theoretically, also of all the other bodies in space, on the principle that every particle of matter in the universe exercises a gravitative effect on every other. as it is, owing to the divided condition of the water on the earth's surface, only that which is in the ocean and larger seas exhibits any measurable influence from these distant attractions. in fact, only the tides produced by the moon and sun are of determinable magnitude, and of these the lunar is of greater importance, the reason being the near position of our satellite to our own sphere. the solar tide is four tenths as great as the lunar. the water doubtless obeys in a slight way the attraction of the other celestial bodies, but the motions thus imparted are too small to be discerned; they are lost in the great variety of influences which affect all the matter on the earth. although the tides are due to the attraction of the solar bodies, mainly to that of the moon, the mode in which the result is brought about is somewhat complicated. it may briefly and somewhat incompletely be stated as follows: owing to the fact that the attracting power of the earth is about eighty times greater than that of the moon, the centre of gravity of the two bodies lies within the earth. about this centre the spheres revolve, each in a way swinging around the other. at this point there is no centrifugal motion arising from the revolution of the pair of spheres, but on the side of the earth opposite the moon, some six thousand miles away, the centrifugal force is considerable, becoming constantly greater as we pass away from the turning point. at the same time the attraction of the moon on the water becomes less. thus the tide opposite the satellite is formed. on the side toward the moon the same centrifugal action operates, though less effectively than in the other case, for the reason that the turning point is nearer the surface; but this action is re-enforced by the greater attraction of the moon, due to the fact that the water is much nearer that body. in the existing conditions of the earth, what we may call the normal run of the tides is greatly interrupted. only in the southern ocean can the waters obey the lunar and solar attraction in anything like a normal way. in that part of the earth two sets of tides are discernible, the one and greater due to the moon, the other, much smaller, to the sun. as these tides travel round at different rates, the movements which they produce are sometimes added to each other and sometimes subtracted--that is, at times they come together, while again the elevation of one falls in the hollow of the other. once again supposing the earth to be all ocean covered, computation shows that the tides in such a sea would be very broad waves, having, indeed, a diameter of half the earth's circumference. those produced by the moon would have an altitude of about one foot, and those by the sun of about three inches. the geological effects of these swayings would be very slight; the water would pass over the bottom to and fro twice each day, with a maximum journey of a hundred or two feet each way from a fixed point. this movement would be so slow that it could not stir the fine sediment; its only influence would perhaps be to help feed the animals which were fixed upon the bottom by drawing the nurture-bringing water by their mouths. although the divided condition of the ocean perturbs the action of the tides, so that except by chance their waves are rarely with their centres where the attracting bodies tend to make them, the influence of these divisions is greatly to increase the geological or change-bringing influences arising from these movements. when from the southern ocean the tides start to the northward up the bays of the atlantic, the pacific, or the indian ocean, they have, as before noted, a height of perhaps less than two feet. as they pass up the narrowing spaces the waves become compressed--that is, an equal volume of moving water has less horizontal room for its passage, and is forced to rise higher. we see a tolerably good illustration of the same principle when we observe a wind-made wave enter a small recess of the shore, the sides of which converge in the direction of the motion. with the diminished room, the wave gains in height. it thus comes about that the tide throughout the atlantic basin is much higher than in the southern ocean. on the same principle, when the tide rolls in against the shores every embayment of a distinct kind, whose sides converge toward the head, packs up the tidal wave, often increasing its height in a remarkable way. when these bays are wide-mouthed and of elongate triangular form, with deep bottoms, the tides which on their outer parts have a height of ten or fifteen feet may attain an altitude of forty or fifty feet at the apex of the triangle. we have already noted the fact that the tide, such as runs in the southern ocean, exercises little or no influence upon the bottom of the sea over which it moves. as the height of the confined waters increases, the range of their journey over the bottom as the wave comes and goes rapidly increases. when they have an elevation of ten feet they can probably stir the finer mud on the ocean floor, and in shallow water move yet heavier particles. in the embayments of the land, where a great body of water journeys like an alternating river into extensive basins, the tidal action becomes intense; the current may be able to sweep along large stones quite as effectively as a mountain torrent. thus near eastport, me., where the tides have a maximum rise and fall of over twenty feet, the waters rush in places so swiftly that at certain stages of the movement they are as much troubled as those at the rapids of the st. lawrence. in such portions of the shore the tides do important work in carving channels into the lands. along the shores of the continents about the north atlantic, where the tides act in a vigorous manner, we almost everywhere find an underwater shelf extending from the shore with a declivity of only five to ten feet to the mile toward the centre of the sea, until the depth of about five hundred feet is attained; from this point the bottom descends more steeply into the ocean's depth. it is probable that the larger part of the material composing these continental shelves has been brought to its position by tidal action. each time the tidal wave sweeps in toward the shore it urges the finer particles of sediment along with it. when it moves out it drags them on the return journey toward the depths of the sea. if this shelf were perfectly horizontal, the two journeys of the sand and mud grains would be of the same length; but as the movement takes place up and down a slope, the bits will travel farther under the impulse which leads them downward than under that which impels them up. the result will be that the particles will travel a little farther out from the shore each time it is swung to and fro in the alternating movement of the tide. the effect of tidal movement in nurturing marine life is very great. it aids the animals fixed on the bottoms of the deep seas to obtain their provision of food and their share of oxygen by drawing the water by their bodies. all regions which are visited by strong tides commonly have in the shallows near the shores a thick growth of seaweed which furnishes an ample provision of food for the fishes and other forms of animal life. a peculiar effect arising from tidal action is believed by students of the phenomena to be found in the slowing of the earth's rotation on its axis. the tides rotate around the earth from east to west, or rather, we should say, the solid mass of the earth rubs against them as it spins from west to east. as they move over the bottom and as they strike against the shores this push of the great waves tends in a slight measure to use up the original spinning impulse which causes the earth's rotation. computation shows that the amount of this action should be great enough gradually to lengthen the day, or the time occupied by the earth in making a complete revolution on the polar axis. the effect ought to be great enough to be measurable by astronomers in the course of a thousand years. on the other hand, the records of ancient eclipses appear pretty clearly to show that the length of the day has not changed by as much as a second in the course of three thousand years. this evidence does not require us to abandon the supposition that the tides tend to diminish the earth's rate of rotation. it is more likely that the effect of the reduction in the earth's diameter due to the loss of heat which is continually going on counterbalances the influence of the tidal friction. as the diameter of a rotating body diminishes, the tendency is for the mass to spin more rapidly; if it expands, to turn more slowly, provided in each case the amount of the impulse which leads to the turning remains the same. this can be directly observed by whirling a small weight attached to a string in such a manner that the cord winds around the finger with each revolution; it will be noted that as the line shortens the revolution is more quickly accomplished. we can readily conceive that the earth is made up of weights essentially like that used in the experiment, each being drawn toward the centre by the gravitative stress, which is like that applied to the weight by the cord. the fact that the days remain of the same length through vast periods of time is probably due to this balance between the effects of tidal action and those arising from the loss of heat--in other words, we have here one of those delicate arrangements in the way of counterpoise which serve to maintain the balanced conditions of the earth's surface amid the great conflicts of diverse energies which are at work in and upon the sphere. it should be understood that the effects of the attraction which produces tides are much more extensive than they are seen to be in the movements of the sea. so long as the solar and planetary spheres remain fluid, the whole of their masses partake of the movement. it is a consequence of this action, as the computations of prof. george darwin has shown, that the moon, once nearer the earth than it is at present, has by a curious action of the tidal force been pushed away from the centre of our sphere, or rather the two bodies have repelled each other. an american student of the problem, mr. t.j.j. see, has shown that the same action has served to give to the double stars the exceeding eccentricity of their orbits. although these recent studies of tidal action in the celestial sphere are of the utmost importance to the theory of the universe, for they may lead to changes in the nebular hypotheses, they are as yet too incomplete and are, moreover, too mathematical to be presented in an elementary treatise such as this. * * * * * we now turn to another class of waves which are of even more importance than those of the tides--to the undulations which are produced by the action of the wind on the surface of the water. while the tide waves are limited to the open ocean, and to the seas and bays which afford them free entrance, wind waves are produced everywhere where water is subjected to the friction of air which flows over it. while tidal waves come upon the shores but twice each day, the wind waves of ordinary size which roll in from the ocean deliver their blows at intervals of from three to ten seconds. although the tidal waves sometimes, by a packing-up process, attain the height of fifty feet, their average altitude where they come in contact with the shore probably does not much exceed four feet; usually they come in gently. it is likely that in a general way the ocean surges which beat against the coast are of greater altitude. wind waves are produced and perform their work in a manner which we shall now describe. when the air blows over any resisting surface, it tends, in a way which we can hardly afford here to describe, to produce motions. if the particle is free to move under the impulse which it communicates, it bears it along; if it is linked together in the manner of large masses, which the wind can not transport, it tends to set it in motion in an alternating way. the sounds of our musical instruments which act by wind are due to these alternating vibrations, such as all air currents tend to produce. an Æolian harp illustrates the action which we are considering. moving over matter which has the qualities that we denote by the term fluid, the swayings which the air produces are of a peculiar sort, though they much resemble those of the fiddle string. the surface of the liquid rises and falls in what we term waves, the size of which is determined by the measure of fluidity, and by the energy of the wind. thus, because fresh water is considerably lighter than salt, a given wind will produce in a given distance for the run of the waves heavier surges in a lake than it will in the sea. for this reason the surges in a great storm which roll on the ocean shore, because of the wide water over which they have gathered their impetus, are in size very much greater than those of the largest lakes, which do not afford room for the development of great undulations. to the eye, a wave in the water appears to indicate that the fluid is borne on before the wind. examination, however, shows that the amount of motion in the direction in which the wind is blowing is very slight. we may say, indeed, that the essential feature of a wave is found in the transmission of impulse rather than in the movement of the fluid matter. a strip of carpet when shaken sends through its length undulations which are almost exactly like water waves. if we imagine ourselves placed in a particle of water, moving in the swayings of a wave in the open and deep sea, we may conceive ourselves carried around in an ellipse, in each revolution returning through nearly the same orbit. now and then, when the particle came to the surface, it would experience the slight drift which the continual friction of the wind imposes on the water. if the wave in which the journey was made lay in the trade winds, where the long-continued, steadfast blowing had set the water in motion to great depths, the orbit traversed would be moving forward with some rapidity; where also the wind was strong enough to blow the tops of the waves over, forming white-caps, the advance of the particle very near the surface would be speedy. notwithstanding these corrections, waves are to be regarded each as a store of energy, urging the water to sway much in the manner of a carpet strip, and by the swaying conveying the energy in the direction of the wave movement. the rate of movement of wind waves increases with their height. slight undulations go forward at the rate of less than half a mile an hour. the greater surges of the deeps when swept by the strongest winds move with the speed which, though not accurately determined, has been estimated by the present writer as exceeding forty miles an hour. as these surges often have a length transverse to the wind of a mile or more, a width of about an eighth of a mile, and a height of from thirty-five to forty-five feet, the amount of energy which they transmit is very great. if it could be effectively applied to the shores in the manner in which the energy of exploding gunpowder is applied by cannon shot, it is doubtful whether the lands could have maintained their position against the assaults of the sea. but there are reasons stated below why the ocean waves can use only a very small part of their energy in rending the rocks against which they strike on the coast line. in the first place, we should note that wind waves have very little influence on the bottom of the deep sea. if an observer could stand on the sea floor at the depth of a mile below a point over which the greatest waves were rolling, he could not with his unaided senses discern that the water was troubled. he would, indeed, require instruments of some delicacy to find out that it moved at all. making the same observations at the depth of a thousand feet, it is possible that he would note a slight swaying motion in the water, enough sensibly to affect his body. at five hundred feet in depth the movement would probably be sufficient to disturb fine mud. at two hundred feet, the rasping of the surge on the bottom would doubtless be sufficient to push particles of coarse sand to and fro. at one hundred feet in depth, the passage of the surge would be strong enough to urge considerable pebbles before it. thence up the slope the driving action would become more and more intense until we attained the point where the wave broke. it should furthermore be noted that, while the movement of the water on the floor of the deep sea as the wave passes overhead would be to and fro, with every advance in the shallowing and consequent increased friction on the bottom, the forward element in the movement would rapidly increase. near the coast line the effect of the waves is continually to shove the detritus up the slopes of the continental shelf. here we should note the fact that on this shelf the waves play a part exactly the opposite of that effected by the tides. the tides, as we have noted, tend to drag the particles down the slope, while the waves operate to roll them up the declivity. as the wave in advancing toward the shore ordinarily comes into continually shallowing water, the friction on the bottom is ever-increasing, and serves to diminish the energy the surge contains, and therefore to reduce its proportions. if this action operated alone, the subtraction which the friction makes would cause the surf waves which roll in over a continental shelf to be very low, probably in height less than half that which they now attain. in fact, however, there is an influence at work to increase the height of the waves at the expense of its width. noting that the friction rapidly increases with the shallowing, it is easy to see that this resistance is greatest on the advancing front of the wave, and least on its seaward side. the result is that the front moves more slowly than the rear, so that the wave is forced to gain in height; but for the fact that the total friction which the wave encounters takes away most of its impetus, we might have combers a hundred feet high rolling upon the shelving shores which almost everywhere face the seas. as the wave shortens its width and gains in relative height, though not in actual elevation, another action is introduced which has momentous consequences. the water in the bottom of the wave is greatly retarded in its ongoing by its friction over the sea floor, while the upper part of the surge is much less affected in this way. the result is that at a certain point in the advance, the place of which is determined by the depth, the size, and the speed of the undulation, the front swiftly steepens until it is vertical, and the top shoots forward to a point where it is no longer supported by underlying water, when it plunges down in what is called the surf or breaker. in this part of the wave's work the application of the energy which it transmits differs strikingly from the work previously done. before the wave breaks, the only geological task which it accomplishes is effected by forcing materials up the slope, in which movement they are slightly ground over each other until they come within the battering zone of the shore, where they may be further divided by the action of the mill which is there in operation. when the wave breaks on the shore it operates in the following manner: first, the overturning of its crest sends a great mass of water, it may be from the height of ten or more feet, down upon the shore. thus falling water has not only the force due to its drop from the summit of the wave, but it has a share of the impulse due to the velocity with which the surge moved against the shore. it acts, in a word, like a hammer swung down by a strong arm, where the blow represents not only the force with which the weight would fall of itself, but the impelling power of the man's muscles. any one who will expose his body to this blow of the surf will recognise how violent it is; he may, if the beach be pebbly, note how it drives the stones about; fragments the size of a man's head may be hurled by the stroke to the distance of twenty feet or more; those as large as the fist may be thrown clear beyond the limits of the wave. so vigorous is this stroke that the sound of it may sometimes be heard ten miles inland from the coast where it is delivered. moving forward up the slope of a gently inclined beach, the fragments of the wave are likely to be of sufficient volume to permit them to regather into a secondary surge, which, like the first, though much smaller, again rises into a wall, forming another breaker. under favourable conditions as many as four or five of these successive diminishing surf lines may be seen. the present writer has seen in certain cases as many as a dozen in the great procession, the lowest and innermost only a few inches high, the outer of all with a height of perhaps twenty feet. along with the direct bearing action of the surf goes a to-and-fro movement, due to the rushing up and down of the water on the beach. this swashing affects not only the broken part of the waves, but all the water between the outer breaker and the shore. these swayings in the surf belt often swing the _débris_ on the inner margin over a range of a hundred feet or more, the movement taking place with great swiftness, affecting the pebbles to the depth of several inches, and grinding the bits together in a violent way. listening to the turmoil of a storm, we can on a pebbly beach distinctly hear the sound of the downward stroke, a crashing tone, and the roar of the rolling stones. as waves are among the interesting things in the world, partly on account of their living quality and partly because of their immediate and often exceeding interest to man, we may here note one or two peculiar features in their action. in the first place, as the reader who has gained a sense of the changes in form of action may readily perceive, the beating of waves on the shore converts the energy which they possess into heat. this probably warms the water during great storms, so that by the hand we may note the difference in temperature next the coast line and in the open waters. this relative warmth of the surf water is perhaps a matter of some importance in limiting the development of ice along the shore line; it may also favour the protection of the coast life against the severe cold of the winter season. the waves which successively come against the shore in any given time, particularly if a violent wind is blowing on to the coast, are usually of about the same size. when, however, in times of calm an old sea, as it is called, is rolling in, the surges may occasionally undergo very great variations in magnitude. not infrequently these occasional waves are great enough to overwhelm persons who are upon the rocks next the shore. these greater surges are probably to be accounted for by the fact that in the open sea waves produced by winds blowing in different directions may run on with their diverse courses and varied intervals until they come near the shore. running in together, it very well happens that two of the surges belonging to different sets may combine their forces, thus doubling the swell. the danger which these conjoined waves bring is obviously greatest on cliff shores, where, on account of the depth of water, the waves do not break until they strike the steep. * * * * * having considered in a general way the action of waves as they roll in to the shore, bearing with them the solar energy which was contributed to them by the winds, we shall now take up in some detail the work which goes on along the coast line--work which is mainly accomplished by wave action. on most coast lines the observer readily notes that the shore is divided into two different kinds of faces--those where the inner margin of the wave-swept belt comes against rocky steeps, and those bordered by a strand altogether composed of materials which the surges have thrown up. these may be termed for convenience cliff shores and wall-beach shores. we shall begin our inquiry with cliff shores, for in those sections of the coast line the sea is doing its most characteristic and important work of assaulting the land. if the student has an opportunity to approach a set of cliffs of hard rock in time of heavy storm, when the waves have somewhere their maximum height, he should seek some headland which may offer him safe foothold whence he can behold the movements which are taking place. if he is so fortunate as to have in view, as well may be the case, cliffs which extend down into deep water, and others which are bordered by rude and generally steeply sloping beaches covered with large stones, he may perceive that the waves come in against the cliffs which plunge into deep water without taking on the breaker form. in this case the undulation strikes but a moderate blow; the wave is not greatly broken. the part next the rock may shoot up as a thin sheet to a considerable height; it is evident that while the ongoing wave applies a good deal of pressure to the steep, it does not deliver its energy in the effective form of a blow as when the wave overturns, or in the consequent rush of the water up a beach slope. it is easy to perceive that firm-set rock cliffs, with no beaches at their bases, can almost indefinitely withstand the assaults. on the steep and stony beach, because of its relatively great declivity, the breaker or surf forms far in, and even in its first plunge often attains the base of the precipice. the blow of the overfalling as well as that of the inrush moves about stones of great size; those three feet or more in diameter are often hurled by the action against the base of the steep, striking blows, the sharp note of which can often be heard above the general roar which the commotion produces. the needlelike crags forming isles standing at a distance from the shore, such as are often found along hard rock coasts, are singularly protected from the action of effective waves. the surges which strike against them are unarmed with stones, and the water at their bases is so deep that it does not sway with the motion with sufficient energy to move them on the bottom. where a cliff is in this condition, it may endure until an elevation of the coast line brings its base near the level of the sea, or until the process of decay has detached a sufficient quantity of stone to form a talus or inclined plane reaching near to the water level. as before noted, it is the presence of a sloping beach reaching to about the base of the cliff which makes it possible for the waves to strike at with a hammer instead of with a soft hand. battering at the base of the cliff, the surges cut a crease along the strip on which they strike, which gradually enters so far that the overhanging rock falls of its own weight. the fragments thus delivered to the sea are in turn broken up and used as battering instruments until they are worn to pieces. we may note that in a few months of heavy weather the stones of such a fall have all been reduced to rudely spherical forms. observations made on the eastern face of cape ann, mass., where the seas are only moderately heavy, show that the storms of a single winter reduce the fragments thrown into the sea from the granite quarries to spheroidal shapes, more than half of their weight commonly being removed in the form of sand and small pebbles which have been worn from their surfaces. we can best perceive the effect of battering action which the sea applies to the cliffs by noting the points where, owing to some chance features in the structure in the rock, it has proved most effective. where a joint or a dike, or perhaps a softer layer, if the rocks be bedded, causes the wear to go on more rapidly, the waves soon excavate a recess in which the pebbles are retained, except in stormy weather, in an unmoved condition. when the surges are heavy, these stones are kept in continuous motion, receding as the wave goes back, and rushing forward with its impulse until they strike against the firm-set rock at the end of the chasm. in this way they may drive in a cut having the length of a hundred feet or more from the face of the precipice. in most cases the roofs over these sea caves fall in, so that the structure is known as a chasm. occasionally these roofs remain, in which case, for the reason that the floor of the cutting inclines upward, an opening is made to the surface at their upper end, forming what is called in new england a "spouting horn"; from the inland end of the tunnel the spray may be thrown far into the air. as long as the cave is closed at this inner end, and is not so high but that it may be buried beneath a heavy wave, the inrushing water compresses the air in the rear parts of the opening. when the wave begins to retreat this air blows out, sending a gust of spray before it, the action resembling the discharge of a great gun from the face of a fortification. it often happens that two chasms converging separate a rock from the cliff. then a lowering of the coast may bring the mass to the state of a columnar island, such as abound in the hebrides and along various other shores. if a cliff shore retreats rapidly, it may be driven back into the shore, and its face assumes the curve of a small bay. with every step in this change the bottom is sure to become shallower, so that the waves lose more and more of their energy in friction over the bottom. moreover, in entering a bay the friction which the waves encounter in running along the sides is greater than that which they meet in coming in upon a headland or a straight shore. the result is, with the inward retreat of the steep it enters on conditions which diminish the effectiveness of the wave stroke. the embayment also is apt to hold detritus, and so forms in time a beach at the foot of the cliff, over which the waves rarely are able to mount with such energy as will enable them to strike the wall in an effective manner. with this sketch of the conditions of a cliff shore, we will now consider the fate of the broken-tip rock which the waves have produced on that section of the coast land. by observation of sea-beaten cliffs the student readily perceives that a great amount of rocky matter has been removed from most cliff-faced shores. not uncommonly it can be shown that such sea faces have retreated for several miles. the question now arises, what becomes of the matter which has been broken up by the wave action? in some part the rock, when pulverized by the pounding to which it is subjected, has dissolved in the water. probably ninety per cent of it, however, retains the visible state, and has a fate determined by the size of the fragments of which it is composed. if these be as fine as mud, so that they may float in the water, they are readily borne away by the currents which are always created along a storm-swept shore, particularly by the undertow or bottom outcurrent--the "sea-puss," as it is sometimes called--that sweeps along the bottom from every shore, against which the waves form a surf. if as coarse as sand grains, or even very small pebbles, they are likely to be drawn out, rolling over the bottom to an indefinite distance from the sea margin. the coarser stones, however, either remain at the foot of the cliff until they are beaten to pieces, or are driven along the shore until they find some embayment into which they enter. the journey of such fragments may, when the wind strikes obliquely to the shore, continue for many miles; the waves, running with the wind, drive the fragments in oscillating journeys up and down the beach, sometimes at the rate of a mile or more a day. the effect of this action can often be seen where a vessel loaded with brick or coal is wrecked on the coast. in a month fragments of the materials may be stretched along for the distance of many miles on either side of the point where the cargo came ashore. entering an embayment deep enough to restrain their further journey, the fragments of rock form a boulder beach, where the bits roll to and fro whenever they are struck by heavy surges. the greater portion of them remain in this mill until they are ground to the state of sand and mud. now and then one of the fragments is tossed up beyond the reach of the waves, and is contributed to the wall of the beach. in very heavy storms these pebbles which are thrown inland may amount in weight to many tons for each mile of shore. the study of a pebbly beach, drawn from crest to the deep water outside, will give an idea as to the history of its work. on either horn of the crescent by which the pebbles are imported into the pocket we find the largest fragments. if the shore of the bay be long, the innermost part of the recess may show even only very small pebbles, or perhaps only fine sand, the coarser material having been worn out in the journey. on the bottom of the bay, near low tide, we begin to find some sand produced by the grinding action. yet farther out, below high-tide mark, there is commonly a layer of mud which represents the finer products of the mill. boulder beaches are so quick in answering to every slight change in the conditions which affect them that they seem almost alive. if by any chance the supply of detritus is increased, they fill in between the horns, diminish the incurve of the bay, and so cause its beach to be more exposed to heavy waves. if, on the other hand, the supply of grist to the mill is diminished, the beach becomes more deeply incurved, and the wave action is proportionately reduced. we may say, in general, that the curve of these beaches represents a balance between the consumption and supply of the pebbles which they grind up. the supply of pebbles brought along the shore by the waves is in many cases greatly added to by a curious action of seaweeds. if the bottom of the water off the coast is covered by these fragments, as is the case along many coast lines within the old glaciated districts, the spores of algæ are prone to take root upon them. fastening themselves in those positions, and growing upward, the seaweeds may attain considerable size. being provided with floats, the plant exercises a certain lifting power on the stone, and finally the tugging action of the waves on the fronds may detach the fragments from the bottom, making them free to journey toward the shore. observing from near at hand the straight wall of the wave in times of heavy storm, the present writer has seen in one view as many as a dozen of these plant-borne stones, sometimes six inches in diameter, hanging in the walls of water as it was about to topple over. as soon as they strike the wave-beaten part of the shore these stones are apt to become separated from the plants, though we can often notice the remains or prints of the attachments adhering to the surface of the rock. where the pebbles off the shore are plenty, a rocky beach may be produced by this process of importation through the agency of seaweeds without any supply being brought by the waves along the coast line. returning to sand beaches, we enter the most interesting field of contact between seas and lands. probably nine tenths of all the coast lines of the open ocean are formed of arenaceous material. in general, sand consists of finely broken crystals of silica or quartz. these bits are commonly distinctly faceted; they rarely have a spherical form. not only do accumulations of sand border most of the shore line, but they protect the land against the assaults of the sea, and this in the following curious manner: when shore waves beat pebbles against each other, they rapidly wear to bits; we can hear the sound of the wearing action as the wave goes to and fro. we can often see that the water is discoloured by the mud or powdered rock. when, however, the waves tumble on a sandy coast, they make but a muffled sound, and produce no mud. in fact, the particles of sand do not touch each other when they receive the blow. between them there lies a thin film of water, drawn in by the attraction known as capillarity, which sucks the fluid into a sponge or between plates of glass placed near together. the stroke of the waves slightly compresses this capillary water, but the faces of the grains are kept apart as sheets of glass may be observed to be restrained from contact when water is between them. if the reader would convince himself as to the condition of the sand grains and the water which is between them, he may do so by pressing his foot on the wet beach which the wave has just left. he will observe that it whitens and sinks a little under the pressure, but returns in good part to its original form when the foot is lifted. in the experiment he has pushed a part of the contained water aside, but he has not brought the grains together; they do not make the sound which he will often hear when the sand is dry. the result is that the sand on the seashore may wear more in going the distance of a mile in the dry sand dune than in travelling for hundreds along the wet shore. if the rock matter in the state of sand wore as rapidly under the heating of the waves as it does in the state of pebbles, the continents would doubtless be much smaller than they are. those coasts which have no other protection than is afforded by a low sand beach are often better guarded against the inroads of the sea than the rock-girt parts of the continents. it is on account of this remarkable endurance of sand of the action of the waves that the stratified rocks which make up the crust of the earth are so thick and are to such an extent composed of sand grains. the tendency of the _débris_-making influences along the coast line is to fill in the irregularities which normally exist there; to batter off the headlands, close up the bays and harbours, and generally to reduce the shores to straight lines. where the tide has access to these inlets, it is constantly at work in dragging out the detritus which the waves make and thrust into the recesses. these two actions contend with each other, and determine the conditions of the coast line, whether they afford ports for commerce or are sealed in by sand bars, as are many coast lines which are not tide-swept, as that of northern africa, which faces the mediterranean, a nearly tideless sea. the same is the case with the fresh-water lakes; even the greater of them are often singularly destitute of shelters which can serve the use of ships, and this because there are no tides to keep the bays and harbours open. the ocean currents. the system of ocean currents, though it exhibits much complication in detail, is in the main and primarily dependent on the action of the constant air streams known as the trade winds. with the breath from the lips over a basin of water we can readily make an experiment which shows in a general way the method in which the winds operate in producing the circulation of the sea. blowing upon the surface of the water in the basin, we find that even this slight impulse at once sets the upper part in motion, the movement being of two kinds--pulsating movements or waves are produced, and at the same time the friction of the air on the surface causes its upper part to slide over the under. with little floats we can shortly note that the stream which forms passes to the farther side of the vessel, there divides, and returns to the point of beginning, forming a double circle, or rather two ellipses, the longer sides of which are parallel with the line of the air current. watching more closely, aiding the sight by the particles which float at various distances below the surface, we note the fact that the motion which was at first imparted to the surface gradually extends downward until it affects the water to the depth of some inches. in the trade-wind belt the ocean waters to the depth of some hundreds of feet acquire a continuous movement in the direction in which they are impelled by those winds. this motion is most rapid at the surface and near the tropics. it diminishes downwardly in the water, and also toward the polar sides of the trade-wind districts. thus the trades produce in the sea two broad, slow-moving, deep currents, flowing in the northern hemisphere toward the southwest, and in the southern hemisphere toward the northwest. coming down upon each other obliquely, these broad streams meet about the middle of the tropical belt. here, as before noted, the air of the trade winds leaves the surface and rises upward. the waters being retained on their level, form a current which moves toward the west. if the earth within the tropics were covered by a universal sea, the result of this movement would be the institution of a current which, flowing under the equator, would girdle the sphere. with a girdling equatorial current, because of the intense heat of the tropics and the extreme cold of the parallels beyond the fortieth degree of latitude, the earth would be essentially uninhabitable to man, and hardly so to any forms of life. its surface would be visited by fierce winds induced by the very great differences of temperature which would then prevail. owing, however, to the barriers which the continents interpose to the motions of these windward-setting tropical currents, all the water which they bear, when it strikes the opposing shores, is diverted to the right and left, as was the stream in the experiment with the basin and the breath, the divided currents seeking ways toward high latitudes, conveying their store of heat to the circumpolar lands. so effective is this transfer of temperature that a very large part of the heat which enters the waters in the tropical region is taken out of that division of the earth's surface and distributed over the realms of sea and land which lie beyond the limits of the vertical sun. thus the gulf stream, the northern branch of the atlantic tropical current, by flowing into the north atlantic, contributes to the temperature of the region within the arctic circle more heat than actually comes to that district by the direct influx from the sun. the above statements as to the climatal effect of the ocean streams show us how important it is to obtain a sufficient conception as to the way in which these currents now move and what we can of their history during the geologic ages. this task can not yet be adequately done. the fields of the sea are yet too imperfectly explored to afford us all the facts required to make out the whole story. only in the case of our gulf stream can we form a full conception as to the journey which the waters undergo and the consequence of their motion. in the case of this current, observations clearly show that it arises from the junction near the equatorial line of the broad stream created by the two trade-wind belts. uniting at the equator, these produce a westerly setting current, having the width of some hundred miles and a depth of several hundred feet. its velocity is somewhat greater than a mile an hour. the centre of the current, because of the greater strength of the northern as compared with the southern trades, is considerably south of the equator. when this great slow-moving stream comes against the coast of south america, it encounters the projecting shoulder of that land which terminates at cape st. roque. there it divides, as does a current on the bows of an anchored ship, a part--rather more than one half--of the stream turning to the northward, the remainder passing toward the southern pole; this northerly portion becomes what is afterward known as the gulf stream, the history of which we shall now briefly follow. flowing by the northwesterly coast of south america, the northern share of the tropical current, being pressed in against the land by the trade winds, is narrowed, and therefore acquires at once a swifter flow, the increased speed being due to conditions like those which add to the velocity of the water flowing through a hose when it comes to the constriction of the nozzle. attaining the line of the southeastern or lesser antilles, often known as the windward islands, a part of this current slips through the interspaces between these isles and enters the gulf of mexico. another portion, failing to find sufficient room through these passages, skirts the antilles on their eastern and northern sides, passes by and among the bahama islands, there to rejoin the part of the stream which entered the caribbean. this caribbean portion of the tide spreads widely in that broad sea, is constricted again between cuba and yucatan, again expands in the gulf of mexico, and is finally poured forth through the straits of florida as a stream having the width of forty or fifty miles, a depth of a thousand feet or more, and a speed of from three to five miles an hour, exceeding in its rate of flow the average of the greatest rivers, and conveying more water than do all the land streams of the earth. in this part of its course the deep and swift stream from the gulf of mexico, afterward to be named the gulf stream, receives the contribution of slower moving and shallower currents which skirted the antilles on their eastern verge. the conjoined waters then move northward, veering toward the east, at first as a swift river of the sea having a width of less than a hundred miles and of great depth; with each step toward the pole this stream widens, diminishing proportionately in depth; the speed of its current decreases as the original impetus is lost, and the baffling winds set its surface waters to and fro in an irregular way. where it passes cape hatteras it has already lost a large share of its momentum and much of its heat, and is greatly widened. although the current of the gulf stream becomes more languid as we go northward, it for a very long time retains its distinction from the waters of the sea through which it flows. sailing eastward from the mouth of the chesapeake, the navigator can often observe the moment when he enters the waters of this current. this is notable not only in the temperature, but in the hue of the sea. north of that line the sharpness of the parting wall becomes less distinct, the stream spreads out broadly over the surface of the atlantic, yet its thermometric effects are distinctly traceable to iceland and nova zembla, and the tropical driftwood which it carries affords the principal timber supply of the inhabitants of the first-named isle. attaining this circumpolar realm, and finally losing the impulse which bore it on, the water of the gulf stream partly returns to the southward in a relatively slight current which bears the fluid along the coast of europe until it re-enters the system of tropical winds and the currents which they produce. a larger portion stagnates in the circumpolar region, in time slowly to return to the tropical district in a manner afterward to be described. although the gulf stream in the region north of cape hatteras is so indistinct that its presence was not distinctly recognised until the facts were subjected to the keen eye of benjamin franklin, its effects in the way of climate are so great that we must attribute the fitness of northern europe for the uses of civilized man to its action. but for the heat which this stream brings to the realm of the north atlantic, great britain would be as sterile as labrador, and the scandinavian region, the cradle-land of our race, as uninhabitable as the bleakest parts of siberia. it is a noteworthy fact that when the equatorial current divides on the continents against which it flows, the separate streams, although they may follow the shores for a certain distance toward the poles, soon diverge from them, just as the gulf stream passes to the seaward from the eastern coast of the united states. the reason for this movement is readily found in the same principle which explains the oblique flow of the trades and counter trades in their passage to and from the equatorial belt. the particle of water under the equator, though it flows to the west, has, by virtue of the earth's rotation, an eastward-setting velocity of a thousand miles an hour. starting toward the poles, the particle is ever coming into regions of the sea where the fluid has a less easterly movement, due to the earth's rotation on its axis. consequently the journeying water by its momentum tends to move off in an easterly course. attaining high latitudes and losing its momentum, it abides in the realm long enough to become cooled. we have already noted the fact that only a portion of the waters sent northward in the gulf stream and the other currents which flow from the equator to the poles is returned by the surface flow which sets toward the equator along the eastern side of the basins. the largest share of the tide effects its return journey in other ways. some portion of this remainder sets equatorward in local cold streams, such as that which pours forth through davis strait into baffin bay, flowing under the gulf stream waters for an unknown distance toward the tropics. there are several of these local as yet little known streams, which doubtless bring about a certain amount of circulation between the polar regions and the tropical districts. their effect is, however, probably small as compared with that massive drift which we have now to note. the tropical waters when they attain high latitudes are constantly cooled, and are overlaid by the warmer contributions of that tide, and are thus brought lower and lower in the sea. when they start downward they have, as observations show, a temperature not much above the freezing point of salt water. they do not congeal for the reason that the salt of the ocean lowers the point at which the water solidifies to near ° fahr. the effect of this action is gradually to press down the surface cold water until it attains the very bottom in all the circumpolar regions. at the same time this descending water drifts along the bottom of the ocean troughs toward the equatorial realm. as this cold water is heavier than that which is of higher temperature and nearer the surface, it has no tendency to rise. being below the disturbing influences of any current save its own, it does not tend, except in a very small measure, to mingle with the warmer overlying fluid. the result is that it continues its journey until it may come within the tropics without having gained a temperature of more than ° fahr., the increase in heat being due in small measure to that which it receives from the earth's interior and that which it acquires from the overlying warmer water. attaining the region of the tropical current, this drift water from the poles gradually rises, to take the place of that which goes poleward, becomes warm, and again starts on its surface journey toward the arctic and antarctic regions. nothing is known as to the rate of this bottom drift from the polar districts toward the equator, but, from some computation which he has made, the writer is of the opinion that several centuries is doubtless required for the journey from the arctic circle to the tropics. the speed of the movement probably varies; it may at times require some thousand years for its accomplishment. the effect of the bottom drift is to withdraw from seas in high latitudes the very cold water which there forms, and to convey it beneath the seas of middle latitudes to a realm where it is well placed for the reheating process. if all the cold water of circumpolar regions had to journey over the surface to the equator, the perturbing effect of its flow on the climates of various lands would be far greater than it is at present. where such cold currents exist the effect is to chill the air without adding much to the rainfall; while the currents setting northward not only warm the regions near which they flow, but by so doing send from the water surfaces large quantities of moisture which fall as snow or rain. thus the gulf stream, directly and indirectly, probably contributes more than half the rainfall about the atlantic basin. the lack of this influence on the northern part of north america and asia causes those lands to be sterilized by cold, although destitute of permanent ice and snow upon their surfaces. we readily perceive that the effect of the oceanic circulation upon the temperatures of different regions is not only great but widely contrasted. by taking from the equatorial belt a large part of the heat which falls within that realm, it lowers the temperature to the point which makes the district fit for the occupancy of man, perhaps, indeed, tenable to all the higher forms of life. this same heat removed to high latitudes tempers the winter's cold, and thus makes a vast realm inhabitable which otherwise would be locked in almost enduring frosts. furthermore, this distribution of temperatures tends to reduce the total wind energy by diminishing the trades and counter trades which are due to the variations of heat which are encountered in passing polarward from the equator. still further, but for this circulation of water in the sea, the oceans about the poles would be frozen to their very bottom, and this vast sheet of ice might be extended southward to within the parallels of fifty degrees north and south latitude, although the waters under the equator might at the same time be unendurably hot and unfit for the occupancy of living beings. a large part of the difficulties which geologists encounter in endeavouring to account for the changes of the past arise from the evidences of great climatal revolutions which the earth has undergone. in some chapters of the great stone book, whose leaves are the strata of the earth, we find it plainly written in the impressions made by fossils that all the lands beyond the equatorial belt have undergone changes which can only be explained by the supposition that the heat and moisture of the countries have been subjected to sudden and remarkable changes. thus in relatively recent times thick-leaved plants which retained their vegetation in a rather tender state throughout the year have flourished near to the poles, while shortly afterward an ice sheet, such as now covers the greater part of greenland, extended down to the line of the ohio river at cincinnati. although these changes of climate are, as we shall hereafter note, probably due to entangled causes, we must look upon the modifications of the ocean streams as one of the most important elements in the causation. we can the more readily imagine such changes to be due to the alterations in the course and volume of the ocean current when we note how trifling peculiarities in the geography of the shores--features which are likely to be altered by the endless changes which occur in the form of a continent--affect the run of these currents. thus the growth of coral reefs in southern florida, and, in general, the formation of that peninsula, by narrowing the exit of the great current from the gulf of mexico, has probably increased its velocity. if florida should again sink down, that current would go forth into the north atlantic with the speed of about a mile an hour, and would not have momentum enough to carry its waters over half the vast region which they now traverse. if the lands about the western border of the caribbean sea, particularly the isthmus of darien, should be depressed to a considerable depth below the ocean level, the tropical current would enter the pacific ocean, adding to the temperature of its waters all the precious heat which now vitalizes the north atlantic region. such a geographic accident would not only profoundly alter the life conditions of that part of the world, but it would make an end of european civilization. in the chapter on climatal changes further attention will be given to the action of ocean currents from the point of view of their influence on the heat and moisture of different parts of the world. we now have to consider the last important influence of ocean currents--that which they directly exercise on the development of organic life. the most striking effect of this nature which the sea streams bring about is caused by the ceaseless transportation to which they subject the eggs and seeds of animals and plants, as well as the bodies of the mature form which are moved about by the flowing waters. but for the existence of these north and south flowing currents, due to the presence of the continental barriers, the living tenants of the seas would be borne along around the earth, always in the same latitude, and therefore exposed to the same conditions of temperature. in this state of affairs the influences which now make for change in organic species would be far less than they are. journeying in the great whirlpools which the continental barriers make out of the westward setting tropical currents, these organic species are ever being exposed to alterations in their temperature conditions which we know to be favourable to the creation of those variations on which the advance of organic life so intimately depends. thus the ocean currents not only help to vary the earth by producing changes in the climate of both sea and land, breaking up the uniformity which would otherwise characterize regions at the same distance from the equator, but they induce, by the consequences of the migrations which they enforce, changes in the organic tenants of the sea. another immediate effect of ocean streams arises where their currents of warm water come against shores or shallows of the sea. at these points, if the water have a tropical temperature, we invariably find a vast and rapid development of marine animals and plants, of which the coral-making polyps are the most important. in such positions the growth of forms which secrete solid skeletons is so rapid that great walls of their remains accumulate next the shore, the mass being built outwardly by successive growths until the realm of the land may be extended for scores of miles into the deep. in other cases vast mounds of this organic _débris_ may be accumulated in mid ocean until its surface is interspersed with myriads of islands, all of which mark the work due to the combined action of currents and the marine life which they nourish. probably more than four fifths of all the islands in the tropical belt are due in this way to the life-sustaining action of the currents which the trade winds create. there are many secondary influences of a less important nature which are due to the ocean streams. the reader will find on most wall-maps of the world certain areas in the central part of the oceans which are noted as sargassum seas, of which that of the north atlantic, west and south of the azore islands, is one of the most conspicuous. in these tracts, which in extent may almost be compared with the continents, we find great quantities of floating seaweed, the entangled fronds of which often form a mass sufficiently dense to slightly restrain the speed of ships. when the men on the caravels of columbus entered this tangle, they were alarmed lest they should be unable to escape from its toils. it is a curious fact that these weeds of the sea while floating do not reproduce by spores the structures which answer to the seeds of higher plants, but grow only by budding. it seems certain that they could not maintain their place in the ocean but for the action of the currents which convey the bits rent off from the shores where the plant is truly at home. this vast growth of plant life in the sargassum basins doubtless contributed considerable and important deposits of sediment to the sea floors beneath the waters which it inhabits. certain ancient strata, known as the devonian black shale, occupying the ohio valley and the neighbouring parts of north america to the east and north of that basin, appear to be accumulations which were made beneath an ancient sargassum sea. the ocean currents have greatly favoured and in many instances determined the migrations not only of marine forms, but of land creatures as well. floating timber may bear the eggs and seeds of many forms of life to great distances until the rafts are cast ashore in a realm where, if the conditions favour, the creatures may find a new seat for their life. seeds of plants incased in their often dense envelopes may, because they float, be independently carried great distances. so it comes about that no sooner does a coral or other island rise above the waters of the sea than it becomes occupied by a varied array of plants. the migrations of people, even down to the time of the voyages which discovered america, have in large measure been controlled by the run of the ocean streams. the tropical set of the waters to the westward helped columbus on his way, and enabled him to make a journey which but for their assistance could hardly have been accomplished. this same current in the northern part of the gulf stream opposed the passage of ships from northern europe to the westward, and to this day affects the speed with which their voyages are made. the circuit of the rain. we have now to consider those movements of the water which depend upon the fact that at ordinary temperatures the sea yields to the air a continued and large supply of vapour, a contribution which is made in lessened proportion by water in all stages of coldness, and even by ice when it is exposed to dry air. this evaporation of the sea water is proportional to the temperature and to the dryness of the air where it rests upon the ocean. it probably amounts on the average to somewhere about three feet per annum; in regions favourably situated for the process, as on the west coast of northern africa, it may be three or four times as much, while in the cold and humid air about the poles it may be as little as one foot. when contributed to the air, the water enters on the state of vapour, in which state it tends to diffuse itself freely through the atmosphere by virtue of the motion which is developed in particles when in the vaporous or gaseous state. the greater part of the water evaporated from the seas probably finds its way as rain at once back into the deep, yet a considerable portion is borne away horizontally until it encounters the land. the precipitation of the water from the air is primarily due to the cooling to which it is subjected as it rises in the atmosphere. over the sea the ascent is accomplished by the simple diffusion of the vapour or by the uprise through the aërial shaft, such as that near the equator or over the centres of the whirling storms. it is when the air strikes the slopes of the land that we find it brought into a condition which most decidedly tends to precipitate its moisture. lifted upward, the air as it ascends the slopes is brought into cooler and more rarefied conditions. losing temperature and expanding, it parts with its water for the same reason that it does in the ascending current in the equatorial belt or in the chimneys of the whirl storms. a general consequence of this is that wherever moisture-laden winds from the sea impinge upon a continent they lay down a considerable part of the water which they contain. if all the lands were of the same height, the rain would generally come in largest proportion upon their coastal belt, or those portions of the shore-line districts over which the sea winds swept. but as these winds vary in the amount of the watery vapour which they contain, and as the surface of the land is very irregular, the rainfall is the most variable feature in the climatal conditions of our sphere. near the coasts it ranges from two or three inches in arid regions--such as the western part of the sahara and portions of the coast regions of chili and peru--to eight hundred inches about the head waters of the brahmapootra river in northern india, where the high mountains are swept over by the moisture-laden airs from the neighbouring sea. here and there detached mountainous masses produce a singular local increase in the amount of the rainfall. thus in the lake district in northwestern england the rainfall on the seaward side of mountains, not over four thousand feet high, is very much greater than it is on the other slope, less than a score of miles away. these local variations are common all over the world, though they are but little observed. in general, the central parts of continents are likely to receive much less rainfall than their peripheral portions. thus the central districts of north america, asia, and australia--three out of the five continental masses--have what we may call interior deserts. africa has one such, though it is north of the centre, and extends to the shores of the mediterranean and the atlantic. the only continent without this central nearly rainless field is south america, where the sole characteristic arid district is situated on the western slope of the cordilleran range. in this case the peculiarity is due to the fact that the strong westerly setting winds which sweep over the country encounter no high mountains until they strike the andean chain. they journey up a long and rather gradual slope, where the precipitation is gradually induced, the process being completed when they strike the mountain wall. passing over its summit, they appear as dry winds on the pacific coast. even while the winds frequently blow in from the sea, as along the western coast of the americas, they may come over water which is prevailingly colder than the land. this is characteristically the case on the western faces of the american continent, where the sea is cooled by the currents setting toward the equator from high latitudes. such cool sea air encountering the warm land has its temperature raised, and therefore does not tend to lay down its burden of moisture, but seeks to take up more. on this account the rainfall in countries placed under such conditions is commonly small. by no means all the moisture which comes upon the earth from the atmosphere descends in the form of rain or snow. a variable, large, though yet undetermined amount falls in the form of dew. dew is a precipitation of moisture which has not entered the peculiar state which we term fog or cloud, but has remained invisible in the air. it is brought to the earth through the radiation of heat which continually takes place, but which is most effective during the darkened half of the day, when the action is not counterbalanced by the sun's rays. while the sun is high and the air is warm there is a constant absorption of moisture in large part from the ground or from the neighbouring water areas, probably in some part from those suspended stores of water, the clouds, if such there be in the neighbourhood. we can readily notice how clouds drifting in from the sea often melt into the dry air which they encounter. late in the afternoon, even before the sun has sunk, the radiation of heat from the earth, which has been going on all the while, but has been less considerable than the incurrent of temperature, in a way overtakes that influx. the air next the surface becomes cooled from its contact with the refrigerating earth, and parts with its moisture, forming a coating of water over everything it touches. at the same time the moisture escaping from the warmed under earth likewise drops back upon its cooled surface almost as soon as it has escaped. the thin sheet of water precipitated by this method is quickly returned to the air when it becomes warmed by the morning sunshine, but during the night quantities of it are absorbed by the plants; very often, indeed, with the lowlier vegetation it trickles down the leaves and enters the earth about the base of the stem, so that the roots may appropriate it. our maize, or indian corn, affords an excellent example of a plant which, having developed in a land of droughts, is well contrived, through its capacities for gathering dew, to protect itself against arid conditions. in an ordinary dew-making night the leaves of a single stem may gather as much as half a pint of water, which flows down their surfaces to the roots. so efficient is this dew supply, this nocturnal cloudless rain, that on the western coast of south america and elsewhere, where the ordinary supply of moisture is almost wanting, many important plants are able to obtain from it much of the water which they need. the effect is particularly striking along seashores, where the air, although it may not have the humidity necessary for the formation of rain, still contains enough to form dew. it is interesting to note that the quantity of dew which falls upon an area is generally proportioned to the amount of living vegetation which it bears. the surfaces of leaves are very efficient agents of radiation, and the tangle which they make offers an amount of heat-radiating area many times as great as that afforded by a surface of bared earth. moreover, the ground itself can not well cool down to the point where it will wring the moisture out of the air, while the thin membranes of the plants readily become so cooled. thus vegetation by its own structure provides itself with means whereby it may be in a measure independent of the accidental rainfall. we should also note the fact that the dewfall is a concomitant of cloudless skies. the quantity which is precipitated in a cloudy night is very small, and this for the reason that when the heavens are covered the heat from the earth can not readily fly off into space. under these conditions the temperature of the air rarely descends low enough to favour the precipitation of dew. having noted the process by which in the rain circuit the water leaves the sea and the conditions of distribution when it returns to the earth, we may now trace in more detail the steps in this great round. first, we should take note of the fact that the water after it enters the air may come back to the surface of the earth in either of two ways--directly in the manner of dewfall, or in a longer circuit which leads it through the state of clouds. as yet we are not very well informed as to the law of the cloud-making, but certain features in this picturesque and most important process have been tolerably well ascertained. rising upward from the sea, the vapour of water commonly remains transparent and invisible until it attains a considerable height above the surface, where the cooling tends to make it assume again the visible state of cloud particles. the formation of these cloud particles is now believed to depend on the fact that the air is full of small dust motes, exceedingly small bits of matter derived from the many actions which tend to bring comminuted solid matter into the air, as, for instance, the combustion of meteoric stones, which are greatly heated by friction in their swift course through the air, the ejections of volcanoes, the smoke of forest and other fires, etc. these tiny bits, floating in the air, because of their solid nature radiate their heat, cool the air which lies against them, and thereby precipitate the water in the manner of dew, exactly as do the leaves and other structures on the surface of the earth. in fact, dew formation is essentially like cloud formation, except that in the one case the water is gathered on fixed bodies, and in the other on floating objects. each little dust raft with its cargo of condensed water tends, of course, to fall downward toward the earth's surface, and, except for the winds which may blow upward, does so fall, though with exceeding slowness. its rate of descent may be only a few feet a day. it was falling before it took on the load of water; it will fall a little more rapidly with the added burden, but even in a still air it might be months or years before it would come to the ground. the reason for this slow descent may not at first sight be plain, though a little consideration will make it so. if we take a shot of small size and a feather of the same weight, we readily note that their rate of falling through the air may vary in the proportion of ten to one or more. it is easy to conceive that this difference is due to the very much less friction which the smaller body encounters in its motion by the particles of air. with this point in mind, the student should observe that the surface presented by solid bodies in relation to their solid contents is the greater the smaller the diameter. a rough, though not very satisfactory, instance of this principle may be had by comparing the surface and interior contents of two boxes, one ten feet square and the other one foot square. the larger has six hundred feet of surface to one thousand cubic feet of interior, or about half a square foot of outer surface to the cubic foot of contents; while the smaller box has six feet of surface for the single cubic foot of interior, or about ten times the proportion of exterior to contents. the result is that the smaller particles encounter more friction in moving toward the earth, until, in the case of finely divided matter, such as the particles of carbon in the smoke from an ordinary fire, the rate of down-falling may be so small as to have little effect in the turbulent conditions of atmospheric motion. [illustration: _pocket creek, cape ann, massachusetts. note the relatively even size of the pebbles, and the splash wave which sets them in motion._] the little drops of water which gather round dust motes, falling but slowly toward the earth, are free to obey the attractions which they exercise upon each other--impulses which are partly gravitative and partly electrical. we have no precise knowledge concerning these movements, further than that they serve to aggregate the myriad little floats into cloud forms, in which the rafts are brought near together, but do not actually touch each other. they are possibly kept apart by electrical repulsion. in this state of association without union the divided water may undergo the curiously modified aggregations which give us the varied forms of clouds. as yet we know little as to the cause of cloud shapes. we remark the fact that in the higher of these agglomerations of condensed vapour, the clouds which float at an elevation of from twenty to thirty thousand feet or more, the masses are generally thin, and arranged more or less in a leaflike form, though even here a tendency to produce spherical clouds is apparent. in this high realm floating water is probably in the frozen state, answering to the form of dew, which we call hoar frost. the lower clouds, gathering in the still air, show very plainly the tendency to agglomerate into spheres, which appears to be characteristic of all vaporous material which is free to move by its own impulses. it is probable that the spherical shape of clouds is more or less due to the same conditions as gathered the stellar matter from the ancient nebular chaos into the celestial spheres. upon these spherical aggregations of the clouds the winds act in extremely varied ways. the cloud may be rubbed between opposite currents, and so flattened out into a long streamer; it may take the same form by being carried off by a current in the manner of smoke from a fire; the spheres may be kept together, so as to form the patchwork which we call "mackerel" sky; or they may be actually confounded with each other in a vast common cloud-heap. in general, where the process of aggregation of two cloud bodies occurs, changes of temperature are induced in the masses which are mixed together. if the temperature resulting from this association of cloud masses is an average increase, the cloud may become lighter, and in the manner of a balloon move upward. each of the motes in the cloud with its charge of vapour may be compared with the ballast of the balloon; if they are warmed, they send forth a part of their load of condensed water again to the state of invisible vapour. rising to a point where it cools, the vapour gathers back on the rafts and tends again to weight the cloud downward. the ballast of an ordinary balloon has to be thrown away from its car; but if some arrangement for condensing the moisture from the air could be contrived, a balloon might be brought into the adjustable state of a cloud, going up or down according as it was heated or cooled. when the formation of the drop of water or snowflake begins, the mass is very small. if in descending it encounters great thickness of cloud, the bit may grow by further condensation until it becomes relatively large. generally in this way we may account for the diversities in the size of raindrops or snowflakes. it often happens that the particles after taking on the form of snowflakes encounter in their descent air so warm that they melt into raindrops, or, if only partly melted, reach the surface as sleet. or, starting as raindrops, they may freeze, and in this simple state may reach the earth, or after freezing they may gather other frozen water about them, so that the hailstone has a complicated structure which, from the point of view of classification, is between a raindrop and a snowflake. in the process of condensation--indeed, in the steps which precede the formation of rain and snow--there is often more or less trace of electrical action; in fact, a part of the energy which was involved in the vapourization of water, on its condensation, even on the dust motes appears to be converted into electrical action, which probably operates in part to keep the little aggregates of water asunder. when they coalesce in drops or flakes, this electricity often assumes the form of lightning, which represents the swift passage of the electric store from a region where it is most abundant to one where it is less so. the variations in this process of conveying the electricity are probably great. in general, it probably passes, much as an electric current is conveyed, through a wire from the battery which produces the force. in other cases, where the tension is high, or, in other words, where the discharge has to be hastened, we have the phenomena of lightning in which the current burns its way along its path, as it may traverse a slender wire, vapourizing it as it goes. in general, the lightning flash expends its force on the air conductors, or lines of the moist atmosphere along which it breaks its path, its energy returning into the vapour which it forms or the heat which it produces in the other parts of the air. in some cases, probably not one in the thousand of the flashes, the charge is so heavy that it is not used up in its descent toward the earth, and so electrifies, or, as we say, strikes, some object attached to the earth, through which it passes to the underlying moisture, where it finds a convenient place to take on a quiet form. almost all these hurried movements of electrical energy which intensely heat and light the air which they traverse fly from one part of a cloud to another, or cross from cloud sphere to cloud sphere; of those which start toward the earth, many are exhausted before they reach its surface, and even those that strike convey but a portion of their original impulse to the ground. the wearing-out effect of lightning in its journey along the air conductors in its flaming passages is well illustrated by what happens when the charge strikes a wire which is not large enough freely to convey it. the wire is heated, generally made white hot, often melted, and perhaps scattered in the form of vapour. in doing this work the electricity may, and often is, utterly dissipated--that is, changed into heat. it has been proposed to take advantage of this principle in protecting buildings from lightning by placing in them many thin wires, along which the current will try to make its way, being exhausted in melting or vaporizing the metal through which it passes. there are certain other forms of lightning, or at least of electrical discharges, which produce light and which may best be described in this connection. it occasionally happens that the earth becomes so charged that the current proceeds from its surface to the clouds. more rarely, and under conditions which we do not understand, the electric energy is gathered into a ball-like form, which may move slowly along the surface until it suddenly explodes. it is a common feature of all these forms of lightning which we have noted that they ordinarily make in their movement considerable noise. this is due to the sudden displacement of the air which they traverse--displacement due to the action of heat in separating the particles. it is in all essential regards similar to the sounds made by projectiles, such as meteors or swift cannon shots, as they fly through the air. it is even more comparable to the sound produced by exploding gunpowder. the first sound effect from the lightning stroke is a single rending note, which endures no longer--indeed, not as long--as the explosion of a cannon. heard near by, this note is very sharp, reminding one of the sound made by the breaking of glass. the rolling, continuous sound which we commonly hear in thunder is, as in the case of the noise produced by cannon, due to echo from the clouds and the earth. thunder is ordinarily much more prolonged and impressive in a mountainous country than in a region of plains, because the steeps about the hearer reverberate the original single crash. the distribution of thunderstorms is as yet not well understood, but it appears in many cases that they are attendants on the advancing face of cyclones and hurricanes, the area in front of these great whirlstorms being subjected to the condensation and irregular air movements which lead to the development of much electrical energy. there are, however, certain parts of the earth which are particularly subjected to lightning flashes. they are common in the region near the equator, where the ascending currents bring about heavy rains, which mean a rapid condensation and consequent liberation of electrical energy. they diminish in frequency toward the arctic regions. an observer at the pole would probably fail ever to perceive strong flashes. for the same reason thunderstorms are more frequent in summer, the time when the difference in temperature between the surface and the upper air is greatest, when, therefore, the uprushes of air are likely to be most violent. they appear to be more common in the night than in the daytime, for the reason that condensation is favoured by the cooling which occurs in the dark half of the day. it is rare, indeed, that a thunderstorm occurs near midday, a period when the air is in most cases taking up moisture on account of the swiftly increasing heat. there are other forms of electrical discharges not distinctly connected with the then existing condensation of moisture. what the sailors call st. elmo's fire--a brush of electric light from the mast tops and other projections of the ship--indicates the passage of electrical energy between the vessel and the atmosphere. similar lights are said sometimes to be seen rising from the surface of the water. such phenomena are at present not satisfactorily explained. perhaps in the same group of actions comes the so-called "jack-o'-lantern" or "will-o'-the-wisp" fires flashing from the earth in marshy places, which are often described by the common people, but have never been observed by a naturalist. if this class of illuminations really exists, we have to afford them some other explanation than that they are emanations of self-inflamed phosphoretted hydrogen, a method of accounting for them which illogically finds a place in many treatises on atmospheric phenomena. a gas of any kind would disperse itself in the air; it could not dance about as these lights are said to do, and there is no chemical means known whereby it could be produced in sufficient purity and quantity from the earth to produce the effects which are described.[ ] [footnote : the present writer has made an extended and careful study of marsh and swamp phenomena, and is very familiar with the aspect of these fields in the nighttime. he has never been able to see any sign of the jack-o'-lantern light. looking fixedly into any darkness, such as is afforded by the depths of a wood, the eye is apt to imagine the appearance of faint lights. those who have had to do with outpost duty in an army know how the anxious sentry, particularly if he is new to the soldier's trade, will often imagine that he sees lights before him. sometimes the pickets will be so convinced of the fact that they see lights that they will fire upon the fiction of the imaginations. these facts make it seem probable that the jack-o'-lantern and his companion, the will-o'-the-wisp, are stories of the overcredulous.] in the upper air, or perhaps even beyond the limits of the field which deserves the name, in the regions extending from the poles to near the tropics, there occur electric glowings commonly known as the aurora borealis. this phenomenon occurs in both hemispheres. these illuminations, though in some way akin to those of lightning, and though doubtless due to some form of electrical action, are peculiar in that they are often attended by glows as if from clouds, and by pulsations which indicate movements not at electric speed. as yet but little is known as to the precise nature of these curious storms. it has been claimed, however, that they are related to the sun spots; those periods when the solar spots are plenty, at intervals of about eleven years, are the times of auroral discharges. still further, it seems probable that the magnetic currents of the earth, that circling energy which encompasses the sphere, moving round in a general way parallel to the equator, are intensified during these illuminations of the circumpolar skies. geological work of water. we turn now to the geological work which is performed by falling water. where the rain or snow returns from the clouds to the sea, the energy of position given to the water by its elevation above the earth through the heat which it acquired from the sun is returned to the air through which it falls or to the ocean surface on which it strikes. in this case the circuit of the rain is short and without geological consequence which it is worth while to consider, except to note that the heat thus returned is likely to be delivered in another realm than that in which the falling water acquired the store, thus in a small way modifying the climate. when, however, the precipitation occurs on the surface of the land, the drops of frozen or fluid water apply a part of their energy in important geological work, the like of which is not done where they return at once to the sea. [illustration: fig. .--showing the diverse action of rain on wooded and cleared fields, _a_, wooded area; _b_, tilled ground.] we shall first consider what takes place when the water in the form of drops of rain comes to the surface of the land. descending as they do with a considerable speed, these raindrops apply a certain amount of energy to the surface on which they fall. although the beat of a raindrop is proverbially light, the stroke is not ineffective. observing what happens where the action takes place on the surface of bare rock, we may notice that the grains of sand or small pebbles which generally abound on such surfaces, if they be not too steeply inclined, dance about under the blows which they receive. if we could cover hard plate glass, a much firmer material than ordinary stone, with such bits, we should soon find that its surface would become scratched all over by the friction. moreover, the raindrops perceptibly urge the small detached bits of stone down the slopes toward the streams. if all the earth's surface were bare rocks, the blow of the raindrops would deserve to be reckoned among the important influences which lead to the wearing of land. as it is, when a country is in a state of nature, only a small part of its surface is exposed to this kind of wearing. where there is rain enough to effect any damage, there is sure to be sufficient vegetation to interpose a living and self-renewed covering between the rocks and the rain. even the lichens which coat what at first sight often seems to be bare rock afford an ample covering for this purpose. it is only where man bares the field by stripping away and overturning this protecting vegetation that the raindrops cut away the earth. the effect of their action can often be noted by observing how on ploughed ground a flat stone or a potsherd comes after a rain to cap a little column. the geologist sometimes finds in soft sandstones that the same action is repeated in a larger way where a thin fragment of hard rock has protected a column many feet in height against the rain work which has shorn down the surrounding rock. when water strikes the moistened surface it at once loses the droplike form which all fluids assume when they fall through the air.[ ] [footnote : this principle of the spheroidal form in falling fluids is used in making ordinary bird shot. the melted lead drops through sievelike openings, the resulting spheres of the metal being allowed to fall into water which chills them. iron shot, used in cutting stone, where they are placed between the saw and the surface of the rock, are also made in the same manner. the descending fluid divides into drops because it is drawn out by the ever-increasing speed of the falling particles, which soon make the stream so thin that it can not hold together.] when the raindrops coalesce on the surface of the earth, the rôle of what we may call land water begins. thenceforward until the fluid arrives at the surface of the sea it is continually at work in effecting a great range of geological changes, only a few of which can well be traced by the general student. the work of land water is due to three classes of properties--to the energy with which it is endowed by virtue of its height above the sea, a power due to the heat of the sun; to the capacity it has for taking substances into solution; and to its property of giving some part of its own substance to other materials with which it comes in contact. the first of these groups of properties may be called dynamical; the others, chemical. the dynamic value of water when it falls upon the land is the amount of energy it can apply in going down the slope which separates it from the sea. a ton of the fluid, such as may gather in an ordinary rain on a thousand square feet of ground in the highlands of a country--say at an elevation of a thousand feet above the sea--expends before it comes to rest in the great reservoir as much energy as would be required to lift that weight from the ocean's surface to the same height. the ways in which this energy may be expended we shall now proceed in a general way to trace. as soon as the water has been gathered, from its drop to its sheet state--a process which takes place as soon as it falls--the fluid begins its downward journey. on this way it is at once parted into two distinct divisions, the surface water and the ground water: the former courses more or less swiftly, generally at the rate of a mile or more an hour, in the light of day; the latter enters the interstices of the earth, slowly descends therein to a greater or less depth, and finally, journeying perhaps at the rate of a mile a year, rejoins the surface water, escaping through the springs. the proportion of these two classes, the surface and the ground water, varies greatly, and an intermixture of them is continually going on. thus on the surface of bare rock or frozen earth all the rain may go away without entering the ground. on very sandy fields the heaviest rainfall may be taken up by the porous earth, so that no streams are found. on such surfaces the present writer has observed that a rainfall amounting to six inches in depth in two hours produced no streams whatever. we shall first follow the history of the surface water, afterward considering the work which the underground movements effect. if the student will observe what takes place on a level ploughed field--which, after all, will not be perfectly level, for all fields are more or less undulating--he will note that, though the surface may have been smoothed by a roller until it appears like a floor, the first rain, where the fall takes place rapidly enough to produce surface streams, will create a series of little channels which grow larger as they conjoin, the whole appearing to the eye like a very detailed map, or rather model, of a river system; it is, indeed, such a system in miniature. if he will watch the process by which these streamlet beds are carved, he will obtain a tolerably clear idea as to that most important work which the greater streams do in carving the face of the lands. the water is no sooner gathered into a sheet than, guided by the slightest irregularities which it encounters, it begins to flow. at first the motion is so slow that it does not disturb its bed, but at some points in the bottom of the sheet the movement soon becomes swift enough to drag the grains of sand and clay from their adhesions, bearing them onward. as soon as this beginning of a channel is formed the water moves more swiftly in the clearer way; it therefore cuts more rapidly, deepening and enlarging its channel, and making its motion yet more free. the tiny rills join the greater, all their channels sway to and fro as directed this way and that by chance irregularities, until something like river basins are carved out, those gentle slopes which form broad valleys where the carving has been due to the wanderings of many streams. if the field be large, considerable though temporary brooks may be created, which cut channels perhaps a foot in depth. at the end of this miniature stream system we always find some part of the waste which has been carved out. if the streamlet discharges into a pool, we find the tiny representative of deltas, which form such an important feature on the coast line where large rivers enter seas or lakes. along the lines of the stream we may observe here and there little benches, which are the equivalent in all save size of the terraces that are generally to be observed along the greater streams. in fact, these accidents of an acre help in a most effective way the student to understand the greater and more complicated processes of continental erosion. a normal river--in fact, all the greater streams of the earth--originates in high country, generally in a region of mountains. here, because of the elevation of the region, the streams have cut deep gorges or extensive valleys, all of which have slopes leading steeply downward to torrent beds. down these inclined surfaces the particles worn off from the hard rock by frost and by chemical decay gradually work their way until they attain the bed of the stream. the agents which assist gravitation in bearing this detritus downward are many, but they all work together for the same end. the stroke of the raindrop accomplishes something, though but little; the direct washing action of the brooklets which form during times of heavy rain, but dry out at the close of the storm, do a good deal of the work; thawing and freezing of the water contained in the mass of detritus help the movement, for, although the thrust is in both directions, it is most effective downhill; the wedges of tree roots, which often penetrate between and under the stones, and there expand in their process of growth, likewise assist the downward motion. the result is that on ordinary mountain slopes the layer of fragments constituting the rude soil is often creeping at the rate of from some inches to some feet a year toward the torrent bed. if there be cliffs at the top of the slope, as is often the case, very extensive falls of rock may take place from it, the masses descending with such speed that they directly attain the stream. if the steeps be low and the rock divided into vertical joints, especially where there is a soft layer at the base of the steep, detached masses from the precipice may move slowly and steadfastly down the slope, so little disturbed in their journey that trees growing upon their summits may continue to develop for the thousands of years before the mass enters the stream bed. although the fall of rocks from precipices does not often take place in a conspicuously large way, all great mountain regions which have long been inhabited by man abound in traditions and histories of such accidents. within a century or two there have been a dozen or more catastrophes of this nature in the inhabited valleys of the alps. as these accidents are at once instructive and picturesque, it is well to note certain of them in some detail. at yvorgne, a little parish on the north shore of the rhône, just above the lake of geneva, tradition tells that an ancient village of the name was overwhelmed by the fall of a great cliff. the vast _débris_ forming the steep slope which was thus produced now bears famous vineyards, but the vintners fancy that they from time to time hear deep in the earth the ringing of the bells which belonged to the overwhelmed church. in the district of goldau, just north of lake lucerne, was buried beneath the ruins of a peak which, resting upon a layer of clay, slipped away like a launching ship on the surface of the soft material. the _débris_ overwhelmed a village and many detached houses, and partly filled a considerable lake. the wind produced by this vast rush of falling rock was so great that people were blown away by it; some, indeed, were killed in this singular manner. the most interesting field of these swiss mountain falls is a high mountain valley of amphitheatrical form, known as the diablerets, or the devil's own district. this great circus, which lies at the height of about four thousand feet above the sea, is walled around on its northern side by a precipice, above which rest, or rather once rested, a number of mountain peaks of great bulk. the region has long been valued for the excellent pasturage which the head of the valley affords. two costly roads, indeed, have been built into it to afford footpaths for the flocks and herds and their keepers in the summer season. through this human experience with the valley, we have a record of what has gone on in this part of the mountain wilderness. within the period of history and tradition, three very great mountain falls have occurred in this field, each having made its memory good by widespread disaster which it brought to the people of the _chalets_. the last of these was brought about by the fall of a great peak which spread itself out in a vast field of ruins in the valley below. the belt of destruction was about half a mile wide and three miles long. when the present writer last saw it, a quarter of a century ago, it was still a wilderness of great rocks, but here and there the process of their decay was giving a foothold for herbage, and in a few centuries the field will doubtless be so verdure-clad that its story will not be told on its face. it is likely, however, to be preserved in the memory of the people, and this through a singular and pathetic tradition which has grown up about the place, one which, if not true, comes at least among the legends which we should like to believe. as told the present writer by a native of the district, it happened when, in the nighttime the mountain came down, the herdsmen and their cows gathered in the _chalets_--stout buildings which are prepared to resist avalanches of snow. in one of these, which was protected from crushing by the position of the stones which covered it, a solitary herdsman found himself alive in his unharmed dwelling. with him in the darkness were the cows, a store of food and water, and his provisions for the long summer season. with nothing but hope to animate him, he set to work burrowing upward among the rocks, storing the _débris_ in the room of the _chalet_. he toiled for some months, but finally emerged to the light of day, blanched by his long imprisonment in the darkness, but with the strength to bear him to his home. in place of the expected warm welcome, the unhappy man found himself received as a ghost. he was exorcised by the priest and driven away to the distance. it was only when long afterward his path of escape was discovered that his history became known. returning to the account of the _débris_ which descends at varied speed into the torrents, we find that when the detritus encounters the action of these vigorous streams it is rapidly ground to pieces while it is pushed down the steep channels to the lower country. where the stones are of such size that the stream can urge them on, they move rapidly; at least in times when the torrent is raging. they beat over each other and against the firm-set rocks; the more they wear, the smaller they become, and the more readily they are urged forward. where the masses are too large to be stirred by the violent current, they lie unmoved until the pounding of the rolling stones reduces them to the proportions where they may join the great procession. ordinarily those who visit mountains behold their torrents only in their shrunken state, when the waters stir no stones, and fail even to bear a charge of mud, all detachable materials having been swept away when the streams course with more vigour. in storm seasons the conditions are quite otherwise; then the swollen torrents, their waters filled with clay and sand, bear with them great quantities of boulders, the collisions of which are audible above the muffled roar of the waters, attesting the very great energy of the action. when the waste on a mountain slope lies at a steep angle, particularly where the accumulation is due to the action of ancient glaciers, it not infrequently happens that when the ground is softened with frost great masses of the material rush down the slope in the manner of landslides. the observer readily notes that in many mountain regions, as, for instance, in the white mountains of new hampshire, the steep slopes are often seamed by the paths of these great landslides. their movement, indeed, is often begun by sliding snow, which gives an impulse to the rocks and earth which it encounters in its descent. at a place known as the wylie notch, in the white mountains, in the early part of this century, a family of that name was buried beneath a mass of glacial waste which had hung on the mountain slope from the ancient days until a heavy rain, following on a period of thaw, impelled the mass down the slope. although there have been few such catastrophes noted in this country, it is because our mountains have not been much dwelt in. as they become thickly inhabited as the alps are, men are sure to suffer from these accidents. as the volume of a mountain torrent increases through the junction of many tributaries, the energy of its moving waters becomes sufficient to sweep away the fragments which come to its bed. before this stage is attained the stream rarely touches the solid under rock of the mountain, the base of the current resting upon the larger loose stones which it was unable to stir. in this pebble-paved section, because the stream could not attack the foundation rock, we find no gorges--in fact, the whole of this upper section of the torrent system is peculiarly conditioned by the fact that the streams are dealing not with bed-rock, but with boulders or smaller loose fragments. if they cut a little channel, the materials from either side slip the faster, and soon repave the bed. but when the streams have by a junction gained strength, and can keep their beds clear, they soon carve down a gorge through which they descend from the upper mountain realm to the larger valleys, where their conjoined waters take on a riverlike aspect. it should be noted here that the cutting power of the water moving in the torrent or in the wave, the capacity it has for abrading rock, resides altogether in the bits of stone or cutting tools with which it is armed. pure water, because of its fluidity, may move over or against firm-set stones for ages without wearing them; but in proportion as it moves rocky particles of any size, the larger they are, the more effective the work, it wears the rock over which it flows. a capital instance of this may be found where a stream from a hose is used in washing windows. if the water be pure, there is no effect upon the glass; but if it be turbid, containing bits of sand, in a little while the surface will appear cloudy from the multitude of line scratches which the hard bits impelled by the water have inflicted upon it. a somewhat similar case occurs where the wind bears sand against window panes or a bottle which has long lain on the shore. the glass will soon be deeply carved by the action, assuming the appearance which we term "ground." this principle is made use of in the arts. glass vessels or sheets are prepared for carving by pasting paper cut into figures on their surfaces. the material is then exposed to a jet of air or steam-impelling sand grains; in a short time all the surface which has not been protected by paper has its polish destroyed and is no longer translucent. the passage from the torrent to the river, though not in a geographical way distinct, is indicated to the observant eye by a simple feature--namely, the appearance of alluvial terraces, those more or less level heaps of water-borne _débris_ which accumulate along the banks of rivers, which, indeed, constitute the difference between those streams and torrents. where the mountain waters move swiftly, they manage to bear onward the waste which they receive. even where the blocks of stone cling in the bed, it is only a short time before they are again set in motion or ground to pieces. if by chance the detritus accumulates rapidly, the slope is steepened and the work of the torrent made more efficient. as the torrent comes toward the base of the mountains, where it neither finds nor can create steep slopes over which to flow, its speed necessarily diminishes. with each reduction in this feature its carrying power very rapidly diminishes. thus water flowing at the rate of ten miles an hour can urge stones four times the mass that it can move when its speed is reduced to half that rate. the result is that on the lowlands, with their relatively gentle slopes, the combined torrents, despite the increase in the volume of the stream arising from their confluence, have to lay down a large part of their load of detritus. if we watch where a torrent enters a mountain river, we observe that the main stream in a way sorts over the waste contributed to it, bearing on only those portions which its rate of flow will permit it to carry, leaving the remainder to be built into the bank in the form of a rude terrace. this accumulation may not extend far below the point where the torrent which imported the _débris_ joins the main stream; a little farther down, however, we are sure to find another such junction and a second accumulation of terrace material. as these contributions increase, the terrace accumulations soon become continuous, lying on one side or the other of the river, sometimes bordering both banks of the stream. in general, it can be said that so long as the rate of fall of the torrent exceeds one hundred feet to the mile it does not usually exhibit these shelves of detritus. below that rate of descent they are apt to be formed. much, however, depends upon the amount of detritus which the stream bears and the coarseness of it; moreover, where the water goes through a gorge in the manner of a flume with steep rocky sides, it can urge a larger amount before it than when it traverses a wide valley, through which it passes, it may be, in a winding way. at first sight it may seem rather a fine distinction to separate torrents from rivers by the presence or absence of terraces. as we follow down the stream, however, and study its action in relation to these terraces, and the peculiar history of the detritus of which they are composed, we perceive that these latter accumulations are very important features. beginning at first with small and imperfect alluvial plains, the river, as it descends toward the sea, gaining in store of water and in the amount of _débris_ which comes with that water from the hills, while the rate of fall and consequent speed of the current are diminished, soon comes to a stage where it is engaged in an endless struggle with the terrace materials. in times of flood, the walls of the terraces compel the tide to flow over the tops of these accumulations. owing to the relative thinness of the water beyond the bed, and to the growth of vegetation there, the current moves more slowly, and therefore lays down a considerable deposit of the silt and sand which it contains. this may result during a single flood in lifting the level of the terrace by some inches in height, still further serving to restrict the channel. along the banks of the mississippi and other large rivers the most of this detritus falls near the stream; a little of it penetrates to the farther side of the plains, which often have a width of ten miles or more. the result is that a broad elevation is constructed, a sort of natural mole or levee, in a measure damming the flood waters, which can now only enter the "back swamps" through the channels of the tributary streams. each of these back swamps normally discharges into the main stream through a little river of its own, along the banks of which the natural levees do not develop. we have now to note a curious swinging movement of rivers which was first well observed by the skilful engineers of british india. this movement can best be illustrated by its effects. if on any river which winds through alluvial plains a jetty is so constructed as to deflect the stream at any point, the course which it follows will be altered during its subsequent flow, it may be, for the distance of hundreds of miles. it will be perceived that in its movements a river normally strikes first against one shore and then against the other. its water in a general way moves as does a billiard ball when it flies from one cushion to another. it is true that in a torrent we have the same conditions of motion; but there the banks are either of hard rock or, if of detritus, they are continually moving into the stream in the manner before described. in the case of the river, however, its points of collision are often on soft banks, which are readily undermined by the washing action of the stream. in the ordinary course of events, the river beginning, we may imagine, with a straight channel, had its current deflected by some obstacle, it may be even by the slight pressure of a tributary stream, is driven against one bank; thence it rebounds and strikes the other. at each point of impinge it cuts the alluvium away. it can bear on only a small portion of that which it thus obtains; the greater part of the material is deposited on the opposite side of the stream, but a little lower down, where it makes a shallow. on these shallows water-loving plants and even certain trees, such as the willows and poplars, find a foothold. when the stream rises, the sediment settles in this tangle, and soon extends the alluvial plain from the neighbouring bank, or in rarer cases the river comes to flow on either side of an island of its own construction. the natural result of this billiard-ball movement of the waters is that the path of the stream is sinuous. the less its rate of fall and the greater the amount of silt it obtains from its tributaries, the more winding its course becomes. this gain in those parts of the river's curvings where deposition tends to take place may be accelerated by tree-planting. thus a skilful owner of a tract of land on the south bank of the ohio river, by assiduously planting willow trees on the front of his property, gained in the course of thirty years more than an acre in the width of his arable land. when told by the present writer that he was robbing his neighbours on the other side of the stream, he claimed that their ignorance of the laws of river motion was sufficient evidence that they did not deserve to own land. in the primitive state of a country the water-loving plants, particularly the trees which flourish in excessively humid conditions, generally make a certain defence against these incursions of the streams. but when a river has gained an opening in the bank it can, during a flood, extend its width often to the distance of hundreds of feet. during the inundations of the mississippi the river may at times be seen to eat away acres of land in a single day along one of the outcurves of its banks. the undermined forests falling into the flood join the great procession of drift timber, composed of trees which have been similarly uprooted, which occupies the middle part of the stream. this driftwood belt often has a width of three or four hundred feet, the entangled stems and branches making it difficult for a boat to pass from one side of the river to the other. [illustration: fig. .--oxbows and cut-off. showing the changes in the course of a river in its alluvial plain.] when the curves of a river have been developed to a certain point (see fig. ), when they have attained what is called the "oxbow" form, it often happens that the stream breaks through the isthmus which connects one of the peninsulas with the mainland. where, as is not infrequently the case, the bend has a length of ten miles or more, the water just above and below the new-made opening is apt to differ in height by some feet. plunging down the declivity, the stream, flowing with great velocity, soon enlarges the channel so that its whole tide may take the easier way. when this result is accomplished, the old curve is deserted, sand bars are formed across their mouths, which may gradually grow to broad alluvial plains, so that the long-surviving, crescent-shaped lake, the remnant of the river bed, may be seen far from the present course of the ever-changing stream. gradually the accumulations of vegetable matter and the silt brought in by floods efface this moat or oxbow cut-off, as it is so commonly termed. as soon as the river breaks through the neck of a peninsula in the manner above described, the current of the stream becomes much swifter for many miles below and above the opening. slowly, however, the slopes are rearranged throughout its whole course, yet for a time the stream near the seat of the change becomes straighter than before, and this for the reason that its swifter current is better able to dispose of the _débris_ which is supplied to it. the effect of a change in the current produced by such new channels as we have described as forming across the isthmuses of bends is to perturb the course of the stream in all its subsequent downward length. thus an oxbow cut-off formed near the junction of the ohio and mississippi may tend more or less to alter the swings of the mississippi all the way to the gulf of mexico. although the swayings of the streams to and fro in their alluvial plains will give the reader some idea as to the struggle which the greater rivers have with the _débris_ which is committed to them, the full measure of the work and its consequences can only be appreciated by those who have studied the phenomena on the ground. a river such as the mississippi is endlessly endeavouring to bear its burden to the sea. if its slope were a uniform inclined plane, the task might readily be accomplished; but in this, as in almost all other large water ways, the slope of the bed is ever diminishing with its onward course. the same water which in the mountain torrent of the appalachians or cordilleras rolled along stones several feet in diameter down slopes of a hundred feet or more to the mile can in the lower reaches of the stream move no pebbles which are more than one fourth of an inch in diameter over slopes which descend on the average about half a foot in a mile. thus at every stage from the torrent to the sea the detritus has from time to time to rest within the alluvial banks, there awaiting the decay which slowly comes, and which may bring it to the state where it may be dissolved in the water, or divided into fragments so small that the stream may bear them on. a computation which the present writer has made shows that, on the average, it requires about forty thousand years for a particle of stone to make its way down the mississippi to the sea after it has been detached from its original bed. of course, some bits may make the journey straightforwardly; others may require a far greater time to accomplish the course which the water itself makes at most in a few weeks. this long delay in the journey of the detritus--a delay caused by its frequent rests in the alluvial plain--brings about important consequences which we will now consider. as an alluvial plain is constructed, we generally find at the base pebbly material which fell to the bottom in the current of the main stream as the shores grew outward. above this level we find the deposits laid down by the flood waters containing no pebbles, and this for the reason that those weightier bits remained in the stream bed when the tide flowed over the plain. as the alluvial deposit is laid down, a good deal of vegetable matter was built into it. generally this has decayed and disappeared. on the surface of the plain there has always been growing abundant vegetation, the remains of which decayed on the surface in the manner which we may observe at the present day. this decomposing vegetable matter within and upon the porous alluvial material produces large quantities of carbonic acid, a gas which readily enters the rain water, and gives it a peculiar power of breaking up rock matter. acting on the _débris_, this gas-charged water rapidly brings about a decay of the fragments. much of the material passes at once into solution in this water, and drains away through the multitudinous springs which border the river. as this matter is completely dissolved, as is sugar in water, it goes straight away to the sea without ever again entering the alluvium. in many, if not most, cases this dissolving work which is going on in alluvial terraces is sufficient to render a large part of the materials which they contain into the state where it disappears in an unseen manner; thus while the annual floods are constantly laying down accumulations on the surface of these plains, the springs are bearing it away from below. in this way, through the decomposition which takes place in them, all those river terraces where much vegetable matter is mingled with the mineral substances, become laboratories in which substances are brought into solution and committed to the seas. we find in the water of the ocean a great array of dissolved mineral substances; it, indeed, seems probable that the sea water contains some share, though usually small, of all the materials which rivers encounter in their journey over and under the lands. as the waters of the sea obtain but little of this dissolved matter along the coast, it seems likely that the greater share of it is brought into the state of solution in the natural laboratories of the alluvial plains. here and there along the sides of the valleys in which the rivers flow we commonly find the remains of ancient plains lying at more or less considerable heights above the level of the streams. generally these deposits, which from their form are called terraces, represent the stages of down-wearing by which the stream has carved out its way through the rocks. the greater part of these ancient alluvial plains has been removed through the ceaseless swinging of the stream to and fro in the valley which it has excavated. in all the states of alluvial plains, whether they be the fertile deposits near the level of the streams which built them, or the poorer and ruder surfaced higher terraces, they have a great value to mankind. men early learned that these lands were of singularly uniform goodness for agricultural use. they are so light that they were easily delved with the ancient pointed sticks or stone hoes, or turned by the olden, wooden plough. they not only give a rich return when first subjugated, but, owing to the depth of the soil and the frequency with which they are visited by fertilizing inundations, they yield rich harvests without fertilizing for thousands of years. it is therefore not surprising that we find the peoples who depended upon tillage for subsistence first developed on the great river plains. there, indeed, were laid the foundations of our higher civilization; there alone could the state which demands of its citizens fixed abodes and continuous labour take rise. in the conditions which these fields of abundance afforded, dense populations were possible, and all the arts which lead toward culture were greatly favoured. thus it is that the civilization of china, india, persia, and egypt, the beginnings of man's higher development, began near the mouths of the great river valleys. these fields were, moreover, most favourably placed for the institution of commerce, in that the arts of navigation, originating in the sheltered reaches of the streams, readily found its way through the estuaries to the open sea. passing down the reaches of a great river as it approaches the sea, we find that the alluvial plains usually widen and become lower. at length we attain a point where the flood waters cover the surface for so large a part of the year that the ground is swampy and untillable unless it is artificially and at great expense of labour won to agriculture in the manner in which this task has been effected in the lower portion of the rhine valley. still farther toward the sea, the plain gradually dips downward until it passes below the level of the waters. through this mud-flat section the stream continues to cut channels, but with the ever-progressive slowing of its motion the burden of fine mud which it carries drops to the bottom, and constantly closes the paths through which the water escapes. every few years they tend to break a new way on one side or the other of their former path. some of the greatest engineering work done in modern times has been accomplished by the engineers engaged in controlling the exits of large rivers to the sea. the outbreak of the yellow river in , in which the stream, hindered by its own accumulations, forced a new path across its alluvial plains, destroyed a vast deal of life and property, and made the new exit seventy miles from the path which it abandoned. below the surface of the open water the alluvial deposits spread out into a broad fan, which slopes gradually to a point where, in the manner of the continental shelf, the bottom descends steeply into deep water. it is the custom of naturalists to divide the lower section of river deposits--that part of the accumulation which is near the sea--from the other alluvial plains, terming the lower portion the delta. the word originally came into use to describe that part of the alluvium accumulated by the nile near its mouth, which forms a fertile territory shaped somewhat like the fourth letter of the greek alphabet. although the definition is good in the egyptian instance, and has a certain use elsewhere, we best regard all the detritus in a river valley which is in the state of repose along the stream to its utmost branches as forming one great whole. it is, indeed, one of the most united of the large features which the earth exhibits. the student should consider it as a continuous inclined plane of diminishing slope, extending from the base of the torrents to the sea, and of course ramifying into the several branches of the river system. he should further bear in mind the fact that it is a vast laboratory where rock material is brought into the soluble state for delivery to the seas. the diversity in the form of river valleys is exceedingly great. almost all the variety of the landscape is due to this impress of water action which has operated on the surface in past ages. when first elevated above the sea, the surface of the land is but little varied; at this stage in the development the rivers have but shallow valleys, which generally cut rather straight away over the plain toward the sea. it is when the surface has been uplifted to a considerable height, and especially when, as is usually the case, this uplifting action has been associated with mountain-building, that valleys take on their accented and picturesque form. the reason for this is easily perceived: it lies in the fact that the rocks over which the stream flows are guided in the cutting which they effect by the diversities of hardness in the strata that they encounter. the work which it does is performed by the hard substances that are impelled by the current, principally by the sand and pebbles. these materials, driven along by the stream, become eroding tools of very considerable energy. as will be seen when we shortly come to describe waterfalls, the potholes formed at those points afford excellent evidence as to the capacity of stream-impelled bits of stone to cut away the firmest bed rocks. naturally the ease with which this carving work is done is proportionate to the energy of the currents, and also to the relative hardness of the moving bits and the rocks over which they are driven. so long as the rocks lie horizontally in their natural construction attitude the course of the stream is not much influenced by the variations in hardness which the bed exhibits. where the strata are very firm there is likely to be a narrow gorge, the steeps of which rise on either side with but slight alluvial plains; where the beds are soft the valley widens, perhaps again to contract where in the course of its descent it encounters another hard layer. where, however, the beds have been subjected to mountain-building, and have been thrown into very varied attitudes by folding and faulting, the stream now here and now there encounters beds which either restrain its flow or give it freedom. the stream is then forced to cut its way according to the positions of the various underlying strata. this effect upon its course is not only due to the peculiarities of uplifted rocks, but to manifold accidents of other nature: veins and dikes, which often interlace the beds with harder or softer partitions than the country rock; local hardenings in the materials, due to crystallization and other chemical processes, often create indescribable variations which are more or less completely expressed in the path of the stream. when a land has been newly elevated above the sea there is often--we may say, indeed, generally--a very great difference between the height of its head waters and the ocean level. in this condition of a country the rivers have what we may call a new aspect; their valleys are commonly narrow and rather steep, waterfalls are apt to abound, and the alluvial terraces are relatively small in extent. stage by stage the torrents cut deeper; the waste which they make embarrasses the course of the lower waters, where no great amount of down-cutting is possible for the reason that the bed of the stream is near sea level. at the same time the alluvial materials, building out to sea, thus diminish the slope of the stream. in the extreme old age of the river system the mountains are eaten down so that the torrent section disappears, and the stream becomes of something like a uniform slope; the higher alluvial plains gradually waste away, until in the end the valley has no salient features. at this stage in the process, or even before it is attained, the valley is likely to be submerged beneath the sea, where it is buried beneath the deposits formed on the floor; or a further uplift of the land may occur with the result that the stream is rejuvenated; or once more endowed with the power to create torrents, build alluvial plains, and do the other interesting work of a normal river. it rarely, if ever, happens that a river valley attains old age before it has sunk beneath the sea or been refreshed by further upliftings. in the unstable conditions of the continents, one or the other of these processes, sometimes in different places both together, is apt to be going on. thus if we take the case of the mississippi and its principal tributaries, the ohio and missouri, we find that for many geological ages the mountains about their sources have frequently, if not constantly, grown upward, so that their torrent sections, though they have worn down tens of thousands of feet, are still high above the sea level, perhaps on the average as high as they have ever been. at the same time the slight up-and-down swayings of the shore lands, amounting in general to less than five hundred feet, have greatly affected the channels of the main river and its tributaries in their lower parts. not long ago the mississippi between cairo and the gulf flowed in a rather steep-sided valley probably some hundreds of feet in depth, which had a width of many miles. then at the close of the last glacial period the region sank down so that the sea flooded the valley to a point above the present junction of the ohio river with the main stream. since then alluvial plains have filled this estuary to even beyond the original mouth. in many other of our southern rivers, as along the shore from the mississippi to the hudson, the streams have not brought in enough detritus to fill their drowned valleys, which have now the name of bays, of which the delaware and chesapeake on the atlantic coast, and mobile bay on the gulf of mexico, are good examples. the failure of chesapeake and delaware bays to fill with _débris_ in the measure exhibited by the more southern valleys is due to the fact that the streams which flow into them to a great extent drain from a region thickly covered with glacial waste, a mass which holds the flood waters, yielding the supply but slowly to the torrents, which there have but a slight cutting power. in our sketch of river valleys no attention has been given to the phenomena of waterfalls, those accidents of the flow which, as we have noted, are particularly apt to characterize rivers which have not yet cut down to near the sea level. where the normal uniform descent which is characteristic of a river's bed is interrupted by a sudden steep, the fact always indicates the occurrence of one of a number of geological actions. the commonest cause of waterfalls is due to a sudden change in the character of horizontal or at least nearly level beds over which the stream may flow. where after coursing for a distance over a hard layer the stream comes to its edge and drops on a soft or easily eroded stratum, it will cut this latter bed away, and create a more or less characteristic waterfall. tumbling down the face of the hard layer, the stream acquires velocity; the _débris_ which it conveys is hurled against the bottom, and therefore cuts powerfully, while before, being only rubbed over the stone as it moved along, it cut but slightly. masses of ice have the same effect as stones. bits dropping from the ledge are often swept round and round by the eddies, so that they excavate an opening which prevents their chance escape. in these confined spaces they work like augers, boring a deep, well-like cavity. as the bits of stone wear out they are replaced by others, which fall in from above. working in this way, the fragments often develop regular well-like depressions, the cavities of which work back under the cliffs, and by the undermining process deprive the face of the wall of its support, so that it tumbles in ruin to the base, there to supply more material for the potholing action. waterfalls of the type above described are by far the commonest of those which occur out of the torrent districts of a great river system. that of niagara is an excellent specimen of the type, which, though rarely manifested in anything like the dignity of the great fall, is plentifully shown throughout the mississippi valley and the basin of the great lakes. within a hundred miles of niagara there are at least a hundred small waterfalls of the same type. probably three quarters of all the larger accidents of this nature are due to the conditions of a hard bed overlying softer strata. falls are also produced in very many instances by dikes which cross the stream. so, too, though rarely, only one striking instance being known, an ancient coral reef which has become buried in strata may afford rock of such hardness that when the river comes to cross it it forms a cascade, as at the falls of the ohio, at louisville, ky. it is a characteristic of all other falls, except those first mentioned, that they rarely plunge with a clean downward leap over the face of a precipice which recedes at its base, but move downward over an irregular sloping surface. in the torrent district of rivers waterfalls are commonly very numerous, and are generally due to the varying hardness in the rocks which the streams encounter. here, where the cutting action is going on with great rapidity, slight differences in the resistance which the rocks make to the work will lead to great variations in the form of the bed over which they flow, while on the more gently sloping bottoms of the rivers, where the _débris_ moves slowly, such variations would be unimportant in their effect. when the torrents escape into the main river valleys, in regions where the great streams have cut deep gorges, they often descend from a great vertical height, forming wonderful waterfalls, such as those which occur in the famous lauterbrunnen valley of switzerland or in that of the yosemite in california. this group of cascades is peculiar in that the steep of the fall is made not by the stream itself, but by the action of a greater river or of a glacier which may have some time taken its place. waterfalls have an economic as well as a picturesque interest in that they afford sources of power which may be a very great advantage to manufacturers. thus along the atlantic coast the streams which come from the appalachian highlands, and which have hardly escaped from their torrent section before they attain the sea, afford numerous cataracts which have been developed so that they afford a vast amount of power. between the james on the south and the ste. croix on the north more than a hundred of these appalachian rivers have been turned to economic use. the industrial arts of this part of the country depend much upon them for the power which drives their machinery. the whole of the united states, because of the considerable size of its rivers and their relatively rapid fall, is richly endowed with this source of energy, which, originating in the sun's heat and conveyed through the rain, may be made to serve the needs of man. in view of the fact that recent inventions have made it possible to convert this energy of falling water into the form of electricity, which may be conveyed to great distances, it seems likely that our rivers will in the future be a great source of national wealth. we must turn again to river valleys, there to trace certain actions less evident than those already noted, but of great importance in determining these features of the land. first, we have to note that in the valley or region drained by a river there is another degrading or down-wearing action than that which is accomplished by the direct work of the visible stream. all over such a valley the underground waters, soaking through the soil and penetrating through the underlying rock, are constantly removing a portion of the mineral matter which they take into solution and bear away to the sea. in this way, deprived of a part of their substance, the rocks are continually settling down by underwear throughout the whole basin, while they are locally being cut down by the action of the stream. hence in part it comes about that in a river basin we find two contrasted features--the general and often slight slope of a country toward the main stream and its greater tributaries, and the sharp indentation of the gorge in which the streams flow, these latter caused by the immediate and recent action of the streams. if now the reader will conceive himself standing at any point in a river basin, preferably beyond the realms of the torrents, he may with the guidance of the facts previously noted, with a little use of the imagination, behold the vast perceptive which the history of the river valley may unfold to him. he stands on the surface of the soil, that _débris_ of the rocks which is just entering on its way to the ocean. in the same region ten thousand years ago he would have stood upon a surface from one to ten feet higher than the present soil covering. a million years ago his station would have been perhaps five hundred feet higher than the surface. ten million years in the past, a period less than the lifetime of certain rivers, such as the french broad river in north carolina, the soil was probably five thousand feet or more above its present plane. there are, indeed, cases where river valleys appear to have worked down without interruption from the subsidence of the land beneath the sea to the depth of at least two miles. looking upward through the space which the rocks once occupied, we can conceive the action of the forces in their harmonious co-operation which have brought the surface slowly downward. we can imagine the ceaseless corrosion due to the ground water, bringing about a constant though slow descent of the whole surface. again and again the streams, swinging to and fro under the guidance of the underlying rock, or from the obstacles which the _débris_ they carried imposed upon them, have crossed the surface. now and then perhaps the wearing was intensified by glacial action, for an ice sheet often cuts with a speed many times as great as that which fluid water can accomplish. on the whole, this exercise of the constructive imagination in conceiving the history of a river valley is one of the most enlarging tasks which the geologist can undertake. where in a river valley there are many lateral streams, and especially where the process of solution carried on by the underground waters is most effective, as compared with erosive work done in the bed of the main river, we commonly find the valley sloping gently toward its centre, the rivers having but slight steeps near their banks. on the other hand, where, as occasionally happens, a considerable stream fed by the rain and snow fall in its torrent section courses for a great distance over high, arid plains, on which the ground water and the tributaries do but little work, the basin may slope with very slight declivity to the river margins, and there descend to great depths, forming very deep gorges, of which the colorado cañon is the most perfect type. as instances of these contrasted conditions, we may take, on the one hand, the upper mississippi, where the grades toward the main stream are gentle and the valley gorge but slightly exhibited; on the other, the above-mentioned colorado, which bears a great tide of waters drawn from the high and relatively rainy region of the rocky mountains across the vast plateau lying in an almost rainless country. in this section nearly all the down-wearing has been brought about in the direct path of the stream, which has worn the elevated plain into a deep gorge during the slow uprising of the table-land to its present height. in this way a defile nearly a mile in depth has been created in a prevailingly rather flat country. this gorge has embranchments where the few great tributaries have done like work, but, on the whole, this river flows in an almost unbroken channel, the excavation of which has been due to its swift, pebble-bearing waters. the tendency of a newly formed river is to cut a more or less distinct cañon. as the basin becomes ancient, this element of the gorge tends to disappear, the reason for this being that, while the river bed is high above the sea, the current is swift and the down-cutting rapid, while the slow subsidence of the country on either side--a process which goes on at a uniform rate--causes the surface of that region to be left behind in the race for the sea level. as the stream bed comes nearer the sea level its rate of descent is diminished, and so the outlying country gradually overtakes it. in regions where the winters are very cold the effect of ice on the development of the stream beds both in the torrent and river sections of the valley is important. this work is accomplished in several diverse ways. in the first place, where the stream is clear and the current does not flow too swiftly, the stones on the bottom radiate their heat through the water, and thus form ice on their surfaces, which may attain considerable thickness. as ice is considerably lighter than water, the effect is often to lift up the stones of the bed if they be not too large; when thus detached from the bottom, they are easily floated down stream until the ice melts away. the ice which forms on the surface of the water likewise imprisons the pebbles along the banks, and during the subsequent thaw may carry them hundreds of miles toward the sea. it seems likely, from certain observations made by the writer, that considerable stones may thus be carried from the alleghany river to the main mississippi. perhaps the most important effect of ice on river channels is accomplished when in a time of flood the ice field which covered the stream, perhaps to the depth of some feet, is broken up into vast floes, which drift downward with the current. when, as on the ohio, these fields sometimes have the area of several hundred acres, they often collide with the shores, especially where the stream makes a sharp bend. urged by their momentum, these ice floes pack into the semblance of a dam, which may have a thickness of twenty, thirty, or even fifty feet. beginning on the shore, where the collision takes place, the dam may swiftly develop clear across the stream, so that in a few minutes the way of the waters is completely blocked. the on-coming ice shoots up upon the accumulation, increases its height, and extends it up stream, so that in an hour the mass completely bars the current. the waters then heap up until they break their way over the obstacle, washing its top away, until the whole is light enough to be forced down the stream, where, by the friction it encounters on the bottom and sides of the channel, it is broken to pieces. it is easy to see that such moving dams of ice may sweep the bed of a river as with a great broom. sometimes where the gorges do not form a stationary dam large cakes of ice become turned on edge and pack together so that they roll down the stream like great wheels, grinding the bed rock as they go. in high northern countries, as in siberia, the rivers, even the deepest, often become so far frozen that their channels are entirely obstructed. where, as in the case of these siberian rivers, the flow is from south to north, it often happens that the spring thaw sets in before the more northern beds of the main stream are released from their bondage of frost. in this case the inundations have to find new paths on either side of the obstructed way. the result is a type of valleys characterized by very irregular and changeable stream beds, the rivers having no chance to organize themselves into the shapely curves which they ordinarily follow. the supply which finds its way to a river is composed, as has been already incidentally noted, in part of the water which courses underground for a greater or less distance before it emerges to the surface, and in part of that which moves directly over the ground. these two shares of water have somewhat different histories. on the share of these two depends the stability of the flow. where, as in new england and other glaciated countries, the surface of the earth is covered with a thick layer of sand and gravel, which, except when frozen, readily admits the water; the rainfall is to a very great extent absorbed by the earth, and only yielded slowly to the streams. in these cases floods are rare and of no great destructive power. again, where also the river basin is covered by a dense mantle of forests, the ground beneath which is coated, as is the case in primeval woods, with a layer of decomposing vegetation a foot or more in depth, this spongy mass retains the water even more effectively than the open-textured glacial deposits above referred to. when the woods, however, are removed from such an area, the rain may descend to the streams almost as speedily as it finds its way to the gutters from the house roofs. it thus comes about that all regions, when reduced to tillage, and where the rainfall is enough to maintain a good agriculture, are, except when they have a coating of glacial waste, exceedingly liable to destructive inundations. unhappily, the risk of river floods is peculiarly great in all the regions of the united states lying much to the east of the rocky mountains, except in the basin of the great lakes and in the district of new england, where the prevalence of glacial sands and gravels affords the protection which we have noted. throughout this region the rainfall is heavy, and the larger part of it is apt to come after the ground has become deeply snow-covered. the result is a succession of devastating floods which already are very damaging to the works of man, and promise to become more destructive as time goes on. more than in any other country, we need the protection which forests can give us against these disastrous outgoings of our streams. lakes. in considering the journey of water from the hilltops to the sea, we should take some account of those pauses which it makes on its way when for a time it falls into the basin of a lake. these arrests in the downward motion of water, which we term lakes, are exceedingly numerous; their proper discussion would, indeed, require a considerable volume. we shall here note only the more important of their features, those which are of interest to the general student. the first and most noteworthy difference in lakes is that which separates the group of dead seas from the living basins of fresh water. when a stream attains a place where its waters have to expand into the lakelike form, the current moves in a slow manner, and the broad surface exposed to the air permits a large amount of evaporation. if the basin be large in proportion to the amount of the incurrent water, this evaporation may exceed the supply, and produce a sea with no outlet, such as we find in the dead sea of judea, in that at salt lake, utah, and in a host of other less important basins. if the rate of evaporation be yet greater in proportion to the flow, the lake may altogether dry away, and the river be evaporated before it attains the basin where it might accumulate. in that case the river is said to sink, but, in place of sinking into the earth, its waters really rise into the air. many such sinks occur in the central portion of the rocky mountain district. it is important to note that the process of evaporation we are describing takes place in the case of all lakes, though only here and there is the air so dry that the evaporation prevents the basin from overflowing at the lowest point on its rim, forming a river which goes thence to the sea. even in the case of the great lakes of north america a considerable part of the water which flows into them does not go to the st. lawrence and thence to the sea. as long as the lake finds an outlet to the sea its waters contain but little more dissolved mineral matter than that we find in the rivers. but because all water which has been in contact with the earth has some dissolved mineral substances, while that which goes away by evaporation is pure water, a lake without an outlet gradually becomes so charged with these materials that it can hold no more in solution, but proceeds to lay them down in deposits of that compound substance which from its principal ingredient we name salt. the water of dead seas, because of the additional weight of the substances which it holds, is extraordinarily buoyant. the swimmer notes a difference in this regard in the waters of rivers and fresh-water lakes and those of the sea, due to this same cause. but in those of dead seas, saturated with saline materials, the human body can not sink as it does in the ordinary conditions of immersion. it is easy to understand how the salt deposits which are mined in many parts of the world have generally, if not in all cases, been formed in such dead seas.[ ] [footnote : in some relatively rare cases salt deposits are formed in lagoons along the shores of arid lands, where the sea occasionally breaks over the beach into the basin, affording waters which are evaporated, leaving their salt behind them.] it is an interesting fact that almost all the known dead seas have in recent geological times been living lakes--that is, they poured over their brims. in the cordilleras from the line between canada and the united states to central mexico there are several of these basins. all of those which have been studied show by their old shore lines that they were once brimful, and have only shrunk away in modern times. these conditions point to the conclusion that the rainfall in different regions varies greatly in the course of the geologic ages. further confirmation of this is found in the fact that very great salt deposits exist on the coast of louisiana and in northern europe--regions in which the rainfall is now so great in proportion to the evaporation that dead seas are impossible. turning now to the question of how lake basins are formed, we note a great variety in the conditions which may bring about their construction. the greatest agent, or at least that which operates in the construction of the largest basins, are the irregular movements of the earth, due to the mountain-building forces. where this work goes on on a large scale, basin-shaped depressions are inevitably formed. if all those which have existed remained, the large part of the lands would be covered by them. in most cases, however, the cutting action of the streams has been sufficient to bring the drainage channels down to the bottom of the trough, while the influx of sediments has served to further the work by filling up the cavities. thus at the close of the cretaceous period there was a chain of lakes extending along the eastern base of the rocky mountains, constituting fresh-water seas probably as large as the so-called great lakes of north america. but the rivers, by cutting down and tilling up, have long since obliterated these water areas. in other cases the tiltings of the continent, which sometimes oppose the flow of the streams, may for a time convert the upper part of a river basin which originally sloped gently toward the sea into a cavity. several cases of this description occurred in new england in the closing stages of the glacial period, when the ground rose up to the northward. we have already noted the fact that the basin of a dead sea becomes in course of time the seat of extensive salt deposits. these may, indeed, attain a thickness of many hundred feet. if now in the later history of the country the tract of land with the salt beneath it were traversed by a stream, its underground waters may dissolve out the salt and in a way restore the basin to its original unfilled condition, though in the second state that of a living lake. it seems very probable that a portion at least of the areas of lakes ontario, erie, and huron may be due to this removal of ancient salt deposits, remains of which lie buried in the earth in the region bordering these basins. by far the commonest cause of lake basins is found in the irregularities of the surface which are produced by the occupation of the country by glaciers. when these great sheets of ice lie over a land, they are in motion down the slopes on which they rest; they wear the bed rocks in a vigorous manner, cutting them down in proportion to their hardness. as these rocks generally vary in the resistance which they oppose to the ice, the result is that when the glacier passes away the surface no longer exhibits the continued down slope which the rivers develop, but is warped in a very complicated way. these depressions afford natural basins in which lakes gather; they may vary in extent from a few square feet to many square miles. when a glacier occupies a country, the melting ice deposits on the surface of the earth a vast quantity of rocky _débris_, which was contained in its mass. this detritus is irregularly accumulated; in part it is disposed in the form of moraines or rude mounds made at the margin of the glacier, in part as an irregular sheet, now thick, now thin, which covers the whole of the field over which the ice lay. the result of this action is the formation of innumerable pools, which continue to exist until the streams have cut channels through which their waters may drain away, or the basins have become filled with detritus imported from the surrounding country or by peat accumulations which the plants form in such places. doubtless more than nine tenths of all the lake basins, especially those of small size, which exist in the world are due to irregularities of the land surface which are brought about by glacial action. although the greater part of these small basins have been obliterated since the ice left this country, the number still remaining of sufficient size to be marked on a good map is inconceivably great. in north america alone there are probably over a hundred and fifty thousand of these glacial lakes, although by far the greater part of those which existed when the glacial sheet disappeared have been obliterated. yet another interesting group of fresh-water lakes, or rather we should call them lakelets from their small size, owes its origin to the curious underground excavations or caverns which are formed in limestone countries. the water enters these caverns through what are termed "sink holes"--basins in the surface which slope gently toward a central opening through which the water flows into the depths below. the cups of the sink holes rarely exceed half a mile in diameter, and are usually much smaller. their basins have been excavated by the solvent and cutting actions of the rain water which gathers in them to be discharged into the cavern below. it often happens that after a sink hole is formed some slight accident closes the downward-leading shaft, so that the basin holds water; thus in parts of the united states there are thousands of these nearly circular pools, which in certain districts, as in southern kentucky, serve to vary the landscape in much the same manner as the glacial lakes of more northern countries. some of the most beautiful lakes in the world, though none more than a few miles in diameter, occupy the craters of extinct volcanoes. when for a time, or permanently, a volcano ceases to do its appointed work of pouring forth steam and molten rock from the depths of the earth, the pit in the centre of the cone gathers the rain water, forming a deep circular lake, which is walled round by the precipitous faces of the crater. if the volcano reawakens, the water which blocks its passage may be blown out in a moment, the discharge spreading in some cases to a great distance from the cone, to be accumulated again when the vent ceases to be open. the most beautiful of these volcanic lakes are to be found in the region to the north and south of rome. the original seat of the latin state was on the shores of one of these crater pools, south of the eternal city. lago bolsena, which lies to the northward, and is one of the largest known basins of this nature, having a diameter of about eight miles, is a crater lake. the volcanic cone to which it belongs, though low, is of great size, showing that in its time of activity, which did not endure very long, this crater was the seat of mighty ejections. the noblest specimen of this group of basins is found in crater lake, oregon, now contained in one of the national parks of the united states. inclosed bodies of water are formed in other ways than those described; the list above given includes all the important classes of action which produce these interesting features. we should now note the fact that, unlike the seas, the lakes are to be regarded as temporary features in the physiography of the land. one and all, they endure for but brief geologic time, for the reason that the streams work to destroy them by filling them with sediment and by carving out channels through which their waters drain away. the nature of this action can well be conceived by considering what will take place in the course of time in the great lakes of north america. as niagara falls cut back at the average rate of several feet a year, it will be but a brief geologic period before they begin to lower the waters of lake erie. it is very probable, indeed, that in twenty thousand years the waters of that basin will be to a great extent drained away. when this occurs, another fall or rapid will be produced in the channel which leads from lake huron to lake erie. this in turn will go through its process of retreat until the former expanse of waters disappears. the action will then be continued at the outlets of lakes michigan and superior, and in time, but for the interposition of some actions which recreate these basins, their floors will be converted into dry land. it is interesting to note that lakes owe in a manner the preservation of their basins to an action which they bring about on the waters that flow into them. these rivers or torrents commonly convey great quantities of sediment, which serve to rasp their beds and thus to lower their channels. in all but the smaller lakelets these turbid waters lay down all their sediment before they attain the outlet of the basin. thus they flow away over the rim rock in a perfectly pure state--a state in which, as we have noted before, water has no capacity for abrading firm rock. thus where the niagara river passes from lake erie its clean water hardly affects the stone over which it flows. it only begins to do cutting work where it plunges down the precipice of the falls and sets in motion the fragments which are constantly falling from that rocky face. these falls could not have begun as they did on the margin of lake ontario except for the fact that when the niagara river began to flow, as in relatively modern times, it found an old precipice on the margin of lake ontario, formed by the waves of the lake, down which the waters fell, and where they obtained cutting tools with which to undermine the steep which forms the falls. many great lakes, particularly those which we have just been considering, have repeatedly changed their outlets, according as the surface of the land on which they lie has swayed up and down in various directions, or as glacial sheets have barred or unbarred the original outlets of the basins. thus in the laurentian lakes above ontario the geologist finds evidence that the drainage lines have again and again been changed. for a time during the glacial period, when lake ontario and the valley of the st. lawrence was possessed by the ice, the discharge was southward into the upper mississippi or the ohio. at a later stage channels were formed leading from georgian bay to the eastern part of ontario. yet later, when the last-named lake was bared, an ice dam appears to have remained in the st. lawrence, which held back the waters to such a height that they discharged through the valley of the mohawk into the hudson. furthermore, at some time before the glacial period, we do not know just when, there appears to have been an old niagara river, now filled with drift, which ran from lake erie to ontario, a different channel from that occupied by the present stream. the effects of lakes on the river systems with which they are connected is in many ways most important. where they are of considerable extent, or where even small they are very numerous, they serve to retain the flood waters, delivering them slowly to the excurrent streams. in rising one foot a lake may store away more water than the river by its consequent rise at the point of outflow will carry away in many months, and this for the simple reason that the lake may be many hundred or even thousand times as wide as the stream. moreover, as before noted, the sediment gathered by the stream above the level of the lake is deposited in its basin, and does not affect the lower reaches of the river. the result is that great rivers, such as drain from the laurentian lakes, flow clear water, are exempt from floods, are essentially without alluvial plains or terraces, and form no delta deposits. in all these features the st. lawrence river affords a wonderful contrast to the mississippi. moreover, owing to the clear waters, though it has flowed for a long time, it has never been able to cut away the slight obstructions which form its rapids, barriers which probably would have been removed if its waters had been charged with sediment. [illustration: _muir glacier, alaska, showing crevasses and dust layer on surface of ice._] chapter vi. glaciers. we have already noted the fact that the water in the clouds is very commonly in the frozen state; a large part of that fluid which is evaporated from the sea attains the solid form before it returns to the earth. nevertheless, in descending, at least nine tenths of the precipitation returns to the fluid state, and does the kind of work which we have noted in our account of water. where, however, the water arrives on the earth in the frozen condition, it enters on a rôle totally different from that followed by the fluid material. beginning its descent to the earth in a snowflake, the little mass falls slowly, so that when it comes against the earth the blow which it strikes is so slight that it does no effective work. in the state of snow, even in the separate flakes, the frozen water contains a relatively large amount of air. it is this air indeed, which, by dividing the ice into many flakes that reflect the light, gives it the white colour. this important point can be demonstrated by breaking transparent ice into small bits, when we perceive that it has the hue of snow. much the same effect is given where glass is powdered, and for the same reason. as the snowflakes accumulate layer on layer they imbed air between them, so that when the material falls in a feathery shape--say to the depth of a foot--more than nine tenths of the mass is taken up by the air-containing spaces. as these cells are very small, the circulation in them is slight, and so the layer becomes an admirable non-conductor, having this quality for the same reason that feathers have it--i.e., because the cells are small enough to prevent the circulation of the air, so that the heat which passes has to go by conduction, and all gases are very poor conductors. the result is that a snow coating is in effect an admirable blanket. when the sun shines upon it, much of the heat is reflected, and as the temperature does not penetrate it to any depth, only the superficial part is melted. this molten water takes up in the process of melting a great deal of heat, so that when it trickles down into the mass it readily refreezes. on the other hand, the heat going out from the earth, the store accumulated in its superficial parts in the last warm season, together with the small share which flows out from the earth's interior, is held in by this blanket, which it melts but slowly. thus it comes about that in regions of long-enduring snowfall the ground, though frozen to the depth of a foot or more at the time when the accumulation took place, may be thawed out and so far warmed that the vegetation begins to grow before the protecting envelope of snow has melted away. certain of the early flowers of high latitudes, indeed, begin to blossom beneath the mantle of finely divided ice. in those parts of the earth which for the most part receive only a temporary coating of snow the effect of this covering is inconsiderable. the snow water is yielded to the earth, from which it has helped to withdraw the frost, so that in the springtime, the growing season of plants, the ground contains an ample store of moisture for their development. where the snowfall accumulates to a great thickness, especially where it lodges in forests, the influence of the icy covering is somewhat to protract the winter and thus to abbreviate the growing season. where snow rests upon a steep slope, and gathers to the depth of several feet, it begins to creep slowly down the declivity in a manner which we may often note on house roofs. this motion is favoured by the gradual though incomplete melting of the flakes as the heat penetrates the mass. making a section through a mass of snow which has accumulated in many successive falls, we note that the top may still have the flaky character, but that as we go down the flakes are replaced by adherent shotlike bodies, which have arisen from the partial melting and gathering to their centres of the original expanded crystalline bits. in this process of change the mass can move particle by particle in the direction in which gravity impels it. the energy of its motion, however, is slight, yet it can urge loose stones and forest waste down hill. sometimes, as in the cemetery at augusta, me., where stone monuments or other structures, such as iron railings, are entangled in the moving mass, it may break them off and convey them a little distance down the slope. so long as the summer sun melts the winter's snow, even if the ground be bare but for a day, the rôle of action accomplished by the snowfall is of little geological consequence. when it happens that a portion of the deposit holds through the summer, the region enters on the glacial state, and its conditions undergo a great revolution, the consequences of which are so momentous that we shall have to trace them in some detail. fortunately, the considerations which are necessary are not recondite, and all the facts are of an extremely picturesque nature. taking such a region as new england, where all the earth is life-bearing in the summer season, and where the glacial period of the winter continues but for a short time, we find that here and there on the high mountains the snow endures throughout most of the summer, but that all parts of the surface have a season when life springs into activity. on the top of mount washington, in the white mountains of new hampshire, in a cleft known as tuckerman's ravine, where the deposit accumulates to a great depth, the snow-ice remains until midsummer. it is, indeed, evident that a very slight change in the climatal conditions of this locality would establish a permanent accumulation of frozen water upon the summit of the mountain. if the crest were lifted a thousand feet higher, without any general change in the heat or rainfall of the district, this effect would be produced. if with the same amount of rainfall as now comes to the earth in that region more of it fell as snow, a like condition would be established. furthermore, with an increase of rainfall to something like double that which now descends the snow bore the same proportion to the precipitation which it does at present, we should almost certainly have the peak above the permanent snow line, that level below which all the winter's fall melts away. these propositions are stated with some care, for the reason that the student should perceive how delicate may be--indeed, commonly is--the balance of forces which make the difference between a seasonal and a perennial snow covering. as soon as the snow outlasts the summer, the region which it occupies is sterilized to life. from the time the snow begins to hold over the warm period until it finally disappears, that field has to be reckoned out of the habitable earth, not only to man, but to the lowliest organisms.[ ] [footnote : in certain fields of permanent snow, particularly near their boundaries, some very lowly forms of vegetable life may develop on a frozen surface, drawing their sustenance from the air, and supplied with water by the melting which takes place during the summertime. these forms include the rare phenomenon termed red snow.] if the snow in a glaciated region lay where it fell, the result would be a constant elevation of the deposit year by year in proportion to the annual excess of deposition over the melting or evaporation of the material. but no sooner does the deposit attain any considerable thickness than it begins to move in the directions of least resistance, in accordance with laws which the students of glaciers are just beginning to discern. in small part this motion is accomplished by avalanches or snow slides, phenomena which are in a way important, and therefore merit description. immediately after a heavy snowfall, in regions where the slopes are steep, it often happens that the deposit which at first clung to the surface on which it lay becomes so heavy that it tends to slide down the slope; a trifling action, the slipping, indeed, of a single flake, may begin the movement, which at first is gradual and only involves a little of the snow. gathering velocity, and with the materials heaped together from the junction of that already in motion with that about to be moved, the avalanche in sliding a few hundred feet down the slope may become a deep stream of snow-ice, moving with great celerity. at this stage it begins to break off masses of ice from the glaciers over which it may flow, or even to move large stones. armed with these, it rends the underlying earth. after it has flowed a mile it may have taken up so much earth and material that it appears like a river of mud. owing to the fact that the energy which bears it downward is through friction converted into heat, a partial melting of the mass may take place, which converts it into what we call slush, or a mixture of snow and water. finally, the torrent is precipitated into the bottom of a valley, where in time the frozen water melts away, leaving only the stony matter which it bore as a monument to show the termination of its flow. it was the good fortune of the writer to see in the swiss oberland one very great avalanche, which came from the high country through a descent of several thousand feet to the surface of the upper grindelwald glacier. the first sign of the action was a vague tremor of the air, like that of a great organ pipe when it begins to vibrate, but before the pulsations come swiftly enough to make an audible note. it was impossible to tell when this tremor came, but the wary guide, noting it before his charge could perceive anything unusual, made haste for the middle of the glacier. the vibration swelled to a roar, but the seat of the sound amid the echoing cliffs was indeterminable. finally, from a valley high up on the southern face of the glacier, there leaped forth first a great stone, which sprang with successive rebounds to the floor of ice. then in succession other stones and masses of ice which had outrun the flood came thicker and thicker, until at the end of about thirty seconds the steep front of the avalanche appeared like a swift-moving wall. attaining the cliffs, it shot forth as a great cataract, which during the continuance of the flow--which lasted for several minutes--heaped a great mound of commingled stones and ice upon the surface of the glacier. the mass thus brought down the steep was estimated at about three thousand cubic yards, of which probably the fiftieth part was rock material. an avalanche of this volume is unusual, and the proportion of stony matter borne down exceptionally great; but by these sudden motions of the frozen water a large part of the snow deposited above the zone of complete melting is taken to the lower valleys, where it may disappear in the summer season, and much of the erosion accomplished in the mountains is brought about by these falls. in all alpine regions avalanches are among the most dreaded accidents. their occurrence, however, being dependent upon the shape of the surface, it is generally possible to determine in an accurate way the liability of their happening in any particular field. the swiss take precaution to protect themselves from their ravages as other folk do to procure immunity from floods. thus the authorities of many of the mountain hamlets maintain extensive forests on the sides of the villages whence the downfall may be expected, experience having shown that there is no other means so well calculated to break the blow which these great snowfalls can deliver, as thick-set trees which, though they are broken down for some distance, gradually arrest the stream. as long as the region occupied by permanent snow is limited to sharp mountain peaks, relief by the precipitation of large masses to the level below the snow line is easily accomplished, but manifestly this kind of a discharge can only be effective from a very small field. where the relief is not brought about by these tumbles of snow, another mode of gravitative action accomplishes the result, though in a more roundabout way, through the mechanism of glaciers. we have already noted the fact that the winter's snow upon our hillsides undergoes a movement in the direction of the slope. what we have now to describe in a rather long story concerning glaciers rests upon movements of the same nature, though they are in certain features peculiarly dependent on the continuity of the action from year to year. it is desirable, however, that the student should see that there is at the foundation no more mystery in glacial motion than there is in the gradual descent of the snow after it has lain a week on a hillside. it is only in the scale and continuity of the action that the greatest glacial envelope exceeds those of our temporary winters--in fact, whenever the snow falls the earth it covers enters upon an ice period which differs only in degree from that from which our hemisphere is just escaping. where the reader is so fortunate as to be able to visit a region of glaciers, he had best begin his study of their majestic phenomena by ascending to those upper realms where the snow accumulates from year to year. he will there find the natural irregularities of the rock surface in a measure evened over by a vast sheet of snow, from which only the summits of the greater mountains rise. he may soon satisfy himself that this sheet is of great depth, for here and there it is intersected by profound crevices. if the visit is made in the season when snow falls, which is commonly during most of the year, he may observe, as before noted in our winter's snow, that the deposit, though at first flaky, attains at a short distance below the surface a somewhat granular character, though the shotlike grains fall apart when disturbed. yet deeper, ordinarily a few feet below the surface, these granules are more or less cemented together; the mass thus loses the quality of snow, and begins to appear like a whitish ice. looking down one of the crevices, where the light penetrates to the depth of a hundred feet or more, he may see that the bluish hue somewhat increases with the depth. a trace of this colour is often visible even in the surface snow on the glacier, and sometimes also in our ordinary winter fields. in a hole made with a stick a foot or more in depth a faint cerulean glimmer may generally be discerned; but the increased blueness of the ice as we go down is conspicuous, and readily leads us to the conclusion that the air, to which, as we before noted, the whiteness of the snow is due, is working out of the mass as the process of compaction goes on. in a glacial district this snow mass above the melting line is called the _névé_. remembering that the excess of snow beyond the melting in a _névé_ district amounts, it may be, to some feet of material each year, we easily come to the conclusion that the mass works down the slope in the manner which it does even where the coating is impermanent. this supposition is easily confirmed: by observing the field we find that the sheet is everywhere drawing away from the cliffs, leaving a deep fissure between the _névé_ and the precipices. this crevice is called by the german-swiss guides the _bergschrund_. passage over it is often one of the most difficult feats to accomplish which the alpine explorer has to undertake. in fact, the very appearance of the surface, which is that of a river with continuous down slopes, is sufficient evidence that the mass is slowly flowing toward the valleys. following it down, we almost always come to a place where it passes from the upper valleys to the deeper gorges which pierce the skirts of the mountain. in going over this projection the mass of snow-ice breaks to pieces, forming a crowd of blocks which march down the slope with much more speed than they journeyed when united in the higher-lying fields. in this condition and in this part of the movement the snow-ice forms what are called the _seracs_, or curds, as the word means in the french-swiss dialect. slipping and tumbling down the steep slope on which the _seracs_ develop, the ice becomes broken into bits, often of small size. these fragments are quickly reknit into the body of ice, which we shall hereafter term the glacier, and in this process the expulsion of the air goes on more rapidly than before, and the mass assumes a more transparent icelike quality. the action of the ice in the pressures and strains to which it is subjected in joining the main glacier and in the further part of its course demand for their understanding a revision of those notions as to rigidity and plasticity which we derive from our common experience with objects. it is hard to believe that ice can be moulded by pressure into any shape without fracturing, provided the motion is slowly effected, while at the same time it is as brittle as ice to a sudden blow. we see, however, a similar instance of contrasted properties in the confection known as molasses candy, a stick of which may be indefinitely bent if the flexure is slowly made, but will fly to pieces like glass if sharply struck. ice differs from the sugary substance in many ways; especially we should note that while it may be squeezed into any form, it can not be drawn out, but fractures on the application of a very slight tension. the conditions of its movement we will inquire into further on, when we have seen more of its action. entering on the lower part of its course, that where it flows into the region below the snow line, the ice stream is now confined between the walls of the valley, a channel which in most cases has been shaped before the ice time, by a mountain torrent, or perhaps by a slower flowing river. in this part of its course the likeness of a glacial stream to one of fluid water is manifest. we see that it twists with the turn of the gorge, widens where the confining walls are far apart, and narrows where the space is constricted. although the surface is here and there broken by fractures, it is evident that the movement of the frozen current, though slow, is tolerably free. by placing stakes in a row across the axis of a glacier, and observing their movement from day to day, or even from hour to hour if a good theodolite is used for the purpose, we note that the movement of the stream is fastest in the middle parts, as in the case of a river, and that it slows toward either shore, though it often happens, as in a stream of molten water, that the speediest part of the current is near one side. further observations have indicated that the movement is most rapid on the surface and least at the bottom, in which the stream is also riverlike. it is evident, in a word, that though the ice is not fluid in strict sense, the bits of which it is made up move in substantially the manner of fluids--that is, they freely slip over each other. we will now turn our attention to some important features of a detailed sort which glaciers exhibit. if we visit a glacier during the part of the year when the winter snows are upon it, it may appear to have a very uninterrupted surface. but as the summer heat advances, the mask of the winter coating goes away, and we may then see the structure of the ice. first of all we note in all valley glaciers such as we are observing that the stream is overlaid by a quantity of rocky waste, the greater part of which has come down with the avalanches in the manner before described, though a small part may have been worn from the bed over which the ice flows. in many glaciers, particularly as we approach their termination, this sheet of earth and rock materials often covers the ice so completely that the novice in such regions finds it difficult to believe that the ice is under his feet. if the explorer is minded to take the rough scramble, he can often walk for miles on these masses of stone without seeing, much less setting foot on any frozen water. in some of the alaskan glaciers this coating may bear a forest growth. in general, this material, which is called moraine, is distributed in bands parallel to the sides of the glaciers, and the strips may amount to a half dozen or more. those on the sides of the ice have evidently been derived from the precipices which they have passed. those in the middle have arisen from the union of the moraines formed in two or more tributary valleys. [illustration: fig. .--map of glaciers and moraines near mont blanc.] where the avalanches fall most plentifully, the stones lie buried with the snow, and only melt out when the stream attains the region where the annual waste of its surface exceeds the snowfall. in this section we can see how the progressive melting gradually brings the rocky _débris_ into plain view. here and there we will find a boulder perched on a pedestal of ice, which indicates a recent down-wearing of the field. a frequent sound in these regions arises from the tumble of the stones from their pedestals or the slipping of the masses from the sharp ridge which is formed by the protection given to the ice through the thick coating of detritus on its surface. these movements of the moraines often distribute their waste over the glacier, so that in its lower part we can no longer trace the contributions from the several valleys, the whole area being covered by the _débris_. at the end of the ice stream, where its forward motion is finally overcome by the warmth which it encounters, it leaves in a rude heap, extending often like a wall across the valley, all the coarse fragments which it conveys. this accumulation, composed of all the lateral moraines which have gathered on the ice by the fall of avalanches, is called the terminal moraine. as the ice stream itself shrinks, a portion of the detritus next the boundary wall is apt to be left clinging against those slopes. it is from the presence of these heaps in valleys now abandoned by glaciers that we obtain some information as to the former greater extent of glacial action. the next most noticeable feature is the crevasse. these fractures often exist in very great numbers, and constitute a formidable barrier in the explorer's way. the greater part of these ruptures below the _serac_ zone run from the sides of the stream toward the centre without attaining that region. these are commonly pointed up stream; their formation is due to the fact that, owing to the swifter motion in the central parts of the stream, the ice in that section draws away from the material which is moving more slowly next the shore. as before noted, these ice fractures when drawn out naturally form fissures at right angles to the direction of the strain. in the middle portions of the ice other fissures form, though more rarely, which appear to depend on local strains brought about through the irregularity of the surface over which the ice is flowing. if the observer is fortunate, he may in his journey over the glacier have a chance to see and hear what goes on when crevasses are formed. first he will hear a deep, booming sound beneath his feet, which merges into a more splintering note as the crevice, which begins at the bottom or in the distance, comes upward or toward him. when the sound is over, he may not be able to see a trace of the fracture, which at first is very narrow. but if the break intersect any of the numerous shallow pools which in a warm summer's day are apt to cover a large part of the surface, he may note a line of bubbles rushing up through the water, marking the escape of the air from the glacier, some remnant of that which is imprisoned in the original snow. even where this indication is wanting, he can sometimes trace the crevice by the hissing sound of the air streams where they issue from the ice. if he will take time to note what goes on, he can usually in an hour or two behold the first invisible crack widen until it may be half an inch across. he may see how the surface water hastens down the opening, a little river system being developed on the surface of the ice as the streams make their way to one or more points of descent. in doing this work they excavate a shaft which often becomes many feet in diameter, down which their waters thunder to the base of the glacier. this well-like opening is called a _moulin_, or mill, a name which, as we shall see, is well deserved from the work which falling waters accomplish. although the institution of the _moulin_ shaft depends upon the formation of a crevice, it often happens that as the ice moves farther on its journey its walls are again thrust together, soldered in the manner peculiar to ice, so that no trace of the rupture remains except the shaft which it permitted to form. like everything else in the glacier, the _moulin_ slowly moves down the slope, and remains open as long as it is the seat of descending waters produced by the summer melting. when it ceases to be kept open from the summer, its walls are squeezed together in the fashion that the crevices are closed. forming here and there, and generally in considerable numbers, the crevices of a glacier entrap a good deal of the morainal _débris_, which falls through them to the bottom of the glacier. smaller bits are washed into the _moulin_, by the streams arising from the melting ice, which is brought about by the warm sun of the summer, and particularly by the warm rains of that season. on those glaciers where, owing to the irregularity of the bottom over which the ice flows, these fractures are very numerous, it may happen that all the detritus brought upon the surface of the glacier by avalanches finds its way to the floor of the ice. although it is difficult to learn what is going on at the under surface of the glacier, it is possible directly and indirectly to ascertain much concerning the peculiar and important work which is there done. the intrepid explorer may work his way in through the lateral fissures, and even with care safely descend some of the fissures which penetrate the central parts of a shallow ice stream. there, it may be at the depth of a hundred feet or more, he will find a quantity of stones, some of which may be in size like to a small house held in the body of the ice, but with one side resting upon the bed rock. he may be so fortunate as to see the stone actually in process of cutting a groove in the bed rock as it is urged forward by the motion of the glacier. the cutting is not altogether in the fixed material, for the boulder itself is also worn and scored in the work. smaller pebbles are caught in the space between the erratic and the motionless rock and ground to bits. if in his explorations the student finds his way to the part of the floor on which the waters of a _moulin_ fall, he may have a chance to observe how the stones set in motion serve to cut the bed rock, forming elongated potholes much as in the case of ordinary waterfalls, or at the base of those shafts which afford the beginnings of limestone caverns. the best way to penetrate beneath the glacier is through the arch of the stream which always flows from the terminal face of the ice river. even in winter time every large glacier discharges at its end a considerable brook, the waters of which have been melted from the ice in small part by the outflow of the earth's heat; mainly, however, by the warmth produced in the friction of the ice on itself and on its bottom--in other words, by the conversion of that energy of position, of which we have often to speak, into heat. in the summer time this subglacial stream is swollen by the surface waters descending through the crevices and the _moulins_ which come from them, so that the outflow often forms a considerable river, and thus excavates in the ice a large or at least a long cavern, the base of which is the bed rock. in the autumn, when the superficial melting ceases, this gallery can often be penetrated for a considerable distance, and affords an excellent way to the secrets of the under ice. the observer may here see quantities of the rock material held in the grip of the ice, and forced to a rude journey over the bare foundation stones. now and then he may find the glacial mass in large measure made up of stones, the admixture extending many feet above the bottom of the cavern, perhaps to the very top of the arch. he may perchance find that these stones are crushing each other where they are in contact. the result will be brought about by the difference in the rate of advance of the ice, which moves the faster the higher it is above the surface over which it drags, and thus forces the stones on one level over those below. where the waters of the subglacial stream have swept the bed rock clean of _débris_ its surface is scored, grooved, and here and there polished in a manner which is accomplished only by ice action, though some likeness to it is afforded where stones have been swept over for ages by blowing sand. here and there, often in a way which interrupts the cavern journey, the shrunken stream, unable to carry forward the _débris_, deposits the material in the chamber, sometimes filling the arch so completely that the waters are forced to make a detour. this action is particularly interesting, for the reason that in regions whence glaciers have disappeared the deposits formed in the old ice arches often afford singularly perfect moulds of those caverns which were produced by the ancient subglacial streams. these moulds are termed _eskers_. if the observer be attentive, he will note the fact that the waters emerging from beneath the considerable glacier are very much charged with mud. if he will take a glass of the water at the point of escape, he will often find, on permitting it to settle, that the sediment amounts to as much as one twentieth of the volume. while the greater part of this detritus will descend to the bottom of the vessel in the course of a day, a portion of it does not thus fall. he may also note that this mud is not of the yellowish hue which he is accustomed to behold in the materials laid down by ordinary rivers, but has a whitish colour. further study will reveal the fact that the difference is due to the lack of oxidation in the case of the glacial detritus. river muds forming slowly and during long-continued exposure to the action of the air have their contained iron much oxidized, which gives them a part of their darkened appearance. moreover, they are somewhat coloured with decayed vegetable matter. the waste from beneath the glacier has been quickly separated from the bed rock, all the faces of the grains are freshly fractured, and there is no admixture of organic matter. the faces of the particles thus reflect light in substantially the same way as powdered glass or pulverized ice, and consequently appear white. a little observation will show the student that this very muddy character of waters emerging from beneath the glacier is essentially peculiar to such streams as we have described. ascending any of the principal valleys of switzerland, he may note that some of the streams flow waters which carry little sediment even in times when they are much swollen, while others at all seasons have the whitish colour. a little further exploration, or the use of a good map, will show him that the pellucid streams receive no contributions of glacial water, while those which look as if they were charged with milk come, in part at least, from the ice arches. from some studies which the writer has made in swiss valleys, it appears that the amount of erosion accomplished on equal areas of similar rock by the descent of the waters in the form of a glacier or in that of ordinary torrents differs greatly. moving in the form of ice, or in the state of ice-confined streams, the mass of water applies very many times as much of its energy of position to grinding and bearing away the rocks as is accomplished where the water descends in its fluid state. the effect of the intense ice action above noted is rapidly to wear away the rocks of the valley in which the glacier is situated. this work is done not only in a larger measure but in a different way from that accomplished by torrents. in the case of the latter, the stream bed is embarrassed by the rubbish which comes into it; only here and there can it attack the bed rock by forcing the stones over its surface. only in a few days of heavy rain each year is its work at all effective; the greater part of the energy of position of its waters is expended in the endless twistings and turnings of its stream, which result only in the development of heat which flies away into the atmosphere. in the ice stream, owing to its slow movement and to the detritus which it forces along the bottom, a vastly greater part of the energy which impels it down the slope is applied to rock cutting. none of the boulders, even if they are yards in diameter, obstruct its motion; small and great alike are to it good instruments wherewith to attack the bed rocks. the fragments are never left to waste by atmospheric decay, but are to a very great extent used up in mechanical work, while the most of the detritus which comes to a torrent is left in a coarse state when it is delivered to the stream; the larger part of that which the glacier transports is worn out in its journey. to a great extent it is used up in attacking the bed rock. in most cases the _débris_ in the terminal moraine is evidently but a small part of what entered the ice during its journey from the uplands; the greater part has been worn out in the rude experiences to which it has been subjected. it is evident that even in the regions now most extensively occupied by glaciers the drainage systems have been shaped by the movement of ordinary streams--in other words, ice action is almost everywhere, even in the regions about the poles, an incidental feature in the work of water, coming in only to modify the topography, which is mainly moulded by the action of fluid water. when, owing to climatal changes, a valley such as those of the alps is occupied by a glacial stream, the new current proceeds at once, according to its evident needs, to modify the shape of its channel. an ordinary torrent, because of the swiftness of its motion, which may, in general, be estimated at from three to five miles an hour, can convey away the precipitation over a very narrow bed. therefore its channel is usually not a hundredth part as wide as the gorge or valley in which it lies. but when the discharge takes place by a glacier, the speed of which rarely exceeds four or five feet a day, the ice stream because of its slow motion has to fill the trough from side to side, it has to be some thousand times as deep and wide as the torrent. the result is that as soon as the glacial condition arises in a country the ice streams proceed to change the old v-shaped torrent beds into those which have a broad u-like form. the practised eye can in a way judge how long a valley has been subjected to glacial action by the extent to which it has been widened by this process. in the valleys of switzerland and other mountain districts which have been attentively studied it is evident that glacial action has played a considerable part in determining their forms. but the work has been limited to that part of the basin in which the ice is abundantly provided with cutting tools in the stone which have found their way to the base of the stream. in the region of the _névé_, where the contributions of rocky matter to the surface of the deposit made from the few bare cliffs which rise above the sheet of snow is small, the snow-ice does no cutting of any consequence. where it passes over the steep at the head of the deep valley into which it drains, and is riven into the _seracs_, such stony matter as it may have gathered is allowed to fall to the bottom, and so comes into a position where it may do effective work. from this _serac_ section downward the now distinct ice river, being in general below the snow line, has everywhere cliffs, on either side from which the contributions of rock material are abundant. hence this part of the glacier, though it is the wasting portion of its length, does all the cutting work of any consequence which is performed. it is there that the underrunning streams become charged with sediment, which, as we have noted, they bear in surprising quantities, and it is therefore in this section of the valley that the impress of the ice work is the strongest. its effect is not only to widen the valley and deepen it, but also to advance the deep section farther up the stream and its tributaries. the step in the stream beds which we find at the _seracs_ appears to mark the point in the course of the glacier where, owing to the falling of stones to its base, as well as to its swifter movements and the firmer state of the ice, it does effective wearing. there are many other features connected with glaciers which richly repay the study of those who have a mind to explore in the manner of the physicist interested in ice actions the difficult problems which they afford; but as these matters are not important from the point of view of this work, no mention of them will here be made. we will now turn our attention to that other group of glaciers commonly termed continental, which now exist about either pole, and which at various times in the earth's history have extended far toward the equator, mantling over vast extents of land and shallow sea. the difference between the ice streams of the mountains and those which we term continental depends solely on the areas of the fields and the depth of the accumulation. in an ordinary alpine region the _névé_ districts, where the snow gathers, are relatively small. owing to the rather steep slopes, the frozen water is rapidly discharged into the lower valleys, where it melts away. both in the _névé_ and in the distinct glacier of the lower grounds there are, particularly in the latter, projecting peaks, from which quantities of stone are brought down by avalanches or in ordinary rock falls, so that the ice is abundantly supplied with cutting tools, which work from its surface down to its depths. as the glacial accumulation grows in depth there are fewer peaks emerging from it, and the streams which it feeds rise the higher until they mantle over the divides between the valleys. thus by imperceptible stages valley glaciers pass to the larger form, usually but incorrectly termed continental. we can, indeed, in going from the mountains in the tropics to the poles, note every step in this transition, until in greenland we attain the greatest ice mass in the world, unless that about the southern pole be more extensive. in the greenland glacier the ice sheet covers a vast extent of what is probably a mountain country, which is certainly of this nature in the southern part of the island, where alone we find portions of the earth not completely covered by the deep envelope. thanks to the labours of certain hardy explorers, among whom nansen deserves the foremost place, we now know something as to the conditions of this vast ice field, for it has been crossed from shore to shore. the results of these studies are most interesting, for they afford us a clew as to the conditions which prevail over a large part of the earth during the glacial period from which the planet is just escaping, and in the earlier ages when glaciation was likewise extensive. we shall therefore consider in a somewhat detailed way the features which the greenland glacier presents. starting from the eastern shore of that land, if we may thus term a region which presents itself mainly in the form of ice, we find next the shore a coast line not completely covered with ice and snow, but here and there exhibiting peaks which indicate that if the frozen mantle were removed the country would appear deeply intersected with fiords in the manner exhibited in the regions to the south of greenland or the scandinavian peninsula. the ice comes down to the sea through the valleys, often facing the ocean for great distances with its frozen cliffs. entering on this seaward portion of the glacier, the observer finds that for some distance from the coast line the ice is more or less rifted with crevices, the formation of which is doubtless due to irregularities of the rock bottom over which it moves. these ruptures are so frequent that for some miles back it is very difficult to find a safe way. finally, however, a point is attained where these breaks rather suddenly disappear, and thence inward the ice rises at the rate of upward slope of a few feet to the mile in a broad, nearly smooth incline. in the central portion of the region for a considerable part of the territory the ice has very little slope. thence it declines toward the other shore, exhibiting the same features as were found on the eastern versant until near the coast, when again the surface is beset with crevices which continue to the margin of the sea. although the explorations of the central field of greenland are as yet incomplete, several of these excursions into or across the interior have been made, and the identity of the observations is such that we can safely assume the whole region to be of one type. we can furthermore run no risk in assuming that what we find in greenland, at least so far as the unbroken nature of the central ice field is concerned, is what must exist in every land where the glacial envelope becomes very deep. in greenland it seems likely that the depth of the ice is on the average more than half a mile, and in the central part of the realm the sheet may well have a much greater profundity; it may be nearly a mile deep. the most striking feature--that of a vast unbroken expanse, bordered by a region where the ice is ruptured--is traceable wherever very extensive and presumably deep deposits of ice have been examined. as we shall see hereafter, these features teach us much as to the conditions of glacial action--a matter which we shall have to examine after we have completed our general survey as to the changes which occur during glacial periods. in the present state of that wonderful complex of actions which we term climate, glaciers are everywhere, so far as our observations enable us to judge, generally in process of decrease. in switzerland, although the ancients even in roman days were in contact with the ice, they were so unobservant that they did not even remark that the ice was in motion. only during the last two centuries have we any observations of a historic sort which are of value to the geologist. fortunately, however, the signs written on the rock tell the story, except for its measurement in terms of years, as clearly as any records could give it. from this testimony of the rocks we perceive that in the geological yesterday, though it may have been some tens of thousands of years ago, the swiss glaciers, vastly thickened, and with their horizontal area immensely expanded, stretched over the alpine country, so that only here and there did any of the sharper peaks rise above the surface. these vast glaciers, almost continually united on their margins, extended so far that every portion of what is now the swiss republic was covered by them. their front lay on the southern lowlands of germany, on the jura district of france; on the south, it stretched across the valley of the po as far as near milan. we know this old ice front by the accumulations of rock _débris_ which were brought to it from the interior of the mountain realm. we can recognise the peculiar kinds of stone, and with perfect certainty trace them to the bed rock whence they were riven. moreover, we can follow back through the same evidence the stages of retreat of the glaciers, until they lost their broad continental character and assumed something like their present valley form. up the valley of any of the great rivers, as, for instance, that of the rhône above the lake of geneva, we note successive terminal moraines which clearly indicate stages in the retreat of the ice when for a time it ceased to go backward, or even made a slight temporary readvance. it is easily seen that on such occasions the stones carried to the ice front would be accumulated in a heap, while during the time when day by day the glacier was retreating the rock waste would be left broadcast over the valley. as we go up from the course of the glacial streams we note that the successive moraines have their materials in a progressively less decayed state. far away from the heap now forming, and in proportion to the distance, the stones have in a measure rotted, and the heaps which they compose are often covered with soil and occupied by forests. within a few miles of the ice front the stones still have a fresh aspect. when we arrive within, say, half a mile of the moraine now building, we come to the part of the glacial retreat of which we have some written or traditional account. this is in general to the effect that the wasting of the glaciers is going on in this century as it went on in the past. occasionally periods of heavy snow would refresh the ice streams, so that for a little time they pushed their fronts farther down the valley. the writer has seen during one of these temporary advances the interesting spectacle of ice destroying and overturning the soil of a small field which had been planted in grain. it should be noted that these temporary advances of the ice are not due to the snowfall of the winter or winters immediately preceding the forward movement. so slow is the journey of the ice from the _névé_ field to the end of a long glacier that it may require centuries for the store accumulated in the uplands to affect the terminal portion of the stream. we know that the bodies of the unhappy men who have been lost in the crevices of the glacier are borne forward at a uniform and tolerably computable rate until they emerge at the front, where the ice melts away. in at least one case the remains have appeared after many years in the _débris_ which is contributed to the moraine. on account of this slow feeding of the glacial stream, we naturally may expect to find, as we do, in fact, that a great snowfall of many years ago, and likewise a period when the winter's contribution has been slight, would influence the position of the terminal point of the ice stream at different times, according to its length. if the length of the flow be five miles, it may require twenty or thirty years for the effect to be evident; while if the stream be ten miles long, the influence may not be noted in less than threescore years. thus it comes about that at the present time in the same glacial district some streams may be advancing while others are receding, though, on the whole, the ice is generally in process of shrinkage. if the present rate of retreat should be maintained, it seems certain that at the end of three centuries the swiss glaciers as a whole will not have anything like their present area, and many of the smaller streams will entirely disappear. following the method of the illustrious louis agassiz, who first attentively traced the evidence which shows the geologically recent great extension of glaciers by studying the evidence of the action in fields they no longer occupy, geologists have now inspected a large part of the land areas with a view to finding the proofs of such ice work. so far as these indications are concerned, the indications which they have had to trace are generally of a very unmistakable character. rarely, indeed, does a skilled student of such phenomena have to search in any region for more than a day before he obtains indubitable evidence which will enable him to determine whether or not the field has recently been occupied by an enduring ice sheet--one which survives the summer season and therefore deserves the name of glacier. the indications which he has to consider consist in the direction and manner in which the surface materials have been carried, the physical conditions of these materials, the shape of the surface of the underlying rock as regards its general contour, and the presence or absence of scratches and groovings on its surface. as these records of ice action are of first importance in dealing with this problem, and as they afford excellent subjects for the study of those who dwell in glaciated regions, we shall note them in some detail. the geologist recognises several ways in which materials may be transported on the surface of the earth. they may be cast forth by volcanoes, making their journey by being shot through the air, or by flowing in lava streams; it is always easy at a glance, save in very rare instances, to determine whether fragments have thus been conveyed. again, the detritus may be moved by the wind; this action is limited; it only affects dust, sand, and very small pebbles, and is easily discriminated. the carriage may be effected by river or marine currents; here, again, the size of the fragments moved is small, and the order of their arrangement distinctly traceable. the fragments may be conveyed by ice rafts; here, too, the observer can usually limit the probabilities he has to consider by ascertaining, as he can generally do, whether the region which he is observing has been below a sea or lake. in a word, the before-mentioned agents of transportation are of somewhat exceptional influence, and in most cases can, as explanations of rock transportation, be readily excluded. when, therefore, the geologist finds a country abundantly covered with sand, pebbles, and boulders arranged in an irregular way, he has generally only to inquire whether the material has been carried by rivers or by glaciers. this discrimination can be quickly and critically effected. in the first place, he notes that rivers only in their torrent sections can carry large fragments of rock, and that in all cases the fragments move down hill. further, that where deposits are formed, they have more or less the form of alluvial deposits. if now the observations show that the rock waste occupying the surface of any region has been carried up hill and down, across the valleys, particularly if there are here and there traces of frontal moraines, the geologist is entitled to suppose--he may, indeed, be sure--that the carriage has been effected by a glacial sheet. important corroborative evidence of ice action is generally to be found by inspecting the bed rock below the detritus, which indicates glacial action. even if it be somewhat decayed, as is apt to be the case where the ice sheet long since passed away, the bed rock is likely to have a warped surface; it is cast into ridges and furrows of a broad, flowing aspect, such as liquid water never produces, which, indeed, can only be created by an ice sheet moving over the surface, cutting its bed in proportion to the hardness of the material. furthermore, if the bed rock have a firm texture, and be not too much decayed, we almost always find upon it grooves or scratches, channels carved by the stones embedded in the body of the ice, and drawn by its motion over the fixed material. thus the proof of glacial extension in the last ice epoch is made so clear that accurate maps can be prepared showing the realm of its action. this task is as yet incomplete, although it is already far advanced. while the study of glaciers began in europe, inquiries concerning their ancient extension have been carried further and with more accuracy in north america than in any other part of the world. we may therefore well begin our description of the limits of the ice sheets with this continent. imagining a seafarer to have approached america by the north atlantic, as did the scandinavians, and that his voyage came perhaps a hundred thousand years or more before that of leif ericsson, he would have found an ice front long before he attained the present shores of the land. this front may have extended from south of greenland, off the shores of the present grand banks of newfoundland, thence and westward to central or southern new jersey. this cliff of ice was formed by a sheet which lay on the bottom of the sea. on the new jersey coast the ice wall left the sea and entered on the body of the continent. we will now suppose that the explorer, animated with the valiant scientific spirit which leads the men of our day to seek the poles, undertook a land journey along the ice front across the continent. from the new jersey coast the traveller would have passed through central pennsylvania, where, although there probably detached outlying glaciers lying to the southward as far as central virginia, the main front extended westward into the ohio valley. in southern ohio a tongue of the ice projected southwardly until it crossed the ohio river, where cincinnati now lies, extending a few miles to the southward of the stream. thence it deflected northwardly, crossing the mississippi, and again the missouri, with a tongue or lobe which went far southward in that state. then again turning to the northwest, it followed in general the northern part of the missouri basin until it came to within sight of the rocky mountains. there the ice front of the main glacier followed the trend of the mountains at some distance from their face for an unknown extent to the northward. in the cordilleras, as far south as southern colorado, and probably in the sierra nevada to south of san francisco, the mountain centres developed local glaciers, which in some places were of very great size, perhaps exceeding any of those which now exist in switzerland. it will thus be seen that nearly one half of the present land area of north america was beneath a glacial covering, though, as before noted, the region about the gulf of mexico may have swayed upward when the northern portion of the land was borne down by the vast load of ice which rested upon it. notwithstanding this possible addition to the land, our imaginary explorer would have found the portion of the continent fit for the occupancy of life not more than half as great as it is at present. in the eurasian continent there was no such continuous ice sheet as in north america, but the glaciers developed from a number of different centres, each moving out upon the lowlands, or, if its position was southern, being limited to a particular mountain field. one of these centres included scandinavia, northern germany, great britain about as far south as london, and a large part of ireland, the ice covering the intermediate seas and extending to the westward, so that the passage of the north atlantic was greatly restricted between this ice front and that of north america. another centre, before noted, was formed in the alps; yet another, of considerable area, in the pyrenees; other less studied fields existed in the apennines, in the caucasus, the ural, and the other mountains of northern asia. curiously enough, however, the great region of plains in siberia does not appear to have been occupied by a continuous ice sheet, though the similar region in north america was deeply embedded in a glacier. coincident with this development of ice in the eastern part of the continent, the ice streams of the himalayan mountains, some of which are among the greatest of our upland glaciers, appear to have undergone but a moderate extension. many other of the eurasian highlands were probably ice-bound during the last glacial period, but our knowledge concerning these local fields is as yet imperfect. in the southern hemisphere the lands are of less extent and, on the whole, less studied than in the northern realm. here and there where glaciers exist, as in new zealand and in the southern part of south america, observant travellers have noticed that these ice fields have recently shrunk away. whether the time of greatest extension and of retreat coincided with that of the ice sheets in the north is not yet determined; the problem, indeed, is one of some difficulty, and may long remain undecided. it seems, however, probable that the glaciers of the southern hemisphere, like those in the north, are in process of retreat. if this be true, then their time of greatest extension was probably the same as that of the ice sheets about the southern pole. from certain imperfect reports which we have concerning evidences of glaciation in central america and in the andean district in the northern part of south america, it seems possible that at one time the upland ice along the cordilleran chain existed from point to point along that system of elevations, so that the widest interval between the fields of permanent snow with their attendant glaciers did not much exceed a thousand miles. observing the present gradual retreat of those ice remnants which remain mere shreds and patches of the ancient fields, it seems at first sight likely that the extension and recession of the great glaciers took place with exceeding slowness. measured in terms of human life, in the manner in which we gauge matters of man's history, this process was doubtless slow. there are reasons, however, to believe that the coming and going were, in a geological sense, swift; they may have, indeed, been for a part of the time of startling rapidity. going back to the time of geological yesterday, before the ice began its development in the northern hemisphere, all the evidence we can find appears to indicate a temperate climate extending far toward the north pole. the miocene deposits found within twelve degrees, or a little more than seven hundred miles, of the north pole, and fairly within the realm of lowest temperature which now exists on the earth, show by the plant remains which they contain that the conditions permitted the growth of forests, the plants having a tolerably close resemblance to those which now freely develop in the southern portion of the mississippi valley. among them there are species which had the habit of retaining their broad, rather soft leaves throughout the winter season. the climate appears, in a word, to have been one where the mean annual temperature must have been thirty degrees or more higher than the present average of that realm. although such conditions near the sea level are not inconsistent with the supposition that glaciers existed in the higher mountains of the north, they clearly deny the possibility of the realm being occupied by continental glaciers. although the pliocene deposits formed in high latitudes have to a great extent been swept away by the subsequent glacial wearing, they indicate by their fossils a climatal change in the direction of greater cold. we trace this change, though obscurely, in a progressive manner to a point where the records are interrupted, and the next interpretable indication we have is that the ice sheet had extended to somewhere near the limits which we have noted. we are then driven to seek what we can concerning the sojourn of the ice on the land by the amount of wearing which it has inflicted upon the areas which it occupied. this evidence has a certain, though, as we shall see, a limited value. when the students of glacial action first began the great task of interpreting these records, they were led to suppose that the amount of rock cutting which was done by the ice was very great. observing what goes on, in the manner we have noted, beneath a valley glacier such as those of switzerland, they saw that the ice work went on rapidly, and concluded that if the ice remained long at work in a region it must do a vast deal of erosion. they were right in a part of their premises, but, as we shall see, probably in another part wrong. looking carefully over the field where the ice has operated, we note that, though at first sight the area appears to have lost all trace of its preglacial river topography, this aspect is due mainly to the irregular way in which the glacial waste is laid down. close study shows us that we may generally trace the old stream valleys down to those which were no larger than brooks. it is true that these channels are generally and in many places almost altogether filled in with rubbish, but a close study of the question has convinced the writer, and this against a previous view, that the amount of erosion in new england and canada, where the work was probably as great as anywhere, has not on the average exceeded a hundred feet, and probably was much less than that amount. even in the region north of lake ontario, over which the ice was deep and remained for a long time, the amount of erosion is singularly small. thus north of kingston the little valleys in the limestone rocks which were cut by the preglacial streams, though somewhat encumbered with drift, remain almost as distinct as they are on similar strata in central kentucky, well south of the field which the ice occupied. in fact, the ice sheet appears to have done the greatest part of its work and to have affected the surface most in the belt of country a few hundred miles in width around the edges of the sheet. it was to be expected that in a continental glacier, as in those of mountain valleys, the most of the _débris_ should be accumulated about the margin where the materials dropped from the ice. but why the cutting action should be greatest in that marginal field is not at first sight clear. to explain this and other features as best we may, we shall now consider the probable history of the great ice march in advance and retreat, and then take up the conditions which brought about its development and its disappearance. ice is in many ways the most remarkable substance with which the physicist has to deal, and among its eminent peculiarities is that it expands in freezing, while the rule is that substances contract in passing from the fluid to the solid state. on this account frozen water acts in a unique manner when subjected to pressure. for each additional atmosphere of pressure--a weight amounting to about fifteen pounds to the square inch--the temperature at which the ice will melt is lowered to the amount of sixteen thousandths of a degree centigrade. if we take a piece of ice at the temperature of freezing and put upon it a sufficient weight, we inevitably bring about a small amount of melting. where we can examine the mass under favourable conditions, we can see the fluid gather along the lines of the crystals or other bits of which the ice is composed. we readily note this action by bringing two pieces of ice together with a slight pressure; when the pressure is removed, they will adhere. the adhesion is brought about not by any stickiness of the materials, for the substance has no such property. it is accomplished by melting along the line of contact, which forms a film of water, that at once refreezes when the pressure is withdrawn. when a firm snowball is made by even pressing snow, innumerable similar adhesions grow up in the manner described. the fact is that, given ice at the temperature at which it ordinarily forms, pressure upon it will necessarily develop melting. the consequences of pressure melting as above described are in glaciers extremely complicated. because the ice is built into the glacier at a temperature considerably below the freezing point, it requires a great thickness of the mass before the superincumbent weight is sufficient to bring about melting in its lower parts. if we knew the height at which a thermometer would have stood in the surface ice of the ancient glacier which covered the northern part of north america, we could with some accuracy compute how thick it must have been before the effect of pressure alone would have brought about melting; but even then we should have to reckon the temperature derived from the grinding of the ice over the floor and the crushing of rocks there effected, as well as the heat which is constantly though slowly coming forth from the earth's interior. the result is that we can only say that at some depth, probably less than a mile, the slowly accumulating ice would acquire such a temperature that, subjected to the weight above it, the material next the bottom would become molten, or at least converted into a sludgelike state, in which it could not rub against the bottom, or move stones in the manner of ordinary glaciers. as fast as the ice assumed this liquid or softened state, it would be squeezed out toward the region where, because of the thinning of the glacier, it would enter a field where pressure melting did not occur. it would then resume the solid state, and thence journey to the margin of the ice in the ordinary manner. we thus can imagine how such a glacier as occupied the northern part of this continent could have moved from the central parts toward its periphery, as we can not do if we assume that the glacier everywhere lay upon the bed rock. there is no slope from lake erie to the ohio river at cincinnati. knowing that the ice moved down this line, there are but two methods of accounting for its motion: either the slope of the upper surface to the northward was so steep that the mass would have been thus urged down, the upper parts dragging the bottom along with them, or the ice sheet for the greater part of its extent rested upon pressure-molten water, or sludge ice, which was easily squeezed out toward the front. the first supposition appears inadmissible, for the reason that the ice would have to be many miles deep at hudson bay in order that its upper surface should have slope enough to overcome the rigidity of the material and bring about the movement. we know that any such depth is not supposable. the recent studies in greenland supply us with strong corroborative evidence for the support of the view which is here urged. the wide central field of that area, where the ice has an exceeding slight declivity, and is unruptured by crevices, can not be explained except on the supposition that it rests on pressure-molten water. the thinner section next the shore, where the glacier is broken up by those irregular movements which its wrestle with the bottom inevitably induces, shows that there it is in contact with the bed rock, for it behaves exactly as do the valley glaciers of like thickness. the view above suggested as to the condition of continental glaciers enables us to explain not only their movements, but the relatively slight amount of wearing which they brought about on the lands they occupied. beginning to develop in mountain regions, or near the poles on the lowlands, these sheets, as soon as they attained the thickness where the ice at their bottom became molten, would rapidly advance for great distances until they attained districts where the melting exceeded the supply of frozen material. in this excursion only the marginal portion of the glacier would do erosive work. this would evidently be continued for the greatest amount of time near the front or outer rim of the ice field, for there, we may presume, that for the longest time the cutting rim would rest upon the bed rock of the country. as the ice receded, this rim would fall back; thus in the retreat as in the advance the whole of the field would be subjected to a certain amount of erosion. on this supposition we should expect to find that the front of a continental glacier, fed with pressure-molten water from all its interior district, which became converted into ice, would attain much warmer regions than the valley streams, where all the flow took place in the state of ice, and, furthermore, that the speed of the going on the margin would be much more rapid than in the alpine streams. these suppositions are well borne out by the study of existing continental ice sheets, which move with singular rapidity at their fronts, and by the ancient glaciers, which evidently extended into rather warm fields. thus, when the ice front lay at the site of cincinnati, at six hundred feet above the sea, there were no glaciers in the mountains of north carolina, though those rise more than five thousand feet higher in the air, and are less than two hundred miles farther south. it is therefore evident that the continental glacier at this time pushed southward into a comparatively warm country in a way that no stream moving in the manner of a valley glacier could possibly have done. the continental glaciers manage in many cases to convey detritus from a great distance. thus, when the ice sheet advanced southwardly from the regions north of the great lakes, they conveyed quantities of the _débris_ from that section as far south as the ohio river. in part this rubbish was dragged forward by the ice as the sheet advanced; in part it was urged onward by the streams of liquid water formed by the ordinary process of ice melting. such subglacial rivers appear to have been formed along the margins of all the great glaciers. we can sometimes trace their course by the excavation which they have made, but more commonly by the long ridges of stratified sand and gravel which were packed into the caverns excavated by these subglacial rivers, which are known to glacialists as _eskers_, or as serpent kames. in many cases we can trace where these streams flowed up stream in the old river valleys until they discharged over their head waters. thus in the valley of the genesee, which now flows from pennsylvania, where it heads against the tributaries of the ohio and susquehanna, to lake ontario, there was during the glacial epoch a considerable river which discharged its waters into those of the ohio and the susquehanna over the falls at the head of its course. [illustration: _front of muir glacier, showing ice entering the sea; also small icebergs._] the effect of widespread glacial action on a country such as north america appears to have been, in the first place, to disturb the attitude of the land by bearing down portions of its surface, a process which led to the uprising of other parts which lay beyond the realm of the ice. within the field of glaciation, so far as the ice rested bodily on the surface, the rocks were rapidly worn away. a great deal of the _débris_ was ground to fine powder, and went far with the waters of the under-running streams. a large part was entangled in the ice, and moved forward toward the front of the glacier, where it was either dropped at the margin or, during the recession of the glacier, was laid upon the surface as the ice melted away. the result of this erosion and transportation has been to change the conditions of the surface both as regards soil and drainage. as the reader has doubtless perceived, ordinary soil is, outside of the river valleys, derived from the rock beneath where it lies. in glaciated districts the material is commonly brought from a considerable distance, often from miles away. these ice-made soils are rarely very fertile, but they commonly have a great endurance for tillage, and this for the reason that the earth is refreshed by the decay of the pebbles which they contain. moreover, while the tillable earth of other regions usually has a limited depth, verging downward into the semisoil or subsoil which represent the little changed bed rocks, glacial deposits can generally be ploughed as deeply as may prove desirable. the drainage of a country recently affected by glaciers is always imperfect. owing to the irregular erosion of the bed rocks, and to the yet more irregular deposition of the detritus, there are very numerous lakes which are only slowly filled up or by erosion provided with drainage channels. though several thousand years have passed by since the ice disappeared from north america, the greater part of the area of these fresh-water basins remains, the greater number of them, mostly those of small size, have become closed. where an ice stream descends into the sea or into a large lake, the depth of which is about as great as the ice is thick, the relative lightness of the ice tends to make it float, and it shortly breaks off from the parent mass, forming an iceberg. where, as is generally the case in those glaciers which enter the ocean, a current sweeps by the place where the berg is formed, it may enter upon a journey which may carry the mass thousands of miles from its origin. the bergs separated from the greenland glaciers, and from those about the south pole, are often of very great size; sometimes, indeed, they are some thousand feet in thickness, and have a length of several miles. it often happens that these bergs are formed of ice, which contains in its lower part a large amount of rock _débris_. as the submerged portion of the glacier melts in the sea water, these stones are gradually dropped to the bottom, so that the cargo of one berg may be strewed along a line many hundred miles in length. it occasionally happens that the ice mass melts more slowly in those parts which are in the air than in its under-water portions. it thus becomes top-heavy and overturns, in which case such stony matter as remains attains a position where it may be conveyed for a greater distance than if the glacier were not capsized. it is likely, indeed, that now and then fragments of rock from greenland are dropped on the ocean floor in the part of the atlantic which is traversed by steamers between our atlantic ports and great britain. except for the risks which they bring to navigators, icebergs have no considerable importance. it is true they somewhat affect the temperature of sea and air, and they also serve to convey fragments of stone far out to sea in a way that no other agent can effect; but, on the whole, their influence on the conditions of the earth is inconsiderable. icebergs in certain cases afford interesting indices as to the motion of oceanic currents, which, though moving swiftly at a depth below the surface, do not manifest themselves on the plain of the sea. thus in the region about greenland, particularly in davis strait, bergs have been seen forcing their way southward at considerable speed through ordinary surface ice, which was either at rest or moving in the opposite direction. the train of these bergs, which moves upward from the south polar continent, west of patagonia, indicates also in a very emphatic way the existence of a very strong northward-setting current in that part of the ocean. * * * * * we have now to consider the causes which could bring about such great extensions of the ice sheet as occurred in the last glacial period. here again we are upon the confines of geological knowledge, and in a field where there are no well-cleared ways for the understanding. in facing this problem, we should first note that those who are of the opinion that a glacial period means a very cold climate in the regions where the ice attained its extension are probably in error. natural as it may seem to look for exceeding cold as the cause of glaciation, the facts show us that we can not hold this view. in siberia and in the parts of north america bordering on the arctic sea the average cold is so intense that the ground is permanently frozen--as it is, for instance, in the klondike district--to the depth of hundreds of feet, only the surface thawing out during the warm summers. all this region is cold enough for glaciers, but there is not sufficient snowfall to maintain them. on the other hand, in greenland, and in a less though conspicuous degree in scandinavia, where the waters of the north atlantic somewhat diminish the rigour of the cold, and at the same time bring about a more abundant snowfall, the two actions being intimately related, we have very extensive glaciers. such facts, which could be very much extended, make it clear that the climate of glacial periods must have been characterized by a great snowfall, and not by the most intense cold. it is evident that what would be necessary again to envelop the boreal parts of north america with a glacial sheet would not be a considerable decrease of heat, but an increase in the winter's contribution of frozen water. even if the heat released by this snowfall elevated the average temperature of the winter, as it doubtless would in a considerable measure, it would not melt off the snow. that snowfall tends to warm the air by setting free the heat which was engaged in keeping the water in a state of vapour is familiarly shown by the warming which attends an ordinary snowstorm. even if the fall begin with a temperature of about ° fahr., the air is pretty sure to rise to near the freezing point. it is evident that no great change of temperature is required in order to bring about a very considerable increase in the amount of snowfall. in the ordinary succession of seasons we often note the occurrence of winters during which the precipitation of snow is much above the average, though it can not be explained by a considerable climatal change. we have to account for these departures from the normal weather by supposing that the atmospheric currents bring in more than the usual amount of moisture from the sea during the period when great falls of snow occur. in fact, in explaining variations in the humidity of the land, whether those of a constant nature or those that are to be termed accidental, we have always to look to those features which determine the importation of vapour from the great field of the ocean where it enters the air. we should furthermore note that these peculiarities of climate are dependent upon rather slight geographic accidents. thus the snowfall of northern europe, which serves to maintain the glaciation of that region, and, curiously enough, in some measure its general warmth, depends upon the movement of the gulf stream from the tropics to high latitudes. if by any geographical change, such as would occur if central america were lowered so as to make a free passage for its waters to the westward, the glaciers of greenland and of scandinavia would disappear, and at the same time the temperature of those would be greatly lowered. thus the most evident cause of glaciation must be sought in those alterations of the land which affect the movement of the oceanic currents. applying this principle to the northern hemisphere, we can in a way imagine a change which would probably bring about a return of such an ice period as that from which the boreal realm is now escaping. let us suppose that the region of not very high land about bering strait should sink down so as to afford the kuro siwo, or north pacific equivalent of our gulf stream, an opportunity to enter the arctic sea with something like the freedom with which the north atlantic current is allowed to penetrate to high latitudes. it seems likely that this pacific current, which in volume and warmth is comparable to that of the atlantic, would so far elevate the temperature of the arctic waters that their wide field would be the seat of a great evaporation. noting once again the fact that the greenland glaciers, as well as those of norway, are supplied from seas warmed by the gulf stream, we should expect the result of this change would be to develop similar ice fields on all the lands near that ocean. applying the data gathered by dr. croll for the gulf stream, it seems likely that the average annual temperature induced in the arctic sea by the free entrance of the japan current would be between ° and ° fahr. this would convert this wide realm of waters into a field of great evaporation, vastly increasing the annual precipitation. it seems also certain that the greater part of this precipitation would be in the form of snow. it appears to the writer that this cause alone may be sufficient to account for the last glacial period in the northern hemisphere. as to the probability that the region about bering strait may have been lowered in the manner required by this view, it may be said that recent studies on the region about mount st. elias show that during or just after the ice epoch the shores in that portion of alaska were at least four thousand feet lower than at present. as this is but a little way from the land which we should have to suppose to be lowered in order to admit the japan current, we could fairly conclude that the required change occurred. as for the cause of the land movement, geologists are still in doubt. they know, however, that the attitudes of the land are exceedingly unstable, and that the shores rarely for any considerable time maintain their position. it is probable that these swayings of the earth's surface are due to ever-changing combinations of the weight in different parts of the crust and the strains arising from the contraction of its inner parts. in the larger operations of nature the effects which we behold, however simple, are rarely the products of a single cause. in fact, there are few actions so limited that they can fairly be referred to one influence. it is therefore proper to state that there are many other actions besides those above noted which probably enter into those complicated equations which determine the climatal conditions of the earth. to have these would carry us into difficult and speculative inquiries. as before remarked, all the regions which have been subjected to glaciation are still each year brought temporarily into the glacial state. this fact serves to show us that the changes necessary to produce great ice sheets are not necessarily of a startling nature, however great the consequences may be. assuming, then, that relatively slight alterations of climate may cause the ice sheet to come and go, we may say that all the influences which have been suggested by the students of glaciation, and various other slighter causes which can not be here noted, may have co-operated to produce the peculiar result. in this equation geographic change has affected the course of the ocean currents, and has probably been the most influential, or at least the commonest, cause to which we must attribute the extension of ice sheets. next, alterations of the solar heat may be looked to as a change-bringing action; unfortunately, however, we have no direct evidence that this is an efficient cause. thirdly, the variations in the eccentricity of the earth's orbit, combined with the precession of the equinoxes and the rotation of the apsides, may be regarded as operative. the last of all, changes in the constitution of the atmosphere, have to be taken into account. to these must be added, as before remarked, many less important actions which influence this marvellously delicate machine, the work of which is expressed in the phenomena assembled under the name of climate. evidence is slowly accumulating which serves to show that glacial periods of greater or less importance have been of frequent occurrence at all stages in the history of the earth of which we have a distinct record. as these accidents write their history upon the ground alone, and in a way impermanently, it is difficult to trace the ice times of ancient geological periods. the scratches on the bed rocks, and the accumulations of detritus formed as the ice disappeared, have alike been worn away by the agents of decay. nevertheless, we can trace here and there in the older strata accumulations of pebbly matter often containing large boulders, which clearly were shaped and brought together by glacial action. these are found in some instances far south of the region occupied by the glaciers during the last ice epoch. they occur in rocks of the cambrian or silurian age in eastern tennessee and western north carolina; they are also found in india beyond the limits to which glaciers have attained in modern times. in closing this inadequate account of glacial action, a story which for its complete telling would require many volumes, it is well for the reader to consider once again how slight are the changes of climate which may alternately withdraw large parts of the land from the uses of life, and again quickly restore the fields to the service of plants and animals. he may well imagine that these changes, by driving living creatures to and fro, profoundly affect the history of their development. this matter will be dealt with in the volume concerning the history of organic beings. when the ice went off from the northern part of this continent, the surface of the country, which had been borne down by the weight of the glacier, still remained depressed to a considerable depth below the level of the sea, the depression varying from somewhere about one hundred feet in southern new england to a thousand feet or more in high latitudes. over this region, which lay beneath the level of the sea, the glacier, when it became thin enough to float, was doubtless broken up into icebergs, in the manner which we now behold along the coast of greenland. where the shore was swept by a strong current, these bergs doubtless drifted away; but along the most of the coast line they appear to have lain thickly grouped next the shores, gradually delivering their loads of stones and finer _débris_ to the bottom. these masses of floating ice in many cases seem to have prevented the sea waves from attaining the shore, and thus hindered the formation of those beaches which in their present elevated condition enable us to interpret the old position of the sea along coast lines which have been recently elevated. here and there, however, from new jersey to greenland, we find bits of these ancient shores which clearly tell the story of that down-sinking of the land beneath the burden of the ice which is such an instructive feature in the history of that period. chapter vii. the work of underground water. we have already noted two means by which water finds its way underground. the simplest and largest method by which this action is effected is by building in the fluid as the grains of the rock are laid down on the floors of seas or lakes. the water thus imprisoned is firmly inclosed in the interstices of the stone, it in time takes up into its mass a certain amount of the mineral materials which are contained in the deep-buried rocks. the other portion of the ground water--that with which we are now to be specially concerned--arises from the rain which descends into the crevices of the earth; it is therefore peculiar to the lands. for convenience we shall term the original embedded fluid _rock water_, and that which originates from the rain _crevice water_, the two forming the mass of the earth water. the crevice water of the earth, although forming at no time more than a very small fraction of the hidden fluid, is an exceedingly potent geological agent, doing work which, though unseen, yet affords the very foundations on which rest the life alike of land and sea. when this water enters the earth, though it is purified of all mineral materials, it has already begun to acquire a share of a gaseous substance, carbonic acid, or, as chemists now term it, carbon dioxide, which enables the fluid to begin its rôle of marvellous activities. in its descent as rain, probably even before it was gathered in drops in the cloud realm, the water absorbs a certain portion of this gas from the atmosphere. entering the realm of the soil, where the decaying organic matter plentifully gives forth carbon dioxide, a further store of the gas is acquired. at the ordinary pressure of the air, water may take in many times its bulk of the gas. the immediate effect of carbonic acid when it is absorbed by water is greatly to increase the capacity which that fluid has for taking mineral matters into solution. when charged with this gas, in the measure in which it may be in the soil, water is able to dissolve about fifty times as much limestone as it can in its perfectly pure form take up. a familiar instance of this peculiar capacity which the gas gives may often be seen where the water from a soda-water fountain drips upon the marble slab beneath. in a few years this slab will be considerably corroded, though pure water would in the same time have had no effect upon it. the first and by far the most important effect of crevice water is exercised upon the soil, which is at once the product of this action, and the laboratory where the larger part of the work is done. penetrating between the grains of the detrital covering, held in large quantities in the coating, and continually in slow motion, the gas-charged water takes a host of substances into solution, and brings them into a condition where they may react upon each other in the chemical manner. these materials are constantly being offered to the roots of plants and brought in contact with the underlying rock which has not passed into the state of soil. the changes induced in this stony matter lead to its breaking up, or at least to its softening to the point where the roots can penetrate it and complete its destruction. thus it comes about that the water which to a great extent divides the rocks into the state of soil, which is continually wearing away the material on the surface, or leaching it out through the springs, is also at work in restoring the layer from beneath. the greater part of the water which enters the soil does not penetrate to any great depth in the underlying rocks, but finds its way to the surface after no long journey in the form of small springs. generally those superficial springs do not emerge through distinct channels, but move, though slowly, in a massive way down the slopes until they enter a water course. along the banks of any river, however small, or along the shores of the sea, a pit a few inches deep just above the level of the water will be quickly filled by a flow from this sheet which underlies the earth. at a distance from the stream this sheet spring is in contact with the bed rocks, and may be many feet below the surface, but it comes to the level of the river or the sea near their margins. here and there the shape of the bed rocks, being like converging house roofs, causes the superficial springs to form small pipelike channels for the escape of their gathered waters, and the flow emerges at a definite point. almost all these sources of considerable flow are due to the action of the water on the underlying rock, where we shall now follow that portion of the crevice water which penetrates deeply into the earth. almost all rocks, however firm they may appear to be, are divided by crevices which extend from the soil level it may be to the depths of thousands of feet. these rents are in part due to the strains of mountain-building, which tend to disrupt the firmest stone, leaving open fractures. they are also formed in other ways, as by the imperfectly understood agencies which produce joint planes. it often happens that where rocks are highly tilted water finds its way downward between the layers, which are imperfectly soldered together, or a bed of coarse material, such as sandstone or conglomerate, may afford an easy way by which the water may descend for miles beneath the surface. passing through rocks which are not readily soluble, the water, already to a great extent supplied with mineral matter by its journey through the soil, may not do much excavating work, and even after a long time may only slightly enlarge the spaces in which it may be stored or the channels by which it discharges to the surface. hence it comes about that in many countries, even where the waters penetrate deeply, they do not afford large springs. it is otherwise where the crevice waters enter limestones composed of materials which are readily dissolved. in such places we find the rain so readily entering the underlying rock that no part of the fall goes at once to the brooks, but all has a long underground journey. in any limestone district where the beds of the material are thick and tolerably pure--as, for instance, in the cavern district of southern kentucky--the traveller who enters the region notes at once that the usual small streams which in every region of considerable rainfall he is accustomed to see intersecting the surface of the country are entirely absent. in their place he notes everywhere pitlike depressions of bowl-shaped form, the sink holes to which we have already adverted. through the openings in the bottom of these the rain waters descend into the depths of the earth. although the most of these depressions have but small openings in their bottom, now and then one occurs with a vertical shaft sufficiently large to permit the explorer to descend into it, though he needs to be lowered down in the manner of a miner who is entering a shaft. in fact, the journey is nearly always one of some hazard; it should not be undertaken save with many precautions to insure safety. when one is lowered away through an open sink hole, though the descent may at first be somewhat tortuous, the explorer soon finds himself swinging freely in the air, it may be at a point some hundred feet above the base of the bottle-shaped shaft or dome into which he has entered. commonly the neck of the bottle is formed where the water has worked its way through a rather sandy limestone, a rock which was not readily dissolved by the water. in the pure and therefore easily cut limestone layers the cavity rapidly expands until the light of the lantern may not disclose its walls. farther down there is apt to be a shelf composed of another impure limestone, which extends off near the middle of the shaft. if the explorer can land upon this shelf, he is sure to find that from this imperfect floor the cavern extends off in one or more horizontal galleries, which he may follow for a great distance until he comes to the point where there is again a well-like opening through the hard layer, with another dome-shaped base beneath. returning to the main shaft, the explorer may continue his descent until he attains the base of this vertical section of the cave, where he is likely to find himself delivered in a pool of water of no great depth, the bottom of which is occupied by a quantity of small, hard stones of a flinty nature, which have evidently come from the upper parts of the cavern. the close observer will have noted that here and there in the limestone there are flinty bits, such as those which he finds in the pool. from the bottom of the dome a determined inquirer can often make his way along the galleries which lead from that level, though it may be after a journey of miles to the point where he emerges from the cavern on the banks of an open-air river. although a journey by way of the sink holes through a cavern system is to be commended for the reason that it is the course of the caverning waters, it is, on the whole, best to approach the cave through their exits along the banks of a stream or through the chance openings which are here and there made by the falling in of their roofs. one advantage of this cavity of entrance is that we can thus approach the cavern in times of heavy rain when the processes which lead to their construction are in full activity. coming in this way to one of the domes formed beneath a sink hole, we may observe in rainy weather that the water falling down the deep shaft strikes the bottom with great force; in many of the kentucky caves it falls from a greater height than niagara. at such times the stones in the basin at the bottom of the shaft are vigorously whirled about, and in their motion they cut the rocks in the bottom of the basin--in fact, this cavity is a great pot hole, like those at the base of open-air cascades. it is now easy to interpret the general principles which determine the architecture of the cavern realm. when it first enters the earth all the work which the water does in the initial steps of cavern formation is effected by solution. as the crevice enlarges and deepens, the stream acquires velocity, and begins to use the bits of hard rock in boring. it works downward in this way by the mixed mechanical and chemical action until it encounters a hard layer. then the water creeps horizontally through the soft stratum, doing most of its work by solution, until it finds a crevice in the floor through which it can excavate farther in the downward direction; so it goes on in the manner of steps until it burrows channels to the open stream. in time the vertical fall under the sink hole will cut through the hard layer, when the water, abandoning the first line of exit, will develop another at a lower level, and so in time it comes about that there may be several stories of the cave, the lowest being the last to be excavated. of the total work thus done, only a small part is accomplished by the falling of the water, acting through the boring action of its tools, the bits of stone before mentioned; the principal part of the task is done by the solvent action of the carbonated waters on the limestone. in the system of caverns known as the mammoth cave, in kentucky, the writer has estimated that at least nine tenths of the stone was removed in the state of solution. when first excavated, the chambers of a limestone cavern have little beauty to attract the eye. the curves of the walls are sometimes graceful, but the aspect of the chambers, though in a measure grand, is never charming. when, however, the waters have ceased to carve the openings, when they have been drained away by the formation of channels on a lower level, there commonly sets in a process known as stalactitization, which transforms the scene into one of singular beauty. we have already noted the fact that everywhere in ordinary rocks there are crevices through which water, moving under the pressure of the fluid which is above, may find its way slowly downward. in the limestone roofs of caverns, particularly in those of the upper story, this ooze of water passes through myriads of unseen fissures at a rate so slow that it often evaporates in the dry air without dropping to the floor. when it comes out of the rocks the water is charged with various salts of lime; when it evaporates it leaves the material behind on the roof. where the outflow is so slight that the fluid does not gather into drops, it forms an incrustation of limy matter, which often gathers in beautiful flowerlike forms, or perhaps in the shape of a sheet of alabaster. where drops are formed, a small, pendent cone grows downward from the ceiling, over which the water flows, and on which it evaporates. this cone grows slowly downward until it may attain the floor of the chamber, which has a height of thirty feet or more. if all the water does not evaporate, that which trickles off the apex of the cone, striking on the floor, is splashed out into a thin sheet, so that it evaporates in a speedy manner, lays down its limestone, and thus builds another and ruder cone, which grows upward toward that which is pendent above it. finally, they grow together, enlarged by the process which constructed them, until a mighty column may be formed, sculptured as if by the hands of a fantastic architect. [illustration: fig. .--stalactites and stalagmites on roof and floor of a cavern. the arrows show the direction of the moving water.] all the while that subterranean streams are cutting the caverns downward the open-air rivers into which they discharge are deepening their beds, and thereby preparing for the construction of yet lower stories of caves. these open-air streams commonly flow in steep-sided, narrow valleys, which themselves were caves until the galleries became so wide that they could no longer support the roof. thus we often find that for a certain distance the roof over a large stream has fallen in, so that the water flows in the open air. then it will plunge under an arch and course, it may be, for some miles, before it again arrives at a place where the roof has disappeared, or perhaps attains a field occupied by rocks of another character, in which caverns were not formed. at places these old river caverns are abandoned by the streams, which find other courses. they form natural tunnels, which are not infrequently of considerable length. one such in southwestern virginia has been made useful for a railway passing from one valley to another, thus sparing the expense of a costly excavation. where the remnant of the arch is small, it is commonly known as a natural bridge, of which that in rockbridge county, in virginia, is a very noble example. arches of this sort are not uncommon in many cavern countries; five such exist in carter county, kentucky, a district in the eastern part of that state which abounds in caverns, though none of them are of conspicuous height or beauty.[ ] [footnote : it is reported that one of these natural bridges of carter county has recently fallen down. this is the natural end of these features. as before remarked, they are but the remnants of much more extensive roofs which the processes of decay have brought to ruin.] at this stage of his studies on cavern work the student will readily conceive that, as the surface of the country overlying the cave is incessantly wearing down, the upper stories of the system are continually disappearing, while new ones are forming at the present drainage level of the country. in fact, the attentive eye can in such a district find here and there evidences of this progressive destruction. not only do the caves wear out from above, but their roofs are constantly falling to their floors, a process which is greatly aided by the growth of stalactites. forming in the crevices or joints between the stones, these rock growths sometimes prize off great blocks. in other cases the weight of the pendent stalactite drags the ill-supported masses of the roof to the floor. in this way a gallery originally a hundred feet below the surface may work its way upward to the light of day. the entrance by which the mammoth cave is approached appears to have been formed in this manner, and at several points in that system of caverns the effect of this action may be distinctly observed. we must now go a step further on the way of subterranean water, and trace its action in the depths below the plane of ordinary caves, which, as we have noted, do not extend below the level of the main streams of the cavern district. the first group of facts to be attended to is that exhibited by artesian wells. these occur where rocks have been folded down into a basinlike form. it often happens that in such a basin the rocks of which it is composed are some of them porous, and others impervious to water, and that the porous layers outcrop on the high margins of the depression and have water-tight layers over them. these conditions can be well represented by supposing that we have two saucers, one within the other, with an intervening layer of sand which is full of water. if now we bore an opening in the bottom of the uppermost saucer, we readily conceive that the water will flow up through it. in nature we often find these basins with the equivalent of the sandy layer in the model just described rising hundreds of feet above the valley, so that the artesian well, so named from the village of artois, near paris, where the first opening of this nature was made, may yield a stream which will mount upward, especially where piped, to a great height. at many places in the world it is possible by such wells to obtain a large supply of tolerably pure water, but in general it is found to contain too large a supply of dissolved mineral matter or sulphuretted gases to be satisfactory for domestic purposes. it may be well to note the fact that the greater part of the so-called artesian wells, or borings which deliver water to a height above the surface, are not true artesian sources, in that they do not send up the water by the action of gravitation, but under the influence of gaseous pressure. where, as in the case of upturned porous beds, the crevice water penetrates far below the earth's surface or the open-air streams which drain the water away, the fluid acquires a considerable increase of temperature, on the average about one degree fahrenheit for each eighty feet of descent. it may, indeed, become so heated that if it were at the earth's surface it would not only burst into steam with a vast explosive energy, but would actually shine in the manner of heated solids. as the temperature of water rises, and as the pressure on it increases, it acquires a solvent power, and takes in rocky matter in a measure unapproached at the earth's surface. at the depth of ten miles water beginning as inert rain would acquire the properties which we are accustomed to associate with strong acids. passing downward through fissures or porous strata in the manner indicated in the diagram, the water would take up, by virtue of its heat and the gases it contained, a share of many mineral substances which we commonly regard as insoluble. gold and even platinum--the latter a material which resists all acids at ordinary temperatures--enters into the solution. if now the water thus charged with mineral stores finds in the depths a shorter way to the surface than that which it descended, which may well happen by way of a deep rift in the rocks, it will in its ascent reverse the process which it followed on going down. it will deposit the several minerals in the order of their solubilities--that is, the last to be taken in will be the first to be crystallized on the walls of the fissure through which the upflow is taking place. the result will be the formation of a vein belonging to the variety known as fissure veins. [illustration: fig. .--diagram of vein. the different shadings show the variations in the nature of the deposits.] a vein deposit such as we are considering may, though rarely, be composed of a single mineral. most commonly we find the deposit arranged in a banded form in the manner indicated in the figure (see diagram ). sometimes one material will abound in the lower portions of the fissure and another in its higher parts, a feature which is accounted for by the progressive cooling and relinquishment of pressure to which the water is subjected on its way to the surface. with each decrement of those properties some particular substance goes out of the fluid, which may in the end emerge in the form of a warm or hot spring, the water of which contains but little mineral matter. where, however, the temperature is high, some part of the deposit, even a little gold, may be laid down just about the spring in the deposits known as sinter, which are often formed at such places. in many cases the ore deposits are formed not only in the main channel of the fissure, but in all the crevices on either side of that way. in this manner, much as in the case of the growth of stalactitic matter between the blocks of stone in the roofs of a cavern, large fragments of rock, known as "horses," are often pushed out into the body of the vein. in some instances the growth of the vein appears to enlarge the fissure or place of the deposit as the accumulation goes on, the process being analogous to that by which a growing root widens the crevice into which it has penetrated. in other instances the fissure formed by the force has remained wide open, or at most has been but partly filled by the action of the water. it not infrequently happens that the ascending waters of hot springs entering limestones have excavated extensive caves far below the surface of the earth, these caverns being afterward in part filled by the ores of various metals. we can readily imagine that the water at one temperature would excavate the cavern, and long afterward, when at a lower heat, they might proceed to fill it in. at a yet later stage, when the surface of the country had worn down many thousands of feet below the original level, the mineral stores of the caverns may be brought near the surface of the earth. some of the most important metalliferous deposits of the cordilleras are found in this group of hot-water caverns. these caverns are essentially like those produced by cold water, with the exception of the temperature of the fluid which does the work and the opposite direction of the flow. in following crevice water which is free to obey the impulses of gravitation far down into the earth, we enter on a realm where the rock or construction water, that which was built into the stone at the time of its formation, is plentiful. where these two groups of waters come in contact an admixture occurs, a certain portion of the rock water joining that in the crevices. near the surface of the ground we commonly find that all the construction water has been washed out by this action. yet if the rocks be compact, or if they have layers of a soft and clayey nature, we may find the construction water, even in very old deposits, remaining near the surface of the ground. thus in the ancient silurian beds of the ohio valley a boring carried a hundred feet below the level of the main rivers commonly discovers water which is clearly that laid down in the crevices of the material at the time when the rocks were formed in the sea. in all cases this water contains a certain amount of gases derived from the decomposition of various substances, but principally from the alteration of iron pyrite, which affords sulphuretted hydrogen. thus the water is forced to the surface with considerable energy, and the well is often named artesian, though it flows by gas pressure on the principle of the soda-water fountain, and not by gravity, as in the case of true artesian wells. the passage between the work done by the deeply penetrating surface water and that due to the fluid intimately blended with the rock built into the mass at the time of its formation is obscure. we are, however, quite sure that at great depths beneath the earth the construction water acts alone not only in making veins, but in bringing about many other momentous changes. at a great depth this water becomes intensely heated, and therefore tends to move in any direction where a chance fissure or other accident may lessen the pressure. creeping through the rocks, and moving from zones of one temperature to another, these waters bring about in the fine interstices chemical changes which lead to great alterations in the constitution of the rock material. it is probably in part to these slow driftings of rock water that beds originally made up of small, shapeless fragments, such as compose clay slates, sandstones, and limestones, may in time be altered into crystalline rocks, where there is no longer a trace of the original bits, all the matter having been taken to pieces by the process of dissolving, and reformed in the regular crystalline order. in many cases we may note how a crystal after being made has been in part dissolved away and replaced by another mineral. in fact, many of our rocks appear to have been again and again made over by the slow-drifting waters, each particular state in their construction being due to some peculiarity of temperature or of mineral contents which the fluid held. these metamorphic phenomena, though important, are obscure, and their elucidation demands some knowledge of petrographic science, that branch of geology which considers the principles of rock formation. they will therefore not be further considered in this work. volcanoes. of old it was believed that volcanoes represented the outpouring of fluid rock which came forth from the central realm of the earth, a region which was supposed still to retain the liquid state through which the whole mass of our earth has doubtless passed. recent studies, however, have brought about a change in the views of geologists which is represented by the fact that we shall treat volcanic phenomena in connection with the history of rock water. in endeavouring to understand the phenomena of volcanoes it is very desirable that the student should understand what goes on in a normal eruption. the writer may, therefore, be warranted in describing some observations which he had an opportunity to make at an eruption of vesuvius in , when it was possible to behold far more than can ordinarily be discerned in such outbreaks--in fact, the opportunity of a like nature has probably not been enjoyed by any other person interested in volcanic action. in the winter of -' vesuvius was subjected to a succession of slight outbreaks. at the time of the observations about to be noted the crater had been reduced to a cup about three hundred feet in diameter and about a hundred feet deep. the vertical shaft at the bottom, through which the outbursts were taking place, was about a hundred feet across. taking advantage of a heavy gale from the northwest, it was practicable, notwithstanding the explosions, to climb to the edge of the crater wall. looking down into the throat of the volcano, although the pit was full of whirling vapours and the heat was so great that the protection of a mask was necessary, it was possible to see something of what was going on at the moment of an explosion. the pipe of the volcano was full of white-hot lava. even in a day of sunshine, which was only partly obscured by the vapours which hung about the opening, the heat of the lava made it very brilliant. this mass of fluid rock was in continuous motion, swaying violently up and down the tube. from four to six times a minute, at the moment of its upswaying, it would burst as by the explosion of a gigantic bubble. the upper portion of the mass was blown upward in fragments, the discharge being like that of shot from a fowling piece; the fragments, varying in size from small, shotlike bits to masses larger than a man's head, were shot up sometimes to the height of fifteen hundred feet above the point of ejection. the wind, blowing at the rate of about forty miles an hour, drove the falling bits of rock to the leeward, so that there was no considerable danger to be apprehended from them. some seconds after the explosion they could be heard rattling down on the farther slope of the cone. observations on the interval between the discharge and the fall of the fragments made it easy to compute the height to which they were thrown. at the moment when the lava in the pipe opened for the passage of the vapour which created the explosion the movement, though performed in a fraction of a second, was clearly visible. at first the vapour was colourless; a few score feet up it began to assume a faint, bluish hue; yet higher, when it was more expanded, the tint changed to that of steam, which soon became of the ordinary aspect, and gathered in swift-revolving clouds. the watery nature of the vapour was perfectly evident by its odour. though commingled with sulphurous-acid gas, it still had the characteristic smell of steam. for a half hour it was possible to watch the successive explosions, and even to make rough sketches of the scene. occasionally the explosions would come in quick succession, so that the lava was blown out of the tube; again, the pool would merely sway up and down in a manner which could be explained only by supposing that great bubbles of vapour were working their way upward toward the point where they could burst. each of these bubbles probably filled a large part of the diameter of the pipe. in general, the phenomena recalled the escape of the jet from a geyser, or, to take a familiar instance, that of steam from the pipe of a high-pressure engine. when the heat is great, steam may often be seen at the mouth of the pipe with the same transparent appearance which was observed in the throat of the crater. in the cold air of the mountain the vapour was rapidly condensed, giving a rainbow hue in the clouds when they were viewed at the right angle. the observations were interrupted by the fact that the wind so far died away that large balls of the ejected lava began to fall on the windward side of the cone. these fragments, though cooled and blackened on their outside by their considerable journey up and down through the air, were still so soft that they splashed when they struck the surface of cinders. watching the cone from a distance, one could note that from time to time the explosions, increasing in frequency, finally attained a point where the action appeared to be continuous. the transition was comparable to that which we may observe in a locomotive which, when it first gets under way, gives forth occasional jets of steam, but, slowly gaining speed, finally pours forth what to eye and ear alike seem to be a continuous outrush. all the evidence that we have concerning volcanic outbreaks corroborates that just cited, and is to the effect that the essence of the action consists in the outbreak of water vapour at a high temperature, and therefore endowed with very great expansive force. along with this steam there are many other gases, which always appear to be but a very small part of the whole escape of a vaporous nature--in fact, the volcanic steam, so far as its chemical composition has been ascertained, has the composition which we should expect to find in rock water which had been forced out from the rock by the tensions that high temperature creates. because of its conspicuous nature, the lava which flows from most volcanoes, or is blown out from them in the form of finely divided ash, is commonly regarded as the primary feature in a volcanic outbreak. such is not really the case. volcanic explosions may occur with very little output of fluid rock, and that which comes forth may consist altogether of the finely divided bits of rock to which we give the name of ash. in fact, in all very powerful explosions we may expect to find no lava flow, but great quantities of this finely divided rock, which when it started from the depths of the earth was in a fluid state, but was blown to pieces by the contained vapour as it approached the surface. if the student is so fortunate as to behold a flood of lava coming forth from the flanks of a volcano, he will observe that even at the very points of issue, where the material is white-hot and appears to be as fluid as water, the whole surface gives forth steam. on a still day, viewed from a distance, the path of a lava flow is marked by a dense cloud of this vapour which comes forth from it. even after the lava has cooled so that it is safe to walk upon it, every crevice continues to pour forth steam. years after the flowing has ceased, and when the rock surface has become cool enough for the growth of certain plants upon it, these crevices still yield steam. it is evident, in a word, that a considerable part of a lava mass, even after it escapes from the volcanic pipes, is water which is intimately commingled with the rock, probably lying between the very finest grains of the heated substance. yet this lava which has come forth from the volcano has only a portion of the water which it originally contained; a large, perhaps the greater part, has gone forth in the explosive way through the crater. it is reasonably believed that the fluidity of lava is in considerable measure due to the water which it contains, and which serves to give the mass the consistence of paste, the partial fluidity of flour and rock grains being alike brought about in the same manner. so much of the phenomena of volcanoes as has been above noted is intended to show the large part which interstitial water plays in volcanic action. we shall now turn our attention again to the state of the deeply buried rock water, to see how far we may be able by it to account for these strange explosive actions. when sediments are laid down on the sea floor the materials consist of small, irregularly shaped fragments, which lie tumbled together in the manner of a mass of bricks which have been shot out of a cart. water is buried in the plentiful interspaces between these bits of stone; as before remarked, the amount of this construction water varies. in general, it is at first not far from one tenth part of the materials. besides the fluid contained in the distinct spaces, there is a share which is held as combined water in the intimate structure of the crystals, if such there be in the mass. when this water is built into the stone it has the ordinary temperature of the sea bottom. as the depositing actions continue to work, other beds are formed on the top of that which we are considering, and in time the layer may be buried to the depth of many thousand feet. there are reasons to believe that on the floors of the oceans this burial of beds containing water may have brought great quantities of fluid to the depth of twenty miles or more below the outer surface of the rocks. [illustration: fig. .--flow of lava invading a forest. a tree in the distance is not completely burned, showing that the molten rock had lost much of its original heat.] the effect of deep burial is to increase the heat of strata. this result is accomplished in two different ways. the direct effect arising from the imposition of weight, that derived from the mass of stratified material, is, as we know, to bring about a down-sinking of the earth's crust. in the measure of this falling, heat is engendered precisely as it is by the falling of a trip-hammer on the anvil, with which action, as is well known, we may heat an iron bar to a high temperature. it is true that this down-sinking of the surface under weight is in part due to the compression of the rocks, and in part to the slipping away of the soft underpinning of more or less fluid rock. yet further it is in some measure brought about by the wrinkling of the crust. but all these actions result in the conversion of energy of position into heat, and so far serve to raise the temperature of the rocks which are concerned in the movements. by far the largest source of heat, however, is that which comes forth from the earth's interior, and which was stored there in the olden day when the matter forming the earth gathered into the mass of our sphere. this, which we may term the original heat, is constantly flowing forth into space, but makes its way slowly, because of the non-conductive, or, as we may phrase it, the "blanketing" effect of the outer rock. the effect of the strata is the same as that exercised by the non-conductive coatings which are put on steam boilers. a more familiar comparison may be had from the blankets used for bedclothing. if on top of the first blanket we put a second, we keep warmer because the temperature of the lower one is elevated by the heat from our body which is held in. in the crust of the earth each layer of rock resists the outflow of heat, and each addition lifts the temperature of all the layers below. when water-bearing strata have been buried to the depth of ten miles, the temperature of the mass may be expected to rise to somewhere between seven hundred and a thousand degrees fahrenheit. if the depth attained should be fifty miles, it is likely that the temperature will be five times as great. at such a heat the water which the rocks contain tends in a very vigorous way to expand and pass into the state of vapour. this it can not readily do, because of its close imprisonment; we may say, however, that the tendency toward explosion is almost as great as that of ignited gunpowder. such powder, if held in small spaces in a mass of cast steel, could be fired without rending the metal. the gases would be retained in a highly compressed, possibly in a fluid form. if now it happens that any of the strain in the rocks such as lead to the production of faults produce fissures leading from the surface into this zone of heated water, the tendency of the rocks containing the fluid, impelled by its expansion, will be to move with great energy toward the point of relief or lessened pressure which the crevice affords. where rocks are in any way softened, pressure alone will force them into a cavity, as is shown by the fact that beds of tolerably hard clay stones in deep coal mines may be forced into the spaces by the pressure of the rocks which overlie them--in fact, the expense of cutting out these in-creeping rocks is in some british mines a serious item in the cost of the product. the expansion of the water contained in the deep-lying heated rocks probably is by far the most efficient agent in urging them toward the plane of escape which the fissure affords. when the motion begins it pervades all parts of the rock at once, so that an actual flow is induced. so far as the movement is due to the superincumbent weight, the tendency is at once to increase the temperature of the moving mass. the result is that it may be urged into the fissure perhaps even hotter than when it started from the original bed place. in proportion as the rocky matter wins its way toward the surface, the pressure upon it diminishes, and the contained vapours are freer to expand. taking on the vaporous form, the bubbles gather to each other, and when they appear at the throat of the volcano they may, if the explosions be infrequent, assume the character above noted in the little eruption of vesuvius. where, however, the lava ascends rapidly through the channel, it often attains the open air with so much vapour in it, and this intimately mingled with the mass, that the explosion rends the materials into an impalpably fine powder, which may float in the air for months before it falls to the earth. with a less violent movement the vapour bubbles expand in the lava, but do not rend it apart, thus forming the porous, spongy rock known as pumice. with a yet slower ascent a large part of the steam may go away, so that we may have a flow of lava welling forth from the vent, still giving forth steam, but with a vapour whose tension is so lowered that the matter is not blown apart, though it may boil violently for a time after it escapes into the air. although the foregoing relatively simple explanation of volcanic action can not be said as yet to be generally accepted by geologists, the reasons are sufficient which lead us to believe that it accounts for the main features which we observe in this class of explosions--in other words, it is a good working hypothesis. we shall now proceed in the manner which should be followed in all natural inquiry to see if the facts shown in the distribution of volcanoes in space and time confirm or deny the view. the most noteworthy feature in the distribution of volcanoes is that, at the present time at least, all active vents are limited to the sea floors or to the shore lands within the narrow range of three hundred miles from the coast. wherever we find a coast line destitute of volcanoes, as is the case with the eastern coast of north and south america, it appears that the shore has recently been carried into the land for a considerable distance--in other words, old coast lines are normally volcanic; that is, here and there have vents of this nature. thus the north atlantic, the coasts of which appear to have gone inland for a great distance in geologically recent times, is non-volcanic; while the pacific coast, which for a long time has remained in its present position, has a singularly continuous line of craters near the shore extending from alaska to tierra del fuego. so uninterrupted is this line of volcanoes that if they were all in eruption it would very likely be possible to journey down the coast without ever being out of sight of the columns of vapour which they would send forth. on the floor of the sea volcanic peaks appear to be very widely distributed; only a few of them--those which attain the surface of the water--are really known, but soundings show long lines of elevations which doubtless represent cones distributed along fault lines, none of the peaks of sufficient height to break the surface of the sea. it is likely, indeed, that for one marine volcano which appears as an island there are scores which do not attain the surface. volcanic islands exist and generally abound in the ocean and greater seas; every now and then we observe a new one forming as a small island, which is apt to be washed away by the sea shortly after the eruption ceases, the disappearance being speedy, for the reason that the volcanic ashes of which these cones are composed drift away like snow before the movement of the waves. if the waters of the ocean and seas were drained away so that we could inspect the portion of the earth's surface which they cover as readily as we do the dry lands, the most conspicuous feature would be the innumerable volcanic eminences which lie hidden in these watery realms. wherever the observer passed from the centres of the present lands he would note within the limits of those fields only mountains, much modified by river action; hills which the rivers had left in scarfing away the strata; and dales which had been carved out by the flowing waters. near the shore lines of the vanished seas he would begin to find mountains, hills, and vales occasionally commingled with volcanic peaks, those structures built from the materials ejected from the vents. passing the coast line to the seaward, the hills and dales would quickly disappear, and before long the mountains would vanish from his way, and he would gradually enter on a region of vast rolling plains beset by volcanic peaks, generally accumulated in long ranges, somewhat after the manner of mountains, but differing from those elevations not only in origin but in aspect, the volcanic set of peaks being altogether made up of conical, cup-topped elevations. a little consideration will show us that the fact of volcanoes being in the limit to the sea floors and to a narrow fringe of shore next certain ocean borders is reconcilable with the view as to their formation which we have adopted. we have already noted the fact that the continents are old, which implies that the parts of the earth which they occupy have long been the seats of tolerably continuous erosion. now and then they have swung down partly beneath the sea, and during their submersion they received a share of sediments. but, on the whole, all parts of the lands except strips next the coast may be reckoned as having been subjected to an excess of wearing action far exceeding the depositional work. therefore, as we readily see, underneath such land areas there has been no blanketing process going on which has served to increase the heat in the deep underlying rocks. on the contrary, it would be easy to show, and the reader may see it himself, that the progressive cooling of the earth has probably brought about a lowering of the temperature in all the section from the surface to very great depths, so that not only is the rock water unaffected by increase of heat, but may be actually losing temperature. in other words, the conditions which we assume bring about volcanic action do not exist beneath the old land. beneath the seas, except in their very greatest depths, and perhaps even there, the process of forming strata is continually going on. next the shores, sometimes for a hundred or two miles away to seaward, the principal contribution may be the sediment worn from the lands by the waves and the rivers. farther away it is to a large extent made up of the remains of animals and plants, which when dying give their skeletons to form the strata. much of the materials laid down--perhaps in all more than half--consist of volcanic dust, ashes, and pumice, which drifts very long times before it finds its way to the bottom. we have as yet no data of a precise kind for determining the average rate of accumulation of sediments upon the sea floor, but from what is known of the wearing of the lands, and the amount of volcanic waste which finds its way to the seas, it is probably not less than about a foot in ten thousand years; it is most likely, indeed, much to exceed this amount. from data afforded by the eruptions in java and in other fields where the quantity of volcanic dust contributed to the seas can be estimated, the writer is disposed to believe that the average rate of sedimentation on the sea floors is twice as great as the estimate above given. accumulating at the average rate of one foot in ten thousand years, it would require a million years to produce a hundred feet of sediments; a hundred million to form ten thousand feet, and five hundred million to create the thickness of about ten miles of bed. at the rate of two feet in ten thousand years, the thickness accumulated would be about twenty miles. when we come to consider the duration of the earth's geologic history, we shall find reasons for believing that the formation of sediment may have continued for as much as five hundred million years. the foregoing inquiries concerning the origin of volcanoes show that at the present time they are clearly connected with some process which goes on beneath the sea. an extension of the inquiry indicates that this relation has existed in earlier geological times; for, although the living volcanoes are limited to places within three hundred miles of the sea, we find lava flows, ashes, and other volcanic accumulations far in the interior of the continents, though the energy which brought them forth to the earth's surface has ceased to operate in those parts of the land. in these cases of continental volcanoes it generally, if not always, appears that the cessation of the activity attended the removal of the shore line of the ocean or the disappearance of great inland seas. thus the volcanoes of the yellowstone district may have owed their activity to the immense deposits of sediment which were formed in the vast fresh-water lakes which during the later cretaceous and early tertiary times stretched along the eastern face of the rocky mountains, forming a mediterranean sea in north america comparable to that which borders southern europe. it thus appears that the arrangement of volcanoes with reference to sea basins has held for a considerable period in the past. still further, when we look backward through the successive formations of the earth's crust we find here and there evidences in old lava flows, in volcanic ashes, and sometimes in the ruins of ancient cones which have been buried in the strata, that igneous activity such as is now displayed in our volcanoes has been, since the earliest days of which we have any record, a characteristic feature of the earth. there is no reason to suppose that this action has in the past been any greater or any less than in modern days. all these facts point to the conclusion that volcanic action is due to the escape of rock water which has been heated to high temperatures, and which drives along with it as it journeys toward a crevice the rock in which it has been confined. we will now notice some other explanations of volcanic action which have obtained a certain credence. first, we may note the view that these ejections from craters are forced out from a supposed liquid interior of the earth. one of the difficulties of this view is that we do not know that the earth's central parts are fluid--in fact, many considerations indicate that such is not the case. next, we observe that we not infrequently find two craters, each containing fluid lava, with the fluid standing at differences of height of several thousand feet, although the cones are situated very near each other. if these lavas came from a common internal reservoir, the principles which control the action of fluids would cause the lavas to be at the same elevation. moreover, this view does not provide any explanation of the fact that volcanoes are in some way connected with actions which go on on the floors of great water basins. there is every reason to believe that the fractures in the rocks under the land are as numerous and deep-going as those beneath the sea. if it were a mere question of access to a fluid interior, volcanoes should be equally distributed on land and sea floors. last of all, this explanation in no wise accounts for the intermixture of water with the fluid rock. we can not well believe that water could have formed a part of the deeper earth in the old days of original igneous fusion. in that time the water must have been all above the earth in the vaporous state. another supposition somewhat akin to that mentioned is that the water of the seas finds its way down through crevices beneath the floors of the ocean, and, there coming in contact with an internal molten mass, is converted into steam, which, along with the fluid rock, escapes from the volcanic vent. in addition to the objections urged to the preceding view, we may say concerning this that the lava, if it came forth under these circumstances, would emerge by the short way, that by which the water went down, and not by the longer road, by which it may be discharged ten thousand feet or more above the level of the sea. the foregoing general account of volcanic action should properly be followed by some account of what takes place in characteristic eruptions. this history of these matters is so ample that it would require the space of a great encyclopædia to contain them. we shall therefore be able to make only certain selections which may serve to illustrate the more important facts. by far the best-known volcanic cone is that of vesuvius, which has been subjected to tolerably complete record for about twenty-four hundred years. about b.c. the greeks, who were ever on the search for places where they might advantageously plant colonies, settled on the island of ischia, which forms the western of what is now termed the bay of naples. this island was well placed for tillage as well as for commerce, but the enterprising colonists were again and again disturbed by violent outbreaks of one or more volcanoes which lie in the interior of this island; at one time it appears that the people were driven away by these explosions. in these pre-christian days vesuvius, then known as monte somma, was not known to be a volcano, it never having shown any trace of eruption. it appeared as a regularly shaped mountain, somewhat over two thousand feet high, with a central depression about three miles in diameter at the top, and perhaps two miles over at the bottom, which was plainlike in form, with some lakes of bitter water in the centre. the most we know of this central cavity is connected with the insurrection of the slaves led by spartacus, the army of the revolters having camped for a time on the plain encircled by the crater walls. the outer slopes of the mountain afforded then a remarkably fertile soil; some traces, indeed, of the fertility have withstood the modern eruptions which have desolated its flanks. this wonderful bay of naples became the seat of the fairest roman culture, as well as of a very extended commerce. toward the close of the first century of our era the region was perhaps richer, more beautifully cultivated, and the seat of a more elaborate luxury than any part of the shore line of europe at the present day. at the foot of the mountain, on the eastern border of the bay, the city of pompeii, with a population of about fifty thousand souls, was a considerable port, with an extensive commerce, particularly with egypt. the charming town was also a place of great resort for rich egyptians who cared to dwell in europe. on the flanks of the mountain there was at least one large town, herculaneum, which appears to have been an association of rich men's residences. on the eastern side of the bay, at a point now known as baiæ, the roman government had a naval station, which in the year was under the command of the celebrated pliny, a most voluminous though unscientific writer on matters of natural history. with him in that year there was his nephew, commonly known as the younger pliny, then a student of eighteen years, but afterward himself an author. these facts are stated in some detail, for they are all involved in the great tragedy which we are now to describe. for many years there had been no eruption about the bay of naples. the volcanoes on ischia had been still for a century or more, and the various circular openings on the mainland had been so far quiet that they were not recognised as volcanoes. even the inquisitive pliny, with his great learning, was so little of a geologist that he did not know the signs which indicate the seat of volcanic action, though they are among the most conspicuous features which can meet the eye. the greeks would doubtless have recognised the meaning of these physical signs. in the year the shores of the bay of naples were subjected to a distinctive earthquake. others less severe followed in subsequent years. in an early morning in the year , a servant aroused the elder pliny at baiæ with the news that there was a wonderful cloud rising from monte somma. the younger pliny states that in form it was like a pine tree, the common species in italy having a long trunk with a crown of foliage on its summit, shaped like an umbrella. this crown of the column grew until it spread over the whole landscape, darkening the field of view. shortly after, a despatch boat brought a message to the admiral, who at once set forth for the seat of the disturbance. he invited his nephew to accompany him, but the prudent young man relates in his letters to tacitus, from whom we know the little concerning the eruption which has come down to us, that he preferred to do some reading which he had to attend to. his uncle, however, went straight forward, intending to land at some point on the shore at the foot of the cone. he found the sea, however, so high that a landing was impossible; moreover, the fall of rock fragments menaced the ship. he therefore cruised along the shore for some distance, landing at a station probably near the present village of castellamare. at this point the fall of ashes and pumice was very great, but the sturdy old roman had his dinner and slept after it. there is testimony that he snored loudly, and was aroused only when his servants began to fear that the fall of ashes and stones would block the way out of his bedchamber. when he came forth with his attendants, their heads protected by planks resting on pillows, he set out toward pompeii, which was probably the place where he sought to land. after going some distance, the brave man fell dead, probably from heart disease; it is said that he was at the time exceedingly asthmatic. no sooner were his servants satisfied that the life had passed from his body than they fled. the remains were recovered after the eruption had ceased. the younger pliny further relates that after his uncle left, the cloud from the mountain became so dense that in midday the darkness was that of midnight, and the earthquake shocks were so violent that wagons brought to the courtyard of the dwelling to bear the members of the household away were rolled this way and that by the quakings of the earth. save for the above-mentioned few and unimportant details concerning the eruption, we have no other contemporaneous account. we have, indeed, no more extended story until dion cassius, writing long after the event, tells us that herculaneum and pompeii were overwhelmed; but he mixes his story with fantastic legends concerning the appearance of gods and demons, as is his fashion in his so-called history. of all the roman writers, he is perhaps the most untrustworthy. fortunately, however, we have in the deposits of ashes which were thrown out at the time of this great eruption some basis for interpreting the events which took place. it is evident that for many hours the vesuvian crater, which had been dormant for at least five hundred years, blew out with exceeding fury. it poured forth no lava streams; the energy of the uprushing vapours was too great for that. the molten rock in their path was blown into fine bits, and all the hard material cast forth as free dust. in the course of the eruption, which probably did not endure more than two days, possibly not more than twenty-four hours, ash enough was poured forth to form a thick layer which spread far over the neighbouring area of land and sea floor. it covered the cities of herculaneum and pompeii to a depth of more than twenty feet, and over a circle having a diameter of twenty miles the average thickness may have been something like this amount. so deep was it that, although almost all the people of these towns survived, it did not seem to them worth while to undertake to excavate their dwelling places. at pompeii the covering did not overtop the higher of the low houses. an amount of labour which may be estimated at not over one thirtieth of the value, or at least the cost which had been incurred in building the city, would have restored it to a perfectly inhabitable state. the fact that it was utterly abandoned probably indicates a certain superstitious view in connection with the eruption. the fact that the people had time to flee from herculaneum and pompeii, bearing with them their more valuable effects, is proved by the excavations at these places which have been made in modern times. the larger part of pompeii and a considerable portion of herculaneum have been thus explored; only rarely have human remains been found. here and there, particularly in the cellars, the labourers engaged in the work of disinterring the cities note that their picks enter a cavity; examining the space, they find they have discovered the remains of a human skeleton. it has recently been learned that by pouring soft plaster of paris into these openings a mould may be obtained which gives in a surprisingly perfect manner the original form of the body. the explanation of this mould is as follows: along with the fall of cinders in an eruption there is always a great descent of rain, arising from the condensation of the steam which pours forth from the volcano. this water, mingling with the ashes, forms a pasty mud, which often flows in vast streams, and is sometimes known as mud lava. this material has the qualities of cement--that is, it shortly "sets" in a manner comparable to plaster of paris or ordinary mortar. during the eruption of this mud penetrated all the low places in pompeii, covering the bodies of the people, who were suffocated by the fumes of the volcanic emanations. we know that these people were not drowned by the inundation; their attitudes show that they were dead before the flowing matter penetrated to where they lay. it happened that pompeii lay beyond the influence of the subsequent great eruptions of vesuvius, so that it afterward received only slight ash showers. herculaneum, on the other hand, has century by century been more and more deeply buried until at the present time it is covered by many sheets of lava. this is particularly to be regretted, for the reason that, while pompeii was a seaport town of no great wealth or culture, herculaneum was the residence place of the gentry, people who possessed libraries, the records of which can be in many cases deciphered, and from which we might hope to obtain some of the lost treasures of antiquity. the papyrus rolls on which the books of that day were written, though charred by heat and time, are still interpretable. after the great explosion of , vesuvius sank again into repose. it was not until that vigorous eruptions again began. from time to time slight explosions occurred, none of which yielded lava flows; it was not until the date last mentioned that this accompaniment of the eruption began to appear. in , after a repose of nearly a century and a half, there came a very great outbreak, which desolated a wide extent of country on the northwestern side of the cone. at this stage in the history of the crater the volcanic flow began to attain the sea. washing over the edge of the old original crater of monte somma, and thus lowering its elevation, these streams devastated, during the eruption just mentioned and in various other outbreaks, a wide field of cultivated land, overwhelming many villages. the last considerable eruption which yielded large quantities of lava was that of , which sent its tide for a distance of about six miles. since the eruptions of vesuvius have steadily increased in frequency, and, on the whole, diminished in violence. in the early years of its history the great outbreaks were usually separated by intervals of a century or more, and were of such energy that the lava was mostly blown to dust, forming clouds so vast that on two occasions at least they caused a midnight darkness at constantinople, nearly twelve hundred miles away. this is as if a volcano at chicago should completely hide the sun in the city of boston. in the present state of vesuvius, the cone may be said to be in slight, almost continuous eruption. the old central valley which existed before the eruption of , and continued to be distinct for long after that time, has been filled up by a smaller cone, bearing a relatively tiny crater of vent, the original wall being visible only on the eastern and northern parts of its circuit, and here only with much diminished height. on the western face the slope from the base of the mountain to the summit of the new cone is almost continuous, though the trained eye can trace the outline of monte somma--its position in a kind of bench, which is traceable on that side of the long slope leading from the summit of the new cone to the sea. the fact that the lavas of vesuvius have broken out on the southwestern side, while the old wall of the cone has remained unbroken on the eastern versant, has a curious explanation. the prevailing wind of naples is from the southwest, being the strong counter trades which belong in that latitude. in the old days when the monte somma cone was constructed these winds caused the larger part of the ashes to fall on the leeward side of the cone, thus forming a thicker and higher wall around that part of the crater. from the nature of the recent eruptions of vesuvius it appears likely that the mountain is about to enter on a second period of inaction. the pipes leading through the new cone are small, and the mass of this elevation constitutes a great plug, closing the old crater mouth. to give vent to a large discharge of steam, the whole of this great mass, having a depth of nearly two thousand feet, would have to be blown away. it seems most likely that when the occasion for such a discharge comes, the vapours of the eruption will seek a vent through some other of the many volcanic openings which lie to the westward of this great cone. the history of these lesser volcanoes points to the conclusion that when the path by way of vesuvius is obstructed they may give relief to the steam which is forcing its course to the surface. two or three times since the eruption of pliny, during periods when vesuvius had long been quiet, outbreaks have taken place on ischia or in the phlægræn fields, a region dotted with small craters which lies to the west of naples. the last of these occurred in , and led to the formation of the beautiful little cone known as monte nuovo. this eruption took place near the town of puzzuoli, a place which was then the seat of a university, the people of which have left us records of the accident. [illustration: fig. .--diagrammatic sections through mount vesuvius, showing changes in the form of the cone. (from phillips.)] the outbreak which formed monte nuovo was slight but very characteristic. it occurred in and beside a circular pool known as the lucrine lake, itself an ancient crater. at the beginning of the disturbance the ground opened in ragged cavities, from which mud and ashes and great fragments of hard rock were hurled high in the air, some of the stones ascending to a height of several thousand feet. with slight intermissions this outbreak continued for some days, resulting in the formation of a hill about five hundred feet high, with a crater in its top, the bottom of which lay near the level of the sea. although this volcanic elevation, being made altogether of loose fragments, is rapidly wearing down, while the crater is filling up, it remains a beautiful object in the landscape, and is also noteworthy for the fact that it is the only structure of this nature which we know from its beginning. in the phlægræn field there are a number of other craters of small size, with very low cones about them. these appear to have been the product of brief, slight eruptions. that known as the solfatara, though not in eruption during the historic period, is interesting for the fact that from the crevices of the rocks about it there comes forth a continued efflux of carbonic-acid gas. this substance probably arises from the effect of heat contained in old lavas which are in contact with limestone in the deep under-earth. we know such limestones are covered by the lavas of vesuvius, for the reason that numerous blocks of the rock are thrown out during eruptions, and are often found embedded in the lava streams. it is an interesting fact that these craters of the phlægræn field, lying between the seats of vigorous eruption on ischia and at vesuvius, have never been in vigorous eruption. their slight outbreaks seem to indicate that they have no permanent connection with the sources whence those stronger vents obtain their supply of heated steam. the facts disclosed by the study of the vesuvian system of volcanoes afford the geologist a basis for many interesting conclusions. in the first place, he notes that the greater part of the cones, all those of small size, are made up of finely divided rock, which may have been more or less cemented by the processes of change which go on within it. it is thus clear that the lava flows are unessential--indeed, we may say accidental--contributions to the mass. in the case of vesuvius they certainly do not amount to as much as one tenth of the elevation due to the volcanic action. the share of the lava in vesuvius is probably greater than the average, for during the last six centuries this vent has been remarkably lavigerous.[ ] observation on the volcanoes of other districts show that the vesuvian group is in this regard not peculiar. of nearly two hundred cones which the writer has examined, not more than one tenth disclose distinct lavas. [footnote : i venture to use this word in place of the phrase "lava-yielding" for the reason that the term is needed in the description of volcanoes.] an inspection of the old inner wall of monte somma in that portion where it is best preserved, on the north side of the atria del cavallo, or horse gulch--so called for the reason that those who ascended vesuvius were accustomed to leave their saddle animals there--we perceive that the body of the old cone is to a considerable extent interlaced with dikes or fissures which have been filled with molten lava that has cooled in its place. it is evident that during the throes of an eruption, when the lava stands high in the crater, these rents are frequently formed, to be filled by the fluid rock. in fact, lava discharges, though they may afterward course for long distances in the open air, generally break their way underground through the cindery cone, and first are disclosed at the distance of a mile or more from the inner walls of the crater. their path is probably formed by riftings in the compacted ashes, such as we trace on the steep sides of the atria del cavallo, as before noted. for the further history of these fissures, we shall have to refer to facts which are better exhibited in the cone of Ætna. the amount of rock matter which has been thrown forth from the volcanoes about the bay of naples is very great. only a portion of it remains in the region around these cones; by far the greater part has been washed or blown away. after each considerable eruption a wide field is coated with ashes, so that the tilled grounds appear as if entirely sterilized; but in a short time the matter in good part disappears, a portion of it decays and is leached away, and the most of the remainder washes into the sea. only the showers, which accumulate a deep layer, are apt to be retained on the surface of the country. a great deal of this powdered rock drifts away in the wind, sometimes in great quantities, as in those cases where it darkened the sky more than a thousand miles from the cone. moreover, the water of the steam which brought about the discharges and the other gases which accompanied the vapour have left no traces of their presence, except in the deep channels which the rain of the condensing steam have formed on the hillsides. nevertheless, after all these subtractions are made, the quantity of volcanic matter remaining on the surface about the bay of naples would, if evenly distributed, form a layer several hundred feet in thickness--perhaps, indeed, a thousand feet in depth--over the territory in which the vents occur. all this matter has been taken in relatively recent times from the depths of the earth. the surprising fact is that no considerable and, indeed, no permanent subsidence of the surface has attended this excavation. we can not believe that this withdrawal of material from the under-earth has resulted in the formation of open underground spaces. we know full well that any such, if it were of considerable size, would quickly be crushed in by the weight of the overlying rocks. we have, indeed, to suppose that these steam-impelled lavas, which are driven toward the vent whence they are to go forth in the state of dust or fluid, come underground from distances away, probably from beneath the floors of the sea to the westward. although the shores of the bay of naples have remained in general with unchanged elevation for about two thousand years, they have here and there been subjected to slight oscillations which are most likely connected with the movement of volcanic matter toward the vents where it is to find escape. the most interesting evidence of this nature is afforded by the studies which have been made on the ruins of the temple of serapis at puzzuoli. this edifice was constructed in pre-christian times for the worship of the egyptian god serapis, whose intervention was sought by sick people. the fact that this divinity of the nile found a residence in this region shows how intimate was the relation between rome and egypt in this ancient day. the serapeium was built on the edge of the sea, just above its level. when in modern days it began to be studied, its floor was about on its original level, but the few standing columns of the edifice afford indubitable evidence that this part of the shore has been lowered to the amount of twenty feet or more and then re-elevated. the subsidence is proved by the fact that the upper part of the columns which were not protected by the _débris_ accumulated about them have been bored by certain shellfish, known as _lithodomi_, which have the habit of excavating shelters in soft stone, such as these marble columns afford. at present the floor on which the ruin stands appears to be gradually sinking, though the rate of movement is very slow. another evidence that the ejections may travel for a great distance underground on their way to the vent is afforded by the fact that vesuvius and Ætna, though near three hundred miles apart, appear to exchange activities--that is, their periods of outbreak are not simultaneous. although these elements of the chronology of the two cones may be accidental, taken with similar facts derived from other fields, they appear to indicate that vents, though far separated from each other, may, so to speak, be fed from a common subterranean source. it is a singular fact in this connection that the volcano of stromboli, though situated between these two cones, is in a state of almost incessant activity. this probably indicates that the last-named vent derives its vapours from another level in the earth than the greater cones. in this regard volcanoes probably behave like springs, of which, indeed, they may be regarded as a group. the reader is doubtless aware that hot and cold springs often escape very near together, the difference in the temperature being due to the depth from which their waters come forth. as the accidents of volcanic explosion are of a nature to be very damaging to man, as well as to the lower orders of nature, it is fit that we should note in general the effect of the neapolitan eruptions on the history of civilization in that region. as stated above, the first greek settlements in this vicinity--those on the island of ischia--were much disturbed by volcanic outbreaks, yet the island became the seat of a permanent and prosperous colony. the great eruption of probably cost many hundred lives, and led to the abandonment of two considerable cities, which, however, could at small cost have been recovered to use. since that day various eruptions have temporarily desolated portions of the territory, but only in very small fields have the ravages been irremediable. where the ground was covered with dust, it has in most places been again tillable, and so rapid is the decay of the lavas that in a century after their flow has ceased vines can in most cases be planted on their surfaces. the city of naples, which lies amid the vents, though not immediately in contact with any of them, has steadfastly grown and prospered from the pre-christian times. it is doubtful if any lives have ever been lost in the city in consequence of an eruption, and no great inconvenience has been experienced from them. now and then, after a great ash shower, the volcanic dust has to be removed, but the labour is less serious than that imposed on many northern cities by a snowstorm. through all these convulsions the tillage of the district has been maintained. it has ever been the seat of as rich and profitable a husbandry as is afforded by any part of italy. in fact, the ash showers, as they import fine divided rock very rich in substances necessary for the growth of plants, have in a measure served to maintain the fertility of the soil, and by this action have in some degree compensated for the injury which they occasionally inflict. comparing the ravages of the eruptions with those inflicted by war, unnecessary disease, or even bad politics, and we see that these natural accidents have been most merciful to man. many a tyrant has caused more suffering and death than has been inflicted by these rude operations of nature. from the point of view of the naturalist, Ætna is vastly more interesting than vesuvius. the bulk of the cone is more than twenty times as great as that of the neapolitan volcano, and the magnitude of its explosions, as well as the range of phenomena which they exhibit, incomparably greater. it happens, however, that while human history of the recorded kind has been intimately bound up with the tiny vesuvian cone, partly because the relatively slight nature of its disturbances permitted men to dwell beside it, the larger Ætna has expelled culture from the field near its vent, and has done the greater part of its work in the vast solitude which it has created.[ ] [footnote : in part the excellent record of vesuvius is due to the fact that since the early christian centuries the priests of st. januarius, the patron of naples, have been accustomed to carry his relics in procession whenever an eruption began. the cessation of the outbreak has been written down to the credit of the saint, and thus we are provided with a long story of the successive outbreaks.] Ætna has been in frequent eruption for a very much longer time than vesuvius. in the odes of pindar, in the sixth century before christ, we find records of eruptions. it is said also that the philosopher empedocles sought fame and death by casting himself into the fiery crater. there has thus in the case of this mountain been no such long period of repose as occurred in vesuvius. though our records of the outbreaks are exceedingly imperfect, they serve to show that the vent has maintained its activity much more continuously than is ordinarily the case with volcanoes. Ætna is characteristically a lava-yielding cone; though the amount of dust put forth is large, the ratio of the fluid rock which flows away from the crater is very much greater than at vesuvius. nearly half the cone, indeed, may be composed of this material. our space does not permit anything like a consecutive story of the Ætnean eruptions since the dawn of history, or even a full account of its majestic cone; we can only note certain features of a particularly instructive nature which have been remarked by the many able men who have studied this structure and the effects of its outbreak. the most important feature exhibited by Ætna is the vast size of its cone. at its apex its height, though variable from the frequent destruction and rebuilding of the crater walls, may be reckoned as about eleven thousand feet. the base on which the volcanic material lies is probably less than a thousand feet above the sea, so that the maximum thickness of the heap of volcanic ejections is probably about two miles. the average depth of this coating is probably about five thousand feet, and, as the cone has an average diameter of about thirty miles, we may conclude that the cone now contains about a thousand cubic miles of volcanic materials. great as is this mass, it is only a small part of the ejected material which has gone forth from the vent. all the matter which in its vaporous state went forth with the eruption, the other gases and vapours thus discharged, have disappeared. so, too, a large part of the ash and much of the lava has been swept away by the streams which drain the region, and which in times of eruption are greatly swollen by the accompanying torrential rains. the writer has estimated that if all the emanations from the volcano--solid, fluid, and gaseous--could be heaped on the cone, they would form a mass of between two and three thousand cubic miles in contents. yet notwithstanding this enormous outputting of earthy matter, the earth on which the Ætnean cone has been constructed has not only failed to sink down, but has been in process of continuous, slow uprising, which has lifted the surface more than a thousand feet above the level which it had at the time when volcanic action began in this field. here, even more clearly than in the case of vesuvius, we see that the materials driven forth from the crater are derived not from just beneath its foundation, but from a distance, from realms which in the case of this insular volcano are beneath the sea floors. it is certain that here the migration of rock matter, impelled by the expansion of its contained water toward the vent, has so far exceeded that which has been discharged through the crater that an uprising of the surface such as we have observed has been brought about. [illustration: _mount Ætna, seen from near catania. the imperfect cones on the sky line to the left are those of small secondary eruptions._] there are certain peculiarities of mount Ætna which are due in part to its great size and in part to the climatal conditions of the region in which it lies. the upper part of the mountain in winter is deeply snow-clad; the frozen water often, indeed, forms great drifts in the gorges near the summit. here it has occasionally happened that a layer of ashes has deeply buried the mass, so that it has been preserved for years, becoming gradually more inclosed by the subsequent eruptions. at one point where this compact snow--which has, indeed, taken on the form of ice--has been revealed to view, it has been quarried and conveyed to the towns upon the seacoast. it is likely that there are many such masses of ice inclosed between the ash layers in the upper part of the mountain, where, owing to the height, the climate is very cold. this curious fact shows how perfect a non-conductor the ash beds of a volcano are to protect the frozen water from the heat of the rocks about the crater. the furious rains which beset the mountain in times of great eruptions excavate deep channels on its sides. the lava outbreaks which attend almost every eruption, and which descend from the base of the cinder cone at the height of from five to eight thousand feet above the sea, naturally find their way into these channels, where they course in the manner of rivers until the lower and less valleyed section of the cone is reached. such a lava flow naturally begins to freeze on the surface, the lava at first becoming viscid, much in the manner of cream on the surface of milk. urged along by the more fluid lava underneath, this viscid coating takes a ropy or corrugated form. as the freezing goes deeper, a firm stone roof may be formed across the gorge, which, when the current of lava ceases to flow from the crater, permits the lower part of the stream to drain away, leaving a long cavern or scries of caves extending far up the cone. the nature of this action is exactly comparable to that which we may observe when on a frosty morning after rain we may find the empty channels which were occupied by rills of water roofed over with ice; the ice roofs are temporary, while those of lava may endure for ages. some of these lava-stream caves have been disclosed, in the manner of ordinary caverns, by the falling of their roofs; but the greater part are naturally hidden beneath the ever-increasing materials of the cone. the lava-stream caves of Ætna are not only interesting because of their peculiarities of form, which we shall not undertake to describe, but also for the reason that they help us to account for a very peculiar feature in the history of the great cone. on the slopes of the volcano, below the upper cindery portion, there are several hundred lesser cones, varying from a few score to seven hundred feet in height. each of these has its appropriate crater, and has evidently been the seat of one or more eruptions. as the greater part of these cones are ancient, many of them being almost effaced by the rain or buried beneath the ejections which have surrounded their bases since the time they were formed, we are led to believe that many thousands of them have been formed during the history of the volcano. the history of these subsidiary cones appears to be connected with the lava caves noted above. these caverns, owing to the irregularities of their form, contain water. they are, in fact, natural cisterns, where the abundant rainfall of the mountain finds here and there storage. when, during the throes of an eruption, dikes such as we know often to penetrate the mountain, are riven outward from the crater through the mass of the cone, and filled with lava, the heated rock must often come in contact with these masses of buried water. the result of this would inevitably be the local generation of steam at a high temperature, which would force its way out in a brief but vigorous eruption, such as has been observed to take place when these peripheral volcanoes are formed. sometimes it has happened that after the explosion the lava has found its way in a stream from the fissure thus opened. that this explanation is sufficient is in a measure shown by observations on certain effects of lava flows from vesuvius. the writer was informed by a very judicious observer, a resident of naples, who had interested himself in the phenomena of that volcano, that the lava streams when they penetrated a cistern, such as they often encounter in passing over villages or farmsteads, vaporized the water, and gave rise, through the action of the steam, to small temporary cones, which, though generally washed away by the further flow of the liquid rock, are essentially like those which we find on Ætna. such subsidiary, or, as they are sometimes called, parasitic cones, are known about other volcanoes, but nowhere are they so characteristic as on the flanks of that wonderful volcano. a very conspicuous feature in the Ætnean cone consists of a great valley known as the val del bove, or bull hollow, which extends from the base of the modern and ever-changeable cinder cone down the flanks of the older structure to near its base. this valley has steep sides, in places a thousand or more feet high, and has evidently been formed by the down-settling of portions of the cone which were left without support by the withdrawal from beneath them of materials cast forth in a time of explosion. in an eruption this remarkable valley was the seat of a vast water flood, the fluid being cast forth from the crater at the beginning of the explosion. in the mouths of this and other volcanoes, after a long period of repose, great quantities of water, gathering from rains or condensed from the steam which slowly escapes from these openings, often pours like a flood down the sides of the mountains. in the great eruption of galongoon, in java, such a mass of water, cast forth by a terrific explosion, mingled with ashes, so that the mass formed a thick mud, was shot forth with such energy that it ravaged an area nearly eighty miles in diameter, destroying the forests and their wild inhabitants, as well as the people who dwelt within the range of the amazing disaster. so powerfully was this water driven from the crater that the districts immediately at the base of the cone were in a manner overshot by the vast stream, and escaped with relatively little injury. when it comes forth from the base of the cinder cone, or from one of the small peripheral craters, the lava stream usually appears to be white hot, and to flow with almost the ease of water. it does not really have that measure of fluidity; its condition is rather that of thin paste; but the great weight of the material--near two and a half times that of water--causes the movement down the slope to be speedy. the central portion of the lava stream long retains its high temperature; but the surface, cooling, is first converted into a tough sheet, which, though it may bend, can hardly be said to flow. further hardening converts these outlying portions of the current into hard, glassy stone, which is broken into fragments in a way resembling the ice on the surface of a river. it thus comes about that the advancing front of the lava stream becomes covered, and its motion hindered by the frozen rock, until the rate of ongoing may not exceed a few feet an hour, and the appearance is that of a heap of stone slowly rolling down a slope. now and then a crevice is formed, through which a thin stream of liquid lava pours forth, but the material, having already parted with much of its heat, rapidly cools, and in turn becomes covered with the coating of frozen fragments. in this state of the stream the lava flow stands on all sides high above the slope which it is traversing; it is, in fact, walled in by its own solidified parts, though it is urged forward by the contribution which continues to flow in the under arches. in this state of the movement trifling accidents, or even human interference, may direct the current this way or that. some of the most interesting chapters in the history of Ætna relate to the efforts of the people to turn these slow-moving streams so that their torrents might flow into wilderness places rather than over the fields and towns. in the great flow of , which menaced the city of catania, a large place on the seashore to the southeast of the cone, a public-spirited citizen, señor papallardo, protecting himself and his servants with clothing made of hides, and with large shields, set forth armed with great hooks with the purpose of diverting the course of the lava mass. he succeeded in pulling away the stones on the flank of the stream, so that a flow of the molten rock was turned in another direction. the expedient would probably have been successful if he had been allowed to continue his labours; but the inhabitants of a neighbouring village, which was threatened by the off-shooting current which papallardo had created, took up arms and drove him and his retainers away. the flow continued until it reached catania. the people made haste to build the city walls on the side of danger higher than it was before, but the tide mounted over its summit. although the lavas which come forth from the volcano evidently have a high temperature, their capacity for melting other rocks is relatively small. they scour these rocks, because of their weight, even more energetically than do powerful torrents of water, but they are relatively ineffective in melting stone. on Ætna and elsewhere we may often observe lavas which have flowed through forests. when the tide of molten rock has passed by, the trees may be found charred but not entirely burned away; even stems a few inches in diameter retain strength enough to uphold considerable fringes and clots of the lava which has clung to them. these facts bear out the conclusion that the fluidity of the heated stone depends in considerable measure on the water which is contained, either in its fluid or vaporous state, between the particles of the material. if we consider the italian volcanoes as a whole, we find that they lie in a long, discontinuous line extending from the northern part of the valley of the po, within sight of the alps, to Ætna, and in subterranean cones perhaps to the northern coast of africa. at the northern end of the line we have a beautiful group of extinct volcanoes, known as the eugean mountains. thence southward to southern tuscany craters are wanting, but there is evidence of fissures in the earth which give forth thermal waters. from southern tuscany southward through rome to naples there are many extinct craters, none of which have been active in the historic period. from naples southward the cones of this system, about a dozen in number, are on islands or close to the margin of the sea. it is a noteworthy fact that the greater part of these shore or insular vents have been active since the dawn of history; several of them frequently and furiously so, while none of those occupying an inland position have been the seat of explosions. this is a striking instance going to show the relation of these processes to conditions which are brought about on the sea bottom. Ætna is, as we have noticed, a much more powerful volcano than vesuvius. its outbreaks are more vigorous, its emanations vastly greater in volume, and the mass of its constructions many times as great as those accumulated in any other european cone. there are, however, a number of volcanoes in the world which in certain features surpass Ætna as much as that crater does vesuvius. of these we shall consider but two--skaptar jokul, of iceland, remarkable for the volume of its lava flow, and krakatoa, an island volcano between java and sumatra, which was the seat of the greatest explosion of which we have any record. the whole of iceland may be regarded as a volcanic mass composed mainly of lavas and ashes which have been thrown up by a group of volcanoes lying near the northern end of the long igneous axis which extends through the centre of the atlantic. the island has been the seat of numerous eruptions; in fact, since its settlement by the northmen in its sturdy inhabitants have been almost as much distressed by the calamities which have come from the internal heat as they have been by the enduring external cold. they have, indeed, been between frost and fire. the greatest recorded eruption of iceland occurred in , when the volcano of skaptar, near the southern border of the island, poured forth, first, a vast discharge of dust and ashes, and afterward in the languid state of eruption inundated a series of valleys with the greatest lava flow of which we have any written record. the dust poured forth into the upper air, being finely divided and in enormous quantity, floated in the air for months, giving a dusky hue to the skies of europe, which led the common people and many of the learned to fear that the wrath of god was upon them, and that the day of judgment was at hand. even the poet cowper, a man of high culture and education, shared in this unreasonable view. the lava flow in this eruption filled one of the considerable valleys of the island, drying up the river, and inundating the plains on either side. estimates which have been made as to the volume of this flow appear to indicate that it may have amounted to more than the bulk of the mont blanc. this great eruption, by the direct effect of the calamity, and by the famine due to the ravaging of the fields and the frightening of the fish from the shores which it induced, destroyed nearly one fifth of the icelandic people. it is, in fact, to be remembered as one of the three or four most calamitous eruptions of which we have any account, and, from the point of view of lava flow, the greatest in history. just a hundred years after the great skaptar eruption, which darkened the skies of europe, the island of krakatoa, an isle formed by a small volcano in the straits of java, was the seat of a vapour explosion which from its intensity is not only unparalleled, but almost unapproached in all accounts of such disturbances. krakatoa had long been recognised as a volcanic isle; it is doubtful, however, if it had ever been seen in eruption during the three centuries or more since european ships began to sail by it until the month of may of the year above mentioned. then an outbreak of what may be called ordinary violence took place, which after a few days so far ceased that observers landed and took account of the changes which the convulsion had brought about. for about three months there were no further signs of activity, but on the th of august a succession of vast explosions took place, which blew away a great part of the island, forming in its place a submarine crater two or three miles in diameter, creating world-wide disturbances of sea and air. the sounds of the outbreak were heard at a distance of sixteen hundred miles away. the waves of the air attendant on the explosion ran round the earth at least once, as was distinctly indicated by the self-recording barometers; it is possible, indeed, that, crossing each other in their east and west courses, these atmospheric tides twice girdled the sphere. in effect, the air over the crater was heaved up to the height of some tens of thousands of feet, and thence rolled off in great circular waves, such as may be observed in a pan of milk when a sharp blow pushes the bottom upward. the violent stroke delivered to the waters of the sea created a vast wave, which in the region where it originated rolled upon the shores with a surf wall fifty or more feet high. in a few minutes about thirty thousand people were overwhelmed. the wave rolled on beyond its destructive limits much in the manner of the tide; its influence was felt in a sharp rise and fall of the waters as far as the pacific coast of north america, and was indicated by the tide gauges in the atlantic as far north as the coast of europe. owing to the violence of the eruption, krakatoa poured forth no lava, but the dust and ashes which ascended into the air--or, in other words, the finely divided lava which escaped into the atmosphere--probably amounted in bulk to more than twenty cubic miles. the coarser part of this material, including much pumice, fell upon the seas in the vicinity, where, owing to its lightness, it was free to drift in the marine currents far and wide throughout the oceanic realm. the finer particles, thrown high into the air, perhaps to the height of nearly a hundred thousand feet--certainly to the elevation of more than half this amount--drifted far and wide in the atmosphere, so that for years the air of all regions was clouded by it, the sunrise and sunset having a peculiar red glow, which the dust particles produce by the light which they reflect. in this period, at all times when the day was clear, the sun appeared to be surrounded by a dusky halo. in time the greater part of this dust was drawn down by gravity, some portion of it probably falling on every square foot of the earth. since the disappearance of the characteristic phenomena which it produced in the atmosphere, european observers have noted the existence of faint clouds lying in the upper part of the air at the height of a hundred miles or more above the surface. these clouds, which were at first distinctly visible in the earliest stage of dawn and in the latest period of the sunset glow, seemed to be in rapid motion to the eastward, and to be mounting higher above the earth. it has been not unreasonably supposed that these shining clouds represent portions of the finest dust from krakatoa, which has been thrown so far above the earth's attraction that it is separating itself from the sphere. if this view be correct, it seems likely that we may look to great volcanic explosions as a source whence the dustlike particles which people the celestial spaces may have come. they may, in a word, be due to volcanic explosions occurring on this and other celestial spheres. the question suggested above as to the possibility of volcanic ejections throwing matter from the earth beyond the control of its gravitative energy is one of great scientific interest. computations (not altogether trustworthy) show that a body leaving the earth's surface under the conditions of a cannon ball fired vertically upward would have to possess a velocity at the start of at least seven miles a second in order to go free into space. it would at first sight seem that we should be able to reckon whether volcanoes can propel earth matter upward with this speed. in fact, however, sufficient data are not obtainable; we only know in a general way that the column of vapour rises to the height of thirty or forty thousand feet, and this in eruptions of no great magnitude. in an accident such as that at krakatoa, even if an observer were near enough to see clearly what was going on, the chance of his surviving the disturbance would be small. moreover, the ascending vapours, owing to their expansion of the steam in the column, begin to fly out sideways on its periphery, so that the upper part of the central section in the discharge is not visible from the earth. it is in the central section of the uprushing mass, if anywhere, that the dust might attain the height necessary to put it beyond the earth's attraction, bringing it fairly into the realm of the solar system, or to the position where its own motion and the attraction of the other spheres would give it an independent orbital movement about the sun, or perhaps about the earth. we can only say that observations on the height of volcanic ejections are extremely desirable; they can probably only be made from a balloon. an ascension thus made beyond the cloud disk which the eruption produces might bring the observer where he could discern enough to determine the matter. although the movements of the rocky particles could not be observed, the colour which they would give to the heavens might tell the story which we wish to know. there is evidence that large masses of stone hurled up by volcanic eruption have fallen seven miles from the base of the cone. assuming that the masses went straight upward at the beginning of their ascent, and that they were afterward borne outwardly by the expansion of the column, computations which have a general but no absolute value appear to indicate that the masses attained a height of from thirty to fifty miles, and had an initial velocity which, if doubled, might have carried them into space. last of all, we shall note the conditions which attend the eruptions of submarine volcanoes. such explosions have been observed in but a few instances, and only in those cases where there is reason to believe that the crater at the time of its explosion had attained to within a few hundred feet of the sea level. in these cases the ejections, never as yet observed in the state of lava, but in the condition of dust and pumice, have occasionally formed a low island, which has shortly been washed away by the waves. knowing as we do that volcanoes abound on the sea floor, the question why we do not oftener see their explosions disturbing the surface of the waters is very interesting, but not as yet clearly explicable. it is possible, however, that a volcanic discharge taking place at the depth of several thousand feet below the surface of the water would not be able to blow the fluid aside so as to open a pipe to the surface, but would expend its energy in a hidden manner near the ocean floor. the vapours would have to expand gradually, as they do in passing up through the rock pipe of a volcano, and in their slow upward passage might be absorbed by the water. the solid materials thrown forth would in this case necessarily fall close about the vent, and create a very steep cone, such, indeed, as we find indicated by the soundings off certain volcanic islands which appear only recently to have overtopped the level of the waters. as will be seen, though inadequately from the diagrams of vesuvius, volcanic cones have a regularity and symmetry of form far exceeding that afforded by the outlines of any other of the earth's features. where, as is generally the case, the shape of the cone is determined by the distribution of the falling cinders or divided lava which constitutes the mass of most cones, the slope is in general that known as a catenary curve--i.e., the line formed by a chain hanging between two points at some distance from the vertical. it is interesting to note that this graceful outline is a reflection or consequence of the curve described by the uprushing vapour. the expansion in the ascending column causes it to enlarge at a somewhat steadfast rate, while the speed of the ascent is ever diminishing. precisely the same action can be seen in the like rush of steam and other gases and vapours from the cannon's mouth; only in the case of the gun, even of the greatest size, we can not trace the movement for more than a few hundred feet. in this column of ejection the outward movement from the centre carries the bits of lava outwardly from the centre of the shaft, so that when they lose their ascending velocity they are drawn downward upon the flanks of the cone, the amount falling upon each part of that surface being in a general way proportional to the thickness of the vaporous mass from which they descend. the result is, that the thickest part of the ash heap is formed on the upper part of the crater, from which point the deposit fades away in depth in every direction. in a certain measure the concentration toward the centre of the cone is brought about by the draught of air which moves in toward the ascending column. although, in general, ejections of volcanic matter take place through cones, that being the inevitable form produced by the escaping steam, very extensive outpourings of lava, ejections which in mass probably far exceed those thrown forth through ordinary craters, are occasionally poured out through fissures in the earth's crust. thus in oregon, idaho, and washington, in eastern europe, in southern india, and at some other points, vast flows, which apparently took place from fissures, have inundated great realms with lava ejections. the conditions which appear to bring about these fissure eruptions of lava are not yet well understood. a provisional and very probable account of the action can be had in the hypothesis which will now be set forth. where any region has been for a long time the seat of volcanic action, it is probable that a large amount of rock in a more or less fluid condition exists beneath its surface. although the outrushing steam ejects much of this molten material, there are reasons to suppose that a yet greater part lies dormant in the underground spaces. thus in the case of Ætna we have seen that, though some thousands of miles of rock matter have come forth, the base of the cone has been uplifted, probably by the moving to that region of more or less fluid rock. if now a region thus underlaid by what we may call incipient lavas is subjected to the peculiar compressive actions which lead to mountain-building, we should naturally expect that such soft material would be poured forth, possibly in vast quantities through fault fissures, which are so readily formed in all kinds of rock when subject to irregular and powerful strains, such as are necessarily brought about when rocks are moved in mountain-making. the great eruptions which formed the volcanic table-lands on the west coast of north america appear to have owed the extrusion of their materials to mountain-building actions. this seems to have been the case also in some of those smaller areas where fissure flows occur in europe. it is likely that this action will explain the greater part of these massive eruptions. it need not be supposed that the rock beneath these countries, which when forced out became lava, was necessarily in the state of perfect fluidity before it was forced through the fissures. situated at great depth in the earth, it was under a pressure so great that its particles may have been so brought together that the material was essentially solid, though free to move under the great strains which affected it, and acquiring temperature along with the fluidity which heat induces as it was forced along by the mountain-building pressure. as an illustration of how materials may become highly heated when forced to move particle on particle, it may be well to cite the case in which the iron stringpiece on top of a wooden dam near holyoke, mass., was affected when the barrier went away in a flood. the iron stringer, being very well put together, was, it is said, drawn out by the strain until it became sensibly reddened by the motion of its particles, and finally fell hissing into the waters below. a like heating is observable when metal is drawn out in making wire. thus a mass of imperfectly fluid rock might in a forced journey of a few miles acquire a decided increase of temperature. although the most striking volcanic action--all such phenomena, indeed, as commonly receives the name--is exhibited finally on the earth's surface, a great deal of work which belongs in the same group of geological actions is altogether confined to the deep-lying rock, and leads to the formation of dikes which penetrate the strata, but do not rise to the open air. we have already noted the fact that dikes abound in the deeper parts of volcanic cones, though the fissures into which they find their way are seldom riven up to the surface. in the same way beneath the ground in non-volcanic countries we may discover at a great depth in the older, much-changed rock a vast number of these crevices, varying from a few inches to a hundred feet or more in width, which have been filled with lavas, the rock once molten having afterward cooled. in most cases these dikes are disclosed to us through the down-wearing of the earth that has removed the beds into which the dikes did not penetrate, thus disclosing the realm in which the disturbances took place. where, as is occasionally the case in deep mines, or on some bare rocky cliff of great height, we can trace a dike in its upward course through a long distance, we find that we can never distinctly discover the lower point of its extension. no one has ever seen in a clear way the point of origin of such an injection. we can, however, often follow it upward to the place where there was no longer a rift into which it could enter. in its upward path the molten matter appears generally to have followed some previously existing fracture, a joint plane or a fault, which generally runs through the rocks on those planes. we can observe evidence that the material was in the state of igneous fluidity by the fact that it has baked the country rocks on either side of the fissure, the amount of baking being in proportion to the width of the dike, and thus to the amount of heat which it could give forth. a dike six inches in diameter will sometimes barely sear its walls, while one a hundred feet in width will often alter the strata for a great distance on either side. in some instances, as in the coal beds near richmond, va., dikes occasionally cut through beds of bituminous coal. in these cases we find that the coal has been converted into coke for many feet either side of a considerable injection. the fact that the dike material was molten is still further shown by the occurrence in it of fragments which it has taken up from the walls, and which may have been partly melted, and in most cases have clearly been much heated. where dikes extend up through stratified beds which are separated from each other by distinct layers, along which the rock is not firmly bound together, it now and then happens, as noted by mr. g.k. gilbert, of the united states geological survey, that the lava has forced its way horizontally between these layers, gradually uplifting the overlying mass, which it did not break through, into a dome-shaped elevation. these side flows from dikes are termed laccolites, a word which signifies the pool-like nature of the stony mass which they form between the strata. in many regions, where the earth has worn down so as to reveal the zone of dikes which was formed at a great depth, the surface of the country is fairly laced with these intrusions. thus on cape ann, a rocky isle on the east coast of massachusetts, having an area of about twenty square miles, the writer, with the assistance of his colleague, prof. r.s. tarr, found about four hundred distinct dikes exhibited on the shore line where the rocks had been swept bare by the waves. if the census of these intrusions could have been extended over the whole island, it would probably have appeared that the total number exceeded five thousand. in other regions square miles can be found where the dikes intercepted by the surface occupy an aggregate area greater than that of the rocks into which they have been intruded. now and then, but rarely, the student of dikes finds one where the bordering walls, in place of having the clean-cut appearance which they usually exhibit, has its sides greatly worn away and much melted, as if by the long-continued passage of the igneous fluid through the crevice. such dikes are usually very wide, and are probably the paths through which lavas found their way to the surface of the earth, pouring forth in a volcanic eruption. in some cases we can trace their relation to ancient volcanic cones which have worn down in all their part which were made up of incoherent materials, so that there remains only the central pipe, which has been preserved from decay by the coherent character of the lava which filled it. the hypothesis that dikes are driven upward into strata by the pressure of the beds which overlie materials hot and soft enough to be put in motion when a fissure enters them, and that their movement upward through the crevice is accounted for by this pressure, makes certain features of these intrusions comprehensible. seeing that very long, slender dikes are found penetrating the rock, which could not have had a high temperature, it becomes difficult to understand how the lava could have maintained its fluidity; but on the supposition that it was impelled forward by a strong pressure, and that the energy thus transmitted through it was converted into heat, we discover a means whereby it could have been retained in the liquid condition, even when forced for long distances through very narrow channels. moreover, this explanation accounts for the fact which has long remained unexplained that dikes, except those formed about volcanic craters, rarely, if ever, rise to the surface. the materials contained in dikes differ exceedingly in their chemical and mineral character. these variations are due to the differences in nature of the deposits whence they come, and also in a measure to exchanges which take place between their own substance and that of the rocks between which they are deposited. this process often has importance of an economic kind, for it not infrequently leads to the formation of metalliferous veins or other aggregations of ores, either in the dike itself or in the country rock. the way in which this is brought about may be easily understood by a familiar example. if flesh be placed in water which has the same temperature, no exchange of materials will take place; but if the water be heated, a circulation will be set up, which in time will bring a large part of the soluble matter into the surrounding water. this movement is primarily dependent on differences of temperature, and consequently differences in the quantity of soluble substances which the water seeks to take up. when a dike is injected into cooler rocks, such a slow circulation is induced. the water contained in the interstices of the stone becomes charged with mineral materials, if such exist in positions where it can obtain possession of them, and as cooling goes on, these dissolved materials are deposited in the manner of veins. these veins are generally laid down on the planes of contact between the two kinds of stone, but they may be formed in any other cavities which exist in the neighbourhood. the formation of such veins is often aided by the considerable shrinkage of the lava in the dike, which, when it cools, tends to lose about fifteen per cent of its volume, and is thus likely to leave a crevice next the boundary walls. ores thus formed afford some of the commonest and often the richest mineral deposits. at leadville, in colorado, the great silver-bearing lodes probably were produced in this manner, wherein lavas, either those of dikes or those which flowed in the open air, have come in contact with limestones. the mineral materials originally in the once molten rock or in the limy beds was, we believe, laid down on ancient sea floors in the remains of organic forms, which for their particular uses took the materials from the old sea water. the vein-making action has served to assemble these scattered bits of metal into the aggregation which constitutes a workable deposit. in time, as the rocks wear down, the materials of the veins are again taken into solution and returned to the sea, thence perhaps to tread again the cycle of change. in certain dikes, and sometimes also, perhaps, in lavas known as basalts, which have flowed on the surface, the rock when cooling, from the shrinkage which then occurs, has broken in a very regular way, forming hexagonal columns which are more or less divided on their length by joints. when worn away by the agencies of decay, especially where the material forms steep cliffs, a highly artificial effect is produced, which is often compared, where cut at right angles to the columns, to pavements, or, where the division is parallel to the columns, to the pipes of an organ. what we know of dikes inclines us to the opinion that as a whole they represent movements of softened rock where the motion-compelling agent is not mainly the expansion of the contained water which gives rise to volcanic ejection, but rather in large part due to the weight of superincumbent strata setting in motion materials which were somewhat softened, and which tended to creep, as do the clays in deep coal mines. it is evident, however; it is, moreover, quite natural, that dike work is somewhat mingled with that produced by the volcanic forces; but while the line between the two actions is not sharp, the discrimination is important, and occurs with a distinctness rather unusual on the boundary line between two adjacent fields of phenomena. * * * * * we have now to consider the general effects of the earth's interior heat so far as that body of temperature tends to drive materials from the depths of the earth to the surface. this group of influences is one of the most important which operates on our sphere; as we shall shortly see, without such action the earth would in time become an unfit theatre for the development of organic life. to perceive the effect of these movements, we must first note that in the great rock-constructing realm of the seas organic life is constantly extracting from the water substances, such as lime, potash, soda, and a host of other substances necessary for the maintenance of high-grade organisms, depositing these materials in the growing strata. into these beds, which are buried as fast as they form, goes not only these earthy materials, but a great store of the sea water as well. the result would be in course of time a complete withdrawal into the depths of the earth of those substances which play a necessary part in organic development. the earth would become more or less completely waterless on its surface, and the rocks exposed to view would be composed mainly of silica, the material which to a great extent resists solution, and therefore avoids the dissolving which overtakes most other kinds of rocks. here comes in the machinery of the hot springs, the dikes, and the volcanoes. these agents, operating under the influence of the internal heat of the earth, are constantly engaged in bearing the earthy matter, particularly its precious more solvent parts, back to the surface. the hot springs and volcanoes work swiftly and directly, and return the water, the carbon dioxide, and a host of other vaporizable and soluble and fusible substances to the realm of solar activity, to the living surface zone of the earth. the dikes operate less immediately, but in the end to the same effect. they lift their materials miles above the level where they were originally laid, probably from a zone which is rarely if ever exposed to view, placing them near the surface, where the erosive agents can readily find access to them. of the three agents which serve to export earth materials from its depths, volcanoes are doubtless the most important. they send forth the greater part of the water which is expelled from the rocks. various computations which the writer has made indicate that an ordinary volcano, such as Ætna, in times of most intense explosion, may send forth in the form of steam one fourth of a cubic mile or more of water during each day of its discharge, and in a single great eruption may pour forth several times this quantity. in its history Ætna has probably returned to the atmosphere some hundred cubic miles of water which but for the process would have remained permanently locked up in its rock prison. the ejection of rock material, though probably on the average less in quantity than the water which escapes, is also of noteworthy importance. the volcanoes of java and the adjacent isles have, during the last hundred and twenty years, delivered to the seas more earth material than has been carried into those basins by the great rivers. if we could take account of all the volcanic ejections which have occurred in this time, we should doubtless find that the sum of the materials thus cast forth into the oceans was several times as great as that which was delivered from the lands by all the superficial agents which wear them away. moreover, while the material from the land, except the small part which is in a state of complete solution, all falls close to the shore, the volcanic waste, because of its fine division or because of the blebs of air which its masses contain, may float for many years before it finds its way to the bottom, it may be at the antipodes of the point at which it came from the earth. while thus journeying through the sea the rock matter from the volcanoes is apt to become dissolved in water; it is, indeed, doubtful if any considerable part of that which enters the ocean goes by gravitation to its floor. the greater portion probably enters the state of solution and makes its way thence through the bodies of plants and animals again into the ponderable state. if an observer could view the earth from the surface of the moon, he would probably each day behold one of these storms which the volcanoes send forth. in the fortnight of darkness, even with the naked eye, it would probably be possible to discern at any time several eruptions, some of which would indicate that the earth's surface was ravaged by great catastrophes. the nearer view of these actions shows us that although locally and in small measure they are harmful to the life of the earth, they are in a large way beneficent. chapter viii. the soil. the frequent mention which it has been necessary to make of soil phenomena in the preceding chapters shows how intimately this feature in the structure of the earth is blended with all the elements of its physical history. it is now necessary for us to take up the phenomena of soils in a consecutive manner. the study of any considerable river basin enables us to trace the more important steps which lead to the destructure and renovation of the earth's detrital coating. in such an interpretation we note that everywhere the rocks which were built on the sea bottom, and more or less made over in the great laboratory of the earth's interior, are at the surface, when exposed to the conditions of the atmosphere, in process of being taken to pieces and returned to the sea. this action goes on everywhere; every drop of rain helps it. it is aided by frost, or even by the changes of expansion and contraction which occur in the rocks from variations of heat. the result is that, except where the slopes are steep, the surface is quickly covered with a layer of fragments, all of which are in the process of decay, and ready to afford some food to plants. even where the rock appears bare, it is generally covered with lichens, which, adhering to it, obtain a share of nutriment from the decayed material which they help to hold on the slope. when they have retained a thin sheet of the _débris_, mosses and small flowering plants help the work of retaining the detritus. soon the strong-rooted bushes and trees win a foothold, and by sending their rootlets, which are at first small but rapidly enlarge, into the crevices, they hasten the disruption of the stones. if the construction of soil goes on upon a steep cliff, the quantity retained on the slope may be small, but at the base we find a talus, composed of the fragments not held by the vegetation, which gradually increases as the cliff wears down, until the original precipice may be quite obliterated beneath a soil slope. at first this process is rapid; it becomes gradually slower and slower as the talus mounts up the cliff and as the cliff loses its steepness, until finally a gentle slope takes the place of the steep. from the highest points in any river valley to the sea level the broken-up rock, which we term soil, is in process of continuous motion. everywhere the rain water, flowing over the surface or soaking through the porous mass, is conveying portions of the material which is taken into solution in a speedy manner to the sea. everywhere the expansion of the soil in freezing, or the movements imposed on it by the growth of roots, by the overturning of trees, or by the innumerable borings and burrowings which animals make in the mass, is through the action of gravitation slowly working down the slope. every little disturbance of the grains or fragments of the soil which lifts them up causes them when they fall to descend a little way farther toward the sea level. working toward the streams, the materials of the soil are in time delivered to those flowing waters, and by them urged speedily, though in most cases interruptedly, toward the ocean. there is another element in the movement of the soils which, though less appreciable, is still of great importance. the agents of decay which produce and remove the detritus, the chemical changes of the bed rock, and the mechanical action which roots apply to them, along with the solutional processes, are constantly lowering the surface of the mass. in this way we can often prove that a soil continuously existing has worked downward through many thousand feet of strata. in this process of downgoing the country on which the layer rests may have greatly changed its form, but the deposit, under favourable conditions, may continue to retain some trace of the materials which it derived from beds which have long since disappeared, their position having been far up in the spaces now occupied by the air. where the slopes are steep and streams abound, we rarely find detritus which belonged in rock more than a hundred feet above the present surface of the soil. where, however, as on those isolated table-lands or buttes which abound in certain portions of the mississippi valley, as well as in many other countries, we find a patch of soil lying on a nearly level surface, which for geologic ages has not felt the effect of streams, we may discover, commingled in the _débris_, the harder wreckage derived from the decay of a thousand feet or more of vanished strata. when we consider the effect of organic life on the processes which go on in the soil, we first note the large fact that the development of all land vegetation depends upon the existence of this detritus--in a word, on the slow movement of the decaying rocky matter from the point where it is disrupted to its field of rest in the depths of the sea. the plants take their food from the portion of this rocky waste which is brought into solution by the waters which penetrate the mass. on the plants the animals feed, and so this vast assemblage of organisms is maintained. not only does the land life maintain itself on the soil, and give much to the sea, but it serves in various ways to protect this detrital coating from too rapid destruction, and to improve its quality. to see the nature of this work we should visit a region where primeval forests still lie upon the slopes of a hilly region. in the body of such a wood we find next the surface a coating of decayed vegetable matter, made up of the falling leaves, bark, branches, and trunks which are constantly descending to the earth. ordinarily, this layer is a foot or more in thickness; at the top it is almost altogether composed of vegetable matter; at the bottom it verges into the true soil. an important effect of this decayed vegetation is to restrain the movement of the surface water. even in the heaviest rains, provided the mass be not frozen, the water is taken into it and delivered in the manner of springs to the larger streams. we can better note the measure of this effect by observing the difference in the ground covered by this primeval forest and that which we find near by which has been converted into tilled fields. with the same degree of rapidity in the flow, the distinct stream channels on the tilled ground are likely to be from twenty to a hundred times in length what they are on the forest bed. the result is that while the brook which drains the forested area maintains a tolerably constant flow of clean water, the other from the tilled ground courses only in times of heavy rain, and then is heavily charged with mud. in the virgin conditions of the soil the downwear is very slow; in its artificial state this wearing goes on so rapidly that the sloping fields are likely to be worn to below the soil level in a few score years. not only does the natural coating of vegetation, such as our forests impose upon the country, protect the soil from washing away, but the roots of the larger plants are continually at work in various ways to increase the fertility and depth of the stratum. in the form of slender fibrils these underground branches enter the joints and bed planes of the rock, and there growing they disrupt the materials, giving them a larger surface on which decay may operate. these bits, at first of considerable size, are in turn broken up by the same action. where the underlying rocks afford nutritious materials, the branches of our tap-rooted trees sometimes find their way ten feet or more below the base of the true soil. not only do they thus break up the stones, but the nutrition which they obtain in the depths is brought up and deposited in the parts above the ground, as well as in the roots which lie in the true soil, so that when the tree dies it becomes available for other plants. thus in the forest condition of a country the amount of rock material contributed to the deposit in general so far exceeds that which is taken away to the rivers by the underground water as to insure the deepening of the soil bed to the point where only the strongest roots--those belonging to our tap-rooted trees--can penetrate through it to the bed rocks. almost all forests are from time to time visited by winds which uproot the trees. when they are thus rent from the earth, the underground branches often form a disk containing a thick tangle of stones and earth, and having a diameter of ten or fifteen feet. the writer has frequently observed a hundred cubic feet of soil matter, some of it taken from the depth of a yard or more, thus uplifted into the air. in the path of a hurricane or tornado we may sometimes find thousands of acres which have been subjected to this rude overturning--a natural ploughing. as the roots rot away, the _débris_ which they held falls outside of the pit, thus forming a little hillock along the side of the cavity. after a time the thrusting action of other roots and the slow motion of the soil down the slope restore the surface from its hillocky character to its original smoothness; but in many cases the naturalist who has learned to discern with his feet may note these irregularities long after it has been recovered with the forest. great as is the effect of plants on the soil, that influence is almost equalled by the action of the animals which have the habit of entering the earth, finding there a temporary abiding place. the number of these ground forms is surprisingly great. it includes, indeed, a host of creatures which are efficient agents in enriching the earth. the species of earthworms, some of which occupy forested districts as well as the fields, have the habit of passing the soil material through their bodies, extracting from the mass such nutriment as it may contain. in this manner the particles of mineral matter become pulverized, and in a measure affected by chemical changes in the bodies of the creatures, and are thus better fitted to afford plant food. sometimes the amount of the earth which the creatures take in in moving through their burrows and void upon the surface is sufficient to form annually a layer on the surface of the ground having a depth of one twentieth of an inch or more. it thus may well happen that the soil to the depth of two or three feet is completely overturned in the course of a few hundred years. as the particles which the creatures devour are rather small, the tendency is to accumulate the finer portions of the soil near the surface of the earth, where by solution they may contribute to the needs of the lowly plants. it is probably due to the action of these creatures that small relics of ancient men, such as stone tools, are commonly found buried at a considerable depth beneath the earth, and rarely appear upon the surface except where it has been subjected to deep ploughing or to the action of running streams. along with the earthworms, the ants labour to overturn the soil; frequently they are the more effective of the two agents. the common species, though they make no permanent hillocks, have been observed by the writer to lay upon the surface each year as much as a quarter of an inch of sand and other fine materials which they have brought up from a considerable depth. in many regions, particularly in those occupied by glacial drift, and pebbly alluvium along the rivers, the effect of this action, like that of earthworms, is to bring to the surface the finer materials, leaving the coarser pebbles in the depths. in this way they have changed the superficial character of the soil over great areas; we may say, indeed, over a large part of the earth, and this in a way which fits it better to serve the needs of the wild plants as well as the uses of the farmer. many thousand species of insects, particularly the larger beetles, have the habit of passing their larval state in the under earth. here they generally excavate burrows, and thus in a way delve the soil. as many of them die before reaching maturity, their store of organic matter is contributed to the mass, and serves to nourish the plants. if the student will carefully examine a section of the earth either in its natural or in its tilled state, he will be surprised to find how numerous the grubs are. they may often be found to the number of a score or more of each cubic foot of material. many of the species which develop underground come from eggs which have carefully been encased in organic matter before their deposition in the earth. thus some of the carrion beetles are in the habit of laying their eggs in the bodies of dead birds or field mice, which they then bury to the depth of some inches in the earth. in this way nearly all the small birds and mammals of our woods disappear from view in a few hours after they are dead. other species make balls from the dung of cattle in which they lay their eggs, afterward rolling the little spheres, it may be for hundreds of feet, to the chambers in the soil which they have previously prepared. in this way a great deal of animal matter is introduced into the earth, and contributes to its fertility. many of our small mammals have the habit of making their dwelling places in the soil. some of them, such as the moles, normally abide in the subterranean realm for all their lives. others use the excavations as places of retreat. in any case, these excavations serve to move the particles of the soil about, and the materials which the animals drag into the earth, as well as the excrement of the creatures, act to enrich it. this habit of taking food underground is not limited to the mammals; it is common with the ants, and even the earthworms, as noted by charles darwin in his wonderful essay on these creatures, are accustomed to drag into their burrows bits of grass and the slender leaves of pines. it is not known what purpose they attain by these actions, but it is sufficiently common somewhat to affect the conditions of the soil. the result of these complicated works done by animals and plants on the soil is that the material to a considerable depth are constantly being supplied with organic matter, which, along with the mineral material, constitutes that part of the earth which can support vegetation. experiment will readily show that neither crushed rock nor pure vegetable mould will of itself serve to maintain any but the lowliest vegetation. it requires that the two materials be mixed in order that the earth may yield food for ordinary plants, particularly for those which are of use to man, as crops. on this account all the processes above noted whereby the waste of plant and animal life is carried below the surface are of the utmost importance in the creation and preservation of the soil. it has been found, indeed, in almost all cases, necessary for the farmer to maintain the fertility of his fields to plough-in quantities of such organic waste. by so doing he imitates the work which is effected in virgin soil by natural action. as the process is costly in time and material, it is often neglected or imperfectly done, with the result that the fields rapidly diminish in fertility. the way in which the buried organic matter acts upon the soil is not yet thoroughly understood. in part it accomplishes the results by the materials which on its decay it contributes to the soil in a state in which they may readily be dissolved and taken up by the roots into their sap; in part, however, it is believed that they better the conditions by affording dwelling places for a host of lowly species, such as the forms which are known as bacteria. the organisms probably aid in the decomposition of the mineral matter, and in the conversion of nitrogen, which abounds in the air or the soil, into nitrates of potash and soda--substances which have a very great value as fertilizers. some effect is produced by the decay of the foreign matter brought into the soil, which as it passes away leaves channels through which the soil water can more readily pass. by far the most general and important effect arising from the decay of organic matter in the earth is to be found in the carbon dioxide which is formed as the oxygen of the air combines with the carbon which all organic material contains. as before noted, water thus charged has its capacity for taking other substances into solution vastly increased, and on this solvent action depends in large part the decay of the bed rocks and the solution of materials which are to be appropriated by the plants. having now sketched the general conditions which lead to the formation of soils, we must take account of certain important variations in their conditions due to differences in the ways in which they are formed and preserved. these matters are not only of interest to the geologist, but are of the utmost importance to the life of mankind, as well as all the lower creatures which dwell upon the lands. first, we should note that soils are divisible into three great groups, which, though not sharply parted from each other, are sufficiently peculiar for the purposes of classification. where the earth material has been derived from the rocks which nearly or immediately underlie it, we have a group of soils which may be entitled those of immediate derivation--that is, derived from rocks near by, or from beds which once overlaid the level and have since been decayed away. next, we have alluvial soils, those composed of materials which have been transported by streams, commonly from a great distance, and laid down on their flood plains. third, the soils the mineral matters of which have been brought into their position by the action of glaciers; these in a way resemble those formed by rivers, but the materials are generally imperfectly sorted, coarse and fine being mingled together. last of all, we have the soils due to the accumulation of blown dust or blown sand, which, unlike the others, occupy but a small part of the land surface. it would be possible, indeed, to make yet another division, including those areas which when emerging from the sea were covered with fine, uncemented detritus ready at once to serve the purposes of a soil. only here and there, and but seldom, do we find soils of this nature. it is characteristic of soils belonging to the group to which we have given the title of immediate derivation that they have accumulated slowly, that they move very gradually down the slopes on which they lie, and that in all cases they represent, with a part of their mass at least, levels of rock which have disappeared from the region which they occupied. the additions made to their mass are from below, and that mass is constantly shrinking, generally at a pretty rapid rate, by the mineral matter which is dissolved and goes away with the spring water. they also are characteristically thin on steep slopes, thickening toward the base of the incline, where the diminished grade permits the soil to move slowly, and therefore to accumulate. in alluvial soils we find accumulations which are characterized by growth on their upper surfaces, and by the distant transportation of the materials of which they are composed. in these deposits the outleaching removes vast amounts of the materials, but so long as the floods from time to time visit their surfaces the growth of the deposits is continued. this growth rarely takes place from the waste of the bed rocks on which the alluvium lies. it is characteristic of alluvial soils that they are generally made up of _débris_ derived from fields where the materials have undergone the change which we have noted in the last paragraph; therefore these latter deposits have throughout the character which renders the mineral materials easily dissolved. moreover, the mass as it is constructed is commonly mingled with a great deal of organic waste, which serves to promote its fertility. on these accounts alluvial grounds, though they vary considerably in fertility, commonly afford the most fruitful fields of any region. they have, moreover, the signal advantage that they often may be refreshed by allowing the flood waters to visit them, an action which but for the interference of man commonly takes place once each year. thus in the valley of the nile there are fields which have been giving rich grain harvests probably for more than four thousand years, without any other effective fertilizing than that derived from the mud of the great river. the group of glaciated soils differs in many ways from either of those mentioned. in it we find the mineral matter to have been broken up, transported, and accumulated without the influence of those conditions which ordinarily serve to mix rock _débris_ with organic matter during the process by which it is broken into bits. when vegetation came to preoccupy the fields made desolate by glacial action, it found in most places more than sufficient material to form soils, but the greater part of the matter was in the condition of pebbles of very hard rock and sand grains, fragments of silex. fortunately, the broken-up state of this material, by exposing a great surface of the rocky matter to decay, has enabled the plants to convert a portion of the mass into earth fit for the uses of their roots. but as the time which has elapsed since the disappearance of the glaciers is much less than that occupied in the formation of ordinary soil, this decay has in most cases not yet gone very far, so that in a cubic foot of glaciated waste the amount of material available for plants is often only a fraction of that held in the soils of immediate derivation. in the greater portion of the fields occupied by glacial waste the processes which lead to the introduction of organic matter into the earth have not gone far enough to set in effective work the great laboratory which has to operate in order to give fertile soil. the pebbles hinder the penetration of the roots as well as the movement of insects and other animals. there has not been time enough for the overturning of trees to bring about a certain admixture of vegetable matter with the soil--in a word, the process of soil-making, though the first condition, that of broken-up rock, has been accomplished, is as yet very incomplete. it needs, indeed, care in the introduction of organic matter for its completion. it is characteristic of glacial soils that they are indefinitely deep. this often is a disadvantageous feature, for the reason that the soil water may pass so far down into the earth that the roots are often deprived of the moisture which they need, and which in ordinary soils is retained near the surface by the hard underlayer. on the other hand, where the glacial waste is made up of pebbles formed from rocks of varied chemical composition, which contain a considerable share of lime, potash, soda, and other substances which are required by plants, the very large surface which they expose to decay provides the soil with a continuous enrichment. in a cubic foot of pebbly glacial earth we often find that the mass offers several hundred times as much surface to the action of decay as is afforded by the underlying solid bed rock from which a soil of immediate derivation has to win its mineral supply. where the pebbly glacial waste is provided with a mixture of vegetable matter, the process of decay commonly goes forward with considerable rapidity. if the supply of such matter is large, such as may be produced by ploughing in barnyard manure or green crops, the nutritive value of the earth may be brought to a very high point. it is a familiar experience in regions where glacial soils exist that the earth beneath the swamps when drained is found to be extraordinarily well suited for farming purposes. on inspecting the pebbles from such places, we observe that they are remarkably decayed. where the masses contain large quantities of feldspar, as is the case in the greater part of our granitic and other crystalline rocks, this material in its decomposition is converted into kaolin or feldspar clay, and gives the stones a peculiar white appearance, which marks the decomposition, and indicates the process by which a great variety of valuable soil ingredients are brought into a state where they may be available for plants. in certain parts of the glacial areas, particularly in the region near the margin of the ice sheet, where the glacier remained in one position for a considerable time, we find extensive deposits of silicious sand, formed of the materials which settled from the under-ice stream, near where they escaped from the glacial cavern. these kames and sand plains, because of the silicious nature of their materials and the very porous nature of the soil which they afford, are commonly sterile, or at most render a profit to the tiller by dint of exceeding care. thus in massachusetts, although the first settlers seized upon these grounds, and planted their villages upon them because the forests there were scanty and the ground free from encumbering boulders, were soon driven to betake themselves to those areas where the drift was less silicious, and where the pebbles afforded a share of clay. very extensive fields of this sandy nature in southeastern new england have never been brought under tillage. thus on the island of martha's vineyard there is a connected area containing about thirty thousand acres which lies in a very favourable position for tillage, but has been found substantially worthless for such use. the farmers have found it more advantageous to clear away the boulders from the coarser drift in order to win soil which would give them fair returns. those areas which are occupied by soil materials which have been brought into their position by the action of the wind may, as regards their character, be divided into two very distinct groups--the dunes and loess deposits. in the former group, where, as we have noted (see page ), the coarse sea sands or those from the shores of lakes are driven forward as a marching hillock, the grains of the material are almost always silicious. the fragments in the motion are not taken up into the air, but are blown along the surface. such dune accumulations afford an earth which is even more sterile than that of the glacial sand plains, where there is generally a certain admixture of pebbles from rocks which by their decomposition may afford some elements of fertility. fortunately for the interests of man, these wind-borne sands occupy but a small area; in north america, in the aggregate, there probably are not more than one thousand square miles of such deposits. where the rock material drifted by the winds is so fine that it may rise into the air in the form of dust, the accumulations made of it generally afford a fertile soil, and this for the reason that they are composed of various kinds of rock, and not, as in the case of dunes, of nearly pure silica. in some very rare cases, where the seashore is bordered by coral reefs, as it is in parts of southern florida, and the strand is made up of limestone bits derived from the hard parts which the polyps secrete, small dunes are made of limy material. owing, however, in part to the relatively heavy nature of this substance, as well as to the rapid manner in which its grains become cemented together, such limestone dunes never attain great size nor travel any distance from their point of origin. as before noted, dust accumulations form the soil in extended areas which lie to the leeward of great deserts. thus a considerable part of western china and much of the united states to the west of the mississippi is covered by these wind-blown earths. wherever the rainfall is considerable these loess deposits have proved to have a high agricultural value. where a region has an earth which has recently passed from beneath the sea or a great lake, the surface is commonly covered by incoherent detritus which has escaped consolidation into hard rock by the fact that it has not been buried and thus brought into the laboratory of the earth's crust. when such a region becomes dry land, the materials are immediately ready to enter into the state of soil. they commonly contain a good deal of waste derived from the organic life which dwelt upon the sea bottom and was embedded in the strata as they were formed. where these accumulations are made in a lake, the land vegetation at once possesses the field, even a single year being sufficient for it to effect its establishment. where the lands emerge from the sea, it requires a few years for the salt water to drain away so that the earth can be fit for the uses of plants. in a general way these sea-bottom soils resemble those formed in the alluvial plains. they are, however, commonly more sandy, and their substances less penetrated by that decay which goes on very freely in the atmosphere because of the abundant supply of oxygen, and but slowly on the sea floor. moreover, the marine deposits are generally made up in large part of silicious sand, a material which is produced in large quantities by the disruption of the rocks along the sea coast. the largest single field of these ocean-bottom soils of north america is found in the lowland region of the southern united states, a wide belt of country extending along the coast from the rio grande to new york. although the streams have channelled shallow valleys in the beds of this region, the larger part of its surface still has the peculiar features of form and composition which were impressed upon it when it lay below the surface of the sea. local variations in the character of the soil covering are exceedingly numerous, and these differences of condition profoundly affect the estate of man. we shall therefore consider some of the more important of these conditions, with special reference to their origin. the most important and distinctly marked variation in the fertility of soils is that which is produced by differences in the rainfall. no parts of the earth are entirely lacking in rain, but over considerable areas the precipitation does not exceed half a foot a year. in such realms the soil is sterile, and the natural coating of vegetation limited to those plants which can subsist on dew or which can take on an occasional growth at such times as moisture may come upon them. with a slight increase in precipitation, the soil rapidly increases in productivity, so that we may say that where as much as about ten inches of water enters the earth during the summer half of the year, it becomes in a considerable measure fit for agriculture. observations indicate that the conditions of fertility are not satisfied where the rainfall is just sufficient to fill the pores of the soil; there must be enough water entering the earth to bring about a certain amount of outflow in the form of springs. the reason of this need becomes apparent when we study the evident features of those soils which, though from season to season charged with water, do not yield springs, but send the moisture away through the atmosphere. wherever these conditions occur we observe that the soil in dry seasons becomes coated with a deposit of mineral matter, which, because of its taste, has received the name of alkali. the origin of this coating is as follows: the pores of the soil, charged from year to year with sufficient water to fill them, become stored with a fluid which contains a very large amount of dissolved mineral matter--too much, indeed, to permit the roots of plants, save a few species which have become accustomed to the conditions, to do their appointed work. in fact, this water is much like that of the sea, which the roots of only a few of our higher plants can tolerate. when the dry season comes on, the heat of the sun evaporates the water at the surface, leaving behind a coating composed of the substances which the water contains. the soil below acts in the manner of a lamp-wick to draw up fluid as rapidly as the heat burns it away. when the soil water is as far as possible exhausted, the alkali coating may represent a considerable part of the soluble matter of the soil, and in the next rainy season it may return in whole or in part to the under-earth, again to be drawn in the manner before described to the upper level. it is therefore only when a considerable share of the ground water goes forth to the streams in each year that the alkaline materials are in quantity kept down to the point where the roots of our crop-giving plants can make due use of the soil. where, in an arid region, the ground can be watered from the enduring streams or from artificial reservoirs, the main advantage arising from the process is commonly found in the control which it gives the farmer in the amount of the soil water. he can add to the rainfall sufficient to take away the excess of mineral matter. when such soils are first brought under tillage it is necessary to use a large amount of water from the canals, in order to wash away the old store of alkali. after that a comparatively small contribution will often keep the soil in excellent condition for agriculture. it has been found, however, in the irrigated lands beside the nile that where too much saving is practised in the irrigation, the alkaline coating will appear where it has been unknown before, and with it an unfitness of the earth to bear crops. although the crust of mineral matters formed in the manner above described is characteristic of arid countries, and in general peculiar to them, a similar deposit may under peculiar conditions be formed in regions of great rainfall. thus on the eastern coast of new england, where the tidal marshes have here and there been diked from the sea and brought under tillage, the dissolved mineral matters of the soil, which are excessive in quantity, are drawn to the surface, forming a coating essentially like that which is so common in arid regions. the writer has observed this crust on such diked lands, having a thickness of an eighth of an inch. in fact, this alkali coating represents merely the extreme operation of a process which is going on in all soils, and which contributes much to their fertility. when rain falls and passes downward into the earth, it conveys the soluble matter to a depth below the surface, often to beyond the point where our ordinary crop plants, such as the small grains, can have access to it, and this for the reason that their roots do not penetrate deeply. when dry weather comes and evaporation takes place from the surface, the fluid is drawn up to the upper soil layer, and there, in process of evaporation, deposits the dissolved materials which it contains. thus the mineral matter which is fit for plant food is constantly set in motion, and in its movement passes the rootlets of the plants. it is probably on this account--at least in part--that very wet weather is almost as unfavourable to the farmer as exceedingly dry, the normal alternation in the conditions being, as is well known, best suited to his needs. so long as the earth is subjected to conditions in which the rainfall may bring about a variable amount of water in the superficial detrital layer, we find normal fruitful soils, though in their more arid conditions they may be fit for but few species of plants. when, by increasing aridity, we pass to conditions where there is no tolerably permanent store of water in the _débris_, the material ceases to have the qualities of a soil, and becomes mere rock waste. at the other extreme of the scale we pass to conditions where the water is steadfastly maintained in the interstices of the detritus, and there again the characteristic of the soil and its fitness for the uses of land vegetation likewise disappear. in a word, true soil conditions demand the presence of moisture, but that in insufficient quantities, to keep the pores of the earth continually filled; where they are thus filled, we have the condition of swamps. between these extremes the level at which the water stands in the soil in average seasons is continually varying. in rainy weather it may rise quite to the surface; in a dry season it may sink far down. as this water rises and falls, it not only moves, as before noted, the soluble mineral materials, but it draws the air into and expels it from the earth with each movement. this atmospheric circulation of the soil, as has been proved by experiment, is of great importance in maintaining its fertility; the successive charges of air supply the needs of the microscopic underground creatures which play a large part in enriching the soil, and the direct effect of the oxygen in promoting decay is likewise considerable. a part of the work which is accomplished by overturning the earth in tillage consists in this introduction of the air into the pores of the soil, where it serves to advance the actions which bring mineral matters into solution. [illustration: _mountain gorge, himalayas, india. note the difference in the slope of the eroded rocks and the effect of erosion upon them; also the talus slopes at the base of the cliffs which the torrent is cutting away. on the left of the foreground there is a little bench showing a recent higher line of the water._] in the original conditions of any country which is the seat of considerable rainfall, and where the river system is not so far developed as to provide channels for the ready exit of the waters, we commonly find very extensive swamps; these conditions of bad drainage almost invariably exist where a region has recently been elevated above the level of the sea, and still retains the form of an irregular rolling plain common to sea floors, and also in regions where the work done by glaciers has confused the drainage which the antecedent streams may have developed. in an old, well-elaborated river system swamps are commonly absent, or, if they occur, are due to local accidents of an unimportant nature. for our purpose swamps may be divided into three groups--climbing bogs, lake bogs, and marine marshes. the first two of these groups depend on the movements of the rain water over the land; the third on the action of the tides. beginning our account with the first and most exceptional of these groups, we note the following features in their interesting history: wherever in a humid region, on a gentle slope--say with an inclination not exceeding ten feet to the mile--the soil is possessed by any species of plants whose stems grow closely together, so that from their decayed parts a spongelike mass is produced, we have the conditions which favour the development of climbing bogs. beginning usually in the shores of a pool, these plants, necessarily of a water-loving species, retain so much moisture in the spongy mass which they form that they gradually extend up the slope. thus extending the margin of their field, and at the same time thickening the deposit which they form, these plants may build a climbing bog over the surface until steeps are attained where the inclination is so great that the necessary amount of water can not be held in the spongy mass, or where, even if so held, the whole coating will in time slip down in the manner of an avalanche. the greater part of the climbing bogs of the world are limited to the moist and cool regions of high latitudes, where species of moss belonging to the genus _sphagnum_ plentifully flourish. these plants can only grow where they are continuously supplied with a bath of water about their roots. they develop in lake bogs as far south as mexico, but in the climbing form they are hardly traceable south of new england, and are nowhere extensively developed within the limits of the united states. in more northern parts of this continent, and in northwestern europe, particularly in the moist climate of ireland, climbing bogs occupy great areas, and hold up their lakes of interstitially contained water over the slopes of hills, where the surface rises at the rate of thirty feet or more to the mile. so long as the deposit of decayed vegetable matter which has accumulated in this manner is thin, therefore everywhere penetrated by the fibrous roots of the moss, it may continue to cling to its sloping bed; but when it attains a considerable thickness, and the roots in the lower part decay, the pulpy mass, water-laden in some time of heavy rain, break away in a vast torrent of thick, black mud, which may inundate the lower lands, causing widespread destruction. in more southern countries, other water-loving plants lead to the formation of climbing bogs. of these, the commonest and most effective are the species of reeds, of which our indian cane is a familiar example. brakes of this vegetation, plentifully mingled with other species of aquatic growth, form those remarkable climbing bogs known as the dismal and other swamps, which numerously occur along the coast line of the united states from southern maryland to eastern texas. climbing bogs are particularly interesting, not only from the fact that they are eminently peculiar effects of plant growth, but because they give us a vivid picture of those ancient morasses in which grew the plants that formed the beds of vegetable matter now appearing in the state of coal. each such bed of buried swamp material was, with rare exceptions, where the accumulation took place in lakes, gathered in climbing bogs such as we have described. lake bogs occur in all parts of the world, but in their best development are limited to relatively high latitudes, and this for the reason that the plants which form vegetable matter grow most luxuriantly in cool climates and in regions where the level of the basin is subject to less variation than occurs in the alternating wet and dry seasons which exist in nearly all tropical regions. the fittest conditions are found in glaciated regions, where, as before noted, small lakes are usually very abundant. on the shores of one of these pools, of size not so great that the waves may attain a considerable height, or in the sheltered bay of a larger lake, various aquatic plants, especially the species of pond lilies, take root upon the bottom, and spread their expanded leaves on the surface of the water. these flexible-leaved and elastic-stemmed plants can endure waves which attain no more than a foot or two of height, and by the friction which they afford make the swash on the shore very slight. in the quiet water, rushes take root, and still further protect the strand, so that the very delicate vegetation of the mosses, such as the _sphagnum_, can fix itself on the shore. as soon as the _sphagnum_ mat has begun its growth, the strength given by its interlaced fibres enables it to extend off from the shore and float upon the water. in this way it may rapidly enlarge, if not broken up by the waves, so that its front advances into the lake at the rate of several inches each year. while growing outwardly it thickens, so that the bottom of the mass gradually works down toward the floor of the basin. at the same time the lower part of the sheet, decaying, contributes a shower of soft peat mud to the floor of the lake. in this way, growing at its edge, deepening, and contributing to an upgrowth from the bottom, a few centuries may serve entirely to fill a deep basin with peaty accumulation. in general, however, the surface of the bog closes over the lake before the accumulation has completely filled the shoreward portions of the area. in these conditions we have what is familiarly known as a quaking bog, which can be swayed up and down by a person who quickly stoops and rises while standing on the surface. in this state the tough and thick sheet of growing plants is sufficient to uphold a considerable weight, but so elastic that the underlying water can be thrown into waves. long before the bog has completely filled the lake with the peaty accumulations the growth of trees is apt to take place on its surface, which often reduces the area to the appearance of a very level wet wood. [illustration: fig. .--diagram showing beginning of peat bog: a, lake; b, lilies and rushes; c, lake bog; d, climbing bog.] climbing and lake bogs in the united states occupy a total area of more than fifty thousand square miles. in all north america the total area is probably more than twice as great. similar deposits are exceedingly common in the eurasian continent and in southern patagonia. it is probable that the total amount of these fields in different parts of the world exceeds half a million square miles. these two groups of fresh-water swamps have an interest, for the reason that when reduced to cultivation by drainage and by subsequent removal of the excess of peaty matter, by burning or by natural decay, afford very rich soil. the fairest fields of northern europe, particularly in great britain and ireland, have been thus won to tillage. in the first centuries of our era a large part of england--perhaps as much as one tenth of the ground now tilled in that country--was occupied by these lands, which retained water in such measure as to make them unfit for tillage, the greater portion of this area being in the condition of thin climbing bog. for many centuries much of the energy of the people was devoted to the reclamation of these valuable lands. this task of winning the swamp lands to agriculture has been more completely accomplished in england than elsewhere, but it has gone far on the continent of europe, particularly in germany. in the united states, owing to the fact that lands have been cheap, little of this work of swamp-draining has as yet been accomplished. it is likely that the next great field of improvement to be cultivated by the enterprising people will be found in these excessively humid lands, from which the food-giving resources for the support of many million people can be won. [illustration: fig. .--diagram showing development of swamp: a, remains of lake; b, surface growth; c, peat.] the group of marine marshes differs in many important regards from those which are formed in fresh water. where the tide visits any coast line, and in sheltered positions along that shore, a number of plants, mostly belonging to the group of grasses, species which have become accustomed to having their roots bathed by salt water, begin the formation of a spongy mat, which resembles that composed of _sphagnum_, only it is much more solid. this mat of the marine marshes soon attains a thickness of a foot or more, the upper or growing surface lying in a position where it is covered for two or three hours at each visit of the tide. growing rapidly outward from the shore, and having a strength which enables it to resist in a tolerably effective manner waves not more than two or three feet high, this accumulation makes head against the sea. to a certain extent the waves undermine the front of the sheet and break up masses of it, which they distribute over the shallow bottom below the level at which these plants can grow. in this deeper water, also, other marine animals and plants are continually developing, and their remains are added to the accumulations which are ever shallowing the water, thus permitting a further extension of the level, higher-lying marsh. this process continues until the growth has gone as far as the scouring action of the tidal currents will permit. in the end the bay, originally of wide-open water, is only such at high tide. for the greater part of the time it appears as broad savannas, whose brilliant green gives them the aspect of rare fertility. owing to the conditions of their growth, the deposits formed in marine marshes contain no distinct peat, the nearest approach to that substance being the tangle of wirelike roots which covers the upper foot or so of the accumulation. the greater part of the mass is composed of fine silt, brought in by the streams of land water which discharge into the basin, and by the remains of animals which dwelt upon the bottom or between the stalks of the plants that occupy the surface of the marshes. these interspaces afford admirable shelter to a host of small marine forms. the result is, that the tidal marshes, as well as the lower-lying mud flats, which have been occupied by the mat of vegetation, afford admirable earth for tillage. unfortunately, however, there are two disadvantages connected with the redemption of such lands. in the first place, it is necessary to exclude the sea from the area, which can only be accomplished by considerable engineering work; in the second place, the exclusion of the tide inevitably results in the silting up of the passage by which the water found its way to the sea. as these openings are often used for harbours, the effect arising from their destruction is often rather serious. nevertheless, in some parts of the world very extensive and most fertile tracts of land have thus been won from the sea; a large part of holland and shore-land districts in northern europe are made up of fields which were originally covered by the tide. near the mouth of the rhine, indeed, the people have found these sea-bottom soils so profitable that they have gone beyond the zone of the marshes, and have drained considerable seas which of old were permanently covered, even at the lowest level of the waters. on the coast of north america marine marshes have an extensive development, and vary much in character. in the bay of fundy, where the tides have an altitude of fifty feet or more, the energy of their currents is such that the marsh mat rarely forms. its place, however, is taken by vast and ever-changing mud flats, the materials of which are swept to and fro by the moving waters. the people of this region have learned an art of a peculiar nature, by which they win broad fields of excellent land from the sea. selecting an area of the flats, the surface of which has been brought to within a few feet of high tide, they inclose it with a stout barrier or dike, which has openings for the free admission of the tidal waters. entering this basin, the tide, moving with considerable velocity, bears in quantities of sediment. in the basin, the motion being arrested, this sediment falls to the bottom, and serves to raise its level. in a few months the sheet of sediment is brought near the plane of the tidal movement, then the gates are closed at times when the tide has attained half of its height, so that the ground within the dike is not visited by the sea water, and can be cultivated. [illustration: fig. .--map of ipswich marshes, massachusetts, formed behind a barrier beach.] along the coast of new england the ordinary marine marshes attain an extensive development in the form of broad-grassed savannas. with this aspect, though with a considerable change in the plants which they bear, the fringe of savannas continues southward along the coast to northern florida. in the region about the mouth of the savannah river, so named from the vast extent of the tidal marshes, these fields attain their greatest development. in central and southern florida, however, where the seacoast is admirably suited for their development, these coastal marshes of the grassy type disappear, their place being taken by the peculiar morasses formed by the growth of the mangrove tree. in the mangrove marshes the tree which gives the areas their name covers all the field which is visited by the tide. this tree grows with its crown supported on stiltlike roots, at a level above high tide. from its horizontal branches there grow off roots, which reach downward into the water, and thence to the bottom. the seeds of the mangrove are admirably devised so as to enable the plant to obtain a foothold on the mud flats, even where they are covered at low tide with a depth of two or three feet of water. they are several inches in length, and arranged with booklets at their lower ends; floating near the bottom, they thus catch upon it, and in a few weeks' growth push the shoot to the level of the water, thus affording a foundation for a new plantation. in this manner, extending the old forests out into the shallow water of the bays, and forming new colonies wherever the water is not too deep, these plants rapidly occupy all the region which elsewhere would appear in the form of savannas. [illustration: fig. .--diagram showing mode of growth of mangroves.] the tidal marshes of north america, which may be in time converted to the uses of man, probably occupy an area exceeding twenty thousand square miles. if the work of reclaiming such lands from the sea ever attains the advance in this country that it has done in holland, the area added to the dry land by engineering devices may amount to as much as fifty thousand square miles--a territory rather greater than the surface of kentucky, and with a food-yielding power at least five times as great as is afforded by that fertile state. in fact, these conquests from the sea are hereafter to be among the great works which will attract the energies of mankind. in the arid region of the cordilleras, as well as in many other countries, the soil, though destitute of those qualities which make it fit for the uses of man, because of the absence of water in sufficient amount, is, as regards its structure and depth, as well as its mineral contents, admirably suited to the needs of agriculture. the development of soils in desert regions is in almost all cases to be accounted for by the former existence in the realms they occupy of a much greater rainfall than now exists. thus in the rocky mountain country, when the deep soils of the ample valleys were formed, the lakes, as we have before noted, were no longer dead seas, as is at present so generally the case, but poured forth great streams to the sea. here, as elsewhere, we find evidence that certain portions of the earth which recently had an abundant rainfall have now become starved for the lack of that supply. all the soils of arid regions where the trial has been made have proved very fertile when subjected to irrigation, which can often be accomplished by storing the waters of the brief rainy season or by diverting those of rivers which enter the deserts from well-watered mountain fields. in fact, the soil of these arid realms yields peculiarly ample returns to the husbandman, because of certain conditions due to the exceeding dryness of the air. this leads to an absence of cloudy weather, so that from the time the seed is planted the growth is stimulated by uninterrupted and intense sunshine. the same dryness of the air leads, as we have seen, to a rapid evaporation from the surface, by which, in a manner before noted, the dissolved mineral matter is brought near the top of the soil, where it can best serve the greater part of our crop plants. on these accounts an acre of irrigated soil can be made to yield a far greater return than can be obtained from land of like chemical composition in humid regions. in many parts of the world, particularly in the northern and western portions of the mississippi valley, there are widespread areas, which, though moderately well watered, were in their virgin state almost without forests. in the prairie region the early settlers found the country unwooded, except along the margins of the streams. on the borders of the true prairies, however, they found considerable areas of a prevailingly forested land, with here and there a tract of prairie. there were several of these open fields south of the ohio, though the country there is in general forested; one of these prairie areas, in the green river district of kentucky, was several thousand square miles in extent. at first it was supposed that the absence of trees in the open country of the mississippi valley was due to some peculiarity of the soil, but experience shows that plantations luxuriantly develop, and that the timber will spread rapidly in the natural way. in fact, if the seeds of the trees which have been planted since the settlement of the country were allowed to develop as they seek to do, it would only be a few centuries before the region would be forest-clad as far west as the rainfall would permit the plants to develop. probably the woods would attain to near the hundredth meridian. in the opinion of the writer, the treeless character of the western plains is mainly to be accounted for by the habit which our indians had of burning the herbage of a lowly sort each year, so that the large game might obtain better pasturage. it is a well-known fact to all those who have had to deal with cattle on fields which are in the natural state that fire betters the pasturage. beginning this method of burning in the arid regions to the west of the original forests, the natural action of the fire has been gradually to destroy these woods. although the older and larger trees, on account of their thick bark and the height of their foliage above the ground, escaped destruction, all the smaller and younger members of the species were constantly swept away. thus when the old trees died they left no succession, and the country assumed its prairie character. that the prairies were formed in this manner seems to be proved by the testimony which we have concerning the open area before mentioned as having existed in western kentucky. it is said that around the timberless fields there was a wide fringe of old fire-scarred trees, with no undergrowth beneath their branches, and that as they died no kind of large vegetation took their place. when the indians who set these fires were driven away, as was the case in the last decade of the last century, the country at once began to resume its timbered condition. from the margin and from every interior point where the trees survived, their seeds spread so that before the open land was all subjugated to the plough it was necessary in many places to clear away a thick growth of the young forest-building trees. the soils which develop on the lavas and ashes about an active volcano afford interesting subjects for study, for the reason that they show how far the development of the layer which supports vegetation may depend upon the character of the rocks from which it is derived. where the materials ejected from a volcano lie in a rainy district, the process of decay which converts the rock into soil is commonly very rapid, a few years of exposure to the weather being sufficient to bring about the formation of a fertile soil. this is due to the fact that most lavas, as well as the so-called volcanic ashes, which are of the same material as the lavas, only blown to pieces, are composed of varied minerals, the most of which are readily attacked by the agents of decay. now and then, however, we find the materials ejected from a particular volcano, or even the lavas and ashes of a single eruption, in such a chemical state that soils form upon them with exceeding slowness. * * * * * the foregoing incomplete considerations make it plain that the soil-covering of the earth is the result of very delicate adjustments, which determine the rate at which the broken-down rocks find their path from their original bed places to the sea. the admirable way in which this movement is controlled is indicated by the fact that almost everywhere we find a soil-covering deep enough for the use of a varied vegetation, but rarely averaging more than a dozen feet in depth. only here and there are the rocks bare or the earth swathed in a profound mass of detritus. this indicates how steadfast and measured is the march of the rock waste from the hills to the sea. unhappily, man, when by his needs he is forced to till the soil, is compelled to break up this ancient and perfect order. he has to strip the living mantle from the earth, replacing it with growth of those species which serve his needs. those plants which are most serviceable--which are, indeed, indispensable in the higher civilization, the grains--require for their cultivation that the earth be stripped bare and deeply stirred during the rainy season, and thus subjected to the most destructive effect of the rainfall. the result is, that in almost all grain fields the rate of soil destruction vastly surpasses that at which the accumulation is being made. we may say, indeed, that, except in alluvial plains, where the soil grows by flood-made additions to its upper surface, no field tilled in grain can without exceeding care remain usable for a century. even though the agriculturist returns to the earth all the chemical substances which he takes away in his crops, the loss of the soil by the washing away of its substance to the stream will inevitably reduce the region to sterility. it is not fanciful to say that the greatest misfortune which in a large way man has had to meet in his agriculture arises from this peculiar stress which grain crops put upon the soil. if these grains grew upon perennial plants, in the manner of our larger fruits, the problem of man's relation to the soil would be much simpler than it is at present. he might then manage to till the earth without bringing upon it the inevitable destruction which he now inflicts. as it is, he should recognise that his needs imperil this ancient and precious element in the earth's structure, and he should endeavour in every possible way to minimize the damage which he brings about. this result he may accomplish in certain simple ways. first, as regards the fertility of the soil, as distinguished from the thickness of the coating, it may be said that modern discoveries enable us to see the ways whereby we may for an indefinite period avoid the debasement of our great heritage, the food-giving earth. we now know in various parts of the world extensive and practically inexhaustible deposits, whence may be obtained the phosphates, potash, soda, etc., which we take from the soil in our crops. we also have learned ways in which the materials contained in our sewage may be kept from the sea and restored to the fields. in fact, the recent developments of agriculture have made it not only easy, but in most cases profitable, to avoid this waste of materials which has reduced so many regions to poverty. we may fairly look forward to the time, not long distant, when the old progressive degradation in the fertility of the soil coating will no longer occur. it is otherwise with the mass of the soil, that body of commingled decayed rock and vegetable matter which must possess a certain thickness in order to serve its needs. as yet no considerable arrest has been made in the processes which lead to the destruction of this earthy mass. in all countries where tillage is general the rivers are flowing charged with all they can bear away of soil material. thus in the valley of the po, a region where, if the soil were forest-clad, the down-wearing of the surface would probably be at no greater rate than one foot in five thousand years, the river bears away the soil detritus so rapidly that at the present time the downgoing is at the rate of one foot in eight hundred years, and each decade sees the soil disappear from hillsides which were once fertile, but are now reduced to bare rocks. all about the mediterranean the traveller notes extensive regions which were once covered with luxuriant forests, and were afterward the seats of prosperous agriculture, where the soil has utterly disappeared, leaving only the bare rocks, which could not recover its natural covering in thousands of years of the enforced fallow. within the limits of the united states the degradation of the soil, owing to the peculiar conditions of the country, is in many districts going forward with startling rapidity. it has been the habit of our people--a habit favoured by the wide extent of fertile and easily acquired frontier ground--recklessly to till their farms until the fields were exhausted, and then to abandon them for new ground. by shallow ploughing on steep hillsides, by neglect in the beginning of those gulches which form in such places, it is easy in the hill country of the eastern united states to have the soil washed away within twenty years after the protecting forests have been destroyed. the writer has estimated that in the states south of the ohio and james rivers more than eight thousand square miles of originally fertile ground have by neglect been brought into a condition where it will no longer bear crops of any kind, and over fifteen hundred miles of the area have been so worn down to the subsoil or the bed rock that it may never be profitable to win it again to agricultural uses. hitherto, in our american agriculture, our people have been to a great extent pioneers; they have been compelled to win what they could in the cheapest possible way and with the rudest implements, and without much regard to the future of those who were in subsequent generations to occupy the fields which they were conquering from the wilderness and the savages. the danger is now that this reckless tillage, in a way justified of old, may be continued and become habitual with our people. it is, indeed, already a fixed habit in many parts of the country, particularly in the south, where a small farmer expects to wear out two or three plantations in the course of his natural life. many of them manage to ruin from one to two hundred acres of land in the course of half a century of uninterrupted labour. this system deserves the reprobation of all good citizens; it would be well, indeed, if it were possible to do so, to stamp it out by the law. the same principle which makes it illegal for a man to burn his own dwelling house may fairly be applied in restraining him from destroying the land which he tills. there are a few simple principles which, if properly applied, may serve to correct this misuse of our american soil. the careful tiller should note that all soils whatever which lie on declivities having a slope of more than one foot in thirty inevitably and rapidly waste when subject to plough tillage. this instrument tends to smear and consolidate the layer of earth over which its heel runs, so that at a depth of a few inches below the surface a layer tolerably impervious to water is formed. the result is that the porous portion of the deposit becomes excessively charged with water in times of heavy rain, and moves down the hillside in a rapid manner. all such steep slopes should be left in their wooded state, or, if brought into use, should be retained as pasture lands. where, as is often the case with the farms in hilly countries, all the fields are steeply inclined, it is an excellent precaution to leave the upper part of the slope with a forest covering. in this condition not only is the excessive flow of surface water diminished, but the moisture which creeps down the slope from the wooded area tends to keep the lower-lying fields in a better state for tillage, and promotes the decay of the underlying rocks, and thus adds to the body and richness of the earth. on those soils which must be tilled, even where they tend to wash away, the aim should be to keep the detritus open to such a depth that it may take in as much as possible of the rainfall, yielding the water to the streams through the springs. this end can generally be accomplished by deep ploughing; it can, in almost all cases, be attained by under-drainage. the effect of allowing the water to penetrate is not only to diminish the superficial wearing, but to maintain the process of subsoil and bed-rock decay by which the detrital covering is naturally renewed. where, as in many parts of the country, the washing away of the soil can not otherwise be arrested, the progress of the destruction can be delayed by forming with the skilful use of the plough ditches of slight declivity leading along the hillsides to the natural waterways. one of the most satisfactory marks of the improvement which is now taking place in the agriculture of the cotton-yielding states of this country is to be found in the rapid increase in the use of the ditch system here mentioned. this system, combined with ploughing in the manner where the earth is with each overturning thrown uphill, will greatly reduce the destructive effect of rainfall on steep-lying fields. but the only effective protection, however, is accomplished by carefully terracing the slopes, so that the tilled ground lies in level benches. this system is extensively followed in the thickly settled portions of europe, but it may be a century before it will be much used in this country. the duty of the soil-tiller by the earth with which he deals may be briefly summed up: he should look upon himself as an agent necessarily interfering with the operations which naturally form and preserve the soil. he should see that his work brings two risks; he may impoverish the accumulation of detrital material by taking out the plant food more rapidly than it is prepared for use. this injurious result may be at any time reparable by a proper use of manures. not so, however, with the other form of destruction, which results in the actual removal of the soil materials. where neglect has brought about this disaster, it can only be repaired by leaving the area to recover beneath the slowly formed forest coating. this process in almost all cases requires many thousands of years for its accomplishment. the man who has wrought such destruction has harmed the inheritance of life. chapter ix. the rocks and their order. in the preceding chapters of this book the attention of the student has been directed mainly to the operations of those natural forces which act upon the surface of the earth. incidentally the consequences arising from the applications of energy to the outer part of the planet have been attended to, but the main aim has been to set forth the work which solar energy, operating in the form of heat, accomplishes upon the lands. we have now to consider one of the great results of these actions, which is exhibited in the successive strata that make up the earth's crust. the most noteworthy effect arising from the action of the solar forces on the earth and their co-operation with those which originate in our sphere is found in the destruction of beds or other deposits of rock, and the removal of the materials to the floors of water basins, where they are again aggregated in strata, and gradually brought once more into a stable condition within the earth. this work is accomplished by water in its various states, the action being directly affected by gravitation. in the form of steam, water which has been built into rocks and volcanically expelled by tensions, due to the heat which it has acquired at great depths below the surface, blows forth great quantities of lava, which is contributed to the formation of strata, either directly in the solid form or indirectly, after having been dissolved in the sea. acting as waves, water impelled by solar energy transmitted to it by the winds beats against the shores, wearing away great quantities of rock, which is dragged off to the neighbouring sea bottoms, there to resume the bedded form. moving ice in glaciers, water again applying solar energy given to it by its elevation above the sea, most effectively grinds away the elevated parts of the crust, the _débris_ being delivered to the ocean. in the rain the same work is done, and even in the wind the power of the sun serves to abrade the high-lying rocks, making new strata of their fragments. as gravity enters as an element in all the movements of divided rock, the tendency of the waste worn from the land is to gather on to the bottoms of basins which contain water. rarely, and only in a small way, this process results in the accumulation of lake deposits; the greater part of the work is done upon the sea floor. when the beds are formed in lake basins, they may be accumulated in either of two very diverse conditions. they may be formed in what are called dead seas, in which case the detrital materials are commonly small in amount, for the reason that the inflowing streams are inconsiderable; in such basins there is normally a large share of saline materials, which are laid down by the evaporation of the water. in ordinary lakes the deposits which are formed are mostly due to the sediment that the rivers import. these materials are usually fine-grained, and the sand or pebbles which they contain are plentifully mingled with clay. hence lake deposits are usually of an argillaceous nature. as organic life, such as secretes limestone, is rarely developed to any extent in lake basins, limy beds are very rarely formed beneath those areas of water. where they occur, they are generally due to the fact that rivers charged with limy matter import such quantities of the substance that it is precipitated on the bottom. as lake deposits are normally formed in basins above the level of the sea, and as the drainage channels of the basins are always cutting down, the effect is to leave such strata at a considerable height above the sea level, where the erosive agents may readily attack them. in consequence of this condition, lacustrine beds are rarely found of great antiquity; they generally disappear soon after they are formed. where preserved, their endurance is generally to be attributed to the fact that the region they occupy has been lowered beneath the sea and covered by marine strata. the great laboratory in which the sedimentary deposits are accumulated, the realm in which at least ninety-nine of the hundred parts of these materials are laid down, is the oceanic part of the earth. on the floors of the seas and oceans we have not only the region where the greater part of the sedimentation is effected, but that in which the work assumes the greatest variety. the sea bottoms, as regards the deposits formed upon them, are naturally divided into two regions--the one in which the _débris_ from the land forms an important part of the sediment, and the other, where the remoteness of the shores deprives the sediment of land waste, or at least of enough of that material in any such share as can affect the character of the deposits. what we may term the littoral or shore zone of the sea occupies a belt of prevailingly shallow water, varying in width from a few score to a few hundred miles. where the bottom descends steeply from the coast, where there are no strong off-shore setting currents, and where the region is not near the mouth of a large river which bears a great tide of sediment to the sea, the land waste may not affect the bottom for more than a mile or two from the shore. where these conditions are reversed, the _débris_ from the air-covered region may be found three or four hundred miles from the coast line. it should also be noted that the incessant up-and-down goings of the land result in a constant change in the position of the coast line, and consequently in the extension of the land sediment, in the course of a few geological periods over a far wider field of sea bottom than that to which they would attain if the shores remained steadfast. it is characteristic of the sediments deposited within the influence of the continental detritus that they vary very much in their action, and that this variation takes place not only horizontally along the shores in the same stratum, but vertically, in the succession of the beds. it also may be traced down the slope from the coast line to deep water. thus where all the _débris_ comes from the action of the waves, the deposits formed from the shore outwardly will consist of coarse materials, such as pebbles near the coast, of sand in the deeper and remoter section, and of finer silt in the part of the deposit which is farthest out. with each change in the level of the coast line the position of these belts will necessarily be altered. where a great river enters the sea, the changes in the volume of sediment which it from time to time sends forth, together with the alternations in the position of its point of discharge, led to great local complexities in the strata. moreover, the turbid water sent forth by the stream may, as in the case of the tide from the amazon, be drifted for hundreds of miles along the coast line or into the open sea. the most important variations which occur in the deposits of the littoral zone are brought about by the formations of rocks more or less composed of limestone. everywhere the sea is, as compared with lake waters, remarkably rich in organic life. next the shore, partly because the water is there shallow, but also because of its relative warmth and the extent to which it is in motion, organic life, both that of animals and plants, commonly develops in a very luxuriant way. only where the bottom is composed of drifting sands, which do not afford a foothold for those species which need to rest upon the shore, do we fail to find that surface thickly tenanted with varied forms. these are arranged according to the depth of the bottom. the species of marine plants which are attached to fixed objects are limited to the depth within which the sunlight effectively penetrates the water; in general, it may be said that they do not extend below a depth of one hundred feet. the animal forms are distributed, according to their kinds, over the floor, but few species having the capacity to endure any great range in the pressure of the sea water. only a few forms, indeed, extend from low tide to the depth of a thousand feet. the greatest development of organic life, the realm in which the largest number of species occur, and where their growth is most rapid, lies within about a hundred feet of the low-tide level. here sunlight, warmth, and motion in the water combine to favour organic development. it is in this region that coral reefs and other great accumulations of limestone, formed from the skeletons of polyps and mollusks, most abundantly occur. these deposits of a limy nature depend upon a very delicate adjustment of the conditions which favour the growth of certain creatures; very slight geographic changes, by inducing movements of sand or mud, are apt to interrupt their formation, bringing about a great and immediate alteration in the character of the deposits. thus it is that where geologists find considerable fields of rock, where limestones are intercalated with sandstones and deposits of clay, they are justified in assuming that the strata were laid down near some ancient shore. in general, these coast deposits become more and more limy as we go toward the tropical realms, and this for the reason that the species which secrete large amounts of lime are in those regions most abundant and attain the most rapid growth. the stony polyps, the most vigorous of the limestone makers, grow in large quantities only in the tropical realm, or near to it, where ocean streams of great warmth may provide the creatures with the conditions of temperature and food which they need. as we pass from the shore to the deeper sea, the share of land detritus rapidly diminishes until, as before remarked, at the distance of five hundred miles from the coast line, very little of that waste, except that from volcanoes, attains the bottom of the sea. by far the larger part of the contributions which go to the formation of these deep-sea strata come from organic remains, which are continually falling upon the sea floor. in part, this waste is derived from creatures which dwell upon the bottom; in considerable measure, however, it is from the dead bodies of those forms which live near the surface of the sea, and which when dying sink slowly through the intermediate realm to the bottom. owing to the absence of sunlight, the prevailingly cold water of the deeper seas, and the lack of vegetation in those realms, the growth of organic forms on the deep-sea floor is relatively slow. thus it happens that each shell or other contribution to the sediment lies for some time on the bottom before it is buried. while in this condition it is apt to be devoured by some of the many species which dwell on the bottom and subsist from the remains of animals and plants which they find there. in all cases the fossilization of any form depends upon the accumulation of sediment before the processes of destruction have overtaken them, and among these processes we must give the first place to the creatures which subsist on shells, bones, or other substances of like nature which find their way to the ocean floor. in the absolute darkness, the still water, and the exceeding cold of the deeper seas, animals find difficult conditions for development. moreover, in this deep realm there is no native vegetation, and, in general, but little material of this nature descends to the bottom from the surface of the sea. the result is, the animals have to subsist on the remains of other animals which at some step in the succession have obtained their provender from the plants which belong on the surface or in the shallow waters of the sea. this limitation of the food supply causes the depths of the sea to be a realm of continual hunger, a region where every particle of organic matter is apt to be seized upon by some needy creature. in consequence of the fact that little organic matter on the deeper sea floors escapes being devoured, the most of the material of this nature which goes into strata enters that state in a finely divided condition. in the group of worms alone--forms which in a great diversity of species inhabit the sea floor--we find creatures which are specially adapted to digesting the _débris_ which gathers on the sea bottom. wandering over this surface, much in the manner of our ordinary earthworms, these creatures devour the mud, voiding the matter from their bodies in a yet more perfectly divided form. hence it comes about that the limestone beds, so commonly formed beneath the open seas, are generally composed of materials which show but few and very imperfect fossils. studying any series of limestone beds, we commonly find that each layer, in greater or less degree, is made up of rather massive materials, which evidently came to their place in the form of a limy mud. very often this lime has crystallized, and thus has lost all trace of its original organic structure. one of the conspicuous features which may be observed in any succession of limestone beds is the partings or divisions into layers which occur with varied frequency. sometimes at vertical intervals of not more than one or two inches, again with spacings of a score of feet, we find divisional planes, which indicate a sudden change in the process of rock formation. the lime disappears, and in place of it we have a thin layer of very fine detritus, which takes on the form of a clay. examining these partings with care, we observe that on the upper surface on the limestone the remains of the animal which dwelt on the ancient sea floor are remarkably well preserved, they having evidently escaped the effect of the process which reduced their ancestors, whose remains constitute the layer, to mud. furthermore, we note that the shaly layer is not only lacking in lime, but commonly contains no trace of animals such as might have dwelt on the bottom. the fossils it bears are usually of species which swam in the overlying water and came to the bottom after death. following up through the layer of shale, we note that the ordinary bottom life gradually reappears, and shortly becomes so plentiful that the deposit resumes the character which it had before the interruption began. often, however, we note that the assemblage of species which dwelt on the given area of sea floor has undergone a considerable change. forms in existence in the lower layer may be lacking in the upper, their place being taken by new varieties. so far the origin of these divisional planes in marine deposits has received little attention from geologists; they have, indeed, assumed that each of these alterations indicates some sudden disturbance of the life of the sea floors. they have, however, generally assumed that the change was due to alterations in the depth of the sea or in the run of ocean currents. it seems to the writer, however, that while these divisions may in certain cases be due to the above-mentioned and, indeed, to a great variety of causes, they are in general best to be explained by the action of earthquakes. water being an exceedingly elastic substance, an earthquake passes through it with much greater speed than it traverses the rocks which support the ocean floor. the result is that, when the fluid and solid oscillate in the repeated swingings which a shock causes, they do not move together, but rub over each other, the independent movements having the swing of from a few inches to a foot or two in shocks of considerable energy. when the sea bottom and the overlying water, vibrating under the impulse of an earthquake shock, move past each other, the inevitable result is the formation of muddy water; the very fine silt of the bottom is shaken up into the fluid, which afterward descends as a sheet to its original position. it is a well-known fact that such muddying of water, in which species accustomed to other conditions dwell, inevitably leads to their death by covering their breathing organs and otherwise disturbing the delicately balanced conditions which enable them to exist. we find, in fact, that most of the tenants of the water, particularly the forms which dwell upon the bottom, are provided with an array of contrivances which enable them to clear away from their bodies such small quantities of silt as may inconvenience them. thus, in the case of our common clam, the breathing organs are covered with vibratory cilia, which, acting like brooms, sweep off any foreign matter which may come upon their surfaces. moreover, the creature has a long, double, spoutlike organ, which it can elevate some distance above the bottom, through which it draws and discharges the water from which it obtains food and air. other forms, such as the crinoids, or sea lilies, elevate the breathing parts on top of tall stems of marvellous construction, which brings those vital organs at the level, it may be, of three or four feet above the zone of mud. in consequence of the peculiar method of growth, the crinoids often escape the damage done by the disturbance of the bottom, and thus form limestone beds of remarkable thickness; sometimes, indeed, we find these layers composed mainly of crinoidal remains, which exhibit only slight traces of partings such as we have described, being essentially united for the depth of ten or twenty feet. where the layers have been mainly accumulated by shellfish, their average thickness is less than half a foot. when we examine the partitions between the layers of limestone, we commonly find that, however thin, they generally extend for an indefinite distance in every direction. the writer has traced some of these for miles; never, indeed, has he been able to find where they disappeared. this fact makes it clear that the destruction which took place at the stage where these partings were formed was widespread; so far as it was due to earthquake shocks, we may fairly believe that in many cases it occurred over areas which were to be measured by tens of thousands of square miles. indeed, from what we know of earthquake shocks, it seems likely that the devastation may at times have affected millions of square miles. another class of accidents connected with earthquakes may also suddenly disturb the mud on the sea bottom. when, as elsewhere noted, a shock originates beneath the sea, the effect is suddenly to elevate the water over the seat of the jarring and the regions thereabouts to the height of some feet. this elevation quickly takes the shape of a ringlike wave, which rolls off in every direction from its point of origin. where the sea is deep, the effect of this wave on the bottom may be but slight; but as the undulation attains shallower water, and in proportion to the shoaling, the front of the surge is retarded in its advance by the friction of the bottom, while the rear part, being in deeper water, crowds upon the advancing line. the action is precisely that which has been described as occurring in wind-made waves as they approach the beach; but in this last-named group of undulations, because of the great width of the swell, the effect of the shallowing is evident in much deeper water. it is likely that at the depth of a thousand feet the passing of one of these vast surges born of earthquakes may so stir the mud of the sea floor as to bring about a widespread destruction of life, and thus give rise to many of the partitions between strata. if we examine with the microscope the fine-grained silts which make up the shaly layers between limestones, we find the materials to be mostly of inorganic origin. it is hard to trace the origin of the mineral matter which it contains; some of the fragments are likely to prove of volcanic origin; others, bits of dust from meteorites; yet others, dust blown from the land, which may, as we know, be conveyed for any distance across the seas. mingled with this sediment of an inorganic origin we almost invariably find a share of organic waste, derived not from creatures which dwelt upon the bottom, but from those which inhabited the higher-lying waters. if, now, we take a portion of the limestone layer which lies above or below the shale parting, and carefully dissolve out with acids the limy matter which it contains, we obtain a residuum which in general character, except so far as the particles may have been affected by the acid, is exactly like the material which forms the claylike partition. we are thus readily led to the conclusion that on the floors of the deeper seas there is constantly descending, in the form of a very slow shower, a mass of mineral detritus. where organic life belonging to the species which secrete hard shells or skeletons is absent, this accumulation, proceeding with exceeding slowness, gradually accumulates layers, which take on a shaly character. where limestone-making animals abound, they so increase the rate of deposition that the proportion of the mineral material in the growing strata is very much reduced; it may, indeed, become as small as one per cent of the mass. in this case we may say that the deposit of limestone grew a hundred times as fast as the intervening beds of shale. the foregoing considerations make it tolerably clear that the sea floor is in receipt of two diverse classes of sediment--those of a mineral and those of an organic origin. the mineral, or inorganic, materials predominate along the shores. they gradually diminish in quantity toward the open sea, where the supply is mainly dependent on the substances thrown forth from volcanoes, on pumice in its massive or its comminuted form--i.e., volcanic dust, states of lava in which the material, because of the vesicles which it contains, can float for ages before it comes to rest on the sea bottom. variations in the volcanic waste contributed to the sea floor may somewhat affect the quantity of the inorganic sediments, but, as a whole, the downfalling of these fragments is probably at a singularly uniform rate. it is otherwise with the contributions of sediment arising from organic forms. this varies in a surprising measure. on the coral reefs, such as form in the mid oceans, the proportion of matter which has not come into the accumulation through the bodies of animals and plants may be as small as one tenth of one per cent, or less. in the deeper seas, it is doubtful whether the rate of animal growth is such as to permit the formation of any beds which have less than one half of their mass made up of materials which fell through the water. in certain areas of the open seas the upper part of the water is dwelt in by a host of creatures, mostly foraminifera, which extract limestone from the water, and, on dying, send their shells to the bottom. thus in the north atlantic, even where the sea floor is of great depth beneath the surface, there is constantly accumulating a mass of limy matter, which is forming very massive limestone strata, somewhat resembling chalk deposits, such as abundantly occur in great britain, in the neighbouring parts of europe, in texas, and elsewhere. accumulations such as this, where the supply is derived from the surface of the water, are not affected by the accidents which divide beds made on the bottom in the manner before described. they may, therefore, have the singularly continuous character which we note in the english chalk, where, for the thickness of hundreds of feet, we may have no evident partitions, except certain divisions, which have evidently originated long after the beds were formed. we have already noted the fact that, while the floors of the deeper seas appear to lack mountainous elevations, those arising from the folding of strata, they are plentifully scattered over with volcanic cones. we may therefore suppose that, in general, the deposits formed on the sea floor are to a great extent affected by the materials which these vents cast forth. lava streams and showers represent only a part of the contributions from volcanoes, which finally find their way to the bottom. in larger part, the materials thrown forth are probably first dissolved in the water and then taken up by the organic species; only after the death of these creatures does the waste go to the bottom. as hosts of these creatures have no solid skeleton to contribute to the sea floor, such mineral matter as they may obtain is after their death at once restored to the sea. not only does the contribution of organic sediment diminish in quantity with the depth which is attained, but the deeper parts of the ocean bed appear to be in a condition where no accumulations of this nature are made, and this for the reason that the water dissolves the organic matter more rapidly than it is laid down. thus in place of limestone, which would otherwise form, we have only a claylike residuum, such as is obtained when we dissolve lime rocks in acids. this process of solution, by which the limy matter deposited on the bottom is taken back into the water, goes on everywhere, but at a rate which increases with the depth. this increase is due in part to the augmentation of pressure, and in part to the larger share of carbonic dioxide which the water at great depths holds. the result is, that explorations with the dredge seem to indicate that on certain parts of the deeper sea floors the rocks are undergoing a process of dissolution comparable to that which takes place in limestone caverns. so considerable is the solvent work that a large part of the inorganic waste appears to be taken up by the waters, so as to leave the bottom essentially without sedimentary accumulations. the sea, in a word, appears to be eating into rocks which it laid down before the depression attained its present great depth. we should here note something of the conditions which determine the supply of food which the marine animals obtain. first of all, we may recur to the point that the ocean waters appear to contain something of all the earth materials which do not readily decompose when they are taken into the state of solution. these mineral substances, including the metals, are obtained in part from the lands, through the action of the rain water and the waves, but perhaps in larger share from the volcanic matter which, in the form of floating lava, pumice, or dust, is plentifully delivered to the sea. except doubtfully, and at most in a very small way, this chemical store of the sea water can not be directly taken into the structures of animals; it can only be immediately appropriated by the marine plants. these forms can only develop in that superficial realm of the seas which is penetrated by the sunlight, or say within the depth of five hundred feet, mostly within one hundred feet of the surface, about one thirtieth of the average, and about one fiftieth of the maximum ocean depth. on this marine plant life, and in a small measure on the vegetable matter derived from the land, the marine animals primarily depend for their provender. through the conditions which bring about the formation of _sargassum_ seas, those areas of the ocean where seaweeds grow afloat, as well as by the water-logging and weighting down of other vegetable matter, some part of the plant remains is carried to the sea floor, even to great depths; but the main dependence of the deep-sea forms of animals is upon other animal forms, which themselves may have obtained their store from yet others. in fact, in any deep-sea form we might find it necessary to trace back the food by thousands of steps before we found the creature which had access to the vegetable matter. it is easy to see how such conditions profoundly limit the development of organic being in the abysm of the ocean. the sedentary animals, or those which are fixed to the sea bottom--a group which includes the larger part of the marine species--have to depend for their sustenance on the movement of the water which passes their station. if the seas were perfectly still, none of these creatures except the most minute could be fed; therefore the currents of the ocean go far by their speed to determine the rate at which life may flourish. at great depths, as we have seen, these movements are practically limited to that which is caused by the slow movement which the tide brings about. the amount of this motion is proportional to the depth of the sea; in the deeper parts, it carries the water to and fro twice each day for the distance of about two hundred and fifty feet. in the shallower water this motion increases in proportion to the shoaling, and in the regions near the shores the currents of the sea which, except the massive drift from the poles, do not usually touch the bottom, begin to have their influence. where the water is less than a hundred feet in depth, each wave contributes to the movement, which attains its maximum near the shore, where every surge sweeps the water rapidly to and fro. it is in this surge belt, where the waves are broken, that marine animals are best provided with food, and it is here that their growth is most rapid. if the student will obtain a pint of water from the surf, he will find that it is clouded by fragments of organic matter, the quantity in a pound of the fluid often amounting to the fiftieth part of its weight. he will thus perceive that along the shore line, though the provision of victuals is most abundant, the store is made from the animals and plants which are ground up in the mill. in a word, while the coast is a place of rapid growth, it is also a region of rapid destruction; only in the case of the coral animals, which associate their bodies with a number of myriads in large and elaborately organized communities, do we find animals which can make such head against the action of the waves that they can build great deposits in their realm. it should be noted that a part of the advantage which is afforded to organic life by the shore belt is due to the fact that the waters are there subjected to a constant process of aëration by the whipping into foam and spray which occurs where the waves overturn. it will be interesting to the student to note the great number of mechanical contrivances which have been devised to give security to animals and plants which face these difficult conditions arising from successive violent blows of falling water. among these may be briefly noted those of the limpets--mollusks which dwell in a conical shell, which faces the water with a domelike outside, and which at the moment of the stroke is drawn down upon the rock by the strong muscle which fastens the creature to its foundation. the barnacles, which with their wedge-shaped prows cut the water at the moment of the stroke, but open in the pauses between the waves, so that the creature may with its branching arms grasp at the food which floats about it; the nullipores, forms of seaweed which are framed of limestone and cling firmly to the rock--afford yet other instances of protective adaptations contrived to insure the safety of creatures which dwell in the field of abundant food supply. * * * * * the facts above presented will show the reader that the marine sediments are formed under conditions which permit a great variety in the nature of the materials of which they are composed. as soon as the deposits are built into rocks and covered by later accumulations, their materials enter the laboratory of the under earth, where they are subjected to progressive changes. even before they have attained a great depth, through the laying down of later deposits upon them, changes begin which serve to alter their structure. the fragments of a soluble kind begin to be dissolved, and are redeposited, so that the mass commonly becomes much more solid, passing from the state of detritus to that of more or less solid rock. when yet more deeply buried, and thereby brought into a realm of greater warmth, or perhaps when penetrated by dikes and thereby heated, these changes go yet further. more of the material is commonly rearranged by solution and redeposition, so that limestone may be converted into crystalline marble, granular sandstones into firm masses, known as quartzites, and clays into the harder form of slate. where the changes go to the extreme point, rocks originally distinctly bedded probably may be so taken to pieces and made over that all traces of their stratification may be destroyed, all fossils obliterated, and the stone transformed into mica schist, or granite or other crystalline rock. it may be injected into the overlying strata in the form of dikes, or it may be blown forth into the air through volcanoes. involved in mountain-folding, after being more or less changed in the manner described, the beds may become tangled together like the rumpled leaves of a book, or even with the complexity of snarled thread. all these changes of condition makes it difficult for the geologist to unravel the succession of strata so that he may know the true order of the rocks, and read from them the story of the successive geological periods. this task, though incomplete, has by the labours of many thousand men been so far advanced that we are now able to divide the record into chapters, the divisions of the geologic ages, and to give some account of the succession of events, organic and geographic, which have occurred since life began to write its records. earthquakes. in ordinary experience we seem to behold the greater part of the earth which meets our eyes as fixed in its position. a better understanding shows us that nothing in this world is immovable. in the realm of the inorganic world the atoms and molecules even in solid bodies have to be conceived as endowed with ceaseless though ordered motions. even when matter is built into the solid rock, it is doubtful whether any grain of it ever comes really to rest. under the strains which arise from the contraction of the earth's interior and the chemical changes which the rocks undergo, each bit is subject to ever-changing thrusts, which somewhat affect its position. if we in any way could bring a grain of sand from any stratum under a microscope, so that we could perceive its changes of place, we should probably find that it was endlessly swaying this way and that, with reference to an ideally fixed point, such as the centre of the earth. but even that centre, whether of gravity or of figure, is probably never at rest. earth movements may be divided into two groups--those which arise from the bodily shifting of matter, which conveys the particles this way or that, or, as we say, change their place, and those which merely produce vibration, in which the particles, after their vibratory movement, return to their original place. for purposes of illustration the first, or translatory motion, may be compared to that which takes place when a bell is carried along upon a locomotive or a ship; and the second, or vibratory movement, to what takes place when the bell is by a blow made to ring. it is with these ringing movements, as we may term them, that we find ourselves concerned when we undertake the study of earthquakes. it is desirable that the reader should preface his study of earthquakes by noting the great and, at the same time, variable elasticity of rocks. in the extreme form this elasticity is very well shown when a toy marble, which is made of a close-textured rock, such as that from which it derives its name, is thrown upon a pavement composed of like dense material. experiment will show that the little sphere can often be made to bounce to the height of twenty feet without breaking. if, then, with the same energy the marble is thrown upon a brick floor, the rebound will be very much diminished. it is well to consider what happens to produce the rebound. when the sphere strikes the floor it changes its shape, becoming shorter in the axis at right angles to the point which was struck, and at the same instant expanded along the equator of that axis. the flattening remains for only a small fraction of a second; the sphere vibrates so that it stretches along the line on which it previously shortened, and, as this movement takes place with great swiftness, it may be said to propel itself away from the floor. at the same time a similar movement goes on in the rock of the floor, and, where the rate of vibration is the same, the two kicks are coincident, and so the sphere is impelled violently away from the point of contact. where the marble comes in contact with brick, in part because of the lesser elasticity of that material, due to its rather porous structure, and partly because it does not vibrate at the same rate as the marble, the expelling blow is much less strong. all rocks whatever, even those which appear as incoherent sands, are more or less set into vibratory motion whenever they are struck by a blow. in the crust of the earth various accidents occur which may produce that sudden motion which we term a blow. when we have examined into the origin of these impulses, and the way in which they are transmitted through the rocks, we obtain a basis for understanding earthquake shocks. the commonest cause of the jarrings in the earth is found in the formation of fractures, known as faults. if the reader has ever been upon a frozen lake at a time when the weather was growing colder, and the ice, therefore, was shrinking, he may have noted the rending sound and the slight vibration which comes with the formation of a crack traversing the sheet of ice. at such a time he feels a movement which is an earthquake, and which represents the simpler form of those tremors arising from the sudden rupture of fault planes. if he has a mind to make the experiment, he may hang a bullet by a thread from a small frame which rests upon the ice, and note that as the vibration occurs the little pendulum sways to and fro, thus indicating the oscillations of the ice. the same instrument will move in an identical manner when affected by a quaking in the rocks. where the rocks are set in vibration by a rent which is formed in them, the phenomena are more complicated, and often on a vastly larger scale than in the simple conditions afforded by a sheet of ice. the rocks on either side of the rupture generally slide over each other, and the opposing masses are rent in their friction upon one another; the result is, not only the first jar formed by the initial fracture, but a great many successive movements from the other breakages which occur. again, in the deeper parts of the crust, the fault fissures are often at the moment of their formation filled by a violent inrush of liquid rock. this, as it swiftly moves along, tears away masses from the walls, and when it strikes the end of the opening delivers a blow which may be of great violence. the nature of this stroke may be judged by the familiar instance where the relatively slow-flowing stream from a hydrant pipe is suddenly choked by closing the stopcock. unless the plumber provides a cushion of air to diminish the energy of the blow, it is often strong enough to shake the house. again, when steam or other gases are by a sudden diminution of pressure enabled to expand, they may deliver a blow which is exactly like that caused by the explosion of gunpowder, which, even when it rushes against the soft cushion of the air, may cause a jarring that may be felt as well as heard to a great distance. such movements very frequently occur in the eruptions of volcanoes; they cause a quivering of the earth, which may be felt for a great distance from the immediate seat of the disturbance. when by any of the sudden movements which have been above described a jar is applied to the rocks, the wave flies through the more or less elastic mass until the energy involved in it is exhausted. this may not be brought about until the motion has travelled for the distance of hundreds of miles. in the great earthquake of , known as the lisbon shock, the records make it seem probable that the movement was felt over one eighth part of the earth's surface. such great disturbances probably bring about a motion of the rocks near the point of origin, which may be expressed in oscillations having an amplitude of one to two feet; but in the greater number of earthquakes the maximum swing probably does not exceed the tenth of that amount. very sensible shaking, even such as may produce considerable damage to buildings, are caused by shocks in which the earth vibrates with less than an inch of swing. when a shock originates, the wave in the rocks due to the compression which the blow inflicts runs at a speed varying with the elasticity of the substance, but at the rate of about fifteen hundred feet a second. the movements of this wave are at right angles to the seat of the originating disturbance, so that the shock may come to the surface in a line forming any angle between the vertical and the nearly horizontal. where, as in a volcanic eruption, the shock originates with an explosion, these waves go off in circles. where, however, as is generally the case, the shock originates in a fault plane, which may have a length and depth of many miles, the movement has an elliptical form. if the earthquake wave ran through a uniform and highly elastic substance, such as glass, it would move everywhere with equal speed, and, in the case of the greater disturbances, the motion might be felt over the whole surface of the earth. but as the motion takes place through rocks of varying elasticity, the rate at which it journeys is very irregular. moving through materials of one density, and with a rate of vibration determined by those conditions, the impulse is with difficulty communicated to strata which naturally vibrate at another speed. in many cases, as where a shock passing through dense crystalline strata encounters a mass of soft sandstone, the wave, in place of going on, is reflected back toward its point of origin. these earthquake echoes sometimes give rise to very destructive movements. it often happens that before the original tremors of a shock have passed away from a point on the surface the reflex movements rush in, making a very irregular motion, which may be compared to that of the waves in a cross-sea. the foregoing account of earthquake action will serve to prepare the reader for an understanding of those very curious and important effects which these accidents produce in and on the earth. below the surface the sensible action of earthquake shocks is limited. it has often been observed that people in mines hardly note a swaying which may be very conspicuous to those on the surface, the reason for this being that underground, where the rocks are firmly bound together, all those swingings which are due to the unsupported position of such objects as buildings, columnar rocks, trees, and the waters of the earth, are absent. the effect of the movements which earthquakes impress on the under earth is mainly due to the fact that in almost every part of the crust tensions or strains of other kinds are continually forming. these may for ages prove without effect until the earth is jarred, when motions will suddenly take place which in a moment may alter the conditions of the rocks throughout a wide field. in a word, a great earthquake caused by the formation of an extensive fault is likely to produce any number of slight dislocations, each of which is in turn shock-making, sending its little wave to complicate the great oscillation. nor does the perturbing effect of these jarring movements cease with the fractures which they set up and the new strains which are in turn developed by the motions which they induce. the alterations of the rocks which are involved in chemical changes are favoured by such motions. it is a familiar experience that a vessel of water, if kept in the state of repose, may have its temperature lowered three or four degrees below the freezing point without becoming frozen. if the side of the vessel is then tapped with the finger, so as to send a slight quake through the mass, it will instantly congeal. molecular rearrangements are thus favoured by shocks, and the consequences of those which run through the earth are, from a chemical point of view, probably important. the reader may help himself to understand something of the complicated problem of earth tensions, and the corresponding movements of the rocks, by considering certain homely illustrations. he may observe how the soil cracks as it shrinks in times of drought, the openings closing when it rains. in a similar way the frozen earth breaks open, sometimes with a shock which is often counted as an earthquake. again, the ashes in a sifter or the gravel on a sieve show how each shaking may relieve certain tensions established by gravity, while they create others which are in turn to be released by the next shock. an ordinary dwelling house sways and strains with the alternations of temperature and moisture to which it is subjected in the round of climatal alterations. now and then we note the movements in a cracking sound, but by far the greater part of them escape observation. with this sketch of the mechanism of earthquake shocks we now turn to consider their effects upon the surface of the earth. from a geological point of view, the most important effect of earthquake shocks is found in the movement of rock masses down steep slopes, which is induced by the shaking. everywhere on the land the agents of decay and erosion tend to bring heavy masses into position where gravitation naturally leads to their downfall, but where they may remain long suspended, provided they are not disturbed. thus, wherever there are high and steep cliffs, great falls of rock are likely to occur when the earthquake movements traverse the under earth. in more than one instance observers, so placed that they commanded a view of distant mountains, have noticed the downfall of precipices in the path of the shock before the trembling affected the ground on which they stood. in the famous earthquake of , which devastated southern italy, the prince of scylla persuaded his people to take refuge in their boats, hoping that they might thereby escape the destruction which threatened them on the land. no sooner were the unhappy folk on the water than the fall of neighbouring cliffs near the sea produced a great wave, which overwhelmed the vessels. where the soil lies upon steep slopes, in positions in which it has accumulated during ages of tranquillity, a great shock is likely to send it down into the valleys in vast landslides. thus, in the earthquake of , the blue mountains of jamaica were so violently shaken that the soil and the forests which stood on it were precipitated into the river beds, so that many tree-clad summits became fields of bare rock. the effect of this action is immensely to increase the amount of detritus which the streams convey to the sea. after the great jamaica shock, above noted, the rivers for a while ceased to flow, their waters being stored in the masses of loose material. then for weeks they poured forth torrents of mud and the _débris_ of vegetation--materials which had to be swept away as the streams formed new channels. in all regions where earthquake movements are frequent, and the shock of considerable violence, the trained observer notes that the surfaces of bare rock are singularly extensive, the fact being that many of these areas, where the slope lies at angles of from ten to thirty degrees, which in an unshaken region would be thickly soil-covered, are deprived of the coating by the downward movement of the waste which the disturbances bring about. a familiar example of this action may be had by watching the workmen engaged in sifting sand, by casting the material on a sloping grating. the work could not be done but for an occasional blow applied to the sifter. an arrangement for such a jarring motion is commonly found in various ore-dressing machines, where the object is to move fragments of matter over a sloping surface. even where the earth is so level that an earthquake shock does not cause a sliding motion of the materials, such as above described, other consequences of the shaking may readily be noted. as the motion runs through the mass, provided the movement be one of considerable violence, crevices several feet in width, and sometimes having the length of miles, are often formed. in most cases these fissures, opened by one pulsation of the shock, are likely to be closed by the return movement, which occurs the instant thereafter. the consequences of this action are often singular, and in cases constitute the most frightful elements of a shock which the sufferer beholds. in the great earthquake of , which ravaged the section of the mississippi valley between the mouth of the ohio and vicksburg, these crevices were so numerously formed that the pioneers protected themselves from the danger of being caught in their jaws by felling trees so that they lay at right angles to the direction in which the rents extended, building on these timbers platforms to support their temporary dwelling places. the records of earthquakes supply many instances in which people have been caught in these earth fissures, and in a single case it is recorded that a man who disappeared into the cavity was in a moment cast forth in the rush of waters which in this, as in many other cases, spouts forth as the walls of the opening come together. sometimes these rents are attended by a dislocation, which brings the earth on one side much higher than on the other. the step thus produced may be many miles in length, and may have a height of twenty feet or more. it needs no argument to show that we have here the top of a fault such as produced the shock, or it may be one of a secondary nature, such as any earthquake is likely to bring about in the strata which it traverses. in certain cases two faults conjoin their action, so that a portion of the surface disappears beneath the earth, entombing whatever may have stood on the vanished site. thus in the great shock known as that of lisbon, which occurred in , the stone quay along the harbour, where many thousand people had sought refuge from the falling buildings of the city, suddenly sank down with the multitude, and the waters closed over it; no trace of the people or of the structure was to be found after the shock was over. there is a story to the effect that during the same earthquake an arab village in northern africa sank down, the earth on either side closing over it, so that no trace of the habitations remained. in both these instances the catastrophes are best explained by the diagram. [illustration: fig. .--diagram showing how a portion of the earth's surface may be sunk by faulting. fig. a shows the original position; b, the position after faulting; b b' and c c' the planes of the faults; the arrows the direction of the movement.] in the earthquake of the alluvial plains on either side of the mississippi at many points sank down so that arable land was converted into lakes; the area of these depressions probably amounted to some hundred square miles. the writer, on examining these sunken lands, found that the subsidences had occurred where the old moats or abandoned channels of the great river had been filled in with a mixture of decaying timber and river silt. when violently shaken, this loose-textured _débris_ naturally settled down, so that it formed a basin occupied by a crescent-shaped lake. the same process of settling plentifully goes on wherever the rocks are still in an uncemented state. the result is often the production of changes which lead to the expulsion of gases. thus, in the charleston earthquake of , the surface over an area of many hundred square miles was pitted with small craters, formed by the uprush of water impelled by its contained gases. these little water volcanoes--for such we may call them--sometimes occur to the number of a dozen or more on each acre of ground in the violently shaken district. they indicate one result of the physical and chemical alterations which earthquake shocks bring about. as earthquakes increase in violence their effect upon the soil becomes continually greater, until in the most violent shocks all the loose materials on the surface of the earth may be so shaken about as to destroy even the boundaries of fields. after the famous earthquake of riobamba, which occurred on the west coast of south america in , the people of the district in which the town of that name was situated were forced to redivide their land, the original boundaries having disappeared. fortunately, shocks of this description are exceedingly rare. they occur in only a few parts of the world. certain effects of earthquakes where the shock emerges beneath the sea have been stated in the account of volcanic eruptions (see page ). we may therefore note here only certain of the more general facts. while passing through the deep seas, this wave may have a height of not more than two or three feet and a width of some score miles. as it rolls in upon the shore the front of the undulation is retarded by the friction of the bottom in such a measure that its speed is diminished, while the following part of the waves, being less checked, crowds up toward this forward part. the result is, that the surge mounts ever higher and higher as it draws near the shore, upon which it may roll as a vast wave having the height of fifty feet or more and a width quite unparalleled by any wave produced from wind action. waves of this description are most common in the pacific ocean. although but occasional, the damage which they may inflict is very great. as the movement approaches the shore, vessels, however well anchored, are dragged away to seaward by the great back lash of the wave, a phenomenon which may be perceived even in the case of the ordinary surf. thus forced to seaward, the crews of the ships may find their vessels drawn out for the distance of some miles, until they come near the face of the advancing billow. this, as it approaches the shore, straightens up to the wall-fronted form, and then topples upon the land. those vessels which are not at once crushed down by the blow are generally hurled far inland by the rush of waters. in the great jamaica earthquake of a british man-of-war was borne over the tops of certain warehouses and deposited at a distance from the shore. owing to the fact that water is a highly elastic material, the shocks transmitted to it from the bottom are sent onward with their energy but little diminished. while the impulse is very violent, these oscillations may prove damaging to shipping. the log-books of mariners abound in stories of how vessels were dismasted or otherwise badly shaken by a sudden blow received in the midst of a quiet sea. the impression commonly conveyed to the sailors is that the craft has struck upon a rock. the explanation is that an earthquake jar, in traversing the water, has delivered its blow to the ship. as the speed of this jarring movement is very much greater than that of any ordinary wave, the blow which it may strike may be most destructive. there seems, indeed, little reason to doubt that a portion of the vessels which are ever disappearing in the wilderness of the ocean are lost by the crushing effect of these quakings which pass through the waters of the deep. we have already spoken of the earthquake shock as an oscillation. it is a quality of all bodies which oscillate under the influence of a blow, such as originates in earthquake shocks, to swing to and fro, after the manner of the metal in a bell or a tuning fork, in a succession of movements, each less than the preceding, until the impulse is worn out, or rather, we should in strict sense say, changed to other forms of energy. the result is, that even in the slightest earthquake shock the earth moves not once to and fro, but very many times. in a considerable shock the successive diminishing swingings amount to dozens before they become so slight as to elude perception. although the first swaying is the strongest, and generally the most destructive, the quick to-and-fro motions are apt to continue and to complete the devastation which the first brings about. the vibrations due to any one shock take place with great rapidity. they may, indeed, be compared to those movements which we perceive in the margin of a large bell when it has received a heavy blow from the clapper. the reader has perhaps seen that for a moment the rim of the bell vibrates with such rapidity that it has a misty look--that is, the motions elude the sight. it is easy to see that a shaking of this kind is particularly calculated to disrupt any bodies which stand free in the air and are supported only at their base. in what we may call the natural architecture of the earth, the pinnacles and obelisks, such as are formed in many high countries, the effect of these shakings is destructive, and, as we have seen, even the firmer-placed objects, such as the strong-walled cliffs and steep slopes of earth, break down under the assaults. it is therefore no matter of surprise that the buildings which man erects, where they are composed of masonry, suffer greatly from these tremblings. in almost all cases human edifices are constructed without regard to other problems of strength than those which may be measured by their weight and the resistance to fracture from gravitation alone. they are not built with expectation of a quaking, but of a firm-set earth. the damage which earthquakes do to buildings is in most cases due to the fact that they sway their walls out of plumb, so that they are no longer in position to support the weight which they have to bear. the amount of this swaying is naturally very much greater than that which the earth itself experiences in the movement. a building of any height with its walls unsupported by neighbouring structures may find its roof rocked to and fro through an arc which has a length of feet, while its base moves only through a length of inches. the reader may see an example of this nature if he will poise a thin book or a bit of plank a foot long on top of a small table; then jarring the table so that it swings through a distance of say a quarter of an inch, he will see that the columnar object swings at its top through a much greater distance, and is pretty sure to be overturned. where a building carries a load in its upper parts, such as may be afforded by its heavy roof or the stores which it contains, the effect of an earthquake shock such as carries the earth to and fro becomes much more destructive than it might otherwise be. this weight lags behind when the earth slips forward in the first movement of the oscillation, with the effect that the walls of the building are pretty sure to be thrust so far beyond the perpendicular that they give way and are carried down by the weight which they bore. it has often been remarked in earthquake shocks that tall columns, even where composed of many blocks, survive a shock which overturns lower buildings where thin walls support several floors, on each of which is accumulated a considerable amount of weight. in the case of the column, the strains are even, and the whole structure may rock to and fro without toppling over. as the energy of the undulations diminish, it gradually regains the quiet state without damage. in the ordinary edifice the irregular disposition of the weight does not permit the uniform movement which may insure safety. thus, if the city of washington should ever be violently shaken, the great obelisk, notwithstanding that it is five hundred feet high, may survive a disturbance which would wreck the lower and more massive edifices which lie about it. where, as is fortunately rarely the case, the great shock comes to the earth in a vertical direction, the effect upon all movable objects is in the highest measure disastrous. in such a case buildings are crushed as if by the stroke of a giant's hand. the roofs and floors are at one stroke thrown to the foundations, and all the parts of the walls which are not supported by strong masonry continuous from top to bottom are broken to pieces. in such cases it has been remarked that the bodies of men are often thrown considerable distances. it is asserted, indeed, that in the riobamba shock they were cast upward to the height of more than ninety feet. it is related that the solo survivor of a congregation which had hastened at the outset of the disturbance into a church was thrown by the greatest and most destructive shock upward and through a window the base of which was at the height of more than twenty feet from the ground. it is readily understood that an earthquake shock may enter a building in any direction between the vertical and the horizontal. as the movement exhausts itself in passing from the place of its origin, the horizontal shocks are usually of least energy. those which are accurately vertical are only experienced where the edifices are placed immediately over the point where the motion originates. it follows, therefore, that the destructive work of earthquakes is mainly performed in that part of the field where the motion is, as regards its direction, between the vertical and the horizontal--a position in which the edifice is likely to receive at once the destructive effect arising from the sharp upward thrust of the vertical movement and the oscillating action of that which is in a horizontal direction. against strains of this description, where the movements have an amplitude of more than a few inches, no ordinary masonry edifice can be made perfectly safe; the only tolerable security is attained where the building is of well-framed timber, which by its elasticity permits a good deal of motion without destructive consequences. even such buildings, however, those of the strongest type, may be ruined by the greater earthquakes. thus, in the mississippi valley earthquake of , the log huts of the frontiersmen, which are about as strong as any buildings can be made, were shaken to pieces by the sharp and reiterated shocks. it is by no means surprising to find that the style of architecture adopted in earthquake countries differs from that which is developed in regions where the earth is firm-set. the people generally learn that where their buildings must meet the trials of earthquakes they have to be low and strong, framed in the manner of fortifications, to withstand the assault of this enemy. we observe that gothic architecture, where a great weight of masonry is carried upon slender columns and walls divided by tall windows, though it became the dominant style in the relatively stable lands of northern europe, never gained a firm foothold in those regions about the mediterranean which are frequently visited by severe convulsions of the earth. there the grecian or the romanesque styles, which are of a much more massive type, retain their places and are the fashions to the present day. even this manner of building, though affording a certain security against slight tremblings, is not safe in the greater shocks. again and again large areas in southern italy have been almost swept of their buildings by the destructive movements which occur in that realm. the only people who have systematically adapted their architectural methods to earthquake strains are the japanese, who in certain districts where such risks are to be encountered construct their dwellings of wood, and place them upon rollers, so that they may readily move to and fro as the shock passes beneath them. in a measure the people of san francisco have also provided against this danger by avoiding dangerous weights in the upper parts of their buildings, as well as the excessive height to which these structures are lifted in some of our american towns. earthquakes of sensible energy appear to be limited to particular parts of the earth's crust. the regions, indeed, where within the period of human history shocks of devastating energy have occurred do not include more than one fifteenth part of the earth's surface. there is a common notion that these movements are most apt to happen in volcanic regions. it is, indeed, true that sensible shocks commonly attend the explosions from great craters, but the records clearly show that these movements are very rarely of destructive energy. thus in the regions about the base of vesuvius and of Ætna, the two volcanoes of which most is known, the shocks have never been productive of extensive disaster. in fact, the reiterated slight jarrings which attend volcanic action appear to prevent the formation of those great and slowly accumulated strains which in their discharge produce the most violent tremblings of the earth. the greatest and most continuous earthquake disturbances of history--that before noted in the early days of this century, in the mississippi valley, where shocks of considerable violence continued for two years--came about in a field very far removed from active volcanoes. so, too, the disturbances beneath the atlantic floor which originated the shocks that led to the destruction of lisbon, and many other similar though less violent movements, are developed in a field apparently remote from living volcanoes. eastern new england, which has been the seat of several considerable earthquakes, is about as far away from active vents as any place on the habitable globe. we may therefore conclude that, while volcanoes necessarily produce shocks resulting from the discharge of their gases and the intrusion of lava into the dikes which are formed about them, the greater part of the important shocks are in no wise connected with volcanic explosions. with the exception of the earthquake in the mississippi valley, all the great shocks of which we have a record have occurred in or near regions where the rocks have been extensively disturbed by mountain-building forces, and where the indications lead us to believe that dislocations of strata, such as are competent to rive the beds asunder, may still be in progress. this, taken in connection with the fact that many of these shocks are attended by the formation of fault planes, which appear on the surface, lead us to the conclusion that earthquakes of the stronger kind are generally formed by the riving of fissures, which may or may not be developed upward to the surface. this view is supported by many careful observations on the effect which certain great earthquakes have exercised on the buildings which they have ravaged. the distinguished observer, mr. charles mallet, who visited the seat of the earthquake which, in , occurred in the province of calabria in italy, with great labour and skill determined the direction in which the shock moved through some hundreds of edifices on which it left the marks of its passage. platting these lines of motion, he found that they were all referred to a vertical plane lying at the depth of some miles beneath the surface, and extending for a great distance in a north and south direction. this method of inquiry has been applied to other fields, with the result that in the case of all the instances which have been subjected to this inquiry the seat of the shock has been traced to such a plane, which can best be accounted for by the supposition of a fault. the method pursued by mr. mallet in his studies of the origin of earthquakes, and by those who have continued his inquiry, may be briefly indicated as follows: examining disrupted buildings, it is easy to determine those which have been wrecked by a shock that emerged from the earth in a vertical direction. in these cases, though tall walls may remain standing, the roofs and floors are thrown into the cellars. with a dozen such instances the plane of what is called the seismic vertical is established (_seismos_ is the greek for earthquake). then on either side of this plane, which indicates the line but not the depth of the disturbance, other observations may be made which give the clew to the depth. thus a building may be found where the northwest corner at its upper part has been thrown off. such a rupture was clearly caused by an upward but oblique movement, which in the first half of the oscillation heaved the structure upwardly into the northwest, and then in the second half, or rebound, drew the mass of the building away from the unsupported corner, allowing that part of the masonry to fly off and fall to the ground. constructing a line at right angles to the plane of the fracture, it will be found to intersect the plane, the position of which has been in part determined by finding the line where it intersects the earth, or the seismic vertical before noted. multiplying such observations on either side of the last-mentioned line, the attitude of the underground parts of the plane, as well as the depth to which it attained, can be approximately determined. it is worth while to consider the extent to which earthquake shocks may affect the general quality of the people who dwell in countries where these disturbances occur with such frequency and violence as to influence their lives. there can be no question that wherever earthquakes occur in such a measure as to produce widespread terror, where, recurring from time to time, they develop in men a sense of abiding insecurity, they become potent agents of degradation. all the best which men do in creating a civilization rests upon a sense of confidence that their efforts may be accumulated from year to year, and that even after death the work of each man may remain as a heritage to his kind. it is likely, indeed, that in certain realms, as in southern italy, a part of the failure of the people to advance in culture is due to their long experience of such calamities, and the natural expectation that they will from time to time recur. in a similar way the spanish settlements in central and south america, which lie mostly in lands that are subject to disastrous shocks, may have been retarded by the despair, as well as the loss of property and life, which these accidents have so frequently inflicted upon them. it will not do, however, to attribute too much to such terrestrial influences. by far the most important element in determining the destiny of a people is to be found in their native quality, that which they owe to their ancestors of distant generations. in this connection it is well to consider the history of the icelandic people, where a small folk has for a thousand years been exposed to a range and severity of trials, such as earthquakes, volcanic explosions, and dearth of harvests may produce, and all these in a measure that few if any other countries experience. notwithstanding these misfortunes, the icelanders have developed and maintained a civilization which in all else, except its material results, on the average transcends that which has been won by any other folk in modern times. if a people have the determining spirit which leads to high living, they can successfully face calamities far greater than those which earthquakes inflict. it was long supposed that the regions where earthquakes are not noticeable by the unaided senses were exempt from all such disturbances. the observations which seismologists have made in recent years point to the conclusion that no part of the earth's surface is quite exempt from movements which, though not readily perceived, can be made visible by the use of appropriate instruments. with an apparatus known as the horizontal pendulum it is possible to observe vibrations which do not exceed in amplitude the hundredth part of an inch. this mechanism consists essentially of a slender bar supported near one end by two wires, one from above, the other from below. it may readily be conceived that any measurable movement will cause the longer end of the rod to sway through a considerable arc. wherever such a pendulum has been carefully observed in any district, it has been found that it indicates the occurrence of slight tremors. even certain changes of the barometer, which alter the weight of the atmosphere that rests upon the earth to the amount indicated by an inch in the height of the mercury column, appears in all cases to create such tremors. many of these slight shocks may be due to the effect of more violent quakings, which have run perhaps for thousands of miles from their point of origin, and have thus been reduced in the amplitude of their movement. others are probably due to the slight motion brought about through the chemical changes of the rocks, which are continuously going on. the ease with which even small motions are carried to a great distance may be judged by the fact that when the ground is frozen the horizontal pendulum will indicate the jarring due to a railway train at the distance of a mile or more from the track. in connection with the earth jarring, it would be well to note the occurrence of another, though physically different, kind of movement, which we may term earth swayings, or massive movements, which slowly dislocate the vertical, and doubtless also the horizontal, position of points upon its surface. it has more than once been remarked that in mountain countries, where accurate sights have been taken, the heights of points between the extremities of a long line appear somewhat to vary in the course of a term of years. thus at a place in the apennines, where two buildings separated by some miles of distance are commonly intervisible over the crest of a neighbouring peak, it has happened that a change of level of some one of the points has made it impossible to see the one edifice from the other. knowing as we do that the line of the seacoast is ever-changing, uprising taking place at some points and down-sinking at others, it seems not unlikely that these irregular swayings are of very common occurrence. moreover, astronomers are beginning to remark the fact that their observatories appear not to remain permanently in the same position--that is, they do not have exactly the same latitude and longitude. certain of these changes have recently been explained by the discovery of a new and hitherto unnoted movement of the polar axis. it is not improbable, however, that the irregular swaying of the earth's crust, due to the folding of strata and to the alterations in the volume of rocks which are continually going on, may have some share in bringing about these dislocations. measured by the destruction which was wrought to the interests of man, earthquakes deserve to be reckoned among the direst calamities of nature. since the dawn of history the records show us that the destruction of life which is to be attributed to them is to be counted by the millions. a catalogue of the loss of life in the accidents of this description which have occurred during the christian era has led the writer to suppose that probably over two million persons have perished from these shocks in the last nineteen centuries. nevertheless, as compared with other agents of destruction, such as preventable disease, war, or famine, the loss which has been inflicted by earth movements is really trifling, and almost all of it is due to an obstinate carelessness in the construction of buildings without reference to the risks which are known to exist in earthquake-ridden countries. although all our exact knowledge concerning the distribution of earthquakes is limited to the imperfect records of two or three thousand years, it is commonly possible to measure in a general way the liability to such accidents which may exist in any country by a careful study of the details of its topography. in almost every large area the process of erosion naturally leaves quantities of rock, either in the form of detached columns or as detrital accumulations deposited on steep slopes. these features are of relatively slow formation, and it is often possible to determine that they have been in their positions for a time which is to be measured by thousands of years. thus, on inspecting a country such as north america, where the historic records cover but a brief time, we may on inquiry determine which portions of its area have long been exempt from powerful shocks. where natural obelisks and steep taluses abound--features which would have disappeared if the region had been moved by great shocks--we may be sure that the field under inspection has for a great period been exempt from powerful shaking. judged by this standard, we may safely say that the region occupied by the appalachian mountains has been exempt from serious trouble. so, too, the section of the cordilleras lying to the east of what is commonly called the great basin, between the rocky mountains and the sierra nevada, has also enjoyed a long reign of peace. in glaciated countries the record is naturally less clear than in those parts of the world which have been subjected to long-continued, slow decay of the rocks. nevertheless, in those fields boulders are often found poised in position which they could not have maintained if subjected to violent shaking. judged by this evidence, we may say that a large part of the northern section of this continent, particularly the area about the great lakes, has been exempt from considerable shocks since the glacier passed away. the shores which are subject to the visitations of the great marine waves, caused by earthquake shocks occurring beneath the bottom of the neighbouring ocean, are so swept by those violent inundations that they lose many features which are often found along coasts that have been exempted from such visitations. thus wherever we find extensive and delicately moulded dunes, poised stones, or slender pinnacled rocks along a coast, we may be sure that since these features were formed the district has not been swept by these great waves. [illustration: fig. .--poised rocks indicating a long exemption from strong earthquakes in the places where such features occur.] around the northern atlantic we almost everywhere find the glacial waste here and there accumulated near the margin of the sea in the complicated sculptured outlines which are assumed by kame sands and gravels. from a study of these features just above the level of high tide, the writer has become convinced that the north atlantic district has long been exempt from the assaults of other waves than those which are produced during heavy storms. at the present time the waves formed by earthquakes appear to be of destructive violence only on the west coast of south america, where they roll in from a region of the pacific lying to the south of the equator and a few hundred miles from the shore of the continent, which appears to be the seat of exceedingly violent shocks. a similar field occurs in the atlantic between the lesser antilles and the spanish peninsula, but no great waves have come thence since the time of the lisbon earthquake. the basin of the caribbean and the region about java appear to be also fields where these disturbances may be expected, though in each but one wave of this nature has been recorded. therefore we may regard these secondary results of a submarine earthquake as seldom phenomena. duration of geological time. although it is beyond the power of man to conceive any such lapses of time as have taken place in the history of this earth, it is interesting, and in certain ways profitable, to determine as near as possible in the measure of years the duration of the events which are recorded in the rocks. some astronomers, basing their conclusions on the heat-containing power of matter, and on the rate at which energy in this form flows from the sun, have come to the conclusion that our planet could not have been in independent existence for more than about twenty million years. the geologist, however, resting his conclusions on the records which are the subject of his inquiry, comes on many different lines to an opinion which traverses that entertained by some distinguished astronomers. the ways in which the student of the earth arrives at this opinion will now be set forth. by noting the amount of sediment carried forth to the sea by the rivers, the geologist finds that the lands of the earth--those, at least, which are protected by their natural envelopes of vegetation--are wearing down at a rate which pretty certainly does not exceed one foot in about five thousand years, or two hundred feet in a million years. discovering at many places on the earth's surface deposits which originally had a thickness of five thousand feet or more, which have been worn down to the depths of thousands of feet in a single rather brief section of geological time, the student readily finds himself prepared to claim that a period of from five to ten million years has often been required for the accomplishment of but a very small part of the changes which he knows to have occurred on this earth. as the geologist follows down through the sections of the stratified rocks, and from the remains of strata determines the erosion which has borne away the greater part of the thick deposits which have been exposed to erosion, he comes upon one of those breaks in the succession, or encounters what is called an unconformity, as when horizontal strata lie against those which are tilted. in many cases he may observe that at this time there was a great interval unrepresented by deposits at the place where his observations are made, yet a great lapse of time is indicated by the fact that a large amount of erosion took place in the interval between the two sets of beds. putting together the bits of record, and assuming that the rate of erosion accomplished by the agents which operate on the land has always been about the same, the geologist comes to the conclusion that the section of the rocks from the present day to the lowest strata of the laurentian represents in the time required for their formation not less than a hundred million years; more likely twice that duration. to this argument objection is made by some naturalists that the agents of erosion may have been more active in the past than they are at present. they suggest that the rainfall may have been much greater or the tides higher than they now are. granting all that can be claimed on this score, we note the fact that the rate of erosion evidently does not increase in anything like a proportionate way with the amount of rainfall. where a country is protected by its natural coating of vegetation, the rain is delivered to the streams without making any considerable assault upon the surface of the earth, however large the fall may be. moreover, the tides have little direct cutting power; they can only remove detritus which other agents have brought into a condition to be borne away. the direct cutting power of the tidal movement does not seem to be much greater in the bay of fundy, where the maximum height of the waves amounts to fifty feet, than on the southern coast of massachusetts, where the range is not more than five. so far as the observer can judge, the climatal conditions and the other influences which affect the wear of rocks have not greatly varied in the past from what they are at the present day. now and then there have been periods of excessive erosion; again, ages in which large fields were in the conditions of exceeding drought. it is, however, a fair presumption that these periods in a way balance each other, and that the average state was much like that which we find at present. if after studying the erosive phenomena exhibited in the structure of the earth the student takes up the study of the accumulations of strata, and endeavours to determine the time required for the laying down of the sediments, he finds similar evidence of the earth's great antiquity. although the process of deposition, which has given us the rocks visible in the land masses, has been very much interrupted, the section which is made by grouping the observations made in various fields shows that something like a maximum thickness of a hundred and fifty thousand feet of beds has been accumulated in that part of geologic time during which strata were being laid down in the fields that are subjected to our study. although in these rocks there are many sets of beds which were rapidly formed, the greater part of them have been accumulated with exceeding slowness. many fine shales, such as those which plentifully occur in the devonian beds of this country, must have required a thousand years or more for the deposition of the materials that now occupy an inch in depth. in those sections a single foot of the rock may well represent a period of ten thousand years. in many of the limestones the rate of accumulation could hardly have been more speedy. the reckoning has to be rough, but the impression which such studies make upon the mind of the unprejudiced observer is to the effect that the thirty miles or so of sedimentary deposits could not have been formed in less than a hundred million years. in this reckoning it should be noted that no account is taken of those great intervals of unrecorded time, such as elapsed between the close of the laurentian and the beginning of the cambrian periods. there is a third way in which we may seek an interpretation of duration from the rocks. in each successive stage of the earth's history, in different measure in the various ages, mountains were formed which in time, during their exposure to the conditions of the land, were worn down to their roots and covered by deposits accumulated during the succeeding ages. a score or more of these successively constructed series of elevations may readily be observed. of old, it was believed that mountain ranges were suddenly formed, but there is, however, ample evidence to prove that these disturbed portions of the strata were very gradually dislocated, the rate of the mountainous growth having been, in general, no greater in the past than it is at the present day, when, as we know full well, the movements are going on so slowly that they escape observation. only here and there, as an attendant on earthquake shocks or other related movements of the crust, do we find any trace of the upward march which produces these elevations. although not a subject for exact measurements, these features of mountain growth indicate a vast lapse of time, during which the elevations were formed and worn away. yet another and very different method by which we may obtain some gauge of the depths of the past is to be found in the steps which have led organic life from its lowest and earliest known forms to the present state of advancement. taking the changes of species which have occurred since the beginning of the last ice epoch, we find that the changes which have been made in the organic life have been very small; no naturalist who has obtained a clear idea of the facts will question the statement that they are not a thousandth part of the alterations which have occurred since the laurentian time. the writer is of the opinion that they do not represent the ten thousandth part of those vast changes. these changes are limited in the main to the disappearance of a few forms, and to slight modifications in those previously in existence which have survived to the present day. so far as we can judge, no considerable step in the organic series has taken place in this last great period of the earth's history, although it has been a period when, as before noted, all the conditions have combined to induce rapid modifications in both animals and plants. if, then, we can determine the duration of this period, we may obtain a gauge of some general value. although we can not measure in any accurate way the duration of the events which have taken place since the last glacial period began to wane, a study of the facts seems to show that less than a hundred thousand years can not well be assumed for this interval. some of the students who have approached the subject are disposed to allow a period of at least twice this length as necessary for the perspective which the train of events exhibits. reckoning on the lowest estimate, and counting the organic changes which take place during the age as amounting to the thousandth part of the organic changes since the laurentian age, we find ourselves in face once again of that inconceivable sum which was indicated by the physical record. here, again, the critics assert that there may have been periods in the history of the earth when the changes of organic life occurred in a far swifter manner than in this last section of the earth's history. this supposition is inadmissible, for it rests on no kind of proof; it is, moreover, contraindicated by the evident fact that the advance in the organic series has been more rapid in recent time than at any stage of the past. in a word, all the facts with which the geologist deals are decidedly against the assumption that terrestrial changes in the organic or the inorganic world ever proceed in a spasmodic manner. here and there, and from time to time, local revolutions of a violent nature undoubtedly occur, but, so far as we may judge from the aspect of the present or the records of the past, these accidents are strictly local; the earth has gone forward in its changes much as it is now advancing. its revolutions have been those of order rather than those of accident. the first duty of the naturalist is to take nature as he finds it. he must avoid supposing any methods of action which are not clearly indicated in the facts that he observes. the history of his own and of all other sciences clearly shows that danger is always incurred where suppositions as to peculiar methods of action are introduced into the interpretation. it required many centuries of labour before the students of the earth came to adopt the principle of explaining the problems with which they had to deal by the evidence that the earth submitted to them. wherever they trusted to their imaginations for guidance, they fell into error. those who endeavour to abbreviate our conception of geologic time by supposing that in the olden days the order of events was other than that we now behold are going counter to the best traditions of the science. although the aspect of the record of life since the beginning of the cambrian time indicates a period of at least a hundred million years, it must not be supposed that this is the limit of the time required for the development of the organic series. all the important types of animals were already in existence in that ancient period with the exception of the vertebrates, the remains of which have apparently now been traced down to near the cambrian level. in other words, at the stage where we first find evidence of living beings the series to which they belong had already climbed very far above the level of lifeless matter. few naturalists will question the statement that half the work of organic advance had been accomplished at the beginning of the cambrian rocks. the writer is of the opinion that the development which took place before that age must have required a much longer period than has elapsed from that epoch to the present day. we thus come to the conclusion that the measurement of duration afforded by organic life indicates a yet more lengthened claim of events, and demands more time than appears to be required for the formation of the stratified rocks. the index of duration afforded by the organic series is probably more trustworthy than that which is found in the sedimentary strata, and this for the reason that the records of those strata have been subjected to numerous and immeasurable breaks, while the development of organic life has of necessity been perfectly continuous. the one record can at any point be broken without interrupting the sequences; the other does not admit of any breaches in the continuity. the moon. set over against the earth--related to, yet contrasted with it in many ways--the moon offers a most profitable object to the student of geology. he should often turn to it for those lessons which will be briefly noted. in the beginning of their mutual history the materials of earth and moon doubtless formed one vaporous body which had been parted from the concentrating mass of the sun in the manner noted in the sketch of the history of the solar system. after the earth-moon body had gathered into a nebulous sphere, it is most likely that a ring resembling that still existing about saturn was formed about the earth, which in time consolidated into the satellite. thenceforth the two bodies were parted, except for the gravitative attraction which impelled them to revolve about their common centre of gravity, and except for the light and heat they might exchange with one another. the first stages after the parting of the spheres of earth and moon appear to have been essentially the same in each body. concentrating upon their centres, they became in time fluid by heat; further on, they entered the rigid state--in a word, they froze--at least in their outer parts. at this point in their existence their histories utterly diverge; or rather, we may say, the development of the earth continued in a vast unfolding, while that of the moon appears to have been absolutely arrested in ways which we will now describe. with the naked eye we see on the moon a considerable variation in the light of different parts of its surface; we discern that the darker patches appear to be rudely circular, and that they run together on their margins. seeing this little, the ancients fancied that our satellite had seas and lands like the earth. the first telescopes did not dispel their fancies; even down to the early part of this century there were astronomers who believed the moon to be habitable; indeed, they thought to find evidence that it was the dwelling place of intelligent beings who built cities, and who tried to signal their intellectual kindred of this planet. when, however, strong glasses were applied to the exploration, these pleasing fancies were rudely dispelled. seen with a telescope of the better sort, the moon reveals itself to be in large part made up of circular depressions, each surrounded by a ringlike wall, with nearly level but rough places between. the largest of these walled areas is some four hundred miles in diameter; thence they grade down to the smallest pits which the glass can disclose, which are probably not over as many feet across. the writer, from a careful study of these pits, has come to the conclusion that the wider are the older and the smaller the last formed. the rude elevations about these pits--some of which rise to the height of ten thousand feet or more--constitute the principal topographic reliefs of the lunar surface. besides the pits above mentioned, there are numerous fractures in the surface of the plains and ringlike ridges; on the most of these the walls have separated, forming trenches not unlike what we find in the case of some terrestrial breaks such as have been noted about volcanoes and elsewhere. it may be that the so-called canals of mars are of the same nature. [illustration: fig. .--lunar mountains near the gulf of iris.] the most curious feature on the moon's surface are the bands of lighter colour, which, radiating from certain of the volcanolike pits--those of lesser size and probably of latest origin--extend in some cases for five hundred miles or more across the surface. these light bands have never been adequately explained. it seems most likely that they are stains along the sides of cracks, such as are sometimes observed about volcanoes. the eminent peculiarity of the moon is that it is destitute of any kind of gaseous or aqueous envelope. that there is no distinct atmosphere is clearly shown by the perfectly sharp and sudden way in which the light of a star disappears when it goes behind the moon and the clear lines of the edge of the satellite in a solar eclipse. the same evidence shows that there is no vapour of water; moreover, a careful search which the writer has made shows that the surface has none of those continuous down grades which mark the work of water flowing over the land. nearly all of the surface consists of shallow or deep pits, such as could not have been formed by water action. we therefore have not only to conclude that the moon is waterless, but that it has been in this condition ever since the part that is turned toward us was shaped. as the moon, except for the slight movement termed its "libration," always turns the same face to us, so that we see in all only about four sevenths of its surface, it has naturally been conjectured that the unseen side, which is probably some miles lower than that turned toward us, might have a different character from that which we behold. there are reasons why this is improbable. in the first place, we see on the extreme border of the moon, when the libration turns one side the farthest around toward the earth, the edge of a number of the great walled pits such as are so plenty on the visible area; it is fair to assume that these rings are completed in the invisible realm. on this basis we can partly map about a third of the hidden side. furthermore, there are certain bands of light which, though appearing on the visible side, evidently converge to some points on the other. it is reasonable to suppose that, as all other bands radiate from walled pits, these also start from such topographic features. in this way certain likenesses of the hidden area to that which is visible is established, thus making it probable that the whole surface of the satellite has the same character. clearly as the greater part of the moon is revealed to us--so clearly, indeed, that it is possible to map any elevation of its surface that attains the height of five hundred feet--the interpretation of its features in the light of geology is a matter of very great difficulty. the main points seem to be tolerably clear; they are as follows: the surface of the moon as we see it is that which was formed when that body, passing from the state of fluidity from heat, formed a solid crust. the pits which we observe on its surface are the depressions which were formed as the mass gradually ceased to boil. the later formed of these openings are the smaller, as would be the case in such a slowing down of a boiling process. as the diameter of the moon is only about one fourth of that of the earth, its bulk is only about one sixteenth of that of its planet; consequently, it must have cooled to the point of solidification ages before the larger sphere attained that state. it is probable that the same changeless face that we see looked down for millions of years on an earth which was still a seething, fiery mass. in a word, all that vast history which is traceable in the rocks beneath our feet--which is in progress in the seas and lands and is to endure for an inconceivable time to come--has been denied our satellite, for the reason that it had no air with which to entrap the solar heat and no water to apply the solar energy to evolutionary processes. the heat which comes upon the moon as large a share for each equal area as it comes upon the earth flies at once away from the airless surface, at most giving it a temporary warmth, but instituting no geological work unless it be a little movement from the expansion and contraction of the rocks. during the ages in which the moon has remained thus lifeless the earth, owing to its air and water, has applied a vast amount of solar energy to geological work in the development and redevelopment of its geological features and to the processes of organic life. we thus see the fundamental importance of the volatile envelopes of our sphere, how absolutely they have determined its history. it would be interesting to consider the causes which led to the absence of air and water on the moon, but this matter is one of the most debatable of all that relates to that sphere; we shall therefore have to content ourselves with the above brief statements as to the vast and far-acting effects which have arisen from the non-existence of those envelopes on our nearest neighbour of the heavens. methods in studying geology. so far as possible the preceding pages, by the method adopted in the presentation of facts, will serve to show the student the ways in which he may best undertake to trace the order of events exhibited in the phenomena of the earth. following the plan pursued, we shall now consider certain special points which need to be noted by those who would adopt the methods of the geologist. at the outset of his studies it may be well for the inquirer to note the fact that familiarity with the world about him leads the man in all cases to a certain neglect and contempt of all the familiar presentations of nature. we inevitably forget that those points of light in the firmament are vast suns, and we overlook the fact that the soil beneath our feet is not mere dirt, but a marvellous structure, more complicated in its processes than the chemist's laboratory, from which the sustenance of our own and all other lives is drawn. we feel our own bodies as dear but commonplace possessions, though we should understand them as inheritances from the inconceivable past, which have come to us through tens of thousands of different species and hundreds of millions of individual ancestors. we must overlook these things in our common life. if we could take them into account, each soul would carry the universe as an intellectual burden. it is, however, well from time to time to contemplate the truth, and to force ourselves to see that all this apparently simple and ordinary medley of the world about us is a part of a vast procession of events, coming forth from the darkness of the past and moving on beyond the light of the present day. even in his professional work the naturalist of necessity falls into the commonplace way of regarding the facts with which he deals. if he be an astronomer, he catalogues the stars with little more sense of the immensities than the man who keeps a shop takes account of his wares. nevertheless, the real profit of all learning is in the largeness of the understanding which it develops in man. the periods of growth in knowledge are those in which the mind, enriched by its store, enlarges its conception while it escapes from commonplace ways of thought. with this brief mention of what is by far the most important principle of guidance which the student can follow, we will turn to the questions of method that the student need follow in his ordinary work. with almost all students a difficulty is encountered which hinders them in acquiring any large views as to the world about them. this is due to the fact that they can not make and retain in memory clear pictures of the things they see. they remember words rather than things--in fact, the training in language, which is so large a part of an education, tends ever to diminish the element of visual memory. the first task of the student who would become a naturalist is to take his knowledge from the thing, and to remember it by the mental picture of the thing. in all education in nature, whether the student is guided by his own understanding or that of the teacher, a first and very continuous aim should be to enforce the habit of recalling very distinct images of all objects which it is desired to remember. to this end the student should practise himself by looking intently upon a landscape or any other object; then, turning away, he should try to recall what he has beheld. after a moment the impression by the sight should be repeated, and the study of the memory renewed. the writer knows by his own experience that even in middle-aged people, where it is hard to breed new habits, such deliberate training can greatly increase the capacity of the memory for taking in and reproducing images which are deemed of importance. practice of this kind should form a part of every naturalist's daily routine. after a certain time, it need not be consciously done. the movements of thought and action will, indeed, become as automatic as those which the trained fencer makes with his foil. along with the habit of visualizing memories, and of storing them without the use of words, the student should undertake to enlarge his powers of conceiving spaces and directions as they exist in the field about him. among savages and animals below the grade of man, this understanding of spacial relations is very clear and strong. it enables the primitive man to find his way through the trackless forest, and the carrier pigeon to recover his mate and dwelling place from the distance of hundreds of miles away. in civilized men, however, the habit of the home and street and the disuse of the ancient freedom has dulled, and in some instances almost destroyed, all sense of this shape of the external world. the best training to recover this precious capacity will now be set forth. the student should begin by drawing a map on a true scale, however roughly the work may be done, of those features of the earth about him with which he is necessarily most familiar. the task may well be begun with his own dwelling or his schoolroom. thence it may be extended so as to include the plan of the neighbouring streets or fields. at first, only directions and distances should be platted. after a time to these indications should be added on the map lines indicating in a general way contours or the lines formed by horizontal planes intersecting the area subject to delineation. after attaining certain rude skill in such work, the student may advantageously make excursions to districts which he can see only in a hurried way. as he goes, he should endeavour to note on a sketch map the positions of the hills and streams and the directions of the roads. a year of holiday practice in such work will, if the tasks occupy somewhere about a hundred hours of his time, serve greatly to extend or reawaken what may be called the topographic sense, and enable him to place in terms of space the observations of nature which he may make. in his more detailed work the student should select some particular field for his inquiry. if he be specially interested in geologic phenomena, he will best begin by noting two classes of facts--those exhibited in the rocks as they actually appear in the state of repose as shown in the outcrops of his neighbourhood, and those shown in the active manifestations of geological work, the decay of the rocks and the transportation of their waste, or, if the conditions favour, the complicated phenomena of the seashores. as soon as the student begins to observe, he should begin to make a record of his studies. to the novice in any science written, and particularly sketched, notes are of the utmost importance. these, whether in words or in drawings, should be made in face of the facts; they should, indeed, be set down at the close of an observation, though not until the observer feels that the object he is studying has yielded to him all which it can at that time give. it is well to remark that where a record is made at the outset of a study the student is apt to feel that he is in some way pledged to shape all he may see to fit that which he has first written. in his early experience as a teacher, the writer was accustomed to have students compare their work of observation and delineation with that done by trained men on the same ground. it now seems to him best for the beginner at first to avoid all such reference of his own work to that of others. so great is the need of developing independent motive that it is better at the outset to make many blunders than to secure accuracy by trust in a leader. the skilful teacher can give fitting words of caution which may help a student to find the true way, but any reference of his undertakings to masterpieces is sure to breed a servile habit. therefore such comparisons are fitting only after the habit of free work has been well formed. the student who can afford the help of a master, or, better, the assistance of many, such as some of our universities offer, should by all means avail himself of this resource. more than any other science, geology, because of the complexity of the considerations with which it has to deal, depends upon methods of labour which are to a great extent traditional, and which can not, indeed, be well transmitted except in the personal way. in the distinctly limited sciences, such as mathematics, physics, or even those which deal with organic bodies, the methods of work can be so far set forth in printed directions that the student may to a great extent acquire sound ways of work without the help of a teacher. although there is a vast and important literature concerning geology, the greater part of it is of a very special nature, and will convey to the beginner no substantial information whatever. it is not until he has become familiar with the field with which he is enabled to deal in the actual way that he can transfer experience thus acquired to other grounds. therefore beyond the pleasing views which he may obtain by reading certain general works on the science, the student should at the outset of his inquiry limit his work as far as possible to his field of practice, using a good text-book, such as dana's manual of geology, as a source of suggestions as to the problems which his field may afford. the main aim of the student in this, as in other branches of inquiry, is to gain practice in following out the natural series of actions. to the primitive man the phenomenal world presents itself as a mere phantasmagoria, a vast show in which the things seen are only related to each other by the fact that they come at once into view. the end of science is to divine the order of this host, and the ways in which it is marshalled in its onward movement and the ends to which its march appears to be directed. so far as the student observes well, and thus gains a clear notion of separated facts, he is in a fair way to gather the data of knowledge which may be useful; but the real value of these discernments is not gained until the observations go together, so as to make something with a perspective. until the store of separate facts is thus arranged, it is merely crude material for thought; it is not in the true meaning science, any more than a store of stone and mortar is architecture. when the student has developed an appetite for the appreciation of order and sources of energy in phenomena, he has passed his novitiate, and becomes one of that happy body of men who not only see what is perceived by the mass of their fellows, but are enabled to look through those chains of action which, when comprehended, serve to rationalize and ennoble all that the senses of man, aided by the instruments which he has devised, tell us concerning the visible world. index. Ætna, mount, . agriculture, american, ; in england, winning swamp lands for, ; recent developments of, . alaska, changes on the coast of, . ants taking food underground, ; work of the, on the soil, . apsides, revolution of the, , . arabians, chemical experiments of the, . arches, natural, in cavern districts, . artesian wells, , . arts, advance of italian fine, . asteroids, ; motions of, about their centres and about the sun, . astronomers, the solar system and the early, . astronomy, - ; growth of, since the time of galileo, , ; the first science, . atmosphere, - ; along the tropical belt, ; as a medium of communication between different regions, ; deprived of water, containing little heat, ; beginning of the science of the, ; counter-trade movements of the, ; envelope of the earth, ; expansion of, in a hollow wall during the passage of a storm, ; heat-carrying power of the, ; heights to which it extends, ; in water, ; movements no direct influence on the surface of the earth, ; movements of the, qualified by the condition which it encounters, ; of mountains, ; of the seashore, ; of the earth, ; of the sun, ; snow as an evidence of, ; supplying needs of underground creatures, ; uprushes of, , ; upward strain of the, next the earth, ; weight and motion of the, , . atmospheric circulation of the soil, , ; envelopes, . aurora borealis, . avalanches, - ; dreaded, in the alpine regions, ; great, in the swiss oberland, , ; rocky, - . axis, imaginary changes in the earth's, ; of the earth's rotation, ; polar, inclined position of, ; polar, nodding movement of the axes, ; rotations of the planetary spheres on their axes, . barometer, causes of changes in the, , . basalts, . beaches, , , ; boulder, , ; pebbly, ; sand, . beetles, work of, on the soil, , . belief of the early astronomers about the solar system, . _bergschrund_, the, . birds and mammals contributing to the fertility of the soil, . "blanketing," . bogs, climbing, - ; lake, - ; peat, , ; quaking, . botany, rapid advance in, , . boulders, , . breakers, , , . bridges, natural, , . canals of mars, . cañon, newly formed river cutting a, . cataracts, . caves, - , ; architecture of, - ; hot-water, ; mammoth cave, ; stalactites and stalagmites on the roof and floor of, . chasms, , . chemistry, , , ; advance of, ; modern, evolving from the studies of alchemists, , . chromosphere, . civilization of the icelanders, . cliffs, sea-beaten, , , . climate, changes of, due to modifications of the ocean streams, ; effect of the ocean on the, ; of the gulf stream, , . clouds, ; formation of, , ; shape of, ; water of, usually frozen, ; cloud-making, laws of, , . coast, changes on the scandinavian, ; line, effect of tide on the, ; of greenland, ; of new jersey sinking, ; marine, changes in, . cold in siberia, . comets, , ; collisions of, ; kinship of meteorites and, ; omens of calamity to the ancients, ; the great, of , , . cones. see under volcanoes. conflict between religion and science, , ; between the protestant countries and the followers of science, . continental shelves, . continents and oceans, ; changes in position of, ; cyclones of the, ; forms of, ; proofs that they have endured for many years, ; shape of, , . coral reefs, , . corona, realm of the, . craters. see under volcanoes. crevasse, a barrier to the explorer, . crevice water, . curds, . currents, coral reefs in florida affecting the velocity of, ; equatorial, ; of the gulf stream, - ; hot and cold, of the sea, ; ocean, ; oceanic action of trade winds on, ; effect on migration of, ; icebergs indicating, ; surface, history of, ; uprushing, near the equator, . cyclones, ; cause of, ; of north america, ; secondary storms of, . deltas, , . deposits, vein, , . deserts, interior, . dew, , ; a concomitant of cloudless skies, , and vegetation, ; formation of, - . diablerets, . diagram of a vein, ; showing development of swamp, ; how a portion of the earth's surface may be sunk by faulting, ; growth of mangroves, ; the effect of the position of the fulcrum point in the movement of the land masses, . diameter of our sphere at the equator, ; of the earth, . dikes, , ; - ; abounding in volcanic cones, ; cutting through coal, ; driven upward, ; formation of, , ; material of, , ; representing movements of softened rock, ; their relation to volcanic cones, ; variations of the materials of, , ; waterfalls produced by, ; zone of, . dismal swamp, , . distances, general idea of, ; good way to study, , ; training soldiers to measure, . doldrums, , ; doldrum of the equator, ; of the hurricane, . drainage, imperfect, of a country affected by glaciers, . dunes, , , , , ; moulded, . duration of geological time, . dust accumulations from wind, in china, . earth, a flattened sphere, ; air envelope of the, ; amount of heat falling from the sun on the, ; antiquity of the, ; atmosphere of the, ; attracting power of the, ; axis of the rotation of the, ; composition of the atmosphere of the, ; crust of the, affected by weight, ; deviation of the path of the, varied, ; diameter of the, ; of the, affected by loss of heat, ; difference in altitude of the surface of the, ; discovery that it was globular, , ; effect of imaginary changes in the relations of sun and, ; effect of the interior heat of the, , ; effect of the sun on the, , ; formerly in a fluid state, ; imaginary view of the, from the moon, ; important feature of the surface of the, ; jarring caused by faults, ; surface of the, determined by heat and light from the sun, ; most important feature of the surface of the, ; motion of the, affecting the direction of trade winds, ; movements, ; natural architecture of the, ; no part of the, exempt from movement, ; parting of the moon and, ; path of the, around the sun, , , , ; revolving from east to west, ; shrinking of the, from daily escape of heat, ; soil-covering of the, ; study of the, - ; swaying, ; tensions, problem of, ; tremors, caused by chemical changes in the rocks, ; tropical belt of the, ; viewed from the surface of the moon, , ; water store of the, . earthquakes, , , , , , - , - ; accidents of, ; action of, ; agents of degradation, , ; basis of, ; certain limitations to, , ; charleston, of , , ; countries, architecture in, ; echoes, , ; damages of, , ; effect of, on the soil, ; the surface of the earth, ; formed by riving of fissures, ; great, occurring where rocks have been disturbed by mountain-building, , ; herculaneum and pompeii destroyed by an, , ; italian, in , , ; important, not connected with volcanic explosions, ; jamaica, in , , ; lisbon, in , , , , , ; maximum swing of, ; measuring the liability to, , ; mechanism of, , ; method of the study of, followed by mr. charles mallet, , ; mississippi, in , , , , ; movement of the earth during, ; originating from a fault plane, , , ; originating from the seas, , ; oscillation of, ; poised rocks indicating a long exemption from strong, ; riobamba, in , ; shocks of, and their effect upon people, ; the direct calamities of nature, ; waves of, . earthworms, - ; taking food underground, . eclipses, record of ancient, . electrical action in the formation of rain and snow, . elevations of seas and lands, . energy indestructible, . envelope, lower, of the sun, . equator, diameter of our sphere at the, ; doldrum of the, ; updraught under the, ; uprushing current near the, . equinoxes, precession of the, , . _eskers_, . expansion of air contained in a hollow wall during the passage of the storm, . experiment, illustrating consolidation of disseminated materials of the sun and planets, . falls. see waterfalls. fault planes, . feldspar, . floods, , ; rarity of, in new england, ; river, frequent east of rocky mountains, . föhns, . forests, salicified, . fossilization, - . fulcrum point, . galactic plane, . galongoon, eruption of, . geological work of water, - . glacial action in the valleys of switzerland, ; periods, , , ; in the northern hemisphere, ; waste, . glaciation, effect of, in north america, ; in central america, ; south america, . glaciers, - ; action of ice in forming, - ; alaskan, ; continental, , , ; discharge of, ; exploring, ; extensive, in greenland and scandinavia, ; former, of north america, , ; map of, and moraines near mont blanc, ; motions of, ; retreat of the, , , ; secrets of the under ice of, ; speed of a, ; study of, in the swiss valleys, ; testimony of the rocks regarding, ; when covered with winter snows, ; valley, . gombridge, , . gravitation, law of, . greeks' idea of the heavens, ; not mechanically inventive, . gulf stream, current of the, . heat, amount of, daily escaping from the earth, ; amount of, falling from the sun on the earth, ; belief of the ancients regarding, ; dominating effect on air currents of tropical, ; energy with which it leaves the sun, ; internal, of the earth, , ; of the earth's interior, , ; sun, effect on the atmosphere of the, ; prof. newcomb's belief regarding the, of the sun, ; radiation of the earth's, causing winds, ; solar, ; tropical, and air currents, . hills, sand, . horizontal pendulum, . horse latitudes, . "horses," . hurricanes, , , ; commencement of, ; doldrum of, ; felt near the sea, ; in the tropics, . hypothesis, nebular, , , , , ; working, , . ice action, effect of intense, , ; in forming glaciers, , ; recent studies in greenland of, ; depth of, in greenland, ; effect of, on river channels, ; effect of, on stream beds, ; expanding when freezing, ; epoch, , , ; floating, ; made soils rarely fertile, ; mass, greatest, in greenland, , ; moulded by pressure, ; streams, continental, , ; of the mountains, ; of the himalayan mountains, . icebergs, , ; indicating oceanic currents, . iceland, volcanic eruptions in, , . instruments, first, astronomical, , . inventions, mechanical, aiding science, . islands, , ; continental, ; in the deeper seas made up of volcanic ejections, ; volcanic, . jack-o'-lantern, . jupiter, gaseous wraps of, ; path of the earth affected by, , ; the largest planet of the sun, . kames, . kant, immanuel, and nebular hypothesis, . kaolin, . klondike district, cold in, , . krakatoa, eruption of, - ; effect of, on the sea, ; effect of, on the sun, . lacolites, . lacustrine beds, . lagoons, salt deposits found in, . lake basins, formation of, , ; bogs, , , ; deposits, , . lakes, - ; effect of, on the river system, ; fresh-water, ; formed from caverns, ; great, changing their outlets, ; of extinct volcanoes, ; temporary features of the land, ; volcanic, . lands, great, relatively unchangeable, ; table, ; movements resulting in change of coast line, , ; shape of the seas and, , ; accounting for the changes in the attitude of the, ; and water, divisions of, ; dry, surface of, ; general statement as to the division of the, , ; surface, shape of the, ; triangular forms of great, . latitudes, horse, troublesome to mariners, . laplace and nebular hypothesis, . lava, - , , , , , , , , ; flow of, invading a forest, ; from vesuvius, ; of , , ; temperature of, , ; incipient, ; outbreaks of, , ; stream eaves, , . law, natural, aristotle and, ; of gravitation, ; of the conservation of energy, . leaves, radiation of, . length of days affected by tidal action, . level surfaces, . life, organic, evolution of, , . light, belief of the ancients regarding, . lightning, , - ; noise from, ; proceeding from the earth to the clouds, ; protection of buildings from, ; stroke, wearing-out effect of, . limestones, , , , , ; formation of, , . lisbon, earthquake of, , , . lowell, mr. percival, observations on venus, . lunar mountains near the gulf of iris, . mackerel sky, . mallet, mr. charles, and the study of earthquakes, , . man as an inventor of tools, . mangroves, ; diagram showing mode of growth, ; marshes of, . map of glaciers and moraines near mont blanc, ; of ipswich marshes, . mapping with contour lines, . maps, desirable, for the study of celestial geography, ; geographic sketch, , . marching sands jeopardizing agriculture, . marine animals, sustenance of, - ; deposits, - , , ; marshes, - ; waves caused by earthquakes, . mars, - , , ; belief that it has an atmosphere, ; canals of, ; gaseous wraps of, ; more efficient telescopes required for the study of, ; nearer to the earth than other planets, . marshes, mangrove, ; map of ipswich, ; marine, - ; deposits found in, ; of north america, ; on the coast of new england, ; phenomena of, , ; tidal, good earth for tillage, ; tidal, of north america, . mercury, , , ; nearest to the sun, ; time in which it completes the circle of its year, . meteorites, , ; kinship of comets and, . meteors, ; falling, ; composition of, ; flashing, , , ; speed of, ; inflamed by friction with air, . methods in studying geology, . milky way, ; voyage along the path of the, , . mineral crusts, , ; deposits, . moon, , - ; absence of air and water on the, ; attended by satellites, ; attraction which it exercises on the earth, ; curious feature of the, ; destitute of gaseous or aqueous envelope, ; diameter of the, ; imaginary view of the earth from the, ; "libration" of the, ; made up of circular depressions, , ; movements of the, ; no atmosphere in the, ; parting of the earth and, ; position of the, in relation to the earth, ; tidal action and the, ; tides of the, , ; why does the sun not act in the same manner as the, . moraines, , , , ; map of glaciers and, near mont blanc, ; movements of the, - ; terminal, . _moulin_, . mount Ætna, - ; lava yielding, , , ; lava stream caves of, , ; more powerful than vesuvius, ; peculiarities of, , ; size of, - ; turning of the torrents of, . mountain-building, - , ; folding, , , , ; attributed to cooling of the earth, ; growth, ; swiss falls, ; torrents, energy of, . mountains, , , , - ; - ; form and structure of, ; partly caused by escape of heat from the earth, ; sections of, . mount nuova, formation of, . mount vesuvius, - , , , , , ; description of the eruption of, in a.d. , - ; diagrammatic sections through, showing changes in the form of the cone, ; eruption of, in , ; in -' , , ; eruption of, in , ; eruptions of, increased since , ; flow of lava from, ; likely to enter on a period of inaction, , ; outbreak of, in -' , , . naples, prosperity of the city, . nebular hypothesis, , , , . neptune, . _névé_, the, ; no ice-cutting in the region of the, . newcomb's (prof.) belief regarding the heat of the sun, . niagara falls, , , ; cutting back of, . north america, changes in the form of, , ; triangular form of, . ocean, average depth of the, ; climatal effect of the, ; currents, ; effect of, on migration, ; effect of, on organic life, ; floor, , ; hot and cold currents of the, ; sinking of the, , ; the laboratory of sedimentary deposits, ; depth of the, , . oceanic circulation, effect of, on the temperature, . oceans and continents, . orbit, alterations of the, and the seasons, , ; changing of the, - ; shape of the, - . organic life, , , , , , ; action of, on the soil, , ; advantages of the shore belt to, ; development of in the sea, , ; effect of ocean currents on, ; processes of, in the soil, ; decay of, in the earth, . orion, . oscillations of the shores of the bay of naples, . oxbow of a river, , . oxbows and cut-off, . pebbles, action of seaweeds on, ; action of the waves on, , . photosphere, . plains, ; alluvial, , , , - , ; history of, ; sand, . planets, ; attended by satellites, ; comparative sizes of the, ; experiments illustrating consolidation of disseminated materials of the sun and, ; gaseous wraps of, ; important observations by the ancients of fixed stars and planets, ; movements of, - ; outer, ; table of relative masses of sun and, . plant life in the sargassum basins, . plants and animals, protection of, by mechanical contrivances, ; and trees, work of the roots of, on the soil, , ; water-loving, ; forming climbing bogs, . polar axes, nodding movement of, . polar snow cap, . polyps, , . pools, circular, . prairies, , . radiation of heat, . rain, , , , , , , ; circuit of the, - ; drops, force of, , ; spheroidal form of, ; electrical action in the formation of snow and, ; work of the, . realm, unseen solar, . reeds, . religion, conflict between science and, , ; struggle between paganism and, . rivers and _débris_, ; changes in the course of, in alluvial plain, ; deposition of, accelerated by tree-planting, ; great, always clear, ; inundation of the mississippi, eating away land, ; muds, ; newly formed, cutting a cañon, ; of snow-ice, ; origin of a normal, ; oxbow of a, , ; sinking of, ; swinging movement of, - ; river-valleys, , ; diversity in the form of - . rocks, ; accidents from falling, ; cut away by sandstones, ; divided by crevices, ; duration of events recorded in, , , ejection of, material, ; falling of, - ; formation of, , ; from the present day to the strata of the laurentian, ; migration of, ; poised, indicating a long exemption from strong earthquakes, ; rents in, , ; stratification of, , , , , ; testimony of the, in regard to glaciers, ; under volcanoes, ; variable elasticity of, ; vibration of, , ; rock-waste, march of the, ; water, , . rotation of the earth affected by tides, ; of the planetary spheres on their axes, . salicified forests, . salt deposits formed in lagoons, ; found in lakes, - . sand bars, ; endurance of, against the waves, ; hills, travelling of, ; marching, ; silicious stones cutting away rooks, . satellites, , ; motions of, about their centres and about the sun, , . saturn, , , , ; cloud bands of, ; gaseous wraps of, ; path of the earth affected by, , . savages, primitive, students of nature, . scandinavia, changes on the coasts of, . science, advance of, due to mechanical inventions, ; astronomy beginning with, ; chemical, characteristics of, ; conflict between religion and, , ; conflict between the roman faith and, ; mechanical inventions as aids to, , ; modern and ancient, ; natural, , ; of botany in aristotle's time, ; of physiology, ; of zoölogy in aristotle's time, ; resting practically on sight, . scientific development, historic outlines of, ; tools used in measuring and weighing, as an aid to vision, . sea, battering action of the, ; coast ever changing, , ; effect of volcanic eruptions on the, ; floor deposits of the, affected by volcanoes, , ; in receipt of organic and mineral matter, ; hot and cold currents of the, ; littoral zone of the, , ; puss, ; rich in organic life, , ; solvent action of the, ; strata, formation of, ; water, minerals in, ; weeds, , . seas, dead, originally living lakes, ; water of, buoyant, ; eventually the seat of salt deposits, - ; general statement as to division of, , ; shape of the, , . seashore, air of the, . seasons, changing the character of the, , . sense of hearing, , ; of sight, ; of smell, , ; of taste, , ; of touch, , . _seracs_, . shocks, earthquake. see under earthquakes. shore lines, variation of, , . shores, cliff, - . sink holes, ; in limestone districts, , . skaptar, eruption of, , ; lava from the eruption of, . sky, mackerel, . snow, - , ; as an evidence of atmosphere, ; blankets, early flowers beginning to blossom under, ; covering, difference between an annual and perennial, ; effect of, on plants, ; electrical action in the formation of rain and, ; flakes, formation of, ; red, ; slides, ; slides, phenomena of, , . soil, alluvial, , ; atmospheric circulation of, , ; conditions leading to formation of, , ; continuous motion of the, ; covering of the earth, ; decay of the, , ; degradation of the, - ; means for correcting, - ; destruction in grain fields greater than the accumulation, ; developing on lava and ashes an interesting study, ; development of, in desert regions, ; effect of animals and plants on the, - ; effect of earthquakes on the, ; fertility of the, distinguished from the coating, , ; fertility of, affected by rain, ; formation of, - ; glacial, characteristics of, ; glaciated, , ; irrigation of the, - ; local variation of, ; mineral, ; of arid regions fertile when subjected to irrigation, ; of dust or blown sand, ; of immediate derivation, , ; phenomena, ; processes of organic life in the, ; variation in, - ; vegetation protecting the, , ; washing away of the, , ; winning, from the sea, ; work of ants on the, ; tiller, duty of the, . solar bodies, general conditions of the, - ; forces, action of, on the earth, ; system, , ; independent from the fixed stars system, ; original vapour of, , ; singular features of our, ; tide, . spheres, difference in magnitude of, ; motions of the, , ; planetary, rotation of, on their axes, . spots, sun, . spouting horn, . springs, formation of small, . stalactitization, . stalagmites and stalactites on the roof and floor of a cavern, . stars as dark bodies in the heavens, ; discovery of fraunhofer and others on, , ; double, ; and tidal action, ; earliest study of, ; fixed, important observations by the ancients of planets and, ; not isolated suns, , ; variation in the light of, ; limit of, seen by the naked eye, ; revolution of one star about another, , ; shooting, ; speed of certain, ; study of, - ; sudden flashing forth of, due to catastrophe, ; voyage through the, , ; star, wandering, . stellar realm, - . storms, circular, ; desert, , ; expansion of air contained in a hollow wall during the passage of, ; great principle of, , ; in the sahara, ; lightning, more frequent in summer, ; paths of, ; secondary, of cyclones, ; spinning, ; thunder, - ; whirling, , ; whirling peculiarity of, , . strabo, writings of, . sun, atmosphere of the, ; constitution of the, ; distance of the earth from the, ; effect from changes in the, and earth, ; envelope of the, , , ; experiments illustrating consolidation of disseminated materials of planets and, ; finally, dark and cold, ; formation of the eight planets of the, ; heat leaving the, ; heat of the, ; imaginary journey from the, into space, ; mass of the, , ; path of the earth around the, ; physical condition of the, ; prof. newcomb's belief regarding the heat of the, ; spots, ; abundant at certain intervals, ; difficulty in revealing cause of, ; structure of the, a problem before the use of the telescope, ; table of relative masses of, and planets, ; three stages in the history of the, ; tides, ; why does it not act in the same manner as the moon? . surfaces, level, . surf belt, swayings of the, . swamps, diagram showing remains of, ; dismal swamp, , ; drainage of, , ; fresh-water, , ; phenomena of, , . table-lands, . table of relative masses of sun and planets, . telescopes, , , ; first results of, ; power of, ; revelations of, . temperature, effects of, produced by vibration, ; in the doldrum belt, ; of north america, ; of the atlantic ocean, . tempests, rate of, , . thunder, ; more pronounced in the mountains, . thunderstorms, , ; distribution of, , . tidal action, recent studies of, , ; marshes of north america, . tides, carving channels, ; effecting the earth's rotation, ; effect of, on marine life, ; height of, , ; moon and sun, , ; normal run of the, ; production of, ; of the trade winds, ; solar, ; travelling of, , . tillage introducing air into the pores of the soil, . tornadoes, , , ; development of, ; effect of, on buildings, ; fiercest in north america, ; length of, ; resemblance of, to hurricanes, ; upsucking action of, , . torrents, - , . trade winds. see under winds. training in language, diminishing visual memory, ; soldiers to measure distances, ; to measure intervals of time, ; for a naturalist, - . tunnels, natural, . uranus, . valley of val del bove formed from disturbances of mount Ætna, . valleys, diversity in the form of river, - ; river, . vapour, , , , ; gravitative attraction of, , ; nebular theory of, , ; original, of the solar system, , . vegetation, and dew, ; in a measure, independent of rain, ; protecting the soil, , . vein, diagram of a, . venus, , ; recent observations of, by mr. percival lowell, . vesuvian system, study of the, . vesuvius. see mount vesuvius. visualizing memories, , . volcanic action, - . volcanic eruption of a.d. , ; important facts concerning, - ; islands, ; lava a primary feature in, ; observations of, made from a balloon, ; peaks along the floor of the sea, , ; possibility of throwing matter beyond control of gravitative energy, . volcanoes, , , ; abounding on the sea floor, ; accidents from eruptions of, ; along the pacific coast, ; ash showers of, maintaining fertility of the soil, ; distribution of, ; eruption of, - , ; explosions from, coming from a supposed liquid interior of the earth, ; exporting earth material, ; little water, ; italian, considered collectively, , ; neapolitan eruptions of and the history of civilization, ; subsidence of the earth after eruption of, , ; origin of, - ; phenomena of, - ; submarine, ; travelling of ejections from, , . waters, crevice, ; of the earth, , ; cutting action of, , ; drift, from the poles, ; journey of, from the arctic circle to the tropics, , ; dynamic value of, ; expansion of, in rocks, ; geological work of, - ; in air, ; of the clouds usually frozen, ; pure, no power for cutting rocks, ; rock, , ; sea, minerals in, ; store of the earth, ; system of, , ; tropical, ; velocity of the, under the equator, ; wearing away rocks, , ; underground, carrying mineral matter to the sea, ; chemical changes of, leading to changes in rock material, , ; effect of carbonic-acid gas on, ; operations of the, ; wearing away rocks, , ; work of, . waterfalls, - ; cause of, ; the yosemite, ; niagara, , ; numerous in the torrent district of rivers, ; produced by dikes, ; valuable to manufactures, , . waterspouts, , ; atmospheric cause of, ; firing at, ; life of a, ; picturesqueness of, ; the water of fresh, . waves, , , , ; action of friction on, , ; break of the, ; endurance of sand against the, ; force of, , , ; marine, caused by earthquakes, ; of earthquakes, ; peculiar features in the action of, ; size of, , ; stroke of the, ; surf, ; tidal height of, ; undulations of, ; wind, ; wind influence of, on the sea, , ; wind-made, . ways and means of studying nature, . weeds of the sea, . well, artesian, , . whirling of fluids and gas, , . whirlwinds in sahara, . will-o'-the-wisp, . winds, , , , ; effect of sand, ; hurricane, ; illustration of how they are produced, ; in martha's vineyard, ; of the forests, work of the, ; of tornadoes, effect of, ; on the island of jamaica, , ; regimen of the, ; variable falling away in the nighttime, ; trade, - ; , , ; action of, on ocean currents, : affected by motion of the earth, ; belt, motion of the ocean in, ; flow and counter-flow of the, ; tide of the, ; uniform condition of the, ; waves, work of, , , . witchcraft, belief of, in the early ages, . zoölogy, rapid advance in, , . note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) cave regions of the ozarks and black hills by luella agnes owen. membre titulaire de la société de spéléologie, and fellow of the american geographical society. [illustration: entrance to marble cave. page .] cincinnati. the editor publishing co. . the illustrations for this volume are from photographs by the following artists: the views of marble cave, by stone & de groff, warrensburg, missouri. the tower of babel, the chimes, the knife blade, the needle, the bridal veil, by meddaugh, of leadville, so. dakota. top of glacier, by l.w. marble, wind cave, so. dakota. white onyx masses, fairies' palace, by j.w. pike, hot springs, so. dakota. the wilderness pinery, by d. benton miller, alton, missouri. approaching deadwood, by h.r. locke & co., deadwood, so. dakota. copyrighted the editor publishing company. . to my mother this book is affectionately dedicated. contents. chapter. page. i a general view ii marble cave iii marble cave continued iv fairy cave and powell cave v other stone county caves vi oregon county caves vii the grand gulf viii the black hills and bad lands ix wind cave x wind cave continued xi " " " xii " " concluded xiii the onyx caves xiv crystal cave xv " " concluded xvi conclusion cave regions of the ozarks and black hills. chapter i. a general view. "o'er mountains bright with snow and light, we crystal hunters speed along, while grots, and caves, and icy waves, each instant echo to our song; and when we meet with stores of gems we grudge not kings their diadems." --_thomas moore._ the southern half of the state of missouri, and the black hills of south dakota, offer exceptionally delightful regions for the study of caves, or speleology as it has been named, and the sister sciences of geology and geography at the same time. in fact it is impossible to study either without giving attention to the other two, and therefore, instead of being separate sciences, they are the three branches of a great scientific trinity. the regions here referred to enjoy the advantage, and at the same time suffer the disadvantage, of being comparatively little known to the ever restless tide of tourists who naturally hail with pleasure the announcement that some easily accessible, and thoroughly charming spot, has escaped their attention altogether, with a marvelous store of attractions which are both extremely old and wholly new. each of these regions has a peculiar geological history not repeated in any other portions of the earth's surface: each is blessed with its own peculiar style of beautiful scenery: and each vies with the other and all the world besides for the supremacy of its truly wonderful caves. yet it should be well understood that the claims are not based on an unworthy spirit of rivalry, nor any desire to deny the greatness and beauty of already famous members of the cave family. it is simply an announcement that the family is much larger than has been generally supposed, and the more recently presented members worthy of the full measure of distinguished honors. the geological authorities of both states have for many years mentioned the beauty and importance of these regions, and urged their claims to public attention, but have been prevented, by the pressure of other duties, from giving to the caves such careful study and full reports as they deserve, as it would have been a pleasure to give, and as has been possible in states of less extent where the general work of the department is more advanced, and the volume of tourist travel created an early demand for scientific explanation. without any great difficulty we can understand the process of cave excavation by the action of percolating acidulated water on the limestone, and its subsequent removal as the volume of surface drainage diverted to the new channel gradually increased. but it is not so easy to offer a reason for the varied forms with which the caves are afterwards decorated. why is it the charmed waters do not leave the evidence of their slow passage only in plain surfaces of varying widths, and the stalactites and stalagmites whose formation we can readily account for? and why do not the deposits take the same forms in all caves with only such variations as would naturally result from differences in topography? the law is written, but in unfamiliar characters that render our reading slow and uncertain. yet it is conspicuously noticeable that those caves showing the most delicately fragile and wonderfully varied forms of decoration are those traversed by the most sweeping and changeable, or even reversible, currents of air; which might lead to the conclusion that the moisture is sprayed or converted into a light, misty vapor, and then deposited in exactly the same manner as the beautiful frost-work at niagara: the direction and force of the current determining the location of the frail deposits. since the largest and most important caves occur in limestone, a little special attention to the cause of their occurrence there may serve to show that although speleology has only recently received its name and been elevated to the rank of a separate and independent science, it is one of the earth's ancient institutions. our geologists, who have unearthed many secrets not dreamed of even in humboldt's "good phylosopy," have settled the question of how the different kinds of caves were formed, according to the character of rocks they are in, or their location and depth, and the natural agencies to whose action they show signs of having been subjected. dr. h.c. hovey, in his "celebrated american caverns," says: "in visiting caves of large extent, one is at first inclined to regard the long halls, huge rifts, deep pits and lofty domes, as evidences of great convulsions of nature, whereby the earth has been violently rent asunder. but, while mechanical forces have had their share in the work, as has been shown, the main agent in every case has been the comparatively gentle, invisible gas known as carbonic acid. this is generated by the decay of animal and vegetable substances, and is to a considerable degree soluble in water. under ordinary circumstances one measure of water will absorb one measure of carbonic acid; and the eye will detect no difference in its appearance. under pressure the power of absorption is rapidly increased, until the water thus surcharged has an acid taste, and effervesces on flowing from the earth, as in saratoga water. "rain-water, falling amid leaves and grass, and sinking into the soil, absorbs large quantities of carbonic acid. on reaching the underlying limestone, the latter is instantly attacked by the acidulated water in which it is dissolved and carried away. "it is agreed among geologists, amazing as the statement may seem, that the immense caverns of virginia, kentucky and indiana, including mammoth cave itself (the largest of all), were eaten out of the solid mass of limestone by the slow, patient, but irresistible action of acidulated water." professor n.s. shaler says: "the existence of deep caverns is a sign that the region has long been above the sea." through the kindness of professor c.j. norwood, chief inspector and curator of the geological department of kentucky, it is possible to quote the first official report made on the caves of that state and published in , in volume i., kentucky geological survey reports. dr. norwood says: "referring to the 'subcarboniferous limestone' (now known as the st. louis group of the mississippian series), dr. owen says: 'the southern belt of this formation is wonderfully cavernous, especially in its upper beds, which being more argillaceous, and impregnated with earths and alkalies, are disposed to produce salts, which oozing through the pores of the stone effloresce on its surface, and thus tend to disintegrate and scale off, independent of the solvent effects of the carbonated water. beneath overhanging ledges of limestone, quantities of fine earthy rubbish can be seen, weathered off from such causes. in these i have detected sulphate of lime, sulphate of magnesia, nitrate of lime, and occasionally sulphate of soda. the tendency which some calcareous rocks have to produce nitrate of lime is, probably, one of the greatest causes of disintegration.'" "most extensive subterranean areas thus have been excavated or undermined in edmonson, hart, grayson, butler, logan, todd, christian and trig. in the vicinity of green river, in the first of these counties, the known avenues of the mammoth cave amount to two hundred and twenty-three, the united length of the whole being estimated, by those best acquainted with the cave, at one hundred and fifty miles; say that the average width and height of these passages amount to seven yards each way, which is perhaps near the truth; this would give upwards of twelve million cubic yards of cavernous space which has been excavated through the agency of calcareous waters and atmospheric vicissitudes." page : "on the south side of green river the platform of limestone forming the descent into mammoth cave is two hundred and thirty-two feet above green river." "the entrance to the cave, being thirty-eight feet lower than this bed of limestone, is one hundred and ninety-four feet above green river. in the above two hundred and thirty-two feet there are several heavy masses of sandstone, viz.: at one hundred and twenty-five, one hundred and forty-five, one hundred and fifty, one hundred and sixty and two hundred and fifteen feet, but it is probable that most of these have tumbled from higher positions in the hill, as no alterations of sandstone have been observed at these levels in the cave. from an elevation of from two hundred and forty to two hundred and fifty feet, the prevalent rock is sandstone without pebbles, which can be seen extending up to three hundred and twelve feet to the foundation of the cave hotel. the united thickness of the limestone beds on this part of green river, is about two hundred and thirty feet, capped with eighty feet of sandstone. about midway of the section on this part of green river, are limestones of an obscure oolitic structure, but no true oolite was observed. many of these limestones are of such composition as to be acted on freely by the elements of the atmosphere, which, in the form of nitric acid, combine with the earthy and alkaline bases of calcareous rock, and give rise to the formation of nitrates with the liberation of carbonic acid; hence the disintegrated rubbish of the caves yields nitrate of potash after being treated with the ley of ashes and subsequent evaporation of the saline lixivium. the wonderfully cavernous character of the subcarboniferous limestones of the green river valley, and, indeed, of these particular members of the subcarboniferous group throughout a great part of its range in kentucky and indiana, is due in a great measure to this cause, together with the solvent and eroding effects of water charged with carbonic acid. the 'rock-houses' frequently encountered both in this formation and in the limestones of silurian date, are produced by similar causes; the more easily disintegrated beds gradually crumbling away, while the more durable remain in overhanging ledges. by the oxidation of other elements, sulphates of oxide of iron and alkalies result, which, by double decomposition, with carbonate of lime, give rise to the formation of gypsums which appears in the form of rosettes, festoons and various other imitative forms on the walls and ceilings of the caves. crystallizations of sulphate of soda and sulphate of magnesia are not uncommon, both in some of the caves and in sheltered situations under shelving rocks." the explanations thus given of the excavation and subsequent refilling and decoration of the limestone caves of kentucky and indiana apply equally well to those of other states; but it is to be remembered that at the time of dr. owen's report, onyx, the most beautiful and valuable of dripstones, had not yet been discovered in the united states; while now especially fine deposits are known in california, utah, missouri, south dakota and arkansas; the missouri supply being exceptionally valuable on account of the marvelous delicacy and beauty of its coloring; nor can it soon be exhausted, as deposits have been found in eight counties and further exploration will no doubt discover more. concerning the subcarboniferous, or mississippian series in part i., vol. iv., missouri geological survey, dr. c.r. keyes says: "in the great interior basin of the mississippi the basal series is exposed more or less continuously over broad areas, extending from northern iowa to alabama, and from ohio to mexico." while this broadly extended series of limestone is honey-combed in many places and all directions by wonderful caverns, those of the ozark regions in missouri, although comparatively little known, are well worth knowing, and are possibly the most ancient limestone caves in the world. of the region in which they occur, dr. keyes, in the volume last quoted, says: "the chief typographical feature of the state has long been known in the ozark uplift, a broad plateau with gentle quaquaversal slopes rising to a height of more than one thousand five hundred feet above mean tide, and extending almost entirely across the southern part of the district. on all sides the borders of this highland area are deeply grooved by numberless streams flowing in narrow gorges. against its nucleus of very ancient granites and porphyries the ozark series of magnesian limestone was laid down. then the area occupied by these rocks was elevated, and around its margins were deposited successively the other members of the paleozoic. the ozark region was thus the first land to appear within the borders of the present state of missouri." he further says: "although it has long been known that the magnesian limestones are older than the trenton, and that they lie immediately upon and against the archæan crystallines unconformably, their exact geological age has always remained unsettled. there seems to be but little doubt, however, that part of the series is equivalent to the calciferous of other regions. it is also pretty well determined that certain of the lower beds, all below the 'saccharoidal' sandstone perhaps, are representatives of the upper cambrian or potsdam. these conclusions appear well grounded both upon stratigraphical and faunal evidence. the rocks of the ozark region have not as yet received the necessary detailed study to enable the several lines of demarkation to be drawn with certainty. this investigation is now being carried on as rapidly as possible, and promises very satisfactory and interesting results in the near future." "the early geological reports represent the magnesian limestone series as made up of seven members. following swallow, these may be briefly described in the present connection. beginning at the top, they are: first magnesian limestone. first, or saccharoidal sandstone. second magnesian limestone. second sandstone. third magnesian limestone. third sandstone. fourth limestone." "the fourth" magnesian limestone, or lowest number of the ozark series recognized, has its typical exposures along the niangua and osage rivers in morgan and camden counties. professor swallow, in his missouri geological survey reports i. and ii., and , says: "caves, natural bridges and subterranean streams occur in the valley of the osage and its tributaries." the same authority of forty years ago also mentions that "some of the grandest scenery in the state is produced by the high castellated and mural bluffs of this (third magnesian limestone) formation, on the niangua and the osage." another reference to the scenery on these rivers describes it as "wild and grand, beautiful and unique;" with "gaudy-colored bluffs." in the section on building materials he remarks: "one of the most desirable of the missouri marbles is in the third magnesian limestone on the niangua. it is fine-grained, crystalline, silico-magnesian limestone of a light drab, slightly tinged with peach-blossom, and beautifully clouded with the same hue or flesh color. it is twenty feet thick and crops out in the bluffs. this marble is rarely surpassed in the qualities which fit it for ornamental architecture." the ozarks in the extreme southern portion of the state are even less known to the world, but the scenery is grand, the climate delightful, and the caves worthy of a visit for themselves alone. the state of missouri being one third larger than england, and of equal size to switzerland, holland, belgium and denmark combined, it is not surprising that interesting discoveries are still to be expected. the climate is so varied on account of the range in latitude and altitude, and the natural resources are so great, the claim has been made that if the state were surrounded by an impassable wall, its citizens need not be deprived of any article necessary to a refined and luxurious mode of living: and according to mr. henry gannett in "the building of a nation," the population in was . per cent. native whites of native parents, the colored a little less than per cent., and nearly two-thirds of the balance, native born of parents, one or both of whom were foreign. although the ozark region has not yet received sufficient attention to dull its charm for the explorer, the fact has been established that its earliest sedimentary rocks are of the cambrian age and still occupy mainly the position in which they were originally deposited. therefore we need not be surprised to discover that some, at least, of the excavations are proportionately ancient; and that the natural bridges are the last remaining positive evidence of their former existence and final collapse. that the natural bridges of missouri mark the destruction of more ancient caves than the one preserved to geological history by virginia's grand attraction, seems quite evident. the greater age of the rocks indicates the possibility of earlier excavation while their undisturbed position suggests that destruction resulted, not from violent earth movement, but from the slow action of agencies requiring long periods of time. before proceeding to a discussion of the caves visited personally for the gratification of private interest, it is desirable to know what attention has been given to the subject, incidentally, in the course of regular official duty on the missouri geological survey. caves described in the state reports. although many unknown caves must yet be discovered in the imperfectly explored portions of the vast ozark forests, these finds are already so numerous as to seldom attract attention according to their just desserts. one of the comparatively recent of these discoveries is crystal cave, at joplin, described on page , vol. vii., missouri geological survey report .[ ] it was opened in the lower workings of a shaft of the empire zinc company, and "the entire surface of the cave, top, sides and bottom, is lined with calcite crystals, so closely packed together as to form a continuous sheet and most of them of great size, and well formed faces. scalenohedra as much as two feet long are sometimes seen, and others a foot or more in length are common. planes or crystal ghosts, sometimes with pyrite crystals, marking stages of growth in the calcite crystals, are often distinguishable. the entire absence of anything like stalactites is noticeable, and together with the presence of the crystals, show that the cave was completely filled with water during their growth." in the same volume, all those counties in the extreme southwest corner of the state, whose geological age has not heretofore been considered positively determined, are mapped as lower carboniferous, and lower silurian, with the coal measures covering portions of barton and jasper and appearing in a few small, scattered spots in dade, polk, green and christian counties, and some scanty lines of devonian fringing the edges of the silurian in barton and mcdonald. other state reports make mention of many caves and fine springs, and also several natural bridges worthy of special notice. in mr. g.c. broadhead's report for - , he gives a short but interesting chapter on caves and water supplies, in which he says that "caves occur in the third magnesian limestone, saccharoidal sandstone, trenton, lithographic, encrinital and st. louis limestone." "in eastern and northeast missouri there have not been found many large caves in the encrinital limestone, but the lower beds of this formation in southwest missouri often enclose very large caverns; among the latter may be included the caves of green county with some in christian and mcdonald. those in mcdonald i have not seen, but they are reported to be very extensive and probably are situated in the encrinital limestone." under the head of "special descriptions" he says: "on sac river, in the north part of green county, we find a cave with two entrances, one at the foot of a hill, opening toward sac river, forty-five feet high and eighty feet wide. the other entrance is from the hill-top, one hundred and fifty feet back from the face of the bluff. these two passages unite. the exact dimensions of the cave are not known, but there are several beautiful and large rooms lined with stalactites and stalagmites which often assume both beautiful and grotesque life-like forms. the cave has been explored for several hundred yards, showing the formations to be thick silicious beds of the lower carboniferous formations." "knox cave, in green county, is said to be of large dimensions. i have not seen it, but some of its stalactites are quite handsome." "wilson's creek sinks beneath the limestone and appears again below." "there are several caves near ozark, christian county, which issue from the same formation as those in green county. on a branch of finly creek a stream disappears in a sink, appearing again three-quarters of a mile southeast through an opening sixty feet high by ninety-eight feet wide. up stream the cave continues this size for a hundred yards and then decreases in size, and for the next quarter of a mile further it is generally ten by fourteen feet wide. a very clear, cool stream passes out, in which by careful search crawfish without eyes can be found." "there is another cave a few miles south of ozark, and another ten miles southeast occurs in the magnesian limestone." "in boone county there are several caves in the encrinital limestone. conner's, the largest, is said to have been explored for a distance of eight miles." "in pike and lincoln there are several small caves occurring in the upper beds of trenton limestone, which are often very cavernous. on sulphur fork of cuivre, there is a cave and natural bridge, to which parties for pleasure often resort. the bridge is tubular with twenty feet between the walls, and is one hundred feet long." "at j.p. fisher's on spencer creek, ralls county, there is a cave having an entrance of ninety feet wide by twenty feet high. the lower trenton beds occupy the floor, with the upper cavernous beds above. on the bluff, at a distance of one hundred and fifty yards back, there is a sink-hole which communicates with the cave. within the cave is a cool, clear spring of water, and mr. f. said he could keep meat fresh there for six weeks during midsummer." "the third magnesian limestone which occupies such a large portion of southwest missouri, often contains very large caves. one of them, known as friede's cave, is six or eight miles northwest of rolla, on cave spring creek." "it is said to have been explored for several miles, but i only passed in a few hundred yards. the stalactites here are very beautiful, assuming the structure of satin spar. a very clear stream of water issues out. west of the gasconade, on clifty creek, is a remarkable natural bridge which i have elsewhere described in geological survey of missouri, - , page ." "mr. meek speaks of a large and interesting cave on tavern creek, in miller county. dr. shumard estimates a cave on bryant's fork, in ozark county, to be a mile and a half long." this description of dr. shumard's is in the geological survey of missouri, - , page , where he says: "the entrance is thirty-five feet wide and thirty feet high, and is situated at the foot of a perpendicular cliff, and far above the water-level of bryant. just within the entrance it expands to sixty or seventy feet, with a height of about fifty feet; and this part of the cave has been used by the citizens of the county as a place for holding camp-meeting. i estimated its length at not far short of one mile and a half. the main passage is in general quite spacious, the roof elevated, and the floor tolerably level, but often wet and miry. for some distance beyond the entrance there is not much to attract attention; but as we proceed, at the far extremity the chambers are quite as picturesque as the most noted of the well-known mammoth cave. the ceilings, sides and floor are adorned with a multitude of stalactites and stalagmites arranged in fanciful combinations, and assuming a variety of fantastic and beautiful forms." many of these caves contain niter, which occurs as a mineral and not as evidence of former animal occupation, it being found in the form of effervescenses on the walls. dr. shumard mentions several of this character in pulaski county, the most noted being niter cave, in the third magnesian limestone, with a wide entrance thirty feet above the level of the gasconade. on page , he also gives a charming description of one of the immense springs that are numerous in this region and that i have never seen elsewhere. he says: "ozark county is bountifully supplied with springs of the finest water, and some of them of remarkably large size. the largest one is situated near the north fork, in t. , r. w., sec. , and is known under the name of the double spring. it issues from near the base of a bluff of sandstone and magnesian limestone, a few feet above the level of the north fork. this spring discharges an immense volume of water, which is divided by a huge mass of sandstone into two streams, with swift currents flowing in opposite directions to join the north fork about one hundred and fifty yards distant from the spring. i estimated the width of these streams at not less than fifty yards. they are separated from the north fork by a pretty wooded island one hundred yards long. the upper stream affords a good mill-site. i am informed that the quantity of water discharged by this magnificent spring is not materially diminished during the dryest seasons of the year. the temperature of the water measured at the edge of the spring, was found to be °; the temperature of the air at the same time, °. other springs of considerable magnitude occur in various portions of the county, giving rise to beautiful and limpid streams." the descriptions of the natural bridge and friede's cave, near rolla, previously referred to as being on page of the same volume, are as follows: "on clifty creek found the chert bed of sec. - occurring about sixty feet from the top of the third magnesian limestone, with a road passing over its upper surface, presenting it very favorably for observation. it seemed here to be broken by vertical cracks into large rhomboidal blocks. further up this creek in a wild and secluded spot, observed a natural bridge with six feet of this chert bed at its base, and silicious magnesian limestone above. the span of this bridge is about thirty feet, an elevation of opening about fifteen feet above the water, the thickness of the rock above is about twelve feet, and width on top about fifteen feet. two small streams come together, one from the west and another from the south-west. a point of the bluff on the south-west fork spans the northern fork, and terminates about sixty feet beyond in a sharp point; a few large masses of rock lie near the termination of the promontory, and fifty feet beyond, the bluffs of the opposite hills rise abruptly from the bottoms. the bluffs, both above and below, are very precipitous, the middle and lower beds of the third magnesian limestone forming perpendicular escarpments, frequently studded with cedar, some occurring on top of the bridge. a perfectly clear stream of water courses through this valley. the bottoms near are overspread with a dense growth of trees and vines, among which latter i noticed the muscadine grape. the valley at this part being shut in by its perpendicular cliffs with not a path to guide the traveler through the dense thickets, is wildly picturesque and romantic in its loneliness." of the cave he says: "this cave is a quarter of a mile east of cave spring creek, and has a wide and elevated entrance; passing into it a hundred yards or more, the passage narrows, and in order to go further a stream of water has frequently to be waded through; this passage has been followed by some persons several miles without finding any object of interest; but a few hundred yards from the entrance, by diverging to the right, we enter a large chamber, studded with stalactites and stalagmites, many uniting and forming solid columns of support. many of these are very beautiful, and often as white as alabaster. there are other large rooms, but they possess no peculiar interest. found large deposits of earth on the floor having a saline taste." of the extensive pine forests in ozark county, he says: "the size and quality of the timber will compare favorably with that of the celebrated pineries of wisconsin and minnesota." in several other counties the pine is equally good, and other valuable timber everywhere abundant, although in a school geography published in , the following descriptions of this region occur: "the lowlands of the mississippi are bounded by the region of the ozark mountains. with the exception of the alluvial tracts on the borders of the streams, it is extremely hilly and broken. the mountains rise from eight hundred to eighteen hundred feet above the streams, with rounded summits and often perpendicular cliffs, and have a rocky surface, which admits only a scanty growth of timber." * * "missouri is generally a region of prairies and table lands, much of which, as already described, is almost destitute of timber and water. it is crossed by the ozark mountains, which form a rugged tract of considerable extent. earthquakes are not infrequent in some parts of this state. the soil is not generally productive." a comparison of these curious views with the latest official reports is highly amusing, as well as suggestive that early impressions are liable to require modification. in addition to the wonderful springs of pure water, there are numerous fine mineral springs, among which are a number of epsom salt springs. at jacksonville, in randolph county, there is a large mineral spring from which it is said an over-heated horse may drink all he will without injury. epsom-salts, or epsomite, frequently occurs, as does the niter, in a crystalline form of the pure mineral, as an efflorescence on rocks in many of the caves and in other sheltered positions. [illustration: the surveyed portions of marble cave stone county missouri surveyed and plotted by fred prince. scale of feet] footnotes: [ ] lead and zinc. prof. c.r. keyes. chapter ii. marble cave. marble cave, which is the finest yet explored in missouri, is southeast of the center of stone county, a short distance north of the picturesque white river. the nearest station is marionville on the st. louis and san francisco railroad, and the drive of forty miles is delightful, but can be divided, into two of twenty each by a stop at galena. the road, for the most part, is naturally macadamized and is through a most charming country whose roughness and beauty increase together as the journey advances. at first it winds along fertile valleys between wooded hills, crossing many times a shallow stream of water so clear as to afford no concealment for an occasional water-moccasin, whose bite is said to be not poisonous if inflicted under water, and which must be true because the horses showed not the least uneasiness. the second week in may found the vegetation in its summer beauty; strawberries were ripe, and the weather without a fault. galena is pleasantly situated on the hills overlooking the james river, and is entirely invisible from the road by which it is approached until a slight curve in the line of ascent ends the first half of the journey with surprising suddenness. in the immediate vicinity there are several small caves which are worthy of attention and will be described later on. to properly picture the twenty miles of changing and charming views between galena and marble cave would require the light and skillful touch of a special artist gifted with a tangible perception of atmospheric values. gradually the road forsakes the pretty valleys with their fields and streams, to take the summit of the hills and then be known as the "ridge road," which affords a wide range of vision not previously enjoyed, presenting scenes not to be found reproduced elsewhere with any degree of exactness. looking into the depth of the forest as it slopes away on either side, the impression is of a magnificent park, undefaced by what are called improvements. this effect is produced by the scarcity, or entire absence of underbrush, and a beautiful surface covering of grasses or flowering plants of all kinds and colors, varied here and there with masses of ferns of unusual size and delicate beauty. the most unexpected and lavish feature of the rich display is the many miles of fragrant honeysuckle that grows only eighteen inches high in the forest shade, but if transplanted to a sunny spot develops into the familiar vine. the most beautiful portion of all this is called the wilderness, and seems designed for a national park. such a park reserve, even if very small, could not fail to be a lasting pleasure, since it would be more accessible to large centers of population than other reserves, and its most delightful seasons are spring and autumn when the yellowstone is under snow. [illustration: a mill-site near marble cave.] the distant view obtained through open spaces is an undulating forest in all directions, being apparently both trackless and endless. the great variety of greens observed in the foliage blends in the distance into one dark shade, then changes to dark blue, which gradually fades out to a hazy uncertainty where it is lost at the sky-line. as long ago as , the variety and abundance of the natural growth of fruits throughout the ozarks was observed by professor swallow, who then advised the planting of vines. beyond the wilderness is the marble cave property and the entrance to the cave is through a large sink-hole in the top of roark mountain. this hole is said to be about two hundred feet long, one hundred feet wide and thirty-five feet deep. it is shaped like a great oblong bowl with sloping sides, divided irregularly near the middle, and having the bottom broken out in a jagged way that is very handsome and gives an ample support to the growth of ferns, wild roses, and other vegetation with which it is abundantly decorated. about half of the descent into the basin is accomplished by scrambling down the roughly broken rocks, and the balance by a broad wooden stairway ending at a narrow platform that supports the locked gate. for kind and valuable assistance rendered to insure the success and pleasure of the visit to the wonderful cave, which they regard with affection and pride, very cordial thanks are due to capt. t.s. powell, former manager, his son, mr. will powell, the first guide, and mr. fred prince, who has made the only official survey and map. it may be stated here that the survey and map are far from complete, and many known passages have never yet been entered. being the first visiting party of the season, certain disadvantages were encountered in a great accumulation of wet clay and rubbish, washed in by the rains since the previous summer; but the gate was opened with considerable effort, and slowly and cautiously we descended the slippery, clay-banked stairs to the immense mound of debris forty-five feet below the gate, to behold, at last, the grandeur of the auditorium. the magnificence of that one chamber should give to marble cave a world-wide fame even if there were nothing more beyond. the blue-gray limestone walls have a greater charm than those of an open cañon, owing to the fact that they sweep away from any given point in long, true curves to form an elliptical chamber three hundred and fifty feet long by one hundred and twenty-five feet wide, with the vault above showing absolute perfection of arch, and measuring, by the survey, from its lowest to its highest point, one hundred and ninety-five feet. these measurements are said to be indisputably correct, and if so, the auditorium of marble cave is the largest unsupported, perfect arch in the world; it being one hundred feet longer than the famous mormon tabernacle at salt lake city. in addition to the artistic superiority of architectural form, its acoustic properties having been tested, it is found to be truly an auditorium. the curving walls and pure atmosphere combine to aid the voice, and carry its softest tones with marvelous distinctness to every portion of the immense inclosed space. as a concert hall its capacity has been tested by musicians who are said to have been enthusiastic over the success of their experiments. several years ago a piano was lowered into the cave for use on a special occasion, and still occupies a position on the dancing platform, where it will probably remain indefinitely under the scant protection of a small canvas tent. the chief ornament of the auditorium is the white throne, a stalagmitic mass that when viewed from the stairway appears to rest solidly against the most distant wall, and looks so small an object in that vast space as to render a realization of its actual measurement impossible. the height of the throne is sixty-five feet and the girth two hundred. it is a mass of dripstone resting on a limestone base reserved from the ancient excavation to receive it, and on careful inspection the perpendicular lines, observed on the front, are found to be a set of rather large organ pipes. a fresh fracture shows the throne to be a most beautiful white and gold onyx. the outer surface has now received a thin coating of yellow clay which was, of course, regretted, but later observations on onyx building reveals the pleasing fact that if the crystal-bearing waters continue to drip, the yellow clay will supply the coloring matter for a golden band of crystal. the throne is hollow and has a natural opening in one side by which it may be entered, but the space within is too limited to invite a lengthy stay. that portion of the outside which is nearest the wall is formed with sufficient irregularity of outline to admit of an ascent to the top, and the view obtained is well worth the difficult scramble up and the apprehensive slide down. being raised so high above all objects that divide attention or in some degree obstruct the view, permits a freedom of outlook that sensibly increases the appreciation of the vastness of the enclosed chamber and its enclosing walls. efforts to establish the age of the deposit by observations on the yearly growth, would afford little satisfaction, for the obvious reason that conditions governing the growth are dependent, in a measure, on each season's vegetation. deposit began, of course, after the erosion of the chamber ceased, and therefore represents only a fraction of the age of the cave itself. about thirty feet west of the white throne and against the wall, stands the next onyx attraction in the form of a beautiful fluted column nearly twenty feet high, tapering up from a base three feet in diameter, and known as the spring room sentinel, because the spring of youth is just behind it although not directly connected with the auditorium; it being the first chamber on the left in total depravity passage, a wet and dangerous way of which next to nothing is known, but the entrance to which is a fine arch a few feet west of the sentinel. the spring of youth is reached by climbing through a window-like opening, and is very small, very wet, very cold, and very beautiful. it is not more than ten feet high nor six in its greatest length and breadth, but every inch of its irregular surface is composed of dripstone of a bright yellowish-red and colorless crystal; and down the glittering walls trickles clear and almost ice-cold water, to the onyx floor where it is caught and held in a marvelous fluted bowl of its own manufacture. this is said to be the gem of the whole cave and seems to have been placed where it is for the consolation of those who are unable to enjoy the peculiar grandeur of the auditorium, and leave it as some actually are said to do, with a sense of disappointment, because it is not the gleaming white hall of marble which some writers for reputable journals have allowed their imaginations to create. in winter the spring of youth room takes on a complete coating of ice, with icicles of all sizes hanging from the ceiling and projections. the effect is described as being wonderfully beautiful. further down total depravity passage we were not urged to go, because at that season of the year it is wet and difficult, without any sufficient promise of a brilliant compensation for the achievement of such a journey. but the spring of youth room, or as it is generally called, the spring room, is more than ample justification for the existence of the passage, and would still be if that passage were several miles in length and the attraction located at the most distant limit. [illustration: wall in spring room. page .] the various passages in marble cave are by no means alike or even similar; some having been opened by the action of water assisted only by acid carried in solution; while others are the unmistakable crevices of earthquake origin, afterwards enlarged, or perhaps only remodeled, as we might say, by the water's untiring energy in changing the position of rock masses without obliterating evidences of original design. a glance at the map shows the sudden breaking off of the various passages represented; the end, however, is not of the passages themselves, but only of the exploration or the survey of them, and there is a possibility that future developments will lead to the discovery of more caves than are yet known. however that may be, the glimpses already had into the beyond are said to be alluring. to the north of the auditorium, which was until recently called the grand amphitheater, there opens out a kind of alcove extension known as the mother hubbard room, and spreading out from this is the corridor, a room about one hundred and twenty-five feet long and seventy-five feet in width, with a low, narrow passage, or crawl, leading from the northeast into the grotto, a dome-shaped room formerly called the battery, on account of the great number of bats that used to congregate in it. it is about forty feet in diameter and fifty feet in height. on one side of this room is a narrow "squeeze" opening into a passage several feet lower than the floor level of the grotto and leading to the spanish room, which when discovered bore indications of having been occupied by a human being who had tried to escape by tunneling, or by reaching a hole in the roof; which is said to be impossible for him to have done without outside assistance. as no bones have been found we may hope the assistance arrived in time. when the discovery of the room was made, a quantity of loose rock was piled before the entrance, so if he ever escaped it was not by that way. after crawling back to the corridor, through the same small, but dry passage of seventy feet length, we saw a narrow ledge of fine crystals, a deposit of epsom salts, and a few bats that in the dim light looked white but are a light tan color with brown wings. a good specimen hanging on a projecting ledge of the wall remained undisturbed by us and our lights, giving an opportunity for careful inspection so that we presently discovered it to be a mummy; which naturally suggests that this portion of the cave, being dry and opening out of the great temple-like auditorium as an alcove, could be converted into an imposing crypt. making our way across the room to its southwest extremity over a varied assortment of bowlders and down a drop of eight or ten feet, we crawled into another tight-fitting dry passage lined with beautiful glittering onyx like clear ice banded with narrow lines of red, of which broken fragments covered the narrow floor and made a dazzling, but distressingly painful rug to crawl over. this is the west passage and leads to the grand crevice, of which only a small portion has been surveyed; midway of the passage are the epsom rooms, two in number, and well supplied with epsomite or native epsom salts; this is sometimes called the windy passage, on account of a rushing current of air met suddenly at the first bend and, no doubt, due to the meeting here of fresh air coming in from the outside with that chemically changed in the epsom rooms. the cave contains a great many dangerous places, as we correctly surmised on the morning of our introduction; when mr. powell's blessing on the breakfast was lost in so fervent a prayer for the safe and successful accomplishment of our undertaking, it seemed inconsiderate not to present the reassuring appearance of inexhaustible endurance. in the corridor can be seen one of the three old spanish ladders found in the cave when it was rediscovered; but when and for what purpose the spaniards used the cave there seems to be no means of finding out. it should be remembered that this part of the united states was occupied first by the spaniards and then by the french, and is a portion of the louisiana purchase, a tract of , square miles, or , square miles more than the original thirteen states. the price asked and paid was $ , , and the assumption of claims which citizens of this country had against the french government for about $ , , more. the french offered to make the sale on account of being thoroughly discouraged with constant troubles arising with the indians, whom they had decided it would be impossible to persuade or compel to recognize any laws other than those established by each tribe for itself, or accepted by friendly treaty with the council and disregarded by individuals on both sides:--and the united states accepted the offer, not for any expected value in the land, but for the unrestricted navigation of the mississippi river. therefore missouri was never under british rule and never changed hands by force of arms. but to return to the spanish ladder, it is a tall pine tree notched on the sides for steps, and the stump of a branch left or a peg inserted at considerable intervals, for hand supports to assist in raising the weight of the body. returning to the auditorium, we entered a passage behind the great white throne and started on what might well be called the water route, for no dry spot is touched on the round trip; but if one goes prepared for such a journey it is well worth the effort and the mud. if the visitor is a man, the suit worn should be one he is ready to part with, or overalls; ladies receive the same advice even to the overalls, as some of the most beautiful portions of the cave, which we failed to see, can be visited only in that objectionable costume. to visit any cave comfortably a short dress is necessary and if any thing like a thorough knowledge of the ramifications is desired, the unavoidable climbing will soon prove the superior claims of a divided skirt; but if it is properly made, only the wearer need be conscious of the divide. rubber boots and water-proof protection for the head and shoulders complete a costume that is not exactly an artistic creation, unless our ideas of art have been gathered in the school of socrates, but it is suited to the requirements of the occasion and makes the explorations far more easy and profitable than they otherwise could be. the passage back of the white throne is called the serpentine passage, and most of it is sufficiently high for traveling in an erect position; yet there are several places that require crawling. the first stopping point is the gulf of doom room, or as it is also known, the register room, because here visitors usually write their names in the peculiar dark red clay, which is moist but firm and cuts with a polish. this room is twenty-five feet high and fifty feet wide, and looks off into the gulf of doom, which seems rightly named when a rock is thrown into it and you note the lapse of time before any sound returns; and when the awful gulf is made visible by lights thrown in, one involuntarily seeks a firmer footing and clings to a projecting rock. the height of the gulf is ninety-five feet and the distant sound of falling water is not reassuring. the walls are not smoothly worn away, but have the rough and weird appearance of having been torn by a torrent in a narrow mountain gorge, and are stained with the dark clay. retracing our steps a short distance, if that style of locomotion could be called steps, we turned into doré's gallery, and surely that artist was in his usual working mood when he conceived this awful method of connecting the upper regions with the lower. great bowlders have fallen down without helping to fill the black holes that received them, and into this real inferno we proceeded to descend by narrow, ladder-like stairs provided with a light hand rail, and trembling slightly with the responsibility they assumed. if any one's courage trembled too, no notice was taken of it, and a record of exploring experiences does not necessarily include a confession of any doubts. on all the ladders in this gallery was a fine white fungus growth in the form of a thick, heavy mold, that the lightest touch destroyed. in caves where some care is taken to protect this mold, it attains a growth of six or more feet and assumes the forms of sea-weed. once down the first and longest flight of stairs, without any signs of a doré dragon raising its huge body by heavy claws to a resting place among the rocks, awe divides more evenly with admiration; and being already well besmeared with mud, we climbed over the clay-covered bowlders and crawled through narrow holes with perfect satisfaction, enjoying each novel scene to the utmost. off from the doré gallery is a small chamber containing the fountain of youth, that must be seen, but the way, like that of the transgressor, is hard. arrived at the entrance we hesitated a moment, for although getting in looked possible, the way out again seemed not so simple; but finally trusting to providence, through the direct agency of our careful guardians, of course, we sat down on the edge of the large slippery bowlder on which we stood, and reaching out caught a projection of the wall on one side and a bowlder crag on the other, swung off and dropped into the soft mud below. this chamber proved to be a little gem; small but high, and beautifully adorned with calcite crystal. down a wall of red onyx on one side clear water flows into a basin in the irregular, rocky floor, just behind the bowlder we had used for a hand-rest at the entrance; the perfectly transparent water in the basin appears to be only a few inches deep, but measures three feet, and is several degrees colder than the air, which in this portion of the cave is warm. the other wall of this room is an almost perpendicular bank of the soft dark red clay, in which small selenite crystals are sprouting like plants in a garden. suddenly we heard a heavy, rolling noise like distant thunder, and asking if it were possible to hear a thunder storm so far below the surface, were told it was the protest of angry bats against a further advance on the quarters to which they have retreated from the main body of the cave, and their orders were obeyed: so of what may be in that direction, we gained no positive knowledge besides bats, and the fact that, small as they are, their great numbers make them dangerous when angry. returning to the gallery and continuing the journey down over slippery rock and slender ladders we came at length to the bottom of the gulf of doom, into which we had looked from the room now high above us; and we needed no stimulating help to the imagination to pronounce it a fit termination to an artist's troubled dream. [illustration: the waterfall. page .] then climbing over an assortment of bowlders of all sizes, going up a little, and swinging or sliding down, we came to a point in the narrow passage where the floor is a flat slab, like a large paving stone, tilted up at a steep angle against one wall and not reaching the other by about fifteen inches, with darkness of unknown depth below: about three feet above this opening the wall projects in a narrow, shelving ledge, and everything is covered with a thin coating of slippery wet clay. the only way to cross that uninviting bridge is to brace the feet against the slab, and leaning on the ledge, slowly work across. a little more rough work and the descent of the two short ladders, brought us, at last, under the beautiful waterfall, where we stood as in a heavy shower of rain at the lowest point yet reached in the cave, which according to the survey of mr. prince is four hundred feet below the surface. the falling water has ornamented the walls, which in this portion of the cave expose over two hundred feet of magnesian limestone, with unique forms of dripstone; and the steeply sloping floor has received the over-charge of calcium carbonate until it has become a shining mass of onyx, retaining pools of cold, transparent water in the depressions. in the lowest corner there is only mud, and above it rises, to a height of at least fifteen feet a bank of miry, yellow clay, at the top of which a hole in the wall is the only known entrance to blondy's throne. [illustration: longitudinal and cross-sections of passages in marble cave, stone co., missouri. plotted by fred prince, .] chapter iii. marble cave continued. on account of the long "crawl" through mud and cold water, it was at first suggested and then strongly advised, that we should not undertake to make the trip to blondy's throne: and yearning to see what is considered the cave's chief beauty was not easy to overcome, but after careful attention to the deep mire of the approach the advice seemed good, especially as mr. powell kindly promised to write a description of its trials and treasures; which he promptly did, thereby making it possible for us to continue the journey now without a disappointing interruption, so we will proceed to wade that mud bank with him in his own way. he says: "as mecca is to the mohammedan, so is blondy's throne room to the pilgrim who invades the chaos and penetrates the mysteries of marble cave. when the subject is mentioned to the guide, he shrugs his shoulders and assumes an imploring look, and begins at once to mention the difficulties of getting there. but if you insist upon it he will go. the passage by which this room has to be reached, if passage it may be called, must be entered from the waterfall room, and a steep ascent must be made until an elevation of fifty feet is reached above the bottom of that room. this ascent has been called hughse's slide, as a man of that name once lost his footing at the top and slid on the wet and very slippery clay all the way to the bottom, leaving a very sleek trail. the ascent is difficult, as the soft clay is deep and wet and the sides are reeking and covered also with soft yielding clay. when the top of the slide is once reached, a low passage six feet wide and two feet high is discovered, and stooping low, or actually lying flat down, you enter. the top of the passage is of smooth rock and the bottom is of wet clay with an occasional variation of sharp gravel. the air is good, and as a lizard, you start forward. in places the passage widens to ten or twelve feet and again narrows to six feet. "in about one hundred feet you encounter a small pond of water filling the whole width of the passage and extending twenty to thirty feet, but the guide tells you it is only one foot deep, and calls attention to the fact that the water does not come within a foot of the roof of the passage and you can easily keep your chin above it, and with this assurance through you go. "within the next one hundred feet you encounter and pass in the same manner three more ponds of varying sizes. the guide calls your attention to the fact that you are not alone, and looking about you by the dim light of your candle you see numbers of small eyeless salamanders, from four inches to one foot long. they are peaceable and harmless, appear to have no teeth and are easily caught, if you so desire. "another hundred feet and the rest room, or egyptian temple is reached, and rising to your feet you may rest. the room is small, but contains beautifully fluted walls, resembling basaltic columns; and natural marks of erosion that resemble hieroglyphic inscriptions. from the other side of this room the passage goes on with the same characteristics, but as you enter to go forward a sound strikes the ear, and you pause to listen. it is a confusion of sounds, a babel of voices; and sounds like a distant conversation carried on by a large number of people. so striking is this resemblance that you instantly ask the guide if there are people in the room ahead, and hardly believe him when he says, 'no.' "you hear voices of men, voices of boys, babies, girls and ladies, and occasionally loud laughter; but forward is the word and on you go, encouraged by the assurance of the guide that you are now over half way through the passage and that the sounds came from blondy's throne room. suddenly the passage divides into two much alike, and taking the right hand one, you make your slow advance until at last, with clothes soaked and covered with clay mud, and your strength about gone, you begin to feel desperate and tell the guide that you will go no further, when you see him rise to his feet, and he says: 'here we are.' you step over a steep bank of clay and emerge into a large room. it is almost square in shape; about eighty feet long and sixty feet wide, and about fifty feet high, with white, smooth walls and a pure white ceiling, and sloping gradually downward on the left ends in a small, clear lake of water. this lake has a beautiful beach of white pebbles, and though shallow on the edge seems quite deep at the center; in fact it is believed to have there a concealed opening that gives exit to its waters. on the opposite side from you, a stream of clear water pours into the lake, and in doing so it gives off the sounds that in the passage you mistook for human voices; and this noble stream has been named mystic river. it enters the lake from under a beautiful natural arch, about thirty feet across at the bottom, and six feet above the water at the center. the bed of the stream is eroded from strata of sandstone that is extremely hard, containing corundum, and so perfect is its continuity that it conveys sound distinctly for a distance far beyond the reach of the human voice, when tapped upon with a hammer. the top of the arch is studded with lovely stalactites, clear as glass, that extend to the outer edge of the arch and form massive and beautiful groups there. above the arch is a large opening. in truth the side of the room is out, and a great dark space appears like a curtain of black. a natural path leads up over one side of the arch, and following the lead of the guide you go up above and learn that a room on the higher level extends off in that direction and gets larger and higher. the walls are stalagmitic columns in cream color and decked in places with blood-red spots or blotches of titanic size. the ceiling you cannot see. it is too high for the lights you have to reach. on the left you are suddenly confronted by a stalagmitic formation so large and so grand that all others are dwarfed into insignificance. you think of the dome of the capitol at washington. you are standing at the sloping base but cannot see the top. just here the guide announces in an awestruck voice 'blondy's throne.' and who is blondy? only a fair-haired, blue-eyed, intrepid and daring fifteen-year-old boy, named charles smallwood, who assisted the writer in exploring the cave in the early days of , and going on in advance, reported back that he had found another and a greater throne than the great white throne in the auditorium. [illustration: blondy's throne. page .] "well, here we are at blondy's throne at last, and surveying the base, we find that it is actually only half in the room we are in; the other half forms the side of another room. in a word, the great throne divides the room into two parts and makes two rooms of it instead of one. yet the one half of the base has a measurement, by tape line, of one hundred and fifty feet. the guide now makes preparations to ascend the throne. a chain has been fastened up towards the top, and by taking hold of this the climb can be made up the sloping sides of the throne. we pass on and up over the clearest and most ice-like formation, resembling the great icebergs seen at sea. reaching an elevation of sixty feet an opening into the dome is found, and stooping, you enter. it is a room about twenty feet across, with a white ice-like floor, a roof or ceiling ten feet above, and from it hang thousands of brilliant stalactites and from the floor stalagmites rise up to meet them. they are in all sizes, from an inch to two feet across. the sides are of the same material joined and cemented lightly together. strike any of them and clear musical notes are given off; a musician has found two full octaves. water is dripping in many places, and in the center of the floor is a tank full of clear water. it is four feet wide, twelve feet long and of unknown depth. "on the opposite side of the room from which you enter there is a hole or opening in the wall. it is large enough to go through but it goes into the great dark room on the other side of the throne. an abyss confronts you, a sheer precipice which descends for many feet, perhaps hundreds. no man knows. this outer room of blondy's throne has been named the chamber of the fairies. leaving it and continuing the ascent, the top of the throne is soon reached and is about twenty feet across; and from several points still higher, rise stalagmitic spires. "the actual height of blondy's throne is not known, but is probably about one hundred feet. again look upwards for the ceiling from the dizzy height on top of the throne; you cannot see it. burn magnesium ribbon and look up, and you see a white ceiling spangled with groups of stalactites. it is surely one hundred feet away. then look off into the unknown room which is called the great beyond. no human being has ever explored or even entered it, but fire balls thrown in reveal the fact that it is of great extent; and part of the bottom water and part land. no way of getting into it has ever yet been found, so its mysteries, lessons and revelations are still safe from human intrusion. how far it goes, where it stops, and what it leads to, are facts for some future explorer to discover. bats and white salamanders are found in blondy's throne room, and some larger animals have been heard to jump into the water and escape on the approach of man, but their species is not known. "the arched passage of mystic river has been followed up for a journey of an hour, but further than that its extent is unknown. it was hoped that a way would be thus found into the great beyond, but it did not prove successful. a well equipped party could find there a chance for some grand discoveries, and it would be one of the notable pleasures of the life of the writer to be one of such a party. "the exit from blondy's throne room is always made with deep regret that the waning lights and meager supplies will not allow a longer stay. the long crawl, the mud and the water are all forgotten, and notwithstanding the terror of the trip one feels well repaid." we thank mr. powell for a charming journey without its discomfort and danger, and resume our travels at the waterfall. from the foot of the waterfall we returned again to the auditorium, in time to enjoy a sight such as we supposed could exist only in a brilliant imagination; and the return at that hour was not a lucky accident of fate, but the result of careful attention to a prearranged design that we should not fail to witness a marvelous display never surpassed by lavish nature. the day outside was one of cloudless summer sunshine. [illustration: blondy's throne room. page .] [illustration: foot of waterfall. page .] our eyes having grown accustomed to the dim light of candles in passages where absolute darkness, unrelieved by the stars of midnight, always reigns, the great auditorium appeared before us softly flooded with daylight diffused from a broad white beam slanting down in long straight lines from the entrance as from a rift in heavy clouds; only this rift displayed around its edges a brilliant border of vegetation that the rough rocks cherish with tender care. as we stood lost in almost speechless admiration, and without the slightest warning of treasure yet in store, the white beam was stabbed by a narrow, gleaming shaft of yellow sunlight. the glorious, radiant beauty of the picture presented is utterly indescribable, but it was of short duration, and in a few seconds the golden blade was withdrawn as suddenly as it had appeared. if the genius of elkins had been granted the privilege we enjoyed, the artist-world of europe that graciously yielded the highest honor to his "sunbeam on mount shasta," would have knelt in rapturous humility. speaking of his great work, as we stood before it only a few months before his death, mr. elkins said quietly: "it is no great achievement; i simply painted it exactly as it looked. anyone could do the same." but no one ever has. the white beam was more enduring and by its aid we were able to view the expanse of the great auditorium far better than could have been done in the momentary glare of any brilliant artificial light. every part of the cloud-gray walls shows a stratification as regularly horizontal as if the laying of each course had been done with the assistance of line and level; while in every direction are now seen hundreds of stalactites that had not been noticed before, and although they look small, the average length, taken with the surveying instruments, is fourteen feet. the hill beneath the entrance is an accumulation of debris, drifted in from the outside, and rising to a height of more than one hundred and twenty-five feet; while the great circumference of its supporting base, revealed by the banishment of shadows, suggests the possibility of tragic history of which the only evidence lies buried there and may or may not ever be discovered; but let us step lightly, since our feet may press the covering that shields a final sleep; and also let a grieving sister in her old age take comfort in the knowledge that here, as in few other spots, nature provides a certain and gentle burial for the unfortunate, and for a few seconds each day lights the dim chamber with a heavenly glory--perhaps in appeal to the sons of one country to harbor no such feelings as deprived abel of life and for all time and eternity tarnished the honor of cain. [illustration: entrance to cave--interior view. page .] the chilliness presently recalled us from further indulgence in that great scene, to ordinary affairs; and consulting the reliable thermometer, it was found to register °, while in some of the lower passages the temperature is °; but the variation is not in accordance with the accepted theory of one degree to the one hundred feet descent. a return to the beautiful spring of youth room was now a necessity, but we were careful to allow no drop of water falling from clay-stained hands to reach the purity of that lovely bowl, and then being happy and hungry, we retired to the piano's protecting tent for refreshment. the atmosphere in marble cave has the peculiar bracing and invigorating quality common to the majority of caves, that seems almost to defy fatigue and encourage exertion that under ordinary conditions would be impossible. after the exertion necessary in the warmer portions of the cave, the temperature of ° proved rather low for comfort and finally was admitted to be a sufficient reason for either leaving the cave or sending out for the wraps. slowly and reluctantly the party walked up the long winding path to the summit of the hill where the stairway finds support, stopping many times to admire again the perfect curves and fine color-tones of that wonderful high arch--within a mountain yet softly radiant with the light of day. still lingering regretfully among the fern-decked rocks before quite finishing the ascent to the actual outside world, the mercury lost little time in registering eighty degrees. since no official, or even approximately correct map of marble cave has yet been published, and the desirability of maps is particularly urged by monsieur e.a. martel, a special effort was made to secure one, which was accompanied by the following remarks from mr. prince in regard to its incompleteness: "there are several passages and rooms which do not appear on the map, though some of them are well known, but have not been surveyed and platted. "much further exploration is possible in this great cavern. lost river cañon ends abruptly in a bank of red clay, the volume of water being undiminished. the water from the great fall flows by a small serpentine into a passage which has never been followed up; its entrance being several hundred feet higher than the nearest water level." unfortunately the quantity of water in the cave at the time of the visit just described was so unusually great as to render the lost river cañon trip impossible. during the previous season the cave and its surroundings were visited by a prominent naturalist who appears to have been delightfully liberal in the diffusion of scientific knowledge and the explanations of methods of pursuing investigations. his practical instruction in snake catching is particularly interesting as it was never before introduced into this state, where the copperhead and rattler are known to have survived among the fittest. seeing a snake hole and desiring information as to the family record of the proprietor, he inserted a finger, and while waiting for results explained that there is no better way to secure a specimen, as the enraged reptile will fasten its fangs into the intruding member and then can be easily withdrawn. it is a pleasure to state that even snakes recognize the claims of friendship, and no injury was experienced.[ ] in the vicinity of marble cave there are several choice varieties of onyx and marble, among them a rare and beautiful onyx in black and yellow. the coloring, tinting and banding of onyx seem generally to be regarded as one of the unexplainable mysteries of nature, but is in reality an extremely simple process that can be easily studied in any active cave. when the percolating acidulated water passes slowly through a pure limestone it is filtered of impurities and deposits a crystal, either pure white or transparent; if it comes in contact with metallic bodies of any kind, it carries away more or less in solution to act as coloring matter; the beautiful pale green onyx in several missouri counties taking its tint from the copper; in south dakota, manganese in various combinations produces black and many shades of brown; in both states an excessive flow of water often carries a quantity of red or yellow clay which temporarily destroys the beauty of exposed surfaces, but in after years becomes a fine band of brilliant color. small wind caves are numerous in the ozarks and being cold are frequently utilized for the preservation of domestic supplies. the entrance to one in the neighborhood of marble cave is high up on the hill-side south of mr. powell's house and being visible from the porch was too tempting to be ignored, and the walk up to it for a better view was rewarded with a most charming bit of scenery as well. all the quiet valley, divided by a rushing little stream, lay before us in the shadow of early evening, while to the north and east the hills were brilliant in summer sunshine, with one small open glade gleaming vividly among the darker shades of forest green. the cave was a very small room at the bottom of a steep, rocky, sloping passage, and contained no standing water, although there had been a heavy rainfall the night before and the opening is so situated as to especially favor the inflow, which naturally indicates a greater cave beneath a hidden passage. here, as in most of the caves of the region, is found a small lizard: it is totally blind but its ancestors evidently were not, as is shown by conspicuous protuberances where the eyes should be, but over which the skin is drawn without a wrinkle or seam to indicate a former opening. these harmless creatures are not scaly, but are clothed in a soft, shining, well-fitted skin, and the largest seen were little more than six inches long. those who love perfect nature in a most smiling mood should hasten to visit marble cave while yet no railroad quite touches the county. footnotes: [ ] the naturalist referred to is the late prof. e.d. cope. chapter iv. fairy cave and powell cave. fairy cave enjoys the reputation of being the most beautiful yet discovered in that cavernous region, and consequently a visit to it was contemplated with considerable eagerness, although the mode of entrance had been described with sufficient accuracy to prevent any misconception of the difficulties to be overcome or the personal risk involved. to go from our temporary abiding place it was necessary to pass marble cave, and when we had gone that far mr. powell left us to follow the road, while he, on his mule, took a short cut across the hills and valleys, to try to find men not too much occupied with their own affairs on a fine monday morning, in corn plowing time, to join our expedition. as neither our small companion, merle, nor ourselves, had any knowledge of the locality of our destination, we were carefully instructed to follow the main road to the wilderness ridge, and keeping to that, pass the indian creek road and all others that are plain, but turn down the second dim road and follow it until stopped by a new fence where we would be met and conducted. so long as points to be passed held out, these directions gave us no trouble whatever, even the first dim road offering no obstacle to the pleasure of our progress; but the second dim road proved so elusive we traveled many miles in search of it, finally bringing up against a place merle was familiar with and knew to be a long way off the track of our intentions. as there was nothing to be done but return we naturally accepted the situation and did that; presently finding mr. powell and the messrs. irwin, on whose land the cave is, patiently waiting for us in what was really not a road at all, but rather, in this region of fossils, the badly preserved impression of one long since extinct. the new fence was opened at two places that we might drive through and be saved the exertion of walking a considerable distance, then the horses were left in the shade while we scrambled down the steep hill-side covered with sharp-edged, broken rock, about mid-way down which is the mouth of the cave, yawning like a narrow, open well. above this a stout windlass has been arranged on two forked logs. a few feet below the surface the cave spreads out jug-shaped, so that in descending nothing is touched until the floor is reached, one hundred feet beneath the surface; consequently the only danger to be apprehended is a fall. each of the three men present kindly offered to go down and make the exploration with me, but that would have left only two at the windlass, and for a man's weight, safety requires four. should an accident occur, assistance would be necessary, and some time lost in finding it; so, to the undisguised satisfaction of one and equally evident relief of the others, it was reluctantly decided that the trip must be given up, and therefore we are indebted to the kindness of captain powell[ ] for the following description of fairy cave: "the cave referred to is situated in section , township , range , in stone county, missouri, and is on the homestead of one of three brothers named irwin. "it was accidentally discovered in the year and up to the time of this writing (june ) only six persons have ever entered it. it is in a point or spur of the ozark mountains which runs to the east from the great wilderness ridge, and is three miles distant from the marble cave. having been one of the first to enter the cave, being called by the owner as a sort of cave expert, i will attempt to describe both the adventure and the cave just as they were. the measurements are simply estimated, though by long practice i have become expert in that line also, but the longest measurement here was correctly taken by the rope used. "having been invited by the irwin brothers to come and examine and explore a new cave they had found but had only entered and not explored, accompanied by my eldest son, w.t. powell, i reached the place one warm saturday morning. we found about twelve or fourteen men waiting for our coming; some discussing the matter of whether we would enter when we did come, and others who had volunteered to work the windlass, which had been erected over the opening, by means of which, with a one hundred foot rope, entrance was to be made. the opening was like a small well, and situated under the edge of an overhanging cliff of marble, and on the southeast slope of the mountain, about one hundred and fifty feet above the bottom of a narrow valley, and about the same distance below the top of the mountain, which here is three hundred feet high. in order to rig a windlass the edge of the cliff had to be broken away. the well-like opening descended for about ten feet through strata of flat-laying rocks that formed a roof; then all appeared to be vacancy and a stone cast in gave back a distant sound. "having first tested the air and proved it good by dropping in blazing excelsior saturated with turpentine, a stout oak stick was attached to the end of the rope, my son sprang astride and was lowered to the bottom, just one hundred feet. he reported back 'all right.' on the return of the rope i took my position on the stick and was soon dangling in mid air. the sensation was strange and exhilarating. looking up i could only see the small opening i came through, and a straggling stream of light poured down that, but on all sides profound darkness reigned supreme. a spark-like light my son lit, reminded me of the lost pleiad. about twenty-five or thirty feet from the top i caught sight of a scene that made me call on the men at the windlass to stop. "this caused them to think something was going wrong and one called out to know what was the matter: i heard him say 'he is weakening.' i assured them everything was right only i wanted to take a view; so they stopped. off at a distance of perhaps twenty-five feet was an opening about ten feet or more wide and twelve feet high. the light from the opening struck it fairly, owing to the position of the sun at the time. through this opening i saw into another room, large and magnificent. it brought to mind the white city. it was snowy white, and thickly studded with stalactites and stalagmites of immense size and in great numbers; some looking like spires of numerous churches, and many connected as with a lattice-work about the bottom. for a short time i gazed on that lovely scene, and examined the chances to reach it, but a great gulf intervened that we had no means of spanning, and i called to the men to lower me down. approaching the bottom one of the walls trended in towards me and i stepped upon solid ground close to the wall, which half way up seemed fifty feet away. the opening above now looked like a small pale moon, and the next man who came dangling down to join us looked no bigger than a toy soldier. gradually our eyes became accustomed to the twilight, and by the time our party was increased to six men, i could see quite distinctly. "the room runs directly into the mountain and is about ninety feet high, and where we landed it proved to be twenty feet wide. it extended in both directions, but much the farthest towards the right hand. the outer room is encrusted in fine white water formations. it forms a gothic ceiling from which hang pendant at all places brilliant and sparkling stalactites; some being of immense size and length, from ten to twenty-five feet. others are not so large but are brilliant. we created a flood of artificial light with dozens of candles and lamps; and then and not until then, could we see the slope and contour of the roof. a few bats were flitting about, disturbed for the first time. to the left, a vast white pillar extended from floor to roof. it was pure white and about five feet in diameter all the way up. it was fluted, fretted, draped and spangled. i never in my life saw anything more chaste and lovely. i thought of the countless ages it must have taken to form that monument: of the streams of clear water that had fallen and left their calcite deposits, while it grew year after year, age after age, century after century, in this profound darkness, disturbed by no noises save the rhythmic sound of the falling drops and the dull flitting of the bats, who alone were the living witnesses of its construction. to the rear of this great pillar the room is divided into three galleries, one above another. with great difficulty and much danger we climbed into each of these. the floors were all like the pillar of pure white onyx, and extended back a distance of thirty or more feet. the floor of one formed the roof of another. they were brilliant with hanging pendants and the side walls were all veneered with the same white and crystalline formation. to entirely describe them is impossible. a day in each would still leave the observer short of words in which to tell of the wonders. "turning towards the right hand from the entrance we advance two hundred feet up an incline of dry clay, the room widening gradually until its width is forty feet, when we reach the top of an elevation thirty feet above the starting point, where a sudden steep descent brings us to a halt. a stone cast down strikes water and the sound of a splash comes back to us. with caution we seek our way down the hill and stand on the edge of a small lake or pond. suddenly my son, who is in the lead, rushes back saying: 'look out! i put my hand on a snake.' some of us, being armed with hickory canes that had been thrown down, concentrated our lights and advanced. sure enough, there is a snake a yard long coiled up on a section of rotten wood. it proves to be a copperhead, the most quarrelsome and vicious snake in this country; but his nature is changed so that he makes no effort to fight and is killed with a blow, and is sent to be hoisted up that we may examine him in daylight. no others were found, and probably he had fallen in at the opening, and spent a long, weary time in expiation of his upper-earth crimes. "examining the lake we find it to be about forty feet wide and the same long, and it fills the room from wall to wall. we cannot pass it so must either stop or wade through. we decide to wade, and on measuring the water find it only two or three feet deep, with a soft clay bottom, and in many places islands of stalagmite rise above the surface. "on the sides of the lake there are formations in the shape of sofas and lounges, and they appear to be cushioned, but the cushions are found to be hard, solid rock. as the lights advance across the lake new wonders are revealed. curtains and draperies hanging from the top almost touch the water and entirely cut off the view beyond. passing under a curtain at one of the highest places, we emerge from the lake, and once more on dry land, advance up a slope. here the water formations have taken human shapes of all sizes and several colors now appear and help to present a chaos of beauty. "two hundred feet more and the chamber ends in a vast waterfall, but the water has turned to stone. above the waterfall is an opening, but it is twenty-five feet up a smooth wall and we have no ladder. the journey was at an end. tired, wet and muddy, we started on our return trip; recrossed the dark lake, and retraced our steps to the place under the opening without realizing that we had spent six hours under ground. while the other members of the party, and the specimens, were being raised to the surface, the writer sought to learn the flora and fauna of this new region. the flora is blank. even the white mold so common in many caves is absent; and no fungus grows on the poles, bark and rotten wood that have at some past time been cast in. "in animal life the range is greater. i have mentioned the ever-present bats, and dozens of them were seen. there were also small, white eyeless salamanders, small, yellow, speckled salamanders, with signs of eyes but no sight; also a jet black salamander, which like the rest, was blind. the bats were of two species--the common brown bat and the larger light grey or yellow species. but this was not the time of the year to see many bats in caves. in the summer season most of them go out and remain until cool weather, and then return to the caves with their young; so i was rather surprised to see as many as we did. "down comes the rope for the last time, and taking my place, i soon feel myself spinning around and slowly rising. as i again pass the magic city i saw going down, a stronger wish than ever takes possession of me to go there, and i look for any chance to solve the problem of how such a journey can be made. 'thou art so near and yet so far.' "suddenly i find myself emerging from the ground into a very hot world, with the evening sun blazing so that the air feels like the scorching heat of an oven; and my late companions are scattered about under the trees, no doubt wishing themselves back in the cool regions below the hot cliffs. "my final conclusions in regard to fairy cave were that it was about six hundred feet long by from fifteen to forty feet wide and from eighty to ninety feet high: that in the upper story there are rooms that i could not reach, that will amply pay the scientist and explorer to investigate in the future: that probably we reached all the accessible parts in the level we traveled: that the temperature was fifty-six or very near that degree: that small as it is, it contains the finest formations and grandest scenery i have ever seen in a cave: and i have examined over one hundred of various sizes. i believe that for interior beauty its equal is not to be found in america, and i sincerely believe that the verdict of future exploration will establish the truth of the assertion, but as equally good judges differ on such matters, time will be required for a true and just decision. there are yet many promising caves to be explored in this region, and if my strength holds out a few years i hope to see them all. "t. s. powell." powell cave. as a measure of consolation for the disappointment of not seeing the beauty of fairy cave, mr. irwin suggested that only a quarter of a mile further on was another, recently discovered and worthy of a visit, although small. in that region of steep hills and sharp-edged rocks, a great amount of travel can be added to the experience of a tender-foot in a short distance. the quarter of a mile seemed to stretch out in some mysterious way as we worked on it, but the variety and abundance of attractions are more than ample compensation. the view was fine, including as it did the deep ravine and grassy, wooded slopes rising three hundred feet above, with here and there a handsome ledge of marble exposed like the nearly buried ruin of a forgotten temple of some past age. scattered about in great profusion among the broken rock on the surface of these hill-sides we observed a water deposit of iron ore. it is a brown hematite and in some cases shows the structure of the bits of wood it has replaced. since this region has from the earliest time produced a generous growth of vegetation, the decay of which has yielded a never-failing supply of acids to assist in carving the caves and then in their decoration, the presence of the ore is not difficult to account for. the whole ozark uplift being rich in iron, the acidulated drainage waters coming into contact dissolved and took it in solution, to re-deposit where and when conditions should be favorable. these conditions were found in the basin among the hills and along its outlet. in the popular science monthly of january , a short article by j.t. donald, entitled "a curious canadian iron mine," describes the same thing going on at the present time in lac a la tortue, a small body of water in the center of a tract of swamp land, which produces the vegetation necessary to supply the acid required for a base of operation. of the manner of deposition he says: "the solution of iron in vegetable acid (in which the iron is in what the chemist calls the form of a protosalt) is oxidized by the action of the air on the surface of the lake into a persalt, which is insoluble, and appears on the surface in patches that display the peculiar iridescence characteristic of petroleum floating on water. indeed, not infrequently these films of peroxide of iron are incorrectly attributed to petroleum. these films become heavy by addition of new particles; they sink through the water, and in this manner, in time, a large amount of iron ore is deposited on the lake bottom. it must not be supposed that the ore is deposited as a fine mud or sediment. on the contrary, in this lake ore, as it is called, we have an excellent illustration of what is called concretionary action--that is, the tendency of matter when in a fine state of division to aggregate its particles into masses about some central nucleus, which may be a fragment of sunken wood, a grain of sand, or indeed a pre-formed small mass of itself." it is claimed for this water ore, which is gathered like oysters, that mixed with bog ore and magnetic iron, and smelted with charcoal, the result as obtained is strong, durable and high priced. the curiously elastic quarter of a mile finally yielded to persistent toil, and the cave was reached. the entrance is sufficiently broad to give a good first impression, and is under a heavy ledge of limestone which breaks the slope of the hill and is artistically decorated with a choice collection of foliage, among which is a coral honeysuckle; the fragrant variety grows everywhere. under the ledge is a narrow vestibule, out of the north end of which is a passage about twenty-four inches in width, between perpendicular walls, and as steeply inclined as the average dwelling-house stairway but without any assisting depressions to serve as steps. mr. irwin cut a grape vine, and making one end secure at the entrance, provided a hand rail, by the aid of which i was able to easily descend the stepless way and afterwards remount. the first chamber entered is the principal portion of the cave, and by actual measurement is forty-nine feet in length by forty-eight in greatest width and the height estimated at fifty feet. on account of irregularities it appears smaller but higher. on opposite sides of the chamber, at elevation about midway between the floor and ceiling are two open galleries. the floor is extremely irregular with its accumulation of fallen masses of rock, and the action of water has given to portions of the walls the appearance of pillars supporting the arches of the roof. the whole aspect is that of a small gothic chapel. off to the northwest is another room measuring thirty feet in each direction, and out of this are several openings, too small to squeeze through, which indicate the possible existence of other chambers beyond, but they may be only drain pipes. the cave contains no drip formations, notwithstanding which it is one of the most charming, and when invited to name it i called it powell cave, in honor of the most ardent admirer of caves in that county, and to whom i am much indebted for valued assistance. footnotes: [ ] editor of the county news-paper. chapter v. other stone county caves. gentry cave. the cave nearest to galena, and the first visited by us, is gentry cave, situated a mile and a half from town. we started in the mail coach, but that vehicle met with a misfortune by no means unusual in that region, the total wreck of a wheel. having only that morning arrived from the rich agricultural portion of the state where no surface rock can be found, we were pleased enough with the prospect of a walk in such charming spring weather, and set out with a cheerful certainty that the rough place in the road would soon be passed. but the school of experience is always open for the reception of new-comers and we were admitted to full duty without question. the topography was nearly as broken, in its way, as the natural "piking" spread over it, and very beautiful with the dense forests lighted by the slanting yellow rays of the afternoon sun. the way leads up to the "ridge road" which is at length abandoned for no road at all, and descending through the forest, more than half the distance down to the james river flowing at the base of the hill, we come suddenly in view of the cave entrance, which is probably one of the most magnificent pieces of natural architecture ever seen. rounding a corner by a narrow path, we step onto a covered portico ninety-seven feet long, with an average width of ten feet. the floor is smooth and level, as also is the ceiling, which is nine feet above, supported by handsomely carved pillars and rising in a gray cliff projecting from the slope of the hill above, out to the brink of the more abrupt descent to the water's edge ninety feet below. between the pillars are three large door-ways into the cave. the comparison suggested is an egyptian temple, and the idea is continued within, where there are no chambers as in other caves; but instead, the entire interior is a labyrinth of passages winding about in every direction among an uncounted number of low massive pillars, some supporting a low ceiling and others connected by high arches, the highest point being estimated at sixty feet, but appearing to be more, because the enclosed space rising to a dome is so narrow that the point of view is necessarily directly underneath. all exposed surfaces of pillars and walls inside the cave are of clay or a soft porous rock having the same appearance, and are covered with curious little raised markings like the indescribable designs of mixed nothing generally known as "persian patterns." this is, of course, easily explained; the clay being the residuum from disintegrated limestone, the markings described are the harder portions of the rock remaining after particles of clay had been carried out by flowing water while the disintegrating process was yet incomplete. the drinking fountain is considered the great attraction of the cave, and appears to have been fashioned to suggest a model for the handsome soda fountains belonging to a later period. the water bowl is a large depression worn in the top of a rock which seems to have been built into the wall. in front it is five feet high and nine feet across, with artistic corners approximately alike, and at the back ornamental carving extends upward towards the ceiling with an opening through the wall at the center. this opening is divided by a short column down which water trickles to supply the bowl. the ceiling here is about thirty-five feet high and most of the exposed surface is a blue-gray limestone. only one portion of gentry cave has received a deposit of dripstone and even that is of limited extent, and located at the end of a narrow slippery passage between high, slippery walls. the fine entrance is of grey limestone in undisturbed horizontal strata, and this is so plainly marked in the roof-supporting pillars as to give them the appearance of having been prepared by skillful hands, in several blocks, and afterwards arranged in place without the aid of mortar. unfortunately, all efforts to photograph this wonderful portico have failed to give satisfaction--its position above the river being such as to afford no point for the proper placing of the camera; but a second visit made for the purpose of trying was far from being a loss, and part of the reward consisted of finding among the sheltered rocks, scarcely three feet above the floor, two humming birds' nests with their treasure of small eggs, and our little companion who discovered them was pleased to leave them untouched. sugar tree hollow cave. the name of this cave is due to the fact that the approach is through a "hollow" well wooded with sugar maple trees. it is two miles from galena and the drive a beautiful one, as much of the way is through the forest without a road, but with a charming little rushing, crooked stream of clear, cold water: and in places the green slopes give way to mural bluffs of grey limestone in undisturbed strata. the entrance to the cave is through a hole about two feet high by three in width, into which we went feet first and wiggled slowly down an incline covered with broken rock, for a distance of fifteen feet, where a standing depth is reached. a flat, straight, level ceiling extends over the whole cave without any perceptible variation, and this is bordered around its entire length and breadth with a heavy cornice of dripstone, made very ornamental by the forms it assumes, and the multitude of depending stalactites that fall as a fringe around the walls. the line of contact between the cornice and ceiling is as clear and strong as if both had been finished separately before the cornice was put in place by skillful hands. dripstone covers the walls, which vary in height from one foot to twenty feet, according to the irregularities of the floor, just as the width of this one-room cave varies with the curves of the walls, which are sweeping and graceful, the average being twenty-nine feet, but is much greater at the entrance where the entire slope extends out beyond the body of the cave. the length, from north to south, measures two hundred and thirty-three feet exclusive of an inaccessible extension. the south end of the cave rises by a steep slope to within a foot of the ceiling with which it is connected by short but heavy columns of dripstone, and another line of pillars of graduated height meets this at right angles near the middle and ends in an immense stalagmite that stands at the foot of the slope like a grand newel post. there is no standing water in the cave, but everything is wet with drip, and consequently the formation of onyx is actively progressing and the south slope already mentioned shows a curious succession of changes in cave affairs. by the slow action of acidulated waters, the grey limestone deteriorated into a yellowish clay-bank, and now its particles are being re-united into solid rock by the deposit of calcium carbonate from the drip. a careful test of the temperature of the atmosphere showed it to be fifty-eight degrees. pine run cave. this also is a small cave easily visited from galena, being less than two miles distant on the marionville road. the entrance faces the road and is on the same level, consequently it is one of the easiest to visit. just within is seen an opening in the ceiling, which we are told is one of the two ways to an upper chamber whose chief attraction is a dripstone piano, and the means of ascending is at hand in the form of a spanish ladder; but an attempt of that sort might even cause the new woman to hesitate, and who hesitates is lost. the ascent was not made. we advanced on a level with the road for a distance of perhaps twenty feet, when the direction of the cave changed with a right angular turn and we were in a straight gallery about two hundred and fifty feet long and fifteen feet in width, the height gradually decreasing to about three feet towards the upper end, where it widened out into a low but broad chamber. the floor of this chamber is most beautiful. it is composed of a series of connected calcite bowls whose beautifully fluted rims are of regular and uniform height, and all are equally filled with clear, still water. a great number of these basins are said to have been destroyed by an ax in the hands of a poor witless creature for the gratification of a burst of temper, and a magnificent stalagmitic column, too heavy for one man to lift, lay detached and broken, in proof that his body did not share the feebleness of his mind. beyond these basins is a low passage through which is found the second entrance to the upper chamber, but the basins must be crossed in order to reach it, and this is not an easy undertaking even when their water supply is low, but in the early summer they are almost full. there are said to be more than one hundred caves in stone county, one of which is supposed to be fully as large as marble cave, if not larger, and is located in the southern part of the county but has not been explored. mill cave is in the northeast of the county, and at the entrance is a saw mill which receives its working power from the cave stream. inside the cave there is a lake. hermit's cave is a few miles from galena, and is so named on account of having been used as a dwelling by its former owner, who kept a coffin in which he intended to place himself before the final summons, but was overtaken by death in the forest and it was never used. he wrote sermons on the rocks in his cave and one of these was afterwards removed. wolf's den is also near galena, and has been utilized as a sheep fold. wild man's cave is near galena, and on account of the stories with which people have been frightened, can only be visited by permission and with a guard stationed at the entrance. reynard's cave is four miles west of galena on the farm of dr. fox, but is so nearly filled up with dripstone that only crawling room remains. the doctor's place is a fine locality for the collection of fossils. at a distance of twelve miles from galena there is said to be a fine natural bridge, well worth a visit and sufficiently near mill cave for both to be seen on the same trip. in bread tray mountain there is supposed to be a cave through which a torrent rushes at times, that being the only way in which to explain the strange thundering, roaring noise always heard after a storm, and never at other times. besides being a wonderful cave region, and rich in the great abundance and variety of native fruits and fine timber, stone county has a vast amount of mineral wealth, the heaviest deposits being zinc, lead and iron, with some indications of silver, gold and copper, which have been found but not in paying quantity. already since the summer of several exceptionally pure bodies of zinc have been discovered, the white ore of one recently opened deposit giving highly gratifying indications as to extent. prospecting may be said to have only commenced in this very far from over-crowded region. chapter vi. oregon county caves. greer spring. oregon county is also at the extreme southern limit of the state of missouri and was visited, not because its caves are supposed to be either finer or more numerous than those of all the other ozark counties, but on account of remarkable attractions associated with them that are not known to be equaled, or even subject to rivalry, by any similar works of nature in any portion of the world. the most convenient railway point is thayer; the station hotel affords comfortable accommodations for headquarters, and the last days of september proved a charming time. the foliage was in full summer glory, refreshed by a gentle and copious rain, and the insinuating tick had already retired from active business until the following season. the carriage having been ordered on condition of its being a clear day, we left thayer at eight o'clock on a perfect morning to visit greer spring, and were soon in the depth of the beautiful ozark forest, from which we did not once emerge until alton, the county seat, was reached, the distance traveled being sixteen miles. here we stopped for dinner at the small hotel kept by one of the old-time early settlers who came to the region before the war. the dinner was a surprise, and received the highest commendation possible to a dinner, the hearty appreciation of a boy. a young nephew, arthur j. owen, having been invited to act as escort on the trip, found all the varied experience in cave hunting fully equal to the pictured joys of anticipation. after a large bell suspended somewhere outside had notified the business public that dinner was ready to be served, we were invited to the dining-room, where on a long table was the abundance of vegetables afforded by the season and soil of an almost tropical state, and cooked as the white-capped chef of the great hotel, where the warm weeks were spent, had not learned the secret of; and the delicately fried chicken was not of that curious variety, commonly encountered by travelers, in which the development of legs robs the centiped of his only claim to distinction. as the dishes cooled they were removed and fresh supplies brought in. our driver received directions about the road and we started on another drive of seven miles. these directions were "to follow the main road to the forks, and then keep to the van buren road and any one could tell us where captain greer lives." the road was, as before, through the park-like forest, and as before, lay chiefly along the ridge, so that where clearings had been made for farms there were fine views over the distant country, which everywhere was forest-covered hills, of a rich green near at hand but changing with the growth of distance, first to dark, and then to lighter blue. in these forests were fine young cattle and horses, and uncounted numbers of "razorbacks," or as they are otherwise called, "wind-splitters." for the benefit of those who may not be familiar with the names, it might be well to explain that they are the natural heirs of the native wild hog of missouri and arkansas. the nephew was greatly amused at seeing many of them with wooden yokes on their long necks, to prevent an easy entrance into fields and gardens by squeezing through the spaces between fence rails. these animals are such swift runners it is said they can safely cross the railroad between trucks of the fast express. their snouts are so long and thin, it is also claimed that two can drink from a jug at the same time; never having seen it done, however, this is not vouched for, but merely repeated as hearsay. [illustration: wilderness pinery, oregon co. page .] after a time we stopped to inquire the way of an old man dipping water from a pond by the roadside. he told us he was dipping water to wash the wheat he was sowing in the field just over the fence, and that we reach the forks, then to keep the van buren road, pass two houses on the left, a white one on the right, another on the left and then inquire the way--anyone could tell us, and captain greer would show us to the spring, "for he is a mighty accommodating man." on we went to the forks where in the point of the y stood a large tree with a van buren sign-board on one side, and in the direction it pointed, we turned, although rather reluctantly, for it looked little used and rocky, while the other was in good condition; but we followed the sign-board and had no misgivings until it began to be realized that a great deal of time was being passed but no houses. the morning had been very chilly, but now the atmosphere was just at that balmy point between warm and cool that makes mere living an unqualified luxury; and added to this we soon found ourselves in a deep cañon no less beautiful than the justly celebrated north cheyenne cañon near colorado springs. there was now no doubt that we were on the wrong road, but such magnificence was unexpected and not to be turned from with indifference. for some distance the road makes a gradual and rather perilous looking descent along the steep and broken slope on the shady side of the ancient river's great retaining-wall, while that opposite is glorified by the brilliant glow of the afternoon sun, which adds an equal charm to the rich, luxuriant foliage below and the tall stately pines that adorn, without concealing, the grey rock they proudly cling to, or that rises in a protecting rampart three hundred feet higher than the cañon bed, with banners of the long-needled pine waving above to proclaim the perfection of nature's undisturbed freedom. the road descending crosses the thread of water still flowing among the great rounded bowlders left by the former torrent, and our view is changed to one of dense, but by no means melancholy, shadows, with a crown of golden sunlight; and presently the course of the cañon turns to the east, and it is all filled with the yellow rays and we notice the bright red hawthorn berries, and masses of hydrangea still showing remnants of their late profusion of bloom. we missourians have a great love of fine scenery and generally take long journeys into other states in order to gratify the taste, while quite unconscious of the wonderful beauty and grandeur of the ozarks. where the cañon begins to broaden into a small sheltered valley as it approaches eleven points river, we turned and retraced our way to the forks, and a short distance beyond to a house where we might again inquire. a woman came to the open door as we stopped and in answer to a question said: "you ought to have asked me when you passed here a while ago." apologies for the seeming neglect were offered and accepted, then she explained that both roads went to van buren but not to greer spring, where in due time we at length arrived. the house being in one corner of a "forty" and the spring in that diagonally opposite, there was a walk of nearly that distance before coming to an old road inclining steeply down into what looked to be a narrow cañon. about midway of this sloping road, the space confined between perpendicular walls, rising to heights above on one side and descending to the stream on the other, widens suddenly and a picturesque old mill comes into view, it having been wholly screened from the approach by the rich growth of shrubs and trees. chief in abundance among this luxury of leaf was the hydrangea,--a favorite shrub largely imported into this country from japan before it was discovered as a native. the mill site seems to have been selected for its beauty although we were told that at this point the stream is seventy-two feet wide, and two and one half feet deep, but could be raised thirty feet with perfect safety by a dam, for which the rock is already on the ground and much of it broken ready for use. the flow is said to be two hundred and eighty yards per minute, with no appreciable variation, and never freezes. the high walls of the greer spring gorge will, of course, far more than double the value it would otherwise possess, when it becomes desirable to control and turn to practical account the power now going so cheerily to waste, but the artistic loss will be proportionately severe. the old mill was the scene of great activity in former times, but was closed on account of an unfortunate accident and for years has had no other duty than simply to serve as a portion of the landscape. just beyond, the cañon makes a curving bend, the road dwindles to a narrow path and we behold the most beautiful scene imaginable. the cañon has come to an end and is shut in by a graceful curve of the high, perpendicular grey walls that are crowned with trees and shrubs, and decked below with a thick carpet of bright green moss. in this basin, which is nearly one hundred feet across, greer spring plunges up from beneath through an opening nine feet in diameter, in the midst of a pool of water six feet deep, and having an unvarying temperature of forty-nine degrees throughout the year. this water is so perfectly clear that not the least pebble is obscured from view, and the color scheme is most marvelous. [illustration: greer spring. page .] where the great spring forces its way to the surface, the water is a deep, brilliant blue with white caps, and its falling weight keeps clear of moss a large spot of fine, pure, white sandstone, while all the balance appears a vivid green from the moss that thrives beneath the moving water; and surrounding these are the handsome, foliage-decked grey walls. the edges of the basin are thickly strewn with fallen rocks deeply covered with moss, in which small ferns are growing, and on these gay stepping stones we crossed to the head-wall of the cañon to find ourselves at the open mouth of a cave from which flows a clear, shallow stream to join the waters of the spring in that wonderful basin. the entrance to the cave is an arch about fifteen feet wide and twelve feet high, with the clear, shallow stream spreading over the clean rock floor from side to side. here now was presented a difficulty. truly the cave was _not_ quite dry. the water was about ten inches deep, and my boots in thayer. contrary to advice, however, my nephew had brought his, and with a boy's kindness loaned them while he made the trip with bare feet and rolled up trousers. a short distance within, the cave widens and the floor of the extension being somewhat higher, is dry, but the roof drops so low over it that the water-course is an easier route of travel; and this soon widens into a lake above which the ceiling rises in a broad dome less than twenty feet in height, and hung with heavy masses of dripstone draperies of varying length, from five to seven feet; and all the ceilings are fringed at various heights with stalactites of every size and age, some being a clear, colorless onyx, while others proclaim their great age in the fact that they have so deteriorated that the onyx texture is either partly or completely lost, and what was once a pure drip crystal has returned to a common, porous, dull-colored limestone so soft that portions can be rubbed to powder in the hand. picking the way carefully as the depth of the lovely lake increased, we followed the sound of falling water and peered into the dark distance in a vain effort to see it, yet expecting to reach that special object of interest by keeping to the shallower parts of the lake. these expectations were shattered suddenly when the boots filled with water, and that called to mind the fact that twenty-three miles and a chilly night lay between us and dry clothing; so we returned to the outside world and rested on the rocks where captain greer and our young driver waited for us. the cave has never been fully explored, and probably we penetrated farther than others have ever done, as the owner knew nothing of the falling water we so distinctly heard and were surely very near. the view from the rocks is wonderfully beautiful and includes both the entrance to the cave, with its flowing stream, and the receiving basin with its bounding stream. but it was growing late in the afternoon, and there was another cave whose entrance was in the perpendicular wall above the end of the path by which we had come. this entrance could be reached by a dilapidated ladder; assisted by a forked pole and supplied with candles and matches, my nephew and i achieved the ascent with not much trouble. here we found what is, no doubt, one of the oldest caves known. the original cavity is nearly filled up with masses of onyx--colorless crystal and white striped with pale shades of grey. the cave is perfectly dry and freshly broken surfaces in some places show signs of deterioration, so how can we venture even a guess as to the time it has required to first excavate the cave and then fill it with masses of rock deposited by the slow drip process, and later, for that crystalline rock in a now dry atmosphere to present a perceptible weakening? we went as far as passages could be crawled into, which was no great distance, and at once started on our uncertain descent of the ladder; but this was not a matter of so much concern as the upward trip, for the success of which some doubts were entertained; for going down is always naturally a less certain matter, as one can fall if more desirable means are unsuccessful, and i have unexpectedly reached many coveted points in this simple manner. taking a last look at greer spring with its cave river, grey walls, gay with foliage, and all the harmony of color and form combined in the narrow cañon that was once the main body of a great cave, i recalled views on the hudson river and in the mountains of maryland, virginia and pennsylvania, and others out in the rocky mountains in colorado and the wausatch in utah, but amid all their wonderful grandeur and famous beauty, could remember no spot superior to this masterpiece of the ozarks. the proprietor of the spring and a thousand acres of land adjacent, took personal possession on the day of lincoln's first election, to establish a home. the sun having failed to consider our wishes was now about to disappear in a gleaming flood of gold, so the return to thayer that night was out of the question. our host and his wife observed that fact and cordially invited us to remain for the night and as much longer as we would like to, but being unwilling to impose on kindness to such an extent, we returned to the hotel in alton, and now urgently advise that those who ever have an opportunity to enjoy a moonlight drive through the ozark forests should not let it pass unimproved. other caves near by. about twelve miles from alton there are three other caves worthy of attention. two of these are known only as the saltpetre caves, and the third as the bat cave. not many persons care to visit the bat cave, for although its inhabitants are small, they have evidently decided to profit by the experience of the red man and take no risks through hospitality. their warnings can be heard like distant thunder for some distance outside the cave, and any unheeding intruder is set upon in fury by such vast numbers of the little creatures that his only safety is in hasty retreat. during the war the two saltpetre caves were worked to a considerable extent, and also served as safe retreats for the residents of the region, as well as the visiting "jonny," when the vicinity became oppressively "blue." both of these caves are especially notable on account of the fine stalactites with which they are abundantly supplied; most of them being snow white and from fourteen to twenty feet in length. unfortunately, most of the caves in this region have been deprived of great quantities of their beautiful adornments by visitors who are allowed to choose the best and remove it in such quantities as may suit their convenience and pleasure. those who own the caves, and those who visit them, would do well to remember that if all the natural adornment should be allowed to remain in its original position, it would continue to afford pleasure to many persons for an indefinite time; but if broken, removed, and scattered the pleasure to a few will be comparatively little and that short-lived. the gift of beauty should always be honored and protected for the public good. we were not so fortunate as to discover fossils of any kind in this locality, although the search was by no means thorough; but even if it had been the result might have been the same, since that county and others adjoining have been mapped as cambrian. the greater part of the exposed rock is a fine sandstone almost as white as gypsum on a fresh fracture, and much of it is ripple-marked so as to show a beautifully fluted surface of remarkable regularity. these ripple flutings are sometimes more than an inch in width, and often less, but the variations never appear on the same level, the smallest being seen on the hill-tops and the larger outcropping on the downward slopes. chapter vii. the grand gulf. oregon county, missouri, is also fortunate in having within its limits the grand gulf, which has been declared by competent judges to be one of the wonders of the world; and it offers a combination of attractions that certainly entitles it to an important place among a limited few of america's choicest scenes. the gulf is nearly nine miles northwest of thayer, missouri, and about equally distant from mammoth spring in arkansas, just a little south of the missouri state line. the drive is a pleasant one, as the road winds among the forest-clad hills and passes occasional fields of cotton and corn; but having been macadamized in very ancient times by the original and all-powerful general government of that early period is somewhat rough, yet threatens no danger greater than the destruction of wheels. the only approach to the gulf is over the hill-tops; and the entrance in past times, while it was still a cave, must have been a sink-hole in the roof of the largest chamber. this chamber is now the upper end of the grand gulf, and into it we descended by a rugged path, sufficiently difficult to maintain expectations of grandeur that are not doomed to disappointment. the precipitous walls, two hundred feet in height, bear a faithful record of the energy of circling floods; but instead of frowning, as some good people persistently accuse all noble heights of doing, they seem to look with conscious pride towards the windings of the great rough chasm, where every available spot has been seized on as a homestead for some form of vegetation. all the great, dark rock masses that interfere with easy progress along the lowest depth, were surrounded by a feathery setting of blooming white agaratum; and each turn in the winding course reveals new charms of rock and verdure with their varying lights and shadows until the crowning glory is reached at the natural bridge, about twelve hundred feet from the upper end of the cañon. this bridge is magnificent. it was impossible to secure photographs because the abrupt curve by which it is approached gave no point of view for a small camera; and it was equally impossible to reach desirable points for taking measurements, but the open arch is not less than twenty feet wide and considerably more than that in height. from the floor or bed of the gulf to the road that crosses the bridge is more than two hundred feet. the passage under the bridge makes a curve, the shortest side of which measures exactly two hundred and nineteen feet, and as the width varies from twenty to forty feet, the other side is longer. most of the floor is flat and level as also is the ceiling, the greatest irregularities being along the wall of greater length which shows at what points the rushing water has spent its force. no water flows through here now except in times of heavy rainfall. the other end of the bridge has a somewhat smaller span but is very handsome, and the outward views from both are exceedingly fine. after traversing about four hundred feet more of the beautiful, high-walled gulf, we stood before the grand entrance to the cave, which is strikingly similar to the first arch of the bridge. the only picture i was able to get was taken from the slope of the bridge-crown, one hundred feet below the road, and merely gives a suggestion of the magnificence waiting peacefully for the crowds of eager and enthusiastic sight-seers who will in the near future rush to this charming region in the "land of the big red apple." my companions were the same as mentioned in the preceding chapter, a nephew, james arther owen, and an obliging, tall young man of twenty, who acted as guide and driver. relieving ourselves of all superfluous burdens just within the cave entrance, we lighted candles and sat down to wait for our eyes to adjust themselves to the changed condition, from brilliant sunlight to absolute darkness, broken only by the feeble strength of three candles. it was noticeable that in the moist atmosphere of the missouri caves, three candles were not more than equal to one in the dry caves of south dakota. very soon we were able to continue the inspection of our surroundings, and the large passage we were in would more properly be called a long chamber, of irregular width but averaging about thirty feet. this ends abruptly nearly five hundred feet from the entrance, but a small passage scarcely more than six feet high runs off at right angles, and into this we turn. it is not quite so nearly dry as the outer chamber, and at a distance of less than one hundred feet we suddenly come to the end of dry land at an elbow of the silently flowing river whose channel we had almost stepped into. the ceiling dipped so we were not able to stand straight, and the guide said he had never gone farther; but to his surprise here was a light boat which i am ready to admit he displayed no eagerness to appropriate to his own use, and swimming about it, close to shore, were numerous small, eyeless fish, pure white and perfectly fearless; the first i had ever seen, and little beauties. by burning magnesium ribbon we saw that the passage before us was a low arch and occupied from wall to wall by water, the direction of the flow being into another of somewhat greater size at right angles to that by which we had come, and at the mouth of this lay the boat. the distance we could see in either direction was of tantalizing shortness, and the boat was provided with no means of guidance or control, save an abundance of slender twine which secured it to a log of drift from the outside; so i decided to leave my companions in charge of the main coil of twine while i went on an excursion alone, there being not much evident cause for apprehension as no living cow could ever have made the trip to this favored spot. although the water looked perfectly placid, the boat drifted with surprising speed, so that the two scared faces peering after me were soon lost sight of. the channel was nowhere more than six feet wide, consequently as the boat inclined to drive against either wall i was able with care to keep it off the rocks with my hands, and in the same way guide it around the sharp turns in safety. after several of these turns there appeared the mouth of a passage so much smaller that the roof was only twelve inches above the sides of the boat and i could touch both walls at the same time. by running the boat across this it was held in place by the current, and i could sit at ease and enjoy the position, which even the least imaginative person can readily conceive to have been a novel one. the small eyeless fish had been noticeable in the water everywhere but now came swimming about the boat in an astonishing multitude, and as unconscious of any possible danger as bees in a flower garden. having no eyes, they were naturally undisturbed by the light, so the candle could be held close to the water for a satisfactory examination of the happy creatures. they bore a striking resemblance to minnows, although a few were larger, and it is claimed that four or five inches are sizes not unusual, but they happened not to be on exhibition. even dipping a hand into the water in their midst occasioned no alarm, and they might have been caught by dozens. the guide now loudly called that he had fears of the twine being cut on the sharp edges of rock, and that cutting off all possibility of the boat's return, which being sufficiently reasonable, explorations were indefinitely suspended, and a landing soon made. the camera and flash-light were then prepared for taking a view, and a point of light being needed to work by the nephew was asked to sit in the boat with his candle, to which he readily consented; but judging from the developed picture it may be doubted if his pleasure at the time was extremely keen. on leaving the cave the guide said it would not be necessary to return to the upper end of the gulf in order to reach the surface, as the ascent could be made in another place; and leading the way to the left of the entrance he started up the nearly perpendicular wall, more than two hundred feet high, by a sort of "blind trail" that would have caused a mountain sheep to sigh for wings, but it was very beautiful. we walked over to the wagon road on the high ridge above the middle of the bridge and going down the forest-clad slopes to the perpendicular wall in which is the smaller of the great arches, admired from this fair point of view the marvelous grandeur of one of the greatest natural wonders. the weather being perfect after a rain the day before, there was no need of haste to get indoors, so we lingered into the afternoon and then drove to the mammoth spring, in arkansas, a short distance south of the missouri state line, where the cave river, just visited, comes to the surface in a bounding spring of great force. the distance being little less than nine miles. the basin filled by the spring might be called a lake, as its size of two hundred by three hundred feet gives it that appearance, and the color is a remarkable deep blue. the volume of water is so nearly uniform that the height seldom varies more than two or three inches, but three years ago a storm of unusual violence carried out most of the native fish, and in restocking from government supplies, the clear, cold water suggested an experiment with mountain trout which are found to be doing well. where mammoth spring flows out its power is utilized by a flour mill on one bank and a cotton mill on the other, and the water flowing on forms spring river, well known for the charm of its beautiful scenery. this spring is described by dr. david dale owen in his first report of a geological reconnoissance of the northern counties of arkansas, and , pp. - . chapter viii. the black hills and bad lands. in order to thoroughly appreciate and enjoy the wonderful caves of south dakota, which are found within the limits of the black hills, it is necessary to have some knowledge of the geological character and history of that peculiar region. prof. j.e. todd, state geologist, in his "preliminary report on the geology of south dakota," gives an interesting "historical sketch of explorations" in his state, beginning with the expedition of captains lewis and clark to the upper missouri regions in - to explore that portion of the recent louisiana purchase for the government and notify the indians of the transfer; and including all other important expeditions since that time down to his own official tour of the black hills and bad lands in . his own descriptions are so concise and graphic as to invite quotation. of the hills he says: "the black hills have an area of five-thousand square miles of a rudely elliptical form with its major axis, approximately, north-northwest. most of this area lies within our state. the true limit of the hills is quite distinctly marked by a sharp ridge of sandstone, three hundred to six hundred feet in relative height, which becomes broader and more plateau-like towards the north and south ends. this ridge is separated from the higher mass of hills within by a valley one to three miles in breadth, which is known as the red valley, from its brick-red soil, or the 'race course,' which name was given it by the indians because of its open and smooth character, affording easy and rapid passage around the hills. the junction of the outer base of the hills with the surrounding table lands has an altitude of three thousand, five hundred to four thousand feet. within this red valley one gradually ascends the outer slope of the hills and soon enters, at an altitude of four thousand five hundred or five thousand feet, the woody portion of the region. this outer slope varies greatly in width and is underlaid by older sedimentary rocks, cut in almost every direction by narrow deep cañons. this feature covers nearly the whole of the western half of the hills proper, where erosion has been less active on account of its distance from the main channels of drainage. usually, from the broken interior edge of this slope or sedimentary plateau one descends a bluff or escarpment, and enters the central area of slates, granite, and quartzites, which is carved into high ridges and sharp peaks cut by many narrow and deep valleys and ravines and generally thickly timbered with the common pine of the rocky mountains. toward the south, about harney peak, the surface is peculiarly rugged and difficult to traverse. toward the north, also, about terry and custer peaks, a smaller rugged surface appears; but in the central area between and extending west of the harney range is a region which is characterized by open and level parks much lower than the surrounding peaks and ridges." the archæan rocks which form the core of the hills mark the center of the various uplifts which have attended their formation and controlled their history. the coarse granite of harney peak indicating that, as the central point of the earliest upheaval, and the three porphyries known as rhyolite, trachyte, and phonolite, showing the uplifts of later periods to have had their centers a little more to the north, but the entire area is said to be only about sixty miles long and twenty-five miles in width. it is exceptionally rough and mountainous, and consequently has great charms for the lover of fine scenery. erosion has only partially denuded the peaks of the sedimentary rocks through which they were thrust up, or by which they were overlaid during the earlier part of several subsequent periods of submersion. the hills, in these remote times, led but a doubtful and precarious existence, being now an isolated island rising out of a shallow sea, and then, owing to a general subsidence, submerged in the ocean to so great a depth that even harney peak is supposed to have almost, if not entirely, disappeared. this up and down motion continued at intervals until the fox hills epoch of the cretaceous age, at the close of which the sea retired forever from that portion of the country. in the next epoch fresh water work began and extensive marshes were formed, with an abundant growth of vegetation and reptiles. there was also much volcanic violence which resulted in the fine scenery in the north end of the black hills, and probably opened the fissures to form wind cave, the onyx caves in the southern hills and crystal cave near the eastern edge toward the north. this was near the close of the cretaceous age. but here is a point on which the best authorities who have studied the porphyry peaks, have failed to agree; prof. n.h. winchell believing that the intrusion occurred, probably, during the jura trias, but as cretaceous beds, of more recent date, are found to have been distorted by the outflow, it seems that professors todd, newton and carpenter hold the stronger position and that the later time is correct. no record of the next geological stage, which was the eocene, or earlier part of the tertiary age, has been found in the hills, because they were at that time dry land with gently flowing, shallow streams, and consequently no strata were laid down; but they are supposed, through later evidences, to have had a tropical climate and vegetation, enjoyed by large animals of strange new forms. the volume of fresh water afterwards became so great that immense lakes spread over large portions of the west, one of which occupied most of the region around the black hills at the beginning of the miocene, and animal life was more abundant than ever before and of higher orders, many species being the same as are now in existence. the weather became more and more inclement and as the storms increased the erosion of the hills also increased, and the rivers changed to torrents with deep channels. earthquakes are supposed to have occurred and also volcanic eruptions. the black hills were now rising steadily, and as the slope of the streams increased, the channels cut deeper, and the fissures now known as caves had long been filled with water. the most important of the numerous animals of the tertiary age yet discovered in the hills and surrounding region, are the titanotherium or brontotherium, similar to our hippopotamus, the oreodon, and a small horse having three toes on each foot. a little later in the same age the horses were similar to those of the present time and of equal size, which proves that the wild horses of the west were not descended from the few lost by the spanish invaders. at this time the first lions, camels, mastodons, and mammoths also appeared. the remains of these animals are so abundant in places as to indicate that they perished in herds that were overwhelmed suddenly by great floods, and many, no doubt, huddled together and perished with cold; for with the beginning of the present age the hills had reached their highest elevation, the inclement weather increased, and the tropical climate suddenly changed to one extremely cold. it was the beginning of the glacial period or ice age, when a large portion of the united states is supposed to have been covered by a sheet of ice. the ice is believed to have entered south dakota from the northeast and its drift across the state limited by a line so closely following the present course of the missouri river that many of us would be inclined to consider it the western bluff. beyond this line the ice failed to push its way, but the hills were subject to heavy rain storms that filled the streams and carried large quantities of bowlders and other eroded material, both coarse and fine, down into the valleys and over the lower hills, where much of the moderately coarse can now be seen exposed on the surface, and fine specimens collected without the use of a hammer. the brilliantly colored, striped and mottled agates, and the bright, delicate tints of the quartz crystal, are particularly attractive to the majority of visitors. the beauty of these gaily colored rocks is quite extensively utilized by the inhabitants of the southern and southeastern hills to supply the place of growing plants which are generally denied by the inconvenience of the water supply. the quartzite of the hills is well crystallized and heavy. i have one beautiful specimen of the dark indian red variety through which passes a narrow line of pale blue, and the yellow quartzite or jasper sometimes shows dendrite markings. very great quantities of agates and jasper, mostly in small pieces, but unlimited variety, are to be seen in portions of the bad lands, south of the fork of the cheyenne river, with an almost equal abundance of baculites and numerous other fossils. the wide expanse of deep ravines and sharp, barren ridges in the bad lands is a unique departure from the usual phases of natural scenery that inspire interest and wonder, but no great admiration, until one soon learns that the law of compensation has been strictly observed. the beauty of vegetation denied those desolate buttes and ridges is atoned for by a marvelous abundance of most wonderful crystals of aragonite, calcite, barite and satin spar; each to itself, or two or more combined in beautiful geodes or else arranged in great flat slabs crystallized on both sides of a thin sheet of lime. these slabs are composed of crystals of uniform size and of a pale green tint. but the geodes show some striking combinations of both crystals and colors with an exterior formed like box work, composed of a very heavy dark material said to be a mixture of barium, calcium and iron. the interior may be a bright green or lemon yellow, or perhaps the two in combination, while others yet may be either of these varieties with the addition of flat crystals of almost transparent satin spar. these crystals also occur in masses of the same box-like formation rising just so much above the surface of the barren ridge they occupy as to give it the appearance of a prairie dog town. one hill-top over which an abundance of detached crystals, of the palest water-green tint, has been spread, gave the impression of being covered with crushed ice. this transformation from a richly tropical to a marvelously barren region, was accomplished during the time when storms reigned over the hills and ice ruled the country to the north and east. the long slender barite crystals of a bright golden brown color are especially beautiful but are generally seen in the specimen stores, as the deposit is confined to limited areas and the few persons familiar with the locations are not over anxious to introduce the general public. the fossil remains previously referred to are of course only a few of the most important, but it is remarked as a curious and notable fact that among the fossils of the lower orders of life in the bad lands, the heads have not been preserved. on account of scarcity of water it is necessary for parties to carry a supply even when they expect to be in the vicinity of the cheyenne river and probably ford the south fork, as these waters carry in solution a quantity of alkali that renders them unfit for drinking, although the effects would not be fatal but simply the extreme reverse of pleasant. no caves have been discovered in the bad lands, unless that name be applied to some of the geodes which are really grottoes, they being of sufficient size for a man to stand in. the black hills, however, contain some of the most remarkable caves ever yet discovered, of which those of greatest importance are wind cave and the three onyx caves near hot springs, in the southeastern part of the hills, and crystal cave near piedmont, in the northeast. all of these occur in the carboniferous limestone which forms an outer belt around the central mass or core of the hills and no doubt, as previously suggested, owes its fissures to earthquakes which preceded or accompanied the porphyry intrusions by which in some localities its strata have been thrown into a vertical position. chapter ix. wind cave. wind cave was discovered in by a hunter named thomas bingham, who being weary of a fruitless chase sat down to rest, and was soon startled by the sound of rushing wind on a calm day; and at the same time by a singular hair-raising sensation, as his hat was lifted from his head and thrown high in the air. he is said to have afterwards declared that although frightened nearly out of his wits, he determined to find the cause of his alarm, and on turning slightly discovered a hole about eight by twelve inches in size through which a roaring wind was issuing from the earth. as his hair maintained the aggressive attitude taken, the recovered hat could not be returned to its usual place, so an hour was spent in laying it across the opening and watching its instant projection into upper space; after which he set out to tell of the wonderful discovery. the announcement, however, was not received seriously and he was assured of the impossibility of the wind blowing through a hill of solid rock, and his brother explained to him that he had been too self-indulgent and consequently imagined the whole affair. a protest of total abstinence failed to inspire confidence, but the brother promised to go the next day to see for himself, and did. the hat was again placed over the opening as before, but instead of taking the expected lofty flight, it was drawn in and has never since been seen: the current had reversed. soon after this the hole was enlarged to eighteen by thirty inches and the cave entered by quite a number of venturesome persons assisted by a long rope and ample personal courage. no other improvements were made, and only a short distance was explored, until mr. j.d. mcdonald settled on the property in ; since which time he and his sons have explored ninety-seven miles of passage and done such extensive work in opening up small passages and placing ladders, that it is now possible for visitors to travel long distances with surprising ease and comfort. the measure of distances in the cave is not by the usual guess-work method which has established the short-measure reputation for cave miles, but is done with a fair degree of accuracy by means of the twine used to mark the trail in exploring new passages. a careful measurement of the twine has shown it to run nine balls to the mile with a close average of regularity, so it is the custom to add another mile to the cave record as often as a ninth ball becomes exhausted. wind cave is twelve miles north of hot springs by a good road which offers somewhat meager attractions to the artist, but is more liberal towards the geologist, and especially so in fine exposures of the gypsum bearing red beds of the triassic. limited patches of it are also exposed in each of the caves, generally carrying small quantities of selenite, which is crystallized gypsum, or in other words, crystallized sulphate of lime. this brilliant red color is so prominent in portions of the hills, and attracts so much wondering attention in other well known regions of the west, that it would seem an unpardonable neglect of opportunity should we fail to again quote prof. todd for an explanation of the cause of the vivid coloring. commencing he says: "newton remarks concerning this:[ ] 'a large percentage of peroxide of iron in the red beds, to which they owe their bright red color, bears an interesting relation to the absence of fossils. the material of which sediments are formed is derived, by the various processes of denudation, from the rocks of older land surfaces. whatever iron they contain is dissolved from the land and transported in a condition of protoxide and some proto salt, such as the carbonate, and the process is facilitated by the presence of carbonic acid in the water. now iron occurs in these older rocks as protoxide and peroxide, the former of which is soluble and the latter insoluble in water. the peroxide, however, by the action of organic matter, such as is held in solution in boggy waters, may be deprived of a portion of its oxygen and converted into protoxide and thus be rendered soluble. if the iron-bearing water is confined first in a shallow basin and exposed long to the action of the atmosphere the protoxide of iron absorbs the oxygen and is precipitated as an insoluble red peroxide of iron. if, however, plant or animal life be present in sufficient quantities, this oxidation is prevented. in case but little foreign material, clay or sand, has been brought by the waters, the deposit will be an iron ore. in case large quantities of foreign material are deposited from the waters at the same time, there will be produced, in the absence of life, a brown or red clay or sandstone, and in its presence a white or light colored formation containing the iron as a carbonate. we reason therefore from the condition in which the iron is found in the red beds, that there could have been little or no life, animal or vegetable, in the water from which it was deposited. the conclusion is strengthened by the fact of the large quantities of gypsum which are usually derived from the evaporation of saline waters. the degree of saline concentration which the precipitation of gypsum indicates, would be highly inimical to life. the presence of gypsum helps to account for the absence of life, and the absence of life accounts for the brilliant color. the three prominent characteristics of the formation (that is the red beds) are therefore quite in harmony with each other.'" (geol. blk. hills, p. .) continuing the subject, professor todd says: "accepting this explanation of the striking red color, the question remains as to how these circumstances, favorable for its formation, were produced. "this red color is quite common in the whole rocky mountain region, not only on the eastern slope of the mountains, but to the various detached members of the system. we must, therefore, look for some extensive condition. if we seek some case in the present, parallel to the one already indicated, we perhaps can find none better than one on the eastern shore of the caspian sea, where, because of dry climate and the shallow waters, the deposition of gypsum and salt is now going on. in the gulf known as the kara boghaz, which is separated from the caspian by a narrow strait, the evaporation is so rapid as to produce an almost constant flow from the sea into it. this strait and this gulf give the impression to an unlearned observer that there must be a mysterious subterranean outlet. the water flows in, carrying with it the salt and other soluble minerals. it then evaporates, leaving the salt and minerals behind." this explanation is calculated to afford particular pleasure to the many visitors to the garden of the gods, in colorado, who seldom receive satisfactory answers to their questions as to the reasons "why." in that much visited spot, however, the great mass of the deposit has been removed by erosion and the curiously shaped remnants are only such portions as were exceptionally hard and consequently withstood the action of the submerging waters. having made a considerable stop on the way to wind cave, we will now hurry on, but with good horses and a fine day the drive is one of great pleasure. the road gradually rises to higher ground and soon reaches a point six hundred feet more elevated than hot springs, with a charming view of hill and valley distances, and the way then continues over the hill-tops. at one point by the roadside a circle of tent-stones still marks the spot occupied by sitting bull for a week or more after the custer massacre, while he camped here and in the security of his commanding position watched the movements of the government troops who were in search of him. hot springs and buffalo gap are both included in the wide-spread view. beside the road and scattered about in all directions are fine specimens of agates and quartz crystal which seem most beautiful and most abundant on the hills in the immediate vicinity of the cave, the crystals being either rose pink, pale green, yellow, white or colorless. arriving at the cave, the entrance is not visible, but between the ravine in which it is located and the road, there is the cave office and small hotel, on the ravine side of which an outer stairway leads down to the cave entrance, over which has been built a log cabin. on account of the precautions taken for the protection of visitors, accidents are so rare that it might almost be said that none occur. every person is required to register before entering the cave and all returning parties are carefully counted, although they are usually unaware of the fact. they are always accompanied by two guides and others are added if the party is large. no one is, on any account, permitted to wander in advance of the head guide or linger behind the one in the rear. within the cabin the immediate entrance to the cave is securely closed, and in order that the door may not be forced from its fastenings by the roaring wind which shakes it threateningly, it opens in, instead of out. this wind suggested the name wind cave, and will probably be utilized, at no very distant time, to generate electricity for lighting the cavern. the wind is strongest at the surface, and a guide goes down first to place lights in sheltered nooks where the force has begun to diminish, about fifty feet below the entrance; and here we light our candles which, if guarded somewhat, are not extinguished unless the current is unusually severe. the balance of the descent of one hundred and fifty-five feet from the surface to the first chamber is easily accomplished. this would be the least interesting room in the cave if it were not the bride's chamber, on account of having once been the scene of a marriage ceremony. but no others are in need of assistance of such romantic nature, as all are curiously and handsomely decorated, with such a charming variety of deposits, artistically massed, combined or contrasted, that every step brings fresh pleasure, and monotony is nowhere. passing from this room by a long, narrow passage, in the walls of which are observed many beautiful little pockets of crystals, attention is presently called to lincoln's fireplace, a perfectly natural specimen of the old-fashioned design broadly open in the chimney; doubtless just such an one as mr. lincoln's good mother hung the crane in and set the dutch oven before. a little beyond and on the opposite side of the crevice is prairie-dog town, not a very extensive town, to be sure, but so true a copy that one unfamiliar with the small animal and his style of architecture would afterwards easily recognize both. at one time his dogship was carried away by a too eager collector, but a letter to the suspected visitor brought him home by the next freight. the dutch clock occupies a position on a shelf near by, and all southern visitors greet the alligator as a familiar friend, as all of us joyfully meet any acquaintance from home. a long narrow passage, formerly a "tight crawl," but later opened up by heavy blasting, must be traversed before we come to the snow ball room, beautiful with round spots of untinted carbonate of lime, as if fresh soft snow had been thrown by the handful over walls and ceilings, with the additional ornamentation of calcite crystals. in the crevice beyond rises the church steeple, diminishing regularly, though roughly, in size, to a height of sixty feet, but not degraded with the little squirming stairway usually seen in church spires. the next room is the post office, in which we are for the first time introduced to the greatest peculiarity and most abundant formation known to the cave. being a newly discovered addition to geology it has no scientific name and therefore is simply called box work, because it resembles boxes of many shapes and sizes. the formation of the box work is generally regarded as an unexplained and unexplainable mystery, but a careful study of various portions of the cave shows it in all stages of development and suggests a reasonable theory as to the cause of its origin and variety of development. the volcanic disturbances which have already been discussed as having been responsible for the various uplifts and depressions of the black hills region, and also for opening the fissures which gave the cave a beginning, must have supplied the conditions that were necessary to the formation of box work. and these preliminary conditions were merely cracks in the rock. by the violence of earth movement the limestone has been crushed, probably when the land was undergoing depression, prior to the upheaval which opened the great parallel fissures. the varying hardness of the rock, as well as proximity to the surface, would readily account for the difference in size of the fractures, which is from one-half inch to twelve inches; the largest being the most distant from the surface. that this crushing was done before the salt waters retired from the region, which was towards the close of the cretaceous age, is sufficiently evident in the fact that portions of the red beds show similar fractures with the cracks filled with gypsum, and gypsum, as we have already seen, is a salt water deposit. after the crushing was done the cracks in the carboniferous limestone were filled with water heavily charged with calcium carbonate, taken in solution from the rock, first from pulverized particles, and afterwards by percolation and contact with exposed surfaces. this calcium carbonate was slowly deposited in crystalline form, so that in time the cracks were filled and the crushed rock firmly cemented with calcite seams. but in the meantime the removal of the calcium carbonate had started disintegration of the more exposed portions of the rock, which steadily continuing, finally reduced the porous body between the crystal seams to a soft clay which was gradually dissolved and carried out through small imperfections in the thin crystal sheets, leaving the empty box work as we find it. but where blasting has exposed fresh surfaces, much of the solid limestone carries the box-like sheets of crystal. the thinnest box work is seen in the upper levels, from which the waters retired soonest, and the heaviest and most beautiful is in the blue grotto, on the eighth level where the water remained longest and its diminished volume became most heavily charged. in many places, however, there is another heavy variety known as pop-corn box work, which seems to be an impure lime carbonate not so finely crystallized as the other, but at the time of my visit no explanation had been given of the manner of its deposit; and my own theory that it was not formed under water had nothing to sustain it until, a few weeks later, while visiting crystal cave, the work was found in active progress on surfaces occupying every position, and the agent was dripping water. in all cases the original box work has been in thin sheets of calcite, and the heavy varieties are due to later deposits of calcite and aragonite crystals or, pop corn. the colors are white, yellow, blue and chocolate brown; the last named predominating to a great extent in that portion of the cave most easily traveled by visitors, and forming the ceiling and a part of one wall in the post office, where, as has been said before, it first appears. the effect is not dreary as might be imagined, and parties are generally photographed here because one side of the room is white and greatly assists the flash. this is a smooth, perpendicular wall marking the line of the fissure and showing the strata of the rock in horizontal position whitened with a thin coating of carbonate of lime. all visitors are cordially invited to please themselves in leaving cards, letters or papers in this chamber, which is reserved for that purpose, and to refrain from leaving them in other portions of the cave or defacing the walls with names. roe's misery is a long, narrow passage into which, during the early times before its size had been increased by blasting, a large man named roe crawled to his sorrow. being larger than the hole he stuck fast, and neither his own efforts nor those of the guides could relieve the situation until a rope was sent for, and having been brought, was securely fastened to his feet, when a long pull and a strong one finally opened the passage. it is told that he claimed to have reviewed all the objectionable acts of his life, by which his friends understood that he occupied the motionless position not less than three weeks. red hall is very nearly described by its name and is quite a showy room, with the bright red walls contrasting sharply with their limited ornamentation of pure white carbonate of lime and pearly crystals of calcite. off to one side of red hall is a beautiful little chamber called old maids' grotto, probably on account of its trim appearance and ideal location. it is so entirely concealed from the view of those passing on the public highway, that its existence is not even suspected, until special attention is called to its cosiness, and then it is necessary to mount an accumulation of great water-rounded rocks in order to obtain convincing evidence of its actual reality. it is a long, narrow room, shut in by a straight wall sufficiently high for rigid seclusion, or protection, without preventing a glimpse of passing events. a break in the description is made here for the purpose of inserting a description, written at the author's request, by mr. e.l. mcdonald. he was generally our special guide. he has chosen to describe the route taken by the majority of visitors and therefore the balance of my observations within those limits are omitted. all who are familiar with those passages and chambers will observe while reading the next chapter that no imaginary attractions are added to the existing facts, but many interesting minor points are missing. only such changes are made as were agreed to as the condition on which he would attempt a piece of work so at variance with his usual occupations. footnotes: [ ] u.s. geological survey. geology of the black hills. henry newton, p. . chapter x. wind cave continued. the fair grounds route. "at : in the morning the train bringing health-seekers and tourists arrives at hot springs, a beautiful little city nestled in the southernmost foot-hills of the world-reputed black hills of south dakota. the choice of a hotel is soon made, and when located, the new-comers observe the other guests and acquaint themselves with the attractions of the resort. probably during the day they are approached by the solicitor of the wonderful wind cave, who explains that the best way to reach the cave is by means of the coach and four seen at the hotel in the morning, and arrangements are made for the following day. the next morning, seated in the tally-ho coach with strangers who are soon acquaintances, you start on a beautiful twelve-mile drive to one of nature's most interesting sights. "immediately after leaving town you begin to admire the scenery and enjoy the cool, refreshing breezes, wafted from the mountains to the north, down the slopes to the arid plains. "after climbing a gently sloping 'hog-back' for about eight miles, you are at the top of the divide and one thousand feet higher than hot springs, which may be seen on the left. looking ahead you can see harney peak, the highest mountain in the black hills district; and on the right you see buffalo gap, through which the creek runs that heads at min-ne-pa-juta springs. the indians used to drive buffalo through this gap, hence its name. a small but thriving little town to the eastward takes its name from this buffalo gap. from here you begin to go down a gentle and winding incline to the cave, which is reached all too soon. "at the office you register and procure tickets, and then have from one-half to three-quarters of an hour in which to eat lunch or dine at the hotel. then all congregate in the office, from whence the start is made, after every one has put on a cave cap, _not a suit, as such is entirely unnecessary_. the guide leads the way to the entrance of the cave which is separated from the office by some little distance, and is located in the bed of a long since dry run, which in former times has bared the carboniferous strata, and within this kind of rock the cave is found. "as the author has asked me for an article descriptive of the cave, i will only attempt to say something of our medium length route to the fair grounds, or in other words, the fair grounds' route. a collective description of the whole cave would take months--even years--to complete. besides, the above route is the one most used by visitors at the present time. "on entering the cave house (a log structure) you will in all probability ask from whence comes the murmur of a waterfall. the guide answers that it is the rushing current of air at the mouth of the cave, sometimes in and sometimes out. prof. j.e. todd, in bulletin no. , s. dakota geological survey, p. , says: 'this phenomenon is found to correspond with the varying pressure of the barometer, and with its single opening and capacious chambers is easily accounted for.' "the rushing air is sometimes strong enough to require a man's weight to open the entrance door. five days and nights is the longest time the wind has been known to move in one direction without ceasing. this is one of nature's greatest atmospherical phenomena. "some one says, 'tickets, please!' and into the hole we go, single file down a lighted passageway to where we can light our candles. after descending about one hundred and fifty-five feet we come into the bridal chamber (named by some of the earlier explorers before the present management took hold of the property), which is eight or ten feet in length by twenty feet in breadth. passing along some distance, the snow-ball room is entered. it carries this name on account of little rosettes of carbonate of lime sticking to the irregular ceiling. this room is pretty narrow and some fifty feet in length. "the post office is next and soon reached. the ceiling is covered with the box work formation somewhat resembling post office boxes. you will no doubt wonder why it carries such a common name. "just because after searching in what books on geology and other sciences we could get, we could not find it described nor any formation resembling it; hence its common name, as we have named the pop-corn work, frost work etc., from their appearance. "the dimensions of the post office are some eighty feet in length by twenty feet in width, with an average ceiling height of probably twelve feet. red hall is the room next in order, and has on either side a red bank of sandy, micaceous clay. "just to the left is a very pretty little grotto of box work. this room is very odd in make-up. the floor is very rough and dips about fifteen feet in its length of sixty feet, and includes a short flight of stairs. the lowest end of the room is prettily decorated, and some pleasing blends of color attract the eye. to the left is the old maids' grotto, a pretty little nook that would please any maid old or young. "after passing through the white room we turn to the left along the crevice, and after traveling some little distance reach the grand opera, a very narrow room but some forty feet in length. chopin's nocturne is a small grotto in the right hand wall named by the famous violinist, edouard remenji. "the devil's lookout is reached by a few steps. it is a crevice about ten feet wide at the base and sixty-five feet in height. this place is remarkable for its columns of rock just over head. the pathway leads to milton's study, some fifty feet distant. turning into the crevice again, some twenty feet are traveled when attention is called to seal rocks. sampson's palace is the next room in order: here we see some stalagmitic water formation on the left wall and the ceiling is one of the most beautiful yet seen on the trip. "we pass along to swiss scenery, a very prettily decorated room fifty feet in length by fifteen in height. the box work is very pretty, shading from yellow to dark brown. the general appearance of the room would suggest its name, it being rougher than any other in the immediate vicinity. passing under an arch we enter the queen's drawing-room. here the box work has been developed beyond any on our pathway thus far. from the ceiling it hangs like draperies and on the left wall is about twenty-four inches in depth. on the whole this room is elegant enough for the most exacting queen. we step from this room into the m.e. church. rev. mr. hancher, president of the black hills methodist college, was i believe the first to hold song and prayer service in this room; the pulpit is on the left as you pass through. the guides always ask if any wish to sing or worship, as any one has a perfect right in a dedicated chapel. "the giant's causeway is only a few steps beyond. this bit of scenery has some resemblance to the famed basalt attraction on the coast of ireland. we 'duck' our heads under the arch of politeness and rise to a standing position in lena's arbor, a very irregular shaped room admired by a great many of our visitors. "we enter capitol hall at the side, about midway between the ends. it is the largest room yet visited, being some two hundred feet from end to end, with a very high ceiling. here we notice the walls and ceiling are bare of box work and other formation, and are clean and white. the decorative appearance exceeds any room yet visited. after getting into line again we go down a flight of stairs to odd fellows' hall, a chamber that on examination suggests its name. in the ceiling is situated the 'all seeing eye,' one of the emblems of that august body, and at a little distance the 'three links;' also in the ceiling, and just under the latter is situated a rock very much resembling a goat. attention is called to the first appearance of pop-corn work, a very peculiar formation resembling pop-corn after it has broken open, and in this part of the cave it is quite plentiful. "we now descend another flight of stairs into turtle pass, where a large turtle rests beside the path, and just beyond is the confederate cross-roads, where the fissure is crossed by another forming a cross with perfect right angles. the right hand passage is used for specimens only; straight ahead leads to the garden of eden, the end of our shortest route; we take the left hand path and journey through summer avenue, some seventy feet in length, and reach the scenes of wiclow, a large and high room, beautifully decorated with box work and pop-corn. the ceiling and the left wall from floor to ceiling are fine box work. on the right you see dark space, as a very large portion of this room is unused, but we pass the piper's pig. list! the guide is pounding on the salvation army drum, a large projecting rock that on being struck with the closed hand gives a sound very much like a bass drum. "after walking across a short plank we enter kimball's music hall, a very beautiful room settled between two crevices and lined with box work. viewing the ceiling from the fissure on the right it is seen to be smooth and fringed with pop-corn. in some places the boxes are closed, resembling finished honey-comb. over head box work can be seen as high as the light penetrates. on the whole, i think this is the finest crevice in the explored cave. "looking straight ahead you wonder how the party can travel over such a road as presents itself to view, but the guide turns into an arch in the right hand wall and enters whitney avenue. after walking across the bridge over shadowy depths, our pathway lies for some fifty feet in one of the most interesting ovens in the cave, at the end of which we enter monte cristo's palace by going down a flight of stairs. this room has the greatest depth beneath the surface of any of the fair grounds' route, which is four hundred and fifty feet. in this room is noticed a decided change in the box work, which is much heavier than any seen, or that will be seen on this route, and the color is light blue. "i guess i will give the party a talk while we rest under monte cristo's diamonds, a very sparkling cluster, about six inches in diameter, of silica crystals. "after studying the cave, it appears that it did not form in the same manner as most others; on account of the absence of sink holes, the regular arrangement of the chambers, the regular dip of the rock to the south-east from five to ten degrees, and the regularity of the long vertical fissures running north-west south-east. in fact, the whole cave is made up of these fissures and it seems that the water has entered narrow crevices opened by some eruptive force. "you see small holes eaten in the ceilings and walls in every direction, which indicates that the water came from a higher level, and being under great pressure, wanted passage out. it seems the cave was a reservoir for a long time, then after the water stopped flowing in it slowly receded, and in settling the overcharged waters covered the rocks and specimens with a calcareous coating, very thin in the upper portions of the cave and getting thicker the deeper you go, giving evidence as you see, of slowly settling. had the waters rushed out they would in all probability have left the rocks uncoated as in all other caves, with one exception, the crystal cave, some seventy-five miles to the north of wind cave. "as we have some more caves to see we must journey on. "taking one last look at monte cristo's diamonds we pass into milliner's avenue, a very pretty avenue indeed with nearly as many colors as a milliner's show-window would present. about mid-way of this avenue we cross the bridge over castle garden, a room in the eighth tier beneath the surface. from this avenue we step into the assembly room. here the formations are covered with a gypsum crystal that sparkles with wonderful brilliancy. on the right is a passage leading to the masonic temple, a room that any body of masons would be proud of could they hold lodge meetings in it. the passage on the left is the terminus of the pearly gates' route, the longest developed route in the cave. after moving along some distance we see the bad lands, and then come into the tennis court. this room has the net in the ceiling and i suppose the party can furnish the raquet (racket). on the right hand side of this room there is tier upon tier of box work; looking to the left, you shudder at the almost bottomless pit just beside the pathway. here we take a rest preparatory to climbing up to the marble quarry, a task of two flights of stairs. this is a very large room and has the most uneven floor, ceiling and walls of any that our visitors see, and is barren of specimens excepting in the first part over the stairs where there is some box work of very pretty structure and color. some distance up the path we see on one side the ghost of 'she,' and on the other the devil's punch bowl, a large rock with a basin-shaped hole about thirty-six inches across and sixteen inches deep, but lo! the bottom has been broken out: which is very appropriate as south dakota is at present a prohibition state. a winding path is followed until attention is called to the sheep's head above an arch over the passage, and the ceiling here is of flint, the ledge of which is four inches thick. "passing under the arch we enter johnstone's camp ground, so named because paul alexander johnstone camped in this room while accomplishing the third of his greatest mind-reading feats, during which he remained in the cave seventy-two hours. he was locked in his room at the evans hotel while a committee secreted the head of a gold pin in the cave. on their return, after being blindfolded, he led them to the livery stable, and securing a team drove to the cave and found the pin in the standing rock chamber, beyond the pearly gates, and then drove back to the city still blindfolded. "down one short flight of stairs and we are in the waiting room, so called on account of persons waiting here while the rest of their party finished the trip by climbing up the alpine way. this difficult climb was made until the route was developed via the marble quarry. a steep pathway and one flight of stairs now bring us to the ticket office, and another short stairway leads into the room above, which is the fair grounds. we enter the right wing, which measures two hundred and six links in length and forty-nine in width at the narrowest place. we are now in the third level and no box work is seen, but the ceiling (which is low) shows many interesting fossils. the central dome is some fifty feet in height, and passing to the right the guide seats the party in such a position that the frost work on the wall can be seen to advantage. this is the largest part of the fair grounds and measures six hundred and forty-five links long, exclusive of the right wing, and has a width of fifty-three links, which with a number of wings added, makes it one of the largest under-ground rooms within american caverns. "a great many visitors look at their cuff-buttons when told we have twenty-five hundred rooms included in ninety-seven miles of passageways. of course they do not understand how we get the mileage. in going to the fair grounds we travel about three miles. in each fissure there are eight levels, which makes twenty-four miles of cave from the entrance to the fair grounds. "of the formations in the cave, the different kinds are on different levels, the stalactites and stalagmites nearest the surface on the second, the frost work on the third. this formation is in most instances as colorless as snow. the mode of its formation is not thoroughly understood, but is found in such positions as suggest its being formed by vapors overcharged as spoken of about the water. it is almost always on an over-hanging rock, over or near some fissure leading to a deeper portion of the cave. box work in this level is scattering and fragile: in the fourth it is the prevailing formation: in the fifth it is heavier and a little darker; in the sixth it varies in style and color, and pop-corn appears, a queer formation resembling pop-corn ready to eat. it is not so purely white here as in the lower levels, seventh and eighth. in the seventh the box work is heavier than any seen on the fair grounds' route and the color is nearly blue, having a faded appearance. in this tier is also found a good deal of mineral wool, which must not be mistaken for asbestos. it sometimes attains a length of eighteen inches and at one place where it seems to come out of a hole two inches in diameter, and drops down like a grey beard, we have named it noah's beard. "in the eighth tier we find very beautiful formations of carbonate of lime, and the box work is decidedly blue, the boxes larger, and their partitions one half inch thick. "we have been deeper than the eighth tier but in narrow crevices barely admitting a man of average stature. in these the calcareous coating is much thicker than in any higher portions of the cave, but very little sign of box work is seen. "sometimes we make a comparison between the cave and a sponge. take for instance a sponge as large as an apple barrel and there would be holes in it as big as a man's thumb and closed hand. now take a sponge, four miles square and five hundred feet deep with holes in proportion to the little sponge, and you have an illustration of the wonderful wind cave, of custer county, south dakota." chapter xi. wind cave continued. pearly gates and blue grotto route. a very much longer, more beautiful, and also more difficult journey than the one just described may be taken by those in whom the desire to see is greater than the fear of fatigue, or possibly, some little danger. with this object in view the fair grounds' route is followed through monte cristo's palace and into milliner's avenue. here we leave it by dropping off the bridge into a rough hole, which proves to be a passage descending into castle garden directly beneath the avenue, and a room of considerable size, plentifully supplied with bowlders. although interesting to visit, it has no points of such special merit as would seem to require a detailed account, the main importance attaching to it being the fact that it is the first portion of the eighth level visited. a little beyond, however, is something quite new. the floor is covered with a light yellow crust of calcite crystal, sufficiently strong to bear the weight of a limited number of guests without much fracture. it generally gives a hollow sound when struck, which is easily accounted for as there are small holes noticed by which steam evidently made its escape, and through these cavities can be seen but they are shallow. one place shows the crust broken up and with the edges of the pieces overlapped, like ice broken by a sudden rise of back-water, and in this position they have been firmly cemented. this is where the slowly receding waters of the cave lingered in shallow pools above the small crevices long after the main portions had become dry. that the crust was formed on top of the water, instead of beneath its surface, has been proved by the only body of water now standing in the cave. this is called silent lake, and being situated on another route will be described in its proper place, but when discovered no water was visible nor its presence even suspected until the crust gave way under the weight of an explorer. the thin sheet of yellow calcite crystal thus broken was the same as that seen in great abundance in the now perfectly dry eighth level. the gradually decreasing volume of water has left a smooth yellow coat on portions of the walls where irregularities or slopes were favorable, and at least one such place is vividly remembered if once seen. a steep incline of about fifteen feet leads to a small oval hole through the wall; towards this we crawled with no great ease; but getting to the hole was far easier than going through it into a tiny cubby not high enough to sit comfortably upright in, and too small to permit an average sized human being to turn around. close on the left it is shut in by another wall pierced by two holes similar to that just passed, and each revealing a miniature chamber scarcely more than three feet in either direction and eighteen inches high. being directed to examine the ceiling of the first, it was done with some difficulty and much satisfaction, for there in the center was a most exquisite bit of art work, a circular disk of "drusy" quartz about twelve inches in diameter and having the appearance of a flat rosette of fine black lace, in open pattern with small diamonds thickly strung on every thread; a brilliant, sparkling mass of gems. after mr. mcdonald had carefully removed a geode from the other little chamber, he slid down into a fourth, the last of the diminutive suite, having sufficient height to allow a sitting posture with raised head, and opened the small jewel case, while i examined the place it came from. here all was calcite crystal heavily massed in various forms, and a harmony of blue and brown, with half a dozen round, unbroken, perfect geodes hanging from the ceiling like oriole nests. the geode taken proved on opening to be especially fine, being filled with pearly white calcite crystals of both the dog-tooth and nail-head forms, and was kindly presented to be added to the collection of cave specimens already purchased in town, to which were also added handsome pieces of "drusy" quartz, cave coral, and tufa and mineral wool. following the guide i now slipped down into the larger nook just vacated, and saw with considerable chagrin that the next step was down a perpendicular wall more than ten feet in height, facing a high, narrow fissure, the floor of which was merely two shelves sloping to an open space along the middle, almost two feet wide, with the darkness of continuing crevice below. further progress seemed absolutely impossible. all things are, however, possible to those who will, and it had been willed to pay a visit to the grandest portion of wind cave. in order to do so the descent must be made and was. then some little distance must be traveled along the crevice, but the angle of elevation taken by both sides of the bisected floor served as a sort of prohibitory tax together with the calcite paving, since to maintain an upright position on such a surface would require long training of a certain professional character. that difficulty, too, was overcome by placing a foot on either side of the open crevice; the first consideration, of course, being safety and not grace. we now came to the enjoyment of the reward of merit. flooded with the brilliant white light of magnesium ribbon, the crevice walls could be seen drawing together at a height of sixty-five feet, and both composed entirely of larger box work than any seen before and very heavily covered with calcite crystal, colored a bright electric blue and glowing with a pearly lustre. this is the centennial gallery, and leaving it with reluctance we passed on into the blue grotto to find it finer still. it is somewhat wider and higher, while even the extremely rough, uneven floor shows no spot bare of heavy box work of a yet deeper blue. the wonderful beauty of this blue grotto necessarily stands beyond comparison because in all the known world there is nothing like it. the forms of crystal are chiefly aragonite. from here we pass to the "chamber de norcutt," which would be considered a very handsome room if it had no superiors: and the same can be said of union college, in which, however, is the fan rock to claim special notice; an immense piece of fallen box work shaped like a lady's fan half opened. an imposing vestibule leads into the extensive but rather dreary catacombs, from which we crawled through a little hole into the m.w.a. hall, emerging at the top of a steep but not high slope covered with the smooth yellow crust of calcite encountered at other places, and in trying to make a dexterous turn so as to go down feet first, the descent was accomplished with uncalculated suddenness and an unsought but liberal collection of bruises. this, however, was not a happening of the unexpected and could have no attention amid scenes of wonder and beauty, and we were close to the geysers. from a scientific point of view this is the most important portion of the cave, for here is an indisputable proof that the water in the cave was hot and that it was subject to geyser action. the surrounding region is covered with the crust already described, and at the top of a gentle elevation is thrown up in the unmistakable form of geyser cones; there being two near together on the surface described, with a third visible through one of these on a slightly lower level, this one being a new discovery, as it had escaped observation until we called attention to it. these small cones show that after the degree of heat and the volume of water had become reduced to the merest fraction of their former greatness, they continued their accustomed work here in the depth of the earth long after the once grand old geyser had ceased to show an outward sign of life. when the water finally became so reduced even here that the steam could no longer force it through, or to these latest vents, the last rising vapors fringed their edges with a beautiful snow-white border of crystallized carbonate of lime as fine and soft as a band of swan's down, which it resembles. in the pure, still atmosphere of the eighth level, almost five hundred feet beneath the entrance, this silent proof of ancient action will endure for the admiration and instruction of many generations yet to come. few mortals will ever be honored with memorials so lasting or so convincing of vanished power. proceeding on the journey the next chamber is the a.o.u.w. hall, a large, irregular room, by the rise of which a return to the seventh level is accomplished; and the next entered is the tabernacle, not at all resembling the last, although a similar description would be correct. now is reached what many consider the cave's greatest charm, the pearly gates. and marvelously beautiful it certainly is. approaching by a slightly lower level, we see a gateway opening between large rocks that light up with the soft lustre and varied tints of mammoth pearls. a wonderful effect is produced by the white calcite crystal spread in unequal thickness over the dark surface of the encrusted rocks. just without the gate is a short but not golden stairway leading to it, and immediately within is the saint's rest, a chamber of moderate size beautified by another great rock on which are combined the warm, pearly glow of calcite and the cold glitter of frost by the later addition of lime carbonate vapor-crystals to the calcium carbonate aragonite. next beyond is the chamber containing the standing rock behind which mr. johnstone made his famous discovery of the concealed pin-head. it is an immense great fallen rock on whose dark surface are scattered transparent flake-like crystals of satin spar, resembling the congealed drops of a summer shower. the mind-reader entered the chamber by the way we shall leave it. returning to the spot from which the pearly gates were first viewed, we stand facing the most beautiful of this imposing group of brilliant scenes, the mermaid's resort. this is a small cove with wave marks in the white beach sand, above which rises a projecting, sheltering cliff as purely white as freshly fallen snow, with a fine deposit of frost work in thick moss-like patterns two and three inches deep. this crystalline mass, so white and fragile, has to perfection the appearance of hoar-frost about a steam-vent in extremely cold weather, and was, no doubt, formed in a somewhat similar manner. it is crystallized carbonate of lime, and could have been deposited in such extremely delicate forms only by the heavily charged vapors rising from hot water. no one needs to be told that hot water will take and hold in solution a much larger quantity of solid matter than is possible to cold water, with all other conditions the same; nor is it news that a portion of the solid substance is carried off in the rising steam. now the geyser cones, so recently visited on the next lower level, prove both the heat of the water and its heavy charge of solids, which gave it a far more intense heat than pure water could have equaled, and this in turn drove the steam to greater distances than otherwise it would have reached. when cooled to such a point as to be reduced to a light vapor, its movement was checked by various walls, projections, and ceiling as were in its upward path, and these received the minute particles of burden, while the somewhat brisk motion of the atmosphere, occasioned at these points by the mixing of that of higher temperature from below with the lower from above, is responsible for the dainty and varied forms assumed by the fragile structure. once more resuming the journey, we admire the rugged charms of university heights, a somewhat larger and higher room than the next, st. dominic's chamber, but perhaps not more interesting than the council chamber, which besides other attractions is to some extent also a statuary hall. from the council chamber the alpine way leads up into the fair grounds directly above. this alpine way is a sort of cork-screw twisting through the rocks, not unlike a badly walled well, assisted at the lowest portion by a short and nearly perpendicular ladder. next is the assembly room, or crown chamber, as it is also called on account of a handsome crown conspicuously placed. this room also contains a moose so perfectly carved that the skeptic who searches diligently for imperfections finally clamors for the whole company to celebrate his discovery of the artist's noble skill. leaving this room we re-enter milliner's avenue and soon cross the bridge from which, a few hours ago, we descended into the eighth level by way of castle garden; and now the return to the surface is by the route followed before, and we arrive there at last terribly weary, but more than well pleased. chapter xii. wind cave concluded. garden of eden, the glacier, and ice palace. there is yet another long and charming line of travel open to those who have sufficiently steady heads and light feet to suffer no loss of confidence or depression of spirit when mounting the steep stairway whose limit seems lost in the dark distance above. there being but the single entrance, a repetition of the worn and ancient statement that all roads lead to rome, means that many journeys may be taken in wind cave, but all must have the same beginning. in the tourist season the guides have not time during the day to bring out specimens to supply the demand, so on this account night trips are of frequent occurrence; and on these occasions the number of persons in all that vast space seldom exceeds half a dozen, but their voices and laughter, and the blows of their hammers, can be heard at greater distances than would seem possible, and give an agreeable sense of companionship; yet the voice does not travel by any means so far as in other caves. the evening we were to make the long trip just mentioned, our guide being ready before any others had gone in, we started the advance on the ninety-seven miles of enclosed, unoccupied space and had almost reached the level of the bridal chamber when he remembered a forgotten and necessary roll of magnesium ribbon, for which it was needful to return to the office in the upper building. i sat down on the lowest step of the great stairway to wait, and for a very short time was entirely alone in the largest cavern in the world, excepting the mammoth cave of kentucky. the unexpected experience seemed suddenly to become one of the great events of a lifetime, and was unmarred by the disturbing apprehensions of any possible danger. the entire absence of sound was indescribably awe-inspiring as "strata overleaping strata from the center to the crust, rose, alp-high, in molten silence, as the dead rise from the dust;" but the feeling of complete isolation from the living world would not require an unlimited time to merit the one word--horrible. even some peril with ample companionship would be more agreeable, while it is a curious fact that the combination of companionship with silence is charming. on the occasion of one visit to the cave it was painful to observe the actual suffering of a lover of quiet, from the good-natured, but heedless, chatter of two of the party. presently steps on the stairs broke the stillness, a glimmer of light pierced the intense darkness that surrounded the circle of one candle, and the upper world seemed not so far away. the interrupted journey was resumed, the route being that already described as far as the confederate cross roads, where, this time, we go straight on in the main fissure instead of turning into the cross-crevice, as was done before. we were overtaken by the specimen party and recognized the three laughing young girls only by their voices, as in full suits of overalls and white duck caps, they looked like boys. those who reside near the large caves have overcome their objection to this costume, as it gives much greater freedom and ease of movement, besides being a decided economy. feminine garments are so easily destroyed, but for artistic effect the substitute cannot conscientiously be recommended. beyond the cross roads the first chamber is breckinridge gallery, a long, rambling hall in which are combined the attractions already passed and those yet to come, but having no striking feature predominating to give special character other than the grandeur of extreme roughness, which is also the quality most observed on passing into the stone quarry, where great accumulations of blocks seem waiting preparation for shipment. the next "open country" is protected from public trespass by the garden wall, which appears to have been well built in the long ago by masons properly trained in their craft, and extends, at a uniform height, to the fallen flats, where the floor is covered with slabs of enormous size that have fallen from the ceiling since water occupation ceased, as is clearly shown by the sharp edges and surfaces entirely unworn. the journey now becomes more interesting as the cliff-climbers' delight is reached, and we go steadily up the long nights of stairs until visions of st. peter begin to rise and we wonder which way the key will turn. near the top is a handsome growth of snow-white mold hanging in long draperies behind the ladder or spread like on asparagus fern flattened against the rock. arrived at the top limits of the stairs the ascent is by no means finished, but continues through three large chambers known as five points, the omaha bee office--named by one of the staff of that well known journal--and the w.c.t.u. hall, dedicated to the service of the organization by one of its workers. [illustration: top of glacier. page .] at last the upward journey is ended at the silent lake in the first, or highest, level. this, as has already been observed, is the only body of water now standing in the cave, and is not more than ten feet long by six in width and twelve inches deep. the scanty volume is maintained by the very limited inflow of acidulated percolating water which reaches the small receiving basin charged with calcium carbonate; and being cold, the charge is being precipitated on the bottom instead of forming a crust over the surface as in former times when the controlling influence was a degree of heat sufficient to sustain solid matter without disturbing motion. rising above the silent lake is the glacier, its moist surface suggesting that the lake is fed by a slight thaw, while the perpendicular front at the water's edge gives the impression of a berg having recently broken off and floated away. the glacier flows between two high walls of dark rock, and the steep incline of perhaps seventy feet, covered with a smooth deposit of calcite and shining with moisture, has the appearance of ice and is as uninviting for a climb. the top is connected with the roof above by a group of short, and for this region, heavy columns of dripstone, the oldest formation of that character in the cave. an occasional overflow of the lake passes out to one side, then turns and goes under the glacier where its first few feet of descent are called the pearl beds, where a variety of water-polished pebbles are being coated over and cemented together with calcite crystal. from the glacier down to the lowest level of the cave by another route than that taken for the ascent, there is abundant evidence that at one time this portion of the cave was subject to excessively violent activity, and if studied with a view to the penetration of the principle of geyser action, offers many interesting and valuable suggestions that can be added to and expanded into definite theories in connection with the balance of the cave; all important requirements are clearly shown. at a short distance from the glacier is a small circular dome, called the picture gallery, which evidently was shaped by water forced up from below. the descent from here takes us into the st. louis tunnel, a long rough passage leading down into the great cathedral, by the still descending irregularities of which we finally reach the garden of eden, the objective point of a favorite tourist route, but usually approached from the opposite direction. it is a large chamber of very irregular shape, with an extremely uneven ceiling, dipping nearly to the floor and rising suddenly to distant heights, while every portion of all the varied surfaces glitters with a mass of frost work in every form it is known to have assumed; the banks of orange buds in different stages of expansion being exceptionally handsome. a portion of this wonderful room especially admired is cupid's alcove, where the frost is tinged with a pinkish flush from the brilliant paint clay captured in minute particles by the vapors. the whole room is a marvel of loveliness, but unfortunately visitors have wrought such noticeable damage that wire screening must be placed before the general admittance of large parties can be resumed. passing out and down to a lower level, by way of jacob's well, we find the source of that magnificent abundance of frost work to be in the chamber of forbidden fruit, where a yellow calcite floor-crust indicates the surface level of water diminishing in volume by evaporation long after the upward flow had forever ceased, and from which the rising vapor ascended to decorate the garden of eden, just described. but since this water completely disappeared, leaving in evidence only the record-bearing crust, a percolating drip has prepared indisputable proof of the remote distance of that time by depositing on the crust great clusters of luscious fruits, chiefly cherries, which appear to have been carelessly tossed down in heaps, but are firmly fixed in place. the onward journey continues up and down through beacon heights, a large chamber which imitates rocky mountain scenery and terminates at the corkscrew path which, as the name indicates, is a spiral path winding down like a great stairway against the wall of an approximately circular chamber which is perhaps the highest in the cave, and shows the most violent water-action. the plunging torrent rushed on from here to tear out the heavy rock and form the next chamber, known as dante's inferno, whence, its force being divided, it went more gently in various directions. and by one of these passages we now re-enter the main route of travel once more, and finally return to the face of the earth, wondering if it will be possible to so describe those wonderful scenes as to represent with even a limited degree of fairness or justice the awe-inspiring grandeur of the entire trip, or the perfection of fragile loveliness formed and preserved as by special miracles in the garden of eden. one peculiarity of this great journey was that the box work, so abundant in other portions of the cave, was here conspicuously absent. the crystal palace. another route in wind cave is that to the crystal palace which, although the shortest, is the one most seldom taken by visitors, because of a certain amount of difficulty and discomfort being unavoidable. only a portion of the great stairway below the entrance is descended, when we abandon it and climb into a hole in the side-wall of the narrow passage, from which point to the end of the trip our feet prove to be merely encumbrances. the space crawled into and through widens sufficiently in several places to form chambers of good size, but the height of the ceiling is nowhere more than three feet and most of it only two or even less. the rough rock floor is partly carpeted with patches of loose moist clay, which is the means of our becoming as grimy as tramps, and its source is readily accounted for by an examination of the ceiling. this is easily made while resting one skinned elbow at the expense of the other. the word "abraded" is inadequate where anything approaching real cave study is attempted. the box work of the ceiling has almost entirely lost its crystallization, and is as ready to crumble as the enclosed clay, which is still retained because it had not yet reached the necessary point of deterioration to be carried out before the great volume of water, required for that service, retired from this high level of the cave. when finally reached, the crystal palace proved worthy of the effort, its decoration being entirely of dripstone and very beautiful, although on too small a scale to be compared with similar work in many caves: it is merely an attractive "extra" in wind cave, and not one of the important attractions that give the cave the rank that may have a few equals but no superiors. the first room is scarcely more than twelve feet in either direction and not quite six feet high. the glassy ceiling is thickly studded with small stalactites from two to eighteen inches in length, and mostly of the hollow "pipe stem" variety, from which the surplus drip rests in white masses on the clean floor around a central bowl of good clear water. down the middle of the wall directly opposite the entrance a rushing little white cascade has congealed, and on either side just under the ceiling is a hollowed-out nook closely set with short stalactites and small columns, all pure white. near by but not connected is another room too well filled to permit an entrance, but a portion of the wall having been carried out a satisfactory view is not denied. here the floor rises to within three feet of the ceiling, and the deposit is much heavier, so that many fine columns rise from bases that spread and meet or overlap. if the cave had no greater claim to notice than these small drip rooms, it would still be worthy of a visit. the effort to secure flash-light pictures could only be considered successful because there are none better to be had. the atmosphere of wind cave is marvelously fresh and pure, and possesses in a high degree the invigorating quality which in most caves renders unusual exertion not only possible, but agreeable as well. in all the chambers and passages there is little change in the quality of the air, and thorough tests with a standard thermometer showed the variations on the different levels, from the highest to the lowest, to be about °; but on different days the range was from ° to °. this curious state of affairs some one else will have to explain. the only forms of life ever found in wind cave are a small fly and the mountain rat. while visiting the cave, every one connected with it was most kind and obliging, especially in showing those beautiful and difficult portions that few visitors are so fortunate as to see. while this is very far from being a complete description even of the parts visited, it will serve to show what a truly grand cavern is located at the south end of the black hills. the elevation at hot springs is three thousand, four hundred feet, and that of the entrance to the cave is four thousand and forty feet. a source of disappointment in connection with wind cave is that its fine scenery cannot be effectively pictured. chapter xiii. the onyx caves. northwest of hot springs there is a group of three onyx caves, the distance to them being estimated at from seven to ten miles, if the party does not get lost, which is the usual fate of those who dispense with the service of a driver familiar with the country. in going, the longer way, over the hill-tops, claims a preference on account of distant views with a favorable light. when the onyx cave ranch is reached its scenery is found to be charming, with an ideal log house overlooking the cañon, and itself overlooked by the rising slope of the wooded hill. the entrance to the cave is in the opposite wall of the cañon, and is covered by a small cabin, at the door of which the view demands a pause for admiration; then the party disappears down a narrow, rough, sloping passage of sufficient height for comfort to none but know the value of comparative degrees. it soon appeared, however, that personal comfort would travel only a short distance. the mud increased with every step, and in its midst was a small hole through which it was necessary to pass to the next lower level. this hole being so small and its walls slanting, the only way to accomplish the first half of the descent was to sit down in the mud and slide, stopping half way to examine a fine ledge of beautiful striped onyx, white and a brownish pink, the first outcrop in the cave, but in the next level it is seen in rich abundance and variety; the colors being red, black and white, brown in several shades and pure white. all are handsome and of commercial quality and hardness; and just above them is a ledge of fine blue marble. the next chamber is called the bad lands, on account of a certain resemblance to that desolate region. the way into it is through the devil's corkscrew, a most uninviting passage because it stands on end and is about twelve feet deep with circular, perpendicular walls discouragingly free of prominent irregularities; but careful study reveals a few available crags and rough edges, by which the descent is made. fortunately the party decreased in size just within the entrance. climbing up into a hole in the wall of this room, with no little difficulty, the aerial lake is the reward of a breathless upward struggle, and a satisfying one. the lake is very small, but under its clear surface can be seen numerous growing deposits of calcite, while the roof of onyx gleams with a mass of small white stalactites. returning again to the main route and traveling to the end of a short passage we beheld the entrance to red hall, a piece of rope ladder dangling half way down a perpendicular wall, the other half having no help whatever. the way was clear so far as the length of the ladder, and with trust in the future soon learned in cave work that distance was at once passed, and sitting on the very narrow ledge to cogitate on the possibility of further progress, mr. sidey solved the problem by suggesting, rather doubtfully, that the easiest way would be to drop off and allow him to interrupt the fall. this method had twice proved the only means of advance in wind cave and can be termed rapid transit. the walls of red hall are of stratified limestone variegated with patches of red rock, and clay of the same gay hue. it is the highest chamber in the cave and probably the largest. a hole in the wall at the floor level, near the entrance to the passage beyond, gives a glimpse of the cave river flowing on a slightly lower level, not over two feet below the floor we stand on. the water is said to have a depth of fifteen feet, and a rock thrown in gave back the sound of a splash into water not shallow. entering the passage already referred to, its dimensions decreased to a crawl and then to a squeeze, so that most of its length was taken in a very humble position, which permitted no regard to be paid to the ample mud or little pools of water that must be serenely dragged through as if carrying them away were an agreeable privilege. even a muddy passage ends in time, and at last we gained a standing point and after a short climb were in fairies' palace, a marvel of dainty beauty, and worthy of the distasteful trip just taken. we stood in a narrow passage that divided the small chamber like the central aisle of a cathedral, above which the white roof formed a gothic arch from which depended countless little stalactites and draperies, while on either side, six feet above the passage, was a floor of onyx supporting exquisite columns of which the highest are not more than three feet. only a short distance from the fairies' palace is the almost equally beautiful ethereal hall, and connecting the two i had the pleasure to discover a small arched passage more beautiful than either. [illustration: fairies' palace. page .] although much of the cave was still not visited, the long drive to town demanded a return to the surface, but several stops were made on the way to admire masses of onyx and groups of curious forms in deposits of that fine stone. one high, crooked chimney above the corkscrew is especially fine and correspondingly difficult for a grown person weighted down with garments dripping mud and water; but kimball stone, our boy friend, scampered up like a squirrel. two of the onyx caves had not been seen at all and mr. sidey expressed special regret on account of the latest discovery as no woman had ever yet entered it; but the sun was low in the west and the road had some dangerous points that must be passed before dark, so the reeking skirt was removed and without waiting to dry by the great fire kindled for the purpose we hurried off, promising to return if possible, and carrying treasures in specimens, besides an ancient lemon, which may not be called a fossil, since soft substances are said not to fossilize; but however that may be, this is a perfect lemon whose particles have been replaced with the lasting rock in the same way as the numerous cycad trunks in the same region have been preserved to prove to us conclusively that formerly the region flourished under tropical conditions, and supported an abundant animal life of tropical nature and habits. soon after leaving the ranch, we descended by a sort of goat-trail-road into a grandly beautiful cañon, along the bed of which the road continues until it flows out as the water did in ages gone. by this time it had become quite dark, and the chill of the northwest night formed a combination with saturated clothing that cannot be highly recommended as a pleasure; but the natural chivalry which prompted our young escort to insist on lending his own coat, and his evident disappointment that the sacrifice was not allowed, afforded a pleasure that will continue. the white onyx cave. a few days later it was convenient to return to the onyx cave ranch with the special object of entering the newest cave, which could be done with the assistance of seventy feet of rope. while necessary preparations were pending, a walk up the cañon was proposed. at a distance of perhaps a quarter of a mile above onyx cave evidence was seen of a very remarkable form of ancient life. it is not the usual few bones but is a cast in the rock of the cañon bed of an animal clothed in its flesh. the appearance of the head, neck, body and wings is preserved, but the tail and four limbs have been carried away by eroding waters which even now have not quite forsaken the cañon. the containing stratum is not seen in the cañon wall, and near the lower end of the cañon a fine white sandstone crops out beneath. we ask: "was the cañon cut to its full depth while yet a cretaceous sea was depositing beach-sand, and did the earliest horse, with wings, appear at the close of that period? or, did an animal with fore limbs developed, retain its wings into miocene time and leave record of its life in an arm of the tertiary lake?" the body is that of a horse with wings attached to the shoulders. the head is unlike that of a modern horse, being much shorter and more rounded, but the parted lips give a glimpse of the teeth of a young horse. if only the feet could be found, i feel assured they would prove that the three-toed horse of ancient time, so abundantly in evidence throughout this region, was possessed of wings and in some way furnished the idea of pegasus. a few feet further down the cañon are a pair of twisted wings that show the animal to have perished in company with its mate, while trying to escape from a sudden flood that rushed down the cañon like a moving wall. after some uneasy discussion about the means of entering the new cave, it was finally decided that the available rope was too short and not of sufficient strength. this was, of course, a disappointment but not a surprise, as a very peculiar quality in the rope used to enter caves of this kind had come to notice before. the peculiarity is, that a rope entirely above suspicion for the safety of a two hundred pound man, at once weakens and must be condemned when threatened with one hundred pounds of woman's weight, yet there is an implied compliment hidden somewhere about this protective system that tends to reduce the sting of disappointment. so it was agreed to spend the afternoon in the white onyx cave, which is generally spoken of simply as the upper cave because it occupies a higher level than the onyx cave already described, and is supposed to be an extension of the same although no connecting passage has been discovered. the accompanying friend had not been costumed for caving, but was persuaded to accept a full suit of overalls, which needed the addition of a pick and pipe to make the picture perfect. unfortunately a snap shot failed. the entrance is in a perpendicular portion of the cañon wall, but a narrow path that starts some distance away and appears in eminent danger of falling off, makes most of the ascent comparatively easy; and the balance is completed by a short ladder whose rounds dip toward the cañon bed in a rather alarming manner, but this only proves the folly of giving too much heed to appearances, for it is strong and firmly fastened to the rocks. just within the entrance there is height sufficient for standing, but the roof descends suddenly and the walls come near together, reducing the passage to a crawl, and showing that in past times water poured in at this opening and not out as might be supposed. the first chamber entered is the crystal gallery, but it is so nearly filled with great masses of pure white onyx no standing room remains. drops of water on portions of the onyx ceiling here are the only moisture remaining in this cave. when mac's[ ] head came in contact with the roof he called to the guide: "see here, little boy, you ought to sing out 'low bridge' at that sort o' places, 'cause when i'm busy hunting a spot to set my foot in, i can't see what my head's coming to, and i like to mined a lot o' this rock with it." slowly, and with no danger and less comfort, we creep over, under and between great massive beds of the fine white crystalline rock until at length we enter the ghost chamber where no onyx has been deposited, but where numerous mountain rats have evidently been at home for many years, if we may judge from the enormous quantity of pine needles with which they have carpeted the floor. the walls show small box work crumbling to dust, and ray climbed high into the chimney-like opening above our heads, but reported that it ended suddenly and had no attractions to offer. coming out, the way was somewhat varied, but more difficult, as the passages through the onyx beds were more irregular and more nearly closed; onyx hall being only a fair specimen of the marvelous results achieved here by the persistent regularity of an uninterrupted but slow drip, continued through hundreds of years. [illustration: white onyx masses. page .] [illustration: looking out of white onyx cave. page .] it is surprising that in all these heavy beds there is no line or tint, or slightest trace of color anywhere, while the other onyx cave, so near as to suggest connection, has a gorgeous variety of rich coloring. the view looking out from the entrance of white onyx cave is wonderfully fine, and equally so whether the rain falls or the sun shines, a timely shower giving us an opportunity to enjoy both. before leaving the ranch, a promise was made by mr. sidey to write a short description of the other cave, which he kindly did, and it is here given. he says: "in trailing a deer i came across a hole on top of a long divide. on throwing a rock down the opening, i could hear it rattling against the walls until the sounds gradually died away, but there seemed to be no bottom to the hole, and i resolved to come again prepared and make explorations. after the snow had gone my twelve-year-old son, ray, and i, mounted on our trusty horses, bonnie and dee, equipped with ropes, candles, hammers and a pocketful of matches, set out to explore the new cave. it was a beautiful, bright spring morning, and after an hour's hard climbing over fallen timber and rocks, we reached the summit of the mountain. a search of half an hour revealed the opening which was barely large enough to allow me to pass through. "fastening our ropes securely to a stout log rolled across the chasm, we began to pay it out, and although we did not feel it touch bottom, i started down to explore, the length of the rope at least. as i descended i found the opening gradually widened out to eight or ten feet, a sort of inverted funnel-shaped hole with irregular wall but smooth and affording little footing. as i neared the bottom i saw the end of the rope was within four feet of it, so i landed on terra firma and called to ray, 'all right, come down!' "lighting our candles we found ourselves standing on a mound of pure onyx, and on looking around could see we were in an immense cavern, whose walls sparkled and glittered as if studded with diamonds. going down twenty feet we found a smooth-floored room that measured three hundred feet in length, twenty five feet in width, and thirty feet in height. the walls were solid white onyx lined or banded with pink and golden stripes. the ceiling was arched, and draped in fantastic shapes, and hung with stalactites innumerable. the room was so large and the drapery and festooning so delicate and beautiful, that we were filled with awe and could not speak for a time. "at last we started to further explore this wonderland. on going to the farther end of the room we found a passage leading on. this we followed for a hundred feet and found the whole cavern lined with onyx and crystals clear as glass. after loading up with specimens we retraced our steps and on reaching the large room we had first entered we heard a roaring, rumbling noise. an awful noise truly, which filled us with an unknown dread. "on approaching the entrance we saw a stream of water pouring down, completely filling the hole. "for a moment we felt like rats caught in a trap, our only way of egress occupied by a stream of water falling straight down seventy feet, and then we wondered how long it would take to fill up the room. "suddenly the thought that there might be an outlet for the water gave us new hope, so we went to see and sure enough we found a natural water-course down through an opening we had overlooked. we gathered up courage once more, and thought the best thing would be something to occupy our time. so we set to work getting out more specimens and in a couple of hours the water stopped running and we were ourselves once more. "ray grasped the rope, which was soaking wet, and went up the seventy feet, hand over hand, like a cat. i, being heavier, found it quite different from going down. the rope played whip-cracker with me for some time and before reaching the top i was covered with bruises. but daylight never appeared so beautiful before. "here we found the cause of so much water. a cloud-burst had occurred on the divide and a large portion of it had poured down the passage way to the cave. "we found our horses patiently waiting for us and night closing in. mounting we rode rapidly home, resolved never to venture into this cave again without leaving some one at the entrance to give warning in case of danger. "john f. sidey." the first specimen taken out was given to us on our first visit to the ranch, and is pure white with a stripe of brilliant golden yellow. having been invited to give a name to this new find it seems quite proper after reading the description of the deluge and seeing the bright bands of color, and considering the hopeful promise of future possibilities, to call it the rainbow cave. footnotes: [ ] colored driver. chapter xiv. crystal cave. south dakota can boast of yet another cave in the black hills that was formed by volcanic disturbance of the rocks and afterwards decorated in a manner peculiar to itself. this is crystal cave. it is nine miles from piedmont in the eastern edge of the hills, and easily visited from that point by way of the narrow-gauge road, which winds along the natural curves of the beautiful elk creek cañon, whose walls are said to expose a depth of almost a mile of geological strata, although the exposure at any one point does not exceed three hundred feet. the disappointment of not having seen this cave during the summer visit to the hills grew as the weeks passed, and a request that the owner should send a description was answered with an assurance that it was impossible. therefore, on friday, november th, , with a small nephew, herbert a. owen, jr., for company, the trip was undertaken a second time to complete the unfinished mission. the first glimpse of the hills is at edgemont in the early morning, but the train makes its way to the north through the heart of the uplift, twisting about the curves of the hills and clinging to the sides of a beautiful cañon whose high walls give way here and there to fine slopes densely covered with forests of pine and spruce. these look black in the distance and suggested the name of black hills to the indians, who always have a reason for the names they give even to their children. there are great tracts where fire has killed part or all of the timber but left much of it standing, while in other places nature has defied the power of fire and the hills are re-clothed with young trees. a recent storm had further beautified the region with a few inches of snow, but as the day advanced a chinook began to blow so that when deadwood was reached, soon after noon, only the northern exposures retained an appearance of winter. deadwood is a most peculiar little city and very attractive in its peculiarity, being crowded snugly into a depression between a number of steep pine-wooded hills, which gives an appearance suggestive of a bird's nest securely located among the forks of a branching tree, and as is the case in a nest, business is chiefly transacted at the lowest depth of the enclosure. as the busy center of a great gold-mining region, the metropolis of the hills, and the outgrowth of an exciting historical past, it claims and receives interesting attention. and while the whole black hills region is still distinctly a man's country, it is called woman's paradise, and surely nowhere else are the daughters of eve received with a more gracious courtesy or surrounded by an equally unobtrusive protecting care. [illustration: approaching deadwood. page .] the streets leading up to the residences lack very little of standing on end, and the houses appear to have been hung in place by means of hooks and wire cord like pictures on a wall. the smelter has no reception day but admits visitors as if their pleasure were a guarantee of profit. the finest scenery in the hills is said to be that of the spearfish cañon, north of deadwood, and the finest of that at the falls, but this may be doubtful as other points are very beautiful, especially where the burlington & missouri road requires a distance of seven miles to climb the cañon wall. piedmont being the nearest town to crystal cave, we took the early evening train on the elk horn road and soon were located, and shocked to learn that the proprietor of the cave had started several days before to drive to wind cave for specimens. the cave was closed and no one there. the trip had been taken for the one purpose of exploring crystal cave, and a letter sent in advance to announce our coming, but the train carrying it was an hour late so he drove off without the mail. there seemed at first nothing to be done but take the next returning train, which, under the circumstances, was objectionable. a night's rest and a telegram that had to be sent twelve miles by special messenger, improved the situation. the proprietor was unavoidably detained at wind cave, but secured a reliable guide, expressed me the cave keys, and has since married the "specimen" he had gone in quest of. may great happiness dwell at the cave many years! the morning of the third day after our arrival found arrangements all complete, and soon after the train left piedmont it entered elk creek cañon, which is always beautiful, but on that morning was exceptionally so on account of a sudden change in the weather having covered every visible portion of the passing landscape with heavy frost. the trees on distant hills that ordinarily are black, were, for once, all softly white, and when the tall pines in the cañon were shaken by a breeze, they cast a shower of flakes like snow. here the cañon walls are in carboniferous limestone with a pleasing variety of color in the strata, and the erosion-carving not overdone, the most notable piece being the knife-blade. this, at first view, appears to be a high, round tower, but the train following the curve, reveals the fact that it is not a tower, but a thin, curved knife-blade. the sun just for one instant shone through a rift in the clouds, and added special charm to the scene. [illustration: the knife-blade. page .] a short distance beyond is crystal cave station, where the guide was waiting to take us in charge. he is an intelligent young man who has served an enlistment term in the army, is recently married, very obliging, and proud of being trustworthy. the scenery here is most beautiful as well as grand. the cañon makes a sharp turn toward the south, and on the north opens out into another cañon of even greater beauty and higher walls, the perpendicular being three hundred feet in places. crystal cave is in the hill embraced by the junction curve. the natural entrance is more than two hundred feet above the cañon bed and was naturally approached from above. a short walk up the north cañon, whose name has unfortunately slipped away, was over ice and snow the chinook had failed to reach, and brought us to a long stairway against the wall, which affords a more direct approach than nature gave and is a fair test of physical perfection. finally a resting place is reached where the grandeur of the view can be enjoyed; and then a shorter stairway completes the ascent of the wall, but not of the hill, so there is still a considerable upward walk through the forest of tall pines all carpeted with brilliant mats of kinnikinic with its shining leaves, glowing in shades of green and red, trying to rival the bright scarlet berries. the kinnikinic here resembles the wintergreen of the east, while in the mountains in colorado it grows in the form of a shrub two to three feet in height, but with no variation in the leaf or berry. at last perserverance is rewarded with a view of the cave buildings and the summit of the hill rising yet higher beyond, and tall, straight pines swaying in the rising wind over all. one of the two houses was entered and preparations quickly made for entering the cave, the artificial tunnel entrance being only a little distance further on. the door was unlocked, candle-sticks taken from a shelf within, candles from the guide's supply lighted, and we went forward at last, into crystal cave. at the end of the new tunnel, a second door was passed through, which is locked on the inside during the visiting season by the last guide to enter, in order that no chance late arrival may enter alone and be lost. the first room is a small one at the junction of the natural and artificial entrances, from which we go upstairs to the resting room, in the highest level of the cave, and perfectly dry but otherwise of no special interest. after a short rest here we went down stairs at the side opposite that on which we entered, into a passage leading to the cave's first beauty, the red room. as the name indicates, the walls are vividly colored and represent the uncertain line which separates the carboniferous strata from the triassic rocks. the color is handsomely brought out here in contrast with masses of calcite crystal, so as to present by the combination a charmingly beautiful room, from which we retired, feet first, down a "squeeze" to the bridal chamber, where we found ourselves perched on an irregular narrow ledge, high up on the wall, and cherishing a private conviction that exploration had met a checkmate; but the guide reached the floor and my nephew, herbert, scrambled down with as much ease as the chipmunk he had chased to the house top a while before; so a little application settled the difficulty and re-united the party. the room is an artistic study in red, and the only reason for its being called the bridal chamber is that the way out is decidedly more rough and difficult than that by which the entrance is effected; this, however, is an observation not based on official information. off to one side of this room is lost man's paradise, also in red and crystal, named in honor of the timely rescue of one who had faced the possibility of becoming a lost soul. another fat man's misery, on a lower level, leads from the bridal chamber to the big dome, a large room with a fine dome-shaped ceiling from which heavy masses of crystals have fallen to the floor; and down a steep incline from here is reef rock, an immense fallen rock with box work on the under side, which at one time served to ornament the ceiling; and now this rock marks the beginning of poverty flat, a broad, low passage of great extent, that has been robbed of all its wonderful treasure of crystal and ends in a steep, rough declivity named bunker hill by the guides who dreaded to mount it when going out loaded with specimens. at the foot of the hill is a bowlder of enormous size and with a pointed top, known as pyramid rock and giving the same name to the large room in which it stands. every portion of crystal cave has at one time been heavily crusted with calcite crystals, mainly of the dog-tooth variety, and any barren places are so either because the surface has been removed for specimens, or thrown down by the violence of an earthquake. but where the latter has been the cause of removal, the crystals have in most cases been renewed, which is amply evidenced by the fallen masses being crystallized on all sides; and these as well as most of the walls, are not covered thinly with one crust, but layer has been added to layer until the thickness is four to ten inches and often more. the ceilings that have been denuded by nature's forces during the same early period when water filled the cave were also renewed. from the pyramid room a narrow fissure forms a passage to the cactus chamber, where there is a marvelous floor on which the crystals are in bunches like cacti, and the beautiful ceiling is the finest and most irregular unbroken mass of crystal yet seen. passing through a round hole known as the needle's eye, we enter statuary hall, where the latest inrush of water has eroded the sharp points from the crystals, leaving only smooth surfaces, and at the same time done much curious carving, the most conspicuous pieces of this work being a bear and the heads of an indian and his baby. out from the hall are two important routes, one down the steep incline of beaver's slide to the catacombs, and another, which we followed first, is through rocky run, a rough and rocky pass, to a large and handsomely crystallized chamber called the i.x.l. room, on account of those three letters, over twelve inches in height, being distinctly and conspicuously worked in crystal on a magnificent piece of box work that would weigh nearly half a ton, for which an offer of five hundred dollars is said to have been refused. the next chamber beyond is tilotson hall, very large and extremely rough, and named in honor of a teacher from the normal school, who delivered an address here that gave much pleasure to both visitors and guides. the way to farther advance is now more difficult and through a jagged crevice of threatening appearance, but the trip is made in safety and with comparative ease, and brings us into notre dame, one of the largest chambers in the cave and perhaps the finest, although where so much is fine that may be uncertain. the display of box work and crystal is sufficiently gorgeous to do honor to the famous old cathedral of france, the ceiling especially being a masterpiece of the builder's and decorator's arts; but the grandest portion, which a visitor recently returned from foreign travel called the russian castle, on account of the magnificence of the large box work and pearly crystal masses, should rather be known as the great cathedral's crowning glory, the altar. another large room, the handsome council chamber, is entered just as that altar of pearl is lost to view; and from there an up-hill trip is taken through a narrow crevice to whale flat, which is the natural history room, with a large whale as the show specimen. going out from here we enter another crevice which serves as a steep stairway descending to a lower level, and measures from top to bottom one hundred and eighteen feet. this is called rip van winkle's stairway, and although merely a high and crooked crack in the rock, is very beautiful because heavily coated with crystal, the effect being especially striking at the top where the crystal is partly worn away and leaves exposed patches of red rock. at the foot of the stairway is the first room containing water, and is called the gypsy camp. it is the most charming chamber yet visited, with not the smallest spot of plain or common rock visible. the ceiling, walls, floor, and groups of fallen rocks, are all unbroken masses of pearly calcite in crystals of varied sizes, with here and there a patch coated over with pure white carbonate of lime, or supporting a bunch of fragile egg-shell, which is a thin, hollow crust of lime carbonate, almost invariably having the pointed form of the dog-tooth spar. and there are also beautiful mats and banks of dainty white carbonate flowers. while waiting here for the guide to go in quest of the lunch we had carelessly left behind, the time was utilized in measuring the room, which is a small one. the size of the cave and our limited time for seeing it, prevented much-desired measurements from being taken in all parts of the cave. this room was found to be forty-eight feet long, the irregular width varied from fourteen to thirty feet and the height from four and one-half to ten feet. the crystal water basin is especially beautiful and the water so clear that we stood looking into it with disappointment, being thirsty and thinking it dry, until the guide laughingly dipped and offered a cupful. the basin is the segment of a circle rounding beneath a massive, overhanging crystal ledge of wonderful beauty, and is nine feet long by two in width. this room and the stairway into it are alone worthy of a visit, but there is much that is finer still. out of gypsy camp by way of gunny sack crawl, so named by the workmen who spread gunny sacks to relieve the torture of crawling over the beautiful floor of sharp crystals, we enter the first chamber, where active operation is still maintained and certain branches of the great decorative industry of the cave may be carefully studied. this operative chamber, which is unnamed, would no doubt be called a factory in the east, but in its own locality would more likely be referred to as the works. the next chamber entered is crystal flat, whose floor is completely covered with immense crystal blocks, and the wonderful crystal ceiling is exceedingly fine. but time being limited we must pass on into the lake room, where is crystal lake, the largest body of water in the cave. it is about thirty feet long by fifteen wide and its greatest depth is said to be ten feet. the water is cold and clear, and the gold fish introduced as an experiment three years ago are said to have grown rapidly but not yet turned white, and are not known to have become blind. [illustration: the bridal veil. page .] at some little distance from crystal lake, and not within the same range of vision, although in the same room, is dry lake, which to the surprise of the guide we found to be not dry, but full of limpid water through which we could distinctly see the delicate clusters of crystals it is depositing. they are of a pale honey yellow and are called gum-drops on account of the resemblance to that variety of confection. the name dry lake was given because in blasting out a passage a misdirected shot went through the bottom of the lake, which in consequence was soon drained; but the heavily charged water has sealed up the unfortunate break, and resumed its interrupted work. the ceiling drops to a height of little more than three feet directly above the lake margin, and is a beautiful crystal mass, which at a little distance down the sloping floor appears as the background for a fine piece of cave statuary called the bridal veil, and formed of cream-tinted dripstone. not a great deal of imagination is required to see a slender girlish figure completely enveloped in the flowing folds of a wedding veil that falls lightly about her feet. the figure itself is three feet ten inches in height and stands on an almost flat circular base of the same material, that measures nine inches in depth and two feet eight inches in diameter. at times the water rises sufficiently to cover the base, in proof of which it left a fringe-like border of small sharp crystals, such as could be formed only beneath the water's surface. most of this border has, unfortunately, been chiseled off for specimens, but will be renewed in time if left undisturbed; and that condition can easily be secured with a few feet of wire netting. to one side of this room is a most daintily beautiful alcove so profusely decorated with fragile forms of dripstone that a passage through it without causing damage is extremely difficult. this alcove is about twenty-five feet in either direction, with a sloping floor almost covered with stalagmitic growths above the earlier deposit of sharp crystals, and many of these rise in slender columns to the glass-like ceiling, which varies in height from three to six feet and is thickly studded with small stalactites of both varieties--the pointed, solid form, and those of uniform size, which are always hollow like a pipe stem. the central ornament is the chimes, a musical group of stalactites which is scarcely more beautiful than cleopatra's needle, at a distance of a few feet to one side, a transparent column four feet in height and having an average circumference of seventeen inches. [illustration: the chimes. page .] [illustration: the needle. page .] [illustration: tower of babel. page .] the abode of the fairies is a similar, though smaller room, with the tower of babel for a handsome show-piece. while this portion of the cave is extremely attractive, the measurements given show that in comparison with caves of other states the drip deposit here is too small to be reckoned an important feature in itself, but in conjunction with the miles of calc-spar that give the cave a character distinctly its own, it well repays all attention. leaving lake room we enter a newly opened, long, dry passage to slab room, where a comparatively recent earthquake has shaken down the ornamental ceiling and spread it in great slabs over the floor; and having since remained perfectly dry it has the appearance of being the work of yesterday. this room is remembered as the one in which a party of workers were lost, and one of their number gave a severe nervous shock to the junior proprietor by suggesting that as he was acting as guide and unable to lead them out, it was only right that he should be the first victim to satisfy their hunger. a rescuing party with extinguished candles was listening behind a rock to the blood-curdling speech, and came forward to restore cheerfulness. a long, irregular, frosty looking crevice called jack frost streak, conducts us from slab room and ends at mold ladder, on which we pause to admire a wonderful growth of snow-white cave vegetation, before ascending into santa claus' pass, the longest passage in the cave. it is a rough crevice named from the fact of being discovered on christmas eve, and ends at the government room on the main tourist route where a u.s. pack saddle and apparently portable bath tub are conspicuous. next beyond is a very large room named new zealand, on account or its icy appearance and the undisputed possession of a seal. this room in turn opens into mold chamber, where an old board platform, formerly used for the display of specimens, has fostered the most marvelously beautiful growth of mold: it hangs in ropes five and six feet long, with tasseled ends, and in broad, looped draperies; but is most beautiful where it has taken possession of the rocks and spreads out on the flat surface like large open fans, with deep, soft feather borders. having been in the cave eight hours, we now followed the outward passage from mold chamber and soon reached an open trap door where the guide suggested to herbert that he would be afraid to go down alone and allow him to close the door; but the child surprised him by quietly stepping down and then asking why he wished it, only to be told "because we are coming too." which we did and found ourselves in the main entrance passage, and in due time returned to the outer world where a terrific wind was roaring through the tall pines and the early winter evening had already closed in dark. the guide locked the cave, walked with us to the house where he lighted a lamp and left us to prepare for the return to town; but the lamp, belonging to a bachelor, was empty, so we made our preparations in imitation of the blind. on the guide's return he lighted a candle, but suggested that twenty minutes were generally allowed for reaching the station. the house was accordingly closed and as we walked down the long, curving slope to the stairway, he told of a new and unknown bob-tailed wolf that has recently made its first appearance among the hills in considerable numbers and to the terror of stock. it attacks and bites horses or cattle, and after waiting for the fatal poison inflicted to take effect, falls to and eats the victim. the uncovered platform which serves as a station being reached a few minutes before the train arrived, i expressed an unwillingness to detain our guide longer on account of his having a walk of four and a half miles to his home; but he declined to consider the subject; saying he had been directed not to leave us until we were taken safely on the train, which came sweeping round the curve on time and stopped for us. chapter xv. crystal cave concluded. according to agreement the guide again met us at the station on the following morning, for another day in the cave, which we entered with no unnecessary loss of time, and hurrying through the main entrance passage, government room and statuary hall, went down beaver slide, which, on the previous day, we had passed to enter rocky run. our descent into the crevice took us past those portions known as suspension bridge and rebecca's well, and over some very "rough country" to the most wonderful parts of the cave. numerous passages open out in various directions; one to rooms of frost work of great beauty; another to the ribbon room where the drip deposits on the walls are in ribbon-like stripes of red, yellow, and white, while others yet are ways to the catacombs. and it is the catacombs we particularly wish to see, as they most perfectly represent the individual character of the cave and have, as yet, received no injury from either time or man; but is a region as difficult to travel as the way of the transgressor, and many miles can be traversed with no prospect of coming to the end. but where locomotion is so slow and painful, the owner of a pedometer would find that instrument a discouraging companion and soon learn better than to consult its record publicly. the catacombs are a series of connected fissures and small crevices in which every inch of exposed surface is covered with clear, translucent, almost transparent, calcite crystals, neither coated with lime nor stained with clay; nor even is the pearly lustre dimmed with the slightest trace of dust. the crystals are very sharp and of all sizes, ranging from half an inch to three and a half inches in length, the larger sizes being conspicuously abundant. the entire region is an enormously large, perfectly formed, and undamaged geode. in reality, the whole cave is a great cluster of connected geodes, and a similar work probably does not exist, but if it does, has never been discovered. the fissures from which it is formed were opened by volcanic violence and then enlarged, and afterwards decorated by the varied power of water, in action or repose. when the storms toward the close of the tertiary period suddenly overwhelmed with floods the dense growth of tropical vegetation and multitudinous animal life in the northwest, the waters necessarily became heavily charged with the naturally resulting carbonic acid gas, and this, acting on the limestone rocks, would decompose them, leaving a residual clay and taking the chief portions of the mineral components in solution, to be afterwards deposited according to circumstances and conditions; and these are indicated by the various results found in wind cave, crystal cave, the onyx caves and the bad lands. the latter being previous to that time by no means "bad," but richly luxuriant in tropical vegetation, which gave shelter from the heat to great numbers of curious animals. some approximate idea of the extreme age of these caves may be gained from the fact that bones of a three-toed horse have been discovered in a chamber of crystal cave that must be practically unchanged since the remains were carried in from the outside, as otherwise they would have been buried beneath the fallen masses of crystal covered rock with which the entire floor is cumbered. and yet this room is so remote from any present connection with the outer world that it is impossible for their introduction to have taken place in recent times. in the beautiful catacombs progress is as slow as in a cactus thicket or a blackberry patch. the crevices lack none of the usual crevice irregularities; high places must be mounted or descended, chasms crossed and narrow passages crawled through, while extra caution must be exercised to avoid striking the head or making a misstep that might result in a fall. the hands are in constant use and soon become so sensitive that holding a soft handkerchief gives infinite relief; but the worst experience is the "crawls" where only the soles of the feet, being temporarily turned up, seem safe from the savage treatment of the sharp calcite dog-teeth. the worst crawl encountered was a small one having a downward slope with a jump-off at the end which necessitated its being taken feet first. fortunately it was short. but in no place do the difficulties outweigh the pleasure of beholding scenes of such beauty, or suggest regret for the time, torn garments, and personal exertion required for its enjoyment. in many portions of the cave the surface layer of crystals has had the points worn away by the action of water, later than that in which they were formed; but in the catacombs and other extensive regions as well, the finished work of crystallization is preserved in an absolutely perfect condition. and everywhere the largest crystals are on the under side of a projection or the roof of a cavity. as the day was passing far too rapidly and many points of special interest yet remained unseen, we turned with reluctance from the beauty and relief from the hardships of exploration in the catacombs, and made our way over a crevice into santa claus' pass, which was traversed for a considerable distance and then abandoned for a low crawl terminating at the senate chamber. this is a large room extending to poverty flat, and is brilliantly red and purely white, most of the crystal presenting a smooth surface. under the senate chamber there is said to be some fine box work which we had no time to visit. the name of this chamber was given by a visiting party composed of members of both houses of congress. a smaller room, which is really an extension of the senate chamber, has handsome walls of white and red box work on account of which the same distinguished party called it the senate post-office. from here a difficult crawl, through red rock, well-worn by the action of water, leads to the starr chamber, another large room in white and red, and named by senator starr of south dakota. opening out from the last room is a curious, dangerous looking, narrow, crevice-chamber known as suicide room on account of the threatening appearance of over-hanging rocks, some of which have at times fallen in great masses of various sizes to form an irregular floor; and a descent of this is necessary in order to reach a short and extremely rough crawl, beautifully and painfully decorated with sharp crystals above and below and on the sides. from this we emerge into rainy chamber, an elliptical room not less than two hundred feet long by one hundred feet wide, with a tent-like ceiling rising high in the center and sloping down to meet the floor, which also slopes irregularly toward a deep central depression, giving the room a greater height than any other visited. the high points are generally seen in the narrow crevices, while the rooms of generous length and breadth are usually low, many of the largest having an average of five feet or even less. although there is frequent intersection of crevices, and each chamber has passages leading out on every side, the general direction of the cave is said to be northwest-southeast. rainy chamber is named from the fact that during the early months of summer water falls constantly in the form of a light shower; but it drips at all times, and in consequence there is an opportunity to study the active process of formation of one of the deposits which is very abundant in wind cave and considered the most perplexing. this is the pop-corn, and the theories of its origin have been steadily rejected at wind cave because of a doubt being entertained as to whether it has been deposited under water or by drippings. here in rainy chamber it is fully explained. near the center of the room the fallen masses are heavily crystallized, much of the groundwork being fine box work and the crystals in perfect condition. on these crystals the pop-corn is being formed, and specimens can be seen in all stages of development, from the beginning to an approximate degree of finish; and whatever the position it occupies on the receiving surface, either on top, underneath, or on a side exposure, it always maintains the same relative position as growing plants on the mundane sphere. the water falling on the upper surface in scattering drops forms myriads of minute stalagmites; on side positions the falling drop first strikes the point exposed to its line of descent and then spreads. the scant moisture slowly makes its way down sloping sides and shelving edges, leaving on each small irregularity a tiny portion of its volume, to deposit an infinitely small charge of solid substance, and the balance finally hangs in moisture less than drops on the growing grains of the under surface. pop-corn, therefore, is the globular aragonite of the stalagmitic variety. a small specimen from rainy chamber, placed beside one of the same color from wind cave, shows them to be absolutely alike. rainy chamber is the room in which the bones of the three-toed horse, already referred to, were found, but their presence has not yet been explained; therefore the case is open to conjecture and several theories may be advanced and their values considered. the first question when such a discovery is made, is whether the living animal was possibly a cave-dweller; which, as the horse was not, is quickly disposed of and attention turned to the next, the possibility of a carniverous animal having carried his prey into the dark recesses of the cave in order that the enjoyment of his dinner might be undisturbed. this theory is equally unavailable by reason of the topographical features presented. if the present natural entrance to the cave were the only way into this room from the outside, the distance was too great and beset with many difficulties; besides which the final passage is too small to admit an animal of sufficient size to carry any considerable portion of even a very small horse. but if at that period the room had direct communication with the outside through an opening since closed, the shape of the walls indicate that it must have been a pot-hole in the roof, and through this an animal could have entered by falling, which the horse and others may have done. but it seems most probable that the remains were carried in by the water through such a hole before it was closed at the beginning of the quaternary period, when the erosion of the hills was most active. rainy chamber also contains a large and beautiful assortment of the small polished and coated pebbles called cave pearls. the guide being anxious that we should not fail to see the niagara room, we now turned toward a low, broad opening in the wall, a short distance to the right of the entrance, where the rising floor and descending ceiling, failing to meet, had overlapped; so we made our way up a steep, smooth bank, and then down on the other side over a broken, rocky surface for a distance of about twenty feet, when the roof at last joined the floor and two small water-worn holes at the point of junction revealed an untempting passage within. the broader of these holes was three feet, but too low to be considered an entrance; the other was round but certainly not so large as our guide, who was preparing to enter it with doubts of his ability to make the trip, on account of having increased in size since his one entrance there, on which occasion two smaller guides pulled him through the tightest places. carefully comparing his size with that of the hole he sat beside, there was no possibility of doubt that if the attempt were made he would stick fast, and that would place our little party in dire straits. consequently i insisted that it should not be, but he was unwilling that niagara should be missed when so near. finally i positively refused to go unless he would consent to give us instructions and remain where he was while we went without him, to which he at last yielded with extreme unwillingness. he had frequently shown us the guide's marks, and now earnestly cautioned me to advance only as they point, and turn back if they should fail. the small nephew went on a reconnoitering expedition to the end of the passage, and reported that the jump-off there was higher than himself but he could get down. i now crawled through the hole and found the passage to be a "crawl" or rather a "sprawl," from fifteen to eighteen inches high, but having an ample width varying from three to six feet. the smooth, straight floor has a steep downward inclination and is thickly covered with dust. having reached the widest portion, which is near the end, herbert directed me to turn, so as to come down the jump-off feet first, where there was a little difficulty in landing, as the perpendicular wall, which proved to be almost five feet high, offered only one projecting help, and that within a few inches of the base; but in obedience to his advice to "reach one foot a little farther down and then drop," i advanced the right one, to be told not that, but the other, and was soon down where it was possible to observe with interest that the right foot had been swinging above an open fissure. we stood in a wide crevice running at right angles to the obnoxious passage we had just quit, and immediately found a guide's mark on a large rock, and others followed at intervals of a few feet over extremely "rough country" as the guides say. everywhere the work of water was apparent, not in the crystal deposits of still water as in other portions of the cave, but the erosion due to its rushing through. carefully following the marks, they led into a cross-crevice that took us under rainy chamber, and ends there by widening into a circular chamber of about fifty feet width in either direction, and rising to a height of nearly fifty feet in a fine dome. down the wall from near the top of the dome there appears to flow a beautiful waterfall showing a variety of colors in the straight lines, as if from refraction. the fall is, of course, dripstone, and i knew we had found niagara, although we had gone beyond the reach of the guide's voice almost at the start. a huge rock directly under the dome has received the falling drip until it represents a mountain cataract. these deposits testify to the great age of the chamber they adorn, as they were necessarily not commenced until all heavy flow ceased, and in crystal cave the accumulation of dripstone is so slow that it is said six years' observation can detect no increase whatever. several small passages at the floor level gave exit to the great volume of water that evidently at one time entered this crevice, from rainy chamber, by the route we followed, and being checked in its course the lower end of the crevice became filled, under pressure; and the low position of the outlets gave this water a whirling motion that in time excavated the dome-shaped room. no part of crystal cave has ever been occupied by a river, but its fissures, opened by the violence of earth movements accompanying nearby volcanic disturbances, have been filled more than once by the inrush of waters which repeatedly submerged the whole black hills region. following again the marks which guided us into niagara room, we soon came within hailing distance of a voice expressive of profound relief; and as we crawled up the sloping passage, over-heated and breathless with the exertion, the guide assured us he was most truly thankful to see us again, as he had never in his life experienced so severe a scare as since it had occurred to him that we had gone beyond the limits of communication without a single match. he also said i had been where no lady had ever gone before, and took satisfaction in the fact that many men have refused to make the venture with a guide. leaving this portion of the cave, by returning as we came, through suicide room, starr chamber, and senate chamber, we crawled along the rocks overhanging a narrow fissure, to reach a ladder at the end, by which we descended to another part of the catacombs. here, after traveling a long distance over uneven floors covered with sharp crystals, as were all surfaces, through large, low rooms, and narrow, crooked passages, constantly assisting the difficult advance with our hands, like monkeys, we finally came to the grotto, which is probably the most remarkable room in this very remarkable cave. it is a large room, with much of the irregular ceiling so low that even the small nephew struck his head severely while turning to warn me, as he often did, of threatening inequalities in the floor and light them with his own candle. the crystals here are exceptionally fine, being very sharp and of unusual size, besides many of them being double--that is, pointed at both ends. through this beautiful ceiling there is a percolating drip adding stalactites to the crystal-points and piling stalagmites on the crystal masses below, varying this with imitation cascades, mats of small flowers, and masses of pop-corn. off to one side in a kind of recess there is a depression in the crystal floor filled with clear, cold water. a glance at the time now showed us to be in danger of failure to meet the train to town, and consequently, tired as we were after nine hours of rough travel and much climbing, it was necessary to make our way out with more speed than comfort, and we found the weather turning very cold. the cave was carefully locked, preparations for the train hurriedly made, the house closed, and as we left it the train could be heard coming down the cañon, but we arrived at the station first, though breathless, and a few minutes later were in piedmont, too tired to properly enjoy a hot venison supper. as to the size of crystal cave, it is impossible to make any positive statement; for as mr. mcbride, the proprietor, says, no survey has yet been made. other persons said that thirty-six miles is the greatest claim made for the combined length of all passages, and sixteen miles the least, so it may be wise to accept the lesser number until a survey proves it wrong. the box work in crystal cave is not of such great abundance as to demand special attention, but is very beautiful, and one variety deserves particular mention. these boxes have been formed in dark red sandstone, and after being emptied of their original contents, have been completely filled with colorless calcite crystals, and over this is spread an outer surface of the same crystals tinted a brilliant flame color by red paint-clay having been taken in solution by the crystal forming waters. a specimen of this was a temptation too great to be resisted even in the owner's absence. some of the box work is of such size that a single box may have a capacity equal to that of a bushel measure, but it is less beautiful than the smaller forms. on the following morning we left piedmont, and having a desire for greater personal knowledge of the hills, took the same train which had taken us to the cave, and traveled to its western terminus, lead city. the interesting scenery makes this a desirable trip for any one visiting the hills, but its beauty is chiefly massed at the ends, the middle distance being over gradually rising ground, which is without a counterpart of the rocky cañon left behind or more than a suggestion of the high hills yet to come. the special charm of this portion was the magnificent pine forest which covered it until three years ago, when it was swept by a terrible fire, from which the settlers escaped with only their lives; and even that would have been impossible if the railroad company had not kept refuge trains waiting for them just ahead of the flames. the prominent geological feature here is the porphyry dikes, which are becoming more numerous and more prominent, and in many places resemble a conspicuous group near harney peak, called the needles. these dykes are of special interest in connection with a study of the caves, since they are probably of simultaneous origin. the same volcanic movements that caused the violent upheaval of the whole region, and thrust up molten masses through the strata to form a central core to the hills, must also have rent the nearby regions with fissures through which probably much gas escaped, and having been further opened and then adorned, now demand our attention as caves of unique and curious beauty. the approach to lead is over the hill-tops with a magnificent distant view, and the first glimpses of that young city famous for having as a center the homestake mine, the largest gold mine in the world, are charming. it is situated far down in a valley among the high hills and spreads some distance up the surrounding slopes. the works of the great mine are wonderful, and visitors welcome to examine whatever they find interesting; any questions they wish to ask are graciously answered, although every one is busy. this is not a special favor to the exceptional few, but the courtesy shown to all. visitors are also welcome to descend into the mine, but as an attendant is necessary on account of dangers to be avoided, a permit must be obtained at the office. several other caves have been discovered in the black hills, the largest of which is the davenport cave at sturgis. very little exploration has yet been done in it, but indications are said to be that it will take rank among the large ones. at galena, a new mining town of golden promise, there is reported to be an ice cave, where ice forms at all seasons, and during the warm weather is a source of comfort and pleasure to the miners. in the evening, as train time for continuing the homeward journey approached, the snow storm which began gently early in the afternoon, grew steadily more severe. a carriage to the depot was not to be had, as every vehicle in town had gone to the funeral of an old-timer in the hills and the return delayed by the storm. the situation could not be regarded as a special pleasure, but cave hunters learn to accept whatever is and be thankful for the general average. at the last moment, however, a team was driven up and permission given us to make use of it. it proved to be the private conveyance of the hotel proprietor, and the young boy who accompanied us, his son. our train was on time, and the ride through the hills to their southern limit, in the falling snow, was wonderfully beautiful; but the storm continued for many days and was one of the most severe on record. those persons who have been so unfortunate as to permit themselves to accept a ready made opinion of dangers and roughness to be met with in the more newly settled regions, might find a tour of the hills doubly interesting by making a supplementary study of "the living age," which cannot be so correctly viewed from a distance as is sometimes supposed, since the specimens exhibited are not always a true average of the strata they are supposed to represent. chapter xvi. conclusion. after a visit to the marvelous caverns of the black hills, much may be added to the pleasure already enjoyed, through the explanatory activity of the yellowstone national park, where even the wonderful combinations of beauty and grandeur are by no means the full measure of attraction and charm. here is found evidence to verify theories concerning the caves, and those theories in turn contribute in no small degree to a satisfactory understanding of the mysteries of geyser action. for scientific study the two regions should be taken together, since the natural conditions are practically the same, and the chief difference lies in the stages of development; the present of the park explaining the recent past of the hills, while the present of the hills foretells the future of the park. it seems that nature, with a full appreciation of the limits and restrictions binding our powers to penetrate certain secrets of an intermittent force, has in this great western country carefully prepared what might quite properly be termed a progressive course of study, wherein each locality makes plain a special point that somewhere else appears obscure. as has been said in the preceding chapters, the two great caves in the black hills of south dakota cannot be accounted for by the same methods as are recognized as being responsible for the slow excavation of the best known caves of the united states. although there is every indication that both these caves have been subject to the action of enormous volumes of water, there is equally positive evidence that neither was ever the scene of a flowing cave-river. the lowest levels in both show the narrowest fissures and the heaviest deposits of crystal, by which we infer that the water was held in confinement here, while all the higher passages or channels bear witness to the water's flow. but many of these channels in crystal cave, or indeed we might say, most of them, present an unmistakable record of the gauge of the water stage at different periods. during the earlier time, when the volume of water and consequent pressure were greatest, frictional motion must have been limited to the main channel connecting with the vent, and the high gauge of water maintained a fairly uniform degree of heat near its surface. in consequence of these conditions geyser action, probably, was constant, and chemical activity was such that great chambers were formed and then decorated, as already described, with wonderful masses of crystal. as the water gauge receded to lower levels the higher chambers became storage basins for water and steam forced up by the pressure from below, and the time required for these to fill and accumulate sufficient pressure to continue the ejectment, formed the periods between eruptions after the geyser became intermittent. it was during this stage that the sharp crystals in many of the channels, now called passages, were worn down to smooth surfaces; and later, when water occupied only the lowest level, and the great geyser had become reduced to merely a steam vent, the channels immediately connecting with that level were in their turn subjected to the same smoothing process, and then all action ceased. as no two of the glorious geysers of the yellowstone park are alike, neither do the two great caves of the hills indicate that they should be so. the vent-tubing of each is quite unlike that of the other in all the essential governing points of length, size, shape, angle of inclination and power-conserving bends. and the differences extend in an almost equally marked degree throughout the vast and complicated succession of storage chambers and their connecting channels. the small vent of wind cave shows that the ejected jet was far from being equal to that of the crystal cave in volume; but the nearly perpendicular long arm of its tube shows also that its jet attained a much greater height, even supposing that it should be necessary to make some allowance for a short elbow at the top. dr. hayden's geological party gave much attention to the yellowstone park while its wonders were new to the world, and observations were made at various times during the period included between the years and . the special study, and full report of the geysers became the duty of dr. a.c. peal, whose descriptions and conclusions were published in u.s. geological survey report, , part ii. in the final pages of his report he quotes the leading authorities on geyser action, and applies the principles of their theories, according to his own judgment, to the geysers of the park. since copies of this report are not now easily obtained, nor even always accessible to the increasing number of personages who visit the park, it may be well to quote from him some of the theories he discussed and the opinions he expressed. on page , beginning the chapter with the derivation of the word geyser from the icelandic word _geysa_--to gush, he continues: "we now come to the definition of a geyser. it may be defined to be a periodically eruptive or intermittent _hot_ spring, from which the water is projected into the air in a fountain-like column. the analogy between geysers and volcanoes has frequently been noticed and the former have often been described as volcanoes which erupt heated water instead of melted lava. we have italicized the word hot in the definition just given, because springs containing a large amount of gas may simulate geysers. "the difference between geysers and ordinary hot springs is not readily explained, nor even always recognized. the difference between a quiet thermal spring and a geyser in active eruption is very marked, but between the two there is every grade of action. some geysers appear as quiet springs, as for instance the grand geyser during its period of quiescence. others might easily be mistaken for constantly boiling springs, as in the case of the giant geyser, in which the water is constantly in active ebullition. this is true also of the strockr of iceland. many of the springs, therefore, that in the yellowstone park have been classed as constantly boiling springs may be unsuspected geysers. the excelsior geyser was not discovered to be a geyser until eight years after the setting aside of the park. almost all constantly boiling springs have periods of increased activity, and those which spurt a few feet into the air have been classed as pseudo-geysers. "it has been noticed that geysers occur where the intensity of volcanic action is decreasing. in the neighborhood of active volcanoes, such as vesuvius, the temperature appears to be too high, and the vapor escapes as steam from what are called stufas. when the rocks at the surface are more cooled the water comes forth in liquid form. "we will now pass to the various geyser theories that have been proposed by different writers." dr. peal then proceeds to give the theories of sir j. herschell and sir george mckenzie, but as they are accepted and extended by others, we may pass on to bischof's, of which dr. peal says: "very similar to mckenzie's theory is the one adopted by bischof in his researches on the internal heat of the globe (pages , ). it is really the theory of krug von nidda, who examined the geyser in . bischof says: "'he (krug von nidda) takes it for granted that these hot springs derive their temperature from the aqueous vapors rising from below. when these vapors are able to rise freely in a continued column the water at the different depths must have a constant temperature equal to that at which water would boil under the pressure existing at the respective depths; hence the constant ebullition of the permanent springs and their boiling heat. if, on the other hand, the vapors be prevented by the complicated windings of its channels from rising to the surface; if, for example, they be arrested in caverns, the temperature in the upper layers of water must necessarily become reduced, because a large quantity of it is lost by evaporation at the surface, which cannot be replaced from below. and any circulation of the layers of water at different temperatures, by reason of their unequal specific gravities, seems to be very much interrupted by the narrowness and sinuousity of the passage. the intermitting springs of iceland are probably caused by the existence of caverns, in which the vapor is retained by the pressure of the column of water in the channel which leads to the surface. here this vapor collects, and presses the water in the cavern downward until its elastic force becomes sufficiently great to effect a passage through the column of water which confines it. the violent escape of the vapor causes the thunder-like subterranean sound and the trembling of the earth which precedes each eruption. the vapors do not appear at the surface until they have heated the water to their own temperature. "'when so much vapor has escaped that the expansive force of that which remains has become less than the pressure of the confining column of water, tranquility is restored, and this lasts until such a quantity of vapor is again collected as to produce a fresh eruption. the spouting of the spring is therefore repeated at intervals, depending on the capacity of the cavern, the height of the column of water, and the heat generated below.'" dr. peal continues: "bishof says that the eruptions of the geyser and strockr agree exactly with this explanation and he accounts for the two distinct classes of eruption observed in the geyser as follows: "'the two distinct classes of eruption in the geyser which we have already mentioned seem to be attributable to two different cavities. a small cavity fills quicker, and, therefore, empties itself more frequently; a larger one fills slower, empties itself seldomer, but with greater violence.'" bunsen's theory is the next considered and is somewhat similar to bischof's but with notable differences. after taking temperatures at different points in the geyser tube his first conclusions are that: ( ) the temperature in the geyser tube increases as we descend. ( ) at no point does the water in the tube attain the temperature of ebullition which it should have under the pressure to which it is subjected, but the temperature depends on the time that has elapsed since the last eruption. as a great eruption comes near it approaches the boiling point. ( ) at the depth of about forty-five feet the difference between the temperature of the water and the calculated boiling point for that pressure is the least. the main point of his theory appears to be that an eruption takes place when the water in the tube reaches the boiling point, and to account for it, "he supposes that the column in the central tube communicates by a long and sinuous channel with some space, be it what it may, which is subjected to the action of the direct source of subterranean heat. the temperature gets raised above the boiling point, due to the pressure, and a sudden generation of steam is the result. this steam rises in the column of water, which, being cooler, causes it to condense. gradually the heat of the water is raised until the water of the channel must boil, and the steam therefore cannot condense, but must accumulate and acquire a gradually increasing tension. the condensation of the bubbles possesses a periodic character, and to this is due the uplifting of the water in what bunsen calls conical water hills, which are accompanied by the subterranean explosions." prof. comstock is quoted as thinking "bunsen's theory has not yet been proved adequate to explain the more prominent features of geyser eruptions. nor does it, in his opinion, account for all the differences between geysers and hot springs, and he proposes a structural hypothesis which combines bischof's and bunsen's theories." this hypothesis is illustrated by a figure in which a reservoir partly filled with water is connected with the surface by a tube having a double curve, and he explains that the water collecting in the depressed curve should confine the steam, rising from the reservoir in the other curve until the pressure is sufficient to cause an eruption. his theory of action being that the water in the reservoir remains in equilibrium at a certain level, and the constant heat fills the space above with vapor, which heats the water held in the downward bend of the tube, and that also evolves vapor which fills the balance of the tube to the vent. when the combined pressure of this vapor and water are overcome by the expansion of vapor accumulated above the reservoir, they are forced out, and followed by a portion of the water of the reservoir. this theory is in the report of captain jones on northwestern wyoming. the last theory cited by dr. peal is that of s. baring-gould, "who visited the iceland geysers in , and thinks that a bent tube is sufficient to explain the action of the great geyser. he took an iron tube and bent it in an angle of °, keeping one arm half the length of the other. he filled the tube with water and placed the short arm in the fire. for a moment the surface of the liquid remained quiet, and then the pipe began to quiver; a slight overflow took place, without any sign of ebullition, and then suddenly, with a throb, the whole column was forced high into the air. with a tube, the long arm of which measured two feet and the bore of which was three-eighths of an inch, he sent a jet to the height of eighteen feet. steam is generated in the short arm and presses down the water, causing an overflow until the steam bubble turns the angle, when it forces out the column in the long arm with incredible violence." dr. peal now goes on to say: "of the theories that we have just enumerated, perhaps no one is adequate to explain all the phenomena of geyser action. bunsen's theory comes nearest to it, and in the simplest kinds of geysers is a sufficient explanation. the variations and modifications in the geyser tubes and subterranean water passages must undoubtedly be important factors entering into any complete explanation of geyser action. now, of course, we can see what the conditions are at the surface, but in our experiments we can penetrate to a very inconsiderable distance. we have, therefore, no data to present on these points, and investigations of this branch of the subject will have to be carried on in an artificial manner; that is artificial geysers will have to be constructed, and various modifications made in the tubes until results are reached analogous to those seen in natural geysers. if water in a glass tube be heated with rapidity from the bottom, it will be expelled from the tube violently, and if boiled in a kettle which has a lid and a spout, either the lid will be blown off or the water will be forced out through the spout. the first case is an illustration, in part at least, of bunsen's theory, and the second exemplifies the theories which presuppose the existence of subterranean cavities with tubes at or near the surface. according to the former we must suppose that the layer of rock, extending seventy-five to seventy-seven feet below the surface, contains sufficient heat to account for geyseric phenomena; or else that the geyser tube has some opening, either at the bottom or on the sides, by which steam and superheated water have access to it from a considerably greater depth where the temperature is very high. at these depths caverns probably exist." * * * * "that such cavities exist is more than probable. on page i have indicated my belief, that all geysers are originally due to a violent outburst of steam and water, and under such conditions, irregular cavities and passages are more likely to be formed than regular tubes." * * "in view of what we have just written, bunsen's conclusion (no. ) would have to be modified somewhat. his conclusion was that at no point in the tube did the water attain the temperature of ebullition which it should have under the pressure to which it is subjected. as far as this relates to the straight tube in which his temperatures were taken, it may be so; but if he could have taken temperatures in the side conduit, i have little doubt he would soon have reached a point where the temperature would not only be at the boiling point for that depth but even exceed it. in the yellowstone park we obtained a number of surface temperatures which were above the boiling point. in the great geyser of iceland, the mass of water in the tube prevents this condition at the surface, and when it takes place opposite the aperture an eruption is caused. in the main, however, i am inclined to accept bunsen's theory, especially as it seems to me to require subterranean cavities in which the water must be heated. whether these are caverns, enlargements of tubes, or sinus channels, appears to me to be of no consequence, except as the interval or period of the geyser might be affected by the form of the reservoir holding the water." dr. peal has reached conclusions which present an imaginary picture of the interior structure of the great geysers of the park, that bears a striking resemblance to what the two caves of the black hills prove to be the true conditions; although it is evident he had in mind caverns of no such vast extent, nor of so complicated a system of cavities and tubes. he overlooked an important feature, however, in not accepting professor comstock's idea of the tube having a double curve. the double curve is, or was, conspicuous in both the caves. unfortunately, its perfection in wind cave was necessarily partially sacrificed to make the passage traversable for visitors; but in describing the enormous labor of opening up the cave, mr. mcdonald showed how an arching "crawl" had been worked down by blasting, and the depression beyond filled to raise it to the desired level for securing the present easy passage at the bottom of the main tube, which is the entrance passage. this double curve in the tube is simply the rough original of the s trap of sanitary plumbing. in both caves it is somewhat irregular and deformed, but the familiar "trap" is easily recognized. the destruction of one of the yellowstone geysers was, no doubt, due to the breaking of the s. one of the many reasons for establishing military control over the park is said to have been the disastrous results following the introduction of a large quantity of soap into the geyser to cause a premature eruption. the impatience of the party was rewarded by an eruption accompanied by explosions that shook the earth for a great distance, and the geyser has not been seen in action since. dr. peal finds the theories advanced for the generation of steam unsatisfactory and insufficient, especially in the class of geysers having a long steam period. he says: (page ) "the castle geyser differs from old faithful and the bee hive mainly in the fact that it has a long steam period, during which the steam pours out or is pushed from the geyser throat with great violence and a terrific noise. there appear to be only two possible explanations of this difference, viz., either an accumulation of immense volumes of steam in the castle, or an instantaneous formation of steam throughout the length of the geyser tube. the former, to our mind, is untenable, because it seems impossible that the water, which is exhausted in fifteen minutes, should exert enough power to keep down the immense amount of steam that escapes for more than an hour. according to bunsen's theory, it can be readily explained. the relief afforded by the first part of the eruptions allows the superheated water to rise rapidly, and before it can reach the top or orifice of the tube it is all converted into steam from the top downward with inconceivable rapidity, and must be forced out with the terrific violence which is noted in the case of the castle. on page we have expressed the opinion that it is the oldest geyser in the region, and it seems to us that a greater length in the tube, with a consequent greater supply of water, will account for the difference between the castle and old faithful, the latter of which we consider one of the youngest geysers in the upper geyser basin." a study of the caves in connection with the active geysers indicates that the theory he suggests and then rejects, is probably the true explanation of the difference between the two kinds of geysers. it seems that the length of the tube must necessarily have more effect on the height of the jet than on the generation of steam; as after an eruption the tube is hotter than at any other time and therefore the generation of steam in it should be less than usual, unless the fresh inflow of water was cold. then if the storage cavities are broad but low, the steam cannot accumulate above the water; but when the pressure becomes sufficient to force a passage through the tube, the water and steam are expelled together until the pressure is exhausted. but if the storage chambers are vertical fissures, as wind cave illustrates, vast quantities of steam must accumulate above the water level in the main reservoirs before the pressure can become sufficient to expel the water in the tube, after which steam alone continues to rush out until the pressure is so relieved that it can no longer force a passage through the water remaining in the trap, when quiet is restored. by the constant addition of fresh water from the surface, by percolation or other usual ways of sinking, the necessary conditions for the generation of steam are maintained with surprising regularity. the differences in the shape and general arrangement of the cavities and tubes of the two caves, indicate that their action as geysers was very unlike. wind cave evidently sent a rather slender column to a great height, nearly perpendicular, and the water eruption was followed by a long steam period. crystal cave ejected a much larger jet more frequently, at a low angle of inclination, the eruption was sooner over, and was not followed by a steam period of any consequence. thus it can be seen that the caves of the black hills prove the theories in regard to geyser action in yellowstone park, and those theories, in turn, prove the past history of the caves. the study of geyser action also shows that the conical or dome shape of some of the cave chambers is not due to the whirl of incoming floods, as in other regions, but to jets of water forced up from lower levels. perhaps the finest geyser basin, and possible cave, ever in existence was destroyed when the grand cañon of the yellowstone became a cañon. evidences of the former conditions in control of this gorgeously brilliant scene are neither wanting nor doubtful. steam constantly issues from numerous small vents in the cañon walls, and a field glass reveals miniature geysers in action down in the depth of the cañon, nearly half a mile below the top of the wall; while the entire cañon shows, in both the color and character of its rocks, that chemical agencies have wrought changes here that have not been effected in other exposures of similar nature. it seems not improbable that the relation of yellowstone river to the grand cañon was the same as, at the present time, is that of the firehole to the upper, middle, and lower geyser basins: and that an explosion of great force was followed by a general collapse instead of the usual eruption of one of the grandest geysers; one result being the sudden precipitation of the river into a new, beautiful, and totally unexpected channel. after its great leap of two hundred and ninety-seven[ ] feet at the lower fall, the river flows in a brilliant, narrow line of emerald green, broken by the white foam of frequent cascades, between magnificent walls of yellow, white, pink, and red of most vivid hues. footnotes: [ ] measurement by the hayden party. proofreading team. transcriber's notes: this work was originally produced in , only years after cawdrey's first english dictionary and more than a century before johnson's. the spelling is, in many cases, strange to modern standards and highly variable. i have noted a small number of cases which would, i think, have been considered absurd by the original author. these have been amended to a more consonant form; all other spelling has been retained as the original. some apparently incorrect or missing punctuation has been corrected. the reader should note that [~o] and [~e] have been used to represent the vowel superscribed by a tilde mark. this implies nasalization and should be read as indicating an omitted 'm' or 'n' following the vowel. the letters 'u' and 'v' are used largely interchangeably as also, though to a lesser extent, 'i' and 'j'.--atb. a briefe introdvction to geography containing a description of the grovnds, and generall part thereof, very necessary _for young students in that science._ written by that learned _man, _mr william pemble_, master_ _of arts, of magdalen hall in oxford._ _oxford_ printed by iohn lichfield printer to the famous vniversity for edward forrest _ann. dom._ . to the reader gentle reader; i here present vnto thy view these few sheets, written by that learned man _mr william pemble_, i doubt not to call him the father, the childe fauours him so much. it hath long lay hid from thy sight, but now at length emboldned vpon thy curteous acceptance of his former labours, it lookes abroad into the world; its but little; let not that detract any thing from it, there may lie much, though pent vp in a narrow roome; when thou reades, then iudge of it; thus much may bee sayd: though many haue writ of this subiect, yet this inferiour to none; thou may'st obserue in it an admirable mixture of art and delight, so that for younger students it may bee their introduction, for others a remembrancer, for any not vnworthy the perusall: only, let it finde kinde entertaynment, at thy hands. _farewell._ a briefe introdvction to geographie. chap. . _a generall description and division of geography._ topographie is a particular description of some small quantity of land, such as land measurers sett out in their plots. chorographie is a particular description of some country, as of england, france, or any shire or prouince in them: as in the vsuall and ordinary mappe. geography is an art or science teaching vs the generall description of the whole earth, of this especially wee are now to speake of, and also chorography as a part vnder it conteyned: both, excellent parts of knowledge in them selues, and affoording much profit and helpe in the vnderstanding of history & other things. the parts of geography are two. generall, which treateth of the nature, qualities, measure, with other generall properties of the earth. speciall, wherein the seuerall countrys and coasts of the earth are deuided and described. of the generall in the first place, and more at large then of the other, because it is more difficult, and hard to bee vnderstood, and yet of necessary vse, for the vnderstanding of the other. this generall tract may bee parted into fiue particular heads. of the properties and affections of the earth. of the parts of it in generall. of the circles of it. of the distinction and diuision of it accordinge to some generall conditions and qualities of it. of the measuringe of it. these in theire order. cap. . _of certaine generall properties of the earth._ in geography when wee name the earth wee meane not the earth taken seuerally by itselfe, without the seas and waters. but vnder one name both are comprised, as they are now mingled one with another and doe both together make vp one entire and round body. neither doe wee diue into the bowels of the earth, and enter into consideration of the naturall qualities, which are in the substance of earth and water, as coldnes, drinesse moisture, heauines, and the like, but wee looke only vpon the out side, contemplating the greatnesse, scituation, distances, measuringe, and other such affections which appeare in the superficies of it, to the eyes of our bodies and mindes: these then of the earth and water together, rules are to bee knowne, _the earth and the water doe make one globe, i.e., one round or sphericall body._ the naturall place of the water is to bee aboue the earth, and soe it was in the first creation of it, compassing, the earth round aboute as appeares genes. . . but for the vse of man and all other liuing creatures, god made a separation of them caussing the waters to sinke downe into huge hollow channells, prepared to receaue it, that so the drie land might appeare aboue it. notwithstanding which separation, they doe both still remaine together, not couering one another as at first, but intermingled one with another, and that soe exactly as they now make but one round body, whereas at first they made two. here therfore are two poynts to be proued, . that they are one globe. . that this one is round. they are one globe hauing the same center or middle pointe, and the same surface or conuexe superficies, which will appeare by these reasons. common experience. take a lumpe of earth and any quantity of water, and let them both fall downe together vpon the earth from some high place, wee see that in the desc[~e]t they doe not seuer, but keepe still together in on streight line, which could not bee, if the earth and water were two seuerall round bodies hauing seuerall centers. as for example suppose them to bee two globes and let (_a_) bee the center of the earth and (_b_) the center of the water; fr[~o] (_c_) some high place aboue the earth hurle downe earth and water, i say the earth will part from the water in going downe and the earth will fall downe vpon (_d_) & the water vpon (_e_) but this is contrary to experience & _ergo_ the supposition is false. [illustration] the shadow which in eclipses is cast vpon the moone by the earth and the water, is but one and not two, & therefore the body is so likewise. this will appeare in the proofe of the next point, v. . _that both earth and water are one round body, not square, long, hollow, of any other figure. this is proued by diuerse reasons._ by eclipses; when the earth, stands iust betweene the sunne and the moone, then doth the shadow of the earth falling vpon the moone darken it wholy or in part. now as is the fashion of the shadow, such is the figure of the body, whence it falls, but the shadow of the earth and water cast vpon the moone is round, and also one, therefore they are round and also one body. [illustration] by the orderly and successiue appearing of the starres, as men trauile from north to south, or from south to north, by sea or land. for as they goe by degrees, they discouer new starres, which they saw not before, and loose the sight of them they did, which could not bee if the earth were not round. as for example, let (_x.o.r._) the inward circle bee the earth, (_q.s.p._) the outward, the heauen: they cannot see the starre (_s_) which dwell vpon the earth in (_x_) but if they goe northward vnto (_o_) they may see it. if they goe farther to (_r_) they may see the starre (_p_) but then they loose the sight of the starre (_q_) which being at (_x_) and (_o_) they might haue seene. because, as it appeares in the figure, the earth riseth vp round betweene (_r_) and (_x_). [illustration] by the orderly and successiue rising of the sunne and starres, and settinge of the same. which appeare not at the same time to all countryes, but vnto one after another. as for example, let (_f.c.b._) be the circle of the earth, (_d.e.a._) the circle of the heauen from east to west, let (_a_) bee the sunne or a starre. when the sunne (_a_) is vp, and shines vpon them that dwell in (_b_) hee is not risen to them that dwell in (_c_) againe when hee is risen higher and is come to (_e_) and so shines vpon those that dwell in (_c_) hee is not yet vp to them that dwell in (_f_). againe when hee setts in the west, in (_d_) and so is out of sight to the inhabitants in (_b_) hee is yet vp to them that dwell in (_c_) and (_f_). which shews plainely the earth is round. [illustration] by the different obseruations of eclipses. one and the same eclipse appearing sooner to the easterly nations then those that lye farther west, which is caused by the bulke of the earth swelling vp betweene. as for example. let (_x.o._) bee the circle of the earth, and the greater the circle of the heauen from east to west. let (_p.q._) bee the body of the sunne, (_w.s._) of the moone in the eclipse by reason of the earth betweene it and the sunne. it is manifest that the inhabitants in (_o_) shall see the eclipse before the inhabitants in (_x_) by certaine houres, according as the distance betweene (_x_) and (_o_) is more or lesse. they that dwell in (_o_) shall see it in (_s_) they that dwell in (_x_) see it not till it come to (_w_) a great deale higher. [illustration] that the water is round besides the naturall weight and moisture of it, which being apt to yeeld and runne abroad, will not suffer some places to ly high, and some low, like hills, & dales, but though it be made rough and vneuen by tempest, doth pres[~e]tly returne to their naturall smoothnesse and euennesse: i say besides this: it is cleare by common experience; for if wee stand on the land, and see a ship goe forth to sea, by degrees wee loose the sight of it, first of the bulke then of the mast, and all. so also one the other side they that are at sea by degrees doe loose or gaine the sight of the land: as for example. let (_a_) bee some steeple vpon the land (_b_) a shipp at sea: he that stands at (_a_) shall by little and little loose the sight of the ship, as shee goes out, & gett sight of her as shee comes in. both first and last hee shall haue the sight of the top mast (_b_) when hee sees nothing else. because the sea riseth vp betweene his sight and the ship. [illustration] these reasons and experiments may suffice to proue the roundnesse of the earth and water; which might bee farther demonstrated by shewing the falshood of all other figures regular or irregular that can be giuen vnto it; that it is neither square, nor three-cornerd, nor piramidall, nor conicall on taperwise, nor cylindricall like a barley rowle, nor hollow like a dish, nor of any other fashion, as some haue imagined it to bee of. wee come to this second rule. _the tops of the highest hills, and the bottoms of the lowest vallies although in seuerall places they make the earth vneven, yet being compared to the vast greatnesse of the whole, doe not at all hinder the roundnesse of it._ among all geometricall figures the sphæriall or the round is the most perfect, and amongst all naturall bodies the heauen is the most excellent. it was therefore good reason the most beautifull body should haue the most perfect and exquisite shape. exact roundnesse then is not found in any body, but the heauens; the earth is round as was showed before, but not precisely, with out all roughnes and inæquality of its surface. there are hills like warts and vallies like wrinkels in a mans body; and that both for ornament and vse. yet is there such vnformity in this varietie, as that there is no notable and sensible inæquality made in the earth by hills and vallies. no more then if you should lay a fly vpon a smooth cartwheele, or a pinnes head vpon a greate globe. now that this is soe appeares by sense and reason. by sense thus, if wee stand on a hill or in a plaine, when wee may discrie the country round about . or . miles; wee may behold the brim or edge of the earth round about vs to bee in a manner euen and streight, euen there, where the country is very hilly, and full of mountaines. so that a farre of their height makes but a little alteration and difference from the plaine countreys, when wee behold all togeather a farre of: though when wee come neere, the alteration seemes more sensible. by reason thus, the thicknesse of halfe the earth is (as shall be shewed) about miles, now the plumb height of the highest mountaines is not accounted aboue a mile and a halfe, or two miles at the most. now betweene two miles and foure thousand, there is no sensible proportion, and a line that is foure thousand and two miles long, will not seeme sensibly longer then that which is foure thousand; as for example. let (_o_) be the center of the earth, (_xw_) a part of the circle of the earth which runneth by the bottomes of the hils and superficies of champion and even plaines (_wo_) or (_xo_) is the semidiamiter or halfe the depth of the earth. (_s_) is a hill rising vp aboue that plaine of the earth, (_ws_) is the plumb height of the hill. i say that (_ws_) doth not sensibly alter the length of the line (_ow_); for (_ws_) is but two miles. (_wo_) miles, and two to alters not much more, then the breadth of a pinne to the length of a pearch. so a line drawne from (_o_) the center to (_s_) the top of the hill, is in a manner all one with a line drawen to (_w_) the bottome of the hill. [illustration] the third rule. _the earth resteth immovable in the very midst of the whole earth._ two points are here to be demonstrated. _first that the earth standeth exactly in the midst of the world. secondly that it is immoveable._ the former is proved by these reasons. the naturall heavinesse of the earth and water is such, as they will never cease mooving downewards till they come to the lowest place; now the center or middle point of the world is the lowest place, and _ergo_ they must needs moue thither, as for example. let (_o_) be the center of the world, (_cde_) the heauens: it is manifest that the lowest place from the heauens on all sides is (_o_). ssuppose the earth to be in (_a_) or in (_b_) some where out of the center, i say it is not possible (vnlesse it be violently held vp) that it should abide there, but it will descend till it come to (_o_) the middle point. [illustration] if the earth stood any where but in the midest we should not see halfe the heauens aboue vs, as now we alway doe, neither could there be any Æquinox, neither would the daies and nights lengthen and shorten in that due order and proportion in all places of the world as now they doe; againe eclipses would never fall out but in one part of the heavens, yea the sunne and moone might be directly opposite one to another and yet no eclipse follow, all which are absurd. as for example, let the center of the world be (_o_) let the earth stand in (_a_), a good way distant from the center, it is manifest that the greater halfe of the heauens (_cib_) will alwaies be aboue, and the lesser halfe (_cdb_) below, which is contrary to experience. thence also it followes that the daies and nights will never be equall, for the sunne (_b_) will be alwaies longer aboue the earth whil'st he moues from (_b_) to (_c_) then below, mouing from (_c_) to (_b_). againe the sunne (_b_) may stand iust opposite to the moone (_x_) and yet noe eclipse follow, the earth which makes the eclipse, standing out of the midst. [illustration] the shadowes of all bodies on the earth would not fall in that orderly vniformity as they now doe: for if the earth stood towards the east, the shadowes would be shortest before noone, if toward the west afternoone, if towards the north, the shadowes would still fall northward, if towards the south, southwards, all which experience shewes to be false. as for example, let the earth stand eastwards in (_a_) the shadow of any body vpon the earth, as of the body vnder (_e_) will be shorter in the morning when the sunne is in (_c_), then at noone when the sunne is in (_x_). if the earth stand southward in (_w_) the shaddow of any body will alwaies fall south, as it doth in the figure (_y_) and (_z_.) [illustration] _the second thing to be proued was that the earth is immouable._ where wee must vnderstand a double motion, streight, or circular. for the first it is cleare that with out supernaturall violence it cannot bee moued in any streight motion, that is, vpward downewarde, or toward any side; it cannot bee shoued out of his place. for the second, whether abiding still in his place it may not moue rounde, the question is disputed, and maintained one both sides. some affirme it may, and doth: who thinke there is greater probabilitie the earth should mooue round once a day, then that the heauens should by reason of the incredible swiftnesse of the heauens motion, scarcs conpetible to any naturall body; and the more likely slownesse of the earths mouing. others deny it grounding theire opinion vpon scripture, which affirmes the earth to stand fast, so as it cannot bee moued; and vpon sence, because wee perceaue it not to moue, and lastly vpon reasons drawne from things hurled vp, and let fall vpon the earth. the arguments on both sides wil bee more easie to bee vnderstood by the figure that followes. [illustration] in this figure it is manifest, that the earth in the midest, cannot moue by any streight motion, vpward towarde (_n_) or sideward toward (_m_) or any other way out of its proper place, and therefore that opinion of _copernicus_ and others, that the earth should moue round once a yeere in such a circle as (_mpr_) is most improbable & vnreasonable. and reiected by the most. but although it cannot moue streight, it may moue round. for though it be a marueilous great body of vnconceaueable weight, yet being equally poised on euery side, there is nothing can hinder its circular motion. as in a globe of lead, or any other heauy substance, though it were . fadome in compasse, yet being set vpon his two poles, it would easily bee turned round euen with a touch of ones little finger. and therefore it is concluded that this circular motion is not impossible. the probabilitie of it is thus made plaine. the whole circuit of the heauens, wherein are the fixed starrs is reckoned by astronomers to bee . that is a thousand and seauenteene millions of miles, fiue hundred sixty two thousand, and fiue hundred miles. let this bee the compasse of the circle (_nmoz_.) so many miles doth the heauens moue in one day, till the same point come to the place from whence it went; as till (_n_) moue round, and come to (_n_) againe. this being the motion of the whole day . houres, how many miles will (_n_) moue in one houre? it will moue and a halfe. i.e. forty two millions three hundred ninty eight thousand, foure hundred thirty seuen miles and an halfe. so many miles will (_n_) moue in one houre, from (_n_) to (_m_.) a motion so swift that it is vtterly incredible. farre more likely it is, the circuit of the earth (_asxv_) being about . i.e. twenty foure thousand miles more or lesse, it should moue round once a day. for then one point as (_x_) should moue in one houre from (_x_) to (_v_) but a thousand miles, which motion although it bee swifter then any arrow or bullet from a cannons mouth, yet is it incomparably slower then that of the heauens, where so many millions are posted ouer in an houre. now for the saluing of all the cælestiall phænomena, or appearances, the truth is the same, if wee suppose the earth to moue, as if wee beleeue it to stand still. the riseing of the sunne and starres, the motions of all the planets, will keepe correspondence that now. nor neede wee feare logging, or that steples and towers would totter downe, for the motion is regular, and steady without rubbes, and knocks. as if you turne a globe about, it will goe steadyly, and a fly will set fast vpon it, though you moue it apace. besides the whole body the ayre is carryed about with the whirlinge of the earth, so that the earth will make noe winde, as it turnes swiftly about; as a wheele will, if it bee turned apace. notwithstanding all this, most are of another opinion, that the earth standeth still without all motion, rest rather befittinge so heauy and dull a body then motion. the maine reason brought to establish it is this. let a stone bee throwne downe out of the ayre from (_w_:) if the earth stand still, it is manifest it will fall vpon (_x_) iust vnder it; as wee see it doth by common experience, a stone will fall downe from any height vpon the place wee aymed at, but let the earth moue, the stone will not light vpon (_x_) but some where else as one (_s_:) for (_x_) will bee moued away, and gone to (_v_.) so againe let two peices of ordinance that will shoote at equall distance bee discharged one iust towards the east, the other towards the west; if the earth moue (as they say it doth) towards the west, the bullet that is discharged eastward will fly farther then that westward. for by the contrary motion of the earth hee will gaine ground. but experience hath proued this to bee false, shewing that the bullets, will both fly at equall distance. to salue this, answere is made that the earth by its swift motion carries with it and that steadily not only all bodies resting or moueing vpon it, but also the whole sphære of aire (_weq_) with all things whatsoeuer that are moued in it naturally or violently, as clouds, birds, stones hurled vp or downe, arrowes, bullets, and such like things violently shott forth: as may appeare in the figure. the fourth rule. the earth, though it bee of exceeding greate quantity being considered in itselfe, yet being compared to the heauens, especially the higher sphæres, is of noe notable bignes, but may be accounted as a point or pricke in the middest of the world. that the earth is noe bigger then a point or pinns head in comparison of the highest heauens will easily appeare vnto vs, by these reasons. the starres which are many times bigger then the earth, seeme yet to vs to bee noe bigger then a greate pinns head, or such like quantity; therefore much lesse shall the earth appeare to bee of any sensible magnitude. wee alwaies beholde halfe the heauens aboue vs, which could not bee if the earth had any sensible proportion to the heauen. all obseruations of hights and distances of the coelestiall bodies, which are made on the superficies of the earth, are as exact, and true, as if they were made in the very center of the earth. which were impossible, vnlesse the thicknes of the earth were insensible in regard of the heauens. all sunn dialls which stand on the superficies of the earth, doe as truely cast the shadowes of the houres, as if they stood in the center. as for example. the starre (_s_) appeares like a point or pricke to them that dwell in (_a_) wherefore the earth (_ox_) will appeare much lesse to the sight of him that should behold it from (_s_), nay it would not bee seene at all. againe halfe the heauens (_bfe_) are alwayes seene to th[~e] that dwell in (_a_) wanting some two minutes, betweene (_ed_) and (_bc_) which difference is alltogether insensible. againe if wee obserue the height of the starre (_s_) aboue the horizon (_be_) it will bee all one namely (_bs_) whether wee obserue it in the topp of the earth, in (_a_) or in the middle in (_o_.) for, (_a_) and (_o_,) are so little distant one from another, that (_as_,) and (_os_) will bee paralell lines, and bee esteemed but as one line. the fourth reason concerning dialls, is cleare by the framing and construction of them: wherein either the lower end of the cocke (or gnomon) whereat all the houre lines meet, or the vpper end and knobb (as in many dialls) is supposed to bee the center of the earth. [illustration] cap. . _of the parts of the terrestriall globe._ the properties of the earthly globe haue beene handled in the former chapter wee come now to the parts which are two in generall. {earth} both containe vnder them more particular {water} parts to be knowne. the more notable parts of the earth are these. a continent or maine land, or as some call it firme land, which is not parted by the sea running betweene. an iland, a land compassed about with waters. a peninsula, a land almost surrounded by waters saue at one place, where ioynes by a narrow necke of land to the continent; this is also called chersonesus. an isthmus, a streight necke of land which ioynes two countreys together, and keepes the sea from compassing the one. a promontorie or head land running farre out into the sea like a wedge. a mountaine } } a valley } all easie to bee knowne } a champion plain } without any definition. } a wood } the more notable parts of the water are these _mare_ the sea, or ocean, which is the gathering together of all waters. _fretum_ a streight or narrow sea running betweene two lands. _sinus_ a creeke, gulfe, or bay, when the sea runnes vp into the bosome of the land by a narrow enterance but openeth it broader when it is within; if it bee very litell it is called a hauen, _portus_. _lacus_ a lake, a little sea with in the land hauing riuers running into it, or out of it, or both. if it hath neither it is called _stagnum_ a standing poole, also _palus_; a fenne. _fluvius_ a riuer, which from the pleasantnesse is also called _amnis_; from the smalnesse of it _rivus_. now concerning these parts diuers questions are moued; whether there bee more sea or land? whether the sea would naturally ouerflow the land, as it did in the first creation, were it not withheld within his bankes by diuine power? whether the deepenes of the sea, doth exceede the height of the mountaines? whether mountaines were before the flood? what is the hight of the highest hilles? whether iland, came since the flood? what is the cause of the ebbing and flowing of the sea? what is the original of springs and riuers? what manner of motion the running of the riuers is? with such like, whereof some belong not so properly to this science of geography as to others. wee speake onely a word or two of the last, & so proceed. the question is whether the motion of the riuers bee streight, or circular. the doubts on both sides will best appeare by a figure first drawne: wherein, let (_hmo_) be the meridian of _alexandria_ in _Ægipt_, or of the mouth of _nilus_ and answerable to the meridian of the heauens. another in the earth (_xby_.) let (_b_) bee the mouth of _nilus_, and (_c_) the fountaine and head of it. now the mouth of _nilus_, where it runnes into the mediterranian sea, is placed by geographers in the . degree of the north latitud; & the head of _nilus_ where it riseth is placed by _polomeus_ in . degree of the south latitud, but by latter & more exact geographers in the . degree of the southern latitud, so that the distance betweene the founts & _ostia_ i.e. betweene (_c_) and (_b_) is . degrees of a great circle, which after the vsuall account makes . one eight part of the earths compasse. the quæstion now is, whether the runninge from (_c_) to (_b_) runne continually downward in a streight line; or circularly in a crooked line. if it runne in a streight line, as is most agreeable to the nature of the water it must moue either by the line (_ceb_) or by the line (_db_.) by the line (_ceb_) it cannot moue: for when it is come to (_e_,) it will stand still. because from (_e_) to (_b_) it must moue vpward, if it moue at all, which is contrary to the nature of water. if therefore it moue by a streight line it can bee noe other, but (_bd_,) and so from (_d_) to (_b_) it shall continually descend; for of all places betweene (_d_,) & (_b_) (_b_) is the nearest to (_a_.) but then the fountaine must not bee in (_b_) but higher in (_d_) which semees altogether improbable or impossible. for first the line (_ad_) would bee notably and sent by longer then the line (_ab_) for the compasse of the earth being about . miles, and the semidiameter (_ab_,) or (_ac_) . miles the line (_cd_,) would bee . miles, which cannot bee true, if as wee haue proued before, the earth bee round, and that the highest hills make noe sensible inæquality. againe they that dwell in (_d_) should see the north pole starre (_n_) as well as they that dwell in (_b_,) which also is false. so then the riuer cannot runne either by (_eb_) or (_db_) runnes it then circularly by the line (_cwb_?) this seemes probable, and the rather because heereby a reason of the originall of riuers might more easily bee giuen. for the fountaines (_c_) lying euen with the superficies of the sea, the water may easily passe through the hollowes of the earth, and breake out at (_c_) without ascendinge. but here also are some difficulties: for first wee find by experience that the fountaines of most riuers, and those greate ons too, lye sensibly higher then the plaine surface of the sea. againe, if the riuer moue directly round, what should bee the cause that begins and continues this motion? it is a motion besides the nature of the water, and therefore violent, what should driue it forward from the sea to (_c_,) and from (_c_) to (_b_,) when the water is at (_c_) or (_w_,) it is as neere to the center (_a_) as when it is at (_b_,) and therefore it should seeme with more liklyhood it would stand still; for why should it striue to goe further, seeing where it is, it is as neare to the center as whither it runnes. or if some violence doe driue it from (_c_,) towards (_w_,) yet (as it is the nature of violent motions) the further it goes the slower it will runne, till in the end it stand still, if there bee noe aduantadge of ground to helpe it forward. [illustration] as a bowle throwne downe a hill runnes easily and farre, if it once bee sett a going; but throwne vpon the ice (an euen place) it will without any lett at last stand still. answere may bee made hereunto, that although there bee noe aduantage of the ground, yet the water will still moue forwarde from (_c_) to (_b_) because the water that followes, pusheth forwarde that, that runnes afore. which answere will stand, when a good cause may bee shewed, which forcibly driueth the water from the sea vnto (_c_) and out of the fountaine (_c_;) considering that (after this supposition) they lie both in the same circular superficies. wherefore seeing, wee cannot without any inconueniency suppose it to moue by any of these lines either streight as (_bc_) or (_bd_,) or circular as (_bwc_) let vs enquire farther. the most likely opinion is, that the motion of the water is mixt neither directly streight, or circular, but partly one, partly the other. or if it be circular, it is in a circle whose center is a little distant from the center of the whole globe. let vs place fountaines then neither in (_c_) nor (_d_) but in (_f_) i say the water runnes either partly streight by the (_fs_) and partly circular, from (_s_) to (_b_) which motion will not be inconuenient, for the water descending continually from (_f_) to (_s_) will cause it still to runne forward; or else wholy circular in the circle (_fxb_.) and this is most agreeable to truth. for so it shall both runne round as it must doe if wee will escape the otherwise vnauoidable inconueniences of the first opinion and yet in running still descend, and come neerer to the center, as is most befitting the nature of water, so that wee need not seeke for any violent cause that moues it. let vs then see what is the hight of (_f_) the fountaines of _nilus_, aboue (_c_) that is (_b_) the mouth or outlet of it into the sea. the vsuall allowance in watercourses is one foot in descent for . foot in running, but if this bee thought to much because water will runne awaie vpon any inequality of ground, for euery . foote allow one for descent, & so much we may with reason, in regard of the swiftnes of many riuers, yea the most, which in many places runnes headlong, in all places very swiftly (especially _nilus_ whose cateracts or downfalls are notable) which cannot bee without some notable decliuity of the ground. thus then the whole course of _nilus_ being . miles from (_f_) to (_b_) the perpendicular or plumb descent of it (_cf_) will be . miles. and so high shall the fountaine stand aboue the mouth, and the surface of the plaine land (for riuers commonly arise at foot of hills) which is (_bxf_) swell vp aboue the surface of the sea (_bwc_) or (_by_) which hight of the land aboue the sea although it bee greater then is the height of the highest mo[~u]taines aboue the plaine land, yet it is nothing in comparison of the whole earth. and this being granted (as with most probabilitie of reason it may) it will appeare that god in the beginning of the world imposed noe perpetuall violence vpon nature, in gathering togeather, the waters into one place, and being so gathered in keeping them from runing backe to cover the earth. at the first so soone as those hollow channells were prepared, the water did naturally slide downe into them, and out of them without miraculous power they cannot returne. for if the sea (_by_) should overflow the land towards (_f_) the water must ascend in running from (_b_) to (_f_) which is contrary to its nature. certainly the midland countries, whence springs of great rivers vsually arise, doe ly so high, that the sea cannot naturally overflow them. for as for that opinion that the water of the sea in the middle lies on a heape higher then the water that is by the shore; and so that it is a harder matter to saile out of a haven to seaward, then to come in (because they goe vpward): this is an empty speculation contray to experience, and the grounds of nature it selfe, as might easily be shewed. all the difficulty that is in this opinion, is to giue a reason how the waters mount vp to (_f_,) and whence the water comes that should flow out of so high a place of the earth, wherein i thinke as in many other secrets of nature we must content our selues with ignorance, seeing so many vaine conjectures haue taken no better successe. [illustration] cap. . _of the circles of the earth._ in a round body as the earth is, there can be no distinction of parts, & places, without the helpe of some lines drawen or imagined to be drawen vpon it. now though there are not, nor can be any circles truly drawen vpon the earth, yet because there is a good ground in nature and reason of things for them, we must imagine them to be drawen vpon the earth, as truly as we see them described vpon a globe or in a plaine paper. further this must be noted, that all circles on the earth haue the like opposite vnto them conceaved to be the heavenes, vnder which they are directly scituated. thus knowen, the circles that wee are to take the speciall notice of are of two sorts, greater and lesser. _the greater circles are those which devide this earthly globe into equall halfes or hæmispheres._ _the lesser are those which devide it into two vnequall parts, one bigger, another lesse._ { Æquator. of the former sort there { meridian. are foure, the { horizon. { zodiack, or eclipticke. _the Æquitor or Æquonoctiall line, is a line drawen iust in the midst of the earth, from east to west, which compasseth it as a girdle doth a mans body, and devidith it into two equall parts, one on the north side, the other on the south_ the two points in the earth that are every way farthest distant from it north, & south are called the poles of the earth which doe directly stand vnder the two like points in the heaven, so called because the heaven turnes about vpon them, as the earth doth in a globe that's set in a frame. this circle is of the first & principall note and vse in geography, because all measurings for distances of places and quarters of the earth are reckoned in it, or from it. it is called the Æquinoctiall, because when the sunne in the heavens comes to be directly over that circle in the earth, the daies & nights are of equall length in all parts of the world. marriners call it by a kind of excellency, _the line_. vpon the globe it is easily discerned being drawen bigger then any other circles from east to west, and with small divisions. _the meridian, if a line that is drawen quite crosse the Æquinoctiall, and passeth through the poles of the earth, going directly north and south._ it is called the meridian, because when the sunne stands just over that circle it is _meridies i.d._ noone day. it may be conceaued thus, at noone day, when it is just twelue a clocke, turne your face towards the south, and then imagine with your selfe two circles drawen, one in the heavens, passing from the north iust over your head through the body of the sunne downe to the south, and so round vnder the earth vp againe to the north pole. another vpon the surface of the earth passing through your feete just vnder the sunne, and so compassing the earth round till it meete at your feete againe, and these are meridians answering one to another. now the meridian is not one only, as was the Æquinoctiall, but many still varying according to the place wherein you are, as for example. at _london_ there is one meridian, at _oxford_ another, at _bristow_ another, & so along eastward or westward. for it is noone at _london_ sooner then at _oxford_, and at _oxford_ sooner then at _bristow_. vpon the globe there are many drawen, all which passe through the poles, and goe north and south, but there is one more remarkeable then the rest, drawen broad with small divisions, which runneth through the canary ilands, or through the ilands of _azores_ westward of _spaine_, which is counted the first meridian in regard of reckoning and measuring of distances of places one from another; for otherwise there is neither first nor last in the round earth. but some place must bee appointed where to beginne the account and those ilands haue beene thought fittest, because no part of the world that lay westward was knowne to the ancients further then that: and as they began to reckon there, we follow them. this circle is called in greeke [greek: mesêmbrinos]. . the horizon is two fold: { sensible or appearing. { intelligible or true. _the sensible or appearing horizon is the space of the earth so farre as in an open plaine, or vpon some hill a man may see round about him._ the brim or edge of the earth further then which you cannot see, that is the horizon, or as some call it the _finitor_. because _finet_ or terminat _visum_ it setts the limits or bounds to your sight, beyond which nothing can bee seene vpon the earth. this is greater or lesser, according as the height of the eye aboue the plaine superficies of the earth, is more or lesse. the most exact triall hereof is at sea, where there are no mountaines nor any vnequall risings of the water to hinder the sight, as there are at land. for example let (_cbaf_) be the superficies of the sea and let a mans eye bee placed in (_x_) aboue the sea; as the eye stands higher or lower so will the distance seene be more or lesse, as if the hight of (_xa_) be foot which is ordinary the height of a man, the eye looking from (_x_) to (_b_) shall see miles and quarters, if (_x_) be foote high (_ba_) will bee fiue miles, if foote miles, if foote miles.[ ] so that from the mast of a ship foote high, a man may see round about at sea miles every way, toward (_bg_) and (_f_). so farre may the water it selfe be seene, but any high thing on the water may be seene farther, , or miles according as the height is, as the ship at (_c_) may be seene from (_x_) as far more as it is from (_a_) to (_b_). there can be therefore no certaine quantity and space set downe for this sensible horizon, which continually varies according to the height of the eye aboue the plaine ground or sea. this horrizon is not at all painted on the globe nor can be. [footnote : see _wright_ of navigation p. .] [illustration] _the intelligible or true horizon is a line which girts the earth round in the midst, and divides it into two equall parts or hæmispheares the vppermost vpon the top & middle point whereof wee dwell, and that which is vnder vs._ opposite to this in the heavens is another horizon, which likewise cuts the heaven into two hemispheres, the vpper and the lower. aboue which circle when any starre or the sunne is moued, it then riseth vnto vs, and setteth vnto those that dwell opposite vnto vs, and so on the contrary, you may conceiue it best thus, if standing vpon a hill, or some open place, where you may perfectly see the setting of the sunne, you marke when the sun is halfe gone out of your sight, you may perceiue the body of the sunne cut in two, as it were by a line, going along through it, the halfe aboue is yet seene, that vnderneath is gone out of your sight. this line is but a peece of the horrizon, which if you conceiue to be drawen vpward about the world from the west to the north, and so by east and south, to west againe you haue the whole horrizon described. this circle is not drawen vpon the body of the globe, because it is variable; but stands one the outside of it, beeing a broad circle of wood couered with paper on which are sett the moneths and days of the yeare, both in the old and new calender, and also the signes, and the points of the compasse. all which are easily discerned by the beholdinge. the vse of this horizon is not so much in geographie as in astronomie. _the zodiake is a circle which compasseth the earth like a belt, crossing the æquator slopewise, not streight as the meridians doe._ opposite to it in the heauens is another circle of the same name, wherein are the . signes, and in which the sunne keepes his owne proper course all the yeare long, neuer declining from it on the one side or other. the vse hereof in geography is but litle only to shew what people they are ouer whose heads the sunne comes to bee once or twice a yeare; who are all those that dwell with in . degrees of the aequator; for so much is the declination, or sloping of the _zodiacke_. this circle is also called the eclipticke line, because when the sunne and moone stand both in this circle opposite each to other, then there happens an eclipse of the sunne or mone, vpon a globe it is easily discerned, by the sloping of it from the aequator, and the diuisions of it into . parts, and euery of those . into . degrees. _these are the greater circles: the lesser follow; which are all of one nature, and are called by one generall name: sc. parallels, because they are so drawen on each side of the aequator, as they are equidistant vnto it euery way._ many of this kinde are drawne vpon the globe (as is easie to bee seene) and may bee conceaued to bee drawne vpon the earth: but there are only two sorts cheifely to bee marked: namely the { tropickes and the } { polar circles. } _the tropickes are two, parallel circles distant on each side of the aequator . degrees shewing the farthest bounds of the sunns declination north or south from the aequator, or the midest of heauen._ and therefore they are called tropickes a [greek: trepôthai] _vertendo_, because when the sunne comes ouer these lines, hee either turnes away from vs, as in the summer, or turnes toward vs againe as in the winter: there are then two of them _vid._ { the tropicke of cancer which lies on the north side { of the aequator, to which when the sunne comes, it { makes the longest day in summer. { { the tropicke of capricorne, lying southward of the { aequator, to which when the sunne comes, it makes the { shortest day in winter. _the polar circles are two parallels drawne by the poles of the zodiacke compassinge about the poles of the world, being distant from them euery way degrees. these are two._ _the articke circle that compasseth about the north pole: it is so called because that in the heavens (where vnto this in the earth lies opposite) runs through the constellation of the great beare, which in greeke is called [greek: arktos]_ _the antarticke circle that compasseth about the south pole, & is placed opposite vnto the former._ all these with the former are easily known vp[~o] the globe by these descripti[~o]s, & names vsually added vnto th[~e]. but because maps are of an esier price, & more c[~o]mon vse then globes, it will be needfull to shew how all these circles, which are drawne most naturally vpon a round globe, may also as truly, and profitably for knowledge and vse be described vpon a plaine paper. whereby we shall vnderstand the reason of those lines which we see in the vsuall mapps of the world, both how they are drawne, and wherefore they serue. vnderstand therefore, that in laying downe the globe vpon a plaine paper, you must imagine the globe to be cut in two halfes through the midst, and so to be pressed downe flat to the paper; as if you should take a hollow dish, and with your hand squieze the bottom down, till it lie flat vpon a bord, or any other plaine thing for then will those circles that before were of equall distance, runne closer together towards the midst. after this conceit, vniversall maps are made of two fashions, according as the globe may be devided two waies, either cutting quite through by the meridian from north to south, as if you should cut an apple by the eye and the stalke, or cutting it through the Æquinoctiall, east and west, as one would divide an apple through the midst, betweene the eye & the stalke. the former makes two faces, or hemispheares, the east and the west hemispheare. the latter makes likewise two hemispheares, the north and the south. both suppositions are good, and befitting the nature of the globe: for as touching such vniversall maps, wherein the world is represented not in two round faces, but all in one square plot, the ground wherevpon such descriptions are founded, is lesse naturall and agreeable to the globe, for it supposeth the earth to be like a cylinder (or role of bowling allies) which imagination, vnlesse it be well qualified, is vtterly false,[ ] and makes all such mappes faulty in the scituation of places. wherefore omitting this, we will shew the description of the two former only, both which are easie to be done. [footnote : of this hypothesis see _wrights_ errors of navigation.] to describe an Æquinoctiall planispheare, draw a circle (_acbd_) and inscribe in it two diameters (_ab_) & (_cd_) cutting each other at right angles, and the whole circle into foure quadrants: each whereof devide into . parts, or degrees. the line (_ab_) doth fitly represent halfe of the Æquator, as the line (_cd_) in which the points (_c_) & (_d_) are the two poles, halfe of the meridian: for these circles the eye being in a perpendicular line from the point of concurrence (as in this projection it is supposed) must needs appeare streight. to draw the other, which will appeare crooked, doe thus. lie a rule from the pole (_c_) to every tenth or fift degree of the halfe circle (_adb_) noting in the Æquator (_ab_) every intersection of it and the rule. the like doe from the point (_b_) to the semicircle (_cad_) noting also the intersections in the meridian (_cd_) then the diameters (_cb_) and (_ab_) being drawne out at both ends, as farre as may suffice, finding in the line (_dc_) the center of the tenth division from (_a_) to (_c_) and from (_b_) to (_c_), & of the first point of intersection noted in the meridian fr[~o] the Æquator towards (_c_) by a way familiar to geometricians connect the three points, and you haue the paralell of . degrees from the Æquator: the like must bee done in drawing the other paralells on either side, the Æquator; as also in drawing the meridians from centers found in the line (_ab_) in like maner continued. all which is illustrated by the following diagram. [illustration] to describe a polar planisphære, draw a circle (_acbd_) on the center (_e_) & as before, inscribe in it two diameters (_ab_) and (_bc_) cutting each other at right angles, and the circle into foure quadrants. each quadrant being deuided into . parts, draw from euery ^{th} or ^{th} of those parts a diameter to the opposite point: these lines all concurring in the center (_e_) being the pole, are as so many meridians. next, hauing cutt the halfe of any one of the former diameters into parts, as (_ed_) in the points (_fghiklmn_) draw on the center (_e_) so many circles and these represent the paralells of the globe, being also here true paralells. [illustration] cap. . _of divers distinctions, and divisions of the earth._ next after the circles of the earth, wee may not vnfitly handle the seuerall divisions and distinctions which geographers make of the parts, and inhabitants of the earth. these are many, but wee will briefely runne them ouer. the first and most plaine is by the coasts of the heauens, and rising, and setting of the sunne, so it is distinguished into the { east where the sunne ariseth. _oreins_, _ortus_ { [greek: anatolê]. { west where the sunne goeth downe. _occidens_. { north: betweene both fromwards the sunne at noone. { _septentrio_. { south: betweene both towards the sun at noone. { _meridies_. these foure are called the cheife or cardinall quarters of the world. they with the others betweene them are easily knowne but are of more vse to mariners then to vs. wee may rather take notice of those other names which by astronomers geographers divines and poets are giuen vnto them. who sometime call the east the right hand part of the world, sometime the west, sometime the north, & sometime south, the diuersity is noted in these verses, _ad boream terræ, sed coeli mensor ad austrum,_ _præco dei exortum videt, occasumque poeta._ that is geographers looke to the north, astronomers to the south. priests turne them to the east, & poets to the west. this serues for vnderstanding of authors, wherein any mention is made of the right or left part of the world, if for example he be a poet, he means the south by the right hand, the north by the left: because a poet turnes his face to the west, and so reckons the quarters of heauen and earth. the second distinction is by the notable differences of heat and cold, that are observed on the earth, this is the division of the earth by zones or girdles, which are parts of the earth, wherin heat and cold doe remarkably increase or decrease. those zones are . the hot or burning zone (_zona torrida_) which containes all that space of earth, that lieth betwtene the two tropicks, supposed heretofore (but falsly as after experience hath shewed) to be inhabitable by reason of heat, the sunne continually lying ouer some part of it. . the temperate zones wherein neither heat nor cold is extreame but moderate: these are two, one on the north side of the aequator, betweene the articke circle, and the tropicke of cancer, another on the south side betweene the tropicke of capricorne, and the antarcticke circle. . the cold, or frozen zones, wherein cold for the most part is greater then the heat, these likewise are two, one in the north, betweene the articke circle, and the north pole, another on the south betweene the antarctick circle and the south pole. these of all parts of the earth are worst inhabited, according as extremity of cold is alwaies a greater enemy to mans body, then extremity of heat. the third distinction is by the shadowes, which bodies doe cast vpon the earth, iust at nooneday; for these doe not alwaies fall one way but diuersly according to their divers scituation vpon the earth. now in respect of the shadowes of mens bodies, the inhabitants of the earth are divided into the _amphiscy_ ([greek: amphischioi]) whose shadow at noone day fall both waie, so to the north when the sunne is southward of them, & to the south when the sunne is northward, and such are those people that doe dwell in the hot zone. for the sunne goes ouer their heads twice a yeare, once northward, another time southward, when the sunne is just ouer their heads they are called _asoy_, [greek: aschioi], without shadow. _heteroscy_ ([greek: heteroschioi]) whose shadowes doe alwaies fall one way, namely alwaies towards the north, as those that dwell in the northerne temperate zone, or alwaies to the south, as those that dwell in the southerne temperate zone. _periscy_ ([greek: perischioi]) whose shadowes goe round about them, as those people who dwell in the two cold zones, for as the sunne never goes downe to them after he is once vp, but alwaies round about, so doe their shadowes. the fourth distinction is by the scituation of the inhabitants of the earth, compared on with another: who are called either. perioeci ([greek: perioichoi]) such as dwell round about the earth in one and the same paralell, as for example vnder the tropicke of cancer. antoeci ([greek: antoichoi]) such as dwell opposite to the former in another paralell of the same distance from the Æquator. as those vnder the tropicke of capricorne. antipodes ([greek: antipodes]) who dwell iust vnder vs theire feete opposite to ours. the fifth distinction is of the length and breadth of the earth and places vpon it: these may bee considered two wayes absolutely, and so the { longitude or length of the earth is its circuit, and { extension from east to west, { { latitude or breadth of it, is the whole circuit and { compasse of it from north to south. comparatiuely: comparinge one places scituation with another, and so the { longitud of a place, is the distance of it from the { first meridian going through the canary ilands, { eastward. whereby wee know how farre one place lies { east or west from another. { { latitude of a place, is the distance of it from the { Æquator towards the north or south. whereby wee know { how farre one place lies northward, or southward of { another. the longitude must bee reckoned by the degrees of the Æquator, the latitude by the degrees of the meridian. for example, in these two hæmisphæres, the longitude of the whole earth is from (_c_) to (_a_) and (_b_) in the Æquator. the latitud is from (_n_) to (_s_), and from (_q_) to (_p_) the north and south poles, and this reckoned in any meridian. the first meridian is (_anbs_) which goes by the canary ilands, the Æquinoctiall is (_abca_). now i haue a citty giuen so. (_d_) i would know in what longitude and latitude it is. for the longitude i consider what meridian passeth through it, which is the meridian (_nds_) which crosseth the Æquinoctiall in (_i_) at degrees, wherefore i say that (_d_) stands eastward from the first meridian degrees. so i finde that the citty (_e_) is degrees eastward, (_g_) , and (_f_) . for the latitude i consider what paralell runnes through (_deg_) or (_f_) and i finde the to passe by (_d_) by (_e_) the by (_f_) the southward by (_g_) and those numbers are the latitude of the place that are distant from the Æquator, (_cab_). [illustration] concerning the means whereby the longitude of places is found out, there is scarce any thing that hath troubled mathematicians so much as the observation of it. for because no standing marke can be taken (the heavens alwaies running about) it must needs bee difficult. to measure vpon the earth, going alwaies vnder the same paralell, is a way certain in regard of some few places, but so troublesome in it selfe, and vnprofitable in regard of other places that ly out of that paralell, that it may be accounted a fruitlesse labour. the voyages & accounts of marriners at sea, are so full of casualty & vncertainty by reason of the doubtfull variation of the compasse, the vnequall violence of windes and tides, the false making of their sea cards, by which they saile, and the ignorance of the masters for the greatest part, as there can hardly be any assured reckoning made by them. the best means of observation is by eclipses of the sunne & moone, which in severall countries are sooner or later seene, according as one place lies farther east or farther west from another. but this also falls out so seldome, and when it happens, is so seldome obserued, and when it is observed, hath so many difficulties in the precise and exact observation of it; that wee may well account this inquiry after the longitude of places, to be one of those things whereof wee must be content to be ignorant, & rather to gesse at it in grosse, then in vaine to striue for exactnesse, which is the cause why the tables of the longitude and latitude of citties, though they many times agree in the latitude, doe yet for the most part very much differ in the longitude. the sixth distinction is by the length or shortnesse of the day in summer time in seuerall quarters of the earth. and this diuision is by climates ([greek: chlimata]) which are seuerall spaces of the earth contained betweene two paralells, in the which the longest day in summer excedes that in another paralell by halfe an houre. there is a greate deale of confusion and difference betweene the late and ancient geographers about the distinction and diuers reckonings of the climats. it is not worth the labour to recount theire opinions and calculations: thus much is plaine, and easie to bee knowne. there are . climats in which the day encreaseth by halfe houres from . houres to . there are likewise . climats in which the day encreaseth by moneths, from one moneth to sixe that is halfe a yeare. vnder the aequator the day is alwayes twelue houres longe, but as you goe from it towards the pole, the day lengthens still till it comes to a day halfe a yeare long.[ ] now in what degrees of latitude euery on of these climats beginne and end, shall appeare by this table following. [footnote : those that dwell vnder the pole haue not past , or moneths profound as tenebras darke night, for when the sun is in libra & pisces being then nigh, the horizon it sends forth to them a glimmering light not vnlike to the twilight or dawning of the day in a morning a little before the suns rising _munster_ lib. i. cap.] the seaventh and last distinction of the earth is taken from the scituation of it in respect of the heavens, and especially the sunnes motion. in regard whereof some parts or inhabitants of the earth are said to be or dwell in a right spheare, some in a paralell spheare, and others in an oblique or crooked spheare. they dwell (in _sphæra recta_) in a right or streight spheare who dwell iust vnder the Æquinoctiall, whose horizon is paralell to the meridians, but cutts the Æquator at right angles, they dwell in paralell spheares, who dwell iust vnder either of the poles, whose horizon is parallell to the Æquator, but cuts all the meridians at right angles: and the latter is sometime called a paralell spheare. they dwell (in _sphæra obliqua_) in a crooked spheare, who inhabite any place betweene the Æquinoctiall and the pole, whose horizon cuts the Æquator, the paralells, and the meridians at oblique or vnequall angles. a table of the climats. +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ |climes|paralells |the |latitude |the |the places by which| | | |longest |& elevation|breadth |the climates passe.| | | |summer |of pole. |of the | | | | |day. |scr. degr. |climats. | | | | |hou. scr.| |deg. scr.| | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | the beginning | | | | | | | from the aequator.| +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | sinus arabicus or | | | | | | | the red sea. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | meroe an iland of | | | | | | | nilus in aegypt. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | siene a citty in | | | | | | | africa. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | alexandria in | | | | | | | aegypt. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | rhodes and | | | | | | | babylon. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | rome and | | | | | | | hellespont. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | venice and | | | | | | | millaine. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | podalia and the | | | | | | | lesser tartary. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | batavia and | | | | | | | wittenberge. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | rostoch. | | | | | | | | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | ireland and | | | | | | | moscovy. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | bohus a castle | | | | | | | in norwey. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | gothland. | | | | | | | | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | bergia in | | | | | | | norwey. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | wiburge in | | | | | | | finland. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | arotia in | | | | | | | sweden. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | the mouth of | | | | | | | darecally a riv. | | | | | | | of swed[~e]. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | diverse places | | | | | | | in norwey. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | suetia, alba | | | | | | | russia. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | with many ilands. | | | | | | | | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | thereunto | | | | | | | adioyning. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | wanting speciall | | | | | | | names. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | and landmarkes. | | | | | | | | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ | | | | | | island vnder the | | | | | | | articke circle. | +------+----------+---------+-----------+---------+-------------------+ |here the climats | menses | | these climats are supposed | |are accounted by +---------+-----------+ to passe by diverse ilands | |the months from | | | within the articke circle | | degr. min. +---------+-----------+ as groenland, island, | |where the day is | | | greenland: wherein as yet | | houres vnto +---------+-----------+ for the narrownesse of | |the pole it selfe| | | these climats comming | |set at degrees+---------+-----------+ neere together, and the | |where the | | | vncertainty of | |artificiall day +---------+-----------+ observation no | |is sixe months. | | | speciall places haue beene | | +---------+-----------+ assigned as to the other. | | | | | | +-----------------+---------+-----------+-----------------------------+ the vse of this table is easie. in the first culumne are contained the names and number of the climats. in the second the paralells which enclose it on each side, and deuide it in the middest. for the paralells here are drawne by euery halfe houres encrease. the third columne is the length of the day in summer, in euery climate, which from . houres encreaseth by halfe houres to . houres after by moneths, from one moneth to sixe. the fourth containes the degrees of latitude, how farre euery climate lies from the Æquinoctiall. the fift contaynes the space or breadth of euery climate, how many degrees or minutes it takes vp vpon the earth. the sixt containes some notable places by which the climats passe. hereby it is easie to know what the longest day is in any place of the worlde whose latitude is knowne. or contrarily the longest day being knowne to know the latitude. for example oxford hath latitude . . degrees longitude . . in the table i finde that . degrees of latitude lie in the th climate wherein the day is . houres and a halfe longe. so much i say the day is at oxford in summer. the place of oxford in the hæmisphere is at (_v_.) vpon globes the climats are not vsually described, but are noted out vpon the brazen meridian. so also in vniversall mappes they are seldome drawne, to avoide confusion of many lines together, but they are many times marked out on the limbe or edge of the mappe. cap. . _of the measuring of the earth._ wee are now come to the last point concerning the measuring of the earth, which is two fold. either of the { whole earth. { { severall parts thereof, and their distance one from { another. concerning the first it is but a needlesse labour to recount the diversity of opinions that haue beene held from time to time by learned geographers. what is the compasse and depth of the earth. this may be seene in _hues de vsu globi, part. . cap. ._ and in _clavius_ on _sacrobosco_ with others. they all differ so much one from another, that there is no certainty in trusting any of them. the most common and received opinion is that the circuit of the earth is miles, reckoning miles for every degree, and then the depth or diameter of the earth shall be english miles, containing foote in a mile. the means wherby the circuit and diameter of the earth are found out are principally two. by measuring north or south, vnder one meridian some good quantity of ground, threescore or an hundred miles (or two for the more certainty) for in those petty observations of small distances there can be no certaine working. this may be done, though it be laborious, yet exactly without any sensible error by a skilfull workeman, plotting it out vpon his paper, with due heed taken, that hee often rectifie the variation of the needle (by which he travells) vpon due observation, and that all notable ascents and descents, with such winding and turning as the necessity of the way causeth, be reduced to one streight line. by this means wee shall know how many miles in the earth answering to a degree in the heauens; if exact observation by large instruments be made to finde the elevation of the pole, in the first place where wee begin to measure, and the last where wee make an end. besides this way of measuring the circumference of the earth, there is none other that hath any certainty of observati[~o] in it. that by eclipses is most vncertain, for a little error in a few minuts of time (which the observers shall not possibly avoide) breeds a sensible and fowle error in the distance of the two places of observation. that of _eratosthenes_ by the sunne beames, and a shadow of a stile or gnomon set vpon the earth, is as bad as the other. for both the vncertainty of the calculation in so small quantity as the shadow and the gnomon must needs haue, and the difficulty to obserue the true length of the shadow, as also the false supposition wherevpon it proceeds, taking those lines for paralells which are not, doe manifestly shew the reckoning hereby made to be doubt full and not sure. the second is by measuring the semidiameter of the earth: for as the circumference makes knowne the diameter, so doth this the circumference. this may be done by observation made vpon some great hill, hard by the sea side. the invention is of _maurolycus abbot_ of _messava_ in _sicilie_, but it hath beene perfitted, and more exactly performed by a worthy mathematician _ed. w._ who himselfe made proofe of it. by this art was the semidiameter of the earth found out to be foote: which allowing foot to a mile is & a halfe miles, which doubled is the whole diameter miles. the circuit of the earth shall be miles, and one degree containes - / miles which is almost miles. which as it exceeds the ordinary account, so may wee rest vpon it as more exact then any other. the second point concerninge the measuringe of particular distances of places one from another is thus performed. first vpon the globe it is most easie. with a payre of compasses take the distance betweene any two places howsoever scituated vpon the globe, and apply the distance so taken to the Æquator, & see how many degrees it takes vp; those degrees turned into miles shew the distance of the two citties on from another. vpon vniuersall mapps theire is a little more difficulty in finding the distance of places which here must bee considered in a threefold difference of scituation: of latitude only. of longitude only. of latitude and longitude together. if the two places differ only in latitude, and lie vnder the same meridian if the places lie both on one side of the Æquator, the differences of the latitudes: or the summe of both latitudes added together, if one place lie north and another south, being turned into miles giues the true distance. if the places differ only in longitude, and lie both vnder one paralell of latitude the difference of longitude turned into miles proportionably accordinge to the latitude of the paralell, giues the true distance. the distance of places differing both in latitude and longitude may thus bee found out, first let there bee drawne a semicircle vpon a right diameter noted with (_abcd_) whereof (_d_) shall bee the center. the greater this semi-circle is made, so much the more easie will bee the operation; because the degrees will bee larger. then this semicircle being drawne, and accordingly devided, imagine that by the helpe of it, you desire to find out the distance betwixt london and ierusalem, which citties are knowne to differ both in longitude & latitude. now, that the true distance betwixt these two places may be found out, you must first substract the lesser longitude out of the greater, so shall you find the differences of their longitudes, which is . degrees. then reckon that difference vp[~o] the semi-circle, beginning at (_a_) & so proceed to (_b_;) & at the end of that difference, make a marke with the leter (_e_) vnto which point by your ruler, let a right line be drawne from (_d_) the center of the semi circle. this being in this sort performed, let the lesser latitude be sought out which in degrees, in the fore said semicircle, beginning your accompt from the point (_e_) and so proceede towards (_b_), and at the end of the lesser latitude let another point be marked out with the letter (_g_), from which point, let there be drawen a perpendicular line which may fall with right angles vpon the former line drawen from (_d_) to (_e_), and where it chanceth to fall, there marke out a point with the letter (_h_): this being performed let the greater latitude which is degrees minuts, be sought out in the semicircle beginning to reckon from (_a_) towards (_b_) and at the end of that latitude set another point signed out by the letter (_i_) from whence let there be drawen another perpendicular line that may fall with right angles vpon the diameter (_ac_): & here marke out a point with the letter (_k_), this done take with your compasse the distance betwixt (_k_) and (_h_) which distance you must set downe vpon the diameter (_ac_) placeing the one foot of your compasse vpon (_k_) and the other towards the center (_d_) and there marke out a point with the letter (_l_); then with your compasse take the shorter perpendicular line (_gh_,) and apply that widenesse vpon the longer perpendicular line (_ik_,) placing the one foote of your compasse at (_i_,) which is the bounds of the greater latitude, and extend the other towards (_k_), and there make a point at (_m_), then with your compasse take the distance betwixt (_l_) and (_m_), and apply the same to the semicircle. placing the one foot of your compasse in (_a_) and the other towards (_b_), & there marke out a point with the letter (_n_), now the number of degrees comprehended betwixt (_a_) and (_n_) will expresse the true distance of the two places, which will bee found to be degrees: which being multiplied by . and so converted into miles according to the former rules, will produce . which is the distance of the said places. finis. transcriber's note: minor spelling inconsistencies, mainly hyphenated words, have been harmonized. italic text has been marked with _underscores_. obvious typos have been corrected. please see the end of this book for further notes. the story of the hills. [illustration] [illustration: norham castle. after turner.] the story of the hills. a book about mountains for general readers. by rev. h. n. hutchinson, b.a., f.g.s. author of "the autobiography of the earth." with sixteen full-page illustrations. they are as a great and noble architecture, first giving shelter, comfort, and rest; and covered also with mighty sculpture and painted legend.--ruskin. new york: macmillan and co. and london. . _copyright, _, by macmillan and co. university press: john wilson and son, cambridge, u.s.a. to all who love mountains and hills this little book is dedicated, in the hope that even a slight knowledge of their place in nature, and previous history, may add to the wonder and delight with which we look upon these noble features of the surface of the earth. preface. now that travelling is no longer a luxury for the rich, and thousands of people go every summer to spend their holidays among the mountains of europe, and ladies climb mont blanc or ramble among the carpathians, there must be many who would like to know something of the secret of the hills, their origin, their architecture, and the forces that made them what they are. for such this book is chiefly written. those will best understand it who take it with them on their travels, and endeavour by its use to interpret what they see among the mountains; and they will find that a little observation goes a long way to help them to read mountain history. it is hoped, however, that all, both young and old, who take an intelligent interest in the world around, though they may never have seen a mountain, may find these pages worth reading. if readers do not find here answers to all their questions, they may be reminded that it is not possible within the present limits to give more than a brief sketch of the subject, leaving the gaps to be filled in by a study of the larger and more important works on geology. the author, assuming that the reader knows nothing of this fascinating science, has endeavoured to interpret into ordinary language the story of the hills as it is written in the rocks of which they are made. it can scarcely be denied that a little knowledge of natural objects greatly adds to our appreciation of them, besides affording a deep source of pleasure, in revealing the harmony, law, and order by which all things in this wonderful world are governed. mountains, when once we begin to observe them, seem to become more than ever our companions,--to take us into their counsels, and to teach us many a lesson about the great part they play in the order of things. and surely our admiration of their beauty is not lessened, but rather increased, when we learn how much we and all living things owe to the life-giving streams that flow continually from them. the writer has, somewhat reluctantly, omitted certain parts of the subject which, though very interesting to the geologist, can hardly be made attractive to general readers. thus, the cause of earth movements, by which mountains are pushed up far above the plains that lie at their feet, is at present a matter of speculation; and it is difficult to express in ordinary language the ideas that have been put forward on this subject. again, the curious internal changes, which we find to have taken place in the rocks of which mountains are composed, are very interesting to those who know something of the minerals of which rocks are made up, and their chemical composition; but it was found impossible to render these matters sufficiently simple. so again with regard to the geological structure of mountain-chains. this had to be very briefly treated, in order to avoid introducing details which would be too complicated for a book of this kind. the author desires to acknowledge his obligations to the writings of sir a. geikie; professor bonney, professor green, and professor shaler, of harvard university; the volumes of the "alpine journal;" "the earth," by reclus; the "encyclopædia britannica." canon isaac taylor's "words and places," have also been made use of; and if in every case the reference is not given, the writer hopes the omission will be pardoned. a few passages from mr. ruskin's "modern painters" have been quoted, in the hope that others may be led to read that wonderful book, and to learn more about mountains and clouds, and many other things, at the feet of one of the greatest teachers of the century. some of our engravings are taken from the justly celebrated photographs of the high alps,[ ] by the late mr. w. donkin, whose premature death among the caucasus mountains was deeply deplored by all. those reproduced were kindly lent by his brother, mr. a. e. donkin, of rugby. to messrs. valentine & son of dundee, mr. wilson of aberdeen, and to messrs. frith we are indebted for permission to reproduce some of their admirable photographs; also to messrs. james how & sons of farringdon street, for three excellent photographs of rock-sections taken with the microscope. [ ] published by messrs. spooner, of the strand. contents. part i. the mountains as they are. chapter page i. mountains and men ii. the uses of mountains iii. sunshine and storm on the mountains iv. mountain plants and animals part ii. chapter page how the mountains were made. v. how the materials were brought together vi. how the mountains were upheaved vii. how the mountains were carved out viii. volcanic mountains ix. mountain architecture x. the ages of mountains and other questions illustrations. norham castle. after turner _frontispiece_ ben lomond. from a photograph by j. valentine clouds on ben nevis snow on the high alps. from a photograph by mr. donkin a storm on the lake of thun. after turner the matterhorn. from a photograph by mr. donkin on a glacier. red deer. after ansdell chalk rocks, flamborough head. from a photograph by g. w. wilson microphotographs illustrating rock formation the skaeggedalsfors, norway. from a photograph by j. valentine the mer de glace and mont buet. from a photograph by mr. donkin the eruption of vesuvius in . from an instantaneous photograph columnar basalt at clamshell cave, staffa. from a photograph by j. valentine mont blanc, snowfields, glaciers, and streams. mountain in the yosemite valley. illustrations ii. fig. . section across the weald of kent and surrey. fig. . the highlands of scotland on a true scale (after geikie.) fig. . the ranges of the great basin, western states of north america, showing a series of great fractures and tilted masses of rock. fig. . section through snowdon. sections of mountain-ranges, showing their structure and the amount of rock worn away part i. the mountains as they are. the story of the hills. part i. the mountains as they are. chapter i. mountains and men. "happy, i said, whose home is here; fair fortunes to the mountaineer." in old times people looked with awe upon the mountains, and regarded them with feelings akin to horror or dread. a very slight acquaintance with the classical writers of antiquity will suffice to convince any one that greeks and romans did so regard them. they were not so familiar with mountains as we are; for there were no roads through them, as now through the alps, or the highlands of scotland,--to say nothing of the all-pervading railway. it would, however, be a great mistake to suppose that the ancients did not observe and enjoy the beauties of nature. the fair and fertile plain, the vine-clad slopes of the lower hill-ranges, and the "many-twinkling smile of ocean" were seen and loved by all who had a mind to appreciate the beautiful. the poems of homer and virgil would alone be sufficient to prove this. but the higher ranges, untrodden by the foot of man, were gazed at, not with admiration, but with religious awe; for men looked upon mountains as the abode of the gods. they dwelt in the rich plain, which they cultivated, and beside the sweet waters of some river; for food and drink are the first necessities of life. but they left the high hills alone, and in fancy peopled them with the "immortals" who ruled their destiny,--controlling also the winds and the lightning, the rain and the clouds, which seem to have their home among the mountains. a childlike fear of the unknown, coupled with religious awe, made them avoid the lofty and barren hills, from which little was to be got but wild honey and a scanty supply of game. there were also dangers to be encountered from the fury of the storm and the avalanche; but the safer ground of the plains below would reward their toil with an ample supply of corn and other necessaries of life. in classical times, and also in the middle ages, the mountains, as well as glens and rivers, were supposed to be peopled with fairies, nymphs, elves, and all sorts of strange beings; and even now travellers among the mountains of switzerland, norway, wales, or scotland find that it is not long since the simple folk of these regions believed in the existence of such beings, and attributed to their agency many things which they could not otherwise explain. of all the nations of antiquity the jews seem to have shown the greatest appreciation of mountain scenery; and in no ancient writings do we find so many or so eloquent allusions to the hills as in the old testament. but here again one cannot fail to trace the same feelings of religious awe. the law was given to their forefathers in the desert amidst the thunders of sinai. to them the earth was literally jehovah's footstool, and the clouds were his tabernacle. "if he do but touch the hills, they shall smoke." but this awe was not unmixed with other and more comforting thoughts. they felt that those cloud-capped towers were symbols of strength and the abode of him who would help them in their need. for so we find the psalmists regarding them; and with our very different conceptions of the earth's natural features, we can but dimly perceive and realise the full force and meaning of the words, "i will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help." to take another example from antiquity, we find that the himalayas and the source of the ganges have from very early times been considered as holy by the people of india. thousands of pilgrims from all parts of that vast country still continue to seek salvation in the holy waters of the ganges, and at its sacred sources in the snowy himalayas. and to those who know india the wondrous snowclad peaks of the himalayas still seem to be surrounded with somewhat of the same halo of glory as of old. mountains are intimately associated with the history of nations, and have contributed much to the moulding of the human mind and the character of those who dwell among them; they have alike inspired the mind of the artist, the poet, the reformer, and the visionary seeking repose for his soul, that, dwelling far from the strife and turmoil of the world, he may contemplate alone the glory of the eternal being. they have been the refuge of the afflicted and the persecuted; they have braced the minds and bodies of heroes who have dwelt for a time among them before descending once more to the plain that they might play some noble part in the progress of the world. moses, while leading the flock of his father-in-law to the back of the wilderness, came to mount horeb and received the divine summons to return to egypt and lead israel out of bondage. david, with his six hundred followers, fleeing from the face of saul, found a refuge in the hill country; and the life of peril and adventure which he led during these years of persecution was a part of his training for the great future task of ruling israel, which he performed so well. elijah summoned the false prophets of baal and asherah to mount carmel and slew them at the brook kishon; and a little later we find him at mount horeb listening, not to the wind or to the earthquake or to the fire, but to the "still small voice" telling him to return and anoint jehu to be king. or, to take another example from a later age, we find that mahomet's favourite resort was a cave at the foot of mount hira, north of mecca; here in dark and wild surroundings his mind was wrought up to rhapsodic enthusiasm. and many, like these leaders of men, have received in mountain retreats a firmness and tenacity of purpose giving them the right to be leaders, and the power to redress human wrongs; or, it may be, a temper of mind and spirit enabling them to soar into regions of thought and contemplation untrodden by the careless and more luxurious multitudes who dwell on the plains below. perhaps mr. lewis morris was unconsciously offering his testimony to the influence of mountains when he wrote those words which he puts into the mouth of poor marsyas,-- "more it is than ease, palace and pomp, honours and luxuries, to have seen white presences upon the hills, to have heard the voices of the eternal gods."[ ] [ ] epic of hades. the thunder and lightning, storm and cloud, as well as the soft beauty of colour, and the harmony of mountain outline, have been a part, and a very important part, of their training. the exhilarating air, the struggle with the elements in their fierceness, the rugged strength of granite, seem to have possessed the very souls of such men, and made them like "the strong ones,"--the immortal beings to whom in all previous ages the races of mankind have assigned their abode in the hills, as the greek gods were supposed to dwell on mount olympus. on these heights such men seem to have gained something of the strength of him who dwells in the heavens far above their highest peaks,--"the strength of the hills," which, as the hebrew poet says, "is his also." we have spoken of the attitude of the human mind towards mountains in the past; let us now consider the light in which they are regarded at the present time by all thoughtful and cultivated people. and it does not require a moment's consideration to perceive that a very great change has taken place. instead of regarding them with horror or aversion, we look upon them with wonder and delight; we watch them hour by hour whenever for a brief season of holiday we take up our abode near or among them. we come back to them year by year to breathe once more the pure air which so frequently restores the invalid to health and brings back the colour to faded cheeks. we love to watch the ever-varying lights and shades upon them, as the day goes by. but it is towards evening that the most enchanting scenes are to be witnessed, when the sinking sun sheds its golden rays upon their slopes, or tinges their summits with floods of crimson light; and then presently, after the sun has gone down, pale mists begin to rise, and the hills seem more majestic than ever. later on, as the full moon appears from behind a bank of cloud, those wonderful moonlight effects may be seen which must be familiar to all who know the mountains as they are in summer or autumn,--scenes such as the writer has frequently witnessed in the highlands of scotland, but which only the poet can adequately describe. there are few sights in nature which more powerfully impress the mind than a sunset among the mountains. general sir richard strachey concludes his description of the himalayas with the following striking passage: "here may the eye, as it sweeps along the horizon, embrace a line of snowclad mountains such as exist in no other part of the world, stretching over one third of the entire circle, at a distance of forty or fifty miles, their peaks towering over a sea of intervening ranges piled one behind another, whose extent on either hand is lost in the remote distance, and of which the nearest rises from a gulf far down beneath the spectator's feet, where may be seen the silver line that marks a river's course, or crimson fields of amaranth and the dwellings of man. sole representative of animal life, some great eagle floats high overhead in the pure dark-blue sky, or, unused to man, fearlessly sweeps down within a few yards to gaze at the stranger who intrudes among these solitudes of nature. as the sun sinks, the cold grey shadow of the summit where we stand is thrown forward, slowly stealing over the distant hills, and veiling their glowing purples as it goes, carries the night up to the feet of the great snowy peaks, which still rise radiant in the rosy light above the now darkening world. from east to west in succession the splendour fades away from one point after another, and the vast shadow of the earth is rapidly drawn across the whole vault of heaven. one more departing day is added to the countless series which has silently witnessed the deathlike change that passes over the eternal snows, as they are left raising their cold pale fronts against the now leaden sky; till slowly with the deepening night the world of mountains rises again, as it were, to a new life, under the changed light of the thousand stars which stud the firmament and shine with a brilliancy unknown except in the clear rarefied air of these sublime heights." year by year a larger number of busy workers from our great towns, availing themselves of the increased facilities for travel, come to the mountains to spend their summer holidays,--some to the swiss alps, others to wales, cumberland, norway, or the highlands of scotland. there are few untrodden valleys in these regions, few of the more important mountains which have not been climbed. our knowledge of mountains, thanks to the labours of a zealous army of workers, is now considerable. the professors of physical science have been busy making important observations on the condition of the atmosphere in the higher regions; geographers have noted their heights and mapped their leading contours. geologists have done a vast amount of work in ascertaining the composition and arrangement of the rocks of which mountain chains are composed, in observing their peculiar structures, in recording the changes which are continually effecting their waste and decay, and thus interpreting the story of the hills as it is written in the very rocks of which they are built up. naturalists have collected and noted the peculiar plants and animals which have their home among the hills, and so the forms of life, both animal and vegetable, which inhabit the mountains of europe, and some other countries, are now fairly well known. the historian, the antiquary, and the student of languages have made interesting discoveries with regard to the mountain races of mankind. and only to mention this country, such writers as scott, wordsworth, and ruskin have given us in verse and prose descriptions of mountain scenery which will take a permanent place in literature; while turner, our great landscape-painter, has expressed the glories of mountain scenery in pictures which speak more eloquently than many words. thus we see that whatever line of inquiry be chosen, our subject is full of varied interest. with regard to the characteristics of mountain races, it is not easy to say to what extent people in different parts of the world who live among mountains share the same virtues or the same failings; but the most obvious traits in the character of the mountaineer seem to be the result of his natural surroundings. thus we find mountaineers generally endowed with hardihood, strength, and bravery. to spend one's days on the hillsides for a large part of the year, as shepherds and others do in scotland or wales, and to walk some miles every day in pure bracing air, must be healthy and tend to develop the muscles of the body; and so we find the highlanders of all countries are usually muscular, strong, and capable of endurance. and there can be little doubt that mountain races are kept up to a high standard of strength and endurance by a rigorous and constant weeding out of the weakly ones, especially among children. and if only the stronger live to grow up and become parents, the chances are that their children will be strong too. thus nature exercises a kind of "selection;" and we have consequently "the survival of the fittest." this "selection," together with the healthy lives they lead, is probably sufficient to account for their strength and hardiness. as might be expected, mountaineers are celebrated for their fighting qualities. the fierce afghans who have often faced a british army, and sometimes victoriously; the brave swiss peasantry, who have more than once fought nobly for freedom; the highlanders, who have contributed so largely to the success of british arms in nearly all parts of the world, and whose forefathers defied even the all-conquering roman in their mountain strongholds,--these and many others all show the same valour and power of endurance. etymologists, whose learned researches into the meaning of words have thrown so much light on the ages before history was written, tell us that the picts were so called from their fighting qualities, and that the word "pict" is derived from the gaelic "peicta," a fighting man. and julius cæsar says the chief god of the britons was the god of war. in some countries--as, for instance, greece, italy, and spain--the mountains are infested with banditti and robbers, who often become a terror to the neighbourhood. in more peaceful and orderly countries, however, we find among mountaineers many noble qualities,--such as patience, honesty, simplicity of life, thrift, a dignified self-reliance, together with true courtesy and hospitality. this is high praise; but who that knows mountain peasants would say it is undeserved? how many a tired traveller among the hills of scotland or wales has had reason to be grateful for welcome, food, and rest in some little cottage in a far-away glen! how many friendships have thus been formed! how many a pleasant talk has beguiled the time during a storm or shower! the old feuds are forgotten now that the saxon stranger and invader is at peace with the celtic people whom his forefathers drove into the hills. the castles, once centres of oppression or scenes of violence, lie in peaceful and picturesque ruins, and add not a little to the interest of one's travels in the north. what true courtesy and consideration one meets with at the hands of these honest folk, among whom the old kindly usages have not died out! often too poor to be afflicted with the greed and thirst for wealth, which frequently marks the man of the plain as compared with the man of the hills,--the lowlander as compared with the highlander,--they exhibit many of those simple virtues which one hardly expects to meet with among busy townspeople, all bent on making money, or as the phrase is, "getting on in life." [illustration: ben lomond. from a photograph by j. valentine.] "the mountain cheer, the frosty skies, breed purer wits, inventive eyes; and then the moral of the place hints summits of heroic grace. men in these crags a fastness find to fight corruption of the mind; the insanity of towns to stem with simpleness for stratagem." mr. skene, the scotch historian, records a touching case of the devotion of highlanders to their chief. he says,-- "there is perhaps no instance in which the attachment of the clan to their chief was so strongly manifested as in the case of the macphersons of cluny after the disaster of 'the forty-five.' the chief having been deeply engaged in that insurrection, his life became of course forfeited to the laws; but neither the hope of reward nor the fear of danger could induce any one of his people to betray him. for nine years he lived concealed in a cave a short distance from his own house; it was situated in the front of a woody precipice of which the trees and shelving rocks concealed the entrance. the cave had been dug by his own people, who worked at night and conveyed the stones and rubbish into a neighbouring lake, in order that no vestige of their labour might appear and lead to the discovery of the retreat. in this asylum he continued to live secure, receiving by night the occasional visits of his friends, and sometimes by day, when the soldiers had begun to slacken the vigour of their pursuit. upwards of one thousand persons were privy to his concealment, and a reward of £ , was offered to any one who should give information against him.... but although the soldiers were animated by the hope of reward, and their officers by promise of promotion for the apprehension of this proscribed individual, yet so true were his people, so inflexibly strict in their promise of secrecy, and so dextrous in conveying to him the necessaries he required in his long confinement, not a trace of him could be discovered, nor an individual base enough to give a hint to his detriment." the mountaineer is a true gentleman. however poor, however ignorant or superstitious, one perceives in him a refinement of manner which cannot fail to command admiration. his readiness to share his best with the stranger and to render any service in his power are pleasing traits in his character. but there is one sad feature about mountaineers of the present day which one frequently notices in districts where many tourists come,--especially english or american. they are, we regret to say, losing their independence, their simple, old-fashioned ways, and becoming servile and greedy,--at least in the towns and villages. such changes seem, alas! inevitable when rich townspeople, bent on pleasure or sport, invade the recesses of the hills where poverty usually reigns. on the one hand, we have people, often with long purses, eager for enjoyment, waiting to be fed, housed, or otherwise entertained; on the other hand, poor people, anxious to "make hay while the sun shines" and to extract as much money as possible from "the visitors," who often allow themselves to be unmercifully fleeced. then there are in the highlands the sportsmen, who require a large following of "gillies" to attend them in their wanderings, pay them highly for their services, and dismiss them at the end of the season; and so the men are in many cases left without employment all the winter and spring. is it, then, surprising that they give way to a natural tendency to idleness, and fall into other bad habits? any visitor who spends a winter, or part of one, in the highlands will be better able to realise the extent of this evil, which is by no means small; and one cannot help regretting that the sportsmen's pleasure and the tourist's holiday should involve results of such grave consequence. we are inclined to think that in these days sport is overdone, and wish it could be followed without taking the hillman away from the work he would otherwise find, and which would render him a more useful member of society. with the agitation going on in some parts against deer-forests we do not feel much sympathy, because they are based on the erroneous idea that "crofters" could make a living out of the land thus enclosed; whereas those who know the land and its value for agricultural purposes tell us that with the exception of a few small patches here and there, hardly worth mentioning, it could not possibly be made to produce enough to maintain crofters and their families. nevertheless, another way of looking at the matter is this: that the man who merely ministers to the pleasure of others richer than himself loses some of the self-respect and independence which he would acquire by working in his own way for a living. the same changes for the worse are still more manifest in switzerland; and even in some parts of norway the people are being similarly spoiled. mr. ruskin, speaking of the former country, says: "i believe that every franc now spent by travellers among the alps tends more or less to the undermining of whatever special greatness there is in the swiss character; and the persons i met in switzerland whose position and modes of life render them best able to give me true information respecting the present state of their country, among many causes of national deterioration, spoke with chief fear of the influx of english wealth, gradually connecting all industry with the wants of strangers, and inviting all idleness to depend upon their casual help, thus resolving the ancient consistency and pastoral simplicity of the mountain life into the two irregular trades of the innkeeper and mendicant."[ ] [ ] modern painters, vol. iv. mountain people have still their superstitions; since the introduction of railways many of the old legends and popular myths have died out, but even what is left is interesting to the student of folk-lore,--indeed, we might say, to every one. sir a. geikie, speaking of scotch mountain scenery says,-- "to the influence of scenery of this kind on the mind of a people at once observant and imaginative, such legends as that of the titans should in all likelihood be ascribed. it would be interesting to trace back these legends to their cradle, and to mark how much they owe to the character of the scenery amongst which they took their rise. perhaps it would be found that the rugged outlines of the boeotian hills had no small share in the framing of hesiod's graphic story of that primeval warfare wherein the combatants fought with huge rocks, which, darkening the air as they flew, at last buried the discomfited titans deep beneath the surface of the land. nor would it be difficult to trace a close connection between the present scenery of our own country and some of the time-honoured traditionary stories of giants and hero kings, warlocks and witches, or between the doings of the scandinavian hrimthursar, or frost giants, and the more characteristic features of the landscapes and climate of the north."[ ] [ ] scenery of scotland. the following passage from ruskin brings out more strongly the effects of mountains on men,--a subject to which he has given much attention:-- "we shall find, on the one hand, the mountains of greece and italy, forming all the loveliest dreams, first of pagan, then of christian mythology, on the other, those of scandinavia, to be the first sources of whatever mental (as well as military) power was brought by the normans into southern europe. normandy itself is, to all intents and purposes, a hill country.... we have thus one branch of the northern religious imagination rising among the scandinavian fiords, tempered in france by various encounters with elements of arabian, italian, provençal, or other southern poetry, and then reacting upon southern england; while other forms of the same rude religious imagination, resting like clouds upon the mountains of scotland and wales, met and mingled with the norman christianity, retaining even to the latest times some dark colour of superstition, but giving all its poetical and military pathos to scottish poetry, and a peculiar sternness and wildness of tone to the reformed faith, in its manifestations among the scottish hills."[ ] [ ] modern painters, vol. iv. the alps, like most other mountainous countries, have their fair share of legends, some of which are very grotesque. we have selected the following, as related by professor bonney.[ ] the wild huntsman's yell is still heard in many places by the shuddering peasants as his phantom train sweeps by the châlet. there is also the wild goat-herd, a wicked lad, who crucified an old he-goat and drove his flock to worship it; lightning consumed him; and now he wanders forever over the alps, miserably wailing. [ ] "the alpine regions of switzerland" (deighton, bell, & co.), a most interesting book, especially for travellers. when the glacier of gétroz burst, the archfiend himself was seen swimming down the rhone, with a drawn sword in one hand and a golden ball in the other; when opposite to martigny he halted, and at his bidding the waters rose and swept away part of the town. a vast multitude of imps was seen about the same time on a mountain in the val de bagnes by two mendicant friars from sion, who, hearing of this unlawful assembly, had gone out as detectives to learn what mischief was hatching. many places also have their spectral animals, the valois, according to tschudi, being the headquarters of these legends. there are also pygmies to be seen in the lonely mountains, like the norwegian trolls, and brownies who make or mar the house, according as the goodwife is neat or a slattern. many alpine stories have reference to the sudden destruction of pastures by the fall of rocks or ice. here is one from the clariden alps:-- once upon a time these were fertile pastures, on which dwelt a "senn." he grew rich, so that none could match him in wealth; but at the same time he grew proud and haughty, and spurned both the laws of nature and the commandments of god. he was so foolishly fond of his mistress that he paved the way from the châlet to the byre with cheeses, lest she should soil her feet, and cared so little for his mother that when she lay at his door fainting with hunger, he offered her only milk to drink in which he had thrown the foulest refuse. righteously indignant, she turned away, calling upon heaven to punish such an insult. before she reached her home, the rocks and ice had descended, crushing beneath them her wicked son, his mistress, and possessions. in the neighbourhood of monte rosa there is a tradition that a valley exists in the heart of that mountain the entrance to which has been sealed up by impassable glaciers, though the floor of the "cirque" within is still a rich pasturage. in a certain valley they point out a spring which bursts from the ground, as the outlet of the torrent by which it is watered. once, said they, a _chasseur_ found the bed of this stream dry, and creeping up its subterranean channel, arrived on the floor of the valley. it was a huntsman's paradise; chamois were there in plenty, bears also, and even bouquetins, wandering over the richest pastures. he retraced his steps to announce the good news; but when he returned again, the waters had resumed their course, and the place has ever since remained inaccessible. mountains play a very important part in human history. in the first place, they are natural barriers separating the nations of the world from one another, and tending to keep them confined within certain definite bounds; we say, tending to keep them thus confined, because, as every one knows, these barriers have again and again been surmounted by conquering armies. the rugged alps could not ward off hannibal, who made his way through them to march upon the capital of the roman empire. in like manner napoleon defied this great natural rampart, made a road through it, and came to italy. no mountains would seem to be quite impassable; but although liable in the course of ages to be occasionally overrun, they afford good protection and produce a feeling of security. the himalayas separate our great indian empire from that of china; and we do not at present apprehend an invasion from that quarter. the suliman mountains divide us from the afghans, and the great russian and persian empires farther west. still, we know that in the eleventh century a great mahometan invasion of india took place; our own armies have more than once penetrated to kabul. perhaps the common garden wall separating adjacent suburban residences furnishes a suitable illustration of the great natural walls which divide, not households or families, but much larger families than these,--the nations of the world. just as unruly boys sometimes climb over the neighbour's wall and play games in a garden which is not their own; or as burglars may surmount these obstacles to their progress, and finding a way into the house by a back door or kitchen window, commence their ravages,--so a neighbouring (but not neighbourly) nation, bent on conquest, may invade some natural garden of the world, such as india, by forcing their way through physical barriers which for ordinary purposes serve to protect those within. the thian shan mountains divide russia from china's sphere of influence. the caucasus mountains separate russia from asia minor. austro-hungary is bounded by the carpathians, spain by the pyrenees. the alps of switzerland separate four nations not very friendly to each other; and lastly, in our own country the cheviot hills, together with the tweed, form the boundary between scotland and england. where there are no mountains or hills, rivers sometimes serve as boundaries, but of course they do not answer the purpose so well. sometimes a nation actually builds a wall for a boundary. of this the great wall of china and the roman wall between the cheviots and the solway firth are familiar examples. in the second place, mountains have always been a refuge and shelter for conquered races; and the primitive tribes who once lived in the plains have been forced by adverse circumstances to take to the hills. this has taken place over and over again. we know that the celtic people now living in brittany, devonshire, cornwall, wales, scotland, and ireland, though now considerably mixed, are the descendants of the old celtic inhabitants of france and britain. but there is a great deal of unwritten history for which we may look in vain to the ordinary sources of information, such as books, and which is only to be read in quite different records,--in antiquities buried up in peat-beds, in bogs, in ruins and ancient forts, or camps; and last but not least, in the names of places, rivers, or mountains. the hills, the valleys, the rivers, are the only writing-tablets on which unlettered nations have been able to inscribe their annals. for this kind of history we must go to the antiquary, and, above all, to the philologist, who tells us the meaning of the names of places, and who the people were who gave the names that we see on our maps. the great advances which have of late years been made in our knowledge of the primeval races of men, or at least of nations but little known in the annals of history, are largely due to the interpretation of the obscure records preserved in local names. the celtic, the iberian, the teutonic, the scandinavian, and sclavonic races have thus for the most part made known to us their migrations, conquests, and defeats. and so by studying the names of places, rivers, and hills, as well as by careful collection of works of art, implements, coins, such as may be seen in many a museum, it has been possible to read a great deal of early history which would otherwise have been lost. those who have studied these matters say they can trace wave after wave of population which has thus left its mark,--gaelic, cymric (or welsh), saxon, anglian, norwegian, danish, norman, and flemish. thus it can be proved from the names on the map that almost the whole of england was once celtic, whereas now the celts are almost entirely confined to the hills. the peak of derbyshire and the mountains of cumberland retain a greater number of celtic names than the districts surrounding them; and the hills of devonshire long served as a barrier to protect the celts of cornwall from anglo-saxon conquerors. but even mountain races are often a good deal mixed, and in the pyrenees we find the descendants of the iberians, who, a very long time ago, were driven from the lowlands of france and spain. these iberians are a very interesting race, of short stature, with long heads, and dark hair and eyes. this old type is to be met with in wales and the highlands even in the present day. and so we learn--if these conclusions are sound--that even the celts in their early days were invaders, and drove before them an older population. this race, it seems, lived in europe a very long time ago, before the discovery of metals, when people made axes, hammers, and spear-heads out of flints or other stones; and so they are said to belong to "the stone age." their remains are found in many of the caves which of late years have been explored. possibly the ancient people of switzerland who lived in wooden houses, erected on piles near the shores of lakes (probably for safety), were also of the same stock. it is curious to find how people living in separate valleys among the mountains of switzerland have, in the course of time, become so much unlike their neighbours that they can hardly understand each other's speech, so effectually have the mountains kept them apart. in some districts almost every valley has its separate dialect. switzerland is only twice the size of wales, yet the local names are derived from half a dozen different languages, three or four of which are still spoken by the people. in the alps, too, the same mixture of celtic with an older iberian stock has been detected. a curious reversal of the usual order of things is noticed by the late dean stanley in his "sinai and palestine." he points out that the jews took possession of many of the hills of palestine soon after the invasion under joshua, but could not drive out the peoples of the plains, because they were better armed, and had chariots of iron in great number. the conquerors in this case kept to the hills; while the canaanites, philistines, and other inhabitants of the country retained for a long time their hold of the lower ground. chapter ii. the uses of mountains. the valleys only feed; the mountains feed and guard and strengthen us.--ruskin. it is not an exaggeration to say that there are no physical features of the surface of the earth which render such a variety of services as mountains. the operations which they perform involve such far-reaching consequences that it is difficult to say where their effects cease. indeed, it might almost be maintained that they are the mainspring of the world,--as far as its surface is concerned,--for it would fare ill with mankind if they were removed or in some way destroyed. things would then very soon come to a standstill. the soil would become exhausted; streams would cease to flow; and the world would become a kind of stagnant pool. the three main services of the hills are these:-- i. mountains help to condense water-vapour from the atmosphere, thus bringing back to the earth moisture which it loses continually by evaporation. ii. mountains are elevated reservoirs of water in one form or another, and thus not only feed the streams and rivers, but give them force and direction as well. iii. mountains suffer themselves to be slowly worn away in order that the face of the earth may be renewed; in other words, they die that we, and all created things, may live. i. _mountains help to condense water-vapour from the atmosphere, thus bringing back to the earth the moisture which it loses continually by evaporation._ every one knows that there is abundance of water-vapour in the atmosphere, but the question arises, how does it get there? the answer to this lies in the simple fact that every surface of water exposed to the air undergoes loss by evaporation. if you wish to satisfy yourself on this point, place a saucer of water in your room, and in a few days it will all be gone. we hang clothes out to dry, and so avail ourselves of this curious power that air has of taking up water in the form of vapour. steam, or water-vapour, is really invisible, though we frequently talk of seeing the steam issuing from a locomotive; but what we really see is a cloud of condensed steam, and such clouds,[ ] like those that we see floating in the air, are really masses of little tiny particles of water which can reflect or throw back the light which falls upon them, and thus they become visible. again, a kettle of water, if left too long on the fire will entirely boil away. it is all turned into steam, and the steam is somehow hidden away in the air, though a little of it will be condensed into slight clouds by the colder air outside the kettle. [ ] it has lately been proved that clouds can only form in air which contains dust, and that each little suspended particle of water contains a speck of dust or a tiny germ of some sort for its nucleus. but how can water stow itself away in the air without being seen or felt? an illustration may help to explain this. suppose you scatter a spoonful of small shot over a carpet or a dark-coloured table-cloth; you would probably not be able to see them at a little distance. now, gather them together in a heap, and you see them at once. the heap of shot in some ways resembles a drop of water, for in a drop of water the tiny particles (or molecules) of which it is composed are close together; but by heating water you cause them to fly asunder and scatter themselves in various directions. they are lost to sight, and moreover have no power of attracting each other or of acting in concert; each one then takes its own course, whereas in the drop of water they were in some wonderful way bound together by mutual attraction. they dance in groups; but the rude force of heat will scatter these little dancing groups, and break them up into that state which we call a state of vapour. the forces of heat and cohesion are directly at variance; and it is just a question of degree whether the one or the other gets the mastery in this "tug of war." the more you heat the water, the faster the little groups of molecules break up and disappear in the air. they must in some way go moving between the particles of air, and collisions keep taking place with inconceivable rapidity. and now another question arises; namely, how much water-vapour can the air take? that depends chiefly on its temperature. air when heated will take up a great deal of steam; and the more you heat air, the more it can take up. when air at a given temperature can take up no more, it is said to be saturated for that temperature; but if the temperature be raised, it will immediately begin to take up more. for each degree of temperature there is a certain amount of water-vapour which can be absorbed, and no more. but suppose we take some air which is already saturated and lower its temperature by giving it a sudden chill, what will happen? it will immediately give up part of its steam, or water-vapour; namely, the exact amount which it is unable to contain at the lower temperature.[ ] [ ] pressure also has an important influence, but was omitted above for the sake of simplicity. there are various ways in which you can test this matter for yourself. for instance, take a hand-glass, and breathe on it. you know what will happen: a film of moisture forms upon it; and you know the reason why. it is simply that the cold glass gives a chill to one's breath (which being warm is highly charged with water-vapour from the lungs), and so some of the vapour is at once condensed. now, this serves very well to explain how mountains catch water-vapour, and condense it. they are, as it were, a cold looking-glass; and the hot breath of the plains, as it strikes their sides, receiving a sudden chill, throws down part of the vapour it contains. on the higher parts of mountain-ranges the cold is so great that the water assumes the form of snow. mountains, as every one knows, are colder than the plains below. no one cares to stay very long on a mountain-top, for fear of catching cold. it may be worth while to consider why they are cold. perhaps you answer, "because they are so high." that is true, but not a complete answer to our question. we must look at the matter a little more closely. the earth is a warm body surrounded by space in which the cold is inconceivably intense; but just as we protect our bodies against cold with garments, so the earth is wrapped up in an atmosphere which serves more or less to keep in the heat. all warm bodies give out heat as luminous bodies give out light; but the rays of heat, unlike those of light, are quite invisible to our eyes, so that we are unaware of them. these "dark heat-rays," as they are called, do not make any impression on the retina, because our eyes are not capable of responding to them as they do to the ordinary rays of light. but there is a delicate little instrument known as the thermopile, which responds to, and so detects these invisible rays; and if our eyes were sensitive to such vibrations as these, we should see heat-rays (which like light and sound are due to vibrations) streaming from every object, just as light does from a candle-flame. those parts of the earth which are least covered or protected by the atmosphere lose heat most rapidly,--in the same way that on a frosty day one's fingers become cold unless covered up. now, there is less air over mountains; and in those higher regions above the peaks what air there is, is more rarefied, and therefore less capable of stopping the heat-rays coming from the earth. professor tyndall has shown that water-vapour in the air has a great power of stopping dark heat-rays; and the lower regions, which contain more vapour, stop or absorb a good deal of heat which would otherwise escape into space. look at a map of any continent, and you will see the rivers streaming away from the mountains. all those vast quantities of water come from the atmosphere; and mountains do a large share of the work of condensing it from the state of vapour to that of water. take the map of india, and look at the great range of the himalayas. at their feet is the hot valley of the ganges, which meets that of the brahmapootra river. an immense amount of evaporation takes place from these mighty rivers, so that the air above them becomes laden with water-vapour. farther south is the tropical indian ocean, from which the direct rays of the sun draw up still vaster quantities of water. and so when south winds blow over india, they are full of water-vapour; and presently they strike the flanks of the himalayas, and at once they are chilled, and consequently part with a large amount of the vapour which they contained. this is best illustrated by the case of the southwest monsoon wind of the summer season, which sets in during the month of april, and continues to blow steadily towards the northeast till october. after leaving the bay of bengal, this warm wind, laden with vapour, meets ere long with the range known as the khasi hills, and consequently throws down a large part of its vapour in the form of rain. the rainfall here in the summer season reaches the prodigious total of five hundred inches, or about twenty times as much as falls in london during a whole year. after passing over these hills, the monsoon wind presently reaches the himalayas; and another downpour then takes place, until by the time it reaches the wide plains of thibet, so much water has been given up that it becomes a very dry wind instead of a moist one. it must not be supposed, however, that the condensation effected by mountains is entirely due to this coldness. they have another simple and effective way of compelling the winds to give up rain: their sloping sides force the winds which strike them to ascend into higher regions,--wedging them up as waves run up a sloping stony bank on the seashore,--and when the winds reach higher regions of the atmosphere they must (as explained above) suffer loss of heat, or in other words, have their temperature lowered. they also expand considerably as they rise into regions where the atmospheric pressure is less; and as every gas or vapour loses heat in the act of expansion, they undergo a further cooling from this cause also. we have now learned that the cooling process is brought about in three different ways: ( ) by contact with the cold body of the mountains; ( ) by giving out heat into space; ( ) by expansion of the air as it reaches into the higher regions of the atmosphere. the "cloud-caps" on certain mountains and promontories are to be explained by all these causes combined. the west coast of great britain illustrates the same thing on a smaller scale. there the warm waters of the gulf stream, travelling in a northeasterly direction straight away from the gulf of mexico, strike the west coast of ireland, england, and scotland; and as most people are aware, the mild climate of great britain is chiefly due to this fact. if you contrast for a moment the east and west coasts of britain, you will see that the latter is much more rocky and mountainous than the east coast. mountains run down nearly all our western coasts. now, it is this elevated and rocky side of britain which catches most of the rain. very instructive it is to compare the annual rainfall in different parts of britain. on dartmoor about inches of rain fall every year, while in london only about inches fall annually; but then london has no range of mountains near, and is far away from the west coast. again, while people in ambleside have to put up with inches of rain, in norfolk they are content with the modest allowance of inches or so. at a place called quoich on the west coast of scotland, about inches fall every year. these differences are chiefly due to the different contour of the land down the west side of britain, which is mountainous, while the east side is flat, and also to the fact that while easterly winds, which have come over the continent, are dry, our prevailing winds are from the west and southwest, and are consequently heavily laden with vapour from the atlantic ocean. these winds follow the direction of the gulf stream, driving it along before them; and in so doing they take up large quantities of vapour from its surface. when these warm winds touch our western coasts, they receive a chill, and consequently are no longer able to contain all the vapour which they bring with them, and so down comes the rain. ii. _mountains are elevated reservoirs of water in one form or another, and thus not only feed the streams and rivers, but give them force and direction as well._ it is very important that the mountains should not allow the waters they collect to run away too fast. try to think for a moment what would happen if instead of being, as it were, locked up in the form of snowfields and glaciers, the water were all in the liquid form. it would soon run away, and for months together the great river-valleys would be dry and desolate. when the rain came, there would be tremendous floods; dire destruction would be wrought in the valleys; and very soon the great rivers would dwindle down to nothing. vegetation too would suffer seriously for want of water during the summer months; and the valleys generally would cease to be the fertile sources of life which they are at present. the earth would become for the most part like a stagnant marsh. but in the higher mountain regions there is a beneficent process going on which averts such an evil. the precious supplies of water are stored up in the solid forms of snow and ice. now, we all know that snow and ice take a long time to melt; and thus nature regulates and like a prudent housewife economises her precious stores. the rivers which she feeds continually, from silent snowfields and glaciers among her mountain-peaks, are the very arteries and veins of the earth; and as the blood in our bodies is forced to circulate by pressure from the heart, so the rivers are compelled to flow by pressure from the great heart of the hills,--slow, steady, continuous pressure, not the quick pulses which the human heart sends through the body. and again, as the blood, after circulating through the body in an infinite number of life-giving streams, returns to the heart once more on its journey, so the thousand streams which wander over the plains find their way back to the heart of the mountains, for the water is brought there in the form of vapour and clouds by the winds. when we build water-towers, and make reservoirs on high ground to give pressure to the water in our pipes, and make it circulate everywhere,--even to the tops of our houses,--we are only taking a hint from nature. the mountains are her water-towers, and from these strong reservoirs, which never burst, she commands her streams, forcing them along their courses in order that they may find their way to the utmost bounds of continents. but there is another way in which mountains regulate the supply of water, and prevent it from running away too fast,--one not so effective as the freezing process, but still very useful, because it applies to the lower hills below the line of perpetual snow. this may be well illustrated by the state of some of the scotch hills in the middle of summer or autumn, when there is little if any snow resting upon them. any one familiar with these hills will have noticed how full of water their sides are. tiny threads of streams trickle slowly along everywhere; peat-beds are saturated with dark-brown water; even the grass and soil are generally more or less wet, especially under pine forests. one can generally get a cup of water somewhere, except after a long dry summer, which is exceptional. then there is the dew forming every night. forests with their undergrowth of soil--moss and fern--also help very considerably to check the flow of water. we have often asked ourselves when watching some swift-flowing river, "where does all this water come from? why does it not dry up in hot weather?" the answer came fully after we had climbed several mountains, and seen with our eyes the peat-beds among the hills, and heard the trickling of the tiny rivulets hurrying along to feed some neighbouring burn, or perhaps to run into some mountain tarn or loch, and noticed the damp, spongy state of the soil everywhere,--not to mention the little springs which here and there well up to the surface, and so contribute their share. the rivers and streams of scotland assume various tints of amber and dark-brown, according to the amount of rain which has recently fallen. these colours are due to organic matter from the peat. compare scott's description of the greta:-- "in yellow light her currents shone, matching in hue the favourite gem of albion's mountain diadem." the waters of some scotch rivers after heavy rain look as black as pitch. nor must we omit the lakes which abound in most mountain regions, and serve as natural reservoirs for the rivers, besides giving a wonderful charm to mountain scenery. the largest lakes in mountainous regions are found on the courses of the rivers; and there is good reason to believe that they were formed, not by any process of subsidence, but by the same operations that carved out the valleys. in many cases they are due to the damming up of a stream. but in some countries the streams dry up during summer,--in palestine or sinai, where there is but little soil on the hills, and consequently hardly any vegetation. such barren hills cannot hold the continual supplies which pour gently forth from the mountains of higher latitudes. the alps feed four of the principal rivers of europe. we cannot do better than quote professor bonney, whose writings on the alps are familiar to all geologists. in his "alpine regions of switzerland" the following passage occurs:-- "this mass of mountains, the great highlands of europe, is therefore of the utmost physical and geographical importance. rising in places to a height of more than fifteen thousand feet above the sea, and covered for an extent of many thousand square miles with perpetual snow, it is the chief feeder of four of the principal rivers in europe,--the po, the rhone, the rhine, and the danube. but for those barren fields of ice, high up among the silent crags, the seeming home of winter and death, these great arteries of life would every summer dwindle down to paltry streams, feebly wandering over stone-strewn beds. stand, for example, on some mountain-spur, and look down on the lombardy plain, all one rich carpet of wheat and maize, of rice and vine; the life of those myriad threads of green and gold is fed from these icy peaks, which stand out against the northern sky in such strange and solemn contrast. as it is with the po, so it is with the rhine and the rhone, both of which issue from the alps as broad, swelling streams; so, too, with the danube, which, although it does not rise in them, yet receives from the inn and the drave almost all the drainage of the eastern districts." a very little reflection will serve to convince any one how vastly important and beneficial is the slope of the mountains, and how it gives force and direction to streams and rivers. without this force, due to universal gravitation, by which the waters seek continually lower levels, the supplies in the hills would be useless. mere lakes on flat surfaces would not answer the purpose; and so the sources of water are elevated in order that it may pour over the world below. no writer has given such fascinating descriptions of mountains as mr. ruskin; and no one has more eloquently described the functions they perform. in the fourth volume of his "modern painters," which every one who cares for mountains should read, we find the following beautiful passage:-- "every fountain and river, from the inch-deep streamlet that crosses the village lane in trembling clearness, to the massy and silent march of the everlasting multitude of waters in amazon or ganges, owe their play and purity and power to the ordained elevations of the earth. gentle or steep, extended or abrupt, some determined slope of the earth's surface is of course necessary before any wave can so much as overtake one sedge in its pilgrimage; and how seldom do we enough consider, as we walk beside the margins of our pleasant brooks, how beautiful and wonderful is that ordinance, of which every blade of grass that waves in their clear waters is a perpetual sign,--that the dew and rain fallen on the face of the earth shall find no resting-place; shall find, on the contrary, fixed channels traced for them from the ravines of the central crests down which they roar in sudden ranks of foam to the dark hollows beneath the banks of lowland pasture, round which they must circle slowly among the stems and beneath the leaves of the lilies; paths prepared for them by which, at some appointed rate of journey, they must evermore descend, sometimes slow, and sometimes swift, but never pausing; the daily portion of the earth they have to glide over marked for them at each successive sunrise; the place which has known them knowing them no more; and the gateways of guarding mountains opened for them in cleft and chasm, none letting them in their pilgrimage, and from afar off the great heart of the sea calling them to itself: 'deep calleth unto deep.'" geologists, however, do not in these days teach that the present paths of rivers were made for them, but rather that the rivers have carved out their own valleys for themselves. the old teaching before the days of lyell and hutton, the founders of modern geology, was that valleys were rents in the rocks of the earth's crust formed by some wonderful convulsion of nature, whereby they were cracked, torn asunder, and upheaved. but a careful study of rivers and their valleys for many years has shown that there is no evidence of such sudden convulsions. the world is very old indeed, and rivers have been flowing much as we see them for ages and ages. a few thousand years is to the geologist but a short space of time; and there can be no doubt that a stream can in the course of time carve out for itself a valley. the operations of nature seem slow to us because our lives are so short, and we can see so little change even in a generation; but the effects of these changes mount up enormously when continued through a long space of time. nature works slowly; but then she has unlimited time, and never seems in a hurry. it is like the old story of the hare and the tortoise; and the river, working on steadily and quietly for hundreds or thousands of years, accomplishes far more in the end than sudden floods or violent catastrophes of any sort. iii. _mountains suffer themselves to be slowly worn away in order that the face of the earth may be renewed; in other words, they die that we, and all created things, may live._ the reader will find a full account of the methods by which these results are accomplished in chapters v. and vii., and therefore we must not anticipate this part of the subject. let it suffice for the present to say that this destruction of the hills is brought about by the action of heat and cold, of rain and frost, of snow and ice, and the thousand streams that flow down the mountain-sides. it is with soils that we are chiefly concerned at present. try to think for a moment of the literally _vital_ consequences which follow from the presence of good rich soils over different parts of the earth, and ask whether it would be possible for civilised races of men to flourish and multiply as they do if it were not for the great fertile valleys and plains of the world. mountain races are neither rich nor powerful. man exists mainly by cultivation of the soil; and among mountains we only find here and there patches that are worthy of the labour and expenditure of capital involved in cultivation. but in the great plains, in the principal river-valleys of the world, and among the lesser hill-ranges it is different. the _lowlands_ are the fertile regions. all great and powerful nations of the world are children of the plains. it was so in the past; it will be so in the future, unless men learn to feed on something else than corn, milk, and flesh, which is not very likely. the egyptians, the earliest civilised race of which we have satisfactory records, dwelt in the fertile valley and delta of the nile. they clearly perceived the value of this great river to themselves, and worshipped it accordingly. they knew nothing of its source in the far-away lakes of central africa; but they knew truly, as herodotus tells us, that egypt was "the gift of the nile," for the alluvial soil of its delta has been formed by the yearly floods of that great river, as its waters, laden with a fine rich mud, spread over its banks, and for a time filled the valley with one sheet of water. the assyrians and babylonians had their home in the valley of the euphrates and tigris. the chinese, too, have their great rivers. russia is well watered by powerful rivers. the most populous parts of the united states of america are watered by the great mississippi, and the other rivers which flow into it. england, germany, and france are furnished with well-watered plains. soils are the chief form of national wealth. minerals, such as coal and iron, are of course extremely valuable, and help to make an industrious race rich; but the land is the main thing, after all, and by land we mean soil. the two words are almost synonymous. but since the soil is formed chiefly of débris brought from the mountains, it would be more true to say that these are the real sources of wealth. soils contain besides a large amount of valuable organic matter (that is, decayed matter which has once had animal or vegetable life) different kinds of minerals, which are necessary to the support of plant life: potash, soda, carbonate of lime, silica, magnesia, iron, phosphorus, and manganese in their various compounds are all present in the rocks of which mountains are composed. we must again fall back upon "modern painters" for an effective description of the forming of soil by destruction of the hills:-- "the higher mountains suffer their summits to be broken into fragments and to be cast down in sheets of massy rock, full, as we shall presently see, of every substance necessary for the nourishment of plants; these fallen fragments are again broken by frost, and ground by torrents into various conditions of sand and clay,--materials which are distributed perpetually by the streams farther and farther from the mountain's base. every shower that swells the rivulets enables their waters to carry certain portions of earth into new positions, and exposes new banks of ground to be moved in their turn.... the process is continued more gently, but not less effectively, over all the surface of the lower undulating country; and each filtering thread of summer rain which trickles through the short turf of the uplands is bearing its own appointed burden of earth down on some new natural garden in the dingles beneath." it may be laid down as a simple economic truth, that no nation can be powerful, rich, or prosperous, unless it possess in the first place a good soil. other conditions, such as large navigable rivers, a good seaboard for harbouring ships, are also important; but unless the land will yield plenty of food, the population cannot be very great, for people must be fed. foreign supplies of corn at a low price, meat and provisions of various kinds, supplement what is grown in england; but without a good soil we could not have become a powerful nation. a high state of civilisation is in a large measure to be traced to climate and soil. the sequence is somewhat as follows:-- mountains collect rain. rain fills the rivers. rivers make rich alluvial plains. agriculture follows; and food is produced. abundant food maintains a large population. the population works to supply its various wants; such as roads, railways, ships, houses, machinery, etc. then follows exchange with other countries. they send us what they can best produce, and we send them what we can best and most easily produce, and so both parties gain. thus towns spring up. education, refinement, learning, and the higher arts follow from the active life of towns, where more brain-work is required, and the standard of life is higher. and thus we may, in imagination, follow step by step the various stages by which the highest phases of civilisation are brought to pass, beginning at the mountains and ending with human beings of the highest type,--the philosopher, artist, poet, or statesman, not omitting the gentler sex, who are often said to rule the world. the following lines of milton possess, in the light of these facts, a deeper meaning than the poet probably intended to convey:-- "straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures whilst the landscape round it measures: russet lawns and fallows grey, where the nibbling flocks do stray; mountains on whose barren breast the labouring clouds do often rest; meadows trim with daisies pied, shallow brooks and rivers wide; flowers and battlements it sees bosomed high in tufted trees,-- where perhaps some beauty lies, the cynosure of neighbouring eyes." with a little rearrangement of the lines, the sequence we have indicated above would be well illustrated. the mountains must come first; then the clouds, ready to bring forth their rain; then the brooks and rivers, then "russet lawns and fallows grey,"--with their "nibbling flocks." then come the human elements in the scene,--the "towers and battlements," containing armed warriors, well fed, no doubt, and ready to do their master's bidding; lastly, the lady who adorns the home of her lord, and, let us hope, makes it worth fighting for. for commercial purposes, large navigable rivers are of great use. and in spite of the modern railway, rivers still exert an influence in determining the routes followed by trade. london, liverpool, glasgow, and other busy centres of life owe their importance to the rivers which flow through them, especially since they are tidal rivers. heavily laden barges may be seen from london bridge going up and down with the tide every day. since the direction as well as the existence of large rivers is regulated by mountains, it is clear that mountains have a very direct influence on the trade of the world. _mountains supply many of our wants._ besides water and soil, how many useful things come from the hills! their slopes, watered by the clouds, frequently support an abundant growth of pine forest; and thus we get wood for the shipwright and joiner. again, mountains are composed of harder rocks than we find in the plains, and that is one reason why they stand out high above the rest of the world. their substance has been hardened to withstand for a longer time the destruction to which all rocks are subjected. they have been greatly compressed and generally more or less hardened by subterranean heat. we bake clay and make it into hard bricks; so nature has baked and otherwise hardened the once soft strata of which mountains are chiefly composed, converting them into slates, schist, gneiss, and other kinds of rock called "metamorphic" by geologists, because they have been altered or metamorphosed from their original condition (see chapter viii., page ). again, granite, basalt, and other rocks known as "igneous," which once existed in a molten condition, have forced their way up from subterranean regions into the rocks forming mountain-chains; and a good deal of the hardening just alluded to is due to the presence of these fiery intruders, which have baked and hardened the rocks around them to a considerable extent, altering at the same time their mineral composition. the same causes which led to the injection of granite, basalt, and other igneous rocks in mountain-ranges brought other consequences in their train. whatever the causes, they were closely connected with volcanic eruptions, so that highly heated water and steam found their way through cracks and other fissures in the rocks; and in the course of time the chemical actions thus set up led to the deposition of valuable metallic ores within these fissures. in this way mineral veins were formed; and volcanic action seems to be largely responsible for the production of minerals. thus we find around vesuvius, and in fact in all volcanic regions, large and varied supplies of minerals. now, the geologist discovers that many mountain-chains--such, for example, as the grampians, alps, and carpathians--have in past geological periods been the seats of volcanic action on a grand scale; and so we need not be surprised to learn that mountainous countries yield large supplies of valuable gems and metallic ores (see chapter viii., page ). even in the days of solomon, the active and business-like phoenicians were carrying on trade with great britain; and the tin came from cornwall. besides tin, gold, silver, lead, copper, zinc, and other metals come from our hills. now, however, we get our copper mostly from the andes, and our gold from australia or south africa, because it can be got more cheaply from these countries, to which many of our cornish miners have emigrated. precious stones also come chiefly from the hills, for the same reason; for they were formed at the same time and by the same causes. cairngorms, agates, chalcedony, jasper, onyx, topaz, diamonds, and many other gems are silent but certain witnesses to the action of subterranean heat, acting long ago on the rocks which we now see standing up high above the general surface of the ground, though once they were buried deep down below the surface. diamonds as well as gold are often got from the beds of streams, but this is easily accounted for; the streams have washed them out and brought them down from the hills. the following words from the book of job (xxviii. ) might well be applied to the hills. "as for the earth, out of it cometh bread: and underneath it is turned up as it were by fire. the stones thereof are the place of sapphires, and it hath dust of gold." we have thus explained the three principal services rendered by mountains, but some others remain to be mentioned. _mountains have an important influence on climate._ the climate of highlands everywhere has certain peculiarities which distinguish it from that of adjacent lowlands. the air resting on mountains is less dense than that of the lowlands, and hence has fewer molecules to obstruct the entering sunbeams by day, or to stop the outward radiation at night. therefore mountain air must be cooler; and so we find that on mountains the mean, or average, annual temperature is lower. this rarity of the air causes the ground to become hotter by day and colder by night than the ground of the plains; and so the extremes of temperature are greater. these extremes are injurious to vegetation in the higher regions, and the want of moisture still more so. but mountain-slopes _up to a certain height_ usually have a moist climate; that is, they have more clouds and rain than the surrounding lowlands. below the region of snow there is generally a heavy growth of forest; and forests in their turn exercise an important influence, helping to collect moisture, and in various ways to prevent extremes either of heat or cold. the earth is divided into three well-marked zones or belts of climate: ( ) the torrid zone within the tropics, where the sun is vertical twice a year, and days and nights are nearly equal; ( ) the temperate zones, where the sun's rays come more obliquely, and so are less powerful, and where the length of day and night varies considerably; and ( ) the frigid zones, round each of the poles, regions of intense cold, where for six months of the year the sun is never seen. now, these broad divisions, so familiar to school children, are considerably interfered with by the height of various districts above the sea-level, or, as geographers say, by altitude. high ranges of mountains bring somewhat arctic conditions with them, even in low latitudes, where one would expect great heat. thus the climate of the plains is very different from that of their neighbouring mountain-ranges, although their latitudes are practically the same. travellers in switzerland know how hot it can be in the rhone valley or in the plain of lombardy, and how much cooler it is when you get up among the glaciers and the snowfields. or to take an illustration from great britain: a hot summer would be somewhat trying in edinburgh, glasgow, or even inverness, because they lie low, while among the grampians, on speyside, or braemar, it would be very pleasant. vegetation follows climate. the sultry plains of the ganges show a luxuriant tropical vegetation, while on the middle slopes of the himalayas the climate is temperate, like that of europe, and consequently the vegetation resembles that of a temperate region; and the highest parts of this great range are like polar latitudes in their climate, and partly also in their vegetation. the arctic character of the climate of high mountain regions shows itself in the flora; for on the high alps and the highlands of scotland and norway, we find no small number of truly arctic plants whose home is much farther north. a very long time ago, when the climate of the whole of northern europe was extremely severe, and when great glaciers descended from the mountains into the plains, so that the aspect of the country was somewhat similar to that of greenland at the present day, arctic plants and animals came down from their northern home, and flourished abundantly. this was during the _great ice age_, which has left behind unmistakable evidences which the geologist can interpret as if they were written records. then for some reason the climate became milder, the glaciers melted away, in great britain at least; but these arctic plants were left behind, and flourished still on the cool mountains, though they died out on the warm plains (see chap. iv., pp. - ). [illustration: snow on the high alps. from a photograph by mr. donkin.] _mountains help to cause movement and change in the atmosphere._ let us see how this takes place. mountains expose on one side their masses of rock to the full heat of the sun. rocks are capable of becoming highly heated under a blazing sun: we have known stone walls, even in england, to be almost too hot to touch; and perhaps the reader may have often noticed the quivering of the hot air as it rises from the ground on a summer day, especially over a road or any piece of bare rocky ground. this quivering tells us that the air is highly heated by the ground beneath, and is consequently rising. you know how the pebbles look beneath a clear running stream; and the things which we see through air in this state all seem to be similarly moving or quivering. it is easy then to imagine how masses of heated air would rise up from the side of a mountain-range which faces the sun,--that is, the southern side,--while on the other, or northern side they cast a soft shadow for leagues over the plains at their feet. in this way mountains divide a district into two different climates, with a light warm air on their southern slopes, and colder air on the northern, and the rising of the warm air will cause a certain amount of circulation and movement. hence mountains help to make currents in the atmosphere, and these currents produce important consequences. when mountain-ranges trend more or less directly across the direction of prevailing winds, they always have a moist side and a dry one. in the torrid zone, where easterly winds prevail, the eastern slope is usually the moist side; but in higher latitudes, as, for example, in europe, the western side of mountain-ranges receives the greatest amount of rainfall, because westerly winds prevail there. _mountains are barriers dividing not only one nation from another, but separating also various tribes of plants and animals._ it will be readily understood that with the exception of birds, whose powers of flight render them independent of physical barriers, most animals find mountains more impassable than men do. we can make roads and railways, but they cannot thus aid their powers of locomotion; hence mountains put limits to their migrations. still, climate and food supplies have a greater influence in determining the boundaries of zoölogical provinces (see chapter iv.). _mountains are the backbones of continents._ a glance at a map of the world will show that there is evidently a close connection between continents and great mountain-chains. this connection shows itself both in the shapes and general direction of continents. thus, the long continuous line of mountain-chain which extends from the southern spur of the andes to the northern end of the rocky mountains,--a distance of about nine thousand miles,--corresponds with the general trend of the north american continent, and forms the axis or backbone of that vast tract of land. it seems as if the sea on its western side were kept at bay by this great rocky wall, while on its eastern side the rivers have formed new land. a line of mountains is often the coast line, for the sea cannot overcome it unless subsidence takes place. the backbone of asia and europe runs east and west, and the continental area of the old world follows the same general direction. these are the chief uses of mountains, and the facts which we have brought forward will serve to show how indispensable they are. the following eloquent passage from "modern painters" may form a fitting close to the present chapter:-- "and thus those desolate and threatening ranges which in nearly all ages of the world men have looked upon with aversion or with horror, and shrunk back from as if they were haunted by perpetual images of death, are in reality sources of life and happiness, far fuller and more beneficent than all the bright fruitfulness of the plain. the valleys only feed; the mountains feed and guard and strengthen us. we take our ideas of fearfulness and sublimity alternately from the mountains and the sea; but we associate them unjustly. the sea-wave, with all its beneficence, is yet devouring and terrible; but the silent wave of the blue mountain is lifted towards heaven in a stillness of perpetual mercy; and the one surge, unfathomable in its darkness, the other unshaken in its faithfulness, for ever bear the seal of their appointed symbolism:-- "'thy _righteousness_ is like the great mountains, thy _judgements_ are a great deep.'" chapter iii. sunshine and storm on the mountains. i would entreat your company to see the wonders of the world. _two gentlemen of verona._ "the spirit of the hills is action, that of the lowlands repose."[ ] the plains, with their peaceful meadows and meandering streams, might almost be said to be asleep; but the mountains are wide awake. they are emphatically scenes of violent or rapid action. the wind blows more fiercely among the mountain-peaks than over the plains below; heat and cold are more extreme; and every process of change or decay seems quickened. [ ] ruskin, "modern painters." avalanches, falls of rock, earthquakes, storms, and floods exhibit the more terrible aspects of the hills. yet they have their gentler moods: witness the brightness of the starry sky overhead, and its intense blue by day, the wonderful sunrises and sunsets, the lovely effects of light and shade, of cloud and mist, the stillness and silence of the eternal snows in summer, and the beauty of the alpine flower. let us see what those who know mountains best have to say about the wonderful things they have seen there. to begin with sunset and sunrise. professor bonney remarks,-- "not the least interesting peculiarity of an alpine sunset is the frequency with which its most beautiful effects are revealed quite unexpectedly. often at the close of a rainy afternoon, the clouds, just before the sun goes down, break, roll up, sometimes disperse as if by magic, in the glory of those crimson rays that come darting upon them and piercing every rift. many a time have i watched the vapours around a mountain-peak curling lightly upwards, and melting away into the sky, till at last the unclouded summit glowed with flushes of orange and rose, ere it grew pale and dead in its shroud of fresh-fallen snow."[ ] [ ] the alpine regions of switzerland. here is a description by professor tyndall of a sunset witnessed in the neighbourhood of the weisshorn:-- "as the day approached its end, the scene assumed the most sublime aspect. all the lower portions of the mountains were deeply shaded, while the loftiest peaks, ranged upon a semicircle, were fully exposed to the sinking sun. they seemed pyramids of solid fire; while here and there long stretches of crimson light drawn over the higher snowfields linked the glorified summits together. an intensely illuminated geranium flower seems to swim in its own colour, which apparently surrounds the petals like a layer, and defeats by its lustre any attempt of the eye to seize upon the sharp outline of the leaves. a similar effect has been observed upon the mountains; the glory did not seem to come from them alone, but seemed also effluent from the air around them. this gave them a certain buoyancy which suggested entire detachment from the earth. they swam in splendour which intoxicated the soul; and i will not now repeat in my moments of soberness the extravagant analogies which ran through my brain. as the evening advanced, the eastern heavens low down assumed a deep purple hue, above which, and blended with it by infinitesimal gradations, was a belt of red, and over this again zones of orange and violet. i walked round the corner of the mountain at sunset, and found the western sky glowing with a more transparent crimson than that which overspread the east. the crown of the weisshorn was embedded in this magnificent light. after sunset the purple of the east changed to a deep neutral tint; and against the faded red which spread above it, the sun-forsaken mountains laid their cold and ghostly heads. the ruddy colour vanished more and more; the stars strengthened in lustre, until finally the moon and they held undisputed possession of the blue-grey sky."[ ] [ ] mountaineering in (longman). marvellous sunsets are to be witnessed from the mountains of the new world. the following is a short and graphic description of sunset glories on the sierra nevada mountains by mr. clarence king, whose name is well known to geologists:-- "while i looked, the sun descended, shadows climbed the sierras, casting a gloom over foothill and pine, until at last only the snow summits, reflecting the evening light, glowed like red lamps along the mountain-wall for hundreds of miles. the rest of the sierra became invisible. the snow burned for a moment in the violet sky, and at last went out." these marvellous effects appeal powerfully to our sense of beauty and produce in most minds feelings of intense delight; but they also appeal to the reasoning faculty in man, and an intelligent observer naturally inquires, "why are these things so? how are those glorious colours of crimson, orange, and yellow produced?" a full explanation cannot be attempted here; but this much may perhaps be said without tiring the patience of the reader. white light, such as sunlight or the light from an electric arc, is composed of all the colours of the rainbow,--violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, and red. a ray of sunlight on passing through a prism is split up into all these colours in the above order, and we get them arranged in a band which is known as the spectrum. thus it is proved that white light is made up of all colours (black is not a colour, but the absence of colour). now, when the sun is low down in the sky, as at sunset, only some of these colour-rays are able to pass through the atmosphere and so to reach our eyes, while others are stopped in passing through very many miles of atmosphere (as they must obviously do when the sun is low). those which are stopped are the blue rays and others allied to blue, such as purple and green; but the red and yellow rays are able to pass on till they come to us. hence red, yellow, and orange are the prevailing sunset tints. what, then, becomes of the missing blue rays? they are caught by the myriads of little floating particles in the air, and reflected away from us. that is why we do not see them; their course is turned back, just as waves breaking against a stone sea-wall are turned back or reflected. a person situated _behind_ such a wall will not see the waves which break against it; but suppose a _very_ big wave came: it would come right over, and then we should soon become aware of its presence. so it is with the little waves of light: some are stopped and turned back as they break against the myriads of little dust particles and the still more numerous particles of mist always floating in the air; while others, which are larger, break over them and travel on undisturbed until they reach our eyes. now, the larger waves of light are the red waves, while the smaller ones are the blue waves; hence there is no difficulty in understanding why the red waves (or vibrations) are seen at sunset and sunrise, to the exclusion of the blue waves. but it must be borne in mind that light-waves are of infinitesimal smallness, thousands and thousands of them going to make up an inch. sound also travels in waves, and the phenomena of sound serve to illustrate those of light; but sound-waves are very much larger. the reason why the sky overhead appears blue is that we see the blue rays reflected down to the earth from myriads of tiny dust and water particles, while the red rays pass on over our heads, which is just the reverse of what happens at sunset. on the southern slopes of the alps the blues of the sky are generally very different from those on the northern side; and this is probably due to the greater quantity of water-vapour in the air, for the moist winds come from the south. sunrises in the alps are quite as glorious to behold as sunsets; but comparatively few people rise early enough to see them. speaking generally, it may be said that in alpine sunrises the prevailing colours are orange and gold, in sunsets crimson or violet-pink. after a cool night the atmospheric conditions will obviously be different from those which exist after a warm day, and more water-vapour will have been condensed into mist or cloud. hence we should expect a somewhat different effect. the snowfields on high ranges of mountains are of a dazzling whiteness; and their bright glare is so great as to distress the eyes of those who walk over them without blue glasses, and even to cause inflammation. at these heights the traveller is not only exposed to the direct rays of the sun, untempered save for a thin veil of rarefied air, but also to an intense glare produced by the little snow-crystals which scatter around the beams of light falling upon them. scientific men, who have studied these matters, say that the scorching of the skin and "sun-burning" experienced by alpine travellers is not caused, as might be supposed, by the heat of the sun, but by the rays of light darting and flashing on all sides from myriads of tiny snow-crystals. occasionally a soft lambent glow has been observed on snowfields at night. this is a very curious phenomenon, to which the name of "phosphorescence" has, rightly or wrongly, been given. a pale light may often be seen on the sea during a summer night, when the water is disturbed in any way; and if one is rowing in a boat, the oars seem glowing with a faint and beautiful light. it is well known that this is caused by myriads of little light-producing animalcules in the sea-water. but we can hardly suppose that the glow above referred to is produced by a similar cause. one observer says the glow is "something like that produced by the flame of naphtha;" and he goes on to say that at every step "an illuminated circle or nimbus about two inches in breadth surrounded our feet, and we seemed to be ploughing our way through fields of light, and raising clods of it, if i may be allowed the expression, in our progress." another observer, also an alpine traveller, says that at almost every footstep the snowy particles, which his companion in front lifted with his feet from the freshly fallen snow, fell in little luminous showers. the exact cause which produces this strange effect at night has not been ascertained. there is another curious phenomenon often seen just before sunset on a mountain in hungary. it is known as "the spectre of the brocken." the brocken is the highest summit of the hartz mountains. as you step out upon the plateau upon the top of the hill, your shadow, grim and gigantic, is apparently flung right out against the eastern sky, where it flits from place to place, following your every movement. the explanation is simply this: to the east of the hartz mountains there is always a very dense and hazy atmosphere, so dense that it presents a surface capable of receiving the impression of a shadow, and of retaining it, as a wall does. the shadows are really close at hand, not a long way off, as might at first sight be supposed. if very far away, they would be too faint to be visible. in all mountainous regions the permanent habitations of men cease at a limit far below the most elevated points reached by the mountain-climber. st. veran and gargl, the highest villages of france and germany, are situated at the respective heights of , and , feet; but the hospice of st. bernard, in switzerland, built centuries ago to shelter travellers when benumbed with the cold, is much more elevated, its height being , feet above sea-level. the most elevated cluster of houses in the world is the convent of hanle, inhabited by twenty thibetan priests; its height is , feet. none of the villages of the andes, except perhaps that of santa anna, in bolivia, have been built at so great a height. travellers who venture to ascend lofty mountains not only have to suffer all the rigours of cold and run the risk of being frozen on their route, but they may also experience painful sensations owing to the rarefaction of the air. it would naturally be supposed that at an elevation at which the pressure of the atmosphere is reduced to one half, or even to one fourth that of the plains below, a certain uneasiness should be caused by the change, the more so since other conditions, such as warmth and moisture, are different. undaunted climbers, like professor tyndall, who have never felt the effect of this "mountain-sickness" (_mal de montagne_), deny that the sensations proceed from anything else than mere fatigue. in the himalayas, the traveller does not begin to suffer from the attacks of this ailment until he has reached a height of , feet; while on the andes a large number of persons are affected by it at an altitude of , feet. in the south american mountains, the symptoms are much more serious: to the fatigue, head-ache, and want of breath are added giddiness, sometimes fainting-fits, and bleeding from lips, gums, and eyelids. the aeronaut, however, who is spared all the fatigue of climbing, rarely suffers any inconvenience except from cold, at such elevations. but on rising to greater heights, , or , feet, the malady shows itself; and if the balloon continued to rise, the aerial voyager would infallibly perish. professor bonney says:-- "i have occasionally seen persons singularly affected on high mountains; and as the barometer stands at about sixteen inches on mont blanc, and at thirty at sea-level, one would expect this great difference to be felt. still, i do not think it easy to separate the inconveniences due to atmosphere from those caused by unwonted fatigue, and am inclined to attribute most of them to the latter." but the fact that the aeronaut suffers seems conclusive. the violent storms which break upon mountain districts often cause floods of considerable magnitude, such as may be compared with the memorable bursting of the holmfirth reservoir. hardly a year passes without considerable damage being done: bridges are swept away; roads are buried under torrents of mud, and fields overwhelmed with débris. in august of the year a severe storm was witnessed by visitors staying at zermatt. it began with a thunder-storm; and rain fell for about thirty-six hours, after which, as may be supposed, the torrents were swollen far beyond their usual size. lower down in the valleys much harm was done, but there one bridge only was swept away. it was, however, an awful sight to see the visp roaring under one of the bridges that remained, and to hear the heavy thuds of the boulders that were being hurried on and dashed against one another by the torrent. in september, , the town of locarno, in the canton ticino, was visited by a destructive storm and flood. the day began by several shocks of earthquake, followed, about five o'clock, by a terrific gale from the south. part of the old castle was blown down; the doors of st. victor's church were burst open by a blast while the priest was at the altar; and everything within was overturned. at midday the clouds were so thick that it was almost as dark as night. a violent thunder-storm and torrents of rain followed, lasting from two to six o'clock in the evening. the rivulets all became torrents; the stream flowing through the town was so choked by uprooted trees and rocks that its water flooded the streets and almost buried them under mud and gravel. such a sight as this gives one a powerful impression of the geological work of streams when greatly swollen; for all this débris must have been brought down from the surrounding mountains. many lives were lost by this calamity, and a great deal of property was destroyed. late in the year, during unsettled weather, the traveller often encounters on alpine passes a sudden storm of snow, accompanied by violent gusts of wind, which fill the air with drifted flakes; so that becoming bewildered, he loses his way, and at last sinks down benumbed with cold and dies. many a frequented pass in switzerland has been the scene of death from this cause. exhausted with fatigue, and overcome with cold, the traveller sinks down by the wayside, and the guides, after having in vain endeavoured to urge him on, are compelled, in order to save their own lives, to leave him to his fate and press forward. the name "tourmente" is given to these storms. on the tops of the highest mountains, even in very fine weather, the wind often blows with great force; and the north wind, supposed to be the mountaineer's best friend, is sometimes his enemy. it not unfrequently happens that a gale renders the passage of some exposed slope or ridge too dangerous, or the intense cold produces frost-bites, so that an expedition has to be abandoned when success is within reach, which naturally is very annoying. professor bonney, speaking of such a gale which he experienced in , says,-- "the cold was something horrible; the wind seemed to blow not round, but through me, freezing my very marrow, and making my teeth chatter like castanets; and if i stopped for a moment, i shook as if in an ague-fit. it whisked up the small spiculæ of frozen snow, and dashed them against my face with such violence that it was hardly possible to look to windward. thin sheets of ice as large as my hand were whirled along the surface of the glacier like paper.... when these gales are raging, the drifted snow is blown far to leeward of the peaks in long streamers like delicate cirrus-clouds; and on such occasions the mountain is said by the guides _fumer sa pipe_ (to smoke his pipe). this mont blanc was doing to some purpose the day that we were upon him." it is a curious fact that these gales are often confined to the crests of the mountains, so that the wind may be raging among the peaks while a few hundred feet lower down there is comparative calm. the chief of the prevailing winds in the alps is the föhn. this is a hot blast from the south which probably comes from the african deserts. on its approach the air becomes close and stifling, the sky, at first of unusual clearness, gradually thickens to a muddy and murky hue, animals become restless and disquieted by the unnatural dryness of the hot blast which now comes sweeping over the hills. in some villages, it is said, all the fires are extinguished when this wind begins to blow, for fear lest some chance spark should fall on the dry wooden roofs and set the whole place in a blaze. still the föhn is not altogether an "ill wind that blows nobody any good," for under its warm touch the winter snows melt away with marvellous rapidity. in the valley of grindelwald it causes a snow-bed two feet thick to disappear in about a couple of hours, and produces in twenty-four hours a greater effect than the sun does in fifteen days. there is a swiss proverb which rather profanely says: "if the föhn does not blow, the golden sun and the good god can do nothing with the snow." in summer-time, however, the south wind is never welcome, for the vapour which it brings from the italian plains is condensed by the snows of the alps, and streams down in torrents of rain. a thunder-storm is always a grand spectacle. among mountains such storms are more frequent than on the plains, and also, as might be expected, far more magnificent, especially at night. flashes, or rather sheets, of unutterable brilliancy light up the sky; distant chains of mountains are revealed for a moment, only to be instantly eclipsed by the pall of night. says professor bonney,-- "no words can adequately express the awful grandeur of these tempests when they burst among the mountains. i have often been out in them,--in fact, far more frequently than was pleasant; but perhaps the grandest of all was one that welcomed me for the first time to chamouni. as we entered the valley, and caught sight of the white pinnacles of the _glacier des bossons_, a dark cloud came rolling up rapidly from the west. beneath it, just where two tall peaks towered up, the sky glowed like a sheet of red-hot copper, and a lurid mist spread over the neighbouring hills, wrapping them, as it seemed, in a robe of flame. onward rolled the cloud; the lightning began to play; down the valley rushed a squall of wind, driving the dust high in air before it, and followed by a torrent of rain. flash succeeded flash almost incessantly,--now darting from cloud to cloud; now dividing itself into a number of separate streaks of fire, and dancing all over the sky; now streaming down upon the crags, and at times even leaping up from some lofty peak into the air. the colours were often most beautiful, and bright beyond description." [illustration: a storm on the lake of thun. after turner.] the mountain traveller, when caught in a thunder-storm, undergoes a strange experience, not unattended with danger. one observer[ ] thus describes his sensations:-- [ ] mr. r. s. watson, in "the alpine journal," vol. i., p. . "a loud peal of thunder was heard; and shortly after i observed that a strange singing sound, like that of a kettle, was issuing from my alpenstock. we halted, and finding that all the axes and stocks emitted the same sound, stuck them into the snow. the guide from the hotel now pulled off his cap, shouting that his head burned; and his hair was seen to have a similar appearance to that which it would have presented had he been on an insulated stool under a powerful electrical machine. we all of us experienced the sensation of pricking and burning in some part of the body, more especially in the head and face, my hair also standing on end in an uncomfortable but very amusing manner. the snow gave out a hissing sound, as though a heavy shower of hail were falling; the veil on the wide-awake of one of the party stood upright in the air; and on waving our hands, the singing sound issued loudly from the fingers. whenever a peal of thunder was heard, the phenomenon ceased, to be resumed before its echoes died away. at these times we felt shocks, more or less violent, in those portions of the body which were most affected. by one of these shocks my right arm was paralysed so completely that i could neither use nor raise it for several minutes, nor indeed until it had been severely rubbed; and i suffered much pain in it at the shoulder-joint for some hours." the successive layers of snow which fall on the mountains do not remain there for ever. unless got rid of in some way their thickness would mount up to an enormous extent. it is reckoned that on the alps the average yearly fall of snow is thirty-three feet. in the course of a century, therefore, the height of these mountains would be increased by , feet, which we know is not the case. various causes prevent its accumulating, among which we may mention the powerful influence of the sun's rays, the evaporation promoted by the atmosphere, the thawing influence of rain and mist, avalanches, and lastly, which is perhaps the most important, the fact that the snow composing the snowfields, as they are called, of the high regions slowly creeps down towards the valleys, where they move along as glaciers, the ends of which are gradually melted away by the warm air surrounding them, and thus the muddy glacier-streams are originated. few perils are more dreaded by the inhabitant of the alps than those of the avalanches. the particular way in which each avalanche descends is varied according to the shape of the mountain, the condition of the snow, and the time of the year. hence there are three different kinds of avalanche. first, there is the ice-avalanche. the smaller glaciers, which, in the alps, cling to the upper slopes of the higher mountains, frequently terminate abruptly on the edge of some precipice. thus the ice, urged on by the pressure of the masses above it, moves forward until it plunges over and falls into the abyss below. large portions break off; and these, as they bound down the cliffs, are dashed into countless pieces, which leap from crag to crag high into the air: now the falling mass, like some swollen torrent, dashes with sullen roar through a gully, now, emerging, crashes over a precipice, or spreads itself out like a fan, as it hisses down a snow-slope. these avalanches expend their force in the higher regions, and are harmless, unless any one happens to be crossing their track at the time; but accidents from this source can generally be avoided. in the distance the avalanches look like waterfalls of the purest foam, but when approached are found to be composed of fragments of ice of every size, from one, two, or more cubic yards down to tiny little balls. in spring and summer, when the white layers, softened by the heat, are falling away every hour from the lofty summits of the alps, the pedestrian, taking up a position on some adjacent headland, may watch these sudden cataracts dashing down into the gorges from the heights of the shining peaks. year after year travellers seated at their ease on the grassy banks of the wengern alp have watched with pleasure the avalanches rolling to the base of the silvery pyramid of the jungfrau. first, the mass of ice is seen to plunge forth like a cataract, and lose itself in the lower parts of the mountain; whirlwinds of powdered snow, like clouds of bright smoke, rise far and wide into the air; and then, when the cloud has passed away, and the region has again assumed its solemn calm, the thunder of the avalanche is suddenly heard reverberating in deep echoes in the mountain gorges, as if it were the voice of the mountain itself. the other two kinds of avalanche are composed of snow. the dust-avalanche usually falls in winter-time, when the mountains are covered deep with fresh-fallen snow. such masses of snow, not yet compacted into ice, rest insecurely upon the icy slopes, and hang in festoons and curtains over the peaks, or lie on smooth banks of pasture, until some accident, such as a gust of wind, breaks the spell, and the whole mass slides down into the valley below. these avalanches are accompanied by fearful blasts of wind which work dire destruction. almost the whole village of leukerbad was destroyed by one of these on the th of january, , and fifty-five persons perished. in , more than one hundred persons were killed in the village of ruaras (grisons), which during the night was overwhelmed by an avalanche. so silently were some of the houses buried that the inhabitants, on waking in the morning, could not conceive why the day did not dawn. it is said, though it seems almost incredible, that in the time of the suabian war, in the year , one of these avalanches swept four hundred soldiers over a cliff, and they all escaped without serious injury. the army of general macdonald, in his celebrated passage of the splügen in december, , suffered severely from these dust-avalanches. a troupe of horse was completely cut through while on the march; and thirty dragoons were precipitated into a gulf below the road, where they all perished. and again, some days afterwards, in descending a gorge, the columns were repeatedly severed by avalanches; and more than one hundred soldiers, with a number of horses and mules, were lost. on one of these occasions the drummer of a regiment was carried away; and it is said that they heard him beating his drum in the gorge below, in the hope that his comrades would come to his rescue. help, however, was out of the question. the sounds gradually became fainter, and the poor lad must have perished in the cold. the ground-avalanches are different from those just described, consisting of dense and almost solid masses of snow which have lain for a long time exposed to atmospheric influences. they are much heavier than the dust-avalanches, and therefore more destructive; so that the inhabitants take great pains to protect themselves from this source of danger. thickly planted trees are the best protection against avalanches of every kind. snow which has fallen in a wood cannot very well shift its place; and when masses of snow descend from the slopes above, they are unable to break through so strong a barrier. small shrubs, such as rhododendrons, or even heaths and meadow-grass, are often sufficient to prevent the slipping of the snow; and therefore it is very imprudent not to allow them to grow freely on mountain-slopes. but it is still more dangerous to cut down protecting forests, or even to do so partly. this was illustrated by the case of a mountain in the pyrenees, in the lofty valley of neste; after it had been partially cleared of trees, a tremendous avalanche fell down in , and in its fall swept away more than fifteen thousand fir-trees. the swiss records tell us what a terrible scourge the avalanche can be in villages which in summer-time appear such calm and happy scenes of pastoral life. m. joanne, in the introduction to his valuable "itinéraire de la suisse"[ ] gives a list of twelve of the most destructive avalanches that have fallen in switzerland. in old days they seem to have been as great a source of danger as in modern times. thus we find that in the year , a caravan of six hundred persons was swept away in crossing the great st. bernard; three hundred were buried under an avalanche which fell from monte cassedra (ticino). another one in the year , at obergestelen, in the rhone valley, destroyed one hundred and twenty cottages, four hundred head of cattle, and eighty-eight persons. the bodies were buried in a large pit in the village cemetery, on the wall of which was engraved the following pathetic inscription: "o god, what sorrow!--eighty-eight in a single grave!" ("gott, welche trauer!--acht und achtzig in einem grab!") [ ] conservateur suisse, xlvi. p. , vol. xii. it is a curious fact that animals have a wonderful power of anticipating coming catastrophes. when human beings are unaware of danger, they are often warned by the behaviour of animals. country people sometimes say that they can tell from the birds when the weather is about to change; and there is little doubt but that sea-gulls come inland before rough, stormy weather. but in the case of earthquakes the behaviour of birds, beasts, and even fishes is very striking. it is said that before an earthquake rats, mice, moles, lizards, and serpents frequently come out of their holes, and hasten hither and thither as if smitten with terror. at naples, it is said that the ants quitted their underground passages some hours before the earthquake of july , ; that grasshoppers crossed the town in order to reach the coast; and that the fish approached the shore in shoals. avalanches, it is well known, produce tremors similar to those due to slight earthquake shocks; and there are many stories in switzerland of the behaviour of animals just before the catastrophe takes place. berlepsch relates that a pack-horse on the scaletta pass, which was always most steady, became restive when an avalanche was coming; so that he was valuable to his owners in bad weather. one day, when near the summit of the pass, he suddenly stopped. they foolishly took no notice of his warning this time; but he presently darted off at full speed. in a few seconds the avalanche came and buried the whole party. if these stories can be relied upon, it would seem that animals are either more sensitive to very slight tremors of the earth, or else that they are more on the lookout than human beings. perhaps north american indians have learned from animals in this respect, for they can tell of a coming enemy on the march by putting their ears to the ground and listening. but there are worse dangers in the mountains than falls of snow and ice, for sometimes masses of rock come hurtling down, or worse still, the whole side of a mountain gives way and spreads ruin far and wide. perpendicular or overhanging rocks, which seem securely fastened, suddenly become detached and rush headlong down the mountain-side. in their rapid fall, they raise a cloud of dust like the ashes vomited forth by a volcano; a horrible darkness is spread over a once pleasant valley; and the unfortunate inhabitants, unable to see what is taking place, are only aware of the trembling of the ground, and the crashing din of the rocks as they strike together and shatter one another in pieces. when the cloud of dust is cleared away, nothing but heaps of stones and rubbish are to be seen where pastures once grew, or the peasant ploughed his acres in peace. the stream flowing down the valley is obstructed in its course, and changed into a muddy lake; the rampart of rocks from which some débris still comes crumbling down has lost its old form; the sharpened edges point out the denuded cliff from which a large part of the mountain has broken away. in the pyrenees, alps, and other important ranges there are but few valleys where one cannot see the confused heaps of fallen rocks. many of these catastrophes, known as the "bergfall," have been recorded; and the records tell of the fearful havoc and destruction to life and property due to this cause. in italy the ancient roman town of velleja was buried, about the fourth century, by the downfall of the mountain of rovinazzo; and the large quantity of bones and coins that have been found proves that the fall was so sudden that the inhabitants had no time to escape. taurentum, another roman town, situated, it is said, on the banks of lake geneva, at the base of one of the spurs of the dent d'oche, was completely crushed in a. d. by a downfall of rocks. the sloping heap of débris thus formed may still be seen advancing like a headland into the waters of the lake. a terrible flood-wave, produced by the deluge of stones, reached the opposite shores of the lake and swept away all the inhabitants. every town and village on the banks, from morges to vevay, was demolished, and they did not begin the work of rebuilding till the following century. some say, however, that the disaster was caused by a landslip which fell from the grammont or derochiaz across the valley of the rhone, just above the spot where it flows into the lake of geneva. hundreds of such falls have taken place within the alps and neighbouring mountains within historic times. two out of the five peaks of the diablerets fell down, one in and the other in , covering the pastures with a thick layer of stones and earth more than three hundred feet thick, and by obstructing the course of the stream of lizerne, formed the three lakes of derborence. in like manner the bernina, the dent du midi, the dent de mayen, and the righi have overspread with ruin vast tracts of cultivated land. in switzerland the most noted bergfalls are those from the diablerets and the rossberg. the former mountain is a long flattish ridge with several small peaks, overhanging very steep walls of rock on either side. these walls are composed of alternating beds of limestone and shale. hence it is easily perceived that we have here conditions favourable for landslips, because if anything weakens one of these beds of shale the overlying mass might be inclined to break away. the fall in the year , already referred to, was a very destructive one. [illustration: the matterhorn. from a photograph by mr. donkin.] "for two whole days previously loud groaning had been heard to issue from the mountain, as though some imprisoned spirit were struggling to release himself, like typhoeus from under etna; then a vast fragment of the upper part of the mountain broke suddenly away and thundered down the precipices into the valley beneath. in a few minutes fifty-five châlets, with sixteen men and many head of cattle, were buried for ever under the ruins. one remarkable escape has indeed been recorded, perhaps the most marvellous ever known. a solitary herdsman from the village of avent occupied one of the châlets which were buried under the fallen mass. not a trace of it remained; his friends in the valley below returned from their unsuccessful search, and mourned him as dead. he was, however, still among the living; a huge rock had fallen in such a manner as to protect the roof of his châlet, which, as is often the case, rested against a cliff. above this, stones and earth had accumulated, and the man was buried alive. death would soon have released him from his imprisonment, had not a little rill of water forced its way through the débris and trickled into the châlet. supported by this and by his store of cheese, he lived three months, labouring all the while incessantly to escape. shortly before christmas he succeeded, after almost incredible toil, in once more looking on the light of day, which his dazzled eyes, so long accustomed to the murky darkness below, for a while could scarcely support. he hastened down to his home in avent, and knocked at his own door; pale and haggard, he scarcely seemed a being of this world. his relations would not believe that one so long lost could yet be alive, and the door was shut in his face. he turned to a friend's house; no better welcome awaited him. terror seized upon the village; the priest was summoned to exorcise the supposed demon; and it was not till he came that the unfortunate man could persuade them that he was no spectre, but flesh and blood."[ ] [ ] bonney. the valley is still a wild scene of desolation, owing to the enormous masses of stones of every shape and size with which its bed is filled. in september of the year , the second fall of the mountain rossberg took place, after a wet summer. it is underlaid by beds of clay which, when water penetrates, are apt to give way. the part which fell was about three miles long and yards wide and yards thick. in five minutes one of the most fertile valleys in switzerland was changed to a stony desert. three whole villages, six churches, houses, stables or châlets, head of cattle, and much land were buried under the ruins of the rossberg; persons lost their lives. some remarkable escapes are recorded. in the year the downfall of monte conto buried , inhabitants of the village of pleurs, near chiavenna. excavation among the ruins was subsequently attempted, but a few mangled corpses and a church-bell were all that could be reached. geologically these phenomena, appalling as they are from the human point of view, possess a certain interest, and their effects deserve to be studied. there is yet another danger to which dwellers in mountains are occasionally exposed; namely, the earthquake. it seems to be an established fact that earthquake shocks are more frequent in mountainous than in flat countries. the origin of these dangerous disturbances of the earth's crust has not yet been fully explained. they are probably caused in various ways; and it is very likely that the upheaval of mountain-chains is one of the causes at work. earthquakes have for many years been carefully studied by scientific men, and some valuable discoveries have been made. thus we find that they are more frequent in winter than summer, and also happen more often by night than by day. day and night are like summer and winter on a small scale, and so we need not be surprised at this discovery. some have maintained that there is a connection between earthquakes and the position of the moon; while others consider that the state of the atmosphere also exerts an influence, and that earthquakes are connected with rainy seasons, storms, etc. earthquakes are very often due to volcanic eruptions, but this is not always the case (see chapter vi., page ). chapter iv. mountain plants and animals. the high hills are a refuge for the wild goats, and so are the stony rocks for the conies.--_psalm civ. ._ there must be few people who have neither seen nor heard of the beauty and exquisite colours of alpine[ ] flowers. they are first seen on the fringes of the stately woods above the cultivated land; then in multitudes on the sloping pastures with which many mountain-chains are robed, brightening the verdure with innumerable colours; and higher up, where neither grass nor loose herbage can exist, among the slopes of shattered fragments which roll down from the mountain-tops,--nay, even amidst the glaciers,--they gladden the eye of the traveller and seem to plead sweetly with the spirits of destruction. alpine plants fringe the vast hills of snow and ice of the high hills, and sometimes have scarcely time to flower and ripen a few seeds before being again covered by their snowy bed. when the season is unfavourable, numbers of them remain under the snow for more than a year; and here they safely rest, unharmed by the alternations of frost and biting winds, with moist and springlike days. they possess the great charm of endless variety of form and colour, and represent widely separated divisions of the vegetable kingdom; but they are all small and low-growing compared to their relatives grown in the plains, where the soil is richer and the climate milder. among them are tiny orchids quite as interesting in their way as those from the tropics; liliputian trees, and a tree-like moss (_lycopodium dendroideum_) branching into an erect little pyramid as if in imitation of a mountain pine; ferns that peep cautiously from narrow rocky crevices as if clinging to the rock for shelter from the cold blasts; bulbous plants, from lilies to bluebells; evergreen shrubs, perfect in leaf and blossom and fruit, yet so small that one's hat will cover them; exquisite creeping plants spreading freely along the ground, and when they creep over the brows of rocks or stones, draping them with curtains of colour as lovely as those we see in the forests; numberless minute plants scarcely larger than mosses, mantling the earth with fresh green carpets in the midst of winter; succulent plants in endless variety; and lastly the ferns, mosses, and lichens which are such an endless source of pleasure and delight to the traveller. in short, alpine vegetation presents us with nearly every type of plant life of northern and temperate climes, chastened in tone and diminished in size. [ ] the word "alpine" is used in a general sense to denote the vegetation that grows naturally on the most elevated regions of the earth; that is, on all high mountains, whether they rise up in hot tropical plains or in cooler northern pastures. it is not difficult to account for the small size of these plants; for in the first place we cannot expect a large or luxuriant growth where the air is cold, the soil scanty, and the light of the sun often obscured by clouds, and where the changes of temperature are rapid,--which is very unfavourable to most plants. again, in the close struggle for existence which takes place on the plains and low tree-clad hills, the smaller forms of plant life are often overrun by trees, trailing plants, bushes, and vigorous herbs; but where these cannot find a home, owing to the severity of the winter and other causes, the little alpine plants, covered up by snow in the winter, can thrive abundantly. and lastly, like the older and conquered races of men who have been driven to the hills (see chap. i., p. ) and find shelter there, so there are both plants and animals living in the mountains which man will not suffer to live in the plain where he grows his crops, pastures his cattle, or builds his cities. we would also venture to suggest that possibly some plants have been ousted from plains by newer and more aggressive types, which came and took their place. if so, vegetable life would afford an illustration of a process which has so often taken place in human history. this is only a speculation, but still it might be worth following up. if alpine plants, or any considerable number of them, could be shown to belong to more ancient types, such as flourished in the later geological periods, that would afford some evidence in favour of the idea. whether this is so or not, plant life on the mountains is almost entirely protected from the destroying hands of men with their ploughs and scythes, as well as from many grazing animals. as mr. ruskin quaintly says: "the flowers which on the arable plain fell before the plough now find out for themselves unapproachable places, where year by year they gather into happier fellowship and fear no evil." it is clear that the climate of a mountainous region determines the character of the vegetation. now, the climate will be different in different parts of a mountain-range, and will depend upon the height above the sea and other causes.[ ] some writers upon this subject have attached too much importance to absolute height above the sea, as though this were the only cause at work. it is a very important cause, no doubt, but there are others which also have a great influence, such as the position of each locality with respect to the great mountain masses, the local conditions of exposure to the sun and protection from cold winds, or the reverse. however, in spite of local irregularities there are in the alps certain broad zones or belts of vegetation which may be briefly described as follows:-- [ ] the following remarks are largely taken from the introduction to ball's well-known "alpine guide." . _the olive region._--this region curiously illustrates what has just been said about other causes besides height influencing the climate and vegetation. for along the southern base of the alps, the lower slopes and the mouths of the valleys have a decidedly warmer climate than the plains of piedmont and lombardy. thus, while the winter climate of milan is colder than that of edinburgh, the olive can ripen its fruit along the skirts of the mountain region, and penetrates to a certain distance towards the interior of the chain along the lakes and the wider valleys of the southern alps. even up the shores of the lake of garda, where the evergreen oak grows, the olive has become wild. the milder climate of the borromean islands, and some points on the shores of the lago maggiore, will permit many plants of the warmer temperate zone to grow; while at a distance of a few miles, and close to the shores of the same lake, but in positions exposed to the cold winds from the alps, plants of the alpine region grow freely, and no delicate perennials can survive the winter. the olive has been known to resist a temperature of about ° f. (or ° below the freezing point of water), but is generally destroyed by a less degree of cold. it can only be successfully cultivated where the winter frosts are neither long nor severe, where the mean temperature of winter does not fall below ° f., and a heat of ° f. during the day is continued through four or five months of the summer and autumn. . _the vine region._--the vine, being more tolerant of cold than the olive, can grow at a higher level; and so the next zone of vegetation in the alps may be called "the vine region." but to give tolerable wine it requires at the season of ripening of the grape almost as much warmth as the olive needs. vines can grow in the deeper valleys throughout a great part of the alpine chain, and in favourable situations up to a considerable height on their northern slopes. on the south side, although the limit of perpetual snow is lower, the vine often reaches near to the foot of the greater peaks. but the fitness of a particular spot for the production of wine depends far more on the direction of the valley and of the prevailing winds than on the height. and so it happens that in the canton valais, the valley of the arc in savoy, and some others on the north side of the dividing range, tolerable wine is made at a higher level than in the valleys of lombardy, whose direction allows the free passage of the keen northern blasts. it is a curious fact that in the alps the vine often resists a winter temperature which would kill it down to the roots in the low country; and we must explain it by the protection of the deep winter snow. along with the vine many species of wild plants, especially annuals, characteristic of the flora of the south of europe, show themselves in the valleys of the alps. . _the mountain region, or region of deciduous trees._--many writers take the growth of corn as the characteristic of the colder temperate zone, corresponding to what has been called the mountain region of the alps. but so many varieties, all with different requirements, are in cultivation, that it is impossible to take the growth of cereals in general as marking clearly any natural division of the surface. a more natural limit is marked by the presence of deciduous trees (trees which shed their leaves). although the oak, beech, and ash do not exactly reach the same height, and are not often seen growing side by side in the alps, yet their upper limit marks pretty accurately the transition from a temperate to a colder climate that is shown by a general change in the wild, herbaceous vegetation. the lower limit of this zone is too irregular to be exactly defined, but its upper boundary is about , feet on the cold north side of the alps, and often rises to , feet on the southern slopes, which of course get more sunshine and warmth. the climate of this region is favourable to the growth of such trees as the oak, beech, and ash, but it does not follow that we should see them there in any great numbers at the present time; for it is probable that at a very early date they were extensively destroyed for building purposes, and to clear space for meadow and pasture land, so that with the exception of the beech forests of the austrian alps, there is scarcely a considerable wood of deciduous trees to be seen anywhere in the chain. in many districts where the population is not too dense, the pine and scotch fir have taken the place of the oak and beech, mainly because the young plants are not so eagerly attacked by goats, the great destroyers of trees. . _the region of coniferous trees._--botanically this region is best distinguished by the prevalence of coniferous trees, forming vast forests, which if not kept down by man (and by goats) would cover the slopes of the alps. the prevailing species are the common fir and the silver fir. in districts where granite abounds, the larch flourishes and reaches a greater size than any other tree. less common are the scotch fir and the arolla, or siberian fir. in the eastern alps the dwarf pine becomes conspicuous, forming a distinct zone on the higher mountains above the level of other firs. the pine forests play a most important part in the natural economy of the alps; and their preservation is a matter of very great importance to the future inhabitants. but in some places they have been considerably diminished by cutting. this has especially happened in the neighbourhood of mines; and in consequence the people of the unfrequented communes have become so alive to this that some jealousy is felt of strangers wandering among the mountains, lest they should discover metals and cause the destruction of the woods. their fears are not unreasonable; for the forests, besides exerting a good deal of influence on rainfall and climate, form natural defences against the rush of the spring avalanches (see chapter iii., page ). it is recorded that after the war of , in which many of those near the st. gothard pass were destroyed, the neighbouring villages suffered terribly from this scourge. hence the laws do not allow of timber being cut in certain forests called "bannwalde;" and in most places the right of felling trees is strictly regulated, and the woods are under the inspection of officials. in spots high up among the mountains, to which access is difficult, the timber is converted into charcoal, which is then brought down in sacks by horses and mules. there are two ways in which timber is conveyed down from the forest: either it is cut up into logs some five feet long, and thrown into a neighbouring torrent, which brings it down over cliff and gorge to the valley below; or else trough-like slides are constructed along the mountain-sides, down which the trunks themselves are launched. it is this region of coniferous trees which mainly determines the manner of life of the population of the alps. in the month of may the horned cattle, having been fed in houses during the winter (as they are in the scotch highlands, where the cowsheds are called "byres"), are led up to the lower pastures. the lower châlets, occupied in may and part of june, generally stand at about the upper limit of the mountain region. towards the middle or end of june the cattle are moved up to the chief pastures, towards the upper part of the region of coniferous trees, where they usually remain for the next two or three months. but there are some available pastures still higher up, and hither some of the cattle are sent for a month or more. . _the alpine region._--this is the zone of vegetation extending from the upper limit of trees to where permanent masses of snow first make their appearance; so that where the trees cease, the peculiar alpine plants begin; but we still find shrubs, such as the common rhododendron, alpine willow, and the common juniper, which extend up to, and the latter even beyond, the level of perpetual snow. the limits of this interesting and delightful botanical region may be fixed between , and , feet above the sea, and at least , feet higher on the south slopes of the alps, which get more sunshine. it is used to some extent for pasture; and in piedmont it is not uncommon to find châlets at the height of , feet, and vegetation often extends freely up to , feet. here and there, at levels below this zone, many alpine species may be found, either transported by accident from their natural home, or finding a permanent refuge in some cool spot sheltered from the sun, and moistened by streamlets descending from the snow region. but it is chiefly here that those delightful flowers grow which make the alps like a great flower-garden,--great anemones, white and sulphur-coloured; gentians of the deepest blue, like the sky overhead; campanulas, geums, alpine solanellas, and forget-me-nots; asters, ox-eyed daisies, pale pink primulas, purple heartsease, edelweiss, saxifrages, yellow poppies, alpine toad-flax, monkshood, potentilla, and others too numerous to mention. says professor bonney,-- "who cannot recall many a happy hour spent in rambling from cluster to cluster on the side of some great alp?--the scent of sweet herbage or of sweeter daphne perfuming the invigorating air, the melody of the cattle-bells borne up from some far-off pasture, while the great blue vault of heaven above seems reflected in the gentian clusters at his feet. the love of flowers seems natural to almost every human being, however forlorn his life may have been, however far it may have missed its appointed mark. it may well be so; they at least are fresh and untainted from their maker's hand; the cry of 'nature red in tooth and claw' scarce breaks their calm repose. side by side they flourish without strife; none 'letteth or hindereth another,' yet so tender and delicate, doomed to fade all too soon, a touch of sadness is ever present to give a deeper pathos to our love." . _the glacial region._--this comprehends all that portion of the alps that rises above the limit of perpetual snow. but a word of explanation is necessary. the highest parts of the alps are not covered by one continuous sheet of snow; otherwise we should never see any peaks or crags there. some are too steep for the snow to rest upon them, and therefore remain bare at heights much greater than the so-called "limit of perpetual snow," and that limit varies considerably. still this term has a definite meaning when rightly understood. leaving out of account masses of snow that accumulate in hollows shaded from the sun, the "snow-line" is fairly even, so that on viewing an alpine range from a distance, the larger patches and fields of snow on adjoining mountains, with the same aspect, are seen to maintain a pretty constant level. [illustration: on a glacier.] vegetation becomes scarce in this region, not, as commonly supposed, because alpine plants do not here find the necessary conditions for growth, but simply for want of soil. the intense heat of the direct rays of the sun (see chapter iii., pages - ) compensates for the cold of the night; and it is probable that the greater allowance of light also stimulates vegetable life. but all the more level parts are covered with ice or snow; and the higher we ascend, the less the surface remains bare, with the exception of the projecting rocks which usually undergo rapid destruction and breaking up from the freezing of whatever water finds its way into their fissures. nevertheless, many species of flowering plants have been found even at the height of eleven thousand feet. it is in this region that plants are found whose true home is in the arctic regions (see chapter ii., pages - ). for the sake of those who love ferns, lycopods, and other cryptogamic or flowerless plants, a few words may be said here. of the polypodies, the beech fern and oak fern are generally common, so is the limestone polypody in places where limestone occurs. another species (_p. alpestre_) very like the lady fern grows plentifully in many places. the parsley fern, familiar to the botanist in wales and other parts of great britain, is common, especially on the crystalline rocks, and ascends to above seven thousand feet. the holly fern is perhaps the most characteristic one of the higher alps. it is abundant in almost every district from the viso to the tyrol, ranging from about five thousand feet to nearly eight thousand feet. the finest specimens are to be found in the limestone districts. nestling down in little channels worn out of the rock, it shoots out great fronds, often more than eighteen inches long, which are giants compared to the stunted specimens seen on rockwork in english gardens. _asplenium septentrionale_ is very common in most of the districts where crystalline rocks abound. the hart's tongue is hardly to be called a mountain fern. the common brake is confined to the lower slopes. _cistopteris fragillis_ and _c. dentata_ are common, and the more delicate _c. alpina_ is not rare. the noble _osmunda regalis_ keeps to the warmer valleys. the moonwort abounds in the upper pastures. the club-mosses (_lycopodium_), which are found in great britain, are common in most parts of the alps, especially the _l. selago_, which grows almost up to the verge of the snows. lower down is the delicate _l. velveticum_, which creeps among the damp mosses under the shade of the forest. many of the smaller species stain with spots of crimson, orange, and purple the rocks among the snowfields and glaciers, and gain the summits of peaks more than eighteen thousand feet above the sea, reaching even to the highest rocks in the alpine chain. for the sake of readers who are not familiar with that wonderful book, "modern painters," we will quote some exquisite passages on lichens and mosses, full of beautiful thoughts:-- "we have found beauty in the tree yielding fruit and in the herb yielding seed. how of the herb yielding no seed,--the fruitless, flowerless[ ] lichen of the rock? [ ] flowerless in the ordinary, not the botanical sense. "lichens and mosses (though these last in their luxuriance are deep and rich as herbage, yet both for the most part humblest of the green things that live),--how of these? meek creatures!--the first mercy of the earth, veiling with trusted softness its dintless rocks, creatures full of pity, covering with strange and tender honour the scarred disgrace of ruin, laying quiet finger on the trembling stones to teach them rest. no words that i know of will say what these mosses are; none are delicate enough, none perfect enough, none rich enough. how is one to tell of the rounded bosses of furred and beaming green; the starred divisions of rubied bloom, fine-filmed, as if the rock spirits could spin porphyry as we do grass; the traceries of intricate silver, and fringes of amber, lustrous, arborescent, burnished through every fibre into fitful brightness and glossy traverses of silken change, yet all subdued and pensive, and framed for simplest, sweetest offices of grace? they will not be gathered, like the flowers, for chaplet or love token; but of these the wild bird will make its nest and the wearied child his pillow. "and as the earth's first mercy, so they are its last gift to us. when all other service is vain, from plant and tree the soft mosses and grey lichen take up their watch by the headstone. the woods, the blossoms, the gift-bearing grasses, have done their parts for a time, but these do service for ever. tree for the builder's yard--flowers for the bride's chamber--corn for the granary--moss for the grave. "yet as in one sense the humblest, in another they are the most honoured of the earth-children; unfading as motionless, the worm frets them not and the autumn wastes not. strong in lowliness, they neither blanch in heat nor pine in frost. to them, slow-fingered, constant-hearted, is entrusted the weaving of the dark, eternal tapestries of the hills; to them, slow-pencilled, iris-dyed, the tender framing of their endless imagery. sharing the stillness of the unimpassioned rock, they share also its endurance; and while the winds of departing spring scatter the white hawthorn blossom like drifted snow, and summer dims on the parched meadow the drooping of its cowslip,--gold far above, among the mountains, the silver lichen-spots rest, star-like, on the stone; and the gathering orange-stain upon the edge of yonder western peak reflects the sunsets of a thousand years." alpine and arctic plants are met with in great britain, but scotland has a much more extensive arctic-alpine flora than england, wales, or ireland, the reason being the greater altitude of its mountains. the combined flora of the united kingdom contains only ninety-one species of arctic-alpine plants, and of these eighty-eight--that is, all but three--are natives of scotland. of these three the first is a gentian (_gentiana verna_), which is to be found on the hills of west yorkshire, durham, westmoreland, and other parts. it comes from the alps. the second is _lloydia serotina_,--a small bulbous plant with white flowers, which is found on the hills of carnarvonshire, in wales. the third, well known in english gardens, is london pride (_saxifraga umbrosa_), which is only to be found on the southwest irish hills. of the ninety-one arctic-alpine species, just about half are also natives of england and wales, but only twenty-five belong to ireland. if we examine the lists of the flora of arctic europe we find that all these, except about six, are found in arctic regions; and if we travel farther north till we come actually to polar regions, we find nearly fifty of these species growing there near the sea-level. the grampian mountains are the chief centre of the scottish arctic-alpine flora. the two principal localities for such flowers in that range are the breadalbane mountains in perthshire, and the cænlochan and clova mountains of forfarshire. there are also a goodly number on the mountains of the braemar district. the history of the arctic-alpine flora of europe is a very interesting one. these plants, whose true home is in the arctic regions, living high up on the mountains of europe, give unmistakable evidence of a time, very far back, when northern europe was overrun by glaciers and snowfields so as to resemble in appearance and in climate the greenland of the present day. this period is known to geologists as the "great ice age." the moraines of glaciers, ice-worn rock surfaces, and other unmistakable signs may be well seen in many parts of great britain. how long ago this took place we cannot say; but judging from the considerable changes in geography which have undoubtedly taken place since then, we must conclude that many thousands of years, perhaps two hundred thousand, have intervened between this period and the present time. when arctic conditions prevailed over this wide area, the plants and animals which now live in arctic latitudes flourished in great britain; but as the climate gradually became more genial, and the snow and ice melted, the plants and animals mostly retreated to their northern home. a certain number doubtless became extinct; but others took to the highest parts of the mountains, where snow and ice abound; and there they remain to the present day, separated from their fellows, but still enjoying the kind of climate to which they have always been accustomed, and testifying to the wonderful changes which have taken place since the mammoth, whose bones are found embedded in our river-gravels, wandered over the plains of northern europe. _animal life._ the rocky fastnesses of the alps still afford a home to some of the larger wild animals which in other parts of europe have gradually disappeared with the advance of civilisation. during the latter part of the "stone age," long before history was written, when men used axes, hammers, arrow-heads, and other implements of stone, instead of bronze or iron, switzerland was inhabited by animals which are not to be seen now. the gigantic urus (_bos primigenius_), which flourished in the forests of the interior during this prehistoric human period, and gave its name to the canton of uri, has become extinct. the marsh hog was living during the period of the swiss lake-dwellers. these people made their houses on piles driven in near the shore, and were acquainted with the use of bronze, and therefore later than the men of the "stone age." the remains of these strange dwelling-places have been discovered in several places, as well as many articles of daily use. the marsh hog has disappeared; and its place is taken by the wild boar and domestic hog, which afford sport and food to the present population. but taking switzerland as it now is, we will say a few words about the more interesting forms of animal life dwelling in the alps, beginning with those which are highest in the animal kingdom. chief among these is the brown bear, still occasionally found, but it is exceedingly rare, except in the grisons and in the districts of the tyrol and italy bordering on the canton, where it still carries on its ravages.[ ] some also believe that it still lingers in the rocky fastnesses of the jura mountains, to the east of the alps. there is properly only one species of bear in switzerland, but the hunters generally speak of three,--the great black, the great grey, and the small brown. the second of these is merely an accidental variety of the first; but between the grey and the small brown bears there is a good deal of difference. they assert that the black bear is not only considerably larger than the brown, but is also different in its habits. it is less ferocious and prefers a vegetable diet,--feeding on herbs, corn, and vegetables, with the roots and branches of trees. it has a way of plundering bee-hives and also ants' nests; it delights in strawberries and all kinds of fruit, plundering the orchards, and even making raids on the vineyards, but always retreating before dawn. as a rule it does not attack human beings. the brown bear is much more formidable, prowling by night about the sheepfolds, and causing the sheep by their fright to fall down precipices. goats, when alarmed, leap on the roofs of the châlets, and bleat, in order to arouse the shepherds; so that when bruin rears himself up against the wall he often meets his death. there are many stories on record of fierce fights for life between man and bear. the bear passes the winter in a torpid state, and eats little or nothing then. [ ] we are again indebted to professor bonney's "alpine regions of switzerland" for the information here given. the wolf, though still lingering in several lonely parts of the alps, is rapidly becoming rare. it is most frequent in the districts about the engadine and in the jura mountains. only in winter-time, when hard pressed by hunger, does it approach the haunts of man. it takes almost any kind of prey it can get,--foxes, hares, rats, mice, birds, lizards, frogs, and toads. sheep and goats are its favourite prey. the wolf is an affectionate parent, and takes his turn in looking after the nurslings, which is a necessary precaution, as his friends and relations have a way of eating up the babies. the fox is common in many parts of the alps, but not often seen by travellers. instead of taking the trouble to burrow, he frequently manages by various cunning devices to take possession of a badger's hole. as tschudi quaintly observes, "he has far too much imagination and poetic sentiment to like so monotonous and laborious an occupation as burrowing." like the wolf, the mountain fox eats whatever he can catch, even beetles, flies, and bees. those in the valleys live more luxuriously than their relations on the mountains,--plundering bee-hives and robbing orchards. as it was in judæa in the days of solomon, so it is now in switzerland among the vineyards; and a peasant might well say, "take us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards." the lynx is only occasionally found in the alps, which is fortunate for the shepherds, for they can play terrible havoc with the sheep. wild-cats still linger in the most unfrequented parts. their fur is valuable, and the flesh is sometimes eaten. the badger is far from common, though rarely seen by day. it is very cunning in avoiding traps, and so is generally either dug out of its hole drawn by dogs, or pulled out by a pole with nippers or a hook at the end. passing on to less ferocious beasts, we find the otter common along the borders of rivers and lakes. the polecat, weasel, and stoat are often too abundant for keepers of poultry. the squirrel is common enough in the forests, but varies greatly in colour. it is doubtful whether the beaver still lingers by some lonely alpine stream. it is last mentioned in a list of swiss mammals, published in , as found, though rarely, in some lonely spots. rabbits are common, but hares rather scarce; of these there are, as in scotland, two varieties,--the brown hare, which is seldom found at heights greater than four thousand to five thousand feet, and the blue hare, which ranges up to nine thousand feet. the latter changes colour: its fur in summer is of a dull bluish-grey, and in winter it becomes perfectly white, and so affords a striking illustration of "protective mimicry," for with snow lying on the ground it would be very hard to see the creature. the marmot is common in all the higher alpine regions. these interesting little creatures are very watchful, and easily scent danger. when an intruder approaches, a sentinel marmot utters a long shrill whistle, which is often repeated two or three times, and then they all make for their burrows; but it is not easy to distinguish them from the grey rocks among which they live. the fur is a yellowish or brownish grey, with black on the head and face, and a little white on the muzzle; the tail is short and bushy with a tipping of black. they have different quarters for summer and winter. the summer burrows are in the belt of rough pasture between the upper limits of trees and the snows; towards the end of autumn they come down to the pastures which the herdsmen have just abandoned and there make their winter burrows, which are much larger than the summer ones. like rabbits, they frequently make a bolt-hole, by which they may escape from an intruder. in winter the holes are plugged up, and the marmots, rolling themselves up in a ball, go to sleep for six months or more. sometimes hunters dig them out; but so soundly do they sleep that, according to de saussure, they may often be taken out, placed in the game-bag, and carried home without being aroused. they wake up about april. the chamois, a very favourite subject with the wood-carvers, is the only member of the antelope family in western europe; it is found in almost every part of the alps, but is now much rarer than it was formerly. a full-grown chamois in good condition weighs about sixty pounds. the hair is thick, and changes colour with the season, being a red yellowish-brown in summer and almost black in winter. the horns, which curve backwards, rise from the head above and between the eyes to a height which rarely exceeds seven inches. when the kid is about three months old, the horns make their appearance, and at first are not nearly as hook-shaped as they afterwards become. when full-grown, it stands at the shoulder about two feet from the ground. the hind-legs being longer than the fore-legs, its gait is awkward on level ground, but they are admirably suited for mountain climbing. when at full speed, it can check itself almost instantly, and can spring with wonderful agility. its hoofs are not well adapted for traversing the ice, and therefore it avoids glaciers as far as possible. having a great fear of concealed crevasses, it is very shy of venturing on the upper part of a glacier; and the tracks which it leaves in these places often show by their windings and sudden turnings that the animal has exercised great caution. and so travellers often use this as a useful clue to getting safely over a glacier. its agility is something extraordinary. it can spring across chasms six or seven yards wide, and "with a sudden bound leap up the face of a perpendicular rock, and merely touching it with its hoofs, rebound again in an opposite direction to some higher crag, and thus escape from a spot where, without wings, egress seemed impossible. when reaching upwards on its hind-legs, the fore-legs resting on some higher spot, it is able to stretch to a considerable distance, and with a quick spring bring up its hind-quarters to a level with the rest of the body, and with all four hoofs together, stand poised on a point of rock not broader than your hand."[ ] the chamois feed on various mountain herbs, and on the buds and sprouts of the rhododendron and latschen (a pine). at night they couch among the broken rocks high upon the mountains, descending at daybreak to pasture, and retreating, as the heat increases, towards their fastnesses. when winter comes, they are forced down to the higher forests, where they pick up a scanty subsistence from moss, dead leaves, and the fibrous lichen which hangs in long yellowish-grey tufts from the fir-trees and bears the name of "chamois-beard." while browsing on this, they sometimes get their horns hooked in a bough, and so, being unable to disentangle themselves, perish with hunger. the senses of hearing, smell, and sight are exceedingly acute; so that the hunter must exercise all his craft to approach the animals. pages might be filled with the hair-breadth escapes and fearful accidents which have befallen hunters; and yet they find the pursuit so fascinating that nothing will induce them to abandon it. a young peasant told the famous de saussure (the pioneer of alpine explorers) that though his father and grandfather before him had met their death while out on the hunt, not even the offer of a fortune would tempt him to change his vocation. the bag which he carried with him he called his winding-sheet, because he felt sure he would never have any other. two years afterwards he was found dead at the foot of a precipice. [ ] bonar on chamois-hunting in bavaria. the bouquetin, or steinbock, once abundant throughout the greater part of the alps, is now confined to certain parts where it is preserved by the king of italy. de saussure observes that in his time they had ceased to be found near chamouni. its whole build is remarkably strong, giving it quite a different appearance from the slender and graceful chamois. [illustration: red deer. after ansdell.] the roe, the fallow deer, and the red deer have, it is said, quite disappeared from the french and swiss alps, but all of them occur in the bavarian and austrian highlands. they frequent the forests which clothe the lower slopes, and do not often wander into the more rocky districts. the wild boar only now and then appears across the rhine, although it is common in the subalpine forests farther east; but we can hardly consider it a true alpine quadruped. passing on to the birds which frequent the alps, we must first notice the bearded vulture, the lämmergeier of the germans, which once was common, but now only holds its own here and there in some lonely mountain fastness. although preferring living prey to carrion, still in many ways it is closely allied to the true vulture. the upper part of the body is a greyish-brown hue, the under side white, tinged with reddish brown. the nest, built on a high ledge of rock, consists of straw and fern, resting on sticks, on which are placed branches lined with moss and down. it is a rare thing for the traveller to obtain a view of this monarch of the alpine birds. like the true vulture, its digestive powers are marvellous. according to tschudi ("les alpes"), the stomach of one of these birds was found to contain five fragments of a cow's rib, a mass of matted wool and hair, and the leg of a kid perfect from the knee downwards. another had bolted a fox's rib fifteen inches long, as well as the brush, besides a number of bones and other indigestible parts of smaller animals, which were slowly being eaten away by the gastric juice. sheep, goats, full-grown chamois, and smaller quadrupeds are eagerly devoured by this voracious bird. it is said to be bold enough to attack a man, when it finds him asleep or climbing in any dangerous place. tschudi, in his book on the alps, gives several instances of young children being carried off. one of these happened in the bernese oberland, as follows: two peasants, making hay upon the pastures, had taken with them their daughter anna, a child about three years old. she quickly fell asleep on the turf near the hay châlet; so the father put his broad-brimmed hat over her face, and went to work some little way off. on his return with a load of hay the child was gone; and a brief search showed that she was nowhere near. just at this time a peasant walking along a rough path in the glen was startled by the cry of a child, and going towards the place whence it came, saw a lämmergeier rise from a neighbouring summit and hover for some time over a precipice. on climbing thither in all haste, he found the child lying on the very brink. she was but little injured; some scratches were found on her hands and on the left arm, by which she had been seized; and she had been carried more than three quarters of a mile through the air. she lived to a good old age, and was always called the geier-anna, or vulture's annie, in memory of her escape. the particulars are inscribed in the registers of the parish of habkeren. the golden eagle is not uncommon in most parts of the alps, although travellers rarely obtain a near view. it is said to be very fond of hares, chasing and capturing them very cleverly. as in great britain, it is accused of carrying off children; but this is at least doubtful. the kite, buzzard and falcon are occasionally seen. there are at least ten species of owls, among which is the magnificent eagle-owl. the raven is found in the lonelier glens, and is often tamed. its thieving propensities are very amusing. alpine birds of prey correspond very closely with british. the jackdaw is also common. it would be impossible within our short limits to give a complete list of swiss birds, but we may mention among others the nutcracker, the jay, the white-breasted swift, the wheatear, the common black redstart, the beautiful wall-creeper, and the snow-finch, which mounts to the borders of the snow. of game-birds we may mention the capercailze, the black grouse, and the hazel grouse, all of which are common in many of the forests. the ptarmigan haunts the stony tracts on the borders of perpetual snow. in winter it turns white, and in summer greyish-brown, though a good deal of white remains. pheasants and partridges cannot be said to be alpine birds; but the greek partridge may be so considered. numbers of the mountain streams and tarns contain excellent trout, and most of the larger lakes are well stocked with fish. some of the trout of the swiss and italian lakes are of great size. the pike frequently weigh twelve to fifteen pounds. reptiles are not numerous. the common frog, which is said to be found as high as ten thousand feet above the sea, swarms in some parts of the rhone valley. of true lizards, five species have been recognized. the blind-worm (which is not a snake), so common on many of our english heaths, is often met with. among the true snakes we find the english ringed snake--quite harmless--and two adders. the common adder is found at a height of seven thousand feet above the sea. lower forms of life not possessing a backbone (invertebrates) abound in this region; but they are far too numerous to be considered here. butterflies and moths are abundant; and many of those which are rare in england are common in the alps, so that the entomologist finds a happy hunting-ground. the beautiful swallowtail and the handsome apollo, coppers, painted ladies, fritillaries, and many other lepidoptera thrive in these regions, and are less easily frightened than at home in england. part ii. how the mountains were made. part ii. how the mountains were made. chapter v. how the materials were brought together. these changes in the heavens, though slow, produce like change on sea and land. milton probably every mountain climber, resting for a brief space on a loose boulder, or seeking the shade of some overhanging piece of rock, has often asked himself, "how were all these rocks made?" the question must occur again and again to any intelligent person on visiting a mountain for the first time, or even on seeing a mountain-range in the distance. he may well ask his companions how these great ramparts of the earth were built up. but unless he possesses some knowledge of the science of geology, which tells of the manifold changes which in former ages have taken place on the earth, or unless, in the absence of such knowledge, he chance to meet with a geologist, his question probably remains unanswered. such questions, however, can be very satisfactorily answered,--thanks to the labours of zealous seekers after truth, who have given the best part of their lives to studying the rocks which are found everywhere on the surface of the earth, and the changes they undergo. geology is a truly english science; and englishmen may well cherish gratefully the memories of its pioneers,--hutton, playfair, lyell, and others, who have made the way so clear for future explorers. the story of the hills as written on their own rocky tablets and on the very boulders lying loose on their sloping sides, and interpreted by geologists, is a long one; for it takes us far back into the dim ages of the past, and like the fashionable novel, may be divided into three parts, or volumes. to those who follow the stony science it is quite as fascinating as a modern romance, and a great deal more wonderful, thus illustrating the force of the old saying, "truth is stranger than fiction." the three parts of our story may be best expressed by the three following inquiries: i. how were the materials of which mountains are built up brought together and made into hard rock? ii. how were they raised up into the elevated positions in which we now find them? iii. how were they carved out into all their wonderful and beautiful features of crag and precipice, peaks and passes? a mountain group, with its central peak or spire, its long ridges, steep walls, towers, buttresses, dark hollows, and carved pinnacles standing out against the sky, has well been compared to a great and stately building such as a cathedral or a temple. mountains are indeed "a great and noble architecture, giving first shelter, comfort, and rest, but covered also with mighty sculpture and painted legend;" and to many they are nature's shrines, where men may offer their humble praises and prayers to the great architect who reared them for his children. we have introduced this illustration because it will help us in our inquiry. suppose we were standing in front of some great cathedral, such as milan, with all its marble pinnacles, or notre dame, with its stately towers, or the minsters of york or durham in our own country, and trying to picture to ourselves how it was built. no one has lived long enough to watch the completion of one of these great buildings; but for all that, we know pretty well how it was made, even by watching the builder's operations for a short time, or by following, as we often may, the various stages in the construction of a small house. so it is with nature's work. we cannot, in our little lives, witness the rearing of a great mountain-chain, or even the carving of a single hill; but we can observe for ourselves the slow and continuous operations which in the course of thousands and thousands of years produce such stupendous results. we may learn how the building operations are conducted, though the final results will only be manifested in the far-distant future. but to return to our cathedral. if we try to picture to ourselves the long years during which it was covered with scaffolding and surrounded by a busy army of workers, we shall soon perceive that the operations may be broadly divided into three heads. _first_, we must inquire how the separate stones of which it is composed were brought together into one place, and we shall at once picture to ourselves groups of men working in stone-quarries,--perhaps a long way off,--busy with their crowbars and hammers, breaking off large blocks of stone, and following the natural divisions of the rock that their rough labour may be lessened; for all rocks will split more easily along certain lines than along others. sometimes it is easier to follow the "bedding," or natural layers in which the rock was formed; at other times the "joints," or cracks subsequently formed as the rocky materials hardened and contracted in bulk, afford easier lines for the workmen to follow. others are busily engaged in placing the stony blocks on trollies drawn by horses, that they may be borne along the roads leading from the quarry to the site of the future cathedral. and so, taking a bird's-eye view, we seem to see horses and carts slowly moving on from many a distant quarry, but all converging like the branches of a river to one main channel, and finally depositing their burdens in the stone-yard where the masons are at work. perhaps bricks are partly employed, in which case we can easily picture to ourselves the brickyards, where some are digging out the soft clay, others moulding it into bricks with wooden moulds, while others again lay them down in rows on the ground to dry, before they are baked in the ovens. and when the bricks are ready for use, the same means of transportation are employed; and cart-loads of them are borne along the country roads until they so reach their destination. now, all this may be summed up in the one word "transportation;" and we shall presently inquire how the rocky matter of which the mountains are built was transported. _secondly._ we have to inquire how the bricks and stones were raised up. the analogy is not quite perfect in this case; for the mountains were raised up _en bloc_, not bit by bit and stone by stone, as in the case of the cathedral. still they have been raised somehow. analogies are seldom complete in every detail; but for all that, our illustration serves well enough, and will help us in following the various processes of mountain building. in these days, the raising of the stones is mostly effected by steam-power applied to big cranes and pulleys. in old days they used cranes and pulleys, but the ropes were pulled by hand-power. in either case the work proceeds slowly; and we can easily picture to ourselves the daily raising of the stones of which the cathedral is composed. "what were the forces at work which slowly raised the mountains?" this question we will endeavour to answer later on (see next chapter). this work may be included in the one word, "elevation." _and lastly._ we must inquire how the carving of the stately building was effected, how its pinnacles received their shape, and how all those lovely details received their final forms; how the intricate traceries of its windows were made, and the statues carved which adorn its solemn portals. this question is easily answered, for we are all more or less familiar with what goes on in a stone-mason's yard. under those wooden sheds we see a number of skilled labourers at work, busy with their chisels and mallets, cutting out, according to the patterns made from the architect's detailed drawings, the portions of tracery for windows, or the finials, crockets, and other features of the future building. in another part of the yard may be seen the stone-cutters, working in pairs and slowly pulling backwards and forwards those long saws which, with the help of water and sand, in time cut through the biggest blocks. all this work then may be summed up under the one word, "ornamentation," for it includes the cutting and carving of the stone. our three lines of inquiry may now be summed up in these three words, which are easily remembered:-- _transportation_, _elevation_, _ornamentation_. taking the first of these subjects for consideration in the present chapter, we have now to inquire into the nature of the materials of which mountains are composed and the means by which they have been brought together and compacted into hard rock. first, with regard to the nature of the materials which mother earth uses to build her rocky ramparts: they are the same as the ordinary rocks of which the earth's crust is composed; and the greater part of them have been formed by the action of water. these are the ordinary "stratified" rocks, which in one form or another meet us almost everywhere, and may be said to be aqueous deposits, or sediments formed in seas and inland lakes. they are always arranged in layers, known to geologists as "strata," because they have been gently laid down, or strewn (latin, _stratum_), at the bottom of some large body of water. there were pauses in the deposition of the materials, during which each layer had time to harden a little before the next one was formed. this accounts for the stratification. in this way great deposits of sandstone, clay, and limestone, with their numerous varieties, have been in the course of ages gradually piled up, till they have attained to enormous thickness, which at first sight seem almost incredible; but the bed of the seas in which they formed was probably undergoing a slow sinking process that kept pace with the growth of these deposits, otherwise the sea might have been more or less filled up. and these processes are still going on. in fact, it is entirely by watching what goes on now that geologists are able to explain what took place a very long time ago when there were no human beings on the earth to record the events that took place. and so we argue from the present to the past, from the known to the unknown. in other words, geology is based upon physical geography, which tells us of the changes now in progress on the earth. thus, sandstone, as frequently met with in different parts of great britain, and largely used for building purposes, such as the familiar old red sandstone[ ] of south wales, hereford, and the north of england and different parts of scotland, was once soft sand in no way at all different from the sand of the seashore at the present day, or of the sandy bed of the north sea. in process of time it became hardened, and acquired its characteristic red colour, which is due to oxide of iron. in some places numerous fossil fishes have been discovered in this interesting formation, so intimately associated with the name of hugh miller, who first thoroughly explored it; these and other remains entombed therein tell us of the strange forms of life which flourished on the earth during that very old-fashioned period of the world's history; and by putting together all kinds of evidences derived from the rock itself, geologists are able to form a very good idea of the way in which this rock-deposit was accumulated, always, however, basing their conclusions on a thorough knowledge of what goes on at the present day in seas, rivers, and inland lakes. [ ] the reader will find an account of the old red sandstone in the writer's "autobiography of the earth" (edward stanford, ). in the great series of stratified rocks forming what is commonly called the crust of the earth (an unfortunate term which has survived from the time when the interior of the earth was generally believed to be in a fiery molten condition, and covered by a thin coating of solid rock at the surface), there are besides the sandstones, of which we have just spoken, great deposits of dark-coloured clays, shales, and slates. all these can be accounted for by the geologist. they are simply different states of what was once soft mud. the slates tell us that they have been subjected to very severe pressure, which squeezed their particles till they were elongated and all arranged in one direction, and this is the reason why they split up into thin sheets. others, again, represent vast deposits of carbonate of lime, thousands of feet thick and now occupying hundreds of square miles of the earth's surface. limestone rocks are as abundant in our own country as the sandstones, shales, or slates. the chalk of which the north and south downs are composed is a familiar example. it is seen again forming salisbury plain, in hampshire and the isle of wight, and then it may be traced running up the country in a long band through the counties of oxford, cambridge, lincoln, until it reaches the coast at flamborough head in yorkshire. then we have the bath oölites so much used in building, for they form an admirable "freestone" that can be easily carved and cut in any direction (hence the term "freestone"); and lastly, the great mountain limestone so well developed in south wales, yorkshire, and the lake country. all these were slowly built up at the bottom of the seas which existed in past ages; great beds of gravel formed at the mouths of rivers, and long banks of pebbles and rounded stones collected on the shore of primeval seas, and were ground against each other as now by the action of the waves, until all their corners were rubbed off. pebble-beds, called by geologists conglomerates, are met with among the stratified rocks; and their story is easily read by studying what takes place at the present day on our seashores. [illustration: chalk rocks, flamborough head. from a photograph by g. w. wilson.] now, the sandstones, clays, gravels, and pebble-beds all represent, as will presently be explained, so much material worn away from the surface of the land and swept into the ocean (or in some cases into inland seas and lakes) by streams and rivers, which are the great transporting agents of the world. hence such deposits of débris, supplied by the constant wear and tear of all rocks exposed to the atmosphere, are truly sedimentary and have a purely mechanical origin. but it is not so with the limestones. the latter were never transported, but grew at the bottom of the sea in very wonderful ways. they have nothing to do with the wear and tear of the land to which the others owe their existence, but represent vast quantities of carbonate of lime extracted from sea water. sea water contains a certain amount of this substance in a dissolved state, or "in solution," as a chemist would say; and the way in which this is extracted by the agency of various creatures, such as coral polypes and little microscopic creatures that build their shells of carbonate of lime, of great beauty, forms one of the most interesting subjects presented to the student of physical geography. hence, since limestone can only be accounted for by the agency of living organisms,[ ] it is rightly termed an _organic deposit_, and the others are said to be _mechanical deposits_. but both are called "aqueous rocks," because they are formed under water. it is important to distinguish clearly between these two very different methods of rock-formation. [ ] the flints usually found in limestone are also of organic origin. but although water plays such a very important part in the making of the common rocks around us, yet there are others which have quite a different origin,--rocks which have come up from below the surface of the earth in a heated and molten condition, such as the lavas that flow from volcanoes in active eruptions and the showers of ashes and fine volcanic dust which often attend such eruptions (see chap. viii., pp. - ). some highly heated rocks, though they never rise to the surface to form lava-flows, are forced up with overwhelming pressure from below, and wedge themselves into the sedimentary rocks that overlie them, thus forming what are known as volcanic dykes, and intrusive masses or sheets of once molten rock. in this category we include such rocks as basalt, felstone, pitchstone, and other rocks of fiery origin that have flowed from volcanoes as lava, as well as those like granite, which have cooled and become solid _below_ the surface, and are plutonic, or deep-seated, igneous rocks. granite may be exposed to the surface of the earth when the rocks which once overlaid it have been worn away or "denuded." it is frequently seen in the central regions of mountain-chains, where a vast amount of erosion has been effected. thus we see that heat has played its part in the making of rocks; and for this reason such rocks as we have just mentioned are called _igneous_. fire and water are therefore very important geological agents; but we should say heat rather than fire, because the latter word might convey a false impression. no rocks can be burned except coal, which may be considered rather as a mineral deposit than as a rock. some rocks may be heated, and undergo many and various changes in their mineral composition; but they are not capable of combustion. so far, then, we have learned that the rocks exposed to view on the surface of the earth may be divided into two classes; that is, aqueous and igneous. there is yet a third class, which, though of aqueous origin, has in course of time suffered considerable from the internal heat of the earth and the enormous pressure due to the weight of overlying rocks. such rocks have been greatly changed from their original condition, both in appearance and in mineral composition, and are said to be "metamorphic," a word which implies change. thus chalk, or other limestone rock, has been metamorphosed into marble; shales and slates into various kinds of "schists,"[ ] such as mica-schist, and even into gneiss, which closely resembles granite. and it is quite possible that even granite may in some cases be the result of the melting and consolidation under great pressure of certain familiar stratified rocks. it is quite conceivable that slate might be converted into granite, for their chemical composition is similar, only the minerals of which it is composed would require to be rearranged and grouped into new compounds. this would seem quite possible; but at present we have no direct proof of such a change having taken place. even igneous rocks are found in some places to have suffered very considerable change. [ ] schists are so named from their property of splitting into thin layers. their structure is crystalline; and the layers, or folia, consist usually of two or more minerals, but sometimes of only one. thus mica-schist consists of quartz and mica, each arranged in many folia, but it splits along the layers of mica. in some inland seas, like the caspian sea, deposits of rock salt and gypsum may be formed by chemical precipitation, owing to evaporation from the surface. the various kinds of rock known to geologists may be conveniently arranged as follows: { { clay, shale, slate, etc. { i. sedimentary. { sandstones. { { conglomerates. { rocks of { { limestones. aqueous { ii. organic. { flint. origin. { { coal. { { iii. chemical. { rock salt. { { gypsum, etc. { i. volcanic. { lavas. rocks of { { volcanic ashes, etc. igneous origin. { { ii. plutonic. { basalt. { { granite. metamorphic rocks { marbles. of aqueous and { various kinds of schists. igneous origin. { gneiss, etc. so far we have only attempted to state very briefly the different kinds of rocks, and to point out that they were formed in various ways. we must now consider the question of rock-making more closely, and see what we can learn about the wonderful ways in which rocks are made; and it may be instructive to glance at the conflicting opinions on this subject which learned men held not very long ago. at the end of the last century a great controversy took place on the question of the origin of rocks, and the learned men of the day were divided into two parties. one of these parties, following the teaching of werner, professor of mining at freyburg, who inspired great enthusiasm among his disciples, declared that all rocks were formed by the agency of water. this was a very sweeping and of course rash conclusion. but whenever they examined rocks, they found so many clear evidences of the action of water that a powerful impression of the importance of this agency was naturally made on their minds. they found rocks uniformly arranged in great layers which extended for long distances, and containing the remains of animals which must undoubtedly have lived in the seas or estuaries. these layers were further divided into smaller layers, such as clearly were formed by the slow settling down of sand and mud. others again contained gravels and rounded pebbles, testifying in no uncertain way to the action of water. even the little grains of sand are obviously water-worn. this teaching was quite sound so long as they confined their attention to clays, sandstones, and limestones; but when they came to basalt and granite, a blind adherence to the views of their master caused them to shut their eyes to the clear evidences of the action of heat, presented by such rocks. the crystalline structure of such rocks; their irregular arrangement, often so different from the uniform disposition of the stratified rocks (although it must be admitted that ancient lava-flows often lie very evenly between aqueous rocks), and the way in which they burst through overlying rocks, thus proving their former molten condition; the signs of alteration exhibited in the aqueous rocks into which they intruded themselves (changes which are obviously due to the action of heat),--these and other evidences were entirely overlooked, and werner declared that basalt had been found as a sediment under water. this school of geologists, believing so strongly in the all-powerful influence of father neptune, received the not inappropriate title of "neptunists." on the other hand, the party who happened to be in districts where granite, basalt, and such igneous rocks abounded were equally impressed with the importance of the powerful agency of heat. to them nearly every rock they met with seemed to show some signs of its action. and since pluto was the classical deity of the lower regions, and the earth shows evidences in places of greater heat below the surface, this party received the title of "plutonists;" and so the battle raged hotly for some time between the neptunists, with their claims for cold water, and the fiery plutonists of the rival school of edinburgh, with their subterranean heat. fire and water are never likely to agree; and they did not do so in this case. but now that the battle is over, and both sides are found to have been partly right and partly wrong,--though the neptunists have the advantage,--we can afford to smile at the fierceness of the contest, and wonder how it was that each side thought they were so entirely in the right. let us now consider the aqueous rocks, and see if we can gain a clear idea of the ways in which they were formed; and first, we will take those of a purely sedimentary origin,--the sandstones, pebble-beds, gravels, and clays. these, as the reader has already probably guessed, have all been transported by means of streams and rivers, and settled down quietly in seas at the mouths of rivers or in inland lakes. there is no trace of the action of heat in the forming of these rocks, though they often show signs of having suffered more or less change from contact with highly heated igneous rocks of later date which forcibly intruded themselves from below; and if the change thus effected were considerable, we should call the rocks so altered metamorphic. but we are now dealing with their original state and how they were made; and of that there is no possible doubt whatever. so for the time being we may call ourselves neptunists. streams and rivers are the great transporting agents whereby the never-failing supply of débris from the waste of the land is unceasingly brought down from the mountains and hills, through the broad valleys and along the great plains, until finally it is flung into the sea. the sea is the workshop where all the sedimentary rocks are slowly manufactured from the raw material brought to it by the rivers. but for the present we must confine our attention to the question of transport. referring back to our illustration of the cathedral, we may say that streams and rivers play the part of cart and horses. they bring the materials down from the quarry to the scene of action,--the workshop where they are wanted. the quarries, in this case, may be said to be almost everywhere. for wherever rocks and soil are exposed to the action of wind and weather, there is certain to be more or less decay and crumbling away. but it is among the hills and in the higher parts of the mountains that the forces of destruction are most active. how this is brought about will be discussed in the seventh chapter, on the carving of the hills. the frequent slopes covered with loose stones are sufficient evidence of the continual destruction that takes place in these regions. the transporting powers of rivers are truly prodigious. looking at a stream or river after heavy rain, we see its waters heavily laden with mud and sand; but it is difficult to realise from a casual glance the vast amount of material that is thus brought down to lower levels. if we could trace the sediment to its source, we must seek it among the rocks of mountains far away. step by step we may trace it up along the higher courses of the river, then along mountain streams rushing over their rocky beds, tumbling in cascades over broken rocks, or leaping in waterfalls over higher projections of rock, until we come to the deep furrows on the sides of mountains along which loose fragments of rock come tumbling down with the cascades of water that run along these steep channels after heavy rain, leaving at the base of the mountain great fan-shaped heaps of stones. "oft both slope and hill are torn where wintry torrents down have borne, and heaped upon the cumbered land its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand." these accumulations are gradually carried away by the larger mountain streams, which in hurrying them along cause a vast amount of wear and tear; so that their corners are worn off, and they get further and further reduced in size, becoming mere round pebbles lining the bed of the stream, and finally by the time they reach the large slow-moving rivers of the plains are mainly reduced to tiny specks of mud or grains of sand. so then the rivers and streams not only transport sediment, but they manufacture it as they go along. and thus they may be considered as great grinding-mills, where large pieces of stone go in at one end, and only fine sand and mud come out at the other. the amount of land débris thus transported depends partly on the carrying power of rivers, which varies with the seasons and the annual rainfall; partly on the size of the area drained by a river; and again, partly on the nature of the rocks of which that area is composed. a stream, moving along at the rate of about half a mile ( yards) an hour, which is a slow, rate, can carry along ordinary sandy soil suspended in a cloud-like fashion in the water; when moving at the rate of two thirds of a mile (about , yards) an hour, it can roll fine gravel along its bed; but when the rate increases to a yard in a second, or a little more than two miles an hour, it can sweep along angular stones as large as an egg. but streams often flow much faster than this, and so do rivers when swollen by heavy rain. a rapid torrent often flows at the rate of eighteen or twenty miles an hour, and then we may hear the stones rattling against each other as they are irresistibly rolled onward; and during very heavy floods, huge masses of rock as large as a house have been known to be moved. these are the two principal ways in which streams and rivers act as transporting agents: they carry the finer materials in a suspended state (though partly drifting it along their beds); and they push the coarser materials, such as gravel, bodily along. but there is one other way in which they carry on the important work of transportation, which, being unseen, might easily escape our notice. every spring is busily employed in bringing up to the surface mineral substances which the water has dissolved out of the underground rocks. this invisible material finds its way, as the springs do, to the rivers, and so finally is brought into that great reservoir, the sea. rain and river water also dissolve a certain amount of mineral matter from rocks lying on the surface of the earth. now, the material which is most easily dissolved is carbonate of lime. hence if you take a small quantity of spring or river water and boil it until the whole is evaporated, you will find that it leaves behind a certain amount of deposit. this, when analysed by the chemist, proves to be chiefly carbonate of lime; but it also contains minute quantities of other minerals, such as common salt, potash, soda, oxide of iron, and silica, or flint. all these and other minerals are found to be present in sea water. the waters of some of the great rivers of the world have been carefully examined at different times, in order to form some idea of the amount of solid matter which they contain, both dissolved and suspended; and the results are extremely important and interesting, for they enable us to form definite conclusions with regard to their capacity for transport. this subject has been investigated with great skill by eminent men of science. the problem is a very complicated one; but it is easy to see that if we know roughly the number of gallons of water annually discharged into the sea by a big river, and the average amount of solid matter contained in such a gallon of water, we have the means of calculating, by a simple process of multiplication, the amount of solid matter annually brought down to the sea by that river. but we must also add the amount of sand, gravel, and stones pushed along its bed. this may be roughly estimated and allowed for. these are some of the results: the amount of solid matter discharged every year by that great river, the mississippi, if piled up on a single square mile of the bed of the sea,--say, in the gulf of mexico, where that river discharges itself,--would make a great square-shaped pile feet high. but the gulf stream, sweeping through this gulf, carries the materials for many and many a mile away; so that in course of time it gradually sinks and spreads itself as a fine film or layer over part of the great atlantic ocean. the mud brought down by the great river amazon spreads so far into the atlantic ocean as to discolour the water even at a distance of three hundred miles. the ganges and the brahmapootra, flowing into the bay of bengal, discharge every year into that part of the indian ocean , , , cubic feet of solid matter. this material would in one year raise a space of fifteen square miles one foot in height. the weight of mud, etc., that these rivers bring down is sixty times that of the great pyramid of egypt, or about six million tons. or, to put the matter in another way, if a fleet of more than eighty "indiamen," each with a cargo of fourteen hundred tons of solid matter, sailed down every hour, night and day, for four months, and discharged their burdens into the waters of the indian ocean, they would only do what the mighty ganges does quietly and easily in the four months of the flood season. it is probable that even the thames, a small river compared to those just mentioned, manages to bring down, in one way or another, fourteen million cubic feet of solid matter. these few figures may suffice to give the reader some idea of the enormous amount of rock-forming materials brought down to the seas at the present day. of course they are spread out far and wide by the numerous ocean currents, some of which flow for hundreds of miles; and so the bed of the sea can only be very slowly raised by their accumulation. still the geologist can allow plenty of time, for there is no doubt that the world is immensely old; and if we allow thousands of years, we may easily comprehend that deposits of very considerable thickness may in this way accumulate on the floors of the oceans. also the coasts of continents and islands suffer continual wear and tear at the hands of sea waves; and thus the supply of sediment is increased. when the geologist comes to study the great rock-masses--hundreds, and even thousands, of feet in thickness--of which mountain-ranges are composed, he finds all those kinds of rock which we have just been considering,--sandstones, shales (or hardened clays), pebble-beds, and limestones,--and endeavours to picture to himself their gradual growth in the ways we have described. in so doing, he is driven to the conclusion that many thousands of years must have been occupied in their construction. we must now say a few words about those other aqueous rocks which have an organic origin, of which limestone is the chief. it is indeed a startling conclusion that deposits of great thickness, and ranging for very many miles over the earth's surface, have been slowly built up through the agency of marine animals extracting carbonate of lime from the sea. yet such is undoubtedly the case. of this important process of rock-building coral reefs are the most familiar example. the great barrier reef along the northeast coast of australia is about , miles long, from ten to ninety miles in width, and rises at its seaward edge from depths which in some places certainly exceed eighteen hundred feet. it may be likened to a great submarine wall. now, all this solid masonry is the work of humble coral polypes (not "insects"), building up their own internal framework or skeleton by extracting carbonate of lime from sea water. then the breakers dashing against coral reefs produce, by their grinding action, a great deal of fine "coral-sand" and calcareous mud, which covers the surrounding bed of the sea for many miles. now, geologists find that some limestone formations met with in the stratified rocks have certainly been formed in this way; for example, certain parts of the great "mountain limestone." this is proved by the fossil corals it contains, and by tracing the old coral reefs; but it is also largely formed by the remains of other graceful calcareous creatures known as encrinites, or "sea-lilies," with long branching arms that waved in the clear water. such creatures still exist in some deeper parts of the sea, and look more like plants than animals. in former ages they existed in great abundance, and so played an important part as rock-formers,--for their stems, branches, and all are made of little plates of carbonate of lime, beautifully fitting together like the separate bones, or vertebræ, composing the backbone of a fish; and when the creatures died, these little plates no longer held together, but were scattered on the floor of the sea-bed. shell-fish abounded too, and their shelly remains accumulated into regular shell-beds in some places. but at times mud and sand would come and cover over all these organic deposits. but of all rocks that have an organic origin, chalk is the most interesting. geologists were for a long time puzzled to know how this rock could have been formed; but some soundings made in the atlantic ocean previous to the laying of the first atlantic cable led to a very important discovery, which at once threw a flood of light on the question. samples of the mud lying on the bed of this ocean at considerable distances from the european and american coasts, and at depths varying from one thousand to three thousand fathoms, were brought up by sounding apparatus. little was it thought that the dull grey ooze covering a large part of the atlantic bed would bring a message from the depths of the sea, and furnish the answer to a great geological problem. yet such was the case; for under the microscope this mud was seen to be chiefly composed of very minute and very beautiful shells, now known as _foraminifera_, and much prized by microscopists. these tiny shells are found at or near the surface of the sea; and after the death of the creatures that inhabit them (which are only lumps of protoplasm with no organs of any kind), the shells slowly sink down to the bed of the ocean. now, these creatures multiply at so inconceivable a rate that a continuous shower of dead shells seems to be taking place, and the result is the slow accumulation over vast areas of the atlantic and pacific oceans of a great deposit of calcareous ooze, which if raised above the sea-level would harden into a rock very similar to chalk. [illustration: microphotographs illustrating rock formation. i. foraminifera. ii. section of granite. iii. nummulitic limestone.] but this process only takes place in the deeper parts of our seas, far removed from land, where the supply of land-derived materials fails,--for even the finest mud supplied by rivers probably all settles down before travelling two or three hundred miles from its native shores. thus we learn that when one agency fails, nature makes use of another to take up the important work of rock-building. how the other rocks which we mentioned in our list were formed,--such as granite, basalt, and the metamorphic rocks,--we must explain in a future chapter dealing with volcanoes and their work. chapter vi. how the mountains were upheaved. the notion that the ground is naturally steadfast is an error,--an error which arises from the incapacity of our senses to appreciate any but the most palpable, and at the same time most exceptional, of its movements. the idea of _terra firma_ belongs with the ancient belief that the earth was the centre of the universe. it is, indeed, by their mobility that the continents survive the increasing assaults of the ocean waves, and the continuous down-wearing which the rivers and glaciers bring about.--professor shaler. we have found out the quarries which supplied the rocky framework of mountains, and have learned how the work of transporting these vast quantities of stone was accomplished by the agency of ever-flowing glaciers, rivers, and streams. we must now consider the second stage of the work, and inquire how the mountains were raised up. referring back to our illustration of the cathedral (see pages - ), it will be remembered that this work was included under the head of _elevation_. but perhaps some one might ask: "how do you know that the mountains have been elevated or upheaved? is it not enough to suppose that they owe their height entirely to the fact that they are composed of harder rock, and so have been more successful in resisting the universal decay and destruction?" now, such an objection contains a good deal of truth, for mountains _are_ formed of hard rocks; but at the same time we know that the agents of denudation are more active among them than on the plains below, so that, in the higher mountain regions at least, the work of demolition may actually proceed faster than it does on low ground. mountains are higher than the rest of the world, not merely because they are built of more lasting material, but also because they have been uplifted for thousands of feet above the level of the sea; and the evidence of their upheaval is so plain as to be entirely beyond doubt. let us inquire into the nature of this evidence. we have seen that the rocks of which mountains are composed were for the most part formed at the bottom of the sea. when the geologist finds, as he frequently does, buried in mountain rocks the fossil remains of creatures that must have lived in the sea (and often very similar to those living there now), he is compelled to think of the gigantic upheavals that must have taken place before those remains could arrive at their present elevated position. numerous examples might be given; but we will only mention three. in the alps marine fossils have been detected at a height of , feet above sea-level, in the himalayas at a height of , feet, and in the rocky mountains at a height of , feet. again we must take it for granted that all the stratified or sedimentary rocks (see pages - ) with some trivial exceptions, such as beds of shingle and conglomerates, have been formed in horizontal layers. this is one of the simple axioms of geology to which every one must assent. now, if we find in various parts of the continents, and especially among the mountains, such strata sloping or "dipping" in various directions, sometimes only slightly, but sometimes very steeply,--nay, even standing up on end,--the conclusion that they have been upheaved and pushed or squeezed into these various positions by some subsequent process is irresistible. but this is not all; for in every mountain region we find that the rocks have been crumpled, twisted, and folded in a most marvellous manner. solid sheets of limestone may be seen, as it were, to writhe from the base to the summit of a mountain; yet they present everywhere their truncated ends to the air, and from their incompleteness it is easy to see what a vast amount of material has been worn away, leaving, as it were, mere fragments behind. the whole geological aspect of the alps (for example) is suggestive of intense commotion; and they remain a marvellous monument of stupendous earth-throes, followed by prolonged and gigantic denudation (see diagrams, chap. ix., p. ). there are certain features found in all mountain-chains which must be carefully borne in mind, especially when we are considering the explanations that have been suggested with regard to their upheaval. these may be briefly stated as follows:-- . mountain-chains tend to run in straight or gently curving lines. . their breadth is small compared to their length, and their height smaller still. . they rise sharply and are clearly marked off from the country on either side. . they form the backbones of continents. . the rocks of which they are composed have been greatly disturbed, folded, and contorted. . there is often a band of crystalline rocks (granite, gneiss, etc.) running along the centre of a high range. . they are connected with lines of volcanoes. . they are frequently affected by earthquakes. having arrived at the conclusion that the mountains show evident signs of upheaval, let us proceed to inquire whether any movements, either upward or downward, are taking place now on the earth, or can be proved to have done so within comparatively recent times. on this question there is ample evidence at our disposal. more than one hundred and thirty years ago, celsius, the swedish astronomer, was aware, from the unanimous testimony of the inhabitants of the sea-coasts, that the gulf of bothnia was constantly diminishing both in depth and extent. he resorted to measurements in order to prove (as he thought) that the waters of the baltic were changing their level. this was a mistaken idea; and we now understand that the level of the sea does not change, except under the influence of the daily rise and fall of the tide, which is easily allowed for. however, that was the idea then; and it survived for some time. but if the sea-level were continually sinking, the water, which, owing to the influence of gravitation, must always remain horizontal, would equally retreat all round the scandinavian peninsula and on all our seashores. but this is not the case. again, it would be impossible on this theory to explain the curious fact that in some parts of the world the sea is gaining on the land, while in other places it is as surely retreating; for we cannot believe that in one part the sea-level is rising, while in another (not far off in some cases) it is sinking. no body of water could behave in this irregular fashion; and the sea could not possibly be rising and falling at the same time. hence we may take it for granted that any change that we may notice in the relative level of land and sea _must_ be due to upward or downward movements in the land. but to return to celsius. old men pointed out to him various points on the coast, over which during their childhood the sea was wont to flow, and besides, showed him the water-lines which the waves had once traced out farther inland. and besides this, the names of places which implied a position on the shore, former harbours or ports now abandoned and situated inland, the remains of boats found far from the sea, and lastly, the written records and popular songs, left no doubt that the sea had retreated; and it seemed both to themselves and to the astronomer that the waters were sinking. in the year celsius, after comparing all the evidence he had collected, announced that the baltic had sunk three feet, four inches, every hundred years. in the course of the following year, in company with linnæus, the naturalist, he made a mark at the base of a rock in the island of leoffgrund, not far from jelfe, and thirteen years afterwards was able to prove, as he thought, that the waters were still subsiding at the same rate, or a little faster. in reality, he had proved, not that the sea was sinking, but that the land was rising. similar observations show that nearly the whole of scandinavia is slowly rising out of the sea. at the northern end of the gulf of bothnia the land is emerging at the rate of five feet, three inches, in a century; but by the side of the aland isles it only rises three and one quarter feet in the same time. south of this archipelago it rises still more slowly; and farther down, the line of shore does not alter as compared with the level of the sea. but it is a curious fact that the extreme southern end of this peninsula is subsiding, as proved by the forests that have been submerged. several streets of some towns there have already disappeared, and the coast has lost on the average a belt of land thirty-two yards in breadth. the upward movement of the scandinavian peninsula must have been going on for a long time, if we assume that it was always at the same rate as at present; for we find beds of seashells of living species at heights of six or seven hundred feet above the level of the sea. great dead branches of a certain pink coral, found in the sea at a depth of over one hundred and fifty to three hundred fathoms, are now seen in water only ten or fifteen fathoms deep. it must have been killed as it was brought up into the upper and warmer layers of water. this is striking testimony. the pine woods too, which clothe the hills, are continually being upheaved towards the lower limit of snow, and are gradually withering away in the cooler atmosphere; and wide belts of forest are composed of nothing but dead trees, although some of them have stood for centuries. geologists have proved that the baltic sea formerly communicated by a wide channel with the north sea, the deepest depressions of which are now occupied by lakes in the southern part of sweden; for considerable heaps of oyster-shells are now found in several places on the heights commanding these great lakes. then we have in denmark the celebrated "kitchen-middens," heaps of rubbish also largely composed of oyster-shells which the inhabitants, in the "stone age," collected from the bottoms of the neighbouring bays. at the present day the waters of the baltic, into which rivers bring large quantities of fresh water, do not contain enough salt for oysters to grow there; but the oyster-shells prove that the baltic sea and these inland lakes were once as salt as the north sea is now. this can only be explained by supposing that the baltic was not so shut in then as it is in these days. the bed of the old wide channel has risen, and what once was sea is now land. again, it is very probable that the great lakes and innumerable sheets of water which fill all the granite basins of finland have taken the place of an arm of the sea which once united the waters of the baltic to those of the great polar ocean. and so there must have been upheaval here as well. the old sea-beaches, now above the level of the highest tides, that are found in many parts of the scandinavian, scottish, and other coasts, furnish plain evidence of upheaval. at the present day, between the lines of high tide and low tide, the sea is constantly engaged in producing sand and shingle, spreading them out upon the beach, mingling them with the remains of shells and other marine animals, and sometimes piling them up, sometimes sweeping them away. in this way a beach often resembles a terrace. when the land is upheaved rapidly enough to carry up this line of beach-deposits before they are washed away by the waves, they form a flat terrace, or what is known as a "raised beach." the old high-water mark is then inland; its sea-worn caves become in time coated with ferns and mosses; the old beach forms an admirable platform on which meadows, fields, villages, and towns spring up; and the sea goes on forming a new beach below and beyond the margin of the old one. the scottish coast-line, on both sides, is fringed with raised beaches, sometimes four or five occurring above each other, at heights of from twenty-five to seventy-five feet above the present high-water mark. each of these lines of terrace marks a former lower level at which the land stood with regard to the sea; and the spaces between them represent the amount of each successive rise of the land. each terrace was formed during a pause, or interval, in the upward movement, during which the waves had time to make a terrace, whereas, while the land kept on rising, they had no time to do so. thus we learn that the upheaval of the country was interrupted by considerable pauses. sometimes old ports and harbours furnish evidence of upheaval. thus, the former roman port of alaterva (cramond) in scotland, the quays of which are still visible, is now situated at some distance from the sea, and the ground on which it stands has risen at least twenty-four feet. in other places the scattered débris shows that the coast has risen twenty-six feet. and by a remarkable coincidence, the ancient wall of antoninus, which in the time of the romans stretched from sea to sea, and served as a barrier against the picts, comes to an end at a point twenty-six feet above the level of high tides. in the estuary of the clyde there are deposits of mud, containing rude canoes and other relics of human workmanship, several feet above the present high-water mark. raised beaches are found on many parts of the coast of great britain. excellent examples occur on the coasts of devon and cornwall. on the sides of the mountainous fiords of norway similar terraces are found up to more than six hundred feet above the sea; and as some of these rise to a greater height at a distance of fifty miles inland, it seems that there was a greater upward movement towards the interior of norway than on the coasts. there is a celebrated raised beach on the side of a mountain in north wales, known as moel tryfaen, where the writer gathered a number of marine shells at a height of , feet. but scandinavia and great britain are not the only parts of europe where an upward movement has taken place, for the islands of nova zembla and spitzbergen show evidence of the same kind; and the coast of siberia, for six hundred miles to the east of the river lena, has also been upraised. on the banks of the dwina and the vega, miles to the south of the white sea, murchison found beds of sand and mud with shells similar to those which inhabit the neighbouring seas, so well preserved that they had not lost their colours. again, the ground of the siberian _toundras_ is to a large extent covered with a thin coating of sand and fine clay, exactly similar to that which is now deposited on the shores of the frozen ocean. in this clay, the remains of the mammoth, or woolly elephant, now extinct, are preserved in great numbers. parts of northern greenland have also risen; while at the southern end of this frozen land a downward movement is still taking place. the best-known example of these slow movements within historic times is the so-called temple of serapis in the bay of baie, near naples. the ruins of this building, which was probably a roman bath, consist of a square floor paved with marble, showing that it possessed a magnificent central court. this court, when perfect, was covered with a roof supported by forty-six fine columns, some of marble, others of granite. there is still a hot spring behind, from which water was conducted through a marble channel. all the columns but three were nearly buried in the soil which covered the whole court, when the ruins were first discovered. now, each of the three marble columns that are still standing shows clear evidence of having been depressed below the sea-level, for they all exhibit a circular row of little holes bored by a certain marine shell-fish, known as _lithodomus dactylus_, at a height of twelve feet from the floor; each row is about eight feet broad. the shells may still be seen inside the little pear-shaped holes which the shell-fish bored for themselves; and the same shell-fish still live in the waters of the mediterranean and bore holes in the limestone rocks. it is therefore quite clear that these columns must have been under water to a depth of twenty feet or so, and also that they must have remained under water for some considerable time, during which the shell-fish made these borings. then an upheaval took place whereby the whole building was elevated to its present level. but underneath the present floor, at a depth of five feet, were discovered the remains of an older floor. this probably belonged to an earlier building which had in like manner been depressed below sea-level. we thus learn that the land in this spot had been sinking for a long time, and that at some subsequent time it rose. the fallen columns suggest the idea that they were thrown down by earthquakes. at the present time the land here is again sinking at the rate of one inch in three or four years. but the first example of upheaval within comparatively recent times, and one which is instructive as throwing some light on the subject of the present chapter,--namely, the upheaval of mountain-chains,--is to be found along the western mountainous coast of south america. here we have the magnificent ranges of the andes running along the whole length of this continent. the illustrious charles darwin, during his famous trip in the "beagle," discovered numerous raised beaches along this coast, and at once perceived their importance to the geologist. the terraces are not quite horizontal, but rise towards the south. on the frontier of bolivia, they are seen at heights of from sixty-five to eighty feet above sea-level; but nearer the higher mass of the chilian andes they are found at one thousand feet, and near valparaiso, in chili, at thirteen hundred feet above the sea. darwin also discovered that some of the upheavals thus indicated took place during the human period; for he found in one of the terraces opposite callao, in peru, at a height of eighty feet, shells with bones of birds, ears of wheat, plaited reeds, and cotton thread, showing that men had lived on the terrace. these relics of human industry are exactly similar to those that are found in the _huacas_, or burial-places, of the ancient peruvians. there can be no doubt that the island of san lorenzo, and probably the whole of the coast in its neighbourhood, have risen eighty feet or more since the red man inhabited the country. callao probably forms the northern limit of the long strip of coast that has been upheaved, and the island of chiloe the southern limit; but even thus the region of elevation has a length from north to south of about , miles. we noticed in the case of scandinavia that the upward movement is greater in the interior of the mountain-range than at or near the coast; and it is interesting to find that the same difference has been observed in the case of the andes. the upheaving force, whatever its nature, acts with more energy under the chilian andes than under the rocks of the adjacent coast. in new zealand we have also evidences of upheaval; and if we trace out on the map a long line from the friendly isles and fiji, through the eastern archipelago, and then on through the philippine islands, and finally to japan and the kurile islands, we shall find scattered regions of elevation all along this great line, which is probably a mountain-chain, partly submerged, and along which numerous active volcanoes are situated. putting together all the evidence that has been gathered on this subject, of which only a very small part is here given, we are warranted in concluding that taking the world generally, regions where active volcanoes exist are generally regions where upheaval is taking place. there is also a very interesting connection between mountain-chains and lines of volcanic action. from this it seems to follow, if lines of volcanic action are also lines of upheaval, that mountain-chains are undergoing upheaval at the present time. this is a conclusion in favour of which a good deal may be said. it is certainly true in the cases of the scandinavian range, and also of a very large part of the andes, to which we have already referred. the highlands of scotland and scandinavia form the northern end of an old line of volcanic action running down the atlantic ocean through the azores, madeira, cape verde islands, ascension, st. helena, right down to tristan d'acunha. in many other parts of the world we have evidences from submerged forests, the positions of certain landmarks with regard to the sea, and in some cases submerged towns, that movements of a downward nature are taking place. it is important to distinguish from these evidences the changes that take place where the waves of the sea are rapidly washing away the coast-line. putting aside these cases, however, it has been clearly proved that in many regions a slow sinking of the land is going on. the eastern side of south america has not been so thoroughly observed as its western side; but there is still good reason to believe that a large part of this coast is sinking. so it appears that a see-saw movement is affecting south america, and that while one side is going up, the other is going down; and it is interesting to observe other examples of the same thing,--such as are afforded by greenland and norway. [illustration: the skaeggdalfors, norway. from a photograph by j. valentine.] again, while part of labrador is rising, parts of the eastern coast of north america, as far down as florida, are slowly sinking. thus along the new england coast between new york and maine, and again along the gulf of st. lawrence, we find numerous submerged forests with quantities of trees standing upright with their roots in old forest-beds, but with the tops of their stumps some feet below the level of high tide. in the case of new jersey the subsidence is probably taking place at the rate of two feet in a hundred years. before passing on to consider upward movements of a more rapid nature, such as are frequently caused by earthquakes, we may pause for a few moments to consider certain very slight, but nevertheless very interesting little movements, such as _slight pulsations_ and tremors, which have been observed to take place in the earth's crust (as it is called), and which of late years have been carefully studied. professor milne, a great authority on earthquakes, has noticed slight swayings of the earth, which though occupying a short time--from a few seconds to a few hours--are still too slow to produce a shock of any kind. these he calls "earth pulsations." they have been observed by means of delicate spirit-levels, the bubbles of which move with very slight changes of level at either end of the instrument. at present only a few experiments of this kind have been made; but they tell us that the surface of the earth (which is apparently so firm and immovable) is subject to slight but frequent oscillations. some think that they depend upon changes in the weight of the atmosphere. if this is so, the balance between the forces at work below the earth's surface and those that operate on its surface must be very easily disturbed. still we cannot see that this is a serious objection; on the contrary, there is much reason to think that any slight extra weight on the surface, such as might be caused by an increase of the pressure of the atmosphere, and still more by the accumulation of vast sedimentary deposits on the floor of the ocean, may be quite sufficient to cause a movement to take place. moreover, mr. g. h. darwin has shown that the earth's crust daily heaves up and down under the attraction of the moon in the same kind of way that the ocean does; so that we must give up all idea of the solid earth being fixed and immovable, and must look upon it as a flexible body, like a ball of india-rubber (see chap. ix., pp. - ). slight movements of rather a different kind have been noticed, to which the name of "earth-tremors" has been given. these are very slight jarrings or quiverings of the earth, too slight to be observed by our unaided senses, but rendered visible by means of very delicate pendulums and other contrivances. now wherever such observations have been made it has been discovered that the earth is constantly quivering as if it were a lump of jelly. in italy, where this subject has been very carefully studied, the tremors that are continually going on are found to vary considerably in strength; for instance, when the weather is very disturbed and unsettled, the movements of the pendulum are often much greater. again, before an earthquake the instrument shows that the tremors are more frequent and violent. another way of observing these curious little movements is by burying microphones in the ground. the microphone is a little instrument invented of late years which is capable of enormously magnifying the very slightest sounds, such as our ears will not detect. by its means one can hear, as some one said, "the tramp of a fly's foot," if he will be so obliging as to walk over it. it has thus been proved in italy that the earth sends forth a confused medley of sounds caused by little crackings and snappings in the rocks below our feet. in this way it will be possible to predict a serious earthquake, because it will give warning some days before, by the increase of the little tremors and sounds; and it is to be hoped that by this simple means human lives may be saved. now, these disturbances are of precisely the same nature as earthquakes,--in fact, we may call them microscopic earthquakes. to the geologist they are of great interest, as they seem to afford some little insight into the difficult question of the upheaval of mountains, and to show us something of the constant _working_ of those wonderful forces below the surface of the earth by means of which continents are raised up out of the sea, and mountain-chains are elevated thousands of feet. it is probable that both are due to the working of the same forces, and are accomplished by the same machinery. we now pass on to consider those more violent movements of the solid land known as earthquakes. this kind of disturbance is such as might be produced by a sudden shock or blow given below the ground, from which waves travel in all directions. first comes a rumbling noise like the roar of distant artillery; then come the earthquake waves one after another, causing the ground to rise and fall as a ship does on the waves of the sea; the ground is frequently rent asunder, so that chasms are formed, into which in some cases men and animals have been hurled alive. in the case of a very violent earthquake the waves travel long distances. thus the great earthquake by which lisbon was destroyed in the year disturbed the waters of loch lomond in scotland. in this fearful catastrophe sixty thousand human beings perished. if the disturbance takes place near the sea, great sea waves are formed, which cause fearful destruction to life and property. this happened in the case of the lisbon earthquake; and in the year , when ecuador and peru were visited by a fearful earthquake, a great sea wave swept over the port of arica, and in a few minutes every vessel in the harbour was either driven ashore or wrecked, and a man-of-war was swept inland for a quarter of a mile. earthquakes bring about many changes on the surface of the earth. for example, on mountain-slopes forests are shattered, and large masses of soil and débris are shaken loose from the rock on which they rested, and hurled into the valleys; streams are thus choked up, and sometimes lakes formed, either by the damming up of a river or by the subsidence of the ground. it is frequently found after an earthquake that the level of the ground has been permanently altered; and this effect of earthquakes is important in connection with the subject we are now considering,--namely, how mountains are upheaved. sometimes, it is true, the movement is a downward one; but more generally it takes place in an upward direction. as an example of this, we may mention the chilian earthquake of , which was very violent, and destroyed several towns on that coast, from copiapo to chile. it was afterwards found that the land in the bay of conception had been raised four or five feet. at the island of santa maria, to the southwest of this bay, the land was raised eight feet, and in one part ten feet; for beds of dead mussels were seen at that height above high water, and a considerable rocky flat that formerly was covered by the sea now became dry land. it was also proved by means of soundings that the sea round the island was shallower by about nine feet. now the question arises, "how are earthquakes caused?" various suggestions have been made; but it is pretty clear that all earthquakes are not produced in the same way. for instance, volcanic eruptions are frequently attended by earthquakes. violent shocks of this nature generally precede and accompany a great eruption, as is frequently the case before an eruption of mount vesuvius. steam plays a very important part in all volcanic eruptions; and these earthquakes are probably caused by great quantities of pent-up steam at a high pressure struggling to escape. it is also possible that when molten rock is forcibly injected into the crevices and joints of overlying rocks earthquake shocks may be produced by the concussion. the old roman poet and philosopher, lucretius, endeavoured to solve this problem, and concluded that "the shakings of the surface of the globe are occasioned by the falling in of enormous caverns which time has succeeded in destroying." but though the explanation might possibly apply to a few cases of small earthquakes, it is not a satisfactory one, for it is not at all likely that many large cavities exist below the earth's surface, because the great weight of the overlying rock would inevitably crush them in. we have already pointed out that earthquakes frequently happen in mountainous regions; and this fact alone suggests that perhaps the same causes which upheave mountains may have something to do with earthquakes. but there are other reasons for believing that the same force which causes earthquakes also upheaves mountain-chains. the reader will remember the case of the chilian earthquake that raised part of the andes a few feet in height. now, it is quite clear that the rocks of which mountains are composed have suffered a great deal of disturbance. we have only to look at the crumbled and contorted strata to see that they have been forced into all kinds of positions, sometimes standing bolt upright (see diagrams, chap. ix., p. ). and as we cannot believe, for many reasons, that these movements were of a very sudden or violent kind, we must consider that they took place slowly on the whole; but besides being folded and twisted, the rocks of mountains frequently exhibit clear signs of having been split and cracked. the fractures are of all sizes, from an inch or more up to hundreds or even thousands of feet. they tell us plainly that the rocks were once slowly bent, and that after a certain amount of bending had taken place, the strain put upon them became greater than they could bear, and consequently they snapped and split along certain lines. this is just what might be expected. for instance, ice on a pond will bend a good deal, but only up to a certain amount; after that, it cracks in long lines with a remarkably sharp and smooth fracture. but suppose the pressure came from below instead of from above, as when a number of people are skating on a pond. should we not see the ice forced up in some places, so that some sheets stood up above the others after sliding past their broken edges? this is just what the rocks in different places have frequently done. after a fracture has taken place the rock on one side has slid up over the other, and the two surfaces made by the fracture--like two long walls--are no longer seen at the same level. one has been pushed up, while the other has gone down (see diagram of the ranges of the great basin, chap. viii., p. ). now, it is almost impossible to conceive of these tremendous fractures taking place in the rocks below our feet without causing sudden jars or shocks. here, then, we seem to have a clue to the problem. even if the movements took place only a few inches or a few feet at a time, that does not spoil our theory, but rather favours it; for in that case the upheaval of a mountain-chain will have taken a very long time (which is almost certain), and may have been accomplished bit by bit. hundreds and thousands of earthquake shocks, some slight, and others severe, may have attended the upheaval of a mountain-range. this explanation is accepted by many authorities. it does not exactly imply that mountains were upheaved by earthquakes; but it means that the same forces that elevate continents, heaving them up out of the sea into ridges and very low arches, have been at work to crumple and fold their rocks in some places into stupendous folds, such as we now find form part of the general structure of mountains; and that in so doing they caused fearful strains, too great for the rocks to bear, so that they split over and over again, and in so doing produced jars and shocks that must have been very similar to, if not identical with, earthquake shocks as we know them at the present day. such an explanation is in striking harmony with what we have already learned about the operations of nature. it was from the long-continued operation of rain and rivers that the materials now forming mountains were transported to the seas in which they were slowly formed. it was also by the ordinary operations of frost, heat and cold, snow and ice, streams, rain, and rivers that the mountains received their present shapes (see chapters v. and vii.). and now we learn that the gigantic work of upheaval took place in a tolerably quiet and uniform manner,--with perhaps only an occasional catastrophe of a more violent kind, but still according to the same law of uniformity which is the very basis of modern geology, and by means of which so much can be explained. we could give other proofs of the gradual elevation of mountains if they were wanted. but at least enough has been said to give the reader a glimpse into the methods employed by geologists in endeavouring to explain how mountains were upheaved; and to show that it is only by a careful study of all that is taking place now on the earth that we can ever hope to solve the difficult questions that present themselves to all who study those stony records on which the earth has written for our enlightenment the chapters of her ancient history. in conclusion, it may be asked what is the nature of the force that accomplishes all this titanic work of upheaval. although the question has been much discussed, and some very ingenious suggestions brought forward, we cannot say that any of them are entirely satisfactory. but we know that the earth is a cooling body which loses so much heat every year; and it may be that the shrinking that takes place as it cools, by leaving the crust of the earth in some places unsupported, causes it to settle down, to adapt itself to a smaller surface below, and in so doing it would inevitably throw itself into a series of folds, or wrinkles, like those on the skin of a dried apple. many think that mountain-ranges may be explained in this way. chapter vii. how the mountains were carved out. and surely the mountain fadeth away, and the rock is removed out of its place, the waters wear away the stones: the overflowings thereof wash away the dust of the earth. _job xiv. ._ the mighty fortresses of the earth, which seem so imperishable, so majestic in their strength, and have from time immemorial received their title of "the everlasting hills," are nevertheless undergoing constant change and decay. they cannot abide for ever. those waste leagues around their feet are loaded with the wrecks of what once belonged to them; they are witnesses to the victory of the hostile forces that are for ever contending with them, and pledges of a final triumph. to those who will read their story, mountains stand like old dismantled castles, mere wrecks of ruined masonry, that have nearly crumbled away, telling us of a time when all their separate peaks and crags were one solid mass, perhaps an elevated smooth plateau untouched by the rude hand of time. let us now inquire how the work of destruction is accomplished. referring back to our illustration of the cathedral, given in chap. v., pp. - , the question we have now to consider is, how the mountains were carved out into all these wonderful features of crag and precipice, peak and pass, which are such a source of delight to all who care for scenery. this work we included in the one word "ornamentation." what, then, are the tools which nature uses in this work of carving out the hills? what are her axes and hammers, her chisels and saws? this question, like many others, must be answered by observing what takes place at the present day. it is scarcely necessary to say that mountains and mountain-ranges are not simply the result of upheaval, though they have been upheaved. if that were so, they would probably appear as long smooth, monotonous ridges, with no separate mountain masses, no peaks, no glens or valleys; in some cases they might appear as simply elevated and smooth plateaux. such mountains, if we may so call them, would be almost as uninteresting as the roof of a gabled house down which the rain finds its way in one smooth continuous sheet. mountains, reaching as they do into the higher regions of the atmosphere, where the winds blow more fiercely than on the plains below, storms rage more violently, and the extremes of heat and cold are more severe,--in fact, where every process of change and decay seems quickened,--suffer continually at the hands of the elements. "death must be upon the hills, and the cruelty of the tempests smite them, and the thorn and the briar spring up upon them; but they so smite as to bring their rocks into the fairest forms, and so spring as to make the very desert blossom as the rose."[ ] [ ] modern painters. nature never leaves them alone, never gives them a brief armistice in the long war that she wages against them. she is a relentless enemy, ever on the move, and ever varying her methods of attack. now she assails them openly with her storm-clouds, and pelts them furiously with driving rain; now we hear the thunder of her artillery, as she pierces their crests with strange electric darts of fire; now she secretly undermines their sides with her hidden sources of water, till whole villages are destroyed by some fearful fall of overhanging rocks (see chapter iii., pages - ). her winds and gentle breezes are for ever at work on their surfaces, causing them to crumble into dust much in the same way as iron turns to rust. again, she heats them by day and then chills them suddenly at night, under the cold starry sky, so that they crack under the strain of expanding and contracting. now she splits them with her ice-wedges; now she furrows their sides with the dashing torrents and running streams; and yet again she wears them gently down with her glaciers, and carries away their débris--the token of her triumph--on those icy streams, as conquering armies carry the spoils in procession. this is, briefly, her mode of warfare; these are some of her tools, _wind_, _rain_, _frost_, _snow_, _heat_ and _cold_, _streams_, _rivers_, and _glaciers_. lightning does occasionally break off portions of a cliff or a mountain-peak; but compared to the others, this agent is not very important. let us first inquire into the effects produced by the atmosphere. the air around us is composed mainly of two well-known gases; namely, oxygen and nitrogen. there is also a small proportion (about one in ten thousand) of carbonic acid gas; a variable quantity of water-vapour, and in the neighbourhood of towns, traces of other noxious gases, such as sulphurous acid and chlorine. now, the nitrogen plays a very unimportant part, as it merely serves to dilute the powerful gas, oxygen, which has such important life-sustaining properties. we live by breathing oxygen; so do all animals; and the more pure air we can contrive to get into our lungs, the better. but undiluted oxygen would be too strong for us, and so its strength is diminished by being mixed with four parts of nitrogen; that is to say, the air only contains about one fifth by volume, or bulk, of oxygen and four fifths of nitrogen. now, oxygen, being always ready to combine chemically with some other element, is a great agent of change and decay. it attacks all the metals except gold and platinum. iron, we all know, oxidises, or rusts, only too quickly; but copper, lead, silver, and other metals are more or less attacked by it. so it is with all the rocks exposed at or near the surface of the earth. oxygen will, if it can, pick out something to combine with and so bring about chemical changes which lead to decay. but a much more powerful agent is the carbonic acid gas in the atmosphere; although there is so little of it, there is enough to play a very important part in causing rocks to crumble away, and in some cases to dissolve them entirely. the supply of this gas is continually being renewed, for all living animals breathe out carbonic acid, and plants give it out by night. under the influence of sunlight plants give out oxygen, so that gas is supplied to the air by day. both oxygen and carbonic acid gas are dissolved by rain as it falls through the air; and so we cannot separate the effects of the dry air by itself from those of rain and mist, which are more important agents. the action of rain is partly mechanical, partly chemical, for it not only beats against them, but it dissolves out certain mineral substances that they contain. all rocks are mixtures of two or more kinds of minerals, the particles of each being often invisible to the naked eye. thus granites are essentially mixtures of felspar, quartz, and mica; ordinary volcanic rocks ("trap-rocks") of felspar and augite; sandstones consist mainly of particles of silica; limestones of carbonate of lime; shales and slates of silicate of alumina, the principal substance in clay. these grains are usually joined together by a cement of some mineral differing more or less from the other particles. lime is found in many of the rocks as the cement that binds their particles together; while oxide of iron and silica serve this purpose in many other instances. now, if the lime or iron or silica is dissolved by water, the rock must tend to crumble away. any old building shows more or less manifold signs of such decay, and this process is called "weathering." all this applies merely to the surfaces of rocks; and if there were no other forces at work, their rate of decay would be very slow. but there are other forces at work. in the first place, sudden changes of temperature have a destructive influence. if the sun shines brightly by day, the rocks--especially in higher mountain regions--are considerably expanded by the heat they receive; and if a hot day is followed by a clear sky at night, the free radiation of heat into space (see chap. ii., p. ) causes them to become very cold, and in cooling down they contract. in this way an internal strain is set up which is often greater than they can bear, and so they split and crack. thus small pieces of rock are detached from a mountain-side. an alpine traveller told the writer that one night when sleeping on a mountain-side, he heard stones rattling down at frequent intervals. livingstone records in his journal that when in the desert he frequently heard stones splitting at night with a report like that of a pistol. but sometimes the expansion by day is sufficient to cause fragments of rock to be broken off. frost, however, is responsible for a vast amount of destruction among rocks. when water freezes, it expands with tremendous force; and this is the reason why water-pipes so frequently burst during a frost, though we don't find it out until the thaw comes,--followed by long plumbers' bills. rocks, being traversed in several directions by cracks, allow the water to get into them, and this in freezing acts like a very powerful wedge; and so the rocks on the higher parts of the mountains are continually being split up by nature's ice-wedge. the amount of rock broken up in this way every year is enormous. stone walls and buildings often suffer greatly from this cause during a long frost, especially if the stone be of a more than usually porous kind, that can take up a good deal of rain water. where trees, shrubs, etc., grow on rocks, the roots find their way into its natural divisions, widened by the action of rain soaking down into them; and as they grow, they slowly widen them, and in time portions are actually detached in this manner. moreover, the roots and rootlets guide the rain water down into the cracks, or joints, as they are called. even the ivy that creeps over old ruined walls has a decidedly destructive effect. at the base of every steep mountain may be seen heaps of loose angular stones; sometimes these are covered with soil, and form long slopes on which trees and shrubs grow. every one of the numerous little gullies that furrow the mountain-sides has at its lower end a similar little heap of stones. sometimes a valley among the mountains seems half choked with rocky fragments; and if these were all removed, the valley would be deeper than it is. in some hot countries, where the streams only flow in winter, this is especially the case; for example, every valley, or "wady," in the region of mount sinai and mount horeb is more or less choked up with boulders and stones of every size, because the stones come down faster than they can be carried away. but the main work of carving out the hills and mountains of the world is done by streams, rivers, and glaciers; and so we now pass on to consider how they perform their tasks. water by itself, even when flowing fast, would be powerless to carve gorges and valleys in the solid rock; but the stones which torrents and streams carry along give them a marvellous grinding power, for with such material a stream continually wears away its rocky bed. moreover, the stones themselves are all the while being rubbed down by each other, until finally they are ground down to fine sand and mud, which help in the work of erosion. every mountain stream or torrent runs in a ravine or valley of some sort; and any traveller who will take the trouble to watch what goes on there may easily convince himself that the ravine, gorge, or valley has been carved out by the stream, aided by the atmospheric influences to which we have already alluded. but perhaps some may be inclined to look upon the ravine as a chasm produced by some violent disturbance from below, whereby the rocks were rent asunder, and that the stream somehow found its way into the rent. a little inquiry will dispel this idea. in the first place, such catastrophes are quite unknown at the present day; and as we have more than once pointed out, the geologist's method is to apply a knowledge of processes now in operation to the phenomena of the rocks, in order to read their history. secondly, no conclusion can be accepted which is not supported strongly by evidence. if such a rending of the rocks had taken place, there would assuredly be some evidence of the fact. we should expect to find a great crack running all along the bed of the stream; but of this there is no sign. go down in any weather when the stream is low, and look at the rocks over which it flows, and you will search in vain for such evidence. instead of being broken, the rocks extend continually across. you would also expect to find the strata "dipping," or sloping away from the stream on each side, if they had been rent by such an upheaval; but here again we are met by a total want of evidence. thirdly, a crack might be expected to run along more or less evenly in one direction. but look at the ravine, follow it up for some miles, and you will see that it winds along in a very devious course, not in a straight line. for these reasons, then, we must conclude that the ravine or valley has been carved out by the stream; but perhaps the most convincing arguments are afforded by the furrows and miniature ravines so frequently met with on the sides of all mountains; and it is impossible to examine these without concluding that they have in every case been cut out of the solid rock by the little rapid torrents that run along them after heavy rain. if we are fortunate enough to see them on a thoroughly rainy day, we may derive much instruction from watching the little torrents at work as they run down the mountain-side, here and there dashing over the rocks in little cascades, and bringing down to the base of the hill much of the débris that forms higher up. in this way nature gives us an "object lesson," and seems to say: "watch me at work here, and learn from such little operations how i work on a larger scale, and carve out my ravines and big valleys. only give me plenty of time, and i can accomplish much greater feats than this." the question of time is no longer disputed; and all geologists are willing to grant almost unlimited time, at least periods of time that seem to us unlimited. most streams have been flowing for thousands of years; and when once we grant that, we find no difficulty in believing that all valleys are the work of rain and rivers. surely no one would argue that the furrows on a mountain-side are all rents which have been widened by the action of water; for if they were rents, each must have been caused by some disturbance of the rocks composing the mountain, and we should of course be able to see the cracks for ourselves, and to find that the rocks had in some way been disturbed and rent open. even the rain which falls on the road in a heavy shower teaches the same simple but important lesson, as it runs off into the gutters on each side; and we may often find the road furrowed by little miniature rivers, that carve out for themselves tiny valleys as they run off into the gutter, bringing with them much débris in the form of mud and sand. sometimes a stream encounters in its course a layer of rock that is harder than the rock underlying it. in this case the softer rock is worn away faster, and the hard layer forms a kind of ridge at a higher level; the result is a waterfall. waterfalls are frequently found in mountain streams. in this case, it is easy to trace the ridge of harder rock running unbroken across the path of the stream, showing clearly that it has not been rent in any way. first it showed merely as a kind of step, but gradually the force of the falling water told with greater effect on the softer rock below, wearing it away more rapidly than that above, and so the depth of the waterfall went on increasing year by year; and at the same time the hard layer was slowly worn away until the stream sawed its way through. some river valleys are steep and narrow; others are broad, with gently sloping sides. a careful study of the different valleys in any large country such as great britain, shows that their forms vary according to the nature of the rocks through which rivers flow. where hard rocks abound, the valleys are steep and narrow; where soft rocks occur, the valleys are broad and low. this is only what might be expected, for hard rocks are not easily worn away; a river must cut its way through them, leaving cliffs on either side that cannot be wasted away by rain. but in a district where clay or soft sandstone occurs, the rain, as it finds its way to the valley, will wash them away and give a smooth gentle slope to the sides of the valley. it is very instructive to notice how the scenery of any district depends on the nature of its prevailing rocks. hard rocks give bold scenery with steep hills and rocky defiles; while soft rocks make the landscape comparatively flat and tame, though often very beautiful in its way, especially where a rich soil abounds, so that we see pleasant woods, rich pasture-land, and heavy crops in the fields. compare, for instance, the scenery of kent or surrey with that of the lake district or the west of yorkshire. the difference is due chiefly to the fact that in kent and surrey we have rocks that succumb more easily to the action of rain and rivers, and consequently are worn away more rapidly than the harder rocks in the north country. geologists have a word to express the effects of this wear and tear; namely, "denudation," which means a stripping off, or laying bare. in kent and surrey the agents of denudation (rain and rivers, aided by the effects of the air, of heat and cold, and so on) wear away the whole surface of the county in a tolerably even and uniform manner, because there are no hard rocks for them to contend with. in this case rain washes away the sides of the valleys faster than the river can carve its bed, consequently the valleys are shallow compared to their width. and so the streams have broad valleys, while the hills are smooth and gently rounded. chalk, clay, and soft sandstone abound there. the two latter rocks are washed away with comparative ease, and the chalk is dissolved; whereas in the lake district we have very much harder and older rocks, that require to be split up and broken by the action of frost, while every stream carves out for itself a steep valley, and great masses of hard rock stand out as bold hills or mountains, that seem to defy all the agents of denudation. here the opposite is the case, and the valleys are deepened faster than they are widened. but for all that, a vast amount of solid rock has been removed from the surface there, of which the mountains are, as it were, but fragments that have escaped the general destruction. moreover, the rocks in this region have been greatly disturbed and crumpled since they were first formed, and thereby thrown into various shapes that give certain peculiar structures more or less capable of resisting denudation. very effective illustrations of the power of rain by itself are afforded by the "earth pillars" of the tyrol, and "cañons" of colorado. the material of which they consist is called conglomerate, because it is composed of stones and large blocks of rock with stiff earth or clay between. all the taller ones have a big stone on the top which protects the softer material below from being washed away by heavy rains; and it is easily perceived that each pillar owes its existence to the stone on the top, which prevents the soft materials below it from being washed away. when, after a time, the weathering of the soft strata diminishes the support of the capping boulders, these at last topple over, and the pillar, thus left unprotected, becomes an easy prey to the rain, and is rapidly washed away. some of the pillars are over a hundred feet in height. but it is only in places where heavy rains fall that these interesting monuments of denudation are to be seen. by way of contrast we may turn now to a district in which very little rain falls, but where the streams have a considerable slope, and so can wear away, or erode, their valleys much faster than rain and frost, etc., can bring down the rocks of which the sides are composed. the river colorado of the west, which runs from the rocky mountains to the gulf of california, flows for nearly three hundred miles at the bottom of a profound chasm, or cañon, being hemmed in by vertical walls which in some places are more than a mile in depth. the tributary streams flowing into the river run through smaller ravines forming side cañons; and there is no doubt that these wonderful chasms have been, in the course of ages, slowly carved out by the river colorado and its numerous tributary streams. sometimes the walls of the cañon are not more than fifty yards apart, and in height they vary from three thousand to six thousand feet. far above the level of the highest floods patches of gravel are found here and there on the sides, which must have been left there by the river when it had not cut its way so far down. these cañons afford striking testimony to the erosive power of running water, of which they are the most wonderful illustration in the world. but water, even when in the form of ice, has more or less power to wear away solid rock; and the glaciers that we see in switzerland, norway, and other countries must slightly deepen the rocky valleys down which they flow. let us see how this can be accomplished. the snow that falls in the high alps, impelled by the weight of fresh layers of snow overlying it, and by the slope of the mountain-sides, gradually creeps down into the valleys. owing to the pressure thus put upon it, and partly to the melting power of the sun's rays, it assumes the form of ice; and glaciers are composed of solid ice. the downward motion is so slow that a glacier appears quite stationary; and it is only by putting in stakes and watching them change their positions that it can be shown to be moving. in all respects except speed, glaciers flow like rivers, for ice is a viscous body, behaving partly like a fluid and yet partly like a solid substance; but it will not endure a sharp bend without snapping. hence, a glacier in traversing a valley frequently gets split. the cracks thus formed widen by degrees until they expand into chasms, or "crevasses." like rivers, glaciers transport a large amount of rocky matter to lower levels, and at the same time wear away and deepen their rocky channels. let us see how they do this twofold work of transportation and erosion. in the first place, a large amount of débris falls onto the sides of a glacier from the peaks, precipices, and mountain-side along which it flows. some stones, however, fall down crevasses, and so reach the bottom, where they become cemented in the ice. in this way they are slowly carried down over the rocky floor of the valley, until at last they reach the end of the glacier, where in the warmer air the ice melts just as fast as it creeps down; and there they will be left to form a heap of stones, sand, and mud. large blocks of stone, quite different from the rocks on which they lie, are very numerous, and are called "erratics," since they are evidently wanderers from a distance. sometimes such blocks can be proved to have been brought many miles from their home among the higher peaks. the long lines of stones and mud seen on the sides of a glacier are called "moraines," and at the end of every glacier we find a big heap known as a "terminal moraine." but the stones of which they are composed are probably not to be entirely accounted for in this way. can we not conceive that the weight and pressure of a descending glacier may be sufficient to break off many protruding portions of the rocky bed over which it flows, and then to drag them along with it? this seems reasonable. let us therefore consider the materials of which moraines are composed to be derived partly from the rocks beneath and partly from those above the glacier. but whatever their origin, such materials must inevitably find their way to the end of the glacier and be added to the big heap there. the work of transportation is then taken up by the stream which always flows from the end of a glacier. such streams are in summer-time laden with fine sediment, which gives them a milky and turbid appearance. thus a glacier wears away the rocks over which it flows; rock fragments become embedded in the ice, and these are the tools with which a glacier does its work. it must be granted that the downward movement of a great mass of ice is irresistible, and consequently that as the moving glacier slowly creeps along, it must inevitably cause the stones which it thus holds to grind over the surface of the rock. it is easy to imagine the effects of this grinding action. if sand-paper, rubbed for a minute or two over wood, wears down and smooths its surface, what must be the result of all these stones, together with sand and mud, grinding over the rocky bed? the answer to this question is found in examining the rocks over which glaciers once flowed. now, the swiss glaciers once extended far beyond their present limits; and the rocks in the lower parts of their present valleys, now free from ice, show unmistakable signs of having been considerably worn down. the corners and angles of projecting pieces of rock have been worn away until the once rugged outline has become wavy and round, so much so as to produce more or less resemblance to the backs of sheep lying down. hence the name _roches moutonnées_, by which rocks of this shape are known. they frequently retain on their surface peculiar markings, such as long scratches and grooves which must have been made as the old glacier, with its embedded angular fragments of rock, slowly ground over their surfaces. such markings are called "striæ." but besides these glacial records graven on the rocks, we have other evidence, in the form of great moraines in some of the valleys of switzerland, and especially at those places where side valleys open out into a main valley. any one may learn by a little observation to recognise these peculiar heaps of stones, mud, and sand, deposited long ago by the old glaciers of switzerland. it will be perceived that the evidence for the erosive power of glaciers is of two kinds,--first, there is the testimony of the smoothed and striated rocks, which is very convincing; secondly, the equally strong proofs from the moraines, both great and small. these old rubbish heaps give us a very fair idea of the amount of wear and tear that goes on under a glacier, for there we see the rock fragments that tumbled down the mountain-side onto the surface of the glacier (together with those which the glacier tore off its rocky bed), all considerably smoothed, worn down, and striated. but a still better idea of the work done is afforded by the gravel, mud, and sand in which these stones are embedded. all this finer material must have been the result of wear and tear. this kind of action may well be compared to what takes place on a grindstone as one sharpens an axe on it. the water poured on the stone soon becomes muddy, owing to the presence of countless little grains of sand worn off the grindstone. but a good deal of the mud thus formed is carried away by the little stream that runs out from the end of every glacier; so that there is more formed than we see in the moraine. [illustration: the mer de glace and mont buet. from a photograph by mr. donkin.] we have already alluded in former chapters to the "ice age" in britain, when great glaciers covered all our high mountains, and descended far and wide over the plains. now, the evidence for the former existence of these glaciers is of the same kind as that which we have just described. in wales and scotland we may soon learn to recognise the _roches moutonnées_, the old moraine heaps, and the erratic boulders brought down by these old glaciers. besides these proofs, there is also the evidence of the arctic plants now flourishing in the highlands (see chapter iv., pages - ). there can be no doubt, then, that glaciers have an erosive action, and therefore must be regarded as agents of denudation. but it is important to bear in mind that their powers in this direction are limited; for it is manifest that a mountain stream is a much more powerful agent, and will deepen its little valley much more rapidly, than a cumbrous, slow-moving glacier, advancing at the rate of a few inches a day. it has been found by careful measurements that the mer de glace of chamouni moves during summer and autumn at the average daily rate of twenty to twenty-seven inches in the centre, and thirteen to nineteen and one half inches near the side, where friction somewhat impedes its course. this seems very slow compared to the rapid movement of a mountain stream; but then, a glacier partly makes up for this by its great weight. in considering a glacier as an agent of erosion, we must not forget that probably a good deal of water circulates beneath glaciers. if this is so, the water must have a considerable share in producing the effects to which we have already alluded. it would be extremely rash to conclude, as some students of glaciers have done, that valleys can be carved out _entirely_ by glaciers; and we must be content with believing that they have been somewhat deepened by ice-action, and their features more or less altered, but no more. the valleys of switzerland, of wales, and scotland, were probably all in existence before the period of the "ice age," having been carved out by streams in the usual way; but the glaciers, as it were, put the final touches and smoothed their surfaces. having learned how the three agents of denudation--namely, rain, rivers, and glaciers--accomplish their work, let us now take a wider view of the subject and consider the results of their united efforts both in the present and in the past. we have already alluded to the enormous amount of solid matter brought down to the sea every year by rivers (see chap. v., pp. - ), and we pointed out that all this represents so much débris swept off the land through which the rivers flow; also that it comes down in three ways, one part being suspended in the water as fine mud, another part being pushed along the river-bed as gravel, etc., while a third part is the carbonate of lime and other mineral matter in a dissolved state, and therefore invisible. now, it is quite plain that rain and rivers, in sweeping away so much solid matter from the surface of the land, must tend in the course of time to lower its general level; and it therefore seems to follow that after the lapse of ages any given continent or large island might be entirely washed away, or in other words, reduced to the level of the sea. this would certainly happen were it not that the lands of the world seem to be slowly rising, so that the denudation going on at the surface appears to be counterbalanced by continued upheaval. but, supposing no upheaval took place, how long would it take for rain and rivers to wear away a whole continent? let us see if there is any way of answering this difficult question, for if it can be even partially solved, it will help us to realise the enormous length of time that must have been required to bring about the results of denudation that we see all around us. although the calculations that have been made on this subject are very complicated, yet the principle on which they are based is quite simple. for an answer to our question we must go to the rivers again, and measure the work they do in transporting solid matter down to the sea. let us take the mississippi as a typical big river, for it has been more carefully studied than any other, and it drains a very extensive area, embracing many varieties of climate, rock, and soil. as the result of many observations carried on continuously at different parts of the river for months together, the engineers who conducted the investigation found that the annual discharge of water by this river is about nineteen thousand millions of cubic feet, and that on the average the amount of sediment it contains is about a / th part by weight. but besides the matter in suspension, they observed that a large amount of sand, gravel, and stones is being constantly pushed along the bottom of the river. this they estimated at over seven hundred and fifty millions of cubic feet. they also calculated that the mississippi brings down every year more than eight hundred thousand million pounds of mud. putting the two together, they found (as before stated) that the amount of solid matter thus transported down to the gulf of mexico may be represented by a layer feet high, covering a space of one square mile; that is, without allowing for what is brought down dissolved in the water, which may be neglected in order to prevent any exaggeration. now, it is quite clear that all this débris must have come from the immense area that is drained by the mississippi. it could not have been supplied by any rivers except those that are its tributaries. and so if we can find out what is the extent of this area, it is not difficult to calculate how much its general surface must have been lowered, or in other words, how much must have been worn away from it in order to supply all the material. this area is reckoned at , , square miles; and a very simple calculation tells us that the general surface would thus be lowered to the extent of / th part of a foot. that of course means that one foot would be worn away in six thousand years. on high ground and among mountains the rate of denudation would of course be much greater; but we are now dealing with an average for the whole surface. the next thing we require to finish this calculation is the average or mean height of the american continent. this was reckoned by the celebrated humboldt at feet. now if we may assume that all this continent is being worn down at the same rate of one foot in six thousand years (which is a reasonable assumption), we find, by a simple process of multiplication, that it would require about four and a half millions of years for rain and rivers to wash it all away until its surface was all at the sea-level (with perhaps a few little islands projecting here and there as relics of its vast denudation). this is a very interesting result; and if the above measurements are reliable, they afford us some idea of the rate at which denudation takes place at the present time. by a similar process it has been calculated the british isles might be levelled in about five and a half millions of years. geologists do not pretend to have solved this problem accurately; that is impossible with our present knowledge. but even as rough estimates these results are very valuable, especially when we come to study the structure of the land in different countries, and to find out therefrom, by actual measurement, how much solid rock has been removed. we will now give some examples of this; but perhaps a simple illustration will make our meaning clearer. suppose we picked up an old pair of boots, and found the soles worn away in the centre. it would be easy to find out how much had been worn away over the holes by simply measuring the thickness of leather at the sides, where we will suppose that they were protected by strong nails. geologists apply a very similar kind of method in order to find out how much rock has been removed from a certain region of the earth. one of the simplest cases of this kind is that of the area known as the weald of kent, surrey, and sussex (see illustration, fig. ). a great deal of denudation has taken place here, because there is ample evidence to prove that the great "formation" known as the chalk (now seen in the north and south downs) once stretched right across; and below this came the lower greensand and weald clay. they spread over this area in a low arch of which we now only see the ruins. [illustration: fig. . section across the weald of kent and surrey.] [illustration: fig. . the highlands of scotland on a true scale (after geikie).] the dotted lines in the figure show us their former extent; but the vertical height is exaggerated, for otherwise the hills would scarcely be seen. these lines simply follow out the curves taken by the strata at each end of the denuded arch, and therefore rightly indicate its former height. by making such a drawing on a true scale, geologists can easily measure the former height of the surface of this old arch, or "anticline," of chalk, greensand, and other strata, just as an architect might restore the outlines of an old traceried window from a few portions left at the sides. this very useful and instructive method is much employed in drawing sections through mountain-chains, in order to gain some idea of the amount of denudation which they have suffered. let us see how much has been removed from the present surface of the weald. first there is the chalk, which we may put down at six hundred feet at least; then there is the lower greensand, say, eight hundred feet; and below that, and forming the lowest ground in the weald, is the weald clay, which is one thousand feet thick, and being softer, was more rapidly borne away. along the centre runs a ridge of hastings sand, forming higher ground on account of its greater hardness, but this formation is not much denuded. however, adding together the thicknesses of the others, we arrive at the conclusion that about twenty-four hundred feet of chalk and other strata has been removed from the present surface of the weald. and all this denudation has probably been effected by rain and rivers, for it is very doubtful whether the sea had any share in this work. but in other parts of our own country we find proofs of denudation on a much grander scale than this; for example, in north wales there are rocks now lying exposed at the surface which are of a very much greater antiquity than any that may be seen in the wealden area, belonging to the very ancient periods known as the cambrian and silurian. these have evidently been exposed for a much longer time to the action of denuding forces; and the welsh hills, as we now see them, are but fragments of what they once were. after carefully mapping out the rocks in the neighbourhood of snowdon, noting their thickness, the directions in which they slope, or "dip," so that the structure of this region might be ascertained, as in the case of the weald, it was found, on drawing sections of the rocks there, and putting in dotted lines to continue the curves and slopes of the strata as known at or near the surface, that from fifteen thousand to twenty thousand feet of solid rock must have been removed (see diagrams, chapter ix., p. ). applying the same method to the lake district, it has been calculated that the amount of denudation which that beautiful country has suffered may be represented by twenty-six thousand feet. turning to the other side of the atlantic, we find the american geologists estimate that a thickness of five miles has been removed from a large part of the appalachian chain of mountains (near their east coast), and that at least one mile has been eroded from the entire region between the rocky and wahsatch mountains (see chapter ix.). in conclusion, we must bear in mind that mountains, in spite of the enormous erosion they have suffered, are more capable of resisting the ever active agents of denudation than the softer rocks that form the plains and lowlands, and consequently stand out in bold relief from other features of the earth's surface. this truth has been beautifully expressed in the following passage:-- " ... in order to bring the world into the form which it now bears, it was not mere sculpture that was needed; the mountains could not stand for a day unless they were formed of materials altogether different from those which constitute the lower hills and the surfaces of the valleys. a harder substance had to be prepared for every mountain-chain, yet not so hard but that it might be capable of crumbling down into earth, fit to nourish the alpine forest and the alpine flowers; not so hard but that in the midst of the utmost majesty of its enthroned strength there should be seen on it the seal of death, and the writing of the same sentence that had gone forth against the human frame, 'dust thou art and unto dust thou shalt return.' and with this perishable substance the most majestic forms were to be framed that were consistent with the safety of man, and the peak was to be lifted and the cliff rent as high and as steeply as was possible, in order yet to permit the shepherd to feed his flocks upon the slope, and the cottage to nestle beneath their shadow."[ ] [ ] modern painters. chapter viii. volcanic mountains. 'tis said enceladus' huge frame, heart-stricken by the avenging flame, is prisoned here, and underneath gasps through each vent his sulphurous breath; and still as his tired side shifts round, trinacia echoes to the sound through all its length, while clouds of smoke the living soul of ether choke. virgil: _Æneid iii._ in some parts of the world we meet with mountains of a very different kind from any we have yet considered,--mountains that are known at times to send forth fiery streams of glowing lava, and to emit with terrific force great clouds of steam. such mountains have long been known, in popular but unscientific language, as "burning mountains,"[ ]--a term which is unfortunate, because they do not burn in the proper sense of the word, like candles or gas-jets. they are better known as volcanoes. there are about three hundred and fifty known active volcanoes; and if we include all mountains that once were in that state, the number is about one thousand. [ ] see papers by the writer on volcanoes and volcanic action in "knowledge" for may and june, , on which this chapter is partly based. such mountains are connected in a curious way with those upheaved ridges of the world known as mountain-chains (see chap. vi., p. ). and not only are many mountains more or less penetrated and intersected by rocks of an igneous origin (see chap. v., p. ), but some have been largely formed by the action of old volcanoes. in fact, there are hills in great britain and parts of europe, in america, and other countries, that once were actual volcanoes (see page ). we must briefly consider these strange mountains so different from others, and see what we can find out about them. let us first inquire how a volcano is made, then consider what a volcano does; that is, we must view it as a geological agent that has a certain definite part to play in the economy of the world. and lastly, we may glance at some of the old volcanoes, and see what they were doing in those long ages of the world during which the great series of the stratified rocks were formed,--which rocks are, as it were, the book in which the earth has written her autobiography. in old days volcanoes were regarded with superstitious awe; and any investigation of their actions would have been considered rash and impious in the highest degree. mount etna, as virgil tells us, was supposed to mark the spot where the angry gods had buried enceladus, one of the rebellious giants. volcano, a certain "burning mountain" in the lipa islands, was likewise called the forge, or workshop, of vulcan (or volcan), the god of fire. and so it comes about that all "burning mountains" take their name from this one mediterranean island, and at the same time tell us of the mythological origin of the word. it has been said that words are "fossil thoughts;" and we have here an old and very much fossilised thought,--a kind of thought long since extinct among civilised peoples, and one which is never likely to come to life again. a volcanic mountain consists of alternating sheets of lava and volcanic ashes, mantling over each other in an irregular way, and all sloping away from the centre. in the centre is a pit or chimney, widening out towards the top so as to resemble a funnel or cup; hence the name "crater," which means a cup. in the centre of this crater a very small cone ("minor cone") is frequently found; and it is interesting to find that many of the moon's volcanic craters possess these "minor cones." a number of cracks or fissures intersect the volcano. these frequently spread out from the centre of the mountain in all directions, like the spokes of a wheel. they generally get filled with lava that wells up from below, thus forming "dykes," which may be regarded as so many sheets of igneous rock, such as basalt, that have forced their way while still liquid in among the layers of lava and ashes. the word "ash" is used by geologists in a special sense; and volcanic ash is not, as might be supposed, a deposit of cinders, but mostly of dust of various degrees of fineness, and sometimes it is very fine indeed. pieces of pumice-stone may be embedded in a layer of volcanic ash, and sometimes great blocks of stone that have been shot out of the volcano as from a big gun, but these only form a small part of the layer. dykes strengthen the mountain, and tend to hold it together when violently shaken during an eruption. the shape and steepness of a volcano depend on the nature of the materials ejected. the finer the volcanic ash, the steeper and more conical is the mountain. the building up of a volcano may be fairly illustrated by the little cone of sand formed in an hourglass as the sand-grains fall. these settle down at a certain slope, or angle, at which they can remain, instead of falling down to the bottom, as they do directly this slope is exceeded. some volcanoes are built up almost entirely of volcanic ash and its embedded blocks. vesuvius, teneriffe, jorullo, in mexico, and cotopaxi, in the andes, are examples of steep volcanic cones built up in this way. others, less steep and more irregular in shape, are chiefly formed of successive lava-flows. little minor cones are frequently formed on the side of a volcano; and these during an eruption give rise to small outbursts of their own. they are easily accounted for by the dykes which are mentioned just now; for when molten rock forces its way through fissures, it sometimes finds an outlet at the surface, and being full of steam, as soda-water is full of gas, it gives rise to an eruption. the great opening in the centre of a volcano, with its molten lava, is like a very big dyke that has reached the surface and so succeeded in producing an eruption. the opening of a soda-water bottle not infrequently illustrates a volcanic eruption; for when the pent-up carbonic acid cannot escape fast enough, it forces out some of the water, even when the bottle is held upright. every volcano has been built up on a platform of ordinary stratified rocks; and at some period _after_ these had been laid down in water and raised up into dry land, molten rock found its way through them, and so the volcano was built up by successive eruptions during many years. it is probable that earthquake shocks, preceding the first eruption, cracked up these strata, and so made a way for the lava to come up. the main point we wish to emphasize is that _volcanoes are never formed by upheaval_. in this way they differ from all other mountains. they have not been made by the heaving up of strata, but have been gradually piled up, something like rubbish heaps that accumulate in the thames barges as the dustmen empty their carts into them, only in the case of volcanoes the "rubbish" comes from below. it is not necessary to suppose that the reservoir down below, from which the molten rock is supplied, exists at any very great depth below the original land surface on which the volcano grows up. the old "upheaval theory" of volcanoes, once advocated by certain authorities, instead of being based on actual evidence or on reasoning from facts, was a mere guess. moreover, if the explanation we have given should not be sufficiently convincing, there is good proof furnished by the case of a small volcano near vesuvius, the building of which was actually witnessed. it is called monte nuovo, or the new mountain. it is a little cone feet high, on the bank of lake averno, with a crater more than a mile and a half wide at the base. it was almost entirely formed during a single night in the year , a. d. we have two accounts of the eruption to which it owes its existence; and each writer says distinctly that the mountain was formed by the falling of stones and ashes. one witness says,-- "stones and ashes were thrown up with a noise like the discharge of great artillery, in quantities which seemed as if they would cover the whole earth; and in four days their fall had formed a mountain in the valley between monte barbaro and lake averno, of not less than three miles in circumference, and almost as high as monte barbaro itself,--a thing incredible to those who have not seen it, that in so short a time so considerable a mountain should have been formed." another says,-- "some of the stones were larger than an ox. the mud (ashes mixed with water) was at first very liquid, then less so, and in such quantities that with the help of the afore-mentioned stones a mountain was raised one thousand paces in height." (the writer's astonishment led him greatly to exaggerate the height.) these accounts are important as showing how in a much longer time a big volcano may be built up. from such small operations we learn how nature works on a large scale. the great volcano in mexico known as jorullo was probably built up in a very similar way. there is a tradition among the natives that it was made in two or three days; but we can hardly believe that. volcanoes, as they get older, tend to grow taller and bigger; but every now and then a large portion may be blown away by some great eruption, and they have, as it were, to begin again. [illustration: the eruption of vesuvius in . from an instantaneous photograph.] let us now consider volcanoes as geological agents, and see what they do. a volcanic eruption may be described in a general way as follows: its advent is heralded by earthquakes affecting the mountain and the whole country round; loud underground explosions are heard, resembling the fire of distant artillery. the vibrations are chiefly transmitted through the ground; the mountain seems convulsed by internal throes, due, no doubt, to the efforts of the imprisoned steam and liquid rock to find an opening. these signs are accompanied by the drying up of wells and disappearance of springs, since the water finds its way down new cracks in the rocks, caused by the frequent shocks and quiverings. when at last an opening has been made, the eruption begins,--generally with one tremendous burst that shakes the whole mountain down to its foundations. after this, frequent explosions follow with great rapidity and increasing violence, generally from the crater. these are indicated by the globular masses of steam which are to be seen rising up in a tall column like that which issues from the funnel of a locomotive. but sometimes the whole mountain seems to be more or less engaged in giving out steam, and thus to be partly enveloped in it. this is illustrated by our engraving from an instantaneous photograph of vesuvius in eruption in the year . the steam and other gases, in their violent ascent, hurl up into the air a great deal of solid rock from the sides of the central opening, after first blowing out the stones which previously stopped up the orifice. blocks of stone falling down meet with others coming up; and so a tremendous pounding action takes place, the result of which is that great quantities of volcanic dust and ashes are produced, generally of extreme fineness. winds and ocean currents transport these light materials for long distances. the observations made during the famous and fruitful voyage of h. m. s. "challenger" showed that fine volcanic dust is carried by wind and marine currents to almost all parts of the oceans. the darkness so frequently mentioned in accounts of eruptions--sometimes at a very great distance from the volcano--is entirely caused by clouds of volcanic dust hiding the light of the sun. perhaps the best example of this is the case of the eruption of krakatoa (in the strait of sunda, between sumatra and java) in . its explosions were heard in all directions for two thousand miles, and a perceptible layer of volcanic dust fell at all places within one thousand miles; while the finest dust and vapour, shot up fifteen or twenty miles high, were spread all over the globe, causing, while still suspended in the atmosphere, the peculiar red sunsets noticed in all parts of the world for some months after the eruption. again, those very curious deposits of "red clay" found in the very deepest parts of the pacific and atlantic oceans (at depths of about four thousand fathoms, or twenty-four thousand feet) have been shown to be chiefly composed of volcanic dust, their red colour being due to oxidised iron. but there is another way in which a good deal of fine volcanic dust is made; and it is this: the lava is so full of steam intimately mixed up with it that the steam, in its violent effort to escape, often blows the lava into mere dust. another interesting phenomenon may be thus described: portions of liquid, or half liquid, lava are caught up by the steam and hurled into the air. these assume a more or less round form, and are known as "bombs." at a distance they give rise to the appearance of flames. and here we may remark that the flaring, coloured pictures of etna or vesuvius in eruption, which frequently may be seen, are by no means correct. the huge flames shooting up into the air are quite imaginary, but are probably suggested by the glare and bright reflection from glowing molten lava down in the crater. so great is the force of the pent-up steam trying to escape that it frequently blows a large part of the volcano bodily away; and in some cases a whole mountain has been blown to pieces. finally, torrents of rain follow and accompany an eruption,--a result which clearly follows from the condensation of large volumes of steam expanding and rising up into the higher and cooler layers of the atmosphere. vast quantities of volcanic ash are caught up by the rain, and in this way very large quantities of mud are washed down the sides of the mountain. sometimes the mud-flows are on a large scale, and descending with great force, bury a whole town. it was mostly in this way that the ancient cities of herculaneum and pompeii were buried by the great eruption of vesuvius in the year a. d., in which the elder pliny lost his life. the discoveries made during excavations at pompeii are of very great interest as illustrating old roman life. the italians give the name _lava d'acqua_, or water-lava, to flows of this kind, and they are greatly dreaded on account of their great rapidity. an ordinary lava-stream creeps slowly along, so that people have time to get out of the way; but in the case of mud-flows there is often no time to escape. no lava-stream has ever reached pompeii since it was first built, although the foundations of the town stand upon an old lava-flood. herculaneum is nearer to vesuvius, and has at times been visited by lava-streams. mud-lavas, ashes, and lava-streams have accumulated over this city to a depth of over seventy feet. lava-streams vary greatly in size; in some cases the lava, escaping from craters, comes to rest before reaching the base of the slopes of the volcano; in other cases a lava-flow not only reaches the plains below, but extends for many miles over the surrounding country. hence lava-streams are important geological agents. let us look at some famous instances. the most stupendous flow on record was that which took place from skaptar jökull in iceland, in the year . in this case a number of streams issued from the volcano, flooding the country far and wide, filling up river gorges which were in some cases six hundred feet deep and two hundred and fifty feet broad, and advancing into the alluvial plains in lakes of molten rock twelve to fifteen miles wide and one hundred feet deep. two currents of lava which flowed in nearly opposite directions spread out with varying thickness according to the nature of the ground for forty and fifty miles respectively. had this great eruption taken place in the south of england, all the country from the neighbourhood of london to that of gloucester might have been covered by a flood of basalt of considerable thickness. sometimes, when the lava can only escape at a point low down on the mountain, a fountain of molten rock will spout high into the air. this has happened on vesuvius and etna. but in an eruption of mauna loa, in the sandwich islands, an unbroken fountain of lava, from two hundred to seven hundred feet high and one thousand feet broad, burst out at the base of the mountain; and again in april, , the same thing happened on a still grander scale. in this case four fiery fountains continued to play for several weeks, sometimes throwing the glowing lava to a height of one thousand feet in the air. surely there can be no more wonderful or awful sight than this in the world. the volcanoes of hawaii, the principal island in the sandwich islands, often send forth lava-streams covering an area of over one hundred square miles to a depth of one hundred feet or more; but they are discharged quite quietly, like water welling out of a spring. repeated flows of this kind, however, have in the course of ages built up a great flat cone six miles high from the floor of the ocean, to form this lofty island, which is larger than surrey; and it is calculated that the great volcanic mountain must contain enough material to cover the whole of the united states with a layer of rock fifty feet deep. but it is not only on the surface of the land that volcanic eruptions take place; for in some cases the outbreak of a submarine eruption has been witnessed, and it is highly probable that in past geological ages many large eruptions of this nature have taken place. in the year , an eruption took place about thirty miles off the west coast of iceland. an island was built up from which glowing vapour and smoke came forth; but in a year or less the waves had washed everything away, leaving only a submerged reef. the island of santorin, in the greek archipelago, is a partly submerged volcano. but in some cases enormous outpourings of lava have taken place, not from volcanoes, but from openings of the ground here and there, and more usually from long fissures or cracks in the rocks lying at the surface. in many cases so much lava has quietly welled out in this way that the old features of the landscape have been completely buried up, and wide plains and plateaux formed over them. sir a. geikie says,-- "some of the most remarkable examples of this type of volcanic structure occur in western north america. among these that of the snake river plain in idaho may be briefly described. "surrounded on the north and east by lofty mountains, it stretches westward as an apparently boundless desert of sand and bare sheets of black basalt. a few streams descending into the plain from the hills are soon swallowed up and lost. the snake river, however, flows across it, and has cut out of its lava bed a series of picturesque gorges and rapids. "the extent of country which has been flooded with basalt in this and adjoining regions of oregon and washington has not yet been accurately surveyed, but has been estimated to cover a larger area than france and great britain combined. looked at from any point on its surface, one of these lava plains appears as a vast level surface, like that of a lake bottom. this uniformity has been produced either by the lava rolling over a plain or lake bottom, or by the complete effacement of an original, undulating contour of the ground under hundreds of feet of lava in successive sheets. the lava, rolling up to the base of the mountains, has followed the sinuosities of their margin, as the waters of a lake follow its promontories and bays." a few further examples of mud-lavas may be mentioned here. cotopaxi, a great volcano in ecuador, south america, with a height of , feet, reaches so high into the atmosphere that the higher parts are capped with snow. in june, , a great eruption took place, during which the melting of snow and ice gave rise to torrents of mud and water, which rushed down the steep sides of the mountain, so that large blocks of ice were hurried along. the villages around to a distance of about seventy miles were buried under a deposit of mud, mixed with blocks of lava, ashes, pieces of wood, etc. sometimes a volcano discharges large quantities of mud directly from the crater. in this case the mud is not manufactured by the volcano itself, but finds its way through fissures and cracks from the bed of the neighbouring sea or rivers to the crater. thus, in the year , imbaburu, one of the andes of quito, sent out floods of mud containing dead fish, the decay of which caused fever in the neighbourhood. in the same way the volcanoes of java have often buried large tracts of fertile country under a covering of volcanic mud, thus causing great devastation. vast quantities of dust are produced, as already explained, by the pounding action that takes place during an eruption, as portions of rock in falling down meet others that are being hurled into the air. striking instances of this have occurred not far from great britain. thus in the year , during an eruption of skaptar jökull, so great was the amount of dust thus created that the atmosphere in iceland was loaded with it for several months. carried by winds, it even reached the northern parts of scotland, and in caithness so much of it fell that the crops were destroyed. this is remarkable, considering that the distance was six hundred miles. even in holland and norway there are traces of this great shower of dust from the icelandic volcano. during the fearful eruption of tomboro, a volcano in the island of sumbawa, in the eastern archipelago, in , the abundance of ashes and dust ejected caused darkness at midday at java, three hundred miles away, and even there the ground was covered to a depth of several inches. in sumbawa itself the part of the island joining the mountain was entirely desolated, and all the houses destroyed, together with twelve thousand inhabitants. trees and herbage were overwhelmed with pumice and volcanic dust. the floating pumice on the sea around formed a layer two feet, six inches thick, through which vessels forced their way with difficulty. from such facts as these it is clear that if in past ages volcanoes have been so powerfully active as they are now, we should expect to find lava-flows, dykes, and great deposits of volcanic ash deposited in water among the stratified rocks; and such is the case. many large masses of rock familiar to the geologist, and often forming parts of existing mountains, are to be accounted for either as great lava-flows, or dykes that have forced their way in among the strata, or as extensive deposits of volcanic ash. but perhaps the reader would like to know what the inside of a volcanic crater is like during an eruption. let us, then, take a peep into that fearful crater of kilauea, in the sandwich islands. for this purpose we cannot do better than follow miss bird's admirable description of her adventurous expedition to this crater:-- "the abyss, which really is at a height of four thousand feet, on the flank of mauna loa, has the appearance of a pit on a rolling plain. but such a pit! it is quite nine miles in circumference, and at its lowest area--which not long ago fell about three hundred feet, just as ice on a pond falls when the water below is withdrawn--covers six square miles. the depth of the crater varies from eight hundred to one thousand feet, according as the molten sea below is at flood or ebb. signs of volcanic activity are present more or less throughout its whole depth, and for some distance round its margin, in the form of steam-cracks, jets of sulphurous vapour, blowing cones, accumulating deposits of acicular crystals of sulphur, etc., and the pit itself is constantly rent and shaken by earthquakes. grand eruptions occurred with circumstances of indescribable terror and dignity; but kilauea does not limit its activity to these outbursts, but has exhibited its marvellous phenomena through all known time in a lake or lakes on the southern part of the crater three miles from this side. "this lake--the _hale-mau-mau_, or 'house of everlasting fire,' of the hawaiian mythology, the abode of the dreaded goddess pele--is approachable with safety, except during an eruption. the spectacle, however, varies almost daily; and at times the level of the lava in the pit within a pit is so low, and the suffocating gases are evolved in such enormous quantities, that travellers are unable to see anything. there had been no news from it for a week; and as nothing was to be seen but a very faint bluish vapour hanging round its margin, the prospect was not encouraging.... after more than an hour of very difficult climbing, we reached the lowest level of the crater, pretty nearly a mile across, presenting from above the appearance of a sea at rest; but on crossing it, we found it to be an expanse of waves and convolutions of ashy-coloured lava, with huge cracks filled up with black iridescent rolls of lava only a few weeks old. parts of it are very rough and ridgy, jammed together like field-ice, or compacted by rolls of lava, which may have swelled up from beneath; but the largest part of the area presents the appearance of huge coiled hawsers, the ropy formation of the lava rendering the illusion almost perfect. these are riven by deep cracks, which emit hot sulphurous vapours.... "as we ascended, the flow became hotter under our feet, as well as more porous and glistening. it was so hot that a shower of rain hissed as it fell upon it. the crust became increasingly insecure, and necessitated our walking in single file with the guide in front, to test the security of the footing. i fell through several times, and always into holes full of sulphurous steam so malignantly acid that my strong dogskin gloves were burned through as i raised myself on my hands. "we had followed the lava-flow for thirty miles up to the crater's brink, and now we had toiled over recent lava for three hours, and by all calculation were close to the pit; yet there was no smoke or sign of fire, and i felt sure that the volcano had died out for once for our special disappointment.... "suddenly, just above, and in front of us, gory drops were tossed in the air, and springing forwards we stood on the brink of _hale-mau-mau_, which was about thirty-five feet below us. i think we all screamed. i know we all wept; but we were speechless, for a new glory and terror had been added to the earth. it is the most unutterable of wonderful things. the words of common speech are quite useless. it is unimaginable, indescribable; a sight to remember for ever; a sight which at once took possession of every faculty of sense and soul, removing one altogether out of the range of ordinary life. here was the real 'bottomless pit,' 'the fire which is not quenched,' 'the place of hell,' 'the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone,' 'the everlasting burnings,' 'the fiery sea whose waves are never weary.'[ ] there were groanings, rumblings, and detonations, rushings, hissings, splashings, and the crashing sound of breakers on the coast; but it was the surging of fiery waves upon a fiery shore. but what can i write? such words as jets, fountains, waves, spray, convey some idea of order and regularity, but here there was none. the inner lake, while we stood there, formed a sort of crater within itself; the whole lava sea rose about three feet; a blowing cone about eight feet high was formed; it was never the same two minutes together. and what we saw had no existence a month ago, and probably will be changed in every essential feature a month hence.... the prominent object was fire in motion; but the surface of the double lake was continually skimming over for a second or two with a cooled crust of a lustrous grey-white, like frosted silver, broken by jagged cracks of a bright rose-colour. the movement was nearly always from the sides to the centre; but the movement of the centre itself appeared independent, and always took a southerly direction. before each outburst of agitation there was much hissing and throbbing, internal roaring, as of imprisoned gases. now it seemed furious, demoniacal, as if no power on earth could bind it, then playful and sportive, then for a second languid, but only because it was accumulating fresh force.... sometimes the whole lake ... took the form of mighty waves, and surging heavily against the partial barrier with a sound like the pacific surf, lashed, tore, covered it, and threw itself over it in clots of living fire. it was all confusion, commotion, forces, terror, glory, majesty, mystery, and even beauty. and the colour, 'eye hath not seen' it! molten metal hath not that crimson gleam, nor blood that living light."[ ] [ ] perhaps these scripture phrases were suggested long before the bible was written, by the sight of some crater in active eruption. [ ] the hawaiian archipelago. continued observation of volcanoes, together with evidence derived from history, teaches that there are different stages of volcanic action. there are three pretty well-marked phases. first, the state of permanent eruption; this is not a dangerous state, because the steam keeps escaping all the time: the safety-valve is at work, and all goes smoothly. the second state is one of moderate activity, with more or less violent eruptions at brief intervals; this is rather dangerous, because at times the safety-valve does not work. and thirdly, we have paroxysms of intense energy, alternating with long periods of repose sometimes lasting for centuries. these eruptions are extremely violent, and cause widespread destruction; the safety-valve has got jammed, and so the boiler bursts. no volcano has been so carefully watched for a long time as vesuvius. its history illustrates the phases we have just mentioned. the first recorded eruption is that of a. d. , a very severe one of the violent type, by which herculaneum, pompeii, and stabiæ were buried. we have an interesting account by the younger pliny. before this great eruption took place, vesuvius had been in a state of repose for eight hundred years, and if we may judge from the greek and roman writings, was not even suspected of being a volcano. then followed an interval of rest until the reign of severus, the second eruption taking place in the year . in the year , says procopius, all europe was covered more or less with volcanic ashes. other eruptions followed at intervals, but there was complete repose for two centuries; that is, until the year . in it was again active, then quiet again for one hundred and thirty years. in there took place another terrific outburst. after this many eruptions followed, and they have been frequent ever since. vesuvius is therefore now in the second stage of moderate activity. but geologists can take a wider view than this. they can sum up the history of a volcanic region of the earth; and the result is somewhat as follows: volcanoes, like living creatures, go through different periods or phases, corresponding roughly to youth, middle age, old age, and finally decay. the invasion of any particular area of the earth's surface by the volcanic forces is heralded by underground shocks, or earthquakes. a little later on cracks are formed, as indicated by the rise of saline and hot springs, and the issuing of carbonic acid and other gases at the surface of the earth. as the underground activity becomes greater, the temperature of the springs and emitted gases increases; and at last a visible rent is formed, exposing highly heated and glowing rock below. from the fissure thus formed, the gas and vapours imprisoned in the molten rocks escape with such violence as to disperse the latter in the form of pumice and volcanic ash, or to cause them to pour out as lava-streams. the action generally becomes confined to one or more points along the line of action (which is a line of fissures and cracks). in this way a chain of volcanoes is formed, which may become the seat of volcanic action for a long time. when the volcanic energies have become somewhat exhausted, so that they cannot raise up the lava and expel it from the volcanic crater, nor rend the sides of the volcano and cause minor cones to grow up on their flanks, small cones may be formed at a lower level in the plains around the great central chain. these likewise are fed from fissures. later on, as the heated rock below cools down, the fissures are sealed up by lava that has become solid; and then the volcanoes fall, as it were, into the "sere and yellow leaf," and remain in a peaceful, quiet state befitting their old age. after this they begin to suffer from long exposure to the atmospheric influences of decay, and rain and rivers wash them away more or less completely. but still the presence of heated rocky matter at no great depth below is proved by the outbursts of gases and vapours, the forming of geysers and ordinary hot springs. gradually, however, even these signs of heat below disappear; and the cycle of volcanic phases is at an end. such a series of changes may require millions of years; but by the study of volcanoes in every stage of their growth and decline it is possible thus to sketch out an outline of their history. it must be confessed that in the present state of scientific knowledge no full and complete explanation of volcanic action is possible. geologists and others are as yet but feeling their way cautiously towards the light which, perhaps before long, will illumine the dark recesses of this mysterious subject. many theories and ideas have been put forward, but in the opinion of the writer the most promising explanation is one that may be briefly expressed as follows: there are below the crust of the earth large masses of highly heated rock that are _kept solid_ by the enormous pressure of the overlying rocks, or otherwise they would melt,--for it is a known fact that pressure tends to prevent the melting of a solid body. but when earth-movements taking place within the earth's crust--such as the upheaving of mountain-chains--take off some of the weight, the balance between internal heat and the pressure from above is no longer maintained; and so these highly heated rocks run off into the liquid state, and finding their way to the surface through the fissures mentioned above, give rise to volcanic action. there is much to be said in favour of this view. it rightly connects volcanic action with movements of upheaval, with mountain-chains and lines of weakness in the earth's crust. there is very good reason to believe that the earth was once in a highly heated state, and has been slowly cooling down for ages. the increase of temperature observed in penetrating mines tells us that it still retains below the surface some of its old heat. we need not therefore be surprised at the existence of heated masses of rock down below, or seek, as some have done, an entirely different source for the origin of volcanic heat than that which remains from the earth's once molten condition. it would take too long to state the reasons on which this idea of the former state of our planet is based, and moreover, it would bring us into the region of astronomy, with which we are not concerned at present. in various parts of great britain and ireland we meet with old volcanic rocks,--lavas, intrusive dykes, and sheets of basalt, etc., together with vast deposits of volcanic ash, which, sinking into the old neighbouring seas, became stratified, or arranged in layers like the ordinary sedimentary rocks. in some cases we see embedded in these layers the very "bombs" that were thrown out by the old volcanoes (see page ). and besides these purely volcanic rocks, we often meet in these areas with great bosses of granite, which must have been in some way connected with the old volcanoes, and probably were in many cases the source from which much of the volcanic rock was derived. but more than this, in a few instances we have the site of the old volcano itself marked out by a kind of pipe, or "neck," now filled with some of its volcanic débris in the shape of coarse, rounded fragments (see page ). during a very ancient period, known to geologists as the silurian period, great lava-flows took place from volcanoes situated where north and south wales and the lake district now are; and by their eruptions a vast amount of volcanic ash was made, which fell into the sea and slowly sank to the bottom, so that the shell-fish living there were buried in the strata thus formed, and may now be seen in a fossilised condition. [illustration: fig. . the ranges of the great basin, western states of north america, showing a series of great fractures and tilted masses of rock.] [illustration: fig. . section through snowdon.] thus snowdon, cader idris, the arans, arenig mountain, and others, are very largely made up of these ancient volcanic materials. the writer has picked up specimens of fossil shell-fish near the summit of snowdon from a bed of fine volcanic ash that forms the summit. fig. represents a section through snowdon, from which it will be seen that we have first a few sedimentary strata, _s_, then a great lava-flow, _l_; and that volcanic ashes accumulated on the top of this, of which _a a_ are patches still left. _b_ is an intrusive dyke of a basaltic rock that forced its way through afterwards. again, in the lake district there is a well-known volcanic series of stratified rocks of the same age, consisting mostly of lavas and ashes, the total thickness of which is about twelve thousand feet (known as the "green slates and porphyries"), so that a large part of some of the mountains there have also been built up by volcanic action; but no traces of the old volcanoes remain. going farther north we find abundant proof that volcanic action on a prodigious scale took place in scotland during the very ancient period of the old red sandstone, with which the name of hugh miller will always be associated. in central scotland we see lava-flows and strata formed of volcanic ash, with a thickness of more than six thousand feet, fragments of which, having escaped the destructive agents of denudation, now form important chains of hills, such as the pentland, ochil, and sidlaw ranges. nor was the volcanic action confined to this region. in the district of the cheviot hills similar volcanic rocks are to be seen. but here again the old volcanoes have long since been swept away, leaving us only portions of their outpourings buried in the hills. there can be no doubt that the present area of the grampian hills was once the site of a considerable number of volcanoes, only at a much higher level than their present surface, elevated though that is to the region of the clouds; but in this case subsequent denudation has been so enormous that the old mountain surface has been planed away until all we can now see is a series of separate patches of granite, that were once in a fused and highly heated state far below the surface, and formed part of the subterranean reservoirs from which the volcanoes derived their great supplies of lava and steam. it is indeed difficult to imagine the enormous amount of denudation which has taken place in the highlands of scotland, and to realise that the magnificent range of the cairngorms, for instance, has been for ages worn down until now they are but a remnant of what they once were. in this region we see the once boiling and seething masses of rock which fed the old volcanoes, now no longer endowed with life-like power by the force of steam, but lying in deathlike cold and stiffness, with their beautiful crystals of mica and felspar sparkling in the sun. the volcanic fires have died out; but the traces of their work are unmistakable, among which we must not forget to reckon the beautiful minerals made by the action of heated water upon the surrounding rocks. the beautiful cairngorm stones are still sometimes found on the mountain from which they take their name, and in all volcanic regions minerals are plentiful. the well-known hill called arthur's seat, close to edinburgh, marks the site of an old volcano. the "neck," or central opening, may be seen at the top of the hill, but choked up with volcanic rocks and débris. the crater has long since disappeared, but salisbury craigs and st. leonard's craigs are formed of a great sheet of basalt that intruded itself among the stratified rocks that had been formed there, and so belong really to a great intrusive dyke. in the castle rock we see the same basalt again. during a much later age, known as the miocene period (see chap. x., p. ), enormous outpourings of lava took place in western europe, covering hundreds of square miles. of these the most important is that which occupies a large part of the northeast of ireland, and extends in patches through the inner hebrides and the faröe islands into iceland. these eruptive rocks, unlike those above referred to, must have poured out at the surface, and have taken the form of successive sheets, such as we now see in the terraced plateaux of skye, eigg, canna, muck, mull, and morven. these, then, are patches of what once formed a great plain of basalt. during later times this volcanic platform has been so greatly cut up by the agents of denudation that it has been reduced to mere scattered fragments; thousands of feet of basalt have been worn away from it; deep and wide valleys have been carved out of it; and in many cases it has been almost entirely stripped off from the wide areas it once covered. where, as in the isle of eigg, the lava has been piled up in successive sheets, with some layers of volcanic ash between, the latter has been worn away rather faster than the hard layers of basalt, and each lava-flow is clearly marked by a terrace. these volcanic eruptions have thus had a great influence in moulding the scenery of this region. in ireland the old basalts are well seen at the giant's causeway, and on the scottish coast we see them again at the well-known fingal's cave at staffa. this island, like the others, is just a patch of the old lava-streams. its curious six-sided columns illustrate a fact with regard to the subsequent cooling of lava-flows. some internal forces, analogous to that which regulates the shapes of crystals, have caused it to crack along three sets of lines, so placed with regard to each other as to produce six-sided columns. in ireland the basalts attain a thickness of nine hundred feet; in mull they are about three thousand feet thick. it has been clearly proved that mull is the site of one of the old volcanoes of this period, but very few others have as yet been detected. perhaps the eruptions took place mainly from large fissures, instead of from volcanic cones, for it is known that the ground below the lava-sheets has been rent by earthquakes into innumerable fissures, into which the basalt was injected from below. in this way a vast number of "dykes" were formed. these have been traced by hundreds eastwards from this region across scotland, and even the north of england. in this case the molten rock was struggling to get through the overlying rocks and escape at the surface; but apparently it did not succeed in so doing, for we do not find lava-flows to the east and south. these basalt dykes are found as far south as yorkshire, and can be traced over an area of one hundred thousand square miles. it is thus evident that in the miocene period a great and extensive mass of molten basalt was underlying a large part of the british isles, and probably the weight of the thick rocks overlying it was sufficient to prevent its escape to the surface. if it had succeeded in so escaping and overflowing, how different the scenery of much of scotland and northern england might have been! [illustration: columnar basalt at clamshell cave, staffa. from a photograph by j. valentine.] chapter ix. mountain architecture. the splendour falls on castle walls and snowy summits old in story; the long light shakes across the lakes, and the wild cataract leaps in glory. blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying; blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. tennyson. the dying splendours of the sun slowly sinking and entering the "gates of the west" may well serve as a fitting emblem of the mountains in their beautiful old age, awaiting in silent and calm dignity the time when they also must be brought low, and sink in the waters of the ocean, as the sun appears daily to do. yes, they too have their day. they too had their rising, when mighty forces brought them up out of their watery bed. many of them have passed their hey-day of youth, and their midday; while others, far advanced in old age, are nearing the end of their course. but as the sun rises once more over eastern seas to begin another day, so will the substance of the mountains be again heaved up after a long, long rest under the sea, and here and there will rise up from the plains to form the lofty mountain-ranges of a distant future. everywhere we read the same story, the same circle of changes. the alpine peak that proudly rears its head to the clouds must surely be brought low, and finally come back to the same ocean from which those clouds arose. it is in this way that the balance between land and water is preserved. in passing through such a great circle of changes, the mountains assume various forms and shapes which are determined by:-- . their different ages and states of decay. . the different kinds of rocks of which they are composed, and especially by their "joints," or natural divisions. . the different positions into which these rocky layers have been squeezed, pushed, and crumpled by those stupendous forces of upheaval of which we spoke in chapter vi. let us therefore glance at some of these external forms, and then look at the internal structure of mountains. in so doing we shall find that we have yet a good deal more to learn about mountains and how they were made; and also we shall then be in a better position to realise not only how very much denudation they have suffered, but also how greatly they have been disturbed since their rocks were first made. every one who knows mountains must have observed how some are smooth and rounded, others sharp and jagged, with peaks and pinnacles standing out clearly against the sky; some square and massive, with steep walls forming precipices; others again spread out widely at their base, but the sloping sides end in a sharp point at the top, giving to the mountain the appearance of a cone. their diversities of shape are so endless that we cannot attempt to describe them all. first, with regard to the general features of mountains. looked at broadly, a mountain-range is not a mere line of hills or mountains rising straight up from a plain on each side, such as school-boys often draw in their maps; very far from it. take the rocky mountains, for instance. "it has been truly said of the rocky mountains that the word 'range' does not express it at all. it is a whole country populous with mountains. it is as if an ocean of molten granite had been caught by instant petrifaction when its billows were rolling heaven high."[ ] [ ] "the crest of the continent," by ernest ingersoll, chicago, . it has often been observed by mountain climbers that when they get to the top of a high mountain, and take a bird's-eye view of the country, all the mountain-tops seem to reach to about the same height, so that a line joining them would be almost level. for this reason, perhaps, writers so often compare them to the waves of an ocean. this feature is very conspicuous in the case of the scotch highlands. sir a. geikie has well described what he saw from the top of ben nevis:-- "much has been said and written about the wild, tumbled sea of the highland hills. but as he sits on his high perch, does it not strike the observer that there is after all a wonderful orderliness, and even monotony, in the waves of that wide sea? and when he has followed their undulations from north to south, all round the horizon, does it not seem to him that these mountain-tops and ridges tend somehow to rise to a general level; that, in short, there is not only on the great scale a marked similarity of contour about them, but a still more definite uniformity of average height? to many who have contented themselves with the bottom of the glen, and have looked with awe at the array of peaks and crags overhead, this statement will doubtless appear incredible. but let any one get fairly up to the summits and look along them, and he will not fail to see that the statement is nevertheless true. from the top of ben nevis this feature is impressively seen. along the sky-line, the wide sweep of summits undulates up to a common level, varied here by a cone and there by the line of some strath or glen, but yet wonderfully persistent round the whole panorama. if, as sometimes happens in these airy regions, a bank of cloud with a level under-surface should descend upon the mountains, it will be seen to touch summit after summit, the long line of the cloud defining, like a great parallel ruler, the long level line of the ridges below. i have seen this feature brought out with picturesque vividness over the mountains of knoydart and glen garry. wreaths of filmy mist had been hovering in the upper air during the forenoon. towards evening, under the influence of a cool breeze from the north, they gathered together into one long band that stretched for several miles straight as the sky-line of the distant sea, touching merely the higher summits and giving a horizon by which the general uniformity of level among the hills could be signally tested. once or twice in a season one may be fortunate enough to get on the mountains above such a stratum of mist, which then seems to fill up the irregularities of the general platform of hill-tops, and to stretch out as a white phantom sea, from which the highest eminences rise up as little islets into the clear air of the morning.... still more striking is the example furnished by the great central mass of the grampians, comprising the cairngorm mountains and the great corries and precipices round the head of the dee. this tract of rugged ground, when looked at from a distance, is found to present the character of a high, undulating plateau."[ ] [ ] scenery of scotland page , new edition. this long level line of the highland mountain-tops may be seen very well from the lower country outside; for example, from the isles of skye and eigg, where one may see the panorama between the heights of applecross and the point of ardnamurchan showing very clearly the traces of the old table-land. how are we to explain this curious fact, so opposed to our first impressions of a mountain region? it is quite clear that the old plateau thus marked out cannot be caused by the arrangement or position of the rocks of which the highlands are composed. if these rocks were found to be lying pretty evenly in flat layers, or strata, undisturbed by great earth-movements, we could readily understand that they would form a plateau. but the reverse is the case: the rocks are everywhere thrown into folds, and frequently greatly displaced by "faults;" yet these important geological features have little or no connection with the external aspect of the country. it is therefore useless to look to internal structure for an explanation. we must look outside, and consider what has been for ages and ages taking place here. as already pointed out, an enormous amount of solid rock has been removed from this region--thousands and thousands of feet. it was long ago planed down by the action of water, so that a table-land once existed of which the tops of the present mountains are isolated fragments. no other conclusion is possible. to the geologist every hill and valley throughout the whole length and breadth of the highlands bears striking testimony to this enormous erosion. the explanation we are seeking may therefore be summed up in one word, "denudation." the valleys that now intersect the table-land have been carved out of it. if we could in imagination put back again onto the present surface what has been removed, we should have a mental picture of the highlands as a wide, undulating table-land; and this rolling plain would suggest the bottom of the sea. the long flat surfaces of the highland ridges, cut across the edges of inclined or even upright strata, are the fragments of a former base-line of erosion; that is, they represent the general submarine level to which the highlands were reduced after exposure to the action of "rain and rivers," and finally of the sea. as the sea gradually spread over it, it planed down everything that had not been previously worn away, and so reduced the whole surface to one general level like the sea-bed of the present day. but it is not necessary to suppose that the whole region was under water at the same time, and it is probable that there were separate inland seas or lakes. in these the rocks of the old red sandstone were formed; and they in their turn have suffered so much denudation that only patches and long strips of them are left on the borders of the highlands. before we speak of individual mountains and their shapes, it is important to bear in mind another fact about mountain-chains; namely, that they are very low in proportion to their breadth and length. the great heights reached by some mountains produce such a powerful impression on our senses that we hardly realise how very insignificant they really are. it is only by drawing them on a true scale that we can realise this. the surface of the earth is so vast that even the highest mountains are in proportion but as the little roughnesses on the skin of an orange. fig. (see chap, vii., p. ) represents a section through the highlands, drawn on the same scale for height as for length. what has been said about the highland plateau applies equally well to many other mountain-ranges. mr. ruskin observed something rather similar in the alps. he says,-- "the longer i stayed in the alps, and the more closely i examined them, the more i was struck by the one broad fact of there being a vast alpine plateau, or mass of elevated land, upon which nearly all the highest peaks stood like children set upon a table, removed, in most cases, far back from the edge of the plateau, as if for fear of their falling; ... and for the most part the great peaks are not allowed to come to the edge of it, but remain like the keeps of castles, withdrawn, surrounded league beyond league by comparatively level fields of mountains, over which the lapping sheets of glaciers writhe and flow, foaming about the feet of the dark central crests like the surf of an enormous sea-breaker hurled over a rounded rock and islanding some fragment of it in the midst. and the result of this arrangement is a kind of division of the whole of switzerland into an upper and a lower mountain world,--the lower world consisting of rich valleys, bordered by steep but easily accessible, wooded banks of mountain, more or less divided by ravines, through which glimpses are caught of the higher alps; the upper world, reached after the first steep banks of three thousand or four thousand feet in height have been surmounted, consisting of comparatively level but most desolate tracts of moor and rock, half covered by glacier, and stretching to the feet of the true pinnacles of the chain." he then points out the wisdom of this arrangement, and shows how it protects the inhabitants from falling blocks and avalanches; and moreover, the masses of snow, if cast down at once into the warmer air, would melt too fast and cause furious inundations. all the various kinds of rocks are differently affected by the atmospheric influences of decay, and so present different external appearances and shapes, so that after a little experience the geologist can recognize the presence of certain rocks by the kind of scenery they produce; and this knowledge is often of great use in helping him to unravel the geological structure of a difficult region. thus granite, crystalline schists, slates, sandstones, and limestones, all "weather" in their own ways, and moreover split up differently, because their joints and other natural lines of division run in different ways. thus granite is jointed very regularly, some of the joints running straight down and others running horizontally, so that the rain and atmosphere seize on these lines and widen them very considerably; and thus the granite is weathered out either in tall upright columns, like those seen at land's end, or else into great square-shaped blocks with their corners rounded off, presenting the appearance of a number of knapsacks lying one over the other. in this way we can account for the well-known "tors" of devonshire, and the "rocking stones." granite weathers rapidly along its joints, and its surfaces crumble away more rapidly than might be expected, considering how hard a rock it is; but the felspar which is its chief mineral constituent is readily decomposed by rain water, which acts chemically upon it. the deposits of china clay in devonshire are the result of the decomposition and washing away of the granite of dartmoor. granite mountains are generally rounded and "bossy," breaking now and then into cliffs, the faces of which are riven by huge joints, and present a very different appearance from those composed of crystalline schists with their sharp crests and peaks. ben nevis and the cairngorms are partly composed of granite. gneiss is a rock composed of the same minerals as granite; namely, mica, quartz, and felspar. and yet mountains composed of this rock have quite a different aspect, and sometimes, as in the alps, produce very sharp and jagged pinnacles. the reason of this is that gneiss splits in a different way from granite, because its minerals are arranged in layers, and so it is more like a crystalline schist. mica-schist is another rock very abundant in mountain regions. this rock is composed of quartz and mica arranged in wavy layers. the mica, which is very conspicuous, lies in thin plates, sometimes so dovetailed into each other as to form long continuous layers separating it from those of the quartz; and it readily splits along the layers of mica. this mineral is easily recognised by its bright, shiny surface. there are, however, two varieties,--one of a light colour and the other black. mica-schist and gneiss are often found in the same region, and are the materials of which most of the highest peaks in europe are composed. we find them abounding in the district of mont blanc; and all the monarch's attendant _aiguilles_, with the splintered ridges enclosing the great snowfields in the heart of the chain, consist mostly of these two rocks. the matterhorn, weisshorn, monte viso, the grand paradis, the aiguille verte and aiguille du dru are examples of the wonderful forms produced by the breaking up and decay of these two rocks. the different varieties of slate split in a very marked way. slates are often associated with the schists, and exert their influence in modifying the scenery. limestone ranges, though less striking in the outlines of their crests than those composed of slates and crystalline schists, and not reaching to such heights, are nevertheless not at all inferior in the grandeur of their cliffs, which frequently extend for miles along the side of a valley in vast terraces, whose precipitous walls are often absolutely inaccessible. the beauty of limestone mountains is often enhanced by the rich pastures and forests which clothe their lower slopes. the dolomitic limestone of the italian tyrol, being gashed by enormous vertical joints and at the same time having been formed in rather thin layers which break up into small blocks, produces some very striking scenery. but wild as these mountainous ridges may be, their forms can never be confounded with those of the crystalline schists; for however sharp their pinnacles may appear at first sight, careful examination will always show that their outline is that of ruined masonry, suggesting crumbling battlements and tottering turrets, and not the curving, flame-like crests and splintered peaks of the crystalline schists.[ ] [ ] bonney. it has already been explained that all sedimentary rocks have been formed under water in layers or strata, and it must be obvious that the stratification of such rocks has an important influence on scenery; and very much depends on whether the strata have been left undisturbed, with perhaps just a slight slope, or whether they have been folded and crumpled; for the position of the strata, or "bedding," as it is called,--whether flat, inclined, vertical, or contorted,--largely determines the nature of the surface. undoubtedly the most characteristic scenery formed by stratified rocks is to be seen in those places where the "bedding" is horizontal, or nearly so, and the strata are massive. a mountain constructed of such materials appears as a colossal pyramid, the level lines of stratification looking like great courses of masonry. the joints that cut across the strata allow it to be cleft into great blocks and deep chasms; so that, as in the case of the dolomitic limestone above mentioned, we find a resemblance to ruined buildings. we cannot find a better example of this in our own country than the mountains of sandstone and conglomerate (of the cambrian age) that here and there lie on the great platform of old gneiss in the west of sutherland and ross. sir a. geikie says,-- "the bleak, bare gneiss, with its monotonous undulations, tarns, and bogs, is surmounted by groups of cones, which for individuality of form and independence of position better deserve to be called mountains than most of the eminences to which that name is given in scotland. these huge pyramids, rising to heights of between two thousand and four thousand feet, consist of dark red strata, so little inclined that their edges can be traced by the eye in long, level bars on the steeper hillsides and precipices, like lines of masonry. here and there the hand of time has rent them into deep rifts, from which long 'screes' (slopes of loose stones) descend into the plains below, as stones are detached from the shivered walls of an ancient battlement. down their sides, which have in places the steepness of a bastion, vegetation finds but scanty room along the projecting ledges of the sandstone beds, where the heath and grass and wildflowers cluster over the rock in straggling lines and tufts of green; and yet, though nearly as bare as the gneiss below them, these lofty mountains are far from presenting the same aspect of barrenness. the prevailing colour of their component strata gives them a warm red hue, which even at noon contrasts strongly with the grey of the platform of older rock.... these huge isolated cones are among the most striking memorials of denudation anywhere to be seen in the british isles. quinag, canisp, suilven, coulmore, and the hills of coygoch, dundonald, loch maree, and torridon are merely detached patches of a formation not less than seven thousand or eight thousand feet thick, which once spread over the northwest of scotland. the spaces between them were once occupied by the same dull red sandstone; the horizontal stratification of one hill, indeed, is plainly continuous with that of the others, though deep and wide valleys, or miles of low moorland, may now lie between. while the valleys have been worn down through the sandstone, these strange pyramidal mountains that form so singular a feature in the landscapes of the northwest highlands have been left standing, like lonely sea-stacks, as monuments of long ages of waste."[ ] [ ] scenery of scotland, page , new edition. again, the vast table-lands of the colorado region illustrate on a truly magnificent scale, to which there is no parallel in the old world, the effects of atmospheric erosion on undisturbed and nearly level strata. here we find valleys and river gorges deeper and longer than any others in the world; great winding lines of escarpment, like ranges of sea cliffs; terraced slopes rising at various levels; huge buttresses and solitary monuments, standing like islands out of the plains; and lastly, great mountain masses carved out into the most striking and picturesque shapes, yet with their lines of "bedding" clearly marked out. on the other hand, where, as is almost always the case in mountain-ranges, the stratified rocks have been folded, crumpled, twisted, and fractured by great "faults," we find a very different result. in these cases the rocks have generally been very much altered by the action of heat. for here we find crystalline schists, gneiss, granite, and other rocks in the formation of which heat has played an important part; and very often the igneous rocks have forced their way through those of sedimentary origin and altered them into what are called metamorphic rocks (see chapter v., page ). thus they have lost much of their original character and structure. the repeated uplifts and subsidences of the earth's crust, by which the continents of the world have been raised up out of the sea to form dry land, have, broadly speaking, thrown the rocky strata into a series of wave-like undulations. in some extensive regions these undulations are so broad and low that the curvature is quite imperceptible, and the strata appear to lie in horizontal layers, or to slope very slightly in a certain direction. this is, in a general way, the position of the strata of which plains and plateaux are composed. but in the longer and comparatively narrow mountain regions that traverse each of the great continents, forming, as it were, backbones to them, the undulations are very much more frequent, narrower, and higher. sometimes the rocks have been thrown into huge open waves, or the folds are closely crowded together, so that the strata stand on their ends, or are even completely overturned, and thus their proper order of succession is reversed, and the older ones actually lie on the top of the newer ones. as we approach a great mountain-chain we observe many minor ridges and smaller chains running roughly parallel with it, and, as it were, foreshadowing the great folds met with in the centre of the chain and among its highest peaks. these small folds become sharper and closer the nearer we get to the main chain, and evidently were formed by the same movements that uplifted the higher ranges beyond; but the force was not so great. thus we find the great alpine chain flanked to the north by the smaller ranges of the jura mountains; and on the south, side of the himalayas we find similar smaller ranges of hills. ruskin thus describes his impression of the jura ranges, which he very aptly compares with a swell on the sea far away from a storm, the storm being represented by the wild sea of alpine mountains:-- "among the hours of his life to which the writer looks back with peculiar gratitude, as having been marked with more than ordinary fulness of joy or clearness of teaching, is one passed, now some years ago, near time of sunset, among the masses of pine forest which skirt the course of the ain, above the village of champagnole, in the jura. it is a spot which has all the solemnity, with none of the savageness, of the alps; where there is a sense of a great power beginning to be manifested in the earth, and of a deep and majestic concord in the rise of the long low lines of piny hills,--the first utterance of those mighty mountain symphonies, soon to be more loudly lifted and wildly broken along the battlements of the alps. but their strength is as yet restrained; and the far-reaching ridges of pastoral mountain succeed each other, like the long and sighing swell which moves over quiet waters from some far-off stormy sea. "and there is a deep tenderness pervading that vast monotony. the destructive forces and the stern expression of the central ranges are alike withdrawn. no frost-ploughed, dust-encumbered paths of ancient glacier fret the soft jura pastures; no splintered heaps of ruin break the fair ranks of her forests; no pale, defiled, or furious rivers rend their rude and changeful ways among her rocks. patiently, eddy by eddy, the clear green streams wind along their well-known beds; and under the dark quietness of the undisturbed pines there spring up, year by year, such company of joyful flowers as i know not the like among all the blessings of the earth." long faults, or fractures, where the strata have been first bent and then broken, and afterwards have been forced up or have slid down hundreds or even thousands of feet, are very numerous in mountain-ranges; and by suddenly bringing quite a different set of rocks to the surface, these faults cause considerable difficulty to the geologist, as he goes over the ground and endeavours to trace the positions of the different rocks. in these vast folds it sometimes happens that portions of older (and lower) strata are caught up and so embedded among those of newer rocks. it will therefore be readily perceived that to unravel the geological structure of a great mountain-chain is no easy task. we need not then be surprised if in some cases the arrangement of the rocks of mountains is not thoroughly understood. the wonder is, when we think of the numerous difficulties which the geologist encounters,--the arduous ascents, the precipices, glaciers, snowfields obscuring the rocks from his view, the overlying soil of the lower parts, and the steep crests and dangerous ridges that separate the snowfields,--that so much has already been discovered in this difficult branch of geology. however, the general arrangement of the rocks of which many mountain-chains are composed has been satisfactorily made out in not a few cases. let us look into some of these and see what has been discovered. you will remember the structure of the weald, described in chap. vii., pp. - , and how we showed that a great low arch of chalk strata has been entirely removed over that area, so that at the present time only its ends are seen forming the escarpments of the north and south downs. this area, then, is now a great open valley, or rather a gently undulating plain enclosed by low chalk hills. now, an arch of this kind is called an "anticline," and it might have been expected that it would have remained more or less unbroken to the present day. why, then, has it suffered destruction? in the first place, chalk is a soft rock, and one that rain water can dissolve; but more than that, its arch-like structure was against it, and its chance of preservation was decidedly small. in architecture the arch is the most firm and stable structure that can be made; but not so with strata, and this is the reason. such an arch was not made of separate blocks, closely fitting and firmly cemented together; on the contrary, the arch was stretched and heaved up from below. it therefore must have been more or less cracked up; for rocks are apt to split when bent, although when deeply buried under a great thickness of overlying rocks, they will bend very considerably without snapping. but this was not the case here. and so the forces of denudation set to work upon an already somewhat broken mass of rock. try to picture to yourself this old low arch of chalk as it was when it first appeared as dry land. probably some of it had already been planed away by the waves of the sea, and what was left was by no means well calculated to withstand the action of the agents of denudation. if you look back to the figure, you will see the dotted lines showing the former outline of this anticline, or arch, and you perceive at once that the strata must have been sloping outwards away from the middle. now, this one fact greatly influenced its fate, for an anticline cannot be regarded as a strong or stable arrangement of strata. it is easy to see why; suppose a little portion were cut away on one side at its base by some stream. it is clear that a kind of overhanging cliff would be left, and blocks of chalk would sooner or later come rolling down into the valley of the little stream. when these had fallen, they would leave an inclined plane down which others would follow; and this would continue to take place until the top of the arch was reached. the same reasoning applies to the other side. it is very seldom that arches, or anticlines, can last for a long time. the outward slope of the strata and their broken condition are against them. but when the rocks dip _inwards_, to form a kind of trough or basin, it is just the opposite. such basins are known as "synclines;" and a structure of this kind can be shown to be much more stable and permanent than an anticline. the strata, instead of being stretched out and cracked open, have been squeezed together. it is very important to bear this in mind, and to remember how differently anticlines and synclines are affected; for this simple rule is illustrated over and over again in mountain-ranges:-- anticlines, being unstable, are worn away until they become valleys. synclines, being stable, are left and frequently form mountains. now look at the section through the appalachian chain (see fig. ), and you will see that each hill is a syncline, and the valleys between them are anticlines. this happens so frequently that almost every range of mountains furnishes examples; but as every rule has its exceptions, so this one has, and we may find an example in the case of the jura mountains outside the alps. it will be seen from the section that the ridges are formed by anticlines, and the valleys by synclines. but on looking a little more closely, we see that the tops of the former have suffered a considerable amount of erosion (as indicated by the dotted lines). now, the reason why they have not been completely worn down into valleys is that these rocks were once covered by others overlying them, so that this outer covering of rocks had first to be removed before they could be attacked by rain and rivers. these wave-like ridges of the jura are being slowly worn down; and the time must come when they will be carved out into valleys, while the synclines between them will stand out as hills. it is simply a question of time. but many mountain-chains have a far more complicated structure than that of the appalachians, and consist of violently crumpled and folded strata (see section of mont blanc, fig. ). [illustration: sections of mountain-ranges, showing their structure and the amount of rock worn away.] it might naturally be asked how such sections are made, considering that we cannot cut through mountains in order to find out their structure; but nature cuts them up for us, gashing their sides with ravines and valleys carved out by streams and rivers, and in steep cliffs and precipices we find great natural sections that serve our purpose almost equally well. sometimes, however, we get considerable help from quarries and railway-cuttings. take, for example, one of the synclinal folds in the appalachian chain. its structure is ascertained somewhat as follows. suppose you began to ascend the hill, armed with a good map, a pocket-compass, a clinometer,--a little instrument for measuring the angles at which strata dip or slope,--and with a bag on your back for specimens of rocks and fossils. at the base of the hill you might notice at starting a certain layer of rock--say a limestone--exposed by the side of the stream. it will be so many feet thick, and will contain such-and-such fossils, by means of which you can identify it; and it will dip into the interior of the hill at a certain angle, as measured by the clinometer. as you rise higher, this rock may be succeeded by sandstone of a certain thickness, and likewise dipping into the hill; and so with the other rocks that follow, until you reach the summit. by the time you have reached the top of the hill, you know the nature of all the rocks up that side, and the way they dip; and all your observations are carefully recorded in a notebook. then you begin to descend on the other side, and in so doing you find the same set of rocks coming out at the surface all in the same order; only this order is now reversed, because you are following them downwards instead of upwards. of course they are hidden in many places by soil and loose stones; but that does not matter, because at other places they are exposed to view, especially along ravines, carved out of the mountain-side. also rocks "weather" so differently that they can often be distinguished even at a distance. in this kind of way you can find out the structure of a mountain, and draw a section of it when you get home, by following out and completing the curves of the strata as indicated at or near the surface; and you find they fit in nicely together. fig. (see page ) represents what is believed to be the general arrangement of the rocks of mont blanc. the section is greatly simplified, because many minor folds and all the faults, or dislocations, are omitted. now, in this case we have an example of what is known as the "fan-structure." it will be seen at once that the folds have been considerably squeezed together; and the big fold in the centre indicated by dotted lines has been so much compressed in the lower part--that is, in what is now mont blanc--that its sides were brought near to each other until they actually sloped inwards instead of outwards. you may easily imitate this structure by taking a sheet of paper, laying it on the table, and then, putting one hand on each side of it, cause it to rise up in a central fold by pressing your hands towards each other. notice carefully what happens. first, you get a low arch, or anticline, like that of the weald. then as you press it more, the upward fold becomes sharper and narrower; then continue pressing it, and you will find the fold bulging out at the top, but narrowing in below until you get this fan-structure. this is just what has happened in the case of the alps. a tremendous lateral pressure applied to the rocks heaved them up and down into great and small folds, and in some places, as in mont blanc, fan-structure was produced. imagine the top of the fan removed, and you get what looks like a syncline, but is really the lower part of a very much compressed anticline. now, it is believed that all mountain-ranges have been enormously squeezed by lateral pressure; and the little experiment with the sheet of paper furnishes a good illustration of what has happened. a table-cloth lying on a smooth table will serve equally well. you can easily push it into a series of folds; notice how they come nearer as you continue pushing. you see also that in this way you get long narrow ridges with valleys between. these represent the original anticlines and synclines of mountain-ranges, which in course of time are carved out, as explained above, until the synclines become hills and the anticlines valleys. every mountain-chain must originally have had long ridges like these, which in some cases determined the original directions of the streams and valleys; and it is easy to see now why mountain-chains are long and narrow, why their strata have been so greatly folded, and why we get in every mountain-chain long ranges of hills roughly parallel with each other (see chapter vi., pages - ). the reason why granite, gneiss, and crystalline schists are frequently found in the central and highest peaks of mountain-ranges is that we have the oldest and lowest rocks exposed to the surface, on account of the enormous amount of denudation that has taken place. there may be great masses of granite underlying all mountain-chains; but it is only exposed to view when a very great deal of overlying rock has been removed. it was thought at one time that granite was the oldest of all rocks, and that mountain-chains had been upheaved by masses of granite pushing them up from below; but we know now that both these ideas are mistaken. some granites are certainly old geologically, but others are of later date; and it is certain that granite was not the upheaving agent, but more likely it followed the overlying rocks as they were heaved up by lateral pressure, because the upward bending of the rocks would tend to relieve the enormous pressure down below, and so the granite would rise up. [illustration: mont blanc. snowfields, glaciers. and streams.] we now pass on to a very different example, where mountains are the result of huge fractures and displacements; namely, the numerous and nearly parallel ranges of the great basin, of western arizona, and northern mexico. the region between the sierra nevada and the wahsatch mountains, extending from idaho to mexico, is composed of very gently folded rocks deeply buried in places by extensive outflows of lava. now, in this case the earth-movements caused great cracks, or splits, doubtless attended by fearful earthquakes. we find here a series of nearly parallel fractures, hundreds of miles long, and fifteen to thirty miles apart. these traverse the entire region, dividing the rocks into long narrow blocks. there is evidence to show that the whole region was once much more elevated than it is now, and has subsided thousands of feet. during the subsidence along these lines of fracture, or faults, the blocks were tilted sideways; and the uptilted blocks, carved by denudation, form the isolated ranges of this very interesting region (see illustration, chap. viii., p. , fig. ). the faults are indicated by arrows pointing downwards; and the dotted lines indicate the erosion of the uptilted blocks. but this must be regarded as a very exceptional case, for we do not know of any other mountain-range formed quite in the same way. why the strata, although only slightly bent, should have snapped so violently in this case, while in other mountain-ranges they have suffered much more bending without so much fracture and displacement, we cannot tell, but can only suggest that possibly it was because they were not buried up under an enormous thickness of overlying rocks, which would exert an enormous downward pressure, and so tend to prevent fracturing. there are many other deeply interesting questions with regard to the upheaval of mountains which at present cannot be answered. we have already learned to alter our preconceived ideas about the stability and immovable nature of the earth's crust, and have seen that it is in reality most unstable, and is undergoing continual movements, both great and small. but here we have an equally startling discovery, which quite upsets all our former ideas of the hard and unyielding nature of the rocks composing the earth's crust; for we find that not only can they be bent into innumerable folds and little puckerings, but that in some cases they have been drawn out and squeezed as if they were so much soft putty. the imagination almost fails to grasp such facts as these. of late years geologists in switzerland and in great britain have discovered that in some parts of mountains rocks have been enormously distorted and crushed, so that they have assumed very different states from those in which they were made, and curious mineral changes have taken place under the influence of this crushing. in the very complicated region of the northwest highlands of sutherland and ross, the structure of which has only lately been explained, some wonderful discoveries of this nature have been made. certain of the crystalline schists found there have been formed by the crushing down and rearrangement of older rocks that once presented a very different appearance. in this district, where the rocks have been squeezed by enormous lateral pressure, the dislocations sometimes have assumed the form of inclined or undulating planes, the rocks above which have been actually pushed over those below, and in some cases the horizontal displacement amounts to many miles. not only have the rocks been ruptured, and older, deep-seated masses been torn up and driven bodily over younger strata (that once were _above_ them), but there has been at the same time such an amount of internal shearing as to crush the rocks into a finely divided material, and to give rise to a streaky arrangement of the broken particles, closely resembling the flow-structure of a lava. in the crushed material new minerals have been sometimes so developed as to produce a true schist.[ ] [ ] geikie. chapter x. the ages of mountains, and other questions. o earth, what changes hast thou seen! tennyson. it might naturally be asked at what period in the world's primeval or geological history some particular mountain-range was upheaved; whether it is younger or older than another one perhaps not very far away; and again, whether the mountain-chains of the world have been uplifted all at once, or whether the process of elevation was prolonged and gradual? questions such as these are deeply interesting, and present to the geologist some of the most fascinating problems to be met with in the whole range of this science. and though at first sight they might seem hopelessly beyond our reach, yet even here the prospect is by no means unpromising; and it is quite possible to show that they can be answered to some extent. here we shall find our illustration of the cathedral (see chapter v., pages - ) holds good once more. it is perhaps hardly necessary to explain that by looking at a gothic cathedral one can say at what period or periods it was built. perhaps it has a norman nave, with great pillars and rounded arches. then the chancel might be early english, with pointed windows and deep mouldings, and other features that serve to mark the style of the building, and therefore its date,--because different styles prevailed at different periods. other parts might contain work easily recognised as belonging to the "perpendicular" period. now, as there have been periods in the history of architecture and art, so there have been periods in the history of our earth. what these periods were, and how we have learned to recognise them, we must first very briefly describe.[ ] [ ] for a fuller account see the writer's "autobiography of the earth." there are two simple rules by which the age of an ordinary sedimentary rock may be ascertained. this is fixed ( ) by its position with regard to others; ( ) by the nature of its embedded animal or vegetable remains, known as fossils. these rules may easily be illustrated by a reference to the methods of the antiquary. for instance, suppose you were going to build a house, and the foundations had just been dug out; you might on examining them find several old layers of soil, showing that the site or neighbourhood had been formerly occupied. you might find in one layer stone implements, in another roman or early british pottery, and yet again portions of brick or stonework, together with tools or articles of domestic use, belonging, say, to the time of queen elizabeth. now, which of these layers would be the oldest? it is quite clear that the lowest layers must have been there the longest, because the others accumulated on the top of them. the explorations made of late years under jerusalem have led to the interesting discovery that the modern city is built up on the remains of thirteen former cities of jerusalem, all of which have been destroyed in one way or another. here, again, it is quite clear that the oldest layer of débris must be that which lies at the bottom, and the newest will be the one on the top. again, you know that the "stone age" in britain came before the roman occupation. those old stone implements were made by a barbarous race, who knew very little of agriculture or the arts of civilisation. then in succeeding centuries various arts were introduced, many relics of which are found buried in the soil; and hence, since different styles of art and architecture prevailed at different periods, the works of art or industry embedded in any old layers of soil serve to fix the date of those layers. these layers of soil and débris correspond to the layers or strata of the sedimentary rocks, in which the different chapters of the world's history are recorded. geology is only another kind of history; and the same principles which guide the archæologist searching buried cities also guide the geologist in reading the stony record. as the illustrious hutton said, "the ruins of an older world are visible in the present state of our planet." the successive layers of ruin in this case are to be seen in the great series of the stratified rocks; and we may lay it down as an axiom that the lowest strata are the oldest, unless by some subsequent disturbance the order should have been reversed, which, fortunately, is a rare occurrence, though examples are to be found in some mountain-chains with violent foldings. but it often happens that neither the strata which should come above nor those that lie below can be seen. then our second rule comes in: we can determine the age of the rock in question by its fossils. the reason of this has perhaps already been guessed by the reader. it is that as different kinds of plants and animals have prevailed at different periods of the world's history, so there have been "styles," or fashions, in creation, as well as in art. at one geological period certain curious types of fishes flourished which are now almost extinct, only a few old-fashioned survivals being found in one or two out-of-the-way places. at another period certain types of reptiles flourished vigorously, and were the leaders in their day; but they have altogether vanished and become extinct. so one type after another has appeared on the scene, played its humble part in the great drama of life; and then--"exit!" another takes its place. in the oldest and lowest of the series of rocks we find no certain trace of life at all. in the next series we find only lowly creatures, such as shell-fish, corals, and crab-like animals that have no backbone. in a higher group of rocks fishes appear for the first time. later on, we come across the remains of amphibious creatures for the first time. then follows (after a long unrecorded interval) an era when reptiles and birds existed in great numbers. after another long interval we come to strata containing many and diverse remains of mammals or quadrupeds. so we have an "age of fishes," an "age of reptiles," and an "age of mammals." some tribes of these creatures died out, but others lived on to the present day. thus we see that there has been a continuous progress in life as the world grew older, for higher types kept coming in. to the geologist fossils are of the greatest possible use, since they help him to determine the age of a particular set of strata, for certain kinds of fossils belong to certain rocks, and to them only. but the classification of the stratified rocks has been carried farther than this. practical geologists, working in the field, use fossils as their chief guide in working out the subdivisions of a group of rocks, for certain genera and species of old plants and animals are found to belong to certain small groups of strata. in this way a definite order of succession has been established once for all; and, except in the case of inverted strata already alluded to, this order is invariably found to hold good. this great discovery of the order of succession of the british stratified rocks, established by their fossil contents, is due to william smith, the father of english geology. after exploring the whole of england, he published in a geological map, the result of his extraordinary labours. before then people had no idea of a definite and regular succession of rocks extending over the country, capable of being recognised to some extent by the nature of the rocks themselves,--whether sandstones, clays, or limestones, etc., but chiefly by their own fossils. they thought the different kinds of rocks were scattered promiscuously up and down the face of the country; but _now_ we know that they do not show themselves in this haphazard way, but have definite relations to each other, like the many volumes of one large book. by combining the two principles referred to above, geologists have arranged the great series of british stratified rocks into certain groups, each indicating a long period of time. first, they are roughly divided into three large groups, marking the three great eras into which geological time is divided. secondly, these eras are further divided into certain periods. these periods are again divided into epochs, indicated by local divisions of their rocks. in this way we have something like a historical table. omitting the small epochs of time, this table is as follows, in descending order:-- _table of the british stratified rocks._ era. period. prevailing type. { recent. cainozoic, { pleistocene, or { or tertiary. { quaternary. mammals. { pliocene. { miocene. { eocene. { cretaceous. mesozoic, { neocomian. or { jurassic. reptiles. secondary. { triassic. { permian. { carboniferous. fishes. { devonian, and palæozoic, { old red sandstone. or { silurian. creatures without primary. { cambrian. a backbone { archæan,[ ] (invertebrates). { or { pre-cambrian. [ ] the archæan rocks are frequently placed in a separate group below the palæozoic. the total thickness of all these rocks has been estimated at about one hundred thousand feet, or not far from twenty miles. these names have been given partly from the region in which the rocks occur, partly from the nature of the rocks themselves, and partly for other reasons. thus the old red sandstone is so called, because it generally, though not always, appears as a dark red sandstone. but the silurian rocks, which we find in north wales, receive their name from the silures, an ancient welsh tribe; the cambrian rocks take theirs from cambria, the old name for north wales. the cretaceous rocks are partly composed of chalk, for which the latin word is _creta_; and so on. the terms "palæozoic," "mesozoic," and "cainozoic" mean "ancient life," "middle life," and "recent or new life," thus indicating that as time went on the various types of life that flourished on the earth became less old-fashioned, and more like those prevailing at the present time. these used to be called "primary," "secondary," and "tertiary;" but the terms were unfortunate, because the primary rocks, as then known, were not the first, or oldest. we have therefore included the archæan rocks, since discovered, in this primary group. only one fossil has been found in these rocks, and that is a doubtful one; hence they are sometimes called "azoic," that is, "without life." the mesozoic rocks are, as it were, the records of the "middle ages" in the world's history; while the palæozoic take us back to a truly primeval time. we have now learned how the geological age of any group of rocks may be determined. thus, if a series of rocks of unknown age can be shown to rest on undoubtedly silurian rocks in one place, and in another place to be overlaid or covered by undoubtedly carboniferous rocks, they will probably belong to the old red sandstone period. if afterwards we find that they contain some of the well-known fossils of that period, the question of their age is settled at once. but we want more evidence than this. suppose, now, we find somewhere on the flanks of a mountain-range a series of permian and triassic rocks, resting almost horizontally on disturbed and folded carboniferous strata. does not that at once prove that the upheaval took place before the permian period? clearly it does, because the permian rocks have evidently _not_ been disturbed thereby. so now we can fix the date of our range of hills; namely, after the carboniferous period and before the permian period. it is by such reasoning that the age of our pennine range of hills, extending from the north of england into derbyshire, has been fixed; for the permian and triassic strata lie undisturbed on the upheaved arch of carboniferous rocks of which this chain is composed. its structure is that of a broken and much denuded anticline, which stands up to form a line of hills only because the carboniferous limestone is so much harder than the "coal measures," or coal-bearing rocks, on each side of it, that it has not been worn away so fast. in time, this great anticline will be entirely worn away like that of the weald. it is called the great mountain limestone, because it so often rises up to form high ground. the mendip hills in somersetshire are of about the same date, and they too are largely composed of this great limestone formation. of course, a certain amount of up and down movement took place after the hills were upheaved, otherwise the permian and triassic rocks could not have been deposited on their sides; but these movements were slight and of a more general kind than those by which strata are thrown into folds. the main upheaval, by which the rocks now forming the highlands of scotland were lifted up and contorted, took place after the lower silurian period, and before that of the old red sandstone; and there is clear evidence that even before the latter period they had not only been greatly altered, or "metamorphosed," by subterranean heat, but that they had suffered enormous denudation. and the work of carving out these mountains has gone on ever since; for even in old red sandstone times they were probably not entirely covered by water. the highland mountains are therefore older than the pennine range. geologically scotland belongs in great part to scandinavia; and the long line of scandinavian mountains is a continuation of the highlands, and so is of the same age. mountain-chains and hill-ranges have been upheaved at various geological periods; and some are very old, while others are much younger. turning to the southeast of england, we find the ranges of chalk hills forming the north and south downs (see page ). as explained previously, these owe their existence to the upheaval and subsequent denudation of the low arch, or anticline, of the weald. they are called "escarpments," because they are like lines of cliffs that are being gradually cut back. now, it is clear that these hills are much newer than either of those we have just considered. look at the table on page , and you will see that the cretaceous rocks (chalk, etc.) belong to the mesozoic era. the chalk was the last rock formed during the cretaceous period. so the wealden arch must have been heaved up after the chalk was formed; that is, ages and ages later than the date of the pennine range or the scotch highlands. from other evidences it has been shown that this anticline was heaved up in the early part of the cainozoic era, perhaps during the miocene period. let us now take the case of the alps. and here we have an instructive example of a great mountain system formed by repeated movements during a long succession of geological periods. we cannot say that they were entirely raised up at any one time in the world's past history. in the centre of this great range we find a series of igneous and metamorphic rocks, such as granite, gneiss, and crystalline schists. some of these may belong to the very oldest period,--namely, the archæan; others are probably palæozoic and cainozoic deposits greatly altered by heat and pressure. the ground from savoy to austria began to be an area of disturbance and upheaval towards the close of the palæozoic era, if not before; so that crystalline schists and carboniferous strata were raised up to form elevated land around which permian conglomerates and shingle-beds were formed,--as on the seashore at the present day. during the early part of the mesozoic era local fractures and certain up and down movements occurred. after this there was a long period of subsidence, during which a series of strata known as oölites and cretaceous were deposited on the floor of an old sea. towards the close of this long era, a fresh upheaval took place along the present line of the alps,--an upheaval that was prolonged into the eocene period. it was during this latter period that a very extensive formation known as the "nummulitic limestone" was formed in a sea that covered a large part of europe and asia. we have already referred (see chap. v., pp. - ) to the way in which limestones have been formed. nummulites are little shells that were formed by tiny shell-fish. but after this, the greatest upheaval and disturbance took place,--an upheaval to which the alps as we now see them are chiefly due. by this means the older cainozoic strata, once lying horizontally on the floor of the sea, were raised up, together with older rocks, to form dry land, and not only raised up, but crumpled, dislocated, and in some cases turned upside down. so intense was the compression to which the eocene rocks were subjected that they were converted into a hard and even crystalline state. it seems almost incredible that these highly altered rocks which look so ancient are of the same date as our london clay and the soft eocene deposits of the south of england; but in our country the movement that raised up those strata was of the most feeble and gentle kind compared to the violent disturbances that took place in switzerland. and here we may point out that the alps are only a portion of a vast chain of mountains stretching right across europe and asia in a general east and west direction, beginning with the pyrenees and passing through the alps, the carpathians, the caucasus, and the range of elbruz to the hindoo-koosh and the high plateau of pamir, called "the roof of the world," which stands like a huge fortress, fifteen thousand feet high. thence it passes to the still higher tracts of thibet, great plains exceeding in height the highest summits of the alps, being enclosed between the lofty ramparts of the himalayas on the south and the kuen-lun mountains on the north; and thence the mountain wall is prolonged in the yuen-ling, in-shan, khin-gan, and other ranges till it finally passes to the pacific ocean at behring's strait. all these ranges are, as it were, the backbone of the great continental plateau of the old world, and doubtless are chiefly due to those earth-movements by means of which the alps were upheaved. the last grand movement, which raised the mont blanc range, was probably rather later, and seems to have taken place as late as the pliocene period. at the present day no great movements are taking place in the alps; but now and then earthquakes visit this region, and serve to remind us that the process of mountain-making is still slowly going on. probably there have been times in the history of all these mountain-ranges when movements took place of a more violent and convulsive kind than anything with which we are familiar at the present day; and the age we live in may be one of comparative repose. this is of course somewhat a matter of speculation; and we only allude to it because there has been a tendency on the part of some to carry the theory of uniformity in all geological operations much farther than hutton or lyell ever intended. but at the same time there is no need to go back to the old teaching of sudden catastrophes and violent revolutions. we only wish to avoid either of these two extremes and to take a safe middle course. how rapidly some of these great earth-movements took place it is impossible at present to say; but in several cases it can be shown that they were quite slow, as indicated by the testimony of the rivers. thus, the rise of the great uintah mountains of the western states was so slow and gradual that the green river, which flowed across the site of the range, so far from being turned aside as they rose up, has actually been able to deepen its cañon as fast as the mountains were upheaved. so that the two processes, as it were, kept pace with each other, and the river went on cutting out its gorges at the same time that the ground over which it flowed was gently upheaved; and as the land rose the river flowed faster, and therefore acquired more power to cut and deepen its channel. this is a valuable piece of evidence; but in this case we have only a few big broad folds, instead of the violent folding seen in the alps. however, certain pliocene strata lying on the southern flanks of the himalayas show that the rivers still run in the same lines as they occupied before the last great upheaval took place. we have seen how the substance of the mountains was slowly manufactured by means of such quiet and gentle operations as may be witnessed at the present day; how the rivers of old brought down their burdens as they do now, and flung them into the sea; how the sea spread them out very slowly and compacted them into level layers, to form, in process of time, the hard rocky framework of the plateaux, hills, and mountains of the world; how vast marine accumulations were also slowly manufactured through the agency of countless generations of humble organisms, subtracting carbonate of lime from sea water to form the limestones of future ages; how by slow earth-movements these marine deposits were reared up into dry land; how they have frequently been penetrated by molten rocky matter from below, which occasionally forced its way up to the surface and gave rise to various volcanic eruptions, by means of which the sedimentary rocks were often considerably baked and hardened, and new fissures filled up with valuable metallic ores and precious stones; how lava-flows and great deposits of volcanic ash were mingled with these sedimentary rocks. then we endeavoured to follow the history of these rocky layers after their upheaval, and learn how they are affected by the ceaseless operations of rain and rivers and other agents of destruction, so that finally the upheaved ridges of the lands are carved out into all those wonderful features of crag and pinnacle and precipice that give the mountains their present shapes and outlines. all this we were able to account for, without the aid of any imaginary or unnatural causes. and, lastly, we have seen that even where such causes might seem at first almost indispensable,--when mountains tell us of mighty internal forces crumpling, folding, and fracturing their rocky framework,--yet even there we can account for what we see without supposing them to have been torn and tossed about by any very violent convulsions. [illustration: mountain in the yosemite valley.] although the question of the cause, or causes, of earth-movements, whereby continents are upheaved, and the contorting, folding, and crumpling of the rocks of mountains produced, is not at present thoroughly explained, it may perhaps be worth our while to consider briefly some of the views that have been put forward on this difficult subject. the words "upheaval" and "elevation," in reference to movements of the earth's surface, are somewhat misleading, but are used for want of better terms. they would seem to imply that the force which produced mountains was a kind of upward push; whereas, in most cases, and perhaps in all, the force, whatever it was, did not act in an upward direction. so it should be understood that we employ these terms only to indicate that the rocks have somehow been carried up to a higher level, and not as suggesting _how_ the force acted by which they were raised. it seems pretty clear that in the case of mountain-chains, at least, the force acted in a horizontal direction, as a kind of side-thrust. this we endeavoured to illustrate in chapter ix. by means of a simple experiment with a sheet of paper; and it was shown how folds similar to those of which mont blanc is composed could be imitated by simply pressing the sides of a sheet of paper inwards with one's two hands as it lies on a table. such lateral pressure, it is thought by many, must be caused by the shrinking of the lower and hotter parts of the earth's crust as they cool, leaving the outer crust unsupported, so that it gradually settles down onto a smaller surface below, and in so doing must inevitably be wrinkled and throw itself into a series of folds (see chapter vi., page ). the interior of the earth is hotter than the outside; and since there is good reason to think that the whole earth was once upon a time in a highly heated and perhaps half molten condition, we are compelled to believe that it always has been, and still is, a cooling globe. now, almost all known substances are found to contract more or less on cooling; and so if the materials of which the earth is mainly composed are at all similar in their nature and properties to those which we find on its surface, it follows that the earth must be contracting at the same time that it is cooling, just as a red-hot poker will contract on being taken out of the fire. moreover, we find that hot bodies contract faster than those that are merely warm, so that a red-hot poker contracts more during the first few minutes after it is taken out of the fire than it does after it has passed the red-hot stage. hence it is easy to see that the interior portions of the earth, which are hotter, must be contracting at a greater rate than its external parts, for they evidently have very little heat to lose. this may seem rather puzzling to the reader at first; for it might be argued that the heat from below _must_ pass through the external layers, or crust, as it is often called. but it should be remembered that this is not the only way in which the earth loses heat. think of the vast amount of heat given out from the earth every year by volcanic eruptions, and you will see at once that much of the cooling takes place in this way, and not as a direct flow of heat from the interior, as in the case of the poker. a single big lava-stream flowing out from a volcano, and cooling on the surface of the earth, represents so much heat lost forever; and so do the clouds of steam emitted during every eruption; so, again, do even the hot springs that are continually bringing up warm water. if, then, the lower portions of the earth are slowly contracting, they must tend to leave the outer portions of the crust unsupported, so that they would be compelled by their own enormous weight to settle down. now, we know that something like this happens in coal mines; and as long passages are hollowed out below, the ground begins to "creep," or slowly sink. think what would be the effect of a slow sinking of any portion of the earth down towards the centre; it would inevitably be curved up and down into numerous folds, as it endeavoured to get itself onto a smaller space, much in the same way that a table-cloth, when thrown onto a table in a kind of arch, settles down in a series of waves, or folds. and this, it is thought, is the way in which it happens that the pressure comes, as we said just now, sideways, instead of from below upwards. it is on this theory that many geologists account for the enormous side-pressure to which rocks have in many cases been subjected. the evidences of such pressure are many. in some cases fossils have been thereby pulled out of shape and appear considerably distorted; in others, even hard quartz pebbles have been considerably elongated (see chap. ix., pp. - ). then again, we have the little crumplings of all sizes so frequently seen in mica-schists. and lastly, the peculiar property that slates possess of splitting up into thin sheets is found to be due to the same cause; namely, lateral pressure. slates were originally formed of soft dark mud, and on being subsequently squeezed, by earth-movements, have assumed a structure known as "cleavage," whereby their tiny mud-particles were elongated, and all assumed the same direction, thus giving to the rock this peculiar property of splitting. it can be proved that the pressure came in a direction opposite to that of the planes of cleavage; and it is found that the direction of the cleavage corresponds in a general way with the direction, or trend, of a mountain-chain which is composed partly of slates, as in north wales. and this discovery helps and harmonises with what we have already said about the cause of the folds in mountain-chains, for the same force, acting sideways, produced the cleavage and the folding, etc. it has been already stated that in a large number of cases a mountain-range has a central axis, or band, of granite or other crystalline rock. this led some people to suppose that the granite had been driven up from below, and in so doing had thrust up the overlying rocks seen on either flank of the chain; in other words, they believed granite to have been the upheaving agent. and even now we often find unscientific writers speaking of the volcanic forces of upheaval. having very little idea of the true structure of mountains, they believed them to consist of a kind of core, or axis, of this igneous rock, with sedimentary rocks sloping away from it on each side. this was a very simple theory of mountain-chains, but unfortunately it will not bear examination. it takes no notice of the folding which is so characteristic of mountain strata, and is quite out of agreement with the facts of the case; so it must be buried among the archives of the past. mountain-chains are now known to have a much more complicated structure than this,--thanks to the labours of many subsequent observers. that illustrious astronomer, the late sir john herschel, threw out a bold suggestion on this subject, which in the light of recent discoveries with regard to the delicate adjustment between the internal and external forces affecting the earth's surface, is worthy of careful consideration. his idea was that the mere weight of a thick mass of sediment resting on any portion of the earth's crust might cause a certain amount of sinking; and that this would cause portions on either side to swell up. it is certain that as great deposits of sedimentary materials accumulate on the floor of an ocean, that floor slowly sinks, otherwise the sea would become choked up, and dry land would take its place. now, it is found that every great mountain-chain consists of many thousands of feet of strata thus formed; and more than this: it turns out that a greater thickness of such materials has been formed in regions where we now see mountain-chains than in those continental regions that lie farther away from them. this is an important fact, which was not known in sir john herschel's time. one striking example may be mentioned here. in the complicated region of the appalachian chain the strata are estimated to have a total thickness of eight miles; while in indiana, where the same strata are nearly horizontal, they are less than one mile thick. hence it is not impossible that in the mere accumulation, through long periods of time, of vast masses of strata many thousands of feet thick, we may find a potent cause of earth-movements. the marginal regions of oceans, where most deposition takes place, seem to undergo slow subsidence, while the continents seem in most places to be as slowly rising. modern geologists are inclined to think that as denudation wears down a continental surface, removing from it a great quantity of solid rocky matter (see chap. v., pp. - ), the pressure below is somewhat lessened, or in other words, so much weight is taken off; but that, on the other hand, as this extra amount of material accumulates on the bed of a neighbouring ocean the pressure is increased by a corresponding amount, and so the balance between internal and external forces is upset, and movements consequently take place. we have already seen that the external parts of the earth are much more subject to movements than might have been expected; and for our part, we are willing to believe that in this simple way upheaving forces might be called into play sufficient to account for even the elevation of mountain-chains. for suppose a great mass of strata to continue sinking as they were formed, for long periods of time; what seems to follow? the downward movement would go on until a time would come when the strata, in endeavouring to settle down at a lower level, would (as by the contraction theory above explained) be forced to fold themselves into ridges, and in this way long strips of them might even be elevated into mountain-ranges. another ingenious idea was suggested by the late mr. scrope, whose work on volcanoes is well known. his idea was that when a large amount of sedimentary material has accumulated on any large area of the bed of the ocean, it somewhat checks the flow of heat from within, and therefore the temperature of the rocks forming part of the earth's crust below will be increased, much in the same manner as a glove checks the escape of heat from the hand and keeps it warm. the consequence of this would be expansion; and as such expansion would be chiefly in a horizontal direction, the area would bulge upwards and cause elevation of the strata resting on it. but there are several difficulties which this theory fails to explain. and lastly, professor le conte, holding that the contraction theory is unsatisfactory, accounts for earth-movements of all kinds by supposing that some internal parts of the earth cool and contract faster than others. those parts that cool fastest, according to this theory, are those that underlie the oceanic basins or troughs; while the continental areas, not cooling so rapidly, are left standing up in relief. this theory, which does not seem very satisfactory, is based upon the idea that some parts of the earth's interior may be capable of conducting heat faster than others. we know that some substances, like iron, are good conductors of heat, while others are bad conductors; and it is therefore conceivable that heat may be flowing faster along some parts of the earth than along others; and if so, there would be differences in the rate of contraction. there are various theories with regard to the nature of the earth's interior. one of these already referred to, but now antiquated, supposes our planet to consist of a thin, solid crust lying on a molten interior, so that the world would be something like an egg with its thin shell and liquid, or semi-liquid, interior. now, there are grave reasons for refusing to accept this idea. in the first place, a certain slow movement of the earth known as "precession," because it causes the precession of the equinoctial points on the earth's orbit, could not possibly take place as it does if the earth's interior were in this loose and molten condition. that is a matter decided by mathematical calculation, on which we will not dwell further. secondly, we obtain some very valuable evidence on this abstruse subject from the well-known daily phenomenon of the tides, caused, as the reader is probably aware, by the attractions of the sun and moon; but much more by the moon, because she is nearer, and so exerts a greater pull on the ocean as each part of the world is brought directly under her by the earth's daily rotation on its axis. the waters of our oceans rise up twice each day as they get in a line with the moon, and then begin to fall again. thus we get that daily ebb and flow seen on our shores. now, it has been clearly proved by sir william thomson, and others, that if any considerable portion of the interior of the earth were in a fluid condition, it too would rise and fall every day as the ocean does. so we should in that case have a tide _below_ the earth as well as on its surface, and the one would tend to neutralise the other, and the ocean tide ought to appear less than it actually is. even if the earth's crust were made of solid steel, and several hundreds of miles thick, it would yield so much to the enormous pulls exerted by both the sun and moon that it would simply carry the waters of the ocean up and down with it, and we should therefore see no appreciable rise and fall of the water relatively to the land. as a matter of fact, there _is_ a very slight tide in the solid earth below our feet, but so slight that it does not practically affect the tide which we see every day in the ocean. but we wish to show that were the interior of the earth in anything approaching, to a fluid or molten condition, the phenomena of the tides would be very different from what they actually are. all geologists are therefore agreed that we must consider our earth as a more or less solid body, and not as being something like an india-rubber ball filled with water. the only question is whether it is entirely solid throughout. some authorities consider this to be the case. but others venture to think that while the great mass of the globe is solid, there may be a thin liquid layer lying somewhere below the surface. sir william thomson calculates that there must be a solid crust at least two thousand or twenty-five hundred miles thick (the diameter of the earth is about eight thousand miles) and that the mass of the earth "is on the whole more rigid certainly than a continuous solid globe of glass of the same diameter." one other question with regard to the earth's interior may be mentioned in conclusion. astronomers have calculated the weight of our planet, and the result is curious; for it turns out to be _at least twice as heavy as the heaviest rocks that are found on or near the surface_. it is about five and a half times as heavy as a globe of water of the same size would be, whereas most rocks with which we are acquainted are about two and a half, or at most three times heavier than water. this fact seems to open out curious consequences; for instance, it is quite possible that metals (which are of course much heavier than water) may exist in the earth's interior in considerable quantities. the imagination at once conjures up vast quantities of gold and silver. what is the source of the gold and silver, and other metals found in mineral veins? this question cannot as yet be fully answered. very small quantities of various metals have been detected in sea-water; and so some geologists look upon the sea as the source from which metals came. but it is possible that they were introduced from below,--perhaps by the action of steam and highly heated water during periods of volcanic activity,--and that their source is far down below in the depths of the earth. but perhaps we have already wandered too far into the regions of speculation. such are some of the interesting problems suggested by the study of mountains, and they add no small charm to the science of geology. and as we leave the mountains behind us, refreshed by their bracing air, and strengthened for another season of toil and labour by a brief sojourn among their peaks and passes, we come away with a renewed sense of the almost unlimited power of the unhasting operations of nature, and the wisdom and beneficence of the great architect of the universe, who made and planned those snowcapped temples as symbols of his strength, who was working millions of years ago as he is working to-day, and to whom a thousand years are as one day. index. agents of transportation, . ages of strata, how determined, - . air, composition of, . alpine animals, . plants, , . alps, the history of, . (see also ruskin.) ancients, the, their dread of the mountains, . andes, the, elevation of, . animals, behaviour of, before an avalanche or earthquake, . "anticline," , , . appalachian mountains, denudation of the, , - . aqueous rocks, . archæan era, . arctic flora, . "arthur's seat," . ashes, volcanic, , , . atlantic ooze, . atmosphere, effects produced by the, . rarefaction of, . avalanches, . badger, the, in alps, . baltic sea, changes in, . barrier reef, of australia, . basalt, of hebrides, . of snowdon, . basin, the great, of united states, . bear, brown, . black, . beaver, the, in alps, . bergfalls, . bernina, the, fall of rocks from, . bird, miss (mrs. bishop), on eruption of kilauea, . birds, of alps, . blueness of the sky, . bombs, volcanic, . bonney, prof., on mountain legends, . on effects of the alps in europe, . on wind on mountain-tops, . on alpine plants, . on forms of mountains, . boulders, erratic, . bouquetin, the, in alps, . britain, great, rainfall of, . building up of mountains, . butterflies, in alps, . buzzard, the, in alps, . cader idris, volcano rocks of, . cainozoic era, . callao, . cambrian rocks, , . canisp mountain, . cañons of colorado, . carbonic acid in atmosphere, . carboniferous period, . catastrophes, . caves, human remains, etc., in, . celsius, on elevation of gulf of bothnia, . chalk, cretaceous rocks composed of, . origin of. see limestones. challenger, h. m. s., expedition of, . chamois, the, in alps, . characteristics of mountain races, . china clay, . classification of rocks, . cleavage of slates, , . coniferous trees, region of, . contortions in strata, , . contraction and expansion of rocks, . contraction theory of earth-movements, . coral reefs, . cotopaxi, . crystalline schists, . darwin, charles, on elevation of the andes, . deciduous trees, mountain region of, . dent de mayen, . dent du midi, fall of rock from, . denudation, , , , . devonian rocks, . diablerets, fall of rock from, . dislocations of mountain rocks, , . dust, volcanic, , . dykes, . eagle, the golden, . earth-pillars in tyrol, . earthquakes, , , . effects of, , . causes of, , . lucretius on, . earth-tremors, . elevation of mountains, , , , , . continents, - . encrinites, . eocene period, . equador and peru, earthquake of, . eras, geological, . eruptions, volcanic, . fairies, . falcon, the, in alps, . "fan-structure," . "faults" and fractures, , . features characteristic of mountains, . ferns, . fishes, age of, . fissures, . föhn, the, . foraminifera, . fox, the, in alps, . frog, the, in alps, . frost, effects of, on mountain rocks, . game-birds, in alps, . ganges and brahmapootra, . geikie, sir a., on influence of scottish scenery, . on the highland plateau, . on the mountains of west sutherland, . giant's causeway, basalt of, . glace, mer de, . glacial drifts, . glacial region of vegetation in alps, . glaciers, erosive power of, . glare from snow in alps, . gneiss, , . gold and silver in mountains, . in the earth, . grampians, . granite, . weathering of, . in mountain-chains, . greenland, elevation of, . green slates and porphyries, . gulf stream, . hare, the, in alps, . hawaii, . heat, effects of, on rocks, , , . underground, of the earth, , . hebrides, former volcanic action in, . height, influence of, on vegetation, . herculaneum, . highest cluster of houses in the world, . highlands of scotland, . himalayas, description of, . hutton, , . iberian, or pre-celtic race, . ice age, the, , . ice, as a geological agent, . igneous rocks, . imbaburu, eruption of mud from, . implements of stone, . jackdaw, the, in alps, . jura mountains, , . jurassic rocks, . kilauea, eruption of. (see bird, miss.) kite, the, in alps, . krakatoa, . labrador, elevation of, . lake district, denudation of, . volcanic rocks of, . lakes, origin of, . lateral pressure, applied to mountains, , , . lichens and mosses. (see ruskin.) limestones, origin of, , , . lisbon, earthquake at, . livingstone, on splitting of rocks, . lizard, the, in alps, . lyell, sir charles, . lynx, the, in alps, . mal de montagne, . mammals, age of, . marmot, the, in alps, . mauna loa, eruption of, . mendip hills, . mer de glace. (see glace.) metals, precious, . in the earth, . metamorphic rocks, , , , . mica-schist, , . miller, hugh, . milne, prof., on earth-pulsations, . minor cones of volcanoes, . miocene period, , . mississippi, denudation by the, . moel tryfaen, raised beach in, . mont blanc, . monte conto, downfall of, in , . monte nuovo, . moraines, . mountain limestone, . mountains, as barriers between nations, . as reservoirs of water, . human wants supplied by, . influence of, on climate, . causing movements in the atmosphere, . as backbones of continents, . floras of, - . forms of, how determined, . general features of, , . structure of, how determined, . elevation of, , . formed by huge dislocations, . ruskin on uses of, . " on a scene on the jura, . " on flowers of, . mud-flows from volcanoes, . "needles," the, of colorado, . neptunists and plutonists, . new england, elevation of, . new zealand, elevation of, . nummulites, . old red sandstone, , . olive region, the, . organically formed rocks, . ornamentation of mountains, . oxygen, in air, . palæozoic era, . permian rocks, . pleistocene rocks, . pliocene, . plutonists, . pompeii, buried up, . precious stones in mountains, . primary era, . pulsations of the earth. (see milne.) quinag, . rabbit, the, in alps, . raised beaches, . raven, the, in alps, . red clay, of atlantic ocean, . reptiles, age of, . righi mountain, fall of rock from, . rivers, transporting power of, - . roches moutonnées, . "rocking stones," . ross and sutherland, mountains of, . rossberg, the, fall of rock from, - . ruskin, on effect of tourists in switzerland, . on effects of scenery on mythology, . on uses of mountains, . on formation of soil, . on lichens and mosses, . on the alps, . on a scene in the jura mountains, . santorin, island of, . scandinavia, elevation of, . scenery, influence of rocks on, . schists. (see mica-schist.) scotland, former volcanic action in, . sea-beaches, . sea-level, constancy of, . secondary era, . serapis, temple of, . silurian period, . volcanic rocks of, . shearing of rocks in mountains, . skaptar jökull, lava-flow from, , . smith, william, . snake river plain, . snow, lambent glow of, . snowdon, volcanic rocks of, . denudation of, . spectre of the brocken, the, . stability of the earth, , . stanley, dean, on capture of canaan, . stone age, . storms on mountains, . stratified rocks, table of, . how formed, , . striæ, glacial, . submerged forests, . suilven mountain, . sunsets, . sutherland, west, mountains of, . taurentum, destroyed by downfall of rocks, . thames, solid matter transported by, . thunder-storms, in alps, . tomboro, eruption at, . "tors," . tourmente, the, . transportation by rivers, , - . by glaciers, . triassic period, . types of plants and animals at different periods, . upheaval theory of mountains, . uses of mountains, . "valleys, how carved out, - . vesuvius, history of, . vines, the region of, in alps, . volcanoes, number of active, . old ideas about, . structure of, described, . volcanic rocks of great britain, . vulture, the bearded, . wall of antoninus, . waterfalls, origin of, . water-vapour, in air, . condensation of, by mountains, . waves of population, . weald, the denudation of, - . structure of, . werner, . wild-cat, in alps, . wolf, the, in alps, . zones of climate on the earth, . transcriber's note: a "list of illustrations ii" has been added to the text, for the convenience of the reader, to display illustrations that were not included in the original "illustrations" section. the original spelling of words, especially for place names, has been retained. transcriber note italic text is denoted by _underscores_. glaciÈres or freezing caverns [illustration: ice slope and basin, kolowratshÖhle.] glaciÈres or freezing caverns by edwin swift balch a. b. (harvard); f. r. g. s. member of the franklin institute of the appalachian mountain club of the american philosophical society author of "mountain exploration," &c. philadelphia allen, lane & scott copyright, , by edwin swift balch. press of allen, lane & scott, philadelphia, pa. this book is affectionately dedicated to my mother, whose deep interest in my work has helped me greatly. preliminary note. many kind friends have given me information about glacières or assistance in my work. i am especially indebted to mr. robert butler, of san josé, cal.; mr. f. h. cushing, of washington, d. c.; professor charles e. fay, of tufts college, mass.; professor eberhard fugger, of salzburg, austria; mr. alois f. kovarik, of decorah, iowa; monsieur e. a. martel, of paris, france; mr. john ritchie, jr., of boston, mass.; professor i. c. russell, of ann arbor, mich.; miss h. varena, of wiesbaden, germany; and miss mary coxe, mr. g. l. farnum, mr. j. e. farnum, mr. f. l. garrison, mr. w. c. hall, mr. e. i. h. howell, mrs. horace jayne, mr. w. e. meehan, mr. c. j. nicholson, mr. g. b. phillips, mr. bunford samuel, mr. w. w. wagner, and dr. w. h. wahl, of philadelphia. i wish to acknowledge also the help i have derived from the bibliothèque nationale and the library of the british museum. e. s. b. philadelphia, february the th, . contents. page part i. experiences in glacières part ii. the causes of subterranean ice part iii. list of glacières part iv. some opinions about glacières part v. list of authors index illustrations. ice slope and basin, kolowratshöhle frontispiece glacière de chaux-les-passavant ice stalagmites, chaux-les-passavant vertical section of chaux-les-passavant ice stalagmites, chaux-les-passavant vertical section of dóbsina the lower rositten alp and the untersberg the entrance of the kolowratshöhle vertical section of the kolowratshöhle top of ice slope, kolowratshöhle at the entrance of the schafloch hollow cones and fissure columns, schafloch on the ice slope, schafloch in the rear of the schafloch vertical section of déményfálva the frauenmauer and the gsoll alp in the frauenmauerhöhle vertical section of the frauenmauerhöhle ice stalactite, frauenmauerhöhle vertical section of the suchenreuther eisloch la glacière de saint-georges vertical section of the glacière de saint-georges vertical section of grand cave de montarquis the bluff at decorah entrance of the cave of decorah locus glacialis, cave of decorah gorge at ellenville vertical section of pit near summit vertical section of freezing cave near williamstown vertical section of a windhole freezing cavern at brainard part i. experiences in glaciÈres. experiences in glaciÈres. subterranean ice in king's ravine. subterranean ice was brought to my notice by a mere accident, late in the month of september, , while on a descent of king's ravine, on mount adams, in the white mountains of new hampshire. we had just descended the rock wall of the mountain and had reached the head of the gorge, when my companion, mr. charles e. lowe, the well-known appalachian guide of randolph, suddenly said to me, "would you like a piece of ice? i can get you some presently." i answered, "certainly," wondering where he would find any. when we got among the big boulders, which form so rough a path for the traveler at the bottom of the ravine, mr. lowe climbed down under one of the biggest, and presently reappeared with a good sized lump of ice. i was much impressed at finding ice at the end of the summer in this gorge, when for months past no ice or snow had been visible on the surrounding mountains. i noticed also the peculiar, flaky formation of the ice, and saw at once that it was something new to me, and in fact it was a piece of what i have since learned to know as "prismatic ice." glaciÈre near brisons. in the summer of the year , i traveled through the alps, with a friend from philadelphia. on the th of september, we drove from geneva to bonneville. thence we started on foot without a guide, and as a result got lost in the woods, from which we only extricated ourselves at nightfall. after retracing our steps to bonneville, we were glad to find a man to show us the way we should have taken, and finally reached the little village of brisons in france, where we slept. the next day we took a guide and made our way across the mountains to annecy, at one spot going out of our direct route to see a place spoken of by the natives as a glacière. it was a little pit, and at the base of one side thereof was the mouth of a small cave into which we could not see any distance. at the bottom of the pit lay a mass of dirty snow and ice to which we did not descend, as the sides of the pit were sheer and smooth, and there was no ladder. this pit seemed to be more of the nature of a gully filled with winter snow, than a true rock cave containing ice. the glaciÈre de l'haut-d'aviernoz. three days after this, on tuesday, the st of september, , we visited the two largest glacières on the mont parmelan, near annecy, france. at annecy we inquired at the hotel for a man who knew the mont parmelan; and, after finding one, we made our way to les villaz, where we spent the night in an _auberge_. our companion was an odd personage. he was small, about fifty years of age, and looked meek, crushed and hungry. he wore a long black frock coat and black trousers, thin boots and a linen shirt, certainly not the ideal outfit for a cave explorer. under his care we started early in the morning and toiled up a mountain path some eight hundred or a thousand meters,[ ] through woods and pastures, to the higher plateau of mont parmelan, in which was situated the first glacière. this was in a great pit, at the bottom of which, on one side, was a big cave. on the side of the pit opposite to the opening, there was a steep rock slope, forty or fifty meters long, whose lower portion was covered with snow. down this slope we descended with but little difficulty, reaching at the bottom an almost level ice floor which spread over the entire cave and was formed throughout of thick, solid ice. a second and much smaller pit in the roof of the cave opened directly over the ice floor; and under this pit rose a small cone of ice, some two meters high, the only one in this glacière. [ ] the metric system is used throughout this book, except in a few quotations. thermometric observations are given in degrees centigrade. the glacière itself was approximately round in shape, and some twenty meters in diameter. at one place the rock wall was broken and we could look into a much smaller inner cave or chamber. into this we could not penetrate on account of a long, narrow crack or hole which yawned in the ice floor for a distance of some five or six meters and continued through the opening into the second chamber. we tried to cut our way along the side of the hole, but had to give it up, finding the ice too hard and our time too short. the crack or hole, whose sides were solid ice, proved conclusively that the ice in this glacière was many meters in thickness, for we could look a long way down into the hole, certainly for ten or twelve meters, until the ice sides disappeared in darkness, without any visible bottom. the hole cannot be spoken of as a crevasse, for, besides not looking like a crevasse, it was certainly formed by other causes than those which form the crevasses in glaciers, since there is, as a rule, no perceptible movement in subterranean ice. doubtless, the hole was due to the drainage of the cave, which undoubtedly passed off through the hole. there may be, nevertheless, some little motion in the ice of this glacière, for it is evident that it is fed principally directly by the winter snows; which, whether as frozen or melted snow, descend gradually, by the force of gravitation, from the slope of the pit into the glacière. as for any possibility of this great mass of ice melting away and forming again in any one year, it passes belief; there must be at least the cubic contents of a dozen ordinary houses in the cave, and such a mass could hardly be destroyed or formed again in any such short space of time as a fall or spring. this is, therefore, probably a permanent or perennial glacière. the glaciÈre de chapuis. starting out from the glacière de l'haut-d'aviernoz we walked across the plateau of the mont parmelan, _en route_ for the second glacière. this plateau is a curious rock formation, consisting of what the natives call _lapiaz_, which might be translated "stone-heaps." the plateau is full of great projecting rocks; and myriads of cracks and crevices everywhere rend the surface, and over these crevices one sometimes has to jump. still, i do not remember any particular difficulty. it was certainly not nearly as bad walking as the taluses of loose rocks one meets at the base of many mountains. our guide led us for about an hour across the plateau in a southerly direction, and then, looking over the side of the parmelan, with a sweep of the arm covering south, west and north, he told us that the glacière lay between those points, but he did not know exactly where. this seemed a rather hopeless prospect, so, as we had no clue to the whereabouts of our prospective hole, we descended to a couple of châlets we saw some two hundred meters below, but which at least were in the direction of annecy. we followed a goat-herd's path which led to the châlets from the plateau, one of those dangerous grass tracks, where nothing would be easier than to make a slip, and where a bad slip might have unpleasant results. this is, however, just the kind of place where every one is particularly careful not to slip. we were careful and so reached the châlets all right, and there we found a strong, intelligent boy, who at once pointed out the place where the glacière was, about half way up the slope we had just come down. so we took him with us, leaving our guide at the châlets to await our return. the entrance to the glacière was in a wall of rock, set at an angle of some thirty-five degrees; at the bottom of this there was some grass. an easy chimney some fifteen meters high led up to the glacière. up this chimney we climbed. at the top we entered a little cave about two meters deep, by a sort of portal about two meters wide. the cave made an elbow to the right, and passing this we found that it turned to the left and pointed directly into the mountain. the rock went down vertically in front of us, but the boy said we could get down, so having first lowered a candle by a string to see the depth, which turned out to be a perpendicular drop of some four or five meters, with the help of the rope we all climbed down. we were already almost entirely away from the daylight and a few steps took us into complete darkness, except for the light we had from the candle each of us held in his hand. the fissure led straight into the mountain. it was a couple of meters wide at places, and there we moved along the bottom. in one place it narrowed below to a wedge, and there we progressed either by climbing along one side or by placing one foot on one side and the other foot on the other. the fissure led downwards as well as inwards. it would have been nothing in daylight to go through it; but in the semi-darkness it was not easy. after a descent of some twenty-five meters or thereabouts, we arrived at the glacière, and i have certainly never seen a weirder place. there was a great arched rock dome, perhaps six meters in height, and some twelve in diameter; the floor was a sheet of smooth, slippery ice, at one end curling over, gently at first, afterwards more steeply, to a lower depth; and on the sides were seven or eight ice columns streaming from cracks in the rocks to the floor. each of these columns was some three or four meters high, and, small at the top and in the middle, spread out at the base into the shape of fans. in the dim candle light and the cold damp atmosphere, the columns loomed up like so many ghosts, and the landscape impression was strange and solemn. the air here seemed perfectly still. there was another curiosity. the fissure we had come down, at this point some three meters wide, was filled, just beyond the glacière, with pure, transparent water, which formed a little lake: this was perhaps one meter deep, and extended across the fissure, barring further progress. it certainly seems strange that in the same cavern, under nearly the same conditions of temperature, there should be one place covered with a flooring of ice and another filled with water. the explanation, however, is perhaps not far to seek. over the lake there was a distinct draught of air. the draught probably melts the ice in summer, if indeed it does not prevent any from forming in winter. there are, so far, no winter observations reported of this cave, yet it would seem to be one which would well repay the trouble. the glaciÈre de chaux-les-passavant. on the th of august, , my brother and i arrived at besançon, the vesontio of the romans, bent on seeing the glacière de chaux-les-passavant or de la grâce-dieu, which is not far distant from the town. the hotel we stopped at was pretty bad; the beds were surmounted with those old-fashioned curtains which were of use before the invention of glass windows, but which now only serve to exclude air and ventilation. however, i learnt something of the manners and customs of the country, for on getting down at six o'clock the next morning for breakfast, the first question the waiter asked was: _quel vin monsieur prendra-t-il?_ at seven o'clock we sallied forth in a little open one-horse victoria, with a dull gray sky overhead. besançon is well down in a valley, so the first five miles of the road were a slow, gradual rise to the surrounding levels. the scenery as we drove along reminded us of turner's pictures: distant vistas of hills and valleys with factories blowing off their smoke and with tumble-down old houses ensconced in picturesque nooks, just those long-distance effects that turner loved to paint and which, for some reason, the artists of the present generation have generally neglected and usually speak of as unpaintable or unpicturesque. there was a row of trees, the whole way, on each side of the road, a bit of practical forestry, the wisdom of which it would be well for americans to recognize. after our poor horse had pulled us up the long hills, we had an almost level road running in a straight line as far as the eye could see. we saw at least a hundred little hawks, who live on field mice and other rodents, and whose preservation is another evidence of french wisdom. the last four miles of the drive was up a ravine in the woods, near the beginning of which we passed the trappist convent of la grâce-dieu. [illustration: glaciÈre de chaux-les-passavant. from a photograph by e. mauvillier. ] opposite the entrance of the glacière, there is a little restaurant where the peasants come to dance and picnic, and where the few travellers who get to these parts, can obtain a tolerable _déjeuner_. they keep a fair _vin du pays_ there, and we had some trouble on the way home in consequence. our driver, a talkative specimen of the genus and an old soldier of bourbaki's, told us, on the way out, many things about besançon during the franco-german war and of the retreat of the french army into switzerland; but on the way home, he showed that he evidently was not a member of the blue ribbon army. he first seemed desirous of not taking us back to besançon, preferring to go in the other direction towards bale; and afterwards he evinced a violent inclination to go to sleep. we thought we should have to request him to change seats with us, and drive back ourselves, but we obviated the difficulty by plying him with questions as soon as he began to nod on his box. eventually, we reached besançon all right, only once bumping a passing cart, and only once nearly capsizing into a ditch. if americans can learn some points from europeans about forestry, i think the latter might get some equally valuable information from us concerning the use of water, externally and internally. the good lady at the restaurant acts the part of the old-fashioned cave dragon, and we had to appease her by handing over four _sous_ as a preliminary to exploration. she also had a sign up, saying that no one is allowed to break off or take away any ice, which must sadly interfere with the tourists' privilege of bringing away specimens. the entrance of the glacière was surrounded by woods, which formed a natural rampart to anything like wind. as we stood facing the glacière a great pit opened before us, with a slope about one hundred and thirty-five meters long leading to the bottom. this slope is at first gentle in its gradient, but lower down it steepens to an angle of some thirty degrees so that we were glad to resort to the trail which descends in regular alpine zigzags. in one place, on the right hand, there were the remains of a stone wall with a door, and local tradition relates that in former times there was a sort of fortified habitation there, which was used in war times as a place of retreat. the lower part of the slope is covered by a protecting roof of rock which, thin at the rim where it is edged with forest, gradually slopes downward overhead so that at the mouth of the glacière we looked back and up what might be described as an immense tunnel. the lower part of the slope was a mixture of broken rocks, mud and ice: the last, however, seemed to be all on the surface, although it was impossible to determine whether it went to any depth. [illustration: ice stalagmites, chaux-les-passavant. from a photograph by e. mauvillier. ] at the base of the tunnel we found ourselves on the threshold of an immense, almost circular cave, with a diameter of some fifty meters, rising overhead into a regular vault or dome about twenty-seven meters in height. the entrance to the cave is so large that plenty of daylight is admitted, and the whole cave easily examined. the rocks are of a yellowish brown hue, and i could not help thinking of nibelheim in richard wagner's rheingold. [illustration: fig. .[ ] vertical section of chaux-les-passavant.] [ ] the figures in this book are rough sketches, without pretense at accuracy of measurement, and are only explanatory of the text. the bottom of the cave was entirely covered with a flooring of ice. how thick this flooring was there was no means of judging, as there were no holes, but it must have been at least two or three meters thick in places. at the back of the cavern, directly facing the entrance, one magnificent frozen water fall streamed from a fissure. it was perhaps five meters high, and began to take the fan shape from its origin. the base was about four meters wide, and did not rest on the ice floor, but on a sloping rock extending out from the side of the cave. perhaps the most remarkable feature of all, were six or seven great ice stalagmites, shaped like cones or rough pyramids, which rose on the floor of the cave. one of these was at least five meters in diameter and six in height, and seemed perfectly solid. in the case of two of the others, however, the cones were broken on one side, revealing in each the stem and branches of a young pine tree. these evidently had been planted in the ice and round them the columns had grown. whether all the ice cones were thus artificial in their origin i could not determine, but it seemed probable that they were the result of years of undisturbed accretion and growth. in both the cones where the break on the side gave a view into the interior, the dark blue-green color of deep glacier crevasses was present. a pool of water, perhaps thirty centimeters in depth and three or four meters in diameter, lay at one place on the ice floor. the whole cave was damp and the ice in places decidedly slushy, in fact all the signs showed that it was thawing. in the case of this glacière as well as in those of the mont parmelan, it seemed clear that it must be in the winter months that the formation of ice takes place. [illustration: ice stalagmites, chaux-les-passavant. from a photograph by e. mauvillier. ] dÓbsina jegbarlang. the cavern of dóbsina, in the carpathian mountains, is easily reached either from poprád to the north, or from dóbsina to the south. the hotel at poprád is better, however, than the inn at dóbsina, where my brother and i spent two nights. it was decidedly primitive. the food was not so bad, but the pigs ran round in the courtyard, and one morning a gypsy band woke us at half-past three o'clock by playing in front of our windows, in dreadful wailing tones, which were most irritating at that hour. at the proper time, however, hungarian gypsy music,--despite the fact that none of the players ever seem to look at the leader, and that each man appears to play the tune he likes the best,--is strangely fascinating. dóbsina itself lies in a hollow, surrounded with well-wooded hills, the general appearance much resembling some of the valleys of the white mountains of new hampshire. my brother and i started from dóbsina on the morning of the th of july, , at half-past seven o'clock, in a little open carriage with excellent horses and a hungarian driver in national costume. he was a nice fellow, but he did not understand a word of german. the road reminded us of some of our own mountain roads, as it was rough, full of holes and partly washed away by the rains. we first ascended to the crest of the surrounding hills and then descended to the stracena thal, a wild limestone valley covered with fine forest. two hours and a half driving landed us at the hotel-restaurant near the cave, at which i should certainly stop on another visit. it was half an hour's stroll thence, through beautiful woods, to the cavern's entrance. northwards in the distance the tátra range was visible, a set of sharp bare rock peaks, at whose base, ensconced in pine forests, is situated the famous hungarian summer resort of tátra füred, which much resembles bar harbor. the entrance to the cavern is enclosed by a fence with a gate, and here the dóbsina people have a high tariff and take toll from tourists. at the gate, we waited for half an hour, until a sufficient number of persons had arrived to form a party. this mode of visiting the cave rather detracts from the pleasure, even though it does away with all difficulty and makes the beauties of dóbsina accessible to everyone. it was also necessary to wait long enough to cool off thoroughly before entering, on account of the icy air of the cavern, where heavy winter clothes are indispensable. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of dóbsina.] the entrance to dóbsina faces nearly due north. it is small, perhaps two meters wide and three meters high, and is perfectly sheltered from any wind. the sudden drop in temperature at the entrance was startling; in fact it was the most extreme change i have noticed in any cave. within the length of an ordinary room, say in a distance of five meters, we passed from an extremely hot summer morning to the chill of a mid-winter afternoon. a slight air current, perhaps, issued from the entrance, as we observed a faint mist there. at the rock portal there was ice on the rocks overhead, and underfoot was the beginning of the huge mass of ice which almost fills the cavern. a descent down eighteen wooden steps landed us at the beginning of a great ice floor, in what is called the _grosser saal_. it is a magnificent cave. the floor is a sheet or rather a mass of solid ice, the surface of which is level enough in one place to permit of skating; in other spots it is sloping and covered with small ice hillocks. the ice is solid throughout, without any holes or cracks. several fissure columns stream to the floor from cracks in the sides. joining the roof to the floor are numerous big ice stalactites, which form frozen pillars and columns. these are from eight to eleven meters in height, and some two to three meters in average breadth and width. nearly translucent, they are covered with all sorts of icy ornaments hanging about them in tufts and fringes; they are beautiful in their shapes, as well as in their white and blue colors. one of these columns is called the _brunnen_, because until about ten years ago, a small stream dribbled continuously from the roof and cut a channel across the ice floor; but now the stream has solidified into the pillar, and the channel is filled up, although it can still be traced in the ice. the cavern is lighted by electricity, which has the merit, even if it brings in an element of artificiality, of clearly revealing one of the chief glories of dóbsina. this is the rime or hoar frost, which in the shape of ice or snow crystals, covers the entire limestone roof, and, reflecting the electric light, shines like frosted silver. some of these frost crystals seem to be precipitated to the floor, and in one place i found a small sheet of them, perhaps two meters in width each way, which looked and felt like genuine snow. the general color effect of all this upper cave is white, although there is some blue in the ice, and gray and brown in the rocks and shadows. it would not be much of a misnomer to call dóbsina "the great white cave." the ice extended to the sides of the cave except in two places. here there were holes in the ice, bridged by low rock arches. we passed through one of these and descended by a wooden staircase some eighty steps, afterwards returning up through the other arch by another staircase. at the bottom we stood in a magnificent gallery named the _korridor_, formed by a solid wall of ice on one side and by a wall of limestone rock on the other. the ice wall is the lower portion of the ice floor; the rock wall is the continuation of the roof. for the entire distance the ice wall rises almost perpendicularly some fifteen meters in height, while the rock wall arches overhead. [illustration: the lower rositten alp and the untersberg.] the bottom of the _korridor_ was filled with blocks of fallen limestone, through which any water drains off, and on which there was a wooden walk, so that we circled round the ice with the greatest ease. at one place on the limestone wall hung a cluster of big icicles, which, from their shape really deserved the name they bear, of the _orgel_. at another place a hole, some six or seven meters deep, was hewn, in the form of a small chamber, directly into the ice mass. this is the _kapelle_, where we performed our devotions by leaving our visiting cards on the floor. near the middle of the _korridor_ the ice mass bulges out and extends to the limestone wall, breaking the whole _korridor_ into two parts, the western portion about eighty meters, and the eastern about one hundred and twenty meters long. this necessitated cutting a tunnel about eight meters long in the ice to get through. the color of the _korridor_ is a darkish gray and is much more sombre than that of the _grosser saal_. a remarkable feature of the ice wall is the fact that distinct bands of stratification are visible in the ice in many places. why the _korridor_ is not filled up with ice and why the ice is perpendicular for such a distance are questions i am unable to answer satisfactorily; but it is probable that the temperature of the rock walls is sufficiently high to prevent ice from forming in winter or to melt it in summer if it does form in winter. the air in dóbsina seemed still, and scarcely felt damp. in one or two places in the _grosser saal_ there was a slight sloppiness, showing incipient signs of thaw. in the _korridor_ it was freezing hard. the kolowratshÖhle. the kolowratshöhle is situated on the north slope of the untersberg, near salzburg, at an altitude of meters. my brother and i visited it on the d of august, . we had one of the patented guides of the district, jacob gruber by name, in regular tyrolese dress, with gray _jacke_ and black chamois knee breeches. we left salzburg in the early morning in an _einspänner_ and drove to the foot of the untersberg in about an hour, whence, by a rough path passing by the rositten alp, we ascended to the cave in about three hours. the last hundred and sixteen meters of the path were cut across some moderately steep rock slabs and a perfectly unnecessary iron hand-railing affixed. the entrance faces northeast. here there must have been a slight draught of cold air moving outwards, the effect of which was perceptible to the eye, as at the point where the cold inside air met the quiet warm outside air, a faint mist was visible. from the entrance, a sharp slope, set at an angle of about forty degrees, led to the lowest point of the cave. the upper half of this slope was still covered with the winter snow which had blown or had slid in. we descended on the right hand edge of the snow by means of some steps cut in the rock by the _deutschen-oesterreichischen alpen club_. these steps were covered with a sticky, red mud, which left almost ineradicable stains on our clothing, and as there was also ice in places, they were decidedly slippery. [illustration: the entrance of the kolowratshÖhle.] [illustration: fig. . vertical section of the kolowratshöhle.] at the bottom of the slope we were at the lowest point of the cave, to which all the water flowed, and where it drained off into a crack with a loud gurgling noise. back of us was the daylight streaming through the entrance; opposite to us was first an ice floor, then a great ice slope, which came down from the further end of the cave. the ice was transparent and of a pale ochre-greenish hue, and filled the entire width of the cave. there is a streak of iron, probably, through the limestone, which in places tints the rocks a dull red. the color impression is a dull green-red, and, on account of the size of the entrance, the light effect is only semi-subterranean. the ice floor was covered with a layer of slabs of ice, eight or ten centimeters thick, which, earlier in the year, had evidently had water under them. the ice wall or ice slope consisted of two big waves, one above the other, the lower set at an angle of about ten degrees, the upper set at an angle of about twenty-five degrees. to get up the upper wave required about twelve steps cut with the axe. behind the upper wave, five or six fissure columns streamed out to the beginning of the ice. one ice stalactite, at least two or three meters long, overhung the ice floor, and gruber said about this: "well, i wonder it has not fallen yet: they seldom last as late in the year," a confirmation of what was clearly evident, namely, that the whole cave was in a state of thaw. in two places there was a strong, continuous drip from the roof to the ice floor, which formed, in each case, what i can only call an ice basin. these basins were nearly circular; one was about four meters, the other about two, in diameter. around about two-thirds of the rim of the larger one, ice rose in a surrounding ring two or three meters high, suggesting that earlier in the year this basin was a cone, and possibly a hollow cone. the depth in the ice floor, in both cases, was about one and a half meters, and each basin contained some thirty centimeters in depth of water. they reminded me of the rock basins one sees in mountain torrents, where an eddying current has worn smooth all the edges of the rocks. from the larger of these basins, a channel as deep as the basin ran to the lowest point of the cave. this channel was cut out by the overflow, which ran through it in a tiny stream.[ ] [ ] the photographs of the rositten alp, of the entrance of the kolowratshöhle, and of the interior of the kolowratshöhle, were made for me on the th of july, , by herr carl hintner, jr., of salzburg. the two latter photographs are, i believe, the first good ones ever obtained of the inside of the cave. they were taken without artificial light on quick plates; the best of the two received an hour and a half, the other two hours' exposure. the photographer said at first that it was not possible to succeed, and it was only by promising to pay him in any case, that he could be induced to try. [illustration: top of ice slope, kolowratshÖhle.] the schafloch. the schafloch, on the rothhorn, near the lake of thoune, is one of the biggest glacières in the alps. on the th of august, , after early coffee, made by the _portier_ of the hotel belvedère at interlaken, i drove to merligen, on the north shore of the lake, with emil von allmen, an excellent guide. we left merligen on foot at a quarter before seven, and, making no stops on the way, reached the schafloch at ten minutes past ten. the path mounts gently up the wüste thal, which higher up is called the justiz thal. the track through the latter is almost on a level, over grassy alps. on the right hand rise the steep, almost dolomitic, limestone cliffs of the beatenberg. on the left is the range of the rothhorn, with steep grass and forest slopes below, and limestone cliffs above. the last hour of the walk was up these slopes, by what baedeker calls a "giddy path." by leaving the word "giddy" out, his description is accurate. the cavern is at the base of the limestone cliff, and the grass slope extends up to it. the entrance to the schafloch is at an altitude of meters: it is a fine archway, and a low wall is built partly across it. in front of this, we sat down and consumed our chicken and cheese, and that best of a traveller's drinks, cold tea. the day was windless, and when i lighted a cigar, to see whether there was any draught at the entrance, the smoke rose straight up, showing that the air was perfectly still. when we were sufficiently cooled off, we entered the cave. the entrance faces east-south-east, but after about ten meters the cavern takes a sharp turn to the left, forming a sort of elbow, and runs about due south, constantly descending in an almost straight line. for the first eighty meters or so, the floor was covered with blocks of fallen limestone, among which we had to carefully pick our way. then we began to find ice, which, a few meters further on, spread out across the entire width of the cave, with a gentle slope towards the left. the surface of the ice was rather soft, and the whole cave was evidently in a state of thaw. a few scratches with the axe--the most invaluable friend in an ice cave--were necessary at one place to improve our footing. it would have been impossible to move here without a light, and i carried our torch, made of rope dipped in pitch, which occasionally dropped black reminders on my clothes. we were in the middle of a great ice sheet to which several fissure columns streamed. on the right hand a beautiful ice stalactite flowed from the roof to the floor; it was some five meters high, and perhaps seventy-five centimeters in diameter, and swelled out slightly at the base. on the left hand were three or four ice stalagmites, shaped like pyramids or cones. [illustration: at the entrance of the schafloch.] one of these cones was especially remarkable. it was at least five meters high--von allmen said eight--and at the bottom was about four meters in diameter. the base of this cone was entirely hollow. there was a break on one side by which we could enter, and we then stood on a rock floor with a small ice dome or vault overhead. i have seen no other hollow cone like this. the guide lighted a red bengal fire inside, when the whole pyramid glowed with a delicate pink light, resembling _alpenglühn_. near this cone stood the half of another ice cone. it was quite perfect, and the missing half was cut off perpendicularly, as if with a huge cleaver. a hollow in the base of the remnant showed that this cone must have been originally also a hollow cone, and its destruction was probably due to the change in the temperature of the drip from the roof, at the setting in of the summer thaw. just beyond the cones, the ice floor steepens and curls over into a big ice slope, one of the finest i have seen. von allmen spoke of this as _der gletscher_, an expression i never heard applied elsewhere to subterranean ice. on the right side, the slope would be difficult to descend in the darkness. on the left, the slope is gentle and a rock juts out a little way down. von allmen insisted on roping--an unnecessary safeguard--but he said: "if you slip, you will probably break an arm or a leg, and then we shall be in a nice mess." he then cut about twelve steps in the ice, down to the rock, while i shed light on the performance with our torch. we were so completely away from daylight that black was the predominating color; and even the ice was a dark gray, and only appeared white in the high lights. below the rock, we found a narrow strip on the left side of the ice slope free from ice and blocked with boulders, over which we carefully picked our way down. at the bottom, the ice expanded into a level surface, stretching nearly to the end of the cave. there were only a few fissure columns in this part of the cavern, where the most remarkable feature was the cracks in the rock walls, which were so regular in formation that they almost looked like man's handiwork. the rocks are free from stalactites, and in fact stalactites seem a good deal of a rarity in glacières. on retracing our steps, we saw, when the first glimmers of daylight became perceptible, the rocks assume a brilliant blue color, as if they were flooded with moonlight. this effect lasted until near the mouth of the cavern. [illustration: hollow cone and fissure columns, schafloch.] dÉmÉnyfÁlva jegbarlang. a little west of poprád, in northern hungary, on the railroad between sillein and kassa, is the village of liptós szt miklós, to which place i journeyed on the th of june, . the conductor was the only man on the train or at any of the stations who would admit that there was a glacière at déményfálva, and that it was feasible to get into it: every one else professed entire ignorance on the subject. it is perhaps, worth noting at this time that it is always difficult to get any information about glacières; in fact, the advice about cooking a hare might well be applied to glacière hunting: first catch your glacière. the scenery between sillein and miklós was picturesque. the hills were covered with forest. in one place, the railroad ran through a beautiful mountain gorge alongside a river, where a number of rafts were floating down. there were also some primitive ferries, where a rope was stretched across the river, and the force of the current carried the ferryboat across, once it was started. many peasants were at work in the fields; often in squads. white, blue, brown, and a dash of red were the predominating colors in their dress. the men wore white trousers, made of a kind of blanket stuff, and a leather, heelless moccasin of nearly natural shape. almost all the women had bare feet; those of the older ones were generally shaped according to nature's own form, while those of the younger ones were generally distorted from wearing fashionable shoes. we went past several villages of huts with thatched roofs, something like the russian villages one sees beyond moscow, only less primitive. the inn at miklós was poor, and as at dóbsina, the pigs lived in the yard and occasionally came for an interview under the covered doorway. inquiries elicited the information that déményfálva could be reached by carriage, so i engaged one at the livery stable. the owner told me that about twenty years before, he leased the glacière and carried on a regular business in supplying buda-pest with ice. he had thirty lamps put in to give light to the workmen, who brought up the ice in baskets on their backs. at half past five o'clock next morning the carriage, which was innocent of paint, lined with a sort of basket work and without springs, but certainly strongly built, stood at the door. a boy of about eighteen years of age, who could speak german, went along as interpreter. the morning was dismal, and, every quarter of an hour or so, a shower of thick mist fell and gradually made us damp and uncomfortable. after about twenty minutes on a pretty bad road, we came to a place where there was a fork, and the driver turned to the left, over a track which consisted of two deep ruts through the fields. soon after, we heard some shouting behind us, and a fierce-looking man, in a leather jacket and carrying a large axe, came up and abused the driver. he was not an agreeable person; however, presently he simmered down and began to smile. it turned out that he was a _wächter_, that is, a guardian of the fields, and that we were trespassing. the driver meekly promised to return by the other route, and we went on our way in peace. after awhile, we drove into some woods and then into a mountain gorge, with forest-covered slopes at the base and with limestone cliffs jutting out above. here we came to the cottage of the _wächter_ or _förster_ of the surrounding woods, who also acted as guide to the cave, for the few tourists who came to see it; and when he heard of our destination, he at once slipped on a second ragged coat, took a woodman's axe and started on foot, going much faster than the carriage. this was not surprising, for the road resembled nothing but the bed of a mountain brook, a mass of boulders with ruts between them. this highway was made by the peasants driving their carts over the plain in the same place, and as the soil was cut away, the boulders appeared; and over and among these we went banging along, and we were jolted about and bumped into each other, until every bone in my body ached. [illustration: on the ice slope, schafloch.] at a quarter past seven o'clock we came to another house in a little glade, where the carriage stopped; and on asking the _förster_ for his name, he wrote down in my note book, in a clear well formed hand:--misura, franz. from the glade, ten minutes' walk on a mountain path, up an easy slope, took us to the entrance of déményfálva. it is about two meters wide by three quarters of a meter high. we passed through and entered a large chamber, well lighted from the right by another opening, which is higher up and bigger than the entrance. the air in this chamber was at about the same temperature as that of the outside air, and, on our return from the nether world, it seemed positively balmy. in the floor at the end of the chamber, a small pit yawns open. it is perpendicular on three sides and set at a sharp angle on the fourth. a wooden staircase of some two hundred steps, many of which are sadly out of repair, leads nearly straight down this slope to the glacière. after descending about eighty steps of the staircase, bits of ice appeared on the walls and floor and after some thirty steps more, a lateral gallery opened to the right, and into this we turned. this may be called the upper cave or story, for in démenyfálva--besides the entrance chamber--there are practically two stories, the upper one of which is mainly ornamented with stalactites, the lower one with ice. there was a little ice on the floor from which rose some small ice columns, perhaps fifty centimeters in height. the cave or gallery had a gentle downward slope and turned towards the left. after some little distance, we came to another wooden staircase, of ten or twelve steps, quite coated over with thick, solid ice. misura had to cut away at it for several minutes, before he could clear the steps enough to descend. this was in fact the beginning of an ice wall, the _eiswand_ or _eismauer_, which, turning to the right, flowed through a rock arch to the lowest cave. the rock arch or portal was some three meters wide and two meters high, and a fringe of beautiful organ-pipe like icicles hung on it on the right hand. just beyond the portal the ice sloped steeply for a couple of meters; then it became level and on it rose a little pyramid, a meter and a half in height perhaps, and a column; then the ice sloped away again to the lower cave. [illustration: in the rear of the schafloch.] [illustration: fig. . vertical section of démenyfálva.] we then continued our course beyond the rock portal along the upper cavern for about two hundred meters. it was a fine large gallery or passage and during the first fifty meters or so, we found numerous small ice cones, perhaps a hundred of them, from tiny little ones to some about forty centimeters in height. many of these were columnar in form, nearly as large at the top as at the base: in some cases the top was flat, and the columns then looked almost as if an upper portion were sawn off. i have seen this shape of column nowhere else. in places there were slabs and bits of ice on the floor. the last hundred meters of this upper cave was free from ice and was exceptionally dry. it was formed of a pale yellow limestone rock, almost dolomitic in color, and many stalactites, in their thousand various shapes, hung from the roof and on the sides. in one spot, one big limestone stalagmite towered up directly in the middle of the gallery. we did not go to the end of the cave, where ice has never been found. retracing our course past the rock portal to the entrance pit, we descended on the long staircase for some eighty steps more, the amount of ice on the rocks steadily increasing. in places, frost crystals had formed in small quantities on the roof and walls. at the bottom of the pit, another lateral gallery, directly under the upper gallery, opened to the right. entering this, we passed over broken limestone débris, which seemed to overlie a mass of ice. limestone stalactites were noticeable all through this lower cavern, and frost and icicles had sometimes formed over them, in which case the ice stalactite assumed the form of the limestone stalactite. advancing a few meters, we went by, on our right hand, an ice pyramid of a couple of meters in height. just beyond this, the cave turned to the left like the upper cave, and we descended to a level floor of transparent ice, into which we could see some distance. at this spot, numerous icicles, generally of inconsiderable size, hung from the roof and on the sides of the cavern. at the further end of this ice floor or ice lake we reached an ice slope, the _eiswand_, which flowed to the ice floor from the upper cave in several waves. it was some six meters wide and twenty-five meters long; and it was not steep, perhaps fifteen degrees in the steepest portions. on the slope some old, nearly obliterated steps were visible, and at these misura proceeded to cut, and with torch in one hand and axe in the other, gradually worked his way up, until he once more reached the level spot whence we had looked down the ice slope. here he stood waving his torch, a proceeding indeed he did constantly throughout the trip, for he seemed exceedingly proud of the beauties of his cavern. this waving of torches, however, is exceedingly foolish, as their smoke quickly blackens stalactite, and in fact nothing but candles and magnesium wire should be carried for lighting purposes underground. the ice of the ice slope was hard, gray and opaque, quite different from that of the ice lake. the ice floor is formed of new ice, which is gradually refilling the place from which misura said the ice for buda-pest was taken out twenty-five years ago. to prove this assertion, he called my attention to the side of the lake directly opposite the ice slope. at that spot, under the limestone rubbish over which we came, there was an outcrop of perpendicular opaque ice about a meter high. misura said that the workmen began to cut at the ice slope and that they dug out a couple of meters in depth from the ice lake, until they had cut back to where the vertical outcrop was standing. the explanation seemed to be in accord with the facts, and if so, it would go to show that the ice in this cave is of slow formation and great permanency; as seems also proved by the steps on the ice wall, which--we were the first party in the cave in --had remained over from the preceding summer. misura told me he had never seen so much ice nor seen it so hard as during our visit, and he added that there was generally water on the ice lake, and he thought there would be some in two or three weeks more. the greatest quantity of ice in the upper cave was at the head of the ice-slope, and it would seem as though there must be cracks or fissures in the overhead rocks there, through which the water is supplied to feed the ice, not only that of the upper cave, but also the larger portion of that of the lower cave. the heavy winter air would naturally sink down into the entrance pit to the lower cavern, and some of it diverge into the beginning of the upper cavern, which at first is distinctly a down slope. a little beyond the portal at the head of the ice slope, the upper cave is either horizontal or in places slightly ascending. probably this prevents the cold air from entering further, and probably also, the heat of the earth neutralizes the cold air of winter beyond a definite spot. the air in the cave seemed absolutely still throughout; it was also extremely dry, undoubtedly because melting had not yet begun. the icicles evidently were formed by the slow drip freezing as it descended, and there were no perceptible cracks nor fissures in the rocks underneath them. the facts seem to me to prove that neither evaporation nor regelation can be the factors at work in making the ice and we may deduce an important rule therefrom. when a cave is dry, then the air is dry; when a cave is wet, then the atmosphere is damp. in other words, the state of dryness or dampness of glacière atmosphere depends on how much the ice is thawing and parting with its moisture. on our return to the base of the long staircase, and while we ascended it, we had an exquisite moonlight effect, much resembling the one at the schafloch. the frainer eisleithen. about two hours by rail, north of vienna, is the village of schoenwald, to which i journeyed on june the th, . at the railroad station there was a k. k. post omnibus in waiting, which, when it was packed with passengers and luggage, drove over to frain in an hour. the admirable road lies across a rolling plain, until it reaches the brink of the valley of the thaya, to which it descends in long alpine zigzags. on the bluff overlooking the opposite side of the river, there is a fine _schloss_. i secured the seat next to the driver and questioned him about the eisleithen. although he had driven on this road for five years, without visiting the eisleithen, yet he was positive that they were warm in winter, but cold in summer. he said more than once: _desto heisser der sommer, desto mehr das eis_, and in fact was an emphatic exponent of the notions generally held by peasants, which some _savants_ have adopted and tried to expound. at frain, i applied at the little hotel for a guide, and was entrusted to the care of the hotel boots. he was an intelligent, talkative youth, but he insisted also that "the hotter the summer, the more ice there is." however, he was polite, and made up for any shortcomings by always addressing me as _der gnädige herr_. the day was hot, so it took us three-quarters of an hour on foot, along the valley of the thaya, to reach the base of the bluff where the eisleithen are situated, at an altitude of about four hundred meters. the hillside is covered with patches of scrubby forest; and towards the summit, the entire mass of the hill is honey-combed with cracks and the rocks are much broken up. after about ten minutes' ascent up a little path, we came to small holes, from each of which a current of cool air poured out; these holes seemed fairly horizontal, and the temperatures were high enough to prove that there was no ice within. a little further on, we came to a hole or tiny cave among a pile of rocks, where there was a painted sign: _eisgrube_. it went down from the mouth, and i put my hand well in, but, beyond the length of my arm, i could neither see nor measure its shape or depth. the air felt cold, but was nowhere near freezing point; nor was it possible to determine whether there was a draught: it may or may not be a wind cave. not far from this, there were two gullies, each terminating in a small cave. the first gully was planned somewhat like certain traps for wild animals, that is, it narrowed gradually from the entrance, then became covered over; and then dwindled, after some four meters more, into a small descending hole, the end of which we could not reach. but we got in far enough, to come to large chunks or slabs of ice plastered about on the floor and sides. in this cave, which was sheltered against sun and wind, the air, as tested by the smoke of a cigar, was motionless, and the cave seemed unconnected with any air current. the second gully terminated in a somewhat larger cave, whose floor was well below the entrance; no ice was visible, however, although the air was still and the temperature low. this cave may or may not be a glacière; but surely it is not a cold current cave. these frainer eisleithen certainly offer an interesting field to anyone studying subterranean ice, from the fact that there are, in the same rocks, caves without apparent draughts in summer and containing ice, and caves with distinct draughts and no ice. the problem seems more intricate than is usually the case, but the solution is simply that the two classes of caves happen to be found together. the eishÖhle bei roth. the eifel is one of the bleakest districts of central europe, and to one entering it from the vineyards and the well-inhabited basin of the rhine, the contrast is impressive. the railroad rises gradually to a land of comparatively desert appearance, with rocks and trees on the heights and a sparse cultivation in the valleys. but, if the country is unattractive to the agriculturist, it is interesting to the geologist, on account of the great number of extinct volcanoes. almost in the centre of the eifel is the little town of gerollstein, famed for the _gerollsteiner sprudel_, which gives forth an effervescence undreamed of by anyone, who has not visited the birth place of some of these german table waters. about an hour's walk from gerollstein, on the side of a small hill, is situated the little eishöhle bei roth, named after a neighboring village. i went to this place, on the th of june, , with a young boy as guide. the cave is sheltered from the wind by a wood around it, among which are many large trees. it is at the base of a wall of piled up lava, or at least volcanic, rocks which form a sort of cauldron. the entrance is a small tunnel some five meters long, which goes straight down at an angle of about twenty-five degrees and then turns sharply to the left. at the turn, the cave may be perhaps one meter in height. we did not go beyond this spot, where the air was icy and the temperature sub-normal, as the tunnel was blocked up by a large boulder, which had evidently recently fallen from the rocks in front. there was no ice, as far as we went, and the boy said it began three or four meters further in. he told me that there was no ice in the cavern in winter, but admitted that he had not entered it at that season, so that was hearsay. he had heard also that the ice was sometimes taken out for sick people, but otherwise it was not used. it seemed to me that the conditions at roth show that the ice is formed by the cold of winter alone: the cave is well below the entrance; it is the lowest point of the surrounding cauldron of rocks and all the cold air naturally gravitates to it; it is sheltered by rocks and trees from wind or exposure to the rays of the sun; the tunnel faces nearly due north; and the water necessary to supply the ice, easily soaks between the lava blocks. the frauenmauerhÖhle. eisenerz, in eastern tyrol, is a picturesquely situated little town. it is at the bottom of a great valley, with mountains all around it. two of these are bare, gaunt limestone peaks, which are decidedly dolomitic in form and color. the sharpest of these is to the north. it is called the pfaffenstein and is the beginning of the range culminating in the frauenmauer. on a mountain to the east of the town, one sees the iron mines and works, whence the town takes its name "ironore," and whence quantities of iron are taken out every year. the mines are said to have been in operation for over a thousand years, since about a. d. . after the ore is taken from the mine and roughly prepared, it is run down in small cars through a covered way to the railroad station to be shipped; and at certain times there is a seemingly endless procession of these cars, each bearing, besides its load of ore, a miner, with clothes and person entirely begrimed to the yellow-brown color of the iron. as i walked out of the eisenerz railroad station, an old man in tyrolese costume asked me if i wanted a _träger_ and a guide, so, while he was carrying my valise to the hotel, we came to terms. he was one of the patented guides of the district and wore the large badge of the austrian guides. if the size of the badge made the guide, one should be safe with tyrolese, but for difficult excursions, it will not do to trust to a guide simply because he happens to be "patented"; that is, not if one values the safety of one's neck. next morning, july the th, , the old guide arrived betimes at the hotel and roused me by tapping on the wall below my window with his stick. we left at half past five o'clock. my companion, who should have known better, had not breakfasted, so by the time we reached the gsoll alp at a quarter-past seven, he was almost tired out. he wore the regulation black chamois knee breeches and a _gamsbart_ in his hat. he picked many flowers en route, ostensibly because they were pretty; but in reality, i think, because it gave him the opportunity to recover his wind. he told me he was sixty-three years old, and he certainly went up hill with some difficulty, and for the first time in my life, i fairly succeeded in showing a clean pair of heels to a _patentirter führer_ on a mountain side. at one place he found a large snail in the road. this he wrapped up in leaves and placed on a rock, and on our return he picked the leaves and snail up, and rammed the whole bundle into his pocket, informing me that it was excellent _arznei_, although he did not mention for what complaint. [illustration: the frauenmauer and the gsoll alp.] the road led up a wooded valley, in a sort of series of steps, bits of even ground interspersed by steeper ones, with the pfaffenstein-frauenmauer limestone peaks poking up their jagged summits on the left. the sky was clear at starting, except in the west, where clouds were forming, and these gradually overspread the whole sky, and finally turned to rain. just before we reached the gsoll alp, we went by a huge snow avalanche, which had fallen in february and torn a lane clear through the pines, bringing down numbers of them with it. the remains of the avalanche were banked up on the side of the road, which was cut out, and many of the pines were still piled on and in the snow. stopping ten minutes at the alp to allow my guide to recuperate on some bread and milk, we then crossed the pastures and pushed up a rather steep slope by a small path, at one place crossing the remains of another avalanche. we also came near having the attentions of a little bull which was screaming viciously. my guide said it was an extremely disagreeable beast, but he did not think it would attack him, as he always made a point of giving it bread when at the châlet. we reached the entrance of the cave at a quarter-past eight. a man and a boy from eisenerz, who had heard i was going to the cavern and who wished to profit by my guide, caught up with us here. they were much disappointed when i told them i should visit only the _eiskammer_. they went into the cave at the same time that we did, and eventually we left them pushing up one of the side chambers, with only one torch in their possession. my guide said he thought they were risking their lives, as there were many holes they might fall into, besides the probability of their finding themselves in total darkness. he told me that once, while in the cavern, he heard distant yells, and, going up the gallery whence they proceeded, found a man half dead, who said he had tried to come through the mountain by himself, had broken his lantern and had remained in the darkness an indefinite number of hours; a situation, the horror of which could not be realized by anyone who has not been underground without a light and felt the absolute blackness of a cavern. the frauenmauer is a limestone peak, meters in height, one of several forming a horseshoe round the gsoll alp. it presents on that side a sheer wall of rock, in which there are two holes close together, at an altitude of meters. these are the lower openings of the frauenmauerhöhle, of which the higher and biggest one is used for an entrance. they are some thirty or forty meters from the base of the rock wall, and a flight of wooden steps leads up to the entrance opening, which is narrow and high. at the top of the steps, we stood in the mouth of the cave; and, going in four or five meters, saw the other opening to the left, below us. about five meters further, there was one small lump of ice, as big as a pumpkin, lying on the ground, but this may have been carried there from within. the cavern went nearly straight for some twenty-five meters from the entrance, rising all the time gently. then came a steep little drop, of some four or five meters, in the rock floor, and here a small wooden staircase was placed. a gallery opened to the right and this was the cavern proper, which leads through the mountain. it rose considerably and contained no ice as far as we went, which was for some distance. the walking was bad, as the floor was covered with _geröll_, that is broken detritus. [illustration: in the frauenmauerhÖhle. from a photograph by a. kurka. ] returning and continuing towards the freezing chamber, the floor of the cavern began to rise once more, continuing for some forty-five meters to its highest point, which is lower, however, than the top of the entrance, an important fact to notice. for, although the floor of the cave is considerably higher, at a distance of seventy meters within, than the level of the bottom of the entrance; still, that highest spot is below the level of the top of the entrance. this fact, and also the size of the gallery, unquestionably explains why the cold air can get in as far as it does. at this highest spot we found a considerable mass of ice, a couple of cartloads in bulk perhaps, which the guide said would melt away later in the summer. this was, perhaps, the remains of a fallen stalactite. this mass of ice is an interesting point in connection with the frauenmauerhöhle, for it shows that ice in a cave sometimes forms, even if in small quantities, above the level of the base of the entrance. there seems no reason why it should not do so, provided there is the necessary water supply. such ice would, however, suffer more, as soon as the outside air was over freezing point, than would ice which was below the level of the entrance. it would probably disappear early in the year, unless the cave were in a latitude or at an altitude where snow remained in the open during most of the year. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of the frauenmauerhöhle.] from this highest point, the cave turns somewhat to the left, and the floor begins to slope downward, sinking gradually to some six meters below the level of the entrance. ten meters or so from the highest point, we began to find icicles and fissure columns, and about twenty meters further, we reached an almost level ice floor, stretching across the entire width of the cave--some seven meters--and extending about fifty meters more to the end of the cave. in several places there was much frozen rime on the rock walls. there were also a number of columns and icicles, though none of any special beauty. i broke a piece off one of them, and the ice was transparent and free from prisms, showing that this column was probably of fairly recent origin. letting a bit melt in my mouth, the water tasted pure and sweet. [illustration: ice stalactite, frauenmauerhÖhle. from a photograph by a. kurka. ] in two places, there were _abgrunds_, that is, holes in the ice. one of these was a wide, deep hole on the left side of the cave, between the rock and the ice floor. the other was a great hole in the ice floor itself. as the edges of both holes sloped sharply, it was impossible to get near enough to look into either, but i threw in lumps of ice, and from the sound should judge that the holes were about three meters deep. the hole in the ice floor seemed to be cut by drip, and i think they both carried off the drainage. the ice floor was sloppy and thawing rapidly. at the furthest point we reached, within about fifteen meters from the end of the ice chamber, we were stopped by an accumulation of water lying on the ice. i poked into it with my ice axe and found it about twenty centimeters in depth. there was a crust of ice on top in places. the lake was cold, but i am sure the water was not freezing, as i held my hand in it at least a minute without pain. the guide assured me that in two weeks or so the lake would be completely frozen, provided there was some fine, warm weather; but, if there was rain, he said that it would not freeze. by this statement, he unintentionally explained, what he asserted was true, namely, that the cave froze harder in august than in july. the explanation of course is, that in fine, dry weather, water does not run into the cavern, and then the lake gradually drains off, leaving the ice floor free from water; and this the natives interpret to mean that the water has frozen up. at the edge of the lake there was a fissure in the left hand rock wall, in which my companion assured me that a column would shortly form. i absolutely doubt this statement, as, if it were true, it would be contrary to everything i have seen; still, i wish i could have returned in august, to verify the matter. i poked my torch up the fissure, also felt in with my hand. it was cold, and on the rocks inside there was much hoar frost, but i could neither see nor feel any ice mass, nor am i sure how far the fissure extended. the air was still, damp and over freezing point throughout the _eiskammer_, and all the signs showed that the cave was in a state of thaw. although the rocks are limestone and scarcely blackened by smoke anywhere, yet as our torches did not give much light, the color impression was black and gray, like the schafloch. at the hotel the landlord confirmed in every particular the story of the cave freezing hardest in august or september. he had never been there himself, but stated that everyone said the same thing, and that many people had "broken their heads" trying to account for it. at eight o'clock in the evening, my guide came to let me know that the man and boy, whom we left trying to penetrate the cave, had just turned up after making all their relatives extremely anxious. they were nearly lost, and had in general an extremely uncomfortable time. it is scarcely to be wondered at that accidents occur in caves and on mountains when people, with neither knowledge nor proper preparation, go wandering off by themselves into the unknown.[ ] [ ] on the evening of june th, , i met at hieflau three viennese tourists who had come that day through the frauenmauer. they found the lake on the ice floor of the _eiskammer_, just as i had in . they said also, moreover, that they found ice and icicles or ice columns in the main cave; unfortunately, they did not explain clearly in what part. the milchhÄuser of seelisberg. the summer of , will long be remembered by alpine climbers for the pitiless rain storm, which kept coming steadily down during the vacation months. it was in the midst of this that i arrived at trieb, on the lake of lucerne, on the th of august, to see whether i could find the windholes which were reported near seelisberg. at the landing place i found herr j. m. ziegler, the owner of the hotel bellevue at seelisberg, who promptly secured a nice, blond bearded young fellow, a relative of his and his _knecht_, as a guide. it was pouring when we started, a proceeding which kept on during our entire excursion. we tramped up a narrow road, paved with great stones in the old swiss fashion, and, as my guide truly said, awfully steep for horses. half an hour from the boat landing, took us to the first milkhouse, which belonged to herr ziegler. it was in a small patch of woods, and was placed against a cliff, where rocks had fallen down and formed a talus of broken detritus. the side walls of the house were built out from the cliff and roofed over, and the front wall had a doorway closed with a wooden door. at the back the detritus or _geröll_ was built into a vertical, unplastered wall between most of the interstices of which, cool air came forth. several of these interstices were fairly large holes of uncertain depth. it was a cool day and the air currents were only a little cooler than the temperature outside. another half an hour of uphill walking, partly on roads and partly over soaking meadows, took us to seelisberg, where we stopped at the house of the owner of the second milkhouse, to get the key. the owner could not go with us because he had damaged his foot, by wearing great wooden shoes or _sabots_ armed with enormous spikes, while cutting grass on steep slopes. he was hospitable enough: unlike his dog, who was exceedingly anxious to attack us. the owner said--in the intervals of the dog's howls--that ice formed during the winter in the rear wall of his milkhouse and remained until about june. the milkhouse was in a little patch of woods against a small cliff, at the bottom of which were broken rocks. we had some difficulty in getting in, working for at least ten minutes at the lock, while drops of rain-water would occasionally drip into our coat collars. just as i had given up hope, my companion succeeded in getting the key to turn. there were several pans, full of milk, placed to cool, and several barrels of potatoes; and, as at the first milkhouse, we found that the rear wall consisted simply of heaped up detritus built into a vertical position. gentle air currents flowed from several large holes and from the cracks between the stones. from here we went by a path through woods and over meadows down to the lake, coming to the shore some distance to the west of the steamboat landing. everything was soaking wet, and as we proceeded, i felt my clothes getting wetter and my shoes absorbing water like sponges until, when we came to an overflowing brook, wading through seemed rather pleasant. there is one advantage of getting thoroughly wet feet in the mountains: it makes crossing streams so much easier, as one does not delay, but simply steps right in. the lower milkhouse was on the shore of the lake, near the house of a fisherman, whose wife opened the door for us. there was some milk in pans and several barrels of wine; and on a board were a number of _ferras_ from the lake; the result of two days' catching in nets. this was the largest of the three milkhouses; although it did not have as many big holes in the rock wall as the others, but only the interstices between the blocks of rock, whence we could feel cool air flowing out. the woman said that the ice melted away by april or may, but that in winter the wine barrels were all covered with frost. she also said that the air coming from the clefts in summer was colder when the weather was warm, than when it was rainy. doubtless the temperature of the draughts remains the same during the summer, but the air feels cooler to the hand when the outside air is hot. a walk of another half hour, through more soaking wet grass, brought us back to the steamboat landing at trieb, where i touched my guide's heart with the gift of a five franc piece, and had a talk with herr ziegler. he said that there were a number of places in the neighborhood whence cold air came forth during the summer from cracks in the rocks: that there were also other milkhouses, notably one at tell's platte, on the lake: and that the milkhouses were not generally used in winter, when the doors were left open, to allow the cold air to penetrate as much as possible through the rocks behind. during the winter the draughts were reversed, and poured in instead of out of the openings, and herr ziegler thought that at that time the interior of the rock cracks became chilled, and that possibly ice formed in them which helped to chill the summer currents, when the draughts poured out from the holes. the glaciÈre de la genolliÈre. on tuesday, the th of august, , a cool and rainy day, i left geneva and went by train to nyon, where i found at the station a little victoria, in which i drove up to saint-cergues. the road lay across the plain to the base of the slopes of the jura, and then up these in long zigzags; it was admirably built and on the hill slopes passed the whole way through a beautiful thick forest, principally beeches and birches. at saint-cergues, i went to the pension capt, where the landlady soon found a guide in the shape of the gendarme of the district, a right good fellow, amy aimée turrian by name. he was in uniform, with an army revolver in a holster at his belt. we then drove about half an hour beyond saint-cergues, the road rising but little, and the thick forest giving place to a more open wood of evergreens, with patches of pasturage. as a forest sanitarium, saint-cergues seems unsurpassed in the whole of europe. the carriage turned up a little country road, which soon became too rough for driving, so we proceeded on foot for about another half hour, through pine woods and pastures, to the glacière. turrian enlivened the way with an account of his life as a gendarme, of the long solitary six hour patrols in the woods in winter, and of how he lay in ambush for poachers. he said he would not take long to fire on anyone resisting arrest, as that was _sérieux_. the glacière is in the middle of a pasture, with several pine trees overhanging it. it is surrounded by a wall, built to prevent the cows from falling in. there are two pits, side by side and about three meters apart: they are some thirteen meters in depth, with a width of five or six meters. they open into one another at the bottom; the rock separating them, forming a natural bridge overhead. one of the pits is vertical on all sides. the other is vertical all around, except on the side furthest away from the natural bridge. here the side of the pit is in the shape, so usual in glacières, of a steep slope. down this slope we descended. it was slippery and muddy, owing to the recent heavy rains, and my ice axe proved invaluable and probably saved me some unpleasant falls. under the bridge, the floor was covered with a mass of shattered limestone debris, among which there was neither ice nor snow; both of which my guide said he had found in abundance the preceding june. a little limestone cavern opened on one side below the bridge. a great, flat limestone slab formed a natural lintel, and, lighting our candles, we stooped down and passed under it into the cave, which was about the size of a room and in which we could just stand up. at the entrance and over most of the floor there was ice, in one place thirty or forty centimeters in depth, as i could see where a drip from the roof had cut a hole. there were no signs of icicles or columns. my guide said he had never penetrated into this chamber, which he thought, on his earlier visit, was blocked with ice and snow. i did not see any limestone stalactites anywhere, and i am inclined to think that the low temperatures of glacières have a tendency to prevent their formation. after our visit, we went to the châlet de la genollière close by, where there were some thirty cows and calves. the intelligent _berger_ or manager said that most of the ice from the glacière was used for butter making during the hot weather; and that between the inroads thus made upon it and from other causes, the ice disappeared every year before autumn, but that it formed afresh every winter; pretty good evidence to show that the ice in this cave has nothing to do with a glacial period. he also stated that when he first entered the inner chamber in the spring there were four ice columns there. the glacière de la genollière is a clear exemplification of the theory that the cold of winter is the sole cause for the ice. the whole glacière is rather small and is fairly well protected against wind. although snow cannot fall directly under the rock arch, yet i should imagine it drifts under, or after melting, runs in and refreezes. to the inner cave snow, as snow, could hardly reach; and the cavern is probably filled, like most cave glacières, from frozen drip. the inner cave is, therefore, a true cave glacière, while the outer pits and the bridge are something between a gorge and a cave. la genollière should, i think, be visited about the end of june, when the ice formations are certainly larger and more interesting than in august. the friedrichsteiner or gottscheer eishÖhle. a little to the east of, and in about the same latitude as trieste, is the small town of gottschee, now reached by a branch railroad from laibach. gottschee is a german settlement almost in the centre of the district known as the duchy of krain, austria, which is mainly inhabited in the north by slavonians and in the south by croatians. gottschee lies directly at the western base of the friedrichsteiner gebirge, one of whose peaks is the burgernock. on the eastern slopes of this mountain is situated the friedrichsteiner or gottscheer eishöhle, at an altitude of about nine hundred meters. on the th of june, , i left gottschee at half past six o'clock in the morning with stefan klenka, a nice little man. i had asked to have him come at six o'clock, but he did not turn up and i had to send for him. his excuse was, that tourists always ordered him for six o'clock, but when the time came, they were still in bed. he had taken a german officer and his wife to the cave the year before, and after keeping him waiting three hours, they started at nine o'clock. the result was that they did not get to the cave until two o'clock, and returned to gottschee just at nightfall. we reached the cave at half past eight o'clock. the steep and rough path went uphill through a fine forest, which my guide said was _urwald_, _i. e._, primeval forest; and there were certainly some big trees and many fallen ones, and much underbrush. he assured me that bears were still plentiful in the neighborhood, and that prince auersperg, who owns the shooting, does not allow them to be killed, preferring to pay for any damage they may cause to the peasants' fields or for any cattle they may dine on, rather than to have these interesting animals exterminated from his woods. he also said that there was a two meter snowfall in gottschee in winter: a sufficient quantity to account for the glacières. at one place on the road we stopped before a small crack in the rocks, and klenka dropped in some small stones, which we could hear strike two or three times a long distance below. there is surely an unexplored cavern at this spot. the friedrichsteiner eishöhle is a large pit cave, well lighted by daylight. it is sheltered from any winds by the great trees which grow all around it and even over the rock roof. a long, steep slope leads straight into the pit and from the top the ice floor is in full sight. on both sides of the slope the rocks are almost sheer. over the bottom of the slope the rock roof projects at a great height. the sides of the cave rise perpendicularly at least forty meters, and in fact, the cave suggests an unfinished tunnel set on end. some years ago, the _deutschen und oesterreichischen alpen verein_ built a wooden staircase, in a series of zigzags, on the slope. this staircase should have been cleared off earlier in the year, but, of course, the matter was neglected. down these steps we descended until they became covered with snow, and lower down with hard ice. all this was winter's snow which fell directly on to the slope and gradually melted and froze again, so this was really a miniature glacier. it was not subterranean ice at all. we cut down the snow, but had to stop when we came to the ice, as it would have involved a couple of hours at least of the hardest kind of step cutting; and this my guide did not care to undertake, especially as he was nearly killed on this slope the week before. he had reached, with some tourists from trieste, a place above that where we stopped, when he slipped and fell down the slope, shooting clear across the cave, where he remained until ropes were procured, and he was dragged out. he afterwards showed me the numerous cuts and bruises he had received on his perilous glissade. we had to stop also for another reason. i had unwisely brought as wrap, a thick overcoat reaching to the knees, and this was such an impediment on the icy staircase, that i took it off, and soon began to feel long shivers creeping down my spine. this question of extra clothing for glacière exploration is hard to arrange. one must guard against most trying changes of temperature. for, on entering a big glacière, the heat of a july day without, will, at a distance of only a few meters, give place to the cold of a january day within, and nothing could be better devised than a big glacière to lay the seeds of rheumatism. it is difficult to plan a garb suitable to meet all the varying conditions, but the dress must be cool and warm, and light enough to permit free motion. the clothes i have found most practical are a thin waistcoat and thick trousers, and two short sack coats, one of them a heavy winter one. the coats should button at the throat, and it is well to place straps round the bottom of the trousers. thick kid gloves should always be worn in caves, to save cutting the hands on rocks or ice in the darkness, and hobnails may prevent some unpleasant slips. from the point where we stopped, some ten meters away from the ice floor, the largest portion of the cave was visible. the finest object was a big ice curtain or _vorhang_, as my guide called it, which, from a height of five or six meters, flowed down from fissures to the ice floor, and which covered the rocks on the eastern side. under one point of this curtain, klenka said that there was a deep hole in the ice. smaller fissure columns also streamed from the rear wall to the ice floor. the ice floor itself was flat, of an ochre greenish tinge, and was covered with broken ice fragments. we could not see the western portion of the cavern, as the rocks jutted out in a sort of corner. klenka said that there were several small pyramids there; a large one which he spoke of as the _altar_; and a small ice slope, plastered on the side rocks. the sides of the cave were of a dark gray limestone rock, and from the top of the slope they assumed a decidedly bluish tone, and i am inclined to think that there was already--we were there from eight-thirty a. m. until ten a. m.--a faint mist in the cavern. this is the most interesting phenomenon connected with the friedrichsteiner eishöhle. the cavern faces due south, and about midday, in clear weather, the sun shines directly into it, causing a mist or cloud to form in the cave on warm days; a mute witness that evaporation is connected with the melting, not with the forming, of the ice. the air at every point seemed still. on my return to gottschee, i called on one of the professors of the k. k. gymnasium, and he told me many interesting facts about the surrounding country. among other things he said that no traces of a glacial period or indeed of glaciers were found in the krain; and as this district is particularly rich in glacières, this fact is a strong proof against the glacial period theory. he assured me also that many bears still existed in the neighborhood; that one family was known to inhabit the woods round the friedrichsteiner eishöhle, and that he had often seen bear tracks on his own shooting, some ten kilometers to the south. the suchenreuther eisloch. on the th of june, , i left gottschee at six-thirty a. m. in an _einspänner_, and drove thirteen kilometers southward, over a good road, albeit hilly in places, to mrauen, which we reached in about two hours. the weather was exceedingly hot. i took klenka along, as he spoke german, and he entertained me on the drive by telling me that there were many poisonous snakes in the country, of which the _kreuzotters_ or vipers were the worst, and that three or four persons were bitten every year. mrauen is in croatia, and i could see a slight difference in the people and their dress from those of gottschee. from mrauen, the landlord of the _gasthaus post_, josef sirar, led us to the grosses eisloch. this is sometimes spoken of as the eisloch bei skrill, but as it lies in a patch of woods below the village of suchenreuth, the suchenreuther eisloch seems the correct name. at least that was what sirar called it. it took us about an hour on foot from mrauen to get into the woods. on the way we met two guards in uniform, carrying männlicher carbines with fixed bayonets, and it was agreeable to feel that the strong arm of the austrian government extended over this semi-wild land. in the woods, following sirar's able guidance, we took a short cut--always a mistake--and were lost temporarily in a maze of bushes and brambles, in which i thought of the _kreuzotters_. after that, sirar at first could not find the cave and had to hunt around for it, while i sat on a stone and waited impatiently. at the cave a rather steep slope of wet mud, covered with dead leaves, led down through a rock arch. sirar had to cut several steps in the mud with his hatchet, or we should probably have sat down suddenly. the archway opened into a moderately large cavern, which was about twenty meters deep, almost round and some fifteen meters in diameter. the slope continued right across the cave, and on some parts of it were logs of wood and much débris. on the wall hung a few limestone stalactites. in the roof of the cave was a great hole, and under this was a big cone of old winter snow, which had become icy in its consistency, and on which there was much dirt and many leaves. the temperature in the cave was several degrees above freezing point, and there was no ice hanging anywhere. sirar said that when the weather got hotter, the ice would come; but as he said also, that he had been only once before in the cave, some ten years ago, his opinion was not worth much. both men said that the preceding winter was unusually warm. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of the suchenreuther eisloch.] the nixloch. near hallthurm in bavaria, a railroad station between reichenhall and berchtesgaden, is a well known congeries of windholes, called the nixloch. i visited it on friday, july the d, , with a railroad employee, whom i found at the peasants' _gasthaus_. the nixloch is ten minutes distant in the forest, on the slopes of the untersberg. it is among a mass of big limestone blocks, and close by are the remains of the walls of an old castle or fortification. the nixloch descends from the entrance for about two meters nearly sheer, and there is just room to get through. as i sat within the outside edge of the mouth of the cave, the smoke of my cigar was slowly carried downward into it. dropping down through the hole, we found ourselves in a small cavern formed of rough limestone blocks overhead and underfoot. it is possible to go still further down and my companion said that formerly it was possible to go through the cave and come out at a lower opening; this exit, however, was destroyed when the railroad was built. the draught, as tested by the flame of a candle, was still drawing in some seven or eight meters from the entrance. there is a second cavity immediately next to the entrance, and at the bottom of these holes, the inward draught was so violent as to blow the candle out. the thermometer outside in the shade was °c.; inside the cave, where the draught was still perceptible, it was about °c. within the cave i noticed two large, dark brown spiders. on returning to the _gasthaus_, i had a talk with some peasants who were dining there, and they told me that it was warm in winter in the nixloch, and that ice never formed there. the dornburg. if one draws a line northeast from coblentz and another northwest from frankfort-on-the-main, they will intersect nearly at the dornburg. the railroad from frankfort goes, via limburg and hadamar, to frickhofen and wilsenroth, from either of which villages the ice formations of the dornburg are easily reached on foot in half an hour. i arrived at wilsenroth on the th of july, , and soon found an old forester, who said he had lived in the neighborhood for over fifty years, to show me the way. the dornburg is a low hill, perhaps a hundred meters high and a kilometer long. it is basaltic and covered with sparse woods. the forester said that on top were the remains of the foundations of an old castle, and that this was possibly the origin of the name dornburg. we circled round the eastern base of the hill for some ten minutes, when we came to a little depression, filled with basalt debris, among which were several small holes, out of which came currents of cool air. ten minutes further in the woods, we arrived at the _dornburg restauration_ and then almost immediately at the glacière. it is at the bottom of a talus of broken basaltic rocks and has been much affected by the agency of man. in it are two _eislöcher_ or _stollen_, as the forester called them. these are little artificial pits or cellars, dug into the talus. they are side by side, opening about southeast, and each is about one and a half meters wide, three meters long, and two meters high. the sides are built up with wooden posts and overhead is a thick roof of logs strewn with dirt. the day was cool and at the mouth of each _eisloch_, a faint outward current of air was discernible at nine-thirty a. m. i could not find any currents coming into the _eislöcher_. inside it was cold and damp, and evidently thawing. there was a good heap of ice in each _eisloch_; it was clear, and i could detect no trace of prisms. by much questioning, i dug out something of the history of these _stollen_ from the forester. formerly the ice was found at this spot, among the boulders at the base of the slope. but the people gradually took many of these basaltic blocks away, to break up for road making, and then the ice diminished. about , a brewery, since burnt, was built at the dornburg and the brewer had these _stollen_ built, a sort of semi-natural, semi-artificial ice house. every winter, the present owner of the _stollen_ throws a quantity of snow into them, and this helps materially in forming the mass of ice. just below the restaurant there is a spring, which was said to be extremely cold, but there was nothing icy nor apparently unusual about it. under the restaurant itself is an interesting cellar. it was closed by wooden doors. first there was a passage way which turned steadily to the right, and which we descended by some ten steps. this was about two meters wide and was full of beer bottles and vegetables. on the left of the passage was a large double chamber where meat is kept. at eleven-thirty a. m. a faint draught blew down the passage and into the hall, the outside door being then open. the double hall was perhaps six meters each way, and i could detect no air currents coming into it at any place, except from the passage way. both passage and halls were, as far as i could see, entirely built over with masonry. there was no ice and the temperature was some ° or ° above freezing point. the daughter of the proprietor of the restaurant said that ice began to form in the cellar in february and that it lasted generally until october; but that this year it was destroyed early because the masonry was repaired, although it was still possible to skate in the cellar as late as march. in the beginning of winter the cellar was warm, and as she expressed it, _der keller schwitzt dann_, which i suppose means that the walls are damp. she also said that it was a _naturlicher keller_, and i am inclined to think that it was a natural glacière, converted into a cellar. this visit to the dornburg gave me many new ideas about classifying glacières, especially in relation to the movements of air. i was long puzzled by the german terms, _eishöhlen_ and _windröhren_; and it suddenly struck me, at the dornburg, that this terminology is incorrect, when used as a classification of glacières. the presence or absence of strong, apparent draughts, cannot be considered as a test as to whether a place is or is not a glacière; the presence of ice, for at least part of the year, alone makes a glacière, and this it does whether there are or are not draughts. it seems to me more than ever clear, however, that it all depends on the movements of air, as to whether ice forms in a cave. if the movements of air take the cold air of winter into a cave, then and then only--provided there is also a water supply--do we have ice. i am now inclined to think that caves, as far as their temperatures are concerned, should be classified into caves containing ice, cold caves, ordinary normal caves, and hot caves, without reference to the movements of air. the glaciÈre de saint-georges. from rolle, on the north shore of the lake of geneva; an excellent carriage road leads in two hours and a half to saint-georges in the jura. at first the way goes steeply uphill and passes through many vineyards, and afterwards it crosses level fields to gimel, then rises through woods to saint-georges. on arriving there on the afternoon of august d, , i found the street filled with evergreens, and long benches and tables; the débris of a _fête de tir_, which had lasted for two days, with dancing and banquets and, i suspect, much _vin du pays_. when i got down stairs at six o'clock next morning, all the people of the inn were sound asleep recovering from the effects of the _fête_, and instead of their calling me, i had to call them. finally i succeeded in getting breakfast and then started in company with a first rate fellow, named aymon Émery. [illustration: la glaciÈre de saint-georges. from a photograph by e. truand. ] we walked up through woods, in about an hour and a half, to the glacière de saint-georges, which lies at an altitude of meters in the midst of the forest. there are two holes close together. one of these descends vertically and is partly roofed over with logs on which is rigged a pulley. Émery, who was the _entrepreneur_ of the glacière, which means that he attended to getting out the ice, told me that they pulled the ice up through this vertical hole, making a noose with a rope round each block. the other and shallower opening ended in a rock floor, which was reached by a short ladder. to the right was an arch, under which the rock terminated as a floor and descended vertically, forming the wall of the cave. on this wall two ladders, spliced at the end into one long ladder, were placed in a nearly vertical position. i tied the end of my rope round my waist, and got a workman, who had come to cut ice, to pay out the rope to me, while i went down. the cave is rather long and narrow, perhaps twenty-five meters by twelve meters, and the limestone roof forms an arched descending curve overhead. i could not see any limestone stalactites; neither were there any ice stalactites or stalagmites in the cave, but a good part of the wall, against which the long ladder was placed, was covered by an ice curtain. it was thin and had evidently been damaged by the ice cutters or i think it would have covered the entire lower portion of the wall. the base of the long ladder rested on an ice floor which filled the bottom of the cave, and which would probably have been level if it had not been cut out here and there in places, leaving many holes. a good many broken ice fragments lay on the floor and in some of the holes were pools of water. some of the floor ice was exceedingly prismatic in character, and i was able to flake it off or break it easily with my hands into prisms. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of the glacière de saint-georges.] under the vertical shaft, which is at one end of the cave, was a mass of winter's snow which had fallen through the opening. under this snow was a deep hole, which i believe was the drain hole of the glacière before the ice floor was cut away to a level below its mouth. into this hole i threw lumps of ice and heard them go bumping down for three or four seconds. the atmosphere was not uncomfortable, although the temperature was about ° c. the air did not feel damp, and seemed almost still, but standing on the ice floor nearly under the vertical hole, i found that the smoke from my cigar ascended rapidly, and it seemed as if there were a rising air current, which sucked up the smoke. saint-georges is a fine cavern and well worth visiting. Émery said that the ice was not cut out for eight years preceding the summer of , and that for several years it was not possible to go down at all, as there were no ladders, until he put in the two we utilized.[ ] all the natives of saint-georges believed that the ice was a summer formation and that it was warm in the cave in winter. [ ] in the illustration of the glacière de saint-georges, the opening to the left is the vertical pit, through which the ice is taken out: underneath it, is the heap of winter snow. the man in the upper part of the picture is standing on the rock shelf at the base of the upper ladder and at the top of the lower ladder. to the right of the lower ladder near the bottom, a bit of the ice curtain is visible. the glaciÈre du prÉ de saint-livres. from the glacière de saint-georges, Émery and i pushed on through the woods to the pré de saint-livres. in several places we came on the tracks of deer, and my guide told me he had killed eleven roe during the last hunting season. he said also that an attempt is being made to introduce the red deer into the jura, and that the experiment seemed to be meeting with success. we kept to the crest of the ridge along wood paths, and, as the day was fortunately cool and cloudy, we were able to walk fast and reached the pré de saint-livres in two hours. at a spot called la foiraudaz we met the workmen coming down with a cartload of ice, which they were taking to bière. some of this ice was extremely prismatic. the pré de saint-livres is a big mountain pasture or meadow, surrounded with hills covered with pine trees. in the middle of it is the châlet de saint-livres, round which numerous cows and calves were congregated and where a small shepherd gave us some milk. the châlet is not one of the old picturesque swiss châlets with great stones on the roof to keep it from being blown away by the wind, but a strongly built single storied stone structure, which looks extremely modern among the green hills. the glacière lies close to the châlet, on the southern side of the meadows, just on the edge of the woods, and is surrounded with trees. it is at an altitude of meters and faces nearly due north. to prevent the cattle from falling in, it is enclosed with a stone wall, except in front, where there is a fence formed of an abattis of pine trees. the cave belongs to the pit variety, and the pit is a big one. as you stand at the top, you can look down to the end of the glacière. the rocks are vertical all round the pit, and in front there is a small rock shelf, one-third of the way down, which divides the rock wall into two long drops. against each of these was a rickety ladder, so we fixed the end of my rope to the pine trees of the fence, and hung on to it while we climbed down. the base of the lower and longer ladder rested on a mass of snow. this was the beginning of a long snow slope which gradually turned to ice and filled the cave. the cave itself, measuring along the snow slope, is some forty meters long and some ten to fifteen meters wide, and is entirely lighted by daylight. the snow and ice slope fell in a series of small waves, and the upper portion was rather dirty. on the right hand the workmen had fixed a rope as a handrail, and all the way down had cut a staircase in the ice, so that the descent was not difficult. some of the ice was sloppy. the ice mass did not abut entirely against the end of the cave, but left an open space between the ice and the rock, some three or four meters wide and some four or five meters deep. here the workmen had been getting their ice, and had cut into the ice mass for several meters, forming a little tunnel. there were no ice cones nor stalactites, neither did i see any limestone stalactites. much of the ice was prismatic; in fact, together with that at saint-georges, it was the most strongly prismatic i have seen. i can perhaps best describe it, by saying that it was brittle in texture, as i could break up small lumps in my hands. there was more prismatic ice at saint-livres, however, than at saint-georges. the air in the cave was still and decidedly damp; and the temperature was several degrees above freezing point. the day, however, was almost windless, and i would not assert that movements of air, due to the wind, might not sometimes take place in the pit. the glacière du pré de saint-livres is one of those caves which may be looked on as a transitional form between gorges containing ice and caves containing ice. the winter snow falls into the mouth of the pit, and is the chief foundation of the ice mass. it would be interesting to make a series of observations in this cave to see whether there was anything like glacier motion. Émery, of his own accord, expressed the opinion that much of the ice here was due to the winter snows; in fact, he thought that it was all due to it, and that it gradually descended into the cave and turned, little by little, into ice. he told me that some years ago a cow was found by the workmen, frozen into the ice, at a depth of four meters; the flesh was perfectly preserved, and was eaten. i asked him if he had ever seen insects in either cave, and he said he had not. from the glacière we walked back to the village of saint-georges. on asking my guide how much i owed him, he said he received four francs for a _journée_, so i gave him six francs, and we parted the best of friends. glacier ice cave in the fee glacier. during a rather protracted stay at saas-fee in switzerland, i visited the glacier ice cave of the fee glacier on the th and th of august, , both cool and rainy days. it is about half an hour's walk from the hotel to the ice cave, which is in the snout of the fee glacier, below the eggfluh. a considerable stream issued from the cave. on nearing the opening, a strong cold air current poured out above the stream. at the front edge of the ice, the height of the ice roof in the centre was perhaps twelve meters and the width fifteen meters. around the edge, the roof formed an almost perfect curve. the ice walls contracted in a regular manner within, and the cave became narrower and lower, and suggested an enormous funnel cut in half, into which you looked from the larger end. the cave also grew gradually darker, and the darkness prevented seeing further than to a depth of some fifteen meters. in the ice walls, just inside the entrance, were several crevasses, of the ordinary blue-green color. they followed nearly the same curve as the roof, but did not go through to the outside. there were no icicles. the ice was faintly stratified in places, and at the outer edge was brittle. it did not break into the long narrow prisms of the ice at saint-georges and the pré de saint-livres, but rather into small lumps with facets, of all sorts of shapes. it was evidently unsafe to penetrate under the ice roof, for while i stood in front of the cave, a large lump broke off from the roof and fell with a clatter among a lot of other ice fragments already on the moraine floor. in two places there was a steady rain of drops from the roof, showing that the ice was melting. this is perhaps the glacier cave in switzerland which is easiest to visit, and my inspection intensified my belief in what i consider the correct explanation of some of the phenomena in glacières. the suggestion was that as soon as the temperature gets above freezing point in a glacier ice cave, the only process is that of destruction of the ice, which seems to be also the case with glacières. la grand cave de montarquis. my brother and i left cluses, in savoie, a railroad station on the line between geneva and chamonix, at two o'clock on the afternoon of the d of august, , and drove up in two hours and a half to pralong du reposoir, a distance of eleven kilometers. the road is a _route nationale_, fine and broad, with parapets in many places. after passing scionzier, it mounts gradually, passing through a tremendous wild gorge, cut by the waters and heavily clad with firs. we reached pralong at four-thirty, and stopped at a primitive inn, still in process of construction, and tenanted only by blue-bloused peasants, who, as it was sunday night, sat up late, drinking and making a heathenish noise they mistook for singing. i talked to some of these men, and they all insisted that there was no ice at the grand cave in winter, but that it came in summer. _plus il fait chaud, plus ça gêle_, they said. one man explained the formation of the ice in an original way, and with an intelligence far above that of the average peasant. he considered that it was due to air currents, and thought that in winter the snow stopped up the holes in the rocks, through which the currents came; but that when the snow melted, the draughts could work, and that then they formed the ice. the weather was abominable next morning, the clouds lying along and dripping into the valley; but the inn was so awful that we decided to try to reach the cave. we had a nice little blue-bloused peasant for a guide, sylvain jean cotterlaz by name. we went first for about an hour on foot towards le grand bornant on a fair road, to an alp called la salle. this was surrounded by a herd of cows, some of whom seemed interested in our party. it now began to rain fiercely, and except for my brother's perseverance, i should certainly have given in. a fair path led up steep grass slopes into the clouds covering the mont bargy. each of us had his umbrella raised, and the ascent was slippery and uninspiring. an hour took us to two deserted huts, the alpe montarquis, and half an hour beyond, we came to the caves; by which time we were thoroughly soaked. the caves are on mont bargy, at the base of a limestone precipice, which, i think, faces nearly north. there are three caves close together. the lowest, or petite cave de montarquis, cotterlaz said is also called la cave des faux-monayeurs; as according to a, probably untrue, tradition, it was once used by counterfeiters. above this is a small rock pocket, accessible down an easy slope. we went in and found that there was no ice and indeed scarcely any water in it. the grand--not grande--cave is a little higher up, and as we came to it, several sheep, which had taken refuge in the mouth from the storm, hastily skipped away, evidently distrusting our intentions. the altitude of the cave is said to be meters. the entrance must face about north east; it is elliptical in shape, about fifteen meters wide, and six meters high, and is badly sheltered against the wind. the cave is of moderate size, about sixty meters in length and forty-five meters in width, and the average height of the roof is not over four or five meters. a gentle slope leads downwards. many blocks of rock in the front part had bits of moss growing on them, and some of the mud there was of a dull purple color, as if some dark madder was mixed with it. there was a red streak in the right hand wall, probably caused by iron. i observed no limestone stalactites nor stalagmites in the cave, the main body of which was well lighted throughout by daylight. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of grand cave de montarquis.] the ice was in the shape of a nearly level floor, about twelve meters long and eight meters wide: the shape was irregular, and the ice so smooth that it was hard to stand up. the rocks in the rear overhung the ice floor at one spot; and here, there streamed from a fissure to the ice floor an ice column, some three meters high, whose base was fully two meters distant from the rock wall. near this column was a tiny ice cone, which evidently had been bigger. cotterlaz seemed impressed with the fact that there was only one column in the cave, as he said that in june, there would have been many columns and a larger and deeper ice floor. the ice was sloppy in places, with several small hollows cut by the drip and containing water. in one place there was a tiny runnel filled with water, but there was no current. there was a good deal of drip all through the cave, and in fact in one or two places we might have kept on holding up our umbrellas with advantage. i hacked at several pieces of ice, but none of it was prismatic. at the rear of the cave, the ice ran, in a tongue, up the entrance of an ascending fissure in the rocks. my brother cut here six or seven steps in the ice; and he found them difficult to make, as the ice was hard and thin, and not in a melting state. above the ice tongue we clambered up the rocks of the fissure some four or five meters further, finding there some lumps of ice which were not melting. at this spot we were almost in darkness. a lighted match burned steadily, so that there was evidently not much draught, but the smoke gradually descended, showing a slight downward current. this was the coldest, as well as the furthest point of the cave we could reach, and we there heard a tiny waterfall trickling within the fissure, although we could not see it. by this time we were all chilled to the bone, so, abandoning the idea of entering the petite cave, we retreated down the sopping wet, slippery grass slopes to pralong, and then immediately walked all the way to cluses to avoid taking cold. the grand cave was the most fatiguing trip i ever made after glacières, but the circumstances were rather unusual. the freezing well of owego. on thursday, june d, , i went to owego, in tioga county, new york. inquiries at the lehigh valley railroad station and at the chief hotel failed to elicit any information about a freezing well; and in fact, i soon found that the existence of such a thing was a blank to the rising generation. so i called on an old resident of owego, who told me that he knew of the well in question and that it was filled up with stones many years ago; but that he remembered that, when he was a boy, it used to freeze, and that it was spoken of as the deep well or freezing well. i then walked up to the site of the well, which is about one and a half kilometers to the northwest from the centre of owego and about one kilometer from the susquehanna river. it is directly in the middle of the highway, and nothing is now visible but a heap of stones. near by was the house of a mr. preston, who told me he was born in , and had lived all his life at this spot. he said that the well was about twenty-eight meters deep, and that it went first through a layer of sand and then through a layer of gravel. he had more than once been down the well and had seen the sides covered with ice. a bucket sent down for water would sometimes come up with ice on the sides. whether the water at the bottom ever froze, no one knew, for the ice caked and filled up the bore at about two-thirds of the way down and became so thick, that as mr. preston put it, "it was just like hammering on an anvil to try to break it." he also stated that another well was dug about one hundred meters further down the road, and that originally this sometimes had a little ice on the sides. of late years however, it was covered over with a wooden top and since then no ice was known to form. i could obtain no information about any other wells in the neighborhood ever showing similar peculiarities. the icy glen, near stockbridge. the icy glen is situated on bear mountain, about one kilometer from stockbridge, massachusetts. it is in the midst of fine woods and there are many big trees in it. the bottom of the glen is full of rocks and boulders, among which there is a rough path. i was told that ice remained over there much longer than anywhere else in the neighborhood, sometimes as late as may. on the d of july, , i not only found no traces of ice or snow, but the temperatures under the boulders showed nothing abnormal. to make up for this, however, there were legions of mosquitoes. freezing marble cave, near manchester. near manchester, vermont, there is a little cave,[ ] which is noteworthy, in that it is in a marble formation. it is known as skinner's cave, because it was owned for many years by mr. mark skinner. it lies in skinner's hollow, some five or six kilometers from the centre of manchester, at the base of the eastern slope of mount equinox, of the taghconic range of the green mountains. [ ] my attention was called to this cave, by messrs. john ritchie, jr., of boston, and byerly hart of philadelphia, who visited it some years ago. mr. ritchie's opinion is that it is simply a refrigerator. the cave is on the property of mr. n. m. canfield, who, on learning the object of my visit, on the th of july, , with true native american courtesy, walked up to it with me. the last two kilometers were over a rough logging road, which towards the end was steep and covered with many broken logs. i could not have found the cave alone, as it was so surrounded with bushes, that the entrance was invisible until we actually reached it. it is in a gorge of mount equinox, in the midst of a beautiful forest, which effectually cuts off any wind. the cave faces nearly north and can scarcely ever, if indeed at any time, be reached by the rays of the sun. the moment we got into the entrance, we found the chilly, damp, summer atmosphere of true glacière caves. the rocks were brown and mossy on the outside, but mr. canfield called my attention to the fact that they were marble, and on his knocking off a small piece, a section of pure white marble was exposed. in no other instance have i heard of a marble cave in connection with ice. there were scarcely any cracks or crevices in the rock. the cave goes down with a steep slope from the entrance, much in the shape of a tunnel, for some ten meters. the slope was covered with slippery mud and decayed leaves, and at the bottom expanded into a little chamber, in which lay a mass of wet, compact snow, some two by three meters. it was evident that the snow was simply drifted in during the winter, and was in too large a mass and too well protected to melt easily, and there could be no question but that this place was purely a refrigerator. the air was tranquil throughout and there were no draughts. on the same day, a good breeze was blowing in the manchester valley. the freezing well of brandon. the freezing well of brandon is situated on the western or southwestern outskirts of the village of brandon, vermont, not far from the railroad station. i visited it on the th of july, . the well was protected by a wooden cover. on raising this, a faint stream of cool air seemed to issue forth; but this was probably only imagination. the sides, as far down as one could see, were built in with rather large blocks of stone without cement. at the bottom water was visible and there were no signs of ice. we drew up some water in a bucket, and although it was cool there was nothing icy about it. i twice lowered a thermometer nearly to the water and each time after ten minutes it registered only ° c. there was certainly nothing abnormal in this temperature, in fact it was strictly normal and my thermometer showed conclusively by its actions that it could not have been near any ice mass. the people at the house, however, assured me that a month before there was ice in the well. afterwards i called on mr. c. o. luce, the owner of the well. he stated that it was eleven and a half meters deep to the bottom, that it was dug in , and that the ground through which it goes was found frozen at a depth of about four and a half meters. here there is a stratum of gravel and this is where the freezing occurs. mr. luce thought that the water was under the ice, that is, that the water came up from the bottom. he said also that the well usually froze solid in winter; but, that as this winter was an open one, there was less ice this year than usual. he thought that there was less ice anyway now than in former years, partly because of the cover which was put over the well, and which keeps out some of the cold; and partly because a neighboring gravel hillock, called the hogback, was a good deal cut away, and this in some way affects the supply of cold in the gravel. he added that the sandy soil round brandon does not as a rule freeze to a greater depth than two meters each winter. the house built beside the well was said to be comfortable in winter. there seems no doubt that this is another refrigerator. the cold water of the winter snows percolates into the gravel mass and refreezes, and, owing to the bad conductive quality of the material, the gravel remains frozen later than the soil elsewhere in the neighborhood. the fact that the well went through a frozen gravel stratum when dug, proves that it is not alone the air that sinks into the well itself, which makes the ice. the fact that the well freezes on the whole less than formerly, apparently partly owing to the digging up of some of the gravel close by, goes to prove the same thing. the fact that the well generally freezes solid every winter, shows that although some of the gravel mass possibly remains frozen all the time, much of the ice is renewed each year. this is especially important as proving that the ice found in gravel deposits is due to the cold of winter and not to a glacial period, although, of course, no one could say for how long a time the ice was forming and melting; and this process might date back to the time of the formation of the gravel mass. i could learn nothing of any similar place near brandon, except that mr. luce said that in an old abandoned silver mine in the neighborhood, he had once seen ice during hot weather. freezing talus on lower ausable pond. on the eastern side of lower ausable pond, essex county, new york, at the foot of mount sébille or colvin, there is a talus of great laurentian boulders, which fell from the mountain and lie piled up on the edge of the lake. among these boulders, at a distance of about five hundred meters from the southern end of the lake, there are spaces, several of which might be called caves, although they are really hollows between the boulders. on the th of july, , i visited this spot with mr. edward i. h. howell of philadelphia. from several of the rock cracks we found a draught of air flowing strongly out, as tested by the smoke of a cigar. the air was distinctly icy and there could be no question that there was a considerable quantity of ice among the rocks to produce the temperature. in three places we found masses of ice. one of these hollows was small, and the other two were much larger. one of the latter was almost round in shape, and perhaps three meters in diameter; with a little snow near the mouth and with plenty of ice at the bottom. the other was a long descending crack between two boulders which joined overhead, and with the bottom filled by a long, narrow slope of ice, perhaps seventy-five centimeters in width and six meters in length, set at an angle of about thirty-five degrees. the ice was hard and non-prismatic. the cold air affects a large area of land around the boulders. mr. howell called my attention to the flowers of the bunch-berry, which he said were at least two weeks behind those on the surrounding mountains. the same was true of _oxalis_, a pretty white flower, of which we found several beds in full bloom. mr. howell went to this talus, on the th of july previous, with mr. niles, president of the appalachian mountain club, on which occasion they found plenty of snow near the entrance of the larger hollow. mr. howell, indeed, has repeatedly visited this place, and always found ice, which must, therefore, be looked on as perennial. at all times also he has felt cold draughts flowing out; sometimes they were so strong as to lower the temperature over the lake to a distance of thirty meters or more: on hot days he has seen occasionally a misty cloud form on the lake in front of the boulders. mr. howell considers that the draughts so affect the surrounding air, that an artificial climate is produced, and it is owing to this that spring flowers bloom late in july and sometimes in august. another fact well known to him, is that in hot weather, the spot in front of the boulders is the best in the whole lake to catch trout, as they always congregate in the coldest water. the adirondack guides use these ice retaining hollows, which they call ice-caves, as refrigerators for their provisions and game in hot weather: they say that the ice is formed in winter and remains over during the summer, as it is so well sheltered. freezing talus of the giant of the valley. on the indications of mr. otis, chief guide of the adirondack reserve, i explored with mr. c. lamb, a guide from keene valley, the southern base of the giant of the valley mountain, essex county, new york, on the th of july, . a road runs from keene heights to port henry, through the gap between the south base of the giant of the valley and the north base of round mountain, and passes close to a small lake called chapel pond. some three hundred meters west of this lake, we left the road and struck north, across the brook, into the thick, mossy woods. after perhaps one hundred meters, we came to a talus of great boulders of laurentian rock, with the cliffs of the giant, whence the boulders had fallen, rising steeply above. we found ice under several of them, although never in any quantity. the thermometer, after an exposure of fifteen minutes in one of these little hollows, registered ° c., although not more than one meter from where the sunshine fell on the moss. in the shade of a tree one meter distant from the same hollow it registered ° c.; a difference of ° c. at a distance of only two meters. perhaps one kilometer east of chapel pond, there is a place, where the bases of the mountains come much nearer together, which bears the name of "the narrows." here we crossed the brook again, and, after some fifteen or twenty meters of scrambling through rough woods, reached once more the talus of the giant, composed of tremendous boulders. among these we found ice in many places and this time in large quantities. within one boulder cave we found an ice slab some four meters in length, by two meters in width, and one meter in thickness. this was pure, hard and non-prismatic ice, and was evidently not formed of compressed snow: in fact snow could not have drifted in under the boulder. we broke off a large piece of ice and took it back to saint hubert's inn, and it melted rather slowly. from the mouth of this cave an icy draught issued, and, as it struck the warmer air outside, a slight mist was formed. mr. lamb said that from the road itself he had sometimes seen mist rising from this talus. further explorations of the talus of the giant would probably reveal ice in many other places than those we examined.[ ] [ ] mr. e. i. h. howell examined several times, in , the talus of the giant of the valley. he found ice in many places; also cold air currents blowing out. at one spot, there is a spring which flows all through the summer, and the water is so cold, that its temperature is little above that of melting ice. mr. howell found, as at ausable pond, spring flowers growing in mid-summer among the rocks of the talus. mr. lamb told me of two other places in the adirondacks, where he found ice in similar boulder formations. one was in the talus of mount wallface in indian pass, between mounts wallface and mcintyre. the other was in the talus of mount mcintyre in avalanche pass, between mounts mcintyre and colden. at the latter place, he found it near the trail going round the lake in the pass. the ice gulch, randolph. the randolph ice gulch is situated in randolph township, new hampshire, about eight kilometers from randolph station, on the boston and maine railroad.[ ] i visited it on august th, . at the mount crescent house, i found a guide in the person of mr. charles e. lowe, jr. the excursion took us about six hours. the trail was a rough bush path, cut by the appalachian mountain club, and which had not been cleaned out that year. it was a cloudy but hot day and this, combined with the badness of the road, made the walk fatiguing. [ ] i first heard of the ice gulch from mr. john ritchie, jr., of boston. some years ago in the middle of july, he found ice plentiful in the second chamber. he thought the gulch only a refrigerator. the gulch lies between crescent and black mountains. the altitude of the upper end of the gulch is something over eight hundred meters, that of the lower end about six hundred meters. it is some fifteen hundred meters long, and averages perhaps one hundred meters in width at the top, and only a few meters at the bottom. the depth may be about seventy-five meters and the sides are steep, in some places sheer. the bottom is a mass of broken, fallen rocks, with a good many trees growing among them. there are several steps, so to speak, in the gulch, which are called chambers, although the term seems rather meaningless. promenading through the bottom of the gulch was fraught with difficulty, because the rocks were placed in most unsuitable positions for human progression, and my hands were certainly as useful to me as my feet in preserving equilibrium. we found ice in one or two places, but not in any great quantity. in one spot it was overlaid by water. my guide said that there was less ice than the year before. a large piece which we broke off, and which furnished us with a cooling morsel of frozen fluid, was full of air bubbles. it was not prismatic ice, and was certainly unusual in formation. it crunched up under the teeth and, although it did not look like solidified snow, yet, judging from its position among the boulders, it was doubtless formed from the melting and refreezing of snow.[ ] my guide said he had heard that fresh ice began to form sometimes in september. the gulch is well protected against wind, and i detected no draughts among the rocks. except in the immediate vicinity of the ice, the temperature was not abnormally low. [ ] on the th of february, , four days after the greatest snow storm in philadelphia in many years, i noticed that the snow on my roof solidified slowly into a mass of ice which contained a good many air-bubbles. it strikingly resembled the ice of the ice gulch, only that it was more solid and did not have more than half as many air-bubbles. on returning to the mount crescent house, i had a talk with mr. charles e. lowe, sr., who told me that alpine plants, like those which grow on mount washington and mount adams, are found in the gulch; but that they do not exist on the neighboring black and crescent mountains. he said also that ice was present in more than one place in king's ravine, and that it was always there. freezing boulder talus at rumney. about three kilometers south of rumney, new hampshire, there is a hill called bald mountain, which, about three hundred meters west of the carriage road from rumney to plymouth, descends as a big cliff, with an exposure facing nearly southeast. at the base of this cliff, there is a talus[ ] which i visited on the th of august, , with the sheriff of rumney, mr. learned. he said he had found plenty of ice there on the th of august, , but he doubted whether there would be any left this year, on account of the hot weather. effectively a careful hunt failed to reveal any ice, although the talus was just the kind of place where it might have been expected, as the boulders were piled one over the other and in one or two places there were considerable hollows. the temperatures were normal, and there were no draughts. the talus is exposed to the sun, and only moderately sheltered against wind by a scrub forest. but there can be no doubt, that ice lingers there long after it has disappeared from every other spot in the neighborhood, and it seems as if our not finding any, is another proof that it is the heat of summer which melts it away. [ ] mr. john ritchie, jr., wrote me about this place, where he had found ice plentiful some years ago in august, within two or three meters from the outside: he considered it only a refrigerator. ice formations and windholes at watertown. at watertown, new york, on the south side of the black river, in the town itself, are some natural cracks or crevices in the limestone rocks. they are only a short distance from the new york central railroad station. the cracks enter the northern side of the railroad embankment, pass under the railroad tracks, and extend some distance back. in front of them are four cellars, used for storing beer kegs. the lessor, mr. ehrlicher, obligingly had the cellars opened for me, on the th of september, . there was neither ice nor draughts in the cellars, and the temperature was normal. mr. ehrlicher said that in the spring there was ice in the cracks, but that it had all melted away as the result of the hot summer. [illustration: the bluff at decorah. from a photograph by mr. a. f. kovarik. ] about four kilometers west of watertown, on the south bank of the black river, is the picnic ground of glen park, which is reached by trolley. the manager of the restaurant walked around the park with me. in one spot is a hollow or glen at the base of a small, much cracked limestone cliff, which has a northern exposure. the manager said that snow and ice usually lies in this place until june, not only among the broken rocks, but even in the open. sometimes ice remains among the boulders all summer, but only near the front of the boulders, and by pushing in, one soon gets beyond it: we found none, a fact showing once more the effect of the unusually warm summer. on hot days, draughts issue from between the boulders, but as the day was cool, we did not notice any. the spot is well sheltered against the wind by a number of trees; and the shape of the hollow reminded me of the glen in front of the eishöhle bei roth. not one hundred meters from this hollow, is a little limestone cave, closed by a wooden door, which excludes any cold air in winter. the cave is lighted by electric lights, and is a narrow, crooked, descending fissure, a _ganghöhle_, where the marks of water action are plainly visible. at the bottom a little stream, evidently the active agent in forming the cave, ran through the fissured limestone. in the stream a large toad or frog was swimming about. there was nothing icy about the cave or the water, and the temperature was normal. ice was never known to form in the cave. these two places, so close together, are an interesting confirmation that it is only where the outside cold can get in, that we find subterranean ice. the freezing cave and freezing wells of decorah. near decorah, iowa, is a freezing cavern, which is more frequently referred to in cave literature than is generally the case. i visited it on friday, september the th, , with an old english resident of decorah, mr. w. d. selby-hill. the cave is situated about one kilometer to the northward of decorah, on the north bank of the upper iowa river, at the base of a bluff. it is some thirty to forty meters above the stream, and faces southward. it looks like a fault or fissure in the rocks, with the sides meeting a few meters overhead. it is a true cave, but probably in an early stage of formation, for there are no apparent traces of water action, nor any stalagmites nor stalactites. the absence of the latter may, however, be due to the fact that it is a periodic glacière. the rock is a white limestone, rich in fossils. the cave is some two to three meters in width and is rather winding, with a short arm or pocket branching out on the west side. the main cave runs back some thirty meters from the entrance. in one place it is necessary to stoop, to get past some overhanging rock slabs. by candle light, we went to the rear of the cave, and found it warm, dry, and free from ice. there were no draughts, possibly because the day was cool. [illustration: entrance of the cave of decorah. from a photograph by mr. a. f. kovarik. ] i looked in vain for _tubular fissures_, or indeed any fissures, through which _water might freeze by pressure in its descent_, as the believers in the capillary theory say it does. nothing of the kind existed, and i wrote in my note-book: "writing on the very spot about which this theory was started, i feel justified in asserting that the theory amounts to absolutely nothing and is entirely incorrect." mr. hill told me that there were two wells in the southern portion of decorah township, where ice was found in summer. i visited them both, but found no ice, and the temperatures normal. mr. hill said that one of the wells was dug about thirty years ago, and that the workman told him that the ground which he went through was frozen; and that at one place he struck an opening, from which came so strong a current of icy air, that it was hard to keep at work. i talked to several persons afterwards. _inter alia_, they told me that the bluff was a great place for rattlesnakes, sometimes big ones. they admitted also generally that they were puzzled about the formation of ice in the cave. some claimed that the ice formed in summer--the old story once more. i met, however, mr. alois f. kovarik of the decorah institute, who had made a series of regular observations for over a year and found that the ice begins to form about the end of march and beginning of april, and is at its maximum towards the beginning of june. mr. kovarik also told me, that he had found ice in one of the wells in the beginning of august. this was an especially satisfactory trip to me, for it did away, once for all, with any possible belief that there was any basis of fact for the capillary theory. it also seems to me important to find that the ice of these freezing wells melts in summer. for it shows that their ice is due to the same causes as those which form the ice in the cave, and is another proof against the validity of the glacial period theory. freezing rock talus on spruce creek. on spruce creek, huntingdon county, pennsylvania, about four kilometers north of the pennsylvania railroad depot, is an ice bearing talus, known locally as the ice holes or ice caves. i visited this spot, on october the th, , with mr. benner, of spruce creek. we walked up the pretty valley along the old pittsburgh turnpike, at one place finding some papaw trees, whose fruit had a horrible sickening taste; then we crossed spruce creek by a footbridge and followed the other bank back for some five hundred meters, until we were nearly opposite the old colerain forge, which is located in a piece of land called by the curious name of africa. about half way from the bridge we smelt a strange odor, which my companion thought came from a copperhead or rattlesnake: we did not investigate. [illustration: locus glacialis--cave of decorah. from a photograph by mr. a. f. kovarik. ] the freezing talus is situated at the foot of tussey mountain: it is big, and is composed of small sandstone (?) rock débris. the talus is at least thirty meters high and one hundred and twenty meters long. as i stood at the bottom, i was reminded strongly of the talus at the dornburg. at the base were a number of small pits, evidently dug by man. from the interstices between the rocks, icy cold draughts issued in some places, and there was no doubt that there was plenty of ice beneath the stones. in one place we thought we could see ice, and i poked at the white substance with my stick, but i am not positive that it was ice. all over the talus, the temperature was strikingly colder than a few meters away, and in the pits we could see our breaths distinctly. although i am not much of a botanist, yet it seemed to me that the flora immediately near the talus was somewhat different in character from that of the surrounding country. mr. benner told me that he saw, three or four weeks before, plenty of ice in the pits; that they were made by farmers who formerly came to this spot to get ice; and that parties occasionally picnic here in the summer and make ice cream. he stated also that he saw, some years ago, a small cave or hole containing ice near mapleton, pennsylvania, but that it was destroyed by quarrying the rock away. freezing gorge near ellenville. on sunday, october the th, , with a young man from ellenville, i visited the well known ellenville gorge, in the shawangunk range, ulster county, new york. we left the hotel at eight-forty a. m. and reached the gorge, known locally as the ice cave, at ten-five a. m. it is about four kilometers northeast from ellenville. the path rises steadily uphill and is of the roughest description; it is covered with loose stones, and looks as if it might become the bed of a mountain brook in wet weather. i call this place a gorge, instead of a cave, because it is uncovered at the top, but probably originally it was covered. it is shaped like a pit cave minus a roof, and it reminded me of the friedrichsteiner eishöhle, and the glacières de saint-georges and du pré de saint-livres. it is entered by a long slope from the western end, the gorge turning northward further back. i estimated its width, at the bottom at some five to seven meters, at the top at some three to four meters; its length at some thirty meters and the deepest point we reached, at some twenty meters below the surface. these are guesses, however. in one place, a great rock slab overhangs the gorge. at nearly the lowest point of the rock floor, there is a hole which extends perpendicularly downwards some five or ten meters more; this opening is partly blocked up with fallen masses of rock which would make a further descent perilous. the north end of the gorge is also filled up with a mass of great broken rocks; in fact, the whole place is out of repair, as the rocks are cracked and creviced on both sides to a great extent. the rock is friable and seems to be all breaking up, or rather down, and i think there is some danger from falling stones, although i did not see any fall. there is a good deal of moss on the sides of the gorge, and on some ledges small evergreens are growing. the gorge is sheltered thoroughly from winds by its formation and position, and somewhat by the scrub forest surrounding it. there are several long, deep crevices a few meters further up the mountain side, and i think one of them is an extension of the main gorge. [illustration: gorge at ellenville. from a photograph by mr. davis. ] we found no ice. it generally lasts till about the beginning of september; and professor angelo heilprin, and miss julia l. lewis, of philadelphia, have found plenty of it in july and august. but the ice had evidently now been gone for some time, for the temperature at the bottom of the gorge was about ° c. at ten-thirty a. m. this was but little colder than the temperature v outside, which at ten-fifteen a. m. was ° c. on returning to ellenville, i learnt that there was another somewhat similar smaller gorge, some eight kilometers away, at a place called sam's point. this, however, is said to retain only snow, while in the ellenville gorge much ice is sometimes formed, and icicles a couple of meters long are said to hang on the sides of the cliffs. the proprietor of the hotel told me he had heard of a cave which contained ice not far from albany, at a place called carlisle, on the delaware and hudson railroad. freezing cave and windholes near farrandsville. i arrived at farrandsville, clinton county, pennsylvania, early on tuesday morning, october the th, , and found a boy, who worked in a brick mill, as guide to the caves.[ ] after emptying a small, flat bottomed boat of the water of which it was half full, we rowed across the susquehanna river; then we walked up the road, along the river bank, for a couple of hundred meters, and struck up the so-called path to the caves. although the whole of the mountain side was at the disposal of the road maker, no better plan seems to have suggested itself than to make the track go straight up. this saved making zigzags, yet the result is that the path is steep, and as it is rocky and slippery, it is hard travelling without bootnails or alpenstock. [ ] i learned of this cave from mr. eugene f. mccabe, of renovo, pennsylvania. mr. mccabe took out large pieces of ice from it in the month of august. on december d, , he found no ice inside the cave, but a hoar frost covered the rocks; the temperature outside was - . °; inside - . °: the day was clear and there was no breeze; several matches lighted in the cave were almost instantly blown out by a current of air coming from crevices in the rocks. mr. ira c. chatham, postmaster at farrandsville, wrote to me on the th of october, , as follows: "your paper on ice caves [journal of the franklin institute, march, ] at pp. and describes the farrandsville cave as near as is possible, as the ice forms in the spring from the snow melting and dropping through the rocks into the cave, and the rocks face directly north as stated." as we went up, i noticed, in one or two places, cold draughts issuing from crevices in the rocks. we soon came to a hollow under a rock, where there were a number of cracks and crevices: the boy spoke of it as the lower cave. it is some sixty meters above the susquehanna river and cold draughts flowed from the cracks, although we saw no ice. the cave was about twenty meters higher up. one could crawl into it for a couple of meters, and all round it the rocks are somewhat creviced; in fact, i think there are a good many cracks in the entire hill. there was no ice in sight in this hole, but a strong, cold draught poured from it. after an exposure of fifteen minutes the thermometer registered ° c.; while outside, in the shade, it stood at ° c. this decidedly sub-normal temperature proved unmistakably, in my opinion, the presence of ice a little further than we could see in. both holes face about north and are sheltered, by their position and by the sparse forest which covers the ridge, against all winds except those from the north. i talked to the postmaster and the railroad agent at farrandsville on my return, and they stated that there was no ice in the hole in winter, but that it formed about april and remained over until towards september, showing that the cave is a normal glacière on a small scale. glaciÈres near summit. in the search for coal, the mountains of the appalachian chain between the little town of summit, and the neighboring village of coaldale, carbon county, pennsylvania, were mined and tunneled in every direction. owing to the caving in of some of these mines, depressions formed in certain places along the ridge in the upper surface of the ground, and in two of these hollows natural refrigerators occur. these were brought to my notice by mr. c. j. nicholson of philadelphia, and i visited them on may the th, , in company with two coal miners of summit. starting from summit, we passed across some rough ground under which there was a mine on fire; and the miners showed me the tops of two pipes sticking out of the ground, from which issued a smoke or steam, too hot to hold the hand in more than a few seconds. going beyond through brushwood, for a couple of hundred meters, we came to the first glacière, which was also the nearest to summit. it faced almost due north and looked as if it was formerly the entrance to a mine. it was fairly big, and my companions assured me that, until within about a year, ice was always found in it. recently, however, part, of the rock roof fell in, blocking up the entrance with a mass of débris and making it unsafe to venture in. formerly parties of tourists constantly visited this place, after coming over the switchback, but this is no longer done and there has been some talk of cleaning away the broken rocks and making the glacière accessible. the men also said that occasionally people living in the neighborhood had dug out the ice for their own use. the other glacière was a short distance further, in the direction of coaldale. it is in a pit, which may have been the mouth of a disused shaft or only a depression resulting from a cave-in. a scrubby forest, which surrounds the hollow, acts as a windbrake. a rather steep slope leads down into the pit, and at the end passes under the wall of rock of the opposite side for a short distance, forming a small cave, which faces almost due south and whose floor is choked up with broken rock fragments. at the bottom of the slope we found some snow, and among the boulders a good deal of snow-ice as well as several long icicles hanging from the rocks. all the ice and snow lay on the north side of the rocks, or underneath them, so that it was in shady places where the sun could not reach it. the temperature was not at all uncomfortable, although somewhat cool and damp. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of pit near summit.] there was nothing in either glacière, to show that the ice was formed from any other cause than the drifting in, and melting and refreezing of the winter's snow; and my impression is that the ice in the second glacière could not last through the summer. the snow hole near williamstown. the snow hole near williamstown (massachusetts) is situated near the northern end of the petersburgh mountain of the taghconic range; it is slightly below the watershed on the williamstown side, at an altitude of about seven hundred meters. the snow hole is in the state of new york, near the boundary between new york and massachusetts. it is a long two hours' drive from williamstown, the last four kilometers or so, over an exceedingly steep and rough road, which is, in fact, nothing but an old logging road, and the worst i ever drove over except the road to démenyfálva. i visited the snow hole with my brother on friday, september the th, . it is surrounded by a dense forest, mainly of recent growth, which thoroughly shelters it from all winds. in shape and appearance it resembles the gorge at ellenville, except that it is smaller: its location on the ridge is not unlike that of the friedrichsteiner eishöhle. it is a narrow crack--or cave minus a roof--about fifteen meters long, six to seven meters deep and from two to five meters wide. it faces nearly north, and the bottom is in perpetual shadow. from the northern end, a gentle slope leads to the rear. the slope was a good deal blocked up by a big tree with large branches, which had fallen directly into the fissure. there was some moss or greenish mould on the rocks in places, and at the rear end of the slope there were some fissures in the rocks, into which one might perhaps have crawled a little farther, which formed a tiny cave. there was also a similar incipient cave at the northern end. i could not detect any draughts issuing from these rock fissures, and the air throughout was still, although the wind was blowing hard on the ridge. the rocks were moist in places and the air damp, but there was neither snow nor ice and the temperatures were normal. the driver told me that he had found plenty of snow in the base of the gorge some years ago in july; and he said that he had always heard that snow was found in the snow hole all the year round. all the conditions of the place, the shape of the fissure, and its sheltered northern exposition, are favorable to the retention of ice and snow, and it is not surprising that they remain over every spring. icy gulf near great barrington. the icy gulf or icy glen is some eight kilometers from great barrington, massachusetts. i have not been in it, but was told in october, , by the farmers living near by, that after snowy winters, ice remains over through july. it must be similar to the icy glen at stockbridge. the ice bed of wallingford. the ice bed of wallingford is situated about three kilometers to the east of wallingford, vermont. a drive of half an hour, over the mount holly and hearburrow roads, takes the visitor to the entrance of a rough wood path, which, at a distance of three or four hundred meters, leads to the ice bed. this is a huge talus, at the base of the white rock mountain, whose cliffs rise steeply overhead for some three or four hundred meters. the talus, which was doubtless formed by a great slide at some distant date, consists of granite boulders, some of which are big ones. the ice-bearing portion may be some thirty or forty meters high vertically. it lies in a sort of gully or rock basin, and at the top is about thirty meters broad, tapering to a point at the bottom. the talus faces southward, and during a good part of the day the sun shines full upon it. a thin forest fringes the sides and grows round the bottom, but this can afford but little protection from the winds, especially to those from the south. i visited this place on the th of october, . there was a distinct drop in temperature as we neared the base of the talus, and a cool air drew gently down over the rocks. i think slight draughts issued from some of the crevices; but of this i am not sure. the temperature was sub-normal, about °, but hardly low enough to prove the presence of ice, although we could see our breaths distinctly. we looked carefully under a number of the boulders, but neither ice nor snow was visible. i was assured that ice was abundant there in the past july and august, and i should think it had melted away only shortly before my visit. my impression is, that this is a periodic glacière. caves near williamstown. on the eastern slope of the petersburgh mountain of the taghconic range in massachusetts, at a good deal lower altitude than the williamstown snow hole and about southeast of it are some caverns, which are but little known. a five or six kilometer drive from williamstown takes the visitor to the base of the mountain, whence a rather steep ascent of about a kilometer and a half brings him to the caves, which are in the midst of a dense, scrub forest. the caves were first entered, and possibly discovered, by mr. w. f. williams, of williamstown, when a boy. since then, he has visited them many times and explored them a good deal. they do not appear to have any name as yet, and it would seem only fitting to christen them after their explorer: the williams caves. there are several unimportant holes in the immediate neighborhood of the two main caves. the latter lie side by side. the rock formation is the same as that of the snow hole, a dark gray slate with a few veins of quartz, and they are due also evidently to the same geological causes. it would seem as though the mountain had tended to open or crack at these spots and fallen apart. this seems probable, because wherever there is a projection on one side of the cracks, there is a corresponding hollow in the opposite side. after this, water action has come, and erosion and corrosion have worn out and carried away earthy matter, and slowly deepened and widened the fissures. the remarkable point in connection with the main caves, however, is that one is a normal cave and the other a periodic glacière. i went with mr. williams to these caves on the th of october, , and partially explored the glacière. on the way up, just as we left the carriage road, a fine, three-year-old buck, in his winter coat, came bounding out of the forest; on seeing us he stopped, and after taking a good look, quietly trotted off into the bushes. the glacière is rather peculiar in shape and may be described as two storied. a long slope, set at an angle of some forty degrees, and covered with mud and dead leaves, leads down into the crack, which is from one to three meters in width. the first half of the slope is open to the sky; the last half is covered by the rock roof, and is a real cave. in this the floor is horizontal, the place forming a little chamber in which the daylight has almost vanished. at the exact summit of the slope a big tree grew most conveniently; and we tied to this one end of a twenty-meter austrian alpine club rope, and by holding fast to it, and kneeling or sitting down in the mud in two or three places, the descent was easy enough. it was rather difficult to scramble up the slope again, however. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of freezing cave near williamstown.] in the floor of the little chamber there are two holes, and, stepping over these, we stood at the rear end, about eighteen meters distant from the beginning of the slope. my companion now set some birchbark on fire and dropped it into the innermost hole, and we laid down in turn, flat on the rock floor, and craned our necks through the hole. mr. williams thought he could see ice below us. i looked down after him and found that i was looking into a lower chamber whose sides were invisible. the floor was some three meters below vertically, and on this the birchbark was burning brightly. i think i saw some ice, but i could not be sure, as there was too much smoke to see distinctly. my companion offered to go down through the hole and get some ice; a proposition i promptly vetoed, as had anything gone wrong, i could not possibly have given him any assistance, as there was no extra rope. mr. williams told me that he went down several times before in july or august, and always found ice on the slanting floor. he said he did not know how far this lower chamber extended, nor the length of the ice floor. one thing which makes me hesitate to think that we saw ice was, that the temperature of the chamber where we were was not at all icy; but probably--i had forgotten my thermometer--nearly normal. when we stood once more by the tree at the top of the slope, the mouth of another cave was visible about two meters below us. mr. williams said it had never looked more than a little crack before, and that the opening was much bigger than at his last visit. it was directly under the slope by which we descended and it vanished into darkness. its direction led straight towards the lower chamber, and it almost surely leads to it. it seems thus that there are two hollows, one directly above the other; and that the lower one is a glacière, while the upper one is not. the cold air of winter would naturally sink into the lower chamber, and the spring thaws would furnish plenty of drip, so that this place seems to answer every requirement of a cave glacière. but the most interesting fact about these caves is that, while the shallower one is a glacière, the bigger and deeper one is not. this is situated about ten meters north of the glacière and the direction of the entrance is about the same. mr. williams has found snow and ice in may in the entrance pit as far as the daylight goes, but none beyond. i am inclined to think that the explanation of this is the fact that the cave is a _ganghöhle_ or tunnel cave. mr. williams described it as a narrow passage with chambers, and at least a hundred meters long, and fifty meters in depth below the surface. the cold air sinks in a certain distance, but as the passage is narrow and long, and too winding for any strong draughts, the cold air which enters is soon neutralized by the supply of warmer air within and by contact with the rocks. i cannot help thinking that it is by some such explanation that we must hope to solve the problem of why certain caves are glacières and others in the immediate neighborhood normal caves; and the caves near williamstown are exceptional in presenting the problem so patently. part ii. the causes of subterranean ice. the causes of subterranean ice. i. _terminology._--ice enduring the entire year is found, in temperate latitudes, in a variety of forms and in several different kinds of places. in some cases it is entirely above the surface of the earth; in others it is entirely beneath the surface of the earth. these are the extremes, and between them there are certain intermediate forms. the perennial ice above ground of temperate regions has gradually become known in english by the french word _glacier_, but strange to say, there is no term in use in english which accurately describes the perennial ice formations which are partially or completely underground. thus the term "ice cave" is applied to a rock cavern containing ice, and the term "ice gorge" to a rock gorge containing ice. both terms are misleading, because the character of the contents is mentioned before the nature of the geological formation. we say correctly enough "limestone cave" or "lava cave" and, in my opinion, we should apply the term "ice cave" in a similar manner to the hollows in the ice at the lower end of glaciers, whence the glacier waters make their exit. these are really "ice caves," that is caves with sides and roof made of ice. another trouble of the term "ice cave," as applied to rock formations containing ice, is that it is not generic: not only is it incorrect, but also it is not comprehensive. it does not apply to mines, tunnels, wells, gullies, boulder taluses, or underground ice sheets. if "ice cave" is used, except in its true sense of glacier ice cave, it seems at least as though it should be so only for real caves which retain ice, as opposed to taluses and wells. curiously enough, the germans are just as inaccurate as ourselves, for their terms _eishöhle_ and _eisloch_ are absolute translations of our "ice cave" and "ice hole." indeed, there is no doubt that some of the incorrect notions about subterranean ice formations, are due to the inaccuracy of the terminology. the only language, so far as i know, which has a correct and really generic term for subterranean ice formations, is the french in its word _glacière_. the french and swiss say _glacières naturelles_ of ice deposits formed naturally underground; and _glacières artificielles_ of ice houses. _glacière naturelle_ is comprehensive and accurate. it covers all the rock formations and suggests also the mode of formation of the ice. it likewise implies the strong resemblance between natural ice deposits and artificial ice houses. it might be well, therefore, if the french term _glacière_ were adopted as a generic term for all underground ice formations. as, however, there is little likelihood of this happening, the question arises as to the best english equivalent or equivalents. these seem to be "freezing cavern, freezing talus," etc., "natural refrigerator" or "subterranean ice formation." "natural refrigerator" and "subterranean ice formation" are more generic than "freezing cavern, freezing well," etc.; but the latter have the advantage of suggesting immediately that reference is made to the hollows of the earth which at times contain ice; and, therefore, they are the best terms, perhaps, which can be chosen in english. another point in the terminology of this subject has reference to subterranean hollows where draughts issue or enter. such hollows are found in all parts of the world and are known usually in english as "blowing caves" or "cold current caves." the germans speak of them as _windröhren_ or _windlöcher_. in my first paper about caves,[ ] i used the word "windhole" which i translated from the german. the term "windhole" seems to me preferable to "blowing cave" or "cold current cave" in that it is more generic. it applies to taluses or boulder heaps, or in fact, to any hollows where draughts issue or enter, whether these hollows are genuine caverns or not. [ ] _ice caves and the causes of subterranean ice_, november , and march . it is necessary also to explain here that "glacière" and "windhole" are not synonymous terms. it must be understood that a glacière or natural refrigerator is a place where ice forms and endures in a subterranean or semi-subterranean situation; and that _the presence of ice_ is the criterion of whether a place is or is not a glacière. likewise it must be understood that a windhole or blowing cave is an underground hollow with at least two openings, and in which distinct draughts occur; and that the _presence of draughts_ is necessary to constitute a place a windhole or blowing cave. a freezing cavern may or may not be a windhole, and a windhole may or may not be a freezing cavern. _temperatures._--the phenomena of glacières are so closely connected with temperatures that it seems necessary at this point to mention some general facts in connection with subterranean temperatures, even if these still form a subject of some uncertainty, and one about which further observation is desirable. subterranean temperatures may be grouped under three heads: , ordinary or normal temperatures; , temperatures above the normal or super-normal temperatures; , temperatures below the normal or sub-normal temperatures. . in the great majority of caves, cellars and subterranean places of all descriptions, the temperature of the air is about the same, all the year round, as that of the ground. the frost of winter and the heat of summer penetrate the earth for some trivial distance, a few meters perhaps, and lower or raise the temperature of the ground temporarily. below this there is a stratum where the temperature is found to vary but little the entire year and which, in a majority of cases, approximates the mean annual temperature of the district. below this invariable stratum, the temperature generally rises slowly, not at exactly the same rate everywhere, but in a regular increase. this increase of temperature averages ° c. for every meters. as most caves and cellars are of small depth and as they take their temperatures from that of the ground, it follows that as a rule their temperatures are moderate and pleasant. and as the air of the majority of caves and subterranean hollows is about the same as the temperature of the surrounding rock, it is correct to call subterranean air temperatures closely approximating the ordinary temperature of the ground, ordinary or normal temperatures. as already stated, with an increase of depth, there is, in almost all cases, a regular increase of temperature. for this reason, mines, which are much the deepest hollows reached by man in the surface of the earth, are, as a rule, warmer in the lower levels: if deep, they are also hot. and this is so generally the case that warmer temperatures at the bottom of mines may be considered as normal. . in a few hollows close to the surface, there are temperatures much above the normal temperature of the ground. such places are rare and abnormal.[ ] the heat is generally due to the presence of hot springs or to some volcanic action in the immediate neighborhood. in the case of one cave close to the surface, the heat is due to some limekilns which are situated immediately overhead.[ ] where these warm hollows are genuine caves it seems proper to call them "hot caves." [ ] kraus. _höhlenkunde_, page . [ ] grotte du jaur. _les abimes_, page . . in a number of places, there are abnormally low temperatures underground either for the whole or only for part of the year. although commoner than hot caves, yet the underground places with low temperatures are also rare and abnormal. they may be divided into two groups: , those where the temperatures are lower than the normal, without becoming low enough for ice to form; and , those where the temperature sinks so low, that ice forms. it is difficult to make definite divisions among the various forms of natural refrigerators, but it is correct, probably, to classify them under five heads, in accordance with the different kinds of formations of the hollows in the rocks: . gullies, gorges, and troughs where ice and snow remain. . soil or rocks overlaying ice sheets. . taluses and boulder heaps retaining ice. . wells, mines and tunnels in which ice sometimes forms. . caves with abnormally low temperatures, and often containing ice. . _gorges and troughs._--gullies, gorges and basins which retain snow and ice are fairly numerous in mountain districts. they are generally ravines, or rock fissures, or hollows, in positions below the snow line where snow and ice are sufficiently protected, from sun and wind, to remain long after snow in the surrounding open country, at the same altitude, has melted away. some of these gorges are small, some big. as a rule, they are deep and narrow. in north-eastern siberia, a form of permanent surface ice is found, which the tungusses speak of as _tarinnen_, which means "ice troughs" or "ice valleys."[ ] these _tarinnen_ are broad valleys, with either a horizontal floor or one sloping gently in the form of a trough, over which the ice is spread in the form of a sheet. the tungusses assert that the ice in some of these troughs never wholly melts away, although it lessens in quantity from the beginning of may till the end of august, after which it once more increases. [ ] _bulletin de la classe physico-mathématique de l'académie impériale des sciences de st. pétersbourg._ . vol. xi, pages - . _subterranean ice sheets._--in several places in different parts of the world there are underground ice sheets which extend over large spaces; they are common under the tundras of alaska; and there are fine examples on kotzebue sound,[ ] on the kowak river,[ ] and along the yukon river.[ ] the "ice spring" in oregon seems to be a formation of the same kind. several examples of these subterranean ice sheets are reported also from different parts of the russian empire. [ ] see part iii: page . [ ] see part iii: page . [ ] see part iii: page . a somewhat different kind of ice sheet was observed on mount etna. sir charles lyell[ ] speaks of it as a "glacier preserved by a covering of lava." he says signor mario gemmellaro satisfied himself that nothing but a flowing of lava over snow could account for the position of the glacier. ice sheets somewhat similar to these are reported from tierra del fuego,[ ] and probably also such sheets occur in iceland; and enormous heaps of ice covered with sand are found on mount chimborazo.[ ] on the northwestern coast of greenland, glaciers, whose flow has stopped, were observed buried under an accumulation of moss and grass.[ ] [ ] _principles of geology_, th edition, chap. xxvi. [ ] see part iii: page . [ ] see part iii: page . [ ] see part iii: page . _taluses and boulder heaps._--taluses and broken debris, and in general boulder heaps of all sorts, have interstices and openings between the boulders, and in these it occasionally happens that ice is found. this is most common among the taluses at the base of cliffs, but in some cases ice is found among broken rocks on the sides of gently sloping hills, or even on the plateaus of their summits. sometimes the ice and snow on the bottom of rock gorges all melts away, while further down, in the hollows of the boulders forming the floor, ice still remains. the rocks of which these ice bearing taluses are formed are generally gneiss, granite, limestone, sandstone, basalt or porphyry. among such boulder taluses the phenomenon designated as _windröhren_ or _ventarolen_, that is, windholes, is frequently found. sometimes the air among such boulder formations is quiet, but as a general thing draughts pour out at the lower openings during the hot months, and blow into them during the cold ones. _freezing wells, mines and tunnels._--subterranean ice is also found in certain places in connection with man's handiwork. in a few wells in the united states, the temperature in winter becomes abnormally low, and for four or five months these wells freeze up and become useless. a case of a freezing well was recently observed near la ferté milon in central france.[ ] ice is reported also as forming in various mines in europe, asia and america; in fact, it is not an uncommon occurrence. occasionally, also, ice forms in tunnels. [ ] see part i.: pages , , . part iii.: page . _cold caves._--caves with abnormally low temperatures may be divided into two classes. first, caves where the temperatures are lower than the normal, without becoming low enough for ice to form; and second, caves where the temperatures sink so low, that ice forms. caves where the temperatures sink below the normal, but in which ice does not form either in winter or in summer, are found in several places in different parts of the world. they are termed in french _cavernes froides_ and in german _kalte höhlen_. there are but few data from reliable observers about such cold caves. some descriptions are given without thermometric measurements, and the statements that the caves are cold, mean nothing beyond the fact that they feel colder than the outside air. it is, however, conclusively proved that cold caves exist, and that while they are not freezing caverns, yet that they have a temperature lower than the mean annual temperature of their district. in fact, the assumption, which had passed into an axiom, that caves always have the same temperatures as the mean annual temperature of the district, must certainly be given up. cold caves are generally in one of two shapes: , in the shape of a sand glass,--two cones above each other meeting at the narrowest point--where the upper cone lets the heavy cold air descend easily, while the lower bell shaped cone prevents its escape; and , where two sink holes open into one pit, which is in the shape of a bell.[ ] [ ] _les abimes_, page . _glacière caves or freezing caves._--caves where the temperatures sink so low that ice is able to form, are found in many different rock formations and in various positions, shapes and sizes. the rock formation of freezing caverns is generally limestone, but sometimes it is marble, lava, basalt, gneiss or granite. in all cases, however, the rock is either porous or else it is broken and fissured, as otherwise the water supply necessary to the formation of ice could not find its way in. glacière caverns may, for the sake of convenience, be classified into several classes, according to their position or to their form. the lines of transition between them, however, are so indefinite in nature, that it is often difficult to specify a cavern as belonging to any special type. the most important factor in classifying glacière caves is their position. under this head there are two main divisions: first, pit caves; second, cliff caves. pit caves are those where a pit or pits open into the ground, and the ice is found at the bottom. sometimes there is no roof, when the place may be called a gorge: this occurs at ellenville, where the roof has fallen. again, the pit itself is more or less roofed over and the ice is found mainly or wholly under the roof: this is the case at haut d'aviernoz, at the friedrichsteinerhöhle, at saint-livres, and at saint-georges. sometimes the pit takes the form of a descending tunnel, leading into a hall or chamber, in which the ice lies under a rock roof: this happens at chaux-les-passavant. in all these pit caves the body of the cave is below the entrance, and most of them are fairly well lighted by daylight throughout. generally there is only one pit, but occasionally there are two connected underground, as is the case at la genollière. cliff caves are those where the entrance is at the base or in the side of a cliff. frequently the cave is in the shape of a hall or chamber, which begins directly at the entrance, and which may be large or small. this kind always has a down slope directly from the mouth. the kolowratshöhle, dóbsina and the grand cave de montarquis may be mentioned as examples. in some cases there is a pit at the base of a cliff and there is a slope leading down to the cave, somewhat in the form of a tunnel: this is the case at manchester and practically also at roth. again there is a more or less long gallery between the entrance and the glacière, which is always below the level of the entrance. the schafloch, démenyfálva and decorah may be cited as examples. as a rule the gallery slopes down from the entrance, but sometimes the floor rises and then sinks to the glacière. the top of the entrance, however, is always higher than the highest point of the floor, as otherwise the cold air could not get in. this is the case at the frauenmauerhöhle, and, apparently, also at the posselthöhle. in one case, at amarnath in kashmere, the floor is said to rise to the roof at the back; but as the entrance is nearly as big as the floor area, the ice formations must also be below the level of the top of the entrance. the dimensions of glacière caves vary greatly. some are large, others are small. saint georges, a roofed pit cave, is some twenty-five meters by twelve meters, with a depth of about twelve meters. chaux-les-passavant, a cave at the end of a pit tunnel, has a diameter of some twenty-seven meters. the measures of dóbsina, a cave at the bottom of a cliff, are given as follows: height of roof above ice floor, to meters; length meters; breadth, to meters, and surface about meters. the frauenmauerhöhle is a gallery about one hundred meters long before the ice floor is reached, and this is some fifty meters more in length by about seven meters in width. the glacière cave near frain, on the contrary, is so small that one can only crawl in some two or three meters. in fact, glacière caves vary in size between great halls and little tunnels where one cannot stand up straight. the entrances of glacière caves also vary greatly in their dimensions. for instance, the friedrichsteinerhöhle is on one side of a huge pit and is as large and deep as the pit. saint georges, on the contrary, has, near one end of the roof, a couple of holes, some three meters in diameter. the entrance to the schafloch is four meters wide by four meters seventy centimeters high, while the entrance to roth is not over one meter each way. a classification of subterranean ice formations, and one which applies to all the different forms, is into permanent and periodic glacières. when in any underground spot, ice remains throughout the year, the place may be called a permanent glacière; when on the contrary the ice melts away for part of the year, the place may be called a periodic glacière. this classification, which several observers have used already, is convenient and valuable. _movements of air._--another classification of glacières can be made in accordance with the movements of air underground. glacières may be divided into those where there are no strong draughts in summer and those where there are draughts: or into "apparently static caves"; and "dynamic caves" or "windholes." the first class includes those caves where there is one or more openings close together and those above the body of the cave. in such hollows the air in summer is nearly still, while in winter there are distinct rotary movements of the air as soon as the temperature outside is lower than that within. almost all glacière caves belong to this class of caves without strong draughts in summer. sometimes, however, ice is found in hollows where there are two or more openings, at different altitudes and at different ends of the hollow, and where there are draughts. occasionally, also, there are fissures in the sides or rear of apparently static caves, which allow something like draughts at times, as is the case at the grand cave de montarquis. professor thury of geneva coined the terms "static cave" and "dynamic cave" which have come largely into use since, and which practically correspond to the german terms _eishöhle_ and _windröhre_. i do not think the term "static cave" accurate, and prefer the term "apparently static cave" or "cave without distinct draughts." for although there are many caves where the air seems stagnant at times, and there are no distinct perceptible draughts, still that the air is really stagnant all summer appears to me doubtful, and it seems as if the movements of air were distinctly apparent only in certain caves and not in others. air which is apparently stagnant is found in both pit and cliff caves mainly in the summer months, but even in these i have noticed several times in summer slight movements of air, especially near the entrance. i could not exactly feel the air moving, but by lighting a cigar the smoke could be seen borne outwards exceedingly slowly. at the entrance of the kolowratshöhle i think there was a faint outward current when i was there. the day was hot and windless, and as the cold air met the hot outside air it formed a faint cloud or mist at the mouth of the cavern. at saint-georges, although the air seemed tranquil, i found that the smoke of my cigar ascended rapidly just below the hole in the roof, showing an ascending air current. in the double cave of chapuis, i found one cavern filled by a little lake over which there was a draught.[ ] [ ] see part iv.: butler, page . from the few winter observations we have, there can be no doubt that in winter the movements of the atmosphere are lively, the break in the air column occurring as soon as the outside temperature is lower than that within, when the outer air immediately begins to sink into the cave.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: chaux-les-passavant, page ; saint-georges, page . if i have doubts as to the existence of absolutely static caves, it is different about dynamic caves. when a subterranean hollow goes through rocks, with one opening higher than the other, there will surely be distinct draughts. these dynamic caves exist in many parts of the world under such names as cold current caves or blowing caves or windholes. sometimes they are fissures in broken limestone. often they are the cracks between piles of boulders. a cool air generally pours from the lower opening in summer while the cold air pours into it in winter, the draught being then reversed. at the upper opening the operation takes place in the opposite way, the hot air being sucked in in summer, and given out in winter. sometimes, however, changes take place, according to the differences in the outside temperature, in the direction of the air current in the course of a single day. the causes of the movements of air in these windholes are exceedingly simple. the movements of air depend on the fact that in summer the air in the tube becomes colder from contact with the rocks and, therefore, heavier than the air outside, and by gravity the heavy inside air displaces the lighter outside air and comes rushing out at the lower opening. this leaves a vacuum, which is filled by the warmer air dropping into the tube from above. in winter on the contrary, the air within the tube is warmed by contact with the rocks and becomes lighter than the air outside. it, therefore, rises and streams out from the upper opening, and the vacuum is filled by the heavy cold air pushing in at the lower opening. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of a windhole.] g. f. parrot's[ ] explanation is so satisfactory that i give it with one or two changes. he considers the air movements an ordinary statical phenomenon of the air, in caves which have two openings at different altitudes. let e g d represent the section of such a cave with the openings a and b. let us think that there are over c and b two vertical air columns and from b to c a horizontal air column b c; then the two air columns over b and c are at all times of the year equal in weight. not so the air columns a c and a e g d b, because their temperatures are different. assume the temperature in the cave g is + ° the whole year round. if in summer the air column a c is at a temperature of + °, then the heavy air in the cave g pours out through a and is replaced by air flowing in through b. if in winter the air column a c is at a temperature of - °, then the air pours with equal inverse velocity at a into the cave, and out at b. the velocity of the current in both cases depends on the difference of temperature within and without. [ ] _grundriss der physik der erde und geologie_, , pages - . the foregoing explanation makes it evident that the movements of air in these windholes do not depend on the presence of ice. in many of those i have examined myself there was no ice visible, and from the temperature of the air current, there could not have been any ice within the mountain. still, there are numerous cases where ice is found in windholes among boulders, and a few cases where windholes exist in connection with apparently static glacière caves. undoubtedly the great majority of windholes do not contain ice in summer, or, indeed, at any time of the year, and, as far as i can see, windholes, according to their temperatures, belong rather to the class of normal caves than to that of glacières. _forms of ice._--almost all the forms assumed by underground ice are different from those assumed by overground ice. this is not surprising, as the conditions, under which the ice is formed, are so different. almost all the lines of underground ice are rounded. the sharp angles and fractures visible on glacier or iceberg are absent. instead of seracs and crevasses, broken ice falls, or piled up ice floes, we have hanging stalactites and rising stalagmites, smooth ice floors and curved ice slopes. this difference is of course due to the fact that most subterranean ice is formed from the drip from the roof or the sides of caves, and because the factor of motion--which plays so large a part in the shaping by fracture of overground ice--is practically wanting. the most striking forms of subterranean ice are the ice stalactites and stalagmites. they descend from the roof as icicles or rise from it as rough cones or pyramids. the icicles are of all sorts of shapes and sizes: sometimes they are tiny; sometimes they grow downward till they reach the floor and form regular columns, in some cases no less than eleven meters in height. the ice stalagmites likewise are of all sorts of shapes and sizes, some of them growing to a height of seven or eight meters. occasionally they have hollow bases, but this is rare. how these hollow cones are formed is a still uncertain matter; but it is in some way by the action of the drip. at the kolowratshöhle i saw the drip from the roof cutting out in july the basin, whose tall remaining sides suggested that early in the spring it was probably a hollow cone. the cone at the schafloch of which i saw one half remaining, could only be accounted for by some action from the drip.[ ] the warmth of the rock floor may help perhaps also, in melting away some of the base of the hollow columns. [ ] see part iv.: thury, page ; browne, page . the frozen waterfalls which issue from fissures in the rock walls of caves are another form of ice seen only below ground. for lack of a better name, i call them fissure columns. a peculiarity of these is that, while the rock fissure is more or less rectangular or at least sharp angled, the ice column issues in a rounded stream. sometimes these fissure columns stream over the rock; sometimes they spring out far enough from the rock to be quite away from it. they vary from about one to five meters in height, and at the base they almost always spread out in a shape resembling that of a fan. the ice on the bottom of caverns of course takes its shape from the form and angles of the floor of the caves. if the bottom is level or nearly so, the ice lies on it as a sheet or floor. if the bottom of the cave is sloping, the ice follows the angles of the slope, forming an ice slope or ice wall, and sometimes becoming nearly or quite vertical. these ice slopes distantly resemble the portions of glaciers called an ice fall, with the great difference, however, that there are no crevasses, not even tiny ones. occasionally, slabs of ice are found reposing in a fractured sheet over a solid ice floor. this means that a lake has formed on this spot in the spring, frozen over, and then run off, leaving its frozen surface in broken pieces on top of the under ice. another kind of frozen water is the hoar frost which forms on the rock roofs and walls. this is not at all rare. it is an open question whether this is not the same thing as that which has been described as subterranean snow.[ ] i found myself in dóbsina a small sheet of what to look and touch was snow. i wrote of this as snow in my first paper about glacières[ ], but i am of the opinion now that it was the hoar frost detached from the roof and not genuine snow. [ ] see part iii.: ziegenloch, page ; creux de souci, page . [ ] _ice caves and the causes of subterranean ice_, november, , and march, . at dóbsina, also, i noticed that the ice of the ice wall of the korridor assumed a stratified or laminated form. mr. john f. lewis of philadelphia suggested to me that this was probably due to a precipitation of the hoar frost from the roof, and i think his explanation is correct. the hoar frost forming at a certain degree of cold, would doubtless be precipitated at a rise of temperature, and would then act much as do the different layers of snow in the upper portion of glaciers.[ ] it would consolidate gradually, layer over layer, and form strata, producing the banded or laminated structure visible in the vertical ice of the dóbsina korridor. [ ] whymper: _scrambles amongst the alps_, , page . the ice in caverns is sometimes found with a structure which is, i believe, of rare occurrence above ground. this is when it takes the shape known as prismatic ice, which means that if a lump is broken from a column or icicle, the fracture will show regular prisms. this phenomenon is not as yet satisfactorily accounted for; the only thing certain about it is, that it does not occur in ice of recent formation. from my own observations, i should say that ice became prismatic at the end of summer; at least i have always found it in august or september rather than in june or july.[ ] [ ] see part iv.: browne, page ; lohmann, page . besides building up ice heaps, the drip, also, has the function of destroying its own creations. if there are no crevasses, there are holes and runnels. these are generally found at or leading to the lowest point of the ice floor. occasionally the holes are deep, sometimes many meters in depth. they are certainly cut out by the melting water, to which they offer an exit; in fact they are a part of the drainage system present in all glacière caves, where there must be some outlet for surplus water at or near the lowest point: and as the caves are always in porous or broken rock, the drainage takes place through the cracks and fissures. the drip produces also the exact opposite of pyramids in the shape of ice basins. these are cut in the floor by an extra strong drip from the roof at those spots. basins exactly like these are not seen on glaciers. not infrequently they are full of water of considerable depth. lakes and pools are found in glacière caves. sometimes they are on the ice floor, and in this case they are due either to rain-water collecting faster than it can flow off, or else because the cave is in a state of thaw. sometimes these pools are among the rocks in one part of a cave, while the ice is in another part. i have said above that motion in subterranean ice is practically wanting. this is proved by the lack of crevasses on the ice slopes or ice walls, and also by the fact that basins and cones appear year after year in the same spots, where they remain whether they are increasing or diminishing. but this statement cannot be held to cover the entrance snow and ice slopes of some of the open pit caves such as the gottscheer cave, or saint-livres or haut d'aviernoz. here the snow, which falls on the entrance slope, must gradually gravitate to the bottom. the question is whether it only descends in the shape of water after melting or as snow before solidifying; or whether it ever slides down at all after becoming somewhat solidified. probably, however, the ice of these slopes, judging from the fact that crevasses are entirely lacking, remains stationary. _color effects._--the color effect of every glacière cavern has a certain individuality, according to the color of the rocks, the quantity of ice, and the amount of daylight admitted through the entrance. in my opinion, the white note given by the ice, makes a fine glacière cave the most beautiful of all subterranean hollows. in this respect it seems to me that they are similar to high alps, which are certainly most impressive with coverings of snow and glacier. there are, however, two distinct notes in the color effects of glacière caves and these may be described as the partly subterranean, or as the wholly subterranean. in the former case the local tints stand out more clearly. for instance, at the kolowratshöhle the ice is beautifully transparent and of a pale ochre-greenish hue: the limestone rocks are streaked with iron, and thus have a reddish hue, while, owing to the entrance admitting plenty of daylight, the effect is only semi-subterranean. again, at chaux-les-passavant plenty of daylight is admitted: the rocks are a yellowish brown, and the ice is white and blue. at the schafloch or the frauenmauer, on the contrary, the effect is wholly subterranean: daylight is so completely absent that black is the predominating note, the ice itself looking gray. dóbsina is an exception, as, thanks to the electric light, white is the conspicuous tone, even though rocks and shadows dull many places and corners into a sombre gray. more than once, on returning to daylight from the intense blackness of a cave, i have seen the rocks near the entrance appear a dark blue color, exactly simulating moonlight. this effect is common to both glacière caves and ordinary caverns. it is a striking but rare phenomenon, and depends apparently on the shape of the cave. this moonlight effect only seems to occur when a cave makes an elbow directly after the mouth and then goes straight for some distance. when the daylight is actually in sight, the moonlight impression vanishes. _carbonic acid gas._--carbonic acid gas, judging from the most recent explorations, is more of a rarity in rock caves with normal temperatures than is generally supposed. there appears to be only one case on record where this gas was observed in a cold cave. this was in the creux-de-souci,[ ] which is rather a cold than a freezing cavern, but which on one occasion was found to contain snow, and whose temperature is always extremely low. from the present state of knowledge, therefore, it may be assumed that if carbonic acid gas does form in glacière caves, it does so only seldom. [ ] see part iii.: page . _fauna._--no attention whatever has been paid, practically as yet, as to whether any distinctive animal life exists in glacières. so far, i have seen none myself. the rev. g. f. browne, in four instances, found a large red-brown fly nearly an inch long, which is supposed to be _stenophylax hieroglyphicus_ of stephens; and at chapuis, he obtained an ichneumon of the genus _paniscus_. at font d'urle, monsieur villard captured a blind specimen of a coleoptera, _cytodromus dapsoïdes_. a variety of rotifer, _notholca longispina_, is now living in the creux-de-souci. in skerisora, remains of bats have been found, not very different from those now living in the neighborhood.[ ] it is, in any case, certainly remarkable that the same kind of fly should have been discovered in several glacières in different localities; and it may some day be shown that there is a special insect fauna. certainly the subject is worth investigating.[ ] [ ] see part i.: ausable pond, page , and part iii.: creux-de-souci, page ; font d'urle, page ; chapuis, page ; la genollière, page ; skerisora, page . [ ] in june, , i mentioned these facts to monsieur armand viré, director of the biologic laboratory in the catacombs of the jardin des plantes in paris. he was much interested, and promised to make a careful investigation of the matter. _flora._--the flora of glacières has been as little observed as the fauna. there are scarcely any references to such a thing as glacière plant life in literature. whether there is a special flora in any glacière cave is still an open question. in the cases of several boulder taluses, there is no doubt that, even if there is not a special flora, at least that the plants near the ice beds are greatly retarded every year in their development. probably the flora among the boulders blooms a month or six weeks later than the flora in the immediate vicinity. in the cases of the cave of paradana and of the kuntschner eishöhle it is reported that the plant life becomes more and more arctic in character towards the bottom of the pit.[ ] [ ] see part i.: ausable pond, page ; giant of the valley, page , note ; ice gulch, page ; spruce creek, page . see part iii: spruce creek, page ; paradana, page ; kuntschner eishöhle, page . _paleontology._--no paleontological remains have as yet been reported from glacière caves. no bones of animals have been found, except those of bats in skerisora[ ] and a few of the common genus _bos_.[ ] no relics of the handiwork of man have been discovered; nor, indeed, with the exception of the skeletons found in the cave of yeermallik in kondooz,[ ] anything which reveals the presence of man in glacières or that they were ever used for habitation. the reason that there are so few remains in glacière caves is undoubtedly because their temperatures are too low for their occupation by animal or man; but, from the evidence afforded by their non-occupation, may be drawn the valuable inference that the glacière caves of to-day were glacière caves long ago. [ ] see part iii.: skerisora, page . [ ] see part i.: saint-livres, page . [ ] see part iii.: yeermallik, page . _legends and religion._--there are scarcely any legends connected with glacières. i know only of one about one of the caves of the mont parmelan.[ ] nor does there seem to be any reference to glacière caves in works of fiction. dante makes his last hell full of an ice lake, but an attentive perusal fails to reveal a single line which in any way describes or suggests a glacière. in at least two cases,[ ] however, the ice in caves is connected with religion, as in kashmere, the hindoos, and in arizona, the zuni indians, either worship or pray at glacière caves, overawed, from some mystical feeling, by the permanence of the ice formations which they connect with their deities. [ ] see part iii.: glacière de l'enfer, page . [ ] see part iii.: amarnath, page ; cave, white mountains, arizona, page . ii. the cause of the formation of subterranean ice is undoubtedly one of the most intricate problems in connection with caverns. various theories have been advanced why ice is found in certain caves and not in others. some writers have held that it is a remnant of a glacial period; others that it is owing to the presence of salts in the rocks; some have said that it is due to the rocks retarding waves of heat and cold; and still others think that it is formed by pressure on the percolating waters. many of these theories were formulated in explanation of the belief of peasants living near the caves, who almost always say that the ice is formed in summer and melts in winter. most scientific observers on the other hand claim that the ice is due to the cold of winter, and a few think that it is formed or helped by draughts and by evaporation and expansion of the air. the variety of opinions put forth, show at any rate the intricacy of the problem. all my own observations have tended more and more to make me believe that the cold of winter is the cause of the ice. before elaborating my own views, however, i wish to take up seriatim the theories which have been formulated, principally in explanation of the belief that the ice was a summer product, and to give my reasons for my disbelief in them. _glacial period._--the first theory, perhaps, to touch on, is the one that the ice is a remnant of a glacial period. this seems to occur to many persons as a solution of the question when they first hear of glacières, and it has been several times propounded to me, and naturally enough, always by scientific men.[ ] still i do not think it has ever been held by anyone who had made a study of glacières. [ ] see part iv.: hitchcock, page ; bonney, page ; dawkins, page . the theory is, indeed, untenable in regard to freezing caves, as it does not accord with the observed facts of the yearly disappearance of the ice in many caves and taluses. at szilize every year the ice has disappeared pretty completely by november, and the cave is free; but in april or may the floor is again covered with ice, and columns and icicles have formed on the roof and sides. at la genollière the cave is used by the people of the neighboring châlets, through the spring and early summer, to help in the operation of butter making; by the middle or the end of august it has entirely disappeared, but is found formed afresh the following spring. at the rumney talus, at the cave of decorah, at the gorge of ellenville, and at the williamstown snow hole, i found no snow or ice.[ ] yet it is abundant in all these localities in the spring. too many examples of the complete melting away of the ice every year can be cited, to permit any doubt: glacière caves are not connected with a glacial period. [ ] see part i.: rumney, page ; decorah, page ; ellenville, page ; williamstown, page . though it may be stated positively that the ice in caves is not a remnant of a glacial period, yet this cannot be done so authoritatively about subsoil ice sheets and freezing wells. at brandon, owego and decorah the gravel was found frozen at the time the wells were dug, and it is of course impossible to determine for how long a time this was the case previous to the digging. the proofs, however, are so strong that the ice re-forms every winter at such freezing wells, that they may be considered as in every respect following the same general laws as glacière caves. that the ice in these wells is not the remains of a glacial period, seems proved moreover by the work of the boston natural history society, which sank two wells at brandon near to the freezing well. one of these was only twenty-one meters distant and went through the same gravel drift. yet it did not strike ice.[ ] a somewhat similar state of things appears to be the case with the centennial lode and other lodes on mount mcclellan,[ ] where the causes also seem to be local, as there is no ice in mines on neighboring mountains. [ ] see part iv.: hager, page ; hitchcock, page . [ ] see part iii.: rifts of ice, etc., page . _the summer's heat theory._--the natives and peasants in the neighborhood of glacière caves generally believe that the ice of caves is formed in summer and melts in winter. i have met with this belief everywhere in europe; in the eifel, jura, swiss alps, tyrolese alps, and carpathians: and also occasionally in the united states. peasants and guides tell you with absolute confidence: "the hotter the summer the more ice there is." the strange thing is that any number of writers[ ]--sometimes scientific men--have accepted the ideas and statements of the peasants about the formation of ice in summer, and have tried to account for it. [ ] among them may be mentioned: boisot, ; valvasor, ; behrens, ; billerez, ; bel, ; rosenmüller and tillesius, ; sartori, ; pictet, ; scrope, ; murchison, . the belief of the peasants is founded on the fact that they scarcely ever go to any cave except when some tourist takes them with him, and, therefore, they rarely see one in winter, and their faith is not based on observation. it is, however, founded on an appearance of truth: and that is on the fact that the temperatures of glacière caves, like that of other caves or that of cellars, are colder in summer than the outside air, and warmer in winter than the outside air. possessing neither reasoning powers nor thermometers, the peasants simply go a step further and say that glacière caves are cold in summer and hot in winter. professor thury tells a story to the point. he visited the grand cave de montarquis in mid-winter. all the peasants told him there would be no use going, as there would be no ice in the cave. he tried to find even one peasant who had been to the cave in winter, but could not. he then visited it himself and found it full of hard ice. on his return he told the peasants of his discovery. they were staggered at first, finally one exclaimed: "it makes no difference; in genuine glacières there is no ice in winter." it will be difficult, probably, to eradicate this belief and the consequent theories among the uneducated people in the vicinity of glacière caves, for their imperfect observations will keep it alive. in refutation, it may be said that the winter's cold theory is the direct opposite of the summer's heat theory, and that all the observations and all the facts which prove the one, disprove the other. within two or three years, however, the formation of small quantities of ice has been observed during the summer months in one or two caves. this has taken place in mountain caves situated at a high altitude at times when the air outside has dropped below freezing point during the night. there is, therefore, nothing inconsistent in this fact with the winter's cold theory: indeed it is only a widening of it in the meaning of the word winter.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: beilsteinhöhle, page . part iv.: professor cranmer, page . _chemical causes._--non-scientific persons, on first hearing of glacière caves, almost always suggest that to form the ice there must be salts in the rocks. probably they connect unconsciously in their minds "ice caves" and "ice cream." chemical causes, however, have never appealed to scientific men.[ ] there are only two places i know of where salt is reported. one is the ice spring in oregon, which is said to be slightly saline in taste; the other is the cave of illetzkaya-zatschita, where the gypsum hillock, in which the ice is found, overlies a bed of rock salt. repeated experiments in letting lumps of glacière ice melt in my mouth have convinced me personally that in all cases the water is exceedingly pure and sweet, a fact mentioned in the very first notice extant about glacières, the letter of benigne poissenot in , who speaks of the deliciousness of the water in chaux-les-passavant. to sum this matter up briefly, it can be safely asserted that all causes, which would fall under the head of "chemical causes," must be entirely eliminated as possible cold producers. [ ] see part iv.: billerez, page ; hacquet, page . _waves of heat and cold._--while sir roderick murchison was studying the geology of russia,[ ] he visited illetzkaya-zatschita and was puzzled to account for the ice formations. he thought, at first, that they were due to the presence of salt, but recognizing that this was not correct he submitted the case to sir john herschel, who, rejecting the evaporation or condensation of vapor as the cause, argued that the ice was due to waves of heat and cold, and that at certain depths in the interior, the cold wave arrived in mid-summer and the heat in mid-winter. murchison declined to assent to this doctrine, asking why one cave should present this exceptional occurrence, when the numerous other rents and openings in the same hillock were free from ice. the impossibility of the heat and cold wave theory was so completely shown by murchison's objection, that it has never again been brought forward. [ ] _the geology of russia and the ural mountains_, vol. i., pages - . _capillary or compressed air theory._--the possibility of compressed air causing subterranean ice to form seems to have been first authoritatively formulated by mr. n. m. lowe, of boston.[ ] his theory in brief is this:--bubbles of air drawn into water flowing down through fissures in rocks are liable to a continually increasing pressure. when the air has reached the bottom and is liberated in the cave, it will be from a pressure equal to the height of the column of water, and it will have lost by connection in the mass through which the conduit passes, the heat due to its compression; and on being liberated, it will immediately absorb from the air and the water in the cave, the heat which it has lost in its downward passage. [ ] _science observer._ boston, , vol. ii., page . see part iv.: silliman, page ; olmstead, page . several scientific observers have rallied to this idea.[ ] one of the hungarian residents at dóbsina, a doctor, whose opportunities for observations are unrivalled, told me--if i understood him correctly--that he believed in the capillary theory. [ ] see b. schwalbe, _ueber eishöhlen und eislöcher_, page . there are many facts, however, which militate against the compressed air theory as applied to caves. almost all caves receive some drip through fissures, and yet there are many thousands of caves which never contain ice, and whose temperature scarcely varies the year round. especially against the theory is the fact that glacière caves are never known in hot countries. if the theory were correct we should, for instance, sometimes find ice in such caves as those of yucatan described by mr. mercer.[ ] [ ] _the hill caves of yucatan._ there are also some mechanical difficulties in the way. mr. john ritchie[ ] touches them when he says: "if the passage through which the water flows down is at all tubular the column will be subjected to the usual hydrostatic pressure." the word _tubular_ is the hard one to answer. limestone rock fissures are certainly not tubular. they have all sorts of shapes and angles and corners, every one of which would interfere with anything like a regular pressure. [ ] _boston transcript_, january d, . this latter objection would not apply to borings in mines. i have been assured that in some borings in western mines ice has been formed by pressure, and there may be truth in this, although i doubt it, as i have yet to hear of ice in any mines in warm latitudes. mr. john ritchie[ ] has suggested, also, that if compressed air does not perhaps act strongly enough to form ice, yet it may help in keeping the temperature low and aid in the formation of draughts in caves and boulder heaps. at present, however, i can see no reason to think that the ice in caves is due to compressed air.[ ] [ ] _the happy thought._ boston, january d, . [ ] see part i.: page . iii. i have already said that i believe that the cold of winter is the cause of the ice in caves. to make this clearer, i may say that i look on glacières as the last outcrop, the outside edge, so to speak, of the area of low temperatures, which has its culminating point in the northern hemisphere in the arctic ocean, greenland and siberia, and in the southern hemisphere in the antarctic; and which is manifested to us in the snows of mountain peaks, and immediately round us in frozen ponds and rivers and snowy blizzards; and which, as it disappears each summer, leaves its last traces in our latitudes in sequestered gorges and convenient caverns. in every case, it seems to me, glacières are simply refrigerators, which preserve the ice and snow accumulated in them during the winter. they all follow the same general laws as to the origin of their contents, modified only in slight degree according to the varying natural local conditions, such as the water supply, or the protection from sun and wind, or the thickness of the overhead rock, or the altitude or latitude. i cannot see that there is anything remarkable about the fact that the cold of winter is able to penetrate and make itself felt sometimes for a slight depth in the earth's crust; a depth, so far as yet known, never exceeding one hundred and fifty meters. it seems to me that glacières only emphasize a law of nature, which has doubtless been formulated many times in connection with springs and phreatic waters, and that is, that where we find cold waters underground, we may be sure that they have penetrated from the outside. if we look first at the mode of formation of overground perennial ice, that is, of the ice of glaciers and of rock gorges; and then at the evidences of the mode of formation of underground perennial ice, in boulder heaps, wells and caves; we will soon see that the transitions between them are gentle in character and that there is nothing unnatural about the formation of the ice in glacières. _glaciers._--everyone now knows the main characteristics of glaciers. they are formed in parts of the earth where the land or the mountains reach to the region of perpetual snow. the snows fall from the sky, and accumulate into a snow cap, which by its own weight and by melting and regelation, gradually changes to ice. this, by the laws of gravitation, descends to lower levels, and in mountain valleys extends sometimes far below the snow line into the region of cultivated fields. these valley prolongations of the perpetual snow caps are the glaciers. the important point to notice here, is that the formation of glaciers is originally entirely due to the precipitation of moisture by cold in the upper portions; while the destruction of glaciers is due to the action of heat melting the ice in the lower portions, where they disappear in the shape of streams of running water. it is, therefore, not surprising that the greatest glaciers are found in the arctic and antarctic regions and in the highest mountain ranges; and that in the tropics glaciers are either wanting or exceedingly small. _gorges and troughs._--gorges and gullies, where ice remains over, are a transitional form between glaciers and glacières. in many mountain ravines or canyons, the enduring snow consists principally of the avalanches which have fallen from the heights above during the winter and solidified in the bottom of the ravines. freezing gorges proper, however, are not dependent on avalanches for their supply, but they receive the accretions to their ice directly from the winter snows. these fall into the gorge itself and by melting and regelation gradually solidify into a mass of ice which, when well sheltered against sun and wind, remains over sometimes till the following winter. by their mode of formation, therefore, it is evident that the ice in these gorges has some of the characteristics of glaciers; that it is due to the same prime causes as the ice of glaciers or the ice on ponds and rivers, namely the cold of winter; and in fact, it is not far wrong to consider these gorges as miniature glaciers. freezing gorges, however, show, also, certain degrees of kinship to freezing caverns and taluses, principally in the protection afforded to the ice against external destructive influences. the ice is almost always found in positions where it receives little, if any, of the direct rays of the sun and, also, where it is scarcely, if at all, exposed to any winds. the sides of the fissures and surrounding trees generally afford the necessary protection. some of the forms which the ice assumes in gorges, such as long pendent icicles, are also more characteristic of underground than of overground ice. the freezing troughs or basins found in siberia are evidently closely related to gorges, and the fact that the ice is found in less sheltered places may be explained by the high northerly latitudes of these troughs, in general between fifty-seven and sixty degrees. _the winter's cold theory._--the places where ice is found underground differ in one important respect from gullies and troughs, and that is, in the fact that above the ice there is rock or soil, which, in true caves, takes the form of a roof. this causes some important distinctions between overground and underground perennial ice. it means that the ice is formed directly in the caves, and that it is genuine subterranean ice, and not, except perhaps near the entrance, solidified snow. the roof, while not admitting the winter snows, is, however, a protection against warm summer rains, and, of course, entirely cuts off radiation from the sky. if, therefore, it keeps out some cold, it also acts as a protector against heat. that the cold of winter is the source of the cold which produces the ice which forms underground, and that it is through its influence, with the assistance of certain secondary causes, that some caves are converted into what are practically natural ice houses, seems to me the true explanation of the phenomenon of subterranean ice, not only since it is the simple and obvious explanation, but also because all the facts, so far as i have myself observed, are in accord with this theory.[ ] [ ] among those who have written or said that the cold of winter plays a more or less important part in the formation of subterranean ice may be mentioned: poissenot, ; gollut, ; deboz, ; nagel, ; cossigny, ; jars, ; hacquet, ; girod-chantrans, ; hablizl, ; prévost, ; townson, ; humboldt, ; dearborn, ; deluc, ; dewey, ; lee, ; reich, ; hayden, ; guyot, ; rogers, ; petruzzi, ; smyth, ; hager, ; thury, ; browne, ; raymond, ; krenner, ; ritchie, ; benedict, ; schwalbe, ; fugger, ; trouillet, ; girardot, ; russell, ; martel, ; krauss, ; lohmann, ; balch, ; cvijic, ; butler, ; kovarik, ; cranmer, . to form subterranean ice, just as to form any other ice, two things are necessary: the first is cold, the second is water. cold is supplied by the cold air of winter, and water must in some manner find its way into the cave while the cold air is there. the process is as follows: the cold air of winter sinks into and permeates the cave, and in course of time freezes up all the water which, in the shape of melting snow or cold winter rain or spring water, finds its way in; and once ice is formed it remains long after ice in the surrounding open country has melted away, because heat penetrates with difficulty into the cave. the only effect of the heat of summer is to melt the ice. the proofs, to my mind, of the truth of this view are: --glacières are always found in parts of the world where, during part of the year at least, the temperatures of the surrounding country fall below freezing point. --all observations by reliable observers show that the temperatures of glacière caves vary, but in a much narrower thermometric scale, with those of the outside air: that the temperatures are lowest, and as a rule below freezing point, during the winter months; and that the temperatures are highest, and as a rule above freezing point, during the summer months. --ice is never found far from the mouth of caves, but always near enough for the cold air to get in. --evaporation, according to my observations, is, as in all other forms of ice in nature, connected mainly with the melting, not the freezing of the ice. _geographical distribution and altitudes._--glacière caves proper are found in various parts of europe, asia, and america, mostly in the smaller mountain ranges or in the outliers of the snowy mountain chains; generally in limestone and occasionally in basaltic formations. there are a good many in the jura; a few in the swiss and the italian alps; a number in the eastern alps of tyrol and carinthia. there are some in hungary, several in russia, one in iceland, one on the peak of teneriffe, a number in siberia, one in kondooz in central asia, one in the himálaya, one in japan, and one in korea. i have heard so far of over fifty glacières in north america, several of which are in pennsylvania. from all over the world there are some three hundred places reported where subterranean ice is said to occur. this includes gorges, boulder heaps and freezing mines and wells, all of which exist in much the same localities as glacière caves. all the glacières which i know of, are situated in a latitude or at an altitude where ice and snow forms for part of the year in the surrounding open country. none are reported from india or africa, or in fact from any low-lying places in tropical latitudes. most of them are found in middle latitudes, and only where during part of the year, at least, there is a cold season, that is, where for some time the thermometer stands below freezing point. glacières are, in general, at fairly high altitudes. the schafloch is at meters; skerisora in transylvania at meters; dóbsina at meters; the glacière de saint-georges at meters. it is true that there is one freezing cavern in the sub-tropical latitude of teneriffe, la cueva de la nieve; but it is at an altitude of meters, and where snow falls every year in the open on the peak. unless some freezing cave is hereafter discovered in a region where there is no ice in the open in winter, i do not see how the imperative necessity of the cold air of winter for forming the supply of ice can be controverted. _thermometric observations._--that the cold air of winter is the important factor in the production of cold is proved, also, by the thermometric observations recorded in various caves by different observers. they all tell the same tale: that the temperatures vary with those of the outside air, that they are lowest in winter and highest in summer. i quote in the "list of glacières"[ ] a few of those published; but there are many more, and they all show the same general characteristics. [ ] see part iii.: decorah, page ; chaux-les-passavant, pages - ; la poujade, page ; montarquis, page ; saint-georges, page ; schafloch, page ; kolowratshöhle, page ; schellenberger eisgrotte, page ; frain, page ; dóbsina, page ; etc. a comparison of all the figures recorded proves that, as a rule--inside of glacière caves--from about the first of november to the first of july, there are winter temperatures, that is temperatures below freezing point; and from about the first of july to the first of november, there are summer temperatures, that is temperatures above freezing point. the observations prove also that the inner temperatures vary less than the outer, that is that they range within narrower limits. they also show that the inner air is but slowly affected by the outer air when the latter is above freezing point, the inner temperature rising then only gradually. per contra, when the outside temperature drops quickly much below freezing point, the inside temperature generally drops correspondingly at once, proving that the cold air has sunk by its weight into the cave. the observations also prove that the old idea that the temperature of caves is the same throughout, can no longer be considered correct. the observations also appear to show, that the temperature of a cave does not necessarily represent the mean annual temperature of a surrounding district. observation is still entirely lacking on the mean annual temperature of glacières, so that one cannot speak definitely about the matter; but it seems likely that the mean annual temperature of a glacière cave is lower than the isotherm of its locality; and it seems more than probable that on the same isotherm different glacière caves may have different mean annual temperatures, varying with the elements of size, quantity of ice, position of body of cave and of entrance, water supply and other factors. _ice near the entrance of caves and the surface of the soil._--an important proof that it is the cold air of winter which forms the ice is the fact that the latter is always found near the entrance of caves or near the surface of the soil. it never extends far within. to the best of my knowledge, ice has never been found two hundred meters from the entrance nor at any depth beyond one hundred and fifty meters. in all caves of great extent, the temperature far in is about the same as that of the surrounding rock, and in all deep borings the temperature increases with the depth and at great depths the temperature becomes high. this nearness of subterranean ice to the outside air is one of the best proofs, that, paradoxical as the whole phenomenon appears at first, yet in reality it is an extremely simple matter. the position of the entrance of a cave in relation to the body of the cave is an important factor in permitting the cold air to permeate and remain in the cave. in all the caves or gullies i have examined myself, the main mass of ice is well below the level of the entrance, and even if the latter is sheltered against the wind, it is not sheltered against the cold air of winter. this is heavy, and by its own weight sinks well down to the bottom, freezing up in course of time all the moisture that may drip from the roof, or that may come into the cave in the shape of melted snow or cold winter rain. the summer air, which is warm and, therefore, light, can only enter the cave with great difficulty; and, as a rule, before it dislodges the winter air and destroys the ice, another winter's freeze reverses once more the conditions. these principles seem to hold of every known glacière. it is true, that at the frauenmauer, the floor of the cavern rises somewhat from the entrance; but the highest point of the floor is still below the level of the top of the entrance, so that the cold air can flow over the highest point without difficulty. the same appears to be the case at the posselthöhle; while at amarnath in kashmere, where the floor is said to rise to the back wall, the entrance is about as large as the area of the floor, so that the ice must also be below the level of the top of the entrance. the position or situation of the entrance is important. in almost all cases it has a northerly exposure, and is sheltered against entering winds. if these two conditions do not exist the ice supply surely suffers. sometimes the entrance is more or less tortuous. in some cases it is protected by a fringe of trees. still, there is no absolute rule about entrances. the friedrichsteinerhöhle faces about due south, and at midday in summer, the sun shines all the way down to the ice floor, causing mists to form. in the kolowratshöhle, the entrance is badly sheltered against the wind and this undoubtedly affects the supply in summer and causes more rapid melting there than in some other cases.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: decorah, page . freezing boulder taluses invariably have the ice near the surface, and probably it is never a dozen meters distant from the open air. these taluses are one of the strongest links in the chain of evidence proving the winter's cold theory. the snow and ice on the surface of the taluses and on the surface of the boulders in gullies melts away, while it still lingers underneath the boulders. it seems self-evident that the melting snow water has run to the lowest level and there congealed, and then remained because it was better sheltered than the ice outside. the subsoil ice of the tundras of siberia and alaska is almost identical with the ice of boulder formations, except that it extends under larger areas. it is the product of a climate where there is a long, rigorous winter and it is not surprising that the ice is found at greater depths than in more southerly latitudes.[ ] the depth to which the ice extends is, of course, determined by the depth to which the winter's cold can penetrate the soil. there is no doubt that the causes of this ice are local, that is, that it is due to the long prevailing low temperatures. [ ] see part iii.: alaska, page ; klondike, page ; kowak river, page ; kotzebue sound, page . the freezing wells of which the most conspicuous examples are at brandon, owego, decorah, and in montana, seem also due to local causes and the ice is never far from the surface, that is, not over twenty meters; and apparently also it forms above the water horizons which supply the wells. the ice sheet on mount etna[ ] does not seem to be at any great depth. it apparently had a different origin from most subterranean ice masses, in that the snow probably fell first and was then covered by a flow of lava. it is, therefore, almost _sui generis_ in its mode of formation, unless there are similar sheets on other volcanoes, which is probable in a country like iceland, and which is said to be the case in tierra del fuego,[ ] but the original cause of the ice sheet on etna was the same as all other subterranean ice masses, namely the cold of winter. [ ] see part iii., page . [ ] see part iii., page . _evaporation and movements of air._--the formation of subterranean ice is sometimes assigned partly to evaporation or to expansion of the air. the theory is an old one, and both scientific and non-scientific men have advanced it.[ ] [ ] among those who have written that evaporation is a factor in the formation of subterranean ice, may be mentioned: pictet, ; scrope, ; reich, ; pleischl, ; murchison, ; olmstead, ; hitchcock, ; white, ; kirchhoff, ; krauss, . i have already said that i believe it is the movements of the air which cause a cave to be a glacière cave or a normal cave. when they act in such a way as to permit the cold air of winter to permeate a cave, we find low temperatures and ice; when they do not, we find the temperature about the same as that of the ground and no ice. that the ice is not formed in apparently static caves, by movements of air producing evaporation, seems to me proved by what i have noticed in regard to the atmosphere. the dryness or moistness of the air within a glacière cave is coincident with the state of freezing or thawing of the cave. when i have visited a large cave in june, everything was frozen tight, there were no drips nor mushy ice, the air was relatively dry and the sensation of cold not unpleasant. when i have visited a cave in august, the ice was soft and mushy, water was dripping from the roof, the atmosphere was moist, and the cold penetrating. it seems to me that the facts go to show that it is not evaporation which forms the ice, but the melting of the ice which fills the cave with moisture. if there are any draughts or movements of the atmosphere when above freezing point, then their tendency is to vaporize the ice. the process of the formation of ice in relation to the atmosphere is as follows: the cold air permeates the cave and freezes up all the drip: the atmosphere becomes dry: gradually warmer air gets in and the ice begins to melt: then the atmosphere gets charged slowly with the vapor of the melting ice. this process is the exact opposite of the formation of ice by evaporation; it is the atmosphere which is made humid by the vaporizing of the ice, and by the drip. when the air is thoroughly saturated with the vapor, being scarcely renewed from outside and but a few degrees above freezing point, it undoubtedly retards evaporation, acts like a blanket and lessens the rate of melting of the ice.[ ] [ ] see part iv.: thury, page ; fugger, page ; trouillet, page . everything i have personally observed in freezing windholes shows that in them also the cold of winter and not evaporation is the cause of the ice. they answer to the same tests as other glacières, of geographical distribution and altitude, nearness of ice to the outside, thermometric observations, and dampness of the air when the ice melts. equally with other glacières, the movements of air in windholes do not depend on the presence of ice, but the ice does depend on the movements of air and a water supply at the proper time. a proof that it is the cold of winter which makes the ice in windholes, is that the ice is always found at the lower extremity, for the reason that it is at that end that the cold air enters and to that end that the water gravitates. the reason that ice is more rarely found in windholes than in apparently static caves, is due to the movements of air. unlike the caves where the heavy cold air preserves the ice by remaining pent up, as soon as the outside temperature rises the heavy cold air in windholes tumbles out at the lower opening and is replaced gradually by air at a higher temperature. this also flows out and when it is above freezing point, it naturally melts the ice and becomes humid: in fact, it vaporizes the ice as it passes, and dissipates the moisture into the outer air. it is, however, certain, that in caves with a temperature some degrees above freezing point, when there is either running water or strong drips, evaporation may be, and sometimes undoubtedly is, a factor in lowering the temperature somewhat.[ ] as in some windholes there is occasionally moisture on the rock surfaces where the air current passes, the evaporation from these surfaces doubtless lowers the temperature of the draughts, and it may be, also those of the rock surfaces, a little. [ ] see part iv.: de saussure, page . see also _les abimes_, , page . further observations, however, will be necessary in regard to evaporation underground, as the data are still insufficient to make absolutely positive statements.[ ] i fail to see any evidence to show that evaporation ever lowers the temperature of draughts underground below freezing point, only that it may help to lower them to something less than they would otherwise be. taking all the facts which i have myself observed, and all i have read of in the reports of others, my own conclusion is that we have no proof that evaporation underground is ever strong enough to produce ice. [ ] several observers consider evaporation as more or less of a factor in the production of cold underground. it is suggested also, that in certain cases, at high altitudes, evaporation tends to prevent the melting of the ice in windholes, but this is not proved, as yet. see part iv.: de saussure, page ; fugger, page ; trouillet, page ; martel, page ; lohmann, page . _time of formation of ice._--everything i have seen points to the fact that ice begins to form in a cave as soon as the temperature of the cave has sunk below freezing point, whenever, from any cause, water gets into the cave. the cold may begin to penetrate caves as soon as outside frosts have occurred, that is in the fall months, about november; and as soon as the temperature inside sinks below freezing point, ice will begin to form, provided also that water gets into the cave, from rains or springs or any other source. in the mid-winter months, although there is then plenty of cold, the water supply is generally lacking, as the outside moisture is mostly frozen up and the result is that the winter months are not those when the ice is mainly formed. some is undoubtedly formed in certain caves whenever during the course of the winter a surface thaw outside furnishes water to the cave,[ ] but in other cases this is not so and the ice does not appear before the spring. in all cases it is in the spring, before the cave has parted with its store of cold, and when both the air and the rock walls are chilled below freezing point[ ] that the ice forms fastest. then plenty of water is furnished by the melting of the snows and the unlocking of the brooks, and also by early spring rains. all this surface water runs through the fissures into the still freezing cave and there becomes ice. not only the air, but also the rock walls are chilled below freezing point, and as the rocks part slowly with the cold stored in them, this cold helps to freeze the water pouring in. [ ] see part iii.: chaux-les-passavant, page ; saint-georges, page . [ ] see part iv.: townson, page ; thury, page ; trouillet, page ; schwalbe, page ; terlanday, page ; kovarik, page . the natural law in relation to time seems to be this: ice may be formed in caves as soon as the outside temperature sinks below freezing point. in some caves it forms intermittently all through the cold months because there is a water supply. in other caves it only forms in the spring, because there is no water supply in the winter months. in all cases, however, the end of winter is the time when most of the ice is formed. part iii. list of glaciÈres. list of glaciÈres.[ ] [ ] this list is necessarily incomplete, and only approximately accurate in many cases. north america. buried or fossil glaciers, north greenland. (w. e. meehan, _philadelphia ledger_, .)--on robertson's bay is the plateau of the verhoef glacier, which is about meters long and meters wide, and stands back only a few meters from the edge of the sea. this plateau, both top and sides, is a mass of flourishing vegetation, chiefly grass, which reaches above a man's knee. from among this verdure buttercups, poppies, cinquefoils and dandelions thrust their golden heads in wild profusion. similar buried glaciers are found in many places along the fiords of north greenland. mr. meehan gives a simple explanation in connection with the verhoef glacier. he says that this glacier formerly extended out into the sea, and that while it moved forward, the clump moss, which struggles for existence in greenland gorges, could do little more than hold its own. in course of time, from some unknown cause, the glacier receded to the point where it now discharges, the part in the water floating away in the shape of icebergs, and the part on the shore remaining stationary. this was the opportunity for the clump mosses. caring nothing for the cold they crept slowly over the quiet mass of ice and made their way first in thin net-like layers, later in thick masses, till they reached the rocky shore. year after year the mosses grew, the young plants trampling underfoot the older; until the latter, rotting, turned into a rich mould. the seeds of grasses and flowers found their way to this, blown by the wind or carried on the feet of birds. the plateau now is a garden of green, gold and white. how long this will last it is impossible to say, as any time nature may unloose its hold, and the frozen river once more pour down into the bay. subsoil ice in alaska. (i. c. russell, _a journey up the yukon river_, page , and _second expedition to mount saint elias_, page .)--professor russell found ice covered by rocks and vegetation in several places in alaska, especially along the southern edge of the malaspina glacier and on the yukon river. he gives the following interesting account in of these ice sheets: "throughout the length of the yukon, one is frequently reminded of the high latitude drained by the great river, by seeing strata of ice in the recently cut banks, beneath the dense layer of moss and roots forming the surface on which the forests grow. one may frequently find ice even on a hot summer's day, by scraping away the moss at his feet. in some instances the frozen layer has been penetrated to the depth of twenty-five feet, but its full depth has never been ascertained. in the banks of some of the streams to the north of the lower yukon, strata of ice over a hundred feet thick have been observed, and the indications are that its total depth is considerably greater than the portion exposed. this subsoil ice is stagnant and without the characteristics of glaciers." subsoil ice in the klondike region. (_philadelphia ledger_, december th, .)--the klondike mining country is covered with snow most of the year. the ground is frozen for ten or twelve meters in depth, down to bed rock. in some places the ground, which is protected by a thick moss, is not thawed out by the sun in summer. the miner cuts off the moss with a shovel, and then builds a fire, which thaws out the ground for five or ten centimeters. he digs this out, rebuilds a fire, and then continues this process. ice cliffs on the kowak river, alaska. (lieutenant j. c. cantwell, _national geographic magazine_, october, .)--on the shores of the kowak river are a series of ice cliffs of from about meters to meters in height. on top of these ice cliffs is a layer of black silt-like soil some meters in thickness, and from this springs a luxuriant growth of mosses, grass and arctic shrubbery. the melted ice shows a residuum of fine dust, which while fresh emits a pungent odor. subterranean ice sheet on kotzebue sound. (otto von kotzebue, _entdeckungsreise in die südsee_, etc. weimar, . vol. iv., page .)--dr. eschholz discovered near kotzebue sound, in , a mass of ice more than meters thick, and entirely covered with a layer at least centimeters thick of clay, sand, and earth, on which heavy, long grass was growing. in the ice and in the soil overlaying it, were many remains of extinct animals. on the side towards the ocean the ice was entirely bare, exposed to sun and air, and much of it was melting away in streamlets. freezing lava caves, washington. (r. w. raymond, _overland monthly_, d november, , page . th. kirchhoff, _reisebilder und skizzen aus america_, , vol. ii., page . _philadelphia ledger_, september th, .)--these caves are distant about four hours from the foot of mount adams, and about kilometers from the mouth of the white salmon river, where it falls into the columbia river. the caves are in basalt, and they are connected at both ends with the open air. only a few of them contain any ice, which in the largest cave is about meters below the entrance, from which one descends by a ladder. the cave opens on one side and is some meters in depth, meters or meters in width and meters or meters in height. this part contains the most ice. the other side gradually narrows from the entrance, is longer, and reaches out through fallen rocks and rubbish to daylight. in the lower portion, there are a few ice stalactites and stalagmites: one a superb, transparent hillock, which rises nearly to the roof, is called the iceberg. a strong draught flows into the cave in summer through the open arm. the following paragraphs from the _philadelphia ledger_ probably refer to the same locality:-- "ice for the cutting, and that in august and early in september, is a novelty not often found in regions as far south as the columbia river basin; but the novelty is enjoyed every year by people who visit the ice caves under the shadow of mount adams, about miles northeast of portland. it is a very extensive region. frank mcfarland, who has just returned from a six weeks' vacation camping trip there, gives an interesting account of its general make up. "at the ice caves, which are six miles from trout lake, the stalactites are more beautiful and wonderful this year than ever before, and this was mr. mcfarland's fifteenth trip there. he broke off and took to camp chunks of ice weighing pounds. pleasure parties who come to the lake use considerable of the ice for packing their trout to take home. all you have to do is to take a torch of pitch pine or a lantern, and go into the big caves and pack off all the ice you want. it is a sure crop, and never fails." ice spring in the rocky mountains, oregon. (g. gibbs, _american journal of science and arts_, , second series, vol. xv., page .)--the ice spring is about kilometers from the south pass to the right of the sweetwater river. it is situated in a low marshy swale, where the ground is filled with springs; and about centimeters below the turf is a sheet of horizontal ice, some centimeters to centimeters thick, lasting throughout the year. the ice is clear and is disposed in hexagonal prisms; it has a slightly saline taste, the ground above it being impregnated with salt and the water near by tasting of sulphur. freezing lava caves in modoc county, california. (_dispatch_, frankford, pennsylvania, d january, , reprinted from another paper.)--the lava beds, where the modoc indians made their last stand against the united states troops, are described as an immense field of lava covered with a beautiful forest of conifers. numerous caves of varying shapes and dimensions are scattered throughout these lava beds. some are mere covert ways, with an arch of stone thrown over them; others are immense chambers some meters from the surface; another kind sinks deeply and may be in a series of chambers united by a corridor that opens at the surface; while another kind seems to go directly to the centre of the earth without stopping. some of these caves contain ice and from them the modocs drew their water supply while besieged by the troops. judging from what is reported of the caves the quantity of ice in them must be large. the thermometer in winter in the region is said to go as low as - ° c. freezing lava beds near medicine lake, siskiyou county, northern california. (m. s. baker, _sierra club bulletin_, . vol. ii., page .)--"one other feature of the lava region must be mentioned--the ice caves. there are several of these known, and very likely many more remain undiscovered. those located along the edge of the lava, near the cinder cone, i have known to contain ice and water as late as august. the largest i have seen is on the mayfield road, about twenty miles east of bartles. it is situated in the barren lava, and in one of the warmest localities of the region,--and there are few cool spots in the lava anywhere. one enters the cave by crawling down a hole none too large. the instant the interior is reached the temperature falls in a surprising way. not more than ten feet below the surface of the hot rocks is a bed of ice, covered by a foot or so of ice water. the body of ice was perhaps twelve or fifteen feet long, by five feet across in the widest places. this cave is formed by a fissure that extends a distance of twenty miles from the ice cave to pittville, and nearly coincides with the foot level, as shown in the map. along the southeastern half of this earth fissure the southwest wall has faulted, leaving a cliff, which, in places, must be nearly feet high." freezing shafts, montana.--mr. robert butler, of san josé, cal., has given me much information about glacières in montana. he visited one miners' shaft which is situated about kilometers up the rosebud river from rosebud station on the northern pacific r. r., and about kilometers northeast of the cheyenne indian agency. it is on the north slope of the little wolf mountains, near the summit, at the head of greenleaf creek. the canyon and surrounding slopes are covered with a dense growth of pine. the rock has the appearance of scoriæ caused by the burning of immense beds of coal in recent geological times. the rock is broken into comparatively small pieces. the altitude is some meters. the forest, the volcanic ash and the altitude, besides the loose rock formation, makes this place a natural ice house. ten or twelve years ago three prospectors, looking for silver, sunk a shaft here. at a depth of about meters it began to grow cold, and at meters they found ice and imagined they could feel an upward draught. being ignorant and superstitious, they became frightened and abandoned the shaft. during the winter, the snow fills the shaft half full of ice, which then remains over through the summer. there is a general report and belief among those who have visited the well, that it freezes in summer and thaws in winter. there are thousands of mining shafts in montana, and if they are on the north slope of a mountain of considerable altitude and under a dense forest and not too deep, they generally have ice at the bottom during the summer. it is also said to be nothing new for a miner in following crevices to find them filled with ice, especially if near the surface on the north slope of a mountain. freezing cave, fergus county, montana.--mr. robert butler, of san josé, cal., visited this place, which is about kilometers southeast of lewistown. it is on the north side of a butte. masses of ice and great icicles form in some parts of the cave in such quantities during the latter part of winter that the cave furnishes ice for cooling the drinking water for several dozen families. during july and august the people come from some distance around to get the ice. the people in the neighborhood believe that the ice forms in summer and thaws away in winter. they also speak of the ever upward draught of cold air coming possibly from some great hidden cavern in the lower recesses of the mountain. freezing well at horse plains, montana. (levi allen, _scientific american_. new series, th october, .)--the well is described as . meters deep. it is dug through solid gravel, and in sinking it there was encountered, at a depth of . meters, a current of air strong enough to blow out a candle. it began to freeze in september, , and in november it was frozen solid. freezing silver mine, bighorn county, wyoming.--this place is in the sunlight basin of the shoshone mountains. mr. william worrell wagner, of philadelphia, informs me that he visited it in august, . it is a silver mine or tunnel, running straight into the mountain for about meters, at an altitude of about meters. the peaks of the teton range were in sight from the mouth of the tunnel. for the first half of the way in, a good many icicles were hanging from the rocks. the last half of the tunnel was thickly coated with ice and looked like a cold storage plant. snow disappears on the rocks outside about june, and begins to fall again in september, so that mr. wagner's visit was at about the hottest time of the year. mr. wagner presented the meat of a bull wapiti he had shot to the miners, and they stored it in the mine as if it had been an artificial refrigerator. rifts of ice, mount mcclellan, colorado. (edward l. berthoud, _american journal of science and arts_. third series, , vol. xi., page .)--near the summit of mount mcclellan, is the centennial lode, which runs into the mountain, at an altitude of about meters. intercalated in the mineral vein are three or four well defined veins of solid ice parallel with the bedding of the rock and filling all its inner side-cracks and fissures. the same frozen substratum is found in two other lodes near by on the same mountain. nothing of the kind is known on other colorado mountains. the soil is loose and largely made up of rocky débris, which shows that the ice is probably due to local causes. freezing tunnel on the hagerman pass, colorado. (_philadelphia press_, october th, .)--the hagerman pass railroad line is said to have been abandoned after the completion of the busk-ivanhoe tunnel, but to have been rebuilt. the hagerman tunnel for a distance of over meters was filled with solid ice, and it required blasting with dynamite, and a month's continuous labor, day and night, to dig the ice out. freezing cavern in cow mountain, colorado. (_post dispatch_, st. louis, mo., july th, , and september th, . _mail order monthly_, st. paul, minn., october, .)--the cave was discovered by parties doing assessment work on a group of claims. a man was picking in a three meter hole when he struck his pick into an opening, which was gradually enlarged and showed a deep pit underneath. the men got a rope and descended into an immense cavern full of ice. later exploration led to a small hall, some meters in diameter, full of icicles. from here a fissure led into a second rock chamber larger than the first. a small hole in the floor at an angle of some ° gave access to a third and larger hall, about meters by meters. great masses of ice were found in this, also a small lake, about meters by meters. "some who have visited the wonderful discovery are of the opinion that it is a great cave or fissure in a glacier which for centuries has been slowly making its way down from pike's peak and whose waters are now feeding the arkansas river." windhole, arizona. (_christian herald_, march th, .)--mr. cofman, while drilling a well on his place, is said to have opened a windhole from which the escaping air current was strong enough to blow off the hats of the men who were recovering the lost drill. some days the air escapes with such force that pebbles the size of peas are thrown up, accompanied by a sound much like the distant bellowing of a fog horn. again for days there will be a suction current, unaccompanied by sound, in which the current of air passes into the earth with somewhat less force than when escaping, and any light object, as a feather or a piece of paper, will be immediately sucked in. the account is probably exaggerated. freezing lava cave near flagstaff, arizona.--professor w. b. scott of princeton university told me of this cave, which he had not visited himself. it lies . kilometers south of flagstaff, on the mesa table land, at an altitude of about meters. it was described to professor scott as a double cave, with two floors, one over the other, the lower containing the most ice. it is in lava, and can only be entered by crawling in on hands and knees. freezing cave or gorge, white mountains, arizona.--mr. frank hamilton cushing has told me of this place. it is a cleft among lava rock, which being roofed at the further end, might be described as a cave. in this the ice remains until june or july, much later than anywhere else in the neighborhood. the zuni indians worship before this, calling the ice the breath of the gods, the snow they consider as a sort of down. the region is arid, which makes any water precious, and this fact has developed the element of mysticism about snow and ice among the indians. freezing cave near galena, black hills, south dakota. (miss l. a. owen, _cave regions of the ozarks and black hills_. cincinnati, , page ): "at galena, a new mining town of golden promise, there is reported to be an ice cave, where ice forms at all seasons, and during the warm weather is a source of comfort and pleasure to the miners." windholes in the ozark mountains, missouri.--mr. h. f. brinckerhoff, of aurora, mo., informs me that there are a number of cold air current caves in the ozark mountain region. one of them is some kilometers south of aurora, lawrence county, and is used for cold storage in summer. there is a cave in a limestone bluff about meters above a river, and in the rear is this windhole, which is an opening about centimeters high and meters wide. a strong current of air comes out from it in summer, and the hotter the air outside, the stronger is the outward coming current. in winter the current is reversed. the outward current is so strong in very hot weather that a handkerchief held in it is straightened out to an angle of about °. freezing cave and well at decorah, iowa. described in part i. (dr. c. a. white, _report of geological survey of state of iowa_, , vol. i., page . a. f. kovarik, _scientific american supplement_, no. , november th, , pages , , , ). on june st, , dr. white found the ice dry and well frozen, and he thought it was then accumulating. the cave was cool and apparently dry, and no strong air current was passing through. mr. alois f. kovarik, of the decorah institute, has made a valuable series of observations about the decorah cave. the temperatures he observed were the following: in the valley, locus shade. division. glacialis. end. july , + . ° + . ° . ° . ° " , " + . ° + . ° . ° . ° aug. , " + . ° + . ° + . ° . ° sept. , " + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° " , " + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° oct. , " + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° " , " + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° dec. , " - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° jan. , - . ° - . ° - . ° . ° " , " - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° feb. , " - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° march , " + . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° " , " + . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° april , " + . ° - . ° + . ° - . ° " , " + . ° + . ° - . ° - . ° may , " + . ° + . ° - . ° . ° june , " + . ° + . ° - . ° . ° " , " + . ° + . ° - . ° . ° july , " + . ° + . ° . ° + . ° on the st of july, , a cold breeze was noticed coming from the cave to a distance of at least meters. at the entrance the breeze was strong enough to blow out a candle. this breeze was not noticed at other times. from december to february inclusive, on the contrary, the breeze was reversed. from july to october, , the walls of the cave were moist. from october to february they were dry. in february frost began to appear on the walls. on march th, , the walls were covered with frost. the ice appeared at a spot nearly at the end of the cave on the th of march, . at a place about . meters nearer the entrance, however, is where most ice forms. this place mr. kovarik calls _locus glacialis_. the ice appeared here about the th of may, . it increased rapidly up to june th, when it was at its maximum, and was about two meters in width. it generally covers the north wall from top to base. the greatest thickness in was centimeters. the temperature which mr. kovarik recorded on the th of april at _locus glacialis_ of + . seems an anomalous one. on writing to him he sent me the following explanation: "april th, after i left the thermometer at _locus glacialis_ the usual time, i noticed that it registered + . ° c. it seemed singular, for at both the division and the end, the thermometer registered considerably lower. i left the thermometer at its place for about an hour longer, and noticed then that it did not register differently. i would suggest this explanation: this is true about water that upon freezing it gives off its latent heat. now on april th some water dripped into the cave on the wall near where the thermometer was, about . meters from the floor. the amount of water was very small, but as it came in contact with the cold wall it began to give out its latent heat which affected the close by thermometer. the temperature of the rock was without doubt between - .° and - °." freezing cavern at brainard, iowa. (alois f. kovarik, _decorah public opinion_, september th, .)--this little cave is situated on the north side of a hill about . kilometers northwest of brainard. it is about . meters deep. on june th, , mr. kovarik found the floor and walls covered with ice. the temperature was ° c. the owner claims to have taken enough ice out of it on july th, , to freeze cream. freezing cave near elkinsville, brown county, indiana. (clipping from a western newspaper, .)--the entrance is said to be overlapped by trees and to resemble a mine shaft. the winding way leads to a hollow some meters below the surface, resembling a broad vaulted corridor, which is known to the natives as the devil's chamber and where the temperature is low. from this point several galleries lead further in, and from one of them comes a blast of icy cold air. this passage is similar to the one at the entrance to the cave, but after a few meters frost is visible, and further on it is thick on all sides, like the crust that is formed on the pipes of an ice plant. the narrow way leads to a big chamber, known as the ice vault. in this dome, which is fully meters in width, the ice forms a large stalagmite and is of unknown depth. freezing gully on mount abraham, maine. (jackson, _report of the geology of maine_, , iii.)--ice was found in june at an altitude of meters among the boulders in one of the gullies of mount abraham. [illustration: freezing cavern at brainard. from a photograph by mr. a. f. kovarik. ] subterranean ice in king's ravine, mount adams, new hampshire.--described in part i., page . ice gulch on crescent mountain, randolph, new hampshire.--described in part i., page . ice in a hole at dixville notch, new hampshire.--mr. john ritchie, jr., of boston, has examined this place, which he is sure is a refrigerator. it is in a hole north of the cliff and near its top. ice on mount garfield, new hampshire.--mr. john ritchie, jr., informs me that ice was discovered among the boulders on the summit of mount garfield during the summer of . freezing talus near rumney, new hampshire.--described in part i., page . freezing talus near north woodstock, new hampshire.--mr. john ritchie, jr., has examined this locality. he thinks the ice was gone in july, but judges it to be on the level of an old talus and a couple of meters down. freezing well at lyman, grafton county, new hampshire. (_geology of vermont_, , i., page .)--a well in that town is reported as having been frozen solid in june, , at a depth of about . meters from the surface. icy wells at the foot of mount mansfield, vermont. (n. m. lowe, _science observer_, vol. ii., page .)--these are described as being really "incipient caves." freezing cave near manchester, vermont.--described in part i., page . ice bed of wallingford, rutland county, vermont. described in part i., page . (s. pearl lathrop, _american journal of science and arts_, , xlvi., page .)--dr. lathrop says that ice has been found at the ice bed as late as september. freezing wells at brandon, vermont. described in part i., page . (_geology of vermont_, , vol. i., page .)--mr. hager says that the well was dug into a mass of sand and gravel, of the kind known as modified drift. the gravel was frozen at the time of digging. the boston natural history society, in , sank two wells, one meters southeast of the original one, the other meters northwest. the first was meters in depth and did not reach ice; the second was meters in depth, and came to the layer of frozen gravel. cave near brandon, vermont. (_geology of vermont_, , vol. i., page .)--mr. hager heard that about kilometers north of brandon village was a cavern, in a hill, in which ice is found most of the summer. icy gulf near great barrington, massachusetts.--mentioned in part i., page . icy glen near stockbridge, massachusetts.--described in part i., page . the snow hole, new york: near williamstown, massachusetts. described in part i., page . (dewey, _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. i., page ; and , vol. v., page .)--mr. dewey found, in june, snow meters deep on ice of unknown depth. on his second visit he found less ice and snow than on his first visit, as the trees in the neighborhood had been cut down. glacière near williamstown, massachusetts.--described in part i., page . freezing well near ware, massachusetts.--(_geology of vermont_, , vol. i., page .)--depth . meters. this is in a sand and gravel formation much like that at brandon, except that there is less clay, and that none of the pebbles are limestone. wolfshollow near salisbury, connecticut. (c. a. lee, _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. viii., page .)--in the eastern portion of the township, at an altitude of about meters, is a chasm about meters long, meters deep and meters wide. it is in mica-slate, and is sheltered by large trees. at the bottom at one end is a spring of cold water and a cave of considerable extent, in which ice and snow is found the greater part of the year. natural ice house, near meriden, connecticut. (benjamin silliman, _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. iv., page .)--it lies between new haven and hartford, about kilometers from the sea, at an altitude of about meters. the ice is found in a narrow defile of perpendicular trap rock, at the bottom filled with broken stones. the defile is so placed that in summer the sun only shines into it for about an hour each day; it is also well protected by surrounding trees, the leaves from which form beds at the bottom among the rocks and help to protect the ice. natural ice house of northford, connecticut. (benjamin silliman, _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. iv., page .)--about kilometers from new haven on the middletown road between branford and northford, is a gorge where ice remains throughout the year. in this case the ice is mixed with a considerable quantity of leaves and dirt; it has sometimes been brought to new haven. ice in an old iron mine, near port henry, lake champlain. (_geology of vermont_, , vol. i., page .)--ice was found during the summer at a depth of from meters to meters, and a current of cold air was issuing from the opening. there seems to be more than one opening to the mine. freezing talus on lower ausable pond, essex county, new york.--described in part i., page . freezing talus at the south base of the giant of the valley, essex county, new york.--described in part i., page . freezing boulder talus, indian pass, new york. see part i., page . freezing boulder talus, avalanche pass, new york.--see part i., page . freezing cave near carlisle, new york.--see part i., page . ice among the catskill mountains, new york.--mr. george brinton phillips informs me that he has seen subterranean ice in august among boulders in a gorge in the catskills near the stony cloves road, starting out from haines' falls. the people in the neighborhood speak of the place as an ice cave. gorge in the shawangunk mountains, near ellenville, ulster county, new york. described in part i., page . (heilprin, _around the world_, , page .)--professor heilprin found in july a mass of ice measuring about thirty meters in length and meter in depth. the thermometer near the ice read about ° c. above freezing point, the day being hot. icicles hung from the ledges on the side of the gorge. freezing gorge at sam's point, new york.--see part i., page . ice deposits and windholes at watertown, new york.--described in part i., page . freezing well near tioga, new york.--depth, meters. no information. freezing well near prattsburg, new york.--depth, . meters. no information. freezing well near owego, new york. described in part i., page . (d. o. macomber, _american journal of arts and sciences_, , vol. xxxvi., page . _well's annual of scientific discovery_, , page .)--the thermometer is said to have stood at-- . ° at the bottom of the biggest well when it registered-- ° outside. when a candle was let down, the flame became agitated and was thrown in one direction at the depth of meters; at the bottom the flame was still, but soon died out. large masses of ice were found in the biggest well as late as july, and the men who made the well were forced to put on thick clothing in june, and even so could not work for more than two hours at a time. cave in the panama rocks, chautauqua, new york. the rev. horace c. hovey informs me that he has been in a small cave in this locality, and that he found ice in it. cave in sussex county, new jersey.--a clipping from a newspaper, with neither name nor date, says that new ice is found daily on the land of peter feather, in the mouth of an unexplored cavern. a small stream of water runs out of the cavern and forms a pool at the opening, and here it is that the ice forms. enough has been taken in one day to freeze two cans of ice cream. a cold draught of air issues continuously from the cavern. hole containing ice on blue mountain, new jersey. reported; no information. gorge containing ice on bald eagle mountain, clinton county, pennsylvania.--mr. henry chapman mercer, of doylestown, learned of the existence of this gorge during the summer of . it is near the village of mcelhatten, in the neighborhood of lock haven, and is some kilometers distant from the susquehanna river. ice is said to remain over during the entire summer. freezing cave and windholes near farrandsville, clinton county, pennsylvania.--described in part i., page . underground ice formations, sullivan county, pennsylvania, on the southwestern borders of lycoming county.--mr. w. coleman hall of philadelphia, about twenty years ago, found ice in two or three places, on bear creek, north of muncy creek, about kilometers north of the susquehanna river, and southwest of eagles mere. the ice was under rocks, in what may be described as limestone sinks. since the destruction of the forest, the ice has become less abundant, if indeed any still forms. glacières in abandoned coal mines near summit, carbon county, pennsylvania.--described in part i., page . ice cave railroad station, luzerne county, pennsylvania. on the bowman creek branch of the lehigh valley r. r.--mr. f. holschuh, agent at luzerne, informs me that about kilometers from ice cave station is a little waterfall on the side of a mountain which was formerly covered with dense forest. a short distance below the fall, a large hollow place has been worn out of the rocks by the action of the water. the overhanging rocks give this almost the appearance of a cave. while the forest was still thick and when the winter was cold, ice would form under these rocks and would not disappear until summer was well advanced. the station was called ice cave on account of this place. hole containing ice at millerstown, pennsylvania.--reported; no information. freezing talus at spruce creek, huntingdon county, pennsylvania. described in part i., page . the _philadelphia ledger_ of july th, , states that around the boulders where the ice lies, there are found varieties of plants strongly arctic in character. ice mountain, hampshire county, virginia. (c. b. hayden, _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. xlv., page .)--it lies on the north river, near the road leading from winchester to romney, at an altitude of from about meters to meters. one side of the hill is entirely composed of loose stones, among which an abundance of ice is found at all times, although the sun shines on the upper surface of the stones from ten in the morning until sunset. the ice is regularly used in summer by the people near by. constant and strong air currents issue from the crevices in the rocks. similar, but smaller accumulations, are said to occur in the same county. mrs. george b. balch visited the ice mountain in august, . she saw no ice, but the air under the stones was very cold. blowing cave, bath county, virginia.--mrs. horace jayne informs me that there is a blowing cave near the cowpasture river, about half way on the old stage road between millboro and warm springs. a draught flows out from it, strong enough to blow the grass about, three or four meters away. the draught is cold, perhaps abnormally so. the cave has not yet been explored. south america. ice sheets on mount chimborazo. (a. von humboldt, _travels to the equinoctial regions_, london, , vol. i., page .)--"on chimborazo, enormous heaps of ice are found covered with sand, and in the same manner as at the peak [of teneriffe] far below the inferior limit of the perpetual snows." tierra del fuego. (a. winchel, _walks and talks_, , page .)--"on tierra del fuego ice and lava are found interstratified for a great depth, each winter's snow being covered by a new lava sheet." teneriffe. la cueva de la nieve or del hielo. (humboldt, _travels to the equinoctial regions_, , vol. i., pages , . c. piazzi smyth, _teneriffe, an astronomer's experiment_, , page .)--la cueva de la nieve lies at an altitude of meters in the malpays on the peak of teneriffe, just below the snow line. it is in obsidian. the entrance is . meters high and . meters broad. the grotto is meters long, meters wide, and meters high. the descent into the cave is so steep that it is necessary to be lowered by ropes. professor smyth found in july an ice floor about centimeters thick which was covered with water. a good deal of snow was lying near the mouth of the cave. the walls were covered with ice and icicles and a few small ice cones rose on the ice floor. iceland. the surtshellir or cave of surtur. (olafsen and povelsen, _voyage en islande_, paris, . henderson, _iceland_, , d ed., page . guimard, _voyage en islande_, page .)--the surtshellir lies in the volcanic waste of westisland, and is in lava which has flowed from the bald jokul. the approach is through an open chasm. the length of the cave is meters, with an average width of from meters to meters, and a nearly uniform height of from meters to meters. in four places the roof is broken and allows daylight to enter. a great deal of ice is sometimes found in the cave, in the shape of an ice floor, transparent icy pillars, hanging icy pendants, and columns and arches of ice along the walls. some of the pillars have been found . meters high. kutlagaya. (a. winchel, _walks and talks_, , page .)--"in the crater of the mountain kutlagaya, in iceland, hurled out simultaneously into the air lumps of lava and ice, all intermingled together." scandinavia. ice in the mines of nordmark. (jars, _voyages métallurgiques_, , page .)-- kilometers north of philipstadt, wermeland, sweden, a number of holes were dug, some to a depth of meters. ice of some thickness formed in some of these towards the end of winter, and lasted until about september, despite the fires of the workmen. persberg iron mines, sweden. (j. prestwich, _collected papers_, etc., on page , quotes dr. clark's _travels in scandinavia._)--ice is said to have been found on the sides and bottom of the mine to a depth of about meters. ice caves reported in norway.--i was told in norway that some of the caves in the mountains near the swartisen ice field contained ice, but i do not know whether this is true. i suspect that there are glacier ice caves which have given rise to this report. england. helvellyn, cumberland. (wordsworth, _fidelity_.)--the following verses were pointed out to me by mr. bunford samuel. as far as i know they are the only poetry about glacières:-- "it was a cove, a huge recess that keeps, till june, december's snow; a lofty precipice in front, a silent tarn below! far in the bosom of helvellyn, remote from public road or dwelling pathway or cultivated land from trace of human foot or hand." ice in an old copper mine, cumberland. (j. clifford ward, _nature_, vol. xi., page .)--ice reported as a rare occurrence. ludchurch chasm, staffordshire. (r. k. dent and joseph hill's _historic staffordshire_, quote dr. plot, .)--mr. bunford samuel called my attention to this book, in which dr. plot is quoted as saying that as late as the th of july, snow has been found in ludchurch chasm. messrs. dent and hill do not mention anything of the kind as occurring now. blowing cave in denbighshire, wales.--a newspaper cutting says that there are such strong eruptions of winds from a cave in this neighborhood as to toss back to a great height in the air any article of apparel thrown in. tin croft mine, cornwall. (j. prestwich, _collected papers_, etc., page , quotes mr. moyle.)--ice has been found in abundance in this mine at a depth of nearly meters. central europe. glacière de chaux-les-passavant. described in part i., page . (poissenot, _nouvelles histoires tragiques de benigne poissenot, licencié aux lois. a paris, chez guillaume bichon, rue s. jacques, a l'enseigne du bichot, , avec privilege du roy_, pages - . gollut, _les mémoires historiques de la repub. sequanoise, et des princes de la franche comté de bourgogne, par m. lois gollut, advocat au parlement de dôle; a dôle, _. trouillet, _mémoires de la société d'Émulation du doubs, _. girardot, _mémoires de la société d'Émulation du doubs, _.) the earliest notice of a glacière which i have been able to find is in the shape of a letter giving an account of a visit to the glacière de chaux-les-passavant in , by benigne poissenot, a french lawyer. the account, which i have translated as literally as possible, is in a special chapter, as follows:-- "sir:--since our separation, i have had this pleasure (_heut_) to hear news of you only once, having found your brother in paris; who, having assured me of your good health (_disposition_), informed me of how since we had seen each other you had travelled to italy, even as far as greece, of which you had seen a large portion: and that sound and safe, after so long a journey, you had reappeared and landed at havre de grace where you wished to go, that is to say at home. all the pleasure which a friend can receive, knowing the affairs of another self, joined to such a happy result, seized my heart, at the recital of such agreeable news: and i did not fail shortly after, to write you amply all which had happened to me since i left you until my return to france: congratulating you at having escaped from marine abysses and perilous passages on land, on which travellers are often constrained to risk their life. from this time, i have always stayed in paris or in the neighborhood, according to the good pleasure of dame fortune, who ruled me in her wise and fed me with her dishes the most common and ordinary until the first day of january of the year , when i received my first gift in the shape of a strong and violent disease, which tormented me more than a month: from which, having become cured with the help of god, and having with time recovered my health and my strength at the arrival of spring, i was seized with the desire to smell the air of the country. and in fact having thrown away my pen and travelled about (_battu l'estrade_) through high and low burgundy, i stopped at bezenson, imperial city, to spend the summer. this city is still to day just the same as julius cæsar describes it, in the notable mention he makes of it, in the first book of his commentaries of the war in gaul, there remaining there all the vestiges of the most remarkable things, which he tells of in his description. there are also very fine fountains, from all of which water streams from the representation of some god of antiquity, as a neptune, a bacchus, a pan, a nereide or others: except before the state house, where the statue of charles the fifth, representing him in a most natural manner, is placed on an eagle, which from its beak, pours out such a great quantity of water that this is the most beautiful, among all the other fountains. and as i do not doubt that while traversing italy, you both saw and examined with curiosity the most handsome singularities, which presented themselves to your eyes and that on your return, passing through avignon and dauphiné, as your brother informed me, you had the advantage over me of seeing the wonders of the country, of which you had heard me speak sometimes, regretting that the war, during the time i was in that quarter, had prevented my going to the spot, to see the burning fountain as in dodone, and the fountain called jupiter, which torches of fire light up and which grows less till midday and then grows till midnight, and then diminishes and fails at midday: and another in epirus which we call to day albania, the tower without venom and the inaccessible mountain: then as i said, since you have contemplated these things and several others not less admirable, i wish to entertain you about a marvel which i saw, during my sojourn in bezenson, to know from you, whether in all your journey, you saw a similar thing. know then that the day of the festival of st. john baptist, a young man, provided with an honest knowledge, with whom i had made some little acquaintance, presented me with an icicle, to cool my wine at dinner, and which i admired greatly, on account of the time of the year in which we then were, begging him who gave it to me to tell me where he had discovered this rare present for that time. he answered me that every year, the day of the solemnity of the festival of st. john baptist, the inhabitants of a village, which he named, were bound to come to offer the great church of st. john of bezenson, a goodly quantity of ice, which they got in a wood, and brought to town at night on horses, for fear that by day it should melt, and that one of his cronies had given to him what he had given to me. "suddenly there flamed up in me a desire to see this place, where in the height of the summer, ice was to be found. when he who had presented me with the icicle saw this, he promised to accompany me, not having as yet, any more than myself, seen this marvel. i did not hatch very long this decision, all the more as all those, to whom i mentioned it, encouraged me to carry it out as soon as i could, assuring me that i should see a strange thing, and that even the duke of alva on his return from flanders, passing through franche comté, had wished to see this novelty. therefore calling on the promise of the one who was the cause of undertaking this journey, we went together to versey, a fine town, distant five leagues from bezenson, turning a little off our direct route, to go to see a literary man, at this said versey, who having called on me at bezenson, had extracted from me the promise of going to see him. there happened to me in this spot, what the poet du bellay says happened to him, on his return from italy, passing through the grisons, to go into france: who, after having chanted the troubles there are in the passage, says that the swiss made him drink so much, that he does not remember anything he saw in that country. likewise, i can assure you that my host, following the custom of those of the country (who do not think they are treating a man properly if they do not make him drink a lot, taking that from the germans, their neighbors) made us carouse so well, that when we went to bed, we were very gay boys. for although we had both made an agreement on the road, yet our host knew so well how to win us over, saying that those who would not drink, gave reason to think badly of them, and that they had committed, or wished to commit some great crime, which they feared to give away in drinking, that in the end we let ourselves go, passing the time in pantagruelic fashion. the next morning having taken some "hair from the beast" and a guide which our host gave to us to conduct us to the _froidiere_--we continued our wanderings, and arrived at a little village called chaud, joining a large wood, where our guide told us, that although he had been more than six times to the _froidiere_, yet the road was so tortuous and so cut up by small paths, that if we did not take a man from this village, to be more sure, we might spend more than half a day in the wood, before finding what we were seeking. getting off our horses now, we added to our company a native of the place, who having led us by crooked roads, about a quarter of a league, through the forest, made us enter into a close thicket and by a little path led us to a pleasant meadow; where, looking down, we saw a hole, of difficult descent, at the bottom of which was the opening of a grotto, pretty big, and so awful and terrifying to see, that one would have said, it was the mouth of hell. and in truth, i remembered then, the hole of st. patrick, which is said to be in hibernia. we were not brave enough knights, to try the adventure, my companion and i, if our guides had not taken the lead. after whom we descended as magnanimously as the trojan duke followed the sybil to the plutonic realms, the sword half drawn from the scabbard, and well determined to make test of the platonic doctrine, which teaches that demons can be dissected, in case any shade or spook should have come to meet us. about the middle of the way, we began to feel in descending a very agreeable freshness; for it was the second day of july and the sun shone very warmly, which made us sweat drop by drop. but we had good opportunity to refresh ourselves and put ourselves to cool, having reached the grotto which we found of the length and breadth of a large hall, all paved with ice in the bottom, and where a crystalline water, colder than that of the mountains of arcadia nonacris, streamed from many small brooklets, which formed very clear fountains, with the water of which i washed myself and drank so eagerly, that i had wished the thirst of tantalus, or else that i had been bitten by a dipsas, in order to be always thirsty, amid such a pleasant beverage. a great lord, who in some pleasure resort, should have such a refrigerator in summer, could boast according to my judgment, to be better provided with drink, than the kings of persia were with their river coaspis, which engulphs itself into the tigris, the water whereof was so sweet, that the use of it was allowed only to the great king, for the retinue and cronies of his household. do not think, that among these delights, i was at all free from fear, for never did i raise my eyes above that from terror my whole body shivered and the hair stood up on my head, seeing the whole roof of the grotto, covered with big massive icicles, the least of which, falling on me, had been sufficient to scramble up my brains and knock me to pieces; so much so that i was like to that criminal, whom they say is punished in hell, by the continual fear of a big stone, which seems as though it must suddenly fall on his ears. there are besides the large hall of the grotto, some rather roomy corners, where the gentlemen of the neighborhood, put their venison to cool in summer, and we saw the hooks, where they hang the wild fowl. it is true, that when we were there, we saw neither game nor wild fowl, and i think, that if we had found any of it, we were men to carry off some of it. we walked around for about a quarter of an hour, in this _froidiere_ and we should have staid there longer if the cold had not driven us out; which struck in to our backs, even to make our teeth crack; we reascended the slope, not forgetting, all of us as many as we were, to provide and load ourselves with ice, which served us at lunch in the little village mentioned above to drink most delightfully, assuring you that it is impossible to drink more freshly than we drank then. i thought of those old voluptuaries, who cooled their wine with snow, and it seemed to me, as though they might have had it much cheaper if in their time there had been many such _froidieres_, to refresh it with ice, instead of with snow, as some of the gentlemen of the neighborhood of the _froidiere_ and some of the most notable persons of the neighborhood of bezenson do; who by night, have a good supply brought on horses, which they keep in their caves, and use at their meals and banquets. turning back towards the imperial city of bezenson, i carried for about two great leagues, a rather large icicle in my hands, which little by little melted and was a pleasant and agreeable cooler, on account of the great heat of the weather. after having thought over in my mind, the cause of this _antiperistase_, i could find none other but this: to wit, that as heat domineers in summer, the cold retires to places low and subterranean, such as is this one, to which the rays of the sun cannot approach, and that in such an aquatic and humid place, it operates the results, which we have shown above. which seemed to me so much more likely, that on asking the peasants of the neighboring village, if in winter there was ice in this _froidiere_, they answered me that there was none, and that on the contrary, it was very warm there. whatever may be the cause, whether this or another, i can assure you, that i admired this singularity as much as any i have seen, since a large church, cut into a rock which i had seen a few years previously, in a little town of gascony called st. milion, distant seven leagues from bordeaux; on the steeple of which is the cemetery, where they bury the dead; a thing to be marvelled at by him who has not seen it. "i have made trial, to enrich this missive, with all the artifice which has come into my head, using the leisure, which the present time brings me: as the temple of janus is open, the air beyond breathing nothing but war: which forces me, against my wish, to sojourn in this place longer than i had intended. if these troubles settle down, and if after the rain, god sends us fine weather as requires the calamitous state in which is now the flat country, i shall return to my parnassus; from which if i go out hereafter, believe that it will be very much in spite of myself, or that my will will have very much changed. you will be able to let me hear from you there, and take your revenge for the prolixity of this letter, by sending me one still longer, which you will write to me with more pleasure, as i shall take much in reading it. however as it is becoming time to sound taps, i will pray the sovereign creator for my affectionate recommendations to your graces. "sir, and best friend, may you keep in health and have a long and happy life. from sens this th of june . "your obedient friend, benigne poissenot. "end of the description of the marvel, called the _froidiere_." the next notice about the glacière de chaux-les-passavant is by gollut in , as follows:-- [sidenote: "ices in summer."] "i do not wish however to omit (since i am in these waters) to bring to mind the commodity, which nature has given to some dainty men, since at the bottom of a mountain of leugné ice is found in summer, for the pleasure of those who wish to drink cool. nevertheless at this time, this is disappearing, for no other reason (as i think) except, that they have despoiled the top of the mountain, of a thick and high mass of woods, which did not permit that the rays of the sun came to warm the earth, and dry up the distillations, which slipped down to the lowest and coldest part of the mountain where (_by antiperistase_) the cold got thicker, and contracted itself against the heats surrounding and in the neighborhood during the whole summer, all the external circumference of the mountain." the ice at chaux-les-passavant is said to have been entirely cleared out, by the duc de lévi, in , for the use of the army of the saone. in , when de cossigny visited the cave, the ice was formed again. there are no reports about the intervening time between and . the ice probably all re-formed the winter after it was taken away. captain trouillet in writes of chaux-les-passavant: "the following winter had shown itself unfavorable to the production of ice, the periods of humidity preceding too long ahead the periods of frost. finally last summer, coming after a wet spring, was exceptionally warm. such were the circumstances which brought about in the glacière the ruin which could be seen at the end of last october. * * * on the th of november, the first effects of frost are felt and the temperature falls in the glacière to - °: outside the thermometer drops to - °. on the morning of the th, same result, and ice makes its appearance in the grotto, as the report of the observer shows: but the quantity produced is so small that the internal thermometer soon goes above °. it is only on the th of december that the frost wins definitely; on the th, th and th the chill is intense and reaches - ° outside, stopping at - ° in the glacière. the water coming from the rains between the th and the th drip at this time through the roof and the big side crevasse: circumstances grow favorable and the ice accumulates. from the th, the entrance slope becomes almost impracticable; the icicles grow on the roof, as big as the body of a man. * * * from this time to the end of december, the ice sheet does not increase, for water only arrives by the rare drip of the roof, and only the stalactites increase slowly. outside, however, the cold continues vigorously, the thermometer on the st of december dropping to - ° and to - ° in the glacière. if the production of the ice stops, it is not the cold which is wanting, but the other element, the one which as our former study showed, is the most rarely exact at the meeting. the winter is only favorable on condition that it offers alternating periods of freezing and thawing; so the observer writes in his report: 'it is the water which is wanting, otherwise the glacière would be magnificent.'" trouillet speaks of the difficulty of winter observations in the following words: "mons. briot, the present lessor of the glacière, has the unpaid mission of going every week to the bottom of the grotto to get and put in place the interior thermometer. it is a really hard piece of work at this time of the year: each journey takes about one hour. besides the chance that a visitor has of receiving on his head one of those magnificent stalactites meter or meters long which fall continually from the roof, it is perfectly disagreeable to him to arrive at the base of the slope otherwise than on the sole of his boots, and to face thus the frequent and painful meeting with rocks whose angular edges dot the surface of the descent, smooth as a mirror set at an angle of °." trouillet and girardot obtained a series of observations with maxima and minima thermometers at chaux-les-passavant during the winter of - . at the end of november the temperature inside was + °. on the d of december it rose to + . °. on the th of december, it sank to - °, and after this date, it remained below freezing point all winter. the observations were not continuous, but they showed that every time the temperature outside dropped considerably, the temperature inside immediately did likewise. for instance, on the th of january, the outside air dropped to - °, and the inside air responded by falling to - °. on the other hand, when the temperature outside rose above freezing point, the temperature inside remained stationary or fluctuated only gently. for instance, from the th of march to the th of april, the outside air went up and down perpetually, the extremes being - ° and + °; while in the same time the inside air rose continuously from - ° to - . °. windholes and ice formations near gérardmer, vosges. (rozet, in _encyclopédie moderne_, didot frères, paris, , vol. xvi., page .) l'abime du creux-percé or glacière de pasques. (martel, _les abimes_, , page ; _annuaire du club alpin français_, vol. xix., page .)--on the plateau of langres, côte d'or. it lies kilometers from dijon, and is really a limestone rock gorge, of meters in depth, which at the top is meters long and meters wide, and at the bottom is meters long and meters wide. in march , mons. martel found the north side covered with large icicles meters long. the ice seems to remain throughout the year. the bottom of the abime has been reached only by means of two long rope ladders. creux de chevroche or roche chèvre, côte d'or. (clément drioton, _mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, , vol. i., page .)--"in the woods of mavilly, near bligny-sur-ouches, is a little cave, called creux de chevroche or roche-chèvre, where one can find ice until the month of july." freezing well of marolles, at la ferté-milon, aisne. (martel, _les abimes_, page , note .)--this well is . meters deep; the altitude is meters. during the winter of - the water in it froze for a thickness of centimeters. the minimum outside temperature that year was - °. windholes near pontgibaud, puy de dome. (g. poulett-scrope, _the geology and extinct volcanoes of central france_, , page .)--these windholes are in basalt. there are many cracks, whence cold air currents issue, and where ice has been found, sometimes in summer. there are cold storage huts over some of the cracks. le creux-de-souci, puy de dome. (martel, _les abimes_, , page .)--this is situated kilometers southeast of besse-en-chandesse. it is a large lava cavern with the entrance directly in the middle of the roof. the bottom is partly filled by a lake. the depth from the surface of the ground to the lake is meters; from the smallest part of the opening to the lake the depth is . meters. down this last portion one can descend only by means of a rope ladder. the temperature is extremely low; in general near freezing point. in june, july, august and november , monsieur berthoule, _maire_ of besse, did not find any snow. on the th of august, , on the contrary, he found at the bottom a heap of snow, which he thinks was formed in the cave itself, by the freezing during their descent of the drops of water which are constantly dripping from the roof. he reports landing on _une montagne de neige, de neige blanche_. on several visits, mons. berthoule noticed carbonic acid gas in dangerous quantities. there was none at the time he observed the snow heap, but ten days later he found it impossible to descend into the cave as the carbonic acid gas came up in puffs to the entrance. in the lake, mons. berthoule discovered a variety of rotifer, _notholca longispina_, and also several algæ and diatoms. the _asterionella formosa_ is the most remarkable from its abundance: it exists in some of the lakes of the alps, but not in those of the pyrenees. aven de lou cervi, vaucluse. (martel, _les abimes_, page .)--this is a cold cave. it belongs to the class which mons. martel calls _avens à rétrécissement_, or _abimes à double orifice_. in september, , mons. martel noted a temperature of . ° at meters; of . ° at meters. mean temperature of locality, . °. igue de biau, lot. (martel, _les abimes_, page .)--cold cave. temperature on th july, : °. fosse mobile, charente. (martel, _les abimes_, page .)--cold cave. temperature on th april, : °. aven de deidou, causse méjean. (martel, _les abimes_, page .)--cold cave. temperatures on th october, : outside air, °; at bottom, . °. aven des oules, causse méjean. (martel, _les abimes_, page .)--cold cave. temperatures on st october, : outside air, . °; at bottom, °. windhole cold caves near roquefort, aveyron.--they lie kilometers from millau, at an altitude of about meters, and are utilized in the manufacture of roquefort cheese. aven de carlet, near la roche giron, basses alpes. (martel, _les abimes_, page .)--lumps of ice are reported to have been taken from it. la poujade, cévennes. (martel, _les abimes_, pages - .)--an intermittent spring in limestone rock. at the bottom of the first gallery, on the th of september, , the temperature of the air was . °, and that of a pool of water supplied by drip . °. mons. martel thought that the drip brought to the pool the mean annual temperature of the ground through which it had come. a little further within and meters lower, the temperature of the air was . ° and that of another pool of water . °. this pool was not supplied by drip and must have been left over by the last flow of the spring. mons. martel thought that the lower temperatures at this spot were due to the cold air of winter dropping to the bottom of the cave and on account of its density not being able to get out. snow preserved in chasms in the italian mountains. (_the penny magazine_, london, august, , page .)--mr. bunford samuel called my attention to an article in which the southern italians are said to dig wells or cellars on the mountain sides, and to throw snow into them in winter. the snow is well pressed together and straw, dried leaves, etc., is thrown on top. by having a northern exposure for these pits, and seeing that they are in thick forest, or in rifts where the sun does not penetrate, these depots may be safely placed as low down the mountain as the snow falls and lies. naples is largely supplied [ ] with snow in summer from such snow wells situated on monte angelo, the loftiest point of the promontory separating the bay of naples from the bay of salerno. cold caves of san marino, apennines. (de saussure, _voyages dans les alpes_, , iii., page .)--these are probably windholes. la bocche dei venti di cesi. (de saussure, _voyages dans les alpes_, , iii., page .)--these windholes were in the cellar of the house of don giuseppe cesi, in the town of cesi. the cellar acted as a natural refrigerator. the air stream was so strong, that it nearly blew out the torches. in winter the wind rushed into the holes. de saussure was shown the following latin verses by the owner:-- "abditus hic ludit vario discrimine ventus et faciles miros exhibet aura jocos. nam si bruma riget, quaecumque objeceris haurit. evomit aestivo cum calet igne dies," windholes or "ventarole" on monte testaceo, near rome. (de saussure, _voyages dans les alpes_, , iii., page .)--there are a number here among heaps of broken pottery. the temperatures seem abnormally low. krypta sorana. (kircher, _mundus subterraneus_, , page and page .)--this has been spoken of as a glacière cave, but as there is much doubt in the matter, i quote the passages, on which the reports are based, in the original latin: "cryptae sunt naturales, quarum innumerae sunt species, juxta vires naturales iis inditas. sunt nonnullae medicinali virtute praeditae, quaedam metallicis vaporibus, exhalationibus, aquis scatent, sunt et glaciales, plenae nivibus et crystallo, uti in monte sorano me vidisse memini." and further: "vidi ego in monte sorano cryptam veluti glacie incrustatam, ingentibus in fornice hinc inde stiriis dependentibus, e quibus vicini montis accolae pocula aestivo tempore conficiunt, aquae vinoque, quae iis infunduntur, refrigerandis aptissima, extremo rigore in summas bibentium delicias commutato." subterranean ice sheet, mount etna, sicily. (lyell, _principles of geology, th edition_, chapter xxvi.)--this ice sheet is near the casa inglese. sir charles lyell ascertained the fact of its existence in , and in he found the same mass of ice, of unknown extent and thickness, still unmelted. in the beginning of the winter of , lyell found the crevices in the interior of the summit of the highest cone of etna encrusted with thick ice, and in some cases hot vapors actually streaming out between masses of ice and the rugged and steep walls of the crater. lyell accounts for this ice sheet by the explanation that there must have been a great snow bank in existence at the time of an eruption of the volcano. this deep mass of snow must have been covered at the beginning of the eruption by volcanic sand showered on it, followed by a stream of lava. the sand is a bad conductor of heat and together with the solidified lava, preserved the snow from liquefaction. glacière on the moncodine. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--the moncodine is described as a dolomite near the lago di como. the cave lies up the val sasina, two hours from cortenuova, at an altitude of meters. the entrance faces north, and is . meters high and . meters wide. the average diameter of the cave is meters. the floor is solid ice, which has been sometimes cut for use in the hotels on the lago di como and even been sent to milan. la ghiacciaia del mondole. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--the mondole is a mountain meters high, near mondovi, south of turin. the cave lies on the eastern slope, at an altitude of about meters. it is hard to get at. the entrance is to the east, and is meters wide and . meters high. a passageway some meters long leads to a large chamber where there is plenty of ice. in hot summers ice is brought from the cave to mondovi. _ghiacciaia_ means freezing cavern in italian. la ghiacciaia del val séguret. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--it lies near susa at the base of chalk cliffs, at an altitude of about meters. the cave is said to be about meters deep, meters wide and meters high. bonetti in may, , found many icicles and ice cones. la borna de la glace. (chanoine carrel, _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. xxxiv., page .)--it lies in the duchy of aosta, commune of la salle, on the northern slope of the hills near chabauday, in a spot called plan agex. the altitude is meters. the entrance opens to the east and is centimeters wide and centimeters high. one can descend for meters. there are two branches in the rear of the entrance. chanoine carrel found an ice pillar meter high in the western branch. he recorded these temperatures on the th of july, : outside + °. entrance + . °. east branch + . °. west branch + . °. windholes in the italian alps. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, pages - .)--a number of these seem to have abnormally low temperatures. some are in the mountains around chiavenna, and are sometimes, by building small huts over them, utilized as refrigerators. some are reported in the neighborhood of the lago di como near dongo, near menaggio, and in the villa pliniana near curino; in the neighborhood of the lake of lugano at the base of monte caprino, near melide, near mendrisio and near sertellino; and in the val maggia near cevio. the glacière de font d'urle, or fondurle, dauphiné. (héricart de thury, _annales des mines_, vol. xxxiii., page ; g. f. browne, _ice caves_, etc., page ; e. a. martel, _mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, vol. i., page ; l. villard, _spélunca_, , vol. ii., page .)--it lies on the foire de font d'urle, kilometers north of dié, kilometers east of valence, and kilometers south of grenoble. the glacière consists of two large pits, lying east and west, and with underground communication. from this tunnel a long low archway leads to a broad slope of chaotic blocks of stone, which is meters long and meters in greatest width. the ice begins half way down this slope, fitfully at first and afterwards in a tolerably continuous sheet. thury found many icicles hanging from the roof. browne found four columns of ice, of which the largest was . meters across the base. on his visit, in the middle of august, the ice was strongly thawing. both explorers noted the extremely prismatic character of the ice. browne found a temperature of + . °. martel gives a section and plan of font d'urle. mons. villard says about this cavern: "a curious thing: i found in this cave, motionless on a piece of rock, entirely surrounded by ice for a distance of several meters, a blind specimen of a coleoptera, _cytodromus dapsoïdes_." the chourun clot. (e. a. martel, _sous terre_. _annuaire du club alpin français_, vol. xxiii., , pages , ; _mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, vol. i., page .)--in dauphiné, half way between agnières and the pic costebelle, at an altitude of , meters. there is first a pit meters long, . meters wide and meters deep. in the bottom of this is a vertical hole meters deep and from meter to meters in diameter, in which there was much ice on the st of july, . then the pit changes to a sloping gallery which terminates in a little hall, full of ice, at a depth of meters. martel gives a cut and section of this glacière. the glacière du trou de glas. (e. a. martel, _la géographie_, , vol. i., page .)--in the range of the grande chartreuse. the chourun martin. (e. a. martel, _la géographie_, , vol. i., page .)--in the range of the dévoluy, hautes-alpes; altitude , meters. an extremely deep pit, which on july st, , was much blocked up with snow. the chourun de la parza. (e. a. martel, _la géographie_, , vol. i., page .)--in the range of the dévoluy, hautes-alpes; altitude , meters. a fine pit, meters in diameter, and meters in depth. filled with snow or rather névé, in which are deep holes. the glacière de l'haut-d'aviernoz. described in part i., page . (c. dunant, _le parmelan et ses lapiaz_, page ; browne, _ice caves_, etc., page .)--mons. dunant calls this glacière l'haut d'aviernoz; mr. browne calls it the glacière du grand anu. by a plumb line held from the edge of the larger pit, browne found that the ice floor was about meters from the surface, which would give a level for the ice floor closely identical to the one i found. in july, , he recorded a temperature of + . °. the glacière de l'enfer. (g. f. browne, _good words_, november, ; t. g. bonney, _the alpine regions_, , pages , ; c. dunant, _le parmelan et ses lapiaz_, page .)--on mont parmelan. a pit cave with a steep slope of broken rock leading to a rock portal in the face of a low cliff. this opens into a roughly circular hall about meters in diameter and meters to meters in height. a chink between the rock and the ice permitted mr. browne to scramble down three or four meters to where a tunnel entered the ice mass. throwing a log of wood down this tunnel, a crash was heard and then a splash of water, and then a strange gulping sound. "the tunnel obviously led to a subglacial reservoir and this was probably covered by a thin crust of ice; the log in falling had broken this and then disturbed the water below, which then commenced bubbling up and down through the hole, and making a gulping noise, just as it does sometimes when oscillating up and down in a pipe." mons. c. dunant of the _club alpin français_ describes a visit to the glacière de l'enfer. he mentions also a legend of a witch from a neighboring village who would get the ice from these caves and bring it down in the shape of hail on the crops of the peasants who were inhospitable to her. the glacière de chapuis. described in part i., page . (browne, _ice caves_, etc., page , and _good words_, november, .)--mr. browne calls it the glacière de chappet-sur-villaz. mr. browne and professor t. g. bonney found several flies in the glacière de chapuis. three of them were specimens of _stenophylax_, the largest being probably, but not certainly, _s. hieroglyphicus_ of stephens. two smaller caddis flies were either _s. testaceus_ of pictet or some closely allied species. one other insect was an ichneumon of the genus _paniscus_, of an unidentified species. it differed from all its congeners in the marking of the throat, resembling in this respect some species of _ophion_. mr. browne thinks that the case flies may have been washed into the cave somehow or other in the larva form, and come to maturity on the ice where they had lodged. but this explanation will not hold in the case of the ichneumon, which is a parasitic genus on larvæ of terrestrial insects. the glacière de le brezon. (pictet, _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. xx., page , and thury, _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. x., pages and .)--it lies southeast of bonneville near the foot of mount lechaud, at an altitude of meters. the cave is . meters long, about meters wide and the greatest height is about meters. the entrance is small and is at the base of a cliff, in some places of which cold air currents issue. the ice lies on the floor. some of it is probably winter snow. the glacière de brisons.--described in part i., page . the grand cave de montarquis. described in part i., page . (thury, _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, vol. x., pages - .)--professor thury describes two visits to this cave. on the th of august, , he found no ice stalactites or stalagmites. on the th of january, , he did not find a single drop of water in the cave, but many stalactites and stalagmites of beautiful clear ice, one of which resembled porcelain more than any other substance. in august, thury found an air current streaming into the cave at the rear, but this did not, however, disturb the air of the interior, for in one part it was in perfect equilibrium: along the line of the draughts the ice was more melted than elsewhere in the cave. in january, the current was reversed and poured into the fissure, with the temperature varying between - . ° and - . °. he observed the following temperatures at the grand cave:-- time. outside. inside. th august, + . ° + . ° th january, . p. m. + . ° - .° " " " . " + . ° - .° " " " . " - . ° - .° the petite cave de montarquis. mentioned in part i., page . (thury, _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. x., page . also quotes morin.)--at the end of a crooked fissure meters deep, a passage meters long, leads into a cave meters high and meters in diameter. in august, , morin found an ice stalagmite of meters in height in the middle of the cave. cave containing ice on the southern shore of lake geneva.--reported; no information. the glacière and neigière d'arc-sous-cicon. (browne, _ice caves_, etc., page .)--these lie close together in the jura about twenty kilometers from pontarlier. the little glacière is formed by a number of fissures in the rock, disconnected slits in the surface opening into larger chambers where the ice lies. the neigière is a deep pit, with a collection of snow at the bottom, much sheltered by overhanging rocks and trees. a huge fallen rock covers a large part of the sloping bottom of the pit, which forms a small cave in the shape of a round soldier's tent, with walls of rock and floor of ice. the glacière de la genollière. described in part i., page . (browne, _ice caves_, etc., page .)--mr. browne observed in a temperature of + . °, and two days later of + . °. he also found a number of flies running rapidly over the ice and stones. he was told in england, from the specimen he brought away, that it was the _stenophylax hieroglyphicus_ of stephens or something very like that fly. the glacière de saint-georges. described in part i., page . (thury, _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. x.)--professor thury obtained the following temperatures at the glacière de saint-georges:-- outside. inside. th january, . p. m., - . ° . p. m., - . ° " " " . " - . ° " " " . " - . ° " " " . " - . ° minimum of night - . ° - . ° th january, . a. m., - . ° . a. m., - . ° " " " . " - . ° . " - . ° " " " . " - . ° . " - . ° " " " . p. m., - . ° . p. m., - . ° " " " . " - . ° . " - . ° " " " . " - . ° . " - . ° " " " . " - . ° . " - . ° " " " . " - . ° . " - . ° minimum of night - . ° - . ° th january, . a. m., - . ° d april, . p. m., + . ° - . ° minimum of night + . ° d april, . a. m., + . ° . a. m., - . ° professor thury's winter excursions caused him to accept as proved that part of the mountaineers' belief, which holds that there is no ice formed in caves in winter. one of the main grounds for his opinion was the series of observations he made in the glacière de saint-georges. he found no ice forming there in winter and the natives said it did not because the cavern was not cold enough. so he placed large dishes filled with water in the cave and found that they froze solid during the night, which he had been assured was impossible. thury also found violent movements of the air at saint-georges in january, . a candle burned steadily for some time, but at . p. m. it began to flicker and soon inclined downwards through an angle of about °; and in the entrance, the flame assumed an almost horizontal position. at p. m., the current of air nearly disappeared. thury thought that this violent and temporary disturbance of equilibrium was due to the fact that as the heavier air outside tended to pass into the cave, the less cold air within tended to pass out; and the narrow entrance confining the struggle to a small area, the weaker current was able for a while to hold its own. the glacière du pré de saint-livres. described in part i., page . (browne, _ice caves_, page .)--mr. browne found, in , a temperature of °. the petite glacière du pré de saint-livres. (browne, _ice caves_, page .)--this is near the last cave at a slightly higher altitude. there is first a small pit, then a little cave, in which there is an ice slope. this passes under a low arch in the rock wall, and leads down into another small cave. mr. browne descended this ice stream, which was itself practically a fissure column and spread into the fan shape at the base. the lower cave was meters long and meters wide, and contained an ice floor and several fissure columns. the glacière de naye, above montreux, switzerland. (e. a. martel, _les abimes_, page ; _spélunca_, , vol. i., pages , ; _mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, vol. iii., pages - .)--this is called a _glacier souterrain_. it was discovered in by professor dutoit. there are fifty-four caves known among the rochers de naye, and only this one contains ice. it is a long narrow cave with two entrances and widest towards the base, which opens over a precipice. the altitude is high, the upper entrance being at an altitude of meters, and the lower of meters. the place is both a passage cave and a windhole. the snow falls into the upper entrance, and slides down, becoming ice in the lower portion. there are other connecting passages and hollows where the cold air cannot get in, and there ice does not form. mons. martel thinks that the ice formed during the winter is preserved by the draughts--due to the difference in level of the two openings--causing an evaporation and chill sufficient for the purpose. the creux bourquin. (e. a. martel, _les abimes_, page .)--at mauberget, near grandson. this is a rock gorge meters deep. at the bottom, on the th of july, , was a mass of ice meters long and meters wide. the glacière de monthézy. (browne, _ice caves_, page .)--this lies to the west of neufchâtel, between the val de travers and the val de brévine, on the path between the villages of couvet and le brévine, at an altitude of meters. the cave is nearly oval in shape, with a length of meters and a width of meters. the roof is from meter to meters high. there are three pits, about meters deep, on different sides of the cave. the descent is made through the largest pit. on the th of july, , mr. browne found the floor of the cave covered with ice, and icicles and columns in some places; he also saw a clump of cowslips (_primula elatior_) overhanging the snow at the bottom of the pit through which he descended. pertius freiss. (t. g. bonney, _nature_, vol. xi., page .)--it lies on the way to the pic d'arzinol, near evolène, in the val d'hérens. a slip or subsidence of part of a cliff has opened two joints in the rock, in both of which fissures professor bonney found ice on july d. the schafloch. described in part i., page . (körber, _jahrbuch des schweizer alpen club_, , vol. xx., pages , .)--herr körber gives some of the dimensions as follows: entrance meters wide and . meters high. length of cave . meters: average width meters and greatest width . meters. height from meters to meters. length of ice slope meters and breadth . meters; for meters the slope has an inclination of °. körber made the following observations in the schafloch:-- meters meters meters date. outside. from from from entrance. entrance. entrance. september, , . ° . ° . ° . ° january, , . ° - . ° - . ° -- the rev. g. f. browne, in , found a temperature of + . °. the eisloch of unterfluh. (baltzer, _jahrbuch des schweizer alpen club_, - , pages - .)--twenty minutes from unterfluh near meiringen. a long narrow rock crack, some meters deep and running some distance underground. windholes and milkhouses of seelisberg.--described in part i., page . windholes on the spitzfluh. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--these are situated between oltingen and zeylingen, canton bâle: they generally contain ice till the end of july. windholes on the blummatt. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the northwestern slope of the stanzerberg. ice sometimes lies over in these windholes. windholes near bozen. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the mendel ranges in eppan, southwest of bozen, among porphyry rocks. there are strong wind-streams. ice is said to remain till late in the summer. grotto on monte tofana, dolomites. (t. g. bonney, _nature_, vol. xi., page .)--this is probably a rudimentary glacière. holes with ice near lienz. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--one hour and a half distant near aineth, is a small cave containing ice, and further up the valley towards huben, are several windholes. eishöhle am birnhorn. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near leogang in the pinzgau. altitude meters. there are two entrances, from which a slope meters long, set at an angle of °, leads to an ice floor meters long and meters high. then comes a small ice slope, and a little horizontal floor at the back. explored by fugger. glacières on the eiskogel. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--the eiskogel is in the tennengebirge, a mountain mass lying east of pass lueg. at an altitude of about meters, are two small caves, about meters to meters apart. they are some meters in length and get smaller towards the bottom. holes with ice in the tennengebirge, between the schallwand and the tauernkogel. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in this gorge are some small holes at an altitude of about meters, which are said to contain ice in summer. the seeofen. (a. posselt-csorich, _zeitschrift des deutschen und oesterreichischen alpen verein_, , page .) on the hean krail in the tennengebirge, at an altitude of about meters. the entrance faces southwest, and is meters high and . meters wide. the cave is meters long, and meters wide. the floor of the cave is meters below the entrance. the posselthöhle. (a. posselt-csorich, _zeitschrift des deutschen und osterreichischen alpen verein_, , page .)--named after its discoverer. it lies on the hochkogel in the tennengebirge, at an altitude of about meters. the entrance faces southwest, and is about meters high and meters wide. from the entrance the cave first rises, then sinks again below the level of the entrance, where the ice begins. the cave is about meters wide. about meters were explored, to a point where a perpendicular ice wall, meters high, barred the way. about meters from the entrance, there was an ice cone about meters high. the gamsloch or diebshöhle. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--it lies on the breithorn of the steinernes meer, near the riemannhauss, at an altitude of about meters. the entrance faces south. there is first a small, then a larger chamber. the latter is some meters long, by meters or meters wide. the ice is in the large chamber. eishöhle am seilerer. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the eastern side of the seilerer arête on the ewigen schneeberg, west of bischofshofen, at an altitude of about meters, is a small glacière cave. cave in the hagengebirge, west of pass lueg. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--it lies about kilometers east of kalbersberg, at an altitude of about meters. a snow slope, with an ice floor at the bottom, leads into a long cave, about which little is known. the nixloch. described in part i., page . (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--professor fugger gathered some valuable data in connection with the nixloch. in august, , he found the air current entering downwards; on september th, , there was no current either way. on christmas day, , on the contrary, the draughts were reversed, pouring out of the hole with a temperature of + . °: the outside air then being - . °. at this time the known lower opening was in existence. the kolowratshöhle. described in part i., page . (fugger, _beobachtungen_, etc., page .)--this cavern has been more carefully studied than any other glacière cave. some of its dimensions are given by professor fugger as follows: from the entrance to the ice floor, . meters; surface covered by ice as measured on a plane, square meters; approximate cubical measure of entire cave, , cubic meters. the height of the entrance is meters, with a width at the base of . meters, and at the top of . meters. on the entrance slope occurred the only fatal accident i know of in glacières. in , the bavarian minister freiherr von lerchenfeld tried to descend; a wooden handrail which had been erected over the snow broke under his weight; von lerchenfeld fell to the bottom of the cave and died a few days after from the injuries he received. of the kolowratshöhle, we have numerous thermometric observations by professor fugger, of which i select a few. date. outside. entrance. inside. rear. may + . ° + . ° + . ° °& + . ° june + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° june + .° + . ° + . ° -- july -- -- + . ° -- july + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° july + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° aug. + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° sept. + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° sept. -- -- + . ° -- oct. + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° oct. + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° nov. + . ° + . ° - . ° -- jan. + . ° + . ° - . ° - . ° the schellenberger eisgrotte. (fugger, _beobachtungen in den eishöhlen des untersberges_, page .)--on the southeast slope of the untersberg near salzburg, at an altitude of meters. the path leads past the kienbergalp over the mitterkaser and the sandkaser. in front of the entrance is a sort of rock dam, meters long and meters or meters higher than the entrance. masses of snow fill the space between the two. the entrance is about meters wide and from meters to meters high. a snow slope of meters in length, set at an angle of °, leads to the ice floor. the cave is meters long, from meters to meters broad and from meters to meters high. the cave has been repeatedly examined by fugger, who has always found most snow and ice in the beginning of the hot weather, after which it gradually dwindles away. of the schellenberger eisgrotte, we have the following thermometric observations by professor fugger:-- date. outside. entrance. inside. june, + ° -- + . ° " + ° + . ° + . ° aug., + . ° -- + . ° " + . ° -- + . ° oct., + . ° + . ° + . ° " + . ° + . ° + . ° " + . ° -- + . ° " + . ° -- + . ° nov., + . ° -- + . ° the grosser eiskeller or kaiser karls höhle. (fugger, _beobachtungen_, etc., page .)--on the untersberg, between the salzburger hochthron and the schweigmüller alp. altitude meters. a stony slope of meters in length leads to an ice floor which is meters long and meters to meters wide. the kleiner eiskeller. (fugger, _beobachtungen_, etc., page .)--near the last. a small cave meters long, meters wide, meters high. the windlöcher on the untersberg. (fugger, _beobachtungen_, etc., page .)--on the klingersteig, at an altitude of meters. four small caves of about meters each in length and meters in depth, and communicating at the bottom. there are strong draughts among them. in one of the caves is a small pit of great depth. the eiswinkel on the untersberg. (fugger, _beobachtungen_, etc., page .)--between the klingeralp and the vierkaser, at an altitude of meters. a small cave or rather rock shelter. windholes on the untersberg. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, pages , .)--windholes have been found by fugger on the lower slopes of the untersberg: near the hochbruch at fürstenbrunn. in the débris of the neubruch. in the débris of the veitlbruch. hotel cellar at weissenbach on the attersee. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--there is a small cave here, at an altitude of meters, which is utilized as a cellar, and which is said to contain ice in summer. cave near steinbach. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small cave containing ice on the northwest slopes of the höllengebirge. altitude about meters. the kliebensteinhöhle or klimmsteinhöhle. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the north slope of the höllengebirge, near the aurachkar alp, between steinbach and the langbath lakes. altitude about meters. length about meters, width meters, height meters. the wasserloch. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the south slope of the höllengebirge, near the spitzalpe. altitude about meters. at the bottom of a gorge is a snow heap and a small cave. the snow becomes ice in the cave. cave on the zinkenkogl near aussee. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--altitude about meters. a snow slope leads to an ice floor meters long and meters wide. cave on the kasberg. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--south of grünau near gmunden. altitude about meters. small cave meters long, meters wide. the wasseraufschlag on the rothen kogel. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a tunnel near aussee. the ice in it was formerly used. the gschlösslkirche. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the dachstein range, facing the lake of gosau. a small cave, mostly filled with snow. cave with ice on the mitterstein. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the dachstein, one hour and a quarter from the austria hut. altitude about meters. cave meters to meters wide, meters long. in the rear a passage leads apparently to a windhole where there is a strong draught. windholes in the obersulzbach valley in the pinzgau. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--fugger found ice among these on the st of august, . ice in an abandoned nickel mine on the zinkwand, in the schladming valley. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .) windholes on the rothen kogel near aussee. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--these were found to contain ice on the d of september, . cave on the langthalkogel. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the dachstein plateau between hallstatt and gosau. a small cave which contains ice. eislunghöhle. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small cave between the hochkasten and ostrowiz in the priel range. the geldloch or seelücken on the oetscher. (schmidl, _die höhlen des Ötscher and die oesterreichischen höhlen_; cranmer and sieger, _globus_, , pages - , and - .)--the second known notice of a glacière cave is the account of a visit to the oetscher caves in . after lying in manuscript for two and a half centuries, it was published by dr. a. schmidl in , in _die höhlen des Ötscher_, pages - . according to the account, which is naive, but evidently truthful, kaiser rudolf ii. ordered reichard strein, owner of the herrschaff friedeck, to investigate the Ötscher and especially its caves. he did so, with the title of _kaiserlicher commissarius_, and accompanied by the _bannerherr_ christoph schallenberger, hans gasser, and eleven porters. on september the th, , they visited the seelücken, where they found a lake in the front of the cave, and where the party had great difficulties in climbing round on to the ice. the seelücken on the oetscher is situated at an altitude of meters. it opens nearly due south. the ice floor is about meters below the entrance and is about meters long and meters wide; at the rear, it rises for some meters as an ice wall at an angle of about °, and then forms a second ice floor about meters long by meters wide. the front part of the ice is sometimes, about july, covered with water. the cave continues further back, in two branches, and professors cranmer and sieger consider that it is a large windhole, in which draughts are infrequent, on account of its length and because the openings are near the same level. there are also several up and down curves and in these cold air remains and acts something like a cork in stopping draughts. on the th of september there were no draughts, and the temperatures between a. m. and m. were:-- outside air + . ° inside near entrance + . ° a little further in + . ° at the lowest point near ice + . ° on the st of october, , there was a draught, which followed the curves of the cavern, and which flowed out at the southern end. the temperatures were:-- outside air + . ° inside near entrance + . ° at the lowest point near ice + . ° on the second, higher ice floor + . ° in the main passage behind ice + . ° cave on the kühfotzen near warscheneck. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small cave containing ice. eiskeller on the rax. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page ; cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., page .)--altitude about meters. a doline with a small cave at the bottom, in which melting snow was found on the th of september, . the tablerloch. (cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., pages - .)--on the dürren-wand in the mountains south of vienna, hours distant from miesenbach r. r. station. altitude about meters. entrance meters wide, . meters high. slope ° from entrance. lowest point meters below entrance. extreme length of cave meters, width meters, height meters. professor cranmer found fresh ice beginning to form on the th of november, ; on the st of december, ; and on the th of october, . he found it melting away on the d of june, ; on the st of june, ; and on the st of may, . the rates at which the ice formed or melted, however, were not always the same in different parts of the cave. the greatest amount of ice observed seems to have been in march and april. in the summer months no perceptible movements of air seem to have been noticed. this was also sometimes the case in the winter months, during which, however, movements of air were at other times plainly perceptible. the gipsloch. (cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., page .)--a small cave on the hohen-wand near wiener-neustadt. it is rather a cold cave than a glacière. the windloch. (cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., page .)--on the hohen-wand near wiener neustadt. small cave. snow found in it on june the d, . eisloch in the brandstein on the hochschwab. (cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., page .)--altitude about meters. a moderately large cave. on the st of august, , there was an ice floor meters long and meters broad. temperature in rear of cave, - . °. caves on the beilstein. (krauss, _höhlenkunde_, , pages - ; cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., page .)--these lie about hours on foot from gams in steiermark, at an altitude of meters, in a place where the mountain is much broken up by fissures and snow basins. the large cave has two openings, from which steep snow slopes descend. the cave is meters long, meters to meters broad, and about meters high. clefts in the rock in two places lead to two lower, small ice chambers. in the neighborhood of the large cave are two small ones. prof. cranmer found fresh ice in the beilsteinhöhle on the th of august, . two days before, fresh snow had fallen on the neighboring mountain peaks. eishöhle on the brandstein. (cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., page .)--a small cleft cave near the langriedleralm near gams in steiermark. on the th of august, , it contained some ice. the frauenmauerhöhle.--described in part i., page . the bärenloch near eisenerz. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the neighborhood of the frauenmauerhöhle. altitude meters. a steep snow slope leads to an ice floor meters long. the katerloch. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the göserwand near dürnthal, glemeinde gschaid in steiermark. a large cave, some meters long and meters wide. a thin ice crust has been found on parts of the walls in the rear. caves in the stein alps. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--the plateau of velica planina lies, at an altitude of meters, kilometers north of stein in the duchy of krain. there are three caves containing ice on the plateau. the first is a big one and is called v. kofcih. the second is called mala veternica. the third and biggest is called velika veternica; its length is about meters and its breadth meters. glacière caves on the nanos mountain. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the southwestern krain, kilometers from präwald. there are four caves containing ice reported on the nanos mountain. two of them are big. the altitude of one of these is meters, of the other meters. brlowa jama. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--seven kilometers from adelsberg. small glacière cave. kosova jama. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near divacca. forty meters long, meters broad. glacière near adelsberg. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--small cave. one hour from adelsberg. kacna jama. (j. marinitsch, _la kacna jama_, _mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, vol. i., page .)--a great pit near the railroad station of divacca. herr marinitsch observed the following temperatures on january d, :-- at divacca - ° c. in the kacna jama at meters - . ° c. " " " " " meters + . ° c. " " " " " meters + . ° c. sanct canzian, karst. (e. a. martel, _les abimes_, page , note.)--during the winter of - , herr marinitsch found stalactites of ice as far as the seventeenth cascade of the recca; meters from the third entrance of the river. the temperature of the recca was then at °; during the summer, the temperature of the water rises to ° (?). the grosses eisloch of paradana. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the high plateau of the forest of tarnowa, east of görz. a large pit cave, meters to meters deep. professor fugger says of it: "the flora in the basin-like depression has the character of high mountain vegetation, with every step it resembles more this flora as it exists in the neighborhood of glaciers, until finally in the deepest point of the basin all vegetation stops." the kleines eisloch of paradana. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small pit glacière, meters distant from the grosses eisloch of paradana. suchy brezen. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small pit glacière, situated about midway between the grosses and kleines eisloch of paradana. prevalo cave. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the buchenhochwald, south of karnica. small glacière. cave of dol. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on a mountain near haidenschaft. small glacière. glacière near matena in bezirke radmansdorf. (petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., page .)--on a wooded height. the ice commences to melt in the early summer. glacière on the schutzengelberge near the golac. (petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., page .)--a small glacière. glacière cave near lazhna-gora or latzenberg. (valvasor, _die ehre des herzogthumes crain_, vol. i., pages , ; hacquet, _oryctographia carniolica_, , iii., page .)--in the neighborhood of vishnagora in the krain. the entrance is under a church. it is a large cave, meters long and meters high, where the ice all melts by the end of the summer. valvasor gives the following account of this cave in , which seems the first printed notice of a glacière in german:-- "near to lazchenberg up by the church of st. nicholas, where a _thabor_ stands, one finds a big hole, which sinks into the stony rocks. through this one descends deep with torches: there opens then underneath as big a cavity as the biggest church could be, and the same is extremely high, in the form of a cupola. one sees there different teeth, formed and hardened from the water turned to stone. further down one arrives to a deep gully: into which, however, i have not been. on the other side one must again ascend, and then one comes again to a cupola: in which cupola ice stands up like an organ from the earth. "there also one sees icicles of pure ice of different sizes and heights, of which many are one or two _klafters_ high and as thick as a man; but many only two or three spans high or higher, and as thick as an arm, and some also thinner. this ice is formed from the drops of falling water; and indeed in summer; for in winter there is no ice therein. over such ice one must then ascend, as there are then said to be separate holes and grottoes. but no one has been any further." glacière on the dini verh. (petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., page .)--near tomischle in the krain. small glacière. eiskeller near rosseck. (petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., page .)--on the pograca mountain in the krain, northeast of the hornwald, near the meierhof rosseck. small glacière cave. gorge near rosseck. (valvasor, _die ehre des herzogthumes crain_, vol. i., page and page ; petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., page .)--behind the ruined castle of rosseck, on the pograca mountain in the krain, is a gorge, at whose bottom are four little holes containing ice most of the year. valvasor wrote of this cave in : "near rosseck immediately back of the castle there opens a mighty cavern entirely in stony rock, and yawns in the shape of a cauldron down into the earth. above as wide as a good rifle shot, but below quite narrow. and there underneath there are many holes where the ice remains through the whole summer. from such ice have duke frederick graf and duke von gallenberg daily made use in summer to cool their wine. six years ago i descended there in the month of august, and found ice enough in all the holes." in the same volume freiherr valvasor elaborates his remarks about this cave and that at latzenberg, repeating in the main the observations in the paragraph just given. he says: "there hang also long icicles which are quite pleasant to look at. * * * this ice breaks all too easily and quickly. * * * contrarywise, however, this ice lasts much longer in the sun and the heat than other ice. * * * some might think it would eventually turn into stone: this, however, does not happen: for it remains only in summer and disappears in winter: as i can say for certain, as i have been in myself in the winter as well as in the summer time. * * * for as in the summer the floor is quite covered with ice: it makes walking so dangerous and bad that one cannot take a step without climbing irons; but in the winter time one goes safely and well. * * *" freiherr valvasor was evidently an accurate observer, and, if for his word "winter" we substitute "autumn," his account will be much more nearly correct than might have been expected two centuries ago. the kuntschner eishöhle. (petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., pages , .)--this is known also as the töplitzer, unterwarmberger or ainödter grotto. it lies kilometers from kuntschen, and kilometers from töplitz near neustädtel, in the krain. altitude about meters. petruzzi says: "of all so far noticed ice grottoes it is the most wonderful and splendid." in august and september, , the temperatures near the ice were about two degrees above freezing. on the th of august, there were many long ice stalagmites and stalactites; on the th of september they had diminished materially. petruzzi says also: "one leaves the abundant vegetation of the alpine summer flora, and through bushes and dwarf underbrush, through bare and half moss covered rocks and débris, through rotten and twisted tree stems, one comes to the hall of eternal winter, where the microscopic mosses of the north surround the thousand year old stalactites, hanging from the dripping vault, with an always passing, always freshly forming, tender sulphur colored down." dr. schwalbe has also examined this cave. the friedrichsteiner or gottscheer eishöhle.--described in part i., page . the handler eisloch.-- kilometers south of gottschee and about twenty minutes from the village of handlern, near rieg. altitude meters. small cave. professor hans satter of gottschee told me he doubted whether ice ever formed there now. the suchenreuther eisloch.--described in part i., page . ledenica na veliki gori. (petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., page .)--in the krain, kilometers from reifnitz, on the balastena mountain. altitude meters. much ice was found there on the th of july, . mrzla jama. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the innerkrainer schneeberg, kilometers from laas. glacière caves on the kapella. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on a pass in the neighborhood of piacenza. altitude meters. glacière cave in west bosnia. (fugger, _eishöhlen_. page .)--west of kljuc, county petrovac, district smoljama, near village trvanj. called trvanj, also ledenica. altitude about meters, length meters, breadth from meters to meters. rtanj, servia. (a. boué, _la turquie d'europe_, , vol. i., page ; dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , pages - .)--this glacière is on the south side of siljak, near the village muzinac. a passage meters long leads to a hall about meters in height. dr. boué found snow here in august, the thermometer standing below freezing point. the people in the neighborhood told dr. boué that the snow is formed in june and disappears in september and that it is sometimes carried to nisch. he also heard of similar cavities on the bannat mountain. dr. cvijic observed in the hall a temperature of + . ° c. ledena pec, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , pages , .)--on the ledini verh or glacial peak, at an altitude of meters; distant one hour and a half from the village of souvold. length of passage meters; at entrance about meters, at end about meters in height. on the th of may, , there was plenty of ice and snow. temperature of outside air + ° c.; inside air at rear + . ° c. probably permanent glacière. dobra ledenica, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--west of ledeno brdo. probably periodic glacière. on july th, , the temperature of the outside air was + ° c.; of the inside air + . °c. _ledenica_ is the name for a glacière in servia. ledenica in the mala brezovica, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--length meters. a large, permanent glacière. on july th, , the outside air was + °: inside air + °. ledenica treme in the souva planina, servia. (cvijic, dr. a., _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--altitude meters to meters. a rather large, probably permanent glacière. plenty of ice in it on april st, . zla ledenica, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--on the kucaj. a permanent glacière, meters or meters deep. on july th, , outside air + °; inside air at snow + °. glacière on the devica, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--under the peak lazurevica. altitude meters. a narrow passage leads to a hall meters long by meters wide and meters high. on june th, , there was plenty of snow in the passage and ice in the hall. glacière vlaska pecura, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--on the devica, under the golemi vech. a small periodic glacière. glacière in the zdrebica, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--on the southeast side of the souva planina, near the village veliki krtchimir. a small periodic glacière. on april th, , plenty of snow and ice. glacière stoykova, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , pages , .)--on the kucaj. a large pit cave with a total depth of meters. probably a permanent glacière. on july st, , plenty of ice and snow. outside air + °; inside air in hall + . °. glacière on the topiznica mountain, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--altitude meters. a large pit cave with an extreme depth of meters. in august, , there was plenty of snow and ice, and the inside temperature was + °. glacière cave near borszék. (bielz, _siebenbürgen_, , page .)--about an hour distant from the baths, in broken limestone. it seems to be a rock fissure, at the end of which ice is found till towards the middle of july. glacière cave near sonkolyos in the korös valley. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--small cave. glacière near zapodia. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near petrosc in the bihar mountains. altitude meters; length meters, width meters. pescerca la jesere. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--between vervul la belegiana and the batrina in the bihar mountains. small freezing cave. glacière cave near verespatak, in transylvania. (bielz, _siebenbürgen_, page .)--small cave. gietariu near funacza. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the bihar mountains. small glacière cave. cave of skerizora. (karl f. peters, _sitzungsbericht der k. k. akademie der wissenchaften_, wien, vol. xliii., , page ; bielz, _siebenbürgen_, , page .)--this is one of the greatest glacière caves known. it lies in the bihar mountains, three hours from the village of ober-girda, which can be reached from gyula fehérvar, via topánfalva. it is a pit cave, in limestone, at an altitude of meters. the pit is about meters broad, and meters deep, with exceedingly steep walls. the entrance is in the northeast wall and is about meters high. this leads into a nearly circular hall meters in diameter and about meters high. the floor is ice. in the southeast corner is a hole over meters deep. in the northwest wall is an opening meters wide, which forms the beginning of a sort of gallery meters long and which at its further end is meters wide and meters high. this is also covered with a flooring of ice, which in some places can only be descended by step cutting. this passage is also richly adorned with ice stalactites and stalagmites. at its end is another also nearly circular hall, meters in diameter and about meters high. this is called the '_beszerika_' or church. in one place there is a magnificent collection of ice stalagmites called the "altar." peters found in dirt on the sides of the cave remains of bats not very different from those now living in the vicinity. he thinks the bats may have come there before the cave became a glacière; or else that they may even now sometimes get into the first hall and there perish from cold. this makes it uncertain, therefore, whether the remains can be considered as of the past or the present. eishöhle bei roth.--described in part i., page . mines on the eisenberg. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--these lie near blankenburg in the thüringer wald and have been known to contain ice. the ziegenloch or grosses kalte loch, and the kleines kalte loch. (behrens, _hercynia curiosa_, pages , .)--these lie near questenberg in the southern harz mountains, at an altitude of about meters. the grosses loch is described as a sort of small pit some meters deep, in one side of which opens a small fissure some meters long. ice has been found in this in april; schwalbe found none there in july. the kleines loch was another small cold cave near the ziegenloch, but it has been filled up. behrens says that the dampness at the cave at questenberg is precipitated as snow. holes with ice near sanct blasien. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the black forest, among boulders at an altitude of meters. holes with ice near hochenschwand. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the black forest, among boulders at an altitude of meters. eisstollen and eiskeller at the dornburg. described in part i., page . (poggendorff's _annalen der physik und chemie, ergänzungsband_, , pages - .)--ice appears to have been discovered at the dornburg in june, . it was found from a depth of centimeters down to meters. the width of the ice-bearing talus was from meters to meters; and it is said that it becomes wider in winter and narrower in summer. beschertgluck mine, freiberg district. (prestwich, _collected papers_, etc., page .)--mr. prestwich quotes daubuisson as having seen the shaft of the mine lined with ice to a depth of toises ( meters?). ice in the zinc mines on the sauberg. (reich, _beobachtungen über die temperatur des gesteines_, , pages and .)--these are near ehrenfriedersdorf in saxony and formerly contained ice in winter. they are reported now to be destroyed. the garische stollen. (lohman, _das höhleneis_, etc., page .)--near ehrenfriedersdorf in the freiwald. lohman found much ice in this in january, less in march, and scarcely any in may. the ritterhöhle. (lohman, _das höhleneis_, page .)--near ehrenfriedersdorf in the freiwald. small ice deposit. the rock is granite. the stulpnerhöhle. (lohman, _das höhleneis_, page .)--near the ritterhöhle. small ice deposit in granite rock. eisloch and eishöhle near geyer in saxony. (lohman, _das höhleneis_, page .)--these are in a place called die binge. both are small. the alte thiele. (lohman, _das höhleneis_, page .)--near buchholz in saxony. small ice deposit. mine pits in the saxon erzgebirge. (reich, _beobachtungen über die temperatur des gesteines_, .)--extremely low temperatures have been found in several of these pits:-- in the churprinz friedrich august erbstollen near freiberg. in the heinrichs-sohle in the stockwerk near altenberg. in the henneberg stollen, on the ingelbach, near johanngeorgenstadt. in the weiss-adler-stollen, on the left declivity of the valley of the schwarzwasser, above the antonshütte. holes holding ice on the saalberg. (_annalen der physik und chemie_, , lxxxi., page .)--these lie between saalberg and the burgk. ice is found here on the surface from june to the middle of august. from the observations of professor hartenstein, fugger deduces that this place must be the lower end of one or more windholes. millstone quarry of niedermendig. (m. a. pictet, _mémoires de la société d'histoire naturelle de genève_, , vol. i., page .)--on the niederrhein. there are many connecting pits and galleries here, in which ice has been found in the hottest days of summer as well as in march. the abandoned shafts are utilized as beer cellars. eisgrube on the umpfen. (voigt, _mineralogische reisen durch das herzogthum weimar_, , vol. ii., page .)--in the rhöngebirge, twenty minutes from kaltennordheim, are some irregular masses of columnar basalt, at an altitude of about meters, among which abundant ice has been found up to late in the summer. cave near muggendorf, franconia.--the landlord of the kurhaus hotel at muggendorf, told me that there was a small cave in the vicinity where there was ice in the winter and spring, but that it all melted away before august. cave on the dürrberg. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near zwickau in bohemia. small cave which sometimes contains ice. the schneebinge. (lohman, _das höhleneis_, page .)--near platten in bohemia. a small ice deposit in an old mine. ice among basaltic rocks on the pleschiwitz. (pleischl, in poggendorff's _annalen der physik und chemie_, vol. liv., , pages - .)--above kameik near leitmeritz in bohemia. professor pleischl, in may, , found ice under the rocks a little distance from the surface. the surface of the rocks was then warm. on the st of january, , professor pleischl found snow on the outside of the rocks, but no ice underneath. he was assured by the people of the district that the hotter the summer, the more ice is found. glacière on the zinkenstein. (pleischl, in poggendorff's _annalen der physik und chemie_, vol. liv., , page ).--the zinkenstein is one of the highest points of the vierzehnberge, in the leitmeritz kreis. there is a deep cleft in basalt, where ice has been found in summer. eislöcher on the steinberg. (pleischl, in poggendorffs _annalen der physik und chemie_, vol. liv., , page .)--in the herrschaft konoged. small basalt talus where ice is found in the hottest weather. windholes in bohemia. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the neighborhood of leitmeritz. these are in basaltic rock. ice sometimes forms at the lower extremity. the most notable are-- on the steinberg near mertendorf on the triebschbach; on the kelchberg near triebsch; on the kreuzberg near leitmeritz; on the rodersberg near schlackenwerth; in the grossen loch near tschersink. ice in a pit near neusohl. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .) the frainer eisleithen. described in part i., page . (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .) professor fugger quotes the following observations by forester wachtl at frain:-- . . january - ° to - ° - ° february - ° to ° - ° to - ° march ° to + ° - ° to ° april + ° to + ° ° may + ° + ° to + ° june + ° to + ° + ° to + ° july + ° + ° to + ° august + ° to + ° + ° september + ° to + ° + ° to + ° october + ° + ° november -- + ° december - ° to - ° ° to - ° démenyfálva jegbarlang. described in part i., page . dóbsina jegbarlang. described in part i., page . (pelech; _the valley of stracena and the dobschau ice cavern_; schwalbe, _Über eishöhlen und eislöcher_, page .)--pelech gives the following measurements: the grosser saal is meters long, meters to meters wide, and meters to meters high, with a surface area of square meters. the ice mass is estimated as , cubic meters in volume. the length of the korridor is meters; the left wing being meters, and the right wing meters long. the cave was first entered on july th, , by herr eugene ruffiny, of dóbsina, and some friends. he had happened to fire a gun in front of it, and hearing a continuous muffled rolling echo within, determined to explore it. dr. schwalbe quotes the following series of observations in dóbsina during the year : deepest point from korridor entrance. grosser saal. of korridor. to kleinen saal. january - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° february - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° march - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° april - . ° - . ° - . ° + . ° may + . ° + . ° - . ° + . ° june + . ° + . ° - . ° + . ° july + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° august + . ° + . ° + . ° + . september + . + . ° - . ° - . ° october - . ° + . ° - . ° - . ° november - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° december - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° ------ ------ ------ ------ year + . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° the philadelphia _evening bulletin_, march, st, , printed the following note about dóbsina: "in this cave, some sixteen years ago, a couple named kolcsey elected to pass the week immediately following their marriage. they took with them a plentiful supply of rugs, blankets and warm clothing, but notwithstanding all precautions, their experience was not of a sufficiently pleasant nature to tempt imitators." lednica of szilize. (m. bel, _philosophical transactions_, london, , vol. xli., page _et seq._; townson, _travels in hungary_, ; terlanday, _petermann's mittheilungen_, , page .)--it lies . kilometers from the village of szilize, near rosenau, in gomör county, in the carpathians, at an altitude of meters. a pit about meters deep, meters long, and meters wide opens in the ground, and at the southern end, in the perpendicular wall, is the cave. the entrance is meters wide, meters high, and faces north. a slope meters long sinks with an angle of ° to the floor of the cave, which is nearly circular in form, with a diameter of about meters. on the east side of the cave there seems to be a hole in the ice some meters deep. in , there was published in london a curious letter in latin from matthias bel, a hungarian _savant_, about the cavern of szilize. he says: "the nature of the cave has this of remarkable, that, when outside the winter freezes strongest, inside the air is balmy: but it is cold, even icy, when the sun shines warmest. as soon as the snow melts and spring begins, the inner roof of the cave, where the midday sun strikes the outside, begins to sweat clear water, which drops down here and there; through the power of the inner cold it turns to transparent ice and forms icicles, which in thickness equal large barrels and take wonderful shapes. what as water drops from the icicles to the sandy floor, freezes up, even quicker, than one would think. "the icy nature of the cave lasts through the whole summer, and what is most remarkable, it increases with the increasing heat of the sun. in the beginning of the spring the soft winter's warmth begins to give way soon thereafter, and when spring is more advanced, the cold sets in, and in such a manner, that the warmer does the (outside) air grow, the more does the cave cool off. and when the summer has begun and the dog days glow, everything within goes into icy winter. then do the drops of water pouring from the roof of the cave change into ice, and with such rapidity that where to-day delicate icicles are visible, to-morrow masses and lumps, which fall to the ground, appear. here and there, where the water drips down the walls of the cave, one sees wonderful incrustations, like an artificial carpeting. the rest of the water remains hanging on the ice, according to the warmth of the day. for when for a longer time it is warmer, the ice of the stalactites, of the walls and of the floor increases; but when the ruling heat, as sometimes happens, is diminished through north winds or rainstorm, the waters freeze more slowly, the ice drips more fully and begins to form little brooklets. when however the temperature gets warmer, the icy nature of the cave begins once more. some have observed, that the nature of the grotto receives the changes of temperature ahead, like a barometer. for, when a warmer temperature sets in outside, the waters change into ice, several hours before the heat sets in, while the opposite takes place, when by day the temperature is colder; for then even by the warmest sky the ice begins to melt noticeably. "when the dog days have passed and the summer has already changed into fall, the cave with its own nature follows the conditions of the external air. in the early months and while the nights are growing colder, the ice diminishes visibly; then when the air cools off more and more and when the brooks and side are rigid with frost, it begins to melt as though there was a fire built underneath, until, when winter reigns, it is entirely dry in the cave, without a sign of ice being left behind. then gentle warmth spreads into the entire cave, and this icy grave becomes a safety resort for insects and other small animals, which bear the winter with difficulty. but besides swarms of flies and gnats, troops of bats and scores of owls, hares and foxes take up their abode here, until with the beginning of spring, the cave once more assumes its icy appearance." these assertions of bel are the most inaccurate ones made about glacières. yet, strange to say, they have colored the literature of the subject down to our own times; and have been repeated many times, sometimes with, sometimes without, the hares and foxes; the latest repetition seeming to occur in . cave near the village of borzova, torna county, carpathians. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--reported to contain ice, but nothing certainly known. crimea. ledianaia yama. (montpeyreux, _voyage autour du caucase_ v., page ; hablizl, _description physique de la tauride_, , pages - .)--on the karabi-yaïla, kilometers southwest of karasubazar. altitude about meters. a fairly large pit glacière cave. the name means an abyss of ice. glacière cave on the yaïla of oulouzène at kazauté. (montpeyreux, _voyage autour du caucase_, ii., page .)--a small pit cave. caucasus. glacière cave in the khotevi valley. (montpeyreux, _voyage autour du caucase_, ii., page .)--in the province of radscha, near the monastery nikortsminda. a large pit cave which must be of the same order as that of chaux-les-passavant and from which the inhabitants of koutaïs get ice. glacières near koutaïs. (e. a. martel, _les abimes_, page .)--"dr. a. sakharov, it appears, has recently discovered in the government of koutaïs caves containing ice." cave of sabazwinda. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near the town of zorchinwall, on the river liachwa, province of gori, in georgia, near the ossete mountains. ice has been found in the cave in summer. in december there was none. ural. glacière cave near sukepwa. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the volga, province of zlatoust. small cave on the river bank. glacière cave on the tirmen tau. (lepechin, _tagebuch der reise_, etc., vol. ii., page .)--near the village of chaszina, kilometers from orenburg. small cave. glacière cave of kurmanajeva. (lepechin, _tagebuch der reise_, etc., vol. ii., page .)--near kurmanajeva, a village kilometers from tabinsk, in the government of orenburg. a large cave. lepechin found ice in one part of the cave and deep water in another. there were draughts in some places. cave on the baislan tasch. (lepechin, _tagebuch der reise_, etc., ii., page .)--the baislan tasch is a mountain on the right bank of the bielaja river, which flows into the kama. there is a large cave in the mountain in which ice has been found. cave on the muinak tasch. (lepechin, _tagebuch der reise_, etc., ii., page .)--the muinak tasch is a mountain on the bielaja river. there is a large cave in it, in which a little ice has been found. cave of kungur. (lepechin, _tagebuch der reise_, etc., ii., page ; rosenmüller and tilesius, i., page .)--the cavern of kungur is near the town of kungur in the government of perm. there are in it many passages and grottoes connecting with one another, some of which contain ice. it is a fine, large cave, whose greatest length is meters. mines of kirobinskoy. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--these mines are kilometers southeast of miask in the ural; they have been abandoned. one of them contains ice all the year round. caves of illetzkaya-zatschita. (murchison, vernieul and keyserling, _the geology of russia in europe and the ural mountains_, , vol. i., page .)-- kilometers southeast from orenburg. the caves are in the kraoulnaïgora, a gypsum hillock meters high, rising in the midst of an undulating steppe, which lies on a vast bed of rock salt. only one of the caves contains ice. there are strong draughts in places. siberia. cave near the fortress kitschigina. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small cave, kilometers east of kajilskoi, kilometers from petropaulowsk, kilometers from tobolsk. the cave is in an open plain, and sometimes contains ice. wrechneja petschera. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near the village birjusinska, in the neighborhood of krasnojarsk, on the right bank of the yenisei. large glacière cave. glacière cave of balagansk. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a narrow cleft, meters long; kilometers downstream from irkutsk on the left bank of the angora river; at a distance of kilometers from the river. glacière cave on the onon river. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small cave; kilometers from the borsja mountain. mines of siranowsk. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the altai mountains, on the buchtorma river, an affluent of the irtysch. magnificent ice formations have been found in these mines. mines of seventui. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near nertschinsk, on the amoor river. two of the levels contain perennial ice and hence are called _ledenoi_. these are at a depth of about meters in porous lava. the rest of the mine is in more solid rock. glacière cave near lurgikan. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near the confluence of the lurgikan and schilka rivers, in the province nertschinsk. from meters to meters wide. length meters. basins or troughs retaining ice. (dittmar, _ueber die eismülden im Östlichen siberien_; middendorff, _zusatz_; _bulletin de la classe physico-mathématique de l'académie impériale des sciences de st. pétersbourg_, , vol. xi., pages - .)--these troughs are nearly akin to gorges and gullies, but their water supply seems to come from a cause which is not usually present in gorges. their principal observer, m. de dittmar, thought that a cold and snowy winter would add materially to the supply of ice, but he also thought that a necessity to the existence of the ice in these troughs was an abundant water supply from a spring, whose temperature should be so high as not to freeze in winter. the cold is supplied by the winter temperatures. some of the most important are reported-- in the turachtach valley. near kapitanskji sasiek. in the valley of the river belvi. in the valley of the river antscha. in the kintschen valley. in the neighborhood of kolymsk. in the werchojanski mountains. in the stanowáj mountains. kondooz. cave of yeermallik. (burslem, _a peep into toorkisthan_, , chaps. x., xi.)--in the valley of the doaub, northwest of kabul. the entrance is half way up a hill, and is about meters wide and meters high. this is a large cave, with many ramifications and galleries. in the centre of a hall far within, captain burslem found a mass of clear ice, smooth and polished as a mirror, and in the form of a beehive, with its dome-shaped top just touching the long icicles which depended from the jagged surface of the rock. a small aperture led into the interior of this cone, whose walls were about centimeters thick and which was divided into several compartments. some distance from the entrance of this cave there is a perpendicular drop of meters. a short distance beyond this, in one of the halls, were hundreds of skeletons of men, women and children, in a perfectly undisturbed state, also the prints of a naked human foot and the distinct marks of the pointed heel of an afghan boot. the moollah, who was acting as guide, said the skeletons were the remains of seven hundred men of the huzareh tribe who took refuge in the cave with their wives and children during the invasion of genghis khan, and who defended themselves so stoutly, that after trying in vain to smoke them out, the invader built them in with huge natural blocks of stone, and left them to die of hunger. some of the afghans said that the cave was inhabited by sheitan, a possibility denied by the moollah who guided captain burslem, on the philosophical plea that the cave was too cold for such an inhabitant. himÁlaya. glacière cave of amarnath. (miss mary coxe of philadelphia showed me a copy of a letter of dr. wilhelmine eger describing a visit to this cave.)--it lies three days' journey from pailgam in kashmere, on the borders of little tibet. the altitude is evidently high as one crosses snow fields to get to it. a small path zigzagging up a grassy slope leads to the cave and is a stiff climb from the valley. the cave opens on the side of a mountain and has a large, almost square mouth at least as big as the floor area within. the floor of the cave is the continuation of the grass slope and slants upwards and backwards to the back wall, the only case of the kind so far reported. this cave is most curiously connected with religion. dr. eger says that there are two small blocks of ice in it which never melt. from time immemorial these blocks of ice have been sacred to the hindoos who worship them--as re-incarnations--under the names of shiva and ganesh. dr. eger saw offerings of rice and flowers on them. thousands of pilgrims come every year at the end of july or beginning of august from all parts of india. thousands of miles have been traversed and hundreds of lives laid down through this journey. every year people die either before reaching the cave or after. the trip from pailgam in kashmere takes three days up and two days down, if one returns by a shorter route where the way is unsafe because of avalanches. so many have perished there that the pass is called "the way of death." this must be taken by one class of pilgrims, _sardhas_ or holy men, to complete the sacred circuit, but the hindoos say any one dying on the pass will go straight to heaven. icicles formed by radiation. (general sir richard strachey, _geographical journal_, , vol. xv., page .)--on the balch pass of the balch range in tibet, general strachey, in , saw icicles of which he says: "on the rocks exposed to the south were very curious incrustations of ice, icicles indeed, but standing out horizontally like fingers towards the wind. i was not able to understand how they were caused, nor can i tell why they were confined to particular spots. the thermometer stood at °[f.], and though the dew point at the time would probably have been below °[f.], and the cold produced by evaporation sufficient therefore to freeze water, yet it is evident that no condensation could ever take place simultaneously with the evaporation. * * * it has since occurred to me that these icicles were formed by radiation. i found, subsequently, in a somewhat similar position, that a thermometer suspended vertically, and simply exposed to the sky in front of it, was depressed as much as ° f. below the true temperature of the surrounding air. this result was, of course, due to the radiation through the extremely dry and rarefied atmosphere at the great elevation at which the thermometer was exposed. as radiation takes place freely from a surface of ice, the growth of such icicles as those described might be due to the condensation of vapour brought up by the southerly day winds that so constantly blow over these passes, and its accumulation in the form of ice on the exposed extremity of the icicle, the temperature of which might thus have been greatly reduced." india. ice formed by radiation. (t. a. wise, _nature_, vol. v., page ; r. h. scott, _elementary meteorology_, third ed., pages , .)--mr. bunford samuel called my attention to the mode of manufacturing ice by radiation in india. it is as follows:-- "a very practical use of nocturnal radiation has been made from time immemorial in india in the preparation of ice, and on such a scale that about tons of ice can be procured in a single night from twenty beds of the dimensions about to be given, when the temperature of the air is ° or ° [f.] above the freezing point. * * * the locality referred to is the immediate neighborhood of calcutta. a rectangular piece of ground is marked out, lying east and west, and measuring by feet. this is excavated to the depth of two feet and filled with rice straw rather loosely laid, to within six inches of the surface of the ground. the ice is formed in shallow dishes of porous earthenware, and the amount of water placed in each is regulated by the amount of ice expected. "in the cold weather, when the temperature of the air at the ice fields is under °, ice is formed in the dishes. the freezing is most active with n. n. w. airs, as these are driest; it ceases entirely with southerly or easterly airs, even though their temperature may be lower than that of the n. n. w. wind. "no ice is formed if the wind is sufficiently strong to be called a breeze, for the air is not left long enough at rest, above the bed, for its temperature to fall sufficiently, by the action of radiation. "the rice straw, being kept loose and perfectly dry, cuts off the access of heat from the surface of the ground below it, and, when the sun goes down, the straw being a powerful radiator, the temperature of the air in contact with the dishes is reduced some ° below that prevailing some two or three feet above them. the rapid evaporation of the water into the dry air above creates also an active demand for heat to be rendered latent in the formation of steam, and the result of all these agencies is the formation of ice, under favorable circumstances, on the extensive scale above mentioned." korea. glacière cave on the han gang.--messrs. j. edward farnum and george l. farnum, of philadelphia, inform me that they saw a small cave containing ice on the banks of one of the korean rivers. it is about kilometers from seoul, nearly northeast, near the ferry where the old road leading from seoul towards northern korea crosses the han gang, the river which passes by seoul. the entrance is small; perhaps meters wide. the cave is not thoroughly explored. ice lies near the entrance, and as far back as the messrs. farnum could see. japan. glacière lava cave near shoji. (_evening telegraph, philadelphia, january d, ._)--the cave is about kilometers from shoji, and is in lava. first there is a pit in the forest, some meters wide by meters deep. the cave opens into this. it seems to be some meters long and from meters to meters high. there is an ice floor in places, also many ice stalagmites. at the furthest point reached there is a strong air current, which extinguishes torches and so far has prevented further exploration. ice from the cave has been cut by the country people for sale at kofu, which is not far distant. part iv. some opinions about glaciÈres. some opinions about glaciÈres. benigne poissenot, in , hinted that the cold of winter produced the ice at chaux-les-passavant.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: page . reichard strein and christoph schallenberger visited the caves on the Ötscher in .[ ] [ ] see part iii.: page . gollut, in , suggested the cold of winter as the cause of the ice at chaux-les-passavant.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: page . in the _histoire de l'académie royale des sciences_, , tome ii., pages , , there is an account, with no author's name, of chaux-les-passavant. the memoir states that in winter the cave is filled with thick vapors and that after some trees were cut down near the entrance, the ice was less abundant than formerly: that people come for ice with carts and mules, but that the ice does not become exhausted, for one day of great heat forms more ice than could be carried away in eight days in carts and wagons: and that when a fog forms in the cave, there is assuredly rain the following day, and that the peasants in the neighborhood consult this curious "almanac" to know the weather which is coming. freiherr valvasor, in , wrote about some of the glacières of the krain.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: pages , . behrens, in , thought it was colder in summer than in winter in the caves near questenberg in the harz. m. de billerez, in , writes that at chaux-les-passavant it is really colder in summer than in winter; and that the ice is harder than river ice, and this he thinks is due to the presence of a nitrous or ammoniacal salt, which he says he found in the rocks. m. de boz made four trips to chaux-les-passavant on the th of may and th of november, ; and the th of march and th of august, . his memoir says that his observations tend to disprove those of m. de billerez, and that "the cause for the great cold, which is less great in summer, although always remaining, is quite natural." he cites as causes for the ice the exposure to the north-north-east; the rock portal sheltering the entrance, and all the forest covering the surrounding lands; and adds that some veracious persons told him that since some of the big trees above the grotto had been cut down there was less ice than before. he found no traces of salt, nor any springs, and that the water supply came from the rains and melted snows filtering through the ground. in , matthias bel published his curious account of szilize.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: page . j. n. nagel, a vienna mathematician, visited the Ötscher in . he concluded that the ice was made in winter and preserved in summer as in an ice house. m. de cossigny wrote, in , about chaux-les-passavant. he made a plan of the cave and took many observations in april, august and october, and concluded that the interior condition of the cave does not change noticeably from winter to summer, no matter what the external conditions of temperature may be; that what people say of greater cold in summer, vanishes before actual experience and that, as a state of freezing reigns more or less continuously in the cave, it is not surprising if the ice accumulates. apparently he was the first to notice and insist on the necessity of drainage to the cave through cracks in the rocks. he also made a series of observations disproving those of m. de billerez, as to the presence of any kinds of salts in the rocks or ice. hacquet, in , thought that the ice in the cave at lazhna-gora formed in winter, but he also thought that there must undoubtedly be some salt in the water. he says he found ice in the cave in the spring, and that his companion, a priest, had never found any in winter. he therefore concluded that by that time it had all melted. romain joly, in , claims to have visited chaux-les-passavant on the th of september (year not given). his account seems largely borrowed from the one in the _histoire de l'académie royale des sciences_, in . he says: "this ice is formed by the drops of water which fall from the roof, and which freeze because of the chill of the cave. in the winter there is no ice, but running water." he says nothing, however, about the ice forming in summer. the _citoyen_ girod-chantrans visited chaux-les-passavant in august, , and reached the conclusion, from all he saw and heard, that the cave did not freeze in summer nor thaw in winter, and that it was really a natural ice house. he was aided by the notes of a neighboring physician, dr. oudot, who had made observations in the cave, and among others, had placed stakes of wood, on the th of january, , in the heads of the columns he had found in the cave; and on the d of february, , had found these stakes completely covered with ice, forming columns centimeters in diameter. hablizl, in , wrote that the ice in the cave near karassoubazar formed in the spring by the snows which melt, run into the cave, and refreeze. he also thought that there was less ice there in the fall than in the spring, that it diminishes in july and august, and that the idea, current in the neighborhood, of the formation of ice in summer, is a mistake. professor pierre prévost, in , gave an accurate explanation of the formation of the ice in chaux-les-passavant. he says: "weighing carefully the local circumstances, one discovers in truth a few causes of permanent cold. but these causes seem rather suited to keep up a great freshness or to diminish the heat of summer, than to produce a cold such as that which reigns in the cavern. first of all, big trees throw shade over the entrance; it is, i was told, forbidden under severe penalties to cut down any of them, for fear of depriving the grotto of a necessary shelter. in the second place, this entrance is situated almost due north, leaning a little to the east, which is the coolest exposure one can choose, and the one most suited to help the effect of the icy winds which blow from that quarter. finally the slope is steep and the grotto deep and covered with a thick vault. these three conditions united constitute, as it seems to me, a very good _ice house_; by which i mean a reservoir fit to preserve during the summer, the ice which may bank up in winter. "but how does this ice bank up? one knows that the outside waters above form on the roof, during the winter, long drops and stalactites of ice. these icicles, which hang down and increase constantly by the drip from the same source which formed them, fall at last, carried away by their own weight, and form so many centres, around which freeze the waters with which the floor of the grotto is always inundated. at the same time, the blowing of the north wind accumulates snow at the base of the slope, which is uncovered in part and exposed above to all the vicissitudes of the weather. thus during the winter is formed an irregular heap of ice and snow, which the first heats of spring begin to make run, but which the heats of summer cannot finish dissolving. the winter following has therefore even more facility to augment the mass of these ice pyramids, which have resisted until the fall. and if men did not work at diminishing it, it might happen that it would fill the entire cavern at last to a great height. "i am therefore strongly inclined to think that the process of nature is here precisely similar to that of art; that without any especial cause of cold, the natural glacière of besançon conserves in the moderate temperature of deep caverns, the heaps of snow and ice which the winds and the outside waters accumulate there during the winter; and that the melting of these snows and of these accumulated ices forms little by little the ice floor, scattered over with blocks and pyramids, which one observes there during the summer." horace bénédict de saussure, the great swiss scientist and mountaineer, in , published a number of observations about cold current caves in various parts of the alps. he found that in summer the air blows outward at the lower end, and that in winter it draws inward. his explanation is that in summer the colder air in the tube is heavier than the outside air and displaces it by gravity; while in winter the rupture takes place in the other direction, since the column within the tube is warmer than the outside air and therefore is pushed upwards by the heavy air flowing in. he concludes that evaporation due to the air passing internally over moist rocks suffices to explain the phenomenon of low temperatures and that such caves have a rather lower temperature in the alps than in italy owing to the greater natural cold of the swiss lake region. an experiment of his is worth mentioning. he passed a current of air through a glass tube, . centimeters in diameter, filled with moistened stones, and found that the air current which entered with a temperature of . ° came out with a temperature of . °, that is with a loss of . ° of heat. robert townson, ll.d., in , published an account, perhaps the first in english, of a glacière cave. he says of szilize: "ice i truly found here in abundance, and it was mid-summer, but in a state of thaw; the bed of ice, which covered the floor of the cavern was thinly covered with water and everything announced a thaw. i had no need to use my thermometer: however i placed it in the ice and it fell to ° of réaumur: i then wiped it and placed it in a niche in the rock, at the furthest part of the cavern, a yard above the ice and here it remained near an hour: when i returned i found it at °. * * * everything therefore, ice, water and atmosphere in the neighborhood had the same temperature, and that was the temperature of melting ice: ° réaumur. "when then is the ice which is found here, and in such quantities that this cavern serves the few opulent nobility in the neighborhood as an ice house, formed? surely in winter, though not by the first frost, not so soon as ice is formed in the open air. no doubt, from the little communication this cavern has with the atmosphere, it will be but little and slowly affected by the change. should therefore, mr. bel, or any of his friends, have come here to verify the common report at the commencement of a severe frost, when the whole country was covered with ice and snow, they might still have found nothing here but water, or the ice of the preceding winter in a state of thaw, and the cavern relatively warm; and likewise, should they have visited it in a warm spring, which had succeeded to a severe winter, they might have found nothing here but frost and ice; and even the fresh melted snow, percolating through the roof of this cavern, might again have been congealed to ice. i observed frequently in germany in the severe winter of - , on a sudden thaw, that the walls of churches and other public buildings, on the outside were white and covered with a hoar frost, and the windows on the same side covered with a rime." dr. franz sartori, in , was a strong believer in the summer ice theory, and wrote of the flies and the gnats, the bats and the owls, and the foxes and the hares coming to szilize to winter. alexander von humboldt, in , says about the cueva del hielo on the peak of teneriffe that so much snow and ice are stored up in winter that the summer heat cannot melt it all, and also adds that permanent snow in caves must depend more on the amount of winter snow, and the freedom from hot winds, than on the absolute altitude of the cave. dewey, in , thought that the ice in the snow glen at williamstown was a winter formation. professor m. a. pictet visited saint-georges, le brezon and montarquis and in endeavored to prove that they are cold current caves and that the ice in them is due entirely to draughts causing evaporation. he believed in the theory of the ice forming in summer more than in winter and that it could not be the residue of a winter deposit. he therefore argued that it must be due to descending currents of air which he thought would be most energetic in summer; that they would become at least as low as the mean annual temperature of the place and be still further cooled by evaporation. the strange thing about his theories is that he does not seem to have personally observed any draughts either at saint-georges or le brezon, but the fact that the ice was evidently not an accumulation of winter snow led him to try to reconcile what he had himself seen with de saussure's theories about windholes. jean andré deluc in published a paper discussing the theories of mm. de cossigny, prévost and pictet. deluc had never visited a glacière himself, but he explains clearly the impossibility of professor pictet's cold current theory, on the simple ground that professor pictet himself did not find any cold currents. he takes up professor prévost's theories warmly; using also the manuscript notes of mons. colladon who had visited the grand cave de montarquis. deluc says: "that the winter's cold penetrates into these caves, freezes the water which collects there and that the ice thus formed has not the time to melt during the following summer." he says further: "it seems that in the three glacières with which we have been occupied there is a flat or rather hollow bottom, where the waters can form a more or less deep pond, and whence they therefore cannot flow away; it is there they flow in winter; and as these are shut in places where the air cannot circulate, the heats of summer can only penetrate very feebly. the ice once formed in such cavities, only melts slowly; for one knows that ice in melting, absorbs ° of heat; and where find this heat in an air always very cold and nearly still? during a great cold, the ice forms with great promptness, while it melts with much slowness, even when the temperature of the air is several degrees above zero; what must then not be this slowness when the temperature of the interior air only rises in summer one degree above freezing point. it would need several summers to melt this ice if it did not reform each winter." c. a. lee, in , wrote that the ice in the wolfshollow near salisbury was a winter formation. g. poulett scrope, in , accepted as the truth the statement that the cave of roth was filled with ice in summer, but that it was warm during the winter. in , he explained the presence of ice at pontgibaud as follows: "the water is apparently frozen by means of the powerful evaporation produced by a current of very dry air issuing from some long fissures or arched galleries which communicate with the cave, and owing its dryness to the absorbent qualities of the lava through which it passes." f. reich, in , thought that there were two possible causes which might produce subterranean ice: , the difference in specific gravity between warm and cold air; , evaporation. he thought the cold air a sufficient cause in most caves, but he considered that evaporation also played a part not infrequently. professor silliman, in , gave the first hint, in the negative, about compressed air as a cause for subterranean ice. he said about owego that if one could suppose that compressed gases or a compressed atmosphere were escaping from the water or near it, this would indicate a source of cold, but that as there is no indication of this in the water, the explanation is unavailable. professor a. pleischl wrote in that he was told that ice formed on the pleschiwetz and on the steinberge in summer. continuing, he says: "the author is therefore, as well as for other reasons, of the opinion, that the ice is not remaining winter ice, but a summer formation, and one formed by the cold of evaporation. * * * the basalt is, as a thick stone, a good conductor for the heat, and takes up therefore easily the sun's warmth, but parts with it easily to other neighboring bodies. in the hollows, between the basalt blocks, is found, as i already mentioned, rotting moss, which forms a spongy mass, which is wet through with water. the basalt heated by the sun's rays now causes a part of the water in the spongy mass to vaporize; for this evaporation the water needs heat, which it withdraws from the neighboring bodies and in part from water, and makes the water so cold, that it freezes into ice, as, under the bell of an air pump--nature therefore makes here a physical experiment on the largest scale." much stress appears to have been laid on the paper of professor pleischl by professor krauss and one or two others. the weak point in it is that pleischl did not see the ice form in summer, but was only, as usual, told that it did so. there is nothing in the facts given to show that the places mentioned are different from any other taluses, where ice does not form as the result of heat. mr. c. b. hayden, in , wrote about the ice mountain in virginia, and held that the porous nature of the rocks makes them poor conductors of heat, and that the mountain is a huge sandstone refrigerator. dr. s. pearl lathrop, in , wrote of the ice bed at wallingford, vermont, as a great natural refrigerator. sir roderick impey murchison wrote in about the salt mine and freezing cave of illetzkaya-zatschita. he visited them during a hot august, and was assured that the cold within is greatest when the external air is hottest and driest; that the fall of rain and a moist atmosphere produce some diminution in the cold of the cave and that on the setting in of winter the ice disappears entirely. he accepted these statements evidently only in a half hearted way, submitting them to sir john herschel, who tried to explain them, in case they were true, of which herschel was likewise doubtful. murchison at first thought that the ice was due to the underlying bed of salt, but soon recognized that this explanation could not be correct. he also rejected herschel's "heat and cold wave" theory. shortly after this he came across pictet's memoir, and on the strength of it concluded that the ice in illetzkaya-zatschita could not be the residue of a winter deposit, but must be due to descending currents of air; to the previously wet and damp roof affording a passage to water; and to the excessive dryness of the external air of these southern steppes contributing powerfully to the refrigerating effects of evaporation. professor arnold guyot, in , said that the well at owego admitted large quantities of snow which melts, but not readily, because it is not accessible to the sun. it therefore goes through the same process as glaciers, of partly melting and refreezing; and we have the formation of a glacier without movement. professor w. b. rogers, in , held that the well at owego became the recipient of the coldest air of the neighborhood, and the temperature remained abnormal because the bad conducting power of the materials of the well retained the cold. professor d. olmstead, in , held about owego that cold air exists in the interior of the earth which may have found a ventilating shaft in the well. professor petruzzi, in , considered the following requirements necessary for a glacière: a high altitude above the sea; a decided drop into the interior of the mountain; absence of all draught; protection against all warm and moist winds, therefore the opening to north and east. he also says about the glacière on the pograca: that it is in shadow; that the thick forest round the mouth keeps the temperature down; that it begins to freeze below when it does above; that the cold remains there into the spring; and that the water from rain or other sources, which flows into the cave, must freeze there, and the ice form in greater quantities than the heat of summer can melt away. mr. albert d. hager wrote in : "the question now arises, why it was that such a congealed mass of earth was found in brandon at the time the frozen well was dug. my opinion is, that the bad conducting property of the solids surrounding it, the absence of ascending currents of heated air, and of subterranean streams of water in this particular locality favored such a result; and that the bad conducting property of clay, as well as that of the porous gravel associated with it, taken in connection with the highly inclined porous strata, and the disposition of heated air to rise, and the cold air to remain below, contribute to produce in the earth, at this place, a _mammoth refrigerator_, embracing essentially the same principle as that involved in the justly celebrated refrigerator known as 'winship's patent.' "clay is not only nearly impervious to air and water, but it is one of the worst conductors of heat in nature. (note.--to test the question whether clay was a poor conductor of heat or not, i took two basins of equal size, and in one put a coating of clay one-half inch thick, into which i put water of a temperature of ° fahrenheit. into the other dish, which was clean, i put water of the same temperature, and subjected the two basins to equal amounts of heat; and in five minutes the water in the clean dish indicated a temperature of ° while that of the one coated with clay was raised only to °.) if we can rely upon the statements of those who dug out the frozen earth, it rested upon a stratum of clay that lay upon the bed of pebbles in which the water was found, for it was described as being a very sticky kind of hard pan. "this being the case, if the water contained in the pebbly mass had a temperature above the freezing point, the heat would be but imperfectly transmitted to the frost, through the clay, provided there was no other way for its escape. but we have seen that the stratum of clay that overlays the bed of pebbles in the side of the gravel pit was not horizontal, but inclined towards the well at an angle of °. now if this drip was continued to the well, and existed there (which is highly probable), it will be seen that the ascending current of heated air, in the pebbly bed, would be checked upon meeting the overlying barrier of clay and be deflected out of its upward course. the tendency of heated air is to rise, hence it would continue its course along the under side of the clay, through the interstices in the bed of pebbles, till it found a place of escape at the surface, which in this case may have been at the gravel pit before named." professor edward hitchcock wrote in : "the presence of a mass of frozen gravel deep beneath the surface in brandon, was first made known by digging a well in it in the autumn of . * * * the gravel, also, rises into occasional knolls and ridges. in short, it is just such a region of sand and gravel as may be seen in many places along the western side of the green mountains; and indeed, all over new england. it is what we call modified drift, and lies above genuine drift, having been the result of aqueous agency subsequent to the drift period. * * * the well was stoned up late in the autumn of , and during the winter, ice formed upon the water in one night, two inches thick. it continued to freeze till april; after which no ice was formed on the surface, but we can testify that as late as june th, the stones of the well for four or five feet above the surface of the water were mostly coated with ice; nay, it had not wholly disappeared july th. the temperature of the water was only one degree of fahrenheit above freezing point. the ice did however disappear in the autumn but was formed again (how early we did not learn) in the winter, and so thick too that it was necessary to send some one into the well to break it. we visited the well august th, , and found the temperature °. yet only the week previous ice was seen upon the stones, and we were even told by one of the family, that a piece of ice had been drawn up the day before in the bucket. * * * these frozen deposits may have been produced during the glacial period that accompanied the formation of drift, and continued far down into the subsequent epochs of modified drift. * * * but in all the excavations both gravel and clay occur: and how almost impervious to heat must such a coating feet thick, be! it would not, however, completely protect the subjacent mass from solar heat. but there is another agency still more powerful for this end, namely, evaporation, which we think has operated here, as we shall more fully describe further on; and we think that these two agencies, namely, non-conduction and evaporation, may have preserved this frozen deposit for a very long period, from exterior influences." professor thury in says about saint-georges: "such is the _résumé_, concise but exact, of the results of our winter excursion. they furnish proof to the fact generally borne witness to by the mountaineers, that ice does not form in winter in the interior of caverns. but if this is so, it is for a very simple reason: two things are necessary for the formation of ice: cold and water. in winter, the cold is not wanting: but if there is no spring opening in the cave, the water is absent, and then no ice forms. "it is in the spring, at the time of the first melting of the snows, that the ice must form. then water at ° pours over the surface, and penetrates by the fissures of the rock and by the large openings into the chilled cavern, which is also receiving the freezing air of the nights. the grotto then makes its annual provision of ice, which after this could only diminish little by little during the whole duration of the warm season." professor thury writes about the grand cave de montarquis: "here it must be when water and cold meet, that is autumn and especially spring, the time of the first melting of the snows." "during the winter * * * the colder, heavier air comes to freeze the water of the grotto, and chill the ice and the wall of rock." "during the summer, the radiation of the vaults and the proper heat of the ground only melt a small quantity of ice because this absorbs much heat to pass into a liquid state." "the heat of the air is entirely used to melt the ice; it does not therefore manifest itself as sensible heat." "the contact of the ice ready to melt, plays in a certain way, towards the air a little warmer than itself, the rôle of an extremely absorbing body, or one which has an excessive caloric conductibility." "here the formation of the ice could not possibly be attributed to the cold caused by evaporation. the psychrometer indicated ninety-two per cent, of relative humidity: the atmosphere of the grotto was therefore almost saturated with evaporation of water, and the maximum of cold caused by evaporation was not over half a degree centigrade." about prismatic ice and a hollow pyramid, he says: "the prismatic (_aréolaire_) structure is produced later on in the ice, by a new and particular arrangement of the molecules of the already solidified water. therefore the recent stalactites are never crystallized." "in the beginning of the hot season, the atmospheric temperature of the grotto rises slowly. inferior to zero by some tenths of a degree, it produces first on the surface, in the stalactites, the prismatic structure. the temperature continues to rise, the central portions of the stalactites, still composed of ordinary ice, liquefy, and if the melting water finds some issue, either by accidental openings left between some prisms, or by the extremity of the stalactite or by some point of its surface which had escaped the action of the regular crystallization; by this opening the water escapes, and the tubular stalactite has been formed." "the column was composed of a very special ice, perfectly dry, perfectly homogeneous, translucid and whose appearance could only be compared to that of the most beautiful porcelain. i am inclined to believe that we had under our eyes a special molecular state of congealed water. this state would be produced under the influence of a constant temperature of a certain degree (note--perhaps not far from °--the actual temperature of the grotto) long prolonged. these causes can be realized more completely in glacières than anywheres else." the reverend george forrest browne, published in , _ice caves in france and switzerland_, one of the most delightful books of travel ever written, on account of the scientific accuracy and the humor of the author. he visited la genollière, saint-georges, saint-livres, chaux-les-passavant, monthézy, arc-sous-Çicon, the schafloch, haut-d'aviernoz, which he calls grand anu, chapuis, and font-d'urle. he says: "the view which deluc adopted was one which i have myself independently formed. * * * the heavy cold air of winter sinks down into the glacières, and the lighter warm air of summer cannot on ordinary principles of gravitation dislodge it, so that heat is very slowly spread in the caves; and even when some amount of heat does reach the ice, the latter melts but slowly, for ice absorbs ° c. of heat in melting; and thus, when ice is once formed, it becomes a material guarantee for the permanence of cold in the cave. for this explanation to hold good it is necessary that the level at which the ice is formed should be below the level of the entrance to the cave; otherwise the mere weight of the cold air would cause it to leave its prison as soon as the spring warmth arrived. in every single case that has come under my observation, this condition has been emphatically fulfilled. it is necessary, also, that the cave should be protected from direct radiation, as the gravitation of cold air has nothing to do with resistance to that powerful means of introducing heat. this condition, also, is fulfilled by nature in all the glacières i have visited, excepting that of s. georges; and there art has replaced the protection formerly afforded by the thick trees which grew over the hole of entrance. the effect of the second hole in the roof of this glacière is to destroy all the ice which is within range of the sun. a third and very necessary condition is, that the wind should not be allowed access to the cave; for if it were, it would infallibly bring in heated air, in spite of the specific weight of the cold air stored within. it will be understood from my description of such glacières as that of the grand anu, of monthézy, and the lower glacière of the pré de s. livres, how completely sheltered from all winds the entrances to those caves are. there can be no doubt, too, that the large surfaces which are available for evaporation have much to do with maintaining a somewhat lower temperature than the mean temperature of the place where the cave occurs." browne noticed prismatic ice several times. he says of it: "m. thury suggests also, as a possibility, what i have found to be the case by frequent observations, that the prismatic ice has greater power of resisting heat than ordinary ice. * * * a frenchman who was present in the room in which the chemical section of the british association met at bath, and heard a paper which i read there on this prismatic structure, suggested that it was probably something akin to the rhomboidal form assumed by dried mud; and i have since been struck by the great resemblance to it, as far as the surface goes, which the pits of mud left by the coprolite workers near cambridge offer, of course on a very large scale. this led me to suppose that the intense dryness which would naturally be the result of the action of some weeks or months of great cold upon subterranean ice might be one of the causes of its assuming this form, and the observations at jena would rather confirm than contradict this view: competent authorities, however, seem inclined to believe that warmth, and not cold, is the producing cause." mr. browne found a hollow cone at la genollière, for which he accounted as follows: "in the loftier part of the cave * * * ninety six drops of water in a minute splashed on to a small stone immediately under the main fissure. this stone was in the centre of a considerable area of the floor which was clear of ice. * * * i found that the edge of the ice round this clear area was much thicker than the rest of the ice on the floor, and was evidently the remains of the swelling pedestal of the column. * * * when the melted snows of spring send down to the cave, through the fissures of the rock, an abundance of water at a very low temperature and the cave itself is stored with the winter's cold, these thicker rings of ice catch first the descending water, and so a circular wall, naturally conical, is formed around the area of stones; the remaining water either running off through the interstices, or forming a floor of ice of less thickness, which yields to the next summer's drops. in the course of time, this conical wall rises, narrowing always, till a dome-like roof is at length formed and thenceforth the column is solid." from what i have observed myself, this explanation seems to fairly meet the facts. professor t. g. bonney, in , was inclined to believe that there was some connection between glacières and a glacial period. mr. w. r. raymond, in , concluded from his own observations about the lava cave in washington: that the cold air of winter freezes up the percolating waters from the surface, layer upon layer, solid from the bottom, and the accumulated ice thaws slowly in summer, being retarded by the covering which keeps out the direct rays of the sun, and by the fact that the melting ice at one end of the cave, through which the summer draught enters, itself refrigerates the air and maintains a freezing temperature at the other end. dr. c. a. white, in , says of the cavern at decorah: "the formation of the ice is probably due to the rapid evaporation of the moisture of the earth and rocks, caused by the heat of the summer sun upon the outer wall of the fissure and valley side. this outer wall is from ten to twenty feet in thickness where the ice was seen to be most abundant. the water for its production seems to be supplied by slow exudation from the inner wall of the cave." dr. krenner, in , wrote of dóbsina as "a natural ice cellar of giant dimensions, whose ice masses formed in winter, the summer does not succeed in melting." professor w. boyd dawkins wrote in : "the apparent anomaly that one only out of a group of caves exposed to the same temperature should be a glacière, may be explained by the fact that these conditions [those formulated by the rev. g. f. browne] are found in combination but rarely, and if one were absent there would be no accumulation of perpetual ice. it is very probable that the store of cold laid up in these caves, as in an ice house, has been ultimately derived from the great refrigeration of climate in europe in the glacial period." mr. theodore kirchhoff examined the lava caves in the state of washington and in wrote that he considered that the ice in the smaller ones were simply remains of the winter's cold. he thought that the ice in the large cave where there is a draught could not be accounted for in the same way, so he concluded that the ice must be due to the draught. mr. n. m. lowe, in , proposed the compressed air or capillary theory[ ] about the cave at decorah. [ ] see part ii., page . mr. john ritchie, jr., in , gave an exceedingly clear exposition of the theory in the same journal. mr. aden s. benedict, in , published his observations about decorah. he found that there was no water falling in the cave to compress the air, that there was no water falling near enough to be heard, nor any aperture giving vent to cold air in the cave. he thought that the cold of winter cools the sides of the cave several degrees below freezing point and that these rocks are so far underground that it would take a long season of hot weather to raise this temperature to the melting point of ice. in the spring the water percolates through the soil and drips on to the yet freezing rocks; on which it freezes and remains until the heat of summer penetrates to a sufficient depth to melt it away. the rocks once raised above ° remain so until the following winter and consequently if there are heavy autumn rains there is water on the rocks but no ice. mr. benedict concluded that there was nothing more mysterious about decorah than the fact that if you drop water on a cold stone it will freeze. professor friederich umlauft in wrote about glacières "that as moreover they were generally protected against warm winds and strong draughts and as their entrances look towards the north or east, there is consequently more ice formed under these conditions in winter than can melt away in summer. other ice grottoes however show the remarkable characteristic, that it is warm in them in winter, in the summer on the contrary it becomes so cold that all the dripping water freezes. they are found near snow clefts and gorges; when in the hot summer months the snow melts, then the cold which has become free presses down the temperature in the cave so much that the water freezes into ice. such grottoes are in austria at * * * frauenmauer, * * * brandstein, * * * teplitz, * * * scilize, * * * dobschauer." herr körber in wrote about the schafloch, that the stored-up winter's cold stands out as permanent adversary of the higher temperature of the earth. the thermometer proved this by its action at the end of the cave in a rock cleft, which is warmer than the rest of the cave. in september herr körber found the masses of ice less and the stalagmites smaller than in january, especially a column which in january had become a stately mountain of transparent ice. professor eberhard fugger of salzburg, has studied the caves of the untersberg carefully, having paid over eighty visits to them. he classifies freezing caverns into the following types, according to their position and their shape: according to position: , open caves, that is those whose entrance is free on a rock wall; , pit caves, where the entrance is at the bottom of a pit; , pit caves, where the pit is covered and the opening is in the roof. according to shape: , _sackhöhlen_ or chamber caverns, into which one enters immediately at the entrance; , _ganghöhlen_, or passage caves terminating in a chamber; , _röhrenhöhlen_, or passage caves where the passages continue further than the chamber. he is a strong advocate of the winter's cold theory. he says: "the ice of caves is formed by the cold of winter, and remains despite the heat of summer, as through local circumstances the quantity of heat brought to the ice is not great enough to melt it by the time when ice and snow in the open at the same altitude have already disappeared." "in order that ice may form in a cave in winter, two factors are necessary. there must be water present in some form or other, and in some way the outside cold air must be able to sink into the cave." "when the bottom of a cave is below the entrance, the outside cold winter air sinks into the cave from its weight, when the temperature of the cave air is higher than that of the outside air; and it will remain there during the warmer weather, as the warm outside air on account of its lighter weight cannot drive out the cold heavy cave air." "the most important factor for the formation of ice is the drip water. the more drip flows into a cave during the cold season, the more ice is formed; the more drip, on the contrary, flows into the cave during the warm season, the more ice is destroyed." "the warmth, which the roof of the cave gives out, is also a cause which helps to melt the ice, and a cause in fact which works the harder, the higher the temperature of the roof and the dirtier the ice floor." "if direct rays of the sun penetrate a cave, they scarcely warm up the air which they traverse, but they raise the temperature of the floor or of the walls, which they touch. they are therefore a very important factor, which may bring about the melting of the ice." "the snow slope at the mouth of a cave offers some protection against the rays of the sun, especially if it is no longer white, but covered with all sorts of dirt." "the larger the mass of ice, the longer is its duration." "a certain thickness to the roof is of importance in preserving the ice. if it is less than meters, then it is well if it is covered with outside vegetation." i entirely agree with these _dicta_ of professor fugger. in , fugger writes: "the peculiar readings of temperature, which i made in august , in the kolowratshöhle, namely on the th at m., . °, on the th at p. m., . °, on the d at a. m., . °, on the th at a. m., . °, and on the th at . p. m., - . °, i think i can attribute to the workings of the winds. in the observations themselves there could scarce be an error. all five observations were made at the same place, with the same thermometer, after at least half an hour's exposure. in the time from the th to the th of august, the temperature minimum in the town of salzburg, was °; before the th were several cloudless nights. during the whole of august scarcely any but southeast and northwest winds were blowing. the kolowratshöhle opens in a rock wall to the east; the above named winds therefore affected during the entire month the entrance to the cave and may have produced a lively evaporation in the cave, through a sort of sucking up of the cave air, and thus have created the rather decided cooling off of . ° within seventeen days." this statement, coming from professor fugger, deserves particular attention, because it would go to show: first, that the air in the kolowratshöhle, a _sackhöhle_ with only one entrance, is only apparently stagnant in summer and not really so; and second, that evaporation may act to a limited extent in a cavern where there is almost no running water. captain trouillet, in , published a paper about chaux-les-passavant. he found that when it was colder inside than outside, the internal air was nearly cut off from the outside; when it was coldest outside there was a lively disturbance. he called these two classes _périodes fermées_ and _périodes ouvertes_. he says: "the duration of a _closed period_ is measured then on the curves [of a maximum and minimum thermometer] of the interior temperatures, between a minimum and the following maximum; that of an _open period_ is between a minimum and the preceding maximum. one can thus count from the th november to the st december _open periods_ of a total duration of hours or times hours: which gives for each a duration of ½ hours. the shortest lasted hours and the longest hours. during the same interval, the _closed periods_ numbered , making a total duration of about days; the longest, which lasted from the d to the th december, was hours long." trouillet also says: "from the d to the th december, the grotto was completely isolated from the external air, and yet during three consecutive nights, the interior had three marked chills. such is the phenomenon whose cause can only lay, in our opinion, in the introduction of the dry air driven to the cave by the winds between north and east. this air on entering comes in contact with the ice and the humid roof of the cave; it saturates itself in producing a formation of vapors, and therefrom a consumption of heat which may be considerable." there are some discrepancies in this last paragraph which must be noted, for the reason that trouillet's observations are so valuable. he does not mention having seen the vapors himself, in fact the production of these vapors seems only an inference. nor is it easy to understand how the grotto could be "completely isolated from the external air" if the phenomenon lay "in the introduction of the dry air driven to the cave by the winds north and east." dr. b. schwalbe, in , wrote that "all my observations point to the fact that the rock is the cooling factor in summer, and that the cold goes out from it." he says also that "when i saw for the first time the little cave of roth, which was filled with fairly numerous ice formations, it was precisely the smallness of the volume of air and the strange appearance of the ice which made the simple cold air theory seen insufficient, nor could i later, by widening the theory and observing the localities from the basis of deluc's theory, accept it. it always seemed by all my observations that in the rock there must be a lasting source of cold. there must be a cause present, which prevents the rapid warming of the cave wall through the temperature of the ground, which also keeps the stone cool in summer and induces the main ice formation in the spring." he also hints that mr. lowe's compressed air theory may be the correct one. dr. schwalbe's work, _Über eishöhlen und eislöcher_, is one of the four or five most important contributions to glacière literature, and his opinion is entitled to great respect on account of his many observations. professor israel c. russell wrote in , about the ice beds on the yukon: "it is thought by some observers, to be an inheritance from a former period of extreme cold; but under existing climatic conditions, when ice forms beneath a layer of moss, it is preserved during the short summer, and may increase as it does on the tundras, to an astonishing thickness." in , professor russell says: "it is not probable that all the subsoil ice of northern regions has been formed in one way. along the flood plains and on the deltas of rivers where layers of clear ice are interbedded with sheets of frozen gravel and vegetable matter, as is frequently the case, it seems evident that the growth of the deposit is due, in some instances, to the flooding of previously frozen layers, and the freezing and subsequent burial of the sediment thus added to their surfaces. when spring freshets spread out sheets of débris over the flood plain of a river, as frequently happens when streams in high latitudes flow northward, the previously frozen soil and the ice of ponds and swamps may be buried and indefinitely preserved." "there is still another process by which frozen subsoil may be formed in high latitudes: this is, the effects of the cold during the long winters are not counteracted by the heat during the short summers. under the conditions now prevailing in northern alaska, where the mean annual temperature is below ° fahrenheit, the frozen layer tends to increase the thickness from year to year just as the depth of frozen soil in more temperate latitudes may increase from month to month during the winter season. during the short northern summers, especially where the ground is moss covered, melting only extends a few inches below the surface." mons. e. a. martel, in , wrote of the creux-percé: "i incline only, as in all the pits which narrow at the bottom (_avens à rétrécissement_) to attribute the chilling to the fall of the cold air of winter and to its non-renewal in summer." and at page of _les abimes_ he says: "one knows that _evaporation_ is an active cause of cooling; therefore it is always cooler in caves near the drips of water. * * * i have positively noted this influence of evaporation near the drips of tabourel ( ° instead of . °), of dargilan, of the cerna jama, and in abysses with double mouths where there were strong draughts (rabanel, biau, fosse-mobile, etc.)." in december, , mons. martel writes: "in short, the action of the winter's cold is the real cause accepted by * * * and recently confirmed by fugger, trouillet and martel." and also: "it is probable that this influence [evaporation] is only real at rather high altitudes; this is at least what seems the result of the studies of the caves of naye ( to meters) begun by professor dutoit." in , mons. martel gave an account of the glacière de naye. in this paper, he abandons definitely fossil ice, salts and the capillary theory as possible causes of underground ice. he considers that there are four causes: , shape of the cavity; , free access of snow in winter; , high altitude; , evaporation due to wind currents. the last two causes he thinks are not necessarily always present. for instance he considers that, at the creux-percé, and at chaux-les-passavant, the ice is due especially to the sack or hour-glass shape of these hollows where the summer air cannot get in on account of its lightness. at the glacière de naye, which is a big windhole, situated at an altitude of to meters, mons. martel thinks that the ice is formed by the snow and cold of winter, but that its preservation is assured by the evaporation caused by the action of the windhole. dr. terlanday, in , asserted that ice does not form in szilize in winter, and that the ice first forms in the winter in the upper part of rock fissures and that in the spring, at the time of an increase of temperature, this fissure ice is brought to the melting point by the successive entering of heat into the earth and that it then arrives at the cave, where it aids the formation of icicles. this theory about fissure ice is probably in so far correct, that the ice in the upper parts of fissures, near the surface of the ground, melts before the ice in the lower parts of fissures. the drip would then naturally run into the cave and, as long as the temperature of the cave was low, help to form cave ice. dr. hans lohmann, in , published some valuable notes about several glacières. while considering the cold of winter as the main cause of the ice, he thought evaporation a secondary cause of cold. he says: "that the cold from evaporation bears its share in cooling a cave, will not be denied. * * * the air saturated with aqueous vapor makes one think of constant evaporation. the aqueous vapor spreads itself by diffusion throughout the entire cave, and if the outside air is driest, goes to that. through this, more ice and water can always be vaporized, and to the warming elements there is furnished a cooling one. if dry winds get into the cave, then must evaporation be very lively and the chilling especially strong. through this cause alone can be explained the remarkably low temperature of + . ° in the new part of the garischen stollen, in contrast to the temperature of + . ° in the old part. the strong draught in the last drew out through its suction the damp air of the new adit, so that there had to be a strong evaporation." dr. lohmann gives some exhaustive notes about prismatic ice. he found it a product of the fall months. he thinks all the observations show that "the beginning of all prismatic formation in the ice may be looked for in the changes of temperature in the cave at the time of the formation of the ice. these cause the everywhere recognized splitting, vertically to the outer surface. the further development hangs, as shown by hagenbach and emden, on the attempt of the neighboring cells, to join into larger unities. the increase of the larger crystals is finally prevented by the melting out of the openings between the separate crystals. through this may be explained the difference in the prismatic ice in different parts of the same cave." regierungsrath franz kraus, in , wrote a short essay on glacières in _höhlenkunde_. he seems to have seen but few glacières himself, and considers the scientific side of the question by no means solved as yet. he says: "the last word will not be spoken by the geographers and the alpine climbers * * * but by the physicists, in whose field both questions really belong. only then, when the physical circumstances of the formation of the ice in glacières have been so thoroughly understood, that under the same circumstances it may be possible to build artificial glacières, only then could one say: the glacière question is definitely settled. the best proof is always experiment." he lays down several dicta which he says are universally recognized, among which is this: " . the ice formations in the débris heaps of basaltic mountains are summer ice formations. the evaporation of the infiltration water is recognized on all sides as the cause of this ice." i differ in opinion from herr kraus about this matter, and think that, on the contrary, every proof shows that the ice of basaltic taluses is not a summer formation and is not due to evaporation. herr kraus also says: "the _eishöhlen_ resemble so little the _windröhren_, that for these a proper name is quite correct. just as one cannot draw a sharp line between _einstürzschlünden_ and _einstürzdolinen_, so one cannot draw a sharp line between _eishöhlen_ and _windröhren_. a stagnation of cave air does not exist, and no cave student would pretend to say it existed. the circulation of air may in certain caves take place almost entirely through the mouth and it then depends largely on the shape of the latter; in other caves are crevices and erosion holes, which allow a circulation of air. again in other caves air may come through the floor into the cave, as is proved by certain places always remaining free from ice." he also says: "the formation of dripstone is also diminished about thick roofs, when the cracks are too broad to permit a slow dripping process. in caves with sufficient air movements, that is ventilation, the dripstone formation takes place faster than in those in which the air is only slowly renewed. also in such caves, in which the air is strongly filled with moisture, the dripstone formation process is materially hindered. therefore in water caves and in _eishöhlen_ one finds only rarely dripstone formations, and these mainly of poor appearance. but in all cases the carbonic acid of the infiltration water plays an important part." in , a western newspaper published the following explanation about the presence of ice in the cave at elkinsville, indiana; and it shows how the idea--long since exploded--of the ice being due to chemical causes, serenely bobs up on the discovery of a new cave: "some have advanced the theory that the air is forced through under passages of the earth with such pressure as to make the strange formation; some have attributed the cause to an underlying bed of alkali, whose chemical change to a gaseous form has produced the phenomenon. others have thought that the interior heat of the earth, acting upon the iron pyrites, or fool's gold, which largely abounds in this country, is the true source of this unparalleled discovery. still others think that the sudden expansion of the carbonic acid gas given off by the heated limestone, which is also common in this country, could have easily produced the ice. but thus far the theories are nothing more than speculation, and further than the fact that the ice cave exists, and is, indeed, a remarkable phenomenon, none has been able to further determine." in , dr. a. cvijic wrote that the cold air of winter is the source of cold in the glacières of servia. the mountains have so little water that the shepherds constantly take the ice out in summer for their own use. in , numerous newspapers, among others, the _philadelphia press_ of august st, romanced as follows about the cave at decorah: "in the summer its temperature is far below freezing. * * * from some unknown source in the impenetrable rear of the cave comes a blast of cold air as chill as from the arctic region. in the winter the temperature of the cave is like summer. * * * we followed the winding passage in and out for more than feet. * * * i took out the thermometer and laid it upon the floor of the cavern for three minutes. when i took it up again i found that the mercury had fallen to degrees below zero." "what is it that causes this phenomenon? scientific men are said to have visited the cave within the last day or two who have declared that it had in some manner a subterranean connection with the polar regions, and that the cold air from the north coming in contact with the warm moist atmosphere from outside converted the vapor into water on the walls of the cavern where it straightway congealed. * * * it seems to me possible after thinking the matter over carefully, that in some mysterious manner the same influences that work the changes in climate in the arctic and antarctic regions are operating in this cave. it is a well-known fact that in the regions referred to the seasons are the reverse of what they are here." mr. w. s. auchincloss writes in : "we also notice the working of the same principle during summer days. the hottest part does not occur at the noon hour--when the sun is on the meridian--but several hours later in the afternoon. in this case the accessions of heat arrive more rapidly than radiation is able to carry off. radiation, however, keeps on apace, and, at last attaining the mastery, temperature falls. ice caves furnish another example of the gradual procession in the seasons." mr. alois f. kovarik writes about decorah in that "the length of duration of the ice in the cave during the spring and summer depends upon the quantity of cold stored up in the walls and this again upon the coldness and the length of coldness of the previous winter. if the winter be severe and long, the walls will store up a great supply of cold for the gradual dissipation in the spring and summer and consequently the phenomenon of the ice in the ice chambers will last longer. last winter, with an exception of the fore part of december, was quite mild. as a result, the ice began to disappear with the latter part of june, and totally disappeared by the end of july. * * * the time of the lowest temperature in the cave depends upon how soon the cold spells of the winter begin; for the sooner the walls begin to freeze to a greater depth, the sooner have they stored up the greatest amount of cold. * * * february th, , when the walls contained the greatest amount of cold, there was no ice in the cave, for the reason that no water made appearance. could water have appeared, no doubt a great amount of ice would have formed; but as the conditions are, the water has to come from the ground outside, and this being frozen at the time, water could not in any natural way appear. if in early spring, sufficiently warm days should come to melt the snow and open the ground, the water not taken up by the ground would flow and seep through crevices into the cave and ice consequently would appear early. somewhat such conditions prevailed this year, for warm days appeared quite early in the spring. if _per contra_ the ground does not open until in april, as was the case in and , the appearance of the ice is consequently delayed. * * * naturally this opening [the entrance] was small, but to give easier entrance, it was enlarged to its present size. * * * if the entrance had been left a small opening, as it naturally was, it is my belief that the temperature of the interior of the cave would be lower in summer than it is, and the ice would not disappear as soon as it does." mr. robert butler, of san josé, cal., investigated the question of cold air draughts coming from the glacière cave and from the freezing shaft he examined in montana. he wrote to me, in , that he found that one notices or imagines to notice a draught of air, especially on hot days. rapidly walking into the cave from the hot air without to the rapidly cooling air within produces the same nervous sensations as though one were to remain stationary and the air were to pass by from the warm to the colder portions. a distance of twelve meters finds a difference in temperature of fifteen degrees centigrade. twelve meters can be walked quickly, so quickly that the nerves cannot become accustomed gradually to the change of temperature. the rapidly cooling air does actually produce the sensation of cool air passing by one's face. it produces somewhat the same sensation as the evaporation of ether on the surface of the body. mr. butler satisfied himself that as far as he had observed all the seemingly peculiar conditions and places where the ice has been found do not indicate any other causes when carefully investigated than those of the seasons of the year, and that the ice was formed by no other cause than the natural cold of winter. professor cranmer, in , added some important contributions to our knowledge of freezing caverns. all his work goes to prove the winter's cold theory, but he has brought out some new details. he found warm and cold periods in the tablerloch during the winter months. the coldest air sank to the bottom and the air in the cave stratified itself according to its specific gravity and its temperature. during a cold period, the outside air sank into the cave only to the air stratum, whose temperature, from the preceding warm period, was as much higher as that of the outer air, as this had become warmer in sinking to that stratum. the air which enters falls down the slope and displaces an equal volume of air which streams out under the roof. water will sometimes drip through a crack in winter until that crack freezes up, when the water may then find some other crack to drip through; at this second place a stalagmite may then grow, while at the first place the stalagmite may stop growing and even begin to diminish from evaporation. ice begins to form, whenever water gets into a cave, if the cave temperature is below °; ice begins to melt as soon as the temperature is over °. professor cranmer found that occasionally small quantities of ice form in caves in the summer months: this was in mountain caves, where there was snow on the mountains and the temperature of the nights at least, had sunk below freezing point: in fact when the conditions were those of the winter months. part v. list of authors. list of authors.[ ] [ ] this list of authors includes all the authorities which i have personally consulted. several papers, such as dr. schwalbe's "_uebersichtliche zusammenstellung literarischer notizen ueber eishöhlen_" and the works of dr. listoff, i have been unable to find in any library. allen, levi. _scientific american, new series_, october th, , page . _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. xxxvi., page . auchincloss, w. s., c. e. _waters within the earth and the laws of rainflow_, philadelphia, . badin, adolphe. _grottes et cavernes_, paris, hachette, . baedeker, karl. _handbook of austria._ _handbook of the eastern alps._ _handbook of south eastern france._ _handbook of switzerland._ _handbook of the united states._ baker, m. s. _the lava region of northern california: sierra club bulletin_, san francisco, cal., , vol. ii., page . balch, edwin swift. _ice caves and the causes of subterranean ice_: allen, lane & scott, philadelphia, november, , and _the journal of the franklin institute_, philadelphia, march, , vol. cxliii., pages - . _ice cave hunting in central europe: appalachia_, boston, , vol. viii., pages - . _subterranean ice deposits in america: journal of the franklin institute_, philadelphia, april, , vol. cxlvii., pages - . baltzer, dr. a. _eine neue eishöhle im berner oberland: jahrbuch des schweizer alpen club_, bern, - , pages - . behrens, dr. georg henning. _hercynia curiosa_, nordhausen, . bel, matthias. _philosophical transactions_, london, , vol. xli., page _et seq._ benedict, aiden s. _decorah republican_, june th, . berthoud, edward l. _american journal of science and arts_, third series, , vol. xi., page . bielz, e. albert. _siebenbürgen, handbuch_, carl graeser, wien, . billerez, mons. de. _histoire de l'académie royale des sciences_, , page _et seq._ bonney, t. g. _the alpine regions, ._ _nature_, vol. xi., pages , , . boué, dr. ami. _la turquie d'europe_, paris, , vol. i., page . _sitzungsbericht der k. k. akademie der wissenschaften in wien_, , i. theil, page _et seq._ boz, mons. de, ingénieur du roy. _histoire de l'académie royale des sciences_, , pages , . browne, the reverend g. f. _ice caves in france and switzerland_, london, longmans, . _ice caves of annecy: good words_, edinburgh, november, . _bulletin, the evening_, philadelphia, march st, . burslem, captain rollo. _a peep into toorkisthan_, . c. b. a. _scientific american_, may d, . cantwell, lieutenant j. c. _ice cliffs on the kowak river: national geographic magazine_, october, . carrel, chanoine g. _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. xxxiv., page . _christian herald_, march th, . colladon. his manuscript notes were used by j. a. deluc in _annales de chimie et de physique_, paris, , vol. xxi., page _et seq._ cossigny, mons. de, ingénieur en chef de besançon. _mémoires de mathématique et de physique présentés à l'académie royale des sciences_, , vol. i., page _et seq._ cranmer, professor hans. _eishöhlen und windröhren studien: abhandlungen der k. k. geographischen gesellschaft in wien_, vol. i., . cranmer, professor hans, and sieger, professor dr. rob. _untersuchungen in den oetscherhöhlen: globus_, , vol. lxxv., pages - , and - . cvijic, dr. a. _les glacières naturelles de serbie: spélunca, bulletin de la société de spéléologie_, ^{me} année, paris, , pages - . dawkins, professor w. boyd. _cave hunting_, london, macmillan, . deluc, jean andré, neveu. _des glacières naturelles et de la cause qui forme la glace dans ces cavités_, genève october, : _annales de chimie et de physique_, paris, , vol. xxi., page _et seq._ dent, r. k., and hill, joseph. _historic staffordshire_, birmingham, . dewey. _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. i., page , and , vol. v., page . _dispatch_: frankford, pennsylvania, d january, . dittmar, c. v. _ueber die eismülden im Östlichen sibirien: bulletin de la classe physico-mathématique de l'académie impériale des sciences de st. pétersbourg_, , tome xi., pages - . drioton, clément. _les cavernes de la côte d'or: mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, paris, , vol. i., page . dufour, lieutenant-colonel. _notice sur la caverne et glacière naturelle du rothhorn: bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. xxi., page _et seq._ dufour, l. _ueber das gefrieren des wassers und über die bildung des hagels: poggendorff's annalen der physik und chemie_, , vol. cxiv., pages - . dunant, c. _le parmelan et ses lapiaz: annuaire du club alpin français_, ^{me} vol., paris, . fugger, professor eberhard. _Über eishöhlen: petermann's mittheilungen_, vol. xxix., , pages - . _beobachtungen in den eishöhlen des untersberges_, salzburg, . _eishöhlen und windröhen_, salzburg, , , . _eishöhlen und windröhren: mittheilungen der k. k. geographischen gesellschaft_, vienna, , pages - . _géographie, la: bulletin de la société de géographie_, paris, , vol. i., pages - . georgi, john gottl. _bemerkungen einer reise im russischen reich_, saint petersburg, , vol. i., page . gibbs, g. _american journal of science and arts_, , second series, vol. xv., page . girardot, albert. _les dernières observations du capitaine l. trouillet à la glacière de chaux-les-passavant: mémoires de la société d'Émulation du doubs_, . girod-chantrans, le citoyen. _journal des mines_, prairial, an. iv., pages - . gollut, lois. _les mémoires historiques de la repub. sequanoise_, dôle, . guimard, paul. _voyage en islande et au gröenland exécuté pendant les années et _, paris, . guyot, professor arnold. _well's annual of scientific discovery_, , page . hablizl. _description physique de la contrée de la tauride_, la haye, , pages - . hacquet. _oryctographia carniolica_, leipzig, . hager, albert d. _hitchcock's geology of vermont_, , vol. i., page _et seq._ hann, hochstetter and pokorny. _allgemeine erdkunde_, , pages , . hayden, c. b. _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. xlv., page . heilprin, professor angelo. _ice caves and ice gorges: around the world_, philadelphia, , pages , . henderson, ebenezer. _iceland, or a journal of a residence in that island_, edinburgh, , d edition, page . hitchcock, professor edward. _geology of vermont_, , vol. i. _histoire de l'académie royale des sciences_, , tome ii., pages , , : published in paris in . hovey, the reverend horace carter. _celebrated american caverns_, cincinnati, robert clarke, . humboldt, alexander von. _personal narrative of travels to the equinoctial regions_, london, , vol. i., pages - . _ice trade journal_, philadelphia, july, . _into the schafloch: temple bar_, london, november, , vol. iii., pages - . jackson. _report of the geology of maine_, , vol. iii. jars. _voyages métallurgiques_, , vol. i., page . jarz, konrad. _die eishöhlen bei frain in mähren: petermann's mittheilungen_, , pages - . jungk, c. g. _ueber temperaturerniedrigung bei der absorption des wassers durch feste körper: poggendorff's annalen der physik und chemie_, , vol. cxxiv., pages - . kircher, athanasius. _mundus subterraneus_, . kirchhoff, theodore. _reisebilder und skizzen aus america_, , vol. ii., page . körber, h. _das schafloch: jahrbuch des schweizer alpen club_, bern, , vol. xx., pages - . kotzebue, otto von. _a voyage of discovery into the south sea and bering's strait in the years - _, london, , vol. i., page . kovarik, alois f. _the decorah ice cave and its explanation: scientific american supplement_, no. , november , , pages , . _ice cave observations: decorah public opinion_, september th, . kraus, franz. _höhlenkunde_, wien, . krenner, dr. jos. alex. _die eishöhle von dobschau_, budapest, . lathrop, dr. s. pearl. _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. xlvi., page . lee, c. a. _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. viii., page . lepechin, dr. iwan. _tagebuch der reise durch verschiedenen provinzen des russischen reiches in den jahren , _, altenburg, . lohmann, hans. _das höhleneis unter besonderer berücksichtigung einiger eishöhlen des erzgebirges_, jena, . loomis, professor elias. _edinburgh philosophical journal, new series_, , vol. xii., page . lowe, n. m. _paradoxical phenomena in ice caves: science observer_, vol. ii., pages , , boston, . lowe, w. besant. _la glacière naturelle de dobschau: la nature_, d august, . lyell, sir charles. _principles of geology_, th edition, new york, appleton & co., . m. l. e. _decorah republican_, june th, . macomber, d. o. _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. xxxvi., page . marbach, dr. oswald. _höhlen: physikalisches lexicon_, vol. iii., pages - . marinitsch, j. _la kacna jama: mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, april, , vol. i., page _et seq._ martel, edouard alfred. _les abimes_, paris, charles delagrave, . _sous terre: annuaire du club alpin français_, vol. xxiii., , pages , . reviews in french of _ice caves and the causes, etc._, and _ice cave hunting, etc._, by e. s. balch: _mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, paris, vol. i., december, , pages - . _ me campagne souterraine: mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, vol. iii., , pages - . meehan, w. e. _philadelphia ledger_, . meissner, franz. _ueber die beim benetzen pulverförmiger körper auftretende wärmetonung: wiedemann's annalen der physik und chemie_, , vol. xxix., pages - . ménégaux. _la glacière naturelle de la grâce-dieu ou de chaux-les-passavant: illustration_, paris, th january, . mercer, henry chapman. _the hill caves of yucatan_, philadelphia, j. b. lippincott, . middendorff, dr. a. th. von. _zusatz: bulletin de la classe physico-mathématique de l'académie impériale des sciences de st. pétersbourg_, , tome xi., pages - . montpeyreux, dubois de. _voyage autour du caucase_, . morin, auguste. quoted by thury in _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. x., page . mousson, a. _einige thatsachen betreffend das schmelzen und gefrieren des wassers: poggendorff's annalen der physik und chemie_, , vol. cv., pages - . munro, j., c. e. _jack frost as an artist: cassell's family magazine_, february, , pages - . murchison, vernieul and keyserling. _the geology of russia and the ural mountains_, , vol. i., pages - . nagel, j. n. his manuscript was published in by schmidl in _die höhlen des Ötscher_, pages - . _nature's ice caves: chambers' edinburgh journal_, new series, , vol. xii., page . nicholson. _journal of natural philosophy_, , vol. i., page _et seq._ niessl, g. _verhandlungen des naturforschenden verein in brünn_, , vol. vi., page . olafsen, eggert and povelsen, biarne. _voyage en islande; traduit du danois par gautier de lapeyronie_, paris, . olmstaed, professor d. _well's annual of scientific discovery_, , page . owen, luella agnes. _cave regions of the ozarks and black hills_, cincinnati, the editor publishing company, . parrot, georg friederich. _grundriss der physik der erde und geologie_, riga and leipzig, , pages - . pelech, dr. johann e. _the valley of stracena and the dobschau ice cavern_; translated by w. bezant lowe; london, trübner & co., . peters, karl f. _geologische und mineralogische studien aus dem südöstlichen ungarn: sitzungsbericht der k. k. akademie der wissenchaften_, vienna, vol. xliii., , pages - . petruzzi, professor. in _berichte Über die mittheilungen von freunden der naturwissenschaften in wien_; collected and published by wilhelm haidinger, vol. vii., vienna, december, . pictet, professor m. a. _mémoires de la société d'histoire naturelle de genève_, , vol. i., page . _mémoire sur les glacières naturelles du jura et des alpes: bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. xx., page _et seq._ pleischl, professor a. _Über das eis im sommer zwischen den basalttrümmern bei kameik in böhmen: poggendorff's annalen der physik und chemie_, , vol. liv., pages - . poggendorff, j. c. _annalen der physik und chemie, ergänzungsband_, , pages - ; and , vol. lxxxi., page _et seq._ poissenot, benigne. _nouvelles histoires tragiques_, paris, . posselt-csorich, a. _zeitschrift des deutschen und oesterreichischen alpen verein_, . _post-dispatch_, st. louis, july th and september th, . _press, the_, philadelphia, august st, . prestwich, joseph. _on underground temperatures: proceedings royal society_, . reprinted in _collected papers on some controverted questions of geology_, london, macmillan, . prévost, professor pierre. _journal de genève_, no. , st march, . _recherches physico-mécaniques sur la châleur solaire_, genève, , page . _public ledger, the_, philadelphia, july th, ; and september th, . raymond, r. w. _the ice caves of washington territory: overland monthly_, , vol. iii., page . reich, f. _beobachtungen über die temperatur des gesteines_, freiberg, , pages - . ritchie, john, jr. _editorial: science observer_, boston, , vol. ii., pages - . _ice caves: boston transcript_, january d, . _talks in science fields: the happy thought_, boston, january d, , page . rogers, professor w. b. _well's annual of scientific discovery_, , page . romain-joly, fr. joseph, capucin. _la franche-comté, lettres à mlle. d'udressier_, paris, , pages , . rosenmüller, dr., and tilesius, dr. _beschreibung merkwürdiger höhlen_, leipzig, . rozet. _encyclopédie moderne_, didot frères, paris, , tome xvi., page . russell, professor israel cook. _a journey up the yukon river: bulletin american geographical society_, vol. xxvii., no. , page . _second expedition to mount saint elias: thirteenth annual report united states geological survey_, - , page . _glaciers of north america_, boston, ginn & co., . sartori, dr. franz. _naturwunder des oesterreichischen kaiserthums_, vienna, . _neueste reise durch oesterreich_, leipzig, . saussure, horace bénédict de. _voyages dans les alpes_, , tome iii., sections - . schmidl, professor dr. adolf. _die grotten und höhlen von adelsberg, lueg, planina und laas_, vienna, . _die höhlen des Ötscher_, vienna, . _die oesterreichischen höhlen_, pest, . schwalbe, professor dr. b. _Über eishöhlen und abnorme eisbildungen: verhandlungen der gesellschaft für erdkunde zu berlin_, , pages - . _Über eishöhlen und eislöcher_, berlin, gaertner's buchhandlung, . _scientific american_, new series, vol. iii., july, , page ; vol. xviii., january, , page ; vol. xxvii., october, , page . scott, robert h., m. a., f. r. s. _elementary meteorology_, third edition, london, kegan paul, french & co., . scrope, g. poulett. _edinburgh journal of science_, , vol. v., page . _memoir of the geology of central france_, london, . _the geology and extinct volcanoes of central france_, london, . sieger, professor dr. rob. see cranmer. silliman, benjamin. _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. iv., pages and ; and , vol. xxxvi., page . smyth, c. piazzi. _teneriffe, an astronomer's experiment_, . _spéléologie, mémoires de la société de_, paris, vols. i., ii., iii. beginning in . _spélunca, bulletin de la société de spéléologie_, paris. beginning with january, . strachey, general sir richard. _narrative of a journey to the lakes rakas-tal and manasorowar, in western tibet, undertaken in september, : geographical journal_, london, , vol. xv., page . _telegraph, the evening_, philadelphia, january d, , and january th, . terlanday, professor emil. _meine erfahrungen in der eishöhle von szilize: petermann's mittheilungen_, , page . _sommereisbildung in der eishöhle von szilize: petermann's mittheilungen_, , page . thomä, dr. c. _das unterirdische eisfeld bei der dornburg_, wiesbaden, . thury, héricart de. _journal des mines_, vol. xxxiii., page . _the edinburgh philosophical journal_, vol. ii., page . thury, professor. _Études sur les glacières naturelles: bibliothèque universelle, archives des sciences physiques de genève_, , vol. x., pages - . _times, the_, philadelphia, november th, . townson, robert, ll. d. _travels in hungary_, , pages - . trouillet, capitaine. _la glacière de chaux-les-passavant: mémoires de la société d'Émulation du doubs_, besançon, . umlauft, professor dr. friedrich. _die oesterreichisch-ungarische monarchie_, wien, pest, leipzig, . valvasor, johann weichard, freiherrn. _die ehre des herzogthumes crain_, laybach, . villard, l. _grottes du vercors: spélunca_, , vol. ii., page . voigt, joh. carl wilhelm. _mineralogische reisen durch das herzogthum weimar_, weimar, , vol. ii., page . ward, j. clifford. _nature_, vol. xi., page . white, dr. c. a. _geological reports of the state of iowa_, des moines, , vol. i., page . whymper, edward. _scrambles amongst the alps_, london, john murray, . winchel, alexander. _walks and talks in the geological field_, the chautauqua century press, . wise, t. a. _ice making in the tropics: nature_, macmillan, london and new york, , vol. v., pages - . index. index. page adirondack guides, opinions of, alaska, subsoil ice in, , allmen, emil von, guide, altitude of glacières, amarnath, cave of, apparently static caves, arizona, glacières in, , auchincloss, mr. w. s., auersperg, prince, ausable pond, freezing talus at, balch, mrs. geo. b., balch pass, the, bargy, mont, basins, ice, , behrens, beilstein, caves on the, bel, matthias, , benedict, mr. a. s., benner, mr., berthoule, mons., besançon, billerez, mons. de, bonney, professor t. g., , , boston natural history society, , boué, dr. a., boulder heaps, boz, mons. de, brandon, freezing well of, , , , brinckerhoff, mr. f. h., briot, mons., brisons, glacière de, browne, the rev. g. f., , , , , , , , , _bulletin, the evening_, buried glaciers, burslem, captain, butler, mr. r., , , california, glacières in, , canfield, mr. n. m., capillary or compressed air theory, carbonic acid gas, carrel, chanoine, caucasus, glacières in the, cesi, don giuseppe, chapuis, glacière de, , chatham, mr. i. c., chaux-les-passavant, glacière de, , chemical causes theory, cliff caves, , , , , , , , clothes for glacière exploration, cold caves, colladon, mons, color effects, colorado, glacières in, , cossigny, mons. de, , cotterlaz, s. j., guide, coxe, miss mary, cranmer, professor h., , , , creux-de-souci, le, crevasses, crimea, glacières in the, cushing, mr. f. h., cvijic, dr. a., , dante, daubuisson, dawkins, professor w. boyd, decorah, freezing cave of, , decorah, freezing well of, deluc, mons. j. a., démenyfálva jegbarlang, dewey, mr., , dimensions of glacières, dittmar, mons. de, dóbsina jegbarlang, , dóbsina, village of, dornburg, freezing talus at the, , dornburg, freezing cellar at the, draughts, , , , , dripstone formations in glacières, , , , , , duc de lévy, dunant, mons. c., , dutoit, professor, eastern alps, glacières in the, - eastern united states, glacières in the, - eger, dr. w., ehrlicher, mr., eisenerz, elkinsville, glacière at, , ellenville, freezing gorge at, , Émery, aymon, guide, , enfer, glacière de l', england, glacières in, , entrances of glacières, eschholz, dr., evaporation, , , , , , , , farrandsville, cave at, farnum, mr. g. l., farnum, mr. j. e., fauna of glacières, , , , , , fee glacier, ice cave in, flora of glacières, , , , , , , , , fondurle, glacière de, forms of ice, frainer eisleithen, the, , france, glacières in, - , - frauenmauerhöhle, the, freezing mines and tunnels, freezing wells, , , , , friedrichsteinerhöhle, fugger, professor e., , , , , , , , genollière, glacière de la, , geographical distribution of glacières, germany, glacières in, - giant of the valley, talus of the, girardot, mons. a., girod-chantrans, le citoyen, glacial period theory, the, glacière, advantage of term, glacière caves, glaciers, gollut, lois, , gorges and troughs, , great barrington, icy gulf near, gruber, j., guide, gsoll-alp, guyot, professor a., hablizl, hacquet, hager, mr. a. d., , hall, mr. w. coleman, hart, mr. b., hartenstein, professor, haut-d'aviernoz, glacière de l', , hayden, professor c. b., heilprin, professor a., , herschel, sir john, hitchcock, professor e., hoar frost, , , holes in ice, , , , hollow ice stalagmites, , , , holschuh, mr. f., hovey, the rev. h. c., howell, mr. e. i. h., , humboldt, alexander von, ice floors, , , , , , , , , , , ice formed by radiation, - iceland, glacières in, , ice near entrance of caves, ice sheets, subterranean, ice slabs on floor, ice slopes, , , , , , ice spring, oregon, the, ice stalactites and stalagmites, , , , , , , , italy, glacières in, - japan, glacière in, jayne, mrs. horace, joly, capucin romain, karst, glacières in the, - king's ravine, subterranean ice in, kirchhoff, mr. t., klenka, s., guide, kolowratshöhle, the, , körber, herr b., , korea, glacière in, kovarik, mr. a. f., , , , krain, glacières in the, - krauss, regierungsrath f., krenner, dr., lakes, subterranean, , lamb, mr. c., guide, lathrop, mr. s. p., lava caves, washington, learned, mr., lee, mr. c. a., legends about glacières, , lepechin, lerchenfeld, freiherr von, lewis, miss j. f., lewis, mr. j. f., liptós szt miklós, lohmann, dr. h., lowe, mr. c. e., jr., lowe, mr. c. e., sr., , lowe, mr. n. m., , luce, mr. c. o., lyell, sir charles, , manchester, marble freezing cave at, marinitsch, herr j., martel, mons. e. a., , , , , , mccabe, mr. e., meehan, mr. w. e., mercer, mr. h. c., , metric system, mist in caves, , misura, f., forester, montana, glacières in, - montarquis, grand cave de, , , montarquis, petite cave de, moonlight effects, , , morin, mons., motion in subterranean ice, movements of air, , murchison, sir r. i., nagel, j. n., naye, glacière de, nicholson, mr. c. j., niles, mr., nixloch, the, , oetscher, the seelücken on the, olmstaed, professor d., otis, mr., oudot, dr., owego, freezing well of, , paleontological remains, parmelan, mont, , parrot, g. f., peasants, opinions of, , , pelech, dr. j. e., periods in glacières, open and closed, peters, k. f., petruzzi, professor, , phillips, mr. g. b., pictet, professor m. a., pit caves, , , , , , , , pleischl, professor a., , poissenot, benigne, , poprád, pralong du reposoir, _press, the philadelphia_, preston, mr., prestwich, mr., prévost, professor p., prismatic ice, , , , , , _public ledger, the_, randolph, the ice gulch,, raymond, mr. w. r., reich, f., religious feeling about ice, , , ritchie, mr. john, jr., , , , , , rogers, professor w. b., roth, eishöhle bei, rudolf ii., kaiser, ruffiny, herr e., rumney, freezing talus at, russell, professor i. c., , saint-georges, glacière de, , , saint-georges, village of, saint-livres, glacière de, saint-livres, pré de, sakharov, dr. a., samuel, mr. b., , , sartori, dr. f., satter, professor h., saussure, h. b. de, , scandinavia, glacières in, schafloch, the, , schallenberger, c., , schellenberger eisgrotte, the, schwalbe, dr. b., , , scott, professor w. b., scrope, mr. g. p., seelisberg, the milchhaüser of, selby-hill, mr. w. d., servia, glacières in, - skerizora, cave of, skinner's cave, siberia, glacières in, - sieger, professor, silliman, professor, sirar, j., guide, snow, subterranean, , , , south america, subsoil ice in, , spruce creek, freezing talus at, , stockbridge, icy glen near, strachey, gen. sir r., strein, r., , suchenreuther eisloch, the, summer's heat theory, the, summit, glacières near, switzerland, glacières in, - szilize, cave of, tablerloch, the, taluses, , , , , , temperatures, subterranean, teneriffe, glacière on the peak of, terlanday, dr., terminology, thermometric observations, , , , , , , , , thury, professor, , , , , , , time of formation of ice, townson, r., trouillet, captain, , turrian, a. a., gendarme, umlauft, professor f., ural, glacières in the, - valvasor, freiherr, , , villard, mons. l., , viré, mons. a., wachtl, forester, wagner, mr. w. w., wallingford, the ice beds of, watertown, cave at, watertown, windholes at, waves of heat and cold, theory of, white, dr. c. a., williams, mr. w. f., williamstown, caves near, williamstown, the snow hole near, , winter's cold theory, the, windholes, , , windholes, the theory of, wordsworth, verses by, yeermallik, cave of, ziegler, herr j. m., * * * * * transcriber note images were moved so as to not split paragraphs. accents were standardized. obvious punctuation errors and typos repaired. university of texas bulletin no. : april , _fossil ice crystals_ _an instance of the practical value of "pure science"_ [illustration: university emblem] bureau of economic geology and technology division of economic geology j. a. udden, director of the bureau and head of the division published by the university six times a month and entered as second-class matter at the postoffice at austin, texas publications of the university of texas publications committee: f. w. graff j. m. bryant d. b. casteel frederic duncalf r. h. griffith j. l. henderson i. p. hildebrand e. j. mathews the university publishes bulletins six times a month, so numbered that the first two digits of the number show the year of issue; the last two the position in the yearly series. (for example, no. is the first bulletin of the year .) these comprise the official publications of the university, publications on humanistic and scientific subjects, bulletins prepared by the department of extension and by the bureau of municipal research and reference, and other bulletins of general educational interest. with the exception of special numbers, any bulletin will be sent to a citizen of texas free on request. all communications about university publications should be addressed to the chairman of the publications committee, university of texas, austin. university of texas bulletin no. : april , _fossil ice crystals_ _an instance of the practical value of "pure science"_ [illustration: university emblem] bureau of economic geology and technology division of economic geology j. a. udden, director of the bureau and head of the division published by the university six times a month and entered as second-class matter at the postoffice at austin, texas the benefits of education and of useful knowledge, generally diffused through a community, are essential to the preservation of a free government. sam houston cultivated mind is the guardian genius of democracy.... it is the only dictator that freemen acknowledge and the only security that freemen desire. mirabeau b. lamar fossil ice crystals by j. a. udden an instance of the practical value of "pure science" the practical value of the service of the geological profession is, with every year, being more and more appreciated, especially among people who are developing the mineral resources of our country. nevertheless, we still hear men who speak of geologists as theorists that render our profitable industries but little assistance. it is true that much of the work that geologists do has but a remote bearing on practical questions. the fact is that in geology, as in other sciences, one can never know when a purely scientific observation may turn out to have a practical application. paleontologists who study the minutest details of fossils have been held up as impractical people, even though their science has more than once proved to be of the greatest practical importance for the finding of valuable natural deposits. certainly those who have been most prominent in the promotion of paleontology as a science have seldom, if ever, had any economic motive in the pursuit of their work. i think the same is true of our leading petrographers. i believe that the men who have advanced the science of geology most, have seldom contributed much to the practical application of the principles they have discovered. much scientific work naturally appears unprofitable or useless to the uninitiated. i shall here relate a case that suggests how entirely wrong it may be to regard as of no economic value any geologic fact, however insignificant it may appear. in the summer of i took occasion to make a trip to the black hills in south dakota in order to profit, as i could, by a few weeks' tramping in this interesting region. going one day in a southwest direction from minnekahta, to look for fossil cycads, i stumbled on a block of sandstone with a rather smooth surface on which were some peculiar markings, such as i had never seen figured or described. the rock was evidently a block from the dakota sandstone. its smooth upper surface, which represented a bedding plane, was covered with a thin coating of silt or fine clay which adhered to the block. the markings were in this clay. they were straight, shallow grooves from one-half to two inches in length, and from one-sixteenth to one-eighth inch in width. they were joined into patterns in which some sprang out from the sides of others and again themselves sent out other branches. some crossed each other. i noticed that there was a quite uniform angle of divergence in these branches, and i was able to make out that this usual angle was about sixty degrees. i also noted that the grooves narrowed to sharp points. somehow, immediately i concluded that the cracks were the result of ice crystals, and i at once saw the propriety of frozen water having existed in an age during which deciduous trees began to appear. this was theory. we have since that time learned to know that cold climates far antedate the coming of the dicotyledons. as i had no suitable photographic equipment, i took pains to make accurate drawings of a part of the pattern as it appeared on the rock. my original drawing is shown in plate i. a brief description of these markings was later furnished in the scientific american, of february , . it took me some years to find any similar markings again. in the early spring of i had occasion to make a visit to mexico, when i spent a half day in ojinaga, which is a little village south of presidio, in texas, on the mexican side of the river. some sidewalks in this little village are built of flags of limestone belonging to the eagle ford formation. to my great delight i found some of these slabs having precisely the same kind of markings that i had noted on the sandstone in dakota. naturally i attached some importance to the fact that the eagle ford corresponds quite closely in age to that of the dakota sandstone. both were made at about the beginning of the upper cretaceous age. i noticed here a considerable variation in the closeness of the patterns of the markings. occasionally they were found as separate single lines, several inches removed from each other; and on other rocks they would be found crossing in close networks. in the summer of i again found my ice markings on a layer of arenaceous limestone in the same formation in the big bend country in texas. this time i collected some specimens which were subsequently photographed. one of these photographs is shown in plate ii. again in i noticed the same markings on some thin sandy flags which occur in the del rio clay near the city of del rio. in this case the needle-like crystals were somewhat more slender than those previously seen, and some were slightly curved and somewhat more elongated. these of course interested me as showing the occurrence of freezing temperatures no doubt at a somewhat earlier time than that pertaining to my previous observations. during all these years my residence was in illinois, and i was naturally watching for similar markings in recent mud, resulting from late and early frosts. i found them in the fall of . at this time some excavations were being made in the loess in rock island, when some rains fell in the late fall. these rains evidently happened to give the mud the amount of moisture necessary for such crystals to develop, as the ground froze. the rains had washed the loess extensively, and i found a number of places where it lay redistributed, with a fairly smooth surface. it was evident that the moisture content of the ground, together with the temperature conditions, determined the size and the closeness of the frozen patterns. in places the crystals were long and slender, in others they were short and stout. at some points they were straight and in others slightly curved. here and there the patterns were close enough to resemble the fine lines which we sometimes notice in the hoarfrost on windowpanes. in other places the crystals occurred in radiating groups, and elsewhere they would form scattered separate units. for preserving a record of what i saw, i poured plaster over several patterns and had these casts photographed, as appears in plates viii, ix, x. placing these side by side with the photographs of the patterns i have photographed from the eagle ford, it appears to me that no doubt can be left as to the origin of the markings found in the fossil state. recently i have found that these ice crystal marks are quite common at one horizon in the eagle ford beds of brewster county, in texas. there is also a layer in which they can be usually seen in the vicinity of austin, texas. this lies about twenty-five feet below the austin chalk, near austin. a like layer occurs about feet below the austin chalk in the big bend country. here i have found the markings in localities thirty miles apart. they occur at the north point of mariscal mountain and in a number of places near the fossil knobs and on the chisos mining company property at terlingua. unprofitable as observations on such a simple matter as this may seem, i find that other geologists have given it some attention. quite recently, dr. john m. clarke[a] has figured slabs showing what has been described as _fucoides graphica_, by hall. the markings figured by professor clarke are undoubtedly of the same kind as those i have found in the eagle ford. they occur in the upper devonian in new york. i also find that the formation of ice crystals in wet mud has been observed in the clays about boston by marbut and woodworth.[b] other observations of similar recent markings are said to have been made by some english geologists. to "practical people" it may indeed appear that no more unprofitable or more idle curiosity could be indulged in, than making observations on what kind of crystals are formed when water freezes in mud. i must confess that my own first observations had no motive whatever, except for the desire to know something new; and i never expected that anything i could learn about these fossil marks would ever turn out to have any practical application, at least not in my own work. but it has turned out differently. for some time, i have been called upon occasionally to advise with regard to the finding of the ore in one of our quicksilver mines in west texas. it is now a well established fact that the distribution of the ore in this mine, and i believe in the entire terlingua district, bears a definite relation to geological horizons. successful mining requires search in these horizons. the cinnabar, as it appears, has accumulated in greatest quantity under impervious rocks such as shales and marls along planes that separate these from underlying rocks of more open texture, mostly limestones. the ore has clearly come from below and has risen through fissure planes, which in some cases separate large blocks of the cretaceous formations. the best ore has been found under the basal part of the boquillas flags, and under the del rio clay in the upper part of the georgetown limestone. the workings must be so arranged in the mine that these horizons can be entered on both sides of a fault fissure. the problem of locating the depth of the desirable horizons in the mine in question would be easy enough, if it were not for the fact that the outcropping rocks consist of a series of sediments with few characteristic fossils. most of the fossils which occur extend through a range of several hundred feet and the beds themselves are quite uniform in character, consisting of alternating thin layers of impure limestones and marls. an attempt was made to correlate the outcropping beds by close examination of the layers exposed, but the result was not very satisfactory. a close scrutiny made of each layer on the section resulted, however, in the finding of two features that enabled me to measure the throw of the fault under investigation. interbedded in the boquillas flags there are some thin layers of bentonite, which are quite persistent and can be followed for several miles. by comparing the distances between these layers and by taking note of their individual thickness, it was possible to make a correlation that seemed to be correct. but the proof sought fell just short of being certain. in cases of this kind one always looks for corroborating facts to check one's conclusions. i found this check in the discovery of the layer which carries ice crystal markings in these beds. the layer had a definite relation to the seams of bentonite, and, with this additional evidence, i was confident there was no possible chance of a mistake. it enabled me to locate not only the right horizon but also a horizon in the underlying heavy comanchean limestone, which is water-bearing, and which must be avoided to prevent serious injury to the underground operations. i need not add that the information obtained was of real practical value in this case. plate i plate i. forms of frost cracks seen on the exposed flat bedding plane of a block of dakota sandstone in a ravine a few miles southwest of minnekahta, south dakota. as sketched in the field. natural size. [illustration: plate i] plate ii plate ii. photographs of fossil imprints of ice crystals on flags of the eagle ford. the upper rock shown in the plate is from the south side of cuesta blanca in brewster county, texas, and shows casts of crystals which represent fillings of sandy mud projecting slightly down into an underlying bed of more argillaceous material. the lower part of the figure shows a similarly marked flag from the same formation at a point about five miles north of the old boquillas postoffice near tornillo creek, east of the chisos mountains, in texas. here are seen the original grooves made by the ice on a layer of muddy material later buried. slightly reduced. [illustration: plate ii] plate iii plate iii. photograph of fossil casts of a close tangle of ice crystals seen in a stony calcareous layer in the eagle ford shale in walnut creek, about eight miles north of austin, texas. this tangle is closer than any of the recent ice crystal marks figured here, but equally closely grown crystals have been seen by the writer on frozen mud in illinois. natural size. compare with plate viii. [illustration: plate iii] plate iv plate iv. photograph of fossil casts of ice crystals seen on some stony flags in the upper part of the eagle ford at fossil knobs, about two miles northwest of the chisos mine in brewster county, texas. these may be characterized as relatively short and scattered. this shows ridges projecting into the grooves formed by ice crystals on the surface of a muddy layer originally underlying the layer photographed. slightly reduced. [illustration: plate iv] plate v plate v. photograph of fossil casts of ice crystals seen on the under side of flaggy layer of calcareous sandy rock in the upper part of the eagle ford at fossil knobs, about two miles northwest from the chisos mining company's property, brewster county, texas. it will be seen that some of the crystals are gently curved. similar curving crystals are also seen in the figures showing recent growths at rock island, illinois. compare with plate ix. slightly reduced. [illustration: plate v] plate vi plate vi. photograph of a thin flag of sandy limestone from the eagle ford at fossil knobs in brewster county, showing molds left by ice crystals. [illustration: plate vi] plate vii plate vii. photographs of three fragments of flags showing casts of ice crystals on the under side. all observations made on crystals of this kind indicate local differences in the forms of ice crystals presumably due to differences in the rate of freezing, in the texture of the mud and probably in variations in water content of the mud. some crystals in the locality from which these specimens came, show pinnate secondary growths. specimens shown here are from near the upper part of the eagle ford at a point about two miles north from the chisos mining company's property. brewster county, texas. slightly reduced. [illustration: plate vii] plate viii plate viii. photograph of a cast made by pouring plaster over a surface of mud in which ice crystals had recently formed, in rock island, illinois, after the ice in the crystals had been removed by slow natural sublimation into the atmosphere, leaving open cracks in the mud. the comb-like ridges on the plaster cast have the form of the ice crystals. compare with plate iii. [illustration: plate viii] plate ix plate ix. photograph of a cast made by pouring plaster over a surface of mud in which ice crystals had formed, in rock island, illinois, soon after the ice in the crystals had been removed by slow natural sublimation into the atmosphere, leaving open cracks in the mud. in the locality where this cast was made, the crystals were relatively slender, distant, and some gently curved, like those seen in plate v. slightly reduced. [illustration: plate ix] plate x plate x. photograph of a cast made by pouring plaster over a surface of mud in which ice crystals had recently formed, in rock island, ill., and where they had later been removed by natural sublimations into the atmosphere, leaving open cracks in the mud. it will be seen that the crystal growth in this case involves an x-like or radiating pattern formed of relatively very slender forms that almost everywhere are very gently curved somewhat reminding of the slender thread-like crystals sometimes seen in frost on windows. i have not yet seen any similar fossil crystal growths as slender as these. slightly reduced. [illustration: plate x] footnotes: [a] strand and undertow markings, etc., new york state museum, _bulletin no. , april , _, pp. - ; pl. - . [b] brick clays of rhode island, massachusetts; marbut and woodworth, _u.s. geol. survey, th ann. rep., pt. _, p. . transcriber's notes: passages in italics are indicated by _underscore_. printer's inconsistencies in spelling and punctuation have been retained. armenia: a year at erzeroom, and on the frontiers of russia, turkey, and persia. by the hon. robert curzon, author of "visits to the monasteries of the levant." map and woodcuts. new york: harper & brothers, publishers, beekman street. . preface. almost from time immemorial a border warfare has been carried on between the koordish tribes on the confines of turkey and persia, in the mountainous country beginning at mount ararat toward the north, and continuing southward to the low lands, where the shat al arab, the name of the mighty river formed by the junction of the tigris and the euphrates, pours those great volumes of water into the persian gulf. the consequence of the unsettled state of affairs in those wild districts was, that the roads were unsafe for travelers; merchants were afraid to trust their merchandise to the conveyance even of well-armed caravans, for they were constantly pillaged by the koords, headed in our days by the great chieftains beder khan bey, noor ullah bey, khan abdall, and khan mahmoud. the chains of mountains which occupy great part of the country in question are for months every year covered with snow, which even in the elevated plains lies at the depth of many yards; the bands of robbers constantly on the watch for plunder of any kind prevented the mountain paths from being kept open, so that those who escaped from the long lances of the koords perished in the avalanches and the snowdrifts by hundreds every year. to put a stop, or at least a check, to so lamentable a state of things, the governments of turkey and persia requested the assistance of england and russia to draw up a treaty of peace, and to come to a distinct understanding as to where the line of border ran between the two empires; for hitherto the koordish tribes of turkey made it a virtue to plunder a persian village, and the persians, on their side, considered no action more meritorious, as well as profitable, than an inroad on the turkish frontier, the forays on both sides being conducted on the same plan. the invading party, always on horseback, and with a number of trained led horses, which could travel one hundred miles without flagging, managed to arrive in the neighborhood of the devoted village one hour before sunrise. the barking of the village curs was the first notice to the sleeping inhabitants that the enemy was literally at the door. the houses were fired in every direction; the people awoke from sleep, and, trying in confusion to escape, were speared on their thresholds by their invaders; the place was plundered of every thing worth taking; and one hour after sunrise the invading bands were in full retreat, driving before them the flocks and herds of their victims, and the children and girls of the village bound on the led horses, to be sold or brought up as slaves; the rest having, young and old, men and women, been killed without mercy, to prevent their giving the alarm: their victors frequently coming down upon them from a distance of one hundred to three hundred miles. in hopes of remedying these misfortunes, a conference was appointed at erzeroom, where a turkish plenipotentiary, noori effendi; a persian plenipotentiary, merza jaffer khan; a russian commissioner, colonel dainese; and an english commissioner, colonel williams, of the royal artillery, were to meet, each with a numerous suite, to discuss the position of the boundary, and to check the border incursions of the koordish tribes, both by argument and by force of arms, the troops of both nations being ordered to assist the deliberations of the congress at erzeroom by every endeavor on their part to keep the country in a temporary state of tranquillity. the plenipotentiaries on the part of turkey and persia, and the english and russian commissioners, entered upon their arduous task at the beginning of the year . colonel williams, to whom the duties of the english commission had been intrusted, was too unwell to proceed to erzeroom, and i was appointed in his stead, being at that time private secretary to sir stratford canning, her majesty's embassador at constantinople. colonel williams afterward recovered so much that he was able to set out, and we started together as joint commissioners, in company with colonel (afterward general) dainese, on the part of russia, a gentleman of very considerable talents and attainments. the discussions between the two governments were protracted by every conceivable difficulty, which was thrown in the way of the commissioners principally by the turks. at length, in june, , a treaty was signed, in which the confines of the two empires were defined: these, however, being situated in places never surveyed, and only known by traditional maps, which had copied the names of places one from another since the invention of engraving, it was considered advisable that the true situations of these places should be verified in a scientific manner; consequently, a new commission was named in the year , whose officers were instructed to define the actual position of the spots enumerated in the treaty above mentioned. these commissioners consisted of dervish pasha for turkey, merza jaffer for persia, colonel williams for england, and colonel ktchirikoff for russia. this party left bagdad in , surveyed the whole of that hitherto unexplored region, among the koordish and original christian tribes, which extends to the east of mesopotamia, till they finished their difficult and dangerous task at mount ararat, on the th of september, . the results of this expedition are, i hope, to be presented to the public by the pen of colonel williams, and will, i trust, throw a new and interesting light upon the manners and customs of the wild mountaineers of those districts, and give much information relating to the chaldeans, maronites, nestorians, and other christian churches converted in the earliest ages by the successors of the apostles, of whom we know very little, no travelers hitherto having had the opportunities of investigating their actual condition and their religious tenets which have been afforded to colonel williams and the little army under his command. armenia, the cradle of the human family, inoffensive and worthless of itself, has for centuries, indeed from the beginning of time, been a bone of contention between conflicting powers: scarcely has it been made acquainted with the blessings of tranquillity and peace, through the mediation of great britain, than again it is to become the theatre of war, again to be overrun with bands of armed men seeking each other's destruction, in a climate which may afford them burial when dead, but which is too barren and inhospitable to provide them with the necessaries of life; and this to satisfy the ambition of a distant potentate, by whose success they gain no advantage in this world or in the next. it is much to be deplored that the emperor of russia, by his want of principle, has brought the christian religion into disrepute; for throughout the levant the christians have for years been waiting an opportunity to rise against the oppressors of their fortunes and their faith. the manner in which the czar has put himself so flagrantly in the wrong will be a check to the progress of christianity. that the step he has now been taking has been the great object of his reign, as well as that of all his predecessors since the time of peter the great, will be illustrated in the following pages. the accession of a christian emperor to the throne of constantinople will be an event of greater consequence than is generally imagined; for the sultan of roum is considered by all mohammedans in india, africa, and all parts of the world, to be the vicegerent of god upon earth, and the caliph or successor of mohammed; his downfall, therefore, would shatter the whole fabric of the mohammedan faith, for the sultan is the pride and glory of islam, and the pale crescent of the east will wane and set when kurie eleison is chanted again under the ancient dome of st. sofia. what an unfortunate mistake has been made in not waiting for a real and just occasion for pressing forward the ranks of the cross against the crescent! then who would not have joined a righteous cause? who would not have given his wealth, his assistance, or his life, in the defense of his faith against the enemies of his religion? i feel that, in laying this little book before the public, i am committing a rash act, for i am perfectly aware that it has many imperfections. i was prevented from visiting several important places in armenia by an illness so severe, brought on by the unhealthy climate, that i have not been able to take an active part in life since that time. the following pages were written in a very few days, at a time when other occupations prevented me from giving them that attention which should always be afforded to a work that is intended for the perusal of the public. nevertheless, i consider that, as the countries described are so little known, and as it is not improbable that events of great importance may take place within their boundaries, i should be open to greater blame in withholding any information, however humble, than in presenting to the reader a meagre account of those wild and sterile regions, whose climate and manners are so different from those which are generally described in the works of oriental travelers. these sketches, slight as they are, may perhaps be found useful to the members of any expedition which the chances of war may occasion to be sent into those remote countries, by giving them beforehand some intimation of the preparations necessary to be made for their journey through a district where they would encounter at every step difficulties which they might not have been led to expect in a latitude considerably to the south of the bay of naples. contents. chapter i. the "bad black sea."--coal-field near the bosporus.--trebizond from the sea.--fish and turkeys.--the bazaars.--coronas.--ancient tombs.--church of st. sofia.--preservation of old manners and ceremonies.--toilet of a person of distinction.--russian loss in - .--ancient prayer.--varna.--statistics of wallachia.--visit to abdallah pasha.--his outward appearance.--his love of medical experiments.--trade of trebizond page chapter ii. departure from trebizond.--a rough road.--turkish pack-horses.--value of tea.--the pipe in the east.--mountain riding.--instinct of the horse.--a caravan overwhelmed by an avalanche.--mountain of hoshabounar.--a ride down the mountain.--arrival at erzeroom chapter iii. the consulate at erzeroom.--subterranean dwellings.--snow-blindness.-- effects of the severe climate.--the city: its population, defenses, and buildings.--our house and household.--armenian country-houses.--the ox-stable chapter iv. narrow escape from suffocation.--death of noori effendi.--a good shot.--history of mirza tekee.--persian ideas of the principles of government.--the "blood-drinker."--massacre at kerbela.--sanctity of the place.--history of hossein.--attack on kerbela, and defeat of the persians.--good effects of commissioners' exertions chapter v. the boundary question.--koordish chiefs.--torture of artin, an american christian.--improved state of society in turkey.--execution of a koord.--power of fatalism.--gratitude of artin's family page chapter vi. the clock of erzeroom.--a pasha's notions of horology.--pathology of clocks.--the tower and dungeon.--ingenious mode of torture. --the modern prison chapter vii. spring in erzeroom.--coffee-house diversions.--koordish exploits.--summer employment.--preparation of tezek.--its varieties and uses chapter viii. the prophet of khoi.--climate.--effects of great elevation above the sea.--the genus homo.--african gold-diggings.--sale of a family.--site of paradise.--tradition of khosref purveez.--flowers.--a flea-antidote.--origin of the tulip.--a party at the cave of ferhad, and its results.--translation from hafiz chapter ix. the bear.--ruins of a genoese castle.--lynx.--lemming.--cara guz.--gerboa.--wolves.--wild sheep.--a hunting adventure.--camels.--peculiar method of feeding.--degeneration of domestic animals chapter x. birds.--great variety and vast numbers of birds.--flocks of geese.--employment for the sportsman.--the captive crane.--wild and tame geese.--the pious and profane ancestors.--list of birds found at erzeroom chapter xi. excursion to the lake of tortoom.--romantic bridge.--gloomy effect of the lake.--singular boat.--"evaporation" of a pistol.--kiamili pasha.--extraordinary marksman.--alarming illness of the author.--an earthquake.--lives lost through intense cold.--the author recovers page chapter xii. start for trebizond.--personal appearance of the author.--mountain pass.--reception at beyboort.--misfortunes of mustapha.--pass of zigana dagh.--arrival at trebizond chapter xiii. former history of trebizond.--ravages of the goths.--their siege and capture of the city.--dynasties of courtenai and the comneni.--the "emperor" david.--conquest of trebizond by mehemet ii. chapter xiv. impassable character of the country.--dependence of persia on the czar.--russian aggrandizement.--delays of the western powers.--russian acquisitions from turkey and persia.--oppression of the russian government.--the conscription.--armenian emigration.--the armenian patriarch.--latent power of the pope.--anomalous aspect of religious questions chapter xv. ecclesiastical history.--supposed letter of abgarus, king of edessa, to our savior, and the answer.--promulgation and establishment of christianity.--labors of mesrob maschdots.--separation of the armenian church from that of constantinople.--hierarchy and religious establishments.--superstition of the lower classes.--sacerdotal vestments.--the holy books.--romish branch of the church.--labors of mechitar.--his establishment near venice.--diffusion of the scriptures chapter xvi. modern division of armenia.--population.--manners and customs of the christians.--superiority of the mohammedans page chapter xvii. armenian manuscripts.--manuscripts at etchmiazin.--comparative value of manuscripts.--uncial writing.--monastic libraries.--collections in europe.--the st. lazaro library chapter xviii. general history of armenia.--former sovereigns.--tiridates i. receives his crown from nero.--conquest of the country by the persians and by the arabs.--list of modern kings.--misfortunes of leo v.: his death at paris list of illustrations. map of armenia to face title-page. ruined armenian church near erzeroom in title-page. general view of erzeroom to face page erzeroom. view from the house of the british commissioners. to face page koordish gallows in page fundook ,, ruined tower in the castle of tortoom to face page boat on the lake of tortoom ,, ,, quarantine harbor, trebizond ,, ,, armenia. chapter i. the "bad black sea."--coal-field near the bosporus.--trebizond from the sea.--fish and turkeys.--the bazaars.--coronas.--ancient tombs.--church of st. sofia.--preservation of old manners and ceremonies.--toilet of a person of distinction.--russian loss in - .--ancient prayer.--varna.--statistics of wallachia.--visit to abdallah pasha.--his outward appearance.--his love of medical experiments.--trade of trebizond. fena kara degniz, "the bad black sea." this is the character that stormy lake has acquired in the estimation of its neighbors at constantinople. of turkish vessels which skim over its waters every year, are said to be wrecked as a matter of course. the wind sometimes will blow from all the four quarters of heaven within two hours' time, agitating the waters like a boiling caldron. dense fogs obscure the air during the winter, by the assistance of which the turkish vessels continually mistake the entrance of a valley called the false bogaz for the entrance of the bosporus, and are wrecked there perpetually. i have seen dead bodies floating about in that part of the sea, where i first became acquainted with the fact that the corpse of a woman floats upon its back, while that of a man floats upon its face. in short, at constantinople they say that every thing that is bad comes from the black sea: the plague, the russians, the fogs, and the cold, all come from thence; and though this time we had a fine calm passage, i was glad enough to arrive at the end of the voyage at trebizond. before landing, however, i must give a passing tribute to the beauty of the scenery on the south coast, that is, on the north coast of asia minor. rocks and hills are its usual character near the shore, with higher mountains inland. between the bosporus and heraclea are boundless fields of coal, which crops out on the side of the hills, so that no mining would be required to get the coal; and besides this great facility in its production, the hills are of such an easy slope that a tram-road would convey the coal-wagons down to the ships on the sea-coast without any difficulty. no nation but the turks would delay to make use of such a source of enormous wealth as this coal would naturally supply, when it can be had with such remarkable ease so near to the great maritime city of constantinople. it seems to be a peculiarity in human nature that those who are too stupid to undertake any useful work are frequently jealous of the interference of others who are more able and willing than themselves, as the old fable of the dog in the manger exemplifies. i understand that more than one english company have been desirous of opening these immense mines of wealth, on the condition of paying a large sum or a good per centage to the turkish government; but they are jealous of a foreigner's undertaking that which they are incapable of carrying out themselves. so english steamers bring english coal to constantinople, which costs i don't know what by the time it arrives within a few miles of a spot [ ] which is as well furnished with the most useful, if not the most ornamental, of minerals, as newcastle-upon-tyne itself. beyond sinope, where the flat alluvial land stretches down to the sea-shore, there are forests of such timber as we have no idea of in these northern regions. here there are miles of trees so high, and large, and straight, that they look like minarets in flower. wild boars, stags, and various kinds of game abound in these magnificent primeval woods, protected by the fevers and agues which arise from the dense jungle and unhealthy swamps inland, which prevent the sportsman from following the game during great part of the year. the inhabitants of all this part of turkey, circassia, &c., are good shots with the short, heavy rifle, which is their constant companion, and they sometimes kill a deer. as their religion protects the pigs, the wild boars roam unmolested in this, for them at least, "free and independent country." the stag resembles the red deer in every respect, only it is considerably smaller; its venison is not particularly good. trebizond presents an imposing appearance from the sea. it stands upon a rocky table-land, from which peculiarity in its situation it takes its name--trapeza being a table in greek, if we are to believe what dr. ---- used to tell us at school. there is no harbor, not even a bay, and a rolling sea comes in sometimes which looks, and i should think must be, awfully dangerous. i have seen the whole of the keel of the ships at anchor, as they rolled over from one side to the other. the view from the sea of the curious ancient town, the mountains in the background, and the great chain of the circassian mountains on the left, is magnificent in the extreme. the only thing that the black sea is good for, that i know of (and that, i think, may be said of some other seas), is fish. the kalkan balouk, shield-fish--a sort of turbot, with black prickles on his back--though not quite worth a voyage to trebizond, is well worth the attention of the most experienced gastronome when he once gets there. the red mullet, also, is caught in great quantities; but the oddest fish is the turkey. this animal is generally considered to be a bird, of the genus poultry, and so he is in all outward appearances; but at trebizond the turkeys live entirely upon a diet of sprats and other little fish washed on shore by the waves, by which it comes to pass that their flesh tastes like very exceedingly bad fish, and abominably nasty it is; though, if reclaimed from these bad habits, and fed on corn and herbs, like other respectable birds, they become very good, and are worthy of being stuffed with chestnuts and roasted, and of occupying the spot upon the dinner-table from whence the remains of the kalkan balouk have been removed. on landing, the beauty of the prospect ceases, for, like many oriental towns, the streets are lanes between blank walls, over which the branches of fig-trees, roofs of houses, and boughs of orange and lemon trees appear at intervals; so that, riding along the blind alleys, you do not know whether there are houses or gardens on each side. the bazaars are a contrast, by their life and bustle, to the narrow lanes through which they are approached. here numbers of the real old-fashioned turks are to be seen, with turbans as large as pumpkins, of all colors and forms, steadily smoking all manner of pipes. i do not know why europeans persist in calling these places bazaars: charchi is the turkish for what we call bazaar, or bezestein for an inclosed covered place containing various shops. the word bazaar means a market, which is altogether a different kind of thing. the bazaars of trebizond contain a good deal of rubbish, both of the human and inanimate kind. cheese, saddles, old, dangerous-looking arms, and various peddlery and provisions, were all that was to be seen. many ruined buildings of byzantine architecture tottered by the sides of the more open spaces, some apparently very ancient, and well worth examination. in the porches of two little antiquated greek churches i saw some frescoes of the twelfth century, apparently in excellent preservation; one of portraits of byzantine kings and princes, in their royal robes, caught my attention, but i had not time to do more than take a hasty look at it. the tomb of solomon, the son of david, king of georgia or immeretia, standing in the court-yard of another greek church, under a sort of canopy of stone, is a very curious monument; and in two churches there are ancient coronas, which seemed to be of silver gilt, eight or ten feet in diameter, most precious specimens of early metal-work, which i coveted and desired exceedingly. they were both engraved with texts from scripture, and saints and cherubim of the grimmest aspect, so old, and quaint, and ugly, that they may be said to be really painfully curious. while on this subject i may remark that i am not aware where the authority is to be found for introducing the quantities of coronas which are now hung up in modern antique churches in england. i never saw one in any latin church, except at aix-la-chapelle; there are, i presume, others, but they certainly never were common nor usual any where in europe. all those i know of are greek, and belong to the greek ceremonial rite. i have never met with an ancient gothic corona, and should be glad to know from whence those lately introduced into our parish churches have been copied. on the other side of the town from the landing-place, a mile or so beyond the beautiful old walls of the byzantine citadel, is a small grassy plain, with some fine single trees. this plain is situated on a terrace, with the open sea on the right hand, on a level of fifty or more feet below. the view from hence on all sides is lovely. the glorious blue sea--for it is not black here--on the right hand; the walls and towers crumbling into ruin behind you, the hills to the left, at the foot of which, built on the level grass, are several ancient tombs, whether mohammedan or christian i do not know; they are low round towers, with conical roofs, like old-fashioned pigeon-houses, but rich in color, with old brick, and stone, and marble. parasitical plants, growing from rents and crevices occasioned by time, are left in peace by the turks, who, after all, are the best conservators of antiquity in the world, for they let things alone. there are no churchwardens yet in turkey; there are no tasty architects, with contemptible and gross ignorance of antiquity, architecture, and taste, to build ridiculous failures for a confiding ministry in london, or a rich gentleman in the country, who does not pretend to know any thing about the matter, and falls into the error of believing that if he pays well he will be well served, and that a man who has been brought up to build buildings must know how to do it: and this knowledge is displayed in the production of the british museum, the national gallery, and other original edifices. the spleen aroused in writing these words is calmed by the recollection of the ruins of the fortified monastery, as it would appear to have been, before my eyes at the further end of this charming open plain; a byzantine gate-house stands within a ditch surrounding a considerable space, in which some broken walls give evidence of a stately palace or monastery which once rose there; but there still stands towering to a great height the almost perfect church of st. sofia--the holy wisdom, not the saint of that name, but the deity to whom the great cathedral of st. sofia is dedicated at constantinople. this church is curious and interesting in the extreme; it is most rich in many of the peculiarities of byzantine architecture outside, and within there are very perfect remains of frescoes, in a style of art such as i have hardly seen equaled, never in any fresco paintings. the only ones equal to them are the illuminations in the one odd volume of the mênologia in the vatican library, and some in my own. there are several half figures of emperors in brilliant colors, in circular compartments, on the under sides of some arches, and numerous other paintings, of which the colors are so vivid that they resemble painted glass, particularly where they are broken, as the sharp outlines of what is left betoken that they would be still as bright as jewelry where they have not been destroyed by the plaster, on which they are painted, giving way. the position, beauty, and antiquity of this christian relic in a mohammedan land, give a singular interest to the church of st. sofia at trebizond. i longed to give this place a thorough examination. perhaps a portrait of some old comnenus would present itself to my admiring eyes. many likenesses of by-gone emperors, cæsars, and princesses born in the purple, might be recovered in all the splendor of their royal robes and almost sacred crowns and diadems, to gladden the hearts of antiquarians enthusiastic in the cause, and who, like myself, would be ten times more delighted with the possession of a portrait, or an incomprehensible work of art of undoubted byzantine origin, than with the offer of the hand, even of the illustrious anna comnena herself. her portrait, after the lapse of years, would be most interesting; but i do not envy the cæsar who obtained the honor of an alliance with that princess of the cærulean hose. at this point, feeling myself entangled with the reminiscences of byzantine history, i must branch off into a little episode relating to the singular preservation of ancient manners and ceremonies still in use, or, at least, remaining in the year in wallachia and moldavia. the usages and the etiquette of those courts, together with the names and the costumes of the great officers of state, are all derived from those of the christian court of constantinople before the disastrous days of mohammed the second. now that those fertile lands are overrun by the descendants of the avars, and the fierce tribes of northern barbarians, who so often in the middle ages carried fire and sword, tallow and sheepskins, almost to the walls of the city--tên bolin· eis tên bolin--from whence comes stamboul, i may be, perhaps, excused if i put in a few lines relating to another country, but which, i think, are interesting during the present state of the affairs of the turkish empire. in the year i left constantinople on my way to vienna. i went to varna, and from thence proceeded up the danube in a miserable steamer, on board of which was a personage of high distinction belonging to a neighboring nation, whose manners and habits afforded me great amusement. he was courteous and gentlemanlike in a remarkable degree, but his domestic ways differed from those of our own countrymen. he had a numerous suite of servants, three or four of whom seemed to be a sort of gentlemen; these attended him every night when he went to bed, in the standing bed-place of the crazy steamer. first they wound up six or seven gold watches, and the great man took off his boots, his coat, and i don't know how many gold chains; then each night he was invested by his attendants with a different fur pelisse, which looked valuable and fusty to my humble eyes. each morning the same gentlemen spread out all the watches, took off the fur pelisse, and insinuated their lord into a fashionable and somewhat tight coat, not the one worn yesterday; but on no occasion did i perceive any thing in the nature of an ablution, or any proof that such an article as a clean shirt formed a part of the great man's traveling wardrobe. varna is situated on a gentle slope a short distance from the shores of the black sea, and three or four miles to the south of a range of hills, between which and the town the unfortunate russian army was encamped during the war of the year . i say unfortunate, and all will agree with me, if they take into consideration a fact which i write on undoubted authority. when the russians invaded turkey in , they lost , men by sickness alone, by want of the necessaries of life, and neglect in the commissariat department: , russians died on the plains of turkey, not one man of whom was killed in battle, for their advance was not resisted by the turks. in the next year ( ) the russians lost , men between the pruth and the city of adrianople. some of these, however, were legitimately slain in battle. when they arrived at adrianople, the troops were in so wretched a condition from sickness and want of food that not men were able to bear arms: how many thousands of horses and mules perished in these two years is not known. the turkish government was totally ignorant of this deplorable state of affairs at adrianople till some time afterward, when the intelligence came too late. if the turks had known what was going on, not one single russian would have seen his native land again; even as it was, out of , men, not ever recrossed the russian frontier alive. since the days of cain, the first murderer, among all nations, and among all religions, he who kills his fellow-creature without just cause is looked upon with horror and disgust, and is pursued by the avenging curse of god and man. what, then, shall be thought of that individual who, without reason, without the slightest show of justice, right, or justifiable pretense, from his own caprice, to satisfy his own feelings, and lust of pride, and arrogance, destroys for his amusement, in two years, more than , of his fellow-creatures? shall not their blood cry out for vengeance? had not each of these men a soul, immortal as their butcher's? had not many of them, many thousands of them perhaps, more faith, more trust in god, higher talents than their destroyer? better had it been for that man had he never been born! the following prayer is translated from one at the end of an ancient bulgarian or russian manuscript, written in the year : "the judge seated, and the apostle standing before him, and the trumpet sounding, and the fire burning, what wilt thou do, o my soul, when thou art carried to the judgment? for then all thy evils will appear, and all thy secret sins will be made manifest. therefore now, beforehand, endeavor to pray to jesus christ our lord. oh, do not thou reject me, but save me." the fortifications of varna are very flat and low, though they are said to be of great strength; but, as the town is built of wood, i should think there would be little difficulty in setting it on fire by the assistance of a few shells or red-hot shot, from ships at sea or batteries on the land. from all such fortresses i am delighted to escape: the bastions, ditches, and ramparts keep me in, though they are intended to keep others out. there is nothing picturesque in a modern stronghold, as there are no battlements and towers, or any thing pleasing to the eye; only, whichever way you turn, you are sure to be stopped by a green ditch with a frog in it; i therefore only remained long enough at varna to see that there was nothing to be seen. the principality of wallachia contains , , inhabitants liable to taxation, nobles, and , strangers, subjects of various powers. it is governed by a prince (gika), who reigns for life. the civil list amounts to-- , austrian ducats yearly. all the officials are paid by the government. the revenues of the principality are derived from tribute, which amounts to , ducats yearly. the salt-works, which yield , ,, ,, domains of the prince , ,, ,, the customs , ,, ,, ------- total , ,, ,, the expenses are, yearly: ducats. civil list of the prince , the ottoman porte for tribute , salaries of officials , troops, men , ten quarantine stations on the danube , hospitals , schools , post , repair of roads , ------- total , the capital of wallachia is bucharest, containing , houses and , inhabitants, of whom , are strangers. there is one metropolitan, who lives at bucharest, and has a revenue of , ducats; and three bishops, of rimnik, argessi, and buzeo, who have each. the salary of the first minister is ducats yearly. there are three ranks of nobles. the highest consists of sixty individuals, who have the right of electing the prince; the second numbers , and the third . the prime minister is called the bano; the commander-in-chief, spathar; the minister of the interior, the great dvornic; the minister of justice, the great logothete. the greatest family is that of brancovano, the revenue of its chief being , ducats. the titles of the great officers of state, and the principal people about the court of the hospodar, are derived from the institutions of the byzantine emperors. these nobles are divided into three classes. the following is the order of their precedence: st class. . bano marshal of the palace. . dvornic lord chamberlain. . spathar commander-in-chief. . logothete chief secretary. . postemic foreign minister. . aga inspector of police. d class. . clochiar commissary general. . paharme cup-bearer. d class. . serdar commander of men. . pitar inspector of the ovens. . consepist registrar general. it is in the power of the government to raise any of these nobles a step after a service of three years. before the year these officers were paid by contributions raised on the subjects of the prince, who were then exempted from any other taxes. the bano had one hundred and twenty men, the dvornic one hundred, the paharme twenty-five, and so on; from these they took as much as they could, one man averaging three ducats a year in value to his lord. the treaty of adrianople contains an article insuring the independence of the interior administration of the country. on the th of may, , an order was brought from constantinople by baron rukman, in which it was stated that the general assembly are to insert a clause in the constitution, which obliges them to have leave of the russians before any alteration whatever is made in the regulation of the interior. the army can not be increased, or any differences made in the administration of the quarantine, &c., without permission from russia, which is in direct contradiction to the treaty of adrianople. sentence of death is abolished by the constitution, but great offenders are sent to the mines for life. having accomplished our little tour to wallachia, we will recross the sea to trebizond, and return to the inspection of that ancient city, so famous in the romance of the middle ages. the pasha and governor, abdallah pasha, resides in the citadel, a large space of ruinous buildings, surrounded by romantic walls and towers, in the same style as those of constantinople. as in duty bound, we proceeded in great state to pay a visit of ceremony to the viceroy. as our long train of horsemen wound through the narrow streets, and passed under the long dark tunnel of the byzantine gateway, we must have looked quite in keeping with the picturesque appearance of that ancient fortress. from the gloomy gate we emerged into a large, ruinous court or space of no particular shape, but surrounded by tumble-down houses, with wooden balconies festooned with vines. i was struck with the absence of guards and soldiers, who are usually drawn up on these occasions in a wavy line, to do honor or to impose upon the awe-stricken feelings of the elchi bey. we passed through another court, if i remember right, till we found a number of servants and officials waiting our arrival at an open door, and, having dismounted, with the assistance of numerous supporters we scrambled up a large, dark, crazy wooden stair, at the top of which, on a curtain being drawn aside, we were ushered into a large, lofty room, where we beheld the pasha seated on the divan, under a range of windows, at the upper end of the selamlik, or hall of reception. then commenced the regular exercise of formal civilities, bows, and inquiries after each other's health, carried on in a thorough mechanical manner, neither party even pretending to look as if he meant any thing he said. we smoked pipes, and drank coffee, and made a little bow to the pasha afterward, in the most orthodox way, till we were bored and tired, and wished it was time to come away; but this sort of visit was a serious affair, and i don't know how long we sat there, with the crowd of kawasses and chiboukgis staring at us steadily from the lower end of the hall. what the pasha looked like, and what manner of man he was, it was not easy to make out, seeing that to the outward eye he presented the appearance of a large green bundle, with a red fez at the top, for he was enveloped in a great furred cloak; he seemed to have dark eyes, like every body else in this country, and a long nose and a black beard, whereof the confines or limits were not to be ascertained, as i could not readily distinguish what was beard and what was fur. every now and then his excellency snuffled, as if he had got a cold, but i think it was only a trick; however, when he lifted up his voice to speak, the depth and hollow sound was very remarkable. i have heard several turks speak in this way, which i believe they consider dignified, and imagine that it is done in imitation of sultan mahmoud, who, whether it was his natural voice or not, always spoke as if his voice came out of his stomach instead of his mouth. abdallah pasha paid us his compliments in this awful tone, and, till i got a little used to it, i wondered out of what particular part of the heap of fur, cloth, &c., this thoroughbass proceeded. i found, to my great admiration, that the pasha knew my name, and almost as much of my own history as i did myself; where he had gained his very important information i know not, but an interest so unusual in any thing relating to another person induced me to make inquiries about him, and i found he was not only a man of the highest dignity and wealth, possessing villages, square miles and acres innumerable, but he was a philosopher; if not a writer, he was a reader of books, particularly works on medicine. this was his great hobby. in the way of government he seemed to be a most patriarchal sort of king: he had no army or soldiers whatever; fifteen or sixteen kawasses were all the guards that he supported. he smoked the pipe of tranquillity on the carpet of prudence, and the pashalik of trebizond slumbered on in the sun; the houses tumbled down occasionally, and people repaired them never; the secretary of state wrote to the porte two or three times a year, to say that nothing particular had happened. the only thing i wondered at was how the tribute was exacted, for transmitted it must be regularly to constantinople. rayahs must be squeezed: they were created, like oranges, for that purpose; but, somehow or other, abdallah pasha seems to have carried on the process quietly, and the multitudes under his rule dozed on from year to year. that was all very well for those at a distance, but his immediate attendants suffered occasionally from the philosophical inquiries of their master. he thought of nothing but physic, and whenever he could catch a piedmontese doctor he would buy any quantity of medicine from him, and talk learnedly on medical subjects as long as the doctor could stand it. as nobody ever tells the truth in these parts, the pasha never believed what the doctor told him, and usually satisfied his mind by experiments in corpore vili, many of which, when the accounts were related to me, made me cry with laughter. they were mostly too medical to be narrated in any unmedical assembly. trebizond is not defensible by land or sea, nor could it be made so from the land side, as it is commanded by the sloping hills immediately behind it. from there being no bay or harbor of any kind, its approach is dangerous during the prevalence of north winds, which lash the waves against the rocks with fury. inns are as yet unknown; there are no khans that i know of, of any size or importance as far as architecture is concerned; but large stables protect the pack-horses which carry the bales of goods imported from constantinople for the persian trade, the bulk of which has now passed out of the hands of the english into those of the greek merchants. the steamer running from constantinople is constantly laden with goods, and much more would be sent if additional steamers were ready to convey it. our party was received under the hospitable roof of mr. stephens, the vice-consul, whose court-yard was encumbered with luggage of all sorts and kinds, over which katergis or muleteers continually wrangled in setting apart different articles in two heaps, each two heaps being reputed a sufficient load for one horse. this took some days to arrange, and our time was occupied with preparations for the journey through the mountains. chapter ii. departure from trebizond.--a rough road.--turkish pack-horses.--value of tea.--the pipe in the east.--mountain riding.--instinct of the horse.--a caravan overwhelmed by an avalanche.--mountain of hoshabounar.--a ride down the mountain.--arrival at erzeroom. at last we were ready; the russian commissioner traveled with us, and we sallied out of the town in a straggling line up the hill, along the only road known in this part of the world. this wonder and miracle of art extends one mile, to the top of a little hill. it is said to have cost £ , . it ascends the mountain side in defiance of all obstacles, and is more convenient for rolling down than climbing up, as it is nearly as steep as a ladder in some places. when you get to the top you are safe, for there is no more road as far as tabriz. a glorious view rewards the traveler for his loss of breath in accomplishing the ascent. from hence the road is a track, wide enough for one loaded horse, passing through streams and mud, over rocks, mountains, and precipices, such as i should hardly have imagined a goat could travel upon; certainly no sensible animal would ever try to do so, unless upon urgent business. pleasure and amusement must be sought on broader ways; here danger and difficulty occur at every step; nevertheless, the horses are so well used to climbing, and hopping, and floundering along, that the obstacles are gradually overcome. in looking back occasionally, you wonder how in the world you ever got to the spot you are standing on. the sure-footedness of the horses was marvelous; we often galloped for half an hour along the dry course of a mountain torrent, for these we considered our best places, over round stones as big as a man's head, with larger ones occasionally for a change; but the riding-horses hardly ever fell. the baggage-horses, encumbered with their loads, tumbled in all directions, but these unlucky animals were always kicked up again by the efforts of a posse of hard-fisted, hard-hearted muleteers, and were soon plodding on under the burdens which it seems it was their lot to bear for the remainder of their lives. if this should meet the eye of any london cab-horse--for what may we not expect in these days of march of intellect and national education?--let him thank his lucky star that he is not a turkish pack-horse, made to carry something nearly as heavy as a cab up and down rocks as inaccessible as those immortalized in the famous verse-- "commodore rogers was a man exceedingly brave--particular; and he climb'd up very high rocks, exceedingly high--perpendicular." thus saith the poet; what commodore rogers would have said if he had been of our party, i don't know. those ladies and gentlemen who, leaning back in easy carriages, bowl along the great roads of the simplon, may imagine what traveling there may have been over the alps before the roads were made, while the nature of the ground is such, in two or three places, that, unless at an incredible expense in engineering, and a prodigious daily outlay to keep them clear of snow, no road ever could be made; yet this is the only line of communication between constantinople and persia. through these awful chasms and precipices all the merchandise is carried which passes between these two great nations. the quiet manchester stuffs, accustomed to the broad-wheel wagons of europe, and the rail-ways and canals of england, must feel dreadfully jolted when they arrive at this portion of their journey. how the crockery bears it is easily understood by those who open the packages of this kind of ware at the end of the journey, when cups and saucers take the appearance of small geological specimens, though some do survive, notwithstanding the regular custom of the muleteers to set down their loads every evening by the summary process of untying with a jerk a certain cunning knot in the rope which holds the bales in their places on each side of the pack-horse: these immediately come down with a crash upon the ground, from whence they are rolled along and built up into a wall, on the lee side of which a fire is lit and the muleteers sleep when there is no khan to retire to for the night. on this journey i for the first time learned the true value of tea. one of the kawasses of the russian commissioners had a curious little box, covered with cowskin, tied behind his saddle; about twice a day he galloped off like mad, his arms and stirrups, &c., making a noise as he started like that of upsetting all the fire-irons in a room at home. in about half an hour we came up with him again, discovering his whereabouts by seeing his panting horse led up and down by some small boy before a hovel, into which we immediately dived. there we found the kawass kneeling by a blazing fire, with the cowskin box open on the ground beside him, from whence he presently produced glass tumblers of delicious caravan tea, [ ] sweetened with sugar-candy, and a thin slice of lemon floating on the top of each cup. this is the real way to drink tea, only one can not always get caravan tea, and, when you can, it costs a guinea a pound, more or less; but its refreshing, calming, and invigorating powers are truly remarkable. in former days, in many a long and weary march, i found a pipe of great service in quieting the tired and excited nerves; having no love for smoking under ordinary circumstances, these were the only occasions when a long chibouk did seem to be grateful and comforting. that this is pretty universally acknowledged i gather from the habit of all the solemn old turks in egypt and hot climates during the fast of ramadan, who invariably take a good whiff from their pipes the moment that sunset is announced by the firing of a gun in cities, or on the disappearance of its rays toward the west in the country. supper does not appear to be looked forward to with the same impatience as the first puff from the chibouk. no pipe, however, possesses the agreeable qualities of a cup of hot good tea made in this way; no other beverage or contrivance that i know of produces so soothing an effect, and that in so short a time. in a few minutes the glasses, and the little teapot, and two canisters for tea and sugar-candy, retired into the recesses of the cowskin box; the poor horses, who had had no tea, were again mounted, and on we rode over the rocks and stones, one after the other, in a long line, the regular tramp, tramp, tramp, interrupted every now and then by the crash of one of our boxes against a rock, and the exclamations of the katergis as its bearer wallowed into a hole or tumbled over some horrible place, from whence it seemed impossible that he should ever be got up again. however, he always was, and at last we hardly took notice of one of these little accidents, and notwithstanding which we generally got through the mountains at the rate of about thirty miles a day. on the second day from trebizond we arrived at the snow; the hoods with which we had provided ourselves were pulled over our heads. i tied my bridle to the pommel of my saddle, put my hands in my pockets, and nevertheless galloped along--at least the horse did, and all the better for my not holding the bridle. in mountain traveling this is perhaps the most necessary of all the whole craft and art of horsemanship, not to touch the bridle on any occasion, except when you want to stop the horse; for, in difficult circumstances, a horse or mule goes much better if he is left to his own devices. in some dreadful places, i have seen a horse smell the ground, and then, resting on his haunches, put one foot forward as gently as if it was a finger, cautiously to feel the way. they have a wonderful instinct of self-preservation, seeming quite aware of the perils of false steps, and the dangers by which they are surrounded on the ledges of bleak mountains, and in passing bogs and torrents in the valleys below. at beyboort we were received by the governor, a bey, who gave us a famous good dinner or supper, whereof we all ate an incredible quantity, and almost as much more at breakfast next morning. at gumush hané, where there are silver mines, a good-natured old gentleman who was sitting by the roadside gave me the most delicious pear i ever tasted. this place is famous for its pears. being situated in a deep valley, the climate is much better than most parts of the country on this road. here we put up in a good house, slept like tops, and waddled off next morning as before. i had an enormous pair of boots lined with sheepskin, which were the envy and admiration of the party: they were amazing snug certainly, and nearly came up to my middle. if they had been a little bit larger, i might have crept into one at night, which would have been a great convenience; they were of the greatest service on horseback, but on foot i had much difficulty in getting along, and was sorry i had neglected to inquire how jack the giant-killer managed with his seven-league boots. before arriving at beyboort we passed the mountain of zigana dagh, by a place where a whole caravan accompanying the harem of the pasha of moush had been overwhelmed in an avalanche, over the icy blocks of which we made our way, the bodies of the unfortunate party and all the poor ladies lying buried far below. beyond gumush hané rises the mountain of hoshabounar, which is a part of the chain that bounds the great plain of erzeroom. this was the worst part of the whole journey: we approached it by interminable plains of snow, along which the track appeared like a narrow black line. these plains of snow, which look so even to the sight, are not always really so; the hollows and inequalities being filled with the snow, you may fall into a hole and be smothered if you leave the path. this path is hardened by the passage of caravans, which tread down the snow into a track of ice just wide enough for a single file of horses; but while you think you are on a plain, you are, in fact, riding on the top of a wall or ridge, from whence, if your horse should chance to slip, you do not know how deep you may sink down into the soft snow on either side. at the top of the mountain we met thirty horses which the pasha of erzeroom had sent for our use. we had above thirty of our own, so now there were sixty horses in our train. the russian commissioner and i left all these behind, and rode on together with two or three guards, accompanied by the chief of the village where we were to sleep. at last we came to the brow of the hill--we could not see to the bottom from the snow that was falling--it was as steep as the roof of a house, and the road consisted of a series of holes, about six inches deep, and about eighteen inches apart, the track being about sixteen inches wide. to my surprise, the chief of the village, a man in long scarlet robes, immediately dashed at a gallop down this road, or ladder, as they call it; the russian commissioner followed him; and i, thinking that it would not do for an englishman to be beat by a russian or a turk, threw my bridle on my horse's neck and galloped after them. never did i see such a place to ride in! down and down we went, plunging, sliding, scrambling in and out of the deep holes, the snow flying up like spray around us, to meet its brother snow that was falling from the sky. it was wonderful how the horses kept their feet; they burst out into perspiration as if it had been summer. i was as hot as fire with the exertion. still down we went, headlong as it seemed, till at last i found myself sliding and bounding on level ground, and, rushing over some horses which were standing in an open space, i discovered that i was in a village, and was presently helped off my panting horse by the gentleman in the red pelisse, who showed the way into a cow-stable, the usual place in which we put up at night. thus ended the most extraordinary piece of horsemanship i ever joined in. it was not wonderful, perhaps, for the rider, but how the horses kept their feet, and how they had strength enough to undergo such a wonderful series of leaps and plunges, out of one hole into another, appeared quite astonishing to me. the next day we proceeded to erzeroom, and at a village about two hours' distance we were met by all the authorities of the city on horseback. some horses with magnificent housings were sent by the pasha for the principal personages, and we rode into the town in a sort of procession, accompanied by perhaps well-mounted cavaliers caracoling and prancing in every direction. chapter iii. the consulate at erzeroom.--subterranean dwellings.--snow-blindness.--effects of the severe climate.--the city: its population, defenses, and buildings.--our house and household.--armenian country-houses.--the ox-stable. we were hospitably entertained at the british consulate till the pasha could get a house prepared for us to occupy during our stay; but, as mr. pepys says, "lord, to see!" what a place this is at erzeroom! i have never seen or heard of any thing the least like it. it is totally and entirely different from any thing i ever saw before. as the whole view, whichever way one looked, was wrapped in interminable snow, we had not at first any very distinct idea of the nature of the ground that there might be underneath; the tops of the houses being flat, the snow-covered city did not resemble any other town, but appeared more like a great rabbit-warren; many of the houses being wholly or partly subterranean, the doors looked like burrows. in the neighborhood of the consulate (very comfortable within, from the excellent arrangements of mr. brant) there were several large heaps and mounds of earth, and it was difficult to the uninitiated to discriminate correctly as to which was a house and which was a heap of soil or stones. streets, glass windows, green doors with brass knockers, areas, and chimney-pots, were things only known from the accounts of travelers from the distant regions where such things are used. very few people were about, the bulk of the population hybernating at this time of the year in their strange holes and burrows. the bright colors of the oriental dresses looked to my eye strangely out of place in the cold, dirty snow; scarlet robes, jackets embroidered with gold, brilliant green and white costumes, were associated in my mind with a hot sun, a dry climate, and fine weather. a bright sky there was, with the sun shining away as if it was all right, but his rays gave no heat, and only put your eyes out with its glare upon the snow. this glare has an extraordinary effect, sometimes bringing on a blindness called snow-blindness, and raising blisters on the face precisely like those which are produced by exposure to extreme heat. another inconvenience has an absurd effect: the breath, out of doors, congeals upon the mustaches and beard, and speedily produces icicles, which prevent the possibility of opening the mouth. my mustaches were converted each day into two sharp icicles, and if any thing came against them it hurt horribly; and those who wore long beards were often obliged to commence the series of turkish civilities in dumb show; their faces being fixtures for the time, they were not able to speak till their beards thawed. a curious phenomenon might also be observed upon the door of one of the subterranean stables being opened, when, although the day was clear and fine without, the warm air within immediately congealed into a little fall of snow; this might be seen in great perfection every morning on the first opening of the outer door, when the house was warm from its having been shut up all night. erzeroom is situated in an extensive elevated plain, about thirty miles long and about ten wide, lying between and feet above the level of the sea. it is surrounded on all sides with the tops of lofty mountains, many of which are covered with eternal snow. the city is said to contain between , and , inhabitants, but i do not myself think that it contains much more than , ; this i had no correct means of ascertaining. the city is said to have been, and probably was, more populous before the disasters of the last russian war. it stands on a small hill, or several hills, at the foot of a mountain with a double top, called devé dagh, the camel mountain. the original city is nearly a square, and is surrounded by a double wall with peculiarly-shaped towers, a sort of pentagon, about towers on each side, except on the south side, where a great part of the walls is fallen down. within these walls, on an elevated mound, is the smaller square of the citadel, where there are some curious ancient buildings and a prison, which i must describe afterward; a ditch, where it is not filled up with rubbish and neglect, surrounds the walls of the city; and beyond this are the suburbs, where the greater part of the population reside. beyond this, an immense work was accomplished as a defense against the russian invaders. this is an enormous fosse, so large, and deep, and wide, as to resemble a ravine in many places. it was some time before i was aware that this was an artificial work. as there are no ramparts, walls, or breastworks on the inner side of that immense excavation, it can have been of no more use than if it did not exist, and did not, i believe, stop any of the russians for five minutes. they probably marched down one side and up the other, supposing it to be a pleasing natural valley, useful as a promenade in fine weather, and the prodigious labor employed on such a work must have been entirely thrown away. the palace of the pasha, that of the cadi and other functionaries, are within the walls of the town. the doorways are the only parts of the houses on which any architectural ornaments are displayed; many of these are of carved stone, with inscriptions in turkish beautifully cut above them. there are said to be seventeen baths, but none of them are particularly handsome, though the principal apartment is covered with a dome, like those in finer towns. the mosques amount, it is said, to forty-five: i never saw half so many myself. many of them are insignificant edifices. the principal one, or cathedral, as it may be called, is of great size, its flat, turf-covered roof supported by various thick piers and pointed arches. the finest buildings are several ancient tombs: these are circular towers, from twenty to thirty feet in diameter, with conical stone roofs, beautifully built and ornamented. there must be twenty or thirty of these very singular edifices, whose dates i was unable to ascertain; they probably vary from the twelfth to the sixteenth century, judging from a comparison of their ornamental work with saracenic buildings in other parts of the world. the most beautiful buildings of erzeroom are two ancient medressés or colleges, or perhaps they may be considered more as a kind of alms-houses, built for the accommodation of a certain number of mollahs, whose duty it was to pray around the tomb of the founder, adjoining to which they are erected. one of these stands immediately to the left hand on entering the principal gateway of the town; above its elaborately-sculptured door are two most beautiful minarets, known by the name of the iki chífteh. these are built of an exceedingly fine brick, and are fluted like ionic columns, the edges of the flutings being composed of turquoise-blue bricks, which produces on the capitals or galleries, as well as on the shafts, the appearance of a bright azure pattern on a dark-colored ground. the roof of this very beautiful building has fallen in, but the delicacy of the arabesques, cut in many places in alto-relief in a very hard stone, would excite admiration in india, and equals the most famous works of italy. the other medressé is in a still worse condition, a great cannon-foundry having been erected in the middle of it. the whole building is broken, smoked, and injured; still, what remains shows how fine it must have been. there are one or two greek churches and two armenian churches here, both very small, dark, cramped places, with immensely thick walls and hewn-stone roofs. they appear to be of great antiquity, but can boast of no other merit. adjoining the principal one, in which is a famous miraculous picture of st. george, they were building a large and handsome church, which is now completed, in the basilica form, with an arched stone roof. cut stone being very expensive, and indeed, from the want of good masons, very difficult to procure, the priests bethought themselves of a happy expedient to secure square hewn stone for the corners, door-way, windows, &c., of the new cathedral. they told their flock that, as the ancient tomb-stones were of no use to the departed, it would be a meritorious act in the living to bring them to assist in the erection of the church. they managed this so well, that every one brought on his own back, or at his own expense, the tombstones of his ancestors, and those were grieved and offended who could not gain admission for the tomb-stones of their families to complete a window or support a wall. the work advanced rapidly during the summer, and any large, flat slabs of stone were reserved for the covering of the roof. it promised to be, and i hear now is, a handsome church, strong and solid enough to resist the awful climate, and the snow which lies there for months every year. the armenian inscriptions and emblems on the stones have a singular effect; but i think, under the circumstances, the priests were quite right to build up with the tombstones of the dead a house of prayer for those about to die. in course of time a house was ready for our reception: though not so large as those of some of the great authorities, it was one of the largest class of houses in erzeroom, and a description of its arrangements will convey an idea of what most of the others were. it was situated in a very good position on the top of a hill, close to the house of the russian commissioner, and on the same side of the town as those of the english and russian consuls. from its small, doubly-glazed windows we looked, over a narrow valley covered with houses, on the walls and tower of the citadel, which stood on the hill directly opposite. the walls and towers, and the principal gateway of the town, with its two graceful minarets, to the left hand, and a distant prospect of the great plain and the river euphrates, and the mountains over which we had traveled, to the right, completed our view, which was, perhaps, the best enjoyed by any house in the place. our house, like most of the others, was built with great solidity, of rough stone, with large blocks at the corners; the roof was flat, and covered with green turf. the windows were small, like port-holes, but the door was a large arch, through which we rode into the gloomy, sepulchral-looking hall, out of which opened the stables on the right hand, the kitchen, and offices, and some other rooms on the left, while in front a dark staircase of square stones and heavy beams looked as if it had tumbled through the ceiling, and gave access to the upper floor. there was a little garden or yard under the windows, where we planted vegetables, and in one part of which several english dogs, two persian greyhounds, and an armenian turnspit, walked about in the daytime. the railing between this and the garden part of the yard was a triumph of art, accomplished by a turkish guard, who turned his sword into a plow-share when not wanted to look terrific. we had also nineteen lambs, who grazed on the top of the highest part of the house, where they were carried up every morning, except occasionally when there was such a wind that they would be in danger of being blown away. we had i know not how many sheep with large tails; these took a walk every day with a shepherd, who led out all the sheep belonging to the inhabitants of that part of the town. every house having a few, they are marked, and all come home every evening to their respective houses, and go out again the next morning, and eat what they can get upon the mountains. our household contained, besides ourselves and servants, one white persian cat, with a spot on his back, and his tail painted pink with hennah (this race, with long, silky hair falling to the ground as it walks along, comes from van); five pigeons, and one hen, the rest having fallen victims to the rapacity of mankind; and a lemming, [ ] who lived in a brass foot-tub and ate biscuits. this last beast was sadly frightened by a mouse which i put into his habitation one day, and which made use of his back to jump out, after receiving a severe bite in the tail. he generally slept all day, and took a small walk in the tub in the evening. all the building except the hall and stable had a garden on the roof, that part only being two stories high. the kitchen and some of the other rooms were lit by a skylight, the earth at the back of them being on a level with their ceilings. the walls of the upper floor were not exactly over those below, but were supported by immense beams, some of which had given way, and the principal room leaned over to the left frightfully. those rooms which are lit by windows have two rows of them one above the other, except the dining-room and ante-room, which had only one row, too high from the floor to look out of, but very convenient for looking into, from the upper garden and the terrace of the next house. the rooms had all white-washed walls, wooden flat ceilings curiously carved and painted. on the floors there was blue cloth instead of carpets, and divans of red cloth. a few chairs, and some lumbering deal tables, with covers on them, at which we wrote, concluded our list of furniture and "genuine effects." the great difficulty was the eating and drinking part of the arrangements. every thing except bread and meat came on horses from constantinople, and about one third of the bottles brought from thence were usually broken. glass, for the windows, was a curious and expensive luxury, oiled paper being generally used, with a little bit of real glass to peep out of in each, or sometimes only in one window. wood also was very dear, as there were no trees within a distance of thirty hours. the climate is not too cold for the growth of timber, i should think, for there were a few poplars in the yards near the houses, but the people are too improvident to plant trees, and, except some prodigiously large cabbages, horticulture is not much practiced near the town. the country houses of armenia are constructed somewhat differently from those of the towns. when a man wishes--i can not call it to build a house, or erect a house, or set up a house, as none of these terms are applicable--but when a house is to be constructed, the following is the way in which it is set about. a space of ground is marked out, perhaps nearly an english acre in extent; then the whole space is excavated to the depth of about five feet: one part of the excavation is set apart for the great cow-stable; this may be fifty or one hundred feet long, and nearly as wide. having got so far, some trees are the next requisite; these trees being cut down, the trunks are chopped into lengths of eight or nine feet, the general height of the rooms, and are placed in two or four rows, to be used as columns down the great stable; the larger branches, without being squared or shaped, are laid across from pillar to pillar as beams; the smaller branches are laid across these, the twigs on the top, till the entire trees are used up; the twigs are sometimes tied up in fagots, sometimes not: over this is spread some of the earth that was excavated from below; this is well trodden down, then more earth is added, and on the top of all is laid the turf which formed the surface of the soil before it was moved. round the stable, in no particular order, smaller rooms are formed; if they are large, their roofs are supported by columns like the stable. in a large house there are often two stables. the space of ground taken up by a rich man's house is prodigious, the turfed roof forming a small field. the lesser rooms in this subterranean habitation are divided from the stable and from each other by rough stone walls well filled up with clay or mud; their ceilings are contrived by laying beams across each other, two along and two across, in the form of a low pyramid, so that the ceiling is a kind of low square dome: the smaller rooms form store-rooms and apartments for the women. each room has a rough stone fire-place opposite the door; and in the roof, generally over the door, there is one window about eighteen inches square, glazed with a piece of oiled paper. outside, these windows look like large mole-hills, with a bit of plaster on one side surrounding the oiled paper, or glass, which transmits the light. inside, the window is perceived at the end of a funnel, widening greatly toward the room, and contrived so as to throw the light to the centre of the apartment, opposite the fire-place, where a fire of tezek, or dried cow-dung and chopped straw, is constantly smouldering. over the chimney-piece hangs an iron lamp of simple construction, which, with the help of the fire, produces a dim light in the long nights of winter. there is a divan, usually covered with most beautiful koordish carpets, which last forever, on each side of the fire-place; and large wooden pegs, projecting from the walls, serve to hang up guns, pistols, cloaks, and any thing else. some of these rooms are rather roughly pretty in appearance; the floors are covered with tekkè, a thick gray felt, and, among smart people, persian carpets are laid over the felt, their beautiful colors producing a rich and comfortable effect. about half way up the chimney is a wooden door or damper, which is opened and shut by means of a string; and when it is very cold weather, and they want to be snug and fusty down below, this door is shut, and the room becomes as hot as an oven; the chimney does not rise more than two feet above ground, and has a large flat stone on the top to keep the snow from falling in, as well as the lambs and children; the smoke escapes by apertures on the sides just below the coping-stone. the chimneys look like toadstools from the outside, rising a little above the snow or the grass which grows upon the roof. these subterranean habitations are constructed, not on the side of a hill, but on the side of a gentle slope; and all the earth excavated for the house is thrown back again upon the roof in such a manner that on three sides there is often no sign of any dwelling existing underneath. the entrance is on the lower side of the slope, and there the mound is often visible, as it is raised four or five feet above the level of the hill-side. there are no fences to keep people off the roof, which has no appearance different from the rest of the country. it is often only the dirt opposite the doors, the cattle, and people standing about, which gives information of a small village being present, particularly during the eight months of snow, and ice, and intense cold, when no one stirs abroad except for matters of importance. when a house is ruined and deserted, these holes are sometimes rather dangerous, as the horse you are riding may put his foot into an old chimney and break his leg, there being very frequently no appearance of a habitation below, while you are passing through the open, desolate country, of which the roof seems to be a part. there are stories, perhaps founded on fact, of hungry thieves lifting the flat stone off the top of the chimney, and fishing up the kettle in which the supper was stewing over the fire below with a hooked stick--a feat which would not be at all difficult if the cook was thinking of something else, as sometimes will happen even in the best-regulated families. the most curious and remarkable part of the house is the great ox-stable, which often holds some scores of cattle. out of this stable they do not stir, frequently, during the whole winter season, and it is the breath and heat of these animals which warm the house; besides which, they manufacture all the fuel for the establishment: they are fed upon straw, bruised to small bits by the sledge which is driven round the threshing-floor to separate the corn from the husk after harvest time. in one corner of this huge, dim stable, near the entrance door, a wooden platform is raised three feet from the ground; two sides of it are bounded by the stone wall of the house, in one of which, opposite the door, is the fire-place; the other two sides of the square platform have open wooden rails to keep off the cows. this original contrivance is the salemlik, or reception-room, where the master sits, and where he entertains his guests, who, as they stumble into the obscure den from the glare of the sun shining on the snow outside, are received with a yell by all the dogs, who live under the platform. this place is fitted up with divans and carpets; arms and saddles hang against the walls; the horses of the chief are tethered nearest to the rails, the donkeys and cows further off. among the horses there is always an immense fat tame sheep; this is a universal custom in every stable in turkey, under or above ground. among some of the koordish tribes, a young wild boar is kept in the stable with the horses--a remarkable custom among mohammedans, who consider the whole race of swine as unclean beasts; this is the only case in which they are tolerated. a small flock of other sheep are sometimes scampering about, or kept from doing so, among the cows; chickens peck in the litter, and several grave cats have their allotted places on the divans of the chief, his wife, and others of his family. a vacant, that is, cowless space, is left between the steps leading up to the platform and the entrance door of the house; this part answers to the entrance hall, as man and beast pass through it on coming in or going out, immediately before the eyes of the master of the house. from hence a sloping passage, about six feet wide, leads to the open air; it has an outer door at the upper end, and an inner door below: this passage may be from ten to twenty feet long. the outer door is a common strong wooden one, but the inner doors all over the house are as singular as the rest of the arrangements. the house-door is of the usual size for the cows and horses to pass through, the others are not more than five feet high; they are constructed in the following manner: the bare wooden valve is first covered with ketché or felt, and on the inside the skin of a sheep, with its legs and arms on, just in the shape in which it came off the animal when it was skinned, being dyed red, is nailed over the felt. on the other side of the door, down the middle, is a long square pipe or box, in which hangs a heavy log of wood, attached to a cord fixed to the upper part of the door-case, which keeps the door shut, as it swings to again after it has been opened, and keeps out the drafts, and keeps in the warm air generated by cows, fires, and lamps, so that the atmosphere is always temperate within, while the cold is such without that men are frozen to death if they stand still even for a short time in the rigorous climate of an armenian winter. chapter iv. narrow escape from suffocation.--death of noori effendi.--a good shot.--history of mirza tekee.--persian ideas of the principles of government.--the "blood-drinker."--massacre at kerbela.--sanctity of the place.--history of hossein.--attack on kerbela, and defeat of the persians.--good effects of commissioners' exertions. the first aspect of affairs at erzeroom was not very satisfactory in any way. the cold and dismal weather was enough to prevent all enjoyment out of doors, and in-doors we had little cause of rejoicing. on first taking possession of our house, my companions had the narrowest possible escape of death from suffocation. the grooms in the stable below the drawing-room had lit an immense fire of charcoal, not for any particular object beyond that common to all servants of all countries, that of wasting their master's goods, which they had not to pay for themselves. the fumes from the charcoal penetrated the ceiling, when, most fortunately, the russian commissioner came in, and, finding his two english friends in a half-stupefied state, helped them out of the room on to the terrace, where they both fell down fainting on the snow, and were only recovered after some time and difficulty. if the russian commissioner had not arrived so opportunely, they would soon have perished. i did not participate in this risk, because i was laid up at the consulate with an attack of fever, which effectually prevented my moving to my own house. another misfortune occurred almost at the same period. noori effendi, the turkish plenipotentiary, died suddenly of apoplexy in his bath; he had been embassador in london and at vienna. all prospect of getting on with our affairs was put off by this unfortunate circumstance. subsequently, enveri effendi, formerly secretary to noori, was appointed in his place, but he did not arrive for some time after the death of his former chief. mirza jaffer, an old acquaintance of mine when he was embassador from persia to the porte, was too unwell to leave tabriz, and mirza tekee was appointed persian plenipotentiary instead. on his arrival within sight of erzeroom from persia, all the great people, except the pasha and the commissioners, went out on horseback to meet him, and accompany him on his entry into the town. there was a great concourse and a prodigious firing of guns at full gallop, which, as the guns are generally loaded with ball cartridge, bought ready made in the bazaar, though intended as an honor, is a somewhat dangerous display. unable to resist so picturesque a sight, i had ridden out on the persian road, though i did not join the escort, and, having returned, i was walking up and down on the roof of the house, watching the crowds passing in the valley below, and looking at the great guns of the citadel, which the soldiers were firing as a salute. they fired very well, in very good time, but i observed several petty officers and a number of men busily employed at one gun, the last to the left hand near the corner of the battery. at length this gun was loaded. a prodigious deal of peeping and pointing took place out of the embrasure, and, just as i was turning in my walk, bang went the cannon, and i was covered with dust from something which struck the ground in the yard in a line below my feet. on looking down to see what this could be, i saw a ball stuck in the earth: the soldiers had all disappeared from the ramparts of the citadel, and i found they had been taking a shot at the british commissioner. a very good shot it was too, exactly in the line, but the ball, not being heavy enough, had fallen a little short, so i was missed. they had manufactured a ball with a large stone, wound round with rope to make it fit the gun, to shoot at the frank, and that was the occasion of all the peeping and crowding of the men round the gun which i had observed. as mirza tekee is now no more, and he was beyond all comparison the most interesting of those assembled at the congress of erzeroom, i will give a short account of his history. mirza tekee was the son of the cook of bahman meerza, brother of mohammed shah, and governor of the province of tabriz. the cook's little boy was brought up with the children of his master and educated with them; being a clever boy, as soon as he was old enough he was put into the office of accounts, under the commander-in-chief, the famous emir nizam, who was employed in drilling the persian army in the european style. tekee became vizir ul nizam, or adjutant general, in course of time, under the old emir nizam, and also amassed great wealth; and as the shah did not like the idea of paying the expenses of his plenipotentiary--"base is the slave that pays"--he sent mirza tekee to erzeroom with many flattering speeches and promises, none of which he intended to fulfill. the cunning old prime minister, hadji meerza agassi, who was sedulously employed in feathering his own nest, was jealous of mirza tekee, and very glad to get him safe out of the way. the turks and persians, as every body knows, hate each other religiously, which seems always to be the worst sort of hatred. the soonis and the shiahs are, as it were, protestants and papists in the mohammedan faith; and if these two countries are ever reconciled for a time, the smouldering flame is sure to break out again at the first convenient opportunity, and it will do so to the end of time. in , the turks, who disliked mirza tekee with more than common aversion, from his dignified bearing and stately manners, gave out various accusations against him and some members of his household. a fanatical mob of many thousand indignant soonis surrounded all that quarter of the town, attacked the persian plenipotentiary's house, which was besieged for some hours, and volleys after volleys of rifle-shots were fired at the windows, while from within mirza tekee only permitted his party to fire blank cartridges. izzet pasha, a drunken old gentleman of eighty, who had succeeded kiamili pasha as governor of erzeroom through the intrigues of enveri effendi, sat on horseback and looked on, and took no part in the disturbance, though he had all his troops, amounting to several thousand men, under arms. for this conduct he was turned out of his government, and was succeeded by bahri pasha, who in was shot dead by one of his own servants, of the name of delhi ibrahim--accidentally or not, does not appear. colonel williams did every thing in his power to assist mirza tekee, and risked his life in the affray; but he received no assistance from the pasha or any of the authorities, who made no attempt to quell the riot. the turks swore they would have blood, and that one of the persians must be given up to them as a sacrifice. a poor man, who had called that morning to say that he was going to tabriz, and would be happy to carry any letters or messages there, was thrown out of the window and torn to pieces by the mob. another persian, a gentleman, secretary to mirza tekee, was killed by a butcher the same day, in another part of the town, where he was walking in ignorance of the disturbance that was going on. the mirza's house was pillaged, the roof and doors broken in, and every thing destroyed that the mob could get hold of. he himself was only saved by barricading a strong room in a back part of the house, where he and his servants defended themselves for many hours, till the turks dispersed of their own accord. the sultan afterward sent him £ in repayment of his losses in this disgraceful outrage. in june, , after he had signed the treaty of peace and commerce between turkey and persia with enveri effendi and the british and russian commissioners, he returned to tabriz. on the death of the emir nizam, he succeeded to his office of commander-in-chief. during the last illness of mohammed shah, bahman meerza had been intriguing in hopes of succeeding to the throne; but being unsuccessful, and being also found out, he escaped to teflis, where he still resides, and is protected by the czar, who keeps him in terrorem over the present shah, who may be dethroned any day, in which case bahman meerza is all ready to reign in his stead. when mohammed shah, who had done nothing all his life but shoot sparrows with a pistol, departed from this world, mirza tekee marched the persian army to teheran, and seated the young prince noor eddin upon the throne. noor eddin shah gave him his sister in marriage: she is said to have been much attached to her husband, who also succeeded to the immense territorial possessions of hadji meerza agassi, the late prime minister of persia. the hadji had been tutor to mohammed shah, and became one of the most famous of the grand vizirs of that most blundering of dynasties. as a matter of course, when he became rich enough he was robbed by his master, having been himself the greatest extortioner on record for many years. the shah had allowed him to keep an enormous treasure in gold, silver, and jewels, with which he retired to kerbela, where he died in the odor of sanctity in . mirza tekee was now seated on the highest pinnacle of the temple of prosperity. the extent of the possessions which the shah had handed over to him from the plunder of the hadji was so great as to be hardly credible, and, by a judicious squeezing, the towns, villages, and domains would have yielded the revenue of a petty king. however, all prime ministers are detested--that is, in human nature; first, there is the opposite party in politics, some of whom think differently as to the form and manner in which the taxes should be levied in europe, the villages racked in persia. all--whatever they may think on political subjects--feel sure they ought to be in place, rather than the party then in power; if to these are added all thieves, rogues, revolutionists, and those sorts of people, who have a natural antipathy to all government, law, or possession of wealth in the hands of any man except the one individual himself, he being more jealous of his friend than of any other person, a great mass of the population are not only opposed to the minister for the time being, but are in constant readiness to pull down whatever is above them, good, indifferent, or bad. it is said that the great enemy of mirza tekee at court was the shah's mother, a lady who in persia and turkey enjoys an extraordinary degree of power, wealth, and dignity. in turkey, the sultana validé has the right to build a royal mosque, and to use a caique like that of her son; she is above the law, and can do any thing she likes. if she likes to do good, she can do much good; if she likes to do evil, she can do much evil. between those who were jealous of the power and who hated the strong government of mirza tekee, a powerful party was created, who got hold of the weak mind of the young shah, who owed every thing in this world to his minister; his destruction was agreed upon, and he was given leave to go to koom, where he had an estate. so secretly were affairs managed that his suspicions do not seem to have been aroused; his young wife followed him, with all her train, looking forward to the pleasure of living with her husband for a while in the quiet and retirement of a beautiful country; but when she arrived within sight of the town of koom, a messenger came out to meet her, and the news that he brought was that mirza tekee had been killed by the order of her brother the shah, whose emissaries had seized him unexpectedly in the bath. he made a desperate resistance, but he was overpowered; they opened his veins and held him down till the grand vizir had bled to death. no crime whatever was alleged against him: he was murdered foully by the shah, who thus destroyed one of his best and most honest subjects at the instigation of some of the most infamous and worst. this happened in the year . there is nothing, however, very unusual in this termination of the life and fortunes of the prime minister of persia, only it is usually done under more extenuating circumstances. the singular ideas which they entertain of the principles of government are summed up in the notion that it is better to be in the hands of one furious ogre than at the mercy of a hundred tyrants. for this reason the tribes of the kuzzulbash admire a truculent shah, such as aga mohammed shah, and they like a grand vizir who lets nobody rob and plunder except himself. when he is fat and fit for killing, the blood-drinker on the throne cuts off his head, or strangles him, as the case may be, and then takes possession of his property, throwing a sop to the mob occasionally by allowing them to sack the great man's house. i do not use the above-mentioned epithet as a term of reprehension or abuse, for hunkiar is one of the recognized titles of the sultan of turkey and of other eastern sovereigns. the treaty of hunkiar skellessi, which made so great a sensation in its day, was so called from the name of a place on the asiatic shores of the bosporus. the name means the "blood-drinker's stairs"--an appellation at this time equally suited to either of the "high contracting powers." the plenipotentiaries and commissioners being assembled, every thing was in the greatest danger of falling to pieces on the outset, by the very first dispatches which we received, as these related to a frightful massacre which had just taken place at kerbela, where , persians were reported to have been killed by the turks. kerbela, in the pashalik of bagdad, is a turkish fortified place, containing the tomb of hossein, the brother of hassan, and son of ali, the great saint of the shiah, or persian form of the mohammedan religion. not only do an immense number of persians habitually reside there, but every one who has the power strives to retire there in his latter days, that he may lay his bones in the neighborhood of the golden dome which covers the ashes of hossein. those who die at a distance are so anxious at least to be buried at kerbela, that the great article of commerce in that direction consists of the dead bodies of persian men and women, which are brought by thousands every year, from all parts of the dominions of the shah, by endless caravans of horses, mules, and camels, many hundreds of which unlucky animals pass their whole lives from year to year in carrying these horrid burdens, which infect the air in all the villages through which they pass. so great is the sanctity of kerbela, that, in the estimation of the sect of ali, it even may be said to surpass that of mecca, for they, among mohammedans, are those who "by their traditions have made the law of none effect." the history of the death of hossein is so interesting an episode in the history of this country, that i am tempted to give a short account of it, for the benefit of those who may not be well acquainted with the history of the successors of mohammed, and upon whose fortunes so much of the welfare and also the policy of the various nations of the east, from the seventh century to the present time, depends--premising that the principal cause of the rancorous hatred which always has existed, and still exists in full force, between the sooni turks and the shiah persians, is principally founded upon events connected with the death of the imaum hossein, and the feeling is kept up in full vigor in persia by a sort of drama, representing the following history, which is enacted before the shah, and in every town in persia, every year, at the annual feast of noo rooz, which continues for ten days. in one of the acts of this most curious ceremony, a frank embassador is brought before the audience, who intercedes for the life of hossein and his followers with the general of the army of yezid. who he can have been there is no means of knowing, but he may possibly represent an embassador from the greek emperor of constantinople, who may have been passing on his way to the court of the caliph. however this may be, his presence produces a kindly feeling toward europeans in the minds of the persian populace. on the death of ali (a.d. ), his eldest son, hassan, was proclaimed caliph and imaum in irák; the former title he was forced to resign to moawiyah; the latter, or spiritual dignity, his followers regarded as inalienable. his rival granted him a pension, and permitted him to retire into private life. after nine years, passed for the most part in devotional exercise, he was poisoned by his wife jaadah, who was bribed to perpetrate this execrable crime by yezid, the son of moawiyah. on the death of moawiyah (a.d. ), his son yezid, who succeeded, having provoked public indignation by his luxury, debauchery, and impiety, hossein was persuaded by the discontented people of irák to make an attempt for the recovery of his hereditary rights. the inhabitants of cufa and bassorah were foremost in their professions of zeal for the house of ali, and sent hossein a list of more than , persons, who, they said, were ready to take up arms in his cause. hossein did not take warning from the inconstancy and treachery which these very persons had shown in their conduct toward his father and brother. assembling a small troop of his personal friends, and accompanied by a part of his family, he departed from medina, the place of his residence, and was soon engaged in crossing the desert. but while he was on his journey, yezid's governor in irák discovered the meditated revolt, capitally punished the leaders of the conspiracy, and so terrified the rest that they were afraid to move. when hossein arrived near the banks of the euphrates, instead of finding an army of his devoted adherents, he discovered that his further progress was checked by the overwhelming forces of the enemy. determined, however, to persevere, he gave permission to all who pleased to retreat while there was yet time; to their disgrace, many of his followers left him to his fate, and he continued his route to cufa, accompanied only by seventy-two persons. but every step increased his difficulties, and he attempted to return when it was too late. at length he was surrounded by the troops of the caliph in the arid plains of kerbela, his followers were cut off from their supply of water, and, when he offered to negotiate, he was told that no terms would be made, but that he should surrender at discretion. twenty-four hours were granted him for deliberation. hossein's choice was soon made: he deemed death preferable to submission, but he counseled his friends to provide for their safety either by surrender or escape. all replied that they preferred dying with their beloved leader. the only matter now to be considered was how they could sell their lives most dearly; they fortified their little encampment with a trench, and then tranquilly awaited the event. that night hossein slept soundly, using for a pillow the pommel of his sword. during his sleep he dreamed that mohammed appeared to him, and predicted that they should meet the next day in paradise. when morning dawned he related his dream to his sister zeinab, who had accompanied him on his fatal expedition. she burst into a passion of tears, and exclaimed, "alas! alas! my brother! what a destiny is ours! my father is dead! my mother is dead! my brother hassan is dead! and the measure of our calamities is not yet full!" hossein tried to console her. "why should you weep?" he said; "did we not come on earth to die? my father was more worthy than i; my mother was more worthy than i; my brother was more worthy than i. they are all dead; why should not we be ready to follow their example?" he then strictly enjoined his family to make no lamentation for his approaching martyrdom, telling them that a patient submission to the divine decrees was the conduct most pleasing to god and his prophet. when morning appeared, hossein, having washed and perfumed himself, as if preparing for a banquet, mounted his steed, and addressed his followers in terms of endearing affection that drew tears from the eyes of the gallant warriors. then, opening the koran, he read the following verse: "o god, be thou my refuge in suffering, and my hope in affliction." but the soldiers of yezid were reluctant to assail the favorite grandson of the prophet; they demanded of their generals to allow him to draw water from the euphrates, a permission which would not have been refused to beasts and infidels. "let us be cautious," they exclaimed, "of raising our hands against him who was carried in the arms of god's apostle. it would be, in fact, to fight against himself." so strong were their feelings, that thirty cavaliers deserted to hossein, resolved to share with him the glories of martyrdom. but yezid's generals shared not in these sentiments. they affected to regard hossein as an enemy of islám. they forced their soldiers forward with blows, and exclaimed, "war to those who abandon the true religion, and separate themselves from the council of the faithful!" hossein replied, "it is you who have abandoned the true religion; it is you who have severed yourselves from the assembly of the faithful. ah! when your souls shall be separated from your bodies, you will learn too late which party has incurred the penalty of eternal condemnation." notwithstanding their vast superiority, the caliph's forces hesitated to engage men determined on death; they poured in their arrows from a distance, and soon dismounted the little troop of hossein's cavalry. when the hour of noon arrived, hossein solicited a suspension of arms during the time appointed for the meridian prayers. this boon was conceded with difficulty, the generals of yezid asking "how a wretch like him could venture to address the deity;" and adding the vilest reproaches, to which hossein made no reply. the persian traditions relate a fabulous circumstance, designed to exalt the character of hossein, though fiction itself can not increase the deep interest of his history. they tell us that while he was upon his knees, the king of the genii appeared to him, and offered, for the sake of his father ali, to disperse his enemies in a moment. "no," replied the generous hossein, "what use is there in fighting any longer? i am but a guest of one breath in this transitory world; my relatives and companions are all gone, and what will it profit me to remain behind? i long for nothing now save my martyrdom; therefore depart thou, and may the lord recompense and bless thee!" the genius was so deeply affected by the reply that his soul exhibited human weakness, and he departed weeping and lamenting. when the hour of prayer was past, the combat was renewed. one of hossein's sons, and several of his nephews, lay dead around him; the rest of his followers were either killed or grievously wounded. hitherto he had escaped unhurt, for every one dreaded to raise a hand against the grandson of mohammed; at length a soldier, more daring than the rest, gave him a severe wound in the head. faint with the loss of blood, he staggered to the door of his tent, and with a burst of parental affection, which at such a moment must have been mingled with unspeakable bitterness, took up his infant son, and began to caress him. while the little child was lisping out an inquiry as to the cause of his father's emotion, it was struck dead by an arrow in hossein's arms. when the blood of the innocent, bubbling over his bosom, disclosed this new calamity, hossein held up the body toward heaven, exclaiming, "o lord! if thou refusest us thy succor, at least spare those who have not yet sinned, and turn thy wrath upon the heads of the guilty." parched by a burning thirst, hossein made a desperate effort to reach the banks of the euphrates, but, when he stooped to drink, he was struck by an arrow in the mouth, and at the same moment one of his nephews, who came to embrace him for the last time, had his hand cut off by the blow of a sabre. hossein, now the sole survivor of his party, threw himself into the midst of the enemy, and fell beneath a thousand weapons. the officers of yezid barbarously mangled the corpse of the unfortunate prince; they cut off his head, and sent it to the caliph. the escort who guarded it on its way to the court of yezid, halting for the night in the city of mosul, placed the box which contained it in a mosque; one of the sentinels, in the middle of the night hearing a noise within, looked through a chink in the door, and saw a gigantic figure, with a venerable white beard, take the head of hossein out of its box, kiss it with reverence, and weep over it, a crowd of venerable personages following his example, and weeping bitterly at the same time. fearing that some of his partisans had gained admittance, and that they would carry away the head which he was guarding, he unlocked the door and entered the mosque, upon which one of the figures he had seen approached, and, giving him a blow upon the cheek, exclaimed, "the prophets have come to pay obeisance to the head of the martyr: whither dost thou venture with such disrespect?" in the morning he related what had happened to his commander, the impression of the hand and fingers of the ancient prophet being still visible on his cheek. the head of hossein, and that of his brother hassan, repose under a mosque of the highest sanctity at cairo: it is called the mosque of hassanen. another mosque in the same city covers with its dome the remains of sitté, or the lady zeinab, their sister, who was famous for her beauty: her shrine is now visited with great devotion by the ladies and women of her faith. the headless body of hossein was buried upon the spot where he fell, while above it afterward arose the present place of pilgrimage, so much resorted to by the shiah sect. the persian fanatics of kerbela had long declined paying the accustomed taxes to the turkish government. their insolent behavior had been a constant source of anger and difficulty to successive pashas of bagdad. at last the present pasha was determined to enforce the law: after sending various letters to the town requesting payment of taxes and arrears, which were treated with ridicule and contempt, he gave orders to a general called aboullabout pasha, who appears to have been a sooni of the most orthodox kind, to march an army of several thousand men to compel the people of kerbela to acknowledge the rule of the sultan. aboullabout pasha arrived accordingly, and pitched his camp in a grove of palms not far from the walls of the city. he brought four guns with him, and a number of topgis, or gunners, to work these instruments of destruction, if the persians in the town did not choose to obey his commands. these impertinent fanatics treated the turkish pasha and his army with derision; rode out in the cool of the evening to look at the encampment, called the turks grandsons and great grandsons of dogs, whom they would soon pack off to their kennels at bagdad and constantinople. it seems that, trusting in the sanctity of the golden dome, they did not imagine that the turks would dare to advance to extremities, particularly as several royal princesses and members of the family of the shah had taken up their abode in the vicinity of the tomb of the imaum. however, the four guns and the topgis advanced to a position near the walls, and the pasha sent a civil note to the insurgents within, to say that he would trouble them to pay his little bill; at the very notion of which the persians were seized with fits of laughter, they were so much amused at the idea of paying away their money to the turks. after several demands for their surrender, the town was blockaded, and the persians made various sallies on the turkish lines, in which they were always repulsed, and, all warnings being disregarded, the four guns at last proceeded to business. the walls tumbled down immediately, the turks walked in, the persians ran away, making very little effectual resistance, and fire and the sword, plunder and outrage of all kinds, took place in every quarter of the devoted city. when the turkish troops entered the town, aboullabout pasha, who took it all in a religious point of view, had his carpet spread upon a bastion close above the breach, and having cursed hassan and hossein, sitti zeinab and ali, offered ten shillings a piece for the heads of any of their followers; and then went quietly to prayers for the rest of the morning, without making any effort to stop the horrors and excesses which occur when a city has been taken by storm. the accounts of the shocking outrages and barbarities committed by the brutal soldiery are not fit to be repeated. when the town was pillaged, and every thing had been seized that they could lay their hands upon, those who had not been fortunate in lighting upon any treasure, or any thing worth taking away, bethought themselves of the manner in which profit and amusement might be combined, by cutting off every one's head that they could meet with, and taking it up to the pious old pasha, who continued praying on his carpet on the bastion. when persian heads became difficult to find, not being particular, a great many turks were shot and decapitated by their fellow-soldiers, for the sake of their heads, the fraternal feeling of nationality and sooniism not being calculated to resist the offer of one ducat per head. if this had been suffered to continue, it is probable that the state of affairs would have resembled that of the celebrated battle between the two kilkenny cats, who ate each other up entirely with the exception of a small piece of fluff. when the massacre was stopped, , persons were reported to have been slain. this was very much exaggerated, no doubt, and it does not appear that a very correct account could be made out. a most curious and interesting report was afterward drawn up on this subject by colonel farrant, who was deputed by the british government to proceed to kerbela for the purpose of pacifying the contending parties, and inquiring into the truth and extent of this terrible disaster. this was the first subject which the congress assembled to discuss measures of amity and mutual confidence between turkey and persia had brought before them--one not precisely calculated to insure that calmness of debate and general good-will which all wanted to establish. in course of time matters calmed down; things were what is called explained. we were all wonderfully civil to each other, and the turkish and persian followers of their respective plenipotentiaries did not express their private opinions of each other's merits till they got home and shut the door. gradually they became more used to one another's ways, and the commissioners worked like special constables to keep the peace--and very hard work they had; and it is wholly and entirely owing to their exertions that the koordish tribes upon the frontiers, and the wild spirits on both sides who were ready to back them up, were kept down for more than ten years, during which time commerce has been enlarged, the roads have been safe, and the christian and agricultural population from bussora to mount ararat have enjoyed a tranquillity and prosperity unknown in the memory of man. chapter v. the boundary question.--koordish chiefs.--torture of artin, an american christian.--improved state of society in turkey.--execution of a koord.--power of fatalism.--gratitude of artin's family. one of the most important of the affairs which were to be settled at erzeroom was the geographical position of the boundaries between the two empires, for along the whole line there ran a broad belt of a kind of debatable land, upon which every man felt it his duty to shoot at every other man whom he did not get near enough to run through with his long spear, or knock upon the head with his mace, these ancient style of weapons being still in use among the koords. for the purpose of gaining local information, many of the chiefs and principal persons of the wild districts in question were brought up to erzeroom to be examined before the plenipotentiaries and commissioners. some of these were most original individuals. the following extract from a letter, written upon the spot, will give a faint idea of two or three of these singular chieftains. extract of a letter. "erzeroom, august th, . "one day passes much like another at erzeroom, and though there seldom occurs any thing new to me, perhaps, as it would be all new to you, you may like to hear how i pass my time, so i will give you a sort of journal of the proceedings of yesterday, that you may see how i occupy myself in this outlandish place. first of all, i got up in the morning, ate my breakfast, and then walked about the terrace on the top of the house. at eleven o'clock a messenger came from enveri effendi, to ask us to go to his house at one. so at one o'clock we went; the russian commissioner, with his suite, came also. at the door of enveri effendi's house i saw a fine mare, with very peculiar housings. it was held by a negro, and a bedouin arab was sitting on the ground near it. the head-stall was made of a red silk garter, which went over its head, and was attached to the bit by a piece of green leather strap; the saddle was a common arab saddle, but the housings, made of wadded red silk, ended in two immense tassels, one on each side of the horse's tail, and almost as large; the shovel-stirrups were beautifully embossed and inlaid with silver, and there was a heavy mace of the same workmanship under the right flap of the saddle. this curious horse belonged to sheikh thamir, the chief of the chaab tribe, and ex-sovereign of all the land at the mouths of the euphrates. all the time that i was examining the horse and talking about its accouterments, the turkish guard were presenting arms, and they looked very much relieved when i turned round and went into the house. "the staircase of this palace is like a chicken-ladder, and the hall at the top, where the servants wait, like a little barn or stable in england. here, as i was kicking off my goloshes, i was seized by enveri effendi himself, who had come up behind me. this was considered as an excellent good joke by the chaoushes, servants, &c., who stood in a row to receive us; so we went into the selamlik (or reception room) together, and there i was introduced to three of the most picturesque people i have ever seen. the first was osman pasha, late governor of zohab; the second, sheikh thamir, whose horse i had been looking at outside; the third was yclept abdul kader effendi, chief secretary to the government of bussorah. these persons were dressed in flowing robes of various colors; they had long beards, and enormous turbans of cashmere shawl. all three were remarkably ugly, strange-looking men, and i can not describe to you the peculiar way in which their clothes were put on, and the wild and almost magnificent appearance they presented. there were, besides these and ourselves, b---- pasha and four other gentlemen, in the modern turkish dress. the three commissioners and their two dragomans sat on the divan under the window, all, except myself, with their legs sticking out, like people waiting for an operation in a hospital. enveri effendi sat on a cushion on the floor, in the right-hand corner, and the others were ranged on the two sides of the room. as we were fourteen people, on a sudden fourteen servants rushed into the room with pipes; then one brought coffee on a tray, the brocade covering of which was thrown over his left shoulder; and then came a man bringing to each of us a cup, well frothed up, and in a zarf, or outer cup, of a different kind, according to the rank of the person to whom it was presented. enveri effendi and the three commissioners had cups of enameled gold, the rest of the pashas, &c., of silver. when this ceremony was concluded, the door was shut, the servants disappeared, a curtain was drawn across the door, and two chaoushes, with muskets, put to guard it outside. then enveri effendi lifted up his voice, and, after swinging himself about, and grunting two or three times, he told us that the gentlemen in the turbans had brought up a number of old firmans, teskerès, and other papers relating to the lands between zohab and the persian gulf; that he had examined them, and that now he begged the commissioners to put any questions they chose to the worthies before them respecting the lands, &c. "then we all looked at each other for a little time, then they all looked at me. then i took up my parable, and desired the dragoman to ask osman pasha who he was. 'i am osman pasha,' said he; 'and i and my family have been sovereigns (or hereditary governors rather) of zohab for seven generations.' having asked him a great many questions, and written down his answers, which made him somewhat nervous, i turned to sheikh thamir. 'what is your fortunate name?' said i; upon which sheikh thamir opened his eyes, then he opened his mouth, then he looked at abdel kader, then he shut his mouth again, and said nothing. so i asked him again who he had the honor to be. upon this, abdel kader, who appeared to be his mentor or adviser, came and sat down by him, and said, 'he is sheikh thamir.' sheikh thamir upon this shouted out, at the top of his voice, 'yes, i am sheikh thamir, the son of gashban, who was the son of osman, who was the son of--' 'thank you,' i said, 'i only wanted to know from your own lips who you were, but am not particular as to the names of all your respected ancestors.' however, sheikh thamir was not to be stopped in this way when he had once begun, so he shouted out a long string of names, and when he got to the end he said he was sheikh of the sheikhs of the great tribe of chaab, and commander of the district of ghoban, which his ancestors had held before him for one or two hundred years--or more, or less, as i pleased. in answer to other questions, which abdel kader always accompanied with his own notes and commentaries, he said, 'i have no papers; we do not understand such things. what do i know? i am an old man. i am forty-five years of age; let me alone.' in course of time i did let him alone, and a difficult thing it was to draw out any information from this wild desert chief. every now and then somebody else put in a word. at about four o'clock the meeting broke up. we returned home and dined, and in the evening went out riding. passing some tents, which the pasha has set up at the other side of the town, near a tank--the only place where there are any trees near erzeroom, and they are only about a dozen poplars--i saw a number of people, so i went up to the tents, and found sabri pasha, the commander of the troops, an egyptian pasha, who is come to buy horses for mohammed ali--he has bought some hundreds; bekir pasha, some other military pashas, namik effendi, &c., two little sons of sabri pasha, dressed in a very odd way, with petticoats of different colored silks in stripes; he said it was the dress of the girls in albania, but i never saw any thing like it in that country. here we stayed and chatted with the turks. the tents are superb; the principal one was feet long, with an open colonnade round it, and lined inside with silk; rich persian carpets were spread on the ground. i have never seen so beautiful a tent. when the moon rose i went away, a man carrying a meshaleh, a thing like a beacon, on the top of a pole, with old cotton dipped in pitch burning in it; it is the best light there is for out-of-doors, as it never blows out, and gives much more light than any torches or lanterns. "when i got home i paid my respects to the kid, who came out to meet me; and to the little cow, eighteen inches high, who sat in the door and would not get out of the way; and having drank tea, i went to bed." on another occasion certain men represented to me that a christian oda bashi, or chamberlain of a khan or inn, had been unjustly seized and tortured by the authorities, to make him confess to a robbery that had taken place in his khan, which in reality had been perpetrated by two turkish soldiers; but the oda bashi being a christian, neither his evidence nor that of any other christian could be taken in opposition to that of a mohammedan, according to the turkish law. the case was brought before me, and i took some interest in it. i had no authority whatever to deal with such questions as these, and it was only by representations to the pasha that i was enabled to obtain justice for the unlucky oda bashi. finding the case taken down at the time from the word of mouth of some of those who moved in it, i thought it might be interesting as a picture of manners in an out-of-the-way country, and i subjoin it without making any alterations in the language of this piece of justiciary business. case of artin, oda bashi, an armenian. "erzeroom, august d and th, . "a merchant, named mehemed, brought his merchandise to the khan ghengé aga khan, where he slept. two soldiers slept near him. in the morning his goods were gone; he accused the soldiers (who were the only people who had been near him) of the robbery; they denied it, and were let off by the judge at the mekemmé, before whom they had been taken. a turkish woman, named zeilha, saw the two soldiers bury something, upon which she told the merchant that his goods were buried at such a place by the soldiers. he went there, and found half the goods; the soldiers, therefore, were again taken up, when they confessed to the theft of half the goods, but said that the oda bashi, an armenian, named artin, had taken the other half. artin was accordingly taken before the tribunal of the kiaya; the pasha ordered him to be tortured on his declaring himself ignorant of the theft. a tass (metal drinking-cup) of hot brass was put about his head; afterward a cord was tied round his head, two sheep's knuckle-bones were placed upon his temples, and the cord tightened till his eyes nearly came out. as he would not confess, his front teeth were then drawn one at a time; pieces of cane were run up under his toe-nails and his finger-nails. various tortures have been inflicted on him in this way for the last twelve days, and he is now hung up by the hands in the prison of the seraskier, where he will be kept and tormented till he confesses or dies. this is the deposition of his wife mariam, who begs me to interpose to save her husband, who, she declares, slept at home, and not in the khan, on the night when the robbery took place." according to the turkish law, two witnesses of unimpeachable character are sufficient to convict any man of any crime, on their accusing him before the cadi. only in the case of adultery four male witnesses are required. a woman's evidence is never taken, nor is that of a christian or a foreigner held good in any case against a mohammedan. these two soldiers, however, being convicted thieves, their evidence was not valid according to the law, and the oda bashi seems to have been taken up and tortured by an entirely arbitrary act of the pasha. i went to the palace, and these are the words of kiamili pasha, the governor and viceroy of erzeroom. "you are mistaken; the man has not been tortured; i have proof that he was at the khan that night; he has been found guilty by the court (mekemmé) on proper evidence, and sent to me to receive the punishment due to his offense. as i wished to recover the goods stolen for the benefit of their owner, the merchant mehemed, i threatened the oda bashi that if he did not tell what he had done with his share of the property, it was in my power to inflict these tortures upon him. "after this he desired to be allowed to speak to the two soldiers who had possession of the other half of the goods. i consented, and sent him to the prison at selim pasha's palace, where they were confined. as i would not trust to the report of selim pasha's people, i sent a confidential man of my own, who was put in a place where he overheard all that passed. the oda bashi said to the soldiers, 'if you will say i am innocent, i will share my portion of the stolen goods with you, and you will gain by this, as your share has been taken from you, and i shall get off freely. do this, and nobody will know.' "the oda bashi was brought back to his prison: when i asked him what he had said to the soldiers, he told me quite another story. then i spoke to him in his own words, whereat he was astonished, but he kept silence. he is still in prison, and i am thinking what to do with him; but he has not been tortured in any way; and as you seem to take an interest in his case, i will set him free, and give him to you, to show my friendship for you." i replied, "i am glad to hear that the man has not been tortured, for in england we consider torture to be an act of unnecessary cruelty; but your story alters the case. the man is certainly guilty, and as i only asked for justice in this case, and i wish in all things to see justice done, i will not have the man; let him be punished according to the law, only do not torture him. "the other day you hung a koord opposite my windows; he was a murderer, and you did right: it is by acts like these that a country such as this can be kept in order, and that protection is assured to those who do well." "i am sorry," said the pasha, "that they hung the koord before your windows. i told them not to hang him before the house of the persian plenipotentiary, where there is a gibbet; but to take him to any place where the koords resorted, and as there are many coffee-houses near you, that is the reason probably why they hung him there. his story is a curious one: i have been looking after him for the last three years; he has robbed and murdered many people, though he was so young a man, but he had always escaped my agents. at last, a few days ago, he stole a horse, in a valley near here, from a man who was traveling, and whom he beat about the head and left for dead. he brought the horse to erzeroom and offered it for sale, when the owner, who had recovered, saw him selling the horse, and gave him up to the guard. he was brought up for judgment before me, when i said to him, who are you? after a silence, the man said, 'there is a fate in this, it can not be denied. i am * * * *, whom you have been searching for these three years. my fate brought me to erzeroom, and now i am taken up for stealing one poor horse. i felt when i took that horse that i was fated to die for it. my time is come. it is fate.' and he went to be hung without any complaint." i said he deserved it, and hoped others would take warning by his death. "i hope they will," the pasha said, "but among the koords of this country there are so few who do not deserve punishment, that if you see two persons you may be sure that one has stolen something. you can not see two people together here but that at least one has been a thief." "well," i answered, "the british commissioners are two people whom your excellency has often seen together, but i hope, in our case, when we leave the pashalik of erzeroom, we may be convicted of having stolen nothing but your good opinion;" and so i took my leave. in the evening, hearing that the wife of the oda bashi was in my house, i said to paolo cadelli, my servant, that my desire to liberate the armenian was changed; that he had not been tortured, but he was a thief. "how!" said paolo, in a great state of excitement; "a thief he may be, but tortured he certainly was, for in the morning did i not go forth into the bazaar to get wrappers (pestimal) of persian silk? i went to the bezestein, and there did i not see the chief of the criers of the bit bazaar? he is my friend. did i not get from him the embroidery, the cloth of gold which you have, which is in your room? and we went, did we not go together, to the court of the palace of the pasha? it is opposite, is it not opposite to the entrance of the bezestein? do not the soldiers present arms to you there when you go in? yes. there i went, and i saw the armenian, a poor devil--quite a poor devil--sitting down like a monkey, altogether quite stupid with fear and martyrdom. they had martyred him; they had drawn his teeth; his finger-ends and toes were black, by reason of the canes they had run into them; his thighs had been torn by pincers; he was half dead. he said to the people, 'what can i do? i am innocent; kill me; but i can not restore goods which i have not got.' ah! he is a christian. is he not a christian--an armenian? that is what these turks do. they have not tortured the soldiers who are guilty. certainly they have not, but this man has been tortured because he is an armenian. they are turks, my master (padrone); are they not turks? they are all turks; that is what they do;" and with many ejaculations paolo went away to cool down his indignation in the open air. i was surprised at this account. yesterday, august , * * * pasha came to breakfast, and i begged him to find out the truth. in the afternoon i was at enveri effendi's house; * * * pasha was there, and he said the man had not been tortured; that the account given me by kiamili pasha was correct; that the man was out of prison, but that the pasha would seek for him and send him to me. i heard that, after i went to the pasha, the pasha sent for the kiaya, and finding the oda bashi had been tortured, he found great fault with him, and ordered the man to be released the next day. he is sentenced, as he understands, to pay the half of the value of the goods stolen. while i was with the pasha, the tophenkyi bashi was enraged with this poor victim for getting the assistance of the franks, as he thought that we were come to the pasha on his account, whereas our visit was on public business in no way connected with this affair. it appears that while we were sitting on the divan in the pasha's hall of audience, the tophenkyi bashi was employed during the same time in inflicting additional torments on the unfortunate oda bashi; he snapped his pistol at his head, and informed him that the pasha had given orders that he was to be hanged in the course of the day. the oda bashi, after we had rescued him from his various tormentors, presented himself before me. he was a good-looking man, about thirty-five years of age, with a black beard, and respectably dressed in blue, in the style usually adopted by the armenian christians. he said he had been tortured by the order of the kiaya bey; the bones were put to his temples, some of his teeth drawn, his nails pierced, his left thigh torn with pincers; he was hung up by the arms by ropes, but the hot cup was not placed upon his head. he showed me the marks of the pincers and other scars about his body--evident proofs of the truth of his assertion. the two soldiers who were convicted of having stolen the goods (the oda bashi being entirely ignorant of the whole transaction) were to be brought before the council on the following monday. they are now in prison, and will be sentenced to pay the other half of the value of the stolen goods. this information the oda bashi received from the merchant mehemed, the owner of the lost property. he has not heard any other particulars about the soldiers. from the above account it appears that much injustice may probably be carried on by the inferior officers of the government which never gets to the ears of the pasha, small officials being notoriously more tyrannical than greater men. the pasha himself appears to be a kind-hearted, well-intentioned man in a general way; but, in cases where his own interest is not directly concerned, he does not look into the affairs of the pashalik with sufficient keenness to prevent his subordinate officers from practicing various acts of oppression and extortion, according to the fashion of the good old times, when turkey, like the united states of america, was a land of liberty, where every free and independent citizen had the right to beat his own nigger; for, according to some doctors of the law, pashas, vizirs, &c., might cut off a few heads every day for no given reason, but just for amusement. the sultan had the privilege of destroying fourteen lives per day of his faithful subjects, who might have committed no crime; after that number, some reason was expected to be shown for the further use of the sword and bow-string on that day. now the case is altered: fewer crimes are committed in turkey than in london, and the turkish pashas endeavor to stop such practices as are considered discreditable on the part of the inferior officers; though they have to contend with great difficulties in a country where it is hardly possible to get at the truth, and where the inferior officers have for generations been accustomed to plunder those below them, directly they are out of sight of the higher authorities; trusting to the want of communication, the slight knowledge of writing, and the many obstacles in the way which prevent the poor man's story getting to the ears of the pasha or the sultan, who, in these days at least, are anxious to remedy such abuses, and to distribute justice with a tolerably impartial hand. i had great satisfaction in hearing afterward that, owing to my exertions in this and other cases--the good cause being taken up warmly by colonel williams, after i was gone--all torture was authoritatively abolished in the pashalik of erzeroom; and i am in hopes that, except in some snug little dungeon in the rocky castle of a half independent koordish chief, this horrible custom is almost extinct. the koord above mentioned was hanged in so original a manner that i must shortly describe it, as it took place immediately under my window. what we called at school a cat-gallows was erected close to a bridge, over the little stream which ran down the horse-market, between my house and the bottom of the hill of the citadel. the culprit stood under this; the cross-beam was not two feet above his head; a kawass, having tied a rope to one end of the beam, passed a slip-knot round the neck of the koord, a young and very handsome man, with long black hair; he then drew the rope over the other end of the beam, and pulled away till the poor man's feet were just off the ground, when he tied the rope in a knot, leaving the dead body hanging, supported by two ropes in the form of the letter v. hardly any one was looking on, and in the afternoon the body was taken down and buried. i shall always consider this case as a remarkable instance of the power of fatalism over the mind of an ignorant and superstitious man. this koord was entirely the cause of his own execution: no one knew him by sight at erzeroom, and there was not the slightest necessity for his declaring his name to the pasha, and confessing that he had committed murders and outrages of all kinds among the villages of koordistaun. his punishment for stealing a horse would not have been very severe, and, but for his voluntary admission that he was a notorious malefactor, for whom the police had long been on the look-out, he might have been alive to this day, to rob and murder, till somebody shot him, or he became too old for the exertion. fatalism, in other cases, has a powerful influence over the true believers in the armies of islam. the soldier goes to battle with the firm belief that, if his hour is not come, the cannon of the enemy can have no power over him; and that if his hour is arrived, the angel of death will call him, whether he may be seated on his divan, or walking in full health in his garden at home: just as readily does he bow his head to fate in one place as in another. by this institution of the koran, the wonderful genius of mohammed has gained many a victory by the hands of his trusting and believing followers for the caliphs and sultans of his creed. some of the reforms of sultan mahmoud, by treating lightly many of the ancient prejudices of the osmanlis, have shaken the throne under his feet. the progress of infidelity, which has begun at constantinople, is the greatest temporal danger to the power of the turkish empire. the turk implicitly believes the tenets of his religion; he keeps its precepts and obeys its laws; he is proud of his faith, and prays in public when the hour of prayer arrives. how different, alas! is the manner in which the divine laws of christianity are kept! the christian seems ashamed of his religion; as for obeying the doctrines of the gospel, they have no perceptible effect upon the mass of the people, among whom drunkenness, dishonesty, and immorality prevail almost unchecked, except by the fear of punishment in this world; while in turkey not one tenth part of the crime exists which is annually committed in christendom. a few days after this occurrence, as i was sitting in the summer chamber at the top of the house, i heard a most extraordinary shuffling and screeching behind the curtain which hung over the door; the curtain shook about, and numerous subdued voices and noises were heard, which sounded like cocks and hens suffering from strangulation. i shouted out to know what in the world was going on; after a while the kawass drew aside the curtain, and along the floor advanced a most strange and incomprehensible procession of several women and men, crawling on their hands and knees, each with a cock or a hen in their hands, whose fluttering, and screaming, and crowing now broke forth in full chorus; one or two got away, and flew about the room, as its owner, making use of her hands to walk with, was unable to hold the terrified fowl. this procession advanced to the divan, and, without saying a word, the foremost woman seized hold of one of my legs, which was inadvertently sticking out, and, holding on to my ankle, kissed my foot, and burst out into a string of exclamations in armenian, no one word of which made any impression on my understanding. being horribly alarmed, i kicked as well as i could, and, having escaped into the remotest corner of the divan, i begged to know what all this portended; and on the chickens being caught, and comparative silence obtained, i found that these were the family of the poor oda bashi, who had brought the chickens as a present, and came with tears to thank me for saving their father, brother, or husband. they were really pained, poor people, when i would not accept the cocks and hens, for, though of little value, it looked like receiving a bribe for justice; and, after a long explanation of my strange notions, they walked off in smiles upon their hind legs, the cocks crowing triumphantly on their way down stairs. chapter vi. the clock of erzeroom.--a pasha's notions of horology.--pathology of clocks.--the tower and dungeon.--ingenious mode of torture.--the modern prison. in the citadel--a place which might, with great ease, be rendered very strong, but which now is deserted and disused, having, i believe, been knocked to pieces in the russian war--there are still two or three curious ancient tombs and some other incomprehensible old buildings. the building containing the prison, which was in constant use in the good old times, and the tower, from whence the flag of turkey is displayed, possessed an old clock, which had been out of order for many years before the russians carried it away, but which was the wonder and admiration of all koords, armenians, and strangers from the mountains, to whom time was "no object," and who considered this old clock, with its dial and hands, as some sort of talisman beyond the comprehension of ordinary folks. erzeroom was indeed lifted up in the estimation of those unsophisticated herdsmen and robbers, as the only place they ever heard of where any thing in the nature of a clock was to be seen. it might happen that some few of those who not only were possessed of such an outlandish article as a watch, but who were in some measure initiated into the uses of that strange production, would expatiate learnedly in the coffee-houses on the wondrous properties of the great talisman in the tower of the citadel, which, in all probability, from its great size and exalted position, was considered as the father of all the little watches of the sheikhs and chiefs among the tribes. as for the clock not going, that signified but little. talleyrand said that speech was accorded to man for the purpose of enabling him to conceal his sentiments. the big clock had doubtless his reasons for holding his tongue, and telling no lies; i believe his reputation was increased by his silence, as is the case among many other distinguished characters besides the clock of erzeroom. now it came to pass, once upon a time, that the great pasha or viceroy of the wide realms of this great pashalik chanced to be a philosopher; he knew that clocks, though they might have been made to sell, besides this very primary quality, also ought to go, but no artificer in the land of armenia was competent to accomplish this desirable end. whenever a frank traveler--not that there ever were any travelers by profession in those days--but whenever a frank doctor or hakim made his appearance in those regions, he was always received with distinguished civility by the pasha, who, after the preliminaries of coffee, kef enis ayi--"may your powers of enjoyment be in good order!"--always ended with an expression of his desire that the frank would immediately set about the repairs of the clock. "sir, your excellency," said the poor man, "i am a doctor; i am not a watchmaker or a mechanic. i don't understand clocks; it is not in my power to set the clock right; it is not in my line of business. i am very sorry, but, o effendim, i fear i am unable to meet your wishes in this point." "dog of a frank," quoth the pasha, "great-grandfather's uncle to all dogs, more particularly those of frangistaun, is it not thy base profession to meddle with the bowels of mankind? canst thou not expel ginns, and evil spirits, and other things, which have taken up their abode in the innermost recesses of the bodies of true believers, which thine eye can not penetrate, while, nevertheless, thou turnest their livers upside down, and their souls inside out; and all this by the accursed aid of thy wretched frankish incantations; shooting thine arrows at them, or rather sending down their throats certain wicked and diabolical contrivances, which are known by the barbarians of thy benighted country by the name of pills? dost thou pretend to see all that is going on in the stomach of a follower of the prophet, and wilt thou tell me with the same breath that thou canst not administer to the disorganized constitution of a clock? hath not a clock a pulse, when he is alive and in good health? go thou, feel his pulse, and see whether it is fast or slow; whatever thou mayest want, thou shalt have; my hakim bashi shall assist you, only cure the clock. all franks make clocks: i have it from authority: do not pretend that thou canst not set the clock going again, for surely thou canst restore it to life, and make it strike, and do all that it ought to do. behold, thou art a frank! guards! take the frank up into the tower, and make him mend the clock; and if the unbelieving dog will not mend the clock, then put him into the dungeon down below till he confesses that he is ready to do as he is commanded by the pasha of the true believers." in this way every audience concluded. the unlucky frank, having been exalted to the top of the tower, and exhorted to repair the rickety old clock, which had lost half its works, was debased into the dungeon, there to remain till further notice. having often heard this story of the good old times, i one day proceeded to the citadel to see the tower where the clock had been, and to examine the dungeon, where i should have been sent if i had arrived at erzeroom fifty or sixty years ago. this dungeon really was a dungeon: any thing so terrible as an abode for a human being i never saw before. the pozzi at venice were rather pleasant and agreeable places of retirement, compared with the abode of many a poor frank, in whose education the art and craft of clockology had been unfortunately omitted. at the foot of that which had been the clock-tower was a range of small low rooms, of which two were particularly belonging to the prison: the outer room of the two was larger than the other; this was appropriated to the guards, who kept watch and ward, and who fed, or did not feed, the wretched prisoners under their care. the inner room was small and low, and had one window, through which the light and air had to struggle with the opposition of heavy crossed and re-crossed iron bars. the window looked into the castle yard, but the room was so dark that i could hardly see my way. "a horrible place for the poor prisoners," said i to my guides; "little chance of their escape from these thick walls, and heavy bars, and low, strong roof; they must have been safe enough here." "oh effendim," said the kawasses, "this is not the prison. here is the prison at your feet, down below." "where?" said i. "look down," they replied, "on the middle of the floor; there is the entrance; you can not see the dungeon itself, for it is, perhaps, a little dark." in the centre of the floor of this dismal cell was a heavy wrought-iron grating, square, made of great bars, about six inches apart, seemingly of enormous weight, lying on the ground, and fastened down with two or three huge rusty padlocks on one side, and some lumbering old hinges on the other. this iron grate was opened and raised up for my especial edification, and there appeared under it the mouth of a narrow well cut in the rock, perhaps two feet and a half in diameter, which sank down into the darkness far below. "now," said my informants, "if you stand on this side, and look steadily till your eye is accustomed to the gloom, you will be able to distinguish something white a good way down; that is a square stone, like a table, in the middle of the vault, upon which the jailers let down the provisions for the prisoners, as they can see on that stone when the things arrive at the bottom." this was the old dungeon, the common prison not many years ago; but, i believe, since the reign of hadji kiamili pasha, few or none had been consigned to this horrible abode. the shape of it below, i understood, was that of the inside of a bottle; it was between twenty and thirty feet deep; vermin, dirt and filth, and foul air, formed its only furniture; and into this awful hole many and many an innocent man had been let down: some to be brought up again to pay a ransom of all that they possessed, some to linger there for years, and some to die and rot unnoticed if no food was provided for them by government, when their bones, if not their flesh, gave token to the next inhabitants of what they were to expect, unless their interest or their wealth was greater than that of the poor wretch whose remains lay there before them. an ingenious and horrible species of torture was sometimes added to the discomforts of this dread abode: a large piece of raw flesh was thrown down into the dungeon; the vermin, and the effluvia which it produced, added to other miseries, made the existence of the wretched prisoner almost intolerable. the modern prison is bad enough: it consists of a number of cells opening on a small paved court-yard. the prisoners, being just shoved through the door, have to shift for themselves inside, where a kind of pandemonium exists; the stronger koords bullying and tyrannizing over the weaker felons, who have neither fire nor candle during the intense cold of a great part of the year: so i was told; but i was not there in the winter, and hope these unhappy wretches may be allowed a little tezek occasionally to keep their dirty bodies and souls together. chapter vii. spring in erzeroom.--coffee-house diversions.--koordish exploits.--summer employment.--preparation of tezek.--its varieties and uses. when the snows of winter have melted, and the air becomes more temperate, the population of erzeroom begin to revive. the women and children, who, like the bears, lemmings, and marmottes, have hybernated all the winter, now peep with red eyes out of their subterranean habitations; those streets situated upon hills, as most of them are, become torrents of melted snow, which cut deep ravines through the frozen mass which is piled up many feet on each side; narrow paths are gradually dug out from the low doors of the armenian man-burrows toward the central river of the street; the winking children creep out to blink their eyes at the sun, and enjoy the fresh air; fusty cows, who have been buried for eight months, come slowly staring out; every now and then a more adventurous infant is carried away by the stream, and its body quickly devoured by the ravenous dogs at the outskirts of the town; wolves, it is said, though i never saw one, prowl about, and eat the dog that ate the child, that came out to see the weather so mild, in the street by the house that (not) jack built. women now scream to each other in shrill voices, as they pitch down large wooden spadefuls of half-melted snow upon the heads of those who are passing in the street; knots of tartars, circassians, and lazes, and koords, in iron-heeled boots and white woolen trowsers, tell lies to each other at the doors of the coffee-houses, which are answered with dignified exclamations of wullah! billah! nobody believing his neighbor's lie, but considering straightway how he can invent a deliberate falsehood to lay before the other liars in his turn. every now and then one of these stories is true, when a cadaverous-looking koord, hung round with arms and leaning on his lance, with the black ostrich feathers at the top, being a practical man with very little imagination, coolly relates the history of the sacking of a defenseless village, where murder unresisted, rapine, sacrilege in the burning of the mosque, and spearing the children who run shrieking from the flames of their homes, bear with it the impress of truth, with the conviction on the part of any honest man (if there should be one in the party) that, although the rest are liars, the only truthful narrator is a brute of that atrocious kind, that the falsehoods of the rest are trifles, like chaff before the wind, in comparison with the real and true experiences of this infernal child of hell. such as this are the koords; their only virtue is that they are not cowards; but, although they subscribe to a nominal adherence to the mohammedan religion, the most liberal imaum would be ashamed to own them. the yezedis, who worship the devil, are angels in comparison. yet they are superstitious to a curious degree, as the foregoing anecdote of the koord who was hung through giving evidence about himself testifies. at the commencement of the summer the whole city of erzeroom is engaged, even to desperation, in making tezek; you hear, smell, and see nothing else. how are you off for tezek? tezek katch, chok tezek, tezek var bourda chok, chok, evet, tezek effendim, katch gooroosh: in short, no one cares for any thing except tezek, and he who has most tezek is the greatest man, and he who has but little tezek he is naught--no one cares for him, or, indeed, for any thing else except the one absorbing topic of tezek. the cows, and bulls, and oxen having reappeared on upper earth, the augean stable is cleared out. tezek, the only fuel of erzeroom, consists of the production into which the said oxen have converted their food for many months; it is trodden down hard, and is dug out by zealous armenians, and brought exultingly to the tops of the houses; it is mixed with a good deal of the chopped straw with which horses, and oxen, and sheep are fed while in the subterranean stables; more chopped straw is added, mixed with water; and, except the higher class of grandees, such as the pasha, the commander-in-chief, and the author, all true men were employed on the tops of their houses, treading the chopped straw into the tezek with their naked feet, their full turkish trowsers being pulled up and tied with a belt round their waists. with a stick to lean upon, they are there all day, trotting about, up to their knees in tezek, shouting to each other; mohammed bringing some more water to pour upon it; hassan staggering up the ladder with more tezek of the genuine unadulterated kind from the recesses of the stable; bekir with a great basket of chopped straw; and then all set to with a will, and tread steadily for an hour or two, as sailors do round a capstan, for the dear life; and when they get very hot they wipe their brow with a tezeky sleeve, and their sleeve with a fold of a tezeky trowser, so that they become altogether tezekious before the sun sets upon their labors, and veils his nose, if not his eyes, under the clouds which hang over the eternal snows in the dreaded passes of the mountains of hoshabounar. the tezek being trodden into a stiff clayey state, about six or seven inches thick, is left alone for a day or two to dry; amateurs, however, scrambling up to the top of the house to see how it is going on, to pick a bit off, and look at it cunningly, and smell it, to find whether it has the true flavor. there are armenians who are knowing in tezek, who understand the thing; and over a remarkably good batch a knot of the fancy will sit on little stools, and smoke their pipes, and discuss the question scientifically; telling tales of former celebrated heaps, and of hadji such a one, who was famous in that line, and of one bokchi bashi, who had an astonishing talent in the preparation of inimitable tezek. when it is all ready, it is dug out in square blocks, and carried down the ladders again carefully in open baskets, and piled up in the inner treasuries below, and stored for the fuel of the future winter. it is better for being old, when it resembles peat turf. it gets somewhat dusty in a year or so, and then rivals that sort of snuff called irish blackguard in its capacity for making you sneeze, if you venture to move a clod of it to put upon the fire; it then burns clear and clean, without flame, and is very hot; but when more fresh--though that is not the word--more new, i may say--it produces a thick stifling smoke, very odoriferous, and not generally appreciated by those who do not love tezek for itself, or who are not at that time maneuvering to make you purchase an astounding bargain of the precious fuel of their own particular manufacture. erzeroom is not alone in the production of this article of merchandise. from thence through the whole of tartary as we call it, or turkistaun as they call it, this fuel is in universal use as far as the great wall of china. great care is taken sometimes in the production of it for various artistic purposes. in thibet it is called arghol, and in the very remarkable travels of m. huc, it is related that that which comes from sheep and goats is more valuable for the purpose of smelting iron and other metals, as it gives a greater heat, and, instead of leaving any ash, melts into a vitreous mass of a bluish green color. i never saw any of this myself, though it may have been used at erzeroom, for this place was lately famous for the workmanship in iron and steel by seven brothers, whose productions are valuable under the name of yedi kartasch, as manton added a value to those guns to which his name was affixed. the tezek of oxen and cows ranks next; that of horses and donkeys last, from the quantity of smoke produced by it; that of the oxen, with the slightest possible flavor of donkey, was certainly most fashionable at erzeroom. chapter viii. the prophet of khoi.--climate.--effects of great elevation above the sea.--the genus homo.--african gold-diggings.--sale of a family.--site of paradise.--tradition of khosref purveez.--flowers.--a flea-antidote.--origin of the tulip.--a party at the cave of ferhad, and its results.--translation from hafiz. the atmospheric peculiarities of this climate are such, that the weather, as a general rule, may be considered as on the way from bad to worse. earthquakes more or less severe are often felt. a severe one occurred in the year , and in the same year the town of khoi was almost entirely destroyed by one of these awful convulsions of nature. a circumstance occurred on that occasion which was very remarkable, if true. a dervish or fakir of distinguished sanctity felt himself about to die, and, calling his friends and disciples around the couch of skins on which he lay, he prophesied that a terrible disaster was about to fall upon the town of khoi; that the lives of many would fall into the hands of monkir and nakir on that day; but that those faithful believers who accompanied his body to the tomb would be permitted to escape from the sword of the avenging angel for his sake. the old man died, and, being held in universal reverence, the greater part of the inhabitants of khoi followed his corpse to the burial-ground, which was situated at some distance from the town. while absent on this pious errand, a tremendous earthquake suddenly reduced the city to ruin. so complete was the destruction that hardly a house was left standing, and many of those who had remained at home perished in the fall of their habitations, while those who had accompanied the body of the dervish to the grave were saved from the disaster, as he had prophesied. this is a wonderful story; i heard it at the time, and was very much struck with the peculiar circumstances of the case. its accuracy would be difficult either to prove or to disprove, but the history as i have narrated it was current at the time when the earthquake happened. pillars of dust, like those of sand seen in the deserts of africa and arabia, are supposed to be the works of evil spirits, and often stalk like giants across the plain. the deep narrow valleys and ravines which slope down from the elevated plateau of erzeroom, are unhealthy and pestilential in the extreme, while the inhabitants of the upper country enjoy good health enough. here the corn returns about five-fold to the labor of the sower: one being retained for seed, four bushels is the extent of the profit of the husbandman for one which he had sown. the summer, though very short, is hot and parching, the thermometer being usually about , though it rises occasionally, i think, to nearly . the cold in winter is commonly degrees below zero of fahrenheit, and is often colder. the mercury in my thermometer, which was not calculated for such a climate, quietly retired into the ball in the autumn, and never came out again while i remained at erzeroom. the great height of the town above the sea was exemplified in a practical manner to me on my first arrival. i was in a state of constant wrath about the tea: the tea was excellent, of the very best quality, but the decoction thereof was always a failure. in vain was the kettle placed upon the fire by my side; in vain did the semavar, the best of tea-urns, boil and steam. double, double, toil and trouble! the fire burned and the caldron bubbled, but the tea was vapid. as for the eggs, i don't know how long it took to boil them till the white was fixed. the reason of all this only occurred to me one day when i put my finger into some almost boiling water, which by no means scalded me--for water boiled at ° of fahrenheit, as we were between and feet above the level of the sea; and, consequently, though boiling and steaming away, it was not hot enough to produce the effects of water boiling at the heat of °, which is the temperature at which it boils in london. nature has provided a kettle of her own, in a hot spring at elijé, near which place i was informed that there was a rock against which iron stuck of its own accord--a rock of loadstone; but i never had an opportunity of verifying this report. the natural history of the highlands of armenia is particularly interesting, and rich in flowers hardly known to europeans, and in the prodigious quantities of birds which breed on the plain of erzeroom, and in the valleys and water-courses of the neighborhood. the quadrupeds are not numerous; the climate is too rigorous for those not provided with thick furs to protect them from the tremendous cold. the fish consist only of a sort of barbel, which is found in the high waters of the euphrates, and of three kinds of trout, swarming in the lesser streams and rivulets which flow down from the snowy mountain-tops. to commence with the highest order of mammalia: some extraordinary specimens of the genus homo are to be met with in many parts of the east, generally in the character of frank doctors. erzeroom was not wanting in productions of this kind. the character of these adventurers is in every instance precisely alike: they are all sharp and so-called clever men, speaking several languages correctly, with a smattering of general knowledge, but understanding nothing perfectly, and all wanting in the same two qualities--judgment and principle, the consequence of which want is, that not one in a hundred succeeds in life, and, after passing through a series of strange changes of fortune, they usually die unlamented, as poor as when they began their erratic career. the adventures of one old gentleman, with whom i was acquainted here, was so extraordinary and uncommon, that a history of them would fill a volume. after this man's death, it appeared that he was not himself, but somebody else; and his true name being the same as that of a person i had met, many years before, at wadi halfa, or at assouan, high up the nile, made me suspect that these two persons were the same. one half of this character certainly died in a khan at erzeroom; but as i do not know whether the other half is dead, or whether the two were really one or not, i must forbear the strange narration of their lives, for fear something might meet the eyes of their friends or relations--if they had any--who, perhaps, may be under the pleasing delusion that their respected relative was an honor to their name. i must, however, relate a little anecdote of the egyptian half of my acquaintance. at assouan, below the cataracts, i saw an extraordinary-looking boat, built of bits of hard wood, like iron-wood, each about two feet long, caulked or cemented in the seams with reeds and mud, precisely in the manner in which the ancient boats are represented in the hieroglyphics. this strange vessel was of large size, and was navigated by a crew of blacks, of a tribe with which i was not acquainted. the proprietor of the ship was dressed in a much worn and old-fashioned turkish dress; his cabin was carpeted with lion-skins; his cushions were the skins of some small deer, stuffed. he was very civil, and spoke in the french language to me, while he gave his orders to his servants in a dialect which bore little resemblance to arabic, but which belonged to some distant region of the interior of africa, where he had been living many years. his personal servants were the handsomest negroes i had ever seen: though they were dressed as men, i found they were girls; one, who was beautiful, was his wife. he was an interesting personage, and appeared on friendly terms with his black attendants, who looked forward with great glee to the wondrous sights which they were to see at cairo. after listening to some curious stories of the manners and customs of the black nations of the interior, unknown to europeans, he showed me three or four strongly-made iron-bound chests, which, on being opened, proved to be full of gold, to the amount of some thousands of pounds; some was in nuggets, but most part of it was in the form of rings the size of bracelets, and others the size of large heavy finger-rings, all of pure gold. these rings were passed as money, and were of the exact form of those used for the same purpose by the ancient egyptians, and of the rings found in celtic and british tombs. independent of their intrinsic value, they were exceedingly curious; and he said gold might be procured in great quantities in the mountains beyond darfoor. here, then, is an opening for some future diggings, and an object to promote discoveries in the centre of africa. my informant was a european, of the same nation and the same name as the person whom i met at erzeroom, but i now doubt whether the two were or were not the same. some time afterward i made inquiries at cairo about this singular adventurer, when i heard that he had sold his strange vessel, his wife, his servants, and his crew, to their astonishment and dismay, for they did not consider themselves as slaves, and he had taken his departure for europe with his gold rings and the produce of the sale of his confiding family. it may not be generally known that erzeroom is supposed to be the site of the terrestrial paradise. the reason of this supposition is deduced from the fact of so many great and famous rivers taking their rise in this exalted region. about three hours from erzeroom, passing the ancient monastery of kuzzul vank, on the way to tortoom and kars, a rocky top of a mountain rises about two thousand feet above the plain, and consequently about ten thousand feet above the level of the sea. standing on one spot upon this mountain, the traveler can see the sources, beneath his feet, of the euphrates, the araxes, and the river which falls into the black sea in the pestilential neighborhood of batoum; one river falling into the persian gulf, one into the caspian, and one into the black sea. the traditions of the country relate that the flowers of paradise bloomed in luxuriant splendor in this now barren region till the days of khosref purveez. this mighty persian monarch, "the great king," was encamped upon the banks of the euphrates, on the plains of erzeroom, when a messenger arrived from the prophet mohammed, then an insignificant pretender, offering this magnificent sovereign protection if he would give up the religion of his fathers and embrace the faith of islam. khosref purveez, in derision, threw the letter from the prophet into the waters of the river, when nature, in dismay, withered all her trees and flowers, and the bounteous stream, which formerly bestowed wealth and abundance to the country on its shores, shrank into its bed, and, refusing to fertilize the earth, cold, and frost, and barrenness have been ever since the consequence of the impiety of the persian king: not only this, but the days of his ancient empire were numbered; and in the days of yesdijird, a few years after this event, the blacksmith's apron, the victorious standard of persia, fell into the hands of the mohammedan general, at the great battle of kudseah, where the sun of persia set to rise no more. among the rocks, not far from erzeroom, is an artificial cavern, hewn out of the mountain side by ferhad, the successful rival of khosref in the affections of the beautiful shireen. it was here--or others say at beysittoon--that ferhad threw himself from the precipice on hearing the false intelligence that shireen was dead; and that famous beauty herself died on seeing the remains of the mighty khosref, who had been murdered by his own son schiroueh out of jealousy and love for her. from the tops of the mountains surrounding erzeroom the snowy summit of mount ararat can be seen--another monument in the history of the cradle of the human race, and at its feet the town of nackchevan was built by noah, on his descent from the ark. this was the first city built by man after the flood, according to armenian, and i think also mohammedan, tradition. some slight remains of paradise are left, even to our days, in the form of the most lovely flowers, which i gathered on the very hill from whence the three rivers take their departure to their distant seas. though one of them has a latin scientific name, no plant of it has ever been in europe, and by no manner of contrivance could we succeed in carrying one away. this most beautiful production was called in turkish, yedi kartash kané (seven brothers' blood), in latin, ravanea, or philipea coccinea, a parasite on absinthe, or worm-wood. this is the most beautiful flower conceivable: it is in the form of a lily, about nine to twelve inches long, including the stalk; the flower and stalk, and all parts of it, resembling crimson velvet; it has no leaves; it is found on the sides of the mountains near erzeroom, often in company with the morena orientalis, a remarkable kind of thistle, with flowers all up the stalk, looking and smelling like the honeysuckle. another beautiful flower found here has not been described. it grows among rocks, and has a tough carroty root, two feet or more in length; the leaves are long grassy filaments, forming a low bush, like a tussock of coarse grass; under the leaves appear the flowers. each plant has twelve or twenty of them (like large white-heart cherries on a stalk), in the form of a bunch of grapes, eight or ten inches long; these flowers are merely colored bladders holding the seed. an iris, of a most brilliant flaming yellow, is found among the rocks, and it, as well as all the more remarkable flowers of this country, blooms in the spring soon after the melting of the snow--that is to say, about june. piré otou, a herb, which is sold here in powder (anthemis rosea, aut carnea), instantly kills fleas and other insects, and would be invaluable to travelers in warm climates. we possessed a certain little dog called fundook (a nut), who held the important position of turnspit in our kitchen: he was a wise dog, with a look of dignity about him like a dog in office, and one that had something on his mind and knew more than he would say. he turned out his elbows and turned in his toes, and sat at the door in a solemn attitude when not employed on the business of the nation. in the pursuit of his vocation he became sadly vexed with fleas, and his dignity suffered from the necessity of scratching with his hind leg, just like a common, vulgar dog. commiserating his condition, one of the grooms went to the expense of five paras (one farthing sterling), with which he purchased two good handfuls of powdered leaves of piré otou, the effect of which was magical: in one minute every flea was dead, and fundook swaggered into the kitchen quite a renovated dog. it may not be generally known that the tulip owes its origin to the blood of ferhad, which was sprinkled on the ground when he threw himself from the rocks in despair, on hearing of the death of his glorious shireen. in this story we see how one beautiful idea is copied and admired by mankind in the most distant regions, times, and circumstances, for this is the same tradition as that of the anemone, which, in classic lore, arose from the blood of adonis while venus was weeping for his loss. upon a day we gave a party at the cave of ferhad; this was a rare function; parties were not common at erzeroom. "when the orient sun arose, and shed his golden beams o'er the snowy peaks of the mountains of the east, apollo on that day must have reined in his steeds in wonder at the unwonted stir that was taking place at erzeroom, as aurora withdrew the purple veil of night from the features of fair mother earth, refreshed with the slumbers she had enjoyed under the guardianship of endymion. she of the rosy fingers doubtless started up in beautiful surprise at the bustle and the activity displayed beneath her gaze. phoebus, not resisting the pleasure of curiosity, gazed down in all his glory on the armenian plain, where horses neighed, and cattle lowed, and hasty marmitons laded ox-eyed oxen with bright coppers from the kitchen shelves; wains were there laden with wide tubs of cooling snow; cooks, in a perspiration, swore deep oaths; the voice official of fundook was heard yelping and barking in the morning breeze, and under sol's first rays a caravan set forth in long, dark outline, winding o'er the plain of erzeroom." for the rest, see homer, unpublished edition, cap. x. all the rank and fashion of the place were present; the rank rode on horseback, the fashion followed in a cart drawn by four oxen--this would sound better if it were called an araba--and therein was contained all the beauty of the city of erzeroom. the distance may have been ten miles; some of the party got there in three quarters of an hour, and others arrived in an hour and three quarters. among the distinguished guests were two philosophers, one of whom, having lately arrived in these unknown regions, was remarkable for the glorious colors of his waistcoat. this effulgent garment having been admired, the answer was returned in the following mysterious sentence, as i well remember, in a language unknown, as far as my knowledge is experienced, in any nation upon earth: "zést mon vamme, gui ma tonné ze chilet." our admiration of the chilet gave way before the announcement that the carriage and four was approaching the cave, and all sallied forth to receive the lovely damsels that it bore. through many a quag, o'er many a rock, and many a jolt had those oxen drawn the araba for many a weary hour before they lay down in front of our cave; and now it was the happy lot of those who got there first to hand out of their carriage the admired beauties of armenia. the carriage stopped, and we were in readiness, our feelings of politeness screwed up to the most perfect tone-- when the pie was opened, the birds began to sing: wasn't that a dainty dish to set before a king? but the birds did not come out--there was much to be done before that desired object was concluded: first, out came a cushion, then a feather-bed, and then a pretty girl; then another cushion, then another lovely damsel; then three or four more cushions, and another feather-bed, and then the prettiest little girl of all jumped upon the ground, half laughing and half smothered; for such dainty goods would have broken all to bits on those rough roads, if they had not been packed so carefully. the mother of the three graces accompanied them, and, the party being assembled, the great business of life commenced in earnest. dolmas, and kieufté, and cabobs soon graced the board--not that there was any board, but it sounds well. "viands," that is, chickens, lamb stewed with quinces, and all manner of good things, appeared and disappeared, to the wonder of certain hungry koords who happened to be passing, and who would have been run through with the spits, if not devoured by fundook, our brave ally, if they had made a row. corks from foreign bottles of champagne popped in brisk salute. cooks and kawasses, grooms, arabagis, eiwasses, and heiwans followed the good example set them by their lords, and, "fruges consumere nati," did their best to follow the end of their creation. then, and on that occasion only, did many a lantern-jawed, hook-nosed koord imbibe the unknown potations of frangistaun. then, in glorious generosity, did the trusty marmiton dispense the bones of slaughtered lamb, drumsticks of fowl, and crust of pie, whereof repletion dire denied the power to partake. by staggering chiboukgis pipes were next produced, and fragrant coffee, served on salvers bright; and, on soft persian carpets now reclined, the party enjoyed the scene before them, passing an agreeable afternoon in each other's society, accompanied, i thought, with some little flirtations between some of the company, which, i suspect, left pleasing recollections on their minds; for though i can not boast that any thing came of it that day, yet not long afterward two marriages were declared between some of those who assisted at the dinner in the cave of ferhad; and the most anxious chaperon will acknowledge that that was as much as could be expected under the circumstances, seeing that there were but two unmarried ladies of the company. afterward i found among my papers the following doleful ditty, purporting to be a translation of hafiz, on the fertile persian subject of ferhad and shireen; and as the reader is not obliged to read it unless he likes to do so, i subjoin it in memory of the day that i, for my part, passed so pleasantly with many agreeable companions in this unfrequented spot. the accompaniment to the air having been kindly undertaken by fundook, the minstrel thus begins: hafiz, who pass'd his sunny hours by the sweet stream of mosellay, singing of vineyards and of flowers to pass the fleeting time away, tells how the blood of ferhad's wound had stain'd fair nature's mantle green, sprinkling with ruddy spots the ground before the feet of fair shireen. the tulip from his blood arose beside her path in that sad hour. displaying how its leaves inclose a goblet in each opening flower. then to the lips the goblet press, whose rim contains forgetfulness. the vine, the glorious vine, arose, unscathed by crime, unchanged by woes, exulting in her charms; waving her tendrils in the breeze, and clasping the rough, rugged trees in her encircling arms. with clustering grapes upon her brow, still as she binds each willing bough their welcome aid she gains; on them she leans, but they confess the power of her loveliness, and glory in their chains. fill up the bright and sparkling bowl, that cures the body, heals the soul. no--be it not refused-- hail to the vine! whose purple juice was sent on earth for mortals' use, but not to be abused. still to the lips the goblet press, whose rim contains forgetfulness. forgetfulness, alas! 'tis this that mortals hold the height of bliss in this sad world of care; for memory through life retains a catalogue of griefs and pains, but little else is there. then to the lips the goblet press, whose rim contains forgetfulness.--hafiz. chapter ix. the bear.--ruins of a genoese castle.--lynx.--lemming.--cara guz.--gerboa.--wolves.--wild sheep.--a hunting adventure.--camels.--peculiar method of feeding.--degeneration of domestic animals. of four-footed beasts, the most illustrious is the bear, of which there are a good many in the wooded sides of the mountains in the neighborhood of kars. near the strange, unearthly lake of tortoom, i saw the fresh footprint of a real ursa major--a thundering old bear he must have been. he had only just departed, and the mark of one of his paws was large enough to hold more than both of mine. in another place i came upon the ruins of one of the string of genoese castles which, in former days, reared up their lordly towers at distances of not more than eight or ten hours apart the whole way from trebizond to teflis. their splendid ruins have been my admiration on many an imposing rock, frowning over an unknown valley. even the names of most of these are lost, while we only know of the history of their founders that once upon a time there were such merchant princes. in the bottom of a broken turret a bear had taken lodgings, but he was not at home when i called. others, not far off, on another hill, had given a small party, and had been amusing themselves by rolling about a piece of rock about five feet in diameter--a game of roulette, on a large scale, which showed their wondrous strength. the mud from their paws upon the stone was wet when i came up to join the party, but, perhaps luckily for me, they declined the honor of my acquaintance, and the society had broken up. some sturdy peasants of lazistaun, hearing of my partiality for strange creatures, brought me two young bears one day, who lived in our house for some time. they were very sensible, the she bear keeping her brother in remarkable order. they became very tame. they were, in some respects, different from the european bear, and of a light cinnamon color. i sent them to england. they were great favorites with the sailors on board ship, and arrived safely at the tower stairs, when some white paint being left out for the beautification of the vessel, the poor bears ate it all up, and not only died of the unwholesome feast, but the poison was so strong as to bring the fur off their skins, so that they could not be stuffed and immortalized in a glass case. after the bear the next animal is the lynx, the fur of whose belly is of the highest value in turkey, while that of the back is worth very much less. these animals are not rare in armenia, and enveri effendi prided himself on a splendid robe of this valuable fur, which he paid for by selling the skins of the backs of the lynxes at constantinople for more than he had given for the precious under-fur at erzeroom. the lynx is famed for the quickness of his sight, but enveri effendi had a sharper eye than he in all affairs relating to his own benefit. in the spring of the year, soon after the women and children, the lemmings come out, and sit upon their hind legs, and wipe their eyes with their fore-paws, and seem to wonder quietly at those who pass by, taking a header, or summerset, down their holes if you stop suddenly to look at these curious little beasts. a soft, cozy, fat little quadruped, called cara guz (black eyes), about the size of a young guinea-pig, and much of the same shape--only his color is gray, and he has a most wonderfully soft coat--comes out, too, about this time. he is so fat that he can not walk very fast, and is easily taken, and in his captivity prefers almonds and raisins to any other bill of fare which i was able to put before him. this little fellow eats his breakfast, luncheon, dinner, and supper slowly and respectably, without testifying any alarm for mankind. i could not make out his scientific name; he is probably some kind of little marmotte, and he falls readily into the manners and habits of the society in which providence has placed him. after cara guz, the gerboa comes out of his hole, and hops about on his long tail and hind legs; a miniature kangaroo, in whose acquaintance i have rejoiced in the burning deserts of africa as well as in the frozen regions of the highlands of erzeroom. in this country the number of quadrupeds is very limited; the fox is occasionally seen, as well as the gray beaver (kondooz), badgers, and wolves. at the melting of the snow the wolves come even into the towns, and devour the dogs with which every town is amply supplied. there are awful stories of their carrying off the little, peeping, blear-eyed children, who creep out of their holes in the beginning of spring, and who are occasionally washed away in the torrents of melted snow--the only washing attended to hereabouts. wolves are not very unfrequently started out of the inside of one of the numerous dead horses, whose overworked bodies have been frozen into the consistency of flint during the winter, and which form savory banquets for the famished wolves when the snow and ice recede, and display these dainty morsels to their haggard eyes. the wild sheep frequent the inaccessible rocks of the lower mountains, where a scanty herbage may be browsed beneath the line of perpetual snow. no two animals can be more different, both in appearance and habits, than the wild and tame sheep. the wild sheep of armenia (ovis gemelli) is in size, shape, and color like the doe of the fallow-deer, only it has two short horns bending backward, like those of a goat. the strength and agility of this most nimble creature are astonishing; they are more difficult of approach than the chamois of the alps. i have usually seen them in pairs, but was never able to get a shot. i brought three skins and several heads of this rare animal to europe, out of which one stuffed specimen was made up in the british museum; it is, i believe, the only one extant. the method employed to hunt this sheep is to climb to the highest summit of a mountain, and then, cautiously approaching the edges of the cliffs, to peep down with a telescope into the gorges and ravines below, where, if you have luck, you may see the sheep capering about on the ledges of the precipice, jumping, standing on a stone on their hind legs to reach a little tuft of herbage, and playing the most curious antics, for no perceptible reason, unless it is that they find their digestion improved by taking a considerable deal of exercise. in these gymnastics the hunter must participate to a great extent in following the tracks of the jumpingest creatures (excepting fleas) that he can ever have to deal with. it requires much activity, and a good head for looking over a height, to attempt to come up with them, and many a sad accident has occurred to the adventurous sportsman in this pursuit. i myself have been in some awkward situations: once particularly, having let myself down by the roots of a kind of juniper on the ledge of a tremendous precipice, i found there was no way further down, and, what was of more consequence, no way up again, for the roots of the stunted tree were above my reach. a hunter--a laz, or a native of lazistaun--was with me, and when we had done watching the two sheep scampering off out of shot below, we looked at the place we were on, and then in each other's faces in blank dismay. we were in the same scrape as the emperor maximilian got into in the tyrol, near ... only there being no angels about in the mountains of lazistaun, we had no expectation of being assisted by a spirited or a spiritual goatherd, as he was. after a good deal of pantomime, which would have puzzled any bird who might be wondering at our maneuvers--for we did not understand each other's language--we took off our boots, all our outer clothes, and our arms and rifles, and tied them in a bundle; then i planted myself firmly, with my face to the wall of the cliff, sticking my rifle into a crevice to give me more steadiness, and the hunter climbed carefully up my back on to my shoulders till he got hold of the roots of the tree; the tree shook, and plenty of stones and dirt fell upon my head, while the hunter scrambled into the trunk, and he was safe. he sat down a while to rest, and then hauled up the clothes and guns with our shawls that we had taken off from round our waists; a gentle qualm came over me at this moment, for fear he should be off with my, to him, very valuable spoils, and leave me in peace upon the shelf. but he was a true man, as a hunter generally is; so, after a variety of signs and gesticulations to each other as to how it was to be done, he lugged me up, first by the shawls, and then by hand, until i could reach the roots of the tree. here there was only room for one, so he climbed higher, and, after some wonderful positions, struggles, kicks, and scrambling, i got back among the roots, then up the trunk of the old gnarled juniper, or whatever it was, and at last upon a slope, partaking much of that character which, in the states of the free and independent slave-dealers over the water, is called slantindicular. here we both lay down. as for me, i was quite faint with giddiness and hard kicking, with nothing under me to kick at; but soon we picked up our effects, put on our boots, &c., scrambled, slid, and climbed about again after some more sheep; but, by reason of their having two pair of legs each, and each pair better adapted to present circumstances than our one pair each, they always got away, and we came down the mountain muttonless and hungry for that day, not sorry to find a famous good supper in the tent, in our encampment by the trout stream, in the valley of tortoom. one more quadruped nearly concludes the short catalogue of the mammalia of erzeroom--the capricorn, many specimens of whose enormous horns are nailed up over the doors of houses in the city; but i never saw this last animal at erzeroom, alive or dead. innumerable camels accompany the caravans from hence to persia, looking very much out of place in the deep snow. they are the arabian camel with one hump, and i had no notion that my old acquaintance of arabia could bear the tremendous cold of erzeroom. great quantities of corn and meal are brought here from the more prolific countries of the neighborhood. this is the staple merchandise of the city, which is the only place on the road between persia and turkey where caravans can recruit their thousands of jaded horses, and procure provisions for their journey. in this consists the political importance of an otherwise worthless and infertile spot. the number of camels, horses, mules, and beasts of burden assembled sometimes at erzeroom is immense, and they have here a peculiar method of feeding the camels by opening their mouths with the left hand, and with the other shoving down the poor beast's throat a ball of dough about the size of a cricket ball. one peculiarity of the domestic animals in this fearful climate is, that they are dwarfed and dwindled in size to an extraordinary degree. a bull used to run about the lower regions of my house, which was barely eighteen inches high; the sheep were so small that grown up mutton looked like lamb. the same occurred with fruit; none at all grew at erzeroom, but we had from villages some miles off, on the edges of the plain, plums the size of damsons, apricots the size of walnuts, and other fruits in proportion. chapter x. birds.--great variety and vast numbers of birds.--flocks of geese.--employment for the sportsman.--the captive crane.--wild and tame geese.--the pious and profane ancestors.--list of birds found at erzeroom. i now enter upon a subject to which i fear i have neither time nor power to do justice. the number of various kinds of birds which breed on the great plain of erzeroom is so prodigious as to be almost incredible to those who have not seen them, as i often have, covering the earth for miles and miles so completely that the color of the ground could not be seen; particularly at one period, when the whole country had a rosy appearance, from the countless flocks of a sort of red goose, which i take to be the ruddy sheldrake--a splendid bird, though not good to eat. it is about the size of a small goose or a muscovy duck, almost entirely clothed in various shades of red. troops of the two varieties of the wild gray goose form whitish spots in the animated landscape, their wild cries and noises sounding in every direction. so closely covered was the plain with this prodigious multitude of every kind of wild fowl, that i have galloped among them for some distance, the birds getting up about one hundred yards in a circle round my horse, and settling again behind me with loud cries, while the air rustled with the beating of innumerable wings of those birds which had been disturbed by my approach. the sportsman may imagine what shooting there is at erzeroom, for when one genus has reared its young and flown away to far and distant lands, another takes its place. quails are at one time almost as thick as flies; and numerous varieties of small birds, among which the horned lark and the red-winged finch flew in clouds. that beautiful variety, the rosy starling, has been often shot, as well as the merops, and so many other little fowls of varied plumage, that i must refer the reader to the accompanying list, for it would fill a book to give even a slight description of them all. on the banks of the river i used to shoot all sorts of waders, particularly spoonbills, and that most delicate of birds, the egret or white heron, famous for its plumes. i must own to being a bad shot, having been more accustomed to the rifle, but these white herons afforded me great practice; as they flapped along, i shot numbers of them, as well as many and many a quaint fellow with long legs, whom i brought home merely to make out who he was, and to write down his name. later in the year i risked my neck by riding as hard as i could tear over the rocky, or rather stony, plains at the foot of the mountains after the great bustard. i have more than once knocked some of the feathers out of these glorious huge birds, as they ran at a terrible pace, half flying and scrambling before my straining horse, but i never succeeded in killing one, though i have constantly partaken of those which had fallen before more patient gunners, who stalk them as you would a deer, and knock them over with a rifle or swan-shot from behind a stone or bank. i had more success with the great cinereous crane, which runs much faster than a horse. i shot one at full gallop with a rifle, in a place overgrown with reeds. this was a mighty triumph, for, though my game was about five feet high, he was so very long in the legs and neck, that the body offered but a small mark to be brought down under such circumstances, and the pace he was going at the time, and i after him, was, as they say, "a caution." this is a bird with whom it is requisite to be wary: if he is down, and not killed outright, like the heron and the stork he makes a dart with his sharp, long bill at the eyes of his enemy, and its strength is such that it might easily, i should think, penetrate the brain; at any rate, the eye would be picked out at once, and that would suffice for that time. a man brought in a crane which he had winged, and we turned him out into the yard with the poultry, where he stalked up and down with a proud, indignant air. he soon became pretty quiet, and ate his corn with the rest, while he had a deep bucket of water for his own use, into which he used to poke his head continually. one day a stupid, heavy servant went into the yard, and, not knowing that the bucket was placed there for the stork, he took it up to carry it away, when the bird flew at him and pecked at his face, but, missing his eye, seized him tightly by the nose, and there he held him for a good while. the poor man halloed loud enough, but those who came to his assistance could not help him at first for laughing; and though he kept beating at the crane with the bucket, which he held in his hand, his long neck enabled him to keep so far off that he escaped all the frantic attempts of his prisoner to reach him. the man's nose was swelled and very sore for some time, and he never got over the ridicule which attached to him for his perilous adventure with the crane. it was touching to watch this crane: when the time for its emigration arrived, a flock of its magnificent companions every day used to fly high up in the air, in a wheeling circle, above its head. this circle of flying birds has a very striking effect. the cranes above called to their friend to join them for their distant journey to a happier climate, and the poor helpless crane below, stretching its long neck up toward the sky, answered the appeal in a singularly mournful cry. various kinds of partridge exist, and the lesser bustard, called, in turkish, mesmeldek, is an excellent bird for the table. they have a curious method of catching the mesmeldek in some of the steppes in southern russia. at the commencement of winter, parties of horsemen gallop out upon the plains before sunrise, at which hour the wings of these birds are frozen to their sides, and, the hunters stretching out their horses in a line, the birds are driven by them into the villages, and secured, before the warmth of the sun releases their wings and restores their powers of flight. great flocks of the lesser bustard have been driven in this manner occasionally into odessa. hawks and stately falcons hover over head, and prey upon their defenseless brethren at their ease. storks build upon the chimneys; and among the sticks of which their huge nest is formed, the sparrows make their nests, stealing, when they can, any food, which the old birds bring for their young. here, as in all other parts of the world, this impertinent race of little birds dispute possession of the house with mice and other intruders; but at erzeroom they are hardly put to it sometimes for want of twigs to perch upon, and they sit usually, instead, upon the iron bars of the windows in the town. here i have often watched them chirping in the cold, as they sat by the dozen on the bars of my window, dressing their feathers, and jabbering to each other, like true koordish sparrows, about the corn that they stole from my chickens yesterday, and how, with case-hardened consciences, they intend to steal as much more as they can get to-day. this is a subject on which i could dilate to any length, but at present i must conclude with the following list of the various tribes of birds who, in thousands and millions, would reward the toil of the sportsman and the naturalist on the plains and mountains of the high lands of armenia; merely adding to this brief notice of the birds of this country the following veracious anecdote, as perhaps hitherto naturalists may not all of them be aware of the origin of the separation of the wild and tame goose: in former days, two geese agreed to take a long journey together: the evening before they were to set out, one said to the other, "mind you are ready, my friend, for, inshallah, i will set out to-morrow morning!" "and so will i," replied he, "whether it pleases god or not!" the sun rose the next day, and the pious goose, having ate his breakfast, and quenched his thirst in the waters of the stream, rose lightly on the wing, and soared away to a distant land. the impious bird also prepared to follow him; but, after hopping and fluttering for a long while, he found himself totally unable to rise from the ground; and his evolutions having been observed by a fowler who happened to be passing that way, he was presently caught, and reduced to servitude, in which his race have ever since continued, while the descendants of the religious goose still enjoy that freedom in which they were originally created. list of birds found at erzeroom. raptores (birds of prey). vultur fulvus fulvous vulture. aquila fulvus fulvous eagle. aquila eagle. accipiter fringillarius sparrow-hawk. falco tinnunculus kestril. ,, osalon hobby. ,, subbuteo merlin. ,, rufipes orange-legged hobby. ,, peregrinus peregrine falcon. ,, peregrinus falcon. milvus ater common kite. buteo ater (?) common buzzard (?). ,, ater marsh buzzard. circus pallidus white hen harrier. ,, rufus marsh hen harrier. noctua indica small indian owl. strix indica another owl. insepores (or perchers). deutirostres. lanius excubitor great strike (or butcher-bird). ,, collurio red-backed strike. collurio minor small strike. musicapa grisola spotted fly-catcher. ,, luctuosa pied fly-catcher. turdus merula blackbird. ,, torquatus ring-ouzel. ,, pilaris fieldfare. ,, musicus song-thrush. petrocinela saxatilis rock-thrush. cinclus aquaticus water-ouzel (or dipper). oriolus galbula golden oriole. motacilla alba white wagtail. ,, flava yellow wagtail. saxicola rubicola stonechat. ,, rubetra whinchat. ,, ænanthe wheatear. sylvia trochilus willow wren. ,, hippolais willow wren. salicaria phragmitis sedge-warbler. ,, cetti(?) sedge-warbler(?). curruca cineria whitethroat. ,, atricapilla blackcap. phoenicura ruticilla redstart. ,, tilkys black redstart. ,, succica bluebreast. erythaca rubecula redbreast. troglodytes europæus wren. rudytes melanocephala wren. anthus arboreus tree-pipit. ,, pratensis pipit-lark. ,, rufescens pipit-pipit. fissirostres. hirundo riparia saced martin. ,, rustica swallow. cypselus murarius swift. caprimulgus europæus goat-sucker. conirostres. alanda arvensis skylark. ,, arborea woodlark. ,, calandra calandre. ,, brachydactila little lark. ,, penicillata horned lark. ,, rupestris rock lark. ,, rupestris (?) (an albino variety). ,, rupestris albino lark. parus major great titmouse. ,, coeruleus blue titmouse. emberiza citrinella yellow-hammer. ,, hortulana ortolan. ,, miliaria common bunting. ,, cia meadow bunting. fringilla coelebs chaffinch. ,, montefrengilla mountain-finch (or brambling). ,, nivalis (?) snow-finch (?) ,, sanguinea bloody-finch. pyrgita domestica house-sparrow. ,, petronea stone-sparrow. carduelis communis goldfinch. pyrrhula communis (?) (a variety of the bullfinch). linaria montuim mountain linnet (or twite). ,, cannabina greater redpole. coccothraustes chloris greenfinch. ,, vulgaris hawfinch. loxia curvirostra crossbill. sturnus vulgaris common starling. pastor roseus rosy-pastor. corvus modedula jackdaw. ,, frugeleus rook. ,, cornix hooded or royston crow. pica candata magpie. garrulus melanocephalus black-headed jay. coracias garrula roller. tenuirostres. upupa epops hoopoe. merops apiaster bee-eater. alcedo ispida kingfisher. scansores (or climbers). yuux torquilla wryneck. cuculus canorus cuckoo. cuculus (?) cuckoo. rasores (allinaceous birds). otis tarda great bustard. ,, tetrax small bustard. pterocles arenarius sand-grouse. perdix saxatilis red or greek partridge. ,, cineria gray or english partridge. coternix vulgaris quail. columba ænos stock-dove. ,, turtur (?) turtle-dove (?). grallæ (or waders). charadrius morinelles dotterel. ,, minor small ring-plover. ,, major large ring-plover. Ã�dienenuus crepitans stone-curlew. ,, crepitans stone-curlew. vanellus cristatus crested lapwing. ,, keptuschka crested lapwing. ,, keptuschka crested lapwing. grus cineria gray crane. ardea alba white heron. ,, cineria gray heron (two sorts very large). ,, cineria night heron. ,, cineria black heron. ,, cineria black and gray heron. botaurus stellaris bittern. nycticorax europæus night heron. ciconia alba white stork. platolea leucorodia white spoonbill. scolopax rusticola woodcock. ,, major double snipe. gallinago media common snipe. ,, minima jack-snipe. ibis falcinellus marone ibis. ,, falcinellus (?) marone ibis. limosa melanolensa tringa subaiquata curlew tringa. ,, minuta small tringa. ,, variabilis changeable tringa. ,, pugnax ruff and reve. ,, pugnax ruff and tringa. totanus hypolencos common sandpiper. ,, ochropus green sandpiper. ,, glotis green shankpiper. ,, calidris red shankpiper. himantopus melanopterus stilts. rallus crec corn-crake. ,, crec corn-rail. ,, crec corn-rail. zapornia pusilla corn-rail. fulica atra coot. gallinula chloropus water-hen. glareola limbata pratin cole. ,, torquata austrian cole. palmipedes (web-footed birds). podiceps cristatus crested grebe. ,, rubricollis red-necked grebe. ,, auritus eared grebe. larus ridibundus laughing gull. ,, argentatus (?) herring gull (?). sterna hirundo common tern. ,, leucoptera common tern. ,, nigra black tern. pelicanus onocrotalus pelican. carbo cormoranus cormorant. anas boschas wild duck. ,, boschas wild duck. cygnus ferus wild swan. anser ferus gray-leg goose. ,, albifrons white-fronted goose. fuligula rufina red-headed pochard. ,, rufina common pochard. ,, cristata tufted duck. querquedula cinerea summer teal. querquedula crecca common teal. dafila caudacuta pintail duck. chaulelosmus strepera gadwall. rynchapsis clypeata black-headed shoveler. tadorna rutila ruddy sheldrake. ,, vulpanser common sheldrake. mergus albellus smew. for this list of birds i am indebted to the kindness of my friend mr. calvert, of erzeroom, to whom i take this opportunity of expressing my best thanks for a communication so interesting to lovers of natural history. chapter xi. excursion to the lake of tortoom.--romantic bridge.--gloomy effect of the lake.--singular boat.--"evaporation" of a pistol.--kiamili pasha.--extraordinary marksman.--alarming illness of the author.--an earthquake.--lives lost through intense cold.--the author recovers. between the days of arrival and departure of the tatars, or couriers, to constantinople, and the struggles to keep the peace and explain the simplest transaction with our colleagues, we found time for various expeditions to the neighboring countries on all sides. the most remarkable of these was that to the deep, unfathomable lake of tortoom, about three days' journey off. our main object in going there was to fish, and we encamped for that purpose on the upper streams of the batoum river and other places. in the valley of the castle of tortoom the trout abounded, and were of that unsophisticated nature that, fishing one hour in the dawn and one hour before sunset with two fly-rods, we caught every day enough to feed our camp, and to send a horse-load (no small quantity) in the evening to our friends at erzeroom. this was one day's march, and the horses, traveling all night, brought the fish, though in the hot weather, in great perfection to the city in the cool of the morning. we were not aware, till it was too late, of the deadly nature of the malaria in these rocky valleys, where the precipice shot up clear and straight to the height, sometimes, we used to judge, of above a thousand feet. on our way through one of these romantic dells, we all rode, bag and baggage, over a bridge, to be compared only to the bridge of al serat, over which the souls of the judged will have to pass from the temple of jerusalem, over the valley of jehoshaphat, till they reach the other world, which bridge is as narrow as the edge of the cimeter of mohammed. the fright i was in is not to be described when i saw the first horseman, who was at the time filling his pipe, walk his horse unconcernedly over this bridge, which was composed of two pine-trees thrown over a torrent which roared and tumbled thirty feet below. however, being afraid to show i was afraid, i rode over too, and certainly thought myself a bold fellow when i got safe to the other side. to ride safely over such a bridge, a horse ought to be brought up to practice on a tight-rope. i would not attempt to walk over such a place nowadays in england. we passed a village in one lovely valley, in a grove of peach-trees, where we found that every soul, or rather every body, was dead; only one man survived the fever which had killed the rest. of all the strange and gloomy scenes that i have witnessed, none have left a deeper impression on my mind than that of the black, unfathomable lake of tortoom. mountains of dark rock fall sheer down in awful precipices right into these deep, still waters on each side. no fish are to be found in this dead sea, though perhaps they may retreat there in the winter from the mountain rills. if the lake was a strange place, the boat which we discovered on the shore was in character with the scene. it was the only vessel on its waters, and its builder probably never studied naval architecture in the dock-yards of the maritime powers. it was formed out of the trunks of two trees; but as no description would so well convey a notion of its form, i refer the curious to the accompanying sketch. the standing figure in it represents a valorous kawass, who fired his pistol in the air for the sake of the echo, and, on the smoke clearing off, he found that the entire pistol had evaporated too; nothing visible remained in his hand; it had burst all to pieces. but, fortunately, neither he nor any of the party were hurt by the fragments, which fell into the waters of the dark and silent lake. october , . this day i was riding on the road toward bayazeed and persia. hearing some shots, i turned toward the hills lying between the town of erzeroom and the mountains, and there i saw two or three tents pitched, and a number of officers, servants, and people attending on kiamili pasha, who was shooting at a mark with a pistol. he is the most wonderful shot i ever heard of: he always fired at a distance of about paces, or yards. any one who will take the trouble to step this distance in a field or park will see how far it is to shoot with a rifle, and how entirely out of all usual calculations in pistol practice. i went into the pasha's tent. he received me, as usual, with great kindness, and, after pipes and coffee, i begged him to go on with his shooting. the way he set about it was this: he sat on one of the low, square rush-bottomed stools which are always found in turkish coffee-houses, but which must have been brought from constantinople probably by the pasha, as those kind of stools are not usually met with in erzeroom. he did not rest his elbow on his knee, but pressed it steadily against his side, took a deliberate but not very slow aim, and sent the ball through a brown pottery vase filled with water, about fifteen inches high, which stood on the other side of a valley, on a level with the tent, and full yards off. i think the pasha broke two while i sat with him, and made a hole which let the water out of another. his pistols were a pair of very slightly rifled dueling-pistols, about nine inches in the barrel, made by egg, great george street, london. i was so much astonished at the pasha's shooting, that i asked him to give me one of the pieces of the vase, which i took home with me, and talked to my friends about it. i felt perfectly well when we went to dinner, when suddenly it appeared to me that what i was eating was burning hot, and had a strange, odd taste. i believe i got up and staggered across the room, but here my senses failed me, and i remained insensible for twenty-seven days. an attack of brain fever had come upon me like a blow, as sudden and overwhelming as a flash of lightning. on the th of october i awoke in the morning, but, as i suppose, went to sleep for a while; in the afternoon i fairly came to my senses, and saw my servant sitting on the scarlet-cloth divan under the window looking at me. i felt something strange, and still, and gloomy in the air, and was rather bewildered with the sensation. this was soon to be accounted for: the servant, seeing that i was alive, came forward toward the bed, while a low rumbling noise made itself heard. this noise became louder; flakes of plaster fell from the ceiling; the room trembled, and was filled with a fine dust, with which i was nearly choked. my man exclaimed, "the earth moves--are you not afraid?" as he spoke, the noise which we had heard increased, and an immense beam, made of the trunk of a whole tree, which was immediately above my bed, split with a report like a cannon. the earthquake shook the house terribly; it creaked and trembled like a ship in a heavy gale of wind; the noise increased to a roar, not like thunder, but howling and bellowing, with a low rumbling sound, while the air was as still as if nature was paralyzed with dread; every now and then a tremendous crash gave notice of a falling house. the one opposite our house, belonging to a poor widow, was entirely destroyed; and, in the midst of a most fearful uproar, the two rooms, one on each side of my bed-room, fell in, while the air was darkened altogether, as in an eclipse, with clouds of dust. so great was the noise of the earthquake all around, that neither my attendant nor i distinguished the particular crash when the two rooms adjoining us fell in. some of the minarets, and many of the houses of the city, were demolished; parts of the ancient castellated walls fell down. the top of one of the two beautiful minarets of the old medressé, the glory of erzeroom, called usually eki chifteh, disappeared. those who were out, and able to witness the devastation, and to hear the awful roaring noise, said they had never seen or heard any thing more tremendous than the scene before their eyes. it is difficult to express in words the strange, awful sensation produced by the seeming impossible contradiction of a dead stillness in the midst of the crash of falling buildings, the sullen, low bellowing, which perhaps sounded from beneath the ground, and the tremendous uproar that arose on all sides during the earthquake. i have not met with an account of this strange phenomenon in the descriptions of other earthquakes, and do not know whether it is a usual accompaniment to these terrible convulsions of nature. the earthquake accomplished its mission: in the midst of terror and destruction, it restored one poor creature to life. i regained my senses and my faculties on the th, as suddenly as i had lost them on the st day of this month. god give me grace to make a good use of the life which was restored to me under such awful circumstances! on that day the doctor, who had some difficulty in getting to my room through the ruins of the ante-room, took the ice off my head, and in a few days i recovered sufficient strength to move my limbs, which i could not do at first. as soon as it appeared that there was any probability of my recovery, my kind friends agreed that the best chance of regaining my health lay in removing, as soon as i could bear the journey, to a better climate. during great part of the year, and naturally in the winter, the cold was so severe that any one standing still for even a very short time was frozen to death. dead frozen bodies were frequently brought into the city; and it is common in the summer, on the melting of the snow, to find numerous corpses of men, and bodies of horses, who had perished in the preceding winter. so usual an event is this, that there is a custom, or law, in the mountains of armenia, that every summer the villagers go out to the more dangerous passes, and bury the dead whom they are sure to find. they have a legal right to their clothes, arms, and the accouterments of the horses, on condition of forwarding all bales of merchandise, letters, and parcels to the places to which they are directed. during the whole month of december the pasha had caused four mules to be exercised every day with a takterawan, or litter, which he provided for my conveyance to trebizond. two mules, led by one man, carried the litter; the other two followed tamely, led by another man, close behind, to be ready to take the places of the others if they were tired or disabled. from morning to night, the men and the mules, and the takterawan, stumped along through the snow, till they dared to face the storm and the immense cold, and could climb up and down the icy rocks like goats. as soon as i was able, i was sent out in the litter to try how i could bear it, and to settle various contrivances for keeping out the cold, and enabling me to bear the motion of the mules. one day colonel williams rode out on the persian road to see whether it was passable for dr. wolf, who was then staying at erzeroom, and who wished to continue his journey to bokhara, when he met a number of horses, each laden with two frozen bodies of persian travelers, one tied on each side of the pack-horse. an unfortunate piedmontese doctor had been lost in a snow-storm a short time before, and his body was found afterward near a small monastery, three or four miles from erzeroom, where he had wandered, bewildered with the falling snow; and a whole party, with one or two ox-carts, who left a village in the morning on their way to another a short distance off, never arrived there; they were found huddled together, oxen, horses, men, and women, in a snow-drift, dead, and frozen hard and stiff, some weeks afterward. the cold was so tremendous at this time that the mountains were impassable, and no one was able to move beyond a short distance from the town. chapter xii. start for trebizond.--personal appearance of the author.--mountain pass.--reception at beyboort.--misfortunes of mustapha.--pass of zigana dagh.--arrival at trebizond. on the th of december, all preparations being completed, i started on my journey over the mountains to trebizond. kiamili pasha had prepared an order to all and sundry, great and small, upon the road, to give me every assistance, and, with this and a powerful firman from the sultan, i had authority to do whatever i pleased in that part of the world. about twenty attendants accompanied me, besides a certain levy from every village i passed, who were to march to the next village every day to clear the roads, move the snow, and pick us out of it when we tumbled in, &c. these villagers were all armed with the peculiar dagger of circassia, called a cama, a most efficient tool as well as weapon, and a short, heavy rifle, generally beautifully made, with which they hit objects at very long distances, yards not being considered out of shot. my personal appearance must have been remarkable: i had a long beard, and so thin a face that my nose was translucent, if not transparent. i had a persian cap upon my head, and over other garments a toilet of my own invention, which vested me with a dignity peculiar to myself: this was a large eider down quilt, of bright green silk, in the middle of which i had caused a hole to be made, through which i put my head; the two ends of the quilt hung down before and behind, like a chasuble or a poncho; round it i tied a girdle. my general appearance must have been rather striking to the beholder, and was probably considered by the natives on the road as the official costume of an elchi bey. i was so weak that when i was bundled into the takterawan i could not turn round, and was nearly smothered in my own feathers, till somebody turned me on the right side upward, when i was able to bid adieu to all the principal europeans and others who had kindly assembled to see me off. a number of people accompanied me for some distance out of the town; and colonel williams came as far as elijè, about three hours in the snow, which ended my first day's march. on the next day, december th, we got to meymansoor, a village at the foot of the first mountain pass, called hoshapoona, a terrible place at all times, but frightful in the depth of winter, and under the circumstances i was in. only two or three days before it had been rendered practicable, by driving a thousand horses, belonging to the caravans which were snowed up at the foot of the pass, up and down the road to make a track. this road is what is called a scala; that is, a series of holes, each about a foot deep, sometimes two feet, about eighteen inches in diameter, and the same in distance from one another. from long practice, the horses put their feet very cleverly into these holes without tripping over the intervening ridges of hardened snow. men on foot usually step on the ridges, which is like walking on the rounds of a ladder for a few hundred miles, the probabilities of not breaking your leg if you slip into the hole before or behind you being very slight. as in many places this road was slantindicular, going up and down at an angle of °, i was reclining in the litter alternately on my head and on my heels--mostly on my head going up hill. my mules were held upon their feet by as many men as could stand on each side, where the road was wide enough; most of it was a ledge on a precipice, about eighteen inches wide, when the men supported my equipage with ropes, a strong body hopping and stumbling behind and before, at the rate of about one mile an hour. my glass windows were smashed with the least possible delay, but we repaired them the next day with oiled paper. at the top of the pass we came upon a party of persians, who were going the other way toward erzeroom; they were seated in a row, on the ledge of the precipice, looking despairingly at a number of their baggage-horses which had tumbled over, and were wallowing in the snow many hundred feet below. they did not seem to be killed, as far as i could see, as the snow had broken their fall. the drift covered the precipitous rock from the bottom to within twenty or thirty feet of the top, and they slid down this till they popped into a deep hole in the snow, like a well, in the valley below. it did not appear that there was any probability of their getting up again. the poor persians crammed themselves into nooks and little hollows on the ledge to make room for us to pass. i presume their horses were frozen to death before we had left them very long. this was an awful spot altogether. we had started before light in the morning, and arrived in a dreary mountain valley, at a hovel called zaza khan, in the evening. during one part of the day, the danger to the takterawan was so great that i was plucked out, and a tall, good-natured man, called beyragdar (the standard-bearer), carried me like a baby in his arms, one or two others supporting him, across a tremendous ledge. i was light enough to carry, but was such a great bundle of fluff that he could not see over me, and another man helped him along, and showed him where to put his feet. we were very fortunate in a fine sunny day for our journey over this tremendous mountain. on the last day of the year we arrived at the town of beyboort. though i had sent two horsemen on to say that i was coming, no one came out of the town to meet me, and on proceeding to the palace or house of the bey, the governor of the place i was refused admittance, though he had received orders before to pay me every attention. i at last was taken in by the cadi, in whose comfortable house i was kindly entertained. the next day we met a tatar, a government courier, on the road from trebizond. i sent letters by him to erzeroom, complaining of my reception by the bey of beyboort; and so rapidly were matters conducted by my friend the pasha, that the bey was turned out of his government, and another bey appointed to succeed him, before i and my party arrived at trebizond. this was sharp practice, and doubtless had a good effect. the chiefs of the other villages, and the one town of gumush khannè, treated me always with great kindness and civility. on the d of january, at a hovel called khaderach khan, i met a rich persian merchant coming from constantinople with his wife and family. he had been eighteen days on the road from trebizond, which is thirty-two hours of tatar-posting; from hence, at this rate, he would be six months on his journey to teheran, to which place he was bound. he was a remarkably gentleman-like man, as most persian gentlemen are. he had a great train of servants and attendants, well dressed and well armed, each with a silver tass, or drinking-cup, slung over his shoulder, and a handsome cama dangling by a narrow strap from the front of his girdle, and his waist squeezed till he could hardly shut his mouth, in true circassian style. he had numbers of curious contrivances for comfort and convenience: little fire-places, hanging to the stirrup, for hot coals, to light the caleoons, &c. his son, a smart youth, spoke french, and we passed a very pleasant hour together, though i had turned him out of the best hole in the hovel, into which beyragdar laid me down softly in the corner; and i was so much exhausted that i knew nothing of the confusion i had made till i had had a cup of blazing hot russian tea, with a slice of lemon in it instead of cream, and had taken the diversion of wondering at an odd sort of partridge which one of my men had knocked over with a stone, for which act i presented him with the sum of / d. sterling. at kalé khan i had given leave to one mustapha, my kawass bashi, or captain of the kawasses, to go and see his family, who lived in a village a short distance off the road; he had not seen them for a long time, and went on his way rejoicing. at a place called porda bakchelari, where i was resting on the d, he made his appearance again; he was so altered in looks that i did not know him at first; so much so, that i asked him who he was, and what he wanted with me. his history, poor fellow! was as follows: when he arrived at his village, he rode up to the door of his own house, thinking to give a happy surprise to his wife and children, whose names he called out as he stopped his horse in the little street. no one answered, when he called again, and knocked loudly at the door several times. at last an old woman put her head out of the door of another house, and screamed to him to know what he was making such a noise about. "i want such a one," said he, naming his wife. "what, eyesha?" said the old woman; "who are you? you must be a stranger to this place not to know that she died of the fever and was buried two weeks ago." "and where is hassan?" said the poor kawass, asking for his eldest son. "oh, he died three months ago." "and the two little ones?" he asked. "they were buried, i forget how long it is since," said the old woman; "the fever got into that house; the people are all dead. you had better not go in, stranger, for it has been locked up by the cadi, and the owner, mustapha aga, lives a long way off at erzeroom. inshalla! he will come some day, and the cadi will deliver the key to him." mustapha kawass never dismounted from his horse in his native village; he turned slowly away, and rode back to the track of the mules and horses of my followers till he caught us up at bakchelari khan. "allahkerim!" (god is merciful!) said his companions, when he had told us this sad history. his family was swept from the face of the earth; there was not a servant left, not one old well-remembered face to greet him in his visit to the village where he had passed his childish days. he had heard nothing of the fever or of the infliction which had fallen upon his house, and suddenly he found himself alone in the wide world. we were all grieved for him, but what could we do? every one looked grave as we plodded on again through the snow and ice, and smoked the pipe of reflection in silence on our weary way. on the th we got into a fix near a place called madem khanlari, in the pass of zigana dagh, a worse place than even hoshabounar: we had been all day scrambling about in rocky ledges, and crossing torrents and snow-drifts, each of which seemed impassable till we went at it with a will: a number of villagers, with axes and ropes, came with us, and worked valiantly in clearing the ice off the narrow shelves of rock, and leading the horses through the most difficult places, where they could hardly stand; sometimes the horses were almost lifted by the men. by the greatest care and exertion, none as yet fell over the precipices. my takterawan was surrounded by a posse of zealous, active mountaineers, clinging to each other, and putting the mules' feet into the holes which they cut for them with their axes. at last we got to a place where there was a sudden turn at the narrow edge of a gorge or cleft of rock: the length of the litter, with one mule before and another behind, made it impossible to turn without going over. somehow, by the help of a number of men, the front mule was carried by main force round the corner, till we were in such a position that the hinder mule was being dragged over the precipice by the poles of the takterawan, to which it was harnessed. without a drawing it is difficult to describe the position we had got into; but it may be partly understood by the fact that, out of whichever side of the takterawan i looked, there was nothing under me, for perhaps two hundred feet, till you arrived at a brawling torrent, which kept itself alive by violent exercise, in jumping, leaping, and tumbling over the rocks and cascades at the bottom of the ravine, so that it was the only thing not frozen hard and still in the dead landscape of thick ice, and snow, and shattered rock, and the clean, smooth precipice towered up from the little merry stream to hundreds of feet above our heads, where an edge of snow and a fringe of icicles shone in the bright sky upon the topmost margin of the cliffs. some of the men now sat down, with their legs hanging over the precipice; they were supported by other men, while, in their turn, they held the legs of the mules, who were beginning to get frightened, or perhaps choked, and gave utterance to curious exclamations. my friend beyragdar made a bridge of his long body, by leaning over from the inner angle of the road to the side of the takterawan. as for me, beyond peeping like an old rat out of a cage, i could not move, so i lay still till i was pulled out by two men over beyragdar's back, handed like a bundle over the foremost mule, and stuck upon a horse a little farther on. the mules were, somehow or other, saved and released from the shafts of the takterawan, which i never saw again; they could get it no further, and the rest of the journey i made on horseback, supported by a man on each side when the road was wide enough, by one when it was too narrow for two, and, when there was only room for the horse alone, beyragdar carried me in his arms till we got to the strada reale, good two feet wide, when i was put upon a horse again. in this way, by slow degrees, we scrambled on our way, till, on the th of january, after fifteen days' journey through the intense cold of the mountains, i arrived, in better health and strength than when i started, at the edge of the table-land, from whence i saw the blue waters of the sea, and at o'clock a.m. i was seated in my room in the quarantine station at trebizond. chapter xiii. former history of trebizond.--ravages of the goths.--their siege and capture of the city.--dynasties of courtenai and the comneni.--the "emperor" david.--conquest of trebizond by mehemet ii. trebizond, so famous in the middle ages as the residence of magicians, enchanters, and redoubted heroes of chivalry, is better known in the pages of romance than for any facts of historical importance which occurred there during many centuries. the only person who might probably have been able to throw much light upon the ancient history of this byzantine city was that veracious chronicler, the cid hamet bengenelli, who, in his account of the renowned and valorous knight of the rueful countenance, records of don quixote that "the poor gentleman already imagined himself at least crowned emperor of trebizond by the valor of his arm; and wrapped up in these agreeable delusions, and hurried on by the strange pleasure he took in romances of chivalry, he prepared to execute what he so much desired." two real events, however, occurred at trebizond which i shall endeavor to describe--the only ones which stand out with any prominence in the records of the dukes, counts, and governors who held this province in their languid rule. in the third century the goths, a band of desperate barbarians, who came originally from prussia, were established in a curious out-of-the-way kingdom, situated on the cimmerian bosporus, the inlet which gives access to the sea of azof from the black sea. trebizond, the capital of a roman province, had been founded in the days of xenophon by a grecian colony, and now owed its wealth and splendor to the munificence of the emperor hadrian, who had constructed an artificial harbor for its shipping, while the town was defended on the land side by a double line of walls and towers, some part of which probably exist at the present time among the fortifications afterward erected by the christian emperors and the turks. in those troublous times the country was in disorder, and the wealthy patricians had sent their treasures into the town for greater security, the garrison having been re-enforced by an additional body of , men. a numerous fleet of ships was in the harbor, which, perhaps, were timidly seeking refuge from the pirates of the euxine within the encircling quays of the harbor of hadrian. the riches of the inhabitants, the balmy climate, and the soft manners of the greeks, had enervated the spirits of the commanders of the troops; the fashionable triflers were sunk in luxury and ease; feeling secure within the impregnable walls of the imperial fortress, they gave themselves up to feelings of indolent disdain of foreign enemies; and the brilliant officers and scornful senators, in flowing robes, passed their days in feasting and attending upon the ladies, to the neglect of discipline and vigilance, trusting that the lofty walls and mighty towers were sufficient bulwarks to keep off the barbarians whom they despised. about the year of our era, the goths, who had made several roving expeditions on the shores of circassia, had plundered, with various success, the temples and cities on the coasts of the black sea. these indomitable savages embarked on board a fleet of small flat-bottomed boats, each containing only a few men, who inhabited a sort of house with a shelving roof, built of wood, in the centre of the boat. an innumerable shoal of these floating houses spread over the surface of the waves, trusting to the winds for the course they should pursue, and to the ravage of the villages on shore for food. this swarm of rapacious pirates arrived in the course of one of their forays in the neighborhood of trebizond; they landed in numbers under the walls, from the summits of which the fair damsels and silken warriors looked down with pitying scorn on the uncouth behavior, badly-made garments, and coarse appearance of the roving goths, and, having satisfied their curiosity and expressed their contempt for the horde of barbarians who had arrived in the strange fleet of little boats, they retired to the arcades surrounding the courts of the palaces; some went to the forum in the centre of the town, to hear the news and laugh at the uncouth appearance of the goths. the ladies and gentlemen, changing their morning dresses for a lighter and richer evening costume, assembled in the marble halls of many palaces, charmed with the excitement of a new subject for ridicule in the persons and dresses of the goths, and a new theme for conversation in the refined assemblies of the polished nobles and lovely damsels of the luxurious city of trebizond. i can imagine the conversation of a pleasant little party assembled in the triclinium of the prefect of the city. the gentlemen, in studied attitudes, reclining on the divans or couches placed against the wall, behind the marble tables; the ladies, in graceful robes, seated at their feet; while pages, with wreaths of flowers round their heads, in short tunics of white silk, brought up dishes of blackbirds stewed in wine; tarts sweetened with honey, which could be eaten with impunity by natives, while strangers lost their senses if they ventured on the dangerous condiment. "eudocia, dearest, did you go up those horrid steps upon the wall, to look at those people outside? did you ever see such creatures?" "oh, yes, lais, i did. poor barbarians! why do they tie their legs up with leather thongs in that funny way? and what skimpy tunics they wear! i think they must be made of sheepskin! there was one of them--a great personage, no doubt, in his own nasty little country--who had made himself a toga of a blanket. did not you see him, xenophon? you were with us." "well--aw--why, yes, i think i did," says xenophon; "but what heavy axes they carry! what long, straight swords they wear! they say their hilts are gold; i dare swear they are brass. our legionaries would make short work of them." "well," says lais, "i wish you would send those ugly people away, for one can not take a drive in the hippodrome since they have been here these two days, and the new silver harness for my white oxen is so pretty. but, eudocia, did you see the lady? i hear she is a princess--a princess, who travels in a punt! dear me, a great lady she must be!" "i never heard of her," says eudocia; "do tell me all about her. what is she like? is she tall or short? pretty or ugly? or what? let us have a description of your barbarian lady." "why," answers lais, "she is awfully tall, and she has light hair, plaited in two long tails like ropes, and much of the same color, which hang down on each side of her face in front, and reach to her knees. she is dressed in a long and very full gown, with innumerable plaits, coming high up round her throat. her gown is confined round her waist by a girdle of gold and jewels, and she has a golden fillet round her head. this gown was light blue, and was so long i could not see her feet; but those of the maidens with her were of such a size, eudocia, that four of our feet might walk about in their shoes, which were of gold stuff, coming up to the ankle, and worked with pearls--as heavy as lead, i should imagine." "but was the princess pretty?" again inquires eudocia. "xenophon says she is, but i don't believe him. she has strange-colored eyes, i was told--the color of her gown, and is not pale and smooth as marble, but with rosy cheeks and a throat as white as snow; but she looked very stupid, and solemn, and proud. what she can have to be proud of, poor creature! i can not conceive; she has not the black eyes and bright smile of our girls." "that is a curious wool the men wear on their caps," saith xenophon; "it is curly, and of a light bluish-gray color. the barbarians seem to think it is very fine. i have not seen any thing like it: it is made of the skin of a peculiar breed of lambs, to be met with nowhere out of their country." "what in the world can they want so many fagots for?" asks another young lady. "i am sure the days are hot enough in the summer; perhaps they have no firewood in their own miserable regions; they have been doing nothing but cut bushes and make fagots of them on the hill-side above the citadel ever since they have been here." "ah," says xenophon, "except the amusement of burning a few villages, though that could hardly repay them the trouble, for all the goods worth carrying away have been brought within the walls. however, here comes the little cup-bearer with the chian and falernian wine. never mind these outer barbarians; let us go to supper." so they went to supper, and, affecting classic tastes, sang verses on heroic themes from homer, accompanied by music on the lyre and the double pipe. the goths went to supper too outside, under the trees, and ate great pieces of beef cut from oxen roasted whole. the night was very dark, but the guards and the citizens lit up their rooms gayly within the city, which resounded with laughter, songs, and merriment. the night advanced, and so did the goths; each man bore a fagot, which he threw into the ditch below the wall. thousands were piled upon those below, others were thrown on them; the heap of fagots rose, the upper ones were level with the battlements. where were the city guards? where were the legionaries and the , auxiliary troops? they were sleeping off the fatigues of the evening feast; they were any where but where they should be--upon the walls. down from the towers and the bastions poured a stream of fierce determined warriors; they closed the gates on that side, for fear the garrison should get out; but the alarm was spread; the legionaries, who were awakened by the cry, made off through the opposite side of the fortifications and escaped into the country. those who were not quick enough were stabbed in the back and slain in heaps; fire and the sword commenced their fearful reign, blood ran in the streets, the massacre was horrible. the most holy temples, says the historian, the most splendid edifices, were involved in a common destruction. the booty that fell into the hands of the goths was immense. the wealth of the adjacent countries, which had been deposited in trebizond as a secure place of refuge, was added to the spoil. the number of captives was incredible; those who were left alive were gathered together by the goths. lais and eudocia became the handmaids of the gothic princess. xenophon and able-bodied dandies were driven down to the port by goths, who made them chain each other to the oars of the galleys, on board of which the enormous plunder of trebizond was embarked by the forced labor of the citizens, one or two being cut in half with a sweep of the long gothic sword, to encourage the others if they did not hurry in their work under the burning rays of the sun. the cimmerian bosporus received the fleet of galleys laden with the treasures, and rowed by the slaves, of the noble city of trebizond, now smouldering in a heap of smoking ruins. thus ended the first episode in the history of trebizond. for more than a thousand years the history of trebizond remains enveloped in the mists of obscurity and insignificance; various dukes, princes, and counts succeeded each other in a long line of inglorious pride. in the thirteenth century the chivalrous house of courtenai, by the assistance of the heroes of the crusades, mounted the throne of constantinople, and the ancestors of the earl of devon produced three emperors, who reigned in succession over the oriental portion of the roman empire. the ancient dynasty of the comneni, being expelled from the dominions over which they had presided for centuries, fled for refuge into various lands. alexius, the son of manuel and grandson of andronicus comnenus, obtained the government of the duchy of trebizond, which extended from the unfortunate sinope to the borders of circassia. he seems to have reigned in peace. the acts of his son, who succeeded him, are as unknown as his name, which has not even descended to posterity. the grandson of alexius was david comnenus, who, with an assurance and presumption which is almost ludicrous, took upon himself the style and title of emperor of trebizond. puffed up with vanity and self-conceit, this feeble prince enjoyed for a short period the imperial dignity which he possessed only in name. the erection of this quaint and ridiculous christian empire appears to have made a great sensation among the knights and troubadours of the fifteenth century. the geographical knowledge of those days was confined to few, and the empire of trebizond, like that of prester john, whose extent and situation were equally apocryphal, formed the theme of many a fabulous adventure and many a romance, which served to beguile the evening hours by the firesides of the castles and convents of england and france. fairies and wizards, ogres and giants, peopled the realms of fancy in this distant empire. lovely princesses were rescued from the thraldom of paynim castellans, and followers of mahound and termagaunt, by valiant christian knights armed with cross-hilted swords, and lutes, and talismans, the gift of benignant fairies, whose existence was only to be found in the imaginations of the unknown but delightful authors of the romances of chivalry, and the poems and ballads of the trouveurs and troubadours. the truths were not so agreeable as the fictions of "the good old times." as it happens to be in my power to do so, i present the reader with a portrait of the mighty emperor, as he appeared on the occasion which i am about to describe. his dress consisted of a tight gown of scarlet silk; round his neck, down the front of his gown, and round the bottom of it, were bands of gold about four inches wide; these were edged with pearls, and ornamented with large rubies and emeralds in rows down the centre of each band of gold. on his arms, above the elbows, were golden armlets, and round his wrists gold bracelets, all set with colored precious stones. his girdle, of the same pattern, and about three inches wide, had a hanging end about two feet long, which the byzantine emperors, for some undiscovered reason, seem always to have carried over the left arm. in his right hand he bore a golden sceptre, about three feet long, with a largish cross at the top, set with enormous pearls. on his head he wore a close golden crown, of which the top (that part made of velvet in the crown of england) was also of metal, like a helmet. from this crown a fillet set with pearls hung down on each side of his face to his beard, which was of some length. scarlet silk hose and golden sandals completed the imperial costume, except that he rejoiced in two round ornaments of gold and jewels, each the size of a plate, which were affixed to his robe on the outside of the thigh. the costume of the empress was very similar, only her crown was open at the summit. she, contrary to female custom, wore no girdle, while over her shoulders hung a mantle of a dark color, embroidered all over with gold. the emperor wore no mantle, although this garment is usually considered as an essential part of the royal costume. such was the appearance of david comnenus, emperor of trebizond, when he gave audience to the embassadors from foreign powers, seated on a golden throne at the summit of a high flight of steep golden steps, surrounded by his court and his officers (conspicuous among whom appeared the lictors with silver axes, for, as in the third century the romans affected the usages of the greeks, in the fifteenth century the greeks followed the customs of the cæsars--so prone is human nature to revere the ancient ceremonies of by-gone days), puffed up with vanity at his own glorious position, and placed in awful majesty upon his golden throne in the chamber of audience, whose walls were painted to look like porphyry, and the ceilings colored with figures on a gold ground in imitation of mosaic, an ornament too expensive for the resources of the empire. the chamberlains and heralds with a loud voice announce the arrival of an envoy from the high and mighty lord the soldan mehemet ii.; upon which the twelve lictors round the throne lifted up their voices, and cried out, "semper bibat imperator:" the letter v not being found in the greek alphabet, vivat was spelt with a beta, b; and being pronounced as it was spelt, the sense of the exclamation was a good deal compromised. the solemn envoy from the soldan stalked into the hall, followed by a grisly retinue clothed from head to foot in armor, partly composed of steel plates inlaid with sentences from the koran in gold letters, and partly completed with flexible chain mail. their helmets had conical summits, almost like a low church steeple, while instead of plumes they displayed a rod of steel, from which fluttered a small crimson flag from the summits of their casques. the letter from the soldan, inclosed in a bag of brocade, was handed to the important emperor, who, on breaking the seal, read the following words: "wilt thou secure thy treasures and thy life by resigning thy kingdom, or wilt thou rather forfeit thy kingdom, thy treasures, and thy life?" but a short time before, such was the terror occasioned by the name of the redoubted sultan mehemet ii., who had just planted the victorious crescent over the cross of st. sofia, that ismael beg, the mohammedan prince of sinope, who derived an enormous revenue from the copper-mines in his principality, immediately surrendered his dominions on a summons of a like import with the above, although at that period sinope was defended with strong fortifications, cannons, and , men. david comnenus descended from his golden throne in the year , and with his family was sent, apparently as a prisoner, to a distant castle, where, being accused of corresponding with the king of persia, he and his whole race were massacred by the orders of his furious conqueror. with him ended the illustrious dynasty of the comneni, and the history of the independent state of trebizond, which has since those times remained a remote, and till lately an almost unexplored province of the turkish empire. chapter xiv. present condition of armenia. impassable character of the country.--dependence of persia on the czar.--russian aggrandizement.--delays of the western powers.--russian acquisitions from turkey and persia.--oppression of the russian government.--the conscription.--armenian emigration.--the armenian patriarch.--latent power of the pope.--anomalous aspect of religious questions. the description of armenia and the adjacent districts in the foregoing pages will have sufficed to give a general idea of the many difficulties to be encountered by those whose business leads them through this inhospitable region, where they meet with impediments at every step, from the lofty mountains traversed by roads accessible only to mules and horses, the extreme cold of the high passes and elevated plains, the impossibility of obtaining provisions, and the savage character of the koords and other wandering tribes who roam over this wild country. if a traveler, accompanied by a few followers, and assisted by firmans from the sultan, finds this journey arduous in the extreme, how much more so must it prove to the general in command of an army, with many thousand men to provide for, with artillery and heavy baggage to encumber his march, on roads inaccessible to carriages or wheeled vehicles of any kind! and if to these is added an enemy on the alert to cut off supplies, to harass the long, straggling line of march, and to attack the passing army in narrow defiles from behind rocks, and from the summits of precipices, where they are safe from molestation, it will be understood that the difficulties presenting themselves to military operations in these regions are almost insuperable. it is the inaccessible nature of circassia, even more than the bravery of its inhabitants, which has enabled them to resist the overwhelming power of russia for so many years. on the approach to erzeroom these difficulties increase. from georgia, persia, and trebizond, there is no other city or entrepôt where an army could rest to lay in stores and collect supplies for a campaign, with the exception of erzeroom, which is the centre or key to all these districts. if it was strongly fortified, as it should be, or was, at any rate, in the occupation of an active, intelligent government, the power who possessed it would hold the fate of that part of asia in its hands. no caravans could pass, no mercantile speculations could be carried on, and no large bodies of troops could march without its permission. they would, in all probability, perish from the rigors of the climate if they were not assisted, even without the necessity of attacking them by force of arms. at this moment, the greater part of the artillery of the turkish army is, i believe, buried under the snow in one of the ravines between beyboort and erzeroom, from whence it has no chance of being rescued till next summer. it was the impassable character of this country, and the treacherous habits of the robber tribes of koordistan, which made the retreat of xenophon and the ten thousand through the same regions the wonderful event which it has been always considered. while this is the nature of the elevated lands and mountains, the valleys which surround the snowy regions are absolutely pestiferous: in many of them no one can sleep one night without danger of fever, frequently ending in death. the port, or roadstead, of batoum is so unhealthy as to be utterly uninhabitable to strangers during all the hot season of the year. i wish to draw attention to these circumstances, in order to explain the almost impossibility of dispossessing any power which had already obtained a firm footing in this district; and it is in order to fix herself firmly in this important post that russia is now advancing in that direction, with a perfect knowledge of the advantages to be derived from this barren and unfruitful region, while she has the advantage of being able to send supplies to her forces by the caspian sea; for, once within her grasp, persia is no longer independent; and, fettered as she is by her russian debt, and what, in private affairs, would be called her heavy mortgage on her only valuable provinces on the shores of the caspian--geilaun and mazenderaun--she must sink into the state of a vassal kingdom, subject to the commands of her superior lord the czar. the sum she owes to russia is said to be about two millions sterling; far more than she could ever raise at a short notice, while she would receive no assistance in war from any of the neighboring sooni tribes, whose religious feelings are so much opposed to the sheahs; therefore, unless supported by great britain, persia is now almost at the mercy of russia. russia is altogether a military power, and, as in the dark ages, the czar and his nobles affect to despise the mercantile class, and, instead of doing what they can to promote industry and commerce, by opening communications, making roads and harbors, establishing steamers on rivers, and giving facility to the interchange of various commodities, the productions of distant quarters of her own enormous empire, she throws every obstacle in the way of her internal trade, and by heavy import duties, exactions of many oppressive kinds, and the universal plunder and cheating carried on by all the government officials in the lower grades of employment, she has paralyzed both her foreign and domestic resources. the czar prefers to buy his own aggrandizement with the blood of his confiding subjects, to the more honorable and less cruel course of enriching his empire by the extension of his commercial relations abroad, and the development of the peaceful arts, industry, science, and general improvement of the nations subjected to his rule. if it was not for this utter disregard of commerce, and the undivided attention of the russian government to every thing connected with military glory, the navigation of the great rivers would have poured many more roubles into the treasury of st. petersburgh than will be gained by any territorial accessions previous to the taking of constantinople. even under present circumstances, it is wonderful that a canal has not been made from tzaritzin, on the volga, to the nearest point upon the don, a distance of not more than thirty miles, for by this means the silk of the northern provinces of persia would be brought with the greatest facility into the black sea. in a mercantile point of view, russia would gain more by the construction of that canal than by the conquest of armenia, for it would enable her to develop the great resources of geilaun and mazenderaun, virtually belonging to her at this moment. the trade which in former times enriched the famous cities of bokhara and samarkand would be carried by caravans through khiva, either now, or soon to be, the head-quarters of a russian governor; from thence they would, with any encouragement, pass on their rich bales of merchandise to the russian posts of karagan, or krasnovodsk, on the eastern shores of the caspian, or to asterabad on the south, and at these ports, now unknown to european navigators, ships might be laden which would discharge their cargoes at liverpool, st. petersburgh, or new york. i have said above that russia has but little to gain by her territorial conquests in asiatic turkey until she takes constantinople. i say this because, if things are permitted by the western powers to continue as they have done for some years, the czar will most certainly be enthroned in the capital of the byzantine emperors, principally by the assistance of england and france. it is a question only of time: for that the patriarch of constantinople will give his blessing to the christian emperor under the dome of st. sofia sooner or later, and before many years have passed, i have hardly any doubt; and when once fairly seated on that throne, the powers of europe will not shake him in his seat. the acquisition of the crimea, with the strong naval arsenal of sevastopol, gave the czar the command of the black sea. the wonderful business of navarino, where the english and french admirals fought his battle for him, and crippled his enemy and their own ancient ally for many a year, was the next important step. the third seems to be taking place at this moment, if indeed sufficient advantages have not been gained already to suffice for the present emergency. it matters little whether russia does or does not retain the provinces of wallachia and moldavia, which she has several times occupied before; she has almost drained the treasury of her enemy, now straining every nerve to avert the impending evil. turkey will hardly be able to support the expenses of the war for any length of time from her own resources. even if a diplomatic peace is concluded, it will, in fact, amount only to a truce, during which the czar will have time to strengthen his position, and prepare his forces for another and a more vigorous assault on the first convenient opportunity which occurs, from any dissension which may arise between the leading powers of the west; and the sultan, having received nothing from his ancient allies but fair words, will be less able to defend himself than he is at present. the greatest of blessings in this world is peace, and every thing should be done to avoid the breaking out of war, with all the horrors and sufferings which are brought upon mankind by that dreadful scourge. i think it was the duke of wellington who said that, next to a defeat, the most awful of all calamities was a victory. every endeavor should be made to secure the happiness of peace. to those, however, who have no further means of information than what they read in newspapers, it would seem that, while we might have put out the candle, we have waited till the chimney is on fire, if not the house itself, and then who can tell how far and wide the conflagration may extend? if england and france had shown a determined front, and informed the czar that, being bound by treaty to preserve the integrity of the turkish empire, they should consider the passage of the pruth by one russian armed man as a violation of that treaty and a declaration of war, and that they should act accordingly without delay, in all probability no war would have commenced, no blood would have been shed, no ruinous expenses would have been incurred. war having commenced, heavy and exhausting sums of money have been drawn from the treasury of the sultan. when the ice set in upon the baltic, what was to prevent the allied fleet from taking possession of the stores of corn, and occupying or destroying the city of odessa? sevastopol, impregnable by sea, is not--or was not two years ago, and, i believe, at this day is not--defensible on the land side. the bay of streleskaia offers a convenient landing-place about three miles in the rear of the fortifications of the arsenal, where a turkish army might be brought in two days from constantinople to try its fortunes with the russian force; or, if that was not judged expedient, sevastopol could have been blockaded till some advantageous terms were gained for our ally. failing this, a french army, convoyed and assisted by their own and our fleets, would have settled the question without doubt, and may do so still; but, unless an indemnity for the expenses of the war is exacted from russia for her most unjust and unjustifiable aggression, very little advantage will be gained for turkey, a great step will have been accomplished by the czar, and the possession of the crimea almost insures him the possession of constantinople some day, perhaps at no very distant period. the restoration of the crimea to the turkish empire would, i imagine, be the only means of checking the advance of russia in that direction. this, accompanied by a forced treaty, releasing persia from her usurious debt, would restrain the encroachments of the czar within certain bounds for some years to come. the present aspect of affairs in the east becomes more alarming every day. if negotiations are protracted till the ice of the baltic melts in the spring or early summer, things will assume a much more grave appearance, and it will depend on many circumstances over which we have no control where the conflagration then may spread and where the war will end. it is impossible to look back upon the history of russia for the last years without admiration and astonishment at the enormous strides which have been made by the giants of the north since that period. when peter the great acceded to the throne of muscovy, there was no maritime outlet to his empire excepting in the icy shores of the northern ocean. the ground on which the metropolis of st. petersburgh now stands was not in the possession of russia till the year . since the year russia has acquired, quite in the memory of man, a territory from turkey equal in extent to the whole empire of austria, and much larger than the present possessions of the turks in europe. the following table of the progress of the russian arms in the east will show at a glance how rapidly and steadily she has extended her power, her grasping hand, and her outstretched arm in that direction; and it can not be expected that, when she has rested and strengthened herself, and consolidated her resources in her newly-acquired territories, she will be prevented by any slight obstacle from further aggrandizement. russian acquisitions from turkey. country to the north of the crimea the crimea country round odessa country between the sea of azof and the caspian, at the same period as the crimea besarabia russian acquisitions from persia. mingrelia, on the black sea immeritia, the same year akalzik georgia ganja karabaugh erivan, mount ararat, and etchmiazin sheki shirvan talish, on the caspian few of these conquered or deluded nations have been able to bear the intolerable oppression of the russian government, arising from the insolence of the petty employés, and more particularly the dreadful scourge of the conscription, by the aid of which, at any moment, children are remorselessly torn forever from their parents, whose sole support they were; families are on a sudden divided; one half sent off no one knows whither, never to meet again; none of these unhappy slaves knowing whether it will be their lot to become soldiers or sailors, but, in either case, they are driven off, like beasts, in flocks, by cruel, savage tyrants, who steal, as a matter of course, the money provided by the superior government for the food of the despairing conscripts, while they--brutal and drunken though they may be--are distinguished for their love of home, and the affection and respect they bear for their parents. the nogai tatars abandoned the christian religion, and took refuge in the territories of the khan of the crimea, becoming mohammedans in hopes of obtaining the protection of the milder rule of turkey. in a still more extraordinary event took place. the kalmuks, a people who had emigrated from the frontiers of china, unable to endure the insults and oppressions of the russian tyranny, made up their minds to return to the dominions of the celestial empire, from whence their ancestors had originally come. they fought their way through all the hostile tribes intervening between them, and their whole nation arrived safely under the wing of the emperor of china, who afforded them protection, and gave them great tracts of land for the pasture of their flocks and herds. the embassador of the empress catharine, who had been dispatched to desire the surrender of the fugitive tribe, and--as at this day in turkey--to demand a "renewal of treaties" between the two countries, received the following answer from the court of pekin: "let your mistress learn to keep old treaties, and then it will be time to apply for new ones;" an answer which might have been given in our day to prince menschikoff, who was lucky in meeting with a milder reception at constantinople than his predecessor received from the stout old mandarin at pekin. in the year , kars, bayazeed, van, moush, erzeroom, and beyboort (which is coming very near) were occupied by the russians, who evacuated that portion of the turkish empire on the conclusion of the treaty of adrianople. trusting to the protestations of a christian emperor, sixty-nine thousand christian armenian families were beguiled into the folly of leaving mohammedan dominions, and sitting in peace under the paternal protection of the czar. over their ruined houses i have ridden, and surveyed with sorrow their ancient churches in the valleys of armenia, desecrated and injured, as far as their solid construction permitted, by the sacrilegious hands of the russian soldiers, who tried to destroy those temples of their own religion which the turks had spared, and under whose rule many of the more recent had been rebuilt on their old foundations. the greater part of these armenians perished from want and starvation; the few who survived this sharp lesson have since been endeavoring, by every means in their power, to return to the lesser evils of the frying-pan of turkey, from whence they had leaped into the fire of despotic russia. by the treaty of turkomanchai, , the czar became possessed of persian armenia, of which the capital is erivan. in this district are contained the two great objects of armenian veneration, etchmiazin and mount ararat. this noble snowy mountain takes the place, in the estimation of the armenians, that mount sinai and mount zion do among the followers of other christian sects. the foolish legends which disgrace the purity of true religion usually relate to the object of local tradition which may be met with in the neighborhood of the monastery; consequently an attack of indigestion in an armenian monk generally produces a vision of some nonsensical revelation about noah's ark, which is still supposed to remain, hidden to mortal eye, under the clouds and snows of mount ararat. etchmiazin is an ancient fortified monastery, within whose walls resides the patriarch of the armenian church, the spiritual head of that body, and who is looked up to indeed as the temporal chief of that scattered nation whose industrious children are settled in india, constantinople, and in many other parts of the world, so that those who live and thrive abroad are much more numerous and more wealthy than those who reside in armenia itself. the possession, therefore, of the person and residence of the patriarch is a fact of no small importance in the history of russian advancement. to undertake a pilgrimage to etchmiazin is a meritorious act among the professors of the armenian faith; and the influence exercised over the patriarch is diffused, through the obedient medium of bishops, priests, and deacons, through all parts of turkey, and many of the cities of india, to an extent which would surprise those who never have troubled themselves with the affairs of the armenian jeweler or silversmith in an eastern bazaar, for they are almost invariably dealers in jewels and precious metals; or serafs, bankers, among the native population; a position which renders their influence of no small consequence in every city where they reside. by these means, among others, the political interest of the czar is nourished and extended on the persian gulf, at bombay, bushire, madras, and many another place, in the same manner as the sway and power of the roman pontiff is upheld, and that by no weak and trembling hand, in ireland, england, london, and the house of commons. and yet we pretend that there is no such power as the see of rome; we ignore the existence of the pope, and sneer at the prince of a petty italian state supported by french bayonets, who is in that rotten and decaying state that we or our children are to see his end. but my belief is, that the power of rome is by no means in a falling state, nor would it be so even if the rule of some band of miscreants usurped for a little while the misgovernment of the eternal city. the power of the pope is now, at this moment, one of the greatest upon the earth; and as irreligion and dissent increase, so will the most wonderfully clever institution of the temporal power of the roman church increase. its minute and marvelous organization, the perfect understanding and subordination of the inferior to the superior officer, its fixed and certain purpose, give the pope the command over such a united and well-disciplined army of trained and fearless soldiers as never could be brought together by cæsar, or napoleon, or our own old duke. the peace of europe in this direction arises not from the slightest want of power or means on the part of the see of rome, but from the jealousy of the body in whose hands the election of the supreme pontiff lies. for many years they have elected a good old monk, who has passed his whole life in a state of supreme ignorance of the world in general, and the whole art of government in particular. in his hands the mighty power at his command remains inert--a slumbering volcano. but should the ivory chair of st. peter ever sustain the weight of a young and energetic man of genius, with some years of life before him, no one would laugh at the tottering state of rome. as for the petty principality of a state in italy, i have been told, in the pope's own ante-room, that it is a burden to him. his extended sway does not depend on the doubtful loyalty of half a dozen regiments of italians, or on the more honest obedience of two or three thousand swiss guards, but on the hearts and hands of many millions, who look up to him as their spiritual superior at all times, and their temporal superior, whom they are bound to obey in opposition to all other sovereigns, when any thing occurs "ad majorem dei gloriam," and for the advancement of the church of rome. a power such as this, which in our trafficking and money-making country is thought little of--a power such as this lies dormant in the hands of the grand lama of thibet, whose followers form almost half of all mankind--in those of the patriarch of constantinople--and to an inferior degree in those of the patriarch of etchmiazin. they are all paralyzed and quiescent from the same cause, namely, that the chiefs of these mighty institutions are old, ignorant men, whose minds have not the energy, or their hands the power, to work the tremendous engine committed to their care. that the czar is perfectly aware of the uses to be made of the religious feelings of the inhabitants of other governments to further his own ends, we see from the numerous magnificent presents ostentatiously forwarded by him to churches in greece and turkey, where the monks and priests by these means are gained over to his interests. from his generous hand, extended to the borders of the adriatic, about £ are annually dropped into the poor-box of that truculent specimen of the church militant, the vladica of montenegro. but the czar is not an aged monk; he is not wanting in energy or strength; and he will not fail to pull the strings which hang loosely in the hands of the armenian patriarch. if he pulls them evenly and well, he will advance his interests far and wide, even in the dominions of other princes, who may hardly be aware of the influence exercised in their states from a source so distant and unobtrusive. the danger in his case is, that he may use too great violence, and break the strings from too severe a tension, raising the storm against himself which he intended to direct against others. however this may be, the power of which he holds the reins is one which may be used for the advancement of the greatest or the most ignoble ends. for the most sublime and glorious actions, the most heroic and the most infernal deeds that have ever been accomplished by mankind, have been occasioned by the awakening of religious zeal, or by the fanaticism of religious hatred, from the earliest days, when the pen of history was first dipped in blood. nothing can be more anomalous than the present aspect of religious questions. the christian emperor of russia is at this moment exciting the minds of his subjects to make war upon the infidel; and his armies march under the impression that they undertake a new crusade. yet this crusade is carried on in direct contradiction to truth, justice, honor, and every principle of the christian religion, whose pure and sacred precepts are violated at every turn. on the other hand, the mohammedan, or infidel, as he is called, displays, under the most difficult and insulting circumstances, the highest christian virtues of integrity, moderation, and strict adherence to his word in treaties granted by himself or his predecessors; at the same time, the armies of the upright sultan are commanded by a christian renegade who has abjured his faith, and yet he fights against the christian power in a righteous cause. the terrible revolution which is the cause of such awful scenes of bloodshed and atrocities in china is carried on under the name of our merciful and just savior, whose mild religion these rebels against their sovereign affect to follow. the savage atrocities of the holy inquisition, the cruel massacres by the spaniards in america, were perpetrated by men who made a cloak of the benevolent precepts of the gospel for the perpetration of the most brutal crimes. those times we thought were past, but human nature is the same; and where the light of true christianity has penetrated, we find a period of wonderful intelligence and appreciation of the truths of the doctrines of our lord in some places; in others, where a nominal christianity alone prevails, actions are committed by men in the highest stations which would disgrace the records of the dark ages. chapter xv. ecclesiastical history.--supposed letter of abgarus, king of edessa, to our savior, and the answer.--promulgation and establishment of christianity.--labors of mesrob maschdots.--separation of the armenian church from that of constantinople.--hierarchy and religious establishments.--superstition of the lower classes.--sacerdotal vestments.--the holy books.--romish branch of the church.--labors of mechitar.--his establishment near venice.--diffusion of the scriptures. the ruins of ani to this day attest the magnificence and antiquity of former dynasties which long since reigned and passed away in the highlands of armenia. in the time of cyrus, according to moses of chorene, the historian of that country in the sixteenth century, greek statues of jupiter, artemis (diana), minerva, hephæstion, and venus, were brought to ani and placed in the citadel of that town. here the treasures and the sepulchres of the ancient kings were preserved in a fortress deemed by them impregnable. i will not pause to disentangle the records of armenia before the time of our savior, for even during the life of our lord the annals of armenia become remarkably interesting as connected with his holy faith, and the rise and progress of christianity in the countries immediately adjoining the sacred soil of palestine. abgarus, king of edessa, and sovereign of great part of armenia, with the adjoining countries, is said by eusebius, bishop of cæsarea, the early historian of the church, who flourished in the fourth century, to have written a letter to our savior, requesting him to repair to his court and to cure him of a disease under which he labored. the following is a translation of the letter which abgarus is said to have written to our lord: "abgarus, king of edessa, to jesus the good savior, who appeareth at jerusalem, greeting: "i have been informed concerning thee and thy cures, which are performed without the use of medicines or of herbs. "for it is reported that thou dost cause the blind to see, the lame to walk, that thou dost cleanse the lepers, and dost cast out unclean spirits and devils, and dost restore to health those who have been long diseased, and also that thou dost raise the dead. "all which when i heard i was persuaded of one of these two things: "either that thou art god himself descended from heaven; "or that thou art the son of god. "on this account, therefore, i have written unto thee, earnestly desiring that thou wouldst trouble thyself to take a journey hither, and that thou wilt also cure me of the disease under which i suffer. "for i fear that the jews hold thee in derision, and intend to do thee harm. "my city is indeed small, but it is sufficient to contain us both." in the history of moses of chorene, this letter begins with the words "abgar, the son of archam," but the substance of it is the same as the above, which is taken from the pages of eusebius, who lived a century earlier than moses of chorene. this author ascribes the answer to st. thomas the apostle, who was deputed to write an answer to the above in these words: "happy art thou, o abgarus, forasmuch as thou hast believed in me whom thou hast not seen. "for it is written concerning me, that those who have seen me have not believed on me, that those who have not seen me might believe and live. "as to that part of thine epistle which relates to my visiting thee, i must inform thee that i must fulfill the ends of my mission in this land, and after that be received up again unto him that sent me; but after my ascension i will send one of my disciples, who will cure thy disease, and give life unto thee and all that are with thee." these two letters are generally considered to be forgeries, although they are mentioned by some of the earliest historians of the church. some years ago i was informed, while at alexandria, that a papyrus had been discovered in upper egypt, in an ancient tomb; it was inclosed in a coarse earthenware vase, and it contained the letter from abgarus to our savior, written either in coptic or uncial greek characters. the answer of st. thomas was said not to be with it. i was told that the manuscript afterward came into the possession of the king of holland, but i have no means at present of ascertaining the truth of the story, or the antiquity of the papyrus of which it forms the subject. the seeds of the christian faith were sown in armenia by the apostles st. bartholomew and st. thomas. according to tertullian (adv. judæos, c. ), a christian church flourished there in the second century. st. blaise and other bishops suffered martyrdom in different parts of armenia during the persecution of diocletian, about the year . to st. gregory, the illuminator, is due the honor of having established christianity in this region, and he is known by the title of the apostle of armenia. toward the middle of the third century, having been himself a convert from paganism, he first preached the doctrines of our lord among the mountains of his native land. he had received his education at cæsarea in cappadocia, where he was baptized. the zeal with which he was animated gave irresistible force to his words, and the people flocked to him in great multitudes, and were baptized by his hands. the king tiridates, a violent persecutor of the christians, touched by the piety and virtues of st. gregory, embraced the christian faith, and, with his queen and his sister, received the sacrament of baptism in the th year of his reign, a.d. , and became the first christian king of armenia. st. gregory was consecrated bishop by st. leontius, bishop of cæsarea, in cappadocia, and continued his labors in propagating the faith all over armenia, georgia, and the nations living on the borders of the caspian sea. from this circumstance it became the custom for the primate of armenia to receive his consecration from the archbishop of cæsarea, which continued to be the practice for several centuries. st. gregory died in the year , in a cave to which he had retired, desiring to end his days as an anchorite, according to a custom much observed in the fourth century. in those disturbed and unsettled times, the religion of our savior alternately rose and prospered, or was oppressed by the persecutions of various governors under the emperors of rome. numerous heresies distracted the minds of the priesthood, and confused the doctrines of the armenian church. about the year rose the most celebrated man in the history of this country: his name was mesrob maschdots. this personage was born in the town of hatsegatz-avan, in the province of daron: he had been secretary to the patriarch narses, and to the prince varastad, who was dethroned by the romans in the year . in the year , in conjunction with the armenian patriarch sahag, he occupied himself in the extinction of the idolatry which still prevailed, and was the first person who arranged the forms of the armenian liturgy. before this time the armenian language had no written character; the inhabitants of the eastern districts used the persian alphabet, while those of the west wrote in the syriac character. mesrob either restored the ancient armenian letters according to the historian moses of chorene, who gives a long miraculous account of the event, or he invented an entirely new alphabet--a solitary instance, i believe, of such an undertaking having been accomplished by one man. the present armenian letters were adopted by the commands of bahram schahpoor over the whole of that country in the year . the first complete version of the bible was now arranged and promulgated by mesrob, and written on parchment in his new characters; numerous copies of it were distributed to the churches and monasteries of armenia, and the important circumstance of their being now able to read the holy scriptures in their own language tended to preserve their faith, and to unite them as a nation during the continual troubles and adversities which they have suffered ever since. this great benefactor to his country died in the year . the armenian hierarchy had till now been a branch of the greek church, but, unable to read their liturgy, troubled with diversities of opinion, and oppressed first by one neighboring tyrant and then by another, this helpless nation finally settled down into the heresy of eutyches, and, under the guidance of their patriarch, separated themselves from the church of constantinople. they believe that the body of our savior was created, or else existed without creation, a divine and incorruptible substance, not subject to the infirmities of the flesh. this schism took place about the year . the armenian era commences in the year , from which epoch their manuscripts and calendar are dated. the custom continues to the present day. by the council of tibena in , they were confirmed in their persistence in the eutychian heresy. the council of trullo, , and the council of jerusalem, , condemned the errors of the armenians. in the fourteenth century, pope john xxii. sent a dominican friar, called bartholomew the little, into that distant region, with several colleagues, to preach the doctrines of the church of rome. bartholomew was consecrated bishop (of nakchevan?), and since that time the archbishop of that province has, with all his dependencies, continued a member of the roman church. the thunders of the lateran have often since been directed against the perseverance of these distant heretics, but they have been of no avail. the patriarch of armenia resides at etchmiazin. he is styled catholicos, and holds under his sway forty-seven archbishops, of whom the greater part are titular, having no jurisdiction or dignity beyond their titles; many of these reside in the monastery, and form a sort of court around their spiritual lord the patriarch. they seem to hold the same position as the monsignores of the court of rome. above the titular and actual archbishops are three patriarchs, whose seats are at jerusalem, constantinople, and diarbekir. the number of bishops and episcopal sees is very considerable, but i have not been able to enumerate them. the monasteries are also very numerous, and are scattered all over the mountains of armenia, the islands of lake van, and other places in persia, georgia, and turkey. the ancient monasteries of their own land are of a peculiar construction, remarkable for the diminutive proportions of the churches and the small size of the monastic buildings, as well as their massive strength and the great squared stones of which they are built. they are little fortresses, and seem always to have been very poor, though some are larger and more wealthy, comparatively, than the generality. they have been erected to resist the incursions of the saracens, knights templars, koords, turks, and persians, who, from time to time, overran this abject principality. their massive strength alone has saved them from being pulled down and utterly destroyed; the time necessary for such an operation could not be spared during the inroad of a chappow, or plundering expedition. nothing worth stealing remains in the various monasteries which i have visited. a few dirty and imperfect church-books, some faded vestments and poor furniture for the altar, and the cells of three or four peasant-monks, were all the wealth that they displayed. very few appear to have contained a library--none that i have seen. their manuscripts were written in former days at edessa, etchmiazin (which is a more extensive fabric), teflis, ooroomia, tabriz, and other cities, and not usually in these outposts among the mountains. the little monastery of kuzzul vank possesses one ancient manuscript of the holy scriptures, written in the year, as far as i can remember, , which, if it refers to the armenian era, would be ; it is written in uncial letters, on vellum, in a small, thick quarto form. ignorance and superstition contend for the mastery among the lower classes of armenia, whose religion shows that tendency to sink into a kind of idolatry which is common among other branches of the church of christ in warmer climates. the following anecdote will explain my meaning in advancing such a charge. one of my servants had a bad toothache; he was a roman catholic of smyrna; he made a vow to present an offering to the shrine of st. george at smyrna if his toothache was cured by the mediation of that saint, but the pain still continued. a friend of his at erzeroom advised him to vow a silver mouth to st. george of erzeroom; "for," he said, "st. george of smyrna is a roman saint, and, of course, he can have no authority here; but our st. george is an armenian, and he will hear your prayer." the advice was taken: a silver mouth was vowed to st. george of erzeroom, and the toothache ceased immediately, the servant firmly believing that he had been cured by this saint, who, he considered, was another person, and not the same as st. george of smyrna, and that his picture here was more powerful in working miracles than the others. in the same manner, the pictures or images of our lady of loretto, guadaloupe, or del pilar are believed to be endowed with peculiar powers, and are, in fact, worshiped for their own merits, and not for what they represent. a curious episode in the history of armenia took place in the time of shah abbas the great, who established a colony of the natives of that province at julfa, a village near isfahaun. he gave them many privileges and immunities, which a remnant of their descendants enjoy still. the forms and ceremonies of their worship resemble those of the greek church, from which they are derived. their vestments are the same, or nearly so: and here i will remark that the sacred vestures of the christian church are the same, with very insignificant modifications, among every denomination of christians in the world; that they have always been the same, and never were otherwise in any country, from the remotest times when we have any written accounts of them, or any mosaics, sculptures, or pictures to explain their forms. they are no more a popish invention, or have any thing more to do with the roman church, than any other usage which is common to all denominations of christians. they are, and always have been, of general and universal--that is, of catholic--use; they have never been used for many centuries for ornament or dress by the laity, having been considered as set apart to be used only by priests in the church during the celebration of the worship of almighty god. these ancient vestures have been worn by the bishops, priests, and deacons of that, in common with the hierarchy of every other church. in england they have fallen into disuse by neglect; king charles i. presented some vestments to the cathedral of durham long after the reformation, and they continued in use there almost in the memory of man. the parish priests of the armenian religion are, i believe, permitted, if not obliged, to marry, as is the case in the greek and russian churches; but they can not, so long as their wife survives, be promoted to any of the higher orders of the hierarchy. bishops, archbishops, and patriarchs are elected out of the monastic bodies who take the vows of celibacy; their fasts are long and rigorous, their food simple, and their style of life severe; their time is almost entirely taken up with the services of religion, and, as a general rule, their ignorance is extreme. in their doctrine of the holy trinity, they believe that the holy spirit proceeds from the father alone; that christ descended into hell, from whence he reprieved the souls of sinners till the day of judgment; that the souls of the righteous will not be admitted to the beatific vision till after the resurrection, notwithstanding which they invoke them in their prayers. they make use of pictures in their churches, but not of images; they use confession to the priests, and administer the eucharist in both kinds. in baptism they plunge the child three times in water, apply the chrism with consecrated oil prepared only by the patriarch. they also touch the child's lips with the eucharist, which consists of unleavened bread sopped in wine. the holy scriptures contain more books than those of the western churches. in the old testament, after the book of genesis, occurs the testament of the twelve patriarchs, the sons of jacob; then the history of joseph and of his wife asenath; the book of jesus the son of sirach. after these the order of the scriptural books succeeds as with us. in the new testament, after st. paul's second epistle to the corinthians, we find the epistle of the corinthians to st. paul, which is followed by st. paul's third epistle to the corinthians. the remainder of the new testament is the same as ours. the testament of the twelve patriarchs, and the book of jesus the son of sirach, are well known; but i am not aware that the book of asenath has been printed in any european language. this curious book was translated into italian, from an ancient armenian manuscript of the bible in my possession, by an armenian friend, and translated from the italian into english by myself: this i presume to be the only copy of the book of asenath in the english language. it is a work of considerable length, and is interesting, not only from the place it holds in the estimation of a numerous body of christians, but also from the picture it presents of the manners and customs of egypt, at some remote period when it was written. several passages in it indicate that it must have been composed when what may be called the classic style of life was still in use. whether it was included among the number of the sacred books collected by mesrob i do not know: in that case it would date as far back as the fourth century after christ, a period prolific in apocryphal books, several of which were forged about that time to support the authority of the various heresiarchs who promulgated their opinions in many countries of the east, and who, being unable to produce texts from the accepted books of the sacred scriptures which would prove the truth of their doctrines, invented others more suitable to their own purposes, and written more in accordance with their views. the epistle from the corinthians to st. paul, and the answer from the great apostle, is of a higher class, and bears much resemblance to his other epistles. it has been published among lord byron's works. he took a few lessons in armenian from father pasquale aucher, a monk of the monastery of st. lazarus, at venice, a man of extraordinary learning, who speaks most of the european languages, as well as turkish, armenian, and other oriental tongues. he translated these epistles into english, with the assistance of lord byron. the roman catholic branch of the armenian church has done much more for literature and civilization than the original body. few catholics are found in armenia itself, excepting at erzeroom and other cities, where a remnant remain, while at constantinople a great number of the higher and wealthier armenians give their adherence to that creed. their minds are more enlarged, they are less oriental in their ideas, being usually considered as half franks by their more eastern brethren. their churches bear a great resemblance to those of other catholics, but they retain their own language in their ritual, with many of the forms and ceremonies of the oriental church. the armenian patriarch, with his long beard, and crown instead of a mitre, is one of the picturesque figures to whom attention is drawn in the ceremonies of the holy week at rome, where there is a college for the education of priests of their nation. they have another college at constantinople, and several handsome churches; but the most important establishment of this branch of their religion is that of the convent or monastery on the island of st. lazarus, near venice. this society, as they themselves call it, was founded by mechitar, an armenian, who was born at sebaste, in lesser armenia, in . he received holy orders from the bishop ananias, superior of the convent of the holy cross, near sebaste. he afterward studied in the convent of passen, near erzeroom, and at another on the island on lake van. his wish was to remain in the great monastery of etchmiazin, to which place he traveled, but, finding no opportunities of study at the seat of the patriarch, he proceeded to constantinople, where he afterward founded a small society, of a monastic kind, at pera, in the year . in the year he established a church and monastic society at modon in the morea, then under the government of venice; but the turks having taken that place, his companions were made prisoners and sold for slaves. he, with some others, escaped to venice, where he received a grant, in the year , from the signory, of a small deserted island in the lagunes, originally the property of the benedictine order, who established a hospital for lepers there in . in this island he set up a printing-press about the year , for the production of armenian religious books; and he had the satisfaction of seeing his convent increase in comfort, wealth, and respectability before his death, which took place on the th of april, . so high was the character of this establishment for usefulness and good conduct, that in , when other monastic establishments were suppressed at venice, the abbot of st. lazaro received a peculiar decree, granting him and his community all the privileges of their former independence. so high also has been the character of this society since that time, that it has been usual for the pope to confer upon each new abbot the title and dignity of archbishop, although he has no province or bishops under him. the service they have rendered to their countrymen is very great: they have at present five printing-presses, from whence every year proceed numerous volumes of religious and historical character, as well as school-books, and a newspaper in the armenian language. these are mostly sold at constantinople, and among the scattered societies of their nation. the funds produced from this source enable them to establish a considerable school or college at venice, and to send literary missionaries, as they may be called, to collect manuscripts and historical notices among the barren mountains of armenia. of these they make good use, compiling, from imperfect and mutilated fragments, authentic histories of their country; printing the almost hitherto lost and unknown works of ancient armenian authors, and distributing copies of the holy scriptures among their brethren in the wasted and benighted land of their fathers. they printed the armenian bible in the year ; and, entirely by their energy, the small spark which alone glimmered in the darkness of armenian ignorance in the east has gradually increased its light into a feeble ray, which now, seen faintly through the mist, draws every now and then the attention of some one endowed by nature with more intelligence than the rest, and incites him to inquire into those truths the rumors of whose existence had only reached him hitherto. slowly enough, but we trust surely, the good work prospers: when curiosity and interest are awakened, the mind turns naturally to the sources from which information may be gained. the holy gospels, the new testament, and, in some places, the whole bible, may now be procured at a comparatively trifling expense; the leaven, once introduced, sooner or later will leaven the whole mass; truth and common sense will dissipate the clouds which ignorance and superstition have gathered over the face of the land, and the light of true religion will arise to set no more. chapter xvi. modern division of armenia.--population.--manners and customs of the christians.--superiority of the mohammedans. the country which was called armenia in ancient times is now divided into two portions; the smaller of the two belongs to persia, but the larger part is contained in the turkish province or pashalik of erzeroom. it does not possess any communication with the sea, and is a wild and mountainous district. although not of any high importance for mercantile productions, it has continually been an object of jealousy to the neighboring empires of persia and byzantium--or, in our time, persia and turkey--from the high road between those empires necessarily passing through it; the power of cutting off supplies, and permitting the passage of caravans laden with the rich productions of other lands, being vested in the hands of the military governor of erzeroom. the number of inhabitants of this pashalik is estimated at , , ; there were probably more in earlier times. the principal cities are--erzeroom, the capital, containing about , souls. the population of kars is considered to be about , , van , , moosh and beyboort about each. the turkish governor of the pashalik has generally an armed force of , regular soldiers; but it would be easy for him, with sufficient funds, to raise a more considerable force of irregular cavalry, and infantry armed with rifles, the use of which weapon is well understood by the hardy mountaineers and hunters, whose manners in some respects resemble those of the tyrolese. the greater half of the population are mohammedan turks or osmanlis, followers of osman. the word turk is never used in this country, and is more generally applied to the turkomans and some of the tribes on the persian border, who are of calmuc or tartar origin, and a completely different sort of people from those whom we call turks. the christian population consists of a small number of greeks, nestorians, and roman catholics, the greater part being descendants of the ancient possessors of the soil, and professing the christianity of the armenian church, which i have attempted to describe above. their manners and customs are the same as those of the turks, whom they copy in dress and in their general way of living; so much is this the case, that it is frequently difficult to distinguish the turkish from the armenian family, both in armenia and at constantinople; only the armenian is the inferior in all respects; he would be called in china a second-chop turk. he is more quick and restless in his motions, and wants the dignity and straightforward bearing of the osmanli. more than , armenians are settled at constantinople. these are not so ignorant, and are, even in appearance, different from those of their original country, who are a heavy and loutish race, while the citizens are thin, sharp, active in money-making arts, and remarkable for their acuteness in mercantile transactions. each turkish village elects its cadi, a sort of mayor; an armenian christian village elects its elder, who is called the ak sakal, or white beard; he is the responsible person in all transactions with government, and sometimes holds an arduous post. the women live in a harem, like the turkish women, separate from the men. the mistress of the house superintends the kitchen, the making of preserves, and salting winter stores; they wear the yashmak, or turkish veil, at constantinople, where the armenian ladies are celebrated for their beauty, and their fine eyes, and black, arched eyebrows. in armenia, the women, when they go out, wrap themselves up in a large piece of bunting, the same kind of stuff that is used in europe for flags; being of wool, it takes a fine color in dyeing. the ample wrappers of the women are sometimes of a bright scarlet, sometimes a brilliant white or blue. the effect of this veil is much more pleasing than those of constantinople or egypt. the armenians are not bad cooks: some of their dishes are excellent; one of mutton stewed with quinces leaves a very favorable impression on the recollection of the hungry traveler. the country people live underground in the peculiar houses which i have described; they are an agricultural peasantry, tilling the ground, and not possessing large herds of sheep or cattle, like the turkomans, koords, or arabs; they are a heavy-looking race, but are hardy and active, and inured from youth to exercise and endurance, but even in these respects they are excelled by the mohammedan mountaineers. the superiority of the mohammedan over the christian can not fail to strike the mind of an intelligent person who has lived among these races, as the fact is evident throughout the turkish empire. this arises partly from the oppression which the turkish rulers in the provinces have exercised for centuries over their christian subjects: this is probably the chief reason; but the turk obeys the dictates of his religion, the christian does not; the turk does not drink, the christian gets drunk; the turk is honest, the turkish peasant is a pattern of quiet, good-humored honesty; the christian is a liar and a cheat; his religion is so overgrown with the rank weeds of superstition that it no longer serves to guide his mind in the right way. it would be a work of great difficulty to disentangle the pure faith preached by the apostles from the mass of absurdities and strange notions with which christianity is encumbered, in the belief of the villagers in out-of-the-way places, among the various sects of christians in the dominions of the sultan. this seems to have been the case for many centuries, and it has produced its effect in lowering the standard of morality, and injuring the general character of those nations who are subjects of turkey and not of the mohammedan religion. for, of two evils, it is better to follow the doctrines of a false religion than to neglect the precepts of the true faith. chapter xvii. armenian manuscripts.--manuscripts at etchmiazin.--comparative value of manuscripts.--uncial writing.--monastic libraries.--collections in europe.--the st. lazaro library. armenian manuscripts are of extreme rarity, not only in europe, but in armenia itself, at constantinople, or any other place. the unsettled state in which that distracted province has from time immemorial been sunk, has prevented the development of the peaceful arts, and few of the monastic establishments of that country had wealth, or leisure, or convenience to copy and illuminate their books. the few fine manuscripts which i have met with seem to have been written for some armenian princes, and were the works of scribes supported by exalted personages, who wrote under the shadow of their protection in the metropolitan cities, or in the patriarchal monastery of etchmiazin. i was prevented by illness when in the neighborhood from visiting etchmiazin, but there are preserved (or rather neglected) there, i have been given to understand, more than ancient manuscripts. these are completely unknown, unless within these few years they have been examined by any russian antiquarian; no other traveler has been there who was competent to overlook a dusty library, so as to give any idea, not of what there is, but even what it may be likely to contain. this, as my bibliographical friends are well aware, is a peculiar art or mystery depending more on a general knowledge of the first aspect of an old book than a capacity to appreciate its contents. a book written on vellum implies a certain antiquity immediately recognizable by the initiated. if it does not appear to be ancient, it is then more than probable that it contains the works of some author of more than ordinary consideration, to have made it worth while to go to the expense and labor of a careful scribe and a material difficult in those days to procure. an illuminated manuscript on vellum, if not a prayer-book, secures additional attention; independent of its value as a work of art, it must be of some consequence to have made it worth illuminating. a large manuscript, as a general rule, is worth more than a little one, for the same evident reason that its contents were considered at the time when it was written to have been of some importance, and deserving of more labor, time, and care, than if it was just written out cheaply by a common scribe. uncial writing--that is, a book written in capital letters--is much more ancient than one written in a cursive hand, and the most ancient volumes were generally large square quartos. it is curious that this should be the case in almost all nations and languages surrounding the mediterranean, though their customs may be so different in other respects. manuscripts on paper, again, are sometimes of remarkable interest, from their containing the works of authors then considered trivial and inferior, but now of much more value than the more ponderous tomes of the middle ages. the majority of the volumes in an ancient monastic library are worn-out, imperfect church-books, which have been cast aside from time to time, and committed to the care of the mice and spiders, who alone frequent the shelves or the floor of that dusty lumber-room. it is uncommon to find a manuscript in more than one volume, unless it may be the works of st. chrysostom, or another of the fathers of the church. in this case the volumes are hardly ever found together, and a complete set of three or four volumes is beyond hoping for, carelessness and neglect having been for centuries the librarians of the monastery. these and other circumstances combine to make a cursory examination of one of these original hoards of by-gone literature a task for which the learned student of some abstruse science, or dead or dying language, is totally incompetent. the translator of an almost forgotten tongue, the laborious compiler of unpublished history, requires that the musty chronicles, the splendid illuminated volumes bound in gold and velvet, the crabbed, ill-written works of antique lore, should be laid upon the table before him, so that, in the undisturbed silence of his study, surrounded with lexicons and modern books of reference, he may bit by bit extract the pith, and winnow off the chaff, from the venerable manuscripts of distant lands and other times. the bibliographical traveler, who is to provide these precious relics for his careful use, who is to drag them from their dark recesses, where they have been lying undisturbed or years, has an entirely different task to fulfill. the professor would require months to look over each book one by one, to brush away the cobwebs, to ascertain by difficult and uncertain passages what the subject of those manuscripts might be which had lost many pages at the beginning and end, and to satisfy himself at last that it was worthless--a conclusion to which another would arrive at the first glance. this power of immediately appreciating the value of ancient manuscripts in the manner above mentioned will be understood by those who are aware that such is the usual jealousy of the ignorant monks for that which they can neither use nor understand themselves, that it hardly ever happens that a stranger is permitted to take more than a general survey of the worm-eaten and dusty mass which lies in heaps upon the floor, or is piled in the corners of the room which they call their library, but which they probably have never entered on any other occasion. such as i have described are the libraries at etchmiazin, the monastery on lake van, those near ooroomia, and the few places where more than the church-books are still remaining. in england, the bodleian library contains about twenty volumes of armenian manuscripts; the british museum not so many, i believe; the royal library at paris has about , which were collected by the emissaries of louis xiv. some of these are of considerable antiquity and beauty. in private collections very few are to be found. in my library there are about a dozen, of which two are the most splendid that i have met with in the east, or in any country. i possess also a number of loose leaves of the highest antiquity, which are so far curious that they display the progress of the art of writing almost since the days of mesrob to the present time. but, with the exception of the unknown treasures of etchmiazin, the convent of st. lazaro at venice not only preserves, but makes good use of, the finest collection of armenian manuscripts extant. their number is about , of which are on vellum; the rest are written partly on ancient paper made from cotton, and partly on paper such as we use at present. three volumes on charta bombycina are among the most ancient that i have met with that are written on that material: one contains commentaries on the psalms and the epistles, by ephraim syrius and st. chrysostom, written in the year of the armenian era , anno domini ; the second is a small book of prayer, containing the date of a. d. ; the third is the romance of alexander the great: this curious volume is illustrated with numerous drawings, richly gilt and colored; it was written in the thirteenth century. they have three copies of the gospels, and one ritual written in uncial letters (one of these ancient copies of the gospels is illuminated with several large miniatures in a style resembling greek art), as well as several others of inferior interest. the library also possesses six or seven richly illuminated copies of the scriptures, some splendid books of prayer, and a great number of other armenian manuscripts, containing records of the history or the works of authors who were natives of that country, from which have been printed many volumes whose pages illustrate manners and events which were completely forgotten before the monks of st. lazaro rescued them from oblivion. chapter xviii. general history of armenia.--former sovereigns.--tiridates i. receives his crown from nero.--conquest of the country by the persians and by the arabs.--list of modern kings.--misfortunes of leo v.: his death at paris. the general history of armenia contains but little that is interesting. it presents the picture of a line of sovereigns who have seldom been able to support their own authority, and who have constantly abdicated, embraced monastic vows, or been driven from the throne by rebellions of their subjects, and invasions of neighboring conquerors more talented and more powerful than themselves. many of the armenian kings seem to have lived almost on the charity of other states; the lines of their dynasties have been so often interrupted, and the changes from kings to governors, dukes, and counts have been so frequent, that their history is most intricate; and, from the boundaries of the so-called kingdom of armenia having never been the same for many years together, it is difficult to understand from the scattered notices which history has transmitted to us who should be considered as the head of the state, or which of the many vassal princes, under the great empires of the east, has the better claim to the title of sovereign of this ancient kingdom. at the time of our savior, abgarus, king of edessa, seems to have exercised sovereignty over great part of armenia, on the southern and western sides. tiridates i. is the first person styling himself king of armenia after this period. he conquered the country from rhadamistus, by the assistance of his brother vologeses, king of parthia. the romans, however, who did not approve of the erection of an independent kingdom in those regions, sent an army against tiridates, commanded by corbulo, who forced tiridates to abdicate, on condition of his proceeding to rome to receive his crown from the hands of the emperor nero. he was received with the highest honors by the roman emperor, who advanced as far as naples to meet him. tiridates won his good graces by the artful manner in which he flattered nero on his skill in driving a chariot. they became great friends: the armenian king received large sums of money from the emperor, with which he returned to his own country, and repaired his dismantled fortresses. he changed the name of his capital from artaxarte to neronia, in compliment to his imperial protector, and died in the year a.d., after a reign of eleven years. to him succeeded several princes who were vassals to the roman empire, but whose actions do not seem to offer any thing of interest. tiridates ii. had received his education at rome, and, assisted by the emperor, he was placed upon the throne of armenia, by the general consent of the nobles of his country, in . he, as i have mentioned in the ecclesiastical sketch of this history, embraced christianity, and died in the year . other unimportant princes succeeded, among whom john nustaron governed armenia, under the emperor maurice. the persians conquered the country in the reign of the emperor phocas, but it was soon retaken by heraclius. pasagnates revolted against the emperor constantine ii., who defeated him, and placed sabarius, a persian, on the throne, who also rebelled, and was beat in the year . justinian ii. concluded a treaty with the caliph abdolmalek, by which the two sovereigns divided between them the revenues of armenia, iberia, and cyprus; and the same emperor, justinian ii., placed sablas on the armenian throne. this prince, being established in this mountainous kingdom, organized an army, and, having attempted to extricate his country from the power of the caliph, was defeated by him in , and the arabs became masters of armenia. the emperor constantine copronymus retook this province, and established paulus as viceroy. paulus was conquered by the forces of the caliph, but he afterward re-established himself upon the throne. after his reign, armenia was governed by several dukes and counts, some of whom ruled over a larger, and some over a smaller, portion of the country. during this period constant battles and disturbances took place between the adherents of the caliphs and the christian emperors in this distracted province. the patriarch of constantinople made every endeavor to break down the religious subjection of the armenians to their heretical patriarch. but the history of the numerous princes who succeeded each other, after periods of short and doubtful power, on the throne of parts only of armenia, is so complicated and so doubtful, that i shall not attempt to speak of them, and proceed to the time of the first generally acknowledged king of modern times. the name of this monarch was philaretes branchance. after resisting the forces of the emperor michael ducas, he submitted to his successor, nicephorus botoniates, by whom he was supported through the rest of his reign. he flourished about the year . constantine was succeeded by his brother taphroc, or taphnuz. under these two sovereigns appear numerous petty princes, who were feudatories to the king. leo, who was long a prisoner under the turks, lived in . theodorus, or thoros, after a stormy reign, died in . thomas, son of the sister of thoros. milo, brother of thoros. under this reign the power of the knights templars was formidable. they had acquired large possessions in armenia; and their numerous preceptories were in fact fortified castles, from which they defied the power of their suzerain. milo waged war with the templars, and succeeded in banishing many of their followers from his dominions. he died in . rupinus was made prisoner by bohemond, prince of antioch. he died in . leo i., or livon, concluded a treaty, by which he freed armenia from the tribute which it had paid to the prince of antioch, instead of which he voluntarily paid homage to the pope celestinus iii. he lived in perpetual war with the formidable body of knights templars, with various success, and died in . isabel, daughter of leo. in the reign of this princess the kingdom of armenia became tributary to the turkish sultans of iconium. aiton, or otho, sent embassadors to st. louis, king of france, in the island of cyprus. he made a visit to mangou, khan of tartary, whom he converted to christianity, and in alliance with whom, assisted by his brother, houlagou khan, he made war against the mohammedans, and, having destroyed the castles of the assassins, penetrated into the dominions of the sultan of aleppo, their further progress being stopped by the death of mangou khan, which occasioned the return of houlagou to his own country. the saracens or mohammedans, on this change of affairs, in their turn overran armenia, where they committed dreadful cruelties; and aiton, having abdicated the crown in , retired into a monastery, under the name of macarius, where he died in the year . leo, the son of aiton, mounted the throne of his father in , and was in constant war with bondochar, sultan of egypt, who massacred , persons in armenia. he was excommunicated for outrages committed upon the patriarch of antioch. after a reign of trouble and disaster, he died in . aiton, or otho ii., the son of leo, with many of his nation, embraced the roman faith, and demanded the assistance of pope boniface viii. against the infidels who menaced his power. no effective assistance having been afforded him, he abdicated the throne, took the habit of a capuchin friar, and, under the name of brother john, died in the year . thoros, or theodorus, despairing of success against the incursions of the neighboring nations, also became a capuchin friar. he died in . sembat, or penibald, the brother of aiton and thoros, usurped the throne in the absence of his brothers; he was dethroned by another brother, constantine, and died in . constantine sent his remaining brothers to constantinople, with a recommendation to the emperor to take care of them. the year of his death is uncertain. leo iii. was murdered in the year . chir ossim, with the assistance of pope john xxii., made an advantageous truce or treaty with the kings of sicily and cyprus, with whom he was at war. this was accomplished through the mediation of the genoese, who at this time appear to have been the principal traders in constantinople, persia, and armenia. he died in . leo iv. lived in continual war with the saracens. this king sent embassadors to philippe de valois, king of france, to beg assistance against the incursions of the saracens. he married first constancia, daughter of frederick, king of sicily, and secondly the daughter of the prince of tarentum, niece to robert, king of naples. having provoked the jealousy of his countrymen by promoting numerous frenchmen to high offices of government, he was assassinated in the year . after his death guy de lusignan was elected king of armenia. he died in . constans, or constantius, apparently his son, succeeded guy de lusignan, and was killed by the saracens in . he had dispatched embassadors to implore assistance against the infidels to the courts of the pope, the king of england, and the king of france. constantine, the next king, appears to have lived in continual troubles with his own subjects, as well as in constant alarm at the increasing inroads of the neighboring powers on both sides. the annals of his stormy reign are almost silent, and it is not known when he died. to such a state of misery and confusion was the kingdom of armenia now reduced, that the existence of another king, who was probably his successor, is only known by the witness of a rare coin, which bears as legend drago . rex . armen . agapi. in the year the nobles of armenia elected peter i., king of cyprus, king; but he was at rome at that period, and never took possession of his precarious honor. the records of the armenian sovereigns are now drawing to a close. about this period, leo v., of the family of lusignan, was seated on his trembling throne. he was famous only for his misfortunes. menaced on every side, his provinces and castles, one by one, fell before the victorious inroads of the turks. the genoese alone, who, in pursuit of trade, had fortified many strong places in armenia, held out gallantly against the common foe, and the mohammedan invaders were unable to gain possession of the town of curco, or corycus, in cilicia, which was defended by the soldiers of the intrepid merchants. after a constant series of disasters and defeats, the unhappy king escaped with his life to the island of cyprus, from whence he passed to italy, and afterward to castile, where he implored in vain for assistance from those christian princes to reinstate him in the kingdom of his ancestors, which had fallen into the power of the infidel, and which, from that period to the present day, has continued to form one of the great pashaliks, or provinces of the turkish empire. from castile he took refuge in france, where he was received with distinguished favor and hospitality by king charles v., who assigned for his residence the hotel of st. ouen, near st. denis. about the year leo passed over to england, in the hopes of effecting peace between king richard ii. and the king of france, with whom he was then at war, and inducing the two sovereigns to embark in a crusade against the turks for the recovery of the holy land, and for his own restoration to his kingdom. his overtures, like all his other acts, were unsuccessful; but from richard, king of england, he received magnificent presents, and a pension of , marcs, which munificence was imitated by the king of france in an annual allowance of livres. leo, king of armenia, was of small stature, but of intelligent expression and well-formed features. he lived in great magnificence, being richer from the presents of the christian monarchs than he had been in his own beleaguered kingdom. the last of his royal line, he died, leaving no successor, at paris, in the year . his body was carried to the tomb clothed in royal robes of white, according to the custom of armenia, with an open crown upon his head and a golden sceptre in his hand. he lay in state upon an open bier hung with white, and surrounded by the officers of his household, clothed all of them in white robes. he was buried by the high altar of the church of the celestines, where his effigy was to be seen upon a black marble tomb under an archway in the wall, and on the tomb was written cy gist le tres noble et tres excellent prince, lyon de lusignan, quint roi latin du royaulme d'armenie, qui rendit l'ame a dieu a paris le xxix. jour de novembre, l'an de grace mcccxciii. the end. notes [ ] since this was written, the coal-field of eraglé has been opened under the direction of english engineers, and the coals are sent to constantinople. [ ] caravan tea is tea which is brought by caravans, over land, from china, through the great deserts of tartary: it is much superior to the tea which comes by sea. [ ] those who take an interest in natural history should read the accounts of the extraordinary migrations of the lemmings, which occur periodically in norway, after a fixed number of years. the netherworld of mendip netherworld of mendip explorations in the great caverns of somerset, yorkshire derbyshire, and elsewhere by ernest a. baker, m.a.(lond.) author of "moors, crags, and caves of the high peak" etc. joint-editor of "the voice of the mountains" and herbert e. balch clifton j. baker & son london simpkin, marshall, hamilton, kent & co. preface the objects of this work are twofold: to describe the actual incidents of various interesting episodes in the modern sport of cave exploring, and to give an account of the scientific results of underground investigations in the mendip region of somerset. speleology is the latest of the sporting sciences: like orology and arctic exploration, it has two sides, sport and adventure being the lure to some, whilst others are chiefly attracted by the new light thrown by these researches on the geology, the hydrology, and the natural history of the subterranean regions explored. the chapters dealing with the scientific results are by h. e. balch, who has been working on the geology of mendip, more especially among the caves, for upwards of twenty years: the accounts of actual experiences, in which the sporting side is predominant, are by e. a. baker, who described the recent exploration of the derbyshire caves in his _moors, crags, and caves of the high peak_, . no attempt is made to traverse the ground so perfectly covered by professor boyd dawkins in his fascinating volume on _cave hunting_, and elsewhere, most of the work described here being supplementary to that done by him, and, largely, outside the scope of his aims. the authors are indebted to the kindness of the editors of the _liverpool courier_ and _daily post_, the _manchester guardian_, the _standard_, the _yorkshire post_, the _irish naturalist_, and the _climbers' club journal_ for permission to use the substance of various articles which have appeared in their pages, and to m. martel, mr. c. blee, and messrs. gough for permission to reproduce a number of excellent illustrations by them. contents page the cave district of the mendips the cheddar group of caverns antiquity of the caves of mendip cave exploring as a sport exploring wookey hole strenuous days in the eastwater swallet swildon's hole the great cavern at cheddar five caverns at cheddar the burrington caverns the coral cave at compton bishop lamb's lair a cave in the quantocks cave exploring at abergele cave discoveries on the welsh border the exploration of stump cross cavern swallet-hunting in derbyshire exploring new caves in derbyshire a visit to mitchelstown cave index list of illustrations page map of the mendip district of somerset, showing swallets, caves, and outlets the great gorge of cheddar photo by dawkes & partridge, wells. romano-british pottery, coins, human remains, etc., wookey hole cave photo by h. e. balch. hyÆna den and badger hole, wookey hole photo by bamforth, holmfirth. plan and section of wookey hole cavern by h. e. balch. the great swallet on bishop's lot, priddy photo by bamforth, holmfirth. st. andrew's well, wells photo by h. e. balch. profile of the "witch of wookey," wookey hole cavern photo by h. e. balch. among the pools, wookey hole cavern photo by h. e. balch. mass of stalagmite, wookey hole photo by h. e. balch. in the first chamber, wookey hole cavern photo by bamforth, holmfirth. stalactite terrace, wookey hole photo by h. e. balch. great river chamber, wookey hole photo by dawkes & partridge, wells. second great chamber, wookey hole photo by dawkes & partridge, wells. entrance of third chamber, wookey hole photo by dawkes & partridge, wells. stalactite grotto: new chambers, wookey hole cave photo by h. e. balch. stalactite grotto, wookey hole photo by claude blee. stalactite pillars, wookey hole photo by claude blee. new stalactite grotto, wookey hole photo by bamforth, holmfirth. the grille: new chambers, wookey hole photo by bamforth, holmfirth. the source of the axe, wookey hole photo by bamforth, holmfirth. entrance to great cavern of eastwater photo by bamforth, holmfirth. section of eastwater cavern by h. e. balch. the descent of eastwater cavern, the second vertical drop from sketch by h. e. balch. the great canyon, eastwater cavern from sketch by h. e. balch. entrance of swildon's hole photo by m. martel. waterfall, swildon's hole photo by h. e. balch. entrance of stalactite chamber, swildon's hole photo by bamforth, holmfirth. stalactite curtains, swildon's hole photo by bamforth, holmfirth. stalactite chamber, swildon's hole photo by bamforth, holmfirth. stalagmite pillars in gough's great cavern photo by gough, cheddar. the pillars of solomon's temple, gough's caves, cheddar photo by gough, cheddar. organ pipes, gough's caves, cheddar photo by gough, cheddar. "niagara," gough's cave, cheddar photo by m. martel. in cox's cavern at cheddar photo by bamforth, holmfirth. great rift cavern, cheddar gorge photo by bamforth, holmfirth. entrance to lamb's lair, harptree photo by bamforth, holmfirth. plan and section of the great cavern of lamb's lair by h. e. balch. the "beehive" chamber, lamb's lair photo by bamforth, holmfirth. stalactite wall, lamb's lair photo by bamforth, holmfirth. entrance to great chamber, lamb's lair photo by bamforth, holmfirth. largest chamber in somerset, lamb's lair, harptree from sketch by h. e. balch. stalactites in entrance gallery, lamb's lair photo by bamforth, holmfirth. the ogo, near abergele photo by e. a. baker. inside the ogo, near abergele photo by e. a. baker. in the ogo, near abergele photo by e. a. baker. a pre-glacial cave, llandulas photo by e. a. baker. on the ceiriog photo by e. a. baker. upper ceiriog cave photo by e. a. baker. lower ceiriog cavern photo by e. a. baker. in stump cross cavern photo by e. a. baker. the pillar, stump cross cavern photo by e. a. baker. the chapel: stump cross cavern photo by e. a. baker. ricklow cave in flood photo by g. d. williams. a great pillar: mitchelstown cavern photo by e. a. baker. a fairy lantern: mitchelstown cavern photo by e. a. baker. the netherworld of mendip the cave district of the mendips "a land of caves, whose palaces of fantastic beauty still adorn the mysterious underworld where murmuring rivers first see the light." in these words an imaginative writer describes somerset, which shares with derbyshire and yorkshire the title of a land of caverns. across it the range of the mendips, a region of old red sandstone and carboniferous limestone, feet above tide-level, stretches in a huge, flat-topped rampart for nearly miles, from the town of frome to the sea. no piece of country in the kingdom offers so much to explore. an abundant harvest is there waiting to be reaped; for on every side are obvious indications of half-buried gateways to the dark and secret pathways to the netherworld, and everywhere upon the surface of the mendip tableland lie the open pits and hollows which the local speech calls "swallets," that is to say, swallow holes, some of them dry, some actively engulfing streams, but all testifying to untold ages of water action. this limestone district lies far from the busy hives of industry, remote and secluded in the very heart of lovely somerset. only on the darkest of nights, with the clouds low in the sky, can the glare of the lights of bristol be seen reflected far to the northward. one main line of railway, the great western from bristol to exeter, passes near it, and even that does not intrude beyond the margin of this caveland. the rendezvous for the cave explorers of the district is usually the quiet little city of wells, lying calm and secluded under the southern slopes of mendip, in close proximity to all the principal caverns. a mile to the south-east rises the bold and picturesque dulcote hill, a fragment of the most southerly anticline of mountain limestone in the kingdom. from this point, rolling northward in a great fivefold anticline, old red sandstone, lower limestone shales, and mountain limestone form the great mass of the worn-down stump of the once mighty mendip range. the extent of the denudation which has taken place indicates that this range was originally at least feet high, yet now in but a few places is the height of feet attained, and this is reached only by the old red sandstone ridges laid bare in the prolonged course of that denudation. the first of these high ridges rises boldly to the north of wells, and a steep climb of feet in two and a half miles brings us to the summit of pen hill, or rookham, from which a grand southward view is to be obtained. immediately below, the three cathedral towers pierce the blue mist hanging over the little city we have just left. beyond, the peat moors of the brue and the axe stretch away to the isle of avalon, sacred as the birthplace of our christian faith in england. here below us is that "island valley of avilion, where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies deep meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns, and bowery hollows crowned with summer seas." here, where arthur's bones are said to have been found, and where traditions associated with him abound, his memory is kept green in the names of many well-known spots; and yonder rises cadbury camp, looked upon by many as the camelot of romance. on the low ridge which intervenes between the valleys of the axe and the brue lies wedmore, where king alfred gained in the peace of wedmore such temporary respite from his foes as allowed him to gather strength for the great operations that resulted at last in the conquest and unity of the whole kingdom. yonder, too, are the marshes of the parrett and the tone, around which cluster tales familiar to every schoolchild. in the marshes between the mendips and glastonbury, exploration has unearthed a most interesting example of a swamp or lake village, with great store of antiquarian material, throwing a flood of light upon a period of which little was known. beyond lies sedgemoor, where in took place the last battle ever fought on english soil; and throughout this neighbourhood the infamous jeffreys worked his will in the judicial slaughter of countless somerset men. in the far distance the sunshine glints on the waters of the bristol channel, where, miles away, the bold promontory of the foreland rises sheer from the sea; to the south, upon the farthest limits of our vision, pilsdon and lewsdon mark the descent of our southern counties to the english channel; whilst, on a clear day, between them is seen the summit of golden cap, the base of which is washed by our southern sea. surely here is as fair a scene as eye could wish to see. only a pleasant walk away, the great chasms of ebbor and cheddar have rent the rocks asunder, forming two of the loveliest ravines in the kingdom. northward across the intervening syncline of mountain limestone, pitted with swallets marking the entrances to many an unknown subterranean labyrinth, are seen the old red sandstone summits of north hill, crowned with its seventeen neolithic barrows, and of blackdown beyond, from whose bare top is seen the broad estuary of the severn spreading out across the view, giving a glimpse of the coast of south wales in the far distance, its busy factories showing their pencil-like chimneys against the dark hills behind. in the channel the little islands of steepholm and flatholm mark the line of the original continuation of the great mendip range into south wales. the limestone shores of the former rise sheer from the sea, forming an impregnable fortress. here, far below the level of the salt water around, a supply of pure water is obtained from the limestone, brought, doubtless, from the limestone area of mendip by way of some hidden fissure. hard by, at clevedon, is the grave of that great friend of tennyson, who sat here and listened to "the moaning of the homeless sea, the sound of streams that, swift or slow, draw down æonian hills, and sow the dust of continents to be." very truly and accurately his words describe the action that is going on, by which the swallet streams are undermining and honeycombing these hills and bearing their component rocks away to the sea. standing on pen hill and looking northward, a great east and west depression is seen forming a broad low valley in the tableland of mendip. into this valley numerous springs and a liberal rainfall are for ever pouring their waters. yet nowhere is there a surface channel which can carry this water away; and nowhere, save in the small hollows of the old red sandstone and shales, does water accumulate. the reason is not far to seek. the carboniferous limestone, evenly stratified everywhere, has been split by vertical joints into a series of gigantic cubes. between them, the surface waters, laden with carbonic acid obtained from the atmosphere and from vegetation, have for ages made their way, enlarging them by both chemical and mechanical action, till they have become fissures capable of giving passage to an enormous quantity of water. so from one joint to another, from one bedding plane to another, the water percolates downwards until it meets with some impermeable rock beneath, or until it finds an outlet at the level of the secondary rocks forming the valley below. such impermeable beds are found in the lower limestone shales, and the resulting outlets are well known in the great risings of st. andrew's well in the gardens of the bishop's palace at wells, in the source of the axe at wookey hole, in the cheddar water and other large springs, of all of which more hereafter. [illustration: map of the mendip district of somerset, showing swallets, caves, and outlets.] reference to the sketch map of the district will show that the majority of the more important swallets lie along the line of the great depression referred to. these comprise by no means all the swallets of mendip, yet they are the chief ones. it is obvious that the whole of the mass of material represented by this great depression has been removed in suspension by way of these swallets; and one is compelled to ask, how long has this work been going on? what time is represented by so vast a work? on the threshold of the inquiry we are met by such an amount of evidence bearing upon it that the subject must be dealt with separately. for, upon the upturned edges of the carboniferous limestone rocks, which can have been brought down to their present plane of denudation only by long-continued water action, have been deposited, and still remain _in situ_, great masses of the basement beds of the secondary rocks, lying in such a manner as to convince us that swallet action had prepared the denuded surfaces upon which they lie. and upon this hinges the whole question of the antiquity of the caverns of mendip. but whilst the age of our caverns is a debatable matter, no one can question the accuracy of the theory of ravine formation from the collapse of cavern roofs, as evidenced by the instances supplied by mendip. through crevices and cracks, here, there, and everywhere, the percolating waters find their way. now some crevice is enlarged into a passage; now some weak point in the passage becomes a chamber; and on the water rushes, steadily joining forces and accumulating, until on the level of the lower land it finds an outlet, and rushes forth a considerable stream. in its headlong course the water again and again leaps down some great series of potholes, as down some giant stairway, forming many fine cascades, whose deafening roar goes on for ever where there is no ear to hear and where no footstep ever treads the rocky ways. along the course of the larger streams huge chambers occur; for the ever-eddying water, bearing sand along in its course, eats out the sides of its channel, or, revolving stones in its bed, carves out the pothole by friction. or some pendent mass of rock has its support undermined and comes crashing into the streamway, only to be broken up and carried away by the ceaseless energy of the stream, so ever enlarging the chambers upwards towards the light of day. but whilst this action is going on underground, a more potent factor is at work where the subterranean stream first sees the light. here very soon the action of the water alone gives rise to a little cliff overhead. now rain and frost, wind and tempest, loosen, bit by bit, the fragments of rock forming the face of the cliff, which fall away into the river, to be broken up and carried away. little by little the face of the cliff recedes, along the line of the subterranean river, until the first underground chamber is reached. the undermined archway of rock is less able to withstand the agents of denudation, and the cliff front recedes apace. such is the present stage at wookey hole, the chamber whence the river axe issues being still in process of destruction. thus the work goes on slowly, yet none the less surely, until along the whole course of the subterranean river the roof of the cavern is destroyed, perhaps effectually hiding the stream under huge blocks of limestone, such as those of ebbor gorge, near wells, or until the water finds another course for itself, as at cheddar, to begin the whole story over again. every stage is abundantly illustrated by our mendip swallets and caves. the large swallets of eastwater, three and a half miles from wells, of swildon's or swithin's hole, a half-mile nearer priddy, and the more recent swallet of stoke lane, half-way between wells and frome, are excellent examples of streams engulfed on the summit of mendip. the whole of the country surrounding the two first-named caverns is dotted with innumerable small pits and hollows. the great swallet of hillgrove, three miles north of wells, in the exploration of which we are at present engaged, in an endeavour to penetrate the labyrinth of ways to which it will undoubtedly afford access, is a fine example of an intermittent swallet. here three ways, carved deeply through the stream-borne sands and clays of some uncertain epoch of geological history, converge in a deep glen, beautiful with its tropical wealth of ferns. in the bottom of the glen huge spurs of limestone stand up boldly, dipping towards the old red sandstone exposed to the south, and pointing to a great fault, along the line of which the limestone water is bound to accumulate in a huge triangular reservoir, the outflow from which may account for the summer flow of the axe when the majority of the swallets are dry. in winter the converging torrents here find ingress into the limestone, but, though pits and hollows abound on every hand, no foot of man has ever yet trod the hidden ways beneath. at a depth of feet we have reached the first open channel, only to have it blocked subsequently by a fall of the treacherous gravel through which we have been working. vast dry swallets are represented by a great depression which we call the bishop's lot swallet, on the road from wells to priddy. here a huge hollow in the ground, perfectly circular and yards round, shows us the largest swallet in mendip. though the surrounding land slopes gently to the edge of the great pit, which is feet in depth, there is but the smallest trace of water penetrating it. it is ages since the drainage of the surrounding land gravitated towards it, for it lies at a considerable height above the level of most of the other swallets in the neighbourhood. a mile and a half to the west, a similar pit occurs called sand pit hole. here too water has ceased to flow, and it remains, with precipitous sides, a problem for us to investigate in the near future. to enter either of the active swallets of eastwater or swildon's hole, and to follow it to its greatest depth, is to gain an insight into the action of subterranean streams such as no other method can give. the former is well illustrated by the annexed section, in which its profound depth and its labyrinth of passages may readily be understood. the difficulties and disappointments which we encountered when i conducted the operations which at last resulted in our effecting an entrance into this cavern, the existence of which was not even suspected previously, need not here be recapitulated. altogether, what with volunteers and labourers, nearly a dozen of us were occupied ten days in the determined effort which we made, and which at last was crowned with success. from the point of view of the subsequent explorer the reader is referred to the ensuing chapter upon eastwater cavern, which will convey some idea of what the first explorers must undergo in any such place when to the ordinary difficulties of such an exploration is added the great uncertainty felt at every step taken, and when every boulder upon which our weight is to rest must first be carefully examined. the difficulty of our work at eastwater is practically what must be experienced in any new work undertaken in the mendip region, and there is much waiting to be done. if there is one thing more than another to be learned from eastwater cavern, it is the great importance of chokes in determining the lines of subterranean drainage. here they are seen in every stage of formation and destruction, and the channels which have been carved by the arrested water may be readily recognised. there is a fascination in exploration work such as that at eastwater, where corridors, hitherto untrodden by the foot of man, open up all around as you make your way ever downwards into the heart of the hills; and even now there are many accessible passages into which as yet no one has penetrated. reference to the section annexed will show an upper way, which terminates abruptly in a choke of stones and gravel, holding up a little water, whilst allowing a considerable quantity to pass. it is a remarkable fact that in all the labyrinths of galleries which we have explored in the profound depths of this cavern we have not yet alighted upon any portion which gives access to the continuation of this channel. there, rendered inaccessible by the barrier of débris, is, without doubt, a cavern as extensive as that which we have proved to exist in the sister watercourse hard by; and these two channels, starting from practically the same point, must diverge widely, and certainly do not unite again before the depth of feet is attained. farther eastward in mendip, too, are similar swallet caverns. not far to the north-west of stoke lane is an interesting cavern locally known as cox's hole. it is situated in the limestone forming the southern edge of the great basin in which lies the radstock coalfield. owing to the existence of this coalfield, there are no deep caves accessible in this part of mendip. yet a good deal of water must be absorbed through the innumerable fissures into the depths of the carboniferous limestone underlying the coalfield, and it is by no means unlikely that this water, heated to a high point by the subterranean temperature, gives rise to the hot springs at bath. cox's hole was at a remote period, when the form of the hill was very different from that presented now, an active water-channel, evidently draining towards st. dunstan's well. it has two distinct entrances, one, the more westerly, being a cavity of considerable size. for about feet the cavern consists of a roomy gallery running more or less horizontally. then it pinches in, until the height is less than a foot, and only those can get along who are able to compress themselves into small compass. in a few feet, however, it widens out into a good-sized passage, with fine stalactites here and there, especially at a point on the northern side where an aven opens into a chamber more than feet high. now roomy and now contracted, the passage leads on until, at a distance of yards from the entrance, it becomes so small that there is considerable difficulty in proceeding. beyond this point the cavern becomes a simple water-tunnel, of a type common in yorkshire. at yards there is a sharp descent, the floor is littered with boulders, and yards farther the passage is choked with silt. a very small passage, which had water in it when i was there, is said to be passable at times, though i am inclined to doubt this. an almost vertical ascent amongst treacherous boulders, however, seems an indication of a possible route onwards, which may, i trust, with care be yet explored. the last yards of the cave run to the south-east--that is, away from the direction of st. dunstan's well--a beautiful spring rising from the carboniferous limestone hard by; yet i feel sure that it must of necessity be a part of the same waterway. either it was an inlet which received the waters of some vanished old red sandstone spring, or it was a former outlet for the waters of that well. i am inclined to favour the former theory. as to the present source of the waters of st. dunstan's well there can be no doubt whatever. in the valley below stoke lane, and three-quarters of a mile distant from the well and from cox's hole, there is a most interesting swallet, of comparatively recent age. it is obviously certain that, not so long ago, the stream which courses down the valley flowed unchecked down its whole length, and so reached the larger stream below. slightly retarded, in all probability, by some flood-borne silt, the water found a little joint in the western bank of the valley, and by slow degrees so enlarged it that it at last became capable of swallowing the whole. even now a few hours' work would divert the water and cause it to resume its former course. upstream is a mill, the owner of which has courteously given every facility for testing and for exploration. it was found that the effect of damming the mill stream entirely was to reduce the flow at st. dunstan's well enormously, and to render the entrance of the swallet passable. mr. marshall of stratton-on-the-fosse with his party made a successful descent, and travelled a considerable distance, mainly parallel with the valley without and to a great extent horizontally, through water-tunnels of small size. as no measurements were taken one cannot say yet how far it is passable, but he says that they did not get to the limits of possible exploration, as the time which they spent there was getting dangerously near the hour up to which it is possible to dam the water, and they most wisely beat a hasty retreat. the first opportunity will be taken by us to make use of a spell of fine weather to carry this exploration to a successful issue. not far distant, too, is another swallet, from which the water has been diverted to be used for water-supply. this is in the vicinity of a ruined hunting lodge, and is said to lead in the same direction as the stoke lane swallet. the whole of this district is likely to be very interesting, there being a series of remarkable rifts or fissures in the dolomitic conglomerate which deserve attention. one of these, called fairy slats, has been known for many years, and is indeed shown on the ordnance map; and the fact that such fissures abound has been forcibly brought home by a disaster to a new reservoir, only recently completed by the authorities of downside monastery, to supply the neighbouring villages. here a finely designed basin, having been constructed over one of these fissures, had its massive concrete bottom burst out as if it were an egg-shell the moment the water filled it, and in a single hour the whole fabric was absolutely ruined. some measure of the extent of the concealed fissures may be gathered from the fact that , gallons of water were absolutely swallowed up without a drop coming to light in the neighbouring valley. an early visitor to the adjoining field reported that air was being ejected through the grass all around him, much to his alarm, as he was quite unaware of what had occurred. it will be a most interesting subject for inquiry, as to how far such fissures as these are the results of water action or otherwise, and it is most desirable to descend one of them at the first opportunity in search of evidence. at present i am inclined to attribute their presence to movements in the secondary rocks, due to the intersection of the district by valleys. the conglomerate mass has parted along the lines of the principal joints, and the rifts thus formed have become lines of drainage. this theory, in view of possible future discoveries, may have to be modified. above stoke lane swallet, and evidently connected with it in some remote way, is a cavity without a name, the exploration of which would probably be interesting, and would be most likely to yield remains of primitive man. mr. marshall also reports the existence of a fissure of considerable size, where, after a very small entrance, a point is reached with a vertical descent of great depth. all these things indicate that there is a splendid field here for further work. indeed there are abundant evidences of this all over mendip. one of the most interesting problems has had further light thrown upon it by work recently done by us at wookey hole. the hyæna den and the badger hole are testimony that a large amount of underground action has taken place upon the east side of the ravine, yet nothing has been known hitherto of any series of dry channels upon that side. recently, however, we have succeeded in gaining access, by way of the smallest of fissures, into what will turn out most likely to be a portion of this very series. here is to be seen a choked-up chamber of precisely the same type as the hyæna den, but far deeper in the wall of the ravine. without doubt it contains prehistoric remains, yet its excavation will entail great labour. we have already reached a distance of feet from the entrance, and only a partially choked passage bars the way. high up in the ravine at ebbor, too, there is a very promising field for further research. this is immediately beneath a cliff on the western side of the valley, where we have already done much preliminary work. there is also a very promising little cave, slightly north of tower rock in the same gorge and high up in its side. here a narrow entrance gives access to a small chamber, on the floor of which is a deep deposit of cave earth, from which i have obtained deer bones. at dulcote, again, there is a series of waterways and dry caves of great interest, which in themselves bear corroborative evidence of the great antiquity of the caverns of the district. from time to time the quarrymen have broken in upon these waterways, which have been lost in subsequent operations. not many years ago a blast blew off the top of an almost vertical shaft, carved out in the limestone by water action and descending to a great depth. the mass of rock blown off by the charge turned over and fell down the shaft, blocking it at feet from the surface. it was possible to descend to this point and throw down stones, which fell for a considerable distance; but the block was never moved, and in the process of quarrying the hole became filled, and is now lost in the general level of the quarry. hard by, also, a cavern of considerable extent was opened, and still remains. it contains nothing of peculiar interest, though when i was first lowered into it, from a hole feet above its floor, it contained very pretty coral-like splash stalagmite; and also, in the mud floor, the tubular linings of calcite, formed from the drip from above. in this quarry, too, were found a considerable quantity of the bones of bear, deer, bos, horse, etc., and these are now in the wells museum, where they were deposited some years since by a. f. somerville, esq. there are numerous other minor caves in this locality. farther up the same valley, above croscombe, is a small cave known locally as betsy camel's hole, and it appears to have been occupied by a woman bearing that name for some years. she was, of course, carried away by the devil, according to the same popular report. it may very well have been a rock shelter at some stage of its history. mr. somerville informs me, too, that in dinder wood there is a small cave which was almost certainly a rock shelter. this also has never been explored. in fact, the whole district may be described as an unexplored field, and there is abundant room for willing helpers. the landowners, for the most part, are exceedingly kind and ready to offer every facility for scientific research. h. e. b. the cheddar group of caverns the great gorge of cheddar and its caverns form a subject of surpassing interest to the student of geology. presenting some of the most stupendous cliff scenery in england, the great wall of rock on the southern side of the valley towers nearly feet into the air, defying all attempts at mapping contour lines; and the road which traverses the ravine winds, with many a sudden turn, along the base of this noble cliff, ever upwards, until in four miles the actual summit of the mendip downs is reached. at the entrance to the gorge, and close to the caverns owned by gough, the hidden river bursts into the light, pouring forth a stream of great volume, which, after serving the purposes of various millers in the village, hurries on to join its sister stream from wookey hole, the two then flowing into the sea near weston-super-mare. it is strange that in all the exploration work that has been done at cheddar, the underground channel of the stream has not once been reached. near the entrance in gough's cave a fairly deep hole contains water, which changes in level along with the river itself, but no open passage leads from it. a vertical rope descent of feet from the upper and practically unknown caverns belonging to gough brings the explorer to what must be regarded as the nearest point which has yet been reached to the subterranean river of cheddar. as this gorge is the most stupendous in the mendip region, so is this stream the most considerable in volume. mr. sheldon of wells has gauged its minimum flow to be not less than three million gallons per day, whilst its torrent at flood time must be many times as much, probably not less than eight or ten millions. [illustration: the great gorge of cheddar. _photo by dawkes & partridge, wells._] this is considerably larger than the other two great outlets of the subterranean waters of mendip, those of wookey hole and wells, each of which, however, pours forth an enormous volume. that it is the cheddar stream which is responsible for the existence of the gorge itself no one can doubt, and it is a most interesting subject for discussion as to how this has been brought about. it is not difficult to determine what points must mark the boundaries of the catchment area, the waters of which drain to cheddar. the road from castle comfort to charterhouse on the north-east, the outcrop of shales south of blackdown on the north, and a line drawn from rowberrow farm north of priddy to the gorge itself on the south, enclose the whole area from which the supply is obtained. this is somewhere about square miles in extent. to this must be added, possibly, some water from slightly more to the eastward. it is now the commonly accepted theory that the whole of this water, or at any rate the bulk of it, found inlet into a series of caverns along the line now occupied by the gorge, and that then the processes which are so well known to be going on gradually enlarged these to the point of collapse, the falling débris being removed by the still flowing stream. it is only right to add that m. martel, arguing from his long experience, which probably exceeds that of any man who has ever studied the subject, sees in the gorges of cheddar, burrington, and presumably ebbor, the superficial channels worn by the escaping streams from the ancient mendip plateau. he says, "the numerous dried valleys (burrington combe, cheddar cliffs, etc.), which cut through the circumference of the mendips, witness, as everywhere, to the ancient superficial flowing off of the rivers, and to their capture by the natural wells, successively opened and enlarged in the cracks of the limestone rock." that even small streams acting through a sufficient period of time are capable of doing enormous erosive work it would be idle to deny, but the difficulties in the way of accepting this theory as alone sufficient are too great to admit of its acceptance. it demands that the water of a very large area could find access to the eastern end of the ravine, which itself demands that the general configuration of the mendips must have been very different from that presented now. this, from the existence of the secondary beds in their present position, say near harptree, was not the case; and therefore, for the theory to hold good, we must suppose that the superficial gorge was pre-triassic. as it was not filled in, either in triassic time or subsequently, it could not have been superficial. of course it may be contended that the reversal of this line of argument demonstrates that the gorge is post-liassic and may then have been a superficial channel, but i hold this to be disproved in my chapter on the antiquity of the mendip caves. i am, accordingly, forced to the conclusion that the cheddar gorge was during the whole of the secondary period a roofed-in cavern. the only difficulty which arises is a doubt as to the ability of the stream to remove so vast a bulk of falling material as must be accounted for; but when we see the process in actual operation, as at wookey hole, it is only necessary to demand sufficient time, and the difficulty vanishes. that a time did arrive when the rate of collapse more than kept pace with the destructive energy of the stream is indicated by the rapid rise which takes place in the road through the gorge. this favours the cave theory as opposed to the superficial channel theory, inasmuch as a superficial channel would probably have maintained a more nearly equal depth throughout. that the portion of m. martel's theory which explains the absence of the stream from the gorge is correct is very clear, there being obvious indications, notably at the western end of the ravine, where points of absorption might be traced beneath the high cliffs, any one of which, if excavated, would almost certainly lead to the present channel of the river beyond gough's caves. the long hole above, as pointed out in my chapter upon the antiquity of the mendip caves, is corroborative evidence which tends to disprove the superficial valley theory, as it is without a doubt an old cavern of absorption, which could not have existed had the ravine been a superficial valley. everyone must lament the recent developments in the cheddar gorge by which the northern side is being hacked to pieces to provide road metal. there are thousands of places where the same stone could be obtained, with almost equal ease; and it does seem pitiful that one of the finest places in the kingdom should be sacrificed to the most callous and sordid commercialism. the conditions under which the work is being carried on constitute also a public danger, as has now been exemplified by the collapse into the gorge of a huge mass of the rock. the dip of the limestone is to the southward, and consequently any work done on the northern side is removing the support that holds up the great mass upon an inclined plane. of necessity the mass above, its support gone, comes hurtling down to the roadway, and it is practically certain that, if quarrying operations continue, some day the gorge will be entirely closed by a gigantic fall. an interesting little tributary ravine and cavern, far up the gorge, provides a perfect example of the cave theory of the formation of the gorge itself. about two miles from the village, on the southern slopes of the ravine, is an extensive fir wood. high up on the opposite side this little ravine is visible, and it may be reached with ease. here sides that gently slope give way to precipitous walls, between which you walk. moss-grown stones give place to new-fallen stones, and then you have before you the little ravine roofed in; you pass beneath, and find yourself in the darkness of the cavern itself, which can be followed for some distance. here, at any rate, there can be no doubt as to the process that has been at work. h. e. b. antiquity of the caves of mendip when we consider the question of the age of our caverns, we are met at the outset by a mass of evidence forcing upon us the certainty that they must be credited with a very high antiquity indeed. here measurement by years and centuries fails, and the imagination must be called in to aid us to compute the epochs that have successively elapsed since the first cave, to take one example, began to be formed at wookey hole. these evidences are of three kinds: historical, palæontological, and geological. in the first place, there has been obviously little change in the general configuration of our caverns since earliest historical times. the dens and caves of the earth have afforded a retreat to the persecuted of all generations, and a ready-made home when all else has failed. here, too, with the rocky walls behind him and his protecting fires at the entrance, early man could defy the savage beasts that roamed the land in those far-off days. at wookey hole it was only necessary to scratch the very surface of the accumulated débris within the mouth of the great cave to turn up fragments of romano-british pottery and a human jaw and rib-bones. these interesting relics are in the possession of myself and mr. troup. from the very nature of the place, it is obvious that the tendency has been to accumulate more and more débris upon the mass of cave earth which contains these remains. slightly deeper, yet still only in the loose earth of the cavern mouth, we found pottery of still earlier date, unwheeled and cruder. the fact is borne in upon us, that certainly for two thousand years this entrance has remained much as it is now. perhaps a loose rock here and there has been dislodged from the overhanging cliff outside, and, crashing to the stream bed below, has there been broken up and carried away by the river. but no one can doubt that the general outline is the same now as then. and farther within the cavern an interesting sidelight is thrown on the slowness with which things change in the underworld. at the descent into the first great chamber a chalk inscription roughly made reads "e a ." that inscription has been there unchanged, to my knowledge, for the last twenty years, and i have no reason to doubt its authenticity. if a chalk mark remains unerased for a century and more, how long have those solid walls stood, and how long will they endure? as i have gazed upon that inscription, the thought has come, that such a place as this would be an ideal site for national monuments. when our abbeys and cathedrals are crumbled away, these great subterranean halls will remain practically unchanged. and in the caves of cheddar like evidences meet the eye. in the loose material in the roman cave there, roman and romano-british remains have been found in abundance; and here again we are forced to the conclusion that no change has taken place since those remains were deposited. but when we consider the evidences furnished by the remains of the extinct mammalia, mingled with those of primitive man, much more is it impressed upon the mind that we are dealing with relics of enormous antiquity. the great assemblage of bones of the extinct animals which occurs at banwell cave, and the numberless finds from the caves of cheddar, are indications of this; but those of the hyæna den of wookey hole, and the conditions of their deposit there, afford us much more reliable testimony. here are two principal cavities on the eastern side of the ravine, representing two of the five river levels which the stream of the axe has hollowed for itself in the dolomitic conglomerate. these are branch or side chambers which have not been totally destroyed in the process of erosion that formed the ravine at the expense of the cavern. in the uppermost cavity, known as the badger hole (it was the haunt of badgers until a few years ago), no traces of the extinct mammalia are to be found, nor have i found definite traces of prehistoric man. at seven feet below the surface, however, there is a bed of river sand of precisely the same kind as that in the upper chambers of the great cavern. in the hyæna den below, on the other hand, so thoroughly and systematically explored by professor boyd dawkins, was found one of the most perfect assemblages of the remains of extinct animals ever discovered. many years after his labours were completed i searched there again, and was rewarded with a by no means poor collection of bones and teeth: mammoth and woolly rhinoceros, irish elk and reindeer, red deer, bison, cave lion and bear, hyæna and wolf, wild goat, wild horse, and wild boar have all been found. one of my earliest trophies was a fairly complete skull of a young bear; and i have representatives of all the others. from a small hole in the side of the valley hard by, which i thought looked promising, we have obtained a large number of rhinoceros teeth, together with those of several of the other kinds present in the den. the examination of these cavities and their contents demonstrates the fact that they were the actual dens of some of these animals. the abundant marks of gnawing show that the hyænas made their home there. over the vertical cliff many a worn-out beast was hunted to its death by the hyænas and wolves, and its shattered carcass dragged to this hole. [illustration: romano-british pottery, coins, human remains, etc., wookey hole cave. _photo by h. e. balch._] [illustration: hyÆna den and badger hole, wookey hole. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] it is easy to wander back in imagination and bring the state of things that existed visibly before the mind's eye: to watch the unwieldy mammoth or the great rhinoceros rolling its huge bulk along; to see the pack of cowardly hyænas or wolves hounding some worn-out bison to its death, over the awful cliff close by their den, which purpose effected, they themselves rushed headlong down the steep slope hard by, to fight and wrangle over the shattered carcass of their prey; or to see the lion lying in wait by the peaceful stream in the little valley for the noble elk or timid deer to come for its accustomed drink; and then to behold savage man, with his weapons of flint or bone, when out on his hunting expeditions, arriving at this peaceful valley, and there for a while making his quarters in the den, and lighting his fires at the entrance to scare the wild beasts from their lair.[ ] [ ] only a few years since, three cows were driven over the cliff by several unruly dogs, and of course were instantly killed. thus was the tragedy of long ago re-enacted. how long ago this state of things existed is a matter for geological calculation. suffice it that the earliest historical records show us no wild beasts existing in the land except bears and wolves, along with the red deer which is with us to this day. now there is no sign at wookey hole of the time when the bear and wolf alone remained and all else had become extinct from the land. there is no trace whatever in the hyæna den of the pottery which we find in the entrance of the great cave. without a doubt, the latest deposits here are vastly older than the most ancient deposits there. the commingling of northern, temperate, and southern forms gives evidence of oscillations in temperature such as demand a vast time to have taken place. yet the whole of these remains accumulated between the time when the entrance to the den was left exposed by the gradual destruction and retreat of the cliff face up the valley, and the infilling and choking of the entrance by the accumulating gravel which eventually blocked it. it is only within the last few years that the gravel arch which was first formed, and then undermined in the search after bones, has collapsed, revealing the true configuration of the cavern. here we must again postulate a great antiquity for our caverns, since these deposits exist in what is really an insignificant fragment of the great cavern, and are only an incidental part of the material which an exposed cavity is sure to receive. but when purely geological evidences are taken into account, the demand for time becomes still more imperative. the subterranean axe occupies, as its present channel, vast chambers formed by the excavation of thousands of tons of the hard conglomerate, great halls over feet in height and of fine proportions. the process which formed these is still at work enlarging them, till in the course of time they must collapse; yet no change is ever visible, no signs of recent action can at any point be seen. the rarely occurring great flood serves but to remove one film of sand from the floor and to leave another in its place as the waters subside. so slow is the undermining action that no eye can ever detect a change though the waters rise ever so high. yet this channel is but one of five distinct levels which the river has occupied from time to time, until it has found in turn a lower course, leaving its sands as a record upon each, here and there sealed down beneath a mass of stalagmite. what untold ages have elapsed since first the river flowed through these upper channels! [illustration: plan and section of wookey hole cavern.] but an examination of the top of the mendips points to a vaster antiquity still. the published horizontal section no. of the geological survey gives an excellent idea of the plateau of mendip, which stretches from immediately north of wells to the neighbourhood of compton martin. this plane of denudation would never have been reached save by the long-continued action of subterraneous streams, an assumption supported by the existence of the great depression crossed by the road from wells to priddy. that depression of nearly feet in depth and several miles in length, hollowed in the hard carboniferous limestone, here dotted with every known type of swallet or swallow hole, has been obviously formed by the slow action of swallet streams prolonged through vast periods of time. every atom of the millions of tons of solid rock represented by this depression has been borne down the course of the subterranean axe. tributary to this depression a little valley has been eroded across the old red sandstone anticline immediately to the north, and in it are deposited masses of dolomitic conglomerate, the component pebbles of which were derived from the surrounding rocks. the same valley existed, therefore, in pre-triassic time, and as there was obviously no other outlet for its water, the cavities into which it flowed--that is to say, the swallets and subterranean channels--must have existed also, and are therefore pre-triassic in date. though at first sight this appears impossible, inasmuch as the known course of the resulting axe river is through triassic conglomerate, i propose to show that such a conclusion is necessary and inevitable. long ago i was struck with the fact that at wookey hole the triassic conglomerate attains an abnormal thickness, and measurements have shown that at the far end of the cavern there is certainly a thickness of over feet of this rock. as there is no sign of any approach to the limestone against which it must abut, nor any change in the character of the conglomerate itself at this point, i think that we may fairly conclude that the total thickness of it must be at least feet. now this is a vast deposit, far exceeding any known to exist elsewhere, and it requires a special explanation to account for it. only one explanation is possible. the conglomerate is here filling in some great pre-existing valley in the mountain limestone. that is just what i should expect. the great limestone cavern formed by the action of the swallet streams in early triassic times collapsed, and formed a limestone ravine, into which was rolled a great accumulation of fragments of the limestone derived from the slopes and crags above. with the whole of this part of england these beds were subsequently submerged, remaining so during the deposit of the whole of the secondary beds; and on their emerging once more from beneath the sea the lines of drainage were re-established along the old courses, where these had not been choked with sedimentary material. forcing a way through the conglomerate which then impeded its flow, the river formed those cavities which we see. indeed, it may well be that the successive levels cut by the axe through the conglomerate may represent stages in the uplifting of the land, the lowest channel being the last and largest, as it has been formed during an extended period of stability. but we are not without evidences of another sort as to the existence of some of our swallet ways at that remote period. the cavities found in the holwell quarries, near frome, filled in with rhaetic material containing bones and teeth of fishes; those of gurney-slade, near radstock; and numbers which from time to time are laid bare in the limestone quarries, all filled in with triassic sediment, show that penetrating waterways of considerable size then existed. there was, too, at charterhouse-on-mendip, north of cheddar, a fissure, possibly a swallet, which, being open, received an infilling of liassic material that is known to extend to a depth of feet. had these channels been closed by a narrow aperture temporarily blocked, no infilling but by water would have taken place when the land sank beneath the waters of the triassic and liassic seas. furthermore, in the position of the entrances of many of our swallets there is corroborative evidence to the same effect. the great circular swallet on rookham, near wells, situated far from any existing line of drainage, yet withal one of the largest cavities on mendip, shows that great changes have taken place since it was an active waterway. the position of the caverns of compton bishop and of banwell, far removed from any stream or any line of drainage possible with the present contours, proves that the configuration of the country has utterly changed since they formed the points of engulfment of any streams. the coral cave (as we have called it) at compton bishop descends abruptly into the earth, and its outlet must have been far below the level where now the triassic marl forms an impervious barrier. the waters of banwell pond rise through the marl, forced upwards through beds which do not yield water and ordinarily retard its passage. doubtless the marl when it was deposited covered some earlier outlet from the limestone. the waters of st. andrew's well, at wells, are forced upwards through dolomitic conglomerate and overlying pleistocene gravel, the former of which was doubtless deposited upon what was once a free and unimpeded outlet from the mountain limestone, similar to that of cheddar. the water of rickford, near burrington, resulting from the streams engulfed at and around burrington, is forced up through the secondary beds, which have been similarly deposited upon the pre-existing outlet. all these things help to demonstrate that what i contend is true, viz. that our caverns as a whole are pre-triassic in age. the long hole at cheddar, high in the cliffs above gough's cave, lends its evidence too. contrary to all the other caves at cheddar, it was a channel of intake for the water which formed it. doubtless it is a fragment of a larger cavern, which, before the gorge of cheddar itself was formed, existed in the mass of rock occupying the whole area. at the northern end of the limestone defile of ebbor, near wells, the ravine is carved through dolomitic conglomerate, which has been much worked for iron ore. the fact that this conglomerate was deposited in a depression in the land, at the head of the present ravine, yet without entering it, suggests that here was an entrance to a series of caverns, the collapse of which produced the gorge. [illustration: the great swallet on bishop's lot, priddy. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth_] [illustration: st. andrew's well, wells. _photo by h. e. balch._] the devil's punchbowl, near the castle of comfort inn on the mendips, is, in all probability, a collapse of the remarkable lias beds which there occur into some pre-existing cavity in the mountain limestone below, somewhat in the same manner as the shake holes in the glacial drift on the yorkshire moors were formed. no one questions the existence of the cavities beneath before the deposit of the drift, neither do i doubt the existence of swallets beneath the trias and lias before these were deposited on the mendips. the question naturally arises, why do we not find in our caverns remains of all the ages that have elapsed since that time? why are only pleistocene remains discovered? surely, because we have not found them it does not follow that they are nonexistent. the recent discovery of pliocene remains in a cavern at doveholes, near buxton (derbyshire), is clear proof that we may search hopefully for similar remains in the mendips. it must be borne in mind, that the further we go back in time, the more certain we are to find that the contents of any limestone cavern would be completely mineralised, until the whole of the contents may have become cemented into a solid mass. where running water is present, attrition may have destroyed them, or borne them onwards to those great depths where, constantly submerged as they must be, we can never hope to penetrate. i am aware, however, of the existence, in the eastwater cavern, of very ancient chokes of water-borne material, from which i have some hope of obtaining remains. i might mention the demonstrated antiquity of the bosses of stalagmite in kent's cavern at torquay, and from it argue the immense age of the great masses of stalagmite in the mendip caves, but, recognising the variable rate of deposit of the carbonate of lime in different caverns, and indeed in different parts of the same cavern, no useful purpose would be served thereby. the huge beehive of lamb's lair at harptree, the large boss in the first great chamber at wookey hole, gough's "niagara" at cheddar, the tall and slender pillars in cox's cave at cheddar, and the taller "sentinel" pillar at wookey hole, all demand for their formation a prodigious length of time, which it is but folly to attempt to compute with our present information. certainly many thousands of years are required for some of them, and it should be remembered that we have then arrived merely at the time when the floor upon which they stand had received its final form, the action of running water having ceased.[ ] who can doubt then, that, as we stand in the great waterways of the profound depths of our hills, we are looking upon scenes which have varied little since remote ages, and that in some form or other these waterways played an important part in the degradation of the earlier and loftier mendip range? [ ] in the initials "t. w." were carved by mr. willcox of wells on the great stalagmite bank in the end chamber of lamb's lair. i added " ," that in years to come some measure may be obtained of the rate at which this bank is being formed. i make a rule of never making an inscription, but in this case i thought that the end justified the means. it is worthy of remark in this connection that the veteran m. martel, commenting upon the caverns of mendip, says, "in consequence of the existence, on the flanks of the mendip hills, of deposits of triassic dolomitic conglomerate (keuper) of rhaetian beds, and of possibly glacial alluvia, unconformably on the carboniferous limestone, the outflow of the water in the risings operates in three ways: (a) by large fissures in the limestone itself, when it flows out freely, as at cheddar; (b) through the crevices in the dolomitic conglomerate (the axe at wookey hole, etc.); (c) where the outlet of the water from the limestone is hidden by alluvia (st. andrews well, at wells). the consequence of this arrangement is that it will be possible--notably at wookey hole, when the explorations now going on have enlarged the new galleries recently found--to ascertain whether the dolomitic conglomerate is there shown in long beds of ancient shores, regularly superposed on the limestone, or rather accumulated in filled-up pockets, in hollows pre-existing in the limestone; that is to say, there will be a material verification of mr. balch's hypothesis (already outlined by boyd dawkins in ) of the very ancient excavation of certain caves of the mendip hills, even before the keuper period. the lie of the conglomerate under the vaulted roofs of wookey hole appeared to me to favour this idea. and it is necessary to wait till formal proofs have been gathered together here, that caves were hollowed out there before the trias. i recall, on this subject, that long ago i concluded, with messrs. de launey, van den broeck, boule, etc., that the formation of caves could commence in the most distant geological epochs, and that the pockets of phosphorites, among others at quercy and the albanets of couvin (belgium), testify to caves or abysses of at least eocene times." h. e. b. cave exploring as a sport we are called a nation of sportsmen; yet the first criticism we level against any new sport, not our own, is the question, usually unanswerable and always irrelevant, what is the use of it? one may then, with a certain show of propriety, point out that cave exploring is a sport not entirely lacking in utilitarian or scientific objects. it belongs, in fact, to that large class which originated as something else than mere pastime. mountaineering and hunting are typical representatives of that class. the earliest mountaineers were geographers. cave exploring was first of all taken up as a branch of archæological and palæontological research, and then as a general inquiry into the physical nature of caves. but a science that has discovery as its principal object, and hardships and adventure as its natural concomitants, is bound to attract as many sportsmen as scientists. the geographical might be called the sporting sciences. and so there are now many ardent cave explorers who would blush to be called speleologists, their sole motive being the enjoyment of the game, and scientific results purely a by-product. thus the science of caves has given birth to a sport that subserves its aims in the same irregular way as rock-climbing and peak-bagging subserve the aims of geography, geology, meteorology, and other sciences. speleology itself is, comparatively, a new science. cave hunting, the search for human and animal remains, has been an important bypath of scientific investigation since the days of dean buckland and the discoveries recorded in _reliquiæ diluvianæ_, . professor boyd dawkins has in recent decades done still more valuable work for palæontology. speleology is a word of both wider and narrower meaning; in the widest sense covering all kinds of knowledge about caves, their geography, geology, hydrology, their fauna, their palæontology. but most speleologists confine their attention to the physical characteristics of caves. this side of the inquiry has practical utilities. at vaucluse, for instance, near avignon, m. bouvier in explored the channels of a gigantic siphon that carries the waters of an inaccessible reservoir into the fontaine de vaucluse, a famous "rising." his object was partly scientific, and partly to determine the nature of this permanent source, so as to utilise its waters to regulate the level of the sorgue, to extend the irrigation system of the neighbourhood, and to secure water-power for manufacturing purposes. the katavothra of pod-stenami were enlarged by an enterprising engineer, and protected by iron gratings, after their subterranean exits had been explored, and so utilised to regulate the drainage of the marshy plains of laibach, and to prevent periodical inundations. in our own country, underground exploration has brought to light valuable water-supplies, and enabled us to safeguard the public interests by pointing out sources of pollution. caves are most abundant in the districts where those great fissures known as rakes occur, which are rich in minerals, especially lead, calamine, copper, gypsum, and fluor-spar. during the short period in which cave work has been taken up as a sport, discoveries have been made, which of course it is impossible to particularise, that may be the source of considerable profit in the future. the majority of those engaged in this physical exploration of caves are french. france possesses a société de spéléologie, the secretary of which, monsieur e. a. martel, author of _les abîmes_, is a most indefatigable and courageous explorer, and the man who has made the science an important and a living one. but m. martel himself awards the title of "créateur de la spéléologie" to a forgotten predecessor, dr. adolphe schmidl, who published _die grotten und höhlen von adelsberg_, in . in this country, although such brilliant discoveries have been made of extinct animals and prehistoric relics of humanity, cave exploring of this kind is a new pursuit. m. martel says, in _irlande et cavernes anglaises_, : "in short, the underground of the calcareous regions of the british isles may be considered as being, topographically, very insufficiently known; this is the conviction impressed on me by my own researches in ." something has been accomplished since that date. two or three clubs, consisting chiefly of climbers, and a few speleologists working independently, have effected a thorough examination of the great caverns of the peak, the extraordinary system of underground waters, huge cavities, and profound abysses in the west riding, and the beautiful caverns of somerset. but the ground that remains unexplored, the opportunities for adventure and the possibilities of discovery are such as may probably astonish those people who think there is nothing of the sort left in old england. caves are formed in calcareous strata by the chemical action of water laden with carbonic acid, and by the mechanical action of streams. in consequence of the original structure of the limestone, the joints of which run at right angles to the bedding planes, these eroded hollows have two dominant forms: the vertical pot, swallet, or hole, produced by the widening of a master-joint; and the horizontal water-channel, running in the same direction as the line of stratification. but the strata being commonly tilted, these pits and abysses are often a long way out of the vertical, and the caverns that follow the strata very steep. many of these ancient watercourses are now dry, but others are still traversed by streams, and present the explorer with most formidable obstacles. the complete exploration of any cave system would involve the tracing out of all its passages from the point where the stream or streams enter the earth to the point of exit. but i know not a single instance where such a task has been worked out in its entirety. in many cases the streams enter the ground merely as small rivulets, and begin to excavate passages practicable to man only at a considerable depth. "siphons," or traps, as they ought to be called, complete or partial chokes, and a variety of other causes, may put insuperable obstacles in the explorer's way. take two of the most important cave problems still awaiting solution, one in yorkshire, the other in somerset. a large beck is precipitated into the abyss of gaping ghyll, feet deep, and emerges from an opening in the hillside, a mile away, close to the mouth of ingleborough cave, which was itself an earlier exit. several parties have descended gaping ghyll, and followed the passages at the bottom to a distance of more than feet. then impenetrable water-sinks, and muddy chambers with no outlet, have been encountered, and the communication with the lower cavern has hitherto proved undiscoverable. both the dry galleries and the canals of ingleborough cave have been explored, with great toil and daring, to a considerable distance upwards, with similar results; and though many speleologists are still absorbed in this problem, there is little hope that it will be cleared up without adopting the drastic and costly measure of cutting through the obstructions. the other problem is that of wookey hole, the cave in britain which has the longest history, and which is still yielding interesting discoveries. a number of streams disappear into the earth on the mendip plateau, miles away and feet above, and find their issue in the source of the axe at wookey hole. two of the mendip swallets have been explored to a great depth. swildon's hole, an exquisite series of terraced galleries and stalactite grottoes, has been penetrated to a depth of feet. but a more determined attempt has been made to reach the bottom of the eastwater cavern. this was discovered in by my friend mr. balch, of wells, by means of opening the swallet, where a tiny brook ran away through small crevices in a limestone ravine. a far-extending cave was thus disclosed, full of intricate ramifications, that explain in a graphic manner how new galleries are formed and old ones left dry and deserted, as the result of floods and partial chokes. we have, in the longest route discovered in this complicated system, reached a distance of feet from the entrance and a depth below the surface of feet. at this point no absolutely impassable barrier has been met with. there is reason to hope that we may still advance farther into the mysterious region between it and wookey hole. but the formidable difficulties of the journey hither have set a limit to endurance. hundreds of feet of creeping through steep, narrow, and contorted passages, compared with which a series of drain-pipes would afford luxurious travelling; perpendicular drops of and feet, with no convenient ledges at the top for letting men down; and, in addition, the necessity of transporting great quantities of tackle to the bitter end of it, have made a twelve hours' day underground as much as we could stand. the difficulty may perhaps be got over by means of a subterranean bivouac. unfortunately, it would not do to leave the apparatus in position for long beforehand, as it would deteriorate so rapidly. in wookey hole itself, we have not yet succeeded in reaching a farther distance than feet from the cave mouth; there a submerged tunnel has stood in the way. but mr. balch has thoroughly explored the upper passages that honeycomb the rock above the known caves; he has discovered a number of promising galleries, which are being slowly cleared of débris; and, among them, a series of the most beautiful incrusted grottoes in britain. a season of drought may reveal an opening up the river-course. innumerable similar problems still await solution. some of us have been engaged in trying with pick and crowbar to engineer a way into the swallets above castleton, which send their waters through the heart of the hills down to the caves in the dale of hope. one of these, which we have penetrated to a distance of feet, may turn out to be the entrance to as wonderful a chain of caverns as those of eastwater. long kin hole, helln pot, and other tremendous cavities in the ingleborough district, still promise good sport. of all the varieties of cave forms these vertical holes are the most impressive, and also the most perilous to explore. no exploit stands out more finely in the record of that intrepid explorer, m. martel, than his single-handed descent into gaping ghyll, the first ever accomplished. in the cevennes, however, he has reached the bottom of abysses still more profound, though without the unpleasant accompaniment of falling water. one of the most awkward of the descents described by him is that of the aven de vigne close (ardèche), mètres in depth. this strange pit is almost a corkscrew in shape, comprising five perpendicular drops, the bottom of one being a few feet from the top of the next. to manage the final pitch, with a chain of rope ladders mètres too short, it was necessary to get six men down to the "salle à manger" at the foot of the fourth stage, others remaining as sentinels at the head of the various stages. some of these waited on their narrow perches for eleven hours, in the dark, with nothing to do but listen to the distant noises of their comrades at work. one man, hanging at the end of a rope, succeeded single-handed in fastening a pulley to the free end of the second ladder, and so let down the third ladder to the required extent. this critical operation was carried out under grave difficulties, the nerves of the whole party having been shaken a few minutes earlier by the accidental fall of a heavy lamp, which was within an inch of killing the men beneath. elden hole, in the peak of derbyshire, a yawning cavity feet deep, with an inner cave feet deeper, has been descended several times recently. on the first occasion, through the inexperience of the party, i had the privilege of spending nine hours in the hole, in a state of uncertainty as to whether it was in the power of the other men to get me out. on the next occasion, we let down a dozen men safely. but there still remains the possibility that excavation might clear up the puzzle as to the connection of elden hole with other swallets and caves in the vicinity. the old miners believed that it had communication with the natural chambers in the speedwell mine; and that is a problem which will entail exploration in collapsible boats along the flooded levels. the great chasm in the speedwell, which used to be reputed bottomless, has been proved to be only feet deep. it has an upward extension, in the same steep rake, which has not been climbed, nor its top so much as caught sight of. it attains a height, most probably, of at least feet. that is a problem worthy the mettle of our most skilful cragsmen. in the blue john mine, a vertical fissure has been climbed, by a party properly roped up, to the height of feet, between walls splendidly adorned with polished and translucent stalagmite. ladders may sometimes be rigged up, one above another, to reach hollows in the roof of caves. in this way a handsome grotto was discovered above peak cavern. when these vertical fissures are open to the sky, it is a simple matter to fix tackle, and even a windlass, for letting men down. when they open in the floor of a well-nigh impracticable gallery, as in the eastwater cavern, the difficulties of securing pulleys and ropes are serious. there our troubles are aggravated by the proximity of deep, gaping chasms at the foot of each pitch, lying in wait to receive falling bodies. nevertheless, by an ingenious arrangement of life-line and pulley, the entire party gets safely to the bottom of the gulf and back again, although it is usual in such situations to leave a sentry behind at the top. grandest of all these underground cavities in england is the great chamber of lamb's lair, in the mendips. the approaches and subsidiary chambers of that marvellous cavern are magnificent in the richness of their incrustation and their colouring; but this mighty hall surpasses the rest by far. floor, walls, and roof, of a dome-shaped chamber feet high, are a mass of sculptured transparencies, fantastic reliefs and glowing enamel, all the colours of the rainbow being produced by the different veins of minerals. only a strong party of experienced climbers or cave workers, fully equipped, should venture to explore this fine cavern in its present dangerous state. no chapters in _les abîmes_ are more absorbing than those describing the exploration of underground waters. by means of collapsible boats, m. martel explored the concealed streams that tumble into the canyon of the ardèche. in - , m. mazauric, with enormous toil and considerable danger, traced out the labyrinthine ramifications of the bonheur at bramabiau (gard). the tindoul de la vayssière (aveyron), with its yawning abyss and powerful subterranean torrent, and the causse de gramat (padirac), both entailed the descent of a deep chasm and the navigation of large streams. at padirac the exploring party made their way in four boats along a river, with frequent portages caused by dykes of stalagmite, and discovered some of the most exquisite and romantic stalactite scenery in the vaults through which the river flows. as a sport, cave exploring ranks high. the exertion it entails is exceedingly severe. the innumerable obstacles and difficult problems to be faced make incessant demands on our inventiveness, adaptability, and presence of mind. the exposure, the hardships, the dangers that must be encountered, form an admirable discipline. those who consider these any detraction from the merits of the sport, must condemn, not one sport, but a whole class. running risks, we must remember, is always foolhardy, but to nullify danger by means of science and skill is an aim worthy of the noblest kinds of sport. it will, of course, be objected that the lack of exhilarating conditions, and of the stimulus of fresh air, deprives the sport of the usual benefits of outdoor games. but the air at the bottom of a cave or more feet deep is usually as pure and sweet, and not seldom as dry, owing to its free circulation, as that on the hills. then the darkness and the sense of imprisonment, you say, are not conducive to healthy enjoyment. but a cave explorer, enthralled by the manifold interest and excitement of the pastime, will never admit this. the variety of entertainment it affords constitutes a peculiar charm. only to judge by the number of climbers that have taken up cave work as a pastime, there must obviously be a natural relation between this sport and rock climbing. certainly, there are many methods common to the two sports, and the expert cragsman has an immense advantage over others when he takes to cave exploring. but the methods and appliances of the mountaineer are restricted by artificial regulations. there are many things that must not be done, even to enable a climber to ascend an otherwise inaccessible peak or to avoid serious peril. in cave work, on the other hand, the difficulties and dangers are multiplied so formidably by the singular conditions, of which darkness is but one, that such prohibitions would be absurd. when one may be called upon to climb a wall of mud, or a sheet of slippery stalagmite, or to traverse water-swept rocks with an unfathomed pool or swallet underneath, every safeguard must needs be utilised. any mechanical means of accomplishing, facilitating, or expediting a passage is legitimate in cave work; ropes, pulleys, ladders of rope and wood, windlass, rafts, boats, crowbar, pick, shovel--all these, and an enormous variety of other things, have their place in the cave explorer's equipment. one might write a volume on the equipment of cave explorers. hardly any other sport requires so formidable a variety. i must limit myself to a few words. the explorer's dress should be a boiler suit, made all in one piece from neck to heel, and with no pockets or buttons to catch in the jagged limestone, plenty of both being provided inside. he must renounce any hankering after waterproof garments, the proper precaution against the effects of wet being to wear thick woollen underclothing. his boots should be nailed after the manner of those worn by rock climbers. candles are the best illuminant, much better than any lamp--acetylene, electric, or other. but a supply of magnesium wire should be carried, with waterproofed matches in water-tight boxes; and a powerful limelight, burning ether instead of hydrogen, for the sake of portability, is a useful auxiliary. boats have been used in some of the caves in the peak, in wookey hole, and in the cavern of marble arch, explored by m. martel, in ireland. plenty of rope--not of the alpine club material, but hempen--is necessary, and a few rope ladders often come in handy. the only rule of the game that i should like to insist upon is, that no damage should be done to the beautiful features of a cave. it is a rule observed by every cave explorer worthy of the name. the temptation to acquire specimens must be resisted. the first thing that the cave explorer, eager for discovery, has to learn, is not to lose himself. in many cases no special precautions are necessary, but if there are numerous bifurcations, specific measures must be adopted. often it is sufficient to station a hurricane lamp or a good-sized candle at the cross roads; a surer method, but one that is rather troublesome, is to unreel a thread as we advance. such a cavern as goatchurch, in burrington combe, somerset, is a perplexing maze, where one loses one's bearings completely two minutes after looking at the compass. the mass of the hill is shivered into innumerable fragments, of giant size. passages striking off along the fractures often lead one back imperceptibly to the point of divergence. at the eastwater cavern, in the same district, after i had already gone four times through the enormous aggregation of shattered rocks at the top, where a human body is like a beetle in a heap of macadam, i tried in vain to make my way out without using the life-line. although there is but feet of it, one takes half an hour to get through. the original explorers spent a much longer time in discovering a practicable route. for my own part, i was lost in a few moments, and compelled to return. the imprudence of two men in the bagshawe cavern, in derbyshire, who went too far in advance in their anxiety to be discoverers, led to an uncomfortable experience both for them and for their rescuers. this very extensive cavern has a number of ramifications. the two men who were following reached a distant and unexplored part of the cave, only to find that they had missed their comrades, the sand and clay on the cave floor being still perfectly smooth and untrodden. they failed to discover the wanderers in the neighbouring passages, and lost their own way for a time before they got back, through the winding tunnels, low-roofed fissures, and deep canals, crawling, scrambling, and wading breast-deep through icy water, to the place where they had parted. they hoped the truants had found their way back, but there was no sign of them, and preparations had to be made for a second journey. after a fatiguing quest, that lasted several hours, they found the missing adventurers in a remote part of the cavern, nursing their last shred of candle and waiting to be rescued. the experiences of some youthful explorers in wookey hole, who found themselves on dangerous ground and all their matches gone, are described on another page. there is a romance about cave exploring that is almost unrivalled. the conditions of the sport are so weird and exciting, so strangely different from everything we are accustomed to. to be so near to, and yet so far from, the scenes of our everyday life; to be launched on a voyage of discovery on an english river, or to be the first to gaze on some miracle of fantastic crystallisation only a few miles away from a large town--these are among the attractions of the sport, at least in its present stage. there is nothing in this country to compare with the prodigious caves of kentucky or the terrific subterranean defiles of adelsberg. one might as well look for the magnificence of the alps among our english mountains. yet the caves and gulfs of derbyshire and yorkshire have a grandeur of structure and diversity of character, and the somerset caves a brilliance of crystalline deposits, that are fully as admirable and impressive. e. a. b. exploring wookey hole "where albion's western hills slope to the sea, there is a cave, and o'er its dismal mouth, whence come to quick, mysterious ears hoarse sounds of giant revelry, the ivy grew and shut the old sepulchral darkness in; and by its side a well, whence ever full and ever overflowing, silent, deep, and cold as death, the waters creep adown the broken rocks in search of day. above it frowns a fretted, stony brow, and only from the setting sun e'er came within that place the joyfulness of light." w. w. smith, _angels and men_: a poem. hardly anywhere else in britain is the mind borne down with such a sense of incalculable antiquity as at wookey hole. nowhere, certainly, is there anything like such a continuous record from ages inconceivably remote. to touch first of all upon periods that are historical and measurable, we have the name wookey, which appears to be the one bestowed by the ancient britons; for it is a recognisable corruption--especially as the people of the district sound it, "ookey"--of the celtic ogo, a cavern, the same word, ogof, as the modern welsh still apply to several caves in the principality. clemens alexandrinus, in the second century a.d., has a reference to the cavern, and there are periodical allusions in latin and english writers from that time to the present. in the middle ages its fame as one of the wonders of england was great. william of worcester has a quaint description; he says, "its entrance is narrow, and the ymage of a man stands beside it called the porter, of whom leave to enter the hall of wokey is to be obtained." what became of this janitor is now unknown, unless he be represented by the recumbent monolith still to be seen outside the portal. references to the antiquities of wookey hole occur in leland's _itinerary_ and in camden's _britannia_, and there is incorporated in percy's _reliques_ a ballad, by an eighteenth-century virtuoso, dr. harrington of bath, entitled "the witch of wokey," recounting an old legend of the neighbourhood. "in aunciente dayes, tradition showes, a base and wicked elfe arose the witch of wokey hight." so it begins, and goes on to relate, in the sham antique style of the day, how a malevolent old woman was for her misdeeds changed to stone by a "lerned clerk of glaston." the witch, a black, aquiline profile in stone and stalagmite, is with her culinary utensils the chief attraction to sightseers in the first great chamber, or, as it is sometimes called, the witch's kitchen. [illustration: profile of the "witch of wookey," wookey hole cavern. _photo by h. e. balch._] [illustration: among the pools, wookey hole cavern. _photo by h. e. balch._] it is impressive enough to stand beside the very modern-looking paper-mill, where the infant axe, still dazzled by its sudden entry into the sunlight, is harnessed to assist in the manufacture of such workaday commodities as bank-note paper, and to see before one things that carry the memory back all those stages; yet it is but the last few pages of the voluminous history that we are considering now. professor boyd dawkins, who won his spurs as a palæontologist by his researches at wookey hole, discovered in the neighbouring hyæna den, which is really a branch of the old cavern, human and animal remains whose antiquity, compared with the periods just reviewed, is as the age of stonehenge compared with that of a man. in the less known passages of the hole itself, such relics have constantly been found in the course of our investigations. potsherds, celts, bone implements, the carbonised embers from ancient hearths, all sorts of refuse lying in odd corners, have continually brought us, as it were, face to face with the time when man was little more than the king of beasts. whosoever would read in the deeper chapters of this vast chronicle must be referred to the fascinating pages of _cave hunting_; there will be only an occasional glance at the human history in this record of a different class of exploration. palæontological research has not been our object. several of my companions have made some valuable discoveries in this line, and are intent on making more; but my own original motive, and that of several others, was the sport, as much as the scientific results, to be enjoyed in endeavouring to work out the great problem of the waters that have made themselves a road through the underworld of mendip, and found an escape from bondage at wookey hole. this cavern has been known so long and so familiarly, that it must have seemed as if there were nothing more to be found out about it. it will, surely, be a surprise to many to learn what important additions have recently been made to the extent of its known and accessible passages, and what progress there has been in explaining the secrets of its water system. we are, in all probability, on the brink of yet more startling revelations. drayton complained, in "polyolbion," that the renown of the devil's hole in the peak of derbyshire, then as in the present day, had robbed the somersetshire cave of some of its glory. "yet ochy's dreadful hole still held herself disgrac'd with th' wonders of this isle that she should not be plac'd: but that which vex'd her most, was that the peakish cave before her darksome self such dignity should have." many things here bring to mind the derbyshire cavern, which several of our party had explored pretty thoroughly before we did any serious work in somerset--the approach along the deep wooded ravine cut through the dolomitic conglomerate, the river pouring out from vast reservoirs within the earth, the legendary associations, and the mystery shrouding the stream's subterranean course. from the drainage area about priddy, feet above, on the top of mendip, these waters find their way down through a multitude of channels. most of these passages are quite unknown, but the two most important, of which a good deal will be said presently,--the eastwater swallet and swildon's hole,--have been explored to a considerable depth. in the latter we have got to a depth of feet, but natural obstacles and other difficulties have prevented us from following the stream-course farther. mr. balch has traced the eastwater swallet, which he opened in , to the depth of feet below the point of absorption--almost, that is to say, down to the level of wookey hole; but an enormous thickness of rock still remains unexplored between the farthest points attained, from below upwards and from above downwards. most likely, when we get farther, if we succeed in passing the present obstacles, we shall soon find ourselves entering the canals and water caverns that lie on the same level as the great natural reservoirs of wookey hole; in other words, we are approaching the plane of saturation. exploration in the eastwater swallet is still being carried on, though perforce very slowly; and concurrently therewith, efforts are being made, not without success, to trace the passages in the lower cavern farther and farther back. [illustration: mass of stalagmite, wookey hole. _photo by h. e. balch._] [illustration: in the first chamber, wookey hole cavern. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] the summer tourist, conducted through the three principal chambers of wookey hole by a guide armed with a can of benzoline, for making stalagmites into torches, comes out having a very imperfect knowledge of the geography of the cavern, and a totally inadequate idea of its beauties. i well remember how little i was impressed by my first visit, under these conditions, many years ago. the weak illumination seemed to reveal only the proportions of some rather large cellars, pervaded by oily pools, into which the contents of the can were poured and set on fire, producing an unearthly glare through the darkness and the waters; and a number of dingy and unconvincing natural effigies, black with the accumulation of soot. our exploring party in march saw these things under an illumination such as had never been kindled there before, and i for one was quite unprepared for the revelation of brilliance and spaciousness and beauty that we were to witness. "wokey hole," says bishop percy, "has given birth to as many wild, fanciful stories as the sybil's (sic) cave in italy. through a very narrow entrance it opens into a large vault, the roof whereof, either on account of its height or the thickness of the gloom, cannot be discovered by the light of torches. it goes winding a great way underground, is crost by a stream of very cold water, and is all horrid with broken pieces of rock: many of these are evident petrifactions, which, on account of their singular forms, have given rise to the fables alluded to in this poem," the story, that is, of the blear-eyed hag who was turned into stone. this quaint description is true in every particular. the first cavern, or the "witch's kitchen," has a weird similitude to gothic architecture. arch springs from arch up to the lofty summit, and the walls and vaulting are full of canopied recesses, with wild foliations of glistening calcite wreathed from niche to niche. below us, as we enter, a broad deep pool stretches away into darkness. could we follow the gently moving current in a boat, we should enter another great vault, whose existence the ordinary visitor never suspects. there, in a small passage beyond the water, mr. balch discovered human remains. whilst we peered into the gloom, the limelight was burning up, and now it flashed across the cavern to where the black scowling head of the witch overshadows terraces, basins, and wild imageries of spectral stalagmite. "a glow! a gleam! a broader beam startles those realms of endless night, while bats whirl round on slanting wing, astonished at this awful thing. the rocky roof's reflected rays are caught up in the waterways, and every jewelled stalactite is bathed in that stupendous light, one moment only; then the caves are plunged again in stygian waves; the fairy dream has passed away and night resumes her ancient sway." the vicar of whiteparish, near salisbury, wrote these expressive lines after seeing wookey hole lighted up with magnesium. our beam of light was less transitory, and gave us ample leisure to contemplate the glories of this magnificent chamber. its walls for the most part are coloured a rich red, which absorbs light readily and makes photography a slow business. the first exposure took half an hour. against the warm red, the pearly streaks of stalactite and stalagmite shine in exquisite relief. there is a superb mass of stalactite near the witch; to say truth, the eye is confounded by the wild grouping of fantastic piles of dripstone around that uncouth head; the colours of the rocks and the flashing crystallisations are reflected in the pellucid water, and confused again with our glimpses of the river-bed, smitten by the moving shaft of light. on the nearer side of the cave, where a narrow arch leads into an incrusted grotto, a gentle stream has deposited a fairy-like series of fonts and stoups, ending in a pure white sheet of dripstone, over which the water murmurs. the surface of all these fabrications is diapered over with a network of delicate pearly ridges; so that here you see a mass, as it were, of polished brain coral, and there madrepores and alcyonaria, where the deposits have continued their growth under water. some of these efflorescences are like petrified filaments of water weed. the foul scurf and soot that covers the witch's cooking apparatus and other accessories would, doubtless, disappear under a fresh deposit of pristine white, would the guides but cease for a twelvemonth to drench them in benzoline, for the delectation of such as love conundrums in stone. still, these things are but a small part of the scenery, when all is lighted up as we were able to light it. our work done, a bengal fire was set off, and the glimpses it gave us along the waterway to the inaccessible chamber beyond added vastness and mystery to the scene. [illustration: stalactite terrace, wookey hole. _photo by h. e. balch._] [illustration: great river chamber, wookey hole. _photo by dawkes & partridge, wells._] the next chamber is a loftier vault, and the arching is more decidedly gothic in its suggestiveness. two low arches at either side form the portals, far above which a series of pointed arches spring to a height of feet, their summits converging in a polygonal cleft, like the lantern of some cathedral dome. then we make our way across the sandbanks, between the pools, into the largest chamber of all, with a roof of enormous span, whose breadth dwarfs its height, arching over the sleeping river and the broad slopes of sand, whereon grotesque limestone monoliths take the likeness of prehistoric monsters sleeping by the waterside. through the clear water we can discern a submerged arch communicating with more distant caverns. there is a tradition, coming down from the mediæval historians, that unfathomable lakes lie behind the barrier. this is probably true in so far as it points to the existence of enormous reservoirs of water beyond the accessible parts of wookey hole, the theory being confirmed by the behaviour of the silt at flood time. were the hatches belonging to the paper-mill opened, and the water lowered a few feet, an attempt might be made to solve these problems. mr. balch did, in fact, at a time when the water was partially lowered, make his way into two unexplored chambers, fed by tunnels submerged a foot or so below the surface. [illustration: second great chamber, wookey hole. _photo by dawkes & partridge, wells._] [illustration: entrance of third chamber, wookey hole. _photo by dawkes & partridge, wells._] the older and the newer caves and passages of wookey hole lie at five levels, one above the other like five storeys, the topmost of all representing the oldest channel of the subterranean axe, which has in the course of ages forsaken first one and then the other, boring fresh passages in the conglomerate. of these five storeys, one alone, the nethermost, is known to the uninitiated visitor. portions of the other four had been explored from time to time by mr. balch, who in made such discoveries of unknown continuations as fill us with hopes of penetrating deeply into the mysterious region beyond. climbing into the upper series from a spot near the threshold of the witch's kitchen, we made our way eastward over dry rocks, and came speedily to the junction with another passage from nearer the cave mouth. only a thin leaf of rock separates the two, for it is characteristic of all these upper passages that they run almost parallel to each other whilst rising to other levels. altogether, we doubled back on our original direction three or four times, creeping through holes in the walls partitioning the corridors, and ascending to the top of several lofty bridges, formed by fragments that have fallen from roof and walls and wedged themselves securely. the construction of these bridges is often marvellous to see. in one case a number of rocks form an irregular arch, at the top of which a keystone wedges the whole cluster together. obviously they must have fallen and come together practically at the same instant. this was what happened hard by with two great boulders that fell down the rift and caught each other in mid-air. another impressive natural structure is known to explorers of wookey hole as the spur and the wedge. the huge horizontal peak of limestone projecting into the chasm brings to mind a famous passage in mr. rider haggard's _she_. this spot was the scene of a droll adventure that befell one of my companions years ago. with several other boys, he wandered into these passages, when suddenly the one candle they had with them went out. a boy had been commissioned to bring a supply of matches, but it was ascertained that he had only one left, which on being struck promptly went out. in this emergency, the lads could do nothing but sit still until help arrived. they had no food, and in trying to feel the time, they broke the hands of the only watch. they computed that they had been in durance three days when the rescue party reached the spot, but the protracted and hungry period of waiting turned out to be only eight hours. their resting-place was the flat back of the pinnacle, with a -foot drop on one side and jagged rocks on the other. in two places in these galleries there are fine displays of stalagmite on the wall, in the form of corrugated sheets, the ridges of which, stained red with ferrous deposits, hang straight down like a series of organ pipes. the walls glisten here and there with minute crystals. but the most striking sight is where the dolomitic conglomerate, of which the walls are composed, appears in clean-cut sections. one of these, which has been successfully photographed, shows the differently coloured pebbles, chiefly mountain limestone with a few of old red sandstone, embedded in the matrix, and surrounded with distinct layers of cement, all as brilliantly defined as the concentric rings of an agate. hard by is a corner where mr. balch discovered the bones of a man; they were mineralised, but it was impossible to tell their period, or even whether they represented an interment, or were merely the remains of some wanderer from his tribe who had perished in this forlorn spot. sleeping bats hung from many a coign, and would not be awakened even when lifted down. big cave spiders crawled over the walls in the parts adjoining the open air, where the breeze found its way in, although we could not see through the narrowing crevices. here and there the cocoons of the spiders hung from the roof in white, woolly balls. at the farthest point reached was a settlement of jackdaws, with a number of untidy-looking nests, and there we could hear a thrush singing in the trees outside; for we were close to the main cliff, and the river was flowing out beneath our feet, under a great thickness of rock. [illustration: stalactite grotto: new chambers, wookey hole cave. _photo by h. e. balch._] [illustration: stalactite grotto, wookey hole. _photo by claude blee._] by the natural falling in of the roof, the first great chamber of wookey has broken through into the galleries above, and certain passages of the upper series now open high up in the vault of the witch's kitchen. one of these openings has been known for years; another, which we reconnoitred carefully in march , has now had its barrier of cave earth cut through, with the result that a group of stalactite chambers of wonderful beauty has been disclosed, with untold possibilities of further advance. boxing day was spent in an exploration of these new chambers. climbing on my shoulders, mr. balch got hand-hold in a chink of the limestone, and pulled himself up feet. here a stalagmite peg held the rope ladder whilst we clambered after, entering a cross gallery that gives access by another short scramble to the loveliest of the new grottoes. when the discovery was made, mr. balch and his assistants had to keep watch and ward day and night, until a door had been fitted up, and every hole and crevice securely blocked; for the entire village was quickly on the scene, and irretrievable damage might have been committed. the grotto is irregular in shape, and the incrustations are disposed without order or system. from every nook and corner in the superimpending rocks bundles of stalactite spears are thrust; bosses and pillars spring from the floor, and sometimes meet the descending shafts. of all these frail pillars, the finest, rising on the very edge of the rift we had ascended, seems to support the whole ponderous roof, like the fragile column left by a dexterous architect, to cheat the eye, in some cathedral vestibule. certain of these hanging shafts are shaped like the barbed head of a spear, a slanting stalactite having intercepted and coalesced with the dripping calcite from an inch or two away. a creamy, brownish yellow, with a golden lustre like that of amber, is the prevailing tint; but, here and there, plaques of dazzling white shine out against the burning magnesium. crawling in and out among the stalagmite pedestals, grievously afraid of injuring the diaphanous fabric, we emerged in a very low chamber of great area, right across which a grille of translucent rods, each a foot high and ranged in regular line, fills the narrow space between roof and floor. this extraordinary and strangely beautiful railing is some feet long, and only in one spot is it possible, by dint of careful wriggling, to pass between the rods into the farther parts of the chamber. mr. balch entreated me not to attempt this. when he tried it, a fortnight ago, he had indeed got through to the series of caves beyond, but, in returning, a projection had caught him at the lowest spot, where the chamber is only nine inches high, and he had struggled hard for twenty minutes before he could move an inch. two of us, notwithstanding this advice, ventured through. after draining off a pool of water that was held back by a thin rim of dripstone, we traversed the low chamber and a short tunnel beyond, climbed a vertical cleft, and entered another low chamber of immense length and breadth, whose various extensions we explored until the accumulated deposits of boulders and cave earth stopped our advance for the time being. in returning through the tunnel and the low chamber with the grille, we tried successfully to dive under the archway and wriggle into the opening head foremost, in spite of two opposing stumps of stalagmite. by these tactics we escaped the worst of the squeeze. [illustration: stalactite pillars, wookey hole. _photo by claude blee._] [illustration: new stalactite grotto, wookey hole. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] whilst engaged in this excursion, we had heard the sound of hammering somewhere away in the heart of the rock. it was our three friends attempting to break into a promising gallery, which ought to cross the vestibule of the main cavern and connect the two groups of upper caves. we were not long in joining them; and now with pick, hammer, and crowbar we attacked the barrier in force. the chief obstacle was a great flat rock standing on end across the unexplored opening, and propped up by a heap of boulders, which we gradually smashed up or removed to one side. still the big fellow would not budge, and we had to sap his foundations by degrees. yet this huge rock was but a fragment that had fallen from the edge of a vast and threatening leaf of rock, which now hung over our heads like a monstrous guillotine. the upper caves are waterless, and it soon became desirable to send one of our number to fetch us a drink. presently we heard a plaintive cry from the distance: his candle had gone out, and he had forgotten the matches. going to the rescue, i found him groping about on a shelf of rock, feet from the floor, hard by the spur and wedge; he had lost his bearings altogether. on his return, we made another onslaught upon our rocky adversary, the five of us sitting on his shoulder and pushing against the wall, whilst our leader waxed grimly facetious as to what would happen to us if the shock brought down the guillotine. slowly and painfully we tilted the mass of rock over, but only a few inches, leaving just room enough for a thin man to crawl behind. squirming eagerly into the opening, i looked under, and was disappointed to see that, if wide, it was still heaped right to the crown of the arch by the rubbish flung there long ago by the river. nevertheless, mr. balch was not dissatisfied. though parts of these ancient waterways are choked with débris, it is unlikely, nay impossible, that the main channels should not remain open. our day's work had taken us on another stage in our slow journey. the labour of removing the new obstacle will be considerable, but the result is sure. in we had the pleasure of escorting that veteran speleologist, monsieur e. a. martel, through the old and the new caves at wookey hole. about the same time efforts were made anew to force a way into unexplored territory, with not uninteresting results. many hours were spent one day by three of us in a hole that we had discovered just within the doorway of the cavern, a thing that had most unaccountably escaped observation hitherto, though right under our noses. the opening pointed in the direction of the lower cave mouth, where the axe comes out; but it certainly did not look very promising. crawling in, we found ourselves in a steeply descending passage, almost completely choked by stones and cave earth. but at the end of the first portion it was noticed that the floor dropped suddenly, indicating a chamber or gallery below. an afternoon was spent in the laborious task of shifting rocks, small stones, and earth, and passing up the fragments, great and small, from hand to hand, until they could be placed in safe positions near the mouth of the hole. eventually, an ancient channel through the solid rock was disclosed, and at the end of feet or so a broad low chamber appeared, floored with rocks and earth, and roofed in with solid rock at a height of or inches. pushing on, the leader speedily found he was jammed between floor and ceiling, and could go no farther without more engineering; but an elder wand was procured, a candle tied to the end of it, and this rough-and-ready torch being pushed forward, it was possible to see some feet ahead into the low chamber, in the depths of which a row of spiky stalactites stretched across like an alabaster grating. to explore this chamber thoroughly, it will be necessary to hollow out a passage in the soft floor. in all likelihood, it crosses the present river-course at a level only a few feet higher. quantities of pottery, bones, teeth, and fragments of charcoal were found in digging out the obstacles. it seems most probable that the hole was stopped up by human agency in prehistoric ages; perhaps it was a place of sepulture. the obstacles were carefully wedged together, and their removal caused much difficulty. it is not pleasant to lie on one's back in a hole, whose roof is only a few inches above one's face, and have a block of limestone rolled from end to end of one's frame, without allowance for projections in either. in all several tons of material were shifted and carried out of the way. much of the pottery had designs of a primitive character worked on the surface; the more elaborate was romano-british. considerable sections of amphoræ and other vessels have since been pieced together. [illustration: the grille: new chambers, wookey hole. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] [illustration: the source of the axe, wookey hole. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] next day i made a curious find at a point farther in. where the path from the entrance rises over a big accumulation of rocks, just before it reaches the first great chamber, a hole in the floor had been noticed. it had not been explored, but was waiting for someone capable of standing an exceptionally hard squeeze. the depth being uncertain, i had a rope tied on, and after a brief struggle managed to get through the first hole, into a crooked passage of no great length, which brought me down to a small bell chamber. this had simply been produced by the piling up of huge quantities of rocks and stones on the floor of the original cavern, the whole structure having since become thoroughly cemented and solidified by the growth of stalagmite. there were many teeth lying about, but the most interesting object was a wooden bowl, slightly flattened out, and resembling the top of a man's skull in shape and size. it felt soft, like a piece of cork, but was perfectly sound. what its age would be one could not tell within a century or two. it is now in the possession of mr. troup of wells. e. a. b. strenuous days in the eastwater swallet from two to three miles north of wookey hole, on the top of the mendip tableland, is a broad, shallow valley, surrounded on every side by higher ground. it is a grey, desolate tract, with few trees dotted over its surface, but a thick belt of wood on the south, the dark green of which in summer, and the black stems in winter, make the grey landscape seem the more arid, gaunt, and desolate. the ruined engine house of a deserted lead mine does not add to the attractiveness of the scenery. but that is soon lost to sight in the vastness of the rolling tableland, which swells up in the distance to feet above the sea on pen hill to the east, and again to the same height at priddy nine barrows on north hill, the general brown tints of the heather and bracken showing that the old red sandstone comes to the surface on these and the other saliences of the plateau. within this shallow basin the rock is limestone, and the causes of the existence of a valley without any visible outlet for its drainage are at once manifest. in many places the surface of the ground is scored and pitted by innumerable depressions of diverse shapes and sizes; roundish basins, steep funnels, craggy troughs with streams running in and disappearing, and mere dimples, grass-lined and perfectly dry. through these swallets, or swallow holes, the whole of the drainage finds a vent, and all the material excavated by the forces of nature in the process of hollowing out this valley, has been carried off in the same way. the work is still going on. at eastwater a little stream, flowing down a long ravine, suddenly comes against a limestone cliff, and begins to burrow. less than a mile away, another stream, big enough to be called a brook, pours into a cleft in the ground and is seen no more. this second swallow is known as swildon's hole, swildon being a corruption of swithin. years ago, in the course of a lawsuit, it was proved that the waters about the village of priddy, which stands on the edge of this upland valley, find their way into the axe, uniting their streams somewhere in the heart of the hill between this point and wookey hole. when there were storms on the hilltop, or the upland waters were fouled artificially, the axe came out turbid. that the area drained by the underground axe is a large one is proved by the size of the river, which must be formed by the junction of a good many streams of the volume of eastwater and the swildon brook. probably that area extends as far east as hillgrove, where a series of swallets in a woodland ravine are now being enlarged by mr. balch, with a view to an exploration of the underlying caverns. in mr. balch's party made a descent into swildon's hole, and got to a depth of feet below the point of absorption, which is at the same level as the eastwater swallet and that at hillgrove--that is, feet above the sea. difficulties having been put in the way of a more complete exploration by the owner of the field in which the swallet is situated, he turned his attention to the neighbouring stream of eastwater, which, unfortunately, runs away through holes impenetrable to man, and therefore had not promised so easy a route into the unknown. undeterred by the obvious difficulties, mr. balch set to work early in , and, as he describes, made his way at last into the open passages underneath the swallet. in the course of two or three visits he reached a point nearly feet below the cave mouth, and distant about feet in horizontal measurement. [illustration: entrance to great cavern of eastwater. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] [illustration: section of eastwater cavern.] he invited a large party to descend with him on march th, , for a more elaborate exploration. besides the leader, mr. balch, experienced cave explorers came from oxford, derby, holmfirth, glastonbury, and wells. driving up from wells early in the morning, we donned our overalls at the mouth of the swallet. everything was in readiness for the adventure, and at eleven o'clock or thereabouts the first man descended the artificial hole, feet deep, into the enormous accumulation of loose rocks that extends for more than feet into the head of the cavern. the blocks forming the sides of this shaft, and many of those beyond its foot, had been carefully underpinned with timber. everything bore witness to the labour and perseverance spent in engineering an entrance. the baggage having been let down by a rope, we pushed on through the confusion of rocks by a maze of passages resembling the intricacies of the well-known goatchurch cavern, at burrington, although the rocks, instead of being huge rectangular masses, were shattered into the most irregular forms and sizes, leaving holes between scarce big enough for a human body to squeeze through. the first explorers were two hours in finding a way through this bewildering labyrinth. some of our men went head foremost, others crawled on their backs with feet in front. the rocks were water-worn and jagged, and often so rotten with the action of water laden with carbonic acid, that a finger could be thrust in up to the hilt, as into clay. we formed ourselves into a chain to hand on the luggage; this was a trying business, for we were taking down more than feet of rope, besides a pick, a shovel, a bucket, various steel pulleys, an ample stock of candles, and provisions for three meals, to humour which through these unaccommodating passages was worse than coaxing one's own body along. both horizontal and vertical openings occurred here and there, and had to be avoided carefully, one of the most important of these being a flood-way formed by the stream entering the swallet. it was curious to find a withy stick making desperate efforts to put forth leaves in the darkness, and succeeding in producing a long white sprout. suddenly the noise of falling water was heard, and the leading men called for the rope ladder. the masses of loose rock end abruptly. to the right a steep tunnel, called the -foot way, carries a small stream down; to the left is a large, irregular chamber; and beyond it, the main passages of the cavern. the ladder being secured, each man resigned himself to the inevitable drenching, and descended into the rugged cave at the head of the -foot way. a camera was got down so far, but most of the apparatus was left at the parting of the ways. our road was now decidedly easier. the water-channel was rugged, but the roof rose fairly high, and there were few boulders. a large tunnel, cut in the solid rock, brought down a tributary stream on the right; on the other side, a horizontal tunnel was marked down for further investigation. the real termination of the -foot way has not been discovered. at present there is no passing beyond a choke of stones and gravel that fills it nearly to the roof; but mr. balch proposes to remove this. we returned to the horizontal tunnel. it led into an extensive sloping chamber whose shape is peculiarly characteristic of this cavern. roof and floor, roughly parallel, are inclined at an angle of fifty degrees. for a long distance there was space to creep along under the roof, then the space grew less, and at length the leading men shouted that they could get no farther. being rather slighter in build than those who were in front, i made an effort to pass them, and succeeded by clambering along at a higher level. a hole between some choke-stones and a stalactite gave me admittance to a continuation of this extraordinary chamber. then, dropping into a dry water-channel, i wriggled downward and downward, following the noise of some dislodged stones that rattled away to a considerable depth. at last i found it impossible to get any farther, though two more feet would have led me into a sudden widening that looked rather promising. the next man behind was unable to get within feet of this point. [illustration: the descent of eastwater cavern, the second vertical drop. _from sketch by h. e. balch._] [illustration: the great canyon, eastwater cavern. _from sketch by h. e. balch._] after an exceedingly painful journey back to the mouth of the tunnel, we sat down to lunch, before re-ascending the rope ladder, and carrying our baggage through a series of awkward holes and pits, all deluged with water, into the big chamber at the head of the main passages. in this chamber, whose walls, floor, and roof are formed of gigantic blocks seemingly on the point of collapsing, is an opening in the roof, through which a stream comes tumbling in. at the farthest corner therefrom a large opening leads to the bottom of a chimney or aven. great quantities of clay on walls and roof show that this cavern has frequently been filled with water through the choking up of the lower exit. the stream runs away into the rocky floor at the lower end of the cave, and a few feet above it is a flood-way, a short, low tunnel, through which we crawled. then begins one of the most interesting portions of the cavern. in one of those broad, low-roofed fissures, inclined at the same angle of fifty degrees as the general dip of the strata, and formed, in fact, by the widening of a bedding-plane in the limestone strata, a deep, winding channel has been cut by the stream we have just passed. it has been called, from its likeness, the canyon. for a considerable distance our path lies down the canyon, and with our heavy burdens we find the passage far from easy. as far as possible, we keep near the top of the ravine, straddling across. sometimes, however, there is no help for it but to drop right to the bottom. before we reach its termination, we have to climb out on the smooth, sloping floor of the main fissure, and wriggle forwards lying on our sides or on our backs. foot-hold and hand-hold being singularly scarce hereabouts, we shall find this one of the most troublesome places in returning. on the right, we have a glimpse through a hole here and there of another great low-roofed fissure sloping at the same angle; then there are cross roads, with a tunnel on the left admitting to a stalactite chamber, and a passage on the right leading to the lower end of the canyon. we now reached the most constricted portion of the main channel. it is a low, roundish tunnel, with an s curve at the distant end. a good deal of our locomotion might be likened to crawling through drain-pipes; we were now coming to a sort of trap. the s bend has to be taken with the body lying on its right side. once in it, the explorer cannot turn round, since the diameter every way only just admits a human body, and the three curves are close together. my candle went out half-way through, and to unjam my arm and get it down for the waterproof matches was a difficult and protracted operation. moving the luggage through was a very severe task, the width of the hole at one spot being only nine and a half inches. we issued into a good-sized passage. immediately on the left a twisting fissure went down to the head of the first perpendicular drop; but, leaving this for a while, we spent nearly an hour exploring the lofty chamber straight ahead of us. it rises to an unknown height in a vertical fissure, narrowing gradually. at the bottom is a deep cutting, which some of us passed by back and knee work, at a height above the floor. on the left, that is the eastern, wall are openings into a parallel tunnel with good stalactites. at the far end both this tunnel and the passage itself are blocked with clay and gravel.[ ] on our second visit, a day or two later, i explored a tunnel in the other wall feet from the floor. it led into another of the vast sloping fissures already described, which i was too much exhausted to explore very far. these fissures, all inclined at the same angle, and either parallel or else lying in one plane, are most impressive features of the eastwater cavern; their extent is evidently enormous, and it seems as if only a few frail pillars of jammed stones served to prevent the great mass of the hill from settling down and crushing roof and floor together. on a more minute survey it may turn out that these are all portions of one huge fissure, merely partitioned off by different chokes. [ ] recently, october , mr. balch dug through an obstruction here and entered a vast fissure chamber, which he climbed to a height of feet: it has a remarkable shaft as its outlet. it was four in the afternoon when we entered the twisting fissure leading to the first vertical descent, and two of the party had now to return. through an oversight in not bringing a short rope for harnessing the pulley, nearly two hours were spent in rigging up the tackle, the situation being awkward for letting men down safely. we were ensconced in a little chamber, the boulder floor of which opened into the top of a narrow rift widening downwards, where, about feet beneath, the walls funnelled into a yawning pit feet deep. this pit had been explored previously, and was found to be choked at the bottom; it formed a safe and certain receptacle for anything lost or dislodged by persons descending the cliff above it. the configuration of our hole was such that only one man at a time could get a steady pull on the life-line, which ran over a pulley. a manilla rope was therefore let down from the same belaying-pin, for a man to climb up and down by, so far as he was able, the life-line being used merely as a safeguard. one by one the explorers dropped over into the abyss. the last three or four had the best of it, since, with a hauling party below, full use could be made of the pulley. we were now drawing nigh to the final tug of war. a quarter of an hour of indescribable wriggling brought us to a narrow and lofty rift, into which as many of the party as it would accommodate wedged themselves, right over the second vertical drop. much the same tactics were resorted to here, save that, instead of a fixed pulley, each man in turn had a large steel pulley belted to him, through which ran feet of rope, one end fixed to a wedged boulder beneath us, the other end in the hands of the hauling party. a -foot manilla was, as before, allowed to hang free, as a guide-rope, over the crags, and enabled each man to do something for himself and assist those above. only four men essayed this last descent. the gigantic cavity into which we now dropped is one of the most savage and impressive things it has ever been my lot to see. at the top, over the heads of the hauling party, it runs up into the rocky mass of the hill as a vertical chimney, under the mouth of which lay what appeared to be a deep black pit. we alighted, one by one, on a sloping shelf that traversed the side of the cavity at a considerable height. creeping along this ledge, we saw at the end of it a huge cavernous opening descending into darkness, with a mighty rock wedged across it like a bridge. the black, gaunt walls on each side of us were craggy and rifted; their surfaces glistened with streaming water. our ledge ending abruptly, we dropped, hand over hand, on the rope, to the edge of a large pothole, into which a stream was rushing. at this point a tunnel goes off to the left, and, as it had not been explored, i was asked by mr. balch to proceed down it. two of us crept and clambered and slid down a very dirty watercourse, till, at a distance of perhaps yards, we found ourselves atop of a high clay bank, closely overhung by rocks, with a stream rumbling along to the south-south-west. i got within feet of the water, but without a rope to get us up again we would not venture farther. we had now been in the cave nine and a half hours, and were too much fatigued to undertake new work. it was ascertained, beyond reasonable doubt, that a fine series of potholes that exist in the continuation of the great cavity must drain into the stream just discovered. beyond those potholes, to pass which involves much hard work, is another cavity, and beyond that what?--at present no one can tell. all we know is, that the water finds its way ultimately into the vast reservoirs inside wookey hole; but whether there are other vast cavities, or merely narrow crevices and impassable clefts between, is a question that will require labours almost herculean to solve. in scrambling back along the ledge in the big cavity i gave the final shove to a dangerous loose rock weighing something like six hundredweight. it fell into the ravine beneath, and hurtled onwards toward the chain of potholes, making the whole grim place ring with a crash of echoes. it took us two hours and a half to return to the cave mouth, although we were unencumbered with apparatus, for we had left the ropes and pulleys in place for another descent. getting seven men up the higher of the two vertical pitches was a tough undertaking at the end of an arduous day, and when we returned through the famous s tunnel more than one explorer seemed disposed to snatch a sleep on its procrustean bed. we had been twelve hours underground when we revisited the glimpses of the moon. it had been proposed to continue the exploration next day, but no one was fit for such a repetition of exhausting labours. the day following, a party of three was mustered to recover the apparatus that had been left in the depths. two of us reached the head of the nethermost pitch, and after hours of severe work got everything up to the mouth of the swallet. once more we drove back over mendip in the dark. all around us on the desolate plateau was impenetrable gloom, but in the northern sky, and it seemed but a few miles away, the lights of bath and bristol flared across the heavens like two immense conflagrations. never does one feel the sublimity of the open, windy earth, the starry sky, and the free sense of space, so profoundly as after striving for a long day to break through the barriers that shut us out from the regions of mystery under the hills. e. a. b. swildon's hole an insignificant crevice, a hole scarcely wide enough to tempt a dog or fox, alone gives admittance to what is perhaps the wildest and most magnificent cavern in britain. swildon's hole, it has already been stated, lies at the same level, feet above the sea, as the eastwater swallet and that of hill grove. it lies in a separate trough, within the same basin as the eastwater stream, with whose waters it unites somewhere in the bowels of the rocky hills, to flow out of wookey hole as the river axe, of which it may be considered as the principal feeder. a few years ago the actual swallet was visible, the brooklet running away into holes under a bank of earth and rock crowned with foliage. more recently, in order to make a small fish pond, the landowner has made a dam above the swallet, which is entirely concealed by this means, an entrance remaining, however, into the maze of cavities and waterways through a narrow crevice at the side. mr. balch was the first person to recognise the importance of swildon's hole as a chief feeder of the axe, and in he made preparations to explore it. but through some delay, three members of his party were the first to enter the cave, without him--namely, messrs. troup and h. and f. hiley. a short while after, mr. balch was able to carry out a more extended exploration. then for some time no one entered the swallet, which gradually became choked with stones and litter brought down by the stream. very few had ever heard of the cave, and hardly anyone realised that one of the most beautiful pieces of underground scenery in britain was lying there unseen, and one of the most important of hydrological problems remaining quite unsolved. the next visit took place about christmas . mr. troup, who had been one of the first in the cave, took the lead of our party. my other companions were messrs. bamforth and e. e. barnes, but we expected to be joined some hours later by mr. balch and mr. slater. when the first explorers entered this cavern some little while ago, they met with serious difficulties owing to the presence of ancient chokes or dams that held back pools of water, but they were assisted by the dryness of the weather. we, on the contrary, made our descent after a period of heavy rains, and the volume of water that accompanied us down was twentyfold as great. we had one advantage, however: the original discoverers were with us to point the way. with luggage reduced to a minimum, two ropes, plenty of illuminants, food, and two cameras, we passed through the uninviting entrance, and attacked methodically a close-packed mass of débris that had been washed into a narrow gut since the former visit. whilst we lay at work, the sound of falling water in the depths below broke on our ears, a musical but ominous salutation. the obstacle wasted two hours of valuable time. wriggling through at last, feet foremost, our legs came out over the rift, a narrow chasm some feet deep, with the head stream of the cavern tumbling in over a choke-stone at one end. our goods were let down carefully into the hands of the first man, who lodged them in a sheltered spot whilst we scrambled hastily down through showers of spray. now began a painful advance into the depths. along the tilted bedding planes, down the perpendicular joints of the limestone, widened by the water into broad, low chambers and deep shafts and canyons, we forged ahead, hugging the stream, which grew larger and angrier as tributaries came swishing in from walls and roof. at one point the water swept horizontally along a straight canal, but was stopped at the end by a recent choke, and now tumbled through a hole in the wall into a huge pothole. through this lay our road. [illustration: entrance of swildon's hole. _photo by m. martel._] [illustration: waterfall, swildon's hole. _photo by h. e. balch._] the water poured down a staircase of similar basins, where to keep clear of the stream was impossible. so far we had kept tolerably dry, but as we clung to this watery ladder i pricked up my ears at the remark, "will you have your back or your stomach in it?" crouching on all fours, with back pressed against the low roof, and looking between my legs, i watched the performances of my comrades, as each in turn went through the final archway. not one escaped a severe wetting. but i was going to be more wily--at least, i thought so. with hands and knees in the rushing stream, i squirmed hastily but cautiously through. i seemed to be getting on famously, and gave a spurt. that moment the rocks ended; they were undercut. i found myself sliding down a waterfall feet high, and floundering in a big pool at the bottom. drenched we were; but what better preparation could we have for the troubles ahead? this part of the cavern shows traces of enormous changes in the course of the stream, which has planed down great masses of stalagmite, the growth of ages, when this section of the tunnels was dry or all but deserted by the streams, which found a way down by the horizontal canal or some higher channel. between this first water-chute and the second lies the most nerve-trying part of the journey to the farthest point hitherto attained. it is a succession of lofty rifts, giving into each other at right angles, the water sweeping from one to the next through curving fissures and sudden falls. for a while we kept above the canyons on a water-worn shelf, all that remained of a low, flattish chamber that sufficed for the small streams of older times. this giving out, we scrambled along the cliffs of the canyons, which seemed in the gloom without top or bottom, bestraddling the rift, or with feet on one side and back to the other pushing on from hold to hold. the limestone grips would have been amply sufficient for this mode of progression had they not been drenched and slippery. below us the waters raced and bellowed. at the junctions of the canyons they sounded on all sides at once; the invisible hollows all round seemed to be alive with angry voices, mad to be at us. what if a thunderstorm burst over mendip now? such thoughts would occur, although we knew we could climb into safety on the upper shelves of the canyon; for with a water-chute above and another below, a little flood would make us fast prisoners. at the well, the stream tumbles suddenly into a deep round pit, in which it is churned to foam before being driven out with accelerated speed along a rugged gorge to the second staircase of potholes. shreds of magnesium ribbon dropped into the well lit up such a turmoil of waters as one might see in some gigantic turbine going at full speed. two of us now went ahead to report on the condition of the next stage. the gorge was too wide for climbing, but we found a footing on the rocks in the bed, then squirmed through a narrow fissure, and began to descend the potholes. these were deep basins, with high walls on the upper side where the stream poured in, and the other side broken down by the force of the torrent. below them lay the second water-chute, a big fall pitching into a hole underneath a low arch, and sliding out into a turbulent pool. it was a sort of culvert, with very little head-room above the water. had we not come through so many tribulations already, and had we not known of the glories that awaited us in the great stalactite chamber beyond this last trial, we should certainly have been turned back by this obstacle. after some little hesitation we resolved to attempt it, and went back to the head of the well for our companions. one of the cameras had already been left behind; it was decided to leave the other here. the leader went down the water-chute on his back; the rest adopted all the other attitudes possible short of a complete header. but it made little difference; all got a most effectual drenching. running the gauntlet beneath another tributary, which came swishing in just over our heads, we pushed on into a high and ample chamber, where in times gone by a volume of water had accumulated in a sort of gigantic cistern. the rocky roof was flat and smooth, its cracks and fissures fringed with meandering lacework of stalactite. in front, the rocky mole that once held up the reservoir was cloven into a series of limestone seracs, between which the stream found its way down into the remoter cavities. masses of clay, some feet thick, deposited by the ancient waters, still flanked this rugged portal into the unknown. bones of sheep, cattle, horses, and lesser mammals lay about in profusion, enough to reconstruct whole skeletons; with them were the relics of animals now extinct on mendip, deer and other creatures. higher up sherds of samian pottery had been found, brought down by the stream from the rubbish heaps of long ago. what struck the imagination as still more wonderful was that in this sunless spot, feet below the surface, there were creatures that lived. empty snail shells were abundant, but yet more plentiful were tiny snails that were actually crawling over the clay, feeding, no doubt, on water-borne vegetable matter. gossamer-like webs stretched across many chinks in the limestone, but the microscopic spiders we could not see. what flies did they live on? surely not the caddis, whose corpses lay about in plenty on every shoal. from this chamber the stream quickly descends into the great water rift, one of the most wonderful things in the whole cavern. it is but a few feet wide, but its height is enormous. the walls go up like mountain cliffs, but are lost in gloom instead of mist. here tremendous changes had taken place since the former exploration. at that time the rift was blocked up in one place by a vast barrage of rock and stalagmite, that came down to the stream and forbade human progress save by one strait and difficult way. at a height above the water a hole ascended seven feet into the barrier, its orifice all but closed by a fringe of stalactites. contriving to enter, the explorers crept up this pipe, and down a corresponding one on the other side, coming out on a cliff face overhanging the continuation of the water rift, to attain the bottom of which was an abstruse gymnastic problem. a little farther on they reached the utmost limit of their journey, where the stream beats violently against the termination of the rift, is hurled sideways, and finds an outlet through a low crevice, whence it tumbles in a -foot cataract into an unknown pool. our main object to-day had been to descend this -foot pitch; that was the reason why we had encumbered ourselves with two long ropes. but now all was different. in the short interval that had elapsed since the former visit, the strength of the ungovernable torrent had swept away the whole of this vast structure, the work of thousands of ages--for the pyramids are recent erections compared with these products of unimaginably slow crystallisation. hardly a vestige remained; and now the current dashed unimpeded from end to end of the water rift, and the incessant thunder of the cataract deafened ears already attuned to the noise of the higher falls and canyons. probably the removal of stones and dams by the former party, in making their way down, had contributed largely to this extraordinary event. nothing could be done in the face of such a volume of water. we turned, accordingly, out of the main passage into a lofty gallery or transept that branches off to the west, the general direction of the cavern being due south. to say it branches off is slightly incorrect, for it is really the course of a tributary brook, and quite possibly may have been in remote times the channel of the main stream. at all events its shape and magnitude indicate that it was once a very important section of the cavern. scrambling cautiously along the sides of the toppling fragments of the mole, we crossed a deep gap and entered the gallery. at the portal a great hollow corbel of stalactite stood out from the wall, like an enormous stoup, its huge rims curved over like the petals of a flower. it stood there in solitary grandeur, but it was a token of transcendent glories beyond. a few more steps, and we saw that we were on the threshold of a fane more beautiful than any made with hands. the rocks to right and left were sheeted with crystalline enamel, its surface powdered thickly with a minute splash deposit, so frail that it gave one a twinge to crush the lovely efflorescence as we moved. one could not go a step without destroying hundreds of these delicate spicules, the work of untold ages of water action. more great corbels stood out from the walls as we advanced; they were richly moulded with concentric rings of stalagmite, and these again were carved and chased with wonderful reliefs. from the corbels sprang huge pillars right to the roof, pillars feet in height; and from their capitals shining curtains hung down in ample folds, heavy as parian marble, and as lovely in hue. one would have called them white, had we not seen, hanging from a cleft high up in the lofty walls, a mass of curtains as white as arragonite, the whitest thing there is. so dazzling was their immaculate purity that the rich creamy surface of the other incrustations showed dusky in comparison. we were veteran cave explorers, yet it seemed to us that all the caves we had ever seen in britain could no more vie with this than parish churches with cathedrals. at each turn there was a new and more enthralling vista: more pillars, ampler curtains, piers and arches of oriental magnificence, fluted and moulded into wildest fantasies. it struck one with a curious wonder to think that all these splendours had lain here unbeheld by living eye, untouched by a gleam of light, until one casual year in the twentieth century. but the photographer was exercised by other feelings. he was here, but where was his camera? it had seemed a herculean labour to bring that much-enduring instrument down to the -foot level, but he declared that the task was not superhuman, and, furthermore, he was determined to do it. he could not do it alone, however; that was obvious. the expedition, therefore, came down out of the stalactite gallery. two went through the water-chute, two remained just outside it, to assist in the last and most dangerous stage of the transportation. we waited a long time; in fact, we had leisure enough to explore an interesting side gallery whilst the others made their way to and from the head of the well. at last their welcome shout was heard. standing in the water, with light held low under the arch, we caught sight of a hand, and then of a wading and much-crumpled-up man, lugging the camera, which he kept out of the foaming water with admirable skill. we grabbed it, and put the precious instrument in a place of safety; ten minutes later the flashlight was at work, taking our breath away with its gorgeous revelations. the photographer had his troubles even here, though not such as to be compared with those of the water caverns we had recently traversed, where at this moment two of our party, following us down, were engaged in photographing the canyons and the falls, under difficulties that few cameras have ever been confronted with. here there was no marble pavement suitable to the splendours of the walls; nothing for the camera to stand on but an inch or two of slippery ledge, with a depth of mud in the middle that none of us cared to fathom. the only place that could be found at one spot for the flashlight was the top of my unfortunate head, which i generously put at the photographer's disposal. on it was laid a piece of stone, on which the gun-cotton was spread and sprinkled with the powder, which, when it went off, made me shut both eyes for fear of the shower of sparks, and so i missed the glorious blaze of light that illumined the cavern. [illustration: entrance of stalactite chamber, swildon's hole. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] [illustration: stalactite curtains, swildon's hole. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] these stately columns, soaring vaults, and sweeping marble draperies were strangely out of proportion to the narrowness of the place. but now the sinuous aisle broadened out, and the style of the architecture was changed entirely. we were at the junction chamber where, in the remote past, two big streams came down from the yawning passages to the left and right, and met here, probably as the main stream of the cavern. the roof is a spacious dome, hung with resplendent candelabra. but the unique feature of the place, the thing that impresses itself on the memory as one of the most dazzling creations of the wonder-working calcite, is the stalagmite bridge. bridge, i say, but it is more than a bridge, for its complicated arches support a beautiful piazza, with a huge array of dripstone terraces, crystal basins, massive pedestals, and obelisks of stalagmite, which all but fills the chamber and extends some distance up the alcoves behind. standing on one of the great hemispheres of dripstone, one could put one's head among the pendulous shafts above, and see how each was marvellously twisted, moulded, and fantastically embossed and gemmed with flashing crystals. the splash formation covered everything beneath the roof, save portions of the polished floor, with millions of tiny spicules. we had to move about cautiously, not only for fear of doing damage, but to avoid gaping pitfalls in the bridge, the surface of which was smooth as ice. [illustration: stalactite chamber, swildon's hole. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] whilst we were at work photographing a distant shout was heard, and soon the two men who had followed us down arrived at the big chamber. but our party was again reduced to its original four by the departure of two other members, who were to go back by the aquatic route in order to pick up certain articles that had been deposited on the way down. we ourselves hoped to get to the surface by another and a drier course. at the previous exploration two men had missed the rest of the party, and found their way, after divers adventures, through the ramifications of the cavern, to what they described as a great stalactite chamber, which was presumably our gallery. when they reached it, however, no one was there, nor any trace of human presence; either the explorers had finished their work and departed, or the pair had missed their way altogether. it was believed that they had come down to this very spot by the gallery joining this one on the north, and we purposed following that passage out. but this, as we presently discovered, was all wrong. two of us now went off on an exploring trip into the great passage running west. at once we encountered a series of huge obstructions. this passage was of the usual rift pattern, and, save for holes and crevices between, was wholly blocked up by large masses of tumbled rocks. one of us climbed to the top of the cyclopean pile, whilst i attempted to make my way along at the middle height, but eventually found it easier to crawl through the culverts and water-gaps, regardless of mud and wet. even among the piled-up rocks there were charming little nooks adorned with rich incrustations. when the rocks ended the open tunnel began to ascend rapidly; then, after a while, we came to another tunnel joining it on the north. this, though smaller, was the more important passage; the other shortly came to an end in a lofty grotto, bountifully tapestried with curtains and tassels of stalactite. we climbed the northern passage, through several brilliant displays of incrustation, and reached a level approximately feet below the surface, by aneroid; there we could get no farther. but, unknown to ourselves, we had brought back important information. we had noticed mysterious bits of string at two points in this series. when we reported the discovery to the two men left behind, they at once saw its significance. the two men whose route down to the stalactite chamber had caused so much perplexity had used a ball of string to mark their way out--these were the relics. our casual trip had, perhaps, saved us from a night of blind wandering in the unknown branches of the great tunnel on the north. all being in readiness for our departure, we now proceeded to take up this providential thread. it was not an easy task. often not an inch of string remained undecayed for many hundreds of feet together, and often we nosed the walls and floor, eagerly but in vain, for droppings of candle grease left by our predecessors. the way was dry, that was a relief, after six or seven hours in wet clothes; but it was a tighter squeeze than the other, and the sharpness of the turns was often aggravated by a portcullis of crystals on our backs, and a _cheval de frise_ of stalagmite spear-heads against our stomachs. all the while we wondered whether we should really find the exit, or whether we should have to return and undertake the canyons after all. mr. balch compared our task of finding the desired exit to an attempt to ascend from the mouth of a river to some unknown point upon one of its tributaries, with nothing to indicate which way to take. this puts the position clearly enough, i think. there was no string to be found in the higher parts. at last the man in front disappeared feet foremost through the ugliest hole we had yet seen, out of which the noise of waters sounded ominously. a cheering cry came back to us; he had found the rift, where we had descended seven hours ago into the route through the canyons. a few more yards of determined wriggling, and the candle left by the other two men hove in sight. we found they had got out two hours ago. the stars were shining from a clear sky, and a keen frost was on the fields, but the excitement and the success of our adventure were stimulant enough to keep out the cold. e. a. b. the great cavern at cheddar the ultimate goal of our researches at cheddar has been the discovery of the underground river-course. not many yards below the entrance to gough's, or the great cavern, a large body of water wells up at the foot of a cliff, spreading out into a beautiful mere, half encircled by crags; flows on thence through the village, performing a great deal of industrial work on its way; and, finally, proceeds a mile or two farther as the cheddar water, to join its brother, the axe, which has a similar origin. but less is known about the darksome course of the cheddar water than about the stream flowing out of wookey hole. with its tributaries, it has doubtless been the principal agent in the formation, not only of the caves, but also of the famous cheddar gorge, which bears every evidence of having been produced by the gradual destruction of a series of caverns. yet this important stream has actually not been met with hitherto at any single point of its course underground, and we have anything but complete information as to its sources on the uplands of mendip. the owners of the great cavern, the messrs. gough brothers, tell me that they intend to blast away about feet of rock immediately overlying the exit of the river. when the stream is very full, water often bursts forth here from cracks and joints several feet above the normal level, and they imagine that there must be a chamber of some height just within. this, however, in my opinion, is not a necessary inference, since every cavity and crevice behind the outlet would at such times be heavily charged with water, under pressure, and the large cavities might be a long way back. it is curious that the water in a low tunnel recently discovered in cox's cavern, which lies some distance from gough's, and at a lower level, rises and falls in unison with the movements of the water-level of the river outside, although that always remains feet higher. cox's cavern is occasionally flooded, yet the water never rises to a point within feet of the river level. obviously the subterranean connection must be of a complicated and roundabout form. at the time of my first serious attempt to explore the caves of cheddar, when our party contained dr. norman sheldon, mr. j. o. morland, and mr. harry bamforth, two of whom have not since been able to join us in somerset, i had not the advantage of knowing mr. h. e. balch, and we were utterly unaware of the great work he had been doing in the cave region adjoining wells. on the other hand, we received invaluable assistance from the brothers gough, who are not only proprietors of show caves, but take a sincere interest in underground exploration. their father, who died in , was the discoverer of the caverns that bear his name, and was actively at work pushing his way farther and farther into the rocky bosom of the hill up to the year of his death, at a good old age. [illustration: stalagmite pillars in gough's great cavern. _photo by gough, cheddar._] [illustration: the pillars of solomon's temple, gough's caves, cheddar. _photo by gough, cheddar._] the great cavern was discovered in . the parts open to visitors extend in a generally easterly direction for some yards, and consist of natural chambers and passages, connected here and there by artificial tunnels. we began work early in the morning, carrying into the cavern a large quantity of ropes, ladders of wood and rope, and plenty of illuminants, including a -candle-power limelight, which with its lens or condenser is one of the most valuable aids in subterranean work. many openings are seen overhead and in the walls of the cavern as the visitor advances, some of which end abruptly, whilst others lead into small grottos and galleries. one of the most conspicuous chimneys, or perpendicular caves, has at its base a peculiar staircase of stalagmitic basins, formed by the deposits of a calcareous spring that is now dried up. these basins are known as the "fonts." our conductors had been in the habit of climbing about feet up this lofty chasm, over the crust of stalagmite, and a wire rope had been fixed to assist visitors in ascending to a broad, deep ledge. above this point the rocks were much steeper. no one had ever succeeded in seeing the top, and at first we thought it would be impossible to ascend any higher without some sort of apparatus. we sent for a ladder, and meanwhile dr. sheldon and i tried to clamber over the jutting arch of rock that formed the first obstacle--a cave-pitch in a gully or chimney we should call it in climbing parlance. to our surprise, we succeeded in reaching the continuous channel or gutter above it, which ascended at a high angle, with sheer walls to right and left, and the other side of the huge shaft overhanging it. the holds were shallow and slippery, and with one hand grasping a candle we found the ordinary difficulties of a rock-climb multiplied enormously. half-way up my candle went out, but my companion was now well ahead, and i groped my way after him with confidence. when a shout from below announced that the ladder had been hoisted up to the platform above the "fonts" we were within a few yards of the top. at a height of feet (by the aneroid) above this platform and of feet above the floor of the cavern we found the shaft completely blocked up with débris and clay. we were in a subterranean pot, or swallet, of large dimensions, formed in remote ages by a big stream, which had worked through its limestone bed, and continued its path at a deeper level. whether this was the main stream that now flows in an unknown course hundreds of feet below, or only a tributary, it is at present impossible to tell. mr. bamforth's limelight was now projected up the chasm, revealing grand masses of superincumbent rock on the farther side, whilst the view downwards, past our friends into the dark bottom of the pit, was very curious. roping ourselves together for the descent, we kept near each other for fear of a slip, and took the utmost precautions not to dislodge any stones on the heads of those underneath. the limelight was a great advantage, although many dark reaches had to be carefully inspected with a taper before we could secure foothold. when we got to the critical bit at the bottom we found the ladder placed ready for us. not far from the entrance to the "fonts" is the mouth of a low passage on the other side, with a hole at the far end of it, that our guides thought must communicate with the underground river which, they conjecture, has its channel not far below this spot. we crawled into this burrow and fixed ourselves in the confined space round the black pit, which we found, by throwing in stones, had water in it. with a rope round my waist i climbed down the fissure, whose sides were of sharply corrugated rock though they looked like wet clay. about feet down the hole grew so narrow that i could not turn round; i could just reach the water with my foot, but found that it was quite a small pool. another "well," nearer the cave mouth, was explored after our further operations had been carried out. it was situated at the extremity of another burrow, but was much larger in circumference. steadied by the rope, i climbed to the bottom and found a large pool of great depth about feet below the edge. no current was perceptible, and its connection with running water is hardly probable. some years later, a perfect skeleton of a man was exhumed from the clay beneath the stalagmite in this burrow; accompanying it were numerous flint flakes. some peculiarities indicate that the find was that of a man of early neolithic age. it is shown by the gough brothers at the entrance of their cave. while some of the party were photographing the "show place," a lofty dome-shaped cavern with its sheet of stalagmite poured over the cliff like a petrified waterfall, two of us retraced our steps from "st. paul's," as this beautiful sight is nicknamed, to the branch leading to the other principal shows. "solomon's temple" is a wonderful grotto, walled, roofed, and floored with gleaming white and ivory calcite, and set at the top of another great fall of stalagmite which has flowed on and on in a gentle stream and covered the floor of a lofty cavern with dimpling waves of crystal. nor are these all its attractions, for on turning round the spectator sees on the opposite cliff a broad and voluminous sheet of stalagmite, rippling down, spouting and foaming over the rocks like a waterfall, but still as marble and white as frozen snow. we had seen all these things before, however, and were anxious to move on to new ground again. [illustration: organ pipes, gough's caves, cheddar. _photo by gough, cheddar._] [illustration: a stalagmite fall, gough's cave, cheddar. _photo by m. martel._] in the fork between the main passage and this big cavern is a large irregular opening, with disorderly blocks of limestone heaped up on its floor. we picked our way across these, and at a height of feet reached the edge of an abrupt rock some four yards high. we dropped over on to an earthy floor, and going a little farther found ourselves in a domical chamber with three low exits. first of all exploring that on our left, we had a look at a slanting shaft filled with a "ruckle" of big shattered blocks wedged insecurely, above which are two small chambers incrusted with stalagmite, but with no apparent exit. we climbed down again, and tried the third opening. it led through a series of caves and narrow clefts into a larger chamber, all maintaining the same easterly direction, and there we found two possible ways onward. the first of these brought us in a few moments to the brink of a steep cliff, which seemed to be one wall of a considerable cavern. we preferred to wait for the limelight before venturing to let a man down into this unknown abyss, and meanwhile to examine the other passage. a few minutes' crawling brought us to a great pit, which sounded very deep when we threw in some fragments of rock. apparently it was the chasm that had been described to us as feet deep by one of our guides who had descended part of the way. we approached the edge with respect, and as a preliminary step let down a rope ladder into the upper part, which is strangely twisted. at a depth of feet i found a possible landing-place; the second man joined me, and by dint of careful manoeuvring the third got down to the same spot. with an -foot rope tied on, i now explored the next section of the chasm, and was delighted to find that there was just enough rope to reach a slope of big rocks at the bottom. a little more scrambling brought me into a vast chamber, the floor of which was piled up with enormous blocks, while the lowest part seemed to offer two possible routes onwards. one of these proved to be a mere hollow, but the other was evidently the channel of a stream, and apparently led onwards into further caves. but the roof was extremely low, and it was quite impossible to wriggle through. one of my companions, who had now joined me, also failed to squeeze through the opening, and we decided to leave it until the hole could be enlarged with pick and shovel. the alleged feet was found by aneroid to be exactly feet. in a corner of this lofty cavern was a steep fissure which seemed to be well worth exploring. the bottom half of it was completely walled in by an enormous flake of limestone that had come down from the roof, and looked as if a touch would send it tumbling on the heaps of rock at the bottom of the cave. we scrambled up the fissure at the back of this, and reached a promising gallery; but, to our disgust, this was entirely blocked up with clay and mud at the top, and it was impossible to proceed. gaining the summit of the huge limestone flake, we lit up the cave with magnesium wire, and were deeply impressed by its height and the grandeur of the shattered crags bristling on walls, roof, and floor. everything was black, save one long, dripping cascade of stalagmite on the wall over against us; its unsullied whiteness shone weirdly out of the gloom as the fierce light fell on it. just at that moment voices were heard, and from a rent in the rocky wall in front the intolerable beam of the searchlight came right in our faces. the remainder of the party had followed us up, and reached the spot where we had first looked over into the deep chasm. revealed in all its extent by this penetrating light, the cave reminded us strongly of the enormous chamber that we had explored a few months earlier in the lowest part of the blue john mine in derbyshire. on the way back one of the acetylene lamps fell down the pit by which we had entered, and was completely smashed. with no other mishap, we made our way through the tortuous passages and amongst the chaos of tumbled rock masses back to the cavern under "solomon's temple." two of us explored the openings above "st. paul's" a few days later. a -foot ladder was placed against the corner of the stalagmite fall, and a yard or two of scrambling took us to the top. on the left was an ascending vault, with openings to right and left. taking the latter to begin with, we found it gradually trend downhill and dwindle away into a series of holes scarcely big enough to let a human body pass. squeezing through with a good deal of trouble, i reached a flattish cave with a floor of rock and stalagmite all cracked and fissured. the whole of this part seemed to have been shivered by some large movement of the rocky strata. one of the fissures gave entrance to a passage underneath the floor; but this speedily narrowed, and when it was impossible to get farther i found myself right underneath my companion, who was holding my rope and paying it out as i advanced from his original position in the outer passage. no other exit being discoverable on this side, we crossed to the passage on the right, and after a few yards of crawling under a depressed roof we found ourselves on the largest expanse of stalagmite either of us had ever met with. it had flowed down from fissures high up on our left and spread over a wide, rocky slope; it had then contracted and poured over a cliff immediately on our right. we still kept the rope taut, and moved about cautiously, for the crystalline floor was extremely slippery, and the cliff immediately beneath us would have made the slightest accident serious. a broad flat roof of rock overhung the floor of stalagmite closely, and was covered with thin pipes and reeds of stalactite. we soon ascertained that we had returned by a different route to the crown of the petrified cascade in "st. paul's," although a craggy partition separated us from our route up the ladder. we explored the edges of this huge surface of stalagmite, which we could not measure, having no better light to guide us than a few tapers, but which could not be much less than feet wide. where the deposits came down through crevices at the top they had settled in jewelled and diapered masses of the most fantastic patterns. our situation was, however, too precarious for lingering in this strange spot, and without another man to back one up it was impossible to explore the hole at the top. we gave up our quest reluctantly and returned towards our ladder, incrusted from head to foot with the thick, plastic clay. a convenient knob of stalagmite enabled us to give the rope a hitch whilst we scrambled down to the top of our ladder. one other passage from the main cavern was explored, with a curious cluster of vertical cavities near its extremity. the end of the passage was coated in every direction with tinted deposits, among which we noticed beautiful specimens of the branching stalactites that were called _anemolites_ by the explorers of the blue john caverns, who thought they had acquired their abnormal shapes through the irregularity of evaporation caused by air currents. i climbed or feet up one of the openings in the roof, whilst dr. sheldon explored another. at the top we found no exits big enough to afford a man passage. a wider cavity in the middle of the roof looked more promising. a ladder was adjusted, but fell short; but my companion, with considerable risk of a dangerous fall, clambered up to the rocky slope and over the piles of jagged blocks that well-nigh filled it. this too failed to afford us a passage, and the daring climber had great difficulty in coming down, being forced to thread the rope and let himself down on it to the ladder. during the operation a flake of rock came hurtling down and hit the ladder, but luckily did nothing worse than smash a rung. these cavities in the roof were extremely interesting, and no doubt are connected together and have a common origin in some neighbouring fissure or waterway. five caverns at cheddar the cheddar gorge, which is the deepest and narrowest defile, and on its south side presents the loftiest face of absolutely vertical rock in england, is not dissimilar, though far superior in height and grandeur, to the winnats pass in derbyshire. the huge chasm runs east-north-east across the dip of the limestone beds, which are tilted up towards the saddle of mendip; one of its sides, consequently, is formed mainly of shelving rock, and the other is almost continuously precipitous. if, as may be assumed with confidence, the original cause of the ravine was a stream or streams flowing through a chain of caverns, one would naturally expect to find openings on the abrupt side through which the underground waters were successively tapped, and followed the trend of the strata to a lower level. this view is confirmed by observation. except at the jaws of the defile, where both sides are equally high and precipitous, there are no caves on the northern side, but on the south openings both large and small are frequent, some narrow and lofty--"slitters," they are called locally--the others low and wide, according as they originated in a vertical joint or a bedding plane. they occur at various levels, some on inaccessible shelves high up in the cliffs, others along the base. but the larger number of these openings have in the lapse of time become silted up with clay and débris, so that the entrance is either completely masked or it is impossible to penetrate far without toilsome work with pick and shovel. after exploring the great cavern our party of four devoted some time to an examination of these openings, so far as could be done without excavating. there are three important caverns in close proximity to the great cavern, or gough's. the best known is cox's, a small but exceedingly beautiful stalactite cavern (see frontispiece). no one interested in caves would think of visiting cheddar without seeing the great cavern, nor would any such person dream of missing cox's. each is the complement of the other as a piece of underground scenery. the spacious vaults and vast stalagmite falls of the one fill one with a sense of power and majesty; the other is a gem of fantastic architecture, embellished with the most lawless and fairy-like designs of the subterranean artificer, and unique in one respect--the wealth and diversity of the mineral deposits that have dyed its multiform incrustations with luminous tints. no sane man, however, would attempt to describe cox's cavern in detail, and a photograph can give only colourless glimpses of its kaleidoscopic beauties. the cavern seems, at first sight, to be a solitary freak of nature, having no connection with the general system of caves and streams. but since the visit just referred to, several new passages have been opened, among them the interesting water-tunnel with its ebb and flow corresponding to the movements of the cheddar water outside, which, as already described, flows at a higher level. of three other good-sized fissures or ancient channels radiating from the same large chamber, two after a while dwindle away almost to nothing, but the third has indications of a channel striking downwards, which it might be worth while to clear of rubbish. all these passages were choked with clay until quite recently. [illustration: in cox's cavern at cheddar. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] [illustration: great rift cavern, cheddar gorge. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] the next cave also is of minor interest to the speleologist, although it contains many curious sights. it is called "gough's old cavern," and its entrance is close to the mouth of the great cavern. it is an ascending cleft, apparently not linked at present with the other caves, although it was once probably a sloping aven draining into the big series of caverns that have been gradually cut back by the falling in of the defile. whoever likes such things may find here plenty of those freaks and alleged similitudes that puzzle and delight the ordinary sightseer. on a stalagmite excrescence nicknamed the "ribs of beef" we had the luck to see a far more interesting phenomenon. the calcite mass was clustered over with a number of motionless black objects, which we found to be roosting bats, hanging head downwards by their claws. they were not disturbed in the least by our presence, and one that was lifted off gently just showed his teeth and claws, and clung on again as fast as ever when replaced on the rock to resume his patient sleep. a photograph of this curious sight was obtained by means of the flashlight. at the head of the cave are several incrusted grottoes, where the process of deposition is still going on, roof and walls streaming with moisture. this part is not unlike the show places in the bagshawe cavern in the peak of derbyshire. in many respects the roman cave is much more interesting. its mouth is situated about feet up the cliffs, almost immediately over the cave just described. quantities of roman pottery, coins, bones, and other remains, have been discovered there, showing it to be one of the places that sheltered fugitives after the evacuation of britain by the roman legions. the entrance is a broad anticlinal arch, and the main passage, high-roofed and ascending gradually, runs east for perhaps a furlong. then the floor, which has been covered with earth and stones, becomes rugged and rock-strewn, and suddenly we creep through a lowly portal into a high and gloomy chamber, the shadowy corners of whose roof our lights are too feeble to explore. to all appearances this was the end of the cavern; but we had been told that the passage takes a turn here and goes on nearly a quarter of a mile farther. we scanned every part of the walls as far up as we could see, but no accessible opening disclosed itself. in a recess on one side a number of fallen rocks were piled up and wedged between the converging walls. to examine the cavity from a vantage spot, we climbed with a good deal of difficulty to the top of these, and there, to our astonishment, a wide passage sloped up at right angles to the one we had entered by. a curious slit in the wall opened into a perpendicular fissure that was situated right in the roof of the latter, and through the hole we caught a glimpse of our friends following us up. three men now pushed on up the new passage and entered a chamber whose sole exit was a small and uninviting hole. we crawled and scraped through, and on over sharp stones till at last we could get no farther. we had evidently doubled back over the main cavern, and that we could not be far from the open air was shown by the presence of a bewildered bat, who flew to and fro in the confined space and hit us in the face several times. and in the extreme recess of this narrow branch a steady draught of air blew in through a crevice and nearly put the lights out. through an oversight we found ourselves at this point reduced to two tapers and a bit, and to economise we kept only one alight at a time, so as to have enough for the return journey. all went well, however, and the sole difficulty we met with was in getting down over the wedged blocks in the big chamber, a climb that proved extremely awkward when taken the reverse way. in many parts of this cavern we noticed prodigious quantities of moths on the walls, as well as many huge spiders. but a more interesting thing was the vegetation naturalised in the caves, examples of which we found in other mendip caverns as well. it will be advisable to have them examined by a botanical specialist. all i can say about them now is that they consist of extremely slender branching tendrils, some white and translucent, others brownish, thin as cotton. it was late in the afternoon when we entered the roman cavern; it was dark now, and the stars were out. returning in advance of the others, i sat down just within the majestic gateway of the cavern, a flattened arch about feet wide resting on enormous rocky jambs, and looked out across the deep wooded abyss where cheddar lay, its lights reflected here and there by the dark waters of the mere, towards the craggy heights of mendip opposite, just sinking down towards sedgemoor. the great bear was shining brightly right in front--it almost spanned the breadth of the cave mouth; and the solemnity of the place and the hour could not but bring to mind the miserable fugitives who sat in this forlorn asylum, hemmed in by foes, and looked out on the same giant constellation thrice five hundred years ago. the place is admirably adapted for defence. a rear attack was of course impossible, whilst a frontal attack by way of the cliffs would be easily repelled; and a tolerable water-supply was to be found inside the cavern. the huge natural glacis of the fortress is covered to-day with a dense tangle of ivy and other climbers, through which we made our way heedfully, for a slip would have been easy in the dark, and a terrible fall the consequence. next morning we strolled up the defile and looked at the mouths of several caves that are now choked up. two furlongs above its entrance the ravine makes a double curve like a gigantic figure three. the two crescents of beetling limestone, with their jutting horns, that appear to the astonished beholder underneath like towering pyramids and slim aiguilles, rise to a vertical height of feet, and, being absolutely unassailable, they fill a crag climber's mind with admiration tempered by regret. what enhances their grandeur, while it softens the savage aspect of the sheer and ledgeless precipice, is the bountiful vegetation clinging wherever it can find a hold, dark shrouds of ivy and darker masses of yew standing out against the grey rock in beautiful relief. would the indomitable scramblers who haunt lakeland at easter, we asked ourselves, have forced a way up these tremendous "chimneys" if the cheddar cliffs had been pitched somewhere in the latitude of wastdale? we went so far as to reconnoitre one alluring fissure, feet or more in length, but the gap between its base and the first feasible lodgment was insuperable. not far away a long talus of scree marks the foot of an easy though rather sensational way to the cliff top. passing it by, we stopped at the mouth of a vertical fissure that opens on to the roadway. it expands slightly inside, and the roof soars higher and higher; then the floor breaks away, and the two men who descended the next feet had to be steadied by the rope. the walls were wet and soft, being incrusted with a sticky calcareous substance. at the bottom of the precipitous slope the magnesium ribbon revealed the enormously lofty walls of a narrow chamber, whose farther extent was blocked up by an accumulation of rocks and débris. returning to the open air, we ascended to the cliff top, and, skirting each promontory and rounding the edge of every bay, proceeded towards the mouth of the defile on the lookout for openings. not far from the highest point we had noticed from the road a series of dark cavities. one man scrambled along a ledge to the uppermost of these, and found that it was merely a shallow niche, and another, on a ledge some feet lower, proved to be only feet deep. he made a determined effort to reach another fissure on the same level as the last but sundered from it by a wide space of cliff which was covered with dense brambles. holding on to the prickly stems, and fighting his way through, he got near enough to see into the fissure, but was quite unable to enter it for a closer examination. an opening in the cliffs at a lower point, but still some feet above the road, led a long way into the recesses of the limestone strata, making two wide curves to the right, but maintaining a generally easterly direction. the passages were very low, narrow, and awkwardly shaped, involving a great deal of unpleasant crawling; and when we reached the stalagmite grotto at the end we found that it had been pillaged of every bit of calcite that could be removed. this cavern, the "long hole," must have been the channel of a stream that once flowed from somewhere on the other side of the gorge, through the mass of rock that has now been swept away by the forces of disintegration. though several hundred feet long, it is but the tail end of the cavern that once existed. the remainder of our time was devoted to two of the burrington caverns, on the opposite side of the mendip hills, and to a fruitless search for a large chasm or swallet hole into which the drainage from the now abandoned lead mines on the top of mendip used to fall and ultimately find its way to cheddar, where it poisoned the trout stream. a score or more of years ago i saw these mines, still in working order; but now the dried-up pools and the wilderness of refuse, with fragments of ruined buildings, look as old almost as the remains of the roman mines. of the important opening that we sought there is now no trace; it may have been filled up intentionally and the stream allowed to revert to its old channel, whence it had been turned artificially. hard by, in the long wood near charterhouse, and elsewhere, there are smaller swallets that we were already acquainted with; and there are others at priddy, the waters of which find an exit farther to the east. the ground we were on is well known to readers of walter raymond's romances, and we were much interested when it was pointed out that the lonely house facing us was the actual ubley farm that figures in _two men o' mendip_. e. a. b. the burrington caverns burrington combe is a smaller limestone defile on the north side of mendip--that is to say, the opposite side to that of cheddar. it is smaller, and because of its proximity to cheddar it has to suffer disadvantageous comparisons. anywhere else the grandeur of burrington combe, the magnificence of its crags, with dark, heather-clad black down lowering behind them, and the beauty of the copses that lurk in its corners and clamber up its precipices, would excite the admiration of guide-books and attract crowds of tourists. like the cheddar defile, burrington combe was doubtless formed by the gradual destruction of a series of caverns, and there remains of that series a number of caves or openings of blocked-up caves on either side of the ravine. of these the most important and the only one well known to speleologists is goatchurch cavern, which was explored by professor boyd dawkins in . the next in importance is aveline's hole, discovered in , but not explored till , when about fifty human skeletons were found lying side by side with their weapons, a stalagmitic crust sealing bones and implements to the floor. this cavern has since had its mouth silted up by drainage from the road, so that troublesome excavation will have to be undertaken before it can be entered again. it would well repay a thorough exploration, for it is reported that a natural pit, covered by a slab, has never yet been descended, and leads probably into important cavities. foxe's hole is interesting for its curious bosses of tufaceous stalactite. a nearly vertical cave, plumley's den, has been stopped up with a plug of timber and stones at the depth of feet, in consequence of a fatal accident to a man who tried to descend it in . at a level probably a few feet below that of the caves whose destruction was the origin of the combe, a good road with a grassy margin now ascends towards the top of mendip, where it joins the old roman road that runs from "severn sea" to old sarum, along the crown of the ridge. our waggonette when we left the bath arms at cheddar was piled up with ropes, cameras, gas cylinders, condensers for the searchlight, and an incredible amount of needful and superfluous things, for we were quite unable to say what would be wanted. climbing to the miniature mountain pass across mendip at shipham was hard work for the horse, and we walked up the hill. dr. sheldon and mr. bamforth were my companions. our clothes, still richly daubed with the clay and mire of the cheddar caverns, made our appearance both business-like and picturesque. the north side of the mendips is very different from the bleak and craggy slopes on the south. from the broad bare top of the hills down to the valley stretches, almost continuously, a deep mass of trees that looks in the distance like a wall of dusky verdure. we drove between orchards where great bushes of mistletoe grew on nearly every tree, till we were within a few hundred yards of burrington village; then, turning towards mendip, we drove through more orchards, till suddenly the rocky entrance of the combe appeared and we heard the clink of pick and crowbar in the limestone quarry not far from plumley's den. half-way up the gorge makes a sudden bend towards the east, a little below which point a shallower ravine comes in on the other side. about feet above the bed of this dry ravine is the entrance to goatchurch cavern. we coaxed the horse over the stony turf and up the ravine till the roughness of the ground and the thickness of the bramble bushes stopped him. at this point we were met by the lord of the manor, mr. james gibson of langford, who is the owner of the burrington caves. his men assisted us to get our apparatus up to the cave mouth, and afterwards convoyed us and the luggage throughout the less difficult parts of the cavern. a few years ago the entrance to goatchurch cavern was an insignificant hole, through which adventurous boys used to crawl as far as the first considerable chamber, where professor boyd dawkins found a few remains of extinct animals. owing to the depredations which were made by neighbouring villagers in search of specimens of calcite, mr. gibson recently had the entrance enlarged and closed with a padlocked gate, the public being admitted only on certain days of the week or by appointment. it is a pity this step was not taken before many of the finer stalactites had been carried away. in this long chamber, the floor of which is covered with sheets and bosses of dripstone, we entered some of the funnel-shaped openings in the roof by means of a ladder, but soon perceived that no discoveries were to be made that way. at the end of the chamber a precipitous hole goes down to the left, and fixed ropes are used for getting into the lower galleries. we found ourselves at once entering on a maze of passages, where the presence of our guides saved valuable time. so intricate and bewildering are these ramifications that mr. balch tells me that he discovered a passage some years ago that led him eventually to a much deeper part of the cavern than had ever been reached before, but every attempt to rediscover the passage since has failed. in spite of our efforts to examine every branch of the various passages, we also missed this important link. it would seem that the solid mass of the hill has been shivered here into vast, roughly cubical fragments, between which lie the irregular passages and narrow chambers of the cavern. many tempting galleries lead the explorer on and on till they dwindle to a mere rabbit hole, or till he finds himself wedged in the cleft between two enormous surfaces of rock. disorderly accumulations of boulders and splinters cover the floor; there is hardly a level spot anywhere, and it is desirable to explore every yard carefully with a taper or a lantern to avoid the consequences of a rash step. we crawled on hands and knees and wormed along through insignificant holes, making our way into spots that had probably not been inspected before; but we always came back to the main channel, where our guides were waiting, having made no noteworthy find. assembling again in a more roomy chamber, about feet below the entrance, we all proceeded along a tunnel that showed evident traces of the action of a stream to another chamber, where the sound of running water came up from a grim-looking chasm. only two of us went beyond this point. the rest secured the rope, whilst we climbed down the steep hole into a large cavern through which the stream runs from the swallet hole in the ravine outside on its way to rickford rising, where it issues in considerable volume. the stream has a somewhat puzzling course after leaving the cavern, for it runs underground athwart burrington combe and through the solid hill opposite, burrington ham. this stream, as professor boyd dawkins pointed out, was doubtless the originating cause of goatchurch cavern, running in at the present mouth, which is now dry. the ravine outside has since been hollowed out to a further depth of feet, and the stream finds its way in at a lower level. the professor also describes a very pretty experiment. having taken the temperature of the stream before it enters the cave, he tested it again after it had run some distance underground, finding that it was here several degrees cooler. it is obvious that a colder stream must have joined it at some unknown point midway. the nethermost series of chambers and passages are not very different from those above, their shape rugged and irregular, and their floor heaped up with fragments of all sizes. we reached no lower point than that attained by previous explorers--that is, feet below the entrance, as measured by aneroid. squeezing with difficulty through the deepest fissure, i found myself in a small cave, whence, turning round, i only perceived one exit. it looked and felt so small that i despaired of pushing through and turned to go back, when it suddenly occurred to me that this was the hole i had come in by, and there was no other way out. such little incidents often happen in cave work, but most often in such a complicated network of tunnels and fissures as the goatchurch cavern, where we were quite convinced that an important passage ran due east until the compass assured us that the direction was west. clambering up a steep bank of stiff clay out of the lowest cave, we reached a vaulted grotto with a cascade of stalagmite flowing down one side. on the edge of this a sloping passage disclosed itself, lined with stalagmite, and we ascended it in the expectation of finding something new. it brought us by an easy scramble back to the upper cave, whence we had descended on the rope; and with little more deviation from the main passages we made our way back to the cave mouth, where a well-earned lunch was waiting. but little time was wasted in examining the silted-up entrance to aveline's hole and another cave mouth, and the next halt was made at plumley's den. tying two alpine ropes together, a pair of us descended this ancient pothole as far as the artificial pile of débris that blocks it up. one man was hit rather severely by a dislodged stone--a serious danger in caves of this sort--and in returning he dropped and smashed his acetylene lamp. the hole is effectually plugged, a tree and a quantity of stone having been flung in after plumley's fatal mishap; and until mr. gibson carries out his proposal to remove the stones that block it, the feet which are said, on doubtful authority, to lie beyond can never be explored. mr. gibson also proposes to bore a new entrance from the combe into the lower series of caves at goatchurch. above plumley's den a magnificent rib of limestone, like those at matlock, springs nearly to the hilltop; and over the way a picturesque pile of crag comes out to meet it, and is known as the "rock of ages," from the tradition that toplady, the divine, taking shelter under it from a storm, composed his famous hymn there. still piloted by our kind host, we walked across burrington ham and saw the brook which we had heard babbling amid the silence of goatchurch cavern flowing out, a strong body of water, at rickford rising, after a subterranean course of about two miles from its sources high up on black down. rickford rising is in the secondary beds, but a short mile up the beautiful combe at whose outlet it lies, a limestone ridge comes down to the road. hard by the extremity is a hole in the rocky ground, now almost entirely choked with stones, but not so many years ago an open pit. it is known as the "squire's well." here, in times of continuous rain, a body of water issues forth, often flooding the road. it seems to be connected with the water-channels that feed rickford rising, to which it acts as a safety valve. to open it would not be a very serious affair, and might discover something interesting. at the back of mendip lodge, on the hill immediately west of burrington combe, the hilltop is cut up by innumerable ravines ending in swallets, the water of which comes to light again in a large stream in the yeo valley near upper langford, about a mile away. several of these swallets look as if they would repay the trouble of a little excavation; and the size of the stream at the point of issue indicates the existence of large cavities in the line of its subterranean course. e. a. b. the coral cave at compton bishop a cave just discovered near compton bishop, on the skirts of mendip, furnishes valuable evidence in corroboration of the theory that the limestone caverns of this region were formed at a period enormously anterior to that generally accepted. it is situated a little way up the slope of wavering down, only a short distance above the upper limit of the red marl laid down in the triassic age, unconformably on the denuded edges of the carboniferous limestone. we had been engaged in some exploring work in the cheddar caves, the results of which were of a negative kind, but none the less important, as modifying the lines of costly excavation. accompanied by the messrs. gough, the proprietors of the great cave at cheddar, we proceeded late in the day to axbridge, where mr. balch joined the party. our goal was a certain cavern, explored about a century ago, and described by the antiquary phelps, but now little known. this purpose was, however, not carried out that day, for in making inquiries about the cave as we passed through the village of cross, we got wind of a cavern that had never yet been explored, and was therefore treasure-trove to such ardent cave workers. two years ago, in blasting for stone to line a drinking-place for cattle, a farmer had blown a hole into the top of a subterranean cavity. two -rung ladders were lashed together, so we learned, and a bold countryman, secured by a cart-rope, descended into the mysterious hollow, alighting on a slope of shifting stones and earth, whence he could see a second chasm, black as tophet and of unknown profundity, yawning beneath him. no one would venture on this further descent; a rock was rolled against the opening to prevent sheep or incautious persons from tumbling in, and there for the time being was an end of the matter. our first task was to withdraw this formidable plug. it was a sound, unfissured block of mountain limestone, weighing perhaps half a ton. we thought that six men with a rope ought to move it easily; but we could not make it budge. a spade and a crowbar were fetched, with which we laboured diligently for an hour; but the only effect was to drop the stone deeper into the hole. a sledgehammer was now obtained from the nearest smithy, and one after another we attacked the foe with might and main. at length it yielded. pieces flaked off, and at last it split; the fragments tumbled into the chasm, and the rock, diminished to half its former size, was rolled away. the job had taken two hours and a half, and it was now dark. mr. balch and i cast lots for the honour of the first descent: it fell to me. an alpine club rope was tied on as life-line, whilst a -foot cotton rope was to be used for lowering and lifting. slung in a bight of the latter, i was carefully let down over the cliff-like face below the entrance. the cavity formed part of a huge choked swallet, which extended up into the hill above the point where we had been working, and ran away obliquely underneath, so that i was coming down from a hole perforating one corner of the roof. over against the hole was the steep slope of earth and scree already mentioned, steep almost as a wall, and the scree so loose that it seemed to be in a state of suspended animation. as soon as one came into contact with the treacherous stuff, an avalanche of stones was launched, and i sought in vain for a spot where it would be safe to unrope and await the next man. the cliff down which i had been lowered was undercut by a wide archway, through which i looked into a black, forbidding pit gaping at the bottom. with nowhere to rest, and with the risk of falling stones, it was obviously wiser to finish the descent before another man started. tying the loose rope round me (for it was necessary to swing out under the arch), i was let down slowly, and began to slip over a smooth, greasy rock-face into the unknown cavity. at feet from the ground i alighted at the top of a slope of stones, and was able to remove the ropes and scramble to the bottom. lighting some magnesium wire, i found myself in a bell-shaped chamber about feet high, opening above by the precipitous archway into the upper cavity, and on the other side into an ascending vault running north-west. all around were the indelible marks of water action in the remote past. on the upper side the rocks were carved and pitted as by the swirling of a violent torrent. but there was now no sign of running water, only the drip, drip from the moist roof; and the outlet of the ancient stream at the bottom of the cavern was blocked up by a deep accumulation of débris. among the countless fragments strewn all over the floor i found a large stone covered with a mass of dog-tooth crystals, clear as diamonds and large as walnuts. but at the very bottom of the place was something even more lovely, myriads upon myriads of exquisite spicules of carbonate, some little more than specks of red, orange, and amber, but thousands like wee tendrils of coral three-eighths of an inch in length. they were the growth, through age after age, of a splash deposit from the roof or from the stream that had disappeared. such a formation is not rare in water caverns; but in such beauty of shape and hue it is rare indeed, for these tender little crystal flowers took all manner of forms, blossoming ofttimes into wreaths and clusters like a miniature coral. one of the most exquisite and most puzzling features was that the dots and spicules were often arranged in set patterns, symmetrical and even geometrical, in tiny circles, squares, and triangles, by the rhythmic action of the waters that had left this beautiful record of their passage. we named the cave the coral cavern. as the descent had not been direct, and there might be difficulty in recovering the ropes if once let go, it seemed most prudent that no one should follow me down for the present. climbing the slopes of rocks and scree that led up through a lofty vault to the north-west, i reached a height of considerably more than feet above the floor of the coral cavern, the present floor of which is feet below the point of entrance. the open way then came to an end abruptly, in a tiny grotto, at a distance of feet from that point. but hard by there were funnel-like cavities penetrating the roof, and hinting at the proximity of a secondary swallet hole on the hillside close overhead. evidently, when the cave was in working order, in times of indefinable remoteness, a big stream had run down this steep vaulted passage, and united with the main stream at the bottom, both then pursuing their way into the fissures of the rock, and ultimately finding an exit into the open air at some point now buried under triassic deposits. enormous slabs of limestone, smooth, and fitting close over each other like boiler-plates, formed the sloping floor of this tunnel on one side. these too were a conspicuous testimony to powerful water action. at present the red marl of the trias comes nearly up to the artificial entrance of the cavity. it is obvious that when the cave was occupied by a stream, its waters must have found a vent some distance below the upper limit of the marl; whence it necessarily follows that the marl has been laid down here since that period. much evidence has been gathered in the course of our cave work in the mendips to show that many of the caverns are older than the vast accumulations of dolomitic conglomerate and other deposits of triassic age, but nowhere is the proof put so clearly and concisely as by the new cave at compton bishop. my stay underground was cut short by the fear that the others would grow impatient. i was hauled up without mishap, save that at one point the cotton rope stuck fast in a cleft, and i had to pull myself up hand over hand on the life-line. two men then went down, with the result we had dreaded--the rope could not be got back to the last man without extreme difficulty. only after tying on stone after stone, and making many a cast in vain, did we ultimately restore communication. he came up; the guardian block was pushed back into its place; and at a late hour we struck down the hillside home. a day or two later we set out once more to find phelps's cavern. it opens on the very crest of the ridge leading up to crook hill, or, as it is more commonly known to-day, crook's peak, a sharp limestone spur, running south-east from the western extremity of wavering down. at the foot of the hill, near the road, we came across a small cave, called the fox's hole, which we searched thoroughly for any continuation upwards or downwards, but in vain. after a great deal of jamming and squeezing, we got in to a distance of feet, where a low chamber has holes between wall and floor that had acted as a water-sink to some ancient system of cavities. but the floor was heaped with stones, and in spite of our efforts to clear these out, we did not discover a single hole big enough to enter. this small cave is, doubtless, but the tail end of the cavern that once existed here; and, indeed, the large cavern at the hilltop must be little more than a fragment of what it was. crook's peak seems to be the mere skeleton of a hill. to account for the presence of such a cavern at the summit, one must postulate a large drainage area in days gone by, and a general configuration entirely opposite to the present. the higher part of the hill is but a limestone shell enclosing these ancient, and now waterless, caverns. the big cavern is known as denny's hole. descending the sloping side of an open pit, we found ourselves under an arch of mighty span, the crown of which was formed by the rock-wall on the other side. under this arch the floor sloped precipitously into the jaws of the cavern; then the roof came close down, and the farther passages wound onwards as low tunnels, descending steeply into the entrails of the hill. it is easy enough to get to a considerable depth and distance in the largest of these, but the journey is not specially interesting, for the place has been looted by adventurous rustics, and serious exploration is at present brought to a standstill by the enormous quantities of loose stones filling every cavity in the floor. coming back to the cave mouth, we were struck by the grandeur of the vestibule, which has every appearance of being the remains of a great subterranean chamber, the pit-like entrance, through which we look up to the sky and the sunshine, being the remnant of a cave-tunnel, once perhaps of very considerable length. phelps had alluded to another chamber, of some beauty, to be attained, at the expense of divers wrenches and abrasions, by a certain tortuous passage leading out of the vestibule. after diligent search we found a hole in the floor at one corner, but it seemed to be only a foot or two deep. kicking about for some time, with body half in and half out of the hole, i managed to shift some loose stones, and felt space below. but the space proved, on experiment, at least as excellent a place of torment as phelps's description had been able to do justice to. the passage doubled back upon itself at once, and twisted here and there like a corkscrew. only by obstinate wriggling were we able to worm a way down to the low cavity at the bottom. two blind passages started therefrom, and in one wall was a long, horizontal slit, with some big place beyond, as we judged from the sound of the stones we threw in. in various cautious attitudes we inserted ourselves into the slit. the drop inside, though fearful to anticipate, was a matter of only a few feet. the cave we found ourselves in was a sort of double chamber, with vestiges of a partition across the middle; the whole was some feet in length. at one end was a pool of water, stagnant at present, or nearly so. close by, a low fissure sloped downwards to a vertical hole or pot that sounded deep; but we could not get near it for the spikes of stalactite that guarded it on all sides. this chamber, which we thought must communicate with the series reached by the main passage from the vestibule, seems to have been hardly ever visited. we heard a story of a lady's pet dog that had been lost here for a week, and was not found, although a tempting reward was offered, until a farmer, who told us the story, explored the corkscrew tunnel leading to this cave. he found the poor beast shivering on the edge of the slit we had come in by, afraid to jump. even the farmer, who thought he knew all the ramifications of this perplexing cavern, did not seem to have reached this chamber, the natural ornaments of which showed no trace of specimen-hunting. returning to daylight, we examined a cave vent in the ground hard by, where a vapour was steaming up into the chilly air. the penetrable portion was just big enough to accommodate the six feet two of our tallest man. with some time left on our hands, we decided now to walk on to loxton, the next village, where another cave was situated on a limestone hilltop. there were only two miles to walk, so we did not think it worth while to doff our cave panoply. great was the speculation that our unexampled appearance excited in the people we met. we could not be tramps--in fact, we hardly looked respectable enough; and yet our rucksacks, ropes, and cameras gave us an air of distinction that was puzzling in the extreme. faces crowded to the windows at every house we passed, and at loxton we had to run the gauntlet of satiric observation. as we asked our way to the quarry at loxton, the general conclusion was that we were in quest of a job there. this cave must have been a very interesting one long ago, but now it is like those at compton bishop, only a remnant; and besides what has been destroyed by natural denudation, a great deal has been damaged by the gradual approaches of a limestone quarry on the side of the hill. this has exposed the outlets of several passages. a labyrinth of low galleries remains, with a few larger hollows here and there; but of whatever beauty they once possessed they have long been denuded by the devastating village boy, who has found the intricacies of loxton cavern a perfect paradise. it does not follow that the cave would necessarily not pay for a thorough exploration. if some of the lower reaches were carefully examined, entrances would very likely be found into still nether caverns, of which these dry channels were at one time the feeders. but the work would be peculiarly difficult on account of the smallness of the open spaces, and the result uncertain. yet the limestone of the mendips is so thick--the thickest in england--and the parts that have been explored are so honeycombed with cavities and passages, that every gateway into this strange underworld promises more or less reward. it is somewhere in the neighbourhood of loxton and banwell that the famous "gulf" was discovered in the days of the old lead miners. in driving an extensive level through a hill, at a point fathoms below the summit, they came upon a gigantic rift. a man was let down on a long rope--so tradition reports--and when he had descended to the full extent of it he was unable to see either walls or bottom of the tremendous abyss. we are probably on the track of this monster cavity, an exploration of which will entail labour and fortitude. that and the exploration of the swallet at hillgrove, when it is opened, are the two most fascinating problems awaiting us in the immediate future. e. a. b. lamb's lair a few years ago the great western opened what they called the wrington vale light railway up the valley of the yeo, which borders mendip on the north. a few miles beyond its present terminus lie the two harptrees, in the heart of a sequestered countryside of great pastoral beauty. here, where nowadays all the pursuits are agricultural, a great deal of mining was carried on in years gone by, the relics of which are still visible in the surface workings, grown over with grass. in the upland ravines of lamb's bottom, near the top of the mendip plateau, these are very numerous, and seem to be the work of both lead miners and searchers for black oxide of manganese. early in the eighteenth century a cavern of prodigious size and beauty was discovered in this locality; but, by one of those curious accidents which are by no means infrequent in the history of caves, it was lost, and its site remained unknown for a hundred and twenty years. its fame, however, was cherished by the country folk, and the tradition of its fabulous wonders induced a lord of the manor, a quarter of a century ago, to offer a heavy monetary reward, which led to its rediscovery in the year . this new exploration made some noise at the time, and a fair number of people ventured on a descent. the difficulties were smoothed down considerably. ladders were fixed in the shaft, which was strengthened by timber supports, and in difficult parts of the lower galleries; solid beds of arragonite were cut through, and a heavy structure of timber, carrying a windlass, was built out on the verge of an abyss, to make accessible the floor of the great chamber. lamb's lair is even alluded to, though incorrectly, in the fourth edition of murray's guide--that for --and, for a while, great was the renown of its unparalleled beauties. then, as usually happens with cave scenery when there is any difficulty or any peril involved, the novelty and the popularity of lamb's lair waned; and now for a long period the cave has been derelict, the timber erections have become rotten and dangerous, and the only visit during many years previous to the one i am about to describe nearly resulted in a catastrophe. [illustration: entrance to lamb's lair, harptree. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] [illustration: plan and section of the great cavern of lamb's lair.] our party of four had been engaged in some arduous work near wells, and a descent into lamb's lair meant a long drive across mendip, nearly to east harptree. we were dropped by our waggonette, with a great pile of apparatus, at a gate into a field. the field was part of the lamb's bottom ravine, and we had some difficulty in locating the entrance to our cavern among the innumerable workings and natural depressions that cut up the surface. at length we caught sight of the end of a ladder sticking out from a hole that was buried in brushwood, and straightway we found ourselves on the brink of the -foot shaft. the uppermost ladder was broken six feet from the top, and so was the second; neither was fit to be trusted. we supported the broken part of the top ladder with a forked branch, and i took up my station on a ledge feet down, to steady the things as they were lowered. each man was roped for the descent, for the crazy ladders, the decayed woodwork, and the loose stones in the shaft all threatened disaster. at last all our paraphernalia was safe at the bottom, and now a muddy progress began through a narrow, dripping cleft into a low tunnel, that brought us, after many windings, to the top of a fourth ladder. this one was not so high, but it was quite as shaky as the others, and a member of the party got a nasty blow on the shoulder from a beam connected with it, that gave way whilst we were passing the luggage from hand to hand. descending still through an irregular passage, we suddenly entered a roomy vault with stalactites on the roof. here the glories of lamb's lair begin. in a few moments we shall be at the threshold of the incomparable beehive chamber, and thence, to a point far beyond what we can attain to-day, the poetry and witchery of cave scenery are at their finest. stumbling over the irregularities of the crystal floor, we see dimly, by the light of our candles, great luminous arcs bending over our heads; and then, catching sight of a regularly shaped hemisphere rising out of the darkness and dwarfing the cave with its enormous proportions, we realise that this is the beehive chamber. when the limelight is brought in, and its fierce beams play upon the wild arcades and groining of this fantastic vault, we are astounded by the wealth and brilliance and extraordinary variety of the incrustations: not a rib, not a corner of bare rock remains visible; every inch of floor and walls and roof has been thickly coated with the calcareous enamel. the beehive itself, feet high and enormous in girth, is not more astonishing for its size than for the regularity of its shape. it is probably the largest boss of stalagmite in england. the sides are streaked with white and yellow bands, which enhance the weird symmetry and polish of its appearance; and, on the summit, wide enough for a man to walk about, we noticed that a number of stalactites, fallen from the vault above, had become embedded in its mass, and were slowly being crusted over with the ceaseless deposits. all over the chamber there is a continuous patter of water-drops, carrying on the work of the ages, and laying film after film of lustre on the imageries of this hidden shrine, which man has visited so rarely. to right and left of the beehive the uneven floor descends into deep recesses--which we see as we draw nigh to be rocky porches adorned with the most magnificent incrustations--leading into two passages. these two porches, the arch by which we have entered, and the wild vaulting that rises to an apex over our heads amid a profusion of glistening stalactites, are the dominant features of this piece of fairy architecture. but who can count or describe the gleaming volutes and scrolls that wind over the walls in brilliant confusion, the clustered corbels whence random ribs spring towards the roof, the lace-like fringe of delicate stalactites that hangs from every ridge, or the gnome-like fingers and ghoulish faces, staring and pointing downwards, that one seems to discern amid the disordered sculpture of roof and walls? a broken bottle of paraffin and some pieces of cotton-waste, evidently the relics of the last party who had used them to light up the beehive chamber years ago, were lying in a corner just as they were left. in one of the galleries i noticed the marks of fingers and the impress of the clothes of a man who had crawled along the clay floor--as fresh as if he had been there an hour ago. this changelessness of everything fills one with a certain awe; but what impresses one as still more wonderful is that all this consummate beauty and grandeur should lie concealed and unknown in the midst of modern england, only a few miles away from important cities, but unvisited by a soul for long periods of years, while the country people seem hardly aware of the cave's existence. were the cave easily accessible, one can hardly question that crowds of sightseers would be attracted, and much of the charm would be dispelled, even if its treasures were not ransacked. for the present these are perfectly safe. [illustration: the "beehive" chamber, lamb's lair. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] [illustration: stalactite wall, lamb's lair. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] from the beehive chamber a passage winds downward under one of the glorious porches already described, and on and on between walls of calcspar and arragonite, toward the chief wonder of lamb's lair, the great chamber. the original passage was low and difficult, and early explorers cut a deeper way through solid beds of arragonite, whose miraculous whiteness glistens on every side as we advance. so enormous is the thickness of this compact and fine-grained variety of the calcium carbonate, with its delicate lines of crystallisation showing transparently where it is shattered, that fully three and a half feet are shown in section, a wall of snowy brilliance; and one cannot judge how much more is hidden. the tunnel widens into an arch of reddish rock, covered with sparry reliefs; then suddenly we find ourselves stepping on a plank, and out of the darkness ahead starts up the gaunt shape of a windlass. we have reached the spot where the gallery breaks into the upper part of the great chamber; under our feet is a black void, and further progress is forbidden. the gallery ends on a sloping bevel, feet wide, that dips steeply into the chasm. on this bevel, which overhangs by many feet the receding wall of the great chamber, a timber platform was erected a quarter of a century ago. it is a sort of cantilever, with the windlass resting on the long arms. we moved here with utmost caution, hardly venturing to place a foot on the time-worn structure without holding on to the rocks at the side. on the last occasion that the cavern was visited, some years ago, a fatal accident was averted almost by a miracle. the rope broke while mr. balch was descending; he fell about feet, on to the broken rocks beneath, checking his fall by catching at a tangle of line that was hanging near. his hands were cut to the bone, and he lay at the bottom stunned for a quarter of an hour, and has hardly ceased to feel the effects of the shaking. naturally, he now felt little inclination to venture another descent, especially as he told us that the rickety state of the platform has filled him with grave doubts as to its safety if weight were put on it. at present, beyond the stark shape of the windlass, darkness reigned. we flung blocks of arragonite out into the void. there was an interval of silence, then a crash on the hard floor, and the missile burst into fragments. when the ray of our -candle-power searchlight flashed across the abyss, we found ourselves looking into a chamber whose weird majesty held us spellbound. its height is feet, and the walls curve gradually over in an irregular dome. hardly a square foot of this mighty wall-space is blank. stripes and reticulations and pendulous lacework run all over it in enchanting disorder. here a snow-white flood of calcite drops from an unseen cleft, there a cascade of many colours ripples down from roof to floor. there are great sheets of opaline enamel, curtains drooping in massy folds, silken fabrics wrinkled over the face of the rock, all giving one the sense of motion suddenly arrested, and of light and colour captured from the rainbow and sleeping here in the darkness, waiting year after year for our lamp to awaken it to life and beauty. [illustration: entrance to great chamber, lamb's lair. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] [illustration: largest chamber in somerset, lamb's lair, harptree. _from sketch by h. e. balch._] the cylinder of oxygen and the ether saturator were pushed out as far as we dared, and the camera was set up on the edge of the platform, to secure at least a glimpse of this hall of wonders. we were told what lay beyond. another gallery, begemmed as richly as the one behind us, leads on and on, until a high chamber is reached, into which water pours over a sheet of snowy stalagmite, feet high. we could not descend into the great chamber, but we intended to light it up. a tinful of bengal fire was put into an iron saucer, hanging from a string by iron wires; and this with a light attached was lowered through the hole in the platform, whereon we lay extended at full length looking over into the gulf. there was a fizz, and then the fierce radiance swept from side to side of the huge vault, staining the sheets and curtains and cascades of white a splendid crimson. the walls sparkled blood-red as if set with rubies, and the blue-black sheets of calcite marked by oxide of manganese were empurpled by the glow. we fled before the pungent clouds of smoke that rose into our gallery, back to the beehive chamber, leaving that glorious hall once more to solitude and silence. the only other part we explored was the winding tunnel that begins under the second porch in the beehive chamber. it goes far away down, and is knee-deep in mire for a considerable distance. at last, when it seems as if the great chamber itself cannot be far away, the passage ends in a choke. we had been in the cavern about five hours, when, after much hard work, we got our apparatus back to the foot of the shaft. climbing ahead up the rickety ladders, the broken rungs of which were caked with mud and clay, and keeping hold of the life-line all the while, i found our driver waiting for us at the top, for we were an hour late. several dangerous stones were shifted in pulling up the luggage, and one man below not only received a nasty blow, but narrowly escaped destruction by another stone that he just succeeded in warding off his face. we have since regretted that we did not test the platform and windlass by a rough-and-ready method, and then descend by a long alpine rope. the sharp ledges underneath might, however, have rendered this dangerous. we had not seen everything, but we had seen enough to recompense us abundantly for the toil, the slight risk, and the dirt. murray says that lamb's lair is the finest cave in somerset; i would confidently venture further, and say that for transcendent beauty it has not its equal in england.[ ] e. a. b. [ ] mr. james mcmurtrie, then manager of earl waldegrave's estates, was responsible for the exploration of this cavern after its rediscovery in . he had it surveyed and plans made; he had the windlass erected, but went down himself before it was fixed. very great credit is due to him for this valuable work, which it is hoped will not be rendered less valuable by allowing the artificial shaft as well as the windlass to be permanently destroyed through neglect and decay. the plan and section contained here were the result of independent measurements, which fully confirmed the results of his previous survey. [illustration: stalactites in entrance gallery, lamb's lair. _photo by bamforth, holmfirth._] a cave in the quantocks at bridgewater, where we had arrived one winter morning at sunrise, after a melancholious journey in unwarmed carriages across the flooded moors beyond glastonbury, not a person had heard tell of a cave in the quantocks. but the information we relied on, though a century old, was definite enough to warrant the hire of a trap to convey us and our apparatus to a certain lonely cross-road, seven miles away, in a corner of the broad parish of bloomfield. climbing steadily through enmore, we found the cross-road on a hilltop feet above the sea, hard by a homely tavern, where we got cider for ourselves and feed for the horse. to our west was the beacon on cotherstone hill, and two miles farther the fire signal pits on will's neck ( feet), the highest of the quantock hills. but of the red-deer country that lay around us we saw little, and less as the day wore on, for a cold sea-mist came rolling up from the bristol channel, and would have given us trouble in finding our cave, had not a guide appeared providentially. it was a tattered and weather-beaten countryman, who emerged from the tap-room and announced that he was the only person who knew anything about the cave. he dilated in glowing terms on its beauties--"it be very ornamental, sur, very ornamental." fox by name and fox by nature, so he described himself--for he was both garrulous and egotistical--he was fond of burrowing into holes. that he was a poacher to boot, we had no reason to disbelieve after a few minutes' conversation. he led us by a veritable fox's path over fields and hedges, through a mist-drenched spinney, down to a dingle, where beetle-browed rocks overhung the entrance to the cave. a rusty iron gate barred the way, and was padlocked. reynard proposed to make a journey of several miles, at our expense, to procure the key; but a broken link in the chain saved us time and cider. there is not much limestone on the quantocks, and caves are a rarity. at this spot an outlier of carboniferous limestone lies in close contact with beds of greywacke slate--a very unusual conjunction, which prepared us for something new and strange in the way of crystallisations. descending a few yards beyond the entrance, the main passage rises a little, and then drops gradually towards a stagnant pool, beyond which it is impossible to get. the length of this portion is only feet, and the direction from north-east to south-west. certain narrow passages, however, bore into the limestone on the north, and extend their ramifications much farther. only one of these seems to have been known before our visit. in the main passage, near the pool, is seen the special wonder of holwell cave, a brilliant display of arragonite crystals all over the roof. arragonite usually occurs in massive deposits of satin spar, distinguished by a perfection of whiteness when newly split, a whiteness that grows dingy very soon if you try to keep specimens. here it occurs in quite another form--the coralloid, known as flos ferri; thousands of filaments or spicules ramifying from centres, and looking as soft as cobweb, though as brittle as blown glass. this delicate product is often tinged with a pink stain like that of fluor-spar. andrew crosse, the electrician, who was carrying on his researches in the neighbourhood when holwell cavern was found about , thought that the crystal might have been distorted by slow degrees into these fanciful shapes "through the invisible action of electric energy," an agent to which most mysterious natural processes have been attributed some time or another; but the fibrous arragonite, scientists tell us, is by no means abnormal. it all lies on the greywacke part of the roof; the adjoining limestone has no arragonite, but is incrusted with the usual sheets and bosses of calcite, mutilated somewhat by visitors who have taken away mementos. "ain't it ornamental, sur?" said our conductor; but his exclamations were still more enthusiastic when the magnesium ribbon lit up the millions of arragonite crystals that covered the roof with a glistering efflorescence. then the flashlight blazed out, as our camera got into action, and the old man was speechless with amazement. he had known the cave, boy and man, all his life, but never before had he, or anyone else for that matter, gazed upon all its beauties. several photographs were secured--among them the portrait of a sleeping bat clinging to the groining of calcite--and then the cave grew too smoky for further work. so we went off to explore. first we climbed into an opening high up in the north wall. it seemed to run parallel with the main passage, and soon we beheld daylight in front. ere we reached the open air, however, we came to a steep drop, and found that the branch had simply brought us back to the vestibule of the cavern. another opening, near the entrance, running due north, proved more interesting, leading eventually to a bell chamber, floored, walled, and roofed with polished carbonate. someone had reached this point twenty years ago, so dates and initials testified; but there were virgin passages branching off to left and right for us to investigate, as far as bodies of speleological slimness were admissible. a squeeze through a crevice in the east wall led into a parallel tunnel, depressingly low and painfully narrow, which seemed to run on indefinitely to the north. the soft clay floor showed it was at times the path of a heavy stream. northward, it shrank to a mere drain-pipe; southward it led by one joint and culvert to another, all at right angles, into other straight channels, all going in the same general direction. my companion stuck fast a little way beyond the first tunnel; i pushed on like a weevil into the maze of perforations, but met the same fate at last, not giving in, however, until i had been held as in a vice at one point for a good five minutes, with boot jammed, candle out, and no room to get my hand to the pocket where the waterproof matches were safely stowed away. it was still possible to see a long way ahead, by candlelight and magnesium; and we made out that north of the known cave lies a whole network of dry waterways, the principal channels running due north, roughly parallel to the limestone escarpment in which the cave mouth opens, and all connected together by rectangular branches. one channel brought us within view of daylight; but the crevice was too small for anything but a rabbit, and we had to return by the same arduous and abrading passages we had come by. as old fox would have said, the things we saw were "very handsome," but we could not tempt him to enter this uncomfortable region. e. a. b. cave exploring at abergele travellers on the north-western to holyhead or snowdonia are familiar with several cave mouths that form a prominent feature in the limestone cliffs above lord dundonald's castle, near the station of llandulas. the most conspicuous is a vast antre near the cliff-top; and legend has it that this opens into passages running for great distances, and eventually descending beneath the sea. (welsh cave-myths are not less extravagant than those of derbyshire and somerset, where stories of dogs, geese, and other animals that have made long pilgrimages underground and come into daylight again divested of feathers or hair, are still piously cherished by the credulous.) the name attached to this group of caves, tanyrogo--"under the cave"--is derived from the celtic ogo or ogof, a cavern, and is almost identical with the original name of wookey hole in somerset. a party of explorers from liverpool and colwyn bay have recently carried out some researches in the tanyrogo caves, and in those at st. george, on the other side of abergele; and while verifying their disbelief in the supposed extent of the subterranean galleries, have ascertained many interesting facts as to the formation and the geological history of both series. a grassy terrace runs along the cliff face to the gaping portal of the ogo, the biggest of the tanyrogo caves, which looks seaward and commands a magnificent view over the coast and the irish sea. the prehistoric men who doubtless lived here once showed not only good taste in the choice of a site for their residence, but a judicious eye for military possibilities; the place is all but impregnable, save by starvation, the only access being by this narrow ledge, which a handful of men could defend against an army. spanned by a noble arch is a colossal vestibule, rock-floored and dry. but this imposing entrance is a deception--there is nothing beyond to compare with its shape and magnitude. we swerved to the left, and at once found ourselves treading a floor of wet clay, which began to ascend, and soon steepened into a high bank leading up towards the roof. creeping under an arch, we found ourselves in a transverse fissure that may have run as far as the legends pleased, but grew too narrow in a few feet for any human being to penetrate farther. a few rudimentary stalactites and a crust of pure white calcite adorned one small grotto; the rest was bare rock walls and rugged arches, springing here and there high into the darkness, in fissures that must reach very nearly to the summit of the cliff. a branch passage dwindled away still more quickly, and so did a minor opening that looks like a side door to the main entrance. the rock structure of the cave arches is displayed in very beautiful ways in this cavern, but the most interesting feature is the remnant of an old cave floor. the cavern was evidently formed in pre-glacial times, and the vast quantities of clay that plug it up almost entirely now must have been carried in by the ice. after the glaciers had receded, the normal agencies began their work again; a stalagmite floor was formed by the drip of water from the roof, depositing a layer of calcite; this in the course of time was broken down again, and now leaves a kind of high-water mark all round the walls of the cavity. [illustration: the ogo, near abergele. _photo by e. a. baker._] [illustration: inside the ogo, near abergele. _photo by e. a. baker._] the line of the fissure creating the upward chasms inside the cave can be traced in the external configuration of the cliff; in sundry vertical openings in the face, and in the clean-cut walls, where sheer masses have fallen away, broken at the joints. similar joints and fissures played a part in the formation of a lower tier of caves, which we explored next. the first was only a yard or two wide, but very lofty, and its floor was composed of a level bed of sand and clay. this gradually rose as we walked into the darkness, until the cave ended more abruptly even than the last. we noticed pebbles of bunter sandstone in the floor, and the next cave produced many more examples of the same stone, which must have been brought from a long distance, the nearest strata corresponding to it being in wirral. at the back of this next cave a bank of cave earth and boulder clay was piled right up to the roof, so steeply that it was not too easy a climb to the summit. arrived there, we found no possible egress; but a horizontal tunnel, a sort of squint or hagioscope probably more than forty feet long, gave us a peep through the rocky cliff out to the sunlight. we set out forthwith to discover the outside orifice of this curious hole, and found it came out on a ledge in the face of the cliff, hard by an open platform which had a very queer look about it. on examination this proved to be the floor of an old cave that had been destroyed by the quarrymen. half-embedded in thick clay were a number of stalagmite pedestals, and a floor of stalagmite underneath several feet in depth, surmounting a thick bed of boulder clay stuck full of bunter pebbles. it was obvious that the quarrymen, coming across this mass of useless material, had not troubled to attack the solid layer of stalagmite above it. the remains of stalactites and stalagmite curtains still adhered to the neighbouring cliff. the spot is well worth visiting, if only to see this remarkable illustration of several consecutive chapters in the history of a cavern. the destructive work of the limestone quarry, having been checked at this particular point, exposes the whole thing as in a diagram; and the actual evidences are there just as they were produced by the forces acting in successive epochs--the mouth of the original cave, formed perhaps in pre-triassic times; the masses of drift thrust in by the glaciers; and the new cave floor, with its growth of stalagmites. since the caves lie at a height of several hundred feet above sea-level, it is fairly certain that the moving glaciers exerted an upward as well as a horizontal force, shoving the plastic masses of clay and débris into the ascending passages, and caulking up, no doubt, a good many tributary galleries that are now unknown. the caves look north, and the material pushed into them must have come from seaward; there is, furthermore, no rock in the adjoining districts that could have yielded this kind of pebbles: so that it appears the stream of glaciers which flowed across from lancashire and cheshire, impinging against the contrary flow of ice from snowdonia, must be held responsible for the presence of these dense deposits. all along the meadow-lands between the limestone hills and the sea a series of risings or big springs are noticeable from the railway, forming large pools. these are the outlets of the drainage that has been absorbed by the limestone strata, through which the water has found its way until, meeting with an impermeable layer of rock, or reaching the plane of saturation at sea-level, it has been forced to the surface. [illustration: in the ogo, near abergele. _photo by e. a. baker._] the st. george's caves are situated on and about a wooded hill of limestone near the village, which adjoins the low-lying lands of morfa rhuddlan, the scene of a murderous battle in the year . the celt, with his strong historical imagination, such a factor in national solidarity, still remembers, though confusedly perhaps, some incidents of that calamitous fight. the old woman who pointed out the situation of the caves drew our attention to the ditch and rampart which run round the hillcrest, where it is not protected by cliffs. there, she said, the routed welsh tribes had entrenched themselves and fought desperately on until every man was put to the sword. the wood on the hilltop is full of graves, she told us, and weapons often come to light there. a great master-joint or fissure runs across the hill towards the battlefield, and in it lie the caves, or rather the cave, for so far as we could make out they are all parts of one stream-channel. at the top of a cliff that is now being worked for lime is a small orifice, a mere fox's hole, blocked up against master reynard or the badgers that often find a home in these small caves. a hundred feet beneath it is a larger opening, which is said to give entrance into several good-sized chambers; but that also has been carefully built up with fragments of limestone by the quarrymen. we were driven accordingly to seek the outlet of the cave, and this we found by following the smooth, straight escarpment, produced by the fault, in a wood close to the mainroad. a large stream once issued from the cave mouth, but has since become engulfed in some internal swallet, and emerges a few yards lower down, welling out from a funnel of crystal water some feet deep. the cave itself discharges a stream only in flood-time. there, too, we were stopped from penetrating far by the beds of clay that gradually rose to the cave roof; but in this instance the deposits had been made by the stream, and were not the results of glacial action pushing upwards. in fact, this is a cave with quite a modern history, one still in working order, and used as a waterway at the proper times and seasons by the stream that made it. the tanyrogo caves, on the other hand, have ceased for untold ages to be actual water-channels, having been deprived long ago by denudation above and behind them of the greater part of their drainage area. and since that remote epoch they have gone through the series of vicissitudes so plainly recorded in their present physiognomy. [illustration: a pre-glacial cave, llandulas. _photo by e. a. baker._] cave discoveries on the welsh border the other day, a liverpool friend, who has a bungalow in the ceiriog valley, close to offa's dyke, told me he had found a cave there, which had never been explored, but was reputed to go six miles underground, to the neighbourhood of oswestry. he invited me to come down and explore it, and i readily agreed, on the condition that he was to seize the opportunity to make his début as a cave explorer. on the side of the valley where the cave lies the hill falls steeply to the ceiriog, and the densely-wooded cliff of limestone that bathes its foot in the river is like a bit of dovedale. not so the other side of the valley, where different strata crop out, and the hills, with all their trees, rise more gently to the brow overlooking llangollen. the cave mouth is about feet above the river, in a cliff facing due north, in which the limestone is tilted at an angle of degrees. it is recessed within a lofty arch, but the entrance itself is low, compelling us to creep for the first few yards. after two or three bends, the roof as well as the floor rises, and the passage opens into a chamber whose floor is heaped up to a height of feet with fallen débris, thickly plastered with mud. at first the cave runs due south, but the main axis of this chamber, which is lofty and measures about feet by , runs east-south-east. the roof rises about feet higher than the central heap of débris. water drips occasionally, but there are no stalactites. at the far end the passage turns south-east, and, though lofty, is narrow, the walls being parallel, and tilted at an angle of degrees from the perpendicular. then a second chamber widens out, feet long by feet broad, as muddy as the former. rising feet, the passage continues to the east-south-east, but the walls converge for a time, forcing us to crawl, extended on our sides. then it opens out again, and we climb over more heaps of débris littering the floor, and all bedaubed with thick, tenacious clay. now the passage becomes loftier but narrower, and progress has to be made by keeping near the roof, the walls sloping at an angle of degrees from the vertical, opening at one point into a small chamber with a false floor of jammed rocks, then immediately closing again, and so continuing for a distance of feet. the narrowness is so great that one goes ahead only by dint of a continuous struggle against friction. up to this, my friend had kept close at my heels, followed by his man. but here the only way visible was down a still narrower rift bending off to the left, and the latter found his own diameter greater than that of the cave. we left him, and pushed obstinately forward, though we had not seen a sign of any person's former presence for a long distance. nearer the cave mouth matches and candle-grease and the marks of crawling had been plentiful, local adventurers having got in nearly feet. [illustration: on the ceiriog. _photo by e. a. baker._] [illustration: upper ceiriog cave. _photo by e. a. baker._] already we had struck the water in two or three places, but had not found it in the main passage. now we crossed a long pool or runnel of stagnant water, which came in from under the rocks to the south-east, and climbed into a tight little curving tunnel that led back to it in a semi-circle. beyond it, i found myself in a rift chamber, with the water coming in from under the rocks at one end, and flowing out in like manner at the other. there seemed to be no egress, till suddenly i noticed that the niche in which i was sitting was the end of a small horizontal hole or dry water-pipe, striking off at right angles. but my companion had found the tunnel too much for him. the sides bristled with points of rock, and pressed in so close that one could only wriggle through by fractions of an inch, stretched at full length on the left side. now he made a stout attempt to get through underneath, in the water tunnel. i heard the sound of wallowing, and then my friend's head and shoulders came splashing in at the bottom of the cave, his body dragging after through water and mud. but again he stuck fast, and announced that he would give the thing up. it was not wise to go on far alone, for fear of being left by any accident without a light; but in order to make a reconnaissance for future work i pushed through the water-pipe, and to my delight found myself in another horizontal tunnel running parallel to the main chamber. crawling ahead, first over a clay-lined floor, and then over splinters of limestone mixed with stalagmites, i emerged presently into an open passage, or feet high, with the stream peacefully reposing in one long pool at the bottom. it appeared to go on indefinitely, and i might have gone farther, but for the present determined to leave off the exploration at this point. the parallel tunnel seemed to be going straight back towards the cave mouth, and it looked as though it might form a short cut home. as a matter of fact, this was a right branch striking off from the point where our man had stuck fast. by crawling in his direction and shouting, i made him hear, and at last saw his light through a chink only three inches wide. fallen blocks of limestone choked the tunnel at his end, where it leaves the main passage near the roof, and in its present state this branch of the cave was practically invisible. we shifted several big stones, however, and in a few minutes my friend joined me, pleased enough to find a way out that saved the discomforts of his recent journey. he had had the misfortune to array himself in white flannels, and now the state of his garments was so deplorable that he straightway hid himself in the river, like the pseudo marquis of carabas, until more presentable clothing could be fetched. [illustration: lower ceiriog cavern. _photo by e. a. baker._] a veteran cave-hunter from liverpool gladly joined me in a second visit to the ceiriog cavern. our host could not be with us, but sent a village youth as his substitute. this young man was very keen and plucky, and, as things turned out, saved the situation, for my speleological friend, to his intense chagrin, failed to get through the narrow entrance to the parallel tunnel, and the two of us had to finish the job by ourselves. climbing along the walls of the water-rift, we soon found it best to wade straight through the stream bed, and finally, when the space grew more and more restricted, to crawl through the water. toward the end of the rift a small tunnel broke away to the left, and the water disturbed by our advance flowed into it and away down a small swallet. wriggling through, heedless of a wetting, we came into a small chamber with four exits, each of which we explored, marking off each with a cross or arrow to prevent our losing the route back. every branch led eventually to other points of divergence, and ultimately to small tunnels or pipes, through which the water flows in rainy weather into the head of the cavern. having conscientiously examined every one, without finding the mythical passage to oswestry, we returned to the tunnel of the swallet. one of the bifurcations, it was interesting to discover, led back unexpectedly into the water-rift. there were numberless chinks and fissures, and holes in the roof, leading into this network of passages, all very interesting as a concise example of the whole history of the formation of a cave; but the farthest point reached was, by measurement, only a little more than feet from the entrance. only in places were there stalactites, and those small ones. there were stalagmite curtains on the walls at one or two spots, and patches of very white amorphous tufa. curious filaments of cave-weed, white and brown, without a vestige of leaves, abounded throughout the cavern. not far above the cave mouth i came across the exit of the water, a beautiful spring, pouring down into the ceiriog, a few yards away. on the top of the hill, in a disused limestone quarry, there were traditions of a cave opening that had been covered by a landslip for some thirty years. a man was set to work digging it out, and a small fissure was disclosed, the old channel of a tributary leading into the middle of a cave running north-north-east and south-south-west. the total length was feet. the water apparently entered at the top of the left passage and ran away into a low bedding cave to the right. the floor is wet clay at present, but there are traces of large stalagmites, including one handsome "beehive"; and the roof is covered with beautiful white and amber stalactites. our further attempts to uncover openings into the limestone only brought us down to the solid rock, and we found nothing to confirm the rumour that a cave exists which carried a stream down to the ceiriog, feet below. the exploration of stump cross cavern the explorers who have done so much work in derbyshire and somersetshire have also carried out extended explorations in some of the more remote caves of yorkshire. recently a party carried out farther investigations than any previous explorers in stump cross cavern, on the moors between wharfedale and nidderdale. this cavern, which is named after the ancient boundary mark of knaresborough forest, and is situated near the summit of the moors, feet above sea-level, - / miles from pateley bridge and - / from skipton, was discovered in by miners searching for lead, as was the case with several of the derbyshire caverns. the greenhow lead mines are not far off, and the ground in many parts hereabouts is riddled with old workings. no place could look more unlikely for caves than the flat field on the top of the hill, where a few steps lead down to a doorway into the ground, close to the rough road to grassington and appletreewick. the party of five, besides myself, messrs. b. and f. wightman, j. w. puttrell, j. croft, and h. bamforth (all members of the kyndwr club), drove up from bolton abbey station by way of burnsall, and through various delays did not reach the cave mouth till nine o'clock on saturday evening. with our photographic and other apparatus we descended at once to a level gallery feet or so below the surface, whence several passages branch off, and there we made a halt. to give a clear general idea of the structure of this cavern is not easy. it consists of a number of galleries running in different directions at different levels, with a few intercommunications, and many continuations that have gradually become choked with clay and stalagmite and have for ages been impassable. descending the steep stairway in a northerly direction one soon reaches the first of the natural passages, which bears to the west. a gallery goes off to the right, west-south-west, and bifurcates, but is uninteresting, the earth and clay that show its proximity to the surface rendering it very dirty. in the opposite direction, east-north-east, the corridor where we had placed the luggage and made our general rendezvous continues to a distance of feet, and then dwindles away into a low stalactite grotto. being so inaccessible and so little known, the various chambers have never yet been christened, except with the vague and general names of upper caverns and lower caverns, which have little meaning owing to the intricate conformation of the series. from our rendezvous two important tunnels, called the lower caverns, go off in a westerly direction from the bottom of a natural shaft feet deep. these were left for the present whilst we went into the middle caverns, which strike off to the north from the same spot, and after many turns and twists approach the surface in the ravine of dry gill, south-east from the entrance to the caves. many chambers and passages open out from this series, the largest and most beautiful being called, very inappropriately, the top cavern. as it leads eventually to a charming piece of cave scenery that we agreed to call the "bowling alley," it might well be named after this. [illustration: in stump cross cavern. _photo by e. a. baker._] [illustration: the pillar, stump cross cavern. _photo by e. a. baker._] i will now, as clearly as i can, follow the steps of the party in their exploration of these middle caverns, and proceed afterwards with them into the other series. descending gradually, and passing many nooks and corners where exquisite recesses are wreathed about by the ivory-white incrustations on wall, roof, and floor, we stayed to drink a ceremonious glass from the icy waters of jacob's well, a crystal pool curtained in with masses of stalactite, and then passed on to one of the chief show places seen by the public, bearing the modest name of the chapel. its great attraction is the series of massive pillars of translucent white that seem to uphold the arching roof. in few of the caverns that i have explored is there anything to compare with the stateliness of this pure colonnade, the cylindrical shafts of which are a good deal longer than a man's height, and modelled fantastically by the irregular deposit of the calc spar. one column in this part of the cave measured three feet in circumference. a peculiar beauty was the transparency of the material, a pure glassy white through which the light of a candle shone clearly, whilst a light inside converted the hanging folds and clusters of stalactites into a beautiful species of lantern. on the walls were folds and ridges of snowy stalagmite, and from the roof hung stalactites of all shapes and sizes, myriads of threadlike growths hanging in a lacy fringe. onwards the arcading and the array of pillars extended into a roomy vault, the end of which struck upwards, as already explained, south-eastwards, toward dry gill. though a perceptible draught comes through from the open air, and the heaps of clay-coated blocks show that a swallet is not far off above, no way can be forced through without excavation. augmented by the arrival of two or three local friends, the party descended, after lunch, into the lower caverns. unlike the other passages, with their continual windings and perplexing branches, these two series of large vaults, narrow tunnels, and almost impracticable crevices maintain a westerly direction throughout, and the few branches strike off decisively to the right or to the left. two of us, being delayed by some trifling accident, missed the others at the bottom of the short vertical descent, and, unaware that there were two series of passages, crept on along the first that opened. this had the appearance of an old stream-bed, the ground being littered in places with blocks of limestone, in others clayey, and in some parts smoothed down by the rush of a torrent. high in places, it often dwindled to a very low passage, through which we crept and wriggled after the manner of the serpent, ofttimes exerting no little strength to push beneath the projections overhead. here a shaft of glassy stalagmite, uniting floor and roof, tried to bar the way, and there it was impossible to advance without scraping against the vitreous threads that hung like hairs from the dripping rocks. we shouted to the others who we thought were ahead of us, but got no reply, and after twenty minutes of this painful progression began to think of returning. noticing a hollow in the right wall, i asked my comrade to wait while i examined it. inside was a blind passage and the round orifice of a small tunnel, into which i thrust my head and shoulders and then crawled forward. it was not an inviting hole, being wet and an exceedingly tight fit, and i was on the point of returning when a voice was heard faintly in the distance. listening intently and creeping on again, i heard the voice more distinctly, and shouted. the voice replied from below. i quickly realised that we two had missed the others, who were following a lower series of passages somewhere beneath us. unable to turn round, and too far advanced to return up this slippery tunnel, i saw there was nothing for it but to push on, head downwards. in a yard or two, to my unspeakable relief, the hole grew big enough to turn round in, just before i got to the end of it, and saw messrs. croft and puttrell, feet below me, holding out their hands and inviting me to drop. the leap was a little sensational, but i had my turn of enjoyment in witnessing the grace with which my comrade from above, who was now courteously invited to follow me through the water-pipe, took the jump on to the clay floor of the lower tunnel. we returned later to the other westerly passage, at the top of the water-pipe. examining every opening carefully, we noticed many similar communications between the two series, evidently proving that the upper was a very ancient stream course that had been tapped successively until the lower tunnel superseded it as a waterway. pushing ahead, we soon realised that we had arrived at the richest part of the whole cavern, though also the most inaccessible. the roof came down bristling with spikes and shafts of the purest calcite; the floor was one mass of crystallisation, ridged all over with the rippling lines that form as the crust grows under water. this exquisite scene was continued for hundreds of feet, various and indescribable as a dream, whilst our march onward over the sharp crystals of the floor and through the portcullis that closed every chamber was as painful as a nightmare. loveliest of all was a long tunnel that once held many pools of water, half-encrusted over with a film of carbonate. only one of these lucid mirrors remained, but the dried-up basins were as beautiful now as ever, with the bottom and sides covered by a coraline growth delicate in colour as in form. at the end was a small dome-like chamber, where we extended ourselves for a hard-earned rest before facing the toils and tribulations of the journey back. [illustration: the chapel: stump cross cavern. _photo by e. a. baker._] we thought this expedition to the lower series had exhausted the principal beauties of stump cross cavern, but we were wrong. on our way to rejoin the other men in the middle cavern we were much impressed by two large curtains of stalactite, one of them folded and wrinkled, and the other hanging straight down without a curve, but both striped with deep bands of crimson, orange, and golden yellow when a piece of magnesium was burnt behind them. these were equal in extent and brilliance to anything i have ever seen, even in cox's cavern at cheddar. a round tunnel, ribbed and groined with glistening dripstone, and a broad low arch set with pillars and string-like stalactites stretched from top to bottom, led into the long, wide chamber that we dubbed the "bowling alley," on account of the stumps and pedestals of stalagmite that stud the floor between the pillars. beyond it a short passage leads into a grotto to the right, and a very difficult one continues some distance to the left. it was now past three in the morning. tired and battered to the point of exhaustion, but delighted with an exploration that far exceeded in interest all we had looked for, we returned to the cave mouth. an unpleasant-looking bull which had with great suspicion watched us make our nocturnal entry into the regions below had, greatly to our relief, got tired of waiting, and the coast was clear. out of the everlasting silence and the shadows, lit so rarely by the glare of the magnesium and the beams of the limelight, we returned again, with the surprise that never fails, to the light of the heavens. dusk was on the far-extending moors and hills, daylight was creeping on over the sky, a pair of larks saluted us with a hilarious song. our driver was soon awake at the little inn, two furlongs away, and in the freshness of the morning we crawled down the break-neck road to appletreewick, bolton woods and the wharfe growing in light before us; and then at an exhilarating pace rolled up the dale to the red lion at burnsall. swallet-hunting in derbyshire "giant's hole" and "manifold" between sparrowpit and the head of the winnats the old road from chapel-en-le-frith to castleton skirts what is, geologically, one of the most important localities in derbyshire. it runs along the side of a shallow upland valley, about feet above tide-level and two miles long, which is bounded on two sides by the curve of rushup edge and on the other two by elden hill, windy knoll, and other limestone acclivities. one of the great faults of the pennine chain traverses this valley longitudinally, the yoredale strata having been thrown down to the level of the limestone, so that the middle of the valley is the boundary between the yoredale rocks, shale grits, and milestone grit on the north, and the limestone plateau of mid-derbyshire on the south. the valley is completely encircled by higher ground; there is no egress for streams on the surface. accordingly other modes of drainage are to be looked for, and they will be discovered in a numerous series of swallets situated along the line of the fault, the water that runs over the impervious shales perforating the limestone as soon as it comes in contact with it. this shallow valley, in fact, is the gathering ground for the waters that pour into the abyss of the speedwell cavern, traverse peak cavern, and make their way to the open air at russet well and other springs at castleton. that such is the case has long been proved by observations of the temperature and colour of the waters, and by tracing chaff and other things thrown into the upland streams. but there exist hardly enough data to establish the theory of the french speleologist, m. martel, that peak's hole water comes from perryfoot, and the water of russet well from coalpit mine, near sparrowpit. all that is definitely known is that these waters run through the massive limestone for distances varying from two to three miles and reappear in castleton, feet beneath. whether they unite into one or two large streams, which form considerable chambers and caverns in the inaccessible region beyond the farthest known parts of speedwell and peak caverns, is an interesting question, that tempts one to answer boldly in the affirmative, since the action of underground streams in somerset and yorkshire seems to justify the assumption, if we take into account the extent of the vertical joints eaten away by the water in its descent of feet, and the effects of periodical floods. in somerset, in a situation exactly similar, two caves of feet fall and feet horizontal measurement have recently been discovered by opening similar swallet-holes. is there any hope of finding such hypothetical cavern or caverns here by exploring, and if necessary opening artificially, any of the swallets between perryfoot and giant's hole? the investigations recently carried out by a friend and myself do not make us hopeful that if there are such caverns they will ever be made accessible. we began our work at giant's hole, which opens in the bottom of a little gorge between peak's hill and middle hill. the brooklet that runs in at the cave mouth was very low, and we passed almost dryshod over the rough stones that cover the stream-bed for some feet. giant's hole has an arched entrance about seven feet high, and the first part of the cave retains the same form. then the walls contract, and the cave takes the shape of a deep and narrow canyon, cut through solid rock, with the stream coursing along at the bottom over little falls and waterslides and through pools that are not easy to pass without a wetting. one hundred and fifty feet from the entrance to the cave is a lofty rift, near the top of which an upper gallery turns west, the general direction of the main passage being southerly. passing this, we followed the stream downhill for another fifty or sixty yards, and were then brought to a standstill by a partial choke. at this point a quantity of stones and gravel comes within two feet of the roof, and the water is dammed back in a pool a foot deep, so that there is barely a foot of clear space between water and roof. returning to the steep climb to the upper gallery, we scaled the wet and slippery rocks, and found ourselves on a shelf over the canyon. the shelf gave ingress to the gallery, which rose gently in a westerly direction, with frequent twists and turns, and then turned north. in feet it divided. we scrambled on; but all the branches evidently approached the surface of the ground, becoming earthy, and we soon found it impossible to get any farther. this upper level, which for our purposes was of less interest than the lower, is incrusted with deposits throughout its length of or yards. there are stalagmite curtains and sheets of tufa on the walls, the older rocks on the floor are cemented together with a crust of polished stalagmite, and some of the boulders are covered with shining enamel. we found it best to use an alpine rope in getting back to the lower level, the ledges underneath not being easy to find by candlelight. outside the sun was shining brightly, and the light that streamed in at the cave mouth, through the ferns and flowers and grasses that encircled it, was stained a fairy-like green. continuing our way through the gorge between the sharp limestone knoll of peak's hill and the bulkier middle hill, we followed a stream that comes down from rushup edge, perforates the limestone base of peak's hill, and comes out on the other side at a small cave. in three furlongs this stream is swallowed under a cliff some feet high, the ingress at present being through a series of holes, where the water makes an intermittent roaring, almost like the throb of a hydraulic ram, as if a siphon were momentarily discharging. older rifts are seen in the same line of cliffs, and can be penetrated for feet, but are now deserted by the water save at flood-time. farther on is a deep depression in the hillside, big enough to engulf a house. it is supposed locally to have been produced by the falling in of a cave roof, but it is more probably an independent swallet, one of a series, nearly all funnel-shaped and long out of working order, that lie along a higher level in the limestone than those that occupy the line of demarcation from the shales. the biggest of them is bull pit, which we come to later. next to the last pair of large openings into which streams are running, and which may be called the peak's hill swallets, since their waters rise out of peak's hill, we come to a large irregular series of trough-shaped hollows converging on another swallet at this same geological border-line. the openings here are all little ones. but the next swallet has a cave above it, into which we entered. it does not go far, but it has two ascending branches that can be traced to two small depressions in the limestone where tiny affluents have percolated and cut for themselves little tunnels in the rock. the next swallet beyond this has but a small opening, although the hollow cut out by its rivulets through the shales is hundreds of square yards in area. an abrupt cliff walls in the hollow on the limestone side, only a few paces from which are naked patches of yoredale rocks, clearly defining the boundary of the two series. we now came to one of the most interesting openings that we have met with. it lies about yards north of bull pit. as often happens, immediately above the swallet, in the limestone, is a deep chasm almost perforating the escarpment. at the base of the escarpment is a rounded archway with a turbulent stream running in. after securing a photograph we enter, and make our way down stream easily for a little distance; then the cave twists and narrows, and at a distance of feet or so we are disappointed to find the channel too confined for us to force our way farther. outside we had observed that the basin-shaped area had been flooded not long ago, and inside the vegetable débris that was plastered over the walls and roof showed that the swallet must have been completely choked during the recent wet weather. but the peculiarity of this swallet was that the solid mass of rock through which the stream had carved its way was not ordinary limestone, but beautifully veined and crystalline like marble, and its surface smooth and polished. it had very much the same appearance as the marmorised limestone found in the neighbourhood of intrusive lavas, such as those near tideswell. by the action of the water it had been sculptured into fantastic shapes; in one place a corner had been cut through and a small pillar left, joined to the rock at top and bottom. we scrambled with some difficulty into the chasm behind the swallet. at the bottom, on the same side as the existing swallet, was the broad and lofty arch of a cave, which went only a few yards in, otherwise it would have broken through the escarpment. right above the keystone of the arch was a weathered group of stalactites hanging from a ledge, and under them the broken stalagmite floor of a tiny grotto. it is a rare thing to find such deposits in the open air, and doubtless it indicates that the chasm was formed by the destruction of a larger cave. a thick deposit of earthy mud covered the floor, and at one side a big hole penetrated this to a depth of six feet, the work of a stream that had perhaps not run for ages. this deposit, though dry, was so soft that i nearly sank through into the hole. we found four birds' nests in this cave mouth, with eggs and young in them, and were disappointed not to come across the egg of a cuckoo that flew out the moment before we entered. in the wiry grass not far away from the top of the cavity we discovered a lark's nest with two eggs in it. bull pit lies in the wood just above this opening, nearer the road. it is a great open abyss, walled on three sides by crags of limestone nearly a hundred feet high, and with trees growing all round the edges. this, no doubt, is a very ancient swallet that has not been in operation for ages--belongs, perhaps, to the same period as elden hole, which opens or feet higher, a mile away, on elden hill. a little way on, near perryfoot, we come in sight of another very ancient cavity, on the side of gautries hill. it is a gaping pit about feet deep, with a noble arch inside, spanning the entrance to a broad cave. at present the cave mouth is silted up with sand and clay. all these rocky openings are the lurking-places of beautiful ferns and mosses; the feathery fronds of the limestone polypody, the late primroses, various saxifrages, and the delicate foliage of herb robert making a brave show. the wilder birds take refuge there. a crow flew out of the hole on gautries hill, and one day on approaching elden hole i was startled by a dense cloud of jackdaws, more than a hundred, suddenly rushing out. farther down, from to feet lower, a host of starlings had built their nests on the walls of the chasm. disturbed, they came flying up in twos and threes, beating the air in painful efforts to wing their way straight up and out of the hole. at perryfoot a stream is engulfed which m. martel considers to be the source of peak's hole water, and to be identical with the stream that flows through the inmost passages of peak cavern. it now runs into a cleft that is too small to be explored. but at a comparatively recent date it was swallowed in a number of large fissures in a crescent-shaped wall of limestone yards away. most of these openings are impracticable, but at the extreme east i had already reconnoitred a promising cleft which we now proceeded to examine thoroughly. this complicated swallet, with the passages behind it, is known locally as "manifold." going east for feet, the fissure divides, one passage striking up towards the surface and the other turning south. we soon had to crawl, the passage being very low, narrow, and lined with objectionable stones. after feet more we came to a wider place, with a sort of chimney on one side. here was the sole mark of humanity that we found in this cave, a stake that had apparently been used to climb into the chimney. nothing was gained by climbing it, so we squeezed our way along the main passage. now the tunnel grew into a high but narrow canyon where we could stand upright, then it dwindled to a tunnel again, generally descending, but occasionally rising in what was once a siphon. we passed one or two branches, at the most important of which the principal tunnel curved to the left and descended a little more steeply over some small ledges and basins brimming with water. we began to feel sanguine about the wished-for cavern, but presently the diameter of the tunnel grew so small that we could not advance another yard. my companion was some distance behind with his candle out, and i would not make a move until he had got it relighted, the consequences of both candles going out at once being unpleasant and possibly dangerous. for a long way we could not turn round, and had to crawl feet foremost. just after repassing the junction my companion shouted that we were going wrong. he did not recognise the passage. i remained at the junction whilst he went farther and ascertained that it was the right channel after all. then i examined the branch. it ascended feet and then divided, the left branch, which was earthy, plainly striking up to the surface, the right branch going back towards the swallet. undoubtedly there must be quite a labyrinth of dry water channels to correspond with the numerous series of openings in the cliff, but the one we explored seemed to be the largest and most practicable. very tired and hot, not to mention the dirt, we made our way back to the exit, glad to feel that our day's work was done. the one thing that had impressed us most during our explorations was that all these swallets and water channels are cut through solid rock. only when the rocks are shattered or disintegrated, as in the cases alluded to in somerset, would there be any possibility of enlarging a swallet artificially. and though we had penetrated to a distance of feet at manifold we had not found the passages growing more roomy nor enlarged by the accession of tributaries. so far, the prospect of opening up the large fissures and chambers that must surely exist deeper in the rock seems unfavourable, unless the main channel of giant's hole can be unblocked. e. a. b. exploring new caves in derbyshire the new and exciting game of cave-exploring has been pursued so strenuously during the last four years that one would almost think the possibilities of fresh discoveries had been exhausted. when a little while ago, therefore, rumours came in of a big cavern in lathkill dale, so big that people were said to have been lost in its recesses, they were received not a little incredulously. but after the usual allowances had been made for exaggeration and myth, and the alleged casualties reduced to the misfortunes of a sheep-dog who spent fourteen days in the cavern, probably rock-bound on a ledge, it still appeared that there was something worth exploring. accordingly two friends, messrs. w. h. and g. d. williams, who were residing near matlock, kindly undertook to find the cave or caves, and see what was to be done; and a native of middleton was commissioned to make further inquiries. first, a letter arrived with the disappointing intelligence that there was no cave on the lathkill, nothing but old mine workings: but hard on its heels came a wire to say that a cave had been located and was being explored tentatively. then further messages arrived with mention of another opening, but which was the reputed great cavern was a question to be settled only by a regular exploration. a day was fixed for the campaign, and my section of the party drove up early in the morning from bakewell station on the midland. our friends were waiting at the head of ricklow dale, a mile below the little village of thornyash, and we proceeded without delay down that streamless canyon, first over smooth greensward between the grim limestone walls, then hopping from point to point of huge, close-packed fragments, until we reached the uppermost cave mouth. it has a very imposing entrance, solid piers supporting a massive lintel, about feet wide. it opens in the west cliff of ricklow dale, at a height of feet above sea-level, and is evidently the source at times of a large stream. ricklow dale is really the upper part of lathkill dale, above the junction with cales dale, and the head streams of the lathkill originally flowed down it from the neighbourhood of monyash. but at a later period, seemingly, the stream betook itself to an underground course, until it emerged into the open from this cave. at the present time the cave is swept by water only when the deeper cavities of the rock overflow. this happened, for instance, a few weeks ago, when the cave discharged a considerable stream, and was for the time being quite impenetrable to man. as the messrs. williams had been into this cavern a day or two before, we left it for the present, in order to try some unexplored openings farther down the dale. on the same side of the dale they had detected the entrance to something, whether cave or mine they knew not, covered in by stones and earth. with pick and crowbar an entrance was soon exposed, not much larger than a badger's hole, and we crept through. at once it became evident that the hole was not a natural one; it was no "self-cave," as the country people say, but an ordinary level or a sough draining a lead mine. a pool of water filled the tunnel from side to side, stretching away into the distance; and as we preferred, if wading were necessary, to postpone it as long as we could, we left this alone for the present, and went on with our quest at two other spots in the entrance to cales dale. needless to say, we had missed no opportunity of cross-examining the inhabitants of the district, but the results had been absurdly inaccurate and conflicting. already a crowd of rustic onlookers had gathered round, but the only individual among them who knew anything about the region inside was the afore-mentioned sheep-dog, who could tell us nothing. he, too, was the only one who showed any inclination to join our underground party. in the upper cales dale cavern, as we named it, he actually went ahead of us, and put our candles in jeopardy with the spirited wagging of his tail. this cave is doubtless a very ancient channel of the cales dale water, which now runs through hidden crevices till it meets the lathkill; the span of its antiquity may be gauged by the fact that cales dale has been cut feet deeper, and the cave left high and dry, since it was a regular stream-course. i say dry in a comparative sense, for we quickly found ourselves confronted by a short passage of extreme dampness. the main channel runs west for feet, and then divides, both branches dwindling rapidly to mere water-pipes. but near the entrance a branch strikes off to the right. although the roof came down on our backs as we crawled, we managed to keep just above the surface of a shallow pool that lay in the middle: but a second pool was almost entirely mopped up by our journey to and fro. the passage ended in a chamber where two can stand upright. every bit of this little nook is covered with a creamy-white and brownish coating of amorphous carbonate. it is like a small empty shrine, with heavy curtains flowing over its walls, their folds and ridges flecked with innumerable scaly projections, like some delicate frilling. the rest of the cave is devoid of charm, though there are interesting masses of white tufa on the walls, as soft as putty. at the bottom of the dale, almost exactly under and parallel to this upper cave, is a larger one, which we called the lower cales dale cavern. it is entirely concealed by bushes and nettles, and we had to remove a mass of blocks and detritus before we laid bare the two entrances. even then, room could not be made for the broad-shouldered member of the party to get in. at the end of feet of very tight wriggling there was more head room. we were in a straight tunnel, arched as evenly as a culvert, the floor covered with the gravelly deposits of a stream. evidently it is a channel still used frequently by the cales dale water. it ran due west for feet, with room in most places for us to crawl on hands and knees: then it bent one point to the north. here the stream had thrown up a low dam, behind which it had bored a series of holes on the south side, through which most of it gets away. soon a wall of rock, shaped like the steps of a weir, confronted us, at the top of which we found ourselves in a wide, irregular chamber, the height of whose roof varied from feet to feet. we called it the pot hole cavern, because of the number of water-worn cavities in the roof. the biggest of these cavities appearing to give entrance to an upper gallery, i climbed into it with the aid of a comrade's shoulder. it contained a pretty grotto, lined with incrustations, but led to nothing. deep horizontal fissures yawned on every side of the pot hole chamber, and vertical joints split the interposing strata. all the exits, however, came to an end speedily except two, one extending a point east of south, the other a point east of north. i explored the northern branch before my friends arrived. it had several short ramifications, in some of which there were trails of rabbits, and other evidences of a communication with the surface, such as pieces of sodden wood and deposits of soil; but it gave ingress for barely feet. the other branch seemed more important, and as we were tired out and hungry, we left it until we had returned to the dale for rest and lunch, a waste of time, unfortunately, for it ran only for feet farther. [illustration: ricklow cave in flood. _photo by g. d. williams._] we crept over a pavement of fractured blocks, into a broad, low passage that seemed to have been hewn by giants out of the solid limestone. all around were the marks of a powerful, swirling current, that had split and torn the rocks asunder, and bored its way through their joints; yet not a grain of sand or a speck of mud was visible on their cleaned and polished surface. fissures and passages twisted away at the side, but returned in a few yards to the main corridor. in the roof were discernible the clean-cut hollows whence slabs of limestone had fallen that still cumbered the floor. the large chamber that we reached finally was bestrewn and heaped up with such masses, and all the ways of egress save one were entirely blocked up. this very soon came to an abrupt termination in a bell-shaped cavity, floored with a crust of stalagmite. but there were narrow fissures, a few inches only in width, running away in many directions; a strong draught made the candles gutter; and the occasional presence of great volumes of water was made evident by the damage done to some of the incrustations. there was no sign or sound of flowing water now; the silence was as profound and impressive as the darkness. yet this rock-strewn chamber was once the birthplace of a river. hither, from countless fissures, the streamlets gathered together and poured through the hidden places of the hill, now in a rippling brook, and now in a torrent, crashing and rending. at present the cales dale stream finds its way to the lathkill river by still more secret channels. but at no infrequent times, even yet, the torrent thunders over the waterfall in the pot hole cavern, the swallet is inundated, and a flood pours on through the long tunnel, and so into the open stream-course in the dale, now dried up and covered with vegetation. proofs of this were legible all around us. returning up the dale, we closed the mouth of the artificial level, and went back to the ricklow cavern. although the portal is so majestic, the passage becomes anything but commodious at the end of a few paces. once more we had to crawl over hard, water-worn rock, deeply fissured and thrown out of the horizontal; our galled knees and elbows could scarcely be induced to go at all, and the pace was miserably slow. then the roof came down so close in a horizontal fissure of huge extent, that there was nothing for it but to wriggle. my friends had ascertained that feet of this work leads into a lofty chamber. it is one of those long, vertical fissures, not wide but enormously high, that are common in the castleton caves. there were indications of galleries overhead, but we were too much exhausted to attempt climbing without a ladder. only one exit was practicable, which led in feet into just such another hollow, but still wider and uglier of aspect. filling the cavity to a height of feet was a mountain of shattered rocks, flung together pell-mell and wedged loosely. when we climbed it, the light of our candles showed that the structure was hollow, and hardly more durable in appearance than a house of cards. some of the rocks were held by points and corners, swinging on their long axes; a touch sent others clattering down, as we crept with the utmost caution up the adjoining wall. it was as if the interior of the hill had been rent apart by an earthquake, and the headlong stream of rocks caught suddenly and held by the closing in of the fracture. we clambered to the summit of this hollow mass of ruin, and lit some magnesium wire. the formless walls went up into a dark void above us, their ledges fringed with glistening spikes and tendrils of transparent stalactite, revealed by the glare. there had been visitors here before. scratched on the walls, but partially coated over by a crystalline enamel, were the initials "h. b.--r. a.," and the date ; other scrawls were indecipherable. no doubt this was the cave whose legendary renown had reached our ears. getting down our shattered staircase was a more formidable job than the ascent. one stone, as big as a table, rocked like a see-saw when we set foot on it. stalactites were not numerous in these caves, which are not only very humid, but continually swept by water. animal remains were plentiful, all recent, bones being carried in by beasts of prey and deposited by floods. as this process must have been going on for ages, the two cales dale caverns would probably yield good results to palæontological research. a comic incident cheered my fatigued comrades when we regained the open air. in the morning i had brought my family up from bakewell station for a day in the country, a work of supererogation that now placed me in a curious predicament. the waggonette had gone off to pick them up for the early train, and, to my distress, i found the driver had relieved us of all the luggage, including the rücksack which held my clothes, not to mention boots, pipe, and railway ticket. the alternative stared me in the face of proceeding to town in slimy overalls or in attire of dangerous slightness. but the broad-shouldered friend came to the rescue with his cave jacket, a garment that fell about me like a baggy greatcoat, hiding the worst deformities, and with battered hobnailers at one extremity, and a cap that had more stiff clay than cloth in it at the other, i made the best of my way home under the cover of darkness. a visit to mitchelstown cave mitchelstown cave, the largest ever discovered in the british isles, is not situated at the town of that name, in county cork, but miles away, in tipperary, on the road to cahir. its entrance is in a small limestone hill in the broad vale of the blackwater, midway between the knockmealdown mountains and the sandstone ridges and tables of the galtees. the cave was laid open in the course of quarrying operations in , from which time to the present the work of exploration has gone on progressively, if at long intervals, and may, perhaps, continue until the extent of the passages known is considerably enlarged. it seems now to be entirely forgotten that the spot has been famous from time immemorial for a wonderful stalactite cavern. in october , arthur young was taken into a cave, known as skeheenarinky, after the townland, but the old irish name of which was oonakareaglisha. "the opening," he says, "is a cleft of rock in a limestone hill, so narrow as to be difficult to get into it. i descended by a ladder of about twenty steps, and then found myself in a vault of feet long and or high: a small hole, on the left, leads from this a winding course of, i believe, not less than half an irish mile." he goes on to describe the beautiful scenery of the cave, which, he says, is much superior to the peak cavern in derbyshire, "and lord kingsborough, who has viewed the grot d'aucel in burgundy, says that it is not to be compared with it."[ ] the odd thing is that the very existence of this cavern seems to have been forgotten since the discovery of its much finer neighbour. yet the trees and brushwood guarding its mouth are in full view of the well-frequented entrance to the other cave; and dr. lyster jameson, who was with monsieur martel on his visit in , told me some years ago that an opening had been pointed out to him into a lower series of caves, which i have little hesitation in identifying with young's cavern and the cave mouth i allude to. [ ] arthur young's _tour in ireland_; ed. by a. w. hutton. vols. bell, . see pages - , vol. i. [illustration: a great pillar: mitchelstown cavern. _photo by e. a. baker._] [illustration: a fairy lantern: mitchelstown cavern. _photo by e. a. baker_.] dr. c. a. hill and i visited the spot in august , intending to go through all the accessible parts of the huge series now known collectively as mitchelstown cave, and also to examine the series referred to by dr. jameson, who had been unable to undertake their exploration. our impression was that little or nothing was known of the latter series, and it was not until after our return from ireland that we were startled and puzzled by turning up an account in _the postchaise companion_ ( ed., pp. , ) of a cave in this place already known and celebrated thirty years before the discovery of the mitchelstown cave. the explanation probably is that the guides find one cave a more profitable investment than two. to show the second (or rather the first, since the other is the usurper) would involve twice as much labour, but would hardly bring in twice the income. since , then, the original cavern has been suppressed, so successfully that even the omniscient baddeley never suspected that there are two series, although he had read young's description and confused it with the other. dr. hill let me down a few feet into the old cave-mouth, just such a narrow slit as young depicts; but we found that the rock was cut away immediately beneath, and without more hauling power, the only way to get down was to use a long ladder, and this we could not obtain. the guide told us that the hole led into nothing of any interest, and that the entrance had been used as a receptacle for deceased dogs and other excreta. this effectually took away any wish to pursue our researches in that direction for the present. still, the old cave ought not to be lost sight of; and we propose, if no one else undertakes the work, to explore the lower series on some future visit to ireland. the unscientific explorers of a hundred years ago may have left discoveries to future workers as important as those which remained for so many years after the early explorations in the neighbouring great cave. what was done in the latter during the first year after the discovery may be read in an article by dr. apjohn in the _dublin penny journal_ for december , , an article reproduced from the _dublin geological journal_, vol. i. dr. apjohn carried out a most elaborate and painstaking survey to points considerably beyond the second great cavity, now known as the "house of lords," but failed to reach "o'leary's cave," the key of the farther ramifications, or to explore the tunnels connected with "the river." his plan, worked out to scale, and showing the differences of level with great minuteness, remained the only map of the cave until m. martel's survey in . meanwhile various adventurers had got to more distant points, particularly to the long chain of caverns running east to brogden's, at the end of which m. martel's chart stops. the french explorer does not seem to have broken any fresh ground; but his plan, which appeared in _the irish naturalist_ for april , with an account of his visit, was a brilliant achievement, especially when the short time at his disposal is considered, six hours for the whole of the cavern. parts of this chart were only hastily sketched in, either from a rapid survey or from information supplied by the guide, as m. martel explained to me in a conversation some time ago, and errors of detail were, under these conditions, unavoidable. for instance, "o'leary's cave" is much larger than appears on the plan, and the "chimney" is not situated at the far end of a passage, but actually opens in the floor of "o'leary's cave." the caves running east, again--o'callaghan's and brogden's--are not such a simple series of straight passages as they seem on the chart; our guide had considerable difficulty in threading his way among the various bifurcations. as will transpire later, there is a mystery connected with the name of "cust's cave," the real cust's being in a totally different part of the series, and a different chamber altogether in shape. unfortunately we did not go prepared to carry out any survey, believing that all this had been done; so that we can at the most point out some places where the existing plans are at fault. we were also unfortunate in not being prepared to take a large number of photographs, the accounts we had read not leading us to anticipate the actual grandeur and extent of the scenery. m. martel compares the mitchelstown cave with such famous continental caverns as those of adelsberg, padirac, dargilan, and han-sur-lesse, and it comes off but poorly in such a comparison. i have seen his lantern slides of these caves, and after exploring all the most beautiful caves discovered as yet in england, i venture to say there is not one english cave that would not come off badly if set beside any of these. compared, however, with other british caverns, that of mitchelstown can hold its own easily; though individual chambers may be surpassed, there is nothing like the same extent of brilliant subterranean scenery anywhere else in these islands. the tourist portion of the cavern, a fraction of the whole, but yet a considerable extent of underground passages, is deservedly much frequented. the spacious vault, nicknamed the "house of commons," vies in dimensions and dignity with those in the peak of derbyshire, but it is far surpassed by the "house of lords." seventeen massy columns of pure white stalactite, surmounting enormous cones of terraced stalagmite, tower from floor to roof of this impressive dome, some feet in span and feet high. the grandeur of its height is lost somewhat through the mountain of fallen blocks that rises from the entrance almost to the apex of the roof. behind this vast accumulation a sort of ambulatory runs round under the walls, opening here and there into side chapels and irregular cavities, all bountifully adorned with the fairy-like work of the limestone carbonate. the so-called "tower of babel" is a majestic pillar rising from the summit of a pyramidal mass of stalagmite, feet in circumference, that being also the measure of its total height. a crowd of other limestone freaks, some aptly and some incongruously nicknamed, and many extremely beautiful, are found in this chamber. the cavities and passages that lie to the north-east of the first great chamber are not often visited. they start from "sadlier's cave," which is not large but bewilderingly picturesque, and contains a superb pillar, "lot's wife," almost of the prodigious size of the "tower." the "kingston gallery" is a straight rift, nearly feet long, but only two or three feet wide, with sheets of snowy white sweeping down the walls, and breaking into whole garlands of scrolls and pennons and curtains, which in places have been thrown right across the gallery, dividing it into lofty cells. manholes, actually, had to be cut through these diaphanous partitions to create a passage. from the cave at the end, a lower passage, the sand cave, comes back in a parallel direction to the point of junction, and from the quantities of fine sand on its bed, was evidently an important stream-course after the kingston gallery was drained of its waters. it has one unique feature, the succession of parallel rifts, called the "closets," which are connected together by rents in their dividing walls. some of these are extremely narrow, and by candlelight it is impossible to see any limit to their height, depth, or length. similar widenings of the master joints and degradation of the limestone separating them, are a special feature of the mitchelstown cave, and the key to its ground-plan, with its maze of right-angles. the great eastern vault, the garret, which is only feet below the level of the entrance, does not fall, as stated by m. martel, towards a series of choked swallets, that originally carried the waters farther down, but rises towards inlets from the surface. its fretted roof has fallen in at the upper end. a little to the south is a nameless series of charming vestibules, grottoes, and tunnels, meandering towards the insignificant lakelet called the "river." here we spent the whole of our first day. it is possible, we learned, to reach the easternmost series of caverns by this route, which also takes one into the square cavity designated as "cust's cave" on m. martel's chart. we chose the other way, that is, through the passage from the "house of lords" to the "cathedral." in the tangle of contrary passages into which this leads we lost ourselves several times, in the absence of the guide, and only recovered the thread by careful observation with the compass. eventually we found the way into "o'leary's cave," which struck us as one of the most impressive chambers in the whole cavern. it is not only much larger than is shown on the plan, but different in shape. apparently it is the most recent of all in formation, although this may be only an appearance caused by the falling in of the roof. unlike the other parts, where every bit of débris is sealed down by a glistening layer of stalagmite, this great cavity is heaped high with loose fragments, as free from incrustation as if the ceiling had collapsed yesterday. so wild and vast is the configuration of "o'leary's cave" that, standing on the lower side and looking across a depression in the middle to the ascending ground opposite, one fancied oneself, in the dim candlelight, gazing across a valley to a range of hills in the distance. we spent some time vainly searching for the horizontal tunnel supposed to end at the "chimney," and before the guide joined us were lucky enough to hit upon a string of chambers that seem never to have been entered before. these run, so far as we could make out without actual measurement, right over the o'callaghan series. in fact there were openings in the floor which we might have explored but for the aggressive and tenacious clay bedaubing everything, apparently leading down to these nether passages. brilliant draperies swept down to the bold masses of stalagmite below the walls, and long crystalline wands hung from the roof in thousands, so that we could not move without committing havoc in this pendulous forest. conducted by the guide, we now descended the "chimney" into the tortuous passages leading to the "scotchman's cave," which lies under o'leary's. it is a small but very beautiful chamber, giving one the idea that it has been hollowed out in a mountain of parian marble. now we struck into the long series running east through "o'callaghan's cave" to the farthest point yet reached. this was one of the principal channels by which the ancient waters descended, from openings now unknown and inaccessible, to the labyrinth of forsaken waterways we had left behind. our guide, who astonished us by the rapidity with which he got over difficult ground, was unable to make very speedy progress here. the ramifications are extremely hard to unravel, and he had only been in this part twice before, in with m. martel, and twenty-five years earlier, as a boy, with his father. eventually, after many wanderings, we reached "brogden's cave," where hitherto all direct progress had stopped. on the south side (not on the north, as shown in the chart) is the "chapel," which m. martel rightly described as the most beautiful thing in the whole cavern. it is an arched recess, canopied with stalagmite of the purest and most delicate lustre. whilst my companion rested, i joined the guide, who was hunting for the passage to a cave where his father had taken him thirty-five years ago. we discovered the opening at last, and after wriggling and squirming round innumerable twists and corners, we dropped over a low cliff, beyond which a short wriggle brought us into a long and lofty cave, magnificently walled and pillared with snowy calcite. floor, walls, and roof were a spotless white, wrought into intricate reliefs and embroideries by the flow of the freakish stalagmite. the guide stated that this was "cust's cave," and the one beyond, where our progress stopped, he called the "demon's cave." m. martel's chart shows a "cust's cave" of a totally different shape and size, near the "river"; and, as there is no mention extant of any cave beyond brogden's, i take it that this, the real cust's, was unknown to him. unfortunately i had followed the guide without bringing the plan or a compass, unaware that we were going so far from the known parts of the cavern; and now, to my disgust, the guide was unable to find the way out. twice he descended into a hole at our end of the cave, and emerged with the intelligence, "it's not there, sir." we ransacked every opening in wall and floor, but failed to hit on any exit whatever. the guide grew alarmed, and rushed off to the farther end of the cave, wondering if we had completely lost our sense of direction. he tried whistling; but the hundreds of feet of rock between us and our companion were well able to guard their ancient silence. tired with these exertions, he next proposed that we should put out the lights and rest for a while. whether his idea was to husband the only provisions we had, i could not say; but at any rate the situation did look serious, since rescuers might have taken days to discover our position in this remote corridor, of whose very existence, probably, our guide was the only man in ireland that knew anything. but where there is a way in, there is a way out, as i very well knew from several similar experiences; and after a pretty bad half-hour, we did manage to recover the trail, and got back to our friend, who had been completely mystified by our disappearance, and was almost as relieved as we by our return. after many hours of fatiguing work, we were glad to follow our guide back through the labyrinthine passages, by the most direct route to the open air. our chief regret was that we had relied too much on the completeness of previous surveys, and had not taken materials for correcting the map. we had secured many photographs of the earlier chambers, but had not taken the camera into the innermost cavities, where photography would be most profitable. m. martel's dictum can still be endorsed that there is a great field for research in the mitchelstown cavern. index abergele, . _abîmes, les_, , . adelsberg, , . albanets of couvin (belgium), . alfred (king), . alps, . anemolites, . _angels and men_ (quotation), . antiquity of caverns, , , . apjohn (dr.), . arragonite, , . arthur (king), . attrition, effect of, . avalon, isle of, . aveline's hole, , . aven de vigne close (ardèche), . avignon, . axbridge, . axe, the river, , , , , , , , , , , , , , . badger hole, , . bagshawe cavern, , . balch (mr.), , , , , , , , . bamforth (mr. h.), , , , , . banwell cave, , , . barnes (mr.), . bath, , . bats, , , . bear, , , . beehive, . beehive chamber, lamb's lair, . betsy camel's hole, . bishop's lot swallet, . bishop's palace at wells, . bison, , . blackdown, , , , . blackwater, . blue john mine, , , . bonheur (gard), . bos, . boule (m.), . bouvier (m.), . bowling alley, . bramabiau (gard), . bristol, , , . bristol channel, . brogden's cave, . brue, , . buckland (dean), . bull pit, , , . bunter sandstone, . burrington, , , , , , , , . buxton, . cadbury, . calamine, . cales dale, , , . camden's _britannia_, . camelot, . canyon, , , , , , . carbonic acid (action of), . carboniferous or mountain limestone, , , , , , , , , , , , , . cascades, . castle of comfort, , . castleton, , , . causse de gramat (padirac), . cave-earth, . _cave hunting_, . cave man of cheddar, , . ceiriog valley, . cevennes, . chapel-en-le-frith, . charterhouse, , , . cheddar, , , , , , , , , , , , , . cheddar water, , , . chokes, , , . clemens alexandrinus, . clevedon, . coalpit mine, . compton bishop, , , . compton martin, . copper, . coral cave, , . corridors, . cotherstone hill, . cows hounded over cliff, . cox's cavern, , . cox's hole, , . croft (mr. j.), . crook's peak, , . croscombe, . cross, . crosse (andrew), . cust's cave, , , . dangers of exploration, , . dargilan, . dawkins (prof. boyd), , , , , , , . de launey (m.), . deer, , , , . demon's cave, . denny's hole, . denudation, , . derbyshire, , , , , , , . devil's hole, . devil's punchbowl, . dinder wood, . dolomitic conglomerate, , , , , , , , , , , . dovedale, . doveholes, . downside monastery, . drayton, . dulcote, , . east harptree, . eastwater, , , , , , , , , , . ebbor, , , , , . elden hill, . elden hole, , , . english channel, . enmore, . eocene, . exeter, . exploration (dangers of), , , . extinct animals, , , , . fairy slats, . fauna of caves, , . fissures, , , , , , , , , , , . flatholm, . fluor-spar, . fontaine de vaucluse, . foreland, . foxe's hole (burrington), . fox's hole (compton bishop), . frome, , , . frost (action of), . galtees, . gaping ghyll, , . gautries hill, . geological survey, . giant's hole, , , . gibson (mr. james), , . glacial drift, , . glastonbury, . goatchurch cavern, , , , , . golden cap, . gough (messrs.), , , , , , . grassington, . gravel, . great cavern of cheddar, , , . great chamber of lamb's lair, . green how, . _grotten und höhlen von adelsberg, die_, . gurney slade, . gypsum, . han-sur-lesse, . harptree, . harrington (dr.) of bath, . helln pot, . hiley (mr.), . hill (dr.), . hillgrove, , , , . holwell, , , . hope, dale of, . horse, . hyæna, , , . hyæna den, , , , . hydrology, . ingleborough cave, , . inscriptions, , . irish elk, , . _irlande et cavernes anglaises_, . jackdaws, . jacob's well, . jameson (dr.), . joints, , , , . katavothra, . kent's cavern, . kentucky, . keuper, . knockmealdown mountains, . kyndwr club, . labyrinths, , , . laibach, . lake village, . lamb's lair, , , . lathkill dale, , , . lathkill river, . lead, . leland, . lewsdon, . lias, , , . lion, , . llangollen, . long hole, , , . long kin hole, . long wood, . lower limestone shales, , , . loxton, , . mammoth, , . manifold, , . marble arch, . marshall (mr.), , . martel (mons.), , , , , , , , , , , , , . master-joint, , . matlock, . mazauric (m.), . mcmurtrie (mr. j.), . mendip plateau, . middle hill, . mitchelstown cave, . monyash, . morfa rhuddlan, . morland (mr. j. o.), . murray's guide, , . natural wells, . neolithic barrows, . niagara (gough's caves), . nidderdale, . north hill, , . o'callaghan's cave, , . offa's dyke, . ogo, , . ogof, , . old red sandstone, , , , , , , , , . o'leary's cave, , . ookey, . oonakareaglisha, . outfit, , . padirac, . parrett, . peace of wedmore, . peak, , , , , , , . peak's hill, . peak's hole, . peak's hole (source of water of), . pen hill, , , . percolating water, . percy's _reliques_, . perryfoot, , . phelps, . phosphorites, . pilsdon, . pleistocene gravel, . pliocene, . plumley's den, , , . _polyolbion_, . pot, , . pothole cavern, , . potholes, , , . pottery, , , , . priddy, , , , , , , . primitive man, , , , , , . puttrell (mr. j. w.), . quantocks, . quercy, . radstock, . radstock coalfield, . rain (action of), . rakes, , . ravine formation, . ravines, , , . raymond, walter, . red deer, , . reindeer, . _reliquiæ diluvianæ_, . revolving stones (action of), . rhaetic, , . rhinoceros, . rickford, , , . ricklow cavern, . ricklow dale, . risings (extent of flow), . "rock of ages," . rock shelter, . roman cave of cheddar, , . roman mines, . romano-british pottery, , , , . rookham, , . rowberrow farm, . rushup edge, , . russet well, , . "s" bends, , . st. andrew's well, , , . st. dunstan's well, , . st. george's cave, , . "st. paul's," , . st. swithin's hole, . "salle à manger," . sand (action of), . sand pit hole, . schmidl (dr. adolph), . scotchman's cave, . secondary rocks, , , , , . sedgemoor, . severn, . shakeholes, . sheldon (dr.), , , , . sheldon (mr., of wells), . shipham, . silt, , . siphons, , . skeheenarinky, . slater (mr.), . smith (w. w.), . snowdonia, . société de spéléologie, . "solomon's temple," , . somerville (a. f.), , . sorgue, . sparrowpit, , . speedwell mine, , . speleology, . spiders, . springs, , . spur and wedge, , . squire's well, . stalactites, , , , , , , , . stalagmite bridges, . steepholm, . stoke lane, , , , , . stratton-on-the-fosse, . stump cross cavern, . subterranean streams, , , , . subterranean waterfalls, . swallets, swallow-holes, , , , , , , , , , , , . swildon's hole, , , , , , . tanyrogo, . tennyson, . thornyash, . tideswell, . tindoul de la vayssière (aveyron), . tone, . torquay, . tower rock, . traps, , . trias, , , , , , , , , , . troup (mr.), , , , . _two men o' mendip_, . ubley farm, . undermining, , , . upper langford, . van den broeck, . vaucluse, . wastdale, . wavering down, , . wedmore, . well (in swildon's hole), , . wells, , , , , , , , , , . wells museum, . west riding, . weston-super-mare, . wharfedale, . wightman (mr. f.), . wild boar, . wild goat, . wild horse, . willcox (mr.), . william of worcester, . williams, (w. h. and g. d.), . wills neck, . wind (action of), . winnats, , . wirral, . witch of wookey, . wolf, , . wookey, . wookey hole, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . woolly rhinoceros, . wrington vale, . yoredales, . yorkshire, , , , , . young's cavern, . _printed by_ j. baker & son, _clifton_ transcriber's note: obvious printer errors have been corrected. otherwise, the author's original spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact. the jenolan caves. [illustration: the coral grotto. [_frontispiece_] the jenolan caves: an excursion in australian wonderland. by samuel cook. _illustrated with twenty-four plates and map._ eyre & spottiswoode, her majesty's printers: london--great new street, fleet street, e.c. . [illustration: coat of arms] preface. the following historical and descriptive account of the jenolan (formerly called the fish river) caves was written for the _sydney morning herald_. by the kind permission of the proprietors of that journal (messrs. john fairfax and sons) and, at the request of numerous correspondents, it is now republished. the author is conscious, however, that neither tongue, nor pen, nor pictorial art can convey an adequate idea of the magnificence and exquisite beauty of these caves. words are too poor to express the feelings of admiration and awe which are experienced by those who wander through the marvellous subterranean galleries embellished with myriads of graceful and fantastic forms of purest white alternating with rich colour and delicate tints and shades. of all the caves in new south wales those at jenolan are the most beautiful, and well-travelled men admit that they are unrivalled in any other part of the world. as they are so little known this book may be interesting, and serve to give some impression concerning geological transformations and the slow processes of nature in the production of works at once grand, ornate, and unique. the illustrations are from photographs by messrs. kerry and jones of sydney, who have generously permitted the author to make selections from their beautiful and extensive series of cave pictures. contents. chapter i. page how the caves were discovered chapter ii. the approach to the caves chapter iii. the external features of the caves--the grand arch chapter iv. the devil's coach house chapter v. the night caves chapter vi. the nettle cave chapter vii. the arch cave chapter viii. the carlotta arch chapter ix. the elder cave chapter x. the lucas cave--the music hall--the shawl cave chapter xi. the exhibition--the broken column--the jewel casket--judge windeyer's couch--the underground bridge chapter xii. the lurline cave--the fossil bone cave--the snowball cave chapter xiii. the bone caves chapter xiv. the imperial cave--the wool shed and the gravel pits--the architect's studio--the bone cave chapter xv. the margherita cave chapter xvi. the helena cave chapter xvii. the grotto cave chapter xviii. the lucinda cave chapter xix. katie's bower chapter xx. the right-hand branch of the imperial cave--the subterranean river chapter xxi. the fossil bone cave, the sparkling rock, and the crystal rock chapter xxii. the shawl cave chapter xxiii. lot's wife chapter xxiv. the crystal cities--the show-room and the grand stalactites chapter xxv. the fairies' bower--the selina cave--the mystery--nellie's grotto chapter xxvi. the vestry, the jewel casket, the bridal veil, and the flowering column chapter xxvii. how caves are made--the work of ages chapter xxviii. the garden palace--the stalagmite cave and the gem of the west chapter xxix. the fairies' retreat--the queen's diamonds chapter xxx. general impressions--caves unexplored chapter xxxi. conclusion list of illustrations. the coral grotto _frontispiece_ the grand arch entrance _to face page_ the grand arch--looking east " camp creek " the devil's coach house " the northern entrance to the devil's coach house " the nettle cave " the arch cave " the carlotta arch " the lucas cave " the shawl cave " the broken column " the underground bridge " the architect's studio " the helena cave " the lucinda cave " katie's bower " the underground river and its reflections " the crystal city " the show-room " the mystery " nellie's grotto " the alabaster column " the gem of the west " map of the district _at end of book._ the jenolan caves. chapter i. how the caves were discovered. the jenolan caves contain some of the most remarkable and beautiful objects in australian wonderland. they are formed in a limestone "dyke," surrounded by magnificent scenery, and hide in their dark recesses natural phenomena of rare interest to the geologist, as well as of pleasurable contemplation by non-scientific visitors; while in and about them the moralist may find "---- tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything." to see these caves once is to create a lifelong memory. the pink and the white terraces of new zealand, which before the recent eruptions attracted so many tourists, did not excel in splendour the caves at jenolan. but it is common for people to go abroad to admire less interesting things than are to be found within easy distance of their starting point, and which, if they were a thousand miles away, would probably be regarded as worthy of a special pilgrimage. there are persons living two or three leagues from the caves who have never seen them, and who, if they embraced the opportunity for inspection, would possibly regard them with the kind of wonder with which they would gaze upon the transformation scene at a pantomime. and yet the most frequent entry in the visitors' book is that the caves are "grand beyond expectation," and in some of their principal features "indescribably beautiful." the first of these caves was discovered in by james whalan, who lived on the fish river, near what is now the tarana railway station. having been robbed by a man named mcewan, he accompanied a police officer in search of the desperado, and tracked him to the romantic spot which forms the centre of the cave reserve, where he was captured. it is possible that some of these caves were known previously to outlaws, who found in them a secure and convenient hiding-place when hotly pursued. but the visit of whalan on the occasion of the capture of mcewan first brought them into public notice. the name of the bush-ranger is given to the creek which plays an important part in connection with the caves. one of the principal features received its name from the captor, and another--the bow cave--is called after some stolen bullock-bows found therein. they were then known as the "fish river caves," or as the "binda caves." they were called the fish river caves because they were in what was then regarded as the "fish river district," and not very far from the fish river post-office. they were called the "binda caves" after a station about nine miles distant to the northward. and so they were indifferently known until the month of august, , when their designation was officially changed to "jenolan"--that being the name given by sir thomas mitchell (surveyor-general of new south wales) to the mountain from which is named the parish within which the caves are situated. the change of nomenclature was recommended on the ground that the then existing names were infelicitous and misleading,--the caves being not upon the fish river, but upon a different watershed, separated from it by the main dividing range of the colony. the time was considered appropriate for remedying the mistake, because a map of the parish of jenolan was then in course of preparation, and would shortly be lithographed and issued to the public. the official correspondence on this subject discloses the fact that "binda" was first thought of as a good official name, and then "bindo;" but the former was found to be the name of a post town between yass and goulburn, and the latter the name of a village and a mountain nine miles north of the caves, and, like the fish river, on the west side of the dividing range. some exception was taken to the proposed change. it was urged that the name "jenolan" was already applied to a mountain in the capertee district; but to this it was replied that the mountain called "jenolan," seven or eight miles from the caves in an easterly direction, was marked on sir thomas mitchell's engraved map of the central portion of new south wales, whilst the other was not so defined--showing precedence in point of time and importance; and, further, that the orthography of the two names is different, the one being spelt "jenolan" and the other "geenowlan"--the former being the name of the parish in which the caves are situated, and the latter the name of a peak near capertee, in the county of roxburg. so it was finally determined to change the name of the caves to "jenolan," and in august, , they were gazetted accordingly. such a change could not have taken place without inconvenience and some misconception. recently inquiries have been made as to whether the "jenolan caves" are newly-discovered wonders, or old friends under a new designation? for about a quarter of a century after the discovery by whalan, little notice was taken of the caves. they were regarded by a few who knew about them as remarkable freaks of nature, but allowed to remain unexplored until some of their hidden beauties were so disclosed as to rouse the enthusiasm of the present curator--mr. jeremiah wilson--to whom, for his daring, energy, and patient investigation the public are greatly indebted. when their fame began to be bruited about, the number of visitors increased, and among them were goths and vandals who did not scruple to remove many a crystal gem from the still unfathomed caves. it became evident that unless something were promptly done to secure these newly-found treasures to the public, and protect them from ruthless hands, their magnificence would soon be destroyed, and the people deprived of a possession which should be a source of delight and instruction to succeeding generations, and excite the admiration of tourists from all parts of the world. the government did the right thing when it prevented the acquisition by private individuals of the caves and a large area of land around them. it would have been better had the dedication to the public been made earlier. the _gazette_ notice reserving from conditional purchase land about the caves with a view to their preservation, bears date nd october, , and has appended to it the signature of the late j. bowie wilson, who was then secretary for lands in the martin ministry. the area specially protected is six and a quarter square miles in the county of westmoreland, and near to it are some important forest reserves. the official correspondence from to the present time is not very interesting, having reference principally to suggested improvements; it is very bulky, and shows that a large amount of official interest has been taken in the subject; but the money expended and the work accomplished indicate that hitherto government and parliament have had but a faint idea of their obligations in regard to the jenolan caves. chapter ii. the approach to the caves. there are several routes to the caves. that commonly chosen is by way of tarana, a small township miles from sydney by rail, and , feet above the level of the sea. the train journey is through interesting country. leaving behind the new western suburbs with their elegant villas, stately mansions, and well-kept gardens, the traveller arrives at parramatta with its quaint old church, its fine domain with sturdy english oaks of magnificent growth, its glimpses of river, its old king's school, and its many evidences of change from the old to the new. from parramatta (which is but miles from sydney), to penrith, there are farms, and dark-leaved orange groves sweet-scented and laden with golden fruit; villages and townships and little homesteads where peace and contentment seem to reign; orchards and cultivated fields with rich brown soil on the hill sides; fine horses, splendid cattle, and cottages with troops of sturdy children. at penrith, miles from sydney and feet above sea-level, the country is flat, and the nepean river which flows in graceful contour is spanned by a magnificent iron bridge supported on four massive piers of solid masonry. the train speeds across the emu plains which are walled in by the blue mountains, so-called on account of the azure haze which covers them as with a bridal veil and is to the everlasting hills what the bloom is to the peach. scaling the mountain side by a zigzag road, which is one of the "show" works of the colony illustrative of engineering audacity, in the course of a few miles the train climbs to an elevation of feet. at blaxland's platform, miles from sydney, the altitude is feet above sea-level. the name of blaxland recalls the fact that it was not until that a route across the blue mountains was discovered. near to the railway line is the track found by wentworth, blaxland, and lawson, over what had theretofore been regarded as an impassable barrier range to the westward of sydney. on speeds the train, still rising and rising, and revealing a series of views remarkable for grandeur and the sylvan monotony of the gum tree, until at katoomba platform, miles from sydney, the elevation is , feet above sea-level. and so the journey continues past abrupt rocks, gloomy gorges, sparkling waterfalls, rocky glens, bold bluffs, leafy gullies, fairy dells and vernal valleys, until it descends the great zigzag into lithgow, falling about feet in less than five miles! lithgow is miles from sydney, and although the blue mountains have been passed, the altitude is still about , feet. lithgow is a busy place, apparently destined to become a manufacturing centre. there are already in the vicinity numerous coal mines, potteries, and other works. from this point to tarana the country varies from agricultural and pastoral to rugged scenery. the distance from tarana to the caves is miles, which has to be traversed by coach or on horseback. at present the ordinary course is to take coach on the arrival of the train at tarana and drive to oberon the same evening. the road is good, the district agricultural, and the scenery agreeable. the course from oberon to the caves is through a less settled country, and for a considerable distance through unsettled primeval "bush," occupied chiefly by the wallaby, the opossum, the bandicoot, many varieties of the parrot kind that flaunt their gaudy plumage in the sunlight, and the native pheasant or lyre bird (_menura superba_) which is a veritable mimic. the country is broken and mountainous and in winter the temperature is low, with cutting winds and severe frosts; in summer the heat is fervent. these silent forces in conjunction with brawling mountain torrents have been large factors in the production of the natural phenomena which are to be found in the valley dammed by the limestone "dyke" in which the caves are formed. the approach to the jenolan caves at the end of the route _viâ_ tarana is remarkable for its construction and gradient, as well as for the magnificent scenery which surrounds it. all the way from oberon the land rises, until an altitude of , feet above sea-level is attained. then there is a gradual downward grade, until what is called "the top camp" is reached, shortly after which the traveller arrives at a part of the range which he traverses by five zigzags, and descends about yards in a total length of road five chains less than three miles! this thoroughfare is made by cutting into the mountain side; and although with a well-appointed conveyance and careful driving it is safe enough, inexperienced travellers feel a sense of relief when the journey is concluded, and they are set down at the cave house below, which, notwithstanding that it is in the lowest depth of a mountain recess, is still nearly , feet above sea-level. any feeling of nervousness, however, is superseded by a sense of the grandeur of the view. if an occasional glance is given at the steep declivity, and a thought occurs as to what would be the consequence of a mishap, the attention is immediately diverted to some new magnificence in the wildly beautiful panorama, the sight of which alone would almost compensate for so long a journey. on the return trip, when portly gentlemen ascend on foot this very steep zigzag they pause occasionally to contemplate the beauties of nature and estimate the advantages of pedestrian exercise. perhaps, also, when they have made the same observation two or three times, they begin to think it possible to carry pedestrian exercise to excess, and that a wire tramway would be convenient. still, at a second or third glance, they get an excellent idea of the course of the limestone ridge, and a better understanding of the operations of nature in the excavation of the caves and the production of the wonderful formations they contain. chapter iii. the external features of the caves. that portion of the limestone dyke in which the caves are found runs six miles north and south; and the grand arch and the devil's coach house--the two principal "day caves"--are formed right through the mountain, near the centre, in an easterly and westerly direction. on the one side mcewan's creek flows towards the devil's coach house, and on the other side is a natural watercourse leading to the grand arch, which is only a few yards distant from it. bearing in mind how the watercourses converge towards these two central caves, and with what force, in times of heavy rain, the floods scour them, a good understanding may be obtained of the mechanical causes of the enormous excavations which excite amazement as well as admiration. if a visit be paid in winter, when the frost is sharp and the ground is "hoar with rime;" when every bough and every blade of grass is covered with congealed dew and adorned with forms of crystallisation which rival the rarest beauties of the caves; when rocks are split and crumbled by sudden alternations of heat and cold; there will be abundant illustration of the effect of water and light, and the variation of temperature in causing geological transformation. limestone is not soluble in water without the addition of carbonic acid. an exploration of the caves, however, shows that the mountains are not composed entirely of limestone, but that other substances constitute part of their bulk. the principal causes of the formation of the "day caves," the grand arch and the devil's coach house, are the mechanical action of water and the variation of temperature. as regards the interior caves, where night reigns supreme, chemical combination has played a more important part. but the effect of water power is everywhere observable in graceful contours, caused by continuous motion, or in stony efflorescence, produced by intermittent humidity or dryness of the atmosphere. the action of the former is the more marked and striking, the latter more elaborate, and microscopically beautiful. the hygrometric condition of the caves is recorded in lovely forms, which lend enchantment to ornate bowers, sparkling grottoes, and fairy cities. [illustration: the grand arch entrance.] [illustration: the grand arch--looking east.] the grand arch. the grand arch runs east and west, and is about yards in length, feet high, and feet wide at its western end. the eastern end is feet high, and about feet wide. its proportions and outline are gloomily impressive, and rather awe-inspiring. it is like the portico to some great castle of giant despair. the eastern end is a marvel of natural architecture, and the wonder is how so spacious a roof can remain intact under a weight so enormous. the rugged walls are varied by many peculiar rocky formations. on the northern side is "the lion," shaped in stone so as to form a fair representation of the monarch of the forest. "the pulpit" and "the organ loft" are suggestive of portions of some grand old cathedral. adjacent is "the bacon cave," where the formations represent "sides," like so many flitches in the shop of a dry salter. the roof is hung with enormous honeycombed masses of limestone, whose sombre shades deepen to blackness in numerous fissures and crannies and cavernous spaces. as seen from the floor the roof appears to be covered with rich bold tracery, engraved by herculean hands. near the basement are huge rocky projections, with deep recesses, which for ages have been the retreat of rock wallabies. near the eastern entrance, lying on the ground, is a gigantic block of limestone, weighing from , to , tons, and which at some remote period fell, and tilted half over. this is evident from the stalactite formation which remains on it. ascending the precipitous masses on the south-eastern side of the eastern entrance over rocks which are, on the upper surface, as smooth as glazed earthenware, a position is attained from which the magnitude of the ornaments of the roof can be estimated. it is then perceived that what, viewed from the floor of the archway, seemed like natural carving in moderately bold relief, are pendant bodies of matter extending downwards to feet, and of enormous bulk. along the walls of the arch are caves running obliquely into the mountain , , and feet, and the bottom of which is thick with wallaby "dust." out of these caves are passages which enable the marsupials to pass from one rocky hall to another until they find a secure refuge in some obscure and sunless sanctuary. the wallaby dust resembles mosquito powder. perhaps it would be equally efficacious. it is not improbable that the floors of these caves represent a moderate fortune. the explorer sinks over his boot tops in the fine pulverised matter, which, however, is not odoriferous, and is void of offence if a handkerchief be used as a respirator. the presence of this substance, and the oxidisation of its ammonia, probably account for the saltpetre in the crevices of adjacent rocks, although not absolutely necessary to the result, because, in the absence of such accessories, it is an admitted chemical fact that nitrifiable matter is not commonly absent from limestone. in the mammoth cave of kentucky saltpetre manufacture was carried on to a great extent by lixiviation from to , and during the civil war a principal factor in the manufacture of gunpowder was obtained from the same source. up amongst the rocks, midway between the floor and the roof of the eastern entrance to the grand arch, in the midst of the wallaby drives, and near to a haunt of the lyre bird, the present curator of the caves had his sleeping-place for years. there he strewed his bed of rushes or of grasses and ferns and mosses; and certainly neither philip quarll nor robinson crusoe had ever a more magnificent dormitory. [illustration: camp creek.] near to it is a sepulchral-looking place, which, before the cave house was erected, was reserved for strong-minded lady visitors, and fenced off with a tent-pole and a rug. farther on is a series of rocks, where bachelors could choose for pillows the softest stones in the arch and dream of angels. all these historic places are pointed out by way of contrast to the state of things now existing, and which, perhaps, in turn will form as great a contrast to the state of things years hence. from this part of the archway a much better view of the pulpit, the lion, and the organ loft can be obtained than is possible from the floor. their massiveness is brought out with great effect. the stalactites and stalagmites which form the organ pipes taper with remarkable grace, and are set off by the shadows in the recesses which vary from twilight grey to the darkness of erebus. over all are ponderous masses of blue limestone, with immense convexities filled with perpetual gloom. the rocks leading to the caves, the upper part of which is smooth as glass, owe their polish to their long use by wallabies as a track to and from their favourite haunts. here and there may be detected in the "dust" on the floor the footprint of the native pheasant. there may also be seen and felt boulders and rugged rocks lying about in strange disorder. leaving the grand archway by the eastern end, the excursionist descends, through a rocky defile interlaced with foliage, into a dry, stony creek, about which are growing some very rare ferns, as well as some which are common, but nevertheless beautiful, and also some handsome native creeping plants. from this point may be seen the pinnacle which rises over the archway to an altitude of about feet. about yards down this dry creek, and about yards below the junction of the roads from the grand archway to the devil's coach house, is "the rising of the water." here among the rocks in the bed of the creek the water bursts out of the ground like a sparkling fountain of considerable volume, and "gleams and glides" along a romantic dell "with many a silvery waterbreak." and if it does not "steal by lawns and grassy plots," or yet by "hazel covers," or "move the sweet forget-me-nots that grow for happy lovers," it does here and there "loiter round its cresses." its banks are so steep that its course cannot be easily followed for any great distance, but, without much difficulty, it may be traced until it flows over a rocky ledge into a deep pool, where there is a wire ladder for the convenience of bathers. thence it chatters on to the river cox, whence it enters the warragamba, which joins the nepean a few miles above penrith, and about miles below the pheasant's nest. it does not, therefore, enter into the sydney water supply, but passes through the hawkesbury to the ocean. [illustration: the devil's coach house.] chapter iv. the devil's coach house. the road from the grand arch to the devil's coach house is devious and uneven, with occasional fissures in the ground indicating the entrance to new subterranean marvels. to the right is the mouth of a cave yet unnamed and unexplored. a little farther on, high up in the rocky wall which connects the two converging mountains of limestone, is the carlotta arch, which resembles a gothic window in the grand ruins of some venerable monastic pile, fretted and scarred by centuries of decay. almost immediately after passing the line of the carlotta arch, the visitor arrives at the devil's coach house, which runs nearly north and south. it is an immense cave, whose proportions are better gauged than those of the grand arch, because the light flows in, not only from the ends, but also from the roof. at a height of some feet, it has a large orifice in the dome, fringed with stately trees, the fore-shortening of which from their base upwards is very peculiar as seen from the bottom of the cave. on the floor are strewn about rocks of black and grey marble, smoothed and rounded by attrition, and weighing from a few pounds to many hundredweight. in flood-time the storm-waters dash these rocks against each other with tremendous force, and the roaring of the torrent resounds like thunder through the cave. in such wild seasons blocks of stone a ton weight or more are moved a considerable distance. the walls are partly composed of black marble with white veins, and some of the boulders on the floor contain marks of fossil shells. the most magnificent view of the devil's coach house is from the interior of the cave near the northern entrance, from which the rise of the arch appears to be upwards of feet. its roof is fringed with stalactites, and the outlook is into a wildly romantic gully. stalactites are suspended from the sides of the entrance, and in several places there are stalagmites covered with projections like petrified sponge, while near to them are formations resembling masses of shells commonly found on rocks by the seaside. some of these combinations might be examined for hours, and yet leave new and interesting features to be discovered. small pellucid drops glisten at the ends of the stalactites, illustrating the process of their formation. the large stalactites on the roof and small stalagmites on ledges near the floor of the cave, and _vice versâ_, afford a practical illustration of the theory that where water flows most freely the stalagmites are largest, and where it flows most reluctantly the stalactite formation is the most magnificent. [illustration: the northern entrance to the devil's coach house.] from an inspection of these two kinds of cave ornamentation it is seen that, whereas the former are porous and free from central tubes, sometimes running in a straight line and sometimes obliquely, the latter are solid, being formed by lamination and not by accretions of matter conveyed through small interior ducts to external points. this cave may appropriately be called the marble hall. portions of the walls are graced with a "formation" from the limestone rocks above, the stucco having flowed in shapes both grotesque and arabesque. some of the interstices are filled with stalactites and stalagmites of various colours and proportions. many stalactites on the roof of the mouth of the cave are said to be from to feet long. all around are entrances to numerous interior spaces adorned with stalactites of the most delicate hues. some are tinged with various gradations of blue; others are of salmon colour, and delicate fawn. others again are sober grey, and white shaded with neutral tint. the rocks are decorated with little patches of moss, from rich old gold to living green. the harmony of colour is marvellous, and the combined effect unique. nature herself has so painted and ornamented the cave as to give a lesson to professors of decorative art. the vision of rocky beauty grows upon the imagination of the observer until at last it seems like a new revelation of the enchanting effects which can be produced by natural combination. to the artist this cave presents attractions of a kind not to be found in any other of the wonderful caves of jenolan, although commonly it receives small attention from visitors, who recognise its grand proportions, but are impatient to witness the more elaborate and brilliant features in the hidden recesses of the mountain. why this spacious cavern should be called the devil's coach house (except on the _lucus a non lucendo_ principle) few would divine. the name of his satanic majesty is often associated with horses and horse-racing, but not generally with coaches and coach-houses. in this connection, however, it is necessary to observe class distinctions. the cavern is not sufficiently monstrous to be used by milton's personification of the rebellious archangel, nor sufficiently hideous for burns's "auld clootie," with hoofs and horns. coleridge's devil or southey's devil (as illustrated in "the devil's thoughts" of the one, and "the devil's walk" of the other) was neither too grand nor too ignoble to notice coach-houses. but then, he was a sarcastic fiend, for when he "saw an apothecary on a white horse ride by on his vocations," he "thought of his old friend death in the revelations"--which was rather severe on the pharmacist. but leaving the man of drugs-- "he saw a cottage with a double coach-house, a cottage of gentility; and the devil did grin, for his darling sin is pride that apes humility." the cottage at the caves is not particularly "genteel" in appearance. the coach-house is large enough to hold almost as many horses as were kept by solomon, and as many chariots as were possessed by pharaoh, and at one end it is "double;" but there was no thought of pharaoh, or solomon, or coleridge, or southey when it was named. it was not because this huge place was considered big enough to be the devil's coach house that it was called after the devil, nor because it was thought to be a suitable place for satan to "coach" his disciples in; nor had the person who named it any intention of paying a compliment to poetic genius. it was called the devil's coach house for reasons similar to those which created the nomenclature of the numerous devil's pinches and devil's peaks, devil's mills and devil's punchbowls, in various parts of the world. captain cook more than a century ago gave the name of the devil's basin to a harbour in christmas sound, on the south side of tierra del fuego, because of its gloomy appearance--it being surrounded by "savage rocks," which deprive it of the rays of the sun. for similar reasons, perhaps, the name of the devil's coach house was given to this interesting portion of the jenolan caves, which are surrounded by mountains and "savage rocks," and from which the rays of the sun are excluded, except during a few hours per day. in winter the sunshine does not glint on to the roof of the cave house till about , and at about in the afternoon the valley is wrapped in shade. it is or years since james whalan came suddenly upon the mouth of this cave, and it so impressed him with its rugged grandeur and weirdness that when he returned home he reported that he had been to the end of the world, and had got into the devil's coach house. so by that term it is still called, although it has been since named the easter cave, because of a visit by some distinguished member of the government service during easter, which in new south wales is now as favourite a holiday time as it was when kept as a festival in honour of the goddess of light and spring. for a short period in the afternoon one end of the cave is flooded with the warm beams of the sun. then it is at its best, and, as the enamoured hand of fancy gleans "the treasured pictures of a thousand scenes," so, after the bright rays have disappeared, and the cave is seen in the shade or by "the pale moonlight," its beauties change from hour to hour, like shadows on the mountains or the cloud glories of an autumn sunset. chapter v. the night caves. the "day" caves of jenolan, although grandly picturesque, are but slightly typical of the interior caverns. as the few bars of harmony dashed off by way of prelude to an intricate musical composition prepare the ear for the movement which is to follow, so an inspection of the external caves trains the faculty of observation for the ready appreciation of the more elaborately beautiful objects in the dark recesses of the enchanted mountain. the contrast between the two is as marked as the difference between the costly pearls of a regal diadem and the rough exterior of the shells which first concealed them. to explore the "night" caves it is necessary to be furnished with artificial light, and each excursionist is provided with a candle fitted into a holder, the handle of which is like the barrel of a carriage lamp, and immediately underneath the flame is a saucer-shaped guard with the edge turned inwards, so as to catch the drips from the sperm. by means of this arrangement the lights may be presented at almost any angle without doing injury to the caves, except in regard to the smoke, which although slight, is nevertheless in degree perilous to the wondrous purity of the formations. the principal features of the "night" caves are illuminated by the magnesium light, which is rich in chemical rays and burns with great brilliancy. there should not be allowed in the caves any colorific or other light which would cause smoke by imperfect combustion, or emit volatile substances likely to change the interior hues. if their pristine beauty--or as much of it as remains--is to be preserved, the caves ought to be illuminated by electricity, which will neither affect the temperature nor soil the most delicate of nature's handiwork. the smoke of candles in a quiescent atmosphere like that of the caves, cannot fail, in process of time, to have a deleterious effect. years ago, in the wingecarribee country, there were some fairy gullies. the sides were flanked with sassafras columns, the roofs were covered with branches interlaced by creepers that excluded the sunbeams, and on the banks of the creeks which trickled through the centre were tree-ferns of marvellous beauty. their perfect fronds were lovely--their growth prodigious; but that in which their charm chiefly lay was their unexampled delicacy of colour. when the natural shade was removed, and they were subject to wind, and rain, and dust, they became commonplace. they grew like other tree-ferns, and were ranked with ordinary things. so with the caves. their wondrous beauty and attractiveness are found in their freedom from defilement. in their illumination there should be neither smoke nor heat, and it is a question whether within their precincts incense ought to be burned, even to king nicotine. [illustration: the nettle cave.] chapter vi. the nettle cave. the nettle cave is for the most part a place of twilight. if visitors are incautious in approaching it they will soon come to the conclusion that it has been properly named, for all around are fine clumps of herbaceous weeds with sharp tubular hairs upon vesicles filled with irritating fluid. the sting of a nettle and the sting of an adder resemble each other, but are yet dissimilar. the adder strikes his tubular fang into his prey, but the nettle victim impinges upon the tubular hair which communicates with the acrid vesicle. the nettle cave is reached by climbing feet to the left of the grand arch, and if in the ascent the visitor be invited to smell a plant with alternate leaves and racemes of not very conspicuous flowers, it would be well for him to decline with thanks. there are some rough cut steps leading to this cave, and on one side is a galvanised wire rope supported by iron stanchions let into the rocks, which makes the ascent tolerably safe. the road runs between two bluff rocks, which for a considerable distance rise almost perpendicularly, and then curve so as to form a segment of a circle some feet overhead. the cave is barred from wall to wall by a light iron gate sufficient to prevent improper intrusion, not ponderous enough for a penal establishment, but sufficiently pronounced to suggest richard lovelace's lines-- "stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage; minds innocent and quiet take that for an hermitage." descending some of the rough stones and winding along a footpath, the tourist descends into a chamber below a magnificent series of rocks covered with beautiful "formation" from the dripping roofs above. this is called "the willows," because of the resemblance it bears to the graceful and beautiful appearance of the _salix babylonica_, on which in the olden time captive israelites hung their harps and "wept when they remembered zion." the entrance to this cave is circuitous. first there are some rocky steps to be climbed, and then the road winds through avenues of "willow" formation up to the summit. from this point about or feet down is a funnel-shaped declivity resembling the mouth of an extinct volcano. in some respects it is like the "blow hole" at kiama (a natural fountain, inland, fed by ocean waves which force their way through a water-worn tunnel). undoubtedly that also is one of the wonders of the world, but some time since it was utilised by the local corporation as a receptacle for dead horses and defunct cattle! from this declivity in the nettle cave the visitor naturally shrinks, being dubious as to where his remains would be found if he were to make an uncertain step. in his timorous progress, however, his attention is soon arrested by some splendid stalagmites to the left of the hellish-looking vacuity. one of the most noble is about four feet in diameter at the base, and from to feet high, covered with curiously-shaped ornamentation, and having minute stalactites projecting from the sides. all about it are nodules of delicate fretwork, as lovely as the coral of the ancient sea out of which this mountain was made millions of years ago. on the apex is a gracefully-tapered cone; and hard by is a small stalagmite covered with prickles as sharply defined as those of the echinus. all around are limestone pictures of surpassing loveliness. there is not much variety of colour, but the formation is infinite in its variety. it is intended to have the hideous and perilous-looking volcanic funnel previously mentioned guarded by wirework, which is necessary to ensure the complete safety of sightseers. if an unfortunate wight were to trip, he might fall a distance of about feet, and be shot without ceremony into the devil's coach house. one remarkable stalagmite in the vicinity of this infernal shaft is shaped like a hat, and another is like a gigantic mushroom. the floor of the cave is thin, and when stamped upon vibrates in imitation of an earthquake wave. stalactites in rich profusion depend from the roof, and here and there are clumps of bats, clinging together like little swarms of bees. the stalactites are tipped with drops of lime-water clear as crystal at the lowest point, and becoming gradually opaque. it is also noticeable that while the drops at the ends of the stalactites appear to be perfectly still globular bodies, their molecules seem to be in perpetual motion. the opaque part of the drops thickens until it resembles sperm, and then the gradation is almost imperceptible until it unites with the solid formation. all around are curiously-shaped drives, one of which has been explored until it communicates with the imperial cave. it is not an inviting entry, for it is low and narrow, and has sharp stalactites on the roof. the floor is covered with very fine dust, about the eighth of an inch thick, which, however, seems not to rise, and when struck with a hammer the sound is like a blow struck upon a carpet, and the dull thud reverberates in the caverns below. from the end of the cave, looking towards the mouth, the appearance is particularly wild. the stalagmites in front resemble prisoners in some castle keep, and the part of the cave farther on, upon which the light falls, near to the barred entrance, makes the interior shade seem more gloomy. there is one remarkable pillar about feet in diameter from the floor to the roof of the cave; and seeing that it is about feet in height, and has been made by the constant dripping of lime-water, visitors may speculate as to its age, and statisticians may estimate the number of drips required for its creation. along the sides of the cave are beautiful pillars. some are like trunks of trees, gnarled and knotted, and some like elaborately-carved columns. there are grottoes and alcoves, and terraces formed by runs of water; gothic arches and etruscan columns, carvings of most cunning elaboration, and stalactites more noticeable for their massiveness than for their grace. there are narrow chasms descending into blackness, through which future discoveries may be made. on the water-formed terraces are numerous stalagmites resembling congewoi and other zoophytes. it seems as though nature had fashioned the cave after a kaleidoscopic view of the most remarkable objects in marine and vegetable life. at the end of this section the roof rises, and is pierced by an inverted pinnacle. the walls are composed of masses of stalactite formation, imperfectly developed by reason of pressure. near at hand liquid substances have fallen, and petrified so rapidly as to resemble streaks of lava which had suddenly cooled and formed cords and ligaments like grand muscles and tendons. the eastern end of the cave runs into the devil's coach house, about feet above the coach-house floor. the opening is very beautiful, being ornamented with columns and pinnacles, and the view from this point to the interior of the cave is unexampled. scores of breaches in the roof and sides can be seen leading to other marvellous places--there being cave upon cave and innumerable changes of formation upon the ground. in rocky basins the _débris_ is largely composed of minute bones. the "remains" may be taken up by handfuls. the teeth of bats and native cats--the vertebræ of marsupials and snakes--the wing-bones of birds, and other fragments of the animal world are mixed together in a mammoth charnel-house, whose grandeur could hardly be surpassed by the most costly and artistically designed mausoleum. the ball room--an upper storey of the nettle cave--is reached by mounting twenty-nine steps cut into the rock. near the eastern entrance are two stalactitic figures fashioned like vultures about to engage in combat. all around the little plateau of terpsichore are huge stalagmites, resembling domes, crowded together and pressing into one another. some are set off with stalactites; others are honeycombed. thence the direction is still upwards, and the ascent is made by means of about wooden steps, with a guard rail on each side. the formations are striking and graceful. pointing upward is a gauntleted hand and forearm of a warrior of the olden time. there are representations of bewigged legal luminaries and bearded sages like old father christmas or santa claus. some of the columns which support the archway have tier upon tier of stalactites, drooping so as to counterfeit water flowing from a fountain, alternating with stalactite formation like boughs of weeping willow. one prominent stalagmite is like the back of a newly-shorn sheep, with shear-marks in the wool. on the western side is a figure like that of an orator in the act of exhortation. the forehead is bald, long white locks are flowing on to the shoulders, one arm is upraised, and the pose gives an idea of earnestness and force. in front, just below the bust, is a reading desk of stone, the outer edge of which is fringed with stalactites. from this place are steps leading to the arch. they are safe and convenient. underneath them is still to be seen the wire ladder formerly used to pass from the nettle cave to the arch cave, and it is easy to understand the trepidation of nervous visitors when they were swaying about on it in mid-air over the dark abyss below. after resting for a moment in the midst of a stalagmitic grotto, the visitor ascends some stone steps towards the grand arch, proceeds through a beautiful cavern with norman and doric pillars, composed almost entirely of stalagmites, and enters the arch caves, which were so called because at that time they were accessible only through the carlotta arch. they are now, as previously described, approached through the nettle cave by means of the wooden staircase, which was built about three years ago. chapter vii. the arch cave. the arch cave runs north-westerly from the line of road to the carlotta arch, and has a gradual descent. it is about a hundred yards long, and in some places about half a chain wide. the roof is decked with beauty; the floor is covered with dust. there is now but one complete column in the centre, and that is formed by a stalactite which extends in a straight line from the roof to the floor. it is surrounded by a number of other magnificent pendants of a similar kind, more or less ornate, and crowded together in rich profusion. some of them have grown until they nearly touch bold rocks which jut out from the walls, and the spaces between the larger cylindrical forms are filled by stalactites of various lesser lengths, some of which are figured so as to represent festoons of flowers. the complete pillar tapers from the upper to the lower end. for about two-thirds of the way down it is compounded of several stalactitic lines; the remainder is a simple shaft with irregular surface. to the right of it is a marvellous piece of formation like the head of a lion with the forelegs and the hoofs of a bull, posed so as to resemble assyrian sculpture. [illustration: the arch cave.] at one time there were in this cave five pillars as perfect as the one which remains, but in they were destroyed by a goth from bathurst. there are numerous columns of dimensions not so great along the sides of the cave, and at every step appear fresh objects of admiration. some of the stalactites are resonant, and so is the floor, which, on the thinnest portion, responds imitatively to the tramping of feet. in a passage on the right hand side is a stalactite which the cave-keeper has carefully watched for years, in order to form some idea as to the rate of stalactitic growth. he has always found a drop of water clinging to the lowest surface as though it were ready to fall, and yet during the whole term of years the actual addition to the solid stalactite has been only half-an-inch in length, of a thickness equal to that of an ordinary cedar-covered lead pencil. it is evident, from observation of other portions of this cave, that some formations have been created in a manner less slow. still, it is probable there are stalactites the growth of which has been more gradual than the one subjected to special scrutiny. the entrance furnishes an illustration of damage done by careless visitors years ago, and of the necessity for constant care to preserve the caves from destruction. when this cavern was first opened to the public the floor was white as snow. it is now black and greasy, as well as dusty. the change has been brought about by the pattering of feet encased in soiled boots, and by drips from candles and torches used before the present lighting arrangements were adopted. some of the stalactites have their lower portions damaged in a similar way. but, worse still, an elaborate and very attractive specimen, resembling cockscomb, has been damaged by fracture, and made incomplete by unauthorised appropriation. the porosity of some of the rocks can here be readily distinguished. their surface is like that of pumice stone. in dry weather the walls are sparkling; in wet seasons they are moist and dull. at the far end of the cave the floor is covered with little indurated lumps with carved surfaces. they are all similar in shape, and vary in bulk from the size of quandong seeds or nuts, of which bracelets are sometimes made, to that of a mandarin orange. perhaps they were fabricated on the roof and became detached. it is hardly possible they could have been formed where they lie without being joined together in a solid mass. here perfect silence reigns. it is so profound as to be almost painful, and the darkness is so dense that when the candles are extinguished the visitor can pass a solid object before his eyes without the shadow of a shade being perceptible. it is not suggestive of the darkness which-- "falls from the wings of night like a feather that is wafted downwards from an eagle in its flight." nor yet of "the trailing garments of the night" sweeping "through her marble halls." there is nothing to give the idea of action. solitary confinement for hours in such a "separate cell" would drive some men mad. at the end of the cave is a mass of stalactites, through which is a passage leading to "the belfry," where are some large stalactites, three of which, when struck with a hard substance, sound like church bells. one of them has a deep tone, equivalent to c natural. the others do not vibrate so as to produce perfect notes according to musical scale, nor are their sounds either rich or full. [illustration: the carlotta arch.] chapter viii. the carlotta arch. on returning to the mouth of the arch cave, the tourist proceeds towards the carlotta arch--so named in honour of a daughter of the surveyor-general of new south wales, mr. p. f. adams, who visited the caves or years ago, and has always taken an interest in their exploration and preservation. ascending some stone steps, guarded by galvanised wire, an excellent view of the ball room to the eastward is obtained. the steps make access easy. previously the rocks were slippery, in consequence of the polish given to them by the feet of marsupials, and the return journey was accomplished by holding on to a rope, and sliding down the glassy surface. the entrance to the carlotta arch is protected by a wire railing, about feet by or feet. passing through the iron gate, the visitor finds himself on a little platform. hundreds of feet below is a gully, rippling at the bottom of which is a rill of water, which sings as it goes, and whose melody, softened by distance, is pleasant as the hum of bees or the carolling of birds. above is a hoary rock, rugged and bare, with the exception of some clumps of lilies which flourish and bloom in its inaccessible clefts. from this point the tourist ascends the nettle rocks for about or feet. some steps are to be cut here, and certainly they are much needed, for at present the journey is very toilsome and difficult. from the end of the protected portion to the summit-- or feet--the acclivity may be comfortably surmounted by ordinarily active people. the carlotta arch is about feet high and about feet wide, with an interior fringe of stalactites. the picture seen through it is exceedingly grand, including majestic trees and romantic gullies, huge mountains and immense rocks, with bold escarpments. the walls of the arch are pierced like a fortress. its entire superstructure represents the union of two mountains by a natural bridge, clad with trees and shrubs and creeping plants which trail gracefully down its sides. on the summit are eucalypti, and conspicuous amongst them is an iron guard for the protection of passengers going over the viaduct. about half-way up this track from the arch to the bridge (which is the concluding portion of the new road from mount victoria), a good view can be obtained of mcewan's creek, where the water has broken through the hills, leaving the limestone rocks and caves sometimes on the one side and sometimes on the other for a distance of three miles up the valley running northerly. to the westward is the zigzag, leading to the cave-house by the route from tarana, and from which can be obtained the grandest view _en route_ from oberon to jenolan. here, after having spent an hour or two in the caves, it is pleasant to bask in the golden sunshine and watch the gaudy parrots flit by. from this point to the northward the limestone is visible to its full extent till it is overlapped by higher mountains. it is about three miles in length, by a maximum of half a mile in width. immediately to the south the limestone dyke is covered, but it crops up again about seven miles distant, and continues on the surface for to miles, in the direction of goulburn. near to what is called the gallery (the approach to the bridge over the arch) is an old gum tree, growing right over the centre of the devil's coach house, and feet above the gullies, which can be seen by looking over the precipice. if it were a blue gum tree, "and nothing more," it would be as uninteresting as the "yellow primrose by a river's brim" was to peter bell. as a specimen of its kind this tree is a failure; but it happens to be in the centre of the cave reserve, and the "blaze" on it bears the mark, "f ." from this point the reserve extends two and a half miles east and west by five miles north and south, and is certainly one of the most wonderful areas dedicated to the public. in the rocks near to the centre tree is an orifice called "the devil's hole." it pierces the mountain obliquely, but without much deviation from a straight line, and a stone thrown down it takes, according to its weight, from nine to twelve seconds to find a resting-place on the floor of the devil's coach house! this is an experiment which should not be tried without precaution, and then only under official sanction, otherwise some serious accident may occur. it would be well to erect notice-boards at this and several adjacent places, warning persons not to cast stones into the caverns, for the whole mountain is full of holes and caves and drives. a piece of rock cast heedlessly into a crevice or perforation in one cave might mean death to a tourist in lower cavernous regions, and there is neither medical man nor coroner within convenient distance. from the bridge (which is guarded by wire ropes) on the western side, the visitor looks down on the elder cave; the zigzag is in front, and below is the sylvan valley from which the "ermin'd frost" has been thawed, and which now "laughs back the sun." to the eastward are in view of the spectator the nettle and arch caves gate, the south entrance to the devil's coach house, and the waterfall to the cave river. in the distance can be discerned a place known as oaky camp, or mcewan's camp, which is of interest in connection with bushranging episodes of the olden time. from the highest point of the hill over the grand archway the cave-house can be seen nestling in the valley feet below. perched upon this pinnacle, with terrible depths on each side and awe-inspiring grandeur at every turn, the beholder is apt to realise how very small is the space he fills in the economy of nature, how inadequate is language to express deep emotions of the mind, and how marvellous are the works of the creator! chapter ix. the elder cave. on leaving-the carlotta arch and the bridge, the visitor--mentally gratified, physically tired, and conscious that his perceptive faculties have been somewhat strained--rejoices that the cave-house is conveniently near, so that he can promptly ensconce himself in an easy-chair and meditate upon the charming scenes upon which his eyes have feasted. if he be unusually robust he may economise the return journey by taking a peep at the elder cave, which lies just off his homeward course. it derives its name from the elder trees which grow about it and conceal its entrance, which is at the bottom of a "ragged" shaft similar to that described in the tragedy of "titus andronicus," whose authorship is disputed, but which samuel phelps and others have no doubt was written by shakespeare. it resembles the "subtle hole" where bassianus lay imbrued "all of a heap like a slaughtered lamb." but that was near an alder, and not an elder, tree; and, so far as is known, the pit which leads to the elder cave has no associations so tragic as those which are inseparable from the horrible brutalities of "titus andronicus." its mouth is not covered with "rude growing briars," nor are there upon the leaves "drips of new-shed blood as fresh as morning dew distilled on flowers." on the contrary, it is a rather cheerful-looking pit, filled up with foliage like an arborescent bouquet in an enormous natural vase. for a long time its cavity was completely obscured by the leafy covering, and it was first entered by climbing along a branch level with the surface of the ground, and descending the trunk of the tree to the bottom of the well. there are several elders in the pit, which, being unusually moist, is favourable to their growth, and they bear splendid cymes of cream-coloured flowers and black berries suggestive of spiced home-made wine. the elder cave was found by mr. wilson in , but it has not had much attention bestowed upon it, probably because its beauties have been eclipsed by later discoveries. the first part consists of some rather large chambers connected by small passages, rough inside, and difficult to explore. all are pretty, and one, named "the chapel," contains stalactites called "shawls," on account of their resemblance to ladies' vestments so designated. one of these is about five feet long by six inches deep, and a quarter of an inch thick. half of it is of glassy clearness. the floor is of ornate formation. the next chamber is called the "coral cave." it is difficult of access. the way for about yards varies from only two to four feet from floor to ceiling. nearly at the end is a hole about feet in diameter and feet deep, containing fossil bones. from floor to roof the formation is grand. there are a few fine stalagmites, but the chief beauty is in the stalactitic growth. many of the stalactites hang from the lowest shelving rock to the floor, and form an alabaster palisade. immense bunches of snow-white limestone droop from the roof, and one unusually large conical mass tapers off until it connects with the apex of a pyramidal block on the floor. in contrast with these ponderous specimens are numerous straw-like glassy tubes. portions of the floor are covered with beautiful coral. near the mouth of this pit cave is an aperture of special interest, because it is the entrance to the shaft at the bottom of which, on the th february , the intrepid curator discovered the imperial cave, which is one of the most magnificent opened to the public. he made three separate attempts before he was able to bottom this deep black hole. on the first occasion he was lowered into it at the end of a rope, and when all the line had been paid out was dangling in mid-air at the end of his tether. when he was let down a second time with a longer cord it was found to be deficient, and the cave-keeper was still suspended in ebon space. the second failure made him still more resolute. he did not believe that the black hole into which he had descended was the bottomless pit, and so he tried again to fathom its inky depths, and at a distance of feet from the surface alighted upon the rocky floor of what is now called the imperial cave. cave exploration is not what would be commonly regarded as a pleasant pastime. it requires a lissom body, plenty of physical strength, and a strong nerve to worm along narrow passages, without any certainty of being able to reach a turning-place, and with the risk of being so wedged in as to make retreat impossible. a stout heart is necessary to enable a man to descend to unknown depths of blackness from mouths of fearsome pits, close proximity to which makes one's flesh creep. a fracture of the rope or the falling of a piece of rock might give the explorer his quietus. a somewhat sensational illustration of this kind of peril is given in griffin's "studies in literature." the eldest son of george d. prentice, one of the sweet singers of the new world, determined to fathom the maelstrom of the mammoth cave in kentucky. a long rope of great strength was procured, and with a heavy fragment of rock attached to it, like a stone at the end of a kellick rope, it was let down and swung about to clear the course of loose stones. "then the young hero of the occasion, with several hats drawn over his head to protect it as far as possible against any masses falling from above, and with a light in his hand and the rope fastened around his body, took his place over the awful pit, and directed the half-dozen men, who held the end of the rope, to let him down into the cimmerian gloom. occasionally masses of earth and rock whizzed past, but none struck him. on his way, at a distance of feet, the spray caused by a cataract which rushed from the side down the abyss nearly extinguished his light. one hundred and ninety feet down he stood on the bottom of the pit. returning to the mouth of the cave the pull was an exceedingly severe one, and the rope, being ill-adjusted around his body, gave him the most excruciating pain. but soon his pain was forgotten in a new and dreadful peril. when he was feet from the mouth of the pit and from the bottom, swaying and swinging in mid air, he heard rapid and excited words of horror and alarm above, and soon learned that the rope by which he was upheld had taken fire from the friction of the timber over which it passed. several moments of awful suspense to those above, and still more awful to him below, ensued. to them and to him a fatal and instant catastrophe seemed inevitable. but the fire was extinguished with a bottle of water belonging to himself, and then the party above, though almost exhausted by their labour, succeeded in drawing him to the top. he was as calm and self-possessed as upon his entrance into the pit; but all of his companions, overcome by fatigue, sank down upon the ground, and his friend, professor wright, from over-exertion and excitement, fainted, and remained for some time insensible. the young adventurer left his name carved in the depths of the maelstrom--the name of the first and only person that ever gazed upon its mysteries." the keeper of the jenolan caves has had many experiences quite as thrilling as that of the son of george d. prentice, who, some time after his descent into the maelstrom, fell in the conflict between the northern and the southern states of the american union. the curator has hundreds of times wormed his way in the darkness through narrow drives and descended black holes of unknown dimensions by means of ropes and ladders. he has burrowed about like a rabbit, squeezing through small apertures, occasionally having his clothes torn off him by stalactites, and his knees wounded by miniature stalagmites, and his sides abrased by the sharp corners of projecting rocks. when being lowered by ropes he has run the risk of being brained by falling _débris_. fortunately, he has been preserved from serious injury, and is still as lithe as a ferret. christopher columbus made wonderful maritime discoveries in the western hemisphere, and captain cook distinguished himself in the southern seas, but neither the bold genoese nor the stout-hearted yorkshireman who thrice circumnavigated the globe could have thrown more earnestness into his work than has been displayed by the subterranean explorer at jenolan, of whom it may be said, without prejudice to his good name, that he has done more underground engineering than any "road-and-bridge" member of the legislative assembly, performed more turning and twisting than the most slippery minister of the crown who has ever held a portfolio in new south wales, and found secluded chambers enough to permit every political or social adullamite--"every one that is in distress, and every one that is in debt, and every one that is discontented"--to have a little cave of his own. as the visitor has to be guided by the curator through labyrinthine passages as intricate as the most puzzling mazes of crete or egypt, in order to see fairy grottoes, crystal cities, jewel caskets, coral caves, and mystic chambers which he has discovered, it may be here recorded that mr. jeremiah wilson was born in ireland, near enniskillen, that he was three years old when he came to new south wales, years ago, and that his family have lived continuously near oberon. his first visit to jenolan was with a party of excursionists. he has ever since taken a romantic interest in the caves, and from the time of his appointment as cave-keeper in until now his enthusiasm for exploratory work appears to have never flagged. [illustration: the lucas cave.] chapter x. the lucas cave. the lucas cave presents, in grand combination, almost every type of subterranean beauty to be found in the natural limestone caves of jenolan. it rivals the imperial cave, which, however, is commonly regarded as the more attractive, and displays a more dazzling magnificence than that which characterises either the arch or the elder cave. the approach to the lucas cave is by a zigzag path from the valley, leaving the high pinnacle rock to the left hand. the route is not difficult to agile people, but the road would be greatly improved by the cutting of suitable steps. on gaining the top of the ridge the waterfall is in front. to the left are rocks rising like a vast citadel to a height of feet, at the summit of which are immense cliffs with deep gorges between them. the distance is too great to enable the visitor to discern their geological composition. some of them seem as though they had been shaped by human hands in the time of the pharaohs. they remind one of the enormous stones in the great pyramid of egypt, or the massive blocks in the temple of the sun at heliopolis, and the limestone ridges suggest the mighty nile which runs through similar ranges. these elevated pinnacles and chasms are favourite resorts of marsupials. wallabies may be seen leaping from rock to rock and peering out from the crevices. as they are not molested they afford visitors ample opportunity to watch their graceful movements. the distance from the top of the ridge to the mouth of the cave is about yards, with a fall of feet. the descent in some places is so steep as to make it difficult in dry seasons. in wet weather it is dangerous, the rocks being covered with slippery clay. the grand cavern, called the "lucas cave," was so named in recognition of valuable services rendered by the hon. john lucas, m.l.c., who, from the th december , until the dissolution of parliament on the th december , represented in the legislative assembly the electorate of hartley, in which jenolan is situated. he used his influence to obtain the dedication of the reserve, and make provision for the care and improvement of the caves. it was on his recommendation that the present cave-keeper was appointed to the office of curator. his foresight and activity are suitably commemorated by the association of his name with objects of beauty, the fame of which is now spread throughout the whole civilised world. the opening to the lucas cave is very massive, and has a rather steep fall of about feet from the pathway to the floor of the cavern. the entrance is about feet wide and feet high. the roof of the portico is ornamented by rocks, which in shape and colour appear to be in keeping with the gloomy-looking tunnel beyond. the overhanging masses are honeycombed and convoluted in a remarkable manner, and thin off to points like stalactites. the curved, tapering forms are in groups of various dimensions, drooping in folds like those of loosely-fitting garments. they represent not "formation," but the original rock, out of the crevices of which the softer portions and earthy substances have been extracted by the ordinary operations of nature. to the left of the archway is a bulky convoluted pillar, rising from the surrounding blocks and boulders to the uppermost part of the portico, and to the right of the archway is a fine piece of stalagmite formation about feet in height. in the centre, immediately behind it, is a large stalactite, and near by an extensive patch which looks like conglomerate of lime and pebbles. on the outer walls are flowering shrubs and creeping plants, including one which bears a strong resemblance to the climbing fig (_ficus stipulata_), which clothes with pleasant verdure many an ugly wall in and about sydney. the rock colouring is especially fine and beautifully shaded all the way from the broad daylight to the beginning of the interior blackness, which is somewhat sharply defined by a fringe of stalactites like the vertical bars of a portcullis. the immediate entrance to this cave is begrimed with dust. a few yards onward there is an iron gate. the guide opens it and carefully locks in his visitors, who light their candles and proceed by a downward path. the descent is about feet, partly by steps cut zigzag fashion, and then on a sloping floor covered with _débris_. there is a marked difference in the temperature, which is many degrees higher than that of the outward air, and several degrees warmer than the interior of the arch and nettle caves. small flies surprise the excursionists by the suddenness of their appearance, and by the narrow limits of their _habitat_. they live in the zone between daylight and darkness. in the region of perpetual night the only signs of animated nature are clusters of bats. the lighted candles serve to make the surrounding darkness more pronounced. where the rays of light pierce through the night to its rocky boundary indistinct, irregular lines can be seen like the ribs of a skeleton, and it is easy to conjure up all sorts of uncanny shapes, from hobgoblins to anthropophagi. the only sounds audible, or apparently audible, are the quickened respiration and the throbbing of the heart. when the voice is raised its effect is strange, and there is no responsive echo. darkness and silence dwell together. after spending a few seconds--or minutes--in their company, the curator lights his magnesium lamp, and the visitor finds himself in the precincts of "the cathedral," in the centre of which is a large stalagmite. the roof rises to a height of about feet, feet loftier than canterbury cathedral or notre dame, and within feet of the altitude of st. paul's! the walls are composed of limestone, terraced with tier upon tier of stalagmites brought into bold relief by the gloom of innumerable fantastically-shaped recesses. the preacher is solitude; his theme is "awful stillness." wandering through the nave to the south, the visitor walks over caves not yet opened, but the existence of which can be proved by dropping little pebbles into dark recesses and listening to the percussion on floors more or less remote. in an aisle of the cathedral leading to the music hall, there is another grandly-arched cavern with a steep descent into an abysmal depth. here on the one side are numerous stalactites, white as virgin snow, and on the other similarly-shaped formations of carbonate of lime tinged with oxide of iron--some of them so deeply as to present the colour of a boiled lobster's crust. this is a favourite clustering place for bats, and numbers of these membranous-winged quadrupeds may be seen snoozing together on the roof. the music hall. by means of a wire ladder the excursionist descends still deeper into the bowels of the earth. he then goes farther down by or steps, cut in a clayey substance, to the vestibule of the music hall. some of the stalagmites are stained with clay. they have evidently been used as steadying-posts by visitors who had previously placed their hands on the red earth when working their way down the declivity where the steps are now formed. the other stalagmites away out of reach are white and glistening. the approach to the music hall, which was discovered in the summer of , is low. the passage to it is about yards long. the floor is composed entirely of "formation," and at the sides are numerous columns of different colours. the music hall itself is about feet in height, and runs out at the end to about two feet. it is called the "music hall" because of its very fine acoustic properties. a weak voice raised in song or oratory sounds full and sonorous. this hall encloses a secret which architects of public buildings might covet, and the wonder is how such tonic effects are produced in a chamber which presents so many obstructions to the waves of sound. the floor contains a series of basins, curiously shaped by the water which has been retained in them, until it has escaped by percolation to form stalactites and stalagmites at some lower level. the edges of these shallow reservoirs are sharply defined and gracefully moulded. the formation of the walls is extremely delicate. some of it is white and some like yellow coral. the roof has been slightly defaced by certain nineteenth century cads. in various places the "mark of the beast," in lampblack, has been produced by holding candles near to the ceiling and moving them about gradually, and the sooty hieroglyphics remain unto this day as an evidence of vanity and folly. the floor, which was once like alabaster, is now soiled by the tramping of feet. but, notwithstanding these defects, the music hall is still very beautiful. [illustration: the shawl cave.] the shawl cave. returning to the main passage, the tourist descends steps, and enters the shawl cave, a magnificent chamber, the roof of which slopes at an angle of about degrees. into one side the "formation" of carbonate of lime has floated like lava in volumes, and presents the appearance of a suddenly congealed cascade. all the adjacent rocks are covered with fine sheets of formation, white and coloured, and hanging in graceful folds. on a far-off wall is more formation of a similar kind, projecting from a perpendicular rock, and variegated with superb tracery and colouring. the "shawls" hang parallel to each other. they gradually increase from six inches to three feet in depth, in a lateral length of from to feet, and at a distance appear as though they had been placed on the wall by an artist; but when the light is put behind them it is seen that they are independent, slightly corrugated, semi-transparent slabs of equal thickness and graduated widths. of this kind of formation, however, more magnificent specimens are to be found in the imperial cave. in another part of this cavern are large detached blocks of formation, which sparkle like diamonds all over the lines of fracture. they are in wild disorder, as though they had been hurled about in some titanic conflict. the stalactites here are of different character from those found in the other caves, being composite and covered with ornamentation of various kinds. the lower rocks, too, are rippled and chequered like wicker-work, and resemble the formation of the pink terraces of rotomahana, which were destroyed by lava from a volcano in . the roof is about feet high, and the sides of the cave are formed of massive ledges, over which a limey substance has flowed in large masses and assumed elegant shapes fringed with stalactites. near this place is a hole which goes down to the bottom of another cave. it has not yet been fully explored, but it has been ascertained that its depth is about feet, with a clear pool at the bottom. a stone thrown down it is heard to strike two or three times, and finally splash in the liquid crystal. chapter xi. the exhibition. at the western end of the shawl cave, and on its southern wall, is a remarkable formation denominated "the butcher's shop." experts in the preparation of animal food have discovered in this strong resemblances to sides of beef, joints, and "small goods" covered with a reticulum like the netted membrane sometimes thrown over meat exposed for sale. one would hardly expect to find anything æsthetic about such a display. as a realistic production, however, it will bear favourable comparison with some so-called works of art which show how much humour a jocular sculptor can cut into a piece of cold stone. in its bearing upon gastronomy, exception might be taken to one or two of the joints, which suggest veal that has been "spouted," and an excess of adipose matter; but upon the whole the "shop" may be regarded as a not unpleasing representation of a chamber filled with chilled meat. leaving the unromantic stall and ascending seven steps under a roof about feet high, the cave-walker ambulates towards the exhibition, which is approached by wooden steps, leaving to the right a beautiful formation like a frozen waterfall of from to feet. these steps have pendant from them fungi of the most delicate kind, some resembling eider-down, hanging in flossy masses from underneath the cross pieces. this fungoid growth affords evidence of dampness destructive to the timber, which ought to be replaced by more durable material. it is satisfactory to know that specifications have been prepared and tenders forwarded to the department for this work. it will be more satisfactory to learn that prompt action has been taken in regard to them, and that they have not been simply docketed and smothered in some obscure pigeon-hole. the road to the exhibition is rather rough, there being large masses of angular rocks on either side, and the pathway itself is somewhat rugged. the entrance to the bride's cave is to be seen down a rocky declivity of about feet. the gallery leading to this chamber is only about inches by inches. the cave itself is about six feet high, and hung around with drapery of alabaster. the ceiling is of coral formation, and the floor pure white. farther on to the left is another chamber, the entrance to which is pretty, but difficult of access. it is from inches to feet high. there is beautiful formation in one part from the ceiling to the floor. some of it is like straws, as clear as glass, and a portion of the floor sparkles as though it were set with diamonds. the exhibition is of large proportions, being about feet each way, but its height ranges only from to feet. its floor is reached by nine steps. from the centre of the exhibition the entrance to the bride's chamber is on the right. to the left is a broken column, which at one time was sound from the floor to the roof, but which has been fractured apparently by the sinking of the rock on which the stalagmitic portion rests. the separation is slight, and there is a slight departure from the right line. [illustration: the broken column.] the broken column. to the eastward are several interesting stalactites. one represents a black fellow's "nulla-nulla," another a lady and child, another the palm of a hand blackened by candle smoke. on the south side is a spacious platform like the stage of a theatre--the front, about feet wide, is supported by two columns. the height is about feet, and across the top is a curtain of formation representing drapery gracefully arranged, with a fringe of little sparkling stalactites. on each side of this is a smaller entrance similarly adorned and as exquisitely beautiful. the floor of the stage is about feet deep, and the curved ceiling about feet from the drop curtain to the floor. this is as it appears at a distance. on nearer approach it is perceived that the pillars are uneven, and marked with formations of various kinds. that which seemed like a stage becomes an irregular cavern, with immense rocks lying about in great disorder. when the exhibition is illuminated by the magnesium light, some beautiful red and white stalactites are disclosed, glittering like dewdrops in the sunlight, and also some exceedingly pretty stalagmites. this chamber was called "the exhibition" on account of the variety of its specimens. it contains stalactites and stalagmites, white and coloured--variegated shawls--sombre marble and sparkling rocks, clusters of formation, and elephantine masses of carbonate of lime in shapes which prove how much more subtle than professors of art is nature herself. at the south end a cave slopes down, and there are boulders and _débris_ stained with iron, as well as other indications of great soakage and percolation. the jewel casket. eastward, about feet, is the "jewel casket." on the way to it are openings to numerous unexplored caves. affixed to an immense block of limestone are some or shawl-pattern formations of various sizes, which give forth musical sounds when struck with a hard substance, and which, with a little practice, could be played upon like a mammoth harmonicon. _en route_ from the exhibition to the jewel casket, although the passage has not been so dry for twenty years, the rocks are covered with moisture, and the lime can be scraped off like soft soap. from the exhibition there is a descent eastward of about feet along the gallery, which is somewhat narrow, but the roof of which is covered with pretty stalactites. near the entrance to the casket is a remarkable reticulated rock. the descent is by steps east, and then proceeding north about five yards the jewel casket is reached. the jewel casket is at the end of a very remarkable cave. its ceiling is marvellously beautiful. the walls and ridges on each side sparkle like gems of the first water. some of the rocks are covered with virgin white, and some are delicately coloured. the entrance to the casket itself is very small, being only about inches by . its upper portion is of glistening rich brown, and slopes in varied graceful folds down to the bed rock. when the magnesium light reveals the splendour of the interior it is seen that the casket stretches away to a considerable distance; the floor is covered with white and amber brilliants and snowy coruscating flakes of dazzling purity. here are clusters of cave diamonds, opals, and pearls, with delicate fawn-coloured jewels scattered about promiscuously. rich and rare are the gems this casket contains, and exclamations of delight are evoked when their charms burst upon the view like a vision of fairyland. neither tongue nor pen, nor photographic art nor pencil-sketch, can ever do full justice to this natural treasury of beautiful things. judge windeyer's couch. leaving the jewel casket, the visitor proceeds in a northward direction along a passage, from the exhibition to "the hall to the bridge." there is an ascent of steps west, and then the way to the hall is under a low archway, through which it is necessary to proceed on hands and knees. through this archway is a little cavern, something like the jewel casket, with a floor of diamond drift and delicate coral. at the top of the steps the hall runs north-west. then the way lies down a gradual slope of rough rocks to the head of steps, with a wire rope on the right hand side. at the top of the steps near to the jewel casket and in the hall to the bridge is a piece of formation like an upholstered sofa, which has been named "judge windeyer's couch," because it is said that the learned judge sat on it when he visited the caves. its surface is of a rich reddish brown, and may have suggested the celebrated woolsack which, in the days of "good queen bess," was introduced as the lord chancellor's seat in commemoration of the act to prevent the exportation of wool which was at that time as important an element in england's prosperity as it is at present to the well-being of australia. in the hall beautiful formation is seen. a large rock, with shawl-pattern appendages and other ornamentation, is specially attractive. another represents a miniature niagara, done in stone. the features are varied by splendid stalactites, from pure white to rich brown. the formation on the wall is like frozen fountains. the bottom consists of huge rocks, angular and rugged, with immense flags of limestone. about yards from the bridge is "touch-me-not" corner, with a grotto quite out of reach, but of the interior of which, when the light is flashed into it, a splendid view can be obtained. the stalactites are perfectly shaped and beautifully pure. some of them are as white as snow, some are opaline, and others are tinged with mineral colours. the floor has many stalagmites and sparkling formations like a jewelled carpet, which falls from the entrance a little distance down the wall in graceful brown folds fringed with russet stalactites. here the hall is very spacious, being about feet across, and the roof rises from to feet. it has on it some of the most beautiful stalactites in the caves, many of them being of unsullied white. to the left, high up on the side of the hall, is a piece of pure lime formation like a lace shawl, the apparent delicate network of which is an object of special interest, if not of envy, to the fair sex. [illustration: the underground bridge.] the underground bridge. the underground bridge is not a brilliant achievement in engineering, but seems to be well constructed and safe, which is an important consideration; for, although it is so many hundred feet below the summit of the mountain, and yet down so low as to be on the same level as the foundations of the cave house in the adjacent valley, it spans a black yawning gulf, at the extremity of which, feet still farther down, is a clear pool of water feet deep! the bridge is about feet long. it has wire girders and uprights, with stanchions and handrails, and a wooden deck, which, by-the-bye, needs some repair, for several of the planks are broken. the passage is made increasingly secure by galvanised wire netting stretched along the lower part of the bridge on both sides. the rocks which form the boundary of the immense chasm spanned by the bridge are of enormous size, and the scene from this point is remarkable for sublimity rather than for what is commonly called beauty. near the roof is an immense recess, filled with huge stalactites and mammoth pieces of formation, which have floated over the bottom and formed graceful ornamentation for the cavern below. and so the process is repeated from the top of the immense chamber, near the roof, down to the rugged walls immediately round the bridge. even on the rocks which surround the abyss similar wondrous decorations are lavishly bestowed. the clear-headed and sure-footed guide descends from one jutting rock to another and yet another, until he approaches a row of remarkable stalactites which can be just discerned through the gloom. this group is called "the piano," because of the resonant qualities of its separate parts. each stalactite gives out a note. the notes vary in quality and pitch, but most of them are imperfect. as stalactites they are very fine, but as melodious instruments they are frauds. they refuse to harmonise, and their music is about as entrancing as that of a discordant "upright grand," mounted on one leg and played with a handle. chapter xii. the lurline cave. seventy or eighty yards from the underground bridge is the lurline cave. the course is south-west, through a curved gallery with steps in different flights, and two archways--one like loveliness when "adorned the most," and the other formed by an ornate mass of stalactites. the lurline cave is justly regarded as one of the most charming chambers in the group. the _coup d'oeil_ is magnificent. it does not need any close examination to find that it has some distinctive features which show that, although there is no aqueous accommodation for the queen of the water nymphs, whose name it bears, the appellation of this portion of the lucas cave cannot, etymologically at least, be considered as a _lucus a non lucendo_. there are the "coral bowers" and cells to which rudolph was transported; the "halls of liquid crystal, where the water lilies bloom;" there is the cool grot in which the water queen dwelt; there is the rock on which she sat "when all was silent save the murmur of the lone wave, and the nightingale that in sadness to the moon telleth her lovelorn tale;" there is rhineberg's magic cave, with its "wedges of gold from the upper air;" there are the distant recesses to which lurline sent the gnome while she restored to life her mortal affinity. with such surroundings it is easy to reproduce, link by link, the rosy chain which enthralled the german count and "the daughter of the wave and air." or, to take the more rollicking version by "thomas ingoldsby, esq." here is "a grand stalactite hall," like that which rose above and about the impecunious "sir rupert the fearless," when he followed to the bottom of the rhine the dame whose-- "pretty pink silken hose cover'd ankles and toes; in other respects she was scanty of clothes; for so says tradition, both written and oral, her _one_ garment was loop'd up with bunches of coral." where-- "scores of young women diving and swimming, * * * * all slightly accoutred in gauzes and lawns, came floating about him like so many prawns," and where their queen, lurline, lost her heart and her plate, and, according to the same reverend author, her cajoler, whose disastrous fate inspired the moral-- "don't fancy odd fishes! don't prig silver dishes! and to sum up the whole in the shortest phrase i know, beware of the rhine, and take care of the rhino!" the floor is covered with hemispherical mounds or domes for the naiads to recline on. the outer wall is composed of formations ranged in festoons of stalactites--not smooth and transparent, but opaque white, and marked with all the wonderful elaboration which characterises zoophytic work in the coral reefs of the southern seas. this cave contains several sub-caves, each of which has special charms, and the turning of some of the arches is marvellously graceful. one of the recesses is filled with stalactites which look like groups of seaweed. the coral is russet and cream colour and saffron, and there are honeycombed rocks varying in shade from vandyck brown to chrome yellow. some of the stalactites in the interior sub-caves are transparent. whichever way the eye is turned it encounters submarine grottoes of fantastic shape, decorated with imitations of algæ. if it were only at the bottom of the rhine instead of thousands of feet above sea-level, it would seem natural as well as beautiful, but here its existence is simply a wonder, and the sensation produced is fairly described by the last word in the marriage service of the church of england. still, "when mother fancy rocks the wayward brain," it is easy to associate with it denizens of the deep, and people it with naiads, or with undines, who were supposed to marry human beings, and, in certain conditions, become endowed with human souls. the cave is about feet high, and from to feet broad. some of the coralline ledges at the sides are remarkably handsome, and many of the stalactites are from six to eight inches in diameter. the cavern is elegant in its proportions, highly favoured in regard to stalactite growth, graceful in contour, and rich in colouring. the fossil bone cave. about yards north-west from the lurline cave is the fossil bone cave. to reach this cavern it is necessary to ascend steps. it is scarcely less beautiful than the lurline cave. the lime formation represents pensile boughs of weeping-willow, garlands of flowers, and stalactites covered with all kinds of floral decorations. here also are some fine "shawl" formations hanging from the rocks. one of them is called "the gong," because it produces a sonorous note similar to that of the chinese instrument which is superseding the dinner-bell, and challenging its title to be regarded as "the tocsin of the soul." on a sloping side of the floor are some forms distinctive in shape and colour, and resembling a lot of small potatoes shot down indiscriminately. the wonder is how in such a place they could have been so formed and isolated. here is an oblique cavern, at the bottom of which a bone of some large animal lies embedded in the limestone formation like a type in a matrix. at one time it was doubted whether this, which appeared to be bone, was really an osseous substance, but subsequent examinations have proved that it is bone. a fracture of the rock has shown that the outer part of the bone is compact, and the inner part cellular. it is beautifully white, and, as the formation about is brownish, the phosphate can be readily distinguished from the carbonate of lime. on the roof above the fossil bone cave is a rare stalactite about feet in length, and by the side of the tomb of the unknown animal--which may have been anything from a diprotodon to a dingo--is a splendid monumental stalagmite. the cave is about feet high, and feet in length and breadth. the roof is of a light cream colour, and has brown stalactites of perfect shape. the side rocks are magnificently draped. numerous splendid columns like white marble, and sheets of stalactitic growth, excite wonder and admiration. the snowball cave. about yards through a hall, running north-east of the fossil bone cave, is the snowball cave, which is about feet high, or feet long, and from to or feet wide. it runs north-north-east. its distinctive feature is that its roof and a portion of its walls are covered with little white masses like snowballs. some of the patches of carbonate of lime stick to the walls in isolated discs, and others are massed as though snowballs had been thrown at a mark, and a number of them had stuck close together. some of the stalactites in this chamber have been formed by the upward pressure of water, and assume many tortuous shapes. an interesting feature of this portion of the caves is the existence of a number of stalactites which show how readily vibration is communicated from one to another. the visitor puts his finger to the end of a stalactite, and when an adjacent one is struck so as to make it sound, it is perceptible that the vibration of the sounding stalactite is communicated to its silent neighbour. there is one more chamber to visit in the lucas cave. to reach it the visitor ascends four steps, and travels north-west about yards to the head of a wire ladder, which he descends to a place directly underneath the snowball cave, and then he goes down the steps into the wallaby bone cave, over the entrance to which is a very pretty cluster of stalagmites, from inches to inches long, and varying from the thickness of a straw to three-quarters of an inch in diameter. the floor is covered with wallaby bones, and in the immediate vicinity are quantities of osseous breccia. chapter xiii. the bone caves. the bone caves are intensely interesting, and a considerable amount of attention has been paid to them by scientists. in , professor owen, when writing to the colonial secretary, said that the natural remains obtained from the limestone caves of wellington valley in , "revealed the important and suggestive fact that the marsupial type of structure prevailed in the ancient and extinct as well as in the existing quadrupeds of australia." seventeen years ago there was an expedition to the wellington valley bone caves. parliament voted £ for the purpose, and an investigation was made by mr. gerard krefft, who at that time was curator of the australian museum, and dr. thompson. they obtained many valuable and rare specimens, some of which were said to be quite new to science, consisting of the remains of mammals, birds, and reptiles. the largest bones and teeth discovered were of a size equal to those of a full-grown elephant. they were remains of diprotodons and nototheriums, gigantic marsupials now extinct. the wellington valley caves were discovered by sir thomas mitchell more than years ago. from them no fewer than , specimens of fossil remains were presented to the british museum. when the result of the exploration was forwarded to professor owen, he said that the conclusion was very much what might have been naturally looked for, and that the only disappointment he felt was the absence of human remains and works. ten years ago an attempt was made to obtain the co-operation of the neighbouring colonies in the work of thoroughly exploring the caves of the western and southern districts and australian rivers. the proposition originated with the agent-general for new south wales, professor owen, and sir george macleay, but the adjacent colonies did not see their way to participate, whereupon our cabinet decided to do the work without extraneous aid, and £ was voted by parliament for the service of . at an earlier stage professor liversidge had written to the colonial secretary, transmitting the following extract from a letter he had received from professor boyd dawkins, m.a., f.r.s., of owens college, manchester:--"would the government of new south wales undertake the systematic exploration of the wonderful caves which are in the colony, and which certainly ought to be explored? not only is there a certainty of adding to the great marsupials which have been obtained, but there is a great chance of finding proof that man was living at the same time as the extinct animals, as he has already been found in europe and asia. i should expect to find a very low form of the aborigine. such an inquiry would be of a very great interest to us here in england, who are digging at the caves all over europe, and the duplication which would be obtained would enable the trustees of the australian museum to increase their collections largely by exchanges." the minutes of the meetings of the trustees of the australian museum show that in a committee, consisting of dr. cox, mr. wilkinson, and professor liversidge, was appointed for the management of the exploration of caves and rivers, and it was decided that the following caves should, if possible, be examined in the order as written:--wellington caves, cowra, or belubula caves, abercrombie, wollombi, fish river (now jenolan), wombeyan, wallerawang, cargo, yarrangobilly, murrumbidgee, kempsey. the goodradigbee caves were also included, and from them was taken a great quantity of bones of small animals, with a number of jaw, thigh, hip, and shin bones of some animals of the kangaroo family. the smaller bones were those of mice, bats, birds, and marsupials. in the wellington breccia cave a shaft was sunk, and on the th september, , mr. e. p. ramsay, curator of the museum, reported, among other things, the following:--"a great number of interesting bones have already been obtained from this shaft, but the mass of feet of bone breccia which we passed through shows that we have here a large field for exploration. from this shaft we have obtained bones of the following animals, besides a great number of small bones yet undetermined--diprotodon, macropus, palorchestes, sthenurus, procoptodon, protemnodon, halmaturus, thylacinus, bettongia, sarcophilus, phascolomys, dasyurus, phalangista, pteropus (?), bats, rodents (mus), a few lizards' bones, and a few vertebræ of lizards and snakes." other caves also were explored, but it was found that the bones obtained from them were of recent origin. it is a question whether it would not be desirable to make still further investigations. the osseous breccia--where it exists--appears to be similar in all the caves. there are rifts and pits and chambers where animals have retired to die, and where from time to time their bones have been formed into cement with the liquefied rock, which in process of time has again hardened and become a solid compound of bone and stone. in the southern room on the first floor of the sydney museum is a large collection of bones from the wellington and other caves. these remains have been collected during the last four or five years under the direction of mr. ramsay, the curator. they are chiefly the bones of marsupials. there are not among them any fossil remains which indicate the presence of man in australia at any very remote period. some of the principal bones are those of extinct marsupials, and are important from a scientific point of view. they include bones of the following animals (species extant) found in the wellington caves:--the thylacinus (tasmanian tiger), sarcophilus (tasmanian devil), mastacomys (a rodent), hapalotis albipes, and mus lineatus (new south wales). other important fossil remains in the museum are those of the thylacoleo (two species), diprotodon, procoptodon, protemnodon, palorchestes, macropus titan, nototherium, phascolomys. there are not in the sydney museum any bones from the jenolan caves--which, however, contain many interesting remains of the animal world,--because the search for them would involve the destruction of attractive features. for these reasons attention was given to the wellington caves, whose beauties were not likely to receive further disfiguration than they have already suffered. from the wallaby bone cave the visitor returns to the fossil bone cave, and ascends a wire ladder which is about to be replaced by an iron staircase. as he mounts this wire-rope ladder, which is feet long and not "stayed," he feels the necessity for some better means of communication. from the top to the cathedral is about yards south-east. a large portion of the cave north-west from this point has not been explored. there are five or six different branches, one of which runs out to daylight at a small aperture ( inches by inches) over the rise of the water below the grand archway and the devil's coach house. the distance from here through the cathedral to the entrance gate is about yards, up two flights of steps. there is a gradual ascent to the steps, and the final flight of brings the excursionist to the gate and to the sunshine. he will be glad to rest awhile before entering the imperial cave, which is the grandest of them all. chapter xiv. the imperial cave. the imperial cave is graced with myriads of lovely objects. darkness brooded over them for ages, as drip by drip and atom by atom they were formed into things that charm and shine in chambers whose walls are "clad in the beauty of a thousand stars." there are underground gullies terrible enough to be the home of apollyon, with legions of goblins; and strangely radiant elfin palaces where titania might be supposed to reign, and robin goodfellow carry on his frolicsome pranks. in the year , when the cave-keeper (mr. wilson) discovered this magnificent series of caverns, he was lowered down a distance of feet through egyptian darkness. as this mode of access was neither cheerful nor easy, nor free from danger, he determined, if possible, to find a less inconvenient and perilous approach to the cave. after two years of patient investigation he accomplished his heart's desire. the orifice which has been converted into the present entrance was at first, for a distance of feet, only inches by inches, but the curator worked his way through it, caterpillar fashion, with a light in one hand and a hammer in the other, knocking off the rough formation, and widening the aperture from time to time until he made communication free from difficulty. throughout this splendid cave there are many places where similar efforts, accomplished with equal success, have added largely to the safety and convenience of visitors, who reap the fruits of the heroic work performed by the brave explorer, whose best years have been spent in rendering accessible to the public the marvellous beauties of the jenolan caves. from the accommodation house the way to the imperial cave is through the grand arch, on the northern side of which, at the eastern end, are two wooden staircases. the first springs from the floor of the arch amidst immense blocks of stone irregularly disposed. it has steps, and a handrail on each side. this terminates at the summit of a pile of limestone rocks, the uppermost of which forms a platform guarded by iron stanchions and a galvanised wire rope. from this platform there is another flight of steps to the portico of the cave--a plain archway, the floor of which is feet higher than the floor of the cave-house. the entrance is guarded by a light iron gate. the wool shed and the gravel pits. about yards from the entrance to the imperial cave, northward, and thence about yards east, is "the wool shed." the approach to it is narrow and low. in some places it has been formed by blasting, and in others by excavation through a red, sandy substance underneath the limestone. it widens as the wool shed is approached. in the floor is a hole going down to the former entrance to the cave, now closed by a stone wall. the wool shed is about feet wide, feet high, and feet long. the formation over a large part of the walls and roof resembles the fleeces of sheep, hanging about and spreading over the shelving rocks in all directions. there is one pelt which suggests the "golden fleece" torn by jason from the tree trunk in the poison wood guarded by the huge serpent spangled with bronze and gold, and which was soothed to slumber by the magic song of orpheus. the surroundings are as strange as those of the lonely cave where dwelt cheiron the centaur, who taught the leader of the argonauts "to wrestle and to box, and to hunt, and to play upon the harp." but perhaps, after all, it may be only an indifferent limestone representation of a fellmongering establishment. the woolly skins and scraps are mirrored on the retina. the impressions produced by the sense of vision depend not upon the optic nerve, but upon the imagination. simply as a spectacle, however, the wool shed is curious and entertaining. the blocks of stone near to the base are for the most part plain, and the floor is broken and rugged. descending steps, and passing through a tunnel five feet six inches by two feet, the visitor stands at the junction of the right and the left hand branches of the cave. here formerly the passage was only inches by inches. the larger opening was made by blasting, and the material blown from the solid rock has been packed away in recesses at the side of the hall, which, at the junction of the two branches, widens out considerably, but does not present any specially interesting features. the right hand branch runs north-west, and the left hand branch runs south-west. taking the south-west branch first, after travelling about yards the visitor comes to "the gravel pits," which he reaches by ascending a mound with steps. there are two pits of gravel. one of them is about feet deep and the other about feet. in the rocks overhead are bones distinctly visible, owing to the earthy matter having fallen away from them. some of these bones are large. there are shelving rocks about six feet from the floor. the sides of one of the gravel pits are oblique, but the other pit, which is railed off, is round and perpendicular. it could hardly have been more symmetrical had it been made by a professional well-sinker. this spot, although perhaps uninteresting to a mere sight-seer, cannot fail to attract the attention of geologists. ascending two flights of stairs with steps each, the excursionist attains a height of about feet above the gravel pits in a north-westerly direction. between the two flights of steps the ground is sloping, and the walls hold a considerable portion of drift, the pebbles of which are large and tinged with oxide of iron. this passage leads to the margherita cave, and from it a tunnel branches off towards the "architect's studio." this is a very pretty vestibule, about yards in length, and bearing south-east. at first it rises several feet by steps, and later on there is a descent of five steps through masses of stalactites, and past a beautiful pillar. [illustration: the architect's studio.] the architect's studio. the height of the "studio" is about feet. this _atelier_ is a marvel of beauty. there are in it two temples of the most lovely kind. large masses of splendid stalactites hang from the roof. on the walls are columns profusely decorated with coral and tracery and bosses, and carvings which could be imitated only by the most cunning workmanship. near the centre is a large stalactitic mass, most graceful in shape, with numerous appendages; and underneath appear several stalagmites. some of them have been partially destroyed, but one, which touches the enormous mass of stalactites above, remains intact. near to this is a splendid column, richly embellished. the walls are profusely adorned with elaborate configurations, which are supposed to represent architectural "studies," from which the cave derives its name. most of the formation is white or light grey; but in some of the recesses there is rich colouring. each chamber has its own distinctive attractions, and contains many objects which challenge special admiration. massive grandeur is set off with the most delicate and fragile beauty. stalagmites are not numerous here, but one about eight feet in height, and two inches in diameter at the base, tapers off gradually towards the roof until it becomes as attenuated as the thin end of a fishing-rod. the stalactitic formation hangs in ponderous grotesquely-shaped concretions, some of which extend from the roof nearly to the floor, and many of the stalactites which decorate the stalactitic formation are perfect in shape and purity. the choicest portions of the architect's studio are fenced off with galvanised wire rope on iron standards. the bone cave. ascending a flight of steps out of the architect's studio the course is south-west about yards to the bone cave. the way is difficult, a portion of the journey having to be performed on hands and knees. the cave, which runs north and south, is about feet high, feet long, and from to feet wide. in the middle of it is a passage only partially explored. the bone cave is guarded by iron rods and wire netting. bunches of stalactites hang from the roof, and the floor is strewn with bones, covered with a thick coating of lime formation. there are also bones embedded in the floor. some of the formations on the floor are very peculiar, consisting of small curiously-shaped pieces fitted together at remarkable angles, and yet capable of being taken to pieces like triplicate kernels pressed together in one nutshell. a large proportion of the stalactites are quite transparent and decorated with small sharp points, and some formations among the coral are as lovely as fine marine mosses, which they resemble. in the midst are numerous unexplored recesses, which, when the light penetrates, are seen to hold hundreds of fine stalactites, crystal and opaque. the objects of beauty in the bone cave retain their colour, because they cannot be handled by that class of visitors who fancy that they can see only with their fingers. on the walls are specimens of delicate fretwork, and on the floor as well as on the top of rocky ledges, stalagmites lavishly ornamented. although not as grand as the architect's studio, this is a very fine cave, and additional interest attaches to it in consequence of the fossil bones it contains. the adjacent chambers cannot be explored without destroying some of the well-known beauties of the cavern. chapter xv. the margherita cave. from the bone cave to the margherita cave is about yards, travelling north-east to the top of the first steps, then east into the architect's studio, and then north about yards. the margherita cave varies from to feet in height, and is from to feet wide. it is remarkable chiefly for the magnitude and beauty of its stalactitic formation, the best portions of which are fenced off with iron rods and wire netting. the formations are nearly all of the same general character. although there are many changes in detail, the typical pattern is observed everywhere in the midst of infinite variety, just as in a fugue choice snatches of melody sound forth in the clear treble, skip away in the mellow tenor, roll forth in the deep bass, and then dart about will-o'-the-wisp-like all through the composition, without ever getting out of harmony. it is a grand chamber full of stately concords and charming effects of light and shade. hard by is another chamber with masses of beautiful stalactites, and, on a pinnacle, a figure appears about the height of the venus de medici, robed in drapery of white, slightly suggestive of the binary theory of feminine attire, and with a peculiar curvature denominated the "grecian bend." the bend is unmistakable. there is just a suspicion of the "divided skirt," and the attitude is easy and graceful, the grecian bend notwithstanding. the upper part of the body from the waist has no "boddice aptly laced," but becomes gradually mixed indiscriminately with other kinds of beauty, which, although they may "harmony of shape express," do not in the sense indicated by prior become "fine by degrees and beautifully less." admirers of classic beauty may be inclined to regard the incompleteness of the figure as "fine by defect and delicately weak." there are some stalagmites on the sloping bank of formation, which runs down to the wire netting and is finished off at each extremity by two massive stalactitic pillars. the margherita cave received its name in honour of the wife of lieut.-colonel cracknell, superintendent of telegraphs. col. cracknell visited the caves in , and on the nd july illuminated this and some other portions with the electric light. the margherita was the first of the underground chambers in which flashed its brilliant rays. in the absence of facilities for generating electricity by means of the now well-known dynamo machine, colonel cracknell had recourse to primary batteries, and adopted the form known as the maynooth or callan cell, the elements of which were cast iron and zinc in solutions of nitric and sulphuric acid. it was not an easy task to unload and carry up the iron cell battery and the apparatus into the cave, as each set of six cells weighed lbs. the whole, together with the acids and the electric light apparatus, exceeded cwts. the battery, however, was soon made ready, and to the admiration of all present cave margherita was illuminated by the electric light. a photographic apparatus was then placed in position, the plates were exposed, and in minutes the first negatives were produced, and said to be all that could be desired. it is satisfactory to learn that arrangements are almost complete for the permanent lighting of the caves by electricity. lieutenant-colonel cracknell proposes to illuminate them in sections, containing each, say, incandescent lamps, and when one section has been thoroughly explored the lamps therein will be cut off and those in the next section brought into operation, and so on until the whole of the interior has been examined. it is intended that swan's incandescent lamp of -candle power shall be used. the electricity is to be generated by a small edison dynamo, with which accumulators of the elwell-parker type will be kept charged, so that at all times there will be a supply available for lighting the lamps. it has not yet been determined whether to use steam or water power, but it is thought likely that sufficient of the latter may be secured in the vicinity of the caves to work a turbine, and thus produce the necessary energy. chapter xvi. the helena cave. leaving the margherita cave by a descent of five steps, and travelling north-west about ten yards through a festooned hall, the helena cave opens to view. it was named in . helena is the prenomen of mrs. hart, whose husband accompanied lieutenant-colonel cracknell on his visit to the caves, and took photographs of some of the chambers, when for the first time they were illuminated by electricity. mr. hart was connected with the photographic branch of the government printing office. the pictures then produced, although large and fairly good, are not equal to some more recent photographs taken when the chambers were illuminated by the magnesium light. [illustration: the helena cave.] the helena cave is about yards long, to feet high, and varies in width from to feet. for stalactitic splendour it will bear comparison with the most magnificent of the caves. there are columns like the trunks of stately trees, covered with rough formation resembling coarse bark. coralline masses droop laden with myriads of cells. in the recesses are stalactites perfect in shape--crystal, and alabaster set off by others coloured like ferruginous sandstone. lovely grottoes and decorated rock ledges abound. in one or two instances joined stalactites and stalagmites form pillars with bunches of formation all about them like stony efflorescence. several steps lead into a recess, the floor of which contains basins made by the action of water. the formation throughout is remarkable for its lavish ornamentation and purity. among the grand cornices is one weighing about half a ton, formed in such a manner as to resemble great bunches of grapes, like those brought from eschol by the hebrew spies to illustrate their report on "the promised land." in other parts are small clusters like vine produce growing _en espalier_. it seems as though in these subterranean sunless bowers nature had by some subtle process striven to reproduce in stone the fruits and flowers of the sunned surface, clothing them in pure white and sombre grey, and endowing them with charms as sweet and mutely eloquent as the fragrance of the cestrum nocturnum, or the cold beauty of a night cactus bloom which caresses the moonbeams or wantons in the stellar light. this place, full of enchanted grottoes and elfin palaces, gives, perhaps, the best illustration of the plan, so uniform and yet so diverse, on which these limestone mountains have been honeycombed into galleries, "high overarch'd with echoing walks between," and caverns large and small, from cathedral spaciousness to the minimised dimensions of the tiniest chamber in the finest coralline structure. their infinite gradation may be fairly described by certain well-known lines, and substituting the word "caves" for the name of the most lively insects of the genus pulex-- big caves have little caves and lesser caves about 'em; these caves have other caves, and so _ad infinitum_. the most remarkable feature hereabouts is a piece of formation called "the madonna." it is supposed to represent a woman carrying an infant, which rests on her right arm. the left arm hangs loosely by her side, and the right knee is bent as in the act of walking. the head bears less resemblance to that of one of the favourite creations of the old masters than it does to the anterior part of a russian bear. a pyramidal mound about four feet high forms a pedestal for the figure, which is about two feet six inches from crown to sole. a sculptor with mallet and chisel might in an hour or two convert it into a representation of loveliness, but at present it is only a veiled beauty. visitors have to imagine all those witcheries and feminine perfections portrayed by great artists who have made "the madonna and child" a life study. the best view of this cave is that looking south-east with "my lady" in the centre. the stalactites show to great advantage, and as the manifold charms brought into bold relief by the magnesium light disappear, and the sable goddess "from her ebon throne, stretches forth her leaden sceptre," the sensation produced is one of pleasant bewilderment. the deep gloom which follows celestial brightness enshrouds the glorious scene. the pageant fades away as did the celebrated palace which potemkin reared for his imperial mistress. it was made of blocks of ice. the portico was supported by ionic pillars, and the dome sparkled in the sun, which had just strength enough to gild, but not to melt it. "it glittered afar like a palace of crystal and diamonds, but there came one warm breeze from the south, and the stately building dissolved away until none were able to gather up the fragments." so it is with these underground wonders. they are brought into bold relief, and gilded by the brilliant light of the magnesium lamp. it is extinguished, and the gorgeous palaces and solemn temples suddenly become like "stuff which dreams are made of." another beautiful feature in the helena cave is a formation under a mass of stalactites which hang from the roof and drop water on to a jutting rock below. on a corner of this shoulder is a huge epaulette, and underneath are some elegantly-shaped brackets. still farther down is an enormous richly decorated mass, flanked by shell pattern formation. the base rock rests on a mound of limestone gracefully curved, and the intervening spaces are filled with myriads of ornate specimens. some distance above the floor is a bold rock with a sharply cut under-surface like the sounding-board of a pulpit hung with stalactites. here are also terraces like miniatures of the celebrated white terraces of new zealand, with basins, the sides of which are graced with a formation which at one time was pure white, but the lower portions of which are now discoloured. the upper part, however, still retains its pristine purity and loveliness. the terraces approaching the grotto are stained by the tramping of feet. about halfway up is a handsome stalagmite of fine proportions. this chamber is grandly impressive, and remarkable for its charming variety of formation, as well as for its graceful contours. chapter xvii. the grotto cave. at the point of exit from the helena cave there is a descent of four steps. then it is necessary to ascend steps north-north-east on the way to the right-hand branch of the imperial cave. from the top of the steps the distance to the junction is about yards. on the left side of the passage, at the foot of the lower steps in the left-hand branch, is a drive down into the gallery of the right-hand branch, the fall being about feet. it was by being lowered down this hole that the cave-keeper found that portion of the right-hand branch which extends from the shaft to the junction of the two branches. this perilous part is railed off with two wires supported on iron standards let into the rock. at a point yards north, on the passage to the grotto cave, at an angle, is a drop of feet into the right-hand branch of the imperial cave. sitting on a thin shell of limestone, on the right-hand side, the visitor may pitch a stone into a hole inches by inches, and hear it strike the bottom of the black depth. he may thrust his candle down to arm's length underneath the mineral crust, and (if he be in a very cheerful vein) fancy he is peering into the infernal regions, over which he rests on a thin and fragile screen. from this point the grotto cave is south-south-west about yards. precautions have been taken against accident at this spot. iron standards are let into the rock, and there are double wires stayed back to the walls of the cave. it is intended to make it still more secure on the lower side by a netting of three inch wire, on one and a quarter inch iron standards, from four to six feet high. where the rock has been cut to make the passage wide enough, the steps are wet, and there is a little basin always full of bright water of a bluish tint. a false step here might precipitate a sight-seer into an almost perpendicular hole, some idea of the depth of which may be formed by casting a stone down, and listening to its striking against the sides, until after the lapse of several seconds the sound of its contact with the floor rises like a feeble voice, still further subdued by distance. descending five steps, a good sight is obtained of the grotto cave. it is feet high in places, and about feet wide, with passages in all directions. it runs south-south-east and north-north-west, and is full of interesting vaults and crypts, over which nature seems to have cast a mystic spell. for alluring charms, fantastic combinations, and disposition of matter, no comparison can be found between it and the most artistic grottoes built by human hands. one grotto is roofed with delicately white and richly-traced formation, studded with stalactites of rare splendour. here is a delicate white shaft piercing the dome; there a stalagmite within half-an-inch of the stalactite above. a broken pillar suggests either an accident or a barbaric act; near to it is a perfect column, which, in the dim light, seems like a figure emerging from the cave. close inspection reveals imitations of coral and seaweed, curved stalactites, and filagree work of the most intricate design. little flakes of lime, like snow, at the back of the grotto, sparkle like twinkling stars. another grotto, in the centre of the cave, is made entirely by large stalactites, set off with small ones. some are covered with filaments about the thickness of ordinary sewing-cotton; others seem as though they were covered with beautiful mosses. many of the pendants are richly wrought and extremely graceful. the upper stalactites are covered with thicker filaments like twine and pack-thread. a third grotto is remarkable chiefly for a splendid cornice or buttress projecting from a pillar. it is as grand, though not as ornate, as similar formation in the margherita cave. it was named on the th march , and its designation is appropriate. near the exit is a marvellous grotto, at the entrance to which is a massive stalagmitic pillar, five feet in diameter, meeting the end of a stalactite about feet long. the back of the stalagmite constitutes a separate grotto of stalactites and shell-pattern formation. near to it is a remarkable rock, covered with cauliflower-shaped masses of limestone. it is known as the cauliflower rock--the _choufleur_ of the gnomes who guard the unfathomable caves of jenolan. in yet another grotto, at the rear of the main pillar, is a beautiful canopy, with thin stalactites, straight like walking-canes, and others thin as straws, crystal and opaque. there are also many contorted stalactites and other eccentricities in stone. a little iron ladder makes it easy to descend into this cave of so many beautiful grottoes on gracefully undulating foundations. near the point of departure is a dangerous spot, for the proper guarding of which arrangements are being made. adjacent is a considerable quantity of red clay covered with smooth white formation, and fractures of rock round about sparkle with crystals. [illustration: the lucinda cave.] chapter xviii. the lucinda cave. after travelling a few yards south from the grottoes the visitor arrives at the lucinda cave. the hall is from to feet wide and from to feet high. the approach to the cave is through limestone rocks. the path has a gentle slope, and in some places the walls are besprinkled with a white substance like wool. near the centre of the passage is a hole in the roof partly lined with formation which sparkles like a starlit sky. a little farther on is a descent of four steps through a passage, the walls of which glitter with great brilliancy. about yards from the lucinda cave, south-south-west, is a magnificent spectacle. the roof is densely crowded with stalactites of every type of beauty. on each side are crevices of dazzling splendour, and on the floors of which brilliants have been showered like hail. the largest remain in the centre, and the corners and other remote places are heaped with diamond drift. in one place in the lower cave is a bank made of formation washed from the hall above, thickening to the base at an angle of about °, and studded with cave gems. between the jewelled floors and the superincumbent rocks are stalagmites of pure white calcareous alabaster. at the end of this passage are three steps, which it is necessary to ascend in order to reach the lucinda chamber, which was discovered on the th february, , and is named after the wife of the curator of the caves. the lucinda cave is from to feet high, from to feet wide, and about feet long. its entrance junctions with the steps to katie's bower. to reach the lucinda cave from the junction, the visitor passes over a level floor, like cement, about feet in length. this cave is remarkable for its scenic grandeur. the spectator stands in mute admiration, and gazes upon the magnificent sight like one who is spellbound. the beauty is brobdignagian in its proportions. the figures are all colossal. there are immense stalactites and stalagmites of every hue. an enormous mass of formation droops from the ceiling to the summit of a stalagmitic mound upon which it rests. it is like a series of suddenly congealed waterfalls, and the groundwork below is gracefully rippled on the outer surface, and fringed with stalactites. the mound previously mentioned rests upon another of larger size, of equally graceful contour, and besprent with brilliants which sparkle like immense diamonds. to the right is a cascade of formation which has trickled and solidified from rock to rock and from ledge to ledge in graceful curves from the roof to the floor. those who have seen water arrested by congelation on an extensive weir, and rendered opaque by hoar, can form a tolerably correct idea of the kind of beauty here represented in stone. to the left of the frozen waterfall is a bower of sparkling substances, and at its extremity is a recess, from the farthest visible point of which can be seen magnificent clusters of stalactites, of rich and varied colouring. this bower is more chastely beautiful than any ever possessed by oriental potentate. the walls on the left side are richly draped with sheets of formation of uniform thickness, hanging from the roof like shawls or scarves. this mineral drapery is opaque, striped and flecked with russet and reddish brown, and edged with white as pure as virgin snow. it is guarded by a fence of iron rods and galvanised wire; consequently it is impossible to make a close and minute examination of its interior, but the general effect is fascinating. in one of the recesses is a terraced rock covered with reddish formation, like a cascade, which certainly is not less beautiful than were the pink terraces of rotomahana. a little beyond the cascade the same kind of formation ornaments a massive pillar, which constitutes one of the principal features of the cave. in the foreground is a hall which leads to an unexplored region below, and the entrance to which is guarded by a fence to prevent accidents. the floor is curiously formed by a series of basins, the rims of which are shaped into every variety of curve and indentation, running in and out like frilling, not with regular curved lines like escallops, but representing in miniature the waterlines of a quiet harbour with large bays and pretty inlets and creeks and reaches, without a single straight line. the edges of these basins are about two inches in height, covered on the outside by sparkling limestone, like delicate coral, thickening towards the floor. inside the formation is still more beautiful, with coralline matter of the same general character swelling out to the most graceful concavity. there is perfection in every segment, and in every tiny cell lurks tremulous light. chapter xix. katie's bower. taking a course between the parallel fences of wire-netting, and travelling about yards, the jewel casket is seen on the western side of the cave. it extends about feet due south, and is about two feet six inches high by about six feet wide. it does not contain any new type of beauty, but rather represents a collection of the most enchanting cave splendours. even the stalactites and stalagmites are overlaid with ornamentation. it is a focus of dazzling brilliancy. [illustration: katie's bower.] returning to the junction, there is a descent by steps south-west into "katie's bower," which is the last chamber in the left-hand branch of the imperial cave. forty-three of these steps are like cement, are cut in the solid rock, and are of wood. on the left-hand side, at the foot of the staircase, is a hole feet deep. to the north of the entrance, at the top of the wooden steps, is a remarkable formation suggestive of a chinese pagoda, waxy-amber-and-flesh-coloured. to the left is a beautifully-formed dome, with convexities of pure white, sparkling all over as though it were studded with diamonds cut with large facets. at the bottom of the dome are numerous stalactites, resting on a curved rock coated with the same material. it is like a richly bejewelled throne with a grand canopy suspended from the roof by a large stalactite. it contains many hundredweight of formation, and is about three yards from end to end of the curve. it is ornamented with filagree work and stalactites of the most curious and beautiful kinds, and on the upper surface are some handsome stalagmites. at the rear of this splendid canopy, set with precious stones, is a recess with a sparkling floor. having descended some steps to the south-east, and ascended others through a broken part of the subterranean region, the visitor will find much to admire in katie's bower. it is about feet long, to feet high, and from to feet wide. its direction is from north-west to south-east. the north-west end is very rough, with a rocky floor. the beauties of the bower are located to the south and south-east. there are on the one side alabaster pillars, on the other is formation. immediately over the arch is a deposit of red clay, which has imparted a rich colour to the huge stalactites which hang from the roof. the light of the candles is flashed back by glittering crystals. the floor, which forms the entrance to the bower, is carpeted with glistening alabaster. descending steps into the bower there is a fountain full of lime-water, and a plate suitably inscribed conveys the information that katie's bower was discovered on the th february, , by jeremiah wilson (guide), c. webb, h. fulton, c. west, j. bright, e. webb, e. t. webb, j. thompson, w. h. webb, e. bowman, w. thompson, j. mcphillamy, r. thompson, j. webb, and s. webb. the before-mentioned gentlemen were the first to enter the bower after its discovery. they had rendered valuable assistance to the guide, and were well rewarded for all their trouble by the consciousness that they had participated in opening to the public a new and charming scene in this western wonderland. the stalactites and formation at the mouth of the cave are pure alabaster. it should be here stated that this bower was named in honour of a daughter of the hon. e. webb, m.l.c., of bathurst, who at various times has interested himself in regard to the caves, and sister of the messrs. webb whose names appear on the tablet, and who supplied ladders and ropes to the curator, and otherwise assisted him in his explorations. it is a grand cavern, with massive pillars and large stalactites, and elaborate alabaster structures, more remarkable for richness of detail than the most wonderfully-constructed oriental temple. the dome commences near the roof with a conical mass of brilliant formation, from which depend many fine stalactites, which rest on a solid mass, and seem to hold it suspended. this second mass of formation is ornamented with stalactites like frozen jets of water. and so the process is continued again and again, until the points of the lowest stalactites rest on a white mass level with gracefully-curved and coloured rocks, which descend with elegant contours to the bottom of the bower. the same kind of wonderful fabrication is repeated at the sides of the principal figure. some of the flooring is as rich and pure as that of the jewel casket. it is a marvel of intricate grandeur, and has the advantage of having been well preserved. from the alabaster stalagmite in front, to the most delicate lime drapery on the walls, there is no prominent "mark of the beast." the cads of the period have not been permitted to perform their favourite ceremony of the laying on of hands. it would be useless to speculate as to the time the caves in this branch "took in building." it defies all calculation. apparently the process of formation is finished. there is no dripping from the stalactites. there may be, however, in wet weather; but it seems as though the creative action had given way to the hardening process. it is suggestive of that portion of "king solomon's mines" in which h. r. haggard has a clever and somewhat caustic conceit respecting stalactitic growth. on his way through the enormous cave leading to solomon's treasure-house, he was enchanted with the gigantic pillars, which looked like ice, and which sprang in lofty and yet delicate beauty sheer to the distant roof. "others again," he says, "were in process of formation. on the rock floor there was in these caves what looked exactly like a broken column in an old grecian temple, whilst high above, depending from the roof, the point of a huge icicle could be dimly seen. and even as we gazed we could hear the process going on, for presently with a tiny splash a drop of water would fall from the far-off icicle on to the column below. on some columns the drops only fell once in two or three minutes, and in these cases it would form an interesting calculation to discover how long at that rate of dripping it would take to form a pillar, say feet high by in diameter. that the process was, in at least one instance, incalculably slow, the following instance will suffice to show. cut on one of these pillars, we discovered a rude likeness of a mummy, by the head of which sat what appeared to be one of the egyptian gods, doubtless the handiwork of some old-world labourer in the mine. this work of art was executed at about the natural height at which an idle fellow, be he phoenician workman or british cad, is in the habit of trying to immortalise himself at the expense of nature's masterpieces, namely, about five feet from the ground; yet at the time that we saw it, which must have been nearly , years after the date of the execution of the drawing, the column was only eight feet high, and was still in process of formation, which gives a rate of growth of a foot to a , years, or an inch and a fraction to a century." this is a very good satire upon the presumption of some modern disciples of the illustrious cocker. a botanist may, by its concentric zones, tell the years of an exogenous plant; a bucolic sage may judge the age of horned cattle by counting their horny rings; but to tell the æons of a stalagmite is more difficult than the accurate compilation of a feminine census. arithmetical calculations on such a subject would probably be received with as much confidence as phrenological evidence of the character and habits indicated by bumps on the head of the great sphinx at ghizeh. chapter xx. the right-hand branch of the imperial cave. having thus completed his inspection of the left-hand branch of the imperial cave, the visitor returns to the junction, passing through all the chambers previously noticed in it excepting the architect's studio and the bone cave, and proceeds to explore the still more wondrous and beautiful works in the right-hand branch. the subterranean river. the first object of interest in the right-hand branch of the imperial cave is the subterranean river, which runs at the bottom of a fearful chasm about yards from the point where the two branches bifurcate. after having wandered through marble halls and crystal palaces, and bowers where "rural fays and fairies dwell," the course seems rather gloomy. but attention is attracted by some curiously-shaped nodules, like those found in a part of the arch cave, and by basins with thin laminated sides slightly corrugated. these specimens reveal the secret of the construction of the pretty reticulated mounds, which give such a charming effect to several of the most regularly formed features of the caves. to complete the process, the sharp parallel lines which form a succession of little equidistant ridges require only to be smoothed off by a gently flowing film of water, and to receive a coat of colouring derived from clay or oxide of iron. this part of the branch, therefore, should not be passed through hurriedly, for it is instructive. [illustration: the underground river and its reflections.] the road is fairly good, although the arching is low. those parts, the narrowness of which formerly made progress difficult, have been enlarged, but a pretty natural bridge has been carefully preserved. the halt is at the end of a wire ladder bent over a cliff, which forms one side of an immense gulf, where perpetual darkness broods. here the visitor has a more ungraceful task to perform than that of the cursed serpent, for he must recline face downwards and "progress backwards" until he assumes the form of an obtuse angle, with one line over the precipice. then he has to use his legs pretty much as an octopus uses its tentacles, to gain a footing on the ladder, which descends about feet on the chasm side of the angle. having found the first rung he feels happy, but not sufficiently hilarious to slide like a lamplighter. he grips the side wires carefully, takes heed to his steps, and goes down slowly. when he has descended a little way, the dim candle-lights above appear to be far distant, and when he is or steps down they look like glowworms. the journey, however, is not perilous to persons who possess a fair share of agility and nerve. it is frequently performed by ladies, of whom the guide is specially careful, preceding them and keeping just below them on the ladder. as this is, perhaps, the most interesting of all the cave sights, it is desirable that some easy mode of descent should be provided, such as a skip like those employed in mines, or a lift made by machinery to work as easily and effectively as those which ascended and descended at will in the subterranean world inhabited by "the coming race." it was, perhaps, some such place as this which suggested to bulwer lytton the chasm down which his nameless hero descended to the bottom of an abyss illuminated with a diffused atmospheric light, soft and silvery as from a northern star; where he found lakes and rivulets which seemed to have been curbed into artificial banks, some of pure water, and some which shone like pools of naphtha; where the birds piped in chorus, and where he made the acquaintance of the an people and the gy-ei, who moved through the air without effort, who had for servants automata always obedient, and totally ignorant of the eight-hours system, and whose religion had these two peculiarities: "firstly, that they all believed in the creed they professed; and, secondly, that they all practised the precepts indicated by the creed." underground rivers appear to be natural to limestone caves. the reason of their existence is to be found in the fact that the mountains in which they are formed are, in geological parlance, "dykes." they must not be confounded with old river beds, such as are encountered by miners--where the surface of the earth has been raised by deposits of alluvium, or where the geological condition of things has been changed by volcanic action. these cave rivers have all been formed by water finding the lowest attainable level in its passage to the sea, and by the solid limestone rocks which have barred its direct course, and have been undermined by its subtle but persistent action. the fluid, dammed back by the mountains, has simply obeyed the laws of gravitation and accumulated force, as evidenced in the trickling silvery thread which follows the course of ant-tracks; in the laughing rill which makes its bed among the pebbles; in the babbling brook which leaps to the swelling river; and in the mighty torrent whose strength and velocity proclaim the majesty of hydraulic power. in all parts of the world where limestone dykes and caves exist, it is reasonable to expect to find subterranean rivers. the eye of the seer can follow the water drips-- "down through caverns and gulfs profound, to the dreary fountain-head of lakes and rivers underground." he can see them again when the rain is done-- "on the bridge of colours seven, climbing up once more to heaven, past the setting sun." but the underground rivers found in caves perform vagaries outside the sweet imaginings of the poet and the prevision of the seer. far from the beaten track they turbulently force their way through recesses and tunnels and pockets of the earth, before they are again warmed with sunshine, and glow in the harmonious colours which form the bow of promise. the rev. richard taylor, in his "_te ika a maui_," refers to interesting caves near mokau (new zealand), in some of which bones of the moa have been discovered. about a mile from pukemapau he came to a limestone range, and entered a large cave called tanaureure. at the bottom of a chasm he found a fine crystal spring, about a foot or so deep, but appears not to have been particularly inquisitive as to whence the water came or whither it went. a little distance up one of the tributaries of the rewa river, in fiji, is a crystal streamlet which flows on towards a lofty ridge, near to which it sinks into the earth. at the mouth of a dark cavern can be heard the roaring. it is a grand expansive excavation, but "dark as was chaos ere the infant sun was roll'd together, or had tried his beams athwart the gloom profound." the water rushes through narrow chasms as through a race, collects in a large pool, and flows through a distant outlet, marked by a speck of light, like a tiny star. at the weathercote cave, in yorkshire, a stream swallowed up by a rocky mouth is thus described by walter white in his book entitled "a month in yorkshire":-- "the rocks are thickly covered in places with ferns and mosses, and are broken up by crevices into a diversity of forms, rugged as chaos. a few feet down, and you see a beautiful crystalline spring in a cleft on the right, and the water turning the moss to stone as it trickles down. a few feet lower, and you pass under a natural bridge formed by huge fallen blocks. the stair gets rougher, twisting among the big, damp lumps of limestone, when suddenly your guide points to the fall at the farther extremity of the chasm. the rocks are black, the place is gloomy, imparting thereby a surprising effect to the white rushing column of water. a beck running down the hill finds its way into a crevice in the cliffs, from which it leaps in one great fall of more than feet, roaring loudly. look up: the chasm is so narrow that the trees and bushes overhang and meet overhead; and what with the subdued light and mixture of crags and verdure, and the impressive aspect of the place altogether, you will be lost in admiration. "to descend lower seems scarcely possible, but you do get down, scrambling over the big stones to the very bottom, into the swirling shower of spray. here a deep recess, or chamber, at one side, about eight feet in height, affords good standing ground, whence you may see that the water is swallowed up at once, and disappears in the heap of pebbles on which it falls." in the wombeyan caves, near taralga, in this colony (new south wales), there is a similar phenomenon. the mountain in which the caves are formed dams, at right angles, a valley of considerable length. on the one side a creek flows into a hole underneath the "wombeyan church"--a name given to the principal entrance. this shallow hole is filled with large boulders and less bulky water-worn stones, through which the water instantly filters and disappears. the suction is perceptible if a hand or foot be placed in the basin. on the other side of the mountain the water, running at a considerable distance below the surface, can be seen through an orifice. farther on, about three-quarters of a mile from the mountain side, the stream bubbles up like a fountain, and reminds the visitor of antique pictures representing the rush of water from rock-smitten horeb. the most gigantic of underground river wonders are to be found in the mammoth cave of kentucky, where the echo river is navigable for three-quarters of a mile, where the roaring river raises its liquid voice, where lake lethe soothes to forgetfulness, and where there is a veritable styx with a nineteenth century charon. but although everything about that cave is colossal, it cannot surpass jenolan in its deep emotional effects, or in the admiration it evokes. indeed, in these respects an american visitor, familiar with the mammoth cave, has given the palm to jenolan. having descended the -feet ladder, the foot of which is clamped to a bare rock, the excursionist watches the guide hopping gleefully down, with candles in one hand and paraphernalia in the other. he then peers into the darkness to find the river, and is led along a gradual slope of about ten feet, when he comes to its margin without recognising it, and would possibly soon be up to his knees in it if he were not warned by his cicerone. it is apparently motionless, as smooth as a mirror, and so clear that at first it is difficult to believe there is any water there at all. you see the sand and pebbles and rocks at the bottom, but do not perceive the fluid which covers them. the river is about feet wide, and from to inches deep. the length visible is about yards. the overhanging rocks range from or feet to feet in height. from one end of the river comes a sweet soothing sound, made by water-friction. this proves the existence of a considerable current, but the fluid is so limpid and smooth that the eye cannot detect its motion. it is demonstrated, however, in another way. the curator cuts little sections of sperm candle, and, after lighting the wick, floats them on the river, whereupon they immediately begin to glide down the stream, the course of which is nearly south-east. the effect is extremely pretty. not only are the lights themselves sharply mirrored below, but there is a perfect reflection of the rocks above. near the tunnel by which the water emerges n.n.w. is a mass of overhanging formation, duplicated in a natural mirror. the bed of the watercourse is dark, being covered chiefly with mud and grit and a few water-worn pebbles. the rocky walls are of limestone--white and black. up the channel n.w., about yards, is a good crossing-place--not in old charon's boat, but by means of an ordinary deal plank. on the other side of the river is a ledge of rocks with pebble drift concreted with a substance somewhat resembling the cement in which diamonds are found, and the pebbles, although larger, are of the same shape and blackness as those commonly associated with the luminous gems found in their natural state at kimberley, in south africa, or in the tenterfield district of new south wales. on turning the light of the magnesium lamp up the river, its rocky ledges are seen to be ornamented with stalactites and formation perfectly mirrored in the water, which is about feet from the surface, and about below the level of the cave house in the centre of the valley. never had river more romantic barriers. human imagination could not conceive a freak of nature more wildly grand or mysteriously beautiful. there are large ornamented pillars near delicately-tinted formation, drooping from overhanging rocks, like pensile boughs of weeping willow. some of the twigs skim the surface of the stream, and others are bathed in it. beyond is a water-hole about feet long, and from to feet wide. because of its wonderful clearness, it is difficult to judge of its depth; but it has been tested to the extent of five feet, and probably at the extreme point where the water flows from the tunnel it may be six or seven feet deep. the effect of the brilliant light is superb. the ornamentation on the roof of the tunnel is reflected and transposed in the mirror below, each reflected stalactite having the appearance of a twin stalagmite rising from the river bed, which may be traversed for about yards. nearly six months ago the caretaker placed in this river twenty young carp from bathurst. some of them were enticed from their cavernous resting-places by the bright rays of the lamp, and appeared to be tolerably vivacious and in fair condition. they seem to have all they require except the solar rays; but what is life without sunshine! they ought to be scientifically observed, for there is a theory that in three generations of darkness they will become blind. this has been the fate of the fishes in the mammoth cave of kentucky, and it is stated that their blindness is the result of a law of nature, which does not continue to supply organs or powers which have ceased to be necessary. dr. forwood, in his history of the mammoth cave, says:--"the fishes are of a peculiar species, and are of a class known as viviparous, which give birth to their young alive, and do not deposit eggs after the manner of most other fishes. they have rudiments of eyes, but no optic nerve, and are, therefore, incapable of being affected by any degree of light.... it has been proved that these eyeless fishes prey upon each other. in shape they somewhat resemble the common catfish, and rarely exceed eight inches in length." professor silliman published the following in his "journal" for may :--"of the fish there are two species, one of which has been described by dr. wyman in the _american journal of science_, and which is entirely eyeless. the second species of the fish is not colourless like the first, and it has external eyes, which, however, are found to be quite blind. the crawfish, or small crustacea, inhabiting the rivers with fish are also eyeless and uncoloured; but the larger-eyed and coloured crawfish, which are abundant within the caves, are also common at some seasons in the subterranean rivers, and so also, it is said, the fish of the green river are to be found in times of flood in the rivers of the caves." dr. forwood gives also the following quotations, on the authority of professor agassiz, an eminent naturalist in the department of ichthyology:-- "the blind fish of the mammoth cave was for the first time described in in the 'zoology of new york,' by dr. dekay, part rd, page , under the name of 'amblyopsis spelæus,' and referred, with doubt, to the family of 'siluridæ,' on account of a remote resemblance to my genus cetopsis. dr. j. wyman has published a more minute description of it, with very interesting anatomical details, in vol. xlv. of the 'american journal of science and arts,' , page . "in , dr. tellkampf published a more extended description, with figures, in 'müller's archiv' for , and mentioned several other animals found also in the cave, among which the most interesting is the crustacean which he calls 'astacus pellucidus,' already mentioned, but not described, by mr. thompson, president of the natural history society of belfast. both thompson and tellkampf speak of eyes in these species, but they are mistaken. i have examined several specimens and satisfied myself that the peduncle of the eye only exists; but there are no visible facets at its extremity, as in other crawfish. "mr. thompson mentions, further, crickets, allied to 'phalangopsis longipes,' of which tellkampf says that it occurs throughout the cave. of spiders, dr. tellkampf found two eyeless, small white species, which he calls 'phalangodes armata' and 'anthrobia monmouthia'; flies, of the genus 'anthomyia'; a minute shrimp, called by him 'triura cavernicola'; and two blind beetles; 'anophthalmus tellkampfii' of erichson, and 'adelops hirtus;' of most of which dr. tellkampf has published a full description, and figures in a subsequent paper, inserted in erichson's 'archiv,' , p. . "the infusoria observed in the cave resemble 'monas kolpoda,' 'monas socialis,' and 'bodo intestinalis,'--a new chilomonas, which he calls 'ch. emarginata,' and a species allied to 'kolpoda cucullus.' "as already mentioned, dekay has referred the blind fish, with doubt, to the family of siluridæ. dr. tellkampf, however, establishes for it a distinct family. dr. storer, in his 'synopsis of the fishes of north america,' published in , in the 'memoirs of the american academy of arts and sciences,' is also of opinion that it should constitute a distinct family, to which he gives the new name of 'hypsæidæ,' page . from the circumstance of its being viviparous, from the character of its scales, and from the form and structure of its head, i am inclined to consider this fish as an aberrant type of my family of cyprinodonts." the effect of long-continued darkness upon visual organs has had some remarkable illustrations. at one time an idea prevailed in america that caves possessed certain curative properties, and afflicted people remained in them; but the absence of light proved disastrous to many. it is recorded that those patients "who remained in the cave three or four months presented a frightful appearance. the face was entirely bloodless, eyes sunken, and pupils dilated to such a degree that the iris ceased to be visible, so that, no matter what the original colour of the eye might have been, it soon appeared black." this subterranean river offers a fine opportunity for scientific observation well worthy to be embraced by some australian naturalist. in the vicinity of the river is to be noticed one of the few signs of decay to be found in the caves--a portion of shell pattern formation shows evidence of mouldering, and appears like a mere skeleton. when the visitor has ascended the ladder and safely negotiated the angle at the top, he feels that he has witnessed the most interesting place to be found in the western wonderland; and when he fishes for a compliment to his agility, and is reminded of the graceful forms that occasionally ascend and descend in much better style, he immediately recalls a patriarch's dream, and thinks the ladder ought to be named after jacob. chapter xxi. the fossil bone cave, the sparkling rock, and the crystal rock. about yards north from the ladder to the underground river is the entrance to the fossil bone cave. here is a stratum of coffee-coloured slatey substance in layers like those of the wianamatta shale. it is so soft that a gentle touch is sufficient to pulverise it. it is slightly honeycombed, and its outer surface is covered with imitations of delicate lichens. in this cave there is not anything in the shape of a stalagmite, except an empty brandy bottle on a little shelving rock, and that would be generally regarded as a bad substitute. for æsthetic as well as for other reasons, it would be better to keep such "stalagmites" out of the caves. on the top of a large rock is a mass of "washdirt," inches deep, with "headings" of about the same dimensions. some experienced diggers say they never saw more promising stuff. during the yellow fever from which so many suffered a few years ago, companies were floated on the strength of "claims" equally delusive. proverbially, "auriferous ground" is deceitful, and this "washdirt," which looks rich enough to make a prospector's eyes sparkle with delight, has proved to be as worthless as a lying prospectus. a portion of it was washed, but did not show the colour of gold. it remains, however, an object of interest, and may serve to teach a useful lesson. there are in this cave solid limestone rocks above and below. the roof is about feet beneath the surface of the mountain. in the bed of the cavern are many fossil bones. some appear to be remains of native dogs. in various rocks are clusters of bat bones. a very noticeable osseous object is the vertebra of a bird with one side-bone. there is no trace of the other. there are also many large bones, the cylindrical cavities of which are filled up with formation. some of these bones are deposited about eight feet from the bottom of the cave. on one ledge is a heap of bones, large and small. some of them are very fine specimens. the height of this cave is about feet, and its breadth from to feet. travelling from the passage leading to the fossil bone cave n.n.w. about yards, and passing through a cutting n.w. about yards, the visitor comes to "the sparkling rock." a cutting, five feet by two feet, forms the entrance to a spacious hall, where is seen the sparkling rock, large and shelving. the principal portion of it is slightly coloured, but the lower part is beautifully white. it is hung with large stalactites and fleecy pendants. some of the formation resembles sheepskins, with the woolly side outwards, thrown negligently over the ledges. from this point the course runs west about yards through a hall from to feet high, and from to feet wide, and thence north about yards to the crystal rock. about yards west from the sparkling rock, and by a road wide enough for a coach and four, there is a large upward shaft of about feet to the grotto cave, which, as previously stated, is between the helena and the lucinda caves in the left-hand branch. here the tourist gets a good idea of the way in which the two branches of the imperial cave are situated with regard to each other. the right-hand branch is the lower series. the left-hand branch is higher up in the interior of the mountain, and to the south-east, with the exception of the grotto cave, which is immediately overhead, and about feet from the sparkling rock. on the left-hand side of the passage, and about yards from the crystal rock, is a very pretty grotto of formation, with an overhanging ornamental mass like a canopy. up above, about feet, is the opening to an unexplored cave, the mouth of which is composed of solid shining rock, with white stalactites. there are also, round about, coloured stalactites varying in length from an inch to a couple of feet. the remainder of the passage is lofty and rugged. not far from the entrance to the crystal rock is the bottom of the shaft down which the curator was lowered from the coral cave (a sub-cavern of the elder cave) into the imperial, and on the wall this memorable event is duly recorded. here we read:--"these caves were discovered by jeremiah wilson." then follows a list of the names of persons who lowered the fearless curator down the black hole: "alfred whalan, thomas a. gread, jeremiah f. cashin, joseph read, nicholas delaney, ralph t. wilson, thomas pearson, heinrich neilzet, and william read." they were named "wilson's imperial caves" on february , . from this spot the sparkling rock is about yards n.n.e. it is about feet wide and about feet high. stalactitic formation descends from an angle in the roof, and rests on four or five finely coloured terraces which glitter all over as though they were covered with spangles. to the left of these terraces is a large basin with coral sides and a rim composed of three or four layers of shell-shaped pattern overlapping like fish scales, the rows being a little way apart from each other, and the intervening spaces filled with formation. the bottom of the basin is covered with very delicate ornamentation, deposited by water which has soaked through to a lower level. in the background is another rock, covered with similar formation, fringed with stalactites, and stalactites also descend to it from the roof. chapter xxii. the shawl cave. about yards from the sparkling rock is the shawl cave. it is approached through a passage from six to eight feet high and two to four feet wide, containing numerous small but pretty grottoes. the shawl cave is very interesting. to the left of the entrance is a grotesque pillar with little domes of snowy whiteness and masses of stalactite. the cave is about feet long, feet high, and from to feet wide. it contains three magnificent "shawls." one is feet long, inches deep, and one-sixth of an inch thick, and in the blending of colours represents tortoise-shell. the other two are not quite as large as the first-mentioned. they are straw-coloured, varied with rich brown. they hang at right angles from the side of a convex sloping roof, and the colouring runs from end to end in parallel lines, but the bands of colour vary in depth. for instance, the first piece of the shawl--say one inch and a half from the roof--may be pure white formation, of lime, or carbonate of lime coloured with oxide of iron which gradually becomes paler and paler. the next two inches may be light yellow, spotted with brown. the next strip may be fox-colour, and so on, until the design is completed. for the most part, the cave "shawls" are of uniform thickness, like sheets of opaque glass slightly corrugated transversely. the opposite wall is nearly perpendicular. at each end of the cave is a grotto. one is low down and gloomy-looking; the other lofty, going up into the roof and full of formation, some of which is like frost work. the stalactites are immense. from the further wall are sloping terraces, gradually enlarging towards the base underneath the hanging shawls. there are also some remarkable clumps of formation. one is like a giant's foot; another resembles the skull of a wolf, or of some other animal related to the canine tribe. about seven yards north from the shawl cave is a cavern feet broad, yards long, and from to feet high, the principal object in which is "the lady's finger." under a shelving rock fringed with stalactites of all the prevailing colours, and almost every variety of shape, the "finger" forms the extremity of a stalagmite about inches high, and similar in figure to a feminine forearm in a sleeve, with coral trimmings. the forearm is white, and the chubby hand is of a waxy-looking flesh colour. the thumb and the index finger point upward. according to the talmud, "man is born with his hands clenched, and dies with his hands wide open;" in reference to which one of the rabbinical sages remarks--"entering life he desires to grasp everything; leaving the world, all that he possessed has slipped away." this hand with the lady's finger, however, is not grasping, and it points upwards. the modern science of chiromancy, according to a. r. craig, m.a., in his interesting book "your luck is in your hand," divides hands into seven classes: " . the hand elementary, or hand with a large palm; . the hand necessary, or spatulated; . the hand artistic, or conical; . the useful or square hand; . the philosophical, or knotted hand; . the psychological, or pointed hand; . the mixed hand." it would be difficult to class the hand with "the lady's finger" in any of the foregoing divisions, and it would puzzle one skilled in palmistry, and who regards the human hand as a mirror of the mind, to use it even in the way phrenologists use the casts of bull-necked, animal-headed felons. the index finger is long, the pollex (thumb) is short; the medius (middle) is wanting, and so are the annularis (ring finger) and the auricularis (little finger), "so named by the romans because of its utility in cleansing the ear." the visitor, therefore, must not expect to find here a hand like a model of perfection on a greek statue; but he will see a remarkable alabaster extremity, sufficiently well formed to be called "the lady's finger." the rocky bank, which is coloured with several shades of brown, and veined with formation, is also flecked with white, like snow. at one end of the cave the view closes with long-sparkling stalactites--those nearest being brown and flesh-coloured. behind them is pure white formation which sets off to great advantage the beautifully-tinted stalactites sparsely scattered about the cave. the other end of the cavern gradually tones off to sombre rocks of grey and brown. at the end of the lady's finger cave is a charming grotto, and, above, the rocks are like fine coral in various shades of red and grey. inside the grotto are stalagmites thick at the base and with elegant stalactites resting on them. some are pure white, and others are covered with fine tracery. in front is a perfect stalactite which descends to within an inch of a perfect stalagmite just underneath it, and aptly illustrates the process of their growth. on the floor are pretty hillocks of somewhat dismal-looking matter which, on close inspection, is seen to be made of coralline figures and sparkling crystal atoms. in the foreground is a fine stalagmite, fitted all over with minute coral. this group, protected by wire netting, is specially interesting because it is unblemished. all round the approaches are little bunches of stalactites like epaulettes. after travelling west about nine yards, ascending five steps, and then proceeding yards north, the tourist arrives at a cave containing a very conspicuous column called "lot's wife." chapter xxiii. lot's wife. the alabaster pillar called "lot's wife" stands in solitary grandeur within a gloomy cave. its sombre surroundings are in harmony with the tragic old-world history recalled by the central figure. the nimble thought skips over ages and ages, and in the "mind's eye" appear the rich plains of siddim and the flowing jordan, and the fugitives and the lava, and the terrible climax. as the biblical record of the catastrophe is supposed to teach the folly of disobedience on the part of wives, and the perils of hankering after doubtful pleasures, the pillar which recalls it may be contemplated with advantage by newly-married couples, now that the caves are becoming a favourite resort of honeymooners. perhaps in time to come there may be religious services and solemnisation of matrimony in these fantastic subterranean caverns. it is related by dr. forwood, that a romantic marriage took place in the gothic chapel of the mammoth cave of kentucky, "which family interference prevented occurring _on_ the earth." he says: "the fair lady, whose lover was opposed by her parents, in a rash moment promised them that she would never marry her betrothed 'on the face of the earth.' afterwards, repenting of her promise, but being unable to retract and unwilling to violate it, she fulfilled her vow to her parents as well as to her lover by marrying him 'under the earth.'" how far the pillar in the caves is like that mentioned in the book of genesis it is impossible to say, because the latter has been neither minutely described nor photographed. josephus, the great historian of the wars and antiquities of the jews, and who was not born until about , years after lot's departure from sodom, says he saw it. his words are: "when lot went away with his two maiden daughters--for those who were betrothed to them were above the thoughts of going, and deemed that god's words were trifling--god then cast a thunderbolt upon the city, and set it on fire with its inhabitants.... but lot's wife continually turning back to view the city as she went from it, and being too nicely inquisitive what would become of it, although god had forbidden her to do so, was changed into a pillar of salt." and, he adds, "for i have seen it, and it remains to this day." it is to be regretted that he did not describe the pillar itself. a century later irenæus bore testimony to the existence of the pillar, and spoke of its lasting so long "with all its members entire." this would lead to the inference that the original pillar retained the shape of a female figure. if it did, then in this respect there is no similarity between the pillar of warning on the dead sea plain and the pillar in the jenolan caves. the latter is a pretty round column, about five feet four inches high, rounded off irregularly at the top, and built up in sections, which show separate growths, like divisions in the stem of a cabbage-tree palm, or the joints of a bamboo. it is probable, therefore, that there is not the slightest resemblance between the two pillars. bishop patrick thinks that some of the storm which overwhelmed the cities of the plain overtook lot's wife, "and falling upon her as she stood staring about, and minded not her way or guide, suddenly wrapped her body in a sheet of nitro-sulphurous matter, which, congealing into a crust as hard as stone, made her appear, they say, as a pillar of salt, her body being candied in it." it is about , years since the disobedient "help-meet" of the oriental squatter was fixed like a fly in amber, as a solemn warning to recalcitrant spouses for all time. had the first drip then fallen on to the mound in the jenolan caves where now stands "lot's wife"? query. the jenolan pillar is evidently of slow growth. each joint, which looks something like fine tallow, may, as the curator facetiously puts it, represent a century of "dripping." in this respect it is unlike the historic pillar whose name it bears. dr. kitto, in his very interesting "daily biblical illustrations," says in reference to the latter: "from the nature of the case, and from the peculiarly bituminous and saline character of the locality through which this phenomenon was produced, we must not expect to discover many parallel instances which might be quoted in illustration. accordingly we find that the illustrative parallels which have been diligently sought out by the old commentators have rarely any real bearing on the subject, being for the most part accounts of people frozen to death and long preserved in that condition uncorrupted in the boreal regions, or else of persons suffocated and then petrified by the mineral vapours of the caves in which they were hid, or otherwise of persons 'turned to stone,' and found generations after standing in the postures wherein they found their death. the only instance we have met with which seems appropriate, and which rests on the authority of a contemporary of fair credit, is related by aventinus, who states that in his time about country people, with their cows and calves, were, in carinthia, destroyed by strong and suffocating saline exhalations which arose out of the earth immediately upon an earthquake in . they were by this reduced to saline statues or pillars, like lot's wife, and the historian tells us that they had been seen by himself and the chancellor of austria." it was, perhaps, some such incident as this which gave to mr. haggard the idea as to how the kukuana people from time immemorial preserved their royal dead. he first of all described twala, the last of the kukuana kings, as in a limestone cave, with his head perched upon his knees and his vertebræ projecting a full inch above the shrunken flesh of the neck. "then," he says, "the whole surface of the body was covered by a thin glassy film caused by the dripping of lime-water. the body was being transformed into a stalactite." the antecedent kings were ranged around a table in this wonderful cave, and the author continues:--"a look at the white forms seated on the stone bench that ran around that ghastly board confirmed this view. they were human forms indeed, or rather had been human forms; now they were stalactites [stalagmites?]. this was the way in which the kukuana people had from time immemorial preserved their royal dead. they petrified them. what the exact system was, if there was any, beyond placing them for a long period of years under the drip, i never discovered; but there they sat, iced over and preserved for ever by the silicious fluid. anything more awe-inspiring than the spectacle of this long line of departed royalties, wrapped in a shroud of ice-like spar, through which the features could be dimly made out (there were of them, the last being ignosi's father), and seated round that inhospitable board, with death himself for a host, it is impossible to imagine. that the practice of thus preserving their kings must have been an ancient one is evident from the number, which, allowing for an average reign of years, would, supposing that every king who reigned was placed here--an improbable thing, as some are sure to have perished in battle far from home--fix the date of its commencement at four and a quarter centuries back. but the colossal death who sits at the head of the board is far older than that, and, unless i am much mistaken, owes his origin to the same artist who designed the three colossi. he was hewn out of a single stalactite [stalagmite?], and, looked at as a work of art, was most admirably conceived and executed." there is nothing suggestive of anything so hideous as this in the jenolan caves. "lot's wife," as she appears there, is as straight down as a "shaker," without the slightest suspicion of artificial "improvement." nor does the pillar correspond with the result of more recent discovery made by an american expedition to the dead sea, and in reference to which dr. kitto says:--"the course of their survey could hardly fail to bring under notice every marked object upon either shore, and one they did find, an obviously natural formation, which--or others in former times like it--might readily be taken by persons unaccustomed to weigh circumstances with the precision we are now accustomed to exact, for the pillar of lot's wife. among the salt mountains of usdum (an apparent transposition of sodom), on the west side of the kind of bay which forms the southern extremity of the dead sea, the party beheld, to their great astonishment, while beating along the shore, a lofty round pillar, standing, apparently detached from the general mass, the head of a deep, narrow, and abrupt chasm. they landed, and proceeded towards this object over a beach of soft slimy mud, encrusted with salt, and at a short distance from the water, covered with saline fragments and flakes of bitumen. the pillar was found to be of solid salt, capped with carbonate of lime, _cylindrical in front_ and _pyramidal behind_." the italics are the doctor's. it is not novel to say that history repeats itself; but it is questionable whether among the fashionable inhabitants of the cities of the plain in the days of lot the modern crinolette was a feminine artifice of that worthless time. according to the koran, lot's wife, waila, was in confederacy with the men of sodom, and used to give them notice when any strangers came to lodge with him "by a sign of smoke by day and of fire by night." in this regard the pillar at jenolan may be regarded as a warning, and not as suggestive of anything, except, perhaps, the lesson conveyed by the apocrypha, in the book of wisdom x. , where there is a reference to lot's wife, "of whose wickedness even to this day the west land that smoketh is a testimony, and plants bearing fruits that never come to ripeness; and the standing pillar of salt is a monument of an unbelieving soul." is it not a pity that so beautiful a column in the most wonderful caves ever made by nature should have been associated with so much that is off-colour? true, it is itself a little crooked and irregular, but these characteristics are accounted for by its peculiar formation. it has not been produced in the ordinary way by drippings from one stalactite, but, contrary to rule, owes its origin and development to two small stalactites in the roof. consequently, its growth has been continually warped. it is, however, a beautiful feature of the imperial cave, and may teach many useful lessons to persons of observation and _nous_. [illustration: the crystal city.] chapter xxiv. the crystal cities--the show-room and the grand stalactites. from "lot's wife" to "the crystal cities" is about yards north, through a hall from to feet high. on the right-hand side is a concrete wall, which rises about inches from the floor, to protect the "cities" from dust raised by the tramping of feet. at the end of this concrete wall is a descent of two steps, which brings visitors in full view of the exquisitely beautiful cave, in which there is a group of dazzling lilliputian cities, whose buildings are of crystallized lime. the streets appear to be thronged with minute figures "---- no bigger than an agate stone on the forefinger of an alderman." the sight recalls the man mountain and the wonderful land of lilliput, upon which lemuel gulliver was cast, where cavalry exercised on the palm of his hand, and infantry marched abreast between his legs, which were stretched out like those of a colossus. imagination can supply the palace of belfaborac in the metropolis of lilliput, surrounded by myriads of tiny statuettes, representing the kingdom in which raged no less than six rebellions, excited by an imperial decree that eggs should be broken only at the smaller end, whereas it had been from time immemorial an article of faith that they should be broken only at the larger end, and notwithstanding that their book of faith and morals required only that all true believers should break their eggs at the "convenient end." there is no evidence in these crystal cities, however, of any rival factions corresponding to the "big-endians" and the "little-endians" of lilliput. the figures are crowded together like masses of people before a hustings or at a cricket match, and the effect is passing strange. they have been formed by water which has been retained for a time in natural basins and then gradually percolated through the floor, possibly to enter into the composition of crystal cities in other sparkling caves. in this respect they resemble the basins previously described. the crystallization formed in still water, or in water which moves only downwards, passing slowly through the floor as through a dripstone, is always characterized by extreme delicacy and elaboration. the contrast between the "lot's wife" crypt and this is as great as the distinction between the dead sea and the garden of eden; between gustave doré's illustrations of purgatory and paradise; between milton's l'allegro and his il penseroso; between the pink and white terraces which until recently were the delight of new zealand tourists, and the eruptive mask of scoria which now covers their charms. in this remarkable cave several distinctive features are presented. the central horizontal line is well defined by an overhanging ledge, from which hang some splendid stalactites. several of them are of extraordinarily large size, elegant form, and delicate colour. one, of pure white, on the left-hand side of the cave, rests on the head of a sturdy stalagmite which has grown from the middle of a mass of rocks, sloping down to the base. a little to the right are two twin stalactites, caricatures of the stretched out scraggy legs of some very-long-cold-and-hungry man, and the most prominent central figures of the ledge are two conical pieces tapering off to fine points, like mammoth icicles. above this ledge the formation of lime on the dark rugged wall and roof resembles fleecy clouds in an angry sky. below, running back into the mountain, are the crystal cities, fenced in with corrugated sparkling walls coped with shell-formation. a little beyond is another wall of a similar kind, also gracefully curved in obedience to natural laws, for nature loves curves and wages perpetual war against straight lines. in the distance are five or six other mural divisions. the central one is gracefully bent like the letter s, but not quite so much rounded at the ends. between the outer wall and the rest is an open pear-shaped space, in which are four small domes and two conspicuous figures. the principal of these is "the queen's statue," a pleasing stalagmitic form of pure alabaster, about inches in height, and standing on a pedestal of white, shading off to brown. it does not require much imaginative power to see in this image a representation of some royal personage clad in ermine robes. the proportions are good, and the pose is exceedingly graceful. near to the queen's statue is another notable stalagmitic object, formed in three sections, indicating periods of rest between. first there is a foundation of white limestone formation. then there is a columnar growth of a few inches, with a distinct joint between it and the base. superposed is a dome-shaped summit, not unlike the back of a human head of that kind which phrenologists call "intellectual;" and between this and the lower portion is another well-defined joint at the nape of the neck. it is peculiar, but not regal, in appearance. the topographical aspect of the crystal cities is something like that presented by a bird's-eye view of a piece of country, in which everything is much foreshortened, as in the case of the katoomba colliery and mining township in the depths of the kanimbla valley, when seen from a cliff , feet overhead. giant eucalypti are dwarfed to the proportions of pot plants. tall tree ferns resemble starfish. stalwart workmen are reduced to pigmies, and the railway seems like the double line at the foot of an account in a ledger. the various walls in the cave are supposed to encompass separate cities. the old english idea of a "city" is an incorporated place, with a cathedral and a bishop. in america all incorporated towns with a mayor and aldermen are spoken of as cities. but modern cities are not walled like those in the caves. the latter accord more with ancient cities which were intramural. for "cities" are ancient. cain built one. walled cities were numerous in the land of canaan. but from the cities of the plain to the apocalyptic city of gold, with foundations garnished with all manner of precious stones, it would be difficult to imagine anything more brilliant and sparkling than the crystal cities of the jenolan caves. passing from the crystal cities to "the show-room," about yards north, several charming features present themselves for admiration, among which are conspicuous a glittering cascade, terraces of warm brown colour, reticulated; and also a pure white, delicately-made shawl hanging from the roof. the height of the crypt is about four feet, and its breadth feet. the floor is mitred at the side, and between the shell borders are little forests of figures. some elegant doric shafts extend from the floor to the roof, which is adorned by many sparkling stalactites. the show-room itself is a marvel of beauty. its name indicates that it is a place of splendid exhibits, and it is appropriate. the cavern is feet high, feet wide, and about yards long. some of its principal features are remarkable for their elegance, and the most striking figure is distinguished by classic grace. it is a stalactite of purest white, seven or eight feet long, and from a little distance seems as smooth and round as though it had been turned in a lathe. it tapers very gradually, and its termination, which is thickened a little, rests on a stalagmite equally symmetrical, but formed in sections, each layer--of which there are about a dozen--indicating separate periods of formation and times of rest. this peculiar stalagmite stands on a dome marked by similar lights and shades. it is the centre of many varieties of cave ornamentation. for the most part the stalagmites are dumpy and poor, but there are numerous shelving platforms hung round with gorgeous stalactites, and above them are pieces of intricate formation, both floral and coral, of different classes of excellence. there are magic haunts and silent chambers with coruscations like twinkling stars on a "moon-deserted night." nature has cast over the whole of this cave a spell of exquisite beauty. [illustration: the show-room.] near to the show-room is the cave of "the grand stalactites." it is only about feet by feet, but its massive grandeur is so impressive that the pleasure it produces is "akin to pain." some of the stalagmites are enormous. their summit is lost in the masses of huge stalactites which depend from the roof, and they rest on beautiful brown terraces and mounds, covered with scintillating reticulation. the elephantine stalagmites, like the stalactites which hang between and about them, and in several instances descend nearly to their base, are of dazzling whiteness. the massive pillars are so close together that the intervening spaces look like columns of jet, and thus we have "buttress and buttress alternately framed of ebon and ivory." the majesty of this cave haunts you. when the magnesium lamp is extinguished and thick darkness once more casts its veil over the magnificent scene, the vision of beauty dwells in the mind like a memory which stirs the depths of the soul. chapter xxv. the fairies' bower. a few paces only from "the show-room" is "the fairies' bower," rich in grotesque lines and mystic crypts, in the purity of the formation which decorates it, and in delicacy of tints and shades. in the midst is a peculiarly-shaped stalactitic pillar resting on a dome, and which may be regarded as the pixies' trysting-place. then there are the "diamond walls," covered with millions of gems, each of which, as it flashes through the gloom, sparkles like "a rich jewel in an ethiop's ear," or, like the very obtrusive french paste "drops" which, on her "sunday out," light up the auricular organs of mary jane. it is noticeable that the walls are not of the formation which is diamantiferous. there is nothing suggestive of the diamond beds on the banks of the ganges, the gem mines of brazil, the rich fields of south africa, or even the more recently-discovered diamond-bearing districts of bingera, mudgee, or new england, in new south wales. there is not any gravel-drift, and the reflected light displays neither diamantine lustre nor play of colours; but, nevertheless, there is great brilliancy. it suggests, however, not so much the glories of the koh-i-noor or the splendours of the orloff, in the russian imperial sceptre, as the glitter of spangles on the dress of the acrobat. the selina cave. north-west from the diamond walls is a gallery to the selina cave. midway, or about yards from the junction at the diamond walls, is "cook's grotto," named after mr. samuel cook, of marrickville. it is a lovely nook, with stalactites of rare purity and beauty. this grotto is about five feet high and from to feet wide. in front is a conical sloping rock with a waxy-looking reticulated surface; and the grotto itself is filled with stalactites as white as the foam of an ocean billow dashed upon the rocks of an iron-bound coast. between two of the principal stalactites is a fine "shawl" or "scarf," made of the purest meerschaum. over the grotto is some pretty formation, and round about are many coloured stalactites, which make a striking contrast. to the left is a splendid alabaster stalagmite, semi-transparent, like camphor, and the little stalactites above, from which it has been formed, are of similar character, being slightly opalescent, and without any stellar reflection of light. the selina cave, yards north of cook's grotto, is about feet high, yards long, and feet wide. it is named in honour of the wife of the hon. e. b. webb, m.l.c., of bathurst, and in recognition of the interest in the caves taken by the webb family from time to time. the walls are heavily laden with ornament. there is on the right hand side a lavish supply of variously-coloured stalactites. a large mass of formation has flowed from the fore part of the ceiling to the left, and assumed all sorts of graceful and fantastic shapes, until it reaches a shell pattern composite dwarf wall on the floor, about a foot thick at the base, and thinning off to about an inch at the top. the best of the stalactites are objects of great curiosity on account of the peculiar way in which they are embellished by small gnarled and twisted projections, and protuberances like miniature stalactitic protea in every conceivable kind of tortuosity. in front of the cave is a magnificent stalagmite called "lot." it is about feet high and two feet in diameter, and may be supposed to represent the patriarch after his capture by the confederate monarchs who made war against the kings of the cities of the plain. it is rather large, but then it is recorded--"there were giants in those days." it is not on record why this particular column is called "lot." perhaps it was thought that the briny tears shed by the son of haran on account of the loss of his wife would be sufficient to make a second pillar of salt of similar dimensions. the roof opening into the cave is adorned with stalactites, and on the floor there are besides "lot" two other remarkable stalagmites, which may be taken to represent members of his family. in shape they are probably quite as representative as noachian figures of mesdames shem, ham, and japhet, that give variety to the contents of those wonderful arks which are supposed to convey to the juvenile mind the principal incidents associated with the deluge. the roof opening into the cave is adorned with splendid stalactites, and among these is a beautiful white "shawl." the floor is composed partly of handsome basins, on the bottom and sides of which is elegant crystallization. in one corner of the roof some rich colouring sets off pure snowflakes done in lime. among the stalactites and stalagmites are some exceedingly grotesque figures. there is also a little tablet, "selina cave, feb. , ." [illustration: the mystery.] the mystery. from the "selina cave" to "the mystery" is about yards north. in the gallery leading to this wondrous cavern may be noticed a number of small testaceous shells resembling those of cockles, embedded in the walls. the cave itself is rightly named, because of the wonder it excites by its sublimity. the spectator is first fascinated by its magnificence, and then puzzled to account for the many peculiarities and eccentricities of form which present themselves. it is an enigma. some of the conformations appear more like the expression of vagrant fancies than the result of inanimate natural forces. florid stalactites and floriferous rocks have become almost commonplace objects, and the visitor by this time is nearly satiated with limestone beauty; but here he finds new marvels written in mystic characters, which can be deciphered only by long and patient study. the cavern is about feet high, from to feet wide, and about yards in length. it consists of two parts. on one side is an immense mass of delicate white and rich cream-coloured formation, with numerous giant stalactites, which in purity rival virgin snow. smaller stalactites in great profusion, are of the most perfect whiteness. but in the midst of the masses of formation are most wonderfully-contorted tubes and threads and thousands of fine lines, some like hairs and others like spun glass. there is filagree work of the most _recherché_ kind. some of the threads are as fine as the filaments of a spider's web, but twisted and turned in a more subtle manner. some of the stalactites are decorated in the same mysterious way, their hirsute covering being partly pellucid and partly opaque. on the other side of the cave is a similar wonder, which still further illustrates the mysterious operations of nature, and shows with what affluence she can adorn, and how fertile are her resources. [illustration: nellie's grotto.] nellie's grotto. about yards north-west from "the mystery" is "nellie's grotto," named in honour of mrs. carruthers, of sydney, who visited the cave shortly after its discovery. this grotto varies from one to five feet in height, and is about feet from end to end. its beauty is bold and striking. its chief features are taken in at a glance, and its general effect is unique. in the foreground on the right hand side is a pillar of great thickness and apparent strength, standing on a gracefully waved and rippled mound. about half of this column is stalagmitic, and was formed at different rates of speed, as may be noticed from its uneven bulk and the shape of the sections which enlarge upwards. each succeeding portion belongs to a separate epoch commencing on a smaller circumference, until it imitates in shape its predecessor; and then the process is again repeated. the stalagmitic part of the pillar ends at about the centre of the column, and is out of the perpendicular, like the leaning tower of pisa. from the shape of the upper section, it seems as though three or four stalactites of about equal thickness, but of various lengths, had been closely cemented together. altogether this pillar is a very bold and beautiful object. at the other end of the grotto are two columns composed in a somewhat similar manner, but of much smaller dimensions. they also rest on blocks of formation, and are surrounded by a number of splendid stalactites, some of which descend half way and others to the base. between these two extremities, there are on the floor about a dozen little cones of white matter like sugar-loaves, but not so smooth. on four of them rest the points of magnificent tapering stalactites, straight from the roof of the grotto, and in a line with these and the two extreme columns are stalactites of various lengths, some plain and some richly ornamented. the interior of the grotto is also enriched with similar kinds of beauty. a little distance away to the left is to be seen on another bold rocky ledge a second series of small stalactites, suggestive of the commencement of another grotto similar to that which now wins so much admiration. there is also a very remarkable stalagmitic formation which resembles a wax candle burning before a shrine of purity. it is with reluctance that the tourist turns from this lovely grotto and wends his way towards "the vestry." he feels as though he could hardly refrain from taking a last fond look, even though he should run the risk of being converted into a limestone pillar. chapter xxvi. the vestry, the jewel casket, the bridal veil, and the flowering column. about yards north of nellie's grotto is "the vestry," a cavern about feet high, feet wide, and feet in length. it is called the vestry, because of its propinquity to some very fine cathedral-like architecture, and not because any minister requires it to robe himself in, or because it is used for the meetings of any parochial assembly. this vestry runs east and west, and there is here a large area of unexplored caves. indeed, it may be said that there are in almost every part of the mountain openings which indicate the possibility of the existence of new and lovely caverns. it is also probable that in process of time it will be found that all the principal chambers are connected by passages which by a little enlargement may make intercavernous communication complete between all the best known caves. that this is likely may be gathered from an incident which occurred a few months ago. there were then at the cave house four black cats, slightly marked with white. on being petted, the playful animals would not only purr their thanks, but also follow like dogs. one day the most venturesome of them went with a party into the lucas cave, and travelled with them a considerable distance before it was missed, and then it was thought that it had returned to the daylight. in the evening, however, it was not in its accustomed place on the hearthrug, and about the middle of the following day it was discovered in the imperial cave on the other side of the grand arch! the attention of the party was attracted by the doleful cries of the animal, which had by that time realised the fact that it had lost itself in a dangerous place. some doubt might have existed as to the identity of the cat found in the imperial with that lost in the lucas cave, had it not been that with the party that took it in were two boys, who had carried it now and then, and permitted its extremities once or twice to come in contact with their lighted tapers. they were able to identify it by "the drips of sperm on its back, its burnt whisker, and the singe on the tip of its tail!" thus a very interesting fact was established which but for the accidental brandings would have been doubtful. the visitor returns to the fairies' bower and the grand stalactites junction; and about yards north-west from the junction he arrives at the crystal palace, which is fenced in by wire-netting in order to protect its marvellous grandeur from that class of sightseers who appear to be unable to look at anything except they can place their unwashed paws upon it--in which case impressions are mutual. there are three distinct types of beauty in this palace--the simple, the compound, and the elaborately complex. the simple forms are extremely massive. to call them "pretty" would be to convey an entirely erroneous idea of their quality. the stalagmitic features are immense. one of them is a gigantic pillar, built up in sections from an enormous basement on a rocky mound, over which it has flowed like milk-white lava. about a foot or so above the crest of the rock it is several feet thick, and at one time its upper surface formed a disc or table. on this flat top was gradually formed another white mass of somewhat smaller proportions, tapering towards the top, or second platform, from which rises another stalagmitic section, expanding from the base, and this process is repeated to the very summit, so that the beautiful white pillar has a serrated appearance. for unsullied whiteness and peculiarity of structure it will bear favourable comparison with the most remarkable pillars in the cave. near to it is another pyramidal-shaped mass of even greater bulk, which tapers as it rises towards the stalactitic formation, and harmonises with it in grandeur. from the right hand side of the base another and smaller stalagmite rears its head, and immediately above it, and to the right of it, are masses of formation hanging like stalactites of various lengths, and bound together in solid but graceful combination. farther still to the right is an immense stalactite, shaped like the body of a kingfish minus its tail. the floor of this part of the palace is also very attractive, by reason of its graceful curves and undulations, and miniature rippled terraces. the more complex part of the palace to the left begins with a magnificent piece of shawl formation, from the lower end of which depends a splendid stalactite. the shawl is draped at an angle of about - / degrees, and in a line with its principal portion the wall is hung with marvellous stalactites, one of which is of great length, and clear as crystal. then there is a cavernous place, from the shades of which emerge rounded masses of white formation, fringed with myriads of stalactites. from behind these the same kind of ornamentation is repeated again and again until a ledge of rocks is reached, which slopes down to a marvellously beautiful stalagmite several feet high, and which rises from the floor immediately underneath the stalactite at the end of the shawl before mentioned. the general impression left by this part of the palace is that its grandeur is different from that which distinguishes other portions of the caves, but it would be as difficult to say in what the peculiarity consists as it would be to describe the general appearance presented by different turns of a kaleidoscope. the most intricate part of the palace is distinctive enough to leave a separate memory. the wall is covered with masses of brilliantly white formation, with stalactites all about them, some short, some long, some tapering like icicles, some straight like pipe-stems; most of them pellucid, and some like iridescent glass. some of the "shawls" are delicately tinted, and present a charming appearance. there are deep brown and delicate fawn-coloured banks, which seem as though they were covered with a stony network. little caves at the sides are partly filled with drifts of glistening snow. some of the ledges are covered with white stucco, with delicate fringes. many of the stalactites are charged with water, and the drops coquette with the light and rival the glitter on the walls. there are stately and elegant shafts of alabaster from floor to ceiling, coloured stalactites and stalagmites nearly meeting. at every glance the eye is pleased with new and curious forms and rich combinations of colour. masses of the formation are fringed with contorted threads and pipes, and on the foreground are some curiously-shaped masses like snow, with delicate frost work and projections like frosted hairs all over their surface. these are for the most part opaque, but the predominant features are crystal. the distance from the crystal palace to the jewel casket is about yards north-west, through a hall about feet high and about feet wide. the casket itself is a horizontal fissure in the rocks, about feet by , filled with brilliants of various hues. its splendour is enchanting. overhanging stalactites guard the casket, and form as it were bars of alabaster, opal and crystal, and through the spaces may be seen many different varieties of crystallization. the floor is carpeted with jewels, set off with sparkling masses like frozen snow. some of the gems are white like diamonds, some coloured like cairngorms, and other varieties of rock crystal of even more delicate tints, and numbers of them are clear and translucent. some of the ornamentation is of a rich brown. the impression produced is that nothing could possibly be more brilliant and entrancing than this rich casket; and yet, remembering how many times previously he has come to the same conclusion and subsequently found he had miscalculated the magnificence still in reserve, the visitor hesitates to accept the jewel casket as the _ne plus ultra_ of cave magnificence. then there is the bridal veil, about feet by feet--a wonderful piece of delicate tracery imitating fine lace--not _écru_, but white as the fairest emblem of a blameless life. here are numerous terraces in deep brown and fawn colour covered with spangles which glitter like broken-up moonbeams on the wavelets of a summer sea or the phosphorescence which, in the wake of a ship, mocks the stars. the flowering column comes next--a huge mass of formation feet high, branching off into all sorts of shapes graceful and grotesque. it is about eight feet wide in the centre, of a rich brown colour shading off to a brighter and lighter hue. this pillar is covered with remarkable little figures like flowers natural and fanciful, and near to it is a series of imitation cascades in regular sequence which simulate so much natural force that they might be taken as an illustration in lime of "how the waters come down at lodore." these cataracts or waterfalls are now for the most part dry; but at one time the supply of liquid or semi-liquid limestone, of which they are formed, must have been very abundant. chapter xxvii. how caves are made--the work of ages. there remain now to be described but four of the caves ordinarily frequented by visitors. these are "the garden palace," "the stalagmite cave," "the gem of the west," and "the fairies' retreat," with "the queen's diamonds." but, as already intimated, it is impossible to foretell what visions of loveliness may be disclosed by future explorations. quite recently the curator has wormed his way into another splendid cave of large dimensions and great beauty. an opening of about eight feet leads to a small chamber feet wide and from four to eight feet high. the floor is pure and sparkling. there are some very pretty stalactites and pieces of formation hanging from the roof, with transparent pipes and straws terminating in little hair-like projections. from this cave there is a passage inches by inches high and then inches high by inches wide, extending about feet, and opening on to a room with a floor of velvet-like coral. as the foot rests on it the sensation resembles that produced by walking on a new brussels carpet, or stepping on a frosted lawn of buffalo grass, which slightly crunches beneath the feet. this cavern is about feet by feet, and from feet to feet high. from it there is a fall of about feet, opening into another chamber, to the left of which is a pretty fimbriated tray, feet by feet, filled with little knobs of formation, with points so sharp that any pressure of the hand would cause pain. these nodes and points are almost as clear and spotless as the drops of a glass chandelier before they have been converted into fly-walks. then there is another tray or basin with looped edges containing crystals which are a little "off colour;" and yet another, with escalloped border and formation of a milky hue--that is, pure milky--opaque white, not cerulean blue. this basin is about feet by feet. the roof immediately over the basin is like delicate coral. to the right is a sort of illusion representing solidified water round about black limestone pebbles. this crystal has been formed by a run of water from a rock, the summit of which is about feet away, and which slopes down from the wall at an angle of about degrees. the sloping rock is beautifully reticulated and marked by curved lines, which gradually diminish towards the base, where the formation changes to nodules and curiously-formed, irregular combinations of the preceding figures massed together. from the ceiling descend various formations of cave decoration, some clear as the skin of a mayfair beauty at her first ball, others of a delicate fawn colour, and the remainder tinged with oxide of iron. there is a range from the delicate lily of the valley to the rough bronze of the muscular navvy, not to speak of the dusky brown of the unwashed sundowner who arrives at a "station" when "the shades of night are falling fast," and whose motto is not "excelsior." the next chamber is about feet by feet, at the end of a slight declivity as white as snow. it is in the form of an ordinary retort, and is succeeded by another chamber of somewhat similar contour, the principal ornamentation being on the floor. thence the course is upwards, and the most attractive formation is from the roof. the stalactites are in clusters, and for the most part small. some of them are like twigs, but clear as a limpid stream. here also are stalagmites about nine inches high, formed on the ends of huge rocks. in addition to these are other smaller stalagmites near to a hole about feet deep, and on the floor are fossil remains. in this hole are passages unexplored. hard by is a pretty "shawl" hanging from the roof, and beyond it a rock about three feet high, the edge of which is covered with a fine substance like down, which, when blown upon, flies about like the winged seeds of thistles. descending from this cavern, about yards through a narrow passage, there is a steep fall of nearly feet, which leads to a chamber, the roof of which is about feet high. on the right hand side of this cave are some very white shawl pattern formations and stalactites, and to the left are fine shawls, clear as glass, from four to eight feet long, and from to inches deep. just beyond is a crisp, velvety floor, like that which characterises a chamber previously described, but not of the same colour. this floor is in some parts very red, as though it had been coloured with clay, and other parts are like glass stained with red ochre. the stalactites are thin, and formed in all sorts of peculiar shapes. the floor is uncommon, being of a piebald character, appearing as though buckets of solution of lime had been cast upon it, in the midst of some large stalactites that give character to the cave, which is about feet by feet. passing on you come to a pretty chamber ornamented with stalactites, composed mostly of yellow crystal. the cave then runs nobody at present knows where. there are unexplored chambers all around. this cave is named after the government geologist, and is to be known as the wilkinson cave. mr. c. s. wilkinson has contributed some valuable matter to cave literature. his account of the jenolan caves, written for the government, contains several beautiful passages bearing upon the physical and chemical agencies at work in the formation of limestone caverns. and here it may be interesting to refer to one or two other authorities also on the same subject. dr. wright, an american scientist, says, "there can be no doubt that the solvent action of water holding carbonic acid in solution" is the primary agency concerned in the formation of limestone caves. "limestone," he says, "is not soluble in water until it combines with an additional proportion of carbonic acid, by which it is transformed into the bicarbonate of lime. in this way the process of excavation is conducted until communication is established with running water, by which the mechanical agency of that fluid is made to assist the chemical. little niches and recesses, which seem to have been chiselled out and polished by artificial means, were formed in this manner; for when these points are strictly examined, a crevice will be observed at the top or at the back of them, through which water issued at the time of their formation, but which has been partially closed by crystals of carbonate of lime or gypsum." dr. wright, referring to the different conditions and different periods of cave formation, says:--"the sulphate of lime, which is known under the name of gypsum, plaster of paris, selenite, alabaster, etc., exerts a much greater influence in disintegrating rock than the sulphate of soda. the avenues in which gypsum occurs are perfectly dry, differing in this respect from those that contain stalactites. when rosettes of alabaster are formed in the same avenue with stalactites, the water which formed the latter has for ages ceased to flow, or they are situated far apart, as the former cannot form in a damp atmosphere." mr. wilkinson also alludes to separate periods of formation in connection with the jenolan caves. he says:--"there appear to have been two distinct periods during which stalactitic growth formed; one of comparatively remote age, and very local in character, being chiefly confined to the caves known as the lurline and bone caves; and another but recent and still in operation. the older growth is essentially of a stalactitic type, and the stalactites are remarkably thick, though in one or two cases a huge stalagmite is to be seen. the newer growth exhibits every fantastic and beautiful form known, from the thin hollow reed and transparent veil to the snow-white dome stalagmites, the crystal-fringed pool, the wave-lined floor, and the crooked-fringed shapes that are turned in all directions." but there is one passage in mr. wilkinson's account which takes us far beyond the time when the limestone mountains were formed, and describes a complete circle of natural transmutation and reproduction, and which may be appropriately quoted in connection with the cave which bears his name. here it is:--"first, the decaying vegetation of some ancient forest is invisibly distilling the gas known as carbonic acid; then a storm of rain falls, clearing the air of the noxious gas, and distributing a thousand streamlets of acid water over the surrounding country, and which, as it drains off, not only wears the rocks it passes over, but dissolves them in minute quantities, especially such as contain much lime, and then, laden with its various compounds, flows off to the distant sea, where reef corals, lying in fringing banks round the coast, are slowly absorbing the lime from the water around them, and building the fragile coatings that protect them during life. slowly as the land sinks the coral bank increases in height, for reef corals can only live near the surface of the water; and soon a considerable thickness has been obtained; while below the upper zone of live corals lies a vast charnel-house of dead coral coverings; then comes a change; suitable temperature, or some other essential condition, fails, killing out all the corals, and through long ages other deposits accumulate over them, gradually crushing and consolidating the coral bank into a firm rock. at last a convulsion of the earth's crust brings it up from the buried depth in which it lies, leaving it tilted on its edge, but still, perhaps, below the surface of the ground; rain, frost, and snow slowly remove what covers it, until it lies exposed again to the sunlight, but so changed that but for the silent but irresistible testimony of the fossil forms of which it is composed, it were hard to believe that this narrow band of hard grey rock was once the huge but fragile coral bank glistening in the bright waters with a thousand hues. and now the process is repeated; the decaying vegetation of the surrounding forest produces the carbonic acid, the rains spread it over the ground, which is now the most favourable for being dissolved, and the consequence is that the acid water saturates itself with the limestone rock, and whenever the least evaporation takes place, has to deposit some of its dissolved carbonate of lime in one of the many stalactitic forms, before it can flow off to the sea and distribute its remaining contents to fresh coral banks. thus the old coral reef melts away far inland, and the lime that formed the coatings of its corals is again utilised for the same purpose. what a simple succession of causes and effects, and yet before the circle is completed long ages of time have come and gone; and what a fine example of the balance between the waste and reproduction that takes place in nature!" and thus the diurnal motion of the earth and its annual journey round the solar circle, as well as the repetitions of history, have impressive geological analogies. how many hearts have begun to beat--how many have throbbed with passion and ambition, and waxed cold as an extinct volcano in the years required to form a small stalactite? how many ages have come and gone since the jenolan caves were coral reefs in the azure sea? chapter xxviii. the garden palace--the stalagmite cave and the gem of the west. the "garden palace," about yards north from the flowering column, is remarkable for the beauty of its proportions and the charming grace of its arches and dome. it has on the left hand side a magnificent stalactite descending from the roof, and coming to a fine point on the top of a stalagmite, which rises a short distance from the floor. there are also many other stalactites and stalagmites of rare proportions. near to it is a fascinating little crypt that can be peered into from a small aperture in the wall of the passage, which is here about feet wide and feet high. this part of the "palace" is about feet by feet inches and about inches high. there is no association about this portion to vividly recall the elegant building which adorned the inner domain, or even the grandeur of its ruins, which the fierce flames could not consume. it is simply a charming little peepshow filled with the most dainty specimens of crystallization, the purest stalactites, and the most elaborate decoration. in front is a stalagmite called the "prince's statue." most of the stalactites are transparent. the stalagmites are white as snow, and some of them sparkle with an external coating like hoar-frost. there are small globular pieces covered with tubular spikes, like those of the echinus, but as fine as the stings of bees or the antennæ of butterflies. in the centre is a little colour of a roseate hue, and the most prevalent forms resemble transparent flowers and plants which rival the skill of the glass-blower, and surpass the most delicate work of the artificer in gold and silver. this crypt is like a dreamland treasure-house filled with spoils of art and fancy. the stalagmite cave and the "gem of the west" are about yards north of the garden palace, through a hall about feet high and feet wide. the stalagmites are magnificent, and the walls are adorned with glittering formation of delicate tracery. there are some fine specimens of stalactites, and the distance between two of them has been carefully measured with a view to accurate observation as regards the rate of future growth. not far from these are some remarkable stalagmites, formed on and about a sugar-loaf-shaped mound. the uppermost one, which appears incomplete--not having yet received its apex--is composed of five sections. another close by is formed of eight or nine sections, and one lower down of about the same number of distinct portions. like some other stalagmites already described, their individual sections represent separate periods of formation and of rest. [illustration: the alabaster column.] one of the most beautiful of the large stalagmites in the caves is the alabaster column. [illustration: the gem of the west.] the "gem of the west" is in every respect worthy of its name. it is one of the most attractive caves in the series, and calls forth expressions of delight the moment it is illuminated by a magnesium lamp. it is carefully protected by wire netting, and retains all its pristine loveliness. it occupies but a small space, being seven or eight feet high by about five feet wide. there is a considerable amount of formation on the roof, extending down the wall to the ledge of a rock, the flat under-surface of which forms the roof of the cave. from it descend numbers of stalactites of various lengths, as clear as crystal. in between these are numerous small glass-like ornaments, and here and there are little rifts filled with a substance like drifted snow and sleet. the stalactites are not all clear; some of them resemble alabaster, and their shapes are very grotesque. many are straight as reeds; some are bulbous, and several are combinations of straight pipe and bulb. a few have grown obliquely, but many of the smaller ones are contorted in the most extraordinary manner. on the other side is a formation like a miniature niagara, with "wild shapes for many a strange comparison," and forms of exquisite beauty. "full many a gem of purest ray serene the dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear." but ocean caves do not contain anything more pure and captivating than the splendours of the gem of the west. chapter xxix. the fairies' retreat. it is about yards north-east from the gem of the west to the fairies' retreat. the passage is from to feet high and from to feet wide, and rather damp. the visitor ascends a short ladder to a rocky ledge, where there is a small opening and a narrow passage, along which he has to wriggle his way in a recumbent posture and with his feet foremost. long before he has reached the immediate entrance to the retreat he begins to think puck has led him a "pretty dance," and he has gained some idea of the least pleasant sensations incident to cave exploration. when he has completed the journey in a doubled-up posture, and is placed in an attitude scarcely less uncomfortable, curved like a boomerang, he feels as though he would give the world to be able to stretch himself. but a slight pressure upwards reminds him of the superincumbent mountain, and so he feels like a prisoner with billions of tons above him and the rocky base below. he begins to grow hot, and would give anything to be in a place capacious enough to enable him to expand and breathe freely. however, the lamp is turned on, and for a moment or two he is lost in admiration of the scene. he might fancy himself sindbad in the diamond valley, or think that the cave-keeper possessed the lamp of aladdin, or that he had come upon enchanted land. this retreat extends s.e. about yards. its entrance is about feet by inches at the embouchure, and it widens a little towards the end. it is about four feet wide and three feet high, and is filled with glittering cave gems and alabaster flowers, and myriads of figures which sparkle with brilliants. but what are the brightest jewels and the choicest flowers to ease of body and mental serenity? many of the fair sex have visited this retreat, carefully tutored and assisted by the curator. it may be appropriately and pleasantly inspected by agile sylphs and dapper little men who affect a contempt for muscular development and insist upon being gauged by dr. watts's standard, but ladies who are massive and gentlemen who are portly and plethoric will, when making their exit, caterpillar fashion, think it very absurd that so splendid a spectacle should have so mean and inconvenient an approach. the queen's diamonds. after seeing the fairies' retreat there remains but one other surprise, and that is "the queen's diamonds." these are in a casket easily accessible, and the opening to which is about three feet wide by one foot high. the jewel case itself is about four feet wide, three feet deep, and feet long. when the light is turned into it the brilliancy of the scene is perfectly dazzling. the prismatic formations are wonderful, and the blaze of magnificence mocks the descriptive power of either pen or pencil. it is "labyrinth of light" which appeals to the imagination with rare force. edgar a. poe worked up an excellent sensation in his story of "the gold bug." the way in which mr. william legrand became possessed of the scarabæus with scales of bright metallic lustre, and of the scrap of paper which contained mysterious directions leading to hidden piratical plunder by kidd, is not more interesting to the general reader than cryptography is to the student. the enthusiastic way in which the curator speaks of this cave and its distance and measurements recalls to memory the exciting incidents connected with the death's-head, the gold bug dropped through its eye-socket, the taping of the distance from the fall of the scarabæus to the hidden wealth, the hurried digging, and the discovery of the buried treasure. "as the rays of the lantern fell within the pit, there flashed upwards a glow and a glare from a confused heap of gold and of jewels that absolutely dazzled our eyes." the feeling produced in that case was exhaustion from excitement; but the sensation caused by a glance at the brilliance of the queen's diamonds is one of intense gratification. it is a most vivid and lustrous spectacle. the crystals are in clusters grouped together like the petals of flowers, and these flower-shaped forms combine with others of a similar kind, and constitute elaborate floral masses. they are much more difficult to decipher than was the cryptography left by the pirate kidd. as brewster puts it, "though the examination of these bodies has been pretty well pursued, we can form at present no adequate idea of the complex and beautiful organization of these apparently simple bodies" of the , or more different crystals known to science, nearly half are composed of carbonate of lime, but "the queen's diamonds" are certainly among the rarest. the crystallized forms in the caves are very numerous. some of them are irregular, on account of the substance not having been sufficiently divided before its deposition, or because of inadequate space or insufficient repose, but for the most part they are regular and perfect of their kind. none, however, are more regularly formed or more pronounced than "the queen's diamonds." it would be difficult to describe their geometric shape. the separate fragments of each cluster vary from about an inch to a fraction thereof. they are like three-sided prisms, tapering to points at the ends. the edges are sharp as knives from the centre to the upper point; but from the centre to the end which is joined to others, the sharp edge is replaced by a smooth surface, as though a cut had been made with a razor. the upper ends of these prisms are clear as glass; the lower ends are a little cloudy. the brilliancy of the combination is marvellous. chapter xxx. general impressions. when the queen of sheba heard of the fame of solomon she went to jerusalem with a great train, with camels that bore spices and large quantities of gold and precious stones, and fully satisfied the curiosity commonly attributed to her sex. she proved the wisdom of the far-famed monarch, admired his house and its appointments, the apparel of his servants, the attendance of his ministers, and the magnificence of his daily table; and, according to josephus, she said: "as for the report, it only attempted to persuade our hearing, but did not so make known the dignity of the things themselves as does the sight of them, and being present among them. i, indeed, who did not believe what was reported by reason of the multitude and grandeur of the things i inquired about, do see them to be much more numerous than they were reported to be." or, as the verdict of "the queen of the south" is given in the authorized version of the old testament, "i believed not the words until i came, and mine eyes had seen it; and, behold, the half was not told me." a similar testimony will be borne by most visitors in regard to the magnificence of the jenolan caves, and "the multitude and grandeur" of the objects which excite surprise or challenge admiration at almost every step. jenolan is a veritable wonderland, as well as a most interesting geological study. it presents features sufficiently sublime to touch the deepest chords of the human heart: forms sufficiently graceful to charm the artist; situations affording novel material for the romancist; configurations, transmutations, and fascinations to move the soul of the poet; and vast, silent cathedrals which inspire a feeling of devotion, for-- "nature, with folded hands, seems there kneeling at her evening prayer." some of the best photographs which have been taken of the most prominent features of the caves give an idea of their grandeur, but it is only a poor one. they convey no impression of their delicate sheen and dazzling beauty, of the gradations of tint and colour; of the mystic crypts and charming contours. a good photograph may aid those who have seen the caves to fill in details, but even to the most imaginative person who has not had the pleasure of a personal inspection it cannot possibly convey anything like an adequate sense of the thousand and one charms which elude both the photographer and the artist. there is as much difference between the pictorial illustration and the reality as there is between a vacant stare and an eye filled with lovelight and sparkling recognition. and the same remark will apply in greater or lesser degree to verbal description. words are altogether too poor, and it may be folly to attempt to describe the indescribably beautiful. among the numerous inscriptions in the cave book, a visitor has given his judgment upon this point very bluntly. he says, without periphrasis or euphemism--"the man who would attempt to describe these caves is a fool." still, these articles as they appeared in the _sydney morning herald_, have at least brought the caves prominently before the public, and perchance in their present form may be of use to future visitors. on leaving the cimmerian gloom of the imperial cave, and emerging into the clear daylight, the sensation is strange, for after being two or three hours entombed in the heart of the limestone mountains, the darkness seems as natural as night. it is joyous, however, to be back again in the sunshine, and to find that-- "there is a tongue in every leaf, a voice in every rill." caves unexplored. and as you glance once more along the limestone mountain ridge you wonder what hidden beauties yet remain to be revealed. to the north from the devil's coach house numerous caves are known to exist, and it is probable that some of them may present features more remarkable than any yet discovered. the creek, which runs quietly along, has on its way some oblique outlets before it sinks into the earth, and recalls, with its surroundings, the pleasure-place of kubla khan,-- "where alf the sacred river ran through caverns measureless to man down to the sunless sea." the first of these caves is very deep, with a steep ascent. the curator has penetrated it to a depth of feet. he was lowered into one shaft feet perpendicular, and found in it a number of interesting bones, which he sent to the museum of the department of mines in sydney. one of them resembled the tusk of a tiger, and was thought to be too large to have been in the jaw of any australian animal extant. the next known cave is called the "glass cave," on account of the transparent beauty of its adornments, which are equal to those of the imperial cave. the third is unexplored, but there is reason to believe that it is very extensive. the fourth, which seems to run southward, is also unexplored. some time ago the curator was lowered into it, a depth of feet, but he has not been able to make any examination of its interior. next is the mammoth cave, so called because of its vast chambers. one of these is estimated to be upwards of feet high, feet long, and feet wide. it contains a large amount of formation, the prettiest portions of which are about feet from the floor. the roof is so high that the magnesium lamp is hardly strong enough to bring it into view. there is a very long and wide chamber leading from this towards the south, with a large number of "drops" of from to feet, many of them unexplored. the length of this chamber is about chains--that is, one-eighth of a mile. from this the curator was lowered into another chamber of vast proportions, and from to feet deeper down, through solid limestone. at the end of its undulating floor he came to a river about six feet wide and nine inches deep, the water of which was running in a strong stream. round about are many little caverns full of bones. the next is the bow cave, to which reference has previously been made. it is a small cavern, and, as has already been explained, there were found in it six bullock bows, together with two harrow pins, and a pair of hinges; supposed to have been "planted" there by mcewan, the bush-ranger, about the year . this cave has about it numerous small drives not yet explored. farther on is a pretty cave, running, with a gentle slope, two or three hundred yards into the mountains, and containing numerous chambers and water-holes. five or six of these chambers only have been explored, and they contain some very handsome stalactites. farther on are two or three other caves, to the entrance of which only the curator has been. above all these caves a strong stream of water sinks suddenly into the ground. it is believed that this feeds the river in the mammoth cave, and afterwards flows into the imperial, and comes to the surface again in camp creek, on the other side of the limestone range, where it bursts up suddenly from between the boulders, as though there were underneath them a broken -inch city water-pipe. on the south side of the grand arch are several known caves. the curator has been lowered about feet into one of small dimensions, with a large chamber from it, containing many sonorous stalactites of large proportions, as well as much elaborate formation. next to this is a cavern called the specimen cave. it is about feet deep, with a large number of bones on the floor, which has been broken away. the fracture shows that it was largely composed of red clay. the broken face is full of bones. this cave would be worth special examination, because it is believed many of the bones belonged to animals which have disappeared from new south wales. farther on is a cave into which, five years ago, the curator was lowered about feet. at a still greater distance, three miles from the cave house, is a cave, with a strong stream of water flowing out of it. that is the farthest limestone visible on this side of the mountain. the stream sinks into the ground at a short distance after it leaves the mouth of the cave. it is believed that this water runs underneath all the caves on the south side into the lucas cave, and is not seen again until it re-appears under "the bridge." the range of limestone rocks seen from the cave house extends north and south five-and-a-half or six miles. at each end water in considerable volume sinks into the earth suddenly and re-appears in caves near the centre of the valley; the northern stream flowing through the imperial cave, and the southern through the lucas cave. both streams come to the surface in camp creek, and chatter away towards the sea. chapter xxxi. conclusion. the journey from sydney to the caves is long and expensive, but the route is interesting all the way. thirty-six miles from the city after crossing the emu plains and the magnificent bridge over the nepean at penrith, feet above sea-level, the train begins to climb the mountain range, and after travelling miles it attains an altitude of , feet. the first zigzag up lapstone hill brings into view a splendid panorama, and, notwithstanding the disregard of railway surveyors for fine scenery when it is placed in the balance against economical construction, there are many glorious glimpses to be obtained from the carriage windows during the journey between sydney and tarana. if the traveller has time to stop _en route_ he will find much to interest him round about lawson and katoomba, blackheath and mount victoria. the great zigzag into the lithgow valley is one of the most remarkable feats of engineering in the world. there is a fall of about yards in five miles of running. even after this sudden descent the country is still very elevated, and at tarana, where it is necessary to take coach for the caves, it is upwards of , feet above the level of the sea. the train which leaves sydney at o'clock in the morning arrives at tarana at . in the afternoon. by coach or buggy from tarana the little agricultural township of oberon--distant about miles--can be approached comfortably the same evening. at oberon there is a well-kept hotel, which reminds one of the best village hostelries in the old country. here it is customary to stay the night. bidding good morning to your host after a moderately early breakfast, you can drive to the door of the cave house just in time for lunch. the road from tarana to oberon is well made and metalled, and with a pair of good horses you can travel at a spanking pace. from oberon to the caves the road is also good, but not so wide as that from tarana to oberon. a considerable portion of it may be described in fact as an excellently kept bush track. the road down the zigzag is, as already mentioned, a trial to the nerves of timid people. it is much too narrow, and ought to be widened by cutting still farther into the mountain side, building up the retaining wall more substantially, and paying greater attention to drainage. a cable tramway would then make the transit easy and pleasant. a light railway to oberon would probably give as good a return as nine-tenths of the mileage on our railways, and if the tramway from there to the caves would not pay immediately it would ultimately create settlement and traffic, and in the meantime be an important factor in increasing the traffic on the miles of railway leading to it from sydney. until a short time ago the caves were completely cut off from rapid communication with the outer world, but now they are in telephonic communication with the telegraph system of the colony. [illustration: coat of arms] [illustration: map section of new south wales, showing the position of jenolan caves.] london: printed by eyre and spottiswoode, _her majesty's printers_, downs park road, hackney. transcriber's notes: bloxland changed to 'blaxland' throughout. such places named after gregory blaxland ( - ), fordwich, kent. wombean changed to 'wombeyan' throughout. coach-house changed to 'coach house' throughout. coodradigbee changed to 'goodradigbee'. page . kunimbla changed to 'kanimbla'. page .