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IT is the design of the publication entitled " Picturesque America " to present full descriptions and elaborate pictorial delineations of the scenery characteristic of all the different parts of our country. The wealth of material for this purpose is almost boundless. It will be admitted that our country abounds with scenery new to the artist's pencil, of a varied char- acter, whether beautiful or grand, or formed of those sharper but no less striking combinations of outline wliich belong to neither of these classes. In the Old World every spot remarkable in these respects has been visited by the artist ; studied and sketched again and again ; observed in sunshine and in the shade of clouds, and regarded from every point of view that may give variety to the delineation. Both those who see in a landscape only what it shows to common eyes, and those whose imagination, like that of Turner, transfigures and glorifies whatever they look at, have made of these places, for the most part, all that could be made of them, until a desire is felt for the elements of natural beauty in new combinations, ifand for regions not yet rifled of all that they can j'ield to the pencil. Art sighs to carry her conquests ■ into new realms. On our continent, and within the limits of our Republic, she finds them — primitive ■l forests, in which the huge trunks of a past generation of trees lie mouldering in the shade of their aged 'J descendants ; mountains and valleys, gorges and rivers, and tracts of sea-coast, which the foot of the 3 artist has never trod ; and glens murmuring with water-falls which his car has never heard. Thousands M of charming nooks arc waiting to yield their beauty to the pencil of the first comer. On the two great j oceans which border our league of States, and in the vast space between them, we find a variety of sce- ^ ncry which no other single country can boast of In othe; jwrts of the globe are a few mountains which J attain a greater altitude than any within our limits, but the mere difference in height adds nothing to the .^i impression made on the spectator. Among our White Mountains, our Catskills, our AUeghanies, our ' Rocky Mountains, and our Sierra Nevada, we have some of the wildest and most beautiful scenery m the world. On our majestic rivers — among the largest on either continent — and on our lakes — the largest and noblest in the world — the country often wears an aspect in which beauty is blended with majesty; and on our prairies and savannas the spectator, surprised at the vastncss of their features, finds himself, notwithstanding the soft and gentle sweep of their outlines, overpowered with a sense of sublimity. By means of the overland communications lately opened between the Atlantic coast and that of the Pacific, we have now easy access to scenery of a most remarkable character. For those who would see Nature in her grandest forms of snow- clad mountain, deep valley, rocky pinnacle, precipice, and chasm, there is no longer any occasion to cross the ocean. A rapid journey by railway over the plains that stretch westward from the Mississippi, brings the tourist into a region of the Rocky Mountains rivalling Switzerland in its scenery of rock piled on rock, up to the region of the clouds. But Switzerland has no Such groves on its mountain-sides, nor has even Libanus, with its ancient cedars, as those which raise the astonishment of the visitor to that Western region — trees of such prodigious height and enormous dimen- Itncnsions that, to attain their present bulk, we might imagine them to have sprouted from the seed at the me of the Trojan War. Another feature of that region is so remarkable as to have enriched our lan- iiage with a new word ; and caitoti, as the Spaniards write it, or canyon, as it is often spelled by our people. IV PREFACE. signifies one of those chasms between perpendicular walls of rock^-chasms of fearful depth and of length like that of a river, reporting of some mighty convulsion of Nature in ages that iiave left no record save in these displacements of the crust of our globe. Nor sliould we overlook in tliis enumeration the scenery of the desert, as it is seen in all its dreariness, not without offering subjects for the pencil, in those tracts of our Western possessions where rains never fill nor springs gush to moisten the soil. When we speak of the scenery in our country rivalling that of Switzerland, we do not mean to imply that it has not a distinct and peculiar aspect. In mountain-scenery Nature dees not repeat her- self any more than in the human countenance. The traveller among the Pyrenees sees at a glance that he is not among the Alps. There is something in the forms and tints by which he is surrounded, and even in the lights which fall upon them, that impresses him with the idea of an essential difference. So, when he journeys among the steeps, and gorges, and fo;intains of Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon, he well perceives that he is neither among the Alps nor the Pyrenees. The precipices wear outlines of their own, the -^JX has its peculiar vegetation the clouds and the sky have their distinct physiognomy. Here, then, is a field for the artist almost without limits. It is no wonder that, with such an abun- dance and diversity of subjects for the pencil of the landr-cape-painter, his art should flourish in our country, and that some of those by whom it is practised should have made themselves illustrious by their works. Amid this great variety, however, and ;r> a territory of such great extent, parts of which are but newly explored and other parts yet unvisited by sketchers, it is certain that no country has within its borders so many beautiful spots altogether unfimiliar to its own people. It is quite safe to assert that a book of American scenery, like " PiCTURliSQUK AMERICA," will lay before American readers more scenes entirely new to them than a similar book on Europe. Paintings, engravings, and photographs, have made us all, even those who have never seen them, well acquainted with the banks of the Hudson, with Niagara, and with the wonderful valley of the Yosemite ; but there are innumerable places which lie out of the usual path of our artists and tourists ; and many strange, picturesque, and charming scenes, sought out in these secluded spots, will, for the first time, become familiar to the general public through these pages. It is the purpose of the work to illustrate with greater fulness, and with superior excel- lence, so far as art is concerned, the places which attract curiosity by their interesting associations, and, at the same time, to challenge the admiration of the public for many of the glorious scenes which lie in the by-ways of travel. Nor is the plan of the work confined to the natural beauties of our country. It includes, moreover, the various aspects impressed on it by civilization. It will give views of our cities and towns, character- istic scenes of human activity on our rivers and lakes, and will often associate with the places delineated, whatever of American life and' habits may possess the picturesque element. The descriptions which form the letter- press of this woi-k are necessarily from different pens, since they were to be obtained from those who had personally some knowledge of the places described. As for the illustrations, they were made in almost every instance by artists sent by the publishers for the purpose. Photographs, however accurate, lack the spirit and personal quality which the accomplished painter or draughtsman infuses into h.s work. The engravings here presented may with reason claim for " Picturesque America." in addition to the fidelity of the delineations, that they possess spirit, tinimation, and beauty, which give to the work of the artist a value higher than could be derived from mere topographical accuracy. The letter-press has passed under my revision, but to the zeal and diligence of Mr. Oliver B. Buncc, who has made the getting up of this work a labor of love, the credit of obtaining the descriptions from different quarters is due. To his well-instructed taste also the pubhc will owe what constitutes the prin- cipal value of the work, the selection of subjects, the employment of skilful artists, and the general ar- rangement of the contents. William Cullen Bryant. :h and of length ; no record save tion the scenery 1, in those tracts lo not mean to not repeat her- t a glance that iiirroiinded, and difference. So, ebanon, he wcl! utlincs of their jnoniy. such an abun- flourish in our istrious by their s of which are y has within its assert that a 1 readers more d photographs, of the Hudson, e places which iiarming scenes, public through superior excel- Bociations, and, les which lie in ides, moreover, wns, character- ices delineated, ent pens, since described. As Dlishers for the e accomplished 1 reason claim ' possess spirit, e derived from •liver B. Bunce, ascriptions from litutes the prin- :hc general ar- N Bryant. CONTENTS, VOLUME FIRST. SUBJF.CT. ON THE COAST OF MAINE. ST. JOHN'S ANU OCKLAWAHA RIVERS, FLORIDA. UP AND DOWN THE COr.UMBIA. LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN AND THE TENNES SEE. RICHMOND, SCENIC AND HISTORIC. NATURAL BRIDGE, VIRGINIA. [DELAWARE WATER-GAP. fMAUCH CHUNK. ON THE SAVANNAH. I THE FRENCH BROAD. JTHE WHITE MOUNTAINS. pEVERSINK HIGHLANDS. 1ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA. ICHARLESTON AND ITS SUBURBS. IWEYKR'S CAVE, VIRGINIA. [scenes ON THE BRANDY WINE. :UMBERLAND GAP. fWATKINS GLEN. |SCENES IN EASTERN LONG ISLAND. THE LOWER MISSISSIPPI. iIACKINAC. ?UR GREAT NATIONAL PARK. » AUTHOR. ARTIST. PAGE 0. B. BUNCE. Ifarry Fcnn. I /ERS ' > T. B. Thorpk. Harry J'liiii. '7 L. J. G. RUNKLK. A'. Swain GiffbrJ. 31 VNEJ ' I 0. B. Bu\-CE. Harry Fcnn. Ss J. R. Tho.mpson. Harry Fcnn, 70 John Estf.n Cooke. Harry Fcnn. 83 J. E. RlNGWAI.T. Gr-anvillc Pc- s. 89 0. 'i. BUNCi. Harry Fciiu. 109 • W. V. Thompson. Harry I'cnn. "5 I". G. DE Fontaine. Harry Fcnn. '32 Susan N. Carteu. Harry Fcnn. 150 0. B. Bunce. Granville Perkins. '73 Robert Carter. Harry Fcnn. ■S3 0. B. Bunce. Harry Fcnn. 198 Sallie a. Brock. Harry Fcnn. 212 0. B. Bunce. Granville Pcriins. 220 F. G. i)e Fontaine. Harry Fcnn. 232 O. B. Bunce. Ifarry Fcnn. 238 0. B. Bunce. Harry Fan. 248 T. B. Thorpe. .t/frct R. IVami. 262 Constance F. Woolson. J. 1\ Woodward. 279 0. B. BuNc;. Harry Fcnn. 292 i VI CONTENTS, VOLUME FIRST. ! I SUBJECT. HARPER'S FERRY. SCENES IN VIRGINIA. NEWPORT. WEST VIRGINIA. LAKE SUPERIOR. NORTHERN CALIFORNIA. NIAGARA. TRENTON FALLS. THE YOSEMITE FALLS PROVIDENCE AND VICINITY. SOUTH SHORE OF LAKE ERIE. ON THE COAST OF C'ALU ORNIA. AUTHOR. ARTIST. page J. C. Cappentf.r. Granville Perkins. 317 G. W. Bagby. IV. /.. Shcppard. 337 T. M. Clarke. C. GriswoM, and othcrr. 358 D. H. Strother. IV. L. Skeppard. 377 Constance F. Woolson. William Hart. 393 R. E. Garczynski. R. Swain Gijford. 412 R. E. Garczynski. Harry Finn. 432 R. E. Garczynski. Harry Fcnn. 452 James D. Smill.:. James D. Smillie. 465 T. M. Clarke. W. H. Gibson. 496 Constance F. Woolson. J. D. IVt'od-uard. 510 R. E. Garczynski. R. Swain Gifford. 550 PAGE I'itis. 317 ard. 337 and others. 358 ard. 377 t. 393 fford. 4<2 432 «2 tilHr. 465 II. 496 mrd. 510 ffi>rd. 550 LIST OF ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL, VOLUME FIKST. Sl'DJECT NIAGARA. CASCADE IN VIRGINIA. MOUNT DESERT, COAST OF MAINE. ON THE COAST OK FLOR'DA. MOUNT HOOD, FROM COLUMBIA RIVER. RICHMOND. FROM THE JAMES. ''•' DELAWARE WATER-GAP. SMOKY MOUNTAINS, EASTERN TENNESSEE. MOUNT WASHINGTON ROAD. THE HIGHLANDS OF THE NEVERSINK. L CUMBERLAND GAP. CITY OF MOW ORLEANS. lui'l'ER FALLS OF THE YELLOWSTONE. hiAKPFK'S FKKKY, UY MOONLKHIT. hui; CHICKAHOMINY. [liAl'IISM BAY, LAKE SUPERIOR. MOUNT SHASTA. ^IIKROR LAKE, VOSEMIt:: VALLEY. "ITY OF PROVIDENCE. AHTISr. KNGRAVrR FACE TAGC. Harrv Ffnn. -V. V. Hunt. Frontispiece. Harrv Fenn. R. lliHshelwood. ntu -page. Harry Fenn. A'. Hiiishehuood. F CE I Harrv Fenn. K. HiiisliA-wcod. 17 R. Swain Gifforp. R. Hinshdwood. 49 Harrv Fenn. A'. liin.^hcl'WOiid. 73 Oanvii.i.e Perkins. A'. IlinsliduH'fd. 9« Homer Martin. A'. Ilinsheluvod. '32 Harry Finn. S. i: l/nnt. >5' Granvilie Perkins. /('. Wflhtood. 176 Harrv Fenn. .v. /'. Hunt. -^ss Alfrfii R. Waud. P. (i. Tlionifison. 565 Thomas Moran. S. V. Hunt. 297 C.ranviii'. Perkins. K. Hinshihcood. 328 W. L. .SheI'CARIi. W Wtnuood. 357 William Hart, R. IlinsktlwooJ. 393 James D. Smimie I'.. /'. Ht.indiird. 424 Harrv Fenn. S. i: /funl. 465 A. C. Warren. R. J/iHsAt,wik>d. 496 --^°"'-'- -■ <._ tV M vm .L/Sr OF ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL. SUBJECT. INDIAN ROCK, NARRAGANSETT. CITY OF BUFFALO. CITY OF CLEVELAND. CITY OF DETROIT. THE GOLDEN GATE. ARTIST. engraver. face page. A. S. Hazeltine. 5. V. Hum. 509 A. C. Warren. W. n'eUstood. 520 /,. C. Warren. R. Hinshelwood. 529 A. C. Warren. R. Hinshelwood. 545 James D. Smillie. E. P. Brandard. 560 ./ FACE PAGE. 509 $20 529 545 560 <^ ■r;-:* V \. - ft. ^.4 ,'i?'; •-4*', m^' 17° !•;! • 1 1 t ■*" 1 1 % X ^ PICTURESQUE AMERICA. Caslle Mead, Mcniiil Desert. ON THF. COAST OF MAINE WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IIV 1L\KKV KENN. T^llI'^ island of Mount Desert, on the coast of Maine, unites a striivinfj fri-ouj) of pictu- rcscjue features. It is surrounded by seas, crowned with mountains, and emhosoined nil lakes I*..-, shores are i)old and rocky cliffs, upon which the breakers for countless cen- jrics have wrought tiieir ceaseless attrition. It affords the only instance alonp our Atlantic Qusi where mountains stand in close neijihborhood to the sea; here in one picture are 1 f ill — ■ ■■ iir ia— aan PICTURESQUE AMERICA. beetling cliffs with the roar of restless breakers, far stretches of bay dotted with green islands, | placid mountain -lakes mirroring the mountain -precipices that tower above them, rugged I gorges clothed with primitive forests, and sheltered coves where the sea-waves ripple on the | shcllv beach. Upon the shores are masses of cyclopean rocks iicaped one upon another I in titanic disorder, and strange caverns of marvellous beauty ; on the mountains are fright- | ful precipices, wonderful prospects of far-extending sea, and mazes of land and water, and ; magnihcent forests of fir and spruce. It is a union of all these supreme fascinations of | scenery, such as Nature, munificent as she is, rarely affords. | Mount Desert is situated one hundred and ten miles east of Portland, in Frenchman's I Bay, wliicii stretches on the eastern and western sides of the island in a wide expanse, but | narrows at the upper or northern end, where a bridge establishes permanent connection with \ the main-land. The greatest length of th" island is fourteen miles, and its extreme width | eight, the area being a hundred square miles. Nearly midway it is pierced l)y an inlet of the \ sea known as Somes's Sound, which is seven miles in length. It includes three townshijis, Tremont, Mount Desert, and Eden, and possesses several harbors, the best known of which are Southwest, Northeast, and Bar Harbor. The latter is on the eastern siiore, oj)posite the '-, Porcupine Islands, and derives its name from a sandy bar, visible only at low water, which connects Mount Desert with the largest and northernmost of tlie Porcupine group. Tlu village at this hari)or is known by the name of East Eden, and here tourists and summer ^ visitors princi[)ally al)ide. The mountains arc upon the soutiiern half of the island, and lie 'I in seven ridges, running nearly north and south. There are thirteen distinct peaks, tlie I highest of which is known as Green Mountain ; and tlie next, which is .separated from 1 Green Mountain by a dee|), narrow gorge, is called Newi)ort. The western sides of the 1 range slope gradually upward to the summits, but on the east all of them descend bv steep |)recipices, four of them into lakes and one into Somes's Sound. The best view of the mountains is from the sea. The steamer from Portland, which lands at Bar Harbor twice a week, approaches the island at noonday, when the landsc;!|ie, under the direct rays of the sun, possesses the least charm, ihit no oilier situation affords so fine a command of the range, although, from this view, tlie rocks and cliffs of the slioiv lying under the shadows of tlie mountains, appear to have but little magnitude or pictures{|iK value. If it so chance, as it did with tlie writer, that tlelays bring the steamer along the coast when the sun is sinking behind the hills, a picture of singular beauty is i)resented. Thi mountains then lift in gloomy grandeur against the light of the weste/n sky, and, with ihi -. movement of the steamer, break every moment into new combinations of rare beautv. Nnu they lie massed, one against another, in long, undulating lines, now open into distinct groupv now Green Mountain fronts the sea with all its stem majesty, now Newport rises apparent K from the very water's edge in one abrupt cliff a thousand feel in height. It is a dissolvin;; view that for an hour or more presents a su|terb succession of scenic efifects, which tl spectator watches with entrancing interest, until he discovers the steamer gliding by green :1 ON THE COAST OF MAINE. green islands, them, rugged ripple on tlic upon another ins are friglit- id water, and ascinations of 1 iMenchman's e expanse, but jnnection willi extreme width an inlet of the iree townships, lown of whieli c, opposite tiic w water, whieli le group. The ts and sunimn 3 island, and lie inct peaks, tlu separated from rn sides of the m descend hv 'ortland, wliich tlie landsciipe, situation affords s of the sliorc, or picturcsciuc along the coast resented. The and, with tiie beauty. Now istinet groups; ises apiiarenllv is a dissolving ■cts, which tin' iiiing by green s islands and amid fleets of gayly-bannered yachts on its approach to the shore. The village of East Eden, while possessing a charming lookout over the bay, is without one feature of beauty. It is built upon a treeless plain, and consists for the most part of a group of small white houses, rajiidly extemporized for the accommodation of summer boarders. Every structure, with the exception of a few cottages erected by wealthy gentlemen of Boston, stands with- out trees, garden, or other pleasant sur- roundings. The place is as conspicuously inexact in its cognomen as the island it- self is ; one wonders whether the notion of naming places by their contraries is a legitimate Down-East institution. In re- gard to the name of the island, an attempt is made to escape the inconsistency of the appellation by shifting the accent from the first to the last syllable. The primary mean- ing of the designation, however, requires the accentuation on the first syllable. It was named by the F"rench, who were the dis- coverers of this coast, " Mont Dcfsert," as ex])rcssive of the wild and savage aspects of the mountains and cliffs that front the sea. Two purposes of special interest fill the mind of the visitor as soon as he finds himself satisfactorily domiciled at East Eden. One is, to explore the long series of rocks and cliffs on the shore ; the oth- er, to ascend Green Mountain, and enjoy the superb view from its " thunder-smitten brow." These respects to the scenery of the islanci having been paid, his subsequent pur- pose is likely tq be fishing and boating. He will be anxious to try his hand at the 4 PICTURF.SQU]- AMERICA. splendid trout with whicii tiic lakes are said to abound, and to go far down the bay for catches of cod and haddock, which here are of large dimensions and in great abun- dance. The bays, inlets, and sounds of the coast of Maine afford superb resources for the yachtman. The coast seems to have crumbled off from the main-land in innumer- able islands, large and small, so that there is a vast area of inland-sea navigaticm, whicli, with infinite variety of scene, gives ample space for boating. A yachting-party might spend a summer delightfully in threading the mazes of this "hundred-harbored Maine," as VVhittier describes it. Abandoning the pleasant vision of such a summer, let us for the present remember that our special object is to visit and depict the scenery of Mount Desert. The several points along the coast to which the visitor's attention is directed are the cliffs known as " The Ovens," which lie some six or seven miles up the bay ; and " Schooner jN-fO-, ..^ J ' View of iMount-Desert iMountains frum Saulsbury-Cove Road. Head," "Great Head," and "Otter-Creek Cliffs," lying on the seaward shores of the islan.l. It will fall more duly in order to proceed first to "The Ovens," which may be reached In boat or by a pleasant drive of seven or eight miles. With a one-armed veteran for an escort, Mr. Fenn and the writer set forth for :i scene where we were promised many charming ciiaracteristios for pen and pencil. It was necessary to time our visit to "The Ovens" — the nomenclature of Mount Desert is pain- fully out of harmony with the scenes it verbally lii)els — so as to reach the beach at low tide. The cliffs can be approached only by boat at high tide, and the picture at tiiis juncture loses some of its pleasing features. The Mount-Desert roads for the most part are in good condition, and have many at- tractions. Tiic forests are crowded with evergreens, and the firs and the spruce-trees mar- shal in such array on the. hill-sides that, witii their slender, spear-like tops, they look like armies of lancers. The landscape borrows from these evergreens an Alpine tone, which \vn the bay I great abun- resources for in innumc'i- jation, which, r-party might )ored Maine," or, let us for .■ry of Mount -| ■ected are the nd " Schooner of the island, be reached 'nv t forili for 11 lencil. It was desert is pain- bcacli at low ticture at tliis have many at- uce-trees mar- hey look like le tone, which THE CLIFFS NEAH "THE OVENS,' PICTURESQUE AMERICA. 'I: groups of pedestrians for the mountains, armed with alpenstocks, notably enhance. The fir, spruce, pine, and arhor-vitae, attain splendid proportions ; the slender larch is in places alsj abundant, and a few sturdy hemlocks now and then vary the i)icture. The forest- scenes are, many of them, of singular beauty, and in our long drives about the island we discovered many a strongly-marked forest-group. At one point on our drive to "The Ovens," the road, as it ascends a hill near Sauls- bury Cove, commands a fine, distant view of the mountains, which Mr Fenn rapidly sketched. Clouds of fog were drifting along their tops, now obscuring and now reveal- ing them, and adding often a vagueness and mystery to their forms which lent them an additional charm. The cliffs at "The Ovens" contrast happily with the rocks on the sea-front of the island in possessing a delicious (piiet and repose. Tiie waters ripple calmly at their feet, and only when winds are high do the waves chafe and fret at the rocks. Here the perpen- dicular pile of rock is crowned by growths of trees that ascend in exact line with the wall, easting their shadows on the beach below. Grass and flowers overhang the edge ; at points in the wall of rock, tufts of grass and nodding harebells grow, forming pleasant pictu;-es in contrast with the many-tinted rocks, in the crevices of which their roots have found nourishment. The whole effect of the scene here is one of delicious charm. The wide and sunny bay, the boats that glide softly and swiftly ujron its surface, the peaceful shores, the cliff crowned wich its green forest, make up a picture of great sweetness and beauty. " The Ovens " are cavities worn by the tides in the rock. Some are only slight excavations, such as those shown in Mr. Fenn's drawing, but a little northward of the spot are caves of a magnitude sufiicient to hold thirty or forty people. The rocks are mainly of l)ink feldspar, but within the caves the sea has painted them in various tints of rare beauty, such as would delight the eye and tax the skill and patience of a painter to reproduce. The shores here, indeed, supply almost exhaustless material for the sketch-book of the artist. To this spot, at hours when the tide permits, pleasure-seekers come in great numbers. It is a favorite picnic-ground for the suinmer residents at East Eden, whose graceful pleasure- boats give animation to the picture. The visitors picnic in the caves, pass through the arch- way of a projecting cliff, which some designate as " \'ia Mala," wander through the forests that crown the cliffs, pluck the wild-roses and harebells that overhang the precipice, and roam up and down the beach in search of the strange creatures of the sea that on these rocky sho-es abound. Star-fishes, anemones, sea-urchins, and other strange and beautiful forms of marine life, make grand aquaria of the caves all along the coast, and add a marked relish to the enjoyment of the explorer. From the quiet beauty of " The Ovens " to the turbulence of the seaward shore there is a notable change. Our next point visited was " Schooner Head," which lies four or five miles southward from East F^den, and looks out on the wide Atlantic. " Schooner Head" is so named from the fancy that a mass of white rock on its sea-face, viewed at a proper distance. m ON THE COAST OF MAINE. hancc. The I is in places The forest- iit the ishind II near Sauls- Fcnn rapidl) I now reveal- lent them an i-front of the at their feet, re the pcrpen- with the wall, the edge ; at minpreciat ion rather than the accuracy of the delineation. Tlic shores oi Mount Desert must be studied with this appreciation and taste, if their beauties described, and ir spray far up xtrcme grand- nous opening openinjT at tlie e is inspiritin<; vonders if they t subdued roar n of what their nselves ae in it slumlil lineation. Tin if their beaulio ^ > ^:.' K i THE "9HOUTIN11 HOHN ' IN \ MIDHM « Ill lO PICTURESQUE AMERICA are to be understood. No indifferent half glance will suffice. Go to the edge of the clilTs and look down ; go below, where they lift in tall escarpments above you ; sit in the shadows of their massive presence ; study the infinite variety of form, texture, and color, and learn to read all the different phases of sentiment their scarred fronts have to express. When all this is done, be assured you will discover that " sermons in stones " was not a mere fancv of the poet. Ore of the characteristics of Mount Desert is the abundunce of fog. In July and August especially it seriously interferes with the pleasure of the lourist. It often happen'; that, for several days in succession, mountain, headland, and sea, are wrapped in an impene- trable mist, and all the charms of the landscape obscured. But the fog has frequenth a grace and charm of its own. There are days when it lies in impenetrable banks far out at sea, with occasional incursion' upon the shore that are full of interest. At one houi the sun is shining, when all at once the mist may be discerned creeping in ovr the sur face of the water, ascending in rapid drifts the sides of the mountains, enveloping one by one the islands of the bay, until the whole landscape is blotted from vii'v. In another! hour it is broken ; tlie mountains pierce the shadowy veil, the islands reappear in the bay, and the landscape glows once more in the sunshine. It Is a raie pleasure to sit on tht -ocky headlands, on the seaward side of the island, on a day when the fog and sun eon- tend for supremacy, and watch the pictures that the fog makes and unmakes. vSometinn- the fog skirts along the base of the islands in the bay, leaving a long, slender line di tree-tops painted against the blue ether, looking like forests hung in the sky. Then a m- sel may be seen sailing through a fog-bank, now looking like a shadowy ghost (loaiiiu through the mist, when suddenly its topsails flash in the light, like the white wings nl huge bird. In another moment the fog shifts, and the under edge of the mainsail nr be traced in a line of silver, while al! the rest of the vessel is in tlie deepest shadow] Now one sail glitters a l)riiliant white, and the fog envelops all the rest of the V(ss(l The pictures thus formed vary like a succession of dissolving views, and often jiroduce tin! most striking and uni(|ue effects. Sometimes there is the marvellous exiiil>ition ol mirage, when fleets appear sailing through the air, and, as described by W'iiittier— H it " Soiiictimos, in calms of dosiriR day, They w.itchcil the spcclral mirage play ; Saw Inw, f;ir islands. Innmint; tall and hi);''. And ships, with upturned keels, sail like a S' a the sky." The fog-|)ictures at Mount Desert are by no means the least interesting feature of i' strange shore. Near a small stream, known as "Otter (.'reek," deriving its name frcim the otter wliiill once al)ounded there, are a succession of cliffs, wiiieh possess characteristics (juitc distind from those already described. They arc more remote from (he village than " Schoonej ON THE COAST OF MAINE. 1 1 Ige of the cliffs in the shadows ur, and learn to j ress. When all ] )t a mere fancy r. In July and t often happens] 1 in an impene- has frequently a Ic banks far out) At one houii in ov'T the sur- velopinp; one by| 'v. In anotki' ipear in the bay, ire to ;;it on tin )g and sun con- kes. Sometinu^ slender line of iky. Then a vi"- y ghost tloalini;^ .vhite wings of he mainsail nw; deepest shadow; st of the vtssclj )flen produce tl exiiiliition t'f 'Inttier — lead" or "Great Head," but the drive to them derives great interest from the wild and row notch betwe;>n Green and Newport Mountains, thrrugli which the road lies for a or two. The sides of the mountains are high, precipitous, and savagely rugged. The f)wer base of each is covered with a thick and tangled forest-growtli ; half-way up, a few iirled and fantastic growths struggle for place amid the scarred and frowning rocks, rhunder Cave. i feature of lli in the otter v l"i| lies (juite di^iin' tlian " Seht"iiu Ilk' the uf)per heights show only the bare, seamed, and riven escarpments. It is a wild CI lire, inlcriur, MO doubt, to the famous Notch of the White Mountains, but possessing. twithstanding. very strong and impressive features. At "Otter-Creek ClitTs" we set out in search of what is known as Thunder Cave." jftM leaving our vehicL-, we had a long but supe.L forest-walk to reach it. There are iHTous fine birches on Mount Desert, and more than jnce we saw groups of these trees 12 PTCTURESQUE AMERICA. \m that would have filled any aitist with delight, and especially the painter VVhittredge, whose I birch-forests are so famous. Near Great Head are numerous splendid specimens of this tree, whose iiark, of yellow, Indian red, and gray, afforded delicious contrasts of color. On I the path to Thunder Cave we noted one forest-picture that comes vividly back to mem- ory. The trees were n>ostly evergreen, and the surface of the ground covered with out- 1 cropping rocks and tangled roots, all richly covered with mosses. The broken light through the dark branches, the tint of the fallen piue-leaves, the many-colored mosses which painted every rock in infinite variety of hue, the low, green branches of the fir and] the spruce, all made up a picture of ripe and singular beauty. Thunder Cave proved to be long, low galler)', running inward amid a great mass of wild, tunil)led, and distorted rocks. Up through the gallery the waves rushed with eager impetuosity, and dashed against tli hollow cavity within with a crasi which, as it reverberated among the overhanging rocks, closely resembled thunder. In fair weatlier the sound is apparent only when near, but w were assured that in great storms it iiad been heard distinctly for the dis- tance of seven miles. Tiie sound, which might well be mistaken for thun- der, has all the greater resemblance on account of a j)e- culiarity wiiich Mr, Fenn detect- ed while making his sk'-tc!). Piled up within tlie cavc at the end of the galler)' are a great number of large stones, var)ing from one to probably three feet in length.' ,,„ „i«Utk. ■**»*: ON THE COAST OF MAINE. 13 ittredgc, whost :cimcns of this j of color. ( )n | back to mem- 1 ered with out- broken \\\i\\\. I colored mosses of the fir and fM ^y r ^nd of corresponding thickness. Every time the waves dash into the cave, they dislodge ^ome of these stones, sometimes dragging them back, sometimes lifting them up and toss- ig them against the sides of the cavity, and. as these bowlders thus roll and grind to- rether, they produce in the hollow of the cavern almost the exact mutterings and rcvcr- [)erations of thunder. The crash of the breakers against the wall is the clap of thunder; |he rolling stones carry off the sound in its successive reverberations, making the resem- blance complete. Near Thunder Cave we discovered a natural obelisk. The woodland path at one )int reaches the edge of a wide, precipitous break in the cliff. Forcing our way through [jgled wood-growth to obtain a view of the cliff, we saw, situated directly under the ink, where the tourist oidinarily would not detect it, a tall, pointed column, with an jparently artificial base of steps, bearing a close semblance to a monumeiit of stone. lis singular freak of Nature the reader will find illustrated by Mr. Fenn's pencil. Returning to our point of deparrure, we proceeded westward in search of other :liffs, ^here we made another discovery. The path lay along the top of the cliff, but, coming a dislo'Jgemcnt of the perpendicular wall, where some convulsion had thrown down the |iff into a wild mass of rocks, we with no little difficulty clambered down the broken id jagged pile, with the purpose of getting from below a view of the cliffs. Fortu- itelv, tlie tide was low ; and this, the tourist should remember, is necessary, when he arranges his visits to the shores of Mount Desert. There is more animation when the Ide is coming, in, l)ut high water cuts off access to many interesting ptjints. Reaching wet, barnacle-covered, projecting line of rocks, a picture presented itself that filled l)ol!i tist and penman with surprise. " Why, this is an old Norman castle ! " was our e.xcla- [lation. The cliff, a little distant from our poim of view, stood up in perpendicular les of rock that assumed almost exactly the form of battlements. The upper line jsely reseml)led the parapet of a castle-wall; there were in the sides deep embrasures; |ld the whole front had the aspect of a dark, broken, time-stained wall reared by the |md of man. It stood in grim and gloomy grandeur, fronting the sea in stern defiance the world beyond. The waves chafed at its fen; wild sea-birds ho'vred a- t)ut its est ; there was an air of neglect and desolation, as if it wimc an old ruin, and we Juiid it impossible to dissociate the grim and frowning walls from tiie historic |)iles that )k darkly down upon so many I^uropean landscapes. iMuding afterward thi'.t the cliff known by no name, we called it "Castle Head." The path followed by the cus- |niary visitor extends along the cliff above this strange pile, and hence its peculiarities Ciipe the notice of all except those who boldly clamber down the broken wall just Jie it is reached, and survey it from the water's edge. Tiie illustration of this striking le is at the beginning of our article. The interest of Mount Desert, as we have already s^kI, is divided between its sea- Fs and its mountain-views. It is customary for pedestrian parties to form at East 14 PICTURESQUE AMERICA. Eden and walk to the mountain-top, and there remain overnifrjit, in order to view the sunrise from this altitude. A cottage, originally l)iiilt by the United Stutes Coast Survey, stanils on the extreme top of the mountain, arc! affords satisfactory accommodation for the tourists. A rude mountain-road, constructed by the Survey, enables vehicles to ascend to the cottage ; but |)leasure-parties commonly jirefer the ascent on foot. The distance from the village is four miles. The height of the mountain is seventeen hundred and sixty-two feet. The sunrise is a magnificent picture, but the prevalence of fogs is a continual cause of disappointment to people, who travel far and rise early often only to behold a sea of impenetrable mist. The prospect, however, whenever the fog permits it, is a splendid one at all hours, and possesses a variety and character quite distinct from the views usually obtained from mountain-heights. Here there is not only a superb panorama of Kaylc 1 .akc hills and vales, but a grand stretch of sea, and intricate net-works of bay and islands which make u|) a picture marvellous'y varied both in form and color. One of the most delightful features of the scene thus presented are the mountain- lakes that hang like superb mirrors midway in the scene. " Eagle Lake," so named In' Church the artist, is visible at intervals during the entire ascent of the mountain, and at every point of view is beautiful. llalf-way up, a short dHour from the road will briiii; th tourist to its pebbly shore, where he may spend an hour or more watching its clear, mountain-encircled waters, or devote his entire day in pursuit of the trout with which it abounds. The largest lake in the island is on the western side of Somes's Sound, and is about four miles in length. There is a group of three lakes on each side of this sound, although to some ■><" them the more prosaic designation of pond is applied. Somes's Sound, which divides the lower portion of the island into two distinct pnr- | tions, possesses many attractions for those who admire bold headlands. It bears a resein- ON THE COAST OF MAINE. 15 ;r to view tlu Coast Surviv, nmodation Im iclcs to ascend The distamc 1 hundred and bhiiice both to the shores of the Hudson and the Delaware Water-Gap. It is usual to ascend the sound in boats from Southwest Harbor; but explorers from East Eden some- times drive to Somesville, at the head of the sound, a distance of nine miles, and there take boats for a sail down the stream. The sound cuts through the centre of the moun- fciin-range at right angles, between Dog Mountain and an elevation on the eastern side, to which the appellation of " Mount Mansell " has been given, in honor of Sir Robert ;ontinual cause ( behold a sea :, is a splendid om the views ) panorama of ly and islands ^ the mountain so named i)V ^j )untain, and it road will brini: ^^ „ •hing its ckir with which it Sound, and b of this sound I. o distinct pur- bears a resein- Eagle Clifl". Sonies's Soiind linT^ell, after whom the island was at one time named by the English. Dog Mountain pes abruptly from the water's edge, and one of its tliflfs, which is some eight hundred or jthousaiul feet in height, is called " Eagle Cliff." At the moment Mr. Fenn was sketch- A sj)lendid balu-headed eagle was sailing in wide circles around the head of the cliff ^ii- giving, to the imagination of tiie artist, ample justification i"or the title. \N'e have now enumerated the principal features of this beautiful island. But there hundreds ol places that almost equally as well deserve the attention of pen and pen- PT" 4 i6 PICTURESQUE AMERICA. cil. The shore varies in cliaracter and form at nearly every step, affording almost innumerable delifrhtful pictures; while the lakes, the mountains, the forests, are endless in their long catalogue of rare and beautiful scenes. And in addition to scenes upon the island itself are the picturesque and rocky Porcupine Islands, the rugged shores of Iron- bound Island, on the Eastern side of Frenchman's Bay, and Mount-Desert Rock, fifteen miles down at sea, upon whose narrow base stands a light-house. Artist and writer have been limited to giving mere indications of a locality that is almost exhaustless in its va- riety of scenery. Mount Desert was discovered by the French, under Champlain, in the early part of the seventeenth century, who gave it the name by which it is now known. In 1619, the French formed a settlement, which was named " Saint-Sauveur," but in a few years it came to a cruel end. The Virginian settlers were accustomed to fish upon the Nevv- lingland coast, and the captain of an armed vessel, hearing from the Indians of the j settlement, sailed down upon it, and wiih a single broadside made himself its master. Some of the settlers were killed, and others carried away into captivity. The first per- manent settlement was made by Abraham Somes, who in 1761 built a house at the head of the sound which now bears his name. View from Via Mala, at ITic Ovenn ■'f«V Hording almost , are endless in cenes upon the shores of Iron- t Rock, fifteen ind writer have istless in its va- le early part of iwn. In 1619, 1 a few years it ipon the New- Indians of the iself its master, i The first per- use at the head I ^ Mouth of thu bt. John'ii Kiver — Looking in. ST. JOHN'S AND OCKLAWAHA RIVERS, FLORIDA. 'i \^ 1 •J -J -\ ,3 V K g V 1 ■\ ^ Vn> WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HARRY FENN. FLORIDA is a strange land, both in its traditions and its natural features. It was tiie first settled of the States, and has the most genial climate of all of them ; and yet tlic greater part of it is still a wilderness. Its early history was one long romance w battle and massacre, and its later annals arc almost equally interesting. The Span- ftfds, who were the first Christian people to visit it, were much impressed with its mys- twy and its scenery, and, as they discovered it on Easter Sunday, which in their language is called " Pascua Florida," they commemorated the event by giving the new territory its fscnt ap[)ellation. The time was when Florida was an immense sand-bar, stretching into the Gulf of ^xico, and probably as barren as can be conceived. But in the semi-tropical climate |er which it exists, in the course of ages the seeds carried to its shores by the sea and winds and the myriads of birds which find it a resting-place, have clothed it with jriant vegetation, interspersed with tracts of apparently barren sands. It is a land of iliar scener}', which the pencil of the artist has heretofore scarcely touched. Its main ires illustrate the absurdity of the common notion that the landscapes of tropical and i-tropical latitudes are superior in lu.xuriance of vegetable production to those of the )iMate zones. The truth is, that in the hot regions it is only where there is constant ture that there is a strong and rank growth of plants. Generally, aridity prevails, the sides are bereft of vegetation, and an air of parched-up and suffering Nature charac- ;s all that is seen. It is only when we come North that our landscapes glow with [ersal vegetable profusion ; that the forests stand out in bold relief on the hill-sides ; tlie earth is carpeted with vernal green, and prodigality of vegetation reigns supreme. ihi' tropical landscape, the abundance of flowers, which are supposed to be peculiar to i8 PIC TURESQ UE AMERICA . .1 warm climates, are exceptional phases. They exist, but it is ir the recesses of the swamp, whtr the burning sun is checked in it effulgency. In these recesses, an favored by springs of water, w have in Florida the wildest t: fects. We have flowers, an vines, and strange leafings, an gigantic trees, as nowhere else i be seen ; but they are always i hidden f)laces; the open tropic landscape, we repeat, is arid ar desolate. Originally starting out f the avowed purpose of huntin, the picturesque, we sailed for tl mouth of the St. John's — a rivt that reaches into the very iica of the peninsula, and from ti ill-defined shores of which yi can branch off into the ver wildest of this, in one sense, dd olate region. The approach i the mouth of the harbor, as the case with all our Southr rivers, is interrupted by :i Ih over which the surf beats alwa' more or less wildly. Extra fac ities being afforded us, we safi passed the " rough places," ar with impatience sought a loui out from Pelican Bank, situatt| at the mouth of the harbor. '| sudden intrusion startled myriai. of sea-fowl, which went screamir.- away, yet in such close contif to our persons that we cou. have caught many of thcni lie, II riii few; lA ST. JOHN'S AND OCKLAWAHA RIVERS, FLORIDA. 19 arc except i'Mi xist, but it is i he swamp, wlur is checked in ii hcse recesses, an igs of water, w I t!-e wildest i vc flowers, an ige Icafings, an 5 nowhere else 1 hey are always i the open tro|)it epeat, is arid an starting out I irpose of huiitii, , we sailed for tl St. John's — a riv ito the very Ir;! da, and from ti es of which m into the vi in one sense, d he approacli > the harbor, as all our Southc rupted by ;i 1 surf beats alwa dly. Extra fa^ dcd us, we saK nigh places," ai sought a loc an Bank, situai f the harbor, d n startled myria ch went screann uch close conta s that we con nany of them our hands. The scene had a strange look, for, as far as the eye could reach, a long, low iaef of burning sand presented itself; the only vegetation visible was a jungle of sun- Stirnt, wind-blasted palmettos. A little north was Tort St. George Island, the most soutiiern of the cultivated sea-islands. Once fairly launched on the waters of the St. John's, after makimr a sketch of the harbor looking toward the sea, we impatiently passed ail intervening places until we arrived at Pilatka, a central point, from which we could easily reach the Black River, and the more famous Ocklawaha, and other small streams, only navigable for boats of miniature size. ^' But, before we enter upon the business of our journey, let us, by way of parenthesis, say tiiat this section of country has always been remarkable for its recuperative effects upon invalids, who, living farther north, suffer from the borean blasts of our long and dwary winters. Jacksonville, a popular winter resort, is the most important of these hygienic towns, and boasts a population of over five thousand jjcrsons. There are also Hibernia, at the mouth of Black (^leek ; Magnolia, something over fifty miles from the mouth of the river; and Picolata, ten miles still farther u]). If tiic time comes when these famous places for a winter residence for invalids can furnish abundantly the neces- saries and comforts of life, there is no reason why they should not be annually crowded, for nothing can be better than their balmy air for those upon whom the Northern in- ters bear too iieavily. But it is inconsiderate for those who are past recovery with pul- monary complaints to wander to the wilds of I^'lorida in pursuit of health, for, whatever may be the advantages of climate, the lack of the comforts the sick require more tlMin counterbalances the effect of the balmy air. Among the especial resorts for invalids is Green Cove Springs, near Magnolia, famous for curing rheuinatism and a hundred CQpiplaints, and composed of a series of warm sulphurous pools, in some places twenty- fil^ feet deep. The water is very transparent, and of a pale-bluish tint. It was pcrhajis so^c rumor of the virtues of these springs that gave origin to the notion, current among th«i early Spanish explorers, that there was in Florida a fountain to bathe in which would inSilirc perpetual youth and health. 4; ^\t Filatka, by the aid of influential letters and previously-made arrangements, we ^red the good-will of the captain of the steamer we named the buying Swan, a craft bh, from its simplicity of construction and rude machinery, might have been the first lei constructed by Fulton when he was putting into practical shape the use of steam propelling boats. Its general outline was that of an ill-shaped onmibus, with the pro- [i,ccninpo!titi(in. ilfiDinposiiitMi of an allijj.itor that some successful sporisman has slu)t, ami left ^Ihc pivy of these iimIuI ltii( ilisjrustiii); hinls. T'u- sunshine S|)arkles in the spray pli our awkward vet ellicient craft drives fnun its prow, and then we enter what rts to W A cavern, where Ihe sun never penetrates. The tree-tops interlace ^m »4 PIC TUR ESQ UH A MHRICA. and the tangled vines and innumerable parasites iiave made an impenetrable mass ow head. of are The swamps of Florida are as rich in birds as in vegetation. It is no wonder thai, Audubon here found one of the finest fields from which to enrich his great works "l-^K'»i,g natural history. A minute list of the varieties we sometimes saw in a single day ^^'""'"i^Pfinn fill a page. One of the most attractive was the water-turkey, or snake-bird, which w mt|,g seei taste liOlig llmi sian^ Flor roifti to g inter scion posse upon succc phUai the s gator^ son)( its It somi \ unlike wa9 I AsccnilitiK llic Ocklawaha Kivcr at iNight. everywhere to be met with, sitting upon some i)rojecting limb overlooking the water, lii body as carefully as possible concealed from view, its head and long neck projecting i>i. and moving constantly like a black snake in search of its prey. Your curiosity is csj cited; you would examine the creature more critically, and you fire, at what seems i short, point-blank shut. The bird falls, ap|)arentiy helpless, in the water; you row rapl idly to secure your prize, when, a hundred yards ahead, v>iu suddenly see the snaky lii'i 3 S7: JOHN'S AND OCKLAWAHA RIVERS, FLORIDA. 25 valilc mass ovn- no wonder tli:: frrcat works u\ iinjilc day wmili j-bird, which wi Inti the water n Ik projcctinjj '■^^ |r curiosity '^ "I K wliat sccMiisip \\ ; vou row rap the snaky lie* of the "darter" just protruding above the surface of tiie water. In an instant its lungs are filled with air, and, disappearing again, it reaches a place of safety. Another conspicuous bird is the large white crane. It is a very effective object in the deep shadows of the cypress, as it proudly stalks about, eying with fantastic look the jBany tribes it hunts for prey. Especially is it of service in seizing upon the young of the innumerable water-snakes which everywhere abound. With commendable taste, it seems to pay especial attention to the disgusting, slimy, juvenile moccasins, which have a taste for sunning tliemselves on harsh dried leaves of the stunted palmetto. Hut the prominent living object to the stranger in these out-of-the-wr.y places is the alUgator, whose paradise is in the swami)s of Florida. Mere he nuls a climate that almost the year round suits his delicate constitution ; and, while his kindred in the Loui- shma swamps tind it necessary to retire into the mud to escape the cold of winter, the Florida representaiive of the tribe is hapjjy in the enjoyment of the upper world the year roiihd. It was a comical and a jMovoking sight to see these creatures, when indisposed to get out of our wav, turn up their piggish eyes in "speculative mood at the sudden interru|)tion of a ritle-ball against their mailed sides, but all the while seemingly uncon- scious that anv harm against their jjcrsons was intended. Like Achilles, howe\er, they possess a vulnerable point, which is just in front of the spot where the huge head works upon the spinal column, 'riiere is of necessity at this place a joint in the armor, and a SUCces'^fid hunter, after much experience, seldom lets one of the rcjjtiles escipe. If any phllantli.opist has ever objected to the slaughter, the circumstance is not remembered in thdi swamps and everglades of bMorida. On one occasion we fired into a herd of alli- gators, and the noise of two or three shots caused all but one to finally disai)|)ear. For scHDe r.-ason it seemed difficult to get the remaining one to move, the creature lying with its I'ca.l exposed to our gaze, looking as demoniac as possible. .\ bullet, which struck swfBewhere in tlic vicinity of its jaws, touched i'.s feelings, and then, with a g. *: not uidSke that of a hog, it buried itself in the muddy water. This unwillingness to move W«| then explained by thu apjiearance of a large number of young alligators, which, in pconhision, came to the surHiee like so mam chips. We had, without being aware of tacked the inolher while she was |)rotecting her iK ^t. In the vieiiiilv of the alligator's nest we came u|ion a primitive post-office, consist- 1 cigar-box, bearing tiie magic letters "l'. .S. M.," nailed upon the Lm:^ of an old ss-tiee. It was a sort of central point for the swamp-ers, where they left their miles and croctked writing to be conveyed to ihe jilaees of destination by " whom- inie along." We, desiring to act the part of a volunteer mail-carrier for Ihe neigh- I iieepc'l into the |)ost-offiee, but there were no signs of letters; so our good ti' 11^ were of no |)iactical effect. ur little craft bumps along from one cypress-stump to another, and fetches up It ,1 cypress-knee, as it is termed— sharp-pointed lances which grow up from the n;ots It, 'A 26 PIC rURESQ UE AMERICA. 1 hu Lcukuut. of the trees, seemingly to protect thtj trunk from too much outside concus-j sion ; glancing olT, it runs into a roor..| injr-place of innumerable cranes, or scati tcrs the wild-ducks and huge snakes ovtJ the surface of -the water. ^V clear ])atdi of the sky is seen, and the bright lighij of a summer evening is tossing tlit feathery crowns of the old cyi)ress-tra< into a nimbus of glory, while' innunwl able paroquets, alarm.ed at our intrusion! scream out their fierce indignation, ani then, flying away, flasl> upon our adniiJ ing eyes their green and golden ])kl mage. It now begins to grow dark in earnest, and wc become curious to know how otS attentive pilot will safely navigate this mysterious channel in what is literally Egyptiai darkness. While thus speculating, there llasiies across the landscape a bright, clear lighJ From the most intense blackness we have a liercc, lurid glare, presenting the most ci travagantly-pietures aJKiut iheir arms in agonv, and ga/e through unmeaning eyes upon l*?^' the intrusions of active, living men. a iv.si.oificc on ihc ockiauahu. S7\ JOHN'S AND OCKLAWAHA RIVERS, FLORIDA. 27 to protect the outside coiicus- ins into a lous:. ,e cranes, or scat- hu thfii turn tite, } op d c H&ia Cypress-shingle Yard. one limb after another broke loose from the parent trunk and floated slowly away. TIJ great i)utt was then assailed, and, by a judicious choice in the assault, the weight of tliii huge structure was made to assist in breaking it in twain. While this work was goinfj on, which consumed some hours, we waded — we won't say ashore — but from one picu rious foothold to another, until, after various unpleasant experiences — the least of whicli| was getting wet to our waist in the black water of the swamp — we reached land, wiml was a few inches above the surface of the prevailing flood. We were, however, rewarded for our enterprise by suddenly coming upon two " lloil EDI () ST. JOHN'S AND OCKLAWAHA RIVERS, FLORIDA. 29 rchiight ended, ular navigatioa , had fallen di nd the labor to th anger by the labor of clear- habitant of lilt I lick and fast, as \ i^ crackers," who had established a camp in a grove of the finest cypress-trees \vc ever* Sinv', and w're appropriating the valuable timber to the manufacture of shingles, which nulcs, we were informed, arc almost as indestructible as slate. These men were civil, of character, and in their way not wanting in intelligence. How they manage to ive the discomforts of their situation is difficult to imagine, but they do exist, the isquitoes drawing from their bodies every useless dro]) of blood, the low swamp ma- laria making tiie accumulation of fat an impossii)ility, while tiie dull surroundings of tBipir life, to them most monotonous, cramp the intellect until they arc almost as taci- t|j|n as the trees with which they are associated. But their hut was a very model of tti0 picturesque, and the smouldering fire, over which their dinner-pot was cooking, sent Hpfe a wreath of blue smoke against the dark openings of the deep forest that gave a ■"'^il^' A Sudden Turn in the Ocklawalia. ^»Ai l)wly away. Tt- lie weight of tb Iwork was goini from one picu least of wliici": thed land, wlii^i ipon two " 11": charm, and a contrast of colors, diflicult to sufficiently admire, and impossible to bnceivcd of in the mere speculations of studio-life. lOne of our strangest experiences in these mysterious regions was forced upon us I morning, when, thrusting our head through tiic hole that gave air to our "slecping- f," we saw a sight which caused us to rub our eyes, and gatiicr u|) our senses, to be \\\\ we were positively awake. Our rude craft was in a basin, possibly a quarter of a m diameter, entirely surrounded by gigantic forest-trees, which re])catcd themselves ,llic most minute fidelity in the perfectly translucent water. For si.vty feet dovvn- we could look, and at this great depth see du|)licated the scene of the upper 1, the clearness of the water assisting rather than interfering with the vision. The til oi this basin was silver sand, studded with eccentric formations of lime-crystals 30 PI C TURESQ UE A ME RICA. of a pale emerald tint. This we soon learned was the wonderful silver spring of 'vhicj we had heard so much, which every moment throws out its thousands of gallons ot wattj without making a bubble on the surface. The transparency of the water was marvelloii| A little pearly-white shell, dropped from our hand, worked its zigzag way downwa deepening in its descent from a pale green to a rich emerald, until, finding the bottotl it seeiii^d a gem destined forever to glisten in its silver setting. Procuring a " dus-oul we proceeded to inform ourself of the mysteries of the spot. Noticing the fointest siblc movement on the surface of the basin at a certain point, we concluded that inu^t be over the place where the great body of the water entered the spring. s| paddling to the spot, we dropped a stone, wrapped in a piece of white paper, into A water at the place where the moveinent was visible. The stone went down for s twenty-five feet, until it reached a slight projection of limestone rock, when it was dcnlv, as if a feather in weight, forced upward in a curving line some fifteen feet, sk ing the tremendous power of the water that rushes out from the rock. The most noij and startling feature was when our craft came from the shade into the sunshine, for tin it seemed as if we were, by some miraculous power, suspended seventy feet or morej the mid air, while down on the sanded bottom was a sharp, clear silhouette of man, and paddle. A deep river a hundred feet wide is created by the water of this sprii^ which in the (-oursc of seven iniles forms a junction with the Ocklawaha. :i:' i Silver bpring. Mount Ranier, from the Columbia River. UP AND DOWN THE COLUMBIA. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY R. SWAIN GIFFORD. APS arc so unexpectedly made over nowadays, what with the Old World pas- sion of conquest, and the New World instinct of truck and dicker, that even we )rount lor his countrymen! In the name of grace and fitness, let us keej) the sweet (IIKl I K^^^ 1 i 36 PICTURESQUE AMERICA. Indian appellatives bequeathed our pleasant places by a vanishing race; and, for whateveil other nomenclature \vc need, lot us remember only the " high souls, like some far staisj that come in sight once in a century." Well, we came to Astoria (which should have been Chetco') in the late afternoosi of a perfect summer Sunday. The river, twelve miles wide, lay all aglow with colof under the low sun, and out to the west the color deep?ned and deepened till it scciml to be no longer atmospiiere, but substance, like some supernal gem. Astoria is such I tiny place to iiave set up in the world for itself, so far from civilization ! The great rivj Kuu.iUM i(uck. stretches like a sea to the riorlii' the great ocean creeps close on the west; and (ni 1 south and cast the forests crowd up to the very thresholds— such forests as only llu' a ning woil lud wild-cat can fuid their way in. Vet, as the twilight fell, the little churr bell rang with a sound of cheerful confuUnce in a responsive congregation, and nnna|^| women went churchward, and liglits glanced in the windows, and a little, soft ImIiix^ trembled a moment in the air. So 1 suppose that the world goes on there jusi asS d«jes in New York or Nova Zeml)la, with births and deaths and givings in marriai;c, envies and heartaches and sweet charities. liut to this hour 1 t .'nnot think of that jiS UP AND DOWN THE COLUMBIA. 37 and, for \vhatevei| ce some far stan le late aftcrnoo; aglow with colo:| ed till it secmij Astoria is such The great rive < west ; and mi ' s as only tlu' n . the little ii It ion, and nun j; little, soft Iwbv-v 1 there jusi :i> rs in marriam',^^ think of thai air ivilization, made so pathetically small by the vastness of sea and river and woods, without a little pang of pity for what seems its unutterable loneliness ; and yet I dare say it sits by the fire in supreme satisfaction, finds the keenest zest in the excitement of thg;; semi-weekly stopping of the steamer, and, if it condescended lo make comparisons, ,d consider New York at a disadvantage as to situation. That beautiful and blessed ity of self-conceit, without whose protection the contusions of every day would keep US morally black and blue from head to foot, not only saves ourselves from the buffet- logs of the unworthy, but saves also our kin, our neighborhood, our township, even our seksct-man, unless he happen to belong to the opposite political party. Very late the long twilight faded, ar.d the darkness grew alive with sound. The soft of the tide and the murmur of the great woods were the ever recurring lovely it were, with which unnumbered variations blended. The myriad creatures which, emv summer-night, seem to be just born, and to try vainly to utter their joy in stridu- voices, piped the whole chromatic scale with infinite self-satisfaction. Innumerable ts addressed us in cadence with chcety felicitations on our safe arrival among them; a ^colony of tree-toads interrupted everybody to ask, in the key of F sharp major, after their relatives in tiie East, and to make totally irrelevant observations, without ever wait- ing for a reply ; and the swelling bass of the bull-frogs seemed to be thanking Heaven thit they were not as these impertinents. This inarticulate welcome, this well-known ition, made the Pacific seem no longer strange, but Auniliar as the shores of New- Bay, and it would not greatly have surprised us to open our eyes, next morning, he barrenn>'ss of vSandy Hook or the fair Heights of Brooklyn. What they really saw, howe\ i r, when daybreak found us far up the Coluinbia, was r than city or crowded anchorage. The great river, still lake-like in breadth and ncss, lay rosy in the dawn. The wonderful forests, whose magnificence our taine and dyii imagination eoulu not have conceived, came down from farthest distance to the vefy margin of the stream. I'ines and firs two hundred feet high were tlie sombre bi(§ground against which a tropical splendor of color tlickered or llameil out, for, e^ in litis early September, beeches and oaks and ash-trees were clothed with autumn ; and on tin- north, far above the silence of the river and the splendid shores, four -crowneil, rost-tlushed, stately mountains lifted themselves to heaven. I'or miles and and miles, Mount Adams, Mount .lefferson, Mount Rainier, and Mount .St. Helen's, gl.id the way. Adains and Jefferson have an unvarying grandeur of form, a mas- stienglh and nobility, as it becomes them to inherit with their names. Mount .St. -^ rises in lines so vague and so<"t as t<. seem like a cloud-mountain. Rainier, whose e^^ you comprehend only when you see it from I'uget Sound, looks, even from the ^immeasurable, lying snow-covered from base to peak, brtland, one hundred and ten iniles up the river, is the point of debarkation for n-Francisco steamers, and there is much to be said abou' that busy and thrifty i littif Will Pbas uncc fine the ; of s( padd hour ^^alarn as it pole, sun if wt a mi glover %rour ing t rock, of wc the ri cofl^n gray ' of tic wnil ;astle hocK. UP AND DOWN THE COLUMBIA. 39 ;kinjr hen of a city. But, as Portland is not on the Columbia at all, but on the Willamette, twelve miles from its mouth, it may not now be told what golden eggs she has laid. The little steamer which, jilies u ) and down the river leaves her dock at the uncomfortable liour of tlu-ec o'clock in the morning or thereabouts ; and that must be very fine scenery, indeed, which reconciles one to being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, and dumped, hungry, sleepy, and cross, in the chilly cabin of a day-boat, bare of state-rooms or sofas. The \v wliicli dayliglit brougiit us was u prospect of the boat's paddle-boxes. A gray mist swallowed U|) every tiling beyond. But when it lifted, three h(Mtrs later, it was worth while to have been chilled to the bone with its cold, and alanned by its threat of showing us nothing, to see what it really had to show. For, as it slowly crept back to the shores and up the banks, and so away to the nortli- pote, whieii it must have come from, river and shores and mountains and sky, and the sun itself came out upon us witii such intensity of ligiit and color that it seemed as if WC or they were al)solutely new that morning, and had never seen each other before. Where tiie mists lifted, tiie stream flowed clear and smooth between mountain-shores a mile ;md a half apart, and rising sharp and l)old thousands of feet in air. Forests covefed their rocky sides, sometimes rising to the very top, sometimes dwmdling into groups and thickets as they climl)ed. And on the very crest, standing alone and suck- ing their lusty life frotn the inhosj)itable stone, lone pines shot out of tiie crevices of rode, looking, so far above us, like the queer anil graceless toy-trees in the shilling bo.xes of wooden s'.lJiers, dear to the heart of boyhood. These mountains are a solid wall along the iriver for miles on miles. Sometimes there is neither rift, nor gorge, nor scar, in their hl^ sides. Then a canyon opens, and you see beyond and iieyond other mountains cfMHing ilown to link themselves in an unending chain, and glim|)ses of lar-ofT levels or gnqf fields of rock bounding the vision. Sometimes a water-fall dazzles and dances out of li|e sky, a little, tluttering, quivering cobweb at fust; then a floating ribbon; tluii a WIBwblown veil of sjiray ; then a cascade, leaping from rock to rock, forty, sixty, a hun- dmjl tliirc iuuidri'd feet ; tiien a swift, resistless, triumphant rush of water, swirling and wikming toward the river of its love* 'ct, if shores and water-falls were beautiful, the forests were the crowning glory of lace. First in rank, again, stood the pines and fns— if they ivcrc pines and fiis. looked to me like some celestial sort of grown-up, feathery ground-evergreen. And fcould expect a pine to rise, straight and fair, three hundred feet, a glimpse of red- l>()ils warm through the foliage of the lesser trees, and a glory of spreagdrasill, at whose feet flowed sacred foitt|^ tains and whose brandies upheld the world. Then came the cotton-woods, and the cotton-wood is to the Western settler symbol of intermeddling and knavish incapacity. He considers it the "dead beat"( the vegetable kingdom, usurping ground that belongs to honester growths, making gn pretensions to an early and useful maturity, and no better than a pipe-stem in valJ i^ii The Cascades when the axe claims it. Vet there crowded these plausible cotton-woods, standing idly gracious and welcoming all along the shores in such goigeousness of golden splf dor, and in such royal ease and grace of attitude, that one forgets their good-for-nothii; ness and their general bad name among the virtuous and useful trees, and takes thcin his heart at once. A tree whose polished, brilliant leaf looked like our maple, a' whose scarlet, pendent swinging boughs looked like darting orioles, we were forbidilcn . '!l« lowed sacred four k'^estern settkr !■ lie " dead beat ' rths, making org pipe-stem in valt ^^ — .'/fff/^ V/V- CHUtJH _ S^-r^^^^^^^ :oods, standing |, of golden spij pood-for-nothJJ iiid takes thein( e our mapli were forbidli S.-1*. CAPE MURN. ,.•, 42 PICTURESQUE AMERICA. consider a familiar friend, a very learned i)undit assurin,