■ ■. : '■: i Glass __ Book_. Hall of Representatives.. ..Washington. Bridge and Rapids near falls of Niagara. BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES EXHIBITING ITS GEOGRAPHY, DIVISIONS, CONSTITUTION AND GOVERNMENT INSTITUTIONS, AGRICULTrRE, COMMERCE, HAM FACTURES, RELIGION", EDUCATION, POPULATION", NATURAL CURIOSITIES, RAILROADS, CANALS, PUBLrc BUILDINGS, .MANNERS AND CUSTOMS, FINE ARTS, ANTIQUITIES, AND PRESENTING LITERATURE, MINERALOGY, BOTANY, GEOLOGY, NATURAL HISTORY PRODUCTIONS, &c. &e. fcc. A VIEW OF THE REPUBLIC GENERALLY, AND OF THE INDIVIDUAL STATES; [View on the Mississippi.] TOGETHER WITH A CONDENSED HISTORY OF THE LAJVD, FROM ITS FIRST DISCOVERY TO THE PRESENT TIME. THE BIOGRAPHY OF ABOUT THREE HUNDRED OF THE LEADING MEN A DESCRIPTION OF THE PRINCIPAL CITIES AND TOWNS; WITH STATISTICAL TABLES, RELATING TO THE RELIGION, COMMERCE, MANUFACTURES, AND VARIOUS OTHER TCPICfc EDITED BY GRENVILLE MELLEN. W I T H ENGRAVINGS Or CURIOSITIES, SCEXERT, AMMALS CITIES, T0W.N3, PCBLIC BUILDINGS, &C HARTFORD: PUBLISHED BY H. F. SUMNER 6c CO. 1S3S. Hall of Representatives.... Washington. Bridge and Rapids near Falls of Niagara. A BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES EXHIBITING ITS GEOGRAPHY, DIVISIONS, CONSTITUTION AND GOVERNMENT INSTITUTIONS, AGRICULTURE, COMMERCE, MANUFACTURES, RELIGION, EDUCATION, POPULATION, NATURAL CURIOSITIES, RAILROADS, CANALS, PUBLIC BUILDINGS, MANNERS AND CUSTOMS, FINE ARTS, ANTIQUITIES, LITERATURE, MINERALOGY, BOTANY, GEOLOGY, NATURAL HISTORY PRODUCTIONS, ice. &C. &.C. AND PRESENTING A VIEW OF THE REPUBLIC GENERALLY, AND OF THE INDIVIDUAL STATES; [View on the Mississippi.] TOGETHER WITH A CONDENSED HISTORY OF THE LAJVD, FROM ITS FIRST DISCOVERY TO THE PRESENT TIME. THE BIOGRAPHY OF ABOUT THREE HUNDRED OF THE LEADING MEN A DESCRIPTION OF THE PRINCIPAL CITIES AND TOWNS; WITH STATISTICAL TABLES, RELATING TO THE RELIGION, COMMERCE, MANUFACTURES, AND VARIOUS OTHER TOPICS. EDITED BY GRENVILLE MELLEN. WITH ENGRAVINGS OP CURIOSITIES, SCENERY, ANIMALS CITIES, TOWNS, PUBLIC BUILDINGS, &C HARTFORD: PUBLISHED BY H. F. SUMNER & CO. 1838. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S35, by GRENVILLE MELLEN. in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts STEREOTYPED BY 8HEPARD, OklVER, ft CO. Not Z, Water Street, Boston. Martinson Sc Co., Printers. PREFACE. In presenting this volume to the American public, the introduc- tory remarks in which we shall indulge will be few and general, as the book is one of that kind that speaks with singular plainness for itself, and seems to us to require little upon the prefatory page in the way of explanation, either with reference to its character considered collectively, or in detail. The chief object in preparing this work has been to furnish something which should be found to embrace those subjects which are of abiding interest and importance to all classes. It has been a wish to present such matters, as well as could be done in the com- pass allowed, as are of interest to all classes of readers, and an ac- quaintance with which is desirable for our own citizens especially. Directed by these intentions, it is hoped that the efforts to bring a valuable and attractive volume before the public may have prov- ed successful ; and that, viewed with reference to the subjects of which it treats, this may be called, emphatically, a book for this country, exhibiting, at one view, a picture of the Republic in its physical, political, and social conditions, so drawn and colored as to present in pleasant relief its most striking and peculiar features. Simplicity was a leading object in the preparation of the work. By such object it was natural to be guided, when it was remem- bered that the pages were designed for the general eye and for all classes. This quality was allowed to govern, in a great degree, both in the thought and style ; and if, in any case, it may have been carried to a point beyond the fortunate one, it will be believed, we presume, that the fault, if it be such, is upon the better side. IV PREFACE. Ill some instances interesting historical accounts are retained and enlarged upon, from a consideration of the universally popular cha- racter which such accounts generally possess. It is not known, however, that they are referred to or dwelt upon in such a manner as to induce the charge of credulity beyond that very pardonable de- gree which all well disposed and good natured, and we may add, well informed, writers and readers are ever ready to meet. Frequent references are made to able and prominent writers, in connection with the several important subjects which are here intro- duced ; and such extracts are given, as, it is thought, will best illus- trate and enforce them. This course, with most readers, is an ac- ceptable one, and in a work of this nature it is the best that can be pursued, frequently, to accomplish, within reasonable limits, the design of the undertaking. To enlarge would seem to be useless. The volume must speak for itself, and bear its recommendation within. It is hoped, with the several sketches of the Republic which it intends to present, under its different aspects, it may prove an agreeable and instruc- tive one to the community. We had intended to have annexed a list of the writers consulted and extracted from in the course of the volume ; but we believe the references in the pages will supersede the necessity of a more particular notice. It would be unjust, however, not to mention our especial obligation to the excellent View of the United States by Mr. Hinton, of which we have made the freest use throughout the volume. Boston, November, 1834. CONTENTS. PART I. PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. Page. Chap. I. Mountains 13 Chap. II. Valleys 27 Chap. III. Prairies and Plains 32 Chap. IV. Rivers 38 CHAr. V. Cataracts and Cascades 63 Chap. VI. Lakes 75 Chap. VII. Springs 87 Chap. VIII. Caverns 97 Chap. IX. Islands 108 Chap. X. Capes and Peninsulas 114 Chap. XL Bays, Harbors, Sounds, and Gulfs 116 Chap. XII. Oceans 122 Chap. XIII. Soil 127 Chap. XIV. Climate 140 Chap. XV. Minerals 155 Chap. XVI. Animals 165 Chap. XVII. Botany 235 Chap. XVIII. Geology 249 Chap. XIX. Natural Curiosities 257 PART n. POLITICAL GEOGRAPHY. Chap. I. Political and Geographical Division 263 Chap. IL Cities and Towns ?73 CONTEXTS. VI Chap. III. Agriculture Chap. IV. Manufactures Chap. V Commerce Chap. VI. Rail-roads Chap. VII. Canals .... Chap. VIII. Government Chap. IX. Slavery .... Chap. X. Indian Tribes Chap. XI. American Antiquities Chap. XII. Religion . Chap. XIII. Manners and Amusements Chap. XIV. Penitentiary System Chap. XVI. Literature and Education CnAP. XVII. Fine Arts Chap. XVIII. Banking System CnAP. XIX. Biographical Sketches Chat. XX. History Pago. 339 353 361 369 379 337 405 411 436 445 453 465 473 4S6 490 498 552 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES PART I. PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. CHAPTER I.— MOUNTAINS. Though embracing in its extent several elevated ranges of great length, and breadth, the territory of the United States cannot be considered as a mountainous country. The land along the whole line of the seacoast is level for a considerable distance into the interior. The breadth of this level tract expands from fifty miles in the north-east extremity, gradually, as we advance to the south-west, till in the state of Georgia, it has attained an extent of near two hundred miles. Beyond this the land gradually rises into mountains, which are much more remarkable for their length and breadth, than their height. They sometimes consist of numerous parallel ridges rising successively behind each other ; at other times they run into knots ; and sometimes they recede from their parallel direction into what are called spurs. These ranges or belts of mountainous country, though receiving a v er of different appellations, are most visually known by the name of the Alleghanies. The long continuity of this chain has obtained it the name of the Endless Mountains, from the northern savages. The French and Spaniards, who first became acquainted with it in Florida, applied to it through its whole extent the name of Apalachian, which is still retained by a considerable river of that country. The general course of the Alleghanies is about north-east and south- west ; east of the Hudson they are scattered in irregular groups, without any very marked direction. The range of the Rocky or Chippewan Mountains divides the waters which flow east into the Missouri and Mississippi, from those which flow west into the Pacific Ocean, and are a continuation of the Cordilleras of Mexico. Their longitude is about one hundred and twelve west, and they terminate in about seventy north latitude. Along the coast of the Pacific is another range which seems to form a step to the I ! Mountains. It extends from the Cape of California along the coast to Cook's Inlet, generally rising to no great height in the southern portion. In the northern part, La Perouse states that it is ten thousand feet high, and at its northern extremity is Mount Elias, eighteen thousand feet high, and the loftiest peak of North America. 2 14 BOOK OP THE UNITED STATES. The White Mountains in New England, largely considered, are the principal ranges running north-east and south-west, projecting from the main ridge that forms the boundary of the United States, and separates the waters of the St. Lawrence from those that run south through the Northern States. The highest ridge is that called the White Mountain Ridge in New Hampshire, running from south to north, the loftiest sum- ^L&f*^«i teMm White Mountains. mits of which are Monadnock, a hill of an abrupt and striking character, Sunapee, Kearsarge, Carr's Mountain, and Moosehillock. Towards the north of the state, these eminences rise to a much higher elevation, and are known specifically by the name of the White Mountains. While Mountains. These are the loftiest mountains in the United States, east of the Missis- sippi. They lie between the Connecticut and Androscoggin rivers on the north-east and west, and the head-waters of the Merrimack on the south sixty or seventy miles from the coast ; yet their white summits PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY 15 are visible from many miles at sea. They extend about twenty miles from south-west to north-east, and their base is eight or ten miles broad. Mount Washington is the highest of all the White Mountains, being six thousand two hundred and thirty-four feet above the level of the sea. Next to Mount Washington in height is Mount Adams, then Jefferson, then Madison, all more than five thousand feet high ; there are several besides these, though none so elevated. The country around and among the mountains is very wild and rough, and the mountains themselves are difficult of access. The east side of Mount Washington rises at an angle of forty-five degrees. The lower part of the mountain is covered with thick woods of spruce and fir trees, with deep beds of moss beneath. Heavy clouds of vapor often rest upon the mountain, and fill the moss with water, which cannot be exhaled or dried up by the sun on account of the woods, and therefore it breaks out in numerous springs which feed the streams from the mountain. The trees are short and stunted higher up the mountain ; soon there are only bushes ; then instead of bushes are vines ; the last thing that grows is winter grass mixed with moss ; the summit is entirely bare of vegetation. There is a plain from which the last height of Mount Washington rises to the height of fifteen hundred feet. This elevation or pinnacle is composed of huge grey rocks. Reaching the top much fatigued and out of breath, the traveller is instantly master of a boundless prospect, noble enough to pay him for his labor. The Atlantic dimly seen through a distance of sixty-five miles, the Vermont Mountains on the west, the southern and northern mountains of New Hampshire, Lake Winnipiseogee, ponds, streams, and towns, without number, all form a great impressive picture. The road from the seacoast to the mountains passes along the head stream of the Saco, which rises among these mountains, and breaks through them at a place known by the name of the Notch, a narrow defile extending two miles in length between two large cliffs, apparently rent asunder by some vast convulsion of nature. ' The sublime and awful grandeur of this passage baffles all description. Geometry may settle the heights of the mountains ; and numerical figures may record the measure; but no words can tell the emotions of the soul, as it looks upward, and views the almost perpendicular precipices which line the narrow space between them ; while the senses ache with terror and astonishment, as one sees himself hedged in from all the world besides. He may cast his eye forward or backward, or to either side ; he can see only upward, and there the diminutive circle of his vision is cribbed and confined by the battlements of nature's ' cloud-capped towers,' which seem as if they wanted only the breathing of a zephyr, or the wafting of a straw against them, to displace them, and crush the prisoner in their fall. Just before our visit to this place, on the 26th of June, 1828, there was a tremendous avalanche, or slide, as it is there called, from the mountain which makes the southern wall of the passage. An immense mass of earth and rock, on the side of the mountain, was loosened from its resting place, and began to slide towards the bottom. In its course, it divided into three portions, each coming down, with amazing veloci- ty, into the road, and sweeping before it shrubs, trees, and rocks, and filling up the road, beyond all possibility of its being removed. With great labor, a pathway has been made over these fallen masses, which admits 1(5 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. the passage of a carriage. The place from which the slide, or slip, was loosened, is directly in the rear of a small, but comfortable dwelling-house, owned and occupied by a Mr. Willey, who has taken advantage of a narrow, a very narrow interval, — where the bases of the two mountains seem to have parted and receded, as if afraid of coming into contact, — to erect his lone habitation : and, were there not a special Providence in the fall of a sparrow, and had not the finger of that Providence traced the direction of the sliding mass, neither he, nor any soul of his family, would ever have told the tale. They heard the noise, when it first began to . and ran to the door. In terror and amazement, they beheld the mountain in motion. But what can human power effect in such an emergency? Before they could think of retreating, or ascertain which way to escape, the danger was passed. One portion of the avalanche crossed the road about ten rods only from their habitation ; the second, a few rods beyond that ; and the third, and much the largest portion, took a much more oblique direction. The whole area, now covered by the slide, is nearly an acre ; and the distance of its present bed from its former place on the side of the mountain, and which it moved over in a few minutes, is from three quarters of a mile to a mile. There are many trees of large size that came down with such force as to shiver them in pieces ; and innumerable rocks, of many tons' weight, any one df which was sufficient to carry with it destruction to any of the labors of man. The spot on the mountain, from which the slip was loosened, is now a naked, white rock; and its pathway downward is indicated by deep channels, or furrows grooved in the side of the mountain, and down one ef which pours a stream of water, sufficient to carry a common saw-mill. ' From this place to the Notch, there is almost a continual ascent, gene- rally gradual, but sometimes steep and sudden. The narrow pathway pro- ceeds along the stream, sometimes crossing it, and shifting from the side of one mountain to the other, as either furnishes a less precarious foothold for the traveller than its fellow. Occasionally it winds up the side of the steep to such a height, as to leave, on one hand or the other, a gulf of in depth; for the foliage of the trees and shrubs is impervious to the sight. The Notch itself is formed by a sudden projection of rock from mountain on the right or northerly side, rising perpendicularly to a I height, — prol ably seventy or eighty feet, — and by a large mass of rock on the left side, which has tumbled from its ancient location, and taken a position, within twenty feet of its opposite neighbor. The length of the Notch is not more than three or four rods. The moment it is p I, the mountains seem to have vanished. A level meadow, over- grown with long grass and wild flowers, and spotted with tufts of shrubbery, spreads itself before the astonished eye, on the left, and a swamp or thicket, on the right, conceals the ridge of mountains which extend to the north : the road separates this thicket from the meadow. Not far from the Notch, on the right hand side of the road, several springs from the rocks that compose the base of the mountain, unite in the thicket, and form the Saco river. This little stream runs across the road into the meadow, where it almost loses itself in its meandering among the bogs, but again collects its waters and passes under the rock that makes the southerly wall of the Notch. It is here invisible for several rods, and its presence is indicated only by its noise, as it rolls through its rugged PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 17 tunnel. In wet seasons and freshets, probably a portion of the water passes over the fragments of rock, which are here wedged together, and form an arch or covering for the natural bed of the stream. ' The sensations which affect the corporeal faculties, as one views these stupendous creations of Omnipotence, are absolutely afflicting and painful. If you look at the summits of the mountains, when a cloud passes towards them, it is impossible for the eye to distinguish, at such a height, which is in motion, the mountain, or the cloud ; and this deception of vision pro- duces a dizziness, which few spectators have nerve enough to endure for many minutes. If the eye be fixed on the crags and masses of rock, that project from the sides of the mountains, the flesh involuntarily quivers, and the limbs seem to be impelled to retreat from a scene that threatens impendent destruction. If the thoughts which crowd upon the intellectual faculties are less painful than these sensations of flesh and blood, they are too sublime and overwhelming to be described. The frequent alterations and great changes, that have manifestly taken place in these majestic masses, since they were first piled together by the hand of the Creator, are calculated to awaken " thoughts beyond the reaches of the soul." If the " everlasting hills" thus break in pieces, and shake the shaggy covering from their sides, who will deny that " This earthly globe, the creature of a day, Though built by God's right hand, shall pass away ? — The sun himself, by gathering clouds oppressed, Shall, in his silent, dark pavilion rest ; His golden urn shall break, and, useless, lie Among the common ruins of the sky ; The stars rush headlong, in the wild commotion, And bathe their glittering foreheads in the ocean ?" ' Reflection needs not the authority of inspiration to warrant a belief, that this anticipation is something more than poetical. History and philosophy teach its truth, or, at least, its probability. The melancholy imaginings which it excites are relieved by the conviction that the whole of God's cre- ation is nothing less " Than a capacious reservoir of means, Formed for his use, and ready at his will ;" and that, if this globe should be resolved into chaos, it will undergo a new organization, and be re-moulded into scenes of beauty, and abodes of hap- piness. Such may be the order of nature, to be unfolded in a perpetual series of material production and decay — of creation and dissolution — a magnificent procession of worlds and systems, in the march of eternity.'* A few weeks after the slide mentioned in the above description, a dis- aster occurred which occasioned the destruction of the interesting family to which allusion is there made. The afternoon had been rainy, and the weather continued so till eleven o'clock in the evening, when it cleared away. About the same hour, a great noise was heard, at the distance of several miles like the rushing down of rocks and much water from the mountains. The next morning, the people, at Conway, could perceive that some disaster, of no ordinary * J. T. Buckingham. 3 2* 18 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. character, had happened, by the appearance of the mountains on each side of the road. On repairing to the spot, they found the house of Mr. Wil- ley, standing near the Notch, unhurt, but destitute of any of the family. It is supposed that they left it in their fright, and were instantly swept away, and buried under the rocks and earth which were borne down by the freshet. This family consisted of Mr. Willey, his wife, five children, and two hired men, all of whom were suddenly swept from time to eter- nity, bv this lamentable disaster. Had they remained in the house, they would probably have been safe. The central and western parts of Maine are mountainous. The highest mountains are the Katahdin, situated near the centre of the state, the Speckled, Bald, Bigelow, and Ebeeme mountains. The range between the rivers Hudson and Connecticut, and this last and lake Champlain, is called the Green Mountains, an appellation which it has received from its perpetual verdure, being covered on its western side with hem- lock, pine, spruce, and other evergreens. These mountains are from ten to fifteen miles wide, much intersected with valleys, and abound- ing in springs and streams. Vegetation decreases on approaching their summits ; the trees diminish in size, and frequently terminate in a shrub- bery of spruce and hemlock, two or three feet high, with branches so interwoven as to prevent all passage through them. The sides of the mountains are generally rugged and irregular ; some of them have large apertures and caves. Their tops are coated with a compact and firm moss, which lies in extensive beds, and is sometimes of a consistency to bear the weight of a man without being broken through. These mosses absorb a great deal of moisture, and afford wet and marshy places, which in the warm season are the constant resort of water fowl. The loftiest summits are Killington Peak, near Rutland ; Camel's Rump, between Montpe- lier and Burlington, and Mansfield Mountain, a few miles farther north, all which are more than three thousand five hundred feet above the level of the sea. Ascutney, a single mountain near Windsor, is three thousand three hundred and twenty feet in height. The range called Green Mountains in Vermont, enters the west part of Massachusetts from the north, and forms the Hoosac and Tagkan- nuc Ridges, which run nearly parallel to each other south, into Connecticut. The most elevated peaks of the Tagkannuc Ridge are Saddle Mountain in the north, four thousand feet high, and Tagkannuc Mountain in the south, three thousand feet. No summits of the Hoosac Ridge much exceed half these elevations. Mount Holyoke, in the neighborhood of Northampton, commands a prospect of the highest beauty; the waters of the Connecticut w ii'l about its base, giving fertility and wealth of vegetation to the surround- ing country. On its top a shanty is erected, in which refreshments are kept for the visitors who at favorable seasons make this excursion in great numbers. There are two distinct chains belonging to the Alleghany range in the state of New York, the Catskill and the Wallkill. The Catskill, which is the most northern, is the continuation of the proper Alleghany or western chain ; the eastern is called, by some geographers, "Wallkill. A visit to the Catskill is a favorite excursion of northern travellers, and several days may be spent very agreeably in examining the grand and romantic scenery of the neighborhood. Pine Orchard is a small plain, *wo thousand two hundred and fourteen feet above the Hudson, scattered PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 19 with forest trees, and furnished with an elegant house of great size. Im- mediately below is seen a wild and mountainous region, finely contrasting with the cultivated country beyond, which presents every variety of hill and valley, interspersed with town, hamlet, and cottage. The hills of Weehawken are on the west side of the Hudson, nearly opposite the city of New York. Weehawken. The Highlands of the Hudson, or Fishkill Mountains, which first appear about forty miles from New York, are marked for their sublimity and Highlands. grandeur, and interesting from their connection with many great events of the revolution. This chain is sixteen miles in width, and extends twenty miles along both sides of the Hudson. The height of the principal has 20 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. been estimated at one thousand five hundred and sixty-five feet. The Peruvian Mountains consist of a lofty tract in the northern part of New York, being round the sources of the Hudson, and separating the waters of Lake Champlain from those of the St. Lawrence. They received their name from the supposition that they contained mineral treasures. Their loftiest summit, called Whiteface, is about three thousand feet above the level of Lake Champlain. The Apalachian chain in Pennsylvania spreads to its widest limits, and covers with its various ranges more than one half of the state. The greatest width of the chain equals two hundred miles. It consists of pa- rallel ridges sometimes little distant from each other, and at other times with valleys twenty or thirty miles broad lying between them. The range nearest the coast is called the South Mountain, and is a continuation of the Blue Ridge of Virginia. This, however, is hardly a distinct ridge, but only'an irregular series of rocky, broken eminences, sometimes disap- pearing altogether, and at others spreading out several miles in breadth. These eminences lie one hundred and fifty or two hundred miles from the sea, and their height does not exceed one thousand two hundred feet above the surrounding country. Beyond these are the Kittatinny or Blue Moun- tains, which extend from Maryland to New Jersey across the Susquehanna and Delaware. Farther westward are the ridges bearing the names of the Sideling Hills, Ragged Mountains, Great Warrior Mountain, East Will's Mountain, till we come to the Alleghany Ridge, the highest range, and from which this whole chain has in common language received the name of the Alleghany Mountains. The highest summits are between three and four thousand feet above the level of the sea. West of the Alleghany are the Laurel and Chesnut Ridges. These mountains are in general covered with thick forests. The Laurel Mountains are overgrown on their eastern front with the tree from which they are named. The wide valleys between the great ridges are filled with a multitude of hills, confusedly scattered up and down. The tops of the ridges sometimes exhibit long ranges of table land, two or three miles broad ; some of them are steep on one side, and extend with a long slope on the other. These mountains are traversed by the great streams of the Susquehanna chain, and the head-waters of the Ohio. The WaUkill, which crosses the Hudson at West Point, forty miles below the Catskill, is the continuation of the Blue Ridge, or Eastern Chain, which is the most general appellation for the extensive ridge which fronts the Atlantic. The eastern and western ranges run parallel to each other, south-west, till on the frontiers of North Carolina and Virginia they unite in a knot which has been called the Alleghany Arch, because the principal chain embraces there in a curve all its collaterals from the east. A little farther to the south, but still in North Carolina, a second knot unites all the collateral ridges from the west, and forms a culminating point of heads of rivers. The second bifurcation stretches south-west and then west, and the name of the * Cumberland Mountains through the whole state of Ten- * Among the Enchanted Mountains, a name given to several spurs of the Cumber land Ridge, are some very singular footprints marked in the solid limestone rock. These are tracks of men, horses, and other animals, as distinctly marked as though but yesterday impressed in clay or mortar. Their appearance often indicates that the feet which made them had slidden, as if in descending a declivity of soft clay. The PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 21 nessee, while the proper Alleghany Chain, left almost alone, continues its course to the south-west, and completes the boundary of Georgia and the two Carolinas. From the Alleghany Arch, there are three principal ridges or ramifications of the Alleghany, running north-east and nearly parallel to each other, namely, the Alleghany Proper, the North Mountain, and the Blue Ridge. Of the last ridge the highest summits are the Otter Peaks. The elevated district of South Carolina presents seven or eight mountains running in regular directions, the most distinguished of which is the *Table Mountain. Mr. Jefferson, with peculiar felicity of illustra- tion, called the range of the Alleghanies the spine of the United States ; separating the eastern from the western waters, and the whole of the terri- tory from the Mississippi to the Atlantic into three natural divisions, mate- rially differing from each other in climate, configuration, soil, and produce ; namely, the coast, the mountains, and the western territory. In extent, in elevation, and in breadth, the Rocky Mountains far exceed the Alleghanies of the Eastern States. Their mean breadth is two hun- dred miles, and where broadest, three hundred. Their height must be very great, since, when first seen by Captain Lewis, they were at least one hundred and fifty miles distant. On a nearer approach, the sublimity of the prospect is increased, by the appearance of range rising behind range, each yielding in height to its successor, till the most distant is mingled with the clouds. In this lofty region the ranges are covered with snow in the middle of June. From this last circumstance, these ranges have been Table lands at the foot of the Rock; sometimes denominated the 8hini7ig Mountains — an appellation much more appropriate than that of the Rocky or Sto?iy Mountains, a property human feet have uniformly six toes, with the exception of one track, which is thought to be that of a negro. One of the tracks is sixteen inches long, and thirteen inches wide from toe to heel, with the hall of the heel five inches in diameter. On the shore of the Mississippi is a similar impression of the human feet in a mass of limestone. No satisfactory explanation has been given of these singular appearances. * Table Mountain, in Pendleton district, near the north-west corner of South Caro- jua, is thus described by Dr. Ramsay. ' Its height exceeds three thousand feet, and 22 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. possessed by all mountains, but peculiar to none. The longitudinal extent of this great chain is immense, running as far north-west as sixty degrees north latitude, and perhaps to the Frozen Ocean itself. The snows and fountains of this enormous range, from the thirty-eighth to the forty-eighth degree of northern latitude, feed, with never-failing supplies, the Missouri and its powerful auxiliary streams. In endeavoring to explore these Alpine heights, and the sources of the Red and Arkansaw rivers, Captain Pike and his party were bewildered amidst snows, and torrents, and precipices. The cold was so intense, that several of the party had their limbs frostbitten, and were obliged to be aban- doned to their fate, by Pike and his surviving companions. In a lateral ridge, separating the valley of the Arkansaw from that of the Platte river, in north latitude forty-one degrees, is a remarkable peak, called the Great White Mountain ; so remarkable, indeed, as to be known to all the savage tribes for hundreds of miles round, and spoken of in terms of admiration by the Spaniards of New Mexico, and which formed the boun- dary of their knowledge to the north-west. The altitude of this peak was taken on the base of a mile by Pike, and found to be ten thousand five hundred and eighty-one feet above the level of the meadow at its foot ; and the height of this latter was estimated at eight thousand feet above the level of the sea ; in all, eighteen thousand five hundred and eighty-one feet of absolute elevation ; being six thousand feet higher than the peak of Teneriffe, by Humboldt's measurement ; or two thousand eight hundred and ninety-one feet short of that of Chimborazo, admitting the elevation of this last to be twenty-one thousand four hundred and seventy-two feet. Captain Pike and his companions liover lost sight of this tremendous peak, unless in a valley, for the spac of ten weeks, wandering amongst the mountains. What is the elevation at the sources of the Missouri can only be matter of mere conjecture. The level of the river, where they left their canoes, could not be less than six thousand feet above the sea ; but how high the mountains rose above this point the narrative does not inform us, and hardly gives us any data to decide. The central chain, as usual, is marked in the map as highest, and covered with snow during the whole year. The latitude is between forty-five and forty-seven degrees ; and between these parallels, in Europe, the lower limit of perpetual congelation is fixed at from nine to ten thousand feet above the level of the sea ; and it can hardly be supposed that the summits of this snowy range were less than eight thousand five hundred or nine thousand feet high, making a reasonable allowance for the greater coldness of the American continent. Captain Clarke allows this central range to be sixty miles across, and that thirty farms may be distinguished at any one view from its top by the unaided eye. Its side is an abrupt precipice nine hundred feet deep, and nearly perpen- dicular. The valley underneath appears to be as much below the level as the top of the mountain towers above it. This precipice is called the Lover's Leap. To those who are in the valley it looks like an immense wall stretching up to heaven. At its Imse lie whitening in the sun the bones of various animals that had incautiously advanced too near its edge. Its summit is often surrounded with clouds. ' The gradual ascent of the country from the seacoast to this western extremity of the Slate, added to the height of this mountain, must place its top more than four thousand feet above the level of the Atlantic ocean. Large masses of snow tumble down from the side of this mountain in the winter season, the fall of which has beeu heard seven miles. Its summit is the resort of deer and bears. Wild pigeons reson to it in such flocks as sometimes to break the limbs of the trees on which they alight.' PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 23 the shortest road across the different ranges is at least one hundred and forty miles, besides two hundred miles more, before we can reach a navi- gable river. In their first passage across these tremendous mountains, the American party suffered every thing which hunger, cold, and fatigue, could impose, during three weeks. They were compelled to melt the snow for their portable soup; many of their horses (which they used for conveying their baggage, or for riding,) were foundered by falls from precipices ; the men became feeble through excessive toil, and sickly from want of food, as there are no wild animals in these inhospitable regions ; and, but for an occasional meal of horse flesh, the whole party must have perished. In returning home from the mouth of the Columbia, their state was little bet- ter. Having again come in sight of the mountains, in the middle of May, they attempted to pass them but in vain, on account of the snow, which lay from six to ten feet deep, and were obliged to return, and rest in the plains to the twenty-fourth of June. These mountains are, therefore, a far more formidable barrier to the Pacific, than the Alleghanies to the back country, and can be passed with great difficulty only for three months in the year, namely, from the latter end of June to the latter end of Sep- tember. We are indebted to the Missouri Advocate for the following account of General Ashley's discoveries in this quarter. He considers it quite possi- ble to form a route across this formidable barrier to the Pacific Ocean. The route proposed, after leaving St. Louis, and passing generally on the north side of the Missouri river, strikes the river Platte, a short distance above its junction with *he Missouri ; then pursues the waters of the Platte to their sources, and, in continuation, crosses the head-waters of what Gen- eral Ashley believes to be the Rio Colorado of the west, and strikes, for the first time, a ridge or single connecting chain of mountains, running from north to south. This however presents no difficulty, as a wide gap is found apparently prepared for the purpose of a passage. After passing this gap, the route proposed falls directly on a river, called by George Ash- ley the Buenaventura, and runs from that river to the Pacific Ocean. The face of the country, in general, is a continuation of high, rugged, and bar- ren mountains ; the summits of which are either timbered with pine, quak- ing-asp, or cedar; or, in fact, almost entirely destitute of vegetation. Other parts are hilly and undulating; and the valleys and table-lands (except on the borders of water-courses, which are more or less timbered with cot- ton-wood and willows,) are destitute of wood ; but this indispensable arti- cle is substituted by an herb, called by the hunters wild sage, which grows from one to five feet high, and is found in great abundance in most parts of the country. The sterility of the country generally is almost incredible, lhat part of it, however, bounded by the three ranges of mountains, and watered by the sources of the supposed Buenaventura, is less sterile ; yet the proportion of arable land, even within those limits, is comparatively small ; and no district of the country visited by General Ashley, or of which he obtained satisfactory information, offers inducements to civilized people, sufficient to justify an expectation of permanent settlement. The river visited by General Ashley, and which he believes to be the Rio Colo- rado of the west, is, at about fifty miles from its most northern source, eighty y- a rds wide. At this point, General Ashley embarked and descend- ed the river, which gradually increased in width to one hundred and eighty 24 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. yards. In passing through the mountains, the channel is contracted to fifty or sixty yards, and so much obstructed by rocks as to make its descent extremely dangerous, and its ascent impracticable. After descending this river about four hundred miles, General Ashley shaped his course north- wardly, and fell upon what he supposed to be the sources of the Buenaven- tura ; he represents those branches as bold streams, from twenty to fifty yards wide, forming a junction a few miles below where he crossed them, and then emptying into a lake (called Grand Lake,) represented by the Indians as being forty or fifty miles wide, and sixty or seventy miles long. This information is strengthened by that of the white hunters, who have explored parts of the lake. The Indians represent, that at the extreme west end of this lake, a large river flows out, and runs in a westward di- rection. General Ashley, when on those waters, at first thought it proba- ble they were the sources of the Multnomah : but the account given by the Indians, supported by the opinion of some men belonging to the Hud- son Bay Company, confirms him in the belief, that they are the head-waters of the river represented as the Buenaventura. To the north and north- west from the Grand Lake, the country is represented as abounding in suit. The Indians west of the mountains are remarkably well disposed towards the citizens of the United States ; the Eutaws and Flatheads are particularly so, and express a great wish that the Americans should visit them frequently. A large number of lateral ranges project to the south-east, east, and north-east of the main range. Where the Missouri enters the plains, is the most eastern projection ; and from where the Jaime leaves the snowy range, there is a lateral range, running more than two hundred miles south-east, which is intersected by the Bighorn river. As these mountains have not yet been explored by the eye of geological science, it is impossible to say any thing respecting their component parts ; but, from every thing that we can learn from Pike and Clarke, they seem to be chiefly granitic. No volcanoes have yet been discovered amongst them ; but strange unu- sual noises were heard from the mountains, by the American party, when stationed above the falls of the Missouri. These sounds seemed to come from the north-west. ' Since our arrival at the falls,' says the narrative, ' we have repeatedly heard a strange noise coming from the mountains, a little to the north of west. It is heard at different periods of the day and night : sometimes when the air is perfectly still and unclouded, and con- sists of one stroke only, or of five or six discharges in quick succession. It is loud, and resembles precisely the sound of a six pounder at the distance of three miles. The Indians had before mentioned this noise like thun- der, but we had paid no attention to it. The watermen also of the party say, that the Pawnees and Ricaras give the same account of a similar noise made in the Black Mountains, to the westward of them.' Again, near the same place, it is afterwards said : ' They heard, about sunset, two discharges of the tremendous mountain artillery.' Not a -word more occurs upon the subject ; but we know that similar explosions take place among the mountains near the head of the Washita, and among the moun- tains of Namhi, near the sources of the Red river. In our present state of ignorance respecting these mountains, it is impos- sible to give a solution of this phenomenon, though it may proceed from some distant volcano, which, like Stromboli, may be in a state of constant PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 25 activity, but more irregularly. It is well known that the sounds of volca- noes are heard at very great distances, as at Guatimala, where the sound of the volcano of Cotopaxi was distinctly heard, though more than two hundred and twenty miles distant. Some indications of volcanoes had been seen by the American party, when ascending the river, about sixty miles below the mouth of the Little Missouri, where they passed several very high bluffs on the south side, one of which had been lately a burning volcano, as the pumice stones lay very thick around it, and emitted a strong sulphureous smell. Similar appearances are mentioned by Macken- zie, as taking place among the Rocky Mountains on their eastern side, in north latitude fifty-six and one hundred and twenty degrees west longi- tude. ' Mr. Mackav,' says he, ' informed me, that in passing over the mountains, he observed several chasms in the earth that emitted heat and smoke, which diffused a strong sulphureous stench.' From all these circumstances combined, it is natural to infer that the sound proceeds from some very distant and unknown volcano. On the west side of the Mississippi, and about midway between the Rocky Mountains and the Alleghanies, lies a broad range of mountains, called the Ozarks, six or seven hundred miles in length, about one hundred broad, and having an elevation varying from one to two thousand feet above the sea. This range of low mountains, which is penetrated by two branches of the Mississippi, the Arkansas and Red river, was nearly alto- gether unknown till within these few years. It is parallel with the range of the Alleghanies, making an angle of about forty degrees with the great range of the Andes. As far as the Ozarks have yet been explored, the granites and older primitive rocks are found at the lowest part, being sur- mounted by those of more recent formation. The reverse of this is oh- ed in the Rocky Mountains. A similar range of broken and hilly country commences on the Ouisconsin river and extends north to Lake Superior. It is called the Wisconsin or Ouisconsin Hills. GENERAL REMARKS OX MOUNTAINS. Mountains are supposed by naturalists to have different origins, and to date their commencement from various periods. Those which form a chain, and are covered with snow, are accounted primitive, or antediluvian. They greatly ex ceed all other mountains in height; in general their elevation is very sudden, and their ascent steep and difficult. They are composed of vast masses of quartz, des- titute of shells, and of all organized marine matter ; and appear to descend almost per- pendicularly into the body of the earth. Of this kind are the Pyrenees, the Alps, the Himmaleh ranges, the Atlas, and the Andes. Another class are of volcanic origin. These are either detached or surrounded with groups of lower hills, the soil of which is heaped up in disorder, and consists of gravel and other loose substances. Among these are Mount ^Etna and Vesuvius. A third class of mountains, whether grouped or isolated, are such as are composed of stratified earth or stone, consisting of different substances of various colors. The interior consists of numerous strata, almost hori- zontally disposed, containing shells, marine productions, and fish bones in great quan- tities. The strata of mountains which are lower and of more recent date, sometimes appear to rise from the side of primitive mountains which they surround, and of which they form the first step in the ascent. The mountains in Asia are the most elevated and imposing in the world. Of these the Himmaleh chain is the highest; one of its peaks. Dhawalaghiri. reaching the alti- tude of twenty-eight thousand and ninety-six feet, and several exceeding twenty-four thousand. Africa has some extensive chains of mountains, but the altitudes of only a few have been ascertained. Mont Blanc is the highest summit of Europe, reaching an elevation of fifteen thousand seven hundred and thirty-five feet. The Andes of South 4 3 26 BOOK OF THF UNITED STATES. America present the most striking and stupendous features ; cataracts, volcanoes, and immense chasms of an almost perpendicular descent. Chimborazo, the highest point ol the Andes, reaches twenty-one thousand four hundred and sixty-four feet ; in many places the peaks rise to upwards of twenty thousand feet, though in others they sink to less than one thousand. In general, all the chains of mountains in the same continent, seem to have a mutux connection more or less apparent ; they form a sort of frame-work to the land, and ap- pear in the origin of things to have determined the shape which it was to assume ; but this analogy, were we to generalize too much, would lead us into error. There are many chains, which have very little, or, rather, no affinity to each other. Such are the mountains of Scandinavia and of Scotland, mountains as independent as the character of the nations who inhabit them. TABLE OF THE PRINCIPAL ELEVATIONS IN THE UNITED STATES. 1. Long's Peak, the highest of the Rocky Mountains, Missouri Territory, . . 12,000 2. James's Peak, ... do. ... do. .. . 11,500 3. Inferior peaks of the Rocky Mountains, varying from 10,700 to ... 7,200 I 4. Mt. Washington, the highest of the White Hills, New Hampshire, . . 6,234 5. Inferior peaks of the White Hills, varying from 5,328 to 4,356 6. Mooshillock Mt., Grafton County, New Hampshire, 4,636 ; 7. Mansfield or Chin Mt., Chittenden County, Vermont, 4,279 8. Camels' Rump, ... do ... . do 4,188 9. Shrewsbury Peak, Rutland County, . . do 4,034 10. Saddleback Mt., Berkshire County, Massachusetts, 4,000 11. Table Mountain, Pendleton District, South Carolina, 4,000 12. Peaks of Otter, Bedford County, Virginia, 3,955 13. Killington Peak, Rutland County, Vermont, 3,924 14. Round Top, the highest of the Catskill Mountains, New York, .... 3,804 15. High Peak, one of the highest of do. . do. . . do 3,718 16. Grand Monadnock, Cheshire County, New Hampshire, 3,7 IS 17. Manchester Mountain, Bennington County, Vermont, 3,706 18. Ascutney Mountain, Windsor ... do. .. do 3,320 19. Ozark Mountains, Arkansas Territory, average height, 3,200 20. Wachuset Mountain, or Mount Adams, Worcester County, Mass., . . 2,990 21. Whiteface Mountain, Essex County, New York, 2,690 22. Kearsarge Mountain, Hillsborough County, New Hampshire, .... 2,469 23. Alleghany Mountains, average height, 2.400 24. Porcupine Mountains, Chippeway County, south of Lake Superior, . . 2,200 25. Cumberland Mountains, average height, 2,200 26. Moose Mountain, New Hampshire, 2,008 27. New Beacon, the highest of the Highlands, New York, . .... 1 £58 27 CHAPTER II.— VALLEYS. The Valley of the Mississippi is the largest in the world ; and differs from any other of very great extent, in the peculiar distinctness of its outline. It is bounded south by the gulf of Mexico, west by the Rocky Mountains, north by the great lakes of British America, and east by the Apalachian Mountains. Its general surface may be classed under three distinct aspects ; the thickly timbered, the barren, and the prairie country. This valley extends from the twenty-ninth to the forty-ninth parallel of north latitude, and exhibits every variation of temperature from the climate of Canada to that of Louisiana. It is a wide extent of level country, in which the various rivers, inclosed between two chains of mountains three thousand miles apart, find a common centre, and discharge their waters into the sea by a single channel. Geologically considered, this immense valley presents every where the aspect of what is called secondary formation. Its prevailing rocks are carbonate of lime, disposed in the most regular lamina, masses of limestone, in which seashells or organic remains are imbedded, retaining their distinct and original form. At every step, is presented the aspect of a country once covered by lakes or seas. The soil, stones, and exuviae of lake or river formation, are, to all appearance, of comparatively recent origin. In the alluvial soils, to the depth of from twenty to an hundred feet, are found pebbles, smoothed by the evident attrition of waters, having the appearances of those masses of smoothed pebbles that are thrown on the seashore by the dashing of the surge. Leaves, branches, and logs are also found at great distances from the points where wood is seen at present, and at great depths below the surface. In the most solid blocks of lime- stone, split for building, deers' horns and other animal exuviae are found incorporated in the solid stone. ' From its character of recent formation,' says Mr. Flint, ' from the prevalence of limestone every where, from the decomposition which it has undergone, and is constantly undergoing, from the prevalence of decompo- sed limestone in the soil, probably, results another general attribute of this valley — its character generally for uncommon fertility. We would not be understood to assert, that the country is every where alike fertile. It has ts sterile sections. There are here, as elsewhere, infinite diversili's of soil, from the richest alluvions, to the most miserable flint knobs ; from the tangled cane brakes, to the poorest pine hills. There are, too, it is well known, towards the Rocky Mountains, wide belts that have a surface of sterile sands, or only covered with a sparse vegetation of weeds and coarse grass. But of the country in general, the most cursory observer must have remarked, that, compared with lands, apparently of the same character in other regions, the lands here obviously show marks of singular fertility. The most ordinary, third rate, oak lands, will bring successive crops of wheat and maize, without any manuring, and with but little care of cultivation. The pine lands of the southern regions are in many places cultivated for years, without any attempts at manuring them. The same fact is visible in the manner in which vegetation in this country resists drought. 28 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. It is a proverb on the good lands, that if there be moisture enough to bring the corn to germinate, and come up, they will have a crop, if no more rain falls until the harvest. We have a thousand times observed this crop continuing to advance towards a fresh and vigorous maturity, under a pressure of drought, and a continuance of cloudless ardor of sun, that would have burned up and destroyed vegetation in the Atlantic country. ' We have supposed this fertility to arise, either from an uncommon pro- portion of vegetable matter in the soil ; from the saline impregnations mixed with the earth, as evidenced in the numberless licks, and springs of salt water, and the nitrous character of the soil, wherever, ,as in caves, or under buildings, it is sheltered from moisture ; or, as we have remarked, from the general diffusion of dissolved limestone, and marly mixtures over the surface. In some way, spread by the waters, diffused through the soil, or the result of former decomposition, there is evidently much of the quick- ening and fertilizing power of lime mixed with the soil.' The greatest length of the Valley of the Missouri is twelve hundred miles, its greatest breadth seven hundred. In the direction of the western rivers, the inclined plain of the Missouri extends eight hundred miles from the Chippewayan Mountains, and rather more than that distance from south to north, from the southern branches of the Kansas, to the extreme heads of the northern confluents of the valley. Ascending from the lower verge of this widely extended plain, wood becomes more and more scarce, until one naked surface spreads on all sides. Even the ridges and chains of mountains partake of these traits of desolation. The celebrated valley called the American Bottom extends along the eastern bank of the Mississippi to the Piasa Hills, four miles above the mouth of the Missouri. It is several miles in width, and has a soil of astonishing fertility. It has all the disadvantages attending tracts of recent alluvion, the most valuable parts of it being liable to be swept away by the current of the Mississippi. ' But the inexhaustible fertility of its soil,' says Major Long, 'makes amends for the insalubrity of the air, and the incon- venience of a flat and marshy situation, and this valley is undoubtedly destined to become one of the most populous parts of America. We were formerly shown here a field that had been cultivated, without manure, one hundred years in succession, and which when we saw it, (in August, 1816,) was covered with a very luxuriant growth of corn.' The Olno Valley is divided by the river into two unequal sections, leaving on the north-west side eighty thousand, and on the south-east one hundred and sixteen thousand square miles. The river flows in a deep ravine five hundred and forty-eight miles long in a straight line, and nine hundred and ninety-eight by the windings of the stream. In its natural state the Ohio valley, with the exception of the central plain, was covered with a forest. Open savannahs commence as far east as the sources of the Muskingum. Like the plain itself, those savannahs expand to the west- ward, and on the Illinois open into immense prairies. This valley may be regarded as a great plain inclining from the Apalachian system of the north- west, obliquely and deeply cut by the Ohio and its numerous confluents, into chasms from an elevation of four hundred feet to nearly the level oi the streams. On the higher parts of the valley, the banks of the river rise by bold acclivities which wear almost a mountainous aspect. This bold- ness of outline imperceptibly softens in descending the Ohio, and on PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 29 approaching the Mississippi, an extent of level woodland bounds the hori- zon. Ascending the rivers of the south-east slope, the scenery becomes more and more rugged, until it terminates in the ridges of the Apalachian chains : if the rivers of the north-west slope are followed, on the contrary, we rind the landscape broken and varied near the Ohio, but around their sources flat and monotonous. The Valley of the Hudson varies extremely in its width, being in some places contracted to the immediate neighborhood of the stream ; in others extending forty miles. On the borders of the river the land is generally elevated. The Mohawk is bordered by two long ranges of hills, presenting Valley of the Mohawk. little variety of aspect. In the early part of its course it flows through extensive flats. The valleys of the Susquehanna and its branches are remarkably irregular. These streams traverse the whole width of the Apalachian chain of mountains, sometimes flowing in wide valleys between parallel ranges for fifty or sixty miles in a direct course, and at other times breaking through the mountain ridges. The valleys between the different ranges of the great chain extending throughout Pennsylvania are often twenty or thirty miles in width with a hilly or broken surface. The only large valley in North Carolina lies between the Blue Ridge, and a parallel range called the Iron, Bald, and Smoky Mountains. It runs north-east and south-west, is one hundred and eighty miles in length, and from ten to forty in width. The valleys of the small rivers of Tennessee are singularly beautiful and fertile, surpassing all others of the same description in the Western States. The valleys of the Cumberland and Tennessee differ little from the allu- vions of the other great rivers of the west. The Valley of the Connecticut is one of the most celebrated valleys of the United States for its fertility and beauty. It is a large tract of land extend- 3* 30 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. ing from Long Island sound to Hereford Mountains in Canada, five miles beyond the forty-fifth degree of latitude. In the largest sense, it is from five to forty-five miles in width, and its surface is composed of a succession of hills, valleys and plains. The interval lands begin about twelve or fourteen miles from the mouth of the river. These are formed by a long and con- tinued alluvion. The tributary streams of the Connecticut run every where through a soft and rich soil, considerable quantities of which, par- ticularly the lighter and finer particles, are from time to time washed into their channels, by occasional currents springing from rains and melted snows. Wherever the stream moves with an uniform current these parti- cles are carried along with it; but where the current is materially checked, they art; in greater or less quantities deposited. In this manner a shoal is formed al first, which afterwards rises into dry land; this is almost invari- ably of good quality, but those parts which are lowest are commonly the best, as being the most frequently overflowed, and therefore most enriched by successive deposits of slime. Of these parts, that division which is farthest down the river is the most productive, consisting of finer particles, and being more plentifully covered with this manure. In the spring these grounds are almost annually overflowed. In the months of March and April, the snows, which in the northern parts of New England are usually and the rains, which at this time of the year, are generally copious, raise the* river from fifteen to twenty feet, and extend the breadth of its waters in some places a mile and a half or two miles. Almost all the slime conveyed down the current at this season, is deposited on these lands, for here, principally, the water becomes quiescent, and permits the earthy particles to subside ; this deposit is a rich manure ; the lands dressed with it are preserved in their full strength, and being regularly enriched by the hand of nature, cannot but be highly valuable. Nor are these grounds . nished by their beauty. The form of most of them is elegant; a river passing through them becomes, almost of course, winding ; the earth of which they are composed is of a uniform texture, the impressions made by the stream upon the border are also nearly uniform ; hence this border is almost universally a handsome arch, with a neat margin, fre- quently ornamented with a fine fringe of shrubs and trees. Nor is the surface of these grounds less pleasing ; their terraced forms and undulations are eminently handsome, and their universal fertility makes a cheerful impression on every eye. A great part of them is formed into meadows which are here more profitable, and every where more beautiful than lands devoted to any other culture ; here they are extended from five to five hundred acres, and are every where covered with a verdure pecu- liarly rich and vivid. The vast fields also which are not in meadow, exhibit all the productions of the climate, interspersed in parallelograms, divided only by mathematical lines, and mingled in a charming confusion. In many places, large and thrifty orchards, and every where forest trees standing singly, of great height and graceful figures, diversify the land- scape. Through its whole extent this valley is almost a continual succes- sion of delightful scenery. The Connecticut is one of the most beautiful rivers in the world ; the purity, salubrity and sweetness of its waters, the frequency and elegance of its meadows, its absolute freedom from aquatic vegetables, the enchanting elegance and grandeur of its banks, sometimes consisting of a smooth and winding beach, here covered with rich verdure. PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 31 there fringed with bushes, now crowned with lofty trees, and now formed by the intruding hill, the rude bluff, and the shaggy mountain ; these are Objects which no description can equal. GENERAL REMARKS ON VALLEYS. Valleys are formed by the separation of chains of mountains or of hills. Those which are formed between high mountains, are commonly narrow and long, as if they had originally been only fissures dividing their respective chains, or for the passage of extensive torrents. The angles of their direction sometimes exhibit sin- gular symmetry. In the Pyrenees there are said to be valleys whose salient and re- entrant angles so perfectly correspond, that if the force which separated them were to act in a contrary direction, and bring their sides together again, they would unite so exactly that even the fissure would not be perceived. There are some highly situated valleys containing rivers and lakes which have no outlets or streams. Most high valleys have their surface upon a level with the summits of the secondaiy mountains in the neigh- borhood. The lower valleys widen as they recede from the secondary mountains from which they originate, and gradually lose themselves in the plains. Their opposite angles correspond regularly, but are very obtuse. The sort of narrow passage by which we enter into these high valleys is called a pass or defile. Between Norway and Sweden is one of these passes, formed by several masses of rock cut by nature into the shape of long parallelograms, and which have between them a passage shut in by perpendicular walls. This pass is near Skiasrdal ; another of the same kind is at Portfeld, or the Mountain of the Gate. These openings exactly resemble those by which the Hudson passes through successive chains of moun- tains, which seem desirous of checking its course. The Cordilleras of the Andes present the most stupendous passes of this kind that are known ; they are from four to five thousand feet deep. The valleys of the Hudson and Connecticut are equalled by few in the old world for natural beauty and romantic scenery. Of the valleys of Europe, that of the Rhine is most celebrated ; and is only more interesting than the Hudson on account of its old historical associations, its populous cities, and the picturesque ruins and massive monu- ments of architecture which frown upon its banks. 32 CHAPTER III.— PRAIRIES AND PLAINS. One of the most remarkable features of the western country consists in its extensive prairies or savannahs, which prevail in all the vast region between the Alleghany and the Rocky Mountains, and also to the west ot the Rocky Mountains. When seen from the summits of the Mexican and the Rocky Mountains, they seem absolutely boundless to the view. They are not to be considered merely as dead flat, but undulating into gentle swelling lawns, and expanding into spacious valleys, in the centre of which is always found a little timber, growing on the banks of the brooks and rivulets of the finest water. Pike, who viewed them from the summit of the Blue Mountain, under the source of the Arkansaw, says, ' the un- bounded prairie was overhung with clouds, which seemed like the ocean in a storm, wave piled on wave, and foaming ; while the sky over our heads was perfectly clear, and the prospect was truly sublime.' In these vast prairies the soil is dry, sandy, with gravel ; but the moment we ap- proach a stream, the land becomes more humid, with small timber. It is probable that these steppes or prairies were never well wooded, as, from the earliest ages, the aridity of the soil, having so few water-courses run- ning through it, and these being principally dry in summer, no sufficient nourishment has been afforded to the growth of timber. In all timbered land, the annual discharge of the leaves, with the continual decay of old trees and branches, creates a manure and moisture, which are preserv- ed from the heat — the sun not being permitted to direct his rays perpen- dicularly, but to shed them only obliquely through the foliage. But in Upper Louisiana, a barren soil, dried up for eight months in the year, pre- sents neither moisture nor nutriment for the growth of wood. These vast plains of Louisiana, near the upper courses of the Ar- kansaw, with its tributary streams, and the head-waters of the Kanzas. White and Grand Osage rivers, may become in time like the sandy deserts of Africa ; ' for,' says Pike, ' I saw in my route, in various places, tracts of many leagues, where the wind had thrown up the sand in all the fancied forms of the ocean's rolling waves, and on which not a single speck of vegetation appeared.' From this circumstance Pike deduces the follow- ing remark : ' From these immense prairies may arise a great advantage to the United States, namely, the restriction of our population to some certain limits, and thereby a continuation of the Union. Our citizens being so prone to rambling, and extending themselves on the frontiers, will, through necessity, be compelled to limit their extent on the west to the borders of the Missouri and Mississippi ; while they leave the prairies, in- capable of cultivation, to the wandering and uncivilized aborigines of the country.' These prairies, from the borders of the Mississippi, on the east, to the base of the Mexican Alps on the west, rise with a continually in- creasing acclivity for many hundred miles, till, at the base of the mountains, they attain an elevation of eight thousand feet, as we are informed by Pike, which is greater than the elevated level of the great desert of Gobi, on the north-west of China, estimated by Du Halde to be five thousand five PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 33 hundred and eleven feet above the level of the sea, or the great arid desert, to the north of the cape of Good Hope, traversed by the Orange river, and lately visited by the Rev. Mr. Campbell, the elevation of which is estimated by Colonel Gordon at six thousand five hundred and sixty-one feet above the level of the sea. In addition to the aridity of the Louisiana prairies, they are so impregnated with nitre, and other salts, as to taint the waters that flow in various directions. Pike says, that for leagues togeth- er, they are covered with saline incrustations ; and a number of tributary streams descending into the Arkansaw and Kanzas rivers are perfect sa- lines ; and beyond the river Platte, as we are informed by Colonel Lewis, the lands are not only destitute of timber, but even of good water, of which there is but a small quantity in the creeks, and even that is brackish. The same saline incrustations pervade the prairies on the Upper Missouri ; and the same want of timber, little or no dew, with very little rain, continues till the neighborhood of the mountains. The calcareous districts, which form the great portion of the region west of the Alleghanies, present certain tracts entirely divested of trees, which are called barrens, though capable of being rendered productive. The cause of this peculiarity has not been accurately examined. Those parts of this region which are elevated three or four hundred feet, and lie along; deeply depressed beds of rivers, are clothed with the richest forests in the world. The Ohio flows under the shade of the plane and the tulip tree, like a canal dug in a nobleman's park ; while the lianas, extending from tree to tree, form graceful arches of flowers and foliage over branches of the river. Passing to the south, the wild orange tree mixes with the odori- ferous and the common laurel. The straight silvery column of the papaw fig, which rises to the height of twenty feet, and is crowned with a canopy of large indented leaves, forms one of the most striking ornaments of this enchanting scene. Above all these, towers the majestic magnolia, which shoots up from that calcareous soil to the height of more than one hundred feet. Its trunk, perfectly straight, is surmounted with a thick and expand- ed head, the pale green foliage of which affects a conical figure. From the centre of the flowery crown which terminates its branches, a flower of the purest white rises, having the form of a rose, and to which succeeds a crimson cone. This, in opening, exhibits rounded seed of the finest coral red, suspended by delicate threads six inches long. Thus, by its flowers, its fruit, and its gigantic size, the magnolia surpasses all its rivals of the forest. The following excellent description of the prairie country is from the pen of Mr. James Hall. ' That these vast plains should be totally des- titute of trees, seems to be an anomaly in the economy of nature. Upon the mind of an American, especially, accustomed to see new lands clothed with timber, and to associate the idea of damp and silent forests with that of a new country, the appearance of sunny plains, and a diversified land- scape, untenanted by man, and unimproved by art, is singular and striking. Perhaps if our imaginations were divested of those associations, the subject would present less difficulty ; and if we could reason abstractly, it might be as easy to account for the existence of a prairie as of a forest. ' It is natural to suppose that the first covering of the earth would he composed of such plants as arrived at maturity in the shortest time. Annual plants would ripen, and scatter their seeds many times before trees § 34 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. and shrubs would acquire the power of reproducing their own species. In the mean time, the propagation of the latter would be likely to be retarded by a variety of accidents — the frosts would nip their tender stems in the winter — fire would consume, or the blasts would shatter them — and the wild grazing animals would bite them off, or tread them under foot ; while many of their seeds, particularly such as assume the form of nuts or fruits, would be devoured by animals. The grasses, which are propagated both by the root and by seed, are exempt from the operation of almost all these casualties. Providence has, with unerring wisdom, fitted every pro- duction of nature to sustain itself against the accidents to which it is most exposed, and has given to those plants which constitute the food of animals, a remarkable tenacity of life ; so that although bitten off, and trodden, and even burned, they still retain the vital principle. That trees have a similar power of self protection, if we may so express it, is evident from their present existence in a state of nature. We only assume that in the earliest state of being, the grasses would have the advantage over plants less hardy, and of slower growth ; and that when both are struggling together for the possession of the soil, the former would at first gain the ascendancy ; although the latter, in consequence of their superior size and strength, would finally, if they should ever get possession of any portion of the soil, entirely overshadow and destroy their humble rivals. ' We have no means of determining at what period the fires began to sweep over these plains, because we know not when they began to be inhabited. It is quite possible they might have been occasionally fired by lightning, previous to the introduction of that element by human agency. At all events, it is very evident that as soon as fire began to be used in this country by its inhabitants, the annual burning of the prairies must have commenced. One of the peculiarities of this climate is the dryness of its summers and autumns. A drought often commences in August, which, with the exception of a few showers towards the close of that month, con- tinues throughout the season. The autumnal months are almost invariably clear, warm, and dry. The immense mass of vegetation with which this fertile soil loads itself during summer, is suddenly withered, and the whole surface of the earth is covered with combustible materials. This is especially true of the prairies where the grass grows to the height of from six to ten feet, and being entirely exposed to the sun and wind, dries with great rapidity. A single spark of fire, falling any where upon these plains at such a time, would instantly kindle a blaze, which would spread on every side, and continue its destructive course as long as, it should find fuel. Travellers have described these fires as sweeping with a rapidity which renders it hazardous to fly before them. Such is not the case ; or it is true only of a few rare instances. The flames often extend across a wide prairie, and advance in a long line. No sight can be more sublime than to behold in the night a stream of fire of several miles in breadth, advancing across these wide plains, leaving behind it a black cloud of smoke, and throwing before it a vivid glare which lights up the whole landscape with the bril- liancy of noonday. A roaring and cracking sound is heard like the rushing of a hurricane. The flame, which in general rises to the height of about twenty feet, is seen sinking and darting upwards in spires, precisely as the waves dash against each other, and as the spray flies up into the air ; and the whole appearance is often that of a boiling and flaming sea, violently PHYSICAL trEOGRAPHT. 35 agitated. The progress of the fire is so slow, and the heat so great, that every combustible object in its course is consumed. Wo to the farmer whose ripe cornfields extend into the prairie, and who suffers the tall grass to grow in contact with his fences ! The whole labor of the year is swept away in a few hours. But such accidents are comparatively unfrequent, as the preventive is simple, and easily applied. ' It will be readily seen, that as soon as these fires commenced, all the young timber within their range must have been destroyed. The whole state of Illinois, being one vast plain, the fires kindled in different places, would sweep over the whole surface, with a few exceptions, of which we are now to speak. In the bottom-lands, and along the margins of streams, the grass and herbage remain green until late in the autumn, owing to the moisture of the soil. Here the fire would stop for want of fuel, and the shrubs would thus escape from year to year, and the outer bark acquire sufficient hardness to protect the inner and more vital parts of the tree. The margins of the streams would thus become fringed with thickets, which, by shading the ground, would destroy the grass, while it would prevent the moisture of the soil from being rapidly evaporated, so that even the fallen leaves would never become so thoroughly dry as the grass of the prairies, and the fire here would find comparatively little fuel. These thickets grow up into strips of forests, which continue to extend until they reach the high table-land of the prairie ; and so true is this, in fact, that we see the timber now, not only covering all the bottom-lands and hill sides, skirting the streams, but wherever a ravine or hollow extends from the low grounds up into the plain, these are filled with young timber of more recent growth. But the moment we leave the level plane of the country, we see the evidences of a continual struggle between the forest and the prairie. At one place, where the fire has on some occasion burned with greater fierceness than usual, it has successfully assailed the edges of the forest, and made deep inroads ; at another, the forest has pushed out long points or capes into the prairie. ' It has been suggested that the prairies were caused by hurricanes, which had blown down the timber and left it in a condition to be consumed by fire, after it was dried by laying on the ground. A single glance at the immense region in which the prairie surface predominates, must refute this idea. Hurricanes are quite limited in their sphere of action. Although they sometimes extend for miles in length, their track is always narrow, and often but a few hundred yards in breadth. It is a well known fact, that wherever the timber has been thus prostrated, a dense and tangled thicket shoots up immediately, and, protected by the fallen trees, grows with uncommon vigor. ' Some have imagined that our prairies have been lakes ; but this hy- pothesis is not tenable. If the whole state of Illinois is imagined to have been one lake, it ought to be shown that it has a general concavity of sur- face. But so far from this being true, the contrary is the fact ; the highest parts of the state are in its centre. If we suppose, as some assert, that each prairie was once a lake, we are met by the same objection; as a general rule, the prairies are highest in the middle, and have a gradual declivity towards the sides ; and when Ave reach the timber, instead of finding banks corresponding with the shores of a lake, we almost invariably find valleys, ravines, and water-courses depressed considerably below the general level of the plain. 36 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. 1 Wherever hills are found rising above the common plane of the country, they are clothed with timber ; and the same fact is true of all broken lands. This fact affords additional evidence in support of our theory. Most of the land in such situations is poor ; the grass would be short, and if burned at all. would occasion but little heat. In other spots, the progress of the fire would be checked by rocks and ravines ; and in no case would there be that accumulation of dry material which is found on the fertile plain, nor that broad, unbroken surface, and free exposure, which are necessary to afford full scope to the devouring element. 'By those who have never seen this region, a very tolerable idea may be formed of the manner in which the prairie and forest alternate, by drawing a colored line of irregular thickness, along the edges of all the water-courses laid down on the map. This border would generally vary from one to five or six miles, and often extend to twelve. As the streams approach each other, these borders would approach or come in contact ; and all the intermediate spaces not thus colored would be prairie. It would be seen that in the point formed by the junction of the Ohio and Mississippi, the forest would cover all the ground ; and that, as these rivers diverge, and their tributaries spread out, the prairies would predominate.' Between the Platte river, and the head-waters of the Colorado and Sabine rivers, there is an extensive desert tract, which has been called the Great American Desert, stretching from the Ozark Mountains to the Chip- pewan. Over this desert the members of Long's expedition travelled nearly a thousand miles. The intense reflection of light and heat, from this tract, added much to the fatigue and suffering of their journey. ' We often met with extensive districts covered entirely with loose and fine sand, blown from the adjacent hills. In the low plains along the river where the soil is permanent, it is highly impregnated with saline substances, and too sterile to produce any thing except a few stinted carices and rushes.' As we approached the mountains, we felt or fancied a very manifest change in the character of the weather, and the temperature of the air. Mornings and evenings were usually calm, and the heat more oppressive than in the middle of the day. Early in the forenoon, a light and refreshing breeze often sprung up, blowing from the west or south-west, which again subsided on the approach of night. This phenomenon was so often observed, that we were induced to attribute it to the operation of the same local cause, which in the neighborhood of the sea produces a diurnal change in the winds, which blow alternately to and from the shore. The Rocky Mountains may be considered as forming the shore of that sea of sand, which is traversed by the Platte, and extends northward to the Missouri above the great bend. The rarefaction of the air over this great plain, by the reverberation of the sun's rays during the day, causes an ascending current, which is supplied by the rushing down of the condensed air from the mountains. * * * * For several days the sky had been clear, and in the morning we had observed an unusual degree of transparency in every part of the atmosphere. As the day advanced, and the heat of the sun began to be felt, such quantities of vapor were seen to ascend from every part of the plain, that all objects at a little distance appeared magnified, and variously distorted. An undulating and tremulous motion in ascending lines was manifest over every part of the surface. Commencing soon after sunrise it continued to increase in quantity until the afternoon, when it PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 37 diminished gradually, keeping an even pace with the intensity of the sun's heat. The density of the vapor was often such as to produce the perfect image of a pool of water in every valley upon which we could look down at an angle of about ten degrees. This aspect was several times seen so perfect and beautiful as to deceive almost every one of our party. A herd of bisons, at the distance of a mile, seemed to be standing in a pool of water, and what appeared to us the reflected image was as distinctly seen as the animal itself. # Illusions of this kind are common in the African and Asiatic deserts, as we learn from travellers and from the language of poets.' The Pine Plains are a district of sandy alluvion, bounded by the gra- velly soil of Guilderland and Duanesburgh on the south-west, and by the river alluvions of Niskayuna and Watervliet, on the north-east, and cover- ing an area of about seventy square miles. This tract is included in a triangle formed by the junction of the Mohawk with the Hudson, and of which the Helleberg, a lofty chain of highlands, visible from the plains at the distance of twenty miles, forms the south-western boundary. Situated near the centre of a state, computed at forty thousand square miles, and containing a population of nearly two million souls, this tract presents the topographical novelty of an unreclaimed desert, in the heart of one of the oldest counties in the state, and in the midst of a people characterized for enterprise and public spirit. Several attempts have lately been made to bring this tract into cultivation, and from the success which has attended the introduction of gypsum, and other improved modes of agriculture, it is probable the whole will, at some future period, be devoted to the cultivation of the various species of grasses, fruit trees, and esculent roots ; three branches of agriculture to which its sandy soil seems admirably adapted. GENERAL REMARKS ON PLAINS AND PRAIRIES. Plains like valleys are of two classes ; the high plains, which are found between two chains of mountains, are frequently of great extent, and are placed as it were upon the shoulders of secondary mountains ; such are the elevated plains of Tar- tary, of Persia, and probably of the Interior of Africa. The plains of Quito are twelve thousand feet above the level of the sea ; those of Karakorum, in Chinese Mongolia, are probably as elevated. The low plains, whose soil is composed of sand, gravel and shells, seem formerly to have been the basins of interior seas. Such are the plains on the north side of the Caspian, the large plain to the south of the Baltic, and that through which the river of the Amazon flows ; the Tehama of Arabia, the Delta of Egypt, and others of a similar nature, which seem to have been once covered by the waters of the ocean and its gulfs. The immense plains covered with grass, called prairies in the United States, are the steppes of Asia, and the pampas of South America. * It is common in our own country, says the London Monthly Review, for ground mists to assume the appearance of water, to make a meadow seem inundated, and to change a valley into a lake ; but these mists never reflect the surrounding trees and hills. Hence the mirage must consist of a peculiar gas, of which the particles are combined by a stronger attraction of cohesion than the vapors of real water ; the liquor silicum of the alchemists is described as exhibiting in some circumstances this glossy surface, yet as being equally evanescent. 33 CHAPTER IV.— RIVERS. All the rivers of the United States, of the first magnitude, have their sources, either in the Rocky Mountains, or in elevated spurs projecting from the sides of that range. Many of the rivers which descend from the western sides of the Allcghanies are of inconsiderable volume, and by no means remarkable for the rapidity or the directness of their course. Those which flow from the eastern and southern sides of these mountains are worthy of extended description, even in the same pages with the great tri- butaries of the Mississippi. They afford the advantages of a good inland navigation to most parts of the states. I. RIVERS WHICH FLOW INTO THE MISSISSIPPI, AND THE GULF OF MEXICO. The Mississippi with its branches drains the great central basin which lies between the Alleghany and the Rocky Mountains. This river has its rise in the table-lands within the territories of the United States, in north latitude forty-seven degrees and forty-seven minutes, at an altitude of thirteen hundred and thirty feet above the Atlantic, though the country at its source appears like a vast marshy valley. Mr. Schoolcraft fixes it in Cassina Lake, which is situated seventeen degrees north of the Balize on the gulf of Mexico, and two thousand nine hundred and seventy-eight miles, pursuing the course of the river. Estimating the distance to Lake La Beesh, its extreme north-western inlet at sixty miles, we have a result of three thousand and thirty-eight miles as the entire length of this won- derful river. Mr. Schoolcraft, in his very interesting Journal of Travels, observed that he believed there was no one then living, beside himself, Avho had visited both the sources and the mouth of this celebrated stream. As the description furnished by this gentleman is the clearest and most complete that we find, we have taken the liberty to transfer it to our pages, without mutilation : — 1 In deciding upon the physical character of the Mississippi, it may be advantageously considered under four natural divisions, as indicated by the permanent differences in the color of its waters — the geological character of its bed and banks, — its forest trees and other vegetable productions, — its velocity, — the difficulties it opposes to navigation, — and other natural ap- pearances and circumstances. ' Originating in a region of lakes, upon the table-lands, which throw their waters north into Hudson's Bay, — south into the gulf of Mexico, — and east into the gulf of St. Lawrence — it pursues its course to the falls of Peckagama, a distance of two hundred and thirty miles, through a low prairie, covered with wild rice, rushes, sword grass, and other aquatic plants. During this distance, it is extremely devious as to course and width, sometimes expanding into small lakes, at others, narrowing into a channel of about eighty feet. It is about sixty feet wide on its exit from Red Cedar or Cassina Lake, with an average depth of two feet; but from the junction of the Leech Lake fork, increases to a hundred feet in width, with a corresponding increase of depth Its current, during this distance PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 39 is still and gentle ; and its mean velocity may be estimated at a mile and a half per hour, with a descent of three inches per mile. This is the favorite resort of water-fowl, and amphibious quadrupeds. ' At the falls of Peckagama, the first rock stratum, and the first wooded island, is seen. Here the river has a fall of twenty feet ; and from this to the falls of St. Anthony, a distance of six hundred and eighty-five miles, exhibits its second characteristic division. At the head of the falls of Peckagama, the prairies entirely cease ; and below, a forest of elm, maple, birch, oak, and ash, overshadows the stream. The black walnut is first seen below Sandy Lake river, and the sycamore below the river De Corbeau. The river, in this distance, has innumerable well wooded islands, and receives a number of tributaries, the largest of which is the river De Cor- beau, its great south-western fork. The Pine, Elk, Sac, and Crow rivers, also enter on the west, and the St. Francis and Missisawgaiegon, on the east. The course of the river, although serpentine, is less so, than above the falls of Peckagama, and its bends are not so short and abrupt. Its mean width may be estimated at three hundred feet until the junction of the De Corbeau, and below that at two hundred and fifty yards. Its naviga- tion is impeded, agreeably to a memorandum which I have kept, by thirty- five rapids, nineteen ripples, and two minor falls, called the Little and the Big Falls, in all of which the river has an aggregate descent of two hun- dred and twenty-four feet in fourteen thousand six hundred and forty yards, or about eight miles. The mean fall of the current, exclusive of the rapids, may be computed at six inches per mile, and its velocity at three miles per hour. In the course of this distance it receives several small turbid streams, and acquires a brownish hue, but still preserves its transpa- rency, and is palatable drink-water. A few miles above the river Cor- beau, on the east side, we observe the first dry prairies, or natural meadows, and they continue to the falls of St. Anthony. These prairies are the great resort of the buffalo, elk, and deer, and are the only parts of the banks of the Mississippi where the buffalo is now to be found. Granite rocks appear at several of the rapids, in rolled pieces, and in beds ; and in some places attain an elevation of one or two hundred feet above the level of the water, but the banks of the river are generally alluvial. ' At the falls of St. Anthony, the river has a perpendicular pitch of forty feet, and from this to its junction with the Missouri, a distance of eight hundred and forty-three miles, it is bounded by limestone bluffs, which attain various elevations from one to four hundred feet, and present a succession of the most sublime and picturesque views. This forms the third characteristic change of the Mississippi. The river prairies cease, an d the rocky bluffs commence precisely at the falls of St. Anthony. Tsine miles below it receives the St. Peter's from the west, and is succes- sively swelled on that side by the Ocano, Iowa, Turkey, Desmoines, and Salt rivers, and on the east by the St. Croix, Chippeway, Black, Ouiscon- sin, Rock, and Illinois. One hundred miles below the falls of St. An- thony, the river expands into a lake, called Pepin, which is twenty-four miles long and four in width. It is, on issuing from this lake, that the river first exhibits, in a striking manner, those extensive and moving sand- bars, innumerable islands and channels, and drifts and snags, which con- tinue to characterize it to the ocean. Its bends from this point onward are larger, and its course more direct ; and although its waters are adulterated 40 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. by several dark colored and turbid streams, it may still be considered trans- parent. The principal impediments to navigation in this distance are the Desmoines, and Eock river rapids. The latter extends six miles, and op- poses an effectual barrier to steam-boat navigation, although keel-boats and barges of the largest classes, may ascend. This rapid is .three hundred and ninety miles above St. Louis. ' The fourth change in the physical aspect of this river is at the junction of the Missouri, and this is a total and complete one, the character of the Mississippi being entirely lost in that of the Missouri. The latter is, in fact, much the larger stream of the two, and carries its characteristic ap- pearances to the ocean. It should also have carried the name, but its exploration took place too long after the course of the Mississippi had been perpetuated in the written geography of the country, to render an alteration in this respect, either practicable or expedient. The waters of the Mis- sissippi at its confluence with the Missouri, are moderately clear, and of a greenish hue. The Missouri is turbid and opake, of a grayish white color, and during its floods, which happen twice a year, communicates, almost instantaneously, to the combined stream its predominating qualities, but towards the close of the summer season, when it is at its lowest stage of water, the streams do not fully incorporate for twenty or thirty miles, but preserve opposite sides of the river ; and I have observed this pheno- menon at the town of Herculaneum, forty-eight miles below the junction. ' The water in this part of the river cannot be drank until it has been set aside to allow the mud to settle. The distance from the mouth of the Missouri to the gulf of Mexico is one thousand two hundred and twenty miles, in the course of which it receives from the west, the Merri- mac, St. Francis, White, Arkansas, and Red rivers ; and from the east, the Kaskaskia, Great Muddy, Ohio, Wolf, and Yazoo. This part of the river is more particularly characterized by snags and sawyers, falling-in banks and islands, sand-bars and mud-banks ; and a channel which is shifting by every flood, and of such extreme velocity, that it was formerly thought it could not be navigated by vessels propelled with sails. Subse- quent experience has shown this conjecture to be unfounded, although a strong wind is required for its ascent. It is daily navigated in ships of from four hundred to eight hundred tons burden, from the Balize to New Orleans, a distance of one hundred miles, and could be ascended higher were it necessary ; but the commerce of the river above New Orleans is now carried on, in a great measure, by steam-boats. The width of the river opposite St. Louis is one mile ; it is somewhat less at New Orleans, and still less at its disembochure. A bar at its mouth prevents ships draw- ing more than eighteen feet water from entering. This river is occupied by different bands of the Chippeway Indians from its sources, to the Buffalo Plains in the vicinity of the upper St. Francis, the precise limit being a matter of dispute, and the cause of the long war between them and the Sioux. The Sioux bands claim from thence to the Prairie des Chiens, and the Foxes and Sacs to the river Desmoines. From this vicinity to the gulf of Mexico the Indian title has been extinguished by the United States' government, either through purchase, treaty, or conquest, and we have now the complete control of this river and all its tributary streams, with the exception of the upper part of Red river. The wild rice is not found on the waters of the Mississippi south of the forty-first degree of north lati- PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 41 tude, nor the Indian reed, or cane, north of the thirty-eighth. These two productions characterize the extremes of this river. It has been observed by McKenzie, that the former is hardly known, or at least does not come to maturity, north of the fiftieth degree of north latitude. The alligator is first seen below the junction of the Arkansas. The paroquet is found as far north as the mouth of the Illinois, and flocks have occasionally been seen as high as Chicago. The name of this river is derived from the Algonquin language, one of the original tongues of our continent, which is now spoken nearly in its primeval purity by the different bands of Chip- peways.' The navigation upon this river is very great. Ships seldom ascend higher than Natchez. It is navigable for boats of the largest size as far as the Ohio. The number of steam-boats upon the Mississippi is about three hundred. Their size is from five hundred and forty tons downwards. The passage from Cincinnati to New Orleans and back has been made in nineteen days. From New Orleans to Louisville the shortest passage has been eight days and two hours, the distance being one thousand six hun- dred and fifty miles, and against the current. The steam-boats have generally high-pressure power, and many fatal explosions have happened upon these waters. The first steam-vessel here was built in 1810.* * The following very graphic description of a flood on the Mississippi, is from the pen of the celebrated naturalist, Audubon : ' There the overflow is astonishing ; for no sooner has the water reached the upper part of the banks, than it rushes out and overspreads the whole of the neighboring swamps, presenting an ocean overgrown with stupendous forest trees. So sudden is the calamity, that every individual, whether man or beast, has to exert his utmost inge- nuity to enable him to escape from the dreaded element. The Indian quickly removes to the hills of the interior, the cattle and game swim to the different stripes of land that remain uncovered in the midst of the flood, or attempt to force their way through the waters until they perish from fatigue. Along the banks'of the river the inhabitants have rafts ready made, on which they remove themselves, their cattle, and their provi- sions, and which they then fasten with ropes or grape vines to the larger trees, while they contemplate the melancholy spectacle presented by the current, as it carries off their houses and wood-yards piece by piece. Some who have nothing to lose, and are usually known by the name of squatters, take this opportunity of traversing the woods in canoes, for the purpose of procuring game, and particularly the skins of animals, such as the deer and bear, which may be converted into money. They resort to the low ridges surrounded by the waters, and destroy thousands of deer, merely for their skins, leaving the flesh to putrefy. ' The river itself, rolling its swollen waters along, presents a spectacle of the most imposing nature. Although no large vessel, unless propelled by steam, can now make its way against the current, it is seen covered by boats laden with produce, which, run- ning out from all the smaller streams, float silently towards the city of New-Orleans, their owners, meanwhile, not very well assured of finding a landing-place even there. The water is covered with yellow foam and pumice, the latter having floated from the rocky mountains of the north-west. The eddies are larger and more powerful than ever. Here and there tracts of forests are observed undermined, the trees gradually giving way, and falling into the stream. Cattle, horses, bears, and deer, are seen at times attempting to swim across the impetuous mass of foaming and boiling water ; whilst here and there a vulture or an eagle is observed perched on a bloated carcass, tearing it up in pieces, as regardless of the flood as on former occasions it would have been of the numerous sawyers and planters with which the surface of the river is covered when the water is low. Even the steamer is frequently distressed. The numberless trees and logs that float along, break its paddles and retard its progress. Besides, it is on such occasions difficult to procure fuel to maintain its fires ; and it is only at very distant intervals that a wood-j'ard can be found which the water has not earned off. 6 4* 42 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. The Missoiiri rises in the Rocky Mountains in nearly the same parallel with the Mississippi, and about a mile distant from the head-waters of the Columbia. The most authentic information we have yet had of the sources of this mighty river is from its first intrepid American discoverers, Lewis and Clarke. What may properly be called the Missouri, seems to be formed ' Following the river in your canoe, you reach those parts of the shores that are pro- tected against the overflowing of the waters, and are called levees. There you find the whole population of the district at work, repairing and augmenting those artificial barriers which are several feet above the level of the fields. Every person appears to dread the opening of a crevasse, by which the waters may rush into his fields. In spite of all exertions, however, the crevasse opens, and water bursts impetuously over the planta- tions, and lays waste the crops which so lately were blooming in all the luxuriance of spring. It opens up a new channel, which, for aught I know to the contrary, may carry its waters even to the Mexican gulf. ' But now, kind reader, observe this great flood gradually subsiding, and again see the mighty changes which it has effected. The waters have now been carried into the distant ocean. The earth is every where covered by a deep deposit of muddy loam, which, in drying, splits into deep and narrow chasms, presenting a reticulated appear- ance, and from which, as the weather becomes warmer, disagreeable, and at times noxious, exhalations arise, and fill the lower stratum of the atmosphere, as with a dense fog. The banks of the river have almost every where been broken down in a greater or less degree. Large streams are now found to exist, where none were formerly to be sepn, having forced their way in direct lines from the upper parts of the bends. These are, by the navigator, called short cuts. Some of them have proved large enough to pro- duce a change in the navigation of the Mississippi. If I mistake not, one of these, known by the name of Grand Cut-off, and only a few miles in length, has diverted the rivet from its natural course, and has shortened it by fifty miles. The upper parts of the islands present a bulwark consisting of an enormous mass of floated trees of all kinds, which have lodged there. Large sand-banks have been completely removed by the impetuous whirls of the waters, and have been deposited in other places. Some appear quite new to the eye of the navigator, who has to mark their situation and bearings in his log-book. The trees on the margins of the banks have in many parts given way. They are seen bending over the stream, like the grounded arms of an overwhelmed army of giants. Every where are heard the lamentations of the farmer and planter, whilst their servants and themselves are busily employed in repairing the damages occasioned by the floods. At one crevasse, an old ship or two, dismantled for the pur- pose, are sunk, to obstruct the passage opened by the still rushing waters, while new earth is brought to fill up the chasms. The squatter is seen shouldering his rifle, and making his way through the morass, in search of his lost stock, to drive the survivors home, and save the skins of the drowned. New fences have every where to be formed ; even new houses must be erected, to save which from a like disaster, the settler places them on an elevated platform, supported by pillars made of the trunks of trees. The lands must be ploughed anew; and if the season is not too far advanced, a crop of corn and potatoes may yet be raised. But the rich prospects of the planter are blasted. The traveller is impeded in his journey, the creeks and smaller streams having broken up their banks in a degree proportionate to their size. A bank of sand which seems firm and secure, suddenly gives way beneath the traveller's horse, and the next moment the animal has sunk in the quicksand, either to the chest in front, or over the crupper behind, leaving its master in a situation not to be envied. 'Unlike the mountain torrents and small rivers of other parts of the world, the Missis- sippi rises but slowly during these floods, continuing for several weeks to increase at the rate of about an inch in the day. When at its height, it undergoes little fluctuation for some days, and after this subsides as slowly as it rose. The usual duration of a flood is from four to six weeks, although, on some occasions, it is protracted to two months. ' Every one knows how largely the idea of floods and cataclysms enters into the speculations of the geologist. If the streamlets of the European continent afford illus- trations of the formation of strata, how much more must the Mississippi, with its ever- shifting sand-banks, its crumbling shores, its enormous masses of drift-timber, the source of future beds of coal, its extensive and varied alluvial deposits, and its mighty mass of waters rolling sullenly along, like the flood of eternity !' PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 43 by three considerable branches, which unite not far from the bases of the principal ranges of the mountains. To the northern they gave the name of Jefferson, to the middle Gallatin, and to the southern Madison. All these streams run with great velocity, throwing out large volumes of water ; their beds are formed of smooth pebble and gravel, and their waters are perfectly transparent. One hundred and a half miles beyond the forks of the Missouri are the forks of Jefferson river ; two subordinate branches of which are called "Wisdom and Philanthropy, one coming from the north-west, and the former from the south-east. Wisdom river is fifty yards wide, cold, rapid, and containing a third more water than the Jef- ferson ; it seems to be the drain of the melting snows on the mountains, but is unnavigable on account of its rapidity. One hundred and forty-eight miles farther up is the extreme navigable point of the river in north lati- tude forty-three degrees thirty minutes and forty-three seconds. Two miles beyond this is a small gap or narrow entrance, formed by the high mountains which recede on each side, at the head of an elevated valley, ten miles long and five broad, so as to form a beautiful cove several miles in diameter. From the foot of one of the lowest of these mountains, which rises with a gentle ascent of half a mile, issues the remotest water of the Mississippi. At the source, we are told that the weather is so cold at the end of August, that water standing in vessels exposed in the night air has been frozen to the depth of a quarter of an inch. After the junction of the three branches before mentioned, the river continues a considerable distance to be still a foaming mountain torrent. It then spreads into a broad and comparatively gentle stream full of islands. Precipitous peaks of blackish rock frown above the river in perpendicular elevations of a thousand feet. The mountains whose bases it sweeps are covered with pines, cedars and firs; and mountain sheep are seen bounding on their summits where they are apparently inaccessible. In this distance the mountains have an aspect of inexpressible loneliness and grandeur. In the meadows and along the shore the tree most common is the cotton-wood, which with the willow forms almost the exclusive growth of the Missouri. About forty-seven miles below the spot where the Missouri issues from the mountains to the plains, a most sublime and extraordinary spec- tacle presents itself, emphatically denominated the Gates of the Rocky Mountains. In ascending the stream it increases in rapidity, depth, and breadth, to the mouth of this formidable pass. Here the rocks approach it on both sides, rising perpendicularly from the edge of the water to the height of one thousand two hundred feet. Near the base they are com- posed of black granite; but above, the color is of a yellowish, brown, and cream color. Nothing can be imagined more tremendous than the frown- ing darkness of these rocks, which project over the river, and menace the passenger with instant destruction. For the space of five miles and three quarters, the rocks rise to the above degree of elevation, and the river, three hundred and fifty yards broad, seems to have forced its channel down the solid mass ; or, to use Volney's expression respecting the falls of Niagara, literally to have sawed a passage through this body of hard and solid rock, near six miles in length, being incased as it were, during all this distance, between two walls of one thousand and two hundred feet high. During the whole distance the water is very deep, even at the 44 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. edges ; and for the first three miles, there is not a spot, except one of a few yards, in which a man could stand between the water and the tow- ering perpendicular precipice of the mountain. The river, for the distance of about seventeen miles, becomes almost a continued cataract. In this distance its perpendicular descent is three hundred and sixty-two feet. The first fall is ninety -eight feet ; the second, nineteen ; the third, forty-seven ; the fourth, twenty-six. Next to the Niagara these falls are the grandest in the world. The river continues rapid for a long distance beyond, but there is not much variation in its appearance till near the mouth of the Platte. That powerful river throws out vast quantities of coarse sand, which contribute to give a new face to the Missouri, which is now much more impeded by islands. The sand, as it is drifted down, adheres in time to some of the projecting points from the shore, and forms a barrier to the mud which at length fills to the same height with the sand-bar itself. As soon as it has acquired a consistency, the willow grows there the first year, and by its roots gives solidity to the whole ; with further accumulations the cotton-wood tree next appears, till the soil is gradually raised to a point above the highest freshets. Thus stopped in its course, the water seeks a passage elsewhere, and as the soil on each side is light and yielding, what was only a penin- sula becomes gradually an island, and the river compensates the usur- pation by encroaching on the adjacent shore. In this way the Missouri, like the Mississippi, is continually cutting off the projections of the shore, and leaving its ancient channel, which may be traced by the deposits of mud and a few stagnant ponds.* During the whole length of the Missouri below the Platte, the soil is generally excellent, and although the timber is scarce, there is still sufficient for the purpose of settlers. But beyond that river, although the soil is still rich, yet the almost total absence of timber, and particularly the want of good water, of which there is but a small quantity in the creeks, oppose very powerful impediments to its occupancy. The prai- ries for many miles on each side of the river produce abundance of good pasturage.. Above the mouth of the Osage, the immediate valley of the Missouri gradually expands, embracing some wide bottoms in which are many settlements gradually increasing in the number of inhabitants. The Manito Rocks, and some other precipitous cliffs, are the terminations of low ranges of hills, running in quite to the river. These hills sometimes occasion rapids, and opposite the Manito rocks a small group of islands stretches obliquely across the river, separated by narrow channels in which the current is stronger than below. This group is called the Thousand Islands. Some of the channels are obstructed by collections of floating trees, which usually accumulate about the heads of islands, and are here called rafts. After increasing to a certain extent, portions of these rafts become loosened, and float down the river, covering nearly its whole surface, and greatly impeding and endangering the progress of the ascending boats. Council Bluffs, the seat of an important military establishment of the United States, about six hundred miles up the Missouri, is a remarkable * Lewis and Clarke. PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 45 bank, rising abruptly from the brink of the river to an elevation of one hundred and fifty feet. From the hill tops, a mile in the rear of the Bluffs, is presented a most extensive and beautiful landscape. On the east side of the river, the Bluffs exhibit a chain of peaks, stretching as far as the eye can reach. The river is here and there seen meandering in serpentine folds along its broad valley, chequered with woodlands and prairies, while, at a nearer view, you look down on an extensive plain, interspersed with a few scattered copses or bushes, and terminated at a distance by the Council Bluffs. Taken in connection with the Mississippi into which it flows, this river is the longest on the globe. * Its whole course, from its mouth in the gulf of Mexico to its source in the Rocky Mountains, is four thousand four hundred and twenty-four miles, including its windings; and for four thousand three hundred and ninety-six miles of this course it is navigable. From the point of its confluence with the Mississippi to fort Mandan, it is one thousand six hundred and nine miles; to the foot of the rapids at Great Falls two thousand five hundred and seventy-five miles ; two thou- sand six hundred and sixty-four to where it issues from the mountains; two thousand six hundred and ninety to the Gates of the Mountains; three thousand and ninety-six to the extreme navigable point of Jefferson river; and three thousand one hundred and twenty-four miles to its remotest source. In this immense com upwards of fifty large rivers, and one hundred and fifty smaller streams. Its principal tributaries are the Roche Jaune, or Yellowstone, the Kansas, .Platte, Osage, Gasconade, Little Missouri, Running Water, Charaton, White, and Milk rivers. The Yellowstone is the largest of these tributaries. Its sources are in the Rocky Mountains, near those of the Missouri and the Platte, and it may be navigated in canoes almost to its head. It runs first through a mountainous country, but in many parts fertile and well timbered; it then waters a rich, delightful land, broken into valleys and meadows, and well supplied with wood and water, till it reaches near the Missouri open meadows and low grounds, sufficiently timbered on its borders. In the upper country its course is said to be very rapid, but during Rife two last and largest portions, its current is much more gentle than that of the Missouri. On the sand-bars and along the margin of this river grows the small leafed willow; in the low grounds adjoining are scattered rose bushes three or four feet high, the red-berry, service-berry and redwood. The higher plains are either immediately on the river, in which case they are generally timbered, and have an undergrowth like that of the low grounds, with the addition of the broad leafed willow, gooseberry, purple currant and honeysuckle; or they are between the low gro: and the hills, and for the most part without wood, or any thing except *' The American Fur Company have sent their steam-boats tnmty-one hmdrt if milt s above the mouth of the Missouri, and in high water, steam-boats "of light draft can ascend two thousand and six hundred miles. The .Mississippi is navigable by steam between six and seven hundred miles above St. Louis. These rivers pass through an exceedingly fertile country ; and when a just system of internal improvement shall be carried into operation, not only New Orleans and the great valley of the Mississippi will be benefit- ted, but every portion of the United States will feel the invigorating influence of such a course.' — St. Louis Republican. 46 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. large quantities of wild hyssop, a plant which rises to the height of about two feet, and, like the willow of the sand-bars, is a favorite food of the buffalo, elk, deer, grouse, porcupine, hare, and rabbit.^ The Platte is in fact much more rapid than the Missouri, and drives the current on the northern shore, on which it is constantly encroaching. At some distance below the confluence, the Missouri is two miles wide, with a rapid current of ten miles an hour in some parts, the rapidity increasing as we approach the mouth of the Platte ; the velocity of which, combined with the vast quantity of rolling sands which are drifting from it into the Missouri, renders it completely unnavigable, unless for fiats or rafts, though the Indians pass it in small flat canoes made of hides, and the Americans have contrived to navigate it by means of keel-boats, which, being constructed to draw but little water, and built upon a small keel, are remarkably well adapted for sailing up rapid and shallow streams. The Platte runs a course of fifteen degrees of longitude, from west to east, or more than eight hundred miles. The Kansas River has a considerable resemblance to the Missouri, but its current is more moderate, and its water less turbid, except at times of high floods. Its valley, like that of the Missouri, has a deep and fertile soil, bearing forests of cotton-wood, sycamore, and other trees, interspersed with meadows ; but in ascending, trees become more and more scattered, and at length disappear almost entirely, the country at its sources being one immense prairie. The River Osage, so called from the well known tribe of Indians inhabiting its banks, enters the Missouri one hundred and thirty-three miles above its confluence with the Mississippi. Its sources are in the Ozark Mountains. Flowing along the base of the north-western slope of a mountainous range, it receives from the east several rapid and beautiful tributaries. In point of magnitude this river ranks with the Cumberland and Tennessee. It has been represented as navigable for six hundred miles, but this Major Long considers an exaggeration, on account of the great number of shoals and sand-bars in its current. In the lower part of its course it traverses brpad and fertile bottom-lands, bearing heavy forests of sycamore and cot- ton trees. Charaton River is seventy-five yards wide at its mouth, and navigable at high water one hundred and fifty miles. Half a mile from its conflu- ence with the Missouri, it receives the Little Charaton, also a considerable stream, and navigable for* many miles. The Charaton has its source near the De Moyen river of the Mississippi, and traverses a country which is of great importance, both on account of the fertility of its soil, and its inex- haustible mines of gold. The Arkansas River rises in the Rocky Mountains in north latitude forty-two degrees, near the borders of the territory of the United States and Mexico. It is about two thousand miles in length, running in a direction east south-east. Tributary streams are little known ; they are remarkable for being deeply impregnated with salt. That part of Arkansas that tra- verses the Missouri territory is skirted, in great part, by extensive prairies. Spurs of the Masserne Mountains often reach the river. It may be re- marked as singular, that to the extent of upwards of three hundred miles * Lewis and Clarke PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 47 in the lower part of the Arkansas, its valley is confined merely to the stream of the river ; the waters of the Washita on one side, and White river on the other, rising almost from the very margin of the Arkansas. The land upon the Arkansas, in the Missouri territory, is in great part alluvial ; and where not subject to overflow, excellent. The timber cor- responds nearly to that of the state of Mississippi, in similar relative situ- ations. Red River rises about one hundred miles north-east of Santa Fe, in Mexico, at the base of a range of the Rocky Mountains, called the Caous, and after a very serpentine course of about two thousand five hundred miles, enters the Mississippi in thirty-one degrees fifteen minutes north latitude. There are many streams rising in the same mountains, flow- ing separately for three or four hundred miles, and then uniting to form the Red river. Of the regions in which the upper waters of these streams lie, but little is known. They are principally inhabited by the Pawnees. When the river enters Louisiana, its south bank is for a long distance the boundary between the United States and Texas. A great part of its course is through defightful prairies of a rich red soil, covered with grass and vines which bear delicious grapes. About a hundred miles above Natchitoches commences what is called the Raft ; a swampy ex- pansion of the alluvion to the width of twenty or thirty miles. The river divides into a great number of channels, many of them shallow ; and for ages these channels have been becoming clogged with a mass of fallen timber carried down from the upper parts of the river. At this place its navigation is effectually obstructed, except in a high stage of water, when keel-boats of ten or fifteen tons burden may pass it through devious channels, or bayoux, and ascend several miles above. That part of the river situated above the Raft is rendered impassable for boats of burden, by shoals and sand-bars in a moderate stage of" water.* The Washita, tributary to Red river, is navigable many miles. That portion of it situated within the valley of the Mississippi, denominated Black river, admits of constant navigation for boats of burden. White river is navigable in a moderate stage of water between three and four hundred miles. Of the rivers tributary to the Missouri, it is remarkable, that their mouths are generally blocked up with mud, after the subsiding of the summer freshet of that river, which usually takes place in the month of July. The freshets of the more southerly tributaries are discharged early in the season, and wash from their mouths the sand and mud previously deposited therein, leaving them free from obstructions. These freshets having subsided, the more northerly branches discharge their floods, form- ed by the melting of the snow, at a later period. The Missouri being thus swollen, the mud of its waters is driven up the mouth of its tributaries. These streams having no more freshets to expel it, their mouths remain thus obstructed till the ensuing spring.! The St. Peter has its rise in a small lake about three miles in circum- ference, at the base of a remarkable ridge, distinguished by the name of * Appropriations have recently been made by Congress for the removal of obstruc- tions in the Arkansas and Red rivers. The officer employed on that service is confi- dent in the practicability of removing the Raft by means of boats. t Long's Expedition. 48 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. Coteau des Prairies. It enters the Mississippi nine miles below the falls of St. Anthony. Its length in all its windings is about five hundred miles, Its course is exceedingly serpentine, and is interrupted by several rocky ridges, extending across the bed of the river and occasioning falls of con- siderable descent. During the times of spring freshets and floods, this river is navigable for boats from its mouth to the head of Big Stone Lake, about fifteen miles from its sources. For a distance of about forty miles on the lower part of the river, it is from sixty to eighty yards only wide, and navigable for pirogues and canoes in all stages of the water ; higher up, its navigation is obstructed in low water by numerous shoals and rapids. The aggregate descent of the St. Peter may be estimated at about one hundred and fifty feet, the general level of the country at its source having an elevation of about fifty feet above the river. The chief of its tributaries is the Blue-earth river, which flows in from the south a hundred miles west of the Mississippi by a mouth fifty yards in width. It is chiefly noted for the blue clay which the Indians procure upon its banks, and which is much employed in- painting their faces and other parts of their bodies. The river St. Peter's enters the Mississippi behind a large island, which is probably three miles in circumference, and is covered with the most luxu- riant growth of sugar-maple, elm, ash, oak, and walnut. At the point of embouchure it is one hundred and fifty yards in width, with a depth of ten or fifteen feet. Its waters are transparent, and present a light blue tint on looking upon the stream. From this circumstance the Indians have given it the name of Clear-water river. Red River of the north rises near the sources of the St. Peter's ; and by a northern and winding course runs nearly two hundred miles in our ter- ritorial limits ; and then passes into the British dominions of Upper Cana- da, and empties into Lake Winnepeck. Its principal branches are Red Lake river and Moose river, the latter of which streams rises within a mile of fort Mandan on the Missouri. Red river is a broad, deep, and very interesting stream, abounding with fish, and the country along its banks with elk and buffaloes. The name Ohio is an Indian appellation, signifying ' the beautiful river.' This epithet is not bestowed upon it for the whole of its course, but com- mences at the confluence of the two principal streams, at Pittsburg ; above the junction it is called the Alleghany. The remotest source of the Alle- ghany is in the state of Pennsylvania, in north latitude forty-one degrees and forty-five minutes, and west longitude seventy-eight degrees. It is composed of two small streams. At Pittsburg, the Alleghany being joined by the Monongahela, the confluent stream receives the appellation of the Ohio. The Monongahela is formed by the confluence of two streams, both rising from the Alleghany chain, in the north-west angle of Virginia, and running parallel to each other for sixty miles in a direct line. The abso- lute course of the Monongahela is more than two hundred miles, but not above one hundred and thirty in a direct line from south to north. It seems a larger and deeper stream at Pittsburg than the Alleghany, which in the dry season has not above seven feet water where deepest. The waters of the Alleghany are always clear and limpid, while those of the Mononga- hela, on the contrary, become muddy and turbid, whenever there are a few days of successive rain in that part of the Alleghany Mountains where it rises. Each of the streams is four hundred yards wide at the conflux ; PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 49 •and after the junction, the united stream is more enlarged in depth than in breadth. The Ohio, formed by the junction of the Monongahela and Alleghany, appears to be rather a continuation of the former than the latter, which arrives at the confluence in an oblique direction. From Pittsburg to the mouth of the Ohio is one thousand and thirty-three miles by the course of the stream. It receives a vast number of tributary streams on both sides, in its progress to the Mississippi. For the space of three hundred miles below Pittsburg, the Ohio runs between two ridges of hills, rising from three hundred to four hundred feet in height. These appear fre- quently undulated at their summits, but at other times seem to be perfectly level. They sometimes recede, and sometimes approach the banks of the river, and have their direction parallel to that of* the Alleghany chain. These ridges gradually recede farther down the river, till they disappear from the view of those who descend the Ohio. It is not till this river has burst its passage through a transverse chain, at the rapids, near Louisville, that it rolls its waters, through a level and expanded country, as far as : ! " Mississippi. The general appearance of the river is beautiful, placid, gentle and transparent, except in the times of high water. There are two seasons of periodical inundations ; namely, winter and spring. According to some, the vernal inundations of this river commence in the latter end of March, and subside in July ; and, according to others, they commence early in February, and subside in May. It must be observed, however, that this period is forwarded or retarded as the rivers thaw sooner or later, which may reconcile these apparently discordant statements. The Ohio is then swelled to a prodigious height, varying in different places, as it is more or less expanded in breadth. It is a favorable circum- stance for the country in the upper course of the Ohio, that it has very high and steep banks; having gradually hollowed out for itself a deep and comparatively narrower bed, being, like all its southern tributary streams, inclosed as it were in a groove between them, which prevents the general level of the land from being overflowed for many miles, and thereby ren- dered marshy and unwholesome, as in the lower Missouri, and in the lower part of the Ohio. Yet high as these banks are, the Ohio is both a dan- gerous and troublesome neighbor to the towns which are not sufficiently far removed from them. That part of the town of Marietta situated at the junction of the Muskingum with the Ohio, though elevated forty-five feet above the ordinary level of the stream, has been twice inundated, and con- sequently abandoned by the inhabitants. The town of Portsmouth, at the mouth of the Great Sciota, and two hundred and eighteen miles below Marietta by water, though elevated sixty feet above the usual surface of the river, is also subjected to the same misfortune, which has materially affected the prosperity of the place. At Cincinnati, the breadth of the river is five hundred and thirty-five yards, and the banks fifty feet in per- pendicular height, yet these are annually overflowed. The winter floods commence in the middle of October, and continue to the latter end of December. Sometimes, in the course of the summer, abundant rains fall among the Alleghany Mountains, by which the Ohio is suddenly raised, but such occurrences are rare. In the times of these two periodical floods, which taken together last for near half the year, ships drawing twelve feet water may sail with perfect ease from Pittsburg to New Orleans, a 50 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. distance of near two thousand and two hundred miles. In these seasons the passage to the falls may be accomplished in nine or ten days, but it ia generally effected in twelve days. The difficulty of navigating the Ohio during the dry season, is only confined to the upper part of its course, or between Pittsburg and Limestone, a space of four hundred and twenty-five miles by water ; and this, not so much owing to the shallowness of the stream, as to its being divided by islands ; for the depth of the Monongahela branch of the Ohio alone, at Pittsburg, is twelve feet. Michaux counted no less than fifty of these islands in the distance of three hundred and ninety miles ; some of them only containing a few acres, and others exceed- ing a mile in length. The Tennessee rises in the Alleghany Mountains, traverses East Ten- nessee, and almost the whole northern limit of Alabama, re-enters Tennessee, and crosses almost the whole width of it, into Kentucky, and fiasses into Ohio, fifty-seven miles above its junction with the Mississippi, t is near twelve hundred miles in length, and is the largest tributary of the Ohio. It has numerous branches, and is navigable for boats one thou- sand miles ; most of the branches rise among the mountains, and are too shallow for navigation, except during the floods, which take place occa- sionally, at all seasons of the year, and admit flat boats to be floated down to the main stream. The Muscle Shoals are about three hundred miles from its entrance into the Ohio. At this place the river spreads to the width of three miles, and forms a number of islands. The passage by boats is difficult and dangerous, except when the water is high. From these shoals to the place called the Whirl or Sztck, two hundred and fifty miles, the navigation all the way is excellent, to the Cumberland Mountain ; where the river breaks through. This mountain is sometimes so steep, that even the Indians cannot ascend it on foot. In one place, particularly, near the summit of the mountain, there is a remarkable ledge of rocks, of about thirty miles in length, and two hundred feet high, with a perpendicular front facing the south-east, more noble and grand than any artificial fortification in the known world, and apparently equal in point of regularity. The Whirl, as it is called, is about latitude thirty-four degrees. It is considered a greater curiosity than the bursting of the river Potomac through the Blue Ridge. The river, which above is half a mile wide, is here compressed to one hundred yards, or eighteen rods. Just at the entrance of the mountain, a large rock projects from the northern shore, in an oblique direction, which renders the channel still narrower. This causes a sudden bend, by which the waters are thrown with great force against the opposite shore. From thence they rebound about the point of the rock, and produce a whirl of eighty yards, or two hundred and forty feet in circumference. By the dexterity of the rowers, canoes drawn into this whirl have sometimes escaped without damage. In less than a mile below the whirl, the river spreads to its common width, down to Muscle Shoals ; and thence runs in a regular and beautiful stream to its confluence with the Ohio. The Wabash rises in the north-eastern part of Indiana, and flows south- westerly nearly across^the state, when it turns to the south, and flows into the Ohio, forming towards its mouth the western boundary. Its length, from its mouth to its extreme source, exceeds five hundred miles. It is PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 51 navigable for keel-boats, about four hundred miles, to Ouitanon, where there are rapids. From this village small boats can go within six miles of St. Mary's river ; ten of Fort Wayne ; and eight of the St. Joseph's of the Miami-of-the-lakes. Its current is gentle above Vincennes ; below the town there are several rapids, but not of sufficient magnitude to prevent boats from ascending. The principal rapids are between Deche and White rivers, ten miles below Vincennes. White river and Tippecanoe river are branches of the Wabash. The Cumberland rises in the Cumberland Mountains in Kentucky, and after a course of nearly two hundred miles in that state, passes into Ten- nessee, through which it makes a circuit of two hundred and fifty miles, when it re-enters Kentucky and falls into the Ohio, about fifty miles above the entrance of that river into the Mississippi. From the source of this river to its conflux with the Ohio, the distance in a direct line is three hun- dred miles, but by the course and windings of the stream, it is near six hundred miles, five hundred of which it is navigable for batteaux of four- teen or fifteen tons burthen. The Muskingum rises in the north-eastern part of Ohio, and flows southerly into the Ohio river. It is two hundred miles in length, and is navigable for boats one hundred miles. It is connected by a canal with Lake Erie. The Sciota rises in the western part, and flows southerly into the Ohio. It is about two hundred miles long, and is navigable one hun- dred and thirty. There are rich and beautiful prairies on the river, and its valley is wide and fertile. A canal passes along this valley, and extends north-easterly to Lake Erie. The Licking and Kentucky rivers take their rise in the Cumberland Mountains, and flow north-westerly into the Ohio. They are each about two hundred miles in length. The latter is navigable for one hundred and fifty miles, and has a width of one hundred and fifty yards at its mouth. The current is rapid, and the shores are high. For a great part of its course, it flows between perpendicular banks of limestone. The voyager passing down this stream experiences an indescribable sensa- tion on looking upwards to the sky from a deep chasm hemmed in by lofty parapets. Among the other tributaries of the Ohio are the Great and Little Miami, Saline,^ Green river, Big Sandy, Kanhawa. The Illinois rises in the north-eastern parts of the state of that name, not more than thirty-five miles from the south-western extremity of Lake Mich- igan, and interlocking by a morass with the river Chicago, which empties into that lake. Its two main head-branches are Plein and Kankakee. Thirty miles from the junction of these rivers, enters Fox river from the north. Between this and the Vermilion, enter two or three inconsiderable rivers. The Vermilion is a considerable stream, which enters the Illinois from the south, two hundred and sixty miles above the Mississippi. Not far below this river, and two hundred and ten miles above the Mississippi, commences Peoria lake, which is no more than an enlargement of the river, two miles wide on an average, and twenty miles in length. Such is the 'depth and regularity of the bottom, that it has no perceptible current whatever. It is a beautiful sheet of water, with romantic shores, generally bounded by prairies ; and no waters in the world furnish finer sport for the angler. On the north side of the Illinois, the rivers that enter on that shore, * On the banks of this stream, about twenty miles from the Ohio, are extensive salt- works, owned by the United States' government. 52 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. have their courses, for the most part, in mountainous bluffs, which often approach near the river. For a great distance above its mouth, the river is almost as straight as a canal; has in summer scarcely a perceptible cur- rent, and the waters, though transparent, have a marshy taste to a degree to be almost unfit for use. The river is wide and deep ; and, for the greater part of its width, is filled with aquatic weeds, to such an extent, that no person could swim among them. Only a few yards width, in the centre of the stream, is free from them. It enters the Mississippi through a deep forest, by a mouth four hundred yards wide. Perhaps no river of the western country has so fine a boatable navigation, for such a great dis- tance ; or waters a richer and more luxuriant tract of country. Rock River is one of the most clear and beautiful tributaries of the Mis- sissippi. It has its source beyond the northern limits of Illinois, and in a ridge of hills that separates between the waters of the Mississippi and those of Lake Michigan. On its waters are extensive and rich lead mines. Its general course is south-west, and it enters the Mississippi, not far above the commencement of the military bounty lands. Opposite the moutli of this river, in the Mississippi, is the beautiful island, called from the name of the river, and on which is a military station of the United States. Kaskashia River rises in the interior of Illinois, nearly interlocking with the waters of Lake Michigan. It has a course, in a south-west direction, of between two and three hundred miles, for the greater part of which course, in high stages of water, it is boatable. It runs through a fine and settled country, and empties into the Mississippi a few miles below the town of the same name. The Ouisconsin is the largest river of the North-West territory that flows into the Mississippi. It rises in the northern interior of the country, and interlocks with the Montreal of Lake Superior. It has a course of between three and four hundred miles, has a shallow and rapid current, which is, however, navigable by boats in good stages of the water, and is eight hundred yards wide at its mouth. There is a portage of only half a mile between this and Fox river. It is over a level prairie, across which, from river to river, there is a water communication for periogues in high stages of the water. Fox River has a course of two hundred and sixty miles. It runs through Winnebago lake. It has a fine country on its banks, with a salubrious climate. Chippeivay is a considerable river of the Mississippi, and enters it just below Lake Pepin. It is' half a mile wide at its mouth, and has communications by a short portage with Lake Superior. The other chief rivers of this territory, tributary to the ' father of waters,' are St. Croix, Rum, St. Francis, and Savanna. Among the smaller tributaries to the Mississippi are the Obian, Forked Deer, Big Hatchet, and Wolf ri-vers, all of which flow into it from Ten- nessee ; and the Yazoo and Big Black, from the state of Mississippi. The last named rivers are only navigable for boats. Beside the rivers which flow into the Mississippi, and are thus emptied into the Gulf of Mexico, there are a few small streams which disembogue immediately into the gulf. The Alabama River rises in the mountainous parts of Georgia, in two head-streams named the Coosa and Tallapoosa, and running south-westerly through the centre of the state of Alabama, unites with the Tombeckbee ; both the streams then take the name of Mo- bile, and flowing south for a short distance fall into Mobile Bay. The PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 53 Tombeckbee is formed of two main branches rising in the mountains of the Mississippi. It has a boat navigation in the lower part of its course. The Alabama has a boat navigation for one hundred and fifty miles from the bay. Pearl River rises near the centre of the state of Mississippi. A number of branches unite to form the main river, which is afterwards in- creased by the Chuncka and other streams. It passes through a pleasant and fertile country, and derives much importance from being one of the chief points of communication between the state through which it flows and the Gulf of Mexico. The Pascagoula rises in latitude thirty three degrees, and after travelling for two hundred and fifty miles a tract of pine country, broadens at its mouth into an open bay, on which, at a town of its own name, is a resort for the inhabitants of New Orleans during the sickly months. Most of the rivers of Florida which flow into the gulf have their sources in Georgia. The most important of these is the Ay- palachicola. The topography of this country is as yet very imperfect, and the very numerous streams which intersect it have borne a variety of names. Most of them are barred at their mouth with sand. II. RIVERS WHICH FLOW INTO THE ATLANTIC. The River St. Croix forms a part of lhe eastern boundary of Maine, and is little navigable except by rafts ; most of it consists of a chain of small lakes. From Calais to the sea, thirty miles, its navigation is unob- structed. The River Penobscot is the largest in the state of Maine. It rises in the highlands separating Maine from Lower Canada. Between the junc- tion of its two upper branches is Moosehead lake, about forty miles long, and fifteen wide. From the Forks, as they are called, the Penobscot Indians pass to Canada, up either branch, principally the west, the source of which is said to be not more than twenty miles from the waters which fall into the St. Lawrence. The whole navigable course of the river for sloops, is forty-six miles from the head of the bay, to near the head of the side ; and from the Forks to the sea is one hundred and thirty-four miles. This river has very numerous branches, navigable by rafts and abounding in mill sites. The Saco rises in the -White Mountains of New Hampshire, enters Maine at Fryeburg, and flows in an irregular course south-east to the sea; it is one hundred and sixty miles long, and has numerous falls which afford excellent mill sites and manufacturing stations. The Androscoggin rises in Umbagog lake, among the highlands which form the north-west boundary of Maine, and descending through a suc- cession of lakes enters New Hampshire at Errol; it re-enters Maine at Gilead, and flows east and south till it joins the Kennebec at Merrymeet- ing bay. Its length is one hundred and forty miles ; the whole course is broken by rapids and falls, which prevent the transportation of any thing except timber and logs. The Kennebec also rises in the highlands, near the sources of the An- droscoggin, and flows nearly south to the sea ; falls and rapids render the navigation difficult above the tide at Augusta, from which place it is navi- gable for vessels of one hundred tons, and from Hallowell and Gardiner for ships to the sea. Th« country watered by the Kennebec generally 5* 64 BOOK OF THE UNITED STATES. consists of excellent land ; it is one of the best grazing districts in New England ; and there are upon the banks of the river a number of flourish- ing and handsome towns. The Merrimack rises in New Hampshire, and has two principal branches : one of them being the outlet of lake Winnipiseogee. The north or longer branch is called the Pemigewasset, and has its source near the Notch of the White Mountains. At its junction with the outlet of the lake this stream takes the name of Merrimack, and flows south seventy-eight miles to Chelmsford, where it enters Massachusetts, through which it runs east to the sea. Its whole course is about two hundred miles. There are numerous falls in the New Hampshire portion. Though not equal to the Connecticut for fine scenery, the Merrimack is a noble and beautiful stream. Its waters are pure and salubrious, and on its borders are many flourishing towns. Its name in the Indian language signifies a sturgeon. Its width varies from fifty to one hundred and twenty rods ; it receives many minor streams and rivers, which form the outlet of several small lakes. Its obstructions have been partly remedied by locks at different places, and there is a good navigation for vessels of two hundred tons to Haverhill. Two chain bridges cross the river at Newburyport, and Salis- bury. The Piscataqva has its rise and its whole course in New Hampshire. It is formed by the junction of several small streams in a wide and deep bed ; the longest of these streams is Salmon Fall river, which forms part of the boundary between New Hampshire and Maine. The Connecticut is the largest river of the New England States. It rises beyond the high-lands which separate the states of Vermont and New Hampshire from Lower Canada. It has been surveyed to the head spring of its northern branch, about twenty-five miles beyond the forty- fifth degree of latitude, from which to its mouth it flows upwards of three hundred miles through a well inhabited country. Its navigation is much interrupted by falls. It receives several rivers, as the Chicapee, Deerfield, Miller's, and Farmington. At Hartford it meets the tide, whence it passes on in a winding course, till it falls into Long Island sound, between Say- brook and Lyme. This river is navigable for sloops, as far as Hartford, fifty miles distant from its mouth ; and the produce of the country, for two hundred miles above it, is brought thither in flat-bottomed boats, which are so light as to be portable in carts. The Hudson, or the North River, is formed by the confluence of the Hudson proper and the Mohmvk, which unite below Waterford, ten miles above Albany. The Hudson takes its rise in the forty-fourth degree of north latitude, from the foot of the mountains which separate the waters of the St. Lawrence from those of Lake Champlain, and the Mohawk in the table-land surrounding Oneida lake. The Mohawk river rises to the north-east of Oneida lake, about eight miles from Sable Water, a stream of Lake Ontario. It runs first twenty miles south to Rome ; then south- east one hundred and thirty-four miles ; and, after receiving many tribu- tary streams in its course, falls into the Hudson by three mouths. It is a large stream of water; and is now navigable for boats from Schenectady to Rome, one hundred and four miles distant. From Albany to Schenec- tady is a portage of sixteen miles, on account of the falls and rapids, which render the river unnavigable. These falls and rapids, denominated tho PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 55 Cohoes, are three miles from the junction of the Mohawk with the Hud- son. The river is one thousand feet wide at these falls ; the rock over which the stream descends is forty feet perpendicular height ; and the whole height of the cataract, including the descent above, is seventy feet. Properly speaking, the North river is no other than a narrow gulf of the sea, entering inland at New York, and penetrating across the double chain of the Alleghany Mountains, as far as the confluence of the above men- tioned streams, one hundred and seventy miles from the sea. This is what distinguishes the Hudson from all -other rivers in the United States. In no other does the tide ascend beyond the first range ; but in the North river, it crosses the first chain at West Point, sixty miles north of New York ; and the second at Catskill, after having burst the beds of granite which opposed its passage, and cut them into a thousand different shapes. Hence the deep valley of the Hudson has derived a most singular and magnificent aspect ; the western bank being, in some places, five hundred feet of perpendicular height above the level of the river.* * ' The river expands into a noble bay, four or five miles wide, called the Tappan Sea, about thirty miles from New York, at the top of which, ten miles farther on, the banks approach each other so closely, that the channel through which the river has at a distant period forced its way by some violent convulsion, is not perceived until you almost enter it. Here we suddenly found ourselves in a narrow pass between precipi- tous mountain tops, rising on both sides from the water's edge to an elevation of twelve or fifteen hundred feet. These mountains or hills, as we should call them, are what are called the Highlands of the Hudson; and the entry to them seemed to us the most remarkable point on the river, not to be contemplated without feelings of the deepest interest. The river course continues to run in this defile among romantic hills covered with wood, sweetly inlaid with plateaus of green pasture, and of table-land for about twenty miles. The farm-houses and villages look as if they hung on the cliffs, or rose by terraces from the water's edge. The river is of various breadths, from a mile and a half to two miles. The projecting rocks often force it to change its direction, so much, indeed, that you frequently appear to be sailing in a lake, from which you cannot dis- cover an outlet. 'After leaving the Highlands, the banks of the river are comparatively low, one hundred, or one hundred and fifty feet in height. The hills through which we had passed incline to the right, and do not break off till they reach the St. Lawrence. The river, for sixty or seventy miles, frequently opens into beautiful lakes and bays, with projecting and marked shores. Great part of this district, which is called the Valley of the Hudson, consists of good land and tine corn-fields, and is