'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 Chippewan. 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

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 Åfrican 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 gravelly soil of Guilderland and Duanesburgh on the south-west, and by the river alluvions of Niskayuna and Watervliet, on the north-east, and covering 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 attendea 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.

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 Alleghanies 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 tributaries 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 wonderful river. Mr. Schoolcraft, in his very interesting Journal of Travels, observed that he believed there was no one then living, beside himself, who 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:

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In deciding upon the physical character of the Mississippi, it may 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 appearances 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

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 Corbeau, 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 navigation is impeded, agreeably to a memorandum which I have kept, by thirtyfive 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 hundred 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 transparency, and is palatable drink-water. A few miles above the river Corbeau, 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, and the rocky bluffs commence precisely at the falls of St. Anthony. Nine miles below it receives the St. Peter's from the west, and is successively swelled on that side by the Ocano, Iowa, Turkey, Desmoines, and Salt rivers, and on the east by the St. Croix, Chippeway, Black, Ouisconsin, Rock, and Illinois. One hundred miles below the falls of St. Anthony, 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 sandbars, innumerable islands and channels, and drifts and snags, which continue 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

by several dark colored and turbid streams, it may still be considered transparent. The principal impediments to navigation in this distance are the Desmoines, and Rock river rapids. The latter extends six miles, and opposes 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 appearances 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 Mississippi 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 phenomenon 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 Merrimac, 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. Subsequent 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 drawing 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