whether the Philosophical Society at Philadelpha propose soon to publish another Volume of Transactions.

[From General Lincoln.]

PHILADELPHIA, June 12, 1783.

Reverend Sir:-I have been honored with the receipt of your favor of the 18th ult. I should have had the pleasure of answering it before, had I not been prevented by an absence from the city.

I am fully in opinion with you that the literary character of the State of Massachusetts abroad will be greatly concerned in the first publication of the American Academy, and that papers for this volume ought to be selected with the utmost care and attention. I wish, therefore, a greater length of time had been given for the collection of facts and the arrangeof them before we entered seriously on a publication. I think this might have been done without incurring even a suspicion of inattention, or the least want of that spirit of research from which alone great discoveries may be expected, as we have, from the establishment of the Society, been involved in a war destructive of that repose essential to those useful investigations, the promotion of which was the laudable design of the institution.

I find, by the articles agreed on the 25th March, that the committees are to examine the several communications belonging to their respective departments, and select therefrom such as they may approve of for publication.

The task assigned the committee is arduous. I feel the embarrassments I should be under in executing the trust, were I placed in their situation, and although I might enter on the business with good intentions, yet I should be disposed to swell the volume, lest a too partial publication should discourage people from making further communications, as they might feel themselves hurt by the omission; and I might also be led to it by considering in too favorable a light the communications of those gentlemen whose characters I greatly revere, and for whom I have contracted the highest esteem and affection.

I have seen Dr. Martin, the gentleman who has discovered

the vegetable production which effectually cures cancers. He says that at present he can not, in justice to himself, communicate his knowledge in this matter. I think it will not be obtained, unless the States should think the discovery so essential to the good and happiness of mankind as to be induced thereby to offer him a sum of money for it which would make it unnecessary for him longer to attend to business. This, probably, and this only, I suppose, would draw it from him. I wish the public would take up the matter, for it can not be doubted but that his knowledge herein is important.

I am informed that the Philosophical Society here are preparing to publish another volume.

Mr. Matlock, the late Secretary of this State, was the author of those observations on the principles of vegetation which, through General Warren, I communicated to the Academy. This gentleman is absent. I can not, therefore, now obtain any further information from him.

The question which has been so long and so often agitated, whether the plant is fed from the atmosphere or earth, or whether it receives its nourishment solely from the one or the other, or whether jointly from both, is yet involved in doubt and uncertainty, and perhaps it will so continue, and prove to be one of those subjects of inquiry in which we may not find the most explicit and direct evidence by which we may at once determine on which side the truth lies. But, as it is of importance to ascertain the principles of vegetation as fully as possible, we may with propriety have recourse to the various circumstances which offer themselves to our consideration, which, being collected, and the whole contrasted, may, and probably will, leave the mind at last pretty fully, if not perfectly, satisfied.

Under these ideas of the matter I will offer to your consideration a circumstance which I think will operate in support of the opinion that the plant is fed from the atmosphere rather than from the earth. Though of itself it may prove little, yet, with others, it will have its weight and be important.

A writer in recording his travels through South America says: "That in the forest grows a tree called properly Malapole, i. e., hill timber. It is of itself a weak tree, but grow

ing near another of considerable bulk, and coming into contact with it, when expanding its branches, it deprives its neighbor of the rays of the sun. Nor is this all, for as this imbibes the juices of the earth the other withers and dies."

I have not a doubt that trees thus embraced will wither and die, but I think the Historian has formed a wrong opinion respecting the causes of their decease. He attributes them to two, viz., their being masked from the rays of the sun, and being deprived of the necessary juices of the earth, neither of which, I think, are the true ones.

If we admit that the trees are fed from the earth we can hardly suppose that one tree shall possess such powerful imbibing qualities as to deprive the other tree, natural to the soil, of all support, or that the earth can, in process of time, have become so partial to the one and forgetful of the other of her productions.

With respect to the other cause the author assigns for the decease of the tree, that appears to me to have less weight in it than the former, for it has been found by long experience that a plant will flourish and a tree grow vigorously in the shade, secluded from the sun, while there is no other curtain than the sky spread over it. I think, on the whole, that, with more truth, we may attribute the cause of the decease of the tree to its being deprived of its food, which it would have received from the atmosphere, were it not denied this blessing by the branches of its domineering neighbor, than to those assigned by the Historian.

I have to lament that the official duties which I owe the public, and which I must perform, prevent my paying that attention to the American Academy, which inclination would otherwise prompt me to do.

The stone herewith sent was found on the beach of the North River (or Hudson) near Newburgh.

I have the honor to be,

Reverend sir,

With great esteem,

REVEREND MR. CUTLER.

Your obedient servant,
B. LINCOLN.

CHAPTER XIX.

CORRESPONDENCE WITH DR. BELKNAP.

[To Dr. Belknap.]

IPSWICH, Aug. 9, 1784. My Dear Friend:-I have been honored with your letter of the 6th inst. by the hand of Mr. Parker, and feel myself under particular obligations to you for introducing me to an acquaintance with that gentleman. I was much pleased with him the little time he spent with me, and hope this may be an introduction to a further acquaintance.

It was not in my power to make any calculations on the observations we made at the White Mountains early enough for the last post. I have since gone over my minutes. I find the quicksilver in the barometer ranged below at 27.99 inches, in 46° of heat by the thermometer. At the top it ranged at 21.80 inches in 44° of heat by the thermometer. These ranges will give the height of the mountains 10,001.6 feet above the level of the sea, and 6513.1 above our tent at the foot of the mountain. The tent 3488.5 feet above the level of the sea. But as I perceived at the top of the mountain that some particles of quicksilver had, by some means, exuded through the leather of the reservoir, and some air bubbles intruded into the tube after the screw was turned down, I made a deduction of 80 from the difference of the upper and lower range of the mercury. The upper range of the mercury will then be 22.60 inches, and give the height of the mountain 9062.5 feet above the sea, and 5614 feet above the tent. In this deduction, I must confess, I have no accurate rule for ascertaining it. In screwing up the reservoir at the top of the mountain, I found the quicksilver did not entirely fill up the tube. I then measured the quantity of this defect, and made it the ground of this deduction, which I think is as great as it ought, by any means, to be. I then hoped, after our return, to have made further observations on the barometer which would enable me to de

termine this defect with more certainty, but found that the reservoir, in returning, was so injured as to leak out the most of the quicksilver. As the ill-fate of our barometer has prevented an accurate mensuration of the heights of the mountains, I call the height, in round numbers, 9,000 feet above the level of the sea, 5,500 feet above our tent, and the tent 3,500 feet above the sea. These numbers can not be far from the truth, unless there was a much greater defect in the barometer than I have now the least suspicion. It is, however, no small mortification to me not to be able to give a more accurate account of the height of this mountain, after taking so much pains to ascertain it.

In my geometrical observations at the meadow for ascertaining the height of the first summit, I find my base so short as not to subtend angle at the mountain sufficient for determining the height with any degree of certainty, especially as the observations were made in so hasty a manner, and not repeated, and the top of the mountain viewed through so much of a cloud as must occasion a deception in the appearance of its altitude. If any dependence can be made on this measure, it will make the height of the Sugar-loaf above the plain as much as 500 feet. I am now fully persuaded, though we called it but 150, that it is not less than 300 feet. I was led to this opinion by observing an height at Cabot's farm, which was found by mensuration to be upward of an hundred feet, which we all judged, that were on the mountain, could not be more than one-fifth part of the height of the Sugarloaf.

If we are not greatly mistaken in the height of the White Mountain, it must be placed in no inconsiderable rank among the highest mountains on the globe. I can find an account of only four that are higher. The only mountains of which I can find an account of their height in any author I have by me, are: Andes, 20,280; Peak of Teneriffe, 13,178; Gammi, 10,110; The Pyrenees, 6.640; the four most elevated points. the Alps, viz., Mole., 4,882; Dole, 4,292; Buel, 8,893, and Mt. Blanc, 14,432.

I wish to hear how you feel after your tour. It is not yet