The Wonders Of Water
Unknown Author
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Rivers
LAST year we spent pleasant hours conversing together, as it were, about many interesting subjects. Month after month we noted the varied and interesting changes in spring, summer, autumn, and winter, and each season gave us many beautiful lessons. The land was the sphere of most of our talks. But if the dry land has its wonders, the world of waters is not less wonderful, and this year, if the Lord will, month after month, I would like us to chat together about the many, many strange and interesting matters connected with water.
The youngest of my readers has seen a tiny stream trickling down some hill side; and perhaps in trying to find where it came from, you have traced it to a little bubbling spring, or fountain; and then you have followed its downward course, as it rippled along its pretty stony bed, leaping over pebbles here, and there losing itself amidst the forget-me-nots, and violets, and bluebells, as it wanders through some rich meadow; and soon you found it dropping into another stream, perhaps not much larger than itself. On you have gone, and first on this side, and then on that, one after another, similar little streams have dropped into it, until it has become quite a brook. And now, if it be a hilly country, it begins to dash and roll and foam, here, as in the picture before you, leaping over large rocks and stones, there gliding deeply and slowly through some dark deep ravine, till it reaches a low expanding valley, where it is lost by joining some broad, deep, flowing river. Such a river, as the great Mississippi, in America, or the famous Nile, in Africa, or the most wonderful of all rivers, the Amazon, in South America, might run on for thousands of miles, ever deepening and widening, as river after river comes tumbling into it. And in this way the tiny stream becomes a mighty river, and great and powerful steamers, laden with thousands of tons of merchandise, and hundreds, or it may be, even thousands of men and women crowd their decks; and still on rolls this mighty river, till it has become so wide you could scarce see from one bank to the other; and at last it also is lost in the mighty ocean of waters.
In our small English Island of course we have no such long rivers as in America and Africa. The Thames, our longest and most important river, is only 240 miles in length. The next longest is the Severn, only 210 miles long.
But, says one, where does all this water come from? I saw the tiny fountain bubbling up near the top of a hill, but how did it get there?
The answer is easy. The rain fell on the hill-top, the earth swallowed it up, ant it found its way through the earth and crevices of rocks, till it came trickling out of the fountain. But where did the rain come from?
The clouds.
Why don't the clouds soon get empty?
That is an important question, and lies at the very foundation of our subject. Fountains produce the streams; streams make the rivers; rivers always find their way to the ocean; and so you might be led to say, fountains, streams, and rivers produce the seas and the oceans. No, dear young friends, it is the very opposite. Seas and oceans are the parents of not only fountains, streams, and rivers, but of the very clouds from which descend the rains that water the earth and fill all the rivers that flow to the sea.
Does this seem a wonder to you? are you ready to exclaim, How can that be, I never saw water go upwards; it always finds the lowest place, and I should have thought that all the seas and great oceans were filled by the mighty rivers pouring such vast volumes of water into them. Though you do not see the water ascend, yet it is not the less true, that every drop of water first finds its way from the ocean, and from the moisture on the surface of the earth.
Let me explain this to you. You all know that around the earth there is what we call the atmosphere. This is composed of certain gases which we breathe, and without which, neither mans animal, nor plant could live. But besides the gases, the atmosphere contains a vast mass of invisible vapor held in it, much in the same manner as water is held in a sponge. This atmosphere extends for many miles—about forty, all round the earth, and there is constantly going on a process by which immense bodies of water are carried up above the earth. This is called evaporation, and by its means infinitely small particles of vapor constantly ascend. Heat and electricity (though what that is no one can tell) are the agents by which all this is produced. So wonderful is the effect of this evaporation, that it is difficult for me to make you understand it. It goes on not only from great bodies of water, but also from the land, from vegetation and trees. Nearly the whole of this process is quite invisible; yet scientific men have been able to make instruments by which it can be accurately measured. In England not less than thirty-two inches of water over the whole surface of the island are elevated every year into the air. But in some parts of the world where it is very hot, the evaporation is much greater, over nine feet of water being annually lifted up into the atmosphere. Now, water one inch deep over England alone would weigh over four thousand million tons; but this means a body of water which neither you nor any, one else can comprehend.
Instead of the great rivers supplying the ocean, if it could all be suddenly dried up, and all the rivers were to continue flowing as now, it would take forty thousand years before the ocean filled up. When I come to tell you about the quantity of water in the mighty ocean, you will be surprised to find what a great portion of the surface of the earth is covered with it. So great is the body of water, that if the earth were one level surface, the water would cover the whole, and be 600 feet deep in every part.
But this wonderful process of evaporation is not altogether invisible. You have all seen a beautiful white cloud of vapor over a sheet of water or a river. This is water ascending so densely that it becomes visible. The other day, I walked through Greenwich Park after a night of severe frost, and no sight could be more beautiful. Every blade of grass, and every twig on the grand old trees was covered with sparkling diamonds, white as virgin snow. This again was evaporation. As the vapor formed in infinite particles, and before it could wing its way aloft, it was frozen into all those brilliant gems. When you look aloft and admire the white fleecy clouds skimming so beautifully along, these are but water drawn up by heat; and when you see the black thunderclouds come rolling on, and then deluging the earth with tremendous rains, you see again the effect of evaporation; every drop of that rain had been previously drawn up from the earth.
All this is according to the Word of God. "He calleth for the waters of the sea and poureth them out upon the face of the earth." And again, "All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence the rivers come thither they return again." In this process we have indeed perpetual motion, vapor ever ascending from the earth and returning thither again.
I need not tell you what a blessing this wonder full process of evaporation is to the whole world. Were it to cease but for a short time, universal desolation and death would follow. In hot countries long droughts are not uncommon. In 1827 there was such a time in Buenos Ayres, when all the brooks dried up, all vegetation failed, and over one million head of cattle died. The dust blew about in such clouds, as to cover all land-marks, and none could tell where their estates began or ended. During such a dry time in Africa, wild beasts, especially elephants, have in a body invaded the towns to get possession of the wells, and regular battles have been fought between them and the people. At such a time, wild horses in immense multitudes will travel many miles in search of a river, and when reached thousands of those who arrive first are overwhelmed and crushed to death by those that follow.
What so common or so precious as bread and water? Without water the world would become at once one universal scene of desolation. Without bread we must all perish. But have you, dear young friends, drunk of the "living water?" eaten of that bread which came down from heaven? Let me ask you to read the first Psalm and Jer. 7:7, 8, where you will see what a precious thing this living water is.
Having told you thus much about the evaporation of water, if the Lord will, next chapter I will tell you some interesting facts about springs and rivers.
Chapter 2: Springs
WE have seen that by an invisible, but universal agency, called evaporation, water is constantly ascending alike from the ocean and the land. This invisible vapor being drawn together in the atmosphere again descends, sometimes in gentle and fertilizing showers; or, at others, in deluging torrents, spreading death and destruction in their path.
What a beautiful sight is a spring! Whether gently it oozes from the verdant bank, or gushes furiously from the riven rock. Sometimes it is found hidden away in a retired dell, where its pure murmuring waters flow on, giving birth to mosses, flowering plants, and the richest verdure. Some springs are of great force, bubbling up from the surface of the earth, or from crevices in rocks. More wonderful still, in some places they are found in the sea itself, where immense volumes of pure: fresh water bubble up, even to the surface.
Springs and wells are as ancient as the world. 'The history of not a few may be traced back thousands of years. Every one of my readers will remember the wells and springs of Scripture. How Hagar's heart must have leaped for joy at the sight of the well whose waters saved her cast out and perishing child. Who has not been moved by the touching story of Abraham's servant and the fair damsel Rebekah, at the side of a well? How important they were in the history of Abraham and Isaac. It was at a well that Jacob first saw and loved his Rachel. Who will ever forget that well where the Lord Himself sat, wearied and thirsty, but both of which were soon forgotten in ministering living water to that poor one who found Him there?
In England we value water cheaply, but in hot sandy deserts what a source of life, what a little paradise is produced by a spring! Often it is the only spot in a boundless district giving shade and refreshing water to the tired, famishing traveler. Many thrilling stories have been told of Eastern travelers on their camels, when their water was all exhausted, making desperate efforts to reach some well known spring, arriving only to find the water dried up; and hopeless, to lie down and die.
Do you ask, How are springs formed? Let me try and make this plain to you. Very much of the rain and melted snow soon finds its way by runnels, streams, and rivers, back to the sea; but immense quantities sink into the earth. But such water is not lost. By no means. It may be out of sight, but it is never lost. All that water, after traveling it may be miles and miles, and sinking even deeper than the sea, will somehow or other find its way back again to the surface. You know that most soils and many rocks are pervious, that is, will let water sink through them; sometimes there are crevices or great cracks in rocks. Through these, the underground water will make its way lower and lower.
But soon it will come to a very hard and impervious rock or solid bed of clay, through which it cannot pass. If this be in a hilly country, the water will follow the rock or clay, till it finds surface ground about its own level, and then, it will come bubbling out in a spring.
But underground water will descend below the valleys, or even, as I have said, below the bottom of the sea, and yet at last it also will find its way to the surface again. Let us follow a particular drop of water from the time it sinks into the earth as rain, to the time when, after long journeying up and down in the bowels of the earth, it at last comes to the surface. With other drops it works its way through crevices and tunnels of the rocks, perhaps many thousand feet deep, until it reaches some rock through which it cannot make further way downwards. But all this time it has been followed by other drops, which form an accumulation of water, and press heavily upon it. By this means the pent up water, if it cannot find crevices downwards, may find its way through cracks and passages upwards, and so it will wind up and down till it comes to the surface again, and there it breaks out as a gushing spring.
By this process there is always a vast amount of water accumulated in the bowels of the earth, and these sometimes collect in vast underground reservoirs.
I will now tell you a little of the many kinds of springs that are found.
1.—Perennial. These never cease to flow They may be called living fountains. The longest drought scarcely affects them, and no doubt they come from those vast reservoirs I have just named. Such is the celebrated spring of St. Winifred, at Holywell, in Flintshire, one of the finest in the world. Not less than eighty-four hogsheads, or twenty-one tons of water per minute, rushes from the rock, and in its short course to the sea, of about a mile, turns no fewer than eleven mills. This is but as a drop compared with some springs in foreign countries. There is one at Vaucluse, in France, which sends forth an average of over 9,000 cubic feet of water every minute, sufficient to form a good sized river.
2.—Artesian Wells. These fountains are very ancient, and of great interest. In many parts of the world, even on very low levels, by boring to a great depth through solid rocks, not only are large bodies of water found, but it comes bubbling up to the very surface. They have been long in use at Artois, in France, and hence their name. The explanation of these wells is very simple. In the way I have just described, this water has-found its way from very high ground, it may be immense mountain ranges, hundreds of miles distant. It has got under strata of solid rock, in which no upward cracks could be found. Such is the pressure of the great body of water from the distant hills, or high ground, that the moment that rock is pierced by boring, the water is forced upwards, and would continue to rise, till it reached' the level from which it originally came.
There are many such wells in London. A great supply of the purest water has been obtained for Chicago, in the United States, by this means, and there have been Artesian wells in Stutgart for many hundred years. It will readily be seen how valuable such wells must be in great sandy deserts. Already several have been sunk in the great desert of Sahara, by the French government, some of which give forth over 6,000 gallons of water per minute. Great was the rejoicing when the first was completed, and the water came rushing out of the ground. The poor Arabs sprang in crowds to the spot, bathing themselves in the welcome water, into which mothers dipped their children, and not a few fell on their knees and wept. The time may yet come when great tracts of barren land may be turned into fruitful gardens by this simple means.
3.—Tidal Springs. These are springs that continually ebb and flow, like the tide. The pool of Siloam is a remarkable spring of this kind. Some are to be found in our own country, and many abroad. The cause of these has never been fully explained, and it would take me too long to tell you all the conjectures about them.
4.—Thermal Springs. You have all heard of hot water springs. It is well known that deep down in the earth there is immense heat. Many of these springs are supposed to come from these great depths. We have many in England. I have bathed in those at Buxton, which are exceedingly refreshing, and the warmth of which never varies, day or night, summer or winter. There are others at Stoney Middleton and Matlock. Those in the south of England, especially at Bath, are much warmer. They chiefly abound in countries of extinct or active volcanoes. There are many about Naples, Rome, the Alps, and in Iceland. Indeed, they are found in nearly every part of the globe. On landing on one of the Fiji Islands, the beach was found to be absolutely steaming, and a short distance off were five springs, the waters of which were at boiling point.
5.—Ebullient Springs are the last I shall be able to tell you about. These are sometimes quiet, at others very violent, and send off vast clouds of steam, and throw up their scalding water to a great height. In the Island of St. Michael, one of the Azores, is found a round deep and lovely valley, its sides covered with myrtles, laurels, and mountain grapes, with wheat, Indian corn, and poplars. Here are many boiling fountains, but the chief one is found on a gentle eminence, near a river, and boils with great fury. Many are met with in Iceland. Within a circle of two miles in one district, above a hundred are to be found. One of these, the largest in the world, presents a most magnificent spectacle, an engraving of which, by the kindness of the Editor of "The Leisure Hour," we are able to present to our readers. It is thus described by an eye-witness: "At the distance of several miles, we could see from the clouds of vapor that were rising in the air, the spot where one of the most magnificent scenes in nature is displayed." The great fountain in its quiet state presents the appearance of a large circular mound, formed by the depositions of the fountain. Ascending the mound, a spacious basin is seen, filled with hot water, clear as crystal, and gently bubbling. The basin is about 150 feet round, and when full the water is about four feet deep.
Such is the fountain when asleep! The whole scene changes when it is in action: explosions in the bowels of the earth, like cannons, shake the ground, warning any who are near to escape for their lives; the water commences to boil furiously, and at last, it is suddenly thrown into the air, in a succession of jets, till a magnificent column is sent up to a great height. This is the grandest part of the exhibition. The atmosphere is filled with immense volumes of steam, rolling over each other as they ascend. This has been seen by many travelers, and sometimes the jet will be thrown over 200 feet in height.
Such are some of the wonderful incidents connected with springs. In our next chapter, if the Lord will, we shall come to rapids, rivers and lakes.
Chapter 3: Floods
JUST as I was thinking of the pleasure, dear young friends, of resuming our monthly chats on the wonders of water, to tell you, as I promised last month, about the beauties and striking facts connected with rivers, lakes, and cataracts, the wires flash over the whole earth the appalling news that water, that same beautiful water, has assumed the form of a grim, terrible, vengeful, devastating monster, has swept away one of the large cities of the world, spreading havoc, destruction, misery, and death in its course; rendering homeless, and robbing of every earthly thing seventy thousands of men, women, and children, and filling every tender heart with sadness and sorrow. And so this calamity has turned my thoughts from the beautiful to the distressing. You look with delight on the bright little stream, like dewdrops, trickling along its pebbly course, which with your finger you could divert this way or that. A little further on it becomes a mill-stream, and with perfect ease man makes it his willing servant, it turns the stones which grind his corn. Or he digs a trench, like the Suez canal, turns the water of the sea into it, and floats through the desert his largest ships, and so saves thousands of miles of slow and dangerous sailing, Or by irrigation, he scatters that water over the surface of the desert itself, and forthwith the wilderness blossoms as a fruitful plain. Or man conducts it for miles, stores it up in immense reservoirs, and keeping it for months he carries it at pleasure to hundreds of thousands of houses, and daily, as in London, supplies the wants of four millions of people. Nay, man builds his great ships, floats them upon the mighty ocean, and dares the tempest and the storm. More still, man produces steam from that very water, which becomes the mightiest power yet known, and by its use, setting the winds at defiance, he traverses the sea as on dry land—and accomplishes the most wonderful works the world has ever known. Truly water is a beautiful thing, and when under control a most useful servant.
But this fearful calamity at Szegeden is a fresh illustration of its terribly devastating power, and of man's utter impotency to check its course when once let loose. It is a calamity that will stand side by side with the destruction of Pompeii and Lisbon; and it may well make us all feel what a ruin the fairest scene in this poor world might become.
Get your maps, and trace the Danube which empties into the Black Sea. One of its great tributaries, coming down from the north, is the Theiss, enlarged by the junction of the Maros. Just below this junction, built on low ground, stood Szegeden, an ancient town of 70,000 or 80,000 people, and one of the largest grain centers in Europe. Both those rivers have their rise in snow-covered mountains to the north and east.
The long winter had brought a great deposit of snow, very little of which had melted till the first warm days of March. This warm weather, together with heavy rains, suddenly melted vast quantities of snow, and there descended into the valleys of the Theiss and the Maros a prodigious mass of water, filling both channels, which run through an almost level plain. The whole country above the junction appeared like an unbroken sea pouring its slow but deep current towards Szegeden. This town has always been in danger, and for many years has been protected by a strong embankment, supplemented by a second rampart of earth, and by an immense wall, on which was built a railway.
At last, however, though for a hundred years it has defied its foe, its total destruction has come. The cry of alarm sounded throughout Europe. The whole population turned out to work like beavers on their great dyke; immense bodies of soldiers, and every able-bodied man, for eight long days and dismal nights, kept up a terrible fight with their dreaded foe, piling up sand bags and trying to keep the ramparts above the rising tide. Boats full of willing helpers flocked from all parts to aid in the battle. Think, young friends, of the terrible anxiety and fright of those thousands of women and dear little children during that eight days' battle. Again and again the floods made a breach, and no doubt the cry would spread like lightning, "It is all over, we are lost," but again and again were they dammed up by the despairing struggles of the men. On March 11, it was a question of an inch or two between safety and utter ruin, but the cheering news that the rivers above were falling brings welcome hopes, and with redoubled vigor on they work, felling down trees, and piling them up with clay bags. Alas! On the afternoon of that day an easterly wind arose and Szegeden was lost. The vast expanse of water lashed up into foaming waves overleaped the first embankment, soon beat down the second, and the railway wall, and a little past midnight the tocsin sounds the alarm through the city. The whole population, well knowing that all is over, frantically rush to any elevated spot. Some seek strong buildings, others take to boats, but who shall describe the heart-rending scenes of that fatal night? On rushes the flood, houses and streets melt away, and at the moment I write this but a few hundred feet of dry land and a few houses remain, and it is feared even they may be swept away.
I trust every one of my young readers has had his or her heart moved to pity and to prayer by this terrible suffering. No doubt all will be done that can be. Food and tents, and clothing and money, will pour in from all parts of Europe, but hundreds, perhaps thousands, have perished, and many more will suffer from it to the end of life.
How true is the word of God, "The whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.”
This world has witnessed many such calamities.
Shall I tell of a few. Just fifteen years before to the very day, there was a terrible one near Sheffield. A large reservoir had just been constructed by throwing up a high embankment between two hills, about six miles above Sheffield. Scarcely was it finished and filled, when, as at Szegeden, a high wind beat the water furiously against the embankment; first came a small crack and then a wide breach, and in an instant, and at midnight too, the furious element was surging through the valley, tearing up and hurling along immense rocks, sweeping down every mill and house in its headlong course, spreading devastation and death for many miles. It was worse for the poor cottagers and mill hands than for the people of Szegeden. There was no previous warning, no tocsin to sound the alarm, all were quietly sleeping in their beds, when suddenly their homes were struck as by an unknown power, and men, women, and dear little children found themselves being hurled they knew not where, or by what; and without time for a cry or a prayer, about three hundred were plunged into eternity.
A few days after, I stood on that fatal embankment by that empty reservoir, gazing on that dreadful chasm through which the waters had poured, and then followed its course from village to village; and, oh children, it was a sight, a scene of desolation, never to be forgotten! In every village they were burying their dead, and the thousands who came from all quarters, seemed to realize what a world of ruin we are in.
History, ancient and modern, abounds with such calamities, far more interesting and instructing, too, than the most exciting novels. Sometimes vast lakes have been formed by a narrow gorge getting filled up with great rocks, or even with masses of ice brought down by the water. These sooner or later either melt or get undermined, when of course an immense and destructive flood is the result. In the year 1818, such a deluge took place in Val de Bagnes, one of the great valleys of the Rhone, about forty miles above the Lake of Geneva. Immense masses of ice, falling from a glacier choked up a narrow gorge to the height of hundred feet. Soon a great lake containing 800 millions of cubic feet of water was accumulated. The danger of this breaking away was at once seen, and to avoid this calamity the ice was tunneled to let off the water gradually. But, alas! they reckoned not the power of their foe. In three days the whole barrier was swept away, and the fury of the raging flood and the mighty power with which it swept away rocks cannot be described. Village after village fell in its course, leaving behind it the wreck of houses and of furniture, thousands of trees torn up by the roots, and the bodies of men and of animals which it had swept away.
It is thought that in far back ages the upper part of the Mississippi valley was one vast lake sustained by one of these narrow gorges. By some convulsion this gorge was swept away, and perhaps in a few hours a great inland sea rushed with inconceivable violence down the Mississippi valley into the Gulf of Mexico, and the site thereof became a fertile valley. In like manner if the bed of the Niagara Falls were to be worn away but for a few miles more it would empty the vast lakes of Erie, Ontario, Michigan, and Superior. Should such an event suddenly occur, who can conceive of the fearful destruction that would inevitably follow along the whole valley of the St. Lawrence? The downfall of Szegeden would be insignificant compared with that.
Only one more circumstance connected with floods can I now mention to you. The great city of St. Petersburgh stands on an extremely low and flat delta formed by the islands of the Neva, which flows into the Gulf of Finland. No part is more than twelve or fourteen feet above the level of the sea, so that a rise of fifteen feet would flood the whole city, and a rise of thirty feet is enough to drown almost every human being. Now it is well known that strong westerly winds from the gulf drive back the descending water from the Neva several feet high. At other times the river is flooded by the melting of snow and breaking up of ice. It is confidently asserted that if ever three things should occur at the same time nothing could save St. Petersburgh. Should there be very strong westerly winds from the Gulf of Finland, and high water, and the breaking up of the ice at the same moment, St. Petersburgh, after suddenly rising up like a fairy city from the swamps of Finland, might be entirely swept away in twenty-four hours!
Chapter 4: The Destructive Power of Water
WAS about to give you some interesting information about rivers last month, when the terrible calamity which swept away the whole of Szegedin, a town of seventy or eighty thousand people, in Hungary, diverted my thoughts to the destructive power of water, and some of the dreadful disasters which floods have occasioned. That calamity has called forth much sympathy, and many nations have contributed large sums of money for the relief of the sufferers. But in this world of ruin and sorrow, so rapidly do catastrophes follow each other, that already Szegedin's overthrow seems completely forgotten. The terrible massacres in the Zulu War, and the bold attempt to assassinate the Emperor of Russia, and fears of more warlike troubles in Turkey and Burmah, have crowded out of mind even such a calamity as the sweeping away of so great a city.
But now to our subject. How different are the beginnings of rivers; some a tiny spring hidden by pebbles and moss. Such is the Duddon, one of the most beautiful of English rivers, near the top of Wrynose Fell, a desolate solitude; others, like the Sorgues, burst in an imposing manner out of a cavern, and form at once a copious torrent. The Seamander is one of the most remarkable rivers for the grandeur of its source—a yawning chasm in Mount Garguras, shaded with enormous palm-trees, and surrounded with high cliffs, from which the river impetuously dashes in all the impetuosity of majestic greatness.
To discover the origin of great rivers has ever-been a point of much interest. What efforts have been made for more than three thousand years to discover the source of that wonderful river, the Nile. We can readily enter into the feelings of Bruce, the great English traveler, when he thought he stood at its fountain head. “Kings," he says, "had attempted this discovery at the head of armies, and each expedition was distinguished from the last, only by the difference of the numbers which had perished, and agreed alone in the disappointment which had without exception followed them all. Fame, riches, and honor, had been held out for ages to every one of those myriads these princes commanded, without having produced one man capable of gratifying the curiosity of his sovereign." Alone, with little help, and through innumerable perils, he thought he had triumphed, but more recent discoveries have proved he had reached the head of the smaller of the two great streams that form this celebrated river.
Most interesting and exciting, too, are the narratives of the tracing of rivers from the sea to their beginnings. In Mexico by the early Spaniards; in the Southern States of North America, the Mississippi, the Missouri, the Ohio, the Illinois by the early French settlers; and, the great rivers stretching far west through the plains, and draining the whole country from the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains, the Platte, the Arkansas, and the Red River, by many daring adventurers. Dr. Livingstone was the great explorer of the mighty African rivers, and more recently Stanley, his great admirer and follower, has made startling discoveries in the rivers of that great division of the globe.
Rivers have a thousand points in which they are alike, and a thousand points in which they are unlike. Some flow on in one unbroken stream to the ocean; others, like the Susqueanna; the Mississippi, and especially the St. Lawrence, the great American rivers, are studded with innumerable and beautiful islands. It has been ascertained that the St. Lawrence, the great Canadian river, has no fewer than 1,692. Nothing can be conceived more fairy-like and picturesque than these islands. As you glide along in their beautiful steamers, the scene varies at every turn; sometimes you are in a narrow channel, then you discover a number of openings, like so many noble rivers, and soon you find yourself in the center of an expansive lake.
The Amazon is the greatest river in the world; it rises in the Andes, and is discharged into the Atlantic Ocean. It is not the longest, being only 3,200 miles in length, but the volume of its waters is beyond all comparison. It receives the waters of five rivers, each over 1,000 miles in length; the upper parts of it are from one to two miles in width, and as it approaches the ocean it widens to over one hundred miles. For two thousand miles in a direct line from the ocean its waters are navigable by ships of the largest burden, for many miles its depth is known to be over 200 feet. The tide rushes up its channel with immense violence, at the periods of the full moon, in two, three, and sometimes four successive waves, each presenting a perpendicular front of from ten to fifteen feet. When the tide subsides in the rainy season, the liberated waters rush out of their channel with tremendous force, and create a current in the ocean which is seen five hundred miles from its mouth.
As to length, however, the Mississippi stands at the head of rivers, including the Missouri branch, which ought to be the name of the united stream, not only on account of its longer course, but because it brings down a greater body of water.
Mississippi is an Indian word, meaning "Father of waters," and well indeed does it deserve the name, for a great number of truly great rivers flow into it. Amongst them Missouri, 3,300 miles long, the Arkansas 2,500, the Red River, 2,000, the Tennessee, 1,500, the Platte, 1,200, and Yellowstone, 1,000.
About thirty years ago, it fell to my lot to steam up a large portion of this mighty river, and after that, along some of its important tributaries, and I assure my young friends it would be difficult to describe to them the exquisite, the wonderful, and, the ever varying beauty of the scenes. It was spring; the sun shone brightly; from the melting snows of winter in the far north, and the copious downfall of the spring rains, everywhere the banks were full, and ever and anon they overflowed, and the appearance was more like that of an inland sea than a river. We steamed through dense forests, the trees often dipping their branches laden with the richest verdure, into the very water. Then we would sail under massive perpendicular rocks shooting up into towers and pinnacles, at a distance looking like the battlements and turrets of some ancient city. It is impossible for an Englishman, who has never witnessed the verdure of a hot climate to conceive the richness of the scene when passing through the Southern States. The cottonwood tree is most magnificent, among which those brilliant birds of the the country, the black and red bird, and the blue jay, flit to and fro, or wheel their flight over them, forming a scene which has all the grandeur and beauty that nature can furnish to soothe or enrapture the beholder.
Then the winding character of the river is most remarkable. It is truly serpentine. The source of the Mississippi is only 1,200 miles in a straight line from the ocean, yet it travels over 3,200 miles before it reaches that point; it winds about so much that after sailing 20 miles you are surprised to find yourself within a few yards of where you have touched before; not only so, but it meanders in uniform bends, which in many instances, are described with a precision equal to that obtained by the point of a compass.
The waters of the Mississippi proper, that is above the point where the Missouri joins it, are of the most beautiful blue; those that descend the Missouri are one mass of light-colored mud, and so immensely great is this body of water that it rushes completely across the Mississippi, and at once completely changes the appearance of that river, and presents perhaps one of the most remarkable sights in the world. On rushes this muddy stream, increasing rather than diminishing the turbulence of its water, till in a wide turbulent stream it reaches the mouth. As we approach the mouth of the river, but many miles from it, in the Gulf of Mexico, all on board were greatly astonished to see far out in the gulf a muddy, almost white stream rushing through the beautiful green waters of the ocean, and forming for many miles from the mouth of the river a perfectly distinct line.
The Mississippi boats are the most beautiful in the world, and also are so constructed as to afford the greatest amount of convenience and comfort for their numerous passengers. They are of great length. First, there is a low deck, not more than a foot or two from the water. This is reserved for cattle, merchandise, and machinery, and the poor foreign emigrant, who at the time of my voyage crowded every boat. Sorrowful indeed were many of these scenes. They had traveled many thousands of miles to seek a new home. Friends and relatives were left behind, often their little all was gone, and dark and gloomy was their future. Well, above this deck, on posts about eight feet high, there was built a magnificent saloon, running nearly the whole length of the boat, and surrounded by elegantly fitted up private rooms, for sleeping purposes. Then on the top of this suite of apartments about ten or twelve feet high was a promenade, protected from the sun by canvass awnings. From the top of this, often a view of the whole country along the bank of the river was to be had, and my young readers may easily imagine how beautiful that must have been.
Every few miles we came to some thriving village or town, most of which, however, boasted the name of some ancient or modern city. There was always something fresh and exciting at these points. Some had reached the end of a long journey; there was the landing or taking in of fresh cattle or goods, and wood for the furnaces. At that time, there was nothing in all the old world that could be compared to such scenes. Europe was sending out thousands upon thousands of her populations to seek new homes, and, as it were, to start life afresh. Alas! how many found only bitter disappointment, suffering, and early death. How many I met with who had gone forth just to better their condition in the world. They knew not God, they sought not His guidance or blessing, and most cast off even what little outward reverence they had once had for the name of Christ, and a formal religious profession.
Chapter 5: Rivers, Cataracts, and Lakes
I HOPE each of my young readers has the help of a good atlas while reading these papers. By all means trace out the rivers, waterfalls, lakes, and oceans. It will alike increase your interest and profit.
In the last chapter we gave you some account of the Mississippi, the Father of waters. I want to tell you a little about the Ohio, one of its large tributaries. First, it is the only large one flowing from the east; all the rest, including the Missouri, flow from the west. This river has twelve large tributaries from 200 to 1,200 miles in length. The Ohio has eleven such tributaries, the longest of which, the Tennessee, being 1,500 miles in length. Next, the Ohio is perhaps one of the most beautiful rivers in America, if not in the whole world. The early French settlers where so charmed with it that its only name to them was the "Beautiful river." For 1,500 miles its waters roll on peacefully and uniformly, without the least interruption. Its banks are adorned with the largest sycamores, its waters are clear, and studded with islands covered with the finest verdure, and passing, as it and its tributaries do, through the most fertile and populous parts of the United States, its waters are literally covered with steamers, and the traffic is enormous.
Those who have closely examined the nature of the country have come to the conclusion that formerly the whole country south of the point where the Ohio joins the Mississippi, about a thousand miles, was an arm of the sea. Altogether the Mississippi river with its amazing tributaries, is perhaps the most wonderful river in the world. Even now its waters wash a thousand shores; its tributaries stretch out into almost unknown lands; its distant banks are traversed only by the elk, the buffalo, the bear and the deer, and the savage Indians that pursue them. Now they pass through wild rice lakes and dismal swamps where naught can ever live but the coiling serpent and the dangerous alligator; now through craggy hills, deep forests, or beautiful prairies, showing almost, a perfect level, and in summer covered with beautiful grass and the sweetest flowers.
There is another river, the Nile, I must say a few words about, without doubt the most noted one of the old world, as the Mississippi is of the new. The Nile is far inferior in length and volume of water. In all respects the two are totally different. The Nile flows on in solitary grandeur for 1,500 miles. Not a single stream enters it for all that distance, a circumstance not to be found in a single river in the whole world besides. Another most marked contrast is that its long course passes through a desert, dry, barren, hideous country, which without the Nile would be the most desolate land in the world. But you have all heard of the annual overflow of the Nile. By this inundation the whole country is fertilized. Wherever it reaches a rich soil is deposited, by which it becomes the most productive part of the earth. From earliest history Egypt has been the general storehouse for grain for nearly all mankind. It was here that Joseph, the beloved, and the faithful son of Jacob, but the rejected of his brethren, found a home. It was here in the extremity of famine those same brethren came for corn to preserve themselves and their cattle alive. It was here that occurred the seven years of plenty, and then the seven years of famine. And it was here that for four hundred years the children of promise were kept in bondage till the cry of their sufferings reached the ear of God; and it was here that with an outstretched arm He wrought that wonderful deliverance by redemption and power that became the foundation of Israel's history, and of those wonderful types of Christ and the church so full of interest and instruction in old Testament Scriptures.
The prosperity of all Egypt depends on the flooding of the Nile. If the rise does not reach a certain point, there is scarcity and even famine; if it rises a few feet too high, the people and their villages are swept away. It is said that a rise of 38 feet is needed fully to meet the wants of the country.
There are two other great rivers in the eastern, or old world, well worthy of your notice, the Tigris and the Euphrates. These, with the Nile, may well be called the oldest in the world. Their history is connected with all the traditions and destinies of man. The great plains of the Tigris and Euphrates were the abodes of the founders of the first empires after the flood. It was on their banks the two greatest cities of the ancient world, Nineveh and Babylon, reared their proud palaces. It was there that the finger of God traced the doom of the latter city on the walls of the magnificent palace of its trembling monarch, when the man of God, an exiled Jew, in the majesty of inspiration, gave the interpretation of the mystic writing. There, too, rose and fell the splendid empires of the Medes and Persians. Indeed, in every part of the world rivers have been closely bound up with the great events of all human history.
There is yet another feature connected with rivers, falls, and cataracts, which I would like to tell you something about. Falls are formed by the descent of a river over a precipice, and depend for their sublimity upon the height of the fall and the volume of the water. Rapids are produced by a steeply inclined plane, over which the flood rushes with great force. None of our great English rivers, if we may call them great, the Thames, the Trent, and Severn, have on them either fall or rapid. The Shannon, just above Limerick, where the river is forty feet deep and three hundred yards wide, presents, perhaps the finest rapids in our Islands. For half a mile it dashes over and through a succession of rocks, and is quite unnavigable. There are some smaller but beautiful falls in Wales and Scotland, and especially in Switzerland. The river Adige in the Tyrol, near Moran, rushes with resistless force and deafening noise, down a descent nearly a mile in length between green, quiet, pastoral banks, presenting one of the most magnificent spectacles to be met with in Europe. On the Nile there is a succession of amazing rapids most striking, and extending over a length of one hundred miles. Stanley in his late most perilous passage through the heart of Africa discovered some of the greatest rapids in the world, to get round which cost him immense labor, and the loss of not a few of his party.
But it is in America that the most sublime and imposing rapids and falls are to be found. The chief rapids are on the St. Lawrence at its junction with the Ottawa river. The far-famed Niagara is universally acknowledged to be the greatest and most sublime waterfall in the world. This sea-like flood carries off the water of four of the largest lakes in America. The Niagara river is thirty-three miles long, and joins lake Erie to lake Ontario, and is about three quarters of a mile in width at the falls. From lake Erie the river flows quietly on, giving no indication of the mighty wonder so near at hand. About a mile off the water begins to ripple, and is broken into a series of dashing and foaming rapids, when again it becomes tranquil, but rolls along with tremendous force till it reaches the precipice. But when you are miles distant, a deep awful sound, gradually growing louder, breaks upon the ear-the roar of the distant cataract. When I first gazed on this wonderful sight, it was the depth of an American winter. There had been a great thaw and heavy rain, followed by one of those sharp, sudden spells of frost, which freezes as hard as iron every drop of water. The banks of the falls were like an unbroken sheet of glass, and made it most dangerous to approach them. The sun shone gloriously. There was not a cloud in the whole heavens. The trees around sparkled with myriads of purest gems, the everlasting spray frozen as it fell. Below the falls there was a wonderful sight; the rain and melting snow had poured over the banks, and frozen as it fell, forming an immense number of huge icicles over 150 feet in length, which looked like magnificent marble columns. My first view was from the American side, and immediately above the falls. I was alone, and undisturbed, gazed on the foaming, rushing waters as they dashed onwards to their tremendous leap. I must confess my first feelings were tinged with disappointment. I had expected I knew not what; but surely to take in at a glance the whole grandeur of the scene. I soon found it was too vast, too sublime; it was beyond human capability. I have since learned it takes not hours or even days, but weeks and months before any mind can fully take in this, perhaps, the greatest of earthly scenes.
Shall I try and describe the falls for you? They are divided into two unequal portions by a small island, called Goat Island, about 1,000 feet in breadth. The largest one is on the British side, and is called the Horse Shoe Fall. It is over 2,000 feet broad and 150 feet high; the other, on the American side, is about 1,140 feet wide but 164 feet high. The former is by far the grandest scene. Such is the enormous leap of the water, that it does not strike the stream below within fifty feet of the rock; and it is said that four coaches might be driven abreast through this awful chasm. Two things are ever present, clouds of misty spray and an awful, everlasting roar. I believe neither the one nor the other can be described. They must be seen and heard to be known. The former I saw to its utmost possible advantage. The thermometer was not far from zero, and a cloudless sun was shining with a brilliancy we know nothing of in England. The atmosphere was filled with the most resplendent rainbows, varying in beauty every moment. As to the sound, it has been described as "grand, commanding, and majestic, filling the vault of heaven when heard with fullness—a deep round roar, an alternation of muffled and open sounds." Another says, "It is not like the sea, nor like thunder; nor like anything I ever heard. There is no roar, no rattle; nothing sharp or angry in its tones; it is deep awful, One." When I tell you that sometimes it can be heard at Toronto, a distance of forty-six miles across Lake Ontario, you will cease to wonder at these exciting descriptions.
Having gazed alone for near an hour I was joined by a young man, when together we ventured to descend a covered staircase, close to the falls, and reaching to the very bottom. In the, center of the steps is a tramway, by which in summer visitors are let down and drawn up by machinery. We soon found our descent most perilous, for the snow having beaten through crevices, had in many places completely filled up the treads, and our only means of descent was to slide down the hand rail. Once at the bottom, how indescribable was the magnificent sight! The first object that strikes the eye was an immense collection of enormous rocks that had been hurled over the falls, and piled one above another, till they seemed to reach halfway to the top. Then the majestic torrent above, literally the sea, pouring out its mighty waters!
"The thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain,
While I look upward to thee. It would seem
As if God poured thee from His hollow hand,
And hung His bow upon thine awful front;
And spoke in that loud voice which seemed to him
Who dwelt in Patmos for his Savior's sake,
The sound of many waters.
And yet, Bold Babler, what art thou to Him,
Who drown'd a world, and heaped the waters far
Above the loftiest mountains?—A light wave
That breaks and whispers of its Maker's might.”
Having with great labor and no little risk, regained the top of the stairs, we found a small party who, like ourselves, had come hundreds of miles to gaze on this stupendous scene. We started down the river to cross by a rickety wire bridge to the Canadian side, stopping every five steps to get a fresh view of the falls. Let me here stop for a moment to tell you of a wonderful sight at this bridge. The river greatly narrows at this point, and the surging waters seem to begin a tremendous conflict. It is as if mighty powers were struggling for mastery. The foam and fury; the boiling and surging; the roar and rage with which the mass of water is forced under to rise some miles distant, present a boiling chaldron words cannot describe. It is returning from this bridge on the Canadian side, we found the most striking views of the falls. Every stop presents some new feature; and yet, what was my surprise to see one of our company, who had traveled perhaps a thousand miles to see this great sight, with real disappointment turn back, stating he had seen enough of the falls! But such disappointment, I was told, is often felt. It was not long before I was again left alone, and now began my real enjoyment of the scene. At that, time immediately below the falls was a celebrated rock, called the Table Rock, which hung many yards over the bank. From the edge of this you, look right into the abyss. Strange to say, there was not the least protection along this dangerous ledge, and as the ground was covered with one sheet of ice, to approach it was most dangerous. Curiosity and excitement soon got over the difficulty; spreading my traveling rug on the ground, and stretching myself full length on it, I gradually drew near the dangerous precipice. The first look into the abyss below was overwhelming, and instantly I had to withdraw my outstretched head It was some time before I could calmly gaze on the tremendous rush of waters; after this, the scene was most fascinating, and long did I enjoy the sight.
Then I returned to the American side; familiarity and excitement had made me insensible to danger, and I felt determined to plant my foot on every available spot.
Having visited Goat Island, and many other points of interest, there remained one spot apparently quite inaccessible. In our engraving of the falls you will see a small tower built on a huge projecting rock at the very brink of the falls, between Goat Island and the American shore. This was connected by a long narrow plank, which, with a hand rail, was safe enough in summer time. To reach this plank I must descend a steep declivity, now most dangerous because of the ice. Undaunted by fear, however, taking off my boots, I slid down on my hands and feet, just as you boys will often slide down a steep hill on the snow in winter. Soon I found myself alone at the foot of that tower, my feet within eighteen inches of that foaming leaping water! I won't attempt to describe my feelings. The whole surroundings were sublimity itself. Above I beheld the sea of waters come seething down; below was the yawning abyss; around me the everlasting spray, and the indescribable noise of many waters. Now, too, the shades of evening had thrown over the whole scene an additional sombre charm. These, however, warned me I must soon retire; and now for the first time I realized the extreme danger in which I had placed myself in descending the steep incline to reach the plank. It was easy to get down, but how should I get up again? The path lay diagonally across the bank, which was exceedingly steep. There was nothing to hold by but here and there a projecting stone, a tuft of grass, or root of a tree. One slip and I should have rolled into the surging waters below. For a moment I was horrified and really unnerved. But this would not help. No assistance was near, so again taking off my boots cautiously and slowly, on my hands and knees, I commenced my dangerous task. Every stone and every root had to be tested, before I dare venture my weight upon it. Long and hard was the struggle, but at length completely exhausted, and with scarce a dry thread on my body, I safely landed at the top of the bank—a sad but truthful illustration of the end of many a day's mere earthly pleasure.
Many have been the hairbreadth escapes and fatal accidents at Niagara. Shortly after my visit the whole population was thrown into the greatest excitement by the telegraphic announcement that a man, who had been caught in the rapids, had secured a footing on one of the rocks in the center of the fall. There he was for two nights and near two days. Food was conveyed to him; every possible effort was made to save him, thousands upon thousands assembled on the banks. The whole of the United States were excited, and messages flashing all over the country every few minutes. At last all arrangements were complete; but alas! in vain, nothing could stand against the force of the current. In an instant the poor man and the appliances were swept into the gulf below.
Chapter 6: Lakes
IN former chapters we have seen that the ocean, by the process of evaporation and rain, supplies alike the little rills skipping down the mountain side, and the mighty rivers rolling their great torrents back again into its bosom. We have traced the tiny stream and the swelling flood, and in our last chapter we gazed together on rapids, and tarried long over that greatest of all watery wonders, the mighty Falls of Niagara.
Before we come to the ocean itself, we must say a little about those small or large collections of water which we call lakes. These may be said to take a similar place on the land that islands take on the ocean. You know an island is land completely surrounded by water. Now a lake is water surrounded by land. You must mark the difference between lakes, lagoons, and pools. Lagoons are the overflowings of rivers, or occasional encroachments of the sea; pools are mere collections of rainwater, and generally dry up in summer; whereas true lakes are constantly supplied by streams flowing into them, or by springs gushing up from their bed. Some are very small, covering not more than five square miles, while others are so large as to be called inland seas; of these the Caspian Sea is the most remarkable, and covers 160,000 square miles. Then, again, some are very ancient, indeed they are supposed to be as old as, and once to have been part of the ocean itself, which originally covered the surface of the whole earth. Others are more modern, and have been formed by various causes. Many by the action of great volcanic fires, earthquakes upheaving some parts, and causing vast tracts in other places to fall into immense cavities, caused by internal fires. These great cavities would soon fill up with water draining from the surrounding country, and become lakes. Sometimes there will be a great land avalanche, or land slip, as it is sometimes called, across a stream. Should there be high hills on each side, the water will accumulate till it either sweeps away the obstruction or rises above it, in which case a lake will be the result.
Lakes may be divided into four classes: 1st—Those which have no apparent inlets or outlets streams running into or out of them. These are fed chiefly by underground springs, which, as I told you in a former chapter, may come from a great distance and from much higher ground, but which have never before been able to find an outlet. Some of these are very salt. There is one in Asia called Tuzla. It is narrow, but fifty miles in length, and its waters are so salt that no fish or animal can live in it. Even wild fowls are afraid to venture upon its waters, for if they do their wings soon become stiff by a coating of salt forming on them.
2nd-Another class have streams running out of them but none running in so as to supply them with water. These are generally much above the level of the sea, and derive all their supply from underground springs. There is one on Mount Rotonda, in the island of Corsica, which is 9,000 feet above the level of the sea. The source of the great river Volga may be traced to a lake of this kind.
3rd—A third class have streams or rivers running into them but have no outlets. These lakes are most peculiar of all, but they are very rare. There is one in Italy of a remarkable kind. It is now called Celano, but its ancient name was Fucinus. It covers over 100 square miles, and has no natural outlets for its waters through the hills by which it is surrounded. During the time of the Roman Empire it often rose so high as to destroy an immense tract of fertile country, and the Roman Senate was petitioned to drain it through one of its surrounding hills. The Emperor Claudius at length undertook this tremendous work. For eleven years no fewer than thirty thousand men were engaged in cutting a large tunnel through one of the hills. Pliny, the great Roman historian, tells a sad tale of the cruelty and barbarity of the Roman people, so much extoled for their refinement and intelligence. When everything was ready for letting off the water, a grand naval spectacle was exhibited on it, something like one of our grand naval reviews, only a great number of condemned criminals were ranged in separate fleets, and obliged to engage in earnest combat and to destroy each other, instead of a sham fight, for the entertainment of the court and an immense number of spectators, who covered the neighboring hills. A line of well-armed vessels and rafts loaded with soldiers, surrounded the scene of action to prevent any of the poor doomed victims from escaping. When, however, the savage diversion was ended, and the operations for the opening of the tunnel commenced, the emperor was very near being swept away and drowned, by the sudden rush of the waters towards the vent. The tunnel proved a failure, as it speedily choked up and the lake rose so much as to cover 10,000 acres of fertile soil, when it was again reopened, and means adopted to keep the waters to a low level. There is a great lake called Uramea on the Persian frontier, three hundred miles in circumference and completely land-locked by most beautiful mountains. Though constantly fed by numerous currents, it has no outlet, yet there is no increase of its waters, but a gradual decrease, the waste by evaporation being greater than the supply. This lake is intensely salt. There is a remarkable lake of this kind, the Lake Van, of Armenia, which is much celebrated for its beauty by eastern writers, both in prose and verse. It occupies the bottom of an immense volcanic ampitheatre, is upwards of 240 miles in circumference, and receives the waters of eight rivers, without having a single stream to carry off any of its waters.
But by far the most remarkable of this kind are the Caspian, the sea of Aral, and the well known Dead Sea. The majestic Volga, 1,900 miles long, pours its vast volumes of water into the Caspian, together with the Kur, the Ural, and the Aras, yet with all these vast and constant supplies, there is not a single stream that leaves its shores. So great, however, is the power of evaporation that this has now ceased to be a wonder.
To most of my young readers the Dead Sea, in the south of Palestine, will be the most interesting of all lakes. It is emphatically the lake of the Bible. The river Jordan, which has a history so thrilling, so truly wonderful, so mixed up with many of the most important events in Scripture, flows into this lake. Crossing the Jordan was Israel's last day's march, after forty years' wandering in the wilderness. What a solemn sight that must have been! When Jordan was at its highest—its banks overflowing—there stood the ark of God, in the midst of the river, surrounded by the priests, the waters reared up into a great heap, far above them, while the whole people passed dry shod over! As you know the Dead Sea is very small—not more than about nine miles wide, and thirty-nine miles long. During the rainy season when Jordan "overflows her banks" the lake rises from ten to fifteen feet, and the length of it increases at least two miles. The lake lies in a deep cauldron surrounded by lofty cliffs of naked limestone rocks, the western portion of which rises 1,500 feet above the water, and the eastern portion 2,500 feet. As you all know the consumed cities of Sodom and Gomorrah are supposed to be covered by its waters. It is exceedingly salt; so much so, that no life can exist in it, and it is impossible for people to sink in its waters. Sterility and deathlike silence prevail upon its shores. In some places it is 1,800 feet deep, 'but varies very much in different parts; and it is said that large hewn stones can be clearly distinguished at its bottom, the remains of the destroyed cities.
The aspect of the Dead Sea, the deep mountain ravine in which it rolls, the wilderness—the silence, solitude, and universal barrenness, together with the remembrance of the ancient and terrible disaster, make a deep impression on the mind of the visitor.
The most remarkable of all the features of the Dead Sea is its bed being so much below the level of the Mediterranean Sea, which has now been ascertained to be over 1,300 feet.
4th—The last class of lakes are such as have streams flowing both into and out of them, and these are by far the most numerous. In all probability the largest of these were formerly connected with the main ocean, as some of the large lakes in Russia, and the well-known and important North American lakes. Lakes Superior, Huron, Erie, and Ontario are all connected by channels and their surplus waters are carried off by Niagara river over the falls, and into the St. Lawrence. All these magnificent inland seas are composed of beautiful fresh water, and an enormous traffic is carried on over their vast expanse.
Floating islands are amongst the wonders of water. Some are to be found in the lakes of Scotland, Ireland, Sweden, Germany and Italy. These have been formed by the gradual accumulation of vegetable matter, reeds, roots of trees and the like; and some have required ages for their growth. There is an immense one at the mouth of the Mississippi river formed by the large quantity of trees, &c., floated down the river. In 1816 it was no less than ten miles in length, and 250 yards wide.
Lakes differ much in their clearness, color and depth. In lake Superior, fish, and the rocks are distinctly visible to an enormous depth. Some of the small Welsh lakes are perfectly black.
There are many other instructive and interesting peculiarities connected with lakes, but here we must stop; and in our next chapter, if the Lord will, we shall take up some of the wonders of the mighty ocean itself.
Chapter 7: The Ocean
WE come now to the great ocean itself. We have looked at the tiny stream, the big rolling river, the dashing rapids, the ponderous waterfalls, the great inland lakes; but how shall I describe to you this mighty world of waters? Well, first, it is one undivided mass; great continents and islands are scattered, as it were, up and down, and show themselves above the water; but water stretches itself from pole to pole, from east to west, all round the world. Water is the rule, dry land the exception. It embraces the whole world with one unbroken' wave.
If the earth were cut in two equal parts, from north to south, and you could look at it as a flat surface, it would appear like the western and eastern hemispheres which are here given. On the western, you see the great American continent, the north and south joined by a long narrow strip of land, which, you know, is called an isthmus. Here you see an immense body of water and but little land. On the eastern, it is the very opposite. The great continents of Europe, Africa, and Asia, are larger in extent than the water. Then how much more water than land we see at the south than the north!
The land and the water have been measured, and the water covers nearly two-thirds of the earth's surface. It is divided into five great oceans, though all are joined together: the Arctic, the Atlantic, Indian, Pacific, and Antarctic oceans. The Arctic extends from the North Pole to the Circle. Its waters wash and freeze on the northern shores of three continents—Europe, Asia, and America. The Atlantic separates the Old and New Worlds. The Indian is enclosed by Asia on the north, by Africa on the west, and on the east by Malacca, the East Indian Islands, and Australia. The Pacific is the great ocean; except the Antarctic, it claims all the rest of the waters of the world.
The water covers about 145,500,000 square miles; the land, not more than 51,500,000. How deep is this great ocean? It varies very greatly. The dry land will perhaps give you the best idea of this. There are low long valleys, also high table-land stretching far away, and then there are tremendous mountains rising near 30,000 feet above the level of the sea. Just so the ocean. There are valleys so deep, that if the highest mountain on land could be thrown into them, it would be completely covered by the water. As the ocean at the south is the largest, so is it the deepest.
How is it that the ocean is so salt? No one has yet been able to answer this question. There are immense deposits of salt on dry land, both in Cheshire in our own country, and in Poland. So large bodies may have been found in the bed of the ocean; and it is possible that enormous masses may have been melted and swept into the ocean when God first divided the land from the water. So great is the proportion of salt, that if it were dried and spread on the surface of North America, it would cover that vast continent with a layer half a mile thick; or if spread over the whole earth, it would form a layer thirty feet thick! Some might think that salt preserves the water from corruption, but such is not the case, for salt water soon becomes offensive; and after a long calm in hot seas, the water will positively rot!
Then, what gives the ocean its beautiful blue and green color? Here again, it is difficult to give a satisfactory answer. Sometimes it presents a fine azure blue; then when the air is pure and the water calm, the color blends with the blue of the heavens. When agitated, it takes a brownish hue. In some places, the bed of the ocean-white or yellow sand, or black rock-will of course influence the colors of the surface.
If you have ever crossed the ocean, you must have been amazed at the appearance of light or flame everywhere present. This is called "the phosphorescence of the sea." It is a magnificent and imposing sight. The ship, in plunging through, the waves, seems to advance through a sea of red and blue flame. As the prow throws up the water, it is as if an infinite number of sparks were being scattered in all directions. Myriads of creatures float and play on the surface of the waves, dividing, multiplying, and re-uniting, so as to form one vast field of fire. In stormy weather, the luminous waves roll and break in silvery foam. On some occasions it is much more brilliant than others. A ship will seem to enter one vast sheet of fire, ever casting a strange reflection on every part of the ship. This light is chiefly caused by myriads of little living creatures, which seem to shine by their own light.
Another wonder of the deep is its great ocean currents. These indeed are mighty rivers, to which the great Mississippi, the Amazon, and the Nile are but as insignificant streams, and which flow on for many thousands of miles. I cannot now stop to explain how these currents are formed, but they are so regular, they can be traced all over the world. That which is perhaps best known to us is called the Gulf Stream, which, after traveling thousands of miles, enters the Gulf of Mexico, whence it makes its escape by the Florida Channel.
Of this marvel of the deep it has been said, "It is a river in the bosom of the ocean; in the severest draft, it never fails; and in the mightiest floods, it never overflows; its banks and its bottom are of cold water, while its current is of warm. It takes its rise in the Gulf of Mexico, and empties itself into the Arctic Sea. This mighty river is the Gulf Stream. In no other part of the world is there such a majestic flow of water; its current is more rapid than the Amazon more impetuous than the Mississippi, and its volume more than a thousand times greater." This wonderful stream is 34 miles wide, 2,200 feet deep, and moves at the rate of four and a half miles per hour. Its warm temperature has a marked influence on every land it comes near, and has much to do with the climate of our own islands.
The next wonder of the deep I shall name is the, tides. No doubt you have all seen these. The ocean is never still; on every shore throughout the world, the waters are ever on the move, either receding or advancing. As to the cause of this, all I can now tell you about it is, that the sun and the moon exert a drawing power upon the whole earth, and the result on water, which is moveable, is that the ocean is kept in a constant and regular swelling motion. The power of the moon is three times that of the sun, because, though it is a much smaller body, it is so much nearer to the earth.
The height of the tides vary greatly in different parts of the world. The greatest occurs in the Bay of Fundy, near Nova Scotia, where it will rise forty, fifty, and even sixty feet high! On one occasion, a ship in the night time, was cast upon a rock so high, that, at daybreak, the crew found themselves and their ship suspended in mid-air far above the water! All my readers, who live at, or have visited a seaport, will have seen how the ebb and flow of the tide empties or fills the rivers, and how its current carries barges and ships up and down the rivers. The rapidity with which the tides travel from the Southern Ocean, where the great waves originate, towards the north, is said to be over 500 miles an hour. In the North Sea it travels 180 miles. The tidal wave which proceeds round the coast of Scotland, traverses the German Ocean and meets in St. George's Channel, between England and Ireland, when the conflict between the two opposing waves produce most astonishing, and often disastrous effects.
Then we have all heard of waves that run mountains high. In a great storm, nothing can be more grand than these foaming mountains, rolling, bounding, and breaking one against another. "In one moment," says an eloquent writer, "the waves seem to carry sea-goddesses on their breast, which seem to revel amidst plays and dances; in the next instant, a tempest rising out of them, seems to be animated by its fury. They seem to swell with passion, and we think we see in them marine monsters which are prepared for war.”
The highest waves are those which prevail in the offing off the Cape of Good Hope, at the period of high tide, under the influence of a strong north-west wind. The billows there lift themselves up in long ridges, with deep hollows between them. They run high and fast, tossing their white caps aloft in the air, looking like the green hills of a rolling prairie capped with snow and chasing each other in sport. Their march is stately, and their roll majestic. The only other wonder I can now speak of are the terrible whirlpools, which the tides, the currents and the tempests will often occasion. The well known Charybdis and Scylla, in the Straits of Messina, were the terror of all ancient mariners. The most famous and dangerous whirlpool of modern days is one called the Maelstrom, which at times is so-strong that even large ships are drawn to it, and engulfed to their utter destruction.
There are many other great wonders in the ocean, but here we must stop for the present. We have said nothing of the shipping, of the many and terrible wrecks, of the fearful loss of life and property, of the immense treasure swallowed up, of the dead men's skulls, great anchors, heaps of pearls, which lie scattered in the bottom of the sea; nor have I touched on the wonders of the Arctic and Antarctic Oceans, those frozen regions, those mountains of thick-ribbed ice where darkness, desolation, and death, seem to dwell. These we must hold over, if the Lord will, to some future time.
Chapter 8: The Sponge
HAVING looked a little at the great rolling ocean as a whole, suppose we venture, of course only in imagination, into its dark, deep waters. As you have stood on the ocean's shore, or sailed over its vast surface, you will often have wondered what there was, living or not living, in that vast deep; and how the living did live; and what that was like that had no life. Of course, in the deepest part there is a bottom. What is that bottom? You say rocks, stones, or sand, and they are dead enough. But if dead, let me tell you they are the bones, as it were, or at least the remains, of myriads of once-living creatures; and that the very rocks, and even mountains, that are covered up in the ocean, have been built up by these myriads of insects.
In October's number of Child's Bible Companion, 1878, you had an account of the coral island, the work of those wonderful ocean builders called the polypi, and the amazing part they have played in the construction of the whole surface of the earth. They are the smallest of God's creatures, and yet used by Him to build up the crust of the world. Only the microscope brought them to light. The coral is hard as rock; but down at the ocean's bottom we find another substance, beauty fully soft, as little like an insect as the polypi, but as surely one. This is the sponge, which we have used from our infancy.
The sponge, like the polypi, is always attached to some other substance, from which it never separates, and is found at the bottom of the sea. How do they live and grow?
They receive their nourishment from the wave which washes past them; they draw in and cast out streams of water all their lives. They cannot possibly go after their food, but God takes care that their food is brought to them. Other animals move from place to place; fishes swim in the water, animals and insects move on the land, and birds fly in the air. Not so the sponge. The seed or egg is cast off by the parent plant, floats about in search of a home, fixes itself to some rock or even shell, grows to a great size, propagates other sponges, and then dies.
Each of my readers has used a sponge hundreds of times; how little have you thought of its wonderful history. Once it was such a tiny seed or egg, that you could not possibly have seen it without a powerful magnifying-glass. If you could have watched it, you would have seen it driven, about by the waves till it touched some-substance, and it fixed itself there, never to move again till it died, or was fished up by some sponge hunter.
I need not tell you what a sponge is like. While there is a great variety, some 300 different kinds, they are all alike in this-they hold plenty of water, they are full of very small holes, and there are some holes very much larger than others. As to the construction of these finer and larger holes, and their relation one to another, their wonderful mechanism, their almost infinite variety, a big volume might be written about them. All I can now tell you is, that their one object is constantly to suck in, and then throw out currents of water. It is by these currents of water that the little; living creatures, for one sponge is made up of a whole colony, receive their nourishment, grow up, and then propagate their kind.
The above engraving shows you this operation. The immense number of small holes draws in the water, which passes through every part of the substance. From these currents its food, and that which is needful to its growth, is taken up, and having obtained all it needs from the water, it is all accumulated, and then cast out by these large cells.
Fishes live partly in the same way. Water constantly passes through their mouth and out at their gills, from which much of their nourishment is drawn.
I have told you that the sponge is really an animal, but its kind of life is wonderfully simple when compared with higher animals. There is no blood, no intricate mechanism of heart or arteries; no brain, no nerves, nothing of this kind. There is, as we have seen, circulation, by which nutriment is secured. There is no skin, no apparent provision for perspiration, as in other animals; no stomach, and yet digestion goes on, food is taken up, and refuse or waste matter is cast out.
I must say one word about the way in which sponges are reproduced. It is much after the manner of plants, which, you know, is by cuttings, grafting, and by seeds. There is a kind of sponge which, if a piece is torn off, it will maintain its independent existence, and flourish as a separate sponge. This is much like plants increased by "cuttings." Again, if two sponges growing apart approach each other, they will become united, and in a short time form but one sponge, and in such a manner that no trace of their union could be found. This, to a certain extent, represents the operation of "grafting," as practiced by gardeners. There is still another process, which represents production by seeds or bulbs. The sponge throws off these in autumn. They remain inactive during the winter, but as spring approaches, the seed-like bodies show signs of life, settle down, and become separate sponges.
In other cases positive eggs are hatched within the sponge. They much resemble a hen's egg, for although destitute of a shell, yet they have a substance which resembles a yolk, another substance which is like the white, and a delicate membrane which takes the place of a shell. Not only so, but those who have narrowly watched the process, say that the growth of the sponge-egg is very similar to that of the chick in the egg.
How wonderful are all the works of God! and the least of His creatures seem even more marvelous than the greatest.
When even the youngest of my readers next plays with his big bath sponge, he will not forget what a strange history it has had, and that once it was a living creature—one of the wonders of the deep.
I must now tell you a little about the way in which sponges are obtained.
At the present time sponge-fishing takes place principally in the Grecian Archipelago and the Syrian seas. The Greeks and Syrians sell the product of their fishing to the western nations, and the trade has been immensely extended in recent times, the sponge having become an almost necessary adjunct of the toilet as well as of the stable.
Fishing usually commences towards the beginning of June on the coast of Syria, and finishes at the end of October. But the months of July or August are peculiarly favorable to the sponge interest, if we may use the term. Latakia furnishes about ten boats to the fishery, Batroun twenty, Tripoli twenty-five to thirty, Kalki fifty, Simi about 170 to 180, and Kalminos more than 200.
The operations of one of these boats fishing for sponges on the Syrian coast is represented in our engraving. The boat's crew consists of four or five men, who scatter themselves along the coast for two or three miles in search of sponges under the cliffs and ledges of rock. Sponges of inferior quality are gathered in shallow waters. The finer kinds are found only at a depth of from twenty to thirty fathoms. The first are fished for with three-toothed harpoons, by the aid of which they are torn from their native rock; but not without deteriorating them more or less. The finer kinds of sponges, on the other hand, are collected by divers; aided by a knife, they are carefully detached. Thus, the price of a sponge brought up by diving is much more considerable than that of a harpooned sponge. Among divers, those of Kalminos and of Psara are particularly renowned. They will descend to the depth of twenty-five fathoms, remain down a shorter time than the Syrian divers, and yet bring up a more abundant harvest. The fishing of the Archipelago furnishes few fine sponges to commerce, but a great quantity of very common ones. The Syrian fisheries furnish many of the finer kinds, which find a ready market in France; they are of medium size. On the other hand, those which are furnished from the Barbary coast are of great dimensions, of a. very fine tissue, and much sought for in England.
Sponge-fishing is carried on at various other stations in the Mediterranean, but without any intelligent direction, and in consequence it is effected without any preserving foresight. At the same time, however, the trade in this product goes on yearly increasing. But it is only a question of time when the trade shall cease, the demand which every year clears the submarine fields of these sponges causing such destruction that their reproduction will soon cease to be adequate.
Chapter 9: Oysters
WATER, in which you or I would speedily die, is the element in which life most abounds: and what is perhaps most remarkable, is the fact that that life is animal rather than vegetable life.
In the last chapter I told you of the sponge, very like a vegetable, but really a living animal. One of its chief peculiarities is, that once fixed, it is ever after immovable. I have now to tell you of a vast mass of living creatures in the deep sea, that, unlike the sponge, have no resting place—floating about on the waves, wherever the winds or the currents may drift them.
All my young friends, who have played on the sea shore, have seen specimens of these wonderful creatures. You may have passed them by, even avoided them as nasty looking things; and, left on the dry beach, so they are. Floating in the ocean, they are amongst its rarest beauties. Out of water they look like slimy dirty jelly; suspended in it, they are like a piece of gause, or an azure bell, terminating in delicate silvery garlands. They are small, about the size of the hand, but singularly pretty, of soft light shades. They float like a bell, an umbrel'a, or better still, a mushroom, the stalk of which has been divided into shreds, long thread like fantastic appendages, which hang down like the drooping branches of the weeping willow.
These beautiful things are called Medusae, and our engraving will help you to understand their appearance far better than any description I can give. They are found in every part of the ocean; in the icy waters of Greenland and Iceland; they multiply under the hot suns of the Equator and they flourish in the frozen waters of the South. Their variety is endless. They have of all animals the least solid substance, their bodies being little else than water—a sea water jelly. Yet they supply a large portion of the food of the whales which haunt around the Hebrides, being transported there in innumerable swarms from the coasts of the Atlantic.
The Medusae are furnished with a mouth, which is in constant occupation; they are very voracious, and snap up their prey in a moment. If its prey be too strong for a conflict, the Medusa& holds fast, remains motionless, waits till fatigue has killed its victim, when it swallows it in all security.
From this watery little creature floating about in all its delicate beauty, I will now turn to another great family of the deep, wonderfully different in all respects, but with which you are much more familiar. I mean the tribe of the common eating oysters. First, however, a word as to that wonderful shell-fish, the pearl oyster, which you know supplies not only all the rich pearls, but that beautiful pearly substance which lines our ornamental cabinets, and which is commonly called mother-of-pearl. That substance is also called nacre, and, in fact, is the same material as the pearl itself; only nacre lines the whole of the shell, while the pearl is found in the shell, or on the body of the fish inside. The origin of the pearl is deeply interesting. Some little substance gets inside the shell, an egg of a fish, or a, grain of sand, which, if left, would prove a constant annoyance to the fish, perhaps its death. To prevent this mischief, the fish throws out around this foreign substance layers of this precious matter, which in time forms a costly pearl.
Can any of my young friends find a lesson in this remarkable action of the pearl oyster? Have you got anything about you that is disagreeable; any bad temper, or sinful tendency, that is constantly working mischief? Yes, I know that is so with every one. Let me ask you, have you ever found out any plan by which that can not only be made harmless, but the sense of having such an evil thing about you can become a real blessing both to you and others? Ah, if you are saved, and will learn of the Lord Jesus, He will teach you how this wonderful change can be brought about. His grace can so work, that these evil things shall not only be hidden, but in their place shall spring up, beautiful graces—pearls far more precious than any ever yet found in the oyster.
To fish for these pearl oysters, gives employment to great numbers of people. They are found nearly all over the world, but chiefly in the Bay of Bengal, Ceylon, and other parts of the Indian Ocean. The divers descend from fifty to seventy feet, and they will remain under water from thirty to eighty seconds, but seldom more than thirty. Each boat's crew consists of twenty men and a negro. Ten of them are divers, who go down five at a time. When about to descend, the diver fixes a heavy stone to his foot, weighing over fifty pounds, Having reached the bottom, he throws himself on his face and begins to gather all the shells within his reach, and places them in a net. When wishing to ascend, he pulls a signal cord, and is drawn up with all possible speed. A good diver will repeat this operation as many as fifteen and twenty times. The labor is extremely severe, and sometimes on reaching the boat, water, mingled with blood, will be discharged from the mouth, nose, and ears. In some seas divers are exposed to great danger from ravenous sharks, which lie in wait, and frequently devour them.
It is said that the fisheries of the Bay of Bengal, those on the Chinese coast, of Japan, and of the Indian Archipelago, realize near a million of money-per annum. Some of these pearls, in ancient and modern times, have been sold for almost fabulous sums of money. It is said the Shah of Persia once purchased one for £180,000.
But the common eating oyster is one of the great wonders of the ocean. Its construction, mode of life, reproduction, and the enormous traffic to which it gives rise, are all most interesting subjects. As you all know the oyster is composed of two valves, united by a hinge, a muscle which hermetically closes the shell upon the animal. The oyster has no power of locomotion, but is always found attached to some hard substance. When opened, the oyster seems a flattened, shapeless creature, but a little examination shows that its organization is delicate and wonderful. This, however, I will pass over, and come at once to its history, beginning with its mode of reproduction. The eggs, or ova, are yellowish in color, and exist in prodigious numbers. Oysters are not male and female like most animals, but it is said that each oyster is capable of producing two millions of eggs. In spite of this most ample provision, we hear that oysters are getting scarcer each year, and of late the price to the consumers has greatly increased. The spawning season is usually from the month of June to the end of September. The eggs are not cast off like the spawn of most fish, but remain a certain time in the folds of the parent, till the young are able to take care of themselves. This casting off their young is said to be a most curious sight. A living mass is seen to exhale from the oyster bed. The microscope reveals each one of these millions of oysters to have a perfect shell, and in every way able to do without maternal protection. The waves soon scatter them far and wide.
The first aim of the young oyster is to find some substance to which it can attach itself. Its dangers at once begin. Currents may drive it out to sea, or it may at once be smothered in a mud bank. It has innumerable enemies, who find rich and delicate food in this vast mass of living substance, and who are always on the watch as soon as the appointed time arrives, and by whom a very large proportion of the young fish are immediately destroyed.
Once attached, the oyster grows rapidly. At first a strong microscope is needed to discover it. In one month it is as large as a pea; in one year it is near two inches long, but it is some years before it is fit for the table.
But you must not suppose that all the oysters are simply fished out of the sea and brought to the market. There is great labor and expense in what is called breeding oysters, and you will find much pleasure in obtaining a suitable book and reading about the whole process. Along all the coasts of Europe an immense number of artificial beds, or parks as they are called, have been formed for this purpose. And this is no new thing, for history tells us of a man named Sergius Orata, who lived five hundred years before the Christian era, who cultivated the production of oysters in this way. The plan is to provide a quiet place; cover the bottom with stones, or shells, or drive down piles, and interlace them with brush-wood, anything that will prevent the young fish from being driven away by the tides, or destroyed by their natural enemies, and to provide a substance to which they can adhere the moment they are sent forth from the parent oyster. Large quantities of young oysters, fished from the natural beds, are then placed in these parks, where they will breed and fatten rapidly, and where great care and attention are bestowed upon them.
Our engraving will give you a good idea of the way in which dredging for oysters is performed. This is carried on in the estuary of the Thames, by the Whitstable and Colne boats, and in many other places on all our coasts. Each boat is provided with four or five dredges, resembling in shape a common clasp purse. They are formed of net work, with a strong iron frame. When the boat is over the oyster bed, the dredges are let down and drawn along, the heavy iron frame scraping in the oysters from the bottom. By far the larger proportion of market oysters are now procured from the many parks, and are artificially reared. Their flavor is much superior, and they are much more valuable than those produced in a natural way.
The poor oyster, however, has a hard time of it from beginning to end. It is first dragged violently from its own element; then placed in water filled with horrid green matter to color it. The poor creature is a second time fished up, piled in heaps with scarce water enough to keep it alive. Shut up in an obscure narrow basket, it is heaped up on the pavement as inert lifeless merchandise. By a long railway ride its existence, or what little is left, is almost shaken out of it. It is then thrown into the street at the door of some oyster shop. Now comes the moment of its sad fate. It has scarcely been pitched into a tub, when it is seized by the pitiless dealer, ruthlessly opened by a large knife, severed from its shell, tearing mercilessly its fine membranes, sent off to the table of a devouring customer, powdered with pungent pepper, its still bleeding wounds saturated with strong vinegar, and last of all, seized by a three-pronged fork, it is thrown into his mouth, and while still living and palpitating, it is cut, crushed, and ground to an inanimate mass.
Such is the history of the poor oyster, though it be one of the wonders of the deep.
Chapter 10: The Bottom of the Ocean and Its Inhabitants
IF you and I, my young friends, possessed the diving apparatus and the cunning of the little water spider, what an instructive excursion we might make together to the bottom of the ocean! Supposing we could escape the jaws and grinding teeth of alligators and crocodiles, and the wide open mouth of the monstrous whale, capable of engulfing at least a score of us at once; and the venomous fangs of sea serpents, which are as fatal as on land; what a world of wonders would everywhere meet our gaze!
There we should find mountains, valleys, and plains, just as on the surface of the earth. And as on the dry land there are stately trees and beautiful shrubs, and lovely grasses, and charming flowers, so on Ocean's bottom should we find what at first sight we should take for forests of verdure—plants, and flowers, and grasses. And just as we delight to gaze on a calm rural scene on a balmy summer's eve, the white fleecy sheep nibbling the sweet grass; the lambs frisking with all the activity and joy of childhood; the well-fed cattle, the very picture of quiet and contentment, dreamily lying down by the side of the still waters, so should we find the valleys and the mountain sides of the deep blue sea, full of life and activity.
There should we find swarms of beautiful fish, nibbling the rich verdure which everywhere covers the bottom of the sea, exactly like the sheep on our pastures.
I have said that at first sight we should suppose all we saw to be forests of rich verdure, but in fact we should soon discover that all was the result of animal life, not vegetable. The ancients believed that all these beautiful products of the ocean were purely vegetable; nor is it much more than a hundred years since it was clearly established that all the beautiful sights at the bottom of the ocean were composed of small living insects. If we were to wander sufficiently far, we should find our way blocked up by immense perpendicular mountains, some of them hundreds of miles in extent, and rising up to the very surface of the ocean. How astonished we should be to find that that vast mountain, the top of which was perhaps a great island with thousands of people living on it, was all formed by a tiny little insect, the largest of which is scarcely one-third of an inch in length!
Now it is about these little insects, and the wonderful works which they have accomplished, that I wish to tell you in this chapter.
This minute but wonderful little insect is called a Polype. Its make is very simple, and as some would say imperfect. They have no heart, no lungs, no liver, no intestines; they have neither head nor brains. Polypes are made up of a little straight bag, half transparent, open at one end and fashioned like a trumpet's mouth. Around the open end are six, sometimes eight or ten, moveable tentaculæ, or little arms. Thus the bag is the body, the opening is the mouth, the cavity is the stomach, and the tentaculæ are the arms. The Polype always seeks the light. It attaches itself to aquatic plants and other bodies by the closed end of its bag-like body. They cling to all kinds of shells and insects, and in this way they are carried in all directions; sometimes very slowly on the back of a lazy snail, sometimes as by express train under the sheath of a lively caddiss fly. Wherever they fix themselves they balance themselves easily and gracefully, stretching out in every direction their long slender arms. These arms are covered with what are called cilia—little hairs or appendages which protect, and perform other functions.
How do these Polypes live? When an unfortunate animalcule comes near enough for the stretched out arms to touch it, it is immediately seized and drawn to its mouth, the bag contracts, and the Polype digests its food in peace. When the repast is finished all that is useless is vomited out by the same mouth. A cunning little thing is this Polype. If a worm comes near, it is immediately garrotted by a thousand arms in every part of its body. Sometimes a little worm will seek to escape from the stomach, whereupon the ravisher plunges one of its arms into its stomach, and retains it there till its wriggling victim has been dissolved.
Like all life with what is called low organization, it is almost impossible to destroy it. If cut into a large number of pieces each piece will soon become a perfect Polype. If the arms are cut off they grow to perfect organizations. If the little bag be turned inside out, like the finger of a glove, it will still live on as if nothing had happened! The exterior skin which did respire, now digests, and the interior surface, which before carried on digestion, now performs the functions of breathing.
In every way these little creatures are most wonderful. Six or eight simple filaments supply the place of arms, feet, and lips, and all other organs of sense. When they are on the watch for their prey they perceive its approach and devour it. They fight among themselves; they thrust each other away, or chase each other. They bring up their progeny after their manner, and faithfully perform all their duties in that state to which they have been consigned. But this is as nothing compared with the wonderful part they have played in the building up of the globe we inhabit. When we come to the formation of coral reefs and islands, we shall find that these insignificant little Polypes are the builders which God, the great Architect, has employed to construct whole continents; and, indeed, to build up a great part of the earth on which we dwell.
But the Polype is only the beginning of an immense family. There is almost infinite variety, but all start from this point. Learned men have written large volumes about them, full of scientific names and beautiful engravings. To give all these, or a selection, would only puzzle my young reader; so as simply as possible I will describe how they develop, and multiply from this small beginning.
They multiply in this manner. The external surface of the digestive bag or body is seen to be covered with tubercles, which increase and lengthen, and gradually develop into miniature Polypes. When these are able to provide for themselves, the little tendon which connects them gives way, and in this manner the infant polype is born. More remarkable still, while the young Polype is still attached to the parent, upon its body a new little one is often observed to grow. This may give birth to a third, and the third even to a fourth! so that the parent carries at the same time, its son, its grandson, and its great grandson.
Now these I have been describing are fresh water Polypes, but those in the sea are substantially the same. There is, however, a remarkable peculiarity about some of them which produces amazing results. Some have soft gelatinous bodies altogether more like plants than animals. These, when they die, decompose, and leave no trace behind. Others are very different. The living creatures surround themselves with a hard substance something like the shells of certain insects.
The most remarkable of these is the well-known coral. Now the coral is not the living insect, but the deposit which this particular Polype produces. These coral Polypes increase with amazing rapidity; but instead of decomposing when they die, as others do, they become as hard as marble, and fresh ones continually grow, or are born on the old ones. In this way the great coral reefs and islands have been formed. But this I must reserve for another chapter.
Chapter 11: Cephalopods
HOW little of this vast subject, my young friends, can I bring before you. The length, breadth, and wonderful depth of the ocean, I have measured for you. Its tides, currents, calms, and tremendous storms, I have said a little about; but when we come to its living creatures, their apparently infinite variety, and the inconceivable mass of life in each variety, how can I tell you of all this? This life is divided into great families, in each of which are many members, all more or less alike. All I can aim at is, to take up one of the most interesting in some of these great families, and tell you of their habits, instincts, and homes; the work God has given them to do, and how they supply you and me with food, clothing, ornaments, and useful articles.
We have glanced at the polypi and their magnificent works, the coral reefs; then the sponge, and its wonderful mode of life, and how useful it is in every family; after that, those beautiful floating medusae, the flowers and ornaments of the deep ocean; all these, and their varieties are endless, none would think were living creatures, so much are they like vegetables, had it not been for the wonderful power of the microscope. Another great family is the shellfish; and we have glanced at the pearl oyster, with its rich and much coveted treasures, and then the common eating oyster, which is cultivated so extensively, but which itself has such a hard life.
Oysters are called bivalves, and, as we saw, have no power of motion. But the next great family of shell-fish are able to move from place to place. Of these there is an immense variety.
Their shape is almost endless, and they are among the most beautiful objects of the sea. These shells are used, as you know, for ornaments in our rooms. Some shells are all of one color, and so brilliant, that the painter tries in vain to reproduce them. Some are striped, mottled, or traced with various designs. The construction of these shells and of the mollusks, as the living fish inside is called, is wonderful in every respect. Some live on herbs, some on flesh. The common periwinkles, one branch of this family, live upon infinitesimal plants.
I now pass on to the next great family of the sea, which is as wonderful as any of its companions. It can scarcely be called a fish, so curious is its construction. Try and picture a long cylindrical body, flat and flabby, terminating in a great head with two enormous eyes, one on each side, its summit containing a mouth, or rather a beak, a horny substance, bent sharply like the bill of a parrot, around which branch out eight or ten arms, two much longer than the rest. These strange creatures are called Cephalopods, because their feet branch out of their heads. They have all kinds of shapes, two of which we give. As in every family there is a great variety, it would take a volume to describe them all. The common name of the whole tribe is that of cuttle fish.
They swarm in every ocean; some are found on the coasts, others inhabit the deep waters. They are ruthless despots, for their love of taking life is only bounded by their power. Not being able to pursue their prey, for their motion is slow, they have resort to craft; and like hunters of wily game, they lie in ambush, awaiting its approach. Fixing themselves in a hole, their long arms are always ready for action. Their great eyes, always widely opened, patiently watch for their prey, and instantly a victim is within arm's reach, it is seized. The cluster of arms encloses it, and draws it to the beak, where it is devoured without pity. It is the tiger of the sea, for it destroys for the simple pleasure of killing. An observer tells of having seen a small cuttle fish deserted by the ebbing tide, and left with a shoal of little fish in a pool upon the beach. He seemed to be whiling away his hours, or perhaps venting his rage, by killing all his fellow-prisoners. He had satisfied his hunger, and most probably had ceased only because he could eat no longer, and now was wantonly killing for amusement. Yet are they strong examples of retributive justice. As they savagely kill, so are they ruthlessly devoured. Their enemies, the dolphins, deal death and mutilation to thousands of their kind; and often the shores of the Bay of Biscay may be seen covered with cuttles, with their arms torn off, and other parts of their bodies bitten by the dolphins, who hunt them in sport.
In ancient times there were strange stories told and believed about these strange creatures. One weighed 700 lbs., had arms thirty feet long, and it destroyed all the fish and fishing grounds near Castria in Spain. Another was said to inhabit the northern seas—a perfect monster, not less than a mile in length, and a terror to all sailors. Nay, so far did imagination work, that it was said one of these monsters actually blocked up the Straits of Gibralter!
Though no one now believes these stories, yet modern naturalists tell us of some really gigantic cephalopods that have been caught, and some of them preserved. On the 30th of November, 1861, the French steam corvette Alecton, when near Madeira, encountered one of these monsters floating on the surface of the water. It was sixteen or eighteen feet long without its long arms. Its eyes were of an enormous size. Its mouth or beak opened ten inches. It was supposed to weigh over 4,000 lbs. As the corvette approached, the creature showed signs of intelligence, and endeavored to move out of the way. The commander, anxious to secure the creature, loaded the guns and made ready harpoons with rope nooses. At the first shot the monster plunged beneath the water, and appeared again on the other side of the boat. Again the guns were discharged; and each time the creature was either wounded by the harpoons or the shot, it dived beneath the surface, but always came up again after a few minutes. It was found impossible to secure the monster, as the harpoons could not bite on the flabby flesh, and came out as they went in, and the shot seemed to do it no harm. At last one ball struck a vital part, for the creature vomited blood and froth with glutinous matter, which sent out a strong smell of musk. At last they were able to cast a noose over it; the rope slipped down its body till arrested by the fins at its tail, and when they endeavored to hoist it on board, the rope cut into the flesh and separated the body into two parts; the head with its long arms dropped heavily into the sea, and made off; and the hinder parts were drawn on deck. It was thought that the monster was sick, or exhausted by some recent combat with a monster of the deep.
Enormous as are some kinds of the cuttle fish met with, every child has seen small specimens of the same family on the sea shore, after the tide has gone down. Like the medusae they seem to be masses of thick jelly; but the moment they are placed in water, their true character with their spreading arms, is plainly seen.
Chapter 12: The Whale
WE have wandered together by the tiny rippling stream; watched its increase till it became a mighty river; gazed on the thundering cataract; sailed over the great lakes or inland seas; at length found ourselves in the deep and boundless ocean itself. Having gazed upon specimens of its teeming life, beginning at its simplest forms, we shall now continue our pleasant talks by a short account of its largest inhabitant-the whale. The whale is not only "the great leviathan of the deep," but is the greatest of all living animals. Where else could this gigantic beast live, but in the water? What legs could support it on the land? In the air what wings could have borne its weight? What an ungainly monster the whale would have been on the land! Strictly speaking it is not a fish, but an animal; yet God has placed the whale in the water with the form of a fish, where it moves with the greatest ease and swiftness. What a suitable element for such a monster is the mighty unbounded ocean. There are many kinds of these monsters of the deep. They all agree in this, that, unlike fish, they have lungs, and must come to the surface to breathe. They are all alike in general appearance. The body of the whale is a colossal and irregular cylinder; it has been known to measure 130 feet in length, and to weigh as much as 250 tons; the diameter of the smallest part is about one third that of the greatest. It has neither hair nor scales, but is covered with a, smooth black leather, hard and thick, under which there is a layer of fat one foot thick. The head is joined to the trunk by a neck so short that it seems to grow out of the body; the trunk terminates in a thick fleshy tail, which is horizontally flattened, so that unlike fishes it strikes the water, not right and left, but up and down. The head in some kinds is so enormous as to form one third of the total weight of the animal. The mouth is prodigious; so huge that a man is able to stand inside without stooping. Some have teeth which supply us with inferior ivory; all have immense jaws, from twelve to fifteen feet in length, from which we get all our whalebone.
The tongue is monstrous, sometimes twenty feet long and twelve wide. It is, however, unmoveable, consisting of a solid mass of fat, fastened down the whole length of the mouth. The oil expressed from it will fill five or six hogsheads.
In some whales the lower jaw is several feet shorter than the upper, which, as you will see by the engraving, looks very much out of proportion.
On the head there is a hole which communicates with the mouth. Through this the whale ejects the air which it has inhaled, and with which it carries a large quantity of water, thus throwing high into the air a great fountain. Sailors call this "blowing." When they journey, the largest and strongest animal takes the lead, and in danger gives the alarm or signal for attack. They are said not to be insensible to affection; the male always accompanies the female. In 1723, a pair were met traveling through the ocean; perhaps, says the narrator, it was their honeymoon. They were attacked and wounded; one being killed, the other threw himself upon his companion, uttering frightful moans. The male always follows his wounded partner, and remains with her so long as she lives.
Unlike all fish, the whale suckles her young. This is a strange sight; for the mother has to rear herself upright sufficiently out of the water to enable its young to feed and breathe at the same time; and with its fore fins positively hugs its young to its breast during the operation. What an immense supply such a little monster must require at each meal! The mother exhibits very ardent and courageous attachment. When her little one has been harpooned, she at once comes to its help, remaining close to its side when it comes to the surface to breathe, and exciting it by all means to flee. She rarely abandons her wounded young while it lives. At such a time the mother whale may easily be wounded, forgetting entirely her own safety. In her maternal agony she swims to and fro, beats the sea violently; and the wildness of her movements is a certain sign of the greatness of her grief.
Some whales feed on vegetation, others on medusae, mollusks, and other small animals. The monster swims on the surface of the sea, with his enormous mouth open; he has only to close his large jaws, and he imprisons a whole population. In nature large animals feed on small ones; and it is a strange sight to see this huge leviathan pursue pitiful little creatures scarcely visible, more like jelly than fish, without shape or consistency.
Whale fishing for hundreds of years has been carried on most extensively. They furnish an enormous quantity of oil, whalebone, ivory, spermaceti, and ambergris. You all know how useful sperm oil is; our fine candles are made of spermaceti, and ambergris is much use in making perfumery. So extensive and energetic has been the destruction of whales, that they have been altogether banished from many seas where once they were most numerous, and it is thought the time may come when the whole tribe will be completely exterminated. Hundreds of ships, however, go out every year, each having thirty or forty men, to carry on this profitable, but often dangerous operation. On reaching the fishing grounds, two men are kept at the mast-head on the look out, and four boats, pointed at each end, are always ready for instant action. The moment an unfortunate whale is perceived, the canoes are let down; each is manned with four strong rowers, an officer who steers, and an experienced harpooner, who must have great presence of mind, a keen eye, and a strong arm. Now begins a most exciting and often dangerous scene. As soon as a boat comes within reach, the man hurls his harpoon. The giant of the waves, on feeling himself wounded, gives a violent blow with his tail and plunges into the depths. There is a line attached to the harpoon, which runs out with tremendous rapidity, and drags the boat with frightful swiftness. Should this rope get entangled, the boat is immediately upset, and all plunged into the water. All the boats keep away from the tail of the monster; for when the whale plunges he erects his tail, which vibrates for a moment in the air, and falls flat upon the water with a crash, which would dash a boat in pieces in a moment. After ten or fifteen minutes the whale is forced to come to the surface in order to breathe, and this is a critical moment. If the whale should rise up immediately under a boat, he has been known to hurl it ten or fifteen feet clean out of the water; but if all goes well, the moment he appears at the surface, he is again struck with another harpoon, and again instantly dives. This is repeated till the poor creature, becoming exhausted, falls an easy prey to his pursuers.
Occasionally, however, the whale sells his life very dearly. In 1820, an American whaler having let down its boats in the midst of a shoal of whales, immediately gave chase, the ship following after; suddenly the largest of the whales left the rest, and disdaining the small boats rushed straight at the ship, rightly suspecting that to be its principal enemy. At the first shock, a portion of the keel was broken, the animal then endeavored to seize the ship with its gigantic jaws, but not being able to manage this, he retreated about six hundred feet, and dashed with all his strength against the prow of the vessel, driving it with immense velocity This caused an enormous wave to rise, and the waters pouring into the windows, filled the cabin; and in spite of all the efforts of the crew, she speedily sunk to the bottom.
When the whale has been killed, he is dragged to the ship, made fast; and then begins the work of cutting up and melting the fat; and having secured all that is valuable about the great monster, the remainder is speedily devoured by the birds and sharks.
Chapter 13: Island Builders
IN a previous chapter, I promised to tell you of one of nature's greatest wonders, found at the bottom of the deep, dark, blue sea. I told you something about the Polypes, the simple yet beautiful little creatures which from earliest times were thought to be plants, but are now known to be in reality animals. Some are soft in substance—jelly-like, and when they die, decompose and leave no trace behind. Now I am to describe a very different class of creatures, though in some respects the same. The animals themselves are Polypes, just as described in the last chapter; they are soft and flesh-like in substance, but they have the power to secrete, that is throw off, a milky lime-like substance, which becomes as hard as the hardest stone. This substance assumes the shape of a little cell surrounding the Polype, which is really the home of the Polype.
You will remember that we described a Polype as a small sack closed at one end, the mouth being the opening at the other, and that it always attached itself by the closed end of the sack to some substance. Now the deep sea Polypes construct this calcareous cell, to the bottom of which the little sack is fastened. The mouth part of the Polype extends beyond the cell, and has eight arms, which spread themselves out like the petals of a flower; and when expanded are exactly like a beautiful white and semi-transparent flower; when closed they have the appearance of an urn. These Polypes produce the far-famed corals, which for hundreds of years have been matters of deep interest to all students of natural history, and sought after at a great cost as ornaments for the person.
The coral, as all my little readers know who have seen a coral necklace, is a most beautiful red, and for thousands of years it has been made into all kinds of ornaments. The ancient Gauls and Indians decorated their swords with it. Now the darkest colored Africans use it as a beautiful contrast to their black skins; and the fairest ladies in the world prize it as the greatest set-off to their beauty.
I could tell you some amusing stories of the contentions of learned men about this simple little creature. For many years some have ranged on one side, and some on the other; one contending it was a plant, the other that it was a real living animal. The first great man who discovered the expanding and closing of the Polype, concluded he had settled the matter forever. He was an Italian naturalist, and with great satisfaction he announced to the scientific world that he had discovered the flowers of the coral. By placing branches of coral in sea water, immediately after they had been fished up, the Italian naturalist saw the bud-like protuberances which cover the surface, open like so many eight petaled flowers, formed of elegant white and star shaped carollas. These he at once took to be the flowers of the mysterious shrub, and at once made known his discovery to the Academy of Sciences, which learned assembly was readily convinced. This settlement, however, did not last long. A French physician, who made no great pretensions to be a learned man, was watching the coral fishers in Barbary, and at once began a long investigation on the subject. The result was, he became convinced that the coral was not a plant, but so many little animals or Polypes. The learned Academy of Sciences were slow to receive the truth; a great stir was made, but the country physician was found to be right, and the learned men to be wrong. The coral flowers turned out to be only Polypes, and the stony shrub to be only a shell or place of abode for them.
For hundreds of years there was another mistake respecting the coral. It was difficult to conceive how a plant could become so hard as the coral. The fishermen, following an ancient tradition, maintained that the shrub, so long as it is under water, is not harder than ordinary plants, but that it hardens suddenly when brought in contact with the air. All the world believed the fishermen. An inspector of fisheries, however, was very unbelieving as to this, and sent a diver down to the bottom of the sea to test this point. The man brought back word that it was as hard in the sea as in the air! None would believe him, and the inspector could only be convinced by himself diving to ascertain the fact.
Thus for two thousand years men continued to doubt and speculate before finding out the true nature of the coral; and all this time was necessary to prove that it is only the production of a simple Polype, and that in the depths of the sea, it is as hard as when it is fashioned into those bracelets and rich necklaces which are regarded as such a charming contrast with both the white and black skins of those who think themselves the most beautiful women in the world.
It would be impossible to give you a just impression of the almost infinite form, size, and character of these Polypes, and of the varied shapes in which they build themselves up. Some are like a beautiful delicate stem of a plant; some like trunks of trees; some like leaves and fruit; some like a bundle of sticks, and some like solid rocks. Many books have been written describing all these wonderful varieties. The number of Polypes on a small branch of coral is absolutely astounding. On one piece three feet long it was calculated by one gentleman in India that there could not be fewer-than 8,000,000,000, a number almost equaling that of the population of the globe, yet all produced from the successive building of a single Polype.
Before I close I must give you a short account of the mighty work which these wonderful little creatures have built up. Of course you have all heard of the coral reefs which are so abundant in the ocean, especially in the Southern Pacific Ocean. These are nothing more than immense accumulations of the homes of the Polypes. These obscure but diligent artisans build one on the top of another, and then die. And this they do with such wonderful rapidity that new islands are constantly appearing. In the Pacific alone there are nearly 300, covering over 20,000 square miles The, prodigious extent of their combined labors must be seen, to be adequately conceived. They have built up a reef along the shores of New Caledonia for a length of 400 miles, and another which runs along the north-west coast of Australia, 1,000 miles in extent. What are the walls of Babylon, or the Pyramids of Egypt compared to this vast mass! And edifices of the Polype have been reared in the midst of the ocean waves, and in defiance of tempests which so rapidly annihilate the greatest and strongest works of man. Immense as is this work of rearing up great islands, it is but a small portion of what they have done. It is now discovered that the immense mountains of the world are the work of these busy little creatures. They are of coral formation, and the results, it may be, of the work of thousands of years while this earth was in a state of chaos. Indeed, they may well be called the builders of the world.
Chapter 14: The Proteus
HOW wonderful is every part of God's creation! As a rule, there is the most beautiful order. In the earth, air, and water this holds good. Whether it be fish, animals, insects, or birds, there is the most wonderful gradation from the simplest formation to that which is most complicated. But in every one of these divisions of the creatures of God will be found some strange exception, something that stands out unlike all the rest. The Proteus is one of these, and in every way it is so remarkable that it deserves to be called one of nature's real wonders. This curious creature, which has from its first discovery excited the interest of naturalists, on account of its peculiar structure and habits, has been found in but one locality in the south of Austria. The Limestone mountains of Carnivla are traversed by caverns of great extent, which are lined with stalactites and stalacmites in every variety of form. Of these caverns, the most famous is the Grotto of Udelsberg, about forty miles north of Trieste, on the road to Vienna.
Through these grottos flows the river Laibach, making its appearance again from out of the mountain, at some miles distance; and when the stream has been swollen in the spring by the rapid melting of the ice and snow on the neighboring mountains, as well as after heavy rains, pools are lefts in which the Proteus Anquinus is sometimes found; but where it is bred naturalists are at a loss to determine. It is thought to be produced in some subterranean lake or reservoir far beneath, as it has never been found in a very early stage of its growth. In the neighboring caverns of Sittick and Kirtnitz it is stated also to have been found, but nowhere else.
The usual length of the Proteus is from seven to twelve inches, and its circumference about an inch and a half. It has a large flat head, in form somewhat resembling that of a crocodile. The skin is, smooth and of a beautiful flesh color, but upon frequent exposure to light, it becomes of a pale brown. The creature has the general form of an eel, but is furnished with four legs about an inch in length; the fore legs are situate near the head, and have each three toes, rather widely spread, but no trace of being webbed. The hinder legs are situate at the base of the tail, which is flattened and tapering like that of the eel, and have only two toes. The legs Seem to be to enable the Proteus to crawl upon the muddy bottom of its habitation. When swimming, which it does with great rapidity, using the tail, it folds its legs back_ wards and close to its body, so that they may not impede its progress.
The mouth is furnished with sharp teeth, and from this circumstance which led Sir Humphrey Davy to regard them as animals of prey. They are at any rate well adapted to retain the slippery food on which it subsists.
It has only the rudiments of eyes, which are covered by the skin, and can be seen only as very minute specks.
The most remarkable feature in the Proteus, perhaps, is that it has a double apparatus for breathing, being furnished with internal lungs like a quadruped, and external organs analagous to the gills in fish. The latter are placed at each side at the back part of the head, having the appearance of delicate crimson fringes. From this circumstance the creature was formerly supposed to be in a transitional or tadpole state, and some ascribed it to the extinct Saurian tribes; but naturalists have now determined these remarkable creatures come into the world in their proper form, and retain it so long as they live, being what are termed "persistent larvae.”
Like other animals to which it is allied, the Proteus Anquinus can subsist a long time without food. A friend who possessed several of these curious creatures, tells us, the death of those he had, was probably due to their having been too frequently fed. That which lived the longest was fed once in six months only, upon one or two small earth worms, which it devoured with avidity. Both Curier and Sir Humphrey Davy remark that they never eat while in confinement, which is a mistake. The specimen last referred to was kept several years in a large earthenware food-pan, with a mahogany covering to exclude the light, and was fed as above. It appeared to shun the light, choosing, when the vessel it lived in was uncovered, that side which was most in the shade.
Chapter 15: The Utility of Water
“WONDERS," runs an old saying, "when used, cease to be wonders." That this is a truism every day's experience tends but too surely to confirm. Such is the uncertain, and vacillating character of our judgments that what is to-day justly pronounced to be a wonder, will to-morrow be regarded as only a commonality—a mere matter of course. The structure that has exhausted the genius of a Wren, or the sculpture upon which the imperishable fame of a Praxiteles rests, excite but a momentary wonder, are admired and forgotten. The vast seems to lose its grandeur—the beautiful its charm. Thus custom, habit, and use, conspire to blind and deceive; but the nobler mind will strive to break through this bondage, and rise to a just appreciation of that which is in itself really noble and sublime.
Perhaps there is nothing in Nature at least, of which the saying we have quoted is more true, than the element of water. What kind of impressions has its thousand varied and glorious aspects made upon our minds? We have seen it in its weakness, and in its strength! We have watched it as a tiny rivulet, and we have gazed forth upon it, as the boundless, billowy ocean! We have observed it in its gentle moments, as presented in a calm and placid lake, and the same element has swept before us as a mighty flowing river, bounding onwards with resistless volume, awe-inspiring in its majestic grandeur? I say what emotions should not such scenes excite? If they be not in the highest degree elevating and ennobling, if they do not increase tenfold our reverence and homage of Him who thus reveals His power and glory, then have we missed the very purpose of creation, which is to "show forth" and exalt His glory.
But in this, our concluding chapter, we leave the picturesque, and turn to the useful, or utilitarian side of our subject, to point out, first, how the whole range of nature—human, animal, and vegetable—is dependent upon this element for very existence; and secondly, how, on the other hand it is made subservient to the purposes of man.
Along with the air we breathe, water is the great essential of life. Without it the whole economy of nature would cease. With no rich fertilizing streams, and no soft refreshing showers, our world so fair and beautiful, would be reduced to a great arid desert. But God orders everything perfectly. By the exquisite process, we have before explained, of evaporation and condensation, an equable amount of moisture is continually supplied, and so by this means trees blossom, flowers bloom, and harvests are gathered in.
Thales, the earliest Greek philosopher, was so profoundly impressed with its utility in Egypt that he returned to his own country and founded a school of philosophy, declaring water to be the first great principle!
Civilization advances or declines as water is more or less abundant. The early and rapid development on the banks of the Nile is a clear proof of the truth of this remark. In no other country were the harvests so certain as in Egypt, where the Nile, once a year, never failed to overflow his banks. As the waters rose, yet higher and higher, so the certainty of a good harvest was confirmed. Every degree registered on the Nilometer was watched and registered, for on that event life itself depended. We cannot wonder, therefore, that the Egyptians should reverence their river, and esteem its waters sacred. But now the truth is known to us, and we can distinguish between the Giver and His gifts.
Thus we see how dependent the whole world is on water as an element, even for its existence. But let us now look for a moment at the other side: how this same element is made to serve the useful purposes of man.
What shall we say of water, as a means of communication? Thousands of vessels are daily traversing the bosom of the mighty deep, though so treacherous and dangerous are its waters; and, although many who "go down and do business in deep waters" never return, the ocean is yet, and will ever be, the great highway of nations.
Much of the splendor and renown of ancient Greece, and all the wonderful commercial prosperity of the Phonicians were due to their maritime ascendency and position on the northern and eastern shores of the Mediterranean. England's greatness must in a great measure be ascribed to her insulate position. Even the narrow thread of water which divides her from the Continent, has proved sufficient more than once to save her from invasion, and perhaps from ruin.
And what shall be said of the thousand and one ways, in which water is utilized as a motive power? We use it for turning our mills and for driving our manufactories. Employed as a hydraulic power, its force is truly astonishing-lifting with ease the most incredible burdens.
But it is less than a hundred years ago that a latent power was discovered to exist in water, which has, since revolutionized the world. This was no less than the discovery of the power of Steam. This is merely water heated to so high a temperature, that it flies off in vapor. You all know how James Watt sat over his grandmother's kettle, preventing with a spoon the escape of steam from the spout, and witnessing with delight the uneasy motion of the lid, as it felt the pressure from beneath. And yet such was the simple way in which this great power which drives our engines, and propels our steamships, was discovered!
How many more wonderful things might be told concerning the utility of water, did space permit?' It has been observed of fire that "it is a good servant, but a bad master," and with no less truth might this be applied to water. Let it once get the upper hand, as when the banks of reservoirs burst, or at the advent of a huge tidal wave, and its power for destruction and misery is appalling. Thousands have been hopelessly swept away and destroyed, and whole provinces desolated, when such calamities occur.
One word more and our pleasant talks must end. There is another water far more wonderful and precious than any that may flow from earthly springs. This is the "Water of Life." Has my young reader drank of this living water? Only One can give it, even He who gave it to the woman of Samaria. If you have not yet drank of that living spring, delay not longer. Be in earnest, as was that poor woman when she said, "Sir, give me of this water, that I thirst not." Are you seeking to satisfy your thirst at the fountain of this world's pleasures? If so you are finding them, we can vouch, but empty cisterns. Nothing but the Living Water can save, and none but its Giver can satisfy.
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