ARECENTtour to Niagara, in affording welcome recreation, gave me opportunity to look upon this stupendous curiosity. I had had years ago a faint foresight in observing, at a favorable season, Passaic Falls. The river at these falls is forty yards wide, and one entire sheet of water descends seventy feet. The cascade presented a unique scene of beauty, and has been regarded as the greatest curiosity in "the State of the Broad Seal." But the Falls of Niagara far outreach all comparison. They are really stupendous, and challenge the world to outvie them in grandeur. On first witnessing them, your sensations are peculiar. Your nature becomes suffused with a sublimity of feeling. A fulmination of "the great and glorious" strikes one to silent amazement. With a "pleasing terror," akin to grandeur, you approach the precipice, and gaze unweariedly upon the wonderful cataract.
I proceeded without refreshing my memory with any account of the wonder. Conversation touching the falls, with all fulsome descriptions, I had avoided. I beheld them from many points of observation, at evening, in the morning, and during the sunny day. I was sensible that the great natural curiosity of the New World had presented itself to my view. The sense of grandeur augmented with repeated observations. No description can adequately convey an idea of their true sublimity.
Niagara has had many admirers. Some, in their descriptions, have been borne very far by fancy; others have given occasional circumstances as the general. The precipice which produces the cataract was said to be not less than six hundred feet. This was an account of an early tourist. It does not, in reality, exceed one hundred and sixty feet. "The noise is such," says Father Hennepin, "that people distant from it several miles cannot hear each other speak." At some seasons, and at particular times, the roar of the cataract is very loud, and is heard for many miles; but it would be exceeding strange if found so deafening as indicated by the above account. "As the traveller advances," saysHowison, "he is frightfully stunned by the appalling noise, clouds of spray sometimes envelop him, and suddenly check his faltering steps; rattlesnakes start from the cavities of the rocks; and the scream of eagles soaring among the whirlwinds of the cataract, at intervals, announce that the raging waters have hurled some bewildered animal over the precipice." These intervals, at present, are very long.
When the red man gazed exclusively upon the cataract, it is supposed it was of greater height than now. Not only, indeed, of greater height, but that it was differently located. The intelligent geologist maintains that the falls were once at Lewiston, and that they must eventually recede to Lake Erie. Thus, any poetical apostrophe to Niagara which sings, "As creation's dawn beholdst," &c., loses its verity. As years wind on, the falls must gradually become less grand as their height decreases; and, "Lake Erie being drained, they will sink to the wild beauty and hoarse roar of the rapids." Accurate observation proves that the falls wear backward a trifle over a foot each year, having receded forty-two feet in the last forty years. Many thousands of years have gone by since the falls were on the borders of the Ontario, and over another hundred thousand years must pass ere they retire to the sister lake.
At the efflux from Lake Erie, Niagara River is three-quarters of a mile wide, and from forty to sixty feet deep. Its current flows at the rate of seven miles an hour. As it proceeds, theriver widens and imbosoms Grand and Navy Islands, which terminate in points a mile and a half above the falls.
Below these islands are rapids which extend a mile to the precipice, in which space the river descends fifty-seven feet. Down these rapids the stream rushes, foaming and dashing, giving to the beholder a wild scene of novel interest. Goat Island divides the river into two courses. A small island but a few yards from Goat Island divides the channel on the American side. Between the two is a beautiful cascade; and, from the small island to the American side, the sheet is broad, with a greater descent, though less quantity of water, than at the other fall on the Canada side. Much the greater body of water passes through the course between Goat Island and the Canada shore. This fall, from its shape, has been named the Horse-shoe Fall.
The waters, as they wend their way over the edge and downward, assume a white appearance, save a streak eastward in the Horse-shoe Fall, which streak is of a green color, like the water of the river where it is deep and undisturbed. In one spot, near "the Cave of the Winds," on the American side, I saw a narrow cascade with so thin a sheet that it assumed a pearl color, and descended in congregated globules, or beads, sparkling in their beauty, and altogether variable from the heavier masses rolling over the more central parts. Farther centreward, the bounding waters assume a snowy appearance; and, in gazing upon them, they seem large volumes, or rather avalanches of foam, rolling down into the trembling depths of the lower river. A gentleman skilled in science, who has measured the water above, below, and on the brink of the falls, reports that three millions of tons of water fall over the precipice every second. The moving water below the falls creates one vast mass of "liquid foam," which, like pressed down, floats upon the surface of the river. Here, amid the roar of the rumbling and rushing waters, the spray rolls up in clouds, like ascending smoke. Rainbows dawn amid the dull-appearing mist, and we have, as a whole, Niagara presented to us as she is, and as no language can describe her. The grand view remains fixed upon the mind, and a halo of happy fancies takes hold of the conceptions.
The scenery around the falls is not without its interest. Nature retains her roughest aspect, and looks pleasingly rugged and wild. There is, indeed, much that is romantic around Niagara. Along the river, below the falls, there are trees of many kinds and an abundance of uncultured shrubbery. The impending cliffs seem to vibrate with the rolling murmurs and echoes of the cataract. Table Rock, a portion of which fell some years since, and the remainder recently, was on a level with the edge of the cataract on the Canada side. It projected beyond the cliffs that supported it, resembling the leaf of a table, which circumstance caused its name. Under this projecting rock I passed, after descending a flight of stairs, and approached the sheet of rolling water. The spray here danced on the eddying currents of the air, and ascended in clouds. The waters plash and foam, the cataract sounds with a winnowing roar, echo resounds amid the rocky hills, and the beholder is thrilled with emotions of awe.
A little way below the falls, where the river loses its excessive agitation, and resumes an unexcited course, a small "row-boat" plies to and fro. In going over this ferry, your boat is swayed with a turning motion by the force of the current. While visited lightly by the fleeting spray, the traveller looks towards the wonderful fall. The cliffs on each side of the river are lofty. The tides glide down in a rapid current towards the distant whirlpool. Passing the eye upward, and gazing upon the falls, they are now presented in all their stupendous grandeur. The waters roll over in huge bodies, never ceasing—rolling, rolling, rolling. You see it, and linger to see it. Echoes reverberate, and the constant murmur and rumble, like a hundred mill-races in a freshet, send a feeling which you cannot forget. No one has inclination to speak while viewing the falls. The luxury is to look in silence at the picture here presented in lively colors by Nature. 'Tis a pleasure to stand and contemplate. You must; your soul ponders upon the novelty and grandeur before the eye. The memory has garnered a clear impression. It will hold it forever.
Surrounding rugged and fossil exhibitions lead the mind to the convulsions and changes through which Nature has gone since the Creation. Fancy retains Niagara long after it ceases to be visible. The falls appear in both their pleasing terror and dancing beauty. Nature, ceasing to be unanimated, has exhibited at once her heavy artillery and rainbow beauties. The soul recognizes and does involuntary homage to the Grand Master of the universe.
BY HARLAND COULTAS, PROFESSOR OF BOTANY IN PENN MEDICAL UNIVERSITY, PHILADELPHIA.
THEearly spring flowers, whose lovely forms were nurtured amidst the falling snows of February and the rude cold winds of March, have disappeared from the wild parterre of nature. Flora's first offering, how welcome to the botanist! The vernal sun now pours forth on the cold damp earth floods of warm, life-giving radiance. Vegetation is in full activity, and by the forces of nature the earth and atmosphere are being woven into green leaves and beautiful flowers. Behold the rich feast which is provided for the support of every living thing. There is not an insect wantoning in the sunbeam, or a bird singing sweetly amongst the branches, or a poor worm crawling at your feet, for which ample provision has not been fully made.
To those who are interested in botanical pursuits, the country now possesses an especial attraction. June is pre-eminently the month of flowers. To describe them all would fill a volume. We will, however, mention the following, which are both abundant and beautiful, and may be very easily procured:—
Fig. 1.
Fig. 1.
Fig. 1.
AQUILEGIACANADENSIS(Wild Columbine).—This beautiful plant may now be found growing out of the crevices of the rocks on the west bank of the Schuylkill, between Manayunk and Columbia Bridge. It has biternate leaves, or leaves which are twice three parted and deeply toothed at their margin. Fig. 1 shows the foliage and flower of the Columbine. The sepals of the calyx and petals of the corolla are of the same color, and so intermingled as to be not easily distinguished from each other. The corolla is composed of five horn-shaped petals, one of which is shown detached ata. The petals are curved at the upper end and form a sort of coronet, terminating below in spurs or horns which contain honey. The five oval and colored sepals of the calyx alternate with them. The stamens and styles are exerted, or hang below the mouth of the corolla. The corolla and calyx are of a beautiful scarlet or rather coral color, and the whole plant, together with its drooping, pendulous flowers, is really an ornament to the barren rocks from which it springs. How wonderful that so much beauty should thus flourish in so unpromising a situation!bRepresents the appearance of the fruit after the flowers have faded and fallen, which consists of five carpels or follicles, many seeded and acuneinated by the persistent style.c, A separate follicle.
Fig. 2.
Fig. 2.
Fig. 2.
HOUSTONIA CŒRULEA(orQuaker Lady).—The fresh green grass on every hill-side is now adorned with the tufts of this beautiful wild plant. It grows, however, most luxuriantly in moist, shady situations. This plant is easily recognized by its profusion of handsome bright blue blossoms, fading to white, with a yellow eye. Fig. 2 shows the form of its leaves and flowers. Each little plant, when examined apartfrom the rest, presents a few forked branches an inch or two in length. The radical leaves are spatulate, the corolla monopetalous and salverform. It has four stamens and one pistil.a, One of the anthers opening longitudinally.b, Cross-section of that anther magnified.c, The capsule enveloped by the persistent calyx.d,e, Views of the dehiscence of the capsule.
MITCHELLA REPENS(Partridge-berry).—This pretty little evergreen is now in flower in moist, shady woods, about the roots of trees. Its stem and branches trail along the ground, bearing opposite ovate leaves, and pairs of white, monopetalous, four cleft, and singularly villous or downy-looking flowers. After flowering, a bright scarlet berry is produced by the coalescence or engraftment of the drupes or fruit of each pair of flowers, which is crowned with the calyx teeth of each of them. This plant commemorates Dr. John Mitchell, an early correspondent of Linnæus and an excellent botanist. The berries remain over winter.
EPIGŒA REPENS(Trailing Arbutus).—This is a favorite spring flower, especially with ladies. It is very abundant in the woods on the banks of the Wissahicon. It may be readily distinguished by its prostrate stems, which bear evergreen, reticulated, rounded, alternate leaves, and axillary clusters of rose-colored flowers, which are most delightfully fragrant. The stem and stalks of the leaves are bristly with rusty hairs. Name derived from [Greek: epi], upon, and [Greek: gê], the earth. Ten stamens and one pistil will be found within the floral envelops.
CLAYTONIAVIRGINICA(Spring Beauty).—This plant is common in moist woods on the banks of the Schuylkill. It is named in honor of John Clayton, one of the earliest botanists of this country. It sends up in early spring from a small, deeply buried tuber, a simple stem bearing two linear lanceolate, opposite leaves, and a simple raceme of pale, rose-colored flowers. Fig. 3 is a representation of this ornament of the vernal woods. Sepals of the calyx, two, ovate, free, green, and persistent; that is, they remain after the corolla has faded as a protecting envelop to the fruit. Stamens, five, adhering to the claws of the petals. Style, three-lobed. Capsule, three-valved, three to five-seeded.aShows the persistent two-leaved calyx enveloping the capsule.b, A section of the dehiscing or opening capsule, with the seeds in its interior.
Fig. 3.
Fig. 3.
Fig. 3.
VIOLA PEDATA(Bird's-Foot Violet).—This is the largest and handsomest of the wild violets, and is exceedingly abundant in the sandy soil of the pine-barrens in the neighborhood of Camden, New Jersey. It is called bird's-foot violet, from a fancied resemblance between its leaves and the feet of birds. Its flowers are large, pale-blue, and exceedingly showy. The beautiful Phlox subulata, or moss pink, grows in the same pine-barrens in company with this violet, and cannot fail to be recognized.
The earth at this season is adorned with the utmost profusion of flowers. Now is the time to secure good specimens. We shall introduce a few more of these beautiful strangers to your notice in another article.
To most persons, probably, the words "Physical Training" suggest ideas of the drill-sergeant, or of gymnastic or other extraordinary exercises; and, truly, such exercises may form a part of physical training, but only a part, and that a small one, of this most important department of human education. We must endeavor to give our readers wider and better views than are usually entertained upon the subject.
Physical training in its proper sense involves: 1. The cultivation and preservation of physical health. 2. The development of the physical strength, powers, and mechanical capabilities of the body to such a pitch as the individual requires to perform well the duties of life. 3. The cultivation, within certain limits, of the graces and beauties of the body. 4. The cultivation and development of the mind, through and by means of the bodily powers and senses.
Thus, whatever the means employed, the chief end of all physical training must be the perfect working of a healthy mind, by means of a healthy body, in the performance of life's duties, the enjoyment of life's pleasures, and the avoidance, as far as permitted, of life's pains.
In this life, God has linked together our bodies and our minds, and man cannot with impunity disregard their union or divide their interests; act and react they will, and do, upon one another. Their Creator has made the one the instrument of the other; and as well might we look for harmony from an unstrung harp, be the player ever so skilful, as for perfect working from a mind, however good and powerful, through the means of a sickly body. True, there have been many possessors of sickly bodies, many sufferers from permanent "bad health," who have not only done much active good, but who have worked well and successfully with their minds; yet may we not justly suppose that, had the same minds dwelt in healthy frames, had they not been clogged and clouded by the frequent "infirmities of the flesh," their good deeds would have been still more widely spread, their intellectual exertions still more powerfully manifested? Even in the more ordinary business of life, in the counting-house or in the work-shop, how often is work too slowly or imperfectly executed, because of minds hampered by bodies in bad working order; because the physical training of the body has been, and is, day by day neglected! Few there are whose individual experience cannot revert to hours, days, lost to them, simply from derangements of health which might have been avoided, and which, though not amounting to illness, were yet sufficient to render either duty or amusement a labor or a "bore." How few are there who do not know the difference between the irritability, the nervous fears, the indolence and despondency of illness, and that cheerful activity of good health which laughs at trifles, looks forward with hope, and finds work a pleasure! How strong the reasons, then, for training the health and powers of the body to their highest pitch, seeing that upon their perfection depends the more or less complete fulfilment of our duty to God, our neighbors, and ourselves!
We return to the rule No. 1, of Physical Training.—The cultivation and preservation of physical health.
Health is a comprehensive term, including the perfect and harmonious working of the organs generally of which the body is composed; but this perfect, this healthy working of many parts, chiefly depends upon the integrity and health of the one all-pervading fluid, the blood—the life.In all physical training, the condition of the blood must be the foundation—the centre point of our thoughts and endeavors.This, to an unlearned reader, may appear a somewhat startling proposition; nevertheless, by means of it we shall gain the simplest, most intelligible, and, at the same time, most comprehensive views of our subject. The condition of the blood depends, first, on its nourishment; secondly, on its purification. The effect of the blood upon the body depends, thirdly, upon its circulation or distribution. The first involves the nature, quantity, and digestion of the food which nourishes; the second, the ventilation, cleanliness, &c., which purify; the third, the various exercises which aid to distribute.
As the blood is continually being expended in the nourishment of the body, so it must as constantly be renovated by supplies from without—by food. Evidently, then, this food must supply to the blood every material required by the body;otherwise there can be no proper nourishment. Thus, if the diet be deficient in the bone-earths, the bones—as they do in badly-nourished children—become soft and yielding; if the diet is too exclusively composed of such farinaceous articles as rice, potatoes, &c., or with too much fat, it is incapable of yielding the elements of muscular flesh, and the strength declines; if vegetable food is wanting, scurvy is the result. Here, then, we have the first element of Physical Training: the real supply of nourishment calculated to afford every material required by the body. This of course takes in a wider range of subject—no less than that of diet generally—than our space will permit us to enter into here. Suffice it to remark that the diet of the infant and growing child, of the youth and the adult man, must, under a proper system of training, be varied according to the constitution of the individual, and accommodated not only to the climate, but also to the changes of the seasons. For instance, we will suppose two young children; one is fair, light-haired, with delicate skin, through which the blue veins show conspicuously, but fat and plump withal; the other is a ruddy-faced rogue, whose rich red blood seems ready to start from his cheeks. Give these two nurslings equal treatment in every way, the same air, the same everything, and the same food, consisting chiefly of milk and grain materials, puddings, and the like, with perhaps a little meat; the rosy face will lose none of its healthy hue; the fair, fat child will become no thinner, perhaps fatter, but, at the same time, pale and puffy, or pasty-looking, and if the diet be unchanged, finally unhealthy. Reverse matters; let each have fresh animal food every day, and what is the consequence? Our little pale friend brightens up amazingly; there comes a tinge of red in the cheek, the puffiness is gone, and the flesh has become more solid—he is more active and sprightly; but our other little fellow is evidently not benefited; the healthy rose hue looks more like a feverish flush, and suspicious spots, that will soon break out into little pimples or small boils, are perhaps showing themselves. This will never do, so we keep the little fair one to his beef and mutton, and reduce his companion, who soon shows the benefit of the change, to his milk-puddings and vegetables, and give him his treat of meat only twice or thrice a week. This one example—we might give many more—will serve to show how many considerations are involved in this first department of physical training—the management of the food: how that which gives health and strength to one will be too little for another, andvice versâ. Then, again, we might show how the variation of climate, even such as takes place between winter and summer in our land, requires variation in the amount and kind of food; how also this should be influenced by exercise. These minutiæ cannot be separately discussed in the compass of a short paper; but the information is such that no intelligent man, either for his own sake or that of others, should be entirely unfurnished with. As a general rule, let it be kept in mind, especially in the case of the young and growing, that the habitual food ought to be calculated to yield the requisite nourishment for every portion of the frame; that it ought, while adapted to the constitution, to be sufficient in quantity and quality. Rarely, indeed, if food be wholesome, and at the same time not calculated to tempt the appetite artificially, can it be necessary, or even right, to stint its allowance to young people? Lastly, as far as possible, the application of a well-directed cookery, by which the digestibility of food is improved, ought not to be lost sight of, as an important element in the physical training of the young, or of the physical preservation of the adult.
Thus, the first essential for the healthy condition of the blood, and thence of the body, is its nourishment. The second, is its purification. Now, the blood is not only the nourishing, but it is also the warming medium of the body. Each moment of our lives, chemical changes and interchanges are going on between the atoms, throughout every portion of our frames: those which have become unfit for the purposes of the living, healthy body, are replaced by fresh ones, by fresh nourishment, brought by the blood in its never-ceasing current of circulation. At the moment the change takes place, heat is given out—the natural warmth of the living being. But the fresh atoms of nourishment having displaced the old ones, the latter necessarily pass into the blood, and as necessarily render it impure, altering its qualities, and converting it from a bright red, life and vigor-supporting agent, into a dark purple fluid, not only unfit to sustain life, but unfit also either to impart energy or proper nourishment to the frame, unless it be perfectly purified by the agencies provided for this purpose. These agencies are principally four, viz., the lungs, the skin, the liver, the kidneys. The first is directly connected with the subject of pure air; the second, with pure air, light, and personal cleanliness; the two last, with food; and all with the last condition of physical health, the blood circulation or distribution.