FOOTNOTES:

"During the night of the 28th September 1759, a district of three or four square miles, situated in the Intendency of Valladolid, in Mexico, was raised up, like an inflated bladder. The limits where the elevation ceased may still be determined at the present day, by the fracture of the strata. At these limits the elevation of the ground above its primitive level, or that of the surrounding plain, is no more than thirty-seven feet; but towards the centre of the lifted district, the total elevation is not less than five hundred feet."This phenomenon had been preceded by earthquakes that lasted nearly two months; but when the catastrophe occurred, all seemed tranquil; it was announced only by a horrible subterranean noise, that took place at the moment when the ground was lifted. Thousands of little cones, of from six to ten feet in height, called by the natives ovens, arose in every direction; finally six great projections were suddenly formed along a great crevice lying in a north-east and south-west direction, all of which were elevated from 1200 to 1600 feet abovethe adjacent plains. The greatest of these small mountains has become a true volcano, that ofJorullo, and vomits forth lava."It will be seen that the most evident and well characterized volcanic phenomena accompanied the catastrophe of Jorullo; that they were perhaps its cause; but this did not prevent an extensive plain, old and well consolidated, upon which the sugar-cane and indigo were cultivated, from being, in our own days, suddenly raised far above its primitive level. The escape of inflamed matter, the formation of the ovens and of the volcano of Jorullo, far from having contributed to produce this effect, must on the contrary have lessened it; for all these openings must have acted like safety valves, and permitted the elevating cause to have dissipated itself, whether it were a gas or a vapour. If the ground had opposed a greater resistance; if it had not given way in so many points, the plain of Jorullo, instead of becoming a simple hill five hundred feet in height, might have acquired the relief of the neighbouring summits of the Cordilleras."The circumstances that attended the formation of a new island near Santorin, in the Greek Archipelago, seem to me also well fitted to prove that subterranean fires not only contribute to elevate mountains by the aid of ejections furnished by the craters of volcanoes, but that they also sometimes lift the already consolidated crust of the globe."On the 18th and 22d May 1707, there were slight shocks of an earthquake at Santorin."On the 23d, at sun-rise, there was seen between the great and little Rameni (two small islands) an object that was taken for the hull of a shipwrecked vessel. Some sailors proceeded to the spot, and on their return reported, to the great surprise of the whole population, that it was a rock that had risen from the waves. In this spot the sea had formerly a depth of from 400 to 500 feet."On the 24th, many persons visited the new island, and collected upon its surface large oysters that had not ceased to adhere to the rock. The island was seen sensibly to increase in size."From the 23d May until the 13th or 14th June, the island gradually increased in extent and elevation, without agitation and without noise. On the 13th June it might be about half a mile in circuit, and from 20 to 25 feet in height. Neither flame nor smoke had issued from it."From the first appearance of the island, the water near its shores had been troubled; on the 15th June it became almost boiling."On the 16th, seventeen or eighteen black rocks rose from the sea between the new island and the little Rameni."On the 17th they had considerably increased in height."On the 18th smoke arose from them, and great subterranean noises were heard for the first time."On the 19th all the black rocks had united and formed a continuous island, totally distinct from the first; flames, columns of ashes, and red-hot stones arose from it."The volcanic phenomena still continued on the 23d May 1708. The black island, a year after its appearance, was five miles in circuit, a mile in breadth, and more than 200 feet in height."On the 19th November 1822, at a quarter past ten in the evening, the cities of Valparaiso, Melipilla, Quillota, and Casa Blanca, in Chili, were destroyed by a terrible earthquake that lasted three minutes. The following day several observers discovered that the coast, for an extent of thirty leagues, had been visibly elevated, for upon a coast where the tide never rises higher than five or six feet, any rise in the land is easily detected."At Valparaiso, near the mouth of the Coucon, and to the north of Quintero, rocks were seen in the sea, near the bank, that no person had before perceived. A vessel that had been stranded on the coast, and whose wreck had been visited by the curious, in boats, at low water, was left, after the earthquake, perfectly dry. In traversing the shore of the sea, for a considerable distance near Quintero, Lord Cochran, and Mrs. Maria Graham, found that the water, even at high tide, did not reach rocks, on which oysters, muscles, and shellsstill adhered, the animals inhabiting which, recently dead, were in a state of putrefaction. Finally the whole banks of the lake of Quintero, which communicates with the sea, had evidently mounted considerably above the level of the water, and in this locality the fact could not escape the least attentive observers."At Valparaiso the country appeared to be raised about three feet, near Quintero about four. It has been pretended, that at a distance of a mile inland, the rise had been more than six feet; but I do not know the particulars of the measures that led to this last inference."In this case there was no volcanic eruption, no lava poured forth, no stones or ashes projected, into the atmosphere, and unless it be maintained that the level of the ocean have fallen, it must be admitted that the earthquake of 19th. November 1822, has raised the whole of Chili. Now the last consequence is inevitable, for a change of level in the ocean would have manifested itself equally along the whole extent of the coast of America, while nothing of the kind was observed in the ports of Peru, such as Paytu and Callao."If this discussion had not already carried us so far, the preceding observations, from which it results, that in a few hours, and by the effect of a few shocks of an earthquake, an immense extent of country rose above its former level, might have been compared with those which show, that there exists in Europe, a great country (Sweden and Norway) whose level is also rising, but in a gradual manner, and by a cause that acts unceasingly, but which cause is unknown."

"During the night of the 28th September 1759, a district of three or four square miles, situated in the Intendency of Valladolid, in Mexico, was raised up, like an inflated bladder. The limits where the elevation ceased may still be determined at the present day, by the fracture of the strata. At these limits the elevation of the ground above its primitive level, or that of the surrounding plain, is no more than thirty-seven feet; but towards the centre of the lifted district, the total elevation is not less than five hundred feet.

"This phenomenon had been preceded by earthquakes that lasted nearly two months; but when the catastrophe occurred, all seemed tranquil; it was announced only by a horrible subterranean noise, that took place at the moment when the ground was lifted. Thousands of little cones, of from six to ten feet in height, called by the natives ovens, arose in every direction; finally six great projections were suddenly formed along a great crevice lying in a north-east and south-west direction, all of which were elevated from 1200 to 1600 feet abovethe adjacent plains. The greatest of these small mountains has become a true volcano, that ofJorullo, and vomits forth lava.

"It will be seen that the most evident and well characterized volcanic phenomena accompanied the catastrophe of Jorullo; that they were perhaps its cause; but this did not prevent an extensive plain, old and well consolidated, upon which the sugar-cane and indigo were cultivated, from being, in our own days, suddenly raised far above its primitive level. The escape of inflamed matter, the formation of the ovens and of the volcano of Jorullo, far from having contributed to produce this effect, must on the contrary have lessened it; for all these openings must have acted like safety valves, and permitted the elevating cause to have dissipated itself, whether it were a gas or a vapour. If the ground had opposed a greater resistance; if it had not given way in so many points, the plain of Jorullo, instead of becoming a simple hill five hundred feet in height, might have acquired the relief of the neighbouring summits of the Cordilleras.

"The circumstances that attended the formation of a new island near Santorin, in the Greek Archipelago, seem to me also well fitted to prove that subterranean fires not only contribute to elevate mountains by the aid of ejections furnished by the craters of volcanoes, but that they also sometimes lift the already consolidated crust of the globe.

"On the 18th and 22d May 1707, there were slight shocks of an earthquake at Santorin.

"On the 23d, at sun-rise, there was seen between the great and little Rameni (two small islands) an object that was taken for the hull of a shipwrecked vessel. Some sailors proceeded to the spot, and on their return reported, to the great surprise of the whole population, that it was a rock that had risen from the waves. In this spot the sea had formerly a depth of from 400 to 500 feet.

"On the 24th, many persons visited the new island, and collected upon its surface large oysters that had not ceased to adhere to the rock. The island was seen sensibly to increase in size.

"From the 23d May until the 13th or 14th June, the island gradually increased in extent and elevation, without agitation and without noise. On the 13th June it might be about half a mile in circuit, and from 20 to 25 feet in height. Neither flame nor smoke had issued from it.

"From the first appearance of the island, the water near its shores had been troubled; on the 15th June it became almost boiling.

"On the 16th, seventeen or eighteen black rocks rose from the sea between the new island and the little Rameni.

"On the 17th they had considerably increased in height.

"On the 18th smoke arose from them, and great subterranean noises were heard for the first time.

"On the 19th all the black rocks had united and formed a continuous island, totally distinct from the first; flames, columns of ashes, and red-hot stones arose from it.

"The volcanic phenomena still continued on the 23d May 1708. The black island, a year after its appearance, was five miles in circuit, a mile in breadth, and more than 200 feet in height.

"On the 19th November 1822, at a quarter past ten in the evening, the cities of Valparaiso, Melipilla, Quillota, and Casa Blanca, in Chili, were destroyed by a terrible earthquake that lasted three minutes. The following day several observers discovered that the coast, for an extent of thirty leagues, had been visibly elevated, for upon a coast where the tide never rises higher than five or six feet, any rise in the land is easily detected.

"At Valparaiso, near the mouth of the Coucon, and to the north of Quintero, rocks were seen in the sea, near the bank, that no person had before perceived. A vessel that had been stranded on the coast, and whose wreck had been visited by the curious, in boats, at low water, was left, after the earthquake, perfectly dry. In traversing the shore of the sea, for a considerable distance near Quintero, Lord Cochran, and Mrs. Maria Graham, found that the water, even at high tide, did not reach rocks, on which oysters, muscles, and shellsstill adhered, the animals inhabiting which, recently dead, were in a state of putrefaction. Finally the whole banks of the lake of Quintero, which communicates with the sea, had evidently mounted considerably above the level of the water, and in this locality the fact could not escape the least attentive observers.

"At Valparaiso the country appeared to be raised about three feet, near Quintero about four. It has been pretended, that at a distance of a mile inland, the rise had been more than six feet; but I do not know the particulars of the measures that led to this last inference.

"In this case there was no volcanic eruption, no lava poured forth, no stones or ashes projected, into the atmosphere, and unless it be maintained that the level of the ocean have fallen, it must be admitted that the earthquake of 19th. November 1822, has raised the whole of Chili. Now the last consequence is inevitable, for a change of level in the ocean would have manifested itself equally along the whole extent of the coast of America, while nothing of the kind was observed in the ports of Peru, such as Paytu and Callao.

"If this discussion had not already carried us so far, the preceding observations, from which it results, that in a few hours, and by the effect of a few shocks of an earthquake, an immense extent of country rose above its former level, might have been compared with those which show, that there exists in Europe, a great country (Sweden and Norway) whose level is also rising, but in a gradual manner, and by a cause that acts unceasingly, but which cause is unknown."

Thus, then, to whatever portion of the earth's surface we turn our eyes, we find the proofs of igneous action; our existing volcanoes, protruding themselves through the newer stratified formations, and even the diluvium, being in some cases more recent in their origin than the last great catastrophe to which the earth has been subjected; those of more ancient date forcing their way through the upper and lower secondary and transition formations, which are also cut and intersected by dykes of trap, while granite from the size of mountain masses down to their veins, has upheaved and penetrated the oldest stratified rocks. We also find great extents of country rising, sometimes gradually, sometimes suddenly, above their former level.

Mountains, then, are not the nucleus on which our continents and islands have been deposited, but are of subsequent origin, and have in their rise elevated the land to such a height as to be no longer accessible to the waters of the ocean. We may, even by examining through what strata the mountains have been raised, or those which compose their sides and crests when the elevating agent has not pierced through to the surface, infer the geological age which gave them birth. A research of this sort has been recently attempted and conducted with great ability by M. E. De Beaumont.

We shall quote an abstract of his reasoning from the "Annuaire,"for 1830, in the words of Arago, which will also serve to illustrate various other points upon which we have touched.

"Among the formations of so many different kinds that form the crust of our globe, there is a class which has been called sedimentary (terrains de sediment). Those formations to which this name is properly applied, are composed wholly, or in part, ofdetritus, carried by water like the mud of our rivers, or the sandsof the beaches of the sea. These sands, in a state of greater or less division, and agglutinated by siliceous or calcareous cements, form the rocks called sandstones."Certain calcareous formations may also be reckoned in the same class, even when they are wholly soluble, as is however rare, in nitric acid; for the fragments of shells which they contain, show, in another and perhaps better manner, that their formation has also taken place in the bosom of the waters."Sedimentary formations are always composed of successive layers, that are very distinctly marked. The more recent of them may be arranged into four great divisions, which, in the order of their antiquity, are"The oolitic series or limestone of Jura;"The system of greensand and chalk;"The tertiary series; and finally"The diluvian deposits."Although all these formations have been deposited by water, and although they may all be found in the same locality lying upon each other, the passage from the one to the other is never made by insensible gradations. A sudden and marked change is always to be perceived in the physical nature of the deposit, and in that of the organized beings whose remains are found in it. Thus it is evident, that between the epoch at which the limestone of Jura was deposited, and that of the precipitation of the system of greensand and chalk which covers it, there has been upon the surface of the globe a complete change in the state of things. The same may be said of the epoch that separates the precipitation of the chalk from that of the tertiary formations; as it is also evident that in every place the state or nature of the liquid, whence the earths were precipitated, must have changed completely between the time of the formation of the tertiary strata, and that of the diluvium."These considerable variations, sudden, and not gradual, in the nature of the successive deposits formed by the waters, are considered by geologists as the effects of what they call 'The Revolutions of the Globe.' And even although it is very difficult to say exactly in what these revolutions consisted, their occurrence is not the less certain on that account."I have spoken of the chronological order in which these different sedimentary strata have been deposited: I must therefore state that this order has been determined by following, without interruption, each different formation, to those regions in which it could be ascertained beyond question, and over a great horizontal space, that some particular layer was above some other. Natural excavations, such as the cliffs that border the sea, common wells, and Artesian fountains, with the excavation of canals, have furnished powerful aid in this inquiry."I have already remarked, that all these sedimentary formations are stratified. In level countries, as might be expected, the disposition of the layers is nearly horizontal. In approaching mountainous countries, this horizontality, generally speaking, ceases; finally, on the sides of mountains, some of these layers are very much inclined; they even sometimes attain a vertical direction."May not the inclined deposits that we see upon the slopes of mountains, have been deposited in inclined or vertical positions? Or is it not more natural to suppose, that they originally formed horizontal beds, like the contemporaneous beds of the same nature with which the plains are covered, and that they have been lifted up and assumed new directions at the moment of the elevation of the mountains on whose sides they rest?"As a general principle, it does not appear impossible that the crests of mountains may have been incrustedin place, and in their actual position, by sedimentary deposits, since we daily see the vertical sides of vessels, in which waters charged with sulphate of lime evaporate, covered with a saline crust, whose thickness is continually augmented; but the question before us does not present this general aspect, for it is merely required to determine whether theknownsedimentary formations can have been thus deposited. To this question we must reply in the negative, as can be shown by two species of considerations, wholly different from each other."Incontestable geological observations have shown, that the calcareous layers which constitute the summits of Buet in Savoy, and Mount Perden in thePyrenees, elevated 11,000 or 12,000 feet above the level of the sea, have been formed at the same time with the chalk of the cliffs that border the British channel. If the mass of water whence these strata were precipitated had risen 11,000 or 12,000 feet, the whole of France would have been covered, and analogous deposits must have existed upon all heights not exceeding 9,000 or 10,000 feet; now, it is found, on the contrary, that in the north of France, where these deposits appear to have undergone little change, the chalk never reaches a height of more than 600 feet above the level of the present sea. They present precisely the disposition of a deposit formed in a basin filled with a liquid whose level has never reached any points that are at the present day elevated more than 600 feet."I pass to the second proof, borrowed from Saussure, and which appears even more convincing."Sedimentary formations often contain pebbles rounded by attrition, and of a figure more or less elliptical. In the places where the stratification is horizontal, the longer axes of these pebbles are all horizontal, for the same reason that an egg cannot stand upon its point. But where the strata are inclined at an angle of 45°, the greater axes of many of these pebbles form this same angle with the horizon; and when the layers become vertical, the greater axes of many of the pebbles become vertical also."This observation, in respect to the position of the axes of the pebbles,demonstrates,that the sedimentary formations have not been deposited in the position they now occupy; they have been raised in a greater or less degree, when the mountains, whose sides they cover, have arisen from the bosom of the earth."This being proved, it is evident that these sedimentary formations, whose strata present themselves upon the slopes of mountains, in inclined or vertical directions, existed before these mountains arose. The formations of the same class that are prolonged horizontally, until they meet the same slopes, must be on the contrary of a date posterior to the formation of the mountain; for it cannot be conceived, that, in rising from the mass of the earth, it should not have elevated at the same time all previously existing strata."Let us introduce proper names into the general and simple theory which we have developed, and the discovery of M. de Beaumont will be announced."Of the four species of sedimentary formations that we have distinguished, three, and these are the uppermost, the nearest to the surface of the globe, or the most modern, extend in horizontal layers, from the Cote d'Or and from Forez, to the mountains of Saxony; and only one, which is the oolite or limestone of Jura, shows itself elevated within this district."Therefore the Hartz, the Cote d'Or, and Mount Pilus of Forez, have risen from the globe since the formation of the Jura oolite, and before the deposit of the three other formations."On the slopes of the Pyrenees and Appennines, two of the formations are raised up, namely, the oolite and the greensand and chalk; the tertiary formations, and the diluvium that covers them, have preserved their primitive horizontality. The Pyrenees and Appennines are, therefore, more modern than the limestone of Jura, and the greensand which they have raised, and more ancient than the tertiary strata and the diluvium."The western Alps, and among them Mount Blanc, have, like the Pyrenees, raised the limestone of Jura, and the greensand, but, in addition, they have also raised the tertiary formations; the diluvium is alone horizontal in the vicinity of these mountains."The date of the elevation of Mount Blanc must, therefore, inevitably be placed between the epoch of the formation of the tertiary strata and the diluvium."Finally, upon the sides of the central Alps, (Mount St. Gothard,) and of the mountains of Ventorix and Liberon, near Avignon, no one of the sedimentary formations is horizontal; all the four have been raised up. When these mountains arose, the diluvium itself must have already been deposited.""The sedimentary formations appear, from their nature, and the regular disposition of their layers, to have been deposited in times of tranquillity. Each of these formations being characterized by a particular system of organized beings, both vegetable and animal, it is indispensable to suppose, that between the epochs of tranquillity, corresponding to the precipitation of two of these overlying formations, there must have been a great physical revolution upon the globe. We now know that these revolutions have consisted in, or at least been characterized by, the raising of a system of mountains. The two first liftings-up pointed out by M. de Beaumont, not being by any means the greatest of the four he has succeeded in classing, it will be seen that we cannot infer that the globe, in growing older, becomes less fit to experience this species of catastrophe, and that the present period of tranquillity may not be terminated like those that have preceded it, by the elevation of some immense mountain chain."

"Among the formations of so many different kinds that form the crust of our globe, there is a class which has been called sedimentary (terrains de sediment). Those formations to which this name is properly applied, are composed wholly, or in part, ofdetritus, carried by water like the mud of our rivers, or the sandsof the beaches of the sea. These sands, in a state of greater or less division, and agglutinated by siliceous or calcareous cements, form the rocks called sandstones.

"Certain calcareous formations may also be reckoned in the same class, even when they are wholly soluble, as is however rare, in nitric acid; for the fragments of shells which they contain, show, in another and perhaps better manner, that their formation has also taken place in the bosom of the waters.

"Sedimentary formations are always composed of successive layers, that are very distinctly marked. The more recent of them may be arranged into four great divisions, which, in the order of their antiquity, are

"The oolitic series or limestone of Jura;

"The system of greensand and chalk;

"The tertiary series; and finally

"The diluvian deposits.

"Although all these formations have been deposited by water, and although they may all be found in the same locality lying upon each other, the passage from the one to the other is never made by insensible gradations. A sudden and marked change is always to be perceived in the physical nature of the deposit, and in that of the organized beings whose remains are found in it. Thus it is evident, that between the epoch at which the limestone of Jura was deposited, and that of the precipitation of the system of greensand and chalk which covers it, there has been upon the surface of the globe a complete change in the state of things. The same may be said of the epoch that separates the precipitation of the chalk from that of the tertiary formations; as it is also evident that in every place the state or nature of the liquid, whence the earths were precipitated, must have changed completely between the time of the formation of the tertiary strata, and that of the diluvium.

"These considerable variations, sudden, and not gradual, in the nature of the successive deposits formed by the waters, are considered by geologists as the effects of what they call 'The Revolutions of the Globe.' And even although it is very difficult to say exactly in what these revolutions consisted, their occurrence is not the less certain on that account.

"I have spoken of the chronological order in which these different sedimentary strata have been deposited: I must therefore state that this order has been determined by following, without interruption, each different formation, to those regions in which it could be ascertained beyond question, and over a great horizontal space, that some particular layer was above some other. Natural excavations, such as the cliffs that border the sea, common wells, and Artesian fountains, with the excavation of canals, have furnished powerful aid in this inquiry.

"I have already remarked, that all these sedimentary formations are stratified. In level countries, as might be expected, the disposition of the layers is nearly horizontal. In approaching mountainous countries, this horizontality, generally speaking, ceases; finally, on the sides of mountains, some of these layers are very much inclined; they even sometimes attain a vertical direction.

"May not the inclined deposits that we see upon the slopes of mountains, have been deposited in inclined or vertical positions? Or is it not more natural to suppose, that they originally formed horizontal beds, like the contemporaneous beds of the same nature with which the plains are covered, and that they have been lifted up and assumed new directions at the moment of the elevation of the mountains on whose sides they rest?

"As a general principle, it does not appear impossible that the crests of mountains may have been incrustedin place, and in their actual position, by sedimentary deposits, since we daily see the vertical sides of vessels, in which waters charged with sulphate of lime evaporate, covered with a saline crust, whose thickness is continually augmented; but the question before us does not present this general aspect, for it is merely required to determine whether theknownsedimentary formations can have been thus deposited. To this question we must reply in the negative, as can be shown by two species of considerations, wholly different from each other.

"Incontestable geological observations have shown, that the calcareous layers which constitute the summits of Buet in Savoy, and Mount Perden in thePyrenees, elevated 11,000 or 12,000 feet above the level of the sea, have been formed at the same time with the chalk of the cliffs that border the British channel. If the mass of water whence these strata were precipitated had risen 11,000 or 12,000 feet, the whole of France would have been covered, and analogous deposits must have existed upon all heights not exceeding 9,000 or 10,000 feet; now, it is found, on the contrary, that in the north of France, where these deposits appear to have undergone little change, the chalk never reaches a height of more than 600 feet above the level of the present sea. They present precisely the disposition of a deposit formed in a basin filled with a liquid whose level has never reached any points that are at the present day elevated more than 600 feet.

"I pass to the second proof, borrowed from Saussure, and which appears even more convincing.

"Sedimentary formations often contain pebbles rounded by attrition, and of a figure more or less elliptical. In the places where the stratification is horizontal, the longer axes of these pebbles are all horizontal, for the same reason that an egg cannot stand upon its point. But where the strata are inclined at an angle of 45°, the greater axes of many of these pebbles form this same angle with the horizon; and when the layers become vertical, the greater axes of many of the pebbles become vertical also.

"This observation, in respect to the position of the axes of the pebbles,demonstrates,that the sedimentary formations have not been deposited in the position they now occupy; they have been raised in a greater or less degree, when the mountains, whose sides they cover, have arisen from the bosom of the earth.

"This being proved, it is evident that these sedimentary formations, whose strata present themselves upon the slopes of mountains, in inclined or vertical directions, existed before these mountains arose. The formations of the same class that are prolonged horizontally, until they meet the same slopes, must be on the contrary of a date posterior to the formation of the mountain; for it cannot be conceived, that, in rising from the mass of the earth, it should not have elevated at the same time all previously existing strata.

"Let us introduce proper names into the general and simple theory which we have developed, and the discovery of M. de Beaumont will be announced.

"Of the four species of sedimentary formations that we have distinguished, three, and these are the uppermost, the nearest to the surface of the globe, or the most modern, extend in horizontal layers, from the Cote d'Or and from Forez, to the mountains of Saxony; and only one, which is the oolite or limestone of Jura, shows itself elevated within this district.

"Therefore the Hartz, the Cote d'Or, and Mount Pilus of Forez, have risen from the globe since the formation of the Jura oolite, and before the deposit of the three other formations.

"On the slopes of the Pyrenees and Appennines, two of the formations are raised up, namely, the oolite and the greensand and chalk; the tertiary formations, and the diluvium that covers them, have preserved their primitive horizontality. The Pyrenees and Appennines are, therefore, more modern than the limestone of Jura, and the greensand which they have raised, and more ancient than the tertiary strata and the diluvium.

"The western Alps, and among them Mount Blanc, have, like the Pyrenees, raised the limestone of Jura, and the greensand, but, in addition, they have also raised the tertiary formations; the diluvium is alone horizontal in the vicinity of these mountains.

"The date of the elevation of Mount Blanc must, therefore, inevitably be placed between the epoch of the formation of the tertiary strata and the diluvium.

"Finally, upon the sides of the central Alps, (Mount St. Gothard,) and of the mountains of Ventorix and Liberon, near Avignon, no one of the sedimentary formations is horizontal; all the four have been raised up. When these mountains arose, the diluvium itself must have already been deposited."

"The sedimentary formations appear, from their nature, and the regular disposition of their layers, to have been deposited in times of tranquillity. Each of these formations being characterized by a particular system of organized beings, both vegetable and animal, it is indispensable to suppose, that between the epochs of tranquillity, corresponding to the precipitation of two of these overlying formations, there must have been a great physical revolution upon the globe. We now know that these revolutions have consisted in, or at least been characterized by, the raising of a system of mountains. The two first liftings-up pointed out by M. de Beaumont, not being by any means the greatest of the four he has succeeded in classing, it will be seen that we cannot infer that the globe, in growing older, becomes less fit to experience this species of catastrophe, and that the present period of tranquillity may not be terminated like those that have preceded it, by the elevation of some immense mountain chain."

M. de Beaumont next attempted, by a fancied arrangement of zones and parallels to great circles, to classify the mountains he had not an opportunity of examining, with those in respect to which he had obtained the above satisfactory conclusions. We fear, however, that he has proceeded to theorize too speedily, and before he had obtained a sufficient number of facts. We are certain, that in respect to the great Alleghany group of the United States, which he classes with the Pyrenees and Appennines, he must be mistaken, for no formations later than the transition limestone are to be found in their vicinity. In respect to the highlands of the state of New-York, and their branch of primitive rocks, which extends along the Hudson to the island of New-York, the sandstone of New-Jersey appears to continue horizontally until it reaches their bases, and no rocks appear to have been raised on the south-eastern side of the highlands, which are the easternmost of the five parallel ridges of the Alleghanies, older than the slate; but on their north-western side the transition limestone appears to have been raised. They therefore are older than any mountains examined by M. de Beaumont, and were we to hazard a conjecture, we should class them with the Grampians of Scotland, and the mountains of Wales, in both of which slate is the only rock of the transition series that appears to have been elevated.

To complete our subject, it would be necessary that we should enter into a discussion of the manner in which the ocean is now acting, by its currents and tides, to distribute and deposit in its bed the sediment which rivers and streams are constantly hurrying into it; and that we should form some estimate, from what occurs within our reach, of the effects produced in these deposits by the vast number of organized beings that must people them, the deposits of vegetable matter, and the exuviæ, of animals. Such discussion would, however, be in a considerable degree purely conjectural, and we therefore shall not enter into it. It is sufficient to say, that formations analogous to those which the elevation of the continents has exposed to our view, must be now taking place in the bed of the ocean, whence theymay be in their turn raised, to task the ingenuity of future races of reasoning beings.

Inquiries into the history of the changes which our earth has undergone, as they lead with infallible evidence to the proof of an existence of this globe at a period almost infinitely more remote than that at which man became its inhabitant, have been stigmatized as impious. The intolerant theologian, adhering with pertinacity to his own system of interpretation, fulminates anathemas against all who find in natural appearances convincing evidence, that the earth was not suddenly and by a single fiat called into existence in the exact, state in which we now find it. Timid geologists have bent to the storm, and have endeavoured to reconcile natural appearances with the arbitrary interpretations that have been deduced from scripture. But neither is the inquiry itself less holy than any of those which consider natural phenomena, exhibiting in their progress convincing proofs of infinite wisdom and power in the Creator, justifying the ways of God to man; nor is any one of the results of the inquiry in the slightest degree opposed to the texts of the sacred volume. The impiety rests with the interpreter, and not with the physical inquirer. The former unwisely links to his spiritual belief an interpretation at variance with natural appearances; and the latter, if he do not inquire for himself, and believe on the evidence of the former, that the truth or falsehood of the two distinct propositions are inseparably connected, must, as he sees the one to be inconsistent, hesitate with respect to the other. Some geologists, then, may have been sceptics; but could the secrets of the heart be laid open, we cannot help believing, that those who have most earnestly endeavoured to reconcile the phenomena we know to exist, with the interpretation of scripture, from which they appear to vary, have been at bottom the least sincere in their religious faith.

For ourselves, we see no difficulties, no discrepancies between the record of direct revelation, and the sublime passages of the book of nature. We believe that "in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth;" that he called at once into existence the whole material world; but we also believe that he then impressed matter with laws, under the action of which that material world must maintain its existence, and secure its permanence, until the same almighty power shall annihilate it. We are not of those who judge of the works of the Deity from the conditions of the works which can alone be effected by the power of man. However perfect or complete be human mechanism, it can only move by the application of some power inherent in matter; did not an elastic spring expand itself after being coiled,the chronometer would be a dead and lifeless mass; did not fluids obey the force of gravitation, and currents in the atmosphere the expansive power of heat, the water-wheel and wind-mill would be useless; did not water form vapour at elevated temperatures, and condense when cooled, the still more powerful agency of steam would be wanting. Not only are machines of no value unless impelled by natural agents, but they themselves are subject to rapid decay, and require perpetual attention. Such is not the case with the machinery of the universe; its motions are perpetually varying, but yet in their variations invariable; continually oscillating on each side of mean rates, yet never losing or gaining in intensity. Such too is the case on the surface of our globe; the seasons alternately clothe the forests with verdure, and strip them of their leaves; seed time and harvest recur with invariable precision; the whole of existing vegetables perish, and animals die and decay, yet the race is perpetuated. Shall we set bounds to the exertion of almighty power, and say, that races, that families, that species and genera, nay that whole natural kingdoms may not in their turn decay and die, after providing for the repeopling of the earth by new inhabitants? The catastrophes of our planet are not yet at an end; the time will and must come, as we may guess from natural appearances, and as we find predicted in scripture, when the heavens shall be rolled up like a scroll, and the earth shall melt with fervent heat; and in the new system of appearances, the new heaven and earth shall succeed—the corruptible bodies that are now sown in dishonour, shall be raised in honour and incorruptible.

The present surface of our globe is to our limited views slowly changing; to him who compares time with the immeasurable duration that has preceded and must succeed our existence, it is rapidly hastening to apparent ruin. The waters raised from the ocean, falling in greatest abundance on the land, tear and wear away the surface, and deposit it in the bed of the sea. Deltas form at the mouths of rivers by this action; the basin of the ocean is gradually elevated, and, in addition, islands and archipelagos are raised from its bed. The surface of the sea is for the present lessening under the influence of these causes, but the time must come, unless it be prevented by some catastrophe, when the ocean must in its turn encroach upon the land, when the plains and valleys shall become bays and gulfs, or even unite in continuous expanses of water, and the greater mountains alone, diminished in bulk by continued abrasion, shall stand as islands in the vast abyss. The earth would then again be without form and void of inhabitants, as it was before the creation of man. Such, however, will not be the termination of the present order of things; we are taught to look for this in an igneous eruption,the source of which now slumbers almost quiescent beneath our feet.

Not only does revelation, but science, teach us that the earth must have been covered with water, and void of animate life, previous to its becoming the habitation of man. But they read their scriptures differently from us who think that this state of things was the actual beginning. There is no necessary connexion between the first verse of Genesis and the succeeding. The beginning of the existence of matter, and the state of vacuity and darkness whence the present order of things emerged, may have been, so far as the text is concerned, and were, as we know from appearances, separated from each other by unnumbered ages.

Neither is it necessary that we accept the literal meaning of the passage, and conceive the Deity speaking with human voice, and calling creation forth by audible fiat. The voice of the Deity is that unheard and silent command which nature hears and obeys throughout all his works. The pious and sincere believer sees an overruling providence preserving him in kindness when it saves him from shipwreck, or chastening him in mercy when it deprives him of friends or relations, as distinctly as if he beheld the prince of the air stayed in his furious course, or the angel of destruction taking his visible stand beside the pillow of departing life. No miracles are necessary to him who sees in the rising and setting of the sun, in the order and beauty of the universe, in the absolute perfection of its mechanical laws, in his own fearful and wonderful structure, the evidence of infinite wisdom in design, and infinite power in execution; and the examination of the structure and character of our globe, is as well calculated as any other physical study to exhibit in full and brilliant light these attributes of the Deity.

FOOTNOTES:[8]See American Quarterly, Vol. V.[9]See American Quarterly, Vol. III.[10]Our author has "alluvion."[11]Alluvial in our author.

[8]See American Quarterly, Vol. V.

[8]See American Quarterly, Vol. V.

[9]See American Quarterly, Vol. III.

[9]See American Quarterly, Vol. III.

[10]Our author has "alluvion."

[10]Our author has "alluvion."

[11]Alluvial in our author.

[11]Alluvial in our author.

1.—The American Trenck; or the Memoirs of Thomas Ward, now in confinement in the Baltimore Jail, under a sentence of ten years' imprisonment for robbing the United States Mail.Baltimore. 18mo: 1829.

2.—Memoirs of James Hardy Vaux, a Swindler and Thief, now transported to New South Wales, for the second time, and for life. Written by himself.London. 18mo: 1829.

3.—Memoirs of Vidocq, principal Agent of the French Police, until1827,and since, Proprietor of the Paper Manufactory at St. Maudé. Written by himself. Translated from the French.London. 4 vols. 18mo: 1829.

"One half of the world does not know how the other half lives:"—so says the adage, and says truly. Men of reading, however, who direct their attention to biography, and especially to auto-biography, and who combine with their reading attention to the varied pursuits of mankind, may attain tolerably correct notions of the habits, modes of reasoning, and peculiarities of others, though living in evidently different stations, and engaged in occupations the most various. In this view, the volumes above announced are valuable. They furnish a remarkably clear insight of the ways and actings of professional thieves, and of the men with whom they often become connected,—police officers and jailers. But what assurance have we, it may be inquired, that they speak the truth? How can the evidence of such characters be received? These queries must be answered by considering several particulars. In the first place, then, the verity of a narrative may be partly established by its coherence and probability. When the events related have a manifest correspondence with each other, and are such as may be credited, we necessarily attach to them a degree of belief, which we cannot extend to those of an opposite character. The evidence from this source is, however, exceedingly imperfect, since many narratives, almost entirely fictitious, appear so natural, as to impose upon the reader with all the strength of unvarnished truth. Robinson Crusoe has deceived thousands, and Damberger's Travels in Africa were not suspected to be otherwise than true, for a considerable time after their publication; but they were at length proved to be a complete fabrication. Accordingly, in judging of doubtful works, we must resort to additional means; one of which is a comparison of works of a similar description with each other.

When an account appears to be too wonderful for credence, we are, of course, disposed to rank the author with romance-writers;but when we find that divers accounts, equally extraordinary, are related by others as happening under similar circumstances, we then begin to suppose that we may have judged erroneously. Captain Riley's Narrative of his Captivity in Africa was rejected by many as half-fictitious: his sufferings were greater than human nature could bear, and the Arabs of the desert could never lead the life described. But since it has been found that the sufferings undergone by the crew of the French frigate, the Medusa, were no less horrible, and of the same kind, and that Clapperton and others who have subsequently crossed the Sahara, confirmed his statements respecting the Arabs,—he has been regarded very differently. And it may be supposed, that if Sir Walter Scott had known of the remarkable confirmation given by Benyouski, to Drury's account of Madagascar, he would not have expressed his doubts of the latter's veracity.[12]When writers, unacquainted with each other's productions, are found, by incidental allusions, to agree in minute particulars, the evidence is almost irrefutable. Paley has made an admirable use of this species of proof in hisHoræ Paulinæ.

Another mode of judging of an author's credibility is sometimes furnished, by learning whether any of his alleged facts have been contradicted by persons acquainted with them, especially if they are such as these persons would be glad to contradict. If a person is charged with being an accomplice in a crime, and he fails to rebut the accusation, we may infer that he is unable to do so. Or, if the narrator give place and date to certain memorable transactions, which, if false, might easily be shown to be so, a similar inference may be deduced, when it can be shown that others are interested in such exposure.

Now, on bringing the works under notice to these different tests, we shall have tolerably strong presumptive evidence of their being, in the main, worthy of credence. Vaux's Memoirs contain nothing that may not be credited on the score of probability, while the circumstances detailed are remarkably coherent; they seem to arise naturally from each other. Vidocq's, on the contrary, contain so many marvellous escapes from prisons, so many perils from contests with ruffians and bravoes, and such varied turns of fortune, that the reader is necessitated to ask,—can this be true? Here, however, both Vaux and Ward offer him some assistance; the similarity of their accounts, though destitute of so many wonders, corroborating the probability of his. The three narratives are quite in keeping. We find in each the same restlessness, the same blind passion impelling to deeds of vice and desperation, and the sameproofs of treachery amongst their companions. Each, too, has furnished so many means of detection, by names of persons, dates, and places, that,—no attempt at refutation having been made by persons implicated,—we are to believe that they must, at any rate, contain much that is true. Neither Ward's nor Vidocq's Memoirs are so connected as Vaux's; but in Ward's case, this may be attributed to a want of scholarship, as he is evidently an ignorant man; and in Vidocq's, to a fondness for the marvellous, in consequence of which he has introduced many episodes. These episodes, accordingly, detract from the merit of the work, considered as a veritable narrative, they being garnished with more of the romantic than the regular account of his own performances.

After all, a degree of suspicion will attach to each of them, from the consideration that they are all avowed liars. If, indeed, there was proof, either external or internal, that they had become reformed characters, and, of course, abhorrers of deceit, we might value their self-condemnation as evidence of truth; for what man of moral feeling would proclaim that he had been an habitual liar, except conscious that the avowal was incumbent on him to substantiate the truth? This was done by Bunyan, the author of the Pilgrim's Progress, and by Cowper, the truly Christian poet:—they are respected accordingly. But in these narratives, except a little cant in Ward's, we find nothing approaching to a sense of shame or remorse. Vidocq, like Homer's Ulysses, has a lie ready for every occasion, and appears, like that hero, to regard himself as "the man for wisdom's various arts renowned." Vaux is almost equal to him in this respect, and exults in the success of his deceptions. If cunning were wisdom, Ulysses, Vidocq, and Vaux, would form a trio of eminently wise men. But this sort of wisdom, how much soever valued by pagans, must be regarded by Christians, enlightened by the Gospel, as utterly unjustifiable, even when employed as a means for the attainment of some good; since they are never to do evil that good may come. Accordingly, those persons who make lies their refuge, must be liable to be doubted, even when they speak the truth. Still, it is possible, that a man's conscience may be so obdurate, as not to perceive the pravity of mendacity, when exercised for his supposed benefit, while he yet retains a regard for truth when engaged in relating his exploits to others. This, we think, is partly the case with our heroes. Their acknowledgment of their disregard of truth, while prosecuting illegal measures, is, indeed,—so inconsistent is human nature,—some guarantee for the fidelity of their narratives. A solitary vice is a thing unknown; as Lillo expresses it, in his tragedy of George Barnwell,—"One vice as naturally begets another, as a father begets a son." Who,then, could believe a practised villain, if he professed himself untainted by mendacity? But if, after a plain avowal of his constant resort to it, we find nothing contradictory in his relation, we may reasonably yield a qualified assent to it; since, as Lord Bacon remarks in his Essays, which "come home to men's business and bosoms," a liar had need possess a good memory to prevent his contradicting himself. Where he is consistent throughout a long narrative, the natural deduction is, that he has mainly depended on his memory, rejecting, for the occasion, his temptation to beguile.[13]

After these preliminary considerations, the relevancy of which is obvious, we proceed to furnish our readers with a few extracts; not doubting, that to such of them as lead domestic, retired lives, it will afford gratification to learn something of the ways of others, who are entirely opposite in their habits,—as opposite as the two electric poles, and, like them, "repelling and repelled." One of the most observable points in these volumes, is the contamination of jails. When men are thrown together in a place where reputation is valueless, they have no inducement to conceal their vices. What is the consequence? They delight in recounting to each other their nefarious exploits: thus conscience is more and more corrupted, and the young and inexperienced are initiated into the skilful manœuvres of adepts. Whoever has read thefirstedition of Ellwood's Life, (for the subsequent editions do not contain the passage,) may remember the amusing account he has given of the state of the common side of Newgate in the reign of Charles II. Ellwood was imprisoned in that persecuting reign, for adherence to his religious convictions as a Quaker, and had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the ordinary behaviour and conversation of thieves in jail. He saw and lamented the evils incident to a promiscuous assemblage of old and young, of hardened villains and juvenile delinquents; but the remedy was reserved for the present age. That the remedy ought not to have been so long deferred, will be evident to every one who attends to Vaux's account of his first incarceration.

"On entering the gates of the gloomy receptacle to which I was now consigned, and which, on many accounts, has not been unaptly named the Bastile, the sensations I felt may be more easily felt than described. Besides that this was the first prison I had ever entered, every thing around me had an air of unspeakable horror. After being viewed and reviewed by the surly Cerberuses of this earthly Hell, I was conducted up some stairs to a long gallery, or passage,six feet wide, having on either side a number of dismal cells, each about six feet by nine, formed entirely of stone, but having a small grated window near the roof, at the further end, which admitted a gloomy light, and overlooked a yard, in which other prisoners were confined; there was also a similar grate over the door; but, owing to their height, both these apertures were very difficult of access. The cells on the other side the passage were exactly similar, but overlooking another yard, and the doors were immediately opposite to each other. The only furniture of these dreary apartments was an iron bedstead, on which were a bed, blanket, and rug, but all of the coarsest kind. My conductor having given me a pitcher of water, without vouchsafing a word, locked the door, and left me in utter darkness."In order to amuse my mind during this solitary week, I climbed up to the grated aperture over the door of my cell, and listened to the conversation of the neighbouring prisoners; and, from their discourse, I acquired a more extensive knowledge of the various modes of fraud and robbery, which, I now found, were reduced to a regular system,than I should have done in seven years, had I continued at large. I was indeed astonished at what I heard; and I clearly perceived that, instead of expressing contrition for their offences, their only consideration was, how to proceed with more safety, but increased vigour, in their future depredations. And here I was struck with the fallacious notions entertained by the projectors of this prison, which was reputed to be upon the plan of the benevolent and immortal Howard, who had recommended the confinement of offenders in separate cells, in order to prevent the effects of evil communication among persons who had not all attained an equal degree of depravity. This object, however, was not effected here; for, being within hearing of each other, they could, by sitting up over the door as I have described, converse each with his opposite neighbour, and even form a line of communication, where the discourse became general, from one end of the gallery to the other. As a proof of what I have advanced, I knew several of the prisoners, then confined with me in this passage, who were at that time but striplings, and novices in villainy, and who, after several years continuance in their evil courses, at length became notorious offenders, and, having narrowly escaped a shameful death, are now prisoners for life in this colony."

"On entering the gates of the gloomy receptacle to which I was now consigned, and which, on many accounts, has not been unaptly named the Bastile, the sensations I felt may be more easily felt than described. Besides that this was the first prison I had ever entered, every thing around me had an air of unspeakable horror. After being viewed and reviewed by the surly Cerberuses of this earthly Hell, I was conducted up some stairs to a long gallery, or passage,six feet wide, having on either side a number of dismal cells, each about six feet by nine, formed entirely of stone, but having a small grated window near the roof, at the further end, which admitted a gloomy light, and overlooked a yard, in which other prisoners were confined; there was also a similar grate over the door; but, owing to their height, both these apertures were very difficult of access. The cells on the other side the passage were exactly similar, but overlooking another yard, and the doors were immediately opposite to each other. The only furniture of these dreary apartments was an iron bedstead, on which were a bed, blanket, and rug, but all of the coarsest kind. My conductor having given me a pitcher of water, without vouchsafing a word, locked the door, and left me in utter darkness.

"In order to amuse my mind during this solitary week, I climbed up to the grated aperture over the door of my cell, and listened to the conversation of the neighbouring prisoners; and, from their discourse, I acquired a more extensive knowledge of the various modes of fraud and robbery, which, I now found, were reduced to a regular system,than I should have done in seven years, had I continued at large. I was indeed astonished at what I heard; and I clearly perceived that, instead of expressing contrition for their offences, their only consideration was, how to proceed with more safety, but increased vigour, in their future depredations. And here I was struck with the fallacious notions entertained by the projectors of this prison, which was reputed to be upon the plan of the benevolent and immortal Howard, who had recommended the confinement of offenders in separate cells, in order to prevent the effects of evil communication among persons who had not all attained an equal degree of depravity. This object, however, was not effected here; for, being within hearing of each other, they could, by sitting up over the door as I have described, converse each with his opposite neighbour, and even form a line of communication, where the discourse became general, from one end of the gallery to the other. As a proof of what I have advanced, I knew several of the prisoners, then confined with me in this passage, who were at that time but striplings, and novices in villainy, and who, after several years continuance in their evil courses, at length became notorious offenders, and, having narrowly escaped a shameful death, are now prisoners for life in this colony."

As this subject is of great importance, we shall give a few more extracts connected with it. Crime, as Mr. Buxton has shown in his valuable Inquiry, is promoted, instead of being repressed, by such indiscriminate association. Corruption spreads by it, as surely as decomposition is assisted by heat and moisture. Ward thus describes the Baltimore jail:—

"About this time, I was ordered by the sheriff to be put into the criminal apartment, along with untried prisoners, hardened offenders, debtors, and among characters of the most abandoned and vicious stamp;—men of all nations and all colours. Among this mass of vile and depraved men, I had to take up my abode. There was no example of moral rectitude here exhibitedbut that of my own! No restraint was put by our keepers, on their profane and vile language and conduct. Every one indulged to an excess in every species of the most disgusting practices, profaning and scandalizing every thing holy."

"About this time, I was ordered by the sheriff to be put into the criminal apartment, along with untried prisoners, hardened offenders, debtors, and among characters of the most abandoned and vicious stamp;—men of all nations and all colours. Among this mass of vile and depraved men, I had to take up my abode. There was no example of moral rectitude here exhibitedbut that of my own! No restraint was put by our keepers, on their profane and vile language and conduct. Every one indulged to an excess in every species of the most disgusting practices, profaning and scandalizing every thing holy."

Vidocq's description of the Bagne at Brest, corresponds with the above:—

"The Bagne is situated in the bosom of the bay; piles of guns, and two pieces of cannon, mounted at the gates, pointed out to me the entrance, into which I was introduced, after having been examined by the two guards of the establishment. The boldest of the condemned, however hardened, have confessed, that it is impossible to express the emotions of horror, excited by the first appearance of this abode of wretchedness. Every room contains twenty night camp couches, called bancs (benches,) on which lie six hundred fetteredconvicts, in long rows, with red garbs, heads shorn, eyes haggard, dejected countenances, whilst the perpetual clank of fetters conspires to fill the soul with horror. But this impression on the convict soon passes away, who, feeling that he has here no reason to blush at the presence of any one, soon identifies himself with his situation. That he may not be the butt of the gross jests and filthy buffoonery of his fellows, he affects to participate in them; and soon, in tone and gesture, this conventional depravity gets hold of his heart. Thus, at Anvers, an ex-bishop experienced, at first, all the outpourings of the riotous jests of his companions; they always addressed him asmonseigneur, and asked his blessing in their obscenities; at every moment they constrained him to profane his former character by blasphemous words, and, by dint of reiterating these impieties, he contrived to shake off their attacks. At a subsequent period, he became the public-house keeper at the Bagne, and was always styledmonseigneur,but he was no longer asked for absolution, for he would have answered with the grossest blasphemies."

"The Bagne is situated in the bosom of the bay; piles of guns, and two pieces of cannon, mounted at the gates, pointed out to me the entrance, into which I was introduced, after having been examined by the two guards of the establishment. The boldest of the condemned, however hardened, have confessed, that it is impossible to express the emotions of horror, excited by the first appearance of this abode of wretchedness. Every room contains twenty night camp couches, called bancs (benches,) on which lie six hundred fetteredconvicts, in long rows, with red garbs, heads shorn, eyes haggard, dejected countenances, whilst the perpetual clank of fetters conspires to fill the soul with horror. But this impression on the convict soon passes away, who, feeling that he has here no reason to blush at the presence of any one, soon identifies himself with his situation. That he may not be the butt of the gross jests and filthy buffoonery of his fellows, he affects to participate in them; and soon, in tone and gesture, this conventional depravity gets hold of his heart. Thus, at Anvers, an ex-bishop experienced, at first, all the outpourings of the riotous jests of his companions; they always addressed him asmonseigneur, and asked his blessing in their obscenities; at every moment they constrained him to profane his former character by blasphemous words, and, by dint of reiterating these impieties, he contrived to shake off their attacks. At a subsequent period, he became the public-house keeper at the Bagne, and was always styledmonseigneur,but he was no longer asked for absolution, for he would have answered with the grossest blasphemies."

To complete the picture, we shall now transcribe Vaux's account of his being on board a prison-ship, with what he witnessed there.—

"I had now a new scene of misery to contemplate; and, of all the shocking scenes I had ever beheld, this was the most distressing. There were confined in this floating dungeon, nearly six hundred men, most of them double ironed; and the reader may conceive the horrible effects arising from the continual rattling of chains, the filth and vermin naturally produced by such a crowd of miserable inhabitants, the oaths and execrations constantly heard amongst them; and above all, from the shocking necessity of associating and communicating more or less with so depraved a set of beings. On arriving on board, we were all immediately stripped, and washed in large tubs of water; then, after putting on each a suit of coarse slop-clothing, we were ironed and sent below; our own clothes being taken from us, and detained, till we could sell, or otherwise dispose of them, as no person is exempted from the obligation to wear the ship-dress. On descending the hatchway, no conception can be formed of the scene which presented itself. I shall not attempt to describe it; but nothing short of a descent to the infernal regions, can be at all worthy of a comparison with it. I soon met with many of my old Botany Bay acquaintances, who were all eager to offer me their friendship and services; that is, with a view to rob me of what little I had; for, in this place, there is no other motive or subject for ingenuity. All former friendships and connexions are dissolved; and a man here will rob his best benefactor, or even messmate, of an article worth one half-penny. If I were to attempt a full description of the miseries endured in these ships, I could fill a volume; but I shall sum up all by stating, that, besides robbery from each other, which is as common as cursing and swearing, I witnessed, among the prisoners themselves, during the twelvemonth I remained with them, one deliberate murder, for which the perpetrator was executed at Maidstone, and one suicide."

"I had now a new scene of misery to contemplate; and, of all the shocking scenes I had ever beheld, this was the most distressing. There were confined in this floating dungeon, nearly six hundred men, most of them double ironed; and the reader may conceive the horrible effects arising from the continual rattling of chains, the filth and vermin naturally produced by such a crowd of miserable inhabitants, the oaths and execrations constantly heard amongst them; and above all, from the shocking necessity of associating and communicating more or less with so depraved a set of beings. On arriving on board, we were all immediately stripped, and washed in large tubs of water; then, after putting on each a suit of coarse slop-clothing, we were ironed and sent below; our own clothes being taken from us, and detained, till we could sell, or otherwise dispose of them, as no person is exempted from the obligation to wear the ship-dress. On descending the hatchway, no conception can be formed of the scene which presented itself. I shall not attempt to describe it; but nothing short of a descent to the infernal regions, can be at all worthy of a comparison with it. I soon met with many of my old Botany Bay acquaintances, who were all eager to offer me their friendship and services; that is, with a view to rob me of what little I had; for, in this place, there is no other motive or subject for ingenuity. All former friendships and connexions are dissolved; and a man here will rob his best benefactor, or even messmate, of an article worth one half-penny. If I were to attempt a full description of the miseries endured in these ships, I could fill a volume; but I shall sum up all by stating, that, besides robbery from each other, which is as common as cursing and swearing, I witnessed, among the prisoners themselves, during the twelvemonth I remained with them, one deliberate murder, for which the perpetrator was executed at Maidstone, and one suicide."

These horrible accounts must, we suppose, convince every one of the necessity of keeping criminals separate from each other. In vain do you hope by classification, labour, discipline, and moral instruction, to reclaim men from their vices in prison, so long as you allow them to associate freely together. No compromise will do, short of preventing their conversing with each other. Whether solitary confinement, as practised in Pennsylvania, or public labour in silence, as in New-York, be the better mode of punishment, may admit of argument; but that either is incomparably superior to promiscuous intercourse, is unquestionable. And we do conjure magistrates and legislators in everypart of the United States, to rouse themselves from apathy on this momentous subject. It is due to their country and to posterity, to strive to remove an evil, which, like the Upas, extends its pestiferous influence in every direction. Let them reflect that the object of punishing criminals is to protect society. This object may be promoted by the reformation of the transgressor; but if he is placed in a situation where contagion is inevitable, the punishment, however severe, is not conducive to that result. A severe punishment may, indeed, be influential in deterring others from pursuing similar courses; but if he, on obtaining his release, instead of being disposed to conform to regularity of conduct, is only determined to practise more skilfully the very crime that was the cause of his commitment; or if, from his moral sense being deadened, in consequence of having heard others boast of their villainous exploits, he is ready to engage in new and more desperate attempts, the influence which his punishment may have had on others, is in danger of being overbalanced. What, in such a case, does society gain by the severity of the law? Is it not clear, that all the expense, trouble, and loss of time attendant on the prosecution, are almost fruitlessly bestowed? And here, it is impossible not to lament the accumulated evils arising from the slow operation of law. A man is charged, perhaps innocently, with petty larceny. The tribunal before which he is to be arraigned is not in session; accordingly, unable to procure bail, he is committed to jail, there to lie for three, or perhaps six months, and all the time uncertain whether he is to be acquitted or condemned. In the mean time, his character has deteriorated while his enjoyment has been abridged. Can such a method be consistent with civilization? Would it not be preferable, at the hazard of some injustice, to revert to the summary process of barbarism? Can it be right, that a magistrate shall be empowered to incarcerate a man for months, while he is debarred from pronouncing definitively on his guilt or innocence? There is an incongruity in all this, of which savages might be ashamed. We trust that the time is approaching when a better system will be established. Consolatory is it to consider, that in various countries of Europe, as well as in America, the subject of prison discipline, and of criminal jurisprudence, occupies the attention of philanthropists and statesmen to a degree never before witnessed, as from their simultaneous exertions much good may be anticipated. One of the causes assigned by Dr. Robertson and other historians, for the resuscitation of Europe from the intellectual degradation of the middle ages, is the discovery at Amalfi, in the twelfth century, of the Pandects of Justinian. Would it not then be irrational to conclude, that the improvements now taking place in law, will not be followed by a correspondent amelioration in society,since it is obvious that a much higher degree of civilization is attainable by man, than any country has yet exhibited?

To those who wish for information on the subject of prison discipline, we recommend a perusal of the correspondence between Mr. R. Vaux of Philadelphia, and Mr. Roscoe of Liverpool; also of the account of the Auburn prison contained in Captain Hall's travels in the United States. In reference to the latter work, it gives us satisfaction to say, that the chapter referred to is unexceptionable. We wish we could say as much for the rest.

We now proceed to furnish some specimens of the modes of life which thieves and swindlers fall into, that ourhonestreaders may have an opportunity of contrasting them with their own. In so doing, they will doubtless congratulate themselves on the possession of moral principle, satisfied that predatory propensities would have disturbed that calm which belongs only to virtue. The following is Ward's account of his first act of dishonesty.—


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