extent of low muddy bottom lands, and the unrelieved, unvaried, gloom of the forest.'-James, vol. i. p. 41.

The length of the course of the Ohio is stated by Mr. James at one thousand and thirty-three miles; maintaining, with few exceptions, an uniform gentle current of clear transparent water, whose rapidity on an average is not more than two and a half miles an hour, with a descent of nine inches a mile, (four inches and a half come nearer the truth;) the range of high and low water, between the highest and lowest ebbs, upwards of sixty feet. When flooded, vessels of 300 tons burden may ascend as high as Cincinnati. The larger steam-boats however, which run on the Mississippi and the Ohio, usually stop at Shippingsport; the smaller kinds only, not exceeding seventy tons, proceeding to Pittsburgh, and those only for a few months in the year. Chains of rocks crossing the river in two or three places, and shallow beds of sand and gravel, are not the only impediments to the navigation of the Ohio; a more constant source of danger arises from the roots and stems of sunken trees, or those which are floating level with the surface of the water, known, by nice distinctions, under the sonorous and classical names of snags, mags, sawyers, and planters. On the Alleghany and upper part of the Ohio, flats or rafts, here called arks, are the common vessels of burden, long fleets of which may be seen dropping down with the current, and bearing to that land of promise, which lies 'beyond the place where the sun goes down,' whole families who have embarked on one frail bottom their horses, cattle, household furniture, implements of husbandry, and, in short, all their worldly goods. The principal tributaries to the Ohio are the Wabash and its branches, the Miami, the Sioto, and the Muskingum, from the northward; the Great Kenaway, the Kentucky, the Cumberland, and the Tennessee from the south-east. The last-mentioned river, running in a contrary direction for two hundred miles nearly, at no great distance from and parallel to the Mississippi, is a proof of the general low level of the surface on this part of the great valley,

On the 1st of June, the Western Engineer' entered the Mississippi, where we must leave her for the present, to accompany Mr. Schoolcraft, who considers himself as the only man living who has visited both the source and the mouth of this wonderful river.' His account of it is clearly given, and, with a few excep tions, we doubt not, with sufficient accuracy.

The Mississippi originates in a region of lakes and swamps, which are scattered over a table-land, extending from the Rocky Mountains nearly, to the shores of Lake Superior, between the 48th and 49th parallels of latitude-some of which pour their waters north into the Polar Sea-others, north-east, into Hudson's Bay

others again east, into the St. Lawrence-and others, south, into the Gulf of Mexico. Mr. Schoolcraft assumes the Red Cedar Lake (which, in compliment to Governor Cass, he is pleased to call Cassina Lake) as the source of the Mississippi, though he admits that a river falls into it from Beesh Lake, sixty miles to the north-west. Calculating from Cassina, he makes the whole course of the river to its embouchure 2978 miles, and from the Beesh, 3038 miles-comprehending every variety of climate, from almost constant winter (they had ice in July) to the regions of perpetual verdure. He considers its physical character under four. natural divisions, as indicated by the rock formation of its bed and banks, the forest trees and other vegetable productions, the falls and rapids which oppose navigation, and the general appearances of the adjacent country.

The first division extends from Cassina Lake to the Falls of Peckagama, a distance of 230 miles, through which it meanders with a gentle current of about a mile and a half an hour, with a descent of three inches per mile, increasing in width from 60 to 100 feet, the country on each side being a low prairie or savannah covered with wild rice, rushes, sword-grass, and other aquatic plants. A few yellow pines appear in the dry sandy elevations which terminate the prairies at the distance of a few miles on each side of the river, which, however, in its extraordinary sinuosities, sometimes approaches them. The nature of these savannahs (under the fascinating name of prairies) will best be understood from Mr. Schoolcraft's description:

While sitting in our canoes, in the centre of this prairie, the rank growth of grass, rushes, &c. completely hid the adjoining forests from view, and it appeared as if we were lost in a boundless field of waving grass. Nothing was to be seen but the sky above, and the lofty fields of nodding grass, oats, and reeds upon each side of the stream. The monotony of the view can only be conceived by those who have been at sea, and we turned away with the same kind of interest to admire the birds and water-fowl, who have chosen this region for their abode. The current of the river is gentle, its velocity not exceeding one mile per hour-its width is about eighty feet.'-Schoolcraft, pp. 242, 243. In this region of gloom and desolation, were found two Frenchmen located, for the purpose of trading with the Indians:

In the person of one of these, Mons. D- we witnessed one of the most striking objects of human misery. It appears that, in the prosecution of the fur trade, he had, according to the custom of the country, taken an Indian wife, and spent several winters in that inclement region. During the last, he was, however, caught in a severe snow storm, and froze both his feet in such a manner, that they dropped off shortly after his return to his wigwam. In this helpless situation, he was supported some time by his wife, who caught fish in the lake;

but

but she at last deserted him; and on our arrival, he had subsisted several months upon the pig weed which grew around his cabin. As he was unable to walk, this had been thrown in by his countryman, or by the Indians, and appeared to have been the extent of their benevolence. We found him seated in a small bark cabin, on a rush mat, with the stumps of his legs tied up with deerskins, and wholly destitute of covering. He was poor and emaciated to the last degree-his beard was long-cheeks fallen in-eyes sunk, but darting a look of despairand every bone in his body visible through the skin. He could speak no English, but was continually uttering curses in his mother tongue, upon his own existence, and apparently, upon all that surrounded him. We could only endure the painful sight for a moment, and hastened from this abode of human wretchedness; but before leaving the village, Governor Cass sent him a present of Indian goods, groceries, and ammunition, and engaged a person to convey him to the American Fur Company's Fort at Sandy Lake, where he could still receive the attention due to suffering humanity.'-Id. pp. 252, 253.

The second division commences at the Falls of Peckagama, where the first rock stratum and the first wooded island occur, and extends to the Falls of St. Anthony, a distance of 685 miles; the width increasing from 300 to 800 feet, from the numerous tributary streams falling in on the east and on the west; in which space the impediments to navigation consist of thirty-five rapids, nineteen ripples, and the Big and Little Falls; exclusive of which, the mean descent is reckoned at six inches a mile, and its velocity at three miles an hour. At the Falls of the Peckagama the savannahs cease, and are succeeded by forests of elm, maple, larch, oak, poplar and ash. About 100 miles lower down, the black-walnut, and at 300, the sycamore, begin to make their appearance; and here also are the dry prairies,' which continue to the Falls of St. Anthony, on the east side of the river, the resort of the buffalo, the moose, and other species of deer. Granite in detached masses and in beds appears at the rapids, rising in some places from one to two hundred feet above the river; but the banks are generally alluvial, and the shores abound with a fresh water muscle of enormous size. In this part of the river, Mr. Schoolcraft complains bitterly of the 'voracious hordes of mosquitoes,' whose ravenous attacks, he tells us, require a different species of philosophy to resist from that which we are called upon to exercise upon the sudden occurrence of any of the great calamities and misfortunes of life: the traveller,' he emphatically adds, 'who is prepared to withstand the savage scalping knife and the enraged bear, has nothing to oppose to the attacks of an enemy which is too minute to be dreaded, and too numerous to be destroyed.'

The third division, or characteristic change in the river, is said to extend from the Falls of St. Anthony to the confluence of the Missouri,

A 4

Missouri, a distance of 843 miles. Over these falls the Missis sippi has a perpendicular pitch of forty feet.' Here the banks of the river begin to be skirted with a rugged line of limestone rocks, generally denominated bluffs, which rise from one hundred to four hundred feet in height, and are characterized by the growth of cedars and pines on their summits. The width of the river between these bluffs is about 600 feet. One hundred miles below the falls, the river expands into a beautiful sheet of water, of twenty-four miles in length and two in breadth, called Lake Pepin. It is bounded on the east by a lofty range of limestone bluffs, and on the west by an elevated prairie, destitute of trees, but covered with luxuriant pasturage. On issuing from this lake, the Mississippi exhibits in a striking manner those extensive and moving sand-bars, innumerable islands and channels, drifts and snags, which more or less impede navigation to its very mouth.

In this division, the large tributaries which it receives, are, from the west, St. Peter's, the Ocano, Jowa, Turkey, Desmoines and Salt rivers; on the east, the St. Croix, Chippeway, Black, Ousconsing, Rock and Illinois. The rapids of the Rock River extend six miles, and oppose an effectual barrier to steam navigation, although keel-boats and large barges may ascend. The rivers St, Croix and Bois-brulé connect, by a short portage, the Mississippi with Lake Superior, as do also the Chippeway and the Montreal; and between the Ousconsing and Fox Rivers, the portage is only a mile and a half over a flat country; and so trifling is the difference in the level of the two streams that, during the time of high waters, canoes frequently cross from one river to the other; and. thus is the Mississippi also connected with Lake Michigan. Such, indeed, is the general level of this part of America, that it has been suggested that a barrier of eighteen or twenty feet high, thrown across the embouchure of Lake Erie at Buffalo, would turn the whole of the waters of the great American lakes into the Gulf of Mexico, leaving the St. Lawrence nearly dry-a circumstance which, in the event of any future war, will greatly facilitate the conquest of Canada!

At the Ousconsing, Mr. Schoolcraft takes leave of the Mississippi with a description of that part of it in the immediate neighbourhood.

The valley of the Mississippi between Prairie du Chien, and the lead mines of Dubuque, is about two miles in width, and consists of a rich deposit of alluvial soil, a part of which is prairie, and the remainder covered with a heavy forest of elm, sugar tree, black walnut, ash, and cotton wood. It is bounded on each side by corresponding bluffs of calcareous rocks, which attain a general elevation of four hundred feet, and throw an interest over the scene-which prairies and forests -woody islands, and winding channels, beautiful and picturesque as

they

they certainly are, must fail to create. It is to these bluffs-now shooting into spiral columns, naked and crumbling-now sloping into grassy hills or intersected by lateral vallies-here, grouped in the fantastic forms of some antiquated battlement, mocking the ingenuity of man—there, stretching as far as the eye can reach in a perpendicular wall-but ever varying-pleasing-and new-it is to these bluffs, that the valley of the upper Mississippi owes all its grandeur and magnificence. Its broad and glittering channel-its woodless prairies and aspiring forests-its flowering shrubs and animated productions-only serve to fill up, and give effect to the imposing outline, so boldly sketched by the pencil of nature, in these sublime and pleasing bluffs.'pp. 354, 355.

The fourth division of the physical aspect of the Mississippi, according to Mr. Schoolcraft, (no part of which however, on the present occasion, was seen by him,) takes place at the confluence of the Missouri, which is so complete that the character of the former is entirely lost in that of the latter, which is in fact much the largest of the two streams. The waters of the Mississippi are here transparent and of a greenish hue-those of the Missouri turbid and of an opaque whitish colour, and they are said not to incorporate for twenty, thirty, and even forty miles below their junction. From this point to the mouth of the great drain in the Gulf of Mexico the distance is 1220 miles: instead, however, of allowing, with Mr. Schoolcraft, that the same characteristic appearances' are carried through this distance to the ocean, we should rather be disposed to divide it into three distinct portions; the first, from the Missouri to the Ohio, about 250 miles; the second, from thence to the Arkansas, 400 miles; and the third to the sea.

In the first portion, no tributary of any magnitude swells the stream; the rocky-bound shore ceases about thirty miles above the junction of the Ohio, where a transverse chain of rocks forms a serious impediment to navigation; here the alluvial banks begin, the hills retiring to a considerable distance from the river. Up to this point, the Mississippi has channelled out a passage in the horizontal strata of sandstone under which, on the Illinois side, are found extensive beds of coal. A mass of rock standing in the middle of the stream, about 150 feet high, is called, The Grand Tower, which Mr. James thinks may one day be made use of as the centre pier of a bridge over the Mississippi. About the middle part of this portion of the river, and near the stream of Kaskasia, are lead mines on the western, and salt springs on the eastern bank; but neither of them very productive. Here begins, on the eastern side, that alluvial valley, well known as the Bottom;' the fertility of which forms a complete set-off, in the mind of the American land-speculator, against the dreadful insalubrity of the air parts of it, we are told, have been cultivated successively

without