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VOlAl* .CA'WWBW, SOUTH CAROUHi, SATURpAV JAIVIARY 90, 1838. IVA 38.
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'
INDIAN SUMMER?AMERICAN FORESTS
AND THE INFLUENCE OF THE ORE AT
LAKES ON OUR AUTUMN SUNSETS.
"JL'he^ beauty, ^blandncss and mingled
glories of a Western Indian Summer belongs
alike to earth'and *sky. In the valley
of. the great Lakes they are blent
with a mellow richness and loveliness unknown
in other climes. The spirits of
beauty can worship in no temple more
resplendent than the^arched heavens'lit
up by an Autumn sunset, and burnished
with Hashes and crimson colorings, deepened
by the many tinted foilage of the
primeval woods, mirrored and reflected
from waters broad and bright as the Me-'
diterraneans of the old world. The for^
est?pen hoi pencil can do justice to the
spectacle it presents, when the frosts of a
night has changed the lingering green of
a summer. ' It is*fts if a myriad of rainbows
were laced through the trce-l'j?ps?
as if the sunsets of a summer?gold, purple
and crimson?had been fused in the
ulembic of tho west, and poured back in
q new deluge of light and color over the
wilderness. It is as if every leaf in those
countless trees had been planted to outflush
the tulip?as if. bv some electric
miracle, the dyes of the earth's heat had
struck upward, and her crystals and ores
her sapphires, hyacinths and rubies, had
led forth theirjmprisoned colors, to mount
through the roots of the forest, and, like
the angels that in olden time, entered the
bodies of the dying, reanimate the perishing
leaves, and revel an hour in their
bravery."
A writer in a late number of the Oasis
advances the plausible theory that the
chain of lakes lying in a great circle from
south of west to north, add much to the
splendor of our Autumn sunsets. Hays
of light falling on a reflecting surface,
slide off, so to speak, in a corresponding
angle of elevation.or depression, whatever
it may be. The writer considers
the great American lakes as vast mirrors
spread horizontally upon the earth, reflecting
the ray a of the sun that fall upon
them according to the optical laws that
govern this phenomenon. The higher
the sun is above the horizon, 1hc less distance
the reflecting rays would have to
pass through the atmosphere, and of
course, the less would be the cfTect produced;
while at or near the time of set*
ting, the direct rays striking horizontally
upon the waters, the direction of the reflecting
rays must be so also, and therefore
pass over or through the greatest
possible amount of atmosphere previous
to their final dispersion. Objects on the
earth's surface, if near the reflecting bo
dy, require but little elevation to impress
their irregularities on the reflected light.
Any considerable eminences on the eastern
shores of the great lakes would produce
the effect of lcsscuing or totally intercepting
these rays at the moment the
sun was in a position nearly or quite horizontal.
Tito reflective power of a surface
of water is much greater than that of
earth, which accounts for the admitted
superior beauty and brilliancy of nutnmlial
sunsets in the northern, over the most
gorgeous in the southern states.
The views of this writer may be novel,
yet his hints arc worthy the attention of
the curious. The succession of most resplendent
sunsets for the past several
weeks, when not destroyed by atmospheric
derangement attending storms?the
effulgence which continues to curtain the
chambers of the day-king?with the frequent
auroral ministers that attend his
exit, in this latitude, leads us to marvel,
and reverence and worship the Power
tl.at anirAtifla nnd /til,!.. 1 l '
iiiu? g|>ivuuu uuu guua vuc uaiincry tent?
displaying a handiwork man can only admire
and enjoy, not imitate.
The theory as this writer accounts for
the successive ilushes of golden and scarlet
light so often observed to rise and
blend and deepen in the west as the sun
approaches the horizon, and sinks below
it, by the supposition that each lake, one
after the other, lends its reflecting light
to the visible portion of the atmosphere,
and thus as one fades, another flings its
mass of radiance across the heavens, and
acting on a medium prepared for its reception,
prolongs the splendid phenomc-j
pa. He says, j
"We have for years notleed theM?ff-|
pearancde, and marked tha faet, [that ift
the early part of September, the sv.pfcete
are of unusnal brilliancy, And more prolonged,
than at other tithes. ^ They are at '
this season, immediately . after the sun
goes down, accompanied by pencils ,or
streamers of the richest light, which, diverging
from the position of the sun, appear
above the horizon, and are some- ,
limes so well defined that they can be i
distinctly traced to the zenith. At other <
seasons of the year, clouds just below the i
horizon at sunset produce a somewhat si- 1
mils result in the formation of brushes of
light; and elevated ranges of mountains i
by intercepting and dividing the rays, whe- j
ll*er direct or reflected, effect the same <
appearances; but in this case there are |
no elevated mountains, and on the finest j
of these evenings the sky is perfectly t
cloudless. The uniformity of these pen- (
cils at the same season for a great num- i
bcr of vears. nrove the oermanencv of <
their cause, and let us trace their origin (
to the peculiar configuration of the coun- ]
try bordering on the great lakes: I
"At the time of the year these streamers (
are the most distinct*;a. line drawn from <
this point (Oswego) to the sun would pass i
over a small part of the west cud of Lake i
Ontario, the greatest diameter of Lake (
Huron, and across a ..considerable portion |
of Lake Superior. From considerations {
connected with the figure of the earth, <
and the relative position, of the sun and (
the lakes, with the hills that border Lake '
Huron on the east, it appears clear to 11^
that the broken line of these hills act the ,
part of clouds or mountains in other, cir- |
cumstanccs in intercepting and: dividing i
into pencils the broad mass of light re- i
fleeted from the Huron and thus creating 1
those splendid streamers, by which,-as it
were, the commencement of autumn is
marked. ' As the sun still advances to the
south, the pencils formed by the highlands
are lost to us, but in their place
come two broad ones, caused by the feebler
reflective powers of the isthmuses
that separate St. Clair from the Huron,
and the former from Lake Erie. This
occurs hot fur "from the middle of September,
when the sun sets a few degrees north
of west, and can be observed nearly a |
month. These interruptions of the brilliancy
of tho west arc not, however, of
the duration of those effected by the
hills, as the sun has scarcely time to leave
the surface of the HuroiWjefore.these pencils
and breaks are all abruptly melted
into the rich dark crimson that floats up
from the Michigan or the mighty Superior.
"After the southern declination of the
sun has become such that the Huron
range of hills is to, the northward of the '
range of light reflected to us, these pencils
disappear from the heavens, appa- ,
rently, and do not return until, with another
season, and a renewed atmosphere, ;
the sun is found in the same position.--- i
The reason of this is, the whole df the
Michigan peninsula is so level that if does
not break the reflected light from that
lake; and the broader' ones made by
breaks in the chain of lakes from. Erie to
Huron, are not of a nature to be distinct|
ly marked as those produced by tne interception
of rays by hills or clouds.
"We have thrown out these hints?for
we consider them nothing more ?in the
hope of directing the notice of other and
more competent observers to the facts
staled, and if possible, thereby gaining a
satisfactory explanation of the splendid
phenomena connected with our autumnal
sunsets, should the above not be consider- 1
ed .as such." ,
The favorable location of our city, !
overlooking as it does a broad expanse of J
waters on the north and west, often gives 1
it the famed rose-colored skies of impri- '
soned Italy. At such an hour the divini- :
ty is stirred within us, and few can go out
under the pavalion nature lias spread over
our forest, city and Erie, without feeling :
that 'God alone is to be seen in heaven.* j
The breathings of the sweetest of American
bards then come unbidden from the 1
fount of memory: j
'Oh! what a glory doth this world put on.
For him that with a fervent hart goes forth
Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks J
On duties well performed and days well spont!
For him the wind, ay, and the yellow leaves, ]
Shall have a voice, and give him eloquent teachings. 1
He shall so hear the solemn hymn that death
Has lifted up for all, that he shall go
To his long resting place without a tear,'
From the letters of "A Rambler in the West,"
A SNOW-STORM ON THE PRAIRIE. 1
'Now sharp Boreas blows abroad, and brings
Tho dreary winter on his frozen wings; 1
Beneath the low.hung clouds, the sheets of Snow '
Descend, and whiten all the fields below.' 1
n t * - - % * ? fi 1
oucii was tne burden of my song Whet) j
I awoke from a most refreshing slumber, j
and saw large white flakes descending, 1
and the whole country covered with the .
snowy garb of winter. It is oft-times a ,
very pleasant employment to watch the
progress of a snow-storm, but then you J
must be sheltered from its violence, for I '
assure you, you cannot at all sentimental* 1
ize when you are breasting iis fury, and
have a long and dreary journey before
you* However, this morning I was in a i
peculiarly .good humor, and disregarding <
the solicitations o( my friends, w] wTi'
ged me to remaify ufttil the storm had
abated, I determined to resume my jour*
ney. Soon the merry jingle of the sleighbell
announced to me that my vehicle
was at the dojr of my friend's hospitable ]
mansion?into it I sprung with joyous ;
gaiety, and away we flew .ovA* the broad !
and boundless prairie. ^ My noble steed 1
seemed to feel a new "excitement as he 1
inhaled the fresh morning breeze, which j
lent life.and vigor to every nerve. '
A prairie is most beautiful in the 'spring j
time of year,* for theft' it is a garden {
formed and cultivated Hy nature's hand,
. .... a- _ . ? i
wnere spring the cluste^ng flowers which
bloom in rich luxuriance, and shed their
frugrance on the desert air.*' But when
stern winter casts her mantle over the
earth, and binds the streams in icy fetters,
then a prairie is a spectacle, grand and
sublime, and will well repay for the hardships
and privations of Western travelling.
I was compelled, however, to ride against
the wind, which whistled around and blew
directly in my face. So violent was the
storm lhat I was almost blinded by the
thick flakes that were dashed directly in
my eyes. Had I acted with prudence, I
should have discontinued my journey, and
made myself comfortable for the remaintier
of the day at the log hut where I
dined?but 1 determined, i:i spite of wind
and weather, to reach Peoria by night.?
Whilst progressing quietly on my way,
gray twilight extended her evening shades
on earth. Still I drove on, anxious to
reach my point of destination. Not a
single star peeped out from the heavens to
shed its light on a benighted traveller.?
The storm increased in violence, and the
cold winds -whistled a wintry tune. I
now found I had strayed from the road,
and here was 1 on a broad prairie, with- ,
out mark or mound, and had lost the j
trace, which was ere how covered liv
falling snow.
Unfortunately I had left my compass .
behind, and now I was on a broad sea |
without a chart or compass, and without
one stray light in the heavens whereby to (
direct my course. The mariner, when i
tossed, upon the billows of the stormy ]
ocean, has at least thcsatisfaction of know- j
ing where he is, for the needle will always j
point to the pole, and his chart will tell i
him of the dangers in path?but the i
weary traveller, Who lias lost his xvay on
a prairie, is on n boundless sea, where he
cannot even tell the direction he is pursuing,
for oft'limes he will travel hour
after honr, and still remain at nearly the
same point from which he started, flad
even one accommodating star beamed in i
the heavens, 1 should not hqve been the <
least disconcerted, for then I could have <
some object whereby to guide my steps: I
But all the elements combined against me, |l
and I assure you, my feelings were by no
means comfortable. Memory ran over
the sad history of the numerous travel- 1
tears, who.had been overtaken by night, i
and been buried in the falling snow; many
who had started in the morning full
of gay hopes and buoyant anticipations, j
who, ere another sun had risen, had found 1
a cold and solitary grave?arrested in their I
course by the chill and icy hand of death* i
Alas, thought I, how true it is,
For then no more tho blazing hearth shall burn? '
Or busy housewife ply her cvning care; 1
No children run to lisp their sire's return?
Or climb his knee, the envied kiss shore.' 1
Insensibly I felt a strong inclination to
sleep?I had always heard that this was
a dangerous sympton, and if I yielded to
its influence, my life would certainly be
lost. I endeavored to shako ofT the drowsy
feeling. Never before have I expe- '
ricnced siich a strong inclination to sleep. '
Never before did I exert myself mor- to '
keep awake. I hallowed?-I shouted?I 5
beat my breast to preserve animation, '
and tried every method to prevent my \
yielding to the drowsy influence My no- 1
ble horse was almost exhausted, and I myself
began to despair of reaching a place 1
Df shelter?when suddenly a ray of light 1
beamed upon the sno w, and shed a shadow '
around me. Encouraged, by this favora- 1
ble token, 1 urged on. My jaded steed
also deemed to know'that he was approach- 1
ing a place of , shelter, for he quickened !
his pace, and shortly afterwards I disco- 1
vered at a distance, a small log-hut, from j
whose window beamed a broad blaze of '
light. Soon was I at the door, and tv&rm- *
I? welcomed by the kind owner, who J
shook the snow from my garments, and
gave me a seat before a blazing fire. j
Oh, how delightful was the sense of so- j
curity as I sat sheltered from the wintry ,
blast, and listened to thb tales of the inmates,
many of whom had, like me, been c
overtaken by the storm,, and now were x
relating the teverils of their journey. I x
have passed many delightful evenings in (
the course of a short but eventful life?I j
have been at the festive board, Where the a
ivine-cup was pushed merrily around, and t
song, and laughter, and meriment aboun- l
i..i * L ?:?i-J - - - 1
jcu?i u?vo niiiigicu in mo society ot the f
gay?I have been |
"Whw? youth and pleasure meet I
To chess the flowing hours with ttyixig feet." (
But never have I passed a more happy i
evening than in the small aiftjUffPY CAh> 1
iQ of tS|4 liliQPif farmer. {
From 'Intidenteof Travel* by an American.
. the Bvlds et Ancient temerta. ?
Leaving the valley, we turned up to the
right, and, crorfsin^ among the mountains,
in two hpurs came in sight of the ruins of
Sebaste, the ancient Samaria, standing
upon a singularly bold and insulted mountain,
crowned with ruins. The.capital.of
the ten tribes of Israel, where Ahab built
his palace of ivory; where, in the days of
? 1 1 ? ....
jeroooani, ner citizens sal in ine .lap ol
luxury, saying to their masters, "come
fnd let us drink," destroyed by Ahe AsSyrians,
but rebuilt and restored tp more
than its original splendor bv Horod,
now lies in the state foretold by the
prophet Amoe, . "her inhabitants and
their prosperity are taken away." The
incient Samaritans are all gone, and
iround the ruins of their palaces and
icmplcs are gathered the miserable huts
3i the Arab Fellahs. Climbing up the
precipitous ascent of the hill, we came to
he ruins of a church, or lower; or something
else, built by our old friend the
Lady Helena, and seen to great advanage
from the valley below. The Lady
Helena, however, did not put together all
his stone and mortar for the picturesque
ilonc; it was erected over, and in honor
)f, the prison where John the Baptist was
icheadcd, and his grave. I know that
his spot was gunrded with jealous care,
ty the Arabs, and that none but Mussul*
nans were permitted to sec it; bnt this
i:,I . ? --1-*? - =?- - -
iiu nut |nKvcnt my asiiiug tiniij1551unj
ind, when the Jame sheik said that none
iould enter without a special order from
.he pasha, Paul rated him soundly for
thinking wc would be such fools as to
come without one: and, handing liitn our
travelling firman, the sheik kissed the
seal, and, utterly unable to determine for
himself whether the order was to furnish
me with horses or admit me to mosques,
said he knew he was bound to obey that
seal, and do whatever the bearer told
him, and hobbled off to get the key.
Leaving our shoes at the door, in one
corner of the enclosure, we entered a
small mosque with white washed walls,
hung with ostrich eggs, clean mats for the I
graying Mussslmuns, a sort of pulpit J
ind the usual recess for the Kebla. In
the centre of'the stone floor, was a hole
opening to the prison below, and, going
outside and descending a flirrht of rIauk
0 ? ~ i'~'
we came to the prison chamber, about
eight paces square; the door, now broken
nud leaning against the wall, like the
doors of the sepulchres of the kings at
Jerusalem, was a slab cut from the solid
stone, and turning on a pivot.' On the
opposite side were three small holes,
opening to, another chaniber, which was
the tomb of the Baptists. I looked in,
but all was dark; the Mussulman told me
that the body only was there; that the
prophet was beheaded at the request of
the wife of a king, and I forgot where said
the head was. This may be the prison
where the great forerunner of the Lord
was beheaded; at least no man can say
that it was not; and leaving it with the
best disposition to believe, I ascended to
Lite ruined palace of Herod, his persecutor
and murderer. Thirty or forty columns
were still standing, the monuments of
the departed greatness of its former ten
ants. 0:i one side, towards the northeast,
where are the ruins of a gate, there is a
double range of Ionic columns. I counted
more than sixty, and, from the fragments
I was constantly meeting, it would
seem as if a double colonnade had extended
all around. , ]
The palace of Herod stands on a table
of land on the very summit ot the hill,
overlooking every part of the surrounding
country; and such was "the exceeding
softness and beauty of the scene, even
under the wildness dnd waste of Arab
cultivation, that the city seemed smiling
in the midst of nsr desolation. All around
was a beautiful valley, watered by running
streams, and covered by a rich carpet
of grass, sprinkled with wild flowers
of every hue, and beyond, stretched like
in open book before me, a boundary of
fruitful mountains, the vine and the olive
rising in terraces to their very summits;
here, day after day, the haughty Herod
lad sat in his rnvnl n?ln**?v nnH
- - ~j - i -? ""' " 6
)ut upon all these beauties, his heail had
jecomc hardened with prosperity; here,
tmong these still towering columns, the
>roud monarch had made a supper, "to
lis lords and high captains, and chief
estates of Galiles;" here the daughter of
fierodias, Ilerod's brother's wife, "danced
>cfore him, and the proud king promised
vith ah oQth to give her whatsoever 6he
ihould ask, even to thfe half of his kinglom."
And while the feast and dance
vent on, the "head of John the Baptist
vas Drougm in a cnarger and given io
he damsel... And Herod has gone, and
ierodias Herod's brother's wife, hat gone
md "the lords and the high captains, and
he chief estates of (Jalilee" arj gone;
tut the ruins of the palace in which they
easted are still here; the mountains and
'alleys which behold their revels.arc here;
md oh, what a comment upon the vanity'
>f worldly greatness ! a fellah was turnng
his plough around one of the columns.
[ was sitting on a broken capital under a
ig-trct by it* ?ide, tag J <*ked bun whit
m V # . *
were the ruin* we saw; and while his
oxen were quietly cropping the grass that'
grew among the fragments of the marble
floor, he told me they were the ruins of
the palace of a king?he believed of the
.Christians; and while pilgrims from every
quarter of the world turn aside from their
path to do homage in the prison of his
beheaded victim, the Arab who was driving
his plough among the columns of lixs
palace knew Pot the name of the haughty
Herod. Even at this distance of time .1
look .back with a feeling of uncommon'
interest upon my ramble among those
IU1M9, wild me Arao piOUgP.nmil
of the king who built it, leaning against
a column that perhaps had often supported
the haughty Herod, and looking out from
this scene of desolation and ruin upon
the most beautiful country in the Holy
Land.
WINDS or THE DESERT.
Mr. Buckingham, in one of his latf
lectures, gave some interesting particular*
respecting the wind of Egypt, which are
two in number. ... The Eastern wind,
known by various names, but most commonly
as the wind of the North, blo..*&
steadily for ten months during the year,
adding greatly to the freshness and purity
of the atmosphere. Apertures iu the
roofs opening to the North allow the current
of air to ventilate the buildings; and
around these wind-catchers the inmates
group, as in other countries, by the fireside.
Another benefit conferred by the
wind on their navigation, seems almost
providential: vessels glide rapidly down
the Nile, borne onward by the force of
the current, unaided by sail or oar, but to
ascend the river is more difficult. With
'tall masts raised, however, and wide arms
extended, and broad canvass spread, they
are wafltcu by this Useful breeze in the
i face of the tide, from North to South.?
Duiing the remaining two months of the
year, navigation is impeded. The hot and
sultry khamseen breathes its enervating
influence fr?m the Nile even to Sicily; and
has become proverbial in the land of song .
as an excuse for failure in any enterpriseu
So when a luckless author is reproached
for want of spirit in a work, or a lover
with absence of tenderness in a ditty, or
a musician with a piece possessing little
harmony, the answer may brobabiy be?
"It was done in' the time of Sirocco; what
would you have?"
j ; - \ \ x
From the great insecurity of person
and property, there is litle travelling except
in caravans. These frequently comprise
40,000 camel.?, attended by 30 or
40,000 persons. Flying horsemen scouring
at lull speed, the surrounding country,
secure them from sudden attack; but
the chief danger they have to fear is the
hot blast of the desert. Its approach is
tokened by a lurid streak in the heavens,
such as may sometimes be seen in American
sunsets. It is a sign well understood
by the natives, and they prepare for it
immediately. It comes like the heated
air from a fire furnace suddenly opened,
producing faintness and lassitude; and
soon, increasing in violence, it raises tho
sou sand in clouds, penetrating the eyes,
nose and mouth, and insinuating itself
beneath the garments. The camels arc
halted by the sound of a bugle, the note
ol a flute, oa some other well known signal,
and arranged in lines of a hundred
or thosand or a thousand each, with their
backs turned to the quarter whence the
Simoon is expected; and beneath the
shelter thus afforded, the men prostrate
themselves upon the ground. The drifting
sand, opposed in its course, rises in a
little while to the camels' backs, and begins
to pour down on the other side.?
Now must they again bestir themselves,
if they would not be buried where they
ue. Aitnougn the atmosphere is thick
with yellow sand, producing darkness so
total, that one cAnnot see an extended
hand?and darkness too that can be felt?
a new position is to be taken, a new line
of camels formed, and the same operation
gone through with. This is often necessary
to be done many times, until reduced
to perfect helplessness by exhaustion,
they sink and die, and are buried beneath
the sand. The groans of women and
children, and blendid cries of men and
boasts, help to make the scene awful beyond
description. One of these simoons
to which Mr. Buckingham was exposed,
lasted eighteen hours; and out of a caravan
of 250,000 persons returning from a
pilgrimage to Mecca, to the shrine of
Mahomet; which was overtaken near Damascus
by this destroying blast, ofHy 1J>
escaped alive to tell the tfcle.?Ikew York
a *
American.
? i 11 ?mrn~ ; * ^ ^
The .American Union.?There are
those who nfleeted to doubt the permanency
of our institutions, who fear that
the spirit which created, may fail to sustain
them Such doubt is treason!?and
the wretch who breathes it, should be branded
as a traitor! The shrug, the sigh and
thCrepret, the "speechless obliquy** of
hypocritical friendship, are more vitally
injurious than the worst mala?e of Eomly
tv. The corruption that begins its mint
within the life springs of the system, i*
almost hopelessly incurable. There is. nP
cause for dou^t. We hare but recently