Outlines of the Earth's History: A Popular Study in Physiography

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tion to the solid or frozen state, is wrapped about by two great envelopes, the atmosphere and the waters. Of these we shall first consider the lighter and more universal air; in taki

h in our earth-at least in its outer parts-have entered in the solid state. Some of the planets, so far as we can discern their conditions, seem also to have gaseous wraps; this is certainly the case with the planet Mars, and even the little we know of the other like spheres justifies the supposition that Jupiter

whole, and the latter is never more than a small fraction of one per cent in amount. As a whole, the air envelope of the earth should be regarded as a mass of nitrogen and argon, which only rarely, under the influence of conditions which exist in the soil, enters into combinations with other elements by which it assumes a solid form. The oxygen, though a permanent element in the atmosphere, tends constantly to enter into combinations which f

small quantities contained in this realm. Thus near the seashores, and indeed for a considerable distance into the continent, we find the air contains a certain amount of salt so finely divided that it floats in the atmosphere. So, too,

usand miles, the pressure would become so great that if the pit were kept free from the heat of the earth the gaseous materials would become liquefied. Upward from the earth's surface at the sea level the atoms and molecules of the air become farther apart until, at the height of somewhere between forty and fifty miles, the quantity of them contained in the ether is so small that we can trace little ef

e which is brought about as the rain forms and falls in the air, as the streams flow to the sea, and as the waves roll over the deep and beat against the shores. In th

ts which occur in caverns, where the transfer is sometimes effected at an almost microscopic rate in the space of a day. The motion of the atmosphere is brought about by the action of heat here and there, and in a trifling way, by the heat from the interior of the earth escaping through hot springs or volcanoes, but almost altogether by the heat of the sun. If we can imagine the earth cut

pon its surface would be slightly thrown out of their path as they are in passing through a lens, but they would journey on in space without in any considerable measure warming the mass. Coming, however, upon the solid earth, the heat rays warm the materials on which they are arrested, bringing them to a higher temperature than the air. Then these heated materials radiate the energy into the air; it happens,

e observe that the air about it, so far as it is heated, tends upward, drawing the smoke with it. If the air in the chimney be cold, it may not draw well at first; but in a few minutes the draught is established, or, in other words, the heated lower air breaks its way up the shaft, gradually pushing the cooler matter out at the top. In still air we may observe the column from the flue extending about the chimney-top

ere. Owing to the conditions of the earth's surface, which we shall now proceed to trace, these ascents of heated air belong in two distinct classes-those which move upward through more or less cylindrical chimneys in the atmosphere, shafts which are impermanent, which vary in diameter from a few feet to fifty or perhaps a hundred miles, and which move over t

others to occupy. Over the surfaces of the land within the tropical region this draught toward what we may term the equatorial chimney is perturbed by the irregularities of the surface and many local accidents. But on the sea, where the conditions are uniform, the air moving toward the point of ascent is marked in the trade winds, which blow with a steadfast sweep down toward the equator. Many slight actions, such as the movement of the hot and cold currents of the sea, the local air movements from the lands or from det

th did not revolve upon its axis the course of these winds along the surface toward the equator, and in the upper air back toward the poles, would be made in what we may call a square manner-that is, the particles of air would move toward the point where they begin to rise upward in due north and south lines, according as they came from the southern or northern hemisphere, and the upper currents or counter trades would retr

n hemisphere toward the northwest. A good illustration of this action may be obtained from an ordinary turn-table such as is used about railway stations to reverse the position of a locomotive. If the observer will stand in the centre of such a table while it is being turned round he will perceive that his body is not swayed to the right or left. If he will then try to walk toward the periphery of the rotating disk, he will readily note that it is very difficult, if not impossible, to walk along the radius of the circle; he naturally falls behind in the movement, so that his path is a curved line exactly such as is followed by the winds which move toward the equator in the trades. If now he rests a moment on the periphery of the table, so that his body acquires t

elt under the region where the atmosphere is rising from the earth, in which the winds are irregular and have little energy. This region of the "doldrums" or frequent calms is one of much trouble to sailing ships on their voyages from one hemisphere to another. In passing through it their sails are filled only by the airs of local storms, or winds which make their way into that part of the sea from the neighbouring contin

cally nearly all the power of conveying heat which it possesses is due to the vapour of water which it contains. By virtue of this moisture the winds do a good deal to transfer heat from the tropical or superheated portion of the earth's surface to the circumpolar or underheated realms. At first, the relatively cool air which journeys toward the equator along the surface of the sea constantly gains in heat, and in that process takes

e in the air gathers together or condenses, and in so doing parts with the heat which caused it to evaporate from the ocean surface. For a given weight of water, the amount of heat required to effect the evaporation is very great; this we may roughly judge by observing what a continuous fire is required to send a pint of water into the state of steam. This energy, when it is released by the condensation of water into rain or snow, becomes again heat, a

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temporary channel of passage. Going polarward from the equator, we first encounter these local and temporary upcastings of the air near the margin of the tropical belt. In these districts, at least over the warmer seas, during the time of the year when it is midsummer, and in the regions where the trade winds are not strong enough to sweep the warm and moisture-laden air down to the equatorial belt, the upward tending strain of the atmosphere next the earth often becomes so strong that the overlying air is displaced, forming a channel through which the air swiftly passes. As the moisture condenses in the way before noted, the energy set free serves to accelerate the updraught, and a hurricane is begun. At first the movement is small and of no great spee

basin this principle, with a few experiments, can be made plain. The result is to cause these great whirlwinds of the hurricanes of higher latitudes to whirl round from right to left in the northern hemisphere and in the reverse way in the southern. The general system of the air currents still further affects these, as other whirling storms, by driving their centres or chimneys over the surface of the earth. The principle on which this is done may be readily understood by observing how the air shaft above a chimney, through which we may observe the smoke to rise during a time of calm, is drawn off to one side by the slight current which exists even when we feel no wind; it may also be discerned in the little

hurricane centre, he will first discern, as from the untroubled air and sea he approaches the periphery of the storm, the horizon toward the disturbance beset by troubled clouds, all moving in one direction. Entering beneath this pall, he finds a steadily increasing wind, which in twenty miles of sailing may, and in a hundred miles surely will, compel him to take in all but his storm sails, and is likely to bring his ship into grave peril. The most furious winds the mariner knows are those which he encounters as he approaches the still centre. These trials are made the more appalling by the fact that in the furious part of the whirl the rain, condensing from the ascending air, falls in torrents, and the electricity gene

to sail out of the danger, so that in most cases he may escape calamity. It is otherwise with the people who dwell upon the land over which these atmospheric convulsions sweep. Fortunately, where these great whirlwinds trespass on the continent, they quickly die out, because of the relative lack of moisture which serves to stimulate the uprush which creates them. Thus in their more violent for

uous areas of sea. The result is a sudden elevation in the level of one part of the water. These disturbances, where the shore lands are low and thickly peopled, as is the case along the western coast of the Bay of Ben

f very warm, moist air next the surface of the sea. The western portion of the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean, the Bay of Bengal, and the southeastern portion of Asia are especially liable to their visitations. They sometimes develop, though

Hudson Bay. Like the hurricanes, they appear to be due to the inrush of relatively warm air entering an updraught which had been formed in the overlying, cooler portions of the atmosphere. They are, however, much less energetic, and often of greater size than the hurricane whirl. The lack of energy i

ge of the storm centre is due to the prevailing eastward movement of the air in its upper part throughout that portion of the northern hemisphere. Commonly they incline somewhat to the northward of east in their journey. In all cases the winds appear to blow spirally into the common storm centre. There is the same doldrum area or calm field in the centre of the storm that we note between the trade winds and in the middle of a hurricane disk, though this area is less defined than in the other instances, and the forward motion of the storm at a considerable speed is i

ence of this movement is that the difference in temperature of the air next the surface and that at the height of a few thousand feet is great. As might be expected, these local spinnings are most apt to occur in the season when the air next the earth is relatively warm, and they are aptest to take place in the half of the advancing front lying between the

eloped in the region west of central Kansas, and only occasionally do they exhibit much energy in the region east of the plain-lands of the Ohio Valley. Although known in other lands, they nowhere, so far as our observations go, exhibit the paroxy

the centre of the swaying shaft. As the whirl comes nearer, the roar of the disturbance, which at a distance is often compared to the sound made by a threshing machine or to that of distant musketry, increases in loudness until it becomes overwhelming. When a storm such as this strikes a building, it is not only likely to be razed by the force of the wind, but it may be exploded, as by the action of gunpowder fired within its walls, through the sudden expansion of the air which it contains. In the centre of the column, although it rarely has a diameter of more than a few hundred feet, the uprush is so swift that it makes a partial vacuum. The air, striving to get into the space which it is eager to occupy, is w

n of air contained in a hollow wal

ft the bodies of men and of animals, as well as the branches and trunks of trees and the timber of houses, to the height of hundreds of feet above the surface. One of the most striking exhibitions of the upsucking action in a tornado is afforded by the effect which it produces when it crosses a

the violence of the air movement makes them very destructive, often does not exceed five hundred feet in width, and is rarely as great as half a mile in

t free through the condensation of the water, which tends further to heat and thus to expand the air. The smaller size of the tornado may be accounted for by the fact that we have in their originating conditions a relatively thin layer of warm, moist air next the earth and a relatively very cold layer immediately overlying it. Thus the tension which

gantic pillar of swiftly revolving smoke. When the whirl reaches the water, it is said that the fluid leaps up into the tube in the form of dense spray, an assertion which, in view of the fact of the action of a tornado on a lake as before described, may well be believed. Like the tornadoes and dust whirls, the life of a waterspout appears to be brief. They rarely endure for more than a few minutes, or journey over the sea for more than two or three miles before the col

esting to note the fact that perhaps the earliest description of their phenomena-one which takes account in the scientific spirit of all the features which they present-was written by the poet Camo?ns in the Lusiad, in which he strangely mingles fancy and observation in his account of the great voyage of Vasco da Gama. The poet even notes that the water which falls when the spout is broken is not salt, but fresh-a point which clearly proves that

by changes in the relative weight of the air at certain points, but the winds themselves, owing to the momentum which the air attains by them, serve to bring about alterations in the quantity of air over different parts of the earth, which are marked most distinctly by barometric variations. These changes are exceedingly complicated; a full account of them would demand the space of this volume. A few of the facts, however, should be presented here. In the first place, we note that each day there is normally a range in the pressure which causes the barometer to be at the lowest at about four o'clock in the morning and four o'clock in the afternoon, and highest at about ten o'clock i

prevailing high barometer in the interior of the country and a corresponding low state of pr

re or eye of the hurricane and in the middle portion of the tornado's whirl. In general, it may be said that the weight of the air is greatest in the regions from which it is blowing toward the points of upward escape, and least in and about those plac

map the place where he might chance to find himself, provided he could extend his observations over a term of years. In other words, the regimen of the winds-at least those of a superficial nature-is almost as characteristic of the field over which they go as is a map of the country. Of these special winds a number of the more

that an upcurrent is formed. The formation of this current is favoured by the mountains, which apply a part of the heat at the height of about a mile above the surface of the sea. This action is parallel to that we notice when, in order to create a draught in the air of a chimney, we put a torch some distance up above the fireplace, thus dimin

ation being assisted by the extended surfaces of the plants, cooling rapidly takes place. Meanwhile the sea, because of the great heat-storing power of water, is very little cooled, the ascent of the air ceases, the temporary chimney with its updraught is replaced by a downward current, and the winds blow from the land until the sun comes again to reverse the current. In ma

t. To the same physical cause may be attributed the frequent insets of the sea winds toward midday along the continental shores of various countries. Thus along the coast of New England in the summer season a clear, still, hot day is certain to lead to the creation of an ingoing tide of air, which reaches some miles into the interior. This stream from the sea enters as a thin wedge, it often being possible to note next the shore when the movement begins a difference of ten degrees of temperature between the surface of the ground to which the point of the wedge has attained, and a position twenty feet higher in the air.

istic sand beach with long slope and low dunes. Note the three lin

air is cooled, rarefied, and to a great extent deprived of its moisture. In descending it is recondensed, and by the process by which its atoms are brought together its latent heat is made sensible. There being but little watery vapour in the mass, this heat is not much called for by that heat-storing fluid, and so the air is w

to bring the darkness of night at midday. Their whirlings appear in size to be greater than those which produce tornadoes or waterspouts, but less than hurricanes or cyclones. Little, however, is known about them. They have not been well observed by meteorologists. In some ways they are important, for the reason that they serve to carry the

winds often drive trains of sand through the valleys, where the sharp particles cut the rocks almost as effectively as torrents of water would, distributing the wearing over the width of the valley. The dust thus blown, from a desert region may, when it attains a country covered with vegetation, gradually accumulate on its surface, forming very thick deposits. Thus in northwestern China there is a wide area where dust accumulations blown from the arid distri

une is effected through the rolling up of the sand on the windward side of the elevation, when it is impelled by the current of air to the crest where it falls into the lee or shelter which the hill makes to the wind. In this way in the course of a day the centre of the dune, if the wind be blowing furiously, may advance a measurable distance from the place it occupied before. By fits and starts this ongoing may be indefinitely continued. A notable and picturesque instance of the march of a great dune may be had from the case in which one of them overwhelme

ill grow in such places, in checking the movement of the wind-blown materials. By so doing they have merely hastened the process by which Nature arrests the march of dunes. As these heaps creep away from the sea, they generally come into regions where a greater variety of plants flourish; moreov

ast of Florida. They also occur along the coasts of our Great Lakes, being particularly well developed at the southern

nd in the region of the Rocky Mountains, where the trunks of the trees, now very hard stone, so perfectly preserve their original structure that when cut and polished they may be used for decorative purposes. Conspicuous as is this work of the dunes, it is in a geological way much less important than that accomplished by the finer dust which drifts from one region of land to another or

tem of

f its weight, it is mainly gathered in the depths of the earth, where it lies in the interstices of the rocks and in the great realm of the seas. Only a very small portion of the fluid is in

arth's surface; and in the rocks, where it is stored in a finely divided form, partly between the grains of the stony matter and partly in the substance of its crystals, where it exists in a combination, the precise natur

at depth. It is difficult to believe that they originate at less than a hundred miles below the earth's surface. If, then, the rocks contain an average of even five per cent of water to the depth of one hundred miles, the quantity of the fluid stored within the earth is greater than that which is contained in the reservoir of the ocean. The oceans, on the average, are not more than three miles deep

ept in volcanic processes, are brought about but slowly, and are limited in their action. The movements of this buried water are exceedingly gradual; the forces which impel it about and which bring it to do its work originate in the earth. In the seas the fluid has an exceeding freedom of motion; it can obey the varied im

every other. As it is, owing to the divided condition of the water on the earth's surface, only that which is in the ocean and larger seas exhibits any measurable influence from these distant attractions. In fact, only the tides produced by the moon and sun are of determinable magnitude, and of these the lunar is of greater importance, the reason

earth. About this centre the spheres revolve, each in a way swinging around the other. At this point there is no centrifugal motion arising from the revolution of the pair of spheres, but on the side of the earth opposite the moon, some six thousand miles away, the centrifugal force is considerable, becoming constantly greater as we pass away from the turning point. At the same time the attr

times added to each other and sometimes subtracted-that is, at times they come together, while again the elevation of one falls in the hollow of the other. Once again supposing the earth to be all ocean covered, computation shows that the tides in such a sea would be very broad waves, having, indeed, a diameter of half the earth's circumference. Those produced by the moon would have an altitude of about one foot, and those by the sun of ab

less than two feet. As they pass up the narrowing spaces the waves become compressed-that is, an equal volume of moving water has less horizontal room for its passage, and is forced to rise higher. We see a tolerably good illustration of the same principle when we observe a wind-made wave enter a small recess of the shore, the sides of which converge in the direction of the motion. With the diminished room, the wave gains in height. It thus comes about that the tide throughout the Atlantic

hey can probably stir the finer mud on the ocean floor, and in shallow water move yet heavier particles. In the embayments of the land, where a great body of water journeys like an alternating river into extensive basins, the tidal action becomes intense; the current may be able to sweep along large stones quite as effectively as a mountai

h. It is probable that the larger part of the material composing these continental shelves has been brought to its position by tidal action. Each time the tidal wave sweeps in toward the shore it urges the finer particles of sediment along with it. When it moves out it drags them on the return journey toward the depths of the sea. If this shelf were perfectly horizontal, the two jo

rovision of food and their share of oxygen by drawing the water by their bodies. All regions which are visited by strong tides commonly have in

e revolution on the polar axis. The effect ought to be great enough to be measurable by astronomers in the course of a thousand years. On the other hand, the records of ancient eclipses appear pretty clearly to show that the length of the day has not changed by as much as a second in the course of three thousand years. This evidence does not require us to abandon the supposition that the tides tend to diminish the earth's rate of rotation. It is more likely that the effect of the reduction in the earth's diameter due to the loss of heat which is continually going on counterbalances the influence of the tidal friction. As the diameter of a rotating bo

n and those arising from the loss of heat-in other words, we have here one of those delicate arrangements in the way of counterpoise which serve

partake of the movement. It is a consequence of this action, as the computations of Prof. George Darwin has shown, that the moon, once nearer the earth than it is at present, has by a curious action of the tidal force been pushed away from t

the theory of the universe, for they may lead to changes in the nebular hypotheses, they are as yet to

ves are produced everywhere where water is subjected to the friction of air which flows over it. While tidal waves come upon the shores but twice each day, the wind waves of ordinary size which roll in from the ocean deliver their blows at intervals of from three to ten seconds. Although the tidal waves s

ents which act by wind are due to these alternating vibrations, such as all air currents tend to produce. An ?olian harp illustrates the action which we are considering. Moving over matter which has the qualities that we denote by the term fluid, the swayings which the air produces are of a peculiar sort, though they much resemble those of the fiddle string. The surface of the liquid rises and falls in what we term waves, the size of which is determined by the measure of fluidity,

elves placed in a particle of water, moving in the swayings of a wave in the open and deep sea, we may conceive ourselves carried around in an ellipse, in each revolution returning through nearly the same orbit. Now and then, when the particle came to the surface, it would experience the slight drift which the continual friction of the wind imposes on the water. If the wave in which the journey was made lay in the trade winds, where the long-continued, steadfast blowing had set the

rty miles an hour. As these surges often have a length transverse to the wind of a mile or more, a width of about an eighth of a mile, and a height of from thirty-five to forty-five feet, the amount of energy which they transmit is very great. If it could be effectively applied to the shores in the manner in which the ene

At five hundred feet in depth the movement would probably be sufficient to disturb fine mud. At two hundred feet, the rasping of the surge on the bottom would doubtless be sufficient to push particles of coarse sand to and fro. At one hundred feet in depth, the passage of the surge would be strong enough to urge considerable pebbles before it. Thence up the slope the driving action would become more and more intense until we attained the point where the wave broke. It should furthermore be noted that, while the movement of the water on the floor of the deep s

continental shelf to be very low, probably in height less than half that which they now attain. In fact, however, there is an influence at work to increase the height of the waves at the expense of its width. Noting that the friction rapidly increases with the shallowing, it is easy to see that this resistance is greatest on the advancing front of the

advance, the place of which is determined by the depth, the size, and the speed of the undulation, the front swiftly steepens until it is vertical, and the top shoots forward to a point where it is no longer supported by underlying water, when it plunges down in what is called the surf or breaker. In this part of the wave's work the application of the energy which it trans

hich the surge moved against the shore. It acts, in a word, like a hammer swung down by a strong arm, where the blow represents not only the force with which the weight would fall of itself, but the impelling power of the man's muscles. Any one who will expose his body to this blow of the surf will recognise how violent it is; he may, if the beach b

irst, though much smaller, again rises into a wall, forming another breaker. Under favourable conditions as many as four or five of these successive diminishing surf lines may be seen. The

ter breaker and the shore. These swayings in the surf belt often swing the débris on the inner margin over a range of a hundred feet or more, the movement taking place with great swiftness, affecting the pebbles to the depth of

has gained a sense of the changes in form of action may readily perceive, the beating of waves on the shore converts the energy which they possess into heat. This probably warms the water during great storms, so that by the hand we may note the difference in temperature n

ly these occasional waves are great enough to overwhelm persons who are upon the rocks next the shore. These greater surges are probably to be accounted for by the fact that in the open sea waves produced by winds blowing in different directions may run on with their diverse courses and varied intervals until they come near th

them the solar energy which was contributed to them by the winds, we shall now take up in some d

ordered by rude and generally steeply sloping beaches covered with large stones, he may perceive that the waves come in against the cliffs which plunge into deep water without taking on the breaker form. In this case the undulation strikes but a moderate blow; the wave is not greatly broken. The part next the rock may shoot up as a thin sheet to a considerable height; it is evident that while the ongoing wave applies a good deal of pressure to the steep, it does not deliver its energy in the effective form of a blow as when the wave overturns, or in the consequent rush of the water up a beach slope. It is easy to perceive that firm-set rock cliffs, with no beaches at their bases, can almost indefinitely withstand the assaults. On the steep and stony beach, because of its relatively great declivity, the breaker or surf forms far in, and even in its first plunge often attains the base of the precipice. The blow of the

verhanging rock falls of its own weight. The fragments thus delivered to the sea are in turn broken up and used as battering instruments until they are worn to pieces. We may note that in a few months of heavy weather the stones of such a fall have all been reduced to rudely spherical forms. Observations made on the eastern f

until they strike against the firm-set rock at the end of the chasm. In this way they may drive in a cut having the length of a hundred feet or more from the face of the precipice. In most cases the roofs over these sea caves fall in, so that the structure is known as a chasm. Occasionally these roofs remain, in which case, for the reason that the floor of the cutting inclines upward, an opening is made to the surface at their upper end, forming what is called in New England a "spouting horn"; from the inland end of the tunnel the spray may be thrown far into the air. As

ves encounter in running along the sides is greater than that which they meet in coming in upon a headland or a straight shore. The result is, with the inward retreat of the steep it enters on conditions which diminish the effectiveness of the wave stroke. The embayment also is apt to hold detritus, and so forms in time a be

undertow or bottom outcurrent-the "sea-puss," as it is sometimes called-that sweeps along the bottom from every shore, against which the waves form a surf. If as coarse as sand grains, or even very small pebbles, they are likely to be drawn out, rolling over the bottom to an indefinite distance from the sea margin. The coarser stones, however, either remain at the foot of the cliff until they are beaten to pieces, or are driven along the shore until they find some embayment into which they enter. The journey of such fragments may, when the wind strikes obliquely to the shore, continue for many miles; the waves, running with the wind, drive the fragments in oscillating journeys up and down the beach, sometimes at the rate of a mile or more a day. The effect of

largest fragments. If the shore of the bay be long, the innermost part of the recess may show even only very small pebbles, or perhaps only fine sand, the coarser material having been worn out in the journey. On the

hore by the waves is in many cases greatly added to by a curious action of seaweeds. If the bottom of the water off the coast is covered by these fragments, as is the case along many coast lines within the old glaciated districts, the spores of alg? are prone to take root upon them. Fastening themselves in those positions, and growing upward, the seaweeds may attain considerable size. Being provided with floats, the plant exercises a certain lifting power on the stone, and finally the tugging action of the waves on the fronds may detach the fragments from the bottom, making them free to journey toward the shore. Observing from near at hand the st

We can often see that the water is discoloured by the mud or powdered rock. When, however, the waves tumble on a sandy coast, they make but a muffled sound, and produce no mud. In fact, the particles of sand do not touch each other when they receive the blow. Between them there lies a thin film of water, drawn in by the attraction known as capillarity, which sucks the fluid into a sponge or between plates of glass placed near together. The stroke of the waves slightly compresses this capillary water, but the faces of the grains are kept apart as sheets of glass may be observed to be restrained from contact when water is between them. If the reader would c

coasts which have no other protection than is afforded by a low sand beach are often better guarded against the inroads of the sea than the rock-girt parts of the continents. It is on account

at work in dragging out the detritus which the waves make and thrust into the recesses. These two actions contend with each other, and determine the conditions of the coast line, whether they afford ports for commerce or are sealed in by sand bars, as are many coast lines which are not tide-swept, a

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er in the basin, we find that even this slight impulse at once sets the upper part in motion, the movement being of two kinds-pulsating movements or waves are produced, and at the same time the friction of the air on the surface causes its upper part to slide over the under. With little floats we can shortly note that the stream which forms passes to the farther side of the vessel, there divides, and returns to

cts. Thus the trades produce in the sea two broad, slow-moving, deep currents, flowing in the northern hemisphere toward the southwest, and in the southern hemisphere toward the northwest. Coming down upon each other obliquely, these broad streams meet about the middle of the tropical belt. Here, as before noted, the air of

e motions of these windward-setting tropical currents, all the water which they bear, when it strikes the opposing shores, is diverted to the right and left, as was the stream in the experiment with the basin and the breath, the divided currents seeking ways toward high latitudes, conveying their store of heat to the circumpolar lands. So effective is this transfer of temperature that a very large part of the heat which enters the wat

e consequence of their motion. In the case of this current, observations clearly show that it arises from the junction near the equatorial line of the broad stream created by the two trade-wind belts. Uniting at the equator, these produce a westerly setting current, having the width of some hundred miles and a depth of several hundred feet. Its velocity is somewhat greater than a mile an hour. The centre of the current, because of the greater strength of the northern as compared with the southern trades, is

and northern sides, passes by and among the Bahama Islands, there to rejoin the part of the stream which entered the Caribbean. This Caribbean portion of the tide spreads widely in that broad sea, is constricted again between Cuba and Yucatan, again expands in the Gulf of Mexico, and is finally poured forth through the Straits of Florida as a stream having the width of forty or fifty miles, a depth of a thousand feet or more, and a speed of from three to five miles an hour, exceeding in its rate of flow the average of the greatest rivers, and conveying more water than do all the land streams of the earth. In this part of its course the deep and swift stream from the Gulf of Mexi

Iceland and Nova Zembla, and the tropical driftwood which it carries affords the principal timber supply of the inhabitants of the first-named isle. Attaining this circumpolar realm, and finally losing the impulse which bore it on, the water of the Gulf Stream partly returns to the southward in a relatively slight current which bears the fluid along the coast of Europe until it re-enters the system of tropical winds and the currents which they produce. A larger portion stagnates in the circumpolar region, in time slowly to return to the tropical district in a manner afterward to b

vement is readily found in the same principle which explains the oblique flow of the trades and counter trades in their passage to and from the equatorial belt. The particle of water under the equator, though it flows to the west, has, by virtue of the earth's rotation, an eastward-setting velocity of a thousand miles an hour. Starting towar

re of the tide effects its return journey in other ways. Some portion of this remainder sets equatorward in local cold streams, such as that which pours forth through Davis Strait into Baffin Bay, flowing under the Gulf Stream waters for an unknown distance toward the tropics.

water until it attains the very bottom in all the circumpolar regions. At the same time this descending water drifts along the bottom of the ocean troughs toward the equatorial realm. As this cold water is heavier than that which is of higher temperature and nearer the surface, it has no tendency to rise. Being below the disturbing influences of any current save its own, it does not tend, except in a very small measure, to mingle with the warmer overlying fluid. The result is that it continues it

ld water which there forms, and to convey it beneath the seas of middle latitudes to a realm where it is well placed for the reheating process. If all the cold water of circumpolar regions had to journey over the surface to the equator, the perturbing effect of its flow on the climates of various lands would be far greater than it is at present. Where such cold currents exist the effect is to chill the air without adding much to the rainfall; while the currents set

e. This same heat removed to high latitudes tempers the winter's cold, and thus makes a vast realm inhabitable which otherwise would be locked in almost enduring frosts. Furthermore, this distribution of temperatures tends to reduce the total wind energy by diminishing the trades and counter trades which are due to the variations of heat which are encountered in passing polarward from

vers the greater part of Greenland, extended down to the line of the Ohio River at Cincinnati. Although these changes of climate are, as we shall hereafter note, probably due to entangled causes, we must look upon the modifications of the ocean streams as one of the most important elements in the causation. We can the more readily imagine such changes to be due to the alterations in the course and volume of the ocean current when we note how trifling peculiarities in the geography of the shores-features which are likely to be altered by the endless changes which occur in the form of a continent-affect the run of these currents. Thus the growth of coral reefs in southern Florida, and, in general, the formation of that peninsula, by narrowing the exit of the great curr

rm which are moved about by the flowing waters. But for the existence of these north and south flowing currents, due to the presence of the continental barriers, the living tenants of the seas would be borne along around the earth, always in the same latitude, and therefore exposed to the same conditions of temperature. In this state of affairs the influences which now make for change in organic species would be far less than they are. Journeying in the great whirlpools which the continental barriers make out of the westward setting tropical currents,

ons the growth of forms which secrete solid skeletons is so rapid that great walls of their remains accumulate next the shore, the mass being built outwardly by successive growths until the realm of the land may be extended for scores of miles into the deep. In other cases vast mounds of this organic débris may be accumulated in mid o

en form a mass sufficiently dense to slightly restrain the speed of ships. When the men on the caravels of Columbus entered this tangle, they were alarmed lest they should be unable to escape from its toils. It is a curious fact that these weeds of the sea while floating do not reproduce by spores the structures which answer to the seeds of higher plants, but grow only by budding. It seems certain that they could not maintain their place in the ocean but for the action of the currents which

eir often dense envelopes may, because they float, be independently carried great distances. So it comes about that no sooner does a coral or other island rise above the waters of the sea than it becomes occupied by a varied array of plants. The migrations of people, even down to the time of the voyages which discovered America, have in large measure been controlled by the run of the

uit of t

oration of the sea water is proportional to the temperature and to the dryness of the air where it rests upon the ocean. It probably amounts on the average to somewhere about three feet per annum; in regions favourably situated for the process, as on the west coast of northern Africa, it may be three or four times as m

he simple diffusion of the vapour or by the uprise through the a?rial shaft, such as that near the equator or over the centres of the whirling storms. It is when the air strikes the slopes of the land that we find it brought into a condition which most decidedly tends to precipitate its moisture. Lifted upward, the air as it ascends the slopes is brought into cooler and m

tions of our sphere. Near the coasts it ranges from two or three inches in arid regions-such as the western part of the Sahara and portions of the coast regions of Chili and Peru-to eight hundred inches about the head waters of the Brahmapootra River in northern India, where the high mountains are swept over by the moisture-laden airs from the neighbouring sea. Here and there detached m

ends to the shores of the Mediterranean and the Atlantic. The only continent without this central nearly rainless field is South America, where the sole characteristic arid district is situated on the western slope of the Cordilleran range. In this case the peculiarity is due to the fact that the strong westerly setting win

case on the western faces of the American continent, where the sea is cooled by the currents setting toward the equator from high latitudes. Such cool sea air encountering the warm land has its te

into the dry air which they encounter. Late in the afternoon, even before the sun has sunk, the radiation of heat from the earth, which has been going on all the while, but has been less considerable than the incurrent of temperature, in a way overtakes that influx. The air next the surface becomes cooled from its contact with the refrigerating earth, and parts with its moisture, forming a coating of water over everything it touches. At the same time the moisture escaping from the warmed under earth likewise drops back upon its cooled surface almost as soon as it has escaped. The thin sheet of water precipitated by this method is quickly returned to the air when it becomes warmed by the morning sunshine, but during the night quantities of it are absorbed by the plants; very often, indeed, with the lowlier vegetation it trickles down the leaves and enters the eart

th. Moreover, the ground itself can not well cool down to the point where it will wring the moisture out of the air, while the thin membranes of the plants readily become so cooled. Thus vegetation by its own structure provides itself with means whereby it may be in a measure independent of the accidental rainfall. We should also note the fact tha

rst, we should take note of the fact that the water after it enters the air may come back to the surface of the earth in either of two ways-directly in the manner of dewfall, or in a longer circuit which leads

friction in their swift course through the air, the ejections of volcanoes, the smoke of forest and other fires, etc. These tiny bits, floating in the air, because of their solid nature radiate their heat, cool the air which lies against them, and thereby precipitate the water in the manner of dew, exactly as do the leaves and other structures on the surface of the earth. In fact, dew formation is essentially like cloud formation, except that in the one case the water is gathered on fixed bodies, and in the other on floating objects. Each little dust

o their solid contents is the greater the smaller the diameter. A rough, though not very satisfactory, instance of this principle may be had by comparing the surface and interior contents of two boxes, one ten feet square and the other one foot square. The larger has six hundred feet of surface to one thousand cubic feet of interior, or about half a square foot of outer surface to the cubic foot of contents; while the smaller box has

the relatively even size of the pebbles, a

e a tendency to produce spherical clouds is apparent. In this high realm floating water is probably in the frozen state, answering to the form of dew, which we call hoar frost. The lower clouds, gathering in the still air, show very plainly the tendency to agglomerate into spheres, which appears to be characteristic of all vaporous material which is free to move by its own impulses. It is probable that the spherical shape of clouds is more or less due to the same conditions as gathered the stellar matter from the ancient nebular chaos into the celestial spheres. Upon these spherical aggregations of the clouds the winds act in extremely varied ways. The cloud may be rubbed between opposite currents, and so flattened out into a long streamer; it may take the same form by being carried off by a current in the manner of smoke from a fire; the spheres may be kept together, so as to form the patchwork which we call "mackerel" sky; or they may be actually confounde

ities in the size of raindrops or snowflakes. It often happens that the particles after taking on the form of snowflakes encounter in their descent air so warm that they melt into raindrops, or, if only partly melted, reach the surface as sleet. Or, starting as raindro

are probably great. In general, it probably passes, much as an electric current is conveyed, through a wire from the battery which produces the force. In other cases, where the tension is high, or, in other words, where the discharge has to be hastened, we have the phenomena of lightning in which the current burns its way along its path, as it may traverse a slender wire, vapourizing it as it goes. In general, the lightning flash expends its force on the air conductors, or lines of the moist atmosphere along which it breaks its path, its energy returning into the vapour which it forms or the heat which it produces in the other parts of the air. In some cases, probably not

heated, generally made white hot, often melted, and perhaps scattered in the form of vapour. In doing this work the electricity may, and often is, utterly dissipated-that is, changed into heat. It has been proposed to take a

ich we have noted that they ordinarily make in their movement considerable noise. This is due to the sudden displacement of the air which they traverse-displacement due to the action of heat in separating the particles. It is in all essential regards similar to the sounds made by projectiles, such as meteors or swift cannon shots, as they fly through the air. It is even more comparable to the sound produced by exploding gunpowder. The first sound effect from the lightning stroke is a single rending note, wh

s. They are common in the region near the equator, where the ascending currents bring about heavy rains, which mean a rapid condensation and consequent liberation of electrical energy. They diminish in frequency toward the arctic regions. An observer at the pole would probably fail ever to perceive strong flashes. For the same reason thunderstorms are more frequent in summer, the time when the difference in temperature between the

ena are at present not satisfactorily explained. Perhaps in the same group of actions comes the so-called "Jack-o'-lantern" or "Will-o'-the-wisp" fires flashing from the earth in marshy places, which are often described by the common people, but have never been observed by a naturalist. If this class of illuminations really exists, we have to afford them some other explanation than that they are emanations of s

less due to some form of electrical action, are peculiar in that they are often attended by glows as if from clouds, and by pulsations which indicate movements not at electric speed. As yet but little is known as to the precise nature of these curious storms. It has been claimed, however, that they are related to the sun spots; those periods when

al Work

t falls or to the ocean surface on which it strikes. In this case the circuit of the rain is short and without geological consequence which it is worth while to consider, except to note that the heat thus returned is likely to be delivered in another realm than that in which the falling wate

of rain on wooded and cleared fiel

ly light, the stroke is not ineffective. Observing what happens where the action takes place on the surface of bare rock, we may notice that the grains of sand or small pebbles which generally abound on such surfaces, if they be not too steeply inclined, dance about under the blows which they rec

etation to interpose a living and self-renewed covering between the rocks and the rain. Even the lichens which coat what at first sight often seems to be bare rock afford an ample covering for this purpose. It is only where man bares the field by stripping away and overturning this protecting vegetation that the raindrops cut away the earth. The effect of their act

at once loses the droplike form which all fl

ly a few of which can well be traced by the general student. The work of land water is due to three classes of properties-to the energy with which it is endowed by virtue of its height above the sea, a power due to the heat of the sun; to the capa

n ordinary rain on a thousand square feet of ground in the highlands of a country-say at an elevation of a thousand feet above the sea-expends before it comes to rest in the great reservoir as

es of the earth, slowly descends therein to a greater or less depth, and finally, journeying perhaps at the rate of a mile a year, rejoins the surface water, escaping through the springs. The proportion of these two classes, the surface and the ground water, varies greatly, and an intermixture of them is continually going on. Thus on the surface of bare rock or frozen earth all the rain may go away wi

thered into a sheet than, guided by the slightest irregularities which it encounters, it begins to flow. At first the motion is so slow that it does not disturb its bed, but at some points in the bottom of the sheet the movement soon becomes swift enough to drag the grains of sand and clay from their adhesions, bearing them onward. As soon as this beginning of a channel is formed the water moves more swiftly in the clearer way; it therefore cuts more rapidly, deepening and enlarging its channel, and making its motion yet more free. The tiny rills join the greater, all their channels sway to and fro as directed this way and that by chance irregularities, until something like river basins are carved out, those gentle slopes which form broad valleys where the carving has been due to

hing, though but little; the direct washing action of the brooklets which form during times of heavy rain, but dry out at the close of the storm, do a good deal of the work; thawing and freezing of the water contained in the mass of detritus help the movement, for, although the thrust is in both directions, it is most effective downhill; the wedges of tree roots, which often penetrate between and under the stones, and there expand in their process of growth, likewise assist the downward motion. The result is that on ordinary mountain slopes the layer of fragments constituting the rude soil is often creeping at the rate of f

detail. At Yvorgne, a little parish on the north shore of the Rh?ne, just above the lake of Geneva, tradition tells that an ancient village of the name was overwhelmed by the fall of a great cliff. The vast débris forming the steep slope which was thus produced now bears famous vineyards, but the vintners fancy that they from time to time hear deep in the earth the ringing of the bells which belonged to the overwhelmed church. In 1806 the

s and herds and their keepers in the summer season. Through this human experience with the valley, we have a record of what has gone on in this part of the mountain wilderness. Within the period of history and tradition, three very great mountain falls have occurred in this field, each having made its memory good by widespread disaster which it brought to the people of the chalets. The last of these was brought about by the fall of a great peak which spread itself out in a vast field of ruins in the valley below. The belt of destruction was about half a mile wi

und himself alive in his unharmed dwelling. With him in the darkness were the cows, a store of food and water, and his provisions for the long summer season. With nothing but hope to animate him, he set to work burrowing upward among the rocks, storing the débris in the room of the chalet. He toiled for some months, but finally emerged to the light of

against the firm-set rocks; the more they wear, the smaller they become, and the more readily they are urged forward. Where the masses are too large to be stirred by the violent current, they lie unmoved until the pounding of the rolling stones reduces them to the proportions where they may join the great procession. Ordinarily those who visit mountains behold their torrents only in their shrunken state, when the waters sti

ains of New Hampshire, the steep slopes are often seamed by the paths of these great landslides. Their movement, indeed, is often begun by sliding snow, which gives an impulse to the rocks and earth which it encounters in its descent. At a place known as the Wylie Notch, in the White Mountains, in the early part of this century, a family of that name was buried beneath a mass o

junction gained strength, and can keep their beds clear, they soon carve down a gorge through which they descend from the upper mountain realm to the larger valleys, where their conjoined waters take on a riverlike aspect. It should be noted here that the cutting power of the water moving in the torrent or in the wave, the capacity it has for abrading rock, resides altogether in the bits of stone or cutting tools with which it is armed. Pure water, because of its fluidity, may move over or against firm-set stones for ages without wearing them; but in proportion as it moves rocky particles of any size, the larger they are, the more effective the work, it wears the rock over which it flows. A capital instance of this may be found where a stream from a hose is used in washing windows. If the water be

they receive. Even where the blocks of stone cling in the bed, it is only a short time before they are again set in motion or ground to pieces. If by chance the detritus accumulates rapidly, the slope is steepened and the work of the torrent made more efficient. As the torrent comes toward the base of the mountains, where it neither finds nor can create steep slopes over which to flow, its speed necessarily diminishes. With each reduction

tle farther down, however, we are sure to find another such junction and a second accumulation of terrace material. As these contributions increase, the terrace accumulations soon become continuous, lying on one side or the other of the river, sometimes bordering both banks of the stream. In general, it can be said that so long as the rate of fall of the torrent exceeds one hundred feet to the mile it does not usu

t speed of the current are diminished, soon comes to a stage where it is engaged in an endless struggle with the terrace materials. In times of flood, the walls of the terraces compel the tide to flow over the tops of these accumulations. Owing to the relative thinness of the water beyond the bed, and to the growth of vegetation there, the current moves more slowly, and therefore lays down a considerable deposit of the silt and sand which it contains. This may result during a single flood in lifting the level of the terrace by some inches in height, still further serving to restrict the ch

points of collision are often on soft banks, which are readily undermined by the washing action of the stream. In the ordinary course of events, the river beginning, we may imagine, with a straight channel, had its current deflected by some obstacle, it may be even by the slight pressure of a tributary stream, is driven against one bank; thence it rebounds and strikes the other. At each point of impinge it cuts the alluvium away. It can bear on only a small portion of that which it thus obtains; the greater part of the material is deposited on the opposite side of the stream, but a little lower down, where it makes a shallow. On these shallows water-loving plants and even certain trees, such as the willows and poplars, find a foothold. When the stream rises, the sediment settles in this tangle, and soon extends the alluvial plain from the neighbouring bank, or in rarer cases t

ts width often to the distance of hundreds of feet. During the inundations of the Mississippi the river may at times be seen to eat away acres of land in a single day along one of the outcurves of its banks. The undermined forests falling into the flood join the great procession of drift

wing the changes in the course o

water just above and below the new-made opening is apt to differ in height by some feet. Plunging down the declivity, the stream, flowing with great velocity, soon enlarges the channel so that its whole tide may take the easier way. When this result is accomplished, the old curve is deserted, sand bars are formed across their mouths, whic

am near the seat of the change becomes straighter than before, and this for the reason that its swifter current is better able to dispose of the débris which is supplied to it. The effect of a change in the current produced by such new channels as we have described as forming

same water which in the mountain torrent of the Appalachians or Cordilleras rolled along stones several feet in diameter down slopes of a hundred feet or more to the mile can in the lower reaches of the stream move no pebbles which are more than one fourth of an inch in diameter over slopes which descend on the average about half a foot in a mile. Thus at every stage from the torrent to the sea the detritus has from time to time to rest within the alluvial banks, there awaiting the decay which slowly comes, and which may bring it to the state where it may be dissolved in the water, or divided into fragments so sm

always been growing abundant vegetation, the remains of which decayed on the surface in the manner which we may observe at the present day. This decomposing vegetable matter within and upon the porous alluvial material produces large quantities of carbonic acid, a gas which readily enters the rain water, and gives it a peculiar power of breaking up rock matter. Acting on the débris, this gas-charged water rapidly brings about a decay of the fragments. Much of the material passes at once into solution in this water, and drains away through t

the seas. We find in the water of the ocean a great array of dissolved mineral substances; it, indeed, seems probable that the sea water contains some share, though usually small, of all the materials which rivers encounter in their journey o

vel of the streams. Generally these deposits, which from their form are called terraces, represent the stages of down-wearing by which the stream has carved out its way thro

th of the soil and the frequency with which they are visited by fertilizing inundations, they yield rich harvests without fertilizing for thousands of years. It is therefore not surprising that we find the peoples who depended upon tillage for subsistence first developed on the great river plains. There, indeed, were laid the foundations of our higher civilization; there alone could the state which demands of its citizens fixed abodes and continuous labour take rise. In the conditions which these fields of

Valley. Still farther toward the sea, the plain gradually dips downward until it passes below the level of the waters. Through this mud-flat section the stream continues to cut channels, but with the ever-progressive slowing of its motion the burden of fine mud which it carries drops to the bottom, and constantly closes the paths through which the water escapes. Every few years they tend to break a new way on one side or the other o

nto a broad fan, which slopes gradually to a point where, in the manne

e the fourth letter of the Greek alphabet. Although the definition is good in the Egyptian instance, and has a certain use elsewhere, we best regard all the detritus in a river valley which is in the state of repose along the stream to its utmost branches as forming one great whole. It is, indeed, one of the most united of the large features which the earth ex

en, as is usually the case, this uplifting action has been associated with mountain-building, that valleys take on their accented and picturesque form. The reason for this is easily perceived: it lies in the fact that the rocks over which the stream flows are guided in the cutting which they effect by the diversities of hardness in the strata that they encounter. The work which it does is performed by the hard substances that are impelled by the current, principally by the sand and pebbles. The

of its descent it encounters another hard layer. Where, however, the beds have been subjected to mountain-building, and have been thrown into very varied attitudes by folding and faulting, the stream now here and now there encounters beds which either restrain its flow or give it freedom. The stream is then forced to cut its way according to the positions of the various underlying strata. This effect upon

embarrasses the course of the lower waters, where no great amount of down-cutting is possible for the reason that the bed of the stream is near sea level. At the same time the alluvial materials, building out to sea, thus diminish the slope of the stream. In the extreme old age of the river system the mountains are eaten down so that the torrent section disappears, and the stream becomes of something like a uniform slope; the higher alluvial plains gradually

er been. At the same time the slight up-and-down swayings of the shore lands, amounting in general to less than five hundred feet, have greatly affected the channels of the main river and its tributaries in their lower parts. Not long ago the Mississippi between Cairo and the Gulf flowed in a rather steep-sided valley probably some hundreds of feet in depth, which had a width of many miles. Then at the close of the last Glacial period the region sank down so that the sea flooded the valley to a point above the present junction of the Ohio River with the main stream. Since then alluvial plains have filled this estuary to even beyond the original mouth. In many other of ou

ream may flow. Where after coursing for a distance over a hard layer the stream comes to its edge and drops on a soft or easily eroded stratum, it will cut this latter bed away, and create a more or less characteristic waterfall. Tumbling down the face of the hard layer, the stream acquires velocity; the débris which it conveys is hurled against the bottom, and therefore cuts powerfully, while before, being only rubbed over the stone as it moved along, it cut but slightly. Masses of ice have the same effect as stones. Bits dropping from the ledge are often swept

h, though rarely manifested in anything like the dignity of the great fall, is plentifully shown throughout the Mississippi Valley and the basin of the Great Lakes. Within a hundred miles of Niagar

in strata may afford rock of such hardness that when the river comes to cross it it forms a cascade, as at the Falls of the Ohio, at Louisville, Ky. It is a characteristic of all other falls

of the bed over which they flow, while on the more gently sloping bottoms of the rivers, where the débris moves slowly, such variations would be unimportant in their effect. When the torrents escape into the main river valleys, in regions where the great streams have cut deep gorges, they often descend from a great vertical height, for

amount of power. Between the James on the south and the Ste. Croix on the north more than a hundred of these Appalachian rivers have been turned to economic use. The industrial arts of this part of the country depend much upon them for the power which drives their machinery. The whole of the United States, because of the considerable size of its rivers and their relatively rapid fall, is richly endo

over such a valley the underground waters, soaking through the soil and penetrating through the underlying rock, are constantly removing a portion of the mineral matter which they take into solution and bear away to the sea. In this way, deprived of a part of their substance, the rocks are continually settling down by underwear throughout the whole basin, while they ar

gher than the surface. Ten million years in the past, a period less than the lifetime of certain rivers, such as the French Broad River in North Carolina, the soil was probably five thousand feet or more above its present plane. There are, indeed, cases where river valleys appear to have worked down without interruption from the subsidence of the land beneath the sea to the depth of at least two miles. Looking upward through the space which the rocks once occupied, we can conceive the action of the forces in their harmonious co-operation which have brought the surface slowly downward. We can imagine the ceaseless corrosi

ittle work, the basin may slope with very slight declivity to the river margins, and there descend to great depths, forming very deep gorges, of which the Colorado Ca?on is the most perfect type. As instances of these contrasted conditions, we may take, on the one hand, the upper Mississippi, where the grades toward the main stream are gentle and the valley gorge but slightly exhibited; on the other, the above-mentioned Colorado, which bears a great tide of waters drawn from the high and relatively rainy region of the Rocky Mountains across the vast plateau lying i

river bed is high above the sea, the current is swift and the down-cutting rapid, while the slow subsidence of the country on either side-a process which goes on at a uniform rate-causes the surfa

diate their heat through the water, and thus form ice on their surfaces, which may attain considerable thickness. As ice is considerably lighter than water, the effect is often to lift up the stones of the bed if they be not too large; when thus detached from the bottom, they are easily floated down stream until the ice melts away.

ged by their momentum, these ice floes pack into the semblance of a dam, which may have a thickness of twenty, thirty, or even fifty feet. Beginning on the shore, where the collision takes place, the dam may swiftly develop clear across the stream, so that in a few minutes the way of the waters is completely blocked. The on-coming ice shoots up upon the accumulation, increases its height, and extends it up stre

of ice become turned on edge and pack together so that they roll d

to north, it often happens that the spring thaw sets in before the more northern beds of the main stream are released from their bondage of frost. In this case the inundations have to find new paths on either side of

hick layer of sand and gravel, which, except when frozen, readily admits the water; the rainfall is to a very great extent absorbed by the earth, and only yielded slowly to the streams. In these cases floods are rare and of no great destructive power. Again, where also the river basin is covered by a dense mantle of forests, the ground beneath which is coated, as is the case in primeval woods, with a layer of decomposing vegetation a foot or more in depth, this spongy mass retains t

cial sands and gravels affords the protection which we have noted. Throughout this region the rainfall is heavy, and the larger part of it is apt to come after the ground has become deeply snow-covered. The result is a succession of devastating

ke

falls into the basin of a lake. These arrests in the downward motion of water, which we term lakes, are exceedingly numerous; their proper discussion wou

of sinking into the earth, its waters really rise into the air. Many such sinks occur in the central portion of the Rocky Mountain district. It is important to note that the process of evaporation we are describing takes place in the case of all lakes, though only here and there is the air so dry that the evaporation prevents the basin from overflowing at the lowest point on its rim, forming a river which goes thence to the sea. Even in the case of the Great Lakes of North America a considerable part of the water which flows into them does not go to the St. Lawrence and thence to the sea. As long as the lake finds an outlet to the sea its waters contain but little more dissolved mineral matter than that we find in the rivers. But because all water which has been in contact with the earth has some dissolved mineral substances, whil

ese basins. All of those which have been studied show by their old shore lines that they were once brimful, and have only shrunk away in modern times. These conditions point to the conclusion that the rainfall in different regions varies greatly in the course of

he lands would be covered by them. In most cases, however, the cutting action of the streams has been sufficient to bring the drainage channels down to the bottom of the trough, while the influx of sediments has served to further the work by filling up the cavities. Thus at the close of the Cretaceous period there was a chain of lakes extending along the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains, constituting fresh-water seas probably as large as the so-called Great Lak

tract of land with the salt beneath it were traversed by a stream, its underground waters may dissolve out the salt and in a way restore the basin to its original unfilled condition, though in the second state that of a living l

urface no longer exhibits the continued down slope which the rivers develop, but is warped in a very complicated way. These depressions afford natural basins in which lakes gather; they may vary in extent from a few square feet to many square miles. When a glacier occupies a country, the melting ice deposits on the surface of the earth a vast quantity of rocky débris, which was contained in its mass. This detritus is irregularly accumulated; in part it is disposed in the form of

hough the greater part of these small basins have been obliterated since the ice left this country, the number still remaining of sufficient size to be marked on a good map is inconceivably great. In North

ral opening through which the water flows into the depths below. The cups of the sink holes rarely exceed half a mile in diameter, and are usually much smaller. Their basins have been excavated by the solvent and cutting actions of the rain water which gathers in them to be discharged into the cavern below. It often happens that after a sink

ens, the water which blocks its passage may be blown out in a moment, the discharge spreading in some cases to a great distance from the cone, to be accumulated again when the vent ceases to be open. The most beautiful of these volcanic lakes are to be found in the region to the north and south of Rome. The original seat of the Latin state was on the shores of one of these crater pools, south of the Eternal City. Lago Bolsena, which lies to the n

by carving out channels through which their waters drain away. The nature of this action can well be conceived by considering what will take place in the course of time in the Great Lakes of North America. As Niagara Falls cut back at the average rate of several feet a year, it will be but a brief geologic period before they begin to lower the waters of Lake Erie. It is very probable, indeed, that in twenty thousand years the waters of that basin will

basin. Thus they flow away over the rim rock in a perfectly pure state-a state in which, as we have noted before, water has no capacity for abrading firm rock. Thus where the Niagara River passes from Lake Erie its clean water hardly affects the stone over which it flows. It only begins to do cutting work where it plunges down the precipice of the Falls and sets in motion the fragments which are constantly

have again and again been changed. For a time during the Glacial period, when Lake Ontario and the valley of the St. Lawrence was possessed by the ice, the discharge was southward into the upper Mississippi or the Ohio. At a later stage channels were formed leading from Georgian Bay to the eastern part of Ontario. Yet later, when the last-named lake was bared, an ice dam appears to have r

onths, and this for the simple reason that the lake may be many hundred or even thousand times as wide as the stream. Moreover, as before noted, the sediment gathered by the stream above the level of the lake is deposited in its basin, and does not affect the lower reaches of the river. The result is that great rivers, such as drain from the Laurentian Lakes, flow clear water, are exempt from floods, are essent

owing crevasses and dust