"All this is very well, but I do not understand where all the immigrants go. I am told that as many as three thousand persons land daily on Ellis Island. At this rate New York receives yearly an addition of a million souls."
"Yes, but how many do you think remain in New York? Most of them go up country and out westwards. Some improve their position and then repair to other fields of work. But many also stay here and increase the slum population. The immigrants who are destitute on landing take work in factories at any wage they can get. The wages they receive seem very high compared to those in their own country, but they are low for America. Accordingly the immigrant Europeans thrust out the Americans, and therefore there are two millions out of work in the United States. And so there are failures, human wrecks, who are a burden to others. If you like we will try this evening to get to a midnight mission and see the poor wretches waiting in crowds for the doors to open. They have a worn, listless expression, but when the doors are open they wake up and rush in, fill all the benches in the large hall, and go to sleep in all imaginable positions."
"What do they do there?"
"A missionary preaches to them, but they are hungry and weary, and sleep soundly on their benches. Among them you will find tramps and vagabonds, professional beggars and thieves, idlers and men out of work. In the daytime they beg and steal, and now at night they take their sleep in the mission. When the preacher finishes, they file out and go to the bread stalls to get food. Such is their life day after day, and they sink ever deeper into misery."
"They are the slag that remains after the precious metal has run off, of course. It is curious to think of a people that is increased by a never-failing stream of immigrants. What will be the end of it?"
"No one can answer that question. Everything is possible with Americans. They are a mixture of English, Scandinavian, German, Dutch, Italian, and Russian blood, to name only the principal constituents of this complex blend, this huge incorporation. Out of all these elements one day an American race will emerge, when Ellis Island has closed its gates to emigrants from Europe."
"Tell me another thing, now. Why is not New York, the most important city, also the capital of the country?"
"It was thought that the city which bears the name of the great Washington had a more convenient and more central position with regard to the States of the original federation. The population of Washington is only about 330,000, and there are fifteen larger cities in the United States, but it is the centre of government. There the President lives in White House, there Congress assembles in the Capitol, there stands the Washington monument surrounded by large national buildings, and there three universities are established."
After our friend Gunnar has seen as much as he wants of New York, he obtains a good post in a large factory, but he stays there only two months, for with other Swedes he receives an offer from Philadelphia which he does not hesitate to accept. His idea is to work his way gradually westward. If he can only get as far as Chicago he thinks it will not be difficult to go on to San Francisco.
Now he works in a yard where more than a thousand locomotives are made annually. This yard seems to him quite a town in itself. Here the iron is made white hot in immense furnaces, there it is hammered and rolled, and with irresistible power human hands convert the hard steel into steam boilers, wheels, axles, and parts of machines which are put together to form engines. The workshop is traversed in all directions by rails, and the completed steam-horses are sent out all over the railway systems of the United States.
Gunnar learns from his mates that Philadelphia is one of the largest cities of the world, with nearly a million and a half inhabitants, and that in America only New York and Chicago are larger.
After a while, however, Gunnar has had enough of Philadelphia, and takes a ticket for Pittsburg, the steel and iron capital, where immigrants never need be in want of a post. He travels without a change of carriages between the two towns, traversing the whole of Pennsylvania. Innumerable branch lines diverge in all directions, for towns and villages are everywhere. Here a railway runs to a mine, there another to a district rich in maize and tobacco, and here again a third to a timber yard. At the station stand long trains laden with grain, planks, petroleum, cotton, reaping machines, coal—in fact all the wares that the earth can produce by its fertility, and men by the labour of their hands.
The country becomes hilly, and the train winds about through the northernmost part of the Alleghany Mountains. Gunnar lets his eyes rove with strained attention over the dark woods, the waving fields, and the smoke rising from villages and farmhouses, when an American comes and sits down on the seat just in front of him.
"I see that you are a newcomer in America," says the stranger. "It may then interest you to know that the crest of the Alleghany Mountains, composed of granite, gneiss, and slates, is the watershed between the Atlantic and the Mississippi. You must not suppose that these mountains are everywhere as low as here; far down south-west, in North Carolina, there are summits more than six thousand feet high. Maize and fruit are grown in the valleys, and there are fine forests of pines and foliage trees. And there are places where you lose yourself in dense clumps of rhododendrons and climbing plants. And there are wild recesses where men never go, but where bears and wolves have their haunts among broken branches and twigs, fallen trunks and moss-grown granite boulders, and where nothing is changed since the time when the Indian tribes went on the war-path. But where are you bound for?"
"I am going to Pittsburg to look for work, for I was a smith at home."
"Oh, Pittsburg! I was foreman in some steel works there for two years, and I have never seen anything more wonderful. You know that this town has sprung up out of the earth as if by magic. When petroleum springs were discovered, it increased at double the rate, and now it is one of the world's largest industrial towns, and, as regards iron and steel, the first in America. Here materials are manufactured to the value of more than nineteen million pounds annually. Almost inexhaustible deposits of coal are found in the neighbourhood. More than twenty railway lines converge to Pittsburg, which also has the advantage of three navigable rivers, and a network of canals. And round about the town are suburbs full of machine factories, steel works, and glass works. The neighbourhood has a million of inhabitants, a third of them foreigners, mostly Slavs, Italians, and Hungarians. You have a kind of feeling of oppression when you see from a height this forest of reeking factory chimneys, and when you think of the unfortunate men that slave under this cloud of coal smoke. There is a hammering and beating everywhere, and a rumble of trains rolling over the rails. Overheated furnaces bubble and boil, and sparks fly out under the steam hammers. At night you might think you were in the bottom of a volcano, where lava boils under the ashes ready to roll out and destroy everything. A weird reddish-yellow light flames forth from thousands of fires, lighting up the under side of the thick smoke cloud. I am sorry for you if you are going to Pittsburg. You had much better travel straight on to Chicago. Not that Chicago is a paradise, but there are better openings there, and you will be nearer the great West with its inexhaustible resources."
"Thanks for your advice. I am the more ready to follow it because I always intended to get to Chicago sometime."
"From Pittsburg," continues the American, "a line runs direct to the large town of St. Louis on the Mississippi. St. Louis is a junction of great importance, for not only do a whole series of great railway lines meet there, but also innumerable steamboats ply from there up the Mississippi and Missouri, and to all the large towns on their tributaries. St. Louis is the centre of all the winding waterways which intersect all parts of the United States. And there you can travel on comfortable flat-bottomed steamers along the main river to New Orleans, a great harbour for the export of cotton. You can well conceive what a blessing and source of wealth this river is to our country. It is of immense extent, for it is the longest river in the world, if we take its length from the sources of the Missouri in the Rocky Mountains, and in the area of its basin it is second only to the Amazons. Its plain is exceedingly fruitful, and far around its banks grain shoots up out of the soil to feed many millions of human beings. And its waterways, ramifying like the nerves of a leaf, facilitate communication and the transport of goods between the different States.
"You should just see how the great river rises in spring. You might think you were sailing on a large lake, and, as a matter of fact, it floods an area as large as Lake Superior. If the Mississippi is a blessing to men, on the other hand in spring it exacts a heavy tax from them. The vast volumes of brown, muddy water often cut off sharp bends from the river-bed and take short cuts through narrow promontories. By such tricks the length of the river is not infrequently shortened by ten or twelve miles here and there. But you can imagine the trouble this causes. A town standing on such a bend may one fine day find itself six miles from the bank. In another the inhabitants are in danger of being at any time drowned like cats. A railway bridge may suddenly be suspended over dry land, while the river has swept away rails and embankment a little farther off. Our engineers have great difficulty in protecting constructions from the capricious river in spring. Not a year passes without the Mississippi causing terrible destruction and inflicting great loss on those who dwell near its banks, especially in cattle.
"You have only to see this water to comprehend what immense quantities of earth, sand, and mud are yearly carried down by it. And all this silt is deposited in the flat delta below New Orleans. Therefore the delta extends from year to year farther out into the Gulf of Mexico. This is an easy way of increasing our territory, but we would willingly sacrifice the gain if we could get rid of the terrible floods in spring."
The train with our two travellers on board has now crossed the boundary of Pennsylvania, and is making its way westwards through the states of Ohio and Indiana. Boundless plains extend to north and south, planted with maize, wheat, oats, and tobacco. Maize fields, however, are the most frequent, and the harvest is just beginning. Gigantic reaping machines, drawn by troops of horses, mow down the grain and bind it into sheaves, while other machines throw it into waggons. The reapers have only to drive the horses; all the rest is done by the machines. Certainly men's hands could never be able to deal with all this grain; whole armies could be hidden under the ears of maize.
Now the train skirts the shore of Lake Michigan, which stretches its blue surface northwards, and a little later halts at Chicago.
Gunnar has been directed to an agency for Swedish workmen, and the first thing he does is to call there. In a day or two he obtains work in the timber business, and goes up to Canada in a large cargo steamer which carries timber from the forests of Canada to Chicago. Here the timber supplies seem to him inexhaustible when he sees the dark coniferous woods on the shores and hills, and when he notices that hundreds of steamboats are carrying the same freight. The workman beside him, an Englishman, boasts of the immense territory which occupies almost all the northern half of North America.
"Canada is the most precious jewel in the crown of Great Britain, next to the mother-country and India."
"Why is Canada so valuable? I always thought that its population was very small."
"It has not many people; you are right there. Canada has only seven million inhabitants."
"Oh, not more! That is just about as many as Greater London."
"Yes; and yet Canada is as large as all Europe and as the United States of America. It stretches so far to east and west that it occupies a fourth part of the circuit of the earth, and if you travel from Montreal to Vancouver you have a journey of 2906 miles. But you can well understand that such an extensive country, even though it is thinly peopled, especially in its cold, northern parts, must yield much that is valuable to its owners."
"Yes, certainly; so it is in Siberia, where the population is also scanty."
"Just so. In Canada fields, mountains, forests, and water yield an immense revenue. Think only of all the agricultural produce which is shipped from here, not to speak of gold, fish, and furs. The wheat produced in Canada is alone worth over 22 million pounds sterling a year. There are also huge areas which are worthless. We get little advantage from the northern coasts, where the Eskimos live."
"You are quite at home on these lakes?"
"Oh yes. When a man has sailed to and fro over them for ten years, he knows all about the roadsteads and channels, and about when the ice forms and breaks up, and when there is a prospect of a storm."
"But the storms cannot be very dangerous?"
"Ah, you do not believe in them. All the same they may be just as dangerous as in the Atlantic, and when a real hurricane comes, the skipper will do well to seek shelter, or at the best he will lose his cargo. You will soon have opportunities of seeing, hearing, and feeling how the surge beats just as on the coast of the ocean. But then, all these lakes have an aggregate area more than half as large as the Baltic, and if we take the depth into account we shall find that the volume of water is the same as in the Baltic. Lake Superior is the largest lake in the world. Beyond the point yonder lies Lake Huron. You must acknowledge that this scenery is beautiful. Have you ever seen anything to equal this sheet of dark-blue water, the dark-green woods, and the grand peaceful shores? It is a pity that we do not go to Lake Erie, for at its eastern extremity is one of the wonders of the world and the most famous spectacle in North America."
"You mean the Falls of Niagara, which I have heard described so many times?"
"Yes. Think of a steamboat on Lake Erie sucked along by the stream that flows to Ontario. This lake lies 300 feet lower than Erie, and about half-way between the two lakes the water passes over a sharp bar and plunges with a thundering roar into the depth below (Plate XXXIII.). The barrier itself, which is a thousand yards broad, is formed of a huge stratum of sandstone, and the rocks under it are loose slates. Erosion proceeds more rapidly in the slates than in the hard limestone, which, therefore, overhangs like the projecting leaf of a table, and the collected volumes of water hurl themselves over it. But when the limestone is so far undermined that it is no longer able to bear the weight of the water, fragments break off from time to time from its edge and fall into the abyss with a deafening noise. Thus in time the fall wears away the barrier and Niagara is moving back in the direction of Lake Erie."
"Moving, do you say? The movement can surely not be rapid."
"Oh no; Niagara needs about seventeen thousand years to move half a mile nearer to Lake Erie."
"That's all right, for now I can be sure it will be there when I visit it at some future opportunity."
"Yes, and you would find it even if a crowd of railway lines did not run to it. You hear the roar of the 'thunder water' forty miles away, and when you come closer you see dense clouds of foam and spray rising from the ravine 150 feet below the threshold of the Fall. Yes, Niagara is the most wonderful thing I have seen. In all the world it is surpassed only by the Victoria Falls of the Zambesi, discovered by Livingstone. One feels small and overawed when one ventures on the bridges above and below the Fall, and sees its 280,000 cubic feet of water gliding one moment smooth as oil over the barrier, and the next dashing into foam and spray below with a thundering noise."
"It would not be pleasant to be sucked over the edge."
"And yet a reckless fellow once made the journey. For safety he crept into a large, stout barrel, well padded inside with cushions. Packed in this way, he let the barrel drift with the stream, tip over the edge of the barrier, and fall perpendicularly into the pool below. As long as he floated in the quiet drift, and even when he fell with the column of water, he ran no danger. It was when he plumped down on to the water below and span round in the whirlpools, bumped against rocks rising up from the bottom, and was carried at a furious pace down under the watery vault. But the traveller got through and was picked up in quiet water."
"I suppose that there are bridges over the Niagara River as over all the others in the country?"
"Certainly. Among them is an arched bridge of steel below the Falls which has a single span of 270 yards, and is the most rigid bridge in the world."
"Tell me, where does all this water go to below Niagara?"
"Well, it flows out into Lake Ontario, opposite Toronto, the largest town in Canada. Then it runs out of the lake's north-eastern corner, forming winding channels among a number of islands, which are called The Thousand Islands. Then the river, which is called the St. Lawrence, is sometimes narrow and rapid and sometimes expands into lake-like reaches. At the large town of Montreal begins the quiet course, and below Quebec the St. Lawrence opens out like a huntsman's horn. The river is frozen over every year, and in some places the ice is so thick that rails can be laid on it and heavy goods trains run over it. In spring, when the ice begins to break up, the neighbourhood of the river is dangerous, and sometimes mountains of ice thrust themselves over the lower parts of Montreal. It can be cold in Montreal—down to-30°. It is still worse in northern Canada. And the summer is short in this country."
"You have just mentioned Toronto, Montreal, and Quebec. Which is the capital?"
"Oh, none of these is the capital of the Colony. That honour belongs to the small town of Ottawa. And now I will tell you something extraordinary. The Dominion of Canada is situated between two goldfields. In the extreme east is Newfoundland, in the extreme west Klondike. I shall never forget the gold fever which seized adventurers in nearly all countries when it was known that the precious metal occurred in large quantities in the gravel and sand-beds on the banks of the Yukon River. I was one of them myself. Men rushed wildly off to get there in time and stake out small claims in the auriferous soil. What a wild life! How we suffered! We had to pay a shilling for a biscuit and a dollar for a box of sardines. We were glad when a hunter shot elk and reindeer, and sold the meat for an exorbitant price in gold dust. We lived huddled up in wretched tents and were perished with cold. Furious snowstorms swept during winter over the dreary country and the temperature fell to-67°. And what a toil to get hold of the miserable gold! The ground is always frozen up there. To work in it you must first thaw the soil with fire. By degrees the situation improved and a small town grew up on the goldfield, and in a few years the gold won attained to the value of five millions sterling."
"And the other gold mine, then?"
"Newfoundland. A cold polar current brings yearly quantities of seal, cod, salmon, herring, and lobster down to the banks of Newfoundland, where more than fifty thousand fishermen are engaged in catching them. As the fish brings in yearly a revenue of several millions, this easternmost island of North America may well be called a gold mine too."
After a few profitable voyages on Lakes Michigan and Huron, Gunnar has saved so much that he can carry out his plan of travelling to the extreme West. He intends to let his dollars fly in railway fares, and, after he has seen enough of the great cities of America, to settle down in the most attractive district. There he will stay and work until he has saved up enough to buy a farm of his own in his native country.
He sets off from Chicago and leaves St. Louis behind him, and is carried by a train on the Pacific Railway through Missouri and Kansas westwards. In the latter State he flies over boundless prairies.
Eventually a German naturalist enters Gunnar's carriage when the train stops at a large station. He is dusty and out of breath, and is glad to rest when he has seen his boxes and chests stowed away in the luggage van. Like all Germans he is alert and observant, agreeable and talkative, and the train has not crossed the boundary between Kansas and Colorado before he has learned all about Gunnar's experiences and plans.
Soon the German on his part explains the business which has brought him out to the Far West.
"I have received a grant from the University of Heidelberg to collect plants and animals in the western States, and I travel as cheaply as I can so that the money may last longer. I love this great America. Have you noticed how colossal everything is in this country, whether the good God or wicked man be the master-builder? If you cross a mountain range like the Rocky Mountains, or its South American continuation, the Andes, it is the longest in the world. If you roll over a river, as the Mississippi-Missouri, you hear that this also is the longest that exists. If you travel by steamboat over the Canadian lakes, you are told that no sheets of fresh water in the world surpass them. And think of all these innumerable large towns that have sprung up within a century or two. And these railways, these astonishing bridges, these inexhaustible natural resources, and this world-embracing commerce. How alert and industrious is this people, how quickly everything develops, how much more bustle and feverish haste there is than in the Old World!"
"It is charming to see the Rocky Mountains become more and more distinct, and the different chains and ridges stand out more sharply as we approach."
"Yes, indeed. You notice by the speed of the train that we are already mounting upwards. You see the prairies pass into the foot of the hills. We shall soon come into the zone of dwarf oaks and mahogany trees. Higher up are slopes covered with fine pine woods, and willows and alders grow along the banks of the streams."
"You speak of trees. Is it true, as a skipper on Lake Michigan told me, that there are trees here in the west which are over three hundred feet high?"
"Quite true. Your informant meant, of course, the two species of the coniferous family which are called mammoth trees, because they are the giants of the vegetable kingdom, as the mammoths were of the animal kingdom. They grow on the western flanks of the Sierra Nevada in California. When one sees these heaven-aspiring trees one is tempted to believe that their only aim in life is to rise so high that they may look over the crest of the coast range and have a free view of the Pacific Ocean. One of these giants which fell long ago had a height of 435 feet and a girth of 110 feet at the base. It was called the 'Father of the Forest.' The trunk is hollow. There is also another fallen mammoth called the 'Riding School,' because a man on horseback can ride some way into the inside. These trees are supposed to be several thousand years old. The place in the Sierra Nevada where the last giants stand on their ancient roots is protected and is the property of the whole people. If the law did not protect the trees, they would go the same way as the bisons and Indians."
"Is there not also a reserved area in the Rocky Mountains?"
"Yes; the Yellowstone National Park in the state of Wyoming. It is a wonderful place, and whole books have been written about it. There are as many as four thousand hot springs and a hundred geysers in the lower part of the valley between the crests of the Rocky Mountains. The Giant Geyser shoots up to a height of 250 feet, and 'Old Faithful' spouts up once an hour. The Park contains many other natural wonders, and there are preserved herds of wild animals, such as elks, antelopes, and stags. Even beavers have found a refuge in its streams."
"Are there dangerous beasts of prey in these mountains?" asks Gunnar while the train puffs and rolls heavily up a dark valley.
"Yes; the grizzly bear is the largest of them. He is not so particularly dangerous, and at any rate is better than his reputation. If he is only left in peace he will not come near a man, and if he is attacked he almost always takes to flight. But if he is wounded at close quarters he may take a terrible revenge, and he is the strongest of all the animals in his native haunts. It was formerly considered a great honour to wear a necklace of a grizzly bear's teeth and claws.
"It is a fine sight to see a grizzly bear roaming through the woods and thickets, where he considers himself absolute master of all the animals of the region. He is sometimes brownish, sometimes grey, and a grey bear is supposed to be more dangerous than a brown. He lives like all other bears, hibernates, eats berries, fruit, nuts, and roots, but he also kills animals and is said to be very expert in fishing. I will tell you a little hunting story.
"A white hunter was once eager for an opportunity of killing a grizzly bear, and a young Indian undertook to lead him to a spot where he would not have to wait long. The two marksmen hid behind a small knoll, after having laid out a newly-killed deer as bait. The Indian, who knew the habits of bears, was not mistaken. Soon a huge bear came waddling out of the wood with such a ridiculous gait that the white hunter could hardly control his laughter, though the Indian remained silent and serious. The old fellow stopped frequently, lifted his nose in the air, and looked about to convince himself that no danger lurked around. Once he began to scratch in the ground, and then smelled his forepaws and lay down on his back and rolled. He wanted probably to rub his coat in some strongly smelling plant.
"Then he went on again. After a time he sat and clawed his fur, looked at his paws, and licked his pads. Then he scratched himself behind the ears with his hind paws. And when his toilet was finished he trotted straight towards the place where the deer lay. When he saw the animal he was surprised, reared up on his hind legs to his full height, cocked his ears, wrinkled his forehead, and seemed perplexed. When he was sure that the stag was dead he went up to it and smelt it. Then he went round and nosed about on the other side to see if the animal were dead on that side also.
"His meditations were here interrupted, for the white hunter fired and the bear fell, but raised himself again on his hind legs. The hunter followed his example, but the Indian, who saw that the bear was in an angry and revengeful mood, advised him to hide himself again quickly. Too late! The furious bear had seen his enemy, and rushed in a rolling gallop towards his hiding-place. The hunter found it best to run, and in a minute was with the Indian perched on the bough of an oak. Here they loaded their guns again, while the bear, limping on three legs, made for the tree. Hit by two bullets he fell down, tore up the earth and grass with his claws, and at last became still."
"It is a shame," said Gunnar, "to kill these kings of the Rocky Mountains for amusement or to gain a name as a hunter. Probably they are fated to pass away like the bisons and Indians."
"Oh no, not yet. They will long survive in inaccessible regions of the mountains and in the uninhabited parts of Canada. But certainly it is a shame to destroy them unnecessarily, particularly when we hear of such a deed of chivalry as the following.
"A traveller took a young grizzly bear with him to Europe, and on board he was a general favourite. He drank and ate and played with the sailors, and, curiously enough, conceived a great friendship for a small antelope which travelled with him. When the vessel came into port and the antelope was being led along a street, a large bulldog fell on the defenceless animal. The bear, which was led behind the antelope by a chain, perceived his friend's danger, tore himself away from his keeper with a single jerk, threw himself on the bulldog, and mauled him so badly that he ran away howling with pain."
"You may well declare," says Gunnar, "that everything in America is on a large scale, but all the same lions and tigers are not found here."
"No, but there are jaguars and pumas instead. Both are more common in South than in North America, where the jaguar only comes as far north as the south-western States and Mexico. They are found in the outskirts of forests and in the tall grass of the pampas, where wild horsemen track them down, catch them in lassoes, and drag them after their horses till they are strangled. The jaguar also frequents thickets on the river-banks and marshes. He keeps to the ground, whereas the bold and agile puma even pursues monkeys in the trees. With shrill screams and cries of warning the monkeys fly from tree to tree, but the puma is after them, crawls out along a swaying branch and jumps over to another on the next tree. Both are bloodthirsty robbers, but the jaguar is the larger, stronger, and more savage. He can never be properly tamed, and never loses his innate treacherousness, but the puma becomes as tame as a dog.
"The puma never attacks a man, but you must be on your guard against a jaguar. Both are enemies of flocks and herds, but while the puma never worries tame animals larger than sheep, the jaguar will often attack horses, mules, and young cattle. The jaguar hunts only at daybreak and twilight, or when the moon shines brightly; the puma only in the evening and at night. The puma is dark reddish-yellow, the jaguar orange with black spots and rings on his fur, a marking which reminds one of the colour of certain poisonous snakes. The puma's cubs are charming little creatures, like kittens, but larger. Their eyes do not open until they are ten days old; then they begin to crawl about very awkwardly, tumbling down at every other step, and climb up on their mother's back. They soon become sure on their feet and, like kittens, play with their mother's tail.
"The jaguar is a keen and patient hunter. He crawls along on his belly like a cat, and from the recesses of the thicket watches his victim without moving an eye. He creeps nearer with wonderful agility and noiselessness, and when he is sure of success he makes his spring, tears open the throat of the antelope, sheep, or waterhog, and drags his booty into the thicket. Small animals he swallows hair and all. Of a horse he eats as much as he can, and then goes off to sleep in some concealed spot. When he awakes he goes back to his meal.
"On one road in South America twenty Indians were killed by jaguars within a lifetime. If a man has presence of mind enough to shout and make a noise and go towards the brute, the latter withdraws. Otherwise he is lost, for even if he escapes with his life, the wounds inflicted by the jaguar's blunt claws and teeth are terrible and dangerous. There are Indians in South America who are said to hunt the jaguar in the following manner. They wrap a sheepskin round the left arm and in the right hand hold a sharp two-edged knife. Then they beat up the jaguar and set dogs at him. He gets up on his hind legs like a bear, and attacks one of the Indians. The man puts out his left arm for him to bite, and at the same time runs his knife into the beast's heart.
"A traveller relates a very good jaguar tale. Some sailors from Europe had landed on the bank of a river in South America. Suddenly they saw a jaguar swimming over from the farther bank. They hurriedly seized their guns, manned their boat, and rowed out to meet the animal. A shot was fired and the jaguar was wounded, but instead of making off, he came straight for the boat. The sailors belaboured him with the oars, but he paid no attention and managed to drag himself on to the boat, when the crew all jumped out and swam to the bank. The jaguar remained, and drifted comfortably down the river. A little farther down came a boat of other sailors, and this time it was the jaguar who jumped out and disappeared among the thickets on the bank. It was a great feat to make his escape after tackling two boats' crews."
The train continues on its noisy course through the mountains. Dark, wild glens open on either side. The monotonous rumble of the wheels on the rails has a soothing effect, and the German, following the example of many other travellers, goes to sleep in his corner.
But when the tireless locomotive draws its row of heavy carriages out on to a giddy bridge and the waves of sound sing in brighter tones than in the enclosed valleys, the compartment wakes to life again. People look out of the windows and gaze at the yawning depth beneath them. The train seems to be rolling out into space on the way to heaven.
The German lights a cigar and begins another lecture to his fellow-traveller.
"Here we are passing over one of the source streams of the Colorado River. You seem disinclined to admit that everything is grand in America, but I maintain that nothing in the world can compare with the great cañon of the Colorado. You may believe me or not. You may talk of fire-vomiting mountains and coral reefs, of the peak of Mount Everest and the great abysses of the ocean, of our light blue Alps in Europe and of the dark forests of Africa, nay, you may take me where you will in the world, but I shall still maintain that there is no stupendous overpowering beauty comparable to the cañons of the Colorado River (Plate XXXIV.).
"Listen! This river which discharges its waters into the Gulf of California is fed by numerous streams in the rainy, elevated regions of the Rocky Mountains. But where the united river leaves Utah and passes into Arizona, it traverses a dry plateau country with little rain, where its waters have cut their way down through mountain limestone to a depth of 6000 feet. The strata are horizontal, and the whole series has been cleared away by the continued erosive power of water, aided by gravel and boulders. This work has been going on from the commencement of the period in the world's history known as the Pliocene Age, and it is reckoned that the interval which must have elapsed since then must have amounted to millions of years. And yet this space of time, from the Pliocene Age to our own, must, geologically speaking, be extremely insignificant compared to the length of the great geological periods. The six thousand years which we call the historical period is but the beat of a second on the clock of eternity, and what the historian calls primeval times is the latest and most recent period in the last of all the geologist's ages. For while the historian deals with revolutions of the sun of only 365 days, the geologist is only satisfied with thousands and millions of years. The Colorado River has presented him with one of the standards by which he is able to calculate lapse of time. You will acknowledge that it is no small feat for running water to cut its way down through solid rock to a depth of 6500 feet; and these cañons are more than 180 miles long and four to eleven miles broad.
"By its work here the river has sculptured in the face of the earth a landscape which awes and astonishes the spectator. It is like nothing he has ever seen before. When he stood at the foot of the Alps he gazed up at the snow-clad wastes of the mighty mountain masses. When he stands at the edge of the cañons of the Colorado he looks down and sees a yawning chasm, and on the other side of the giddy ravine the walls rise perpendicular or sloping. He seems to stand before the artistically decorated facade of a gigantic house or palace in an immense town. He sees in the walls of the valley, niches and excavations like a Roman theatre, with benches rising in tiers. At their sides stand gables and projections of rock, like turrets and buttresses. Under huge cornices rise columns standing out or attached at the back, all planned on the same gigantic scale. The precipitous cliffs are dark, and the whole country is coloured in pink, yellow, red, and warm brown tones. The sun pours its gold over the majestic desolation. No grassy sward, no vegetation carpets the horizontal or vertical surfaces with green. Here and there a pine leans its crown over the chasm, and when the cones fall they go right down to the bottom.
"In the early morning, when the air is still pure and clear after the coolness of the night, and when the sun is low, the cañon lies in deep gloom, and behind the brightly lighted tops of the columns the shadows lie as black as soot. Then the bold sculpturing stands out in all its glory. On a quiet night, when the moon holds its crescent above the earth, an oppressive silence prevails over this region. The roar of the river is not heard, for the distance is too great. A feeling of romance takes hold of the visitor. He fancies himself in a fairy world. Only a step over the edge and he would soar on invisible wings to a bright wonderland."
At Salt Lake City the German leaves the train to begin his investigations round the Great Salt Lake and the Mormon capital. Gunnar travels on through the mountainous districts of Nevada and California, and when the train at last pulls up at San Francisco he has reached the goal of his hopes.
Here is one of the finest cities in the world, situated on a peninsula in a deep and spacious inlet surrounded by mountains. Almost all traces of the terrible earthquake which a few years ago destroyed the city have disappeared, and splendid new buildings of iron and stone have sprung up from the rubbish heaps, for as a commercial emporium San Francisco has the same importance with relation to the great routes across the Pacific as New York has on the Atlantic side.
A terrestrial globe naturally presents a better image of the earth than any map, for it shows plainly the continents and the configuration of the oceans, and exhibits clearly their position and relative size. If you examine such a globe, you notice that the North Pole lies in the midst of a sea, surrounded by great masses of land, whereas the South Pole is in an extensive land surrounded by a wide sea. Perhaps you wonder why all the continents send out peninsulas southwards? Just look at the Scandinavian Peninsula, and look at Spain, Italy, and Greece. Do not Kamtchatka and Korea, Arabia and the Indian Peninsula all point south? South America, Africa, and Australia are drawn out into wedges narrowing southwards. They are like stalactites in a grotto. But however much you may puzzle over the globe, and however much you may question learned men, you will never know why the earth's surface has assumed exactly the form it has and no other.
On another occasion you may remark that Europe, Asia, Africa, and Australia lie in an almost continuous curve in the eastern hemisphere, while America has the western hemisphere all to itself. There it lies as a huge dividing wall between two oceans. You wonder why the New World has such a peculiar form stretching from pole to pole.
Perhaps you think that the Creator must have changed His mind at the last moment, and decided to make two distinct continents of America. You seem to see the marks of His omnipotent hands. With the left He held North America, and in the right South America. Where Hudson Bay runs into the land lay His forefinger, and the Gulf of Mexico is the impression of His thumb. South America He gripped with the whole hand, and there is only a slight mark of the thumb just on the boundary between Peru and Chile. It almost looks as if He grasped the continent so tightly that its western border was crumpled into great wrinkles and folds which we men call the Rocky Mountains and the Andes. If we did not know that it is the ocean winds that feed the rivers with rain, we should be tempted to believe that the Mississippi, Amazons, Rio de la Plata, and other rivers were moisture still running out of the mountains under the pressure of the Creator's hands.
And so He has divided America into two. In one place the connection broke, but the fragments still remain, and we call them the West Indies or Antilles. In other places the material was too tough. Mexico thins out southwards as though it were going to end in the sea, and Central America is stretched like a wrung-out cloth. Between Guatemala and Honduras it is almost torn through, and the large lake of Nicaragua is another weak point. But where Costa Rica passes into the Isthmus of Panama the connection between the two halves of the New World has been almost broken and hangs only by a hair. The peninsula, however, resisted the pull, and has held, though reduced to a breadth of forty miles.
Then, of course, man must come and help the Creator to finish the work which He Himself found very good. It was long before men ventured on so gigantic an undertaking, but as they had succeeded in separating Africa from Asia, it was no doubt feasible to blast a canal through the hills of the Isthmus of Panama, 300 feet high. It has cost many years and many millions, but the great cutting will soon be ready which will sever South America from the northern half of the New World. It is surely a splendid undertaking to make it possible for a vessel to sail from Liverpool direct to San Francisco without rounding the whole of South America, and at a single blow to shorten the distance by near 6000 miles.
The bridge still stands unbroken, however, and we come dryshod over to South America just where the Andes begin their mighty march along all the west coast. Their ranges rise, here in double and there in many folds, like ramparts against the Pacific Ocean, and between the ranges lie plains at a height of 12,000 feet. Here also lift themselves on high the loftiest summits of the New World—Aconcagua in Argentina, the highest of all, an extinct volcano covered with eternal snow and glistening glaciers; Sorata in Bolivia; the extinct volcano Chimborazo in Ecuador, like a marble dome; and lastly, one of the earth's most noted mountains, Cotopaxi, the highest of all still active volcanoes (Plate XXXV.). Stand for a moment in the valley above the tree limit, where only scattered plants can find hold in the hard ground. You see a cone as regular as the peak of Fujiyama. The crater is 2500 feet in diameter, and from its edge, 19,600 feet high, the snow-cap falls down the mountain sides like the rays of a gigantic starfish. When the Spanish conquerors, nearly four hundred years ago, took possession of these formerly free countries, Cotopaxi had one of its fearful eruptions; and even in more recent times European travellers have seen the mantle of snow melt away as from a lighted furnace, while a brownish-red reflection from the glowing crater lighted up the devastation caused in the villages and valleys at the foot of the mountain by the flood of melted snow and streams of lava.