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100
LITERARY.
WILLIAM W. MANN, Editor.
Xlie Southern Field and Fireside
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TO CORRESPONDENTS AND CONTRIBUTORS.
••Q." asks, “What is beauty F* And favors us with an
answer of his own, and an excerpt from a “recent author,"
giving with a i>articularity of detail that reminds us of
the jiersonal specifications in a foreign jiassi>ort, all the
merely physical constituents of female beauty. Will “Q."
be kind enough to supply us with the name of the “recent
author." We confess that it is chiefly the weight of au
thority that will determine ns to publish or to withold
the article. ~. ,
“A constant reader" prays us to publish some very
good stanzas— “TomeauldDhudeen.” We would like
to gratify our ctarespondent; but hitherto we have de
clined all selected poetry, and it is proposed to continue •
acting upon this rule until we fail to receive original
poetical contributions that we deem admissible. Our
correspondent has failed to tell us who is the author of the
verses sent, and whether they have been previously pub
lished. •
To J. B. G. The rule that has excluded the stanzas just
noticed, must prevent our republication, at least for the
present, of the selected poetry sent in by J. B. G. We
regret that we cannot oblige our young friend. We have
not yet determined whether to accept of decline “Paul
and Virginia." All that we can say to-day is, that we
are most kindly disposed towards the article, and will
speak of it again very soon.
Besides the above, we have received during the week
the following communications:
“I, too, am a Southron."
Politeness—Be courteous, be kind. (St. Paul.)
Memory—by M. A. H. G.
The Rocking Stone—by W. M. P.
To Miss L. A. F.—by Timotheus.
Disappointment—by Rosalie.
Reminiscences of Childhood —by Tallulah May.
Mother—by the Son.
-My ChiMkood's Home"—by a man of 60.
— —■—-
FROM OUR PARIS CORRESPONDENT.
Paris, 28th July, 1859.
Though the week has added enormously to the
quantity of print and talk about the great polit
ical topics of the time, there is little but weari
ness to be gained by reading or listening. As
those who say least are generally best worth
hearing, let us first turn to the last words of that
constitutionally tacituum man, Louis Napoleon.
They were addressed a week ago to the Diplo
matic corps who went out to St. Cloud to con
gratulate him on his happy return and prompti
tude at peace-making. They were very brief,
almost crustily so. They begin with declaring
that Europe was unjust to him at the outset of
the war, and that he was glad to make peace for
the sake of showing said Europe how needlessly
suspicious of his ambition it had been. This is
said to have been uttered in a slightly tart, sub
acid tone —and then he stopped. It is one of
the shortest of his many short speeches. The
brevity of the text, however, is more than made
up for by the length of volunteer commentaries,
which spread and straggle from that starting
point, or metropolitan idea, in long columns, mi
grating up and down the newspapers, forming
remote colonies of conjecture and numerous set
tlements of the Italian, and pretty much all other
questions, adorned here with Liberty Halls and
Free Institutions of the most modern architec
ture, there with Ducal Palaces again and even
Austrian donjons in the old Gothic style.—
Whether the two sentences dropped from the
rather pouting imperial lips last Thursday do
have any such varied and voluminous signifi
cance, compared with which the famous shake
of Lord Burleigh’s head was the simplest of
monographs, judge ye. All I know is, that pre
sently after their delivery and sequent dismissal
of the Diplomatic visitors, his majesty took horse
and rode over to his favorite farm, near by,
where a reaping match had been going on for
three days; and then, casting off his states
manship and generalship, took hearty interest
in the trial of the machines, which were set in
practical operation again for his benefit Then
he would distribute the prizes, already awarded
• by the jury, to the successful competitors with
his own hand. The successful competitor among
the foreigners, were all American inventors, the
first of whom was declared to be McCormick,
for his famous reaping machine, to which was also
adjudged the extra prize of honor, a large gold
medal, intended for that instrument which was
decided to be the superior of all others present
whether of native or foreign origin.
But that fair grain field and peaceful indus
trial contest lead me away from this hardly ended
war, and not yet assured peace of Italy. Though,
as I began with saying, the confusion, not to say
distraction, in currently reported facts and opin
ions, stands greatly in the way of coming to any
positive conclusions, I still incline to take a hope
ful view of the settlement of affairs in the penin
sular. By hopeful, I only mean, that I look for
the last estate of Italy,* to be somewhat better
than the first; that the war will have been the
first means of working out for her a considerable
good. Though I did hope that Napoleon would
be able to keep his promise of freeing her entire
ly from the Austrians. I never hoped that he
would give her freedom in our sense of the word.
Indeed, liberty is not a thing to be given to any
people; they must themselves be able to take and
hold it. Partial aid in that direction, I think the
Emperor is still disposed to lend the Italians; that
is, he is disposed to partly let them alone and to
make Austria let them alone. He does not inter
fere with the important manifestations now mak
ing by Tuscans and Modenese against the return
of their late Sovereigns. He did, it is true, ac
cept the Austrian proposition, in the “basis of
Peace” agreed upon at Villafranca, for the recall
of the runaway dukes; but did not agree and
probably will not consent that those sovereigns
shall be forcibly imposed upon an unwilling people
I believe him to be more inclined than any other
sovereign of Europe to take largely into account
the expressed opinions of the inhabitants of the
Duchies, because, a wiser politician than any oth
801WKS&S VXS&B AMD VX&SBXBS.
er sovereign of Europe, more the “man of liis
epoch” than any other, he understands that to
dav popular opinion must be regarded—flatter
ed and taken heed of, though not always con
sulted. But all the cabinets desire the restora
tion of the runaway princes. The abdication of
the late grand duke of Tuscany in favor of his son
indicates the way of their return. From the
stand now taken by their late subjects, it is evi
dent that a forced restoration would lead to
bloody work a compromise then will end the
matter; the ducal families in the persons of other
members will return with liberal, promises of re
forms, some of which they will fulfil. Or the
late sovereigns may be mediatized and a new one
less offensive to the prejudices of the people be
installed over both the Duchies, accepting the lib
eral institutions most loudly asked for by the Tus
cans and Modenese. The latter are thus far behav
ing most creditably, showing themselves, in their
actual trying position, more capable of self gov
ernment than many expected. Y'ou will gather
the fivets of their conduct from your foreign files,
and I need not give a summary of them.
Louis Napoleon has no more marked charac
teristic than the tough, calm tenacity with which
he holds to a once formed purpose. His purpose
of bringing about reforms, administrative re
forms at least, and some sort of a confederate
constitution in Italy, is much older than the late
Italian war ; and though the general and unjust
suspicions of Europe, at which he frets in his little
speech last Thursday, forced him to relinquish
a part of his programme of the war, he does not
hold the less firmly to the fulfilment of the rest of
it. The confederation will be formed. The Pope
is said to have conditionally accepted the honor
ary presidency, and Naples, it is nearly certain,
will take her place as a member. Now to coun
terwork such influence as Austria may exert
through her Venetian membership, Napoleon
must seek his through his friendly relations with
Sardinia and the newly constituted Duchies—
hence a strong reason for desiring that the
Duchies should be under a ruler or rulers entirely
independent of Austria, as he or they only can
become or be made by becoming subject to a
constitution. But enough of looking into mill
stones.
The plenipotentiaries of France and Austria
will meet at Zurich to conclude the treaty of
peace, in a few days. As it was Francis Joseph
who ceded Lombardy to Louis Napoleon, the de
tails of the cession will, it is supposed, be settled
between their plenipotentiaries only, to which
the Sardinian plenipotentiary will then give his
adhesion, which will be followed by the signing
of the peace between Victor Emmanuel and the
Emperor of Austria, between whom, as yet,
there exists only an armistice.
After this, will come the European Congress,
in which England and the other great Powers
will take part, for the further settlement of the
general Italian Question, and in which Napo
leon’s policy will be more likely to prevail than
Austria’s. For, setting aside the ability of the
French Diplomats “inspired” with his ideas, who
will sit there, the long time that will intervene
before the Congress assembles, leaves him op
portunity for working in Italy on his own ac
count that he is not likely to neglect.
We are to have a grand entrance of the troops
from Italy on the 15th of August, winch will
add to the brilliancy of the great national fete
which falls on that day, and for which unusual
preparations are already making. The Emperor,
who keeps quiet and at work with his ministers
at St Cloud, will then make his first entry into
Paris since his return from Italy. Immediately
after the fete , he and the Empress will “go to the
springs"—he perhaps to his favorite Plomlieres,
and she to Saint Sauveur, or Biarritz.
The rest of Paris, that is the fashionable world,
has been out of town these many weeks, at
springs and seasides—at Vichy, the French Sar
atoga ; at Dieppe , the French Newport. Dated
from this last named fashionable resort, or from
St. Malo, was a charming letter I saw in print
the other day, written by a lady, and treating of
nothing but ladies’ dress. I marked it, as my
duty is, to translate at leisure for the benefit of
the better half of your readers. For, with a
bachelor’s and a journalist's combined imperti
nence of conceit, I never doubted my ability to
do so—till I tried. Woe is me ! I cannot get
half of it into English, and do not half under
stand it when I get it there. But it must be
very beautiful. I try it again. Quite cured of
my vanity, I humbly submit the following brief
summary of what seems, to my poor sense, its
more interesting portions, trustfully submitting
to the intelligence of your fair readers, and to
that still higher quality, their womanly charity,
to fill out the synoptical translation, and pardon
the translator. Now, on the very point of be
ginning, ray courage fails me again. Really, there
are parlor mysteries unknown and unknowable
toman. However, here goes—with my eyes
shut : “As for robes,” writes the Uteowifcs.se de
Benneville, pique, jaeonas, mousseline, grenadine de
kiine [I do know what grenadine de laine is—it is
a sort of something—you cannot call it stuff or
any such heavy nonsense of a name—woven of
cobwebs and wool of Ayrshire sheep.] and Cliam
berry gauze, are most in vogue here—tulle gus
sets, flounces cut biassing —barege trimmed with
corsages—three rows of flounces—boumous
mantilla—pointe d’Alencon —hats (here I see
daylight again) of straw, round crown, rim
slightly turned, edged with velvet, set off with
with a floating plume (of feathers, not down) of
white or dark feathers”—-just the gracefullest,
sweetest, “knowingest” headdress, that a pretty
young lady ever honored by wearing. There, I
think I have got through it rather cleverly after
all. My old friend Aguecheek, who has just
come out here from Boston, and sits here reading
over my shoulder, laughs doubtingly. But Ague
cheek, though a most graceful essayist, and an ex
tremely pleasant gentleman, really knows no
more about the subject than myself.
To change the subject entirely. Who com-.'
posed the Marseillaise, the most perfect vocal ex
pression of national character, or spirit rather,
that ever was uttered—a tune which to-day, un
der the anti-revolutionary Imperial regime,
springs directly to a French soldier’s lips so soon
as he crosses the French frontier on his march
to foreign war—which they sung in Italy last
month, and in the Crimea a few years ago, the
accompanying air of all their modern victories—
which you check my long questioning with
the impatient historical answer, “why Rouget de
Lisle, as every one knows!” According to Monsieur
Alexandre Boucher, the historical answer is all
wrong, and he is the original author of the
world famous Marseillaise. This new claimant
for such honor is now a very old man, living
quietly in the provinces, somewhere near Orleans.
Some half century ago, more and less, he made
noise enough, and that of a highly agreeable
sort to the ears worn by the crowned heads of
the day. His musical talent as violinist was
exercised with great success in various European
courts. With the garrulity of old age he gives
at this late day an intolerably long account of
the origin and later history of the Marseillaise,
the main facts, or assertions, of which are as
follows:
In 1792, at the request of his friend, Colonel
De la Salle, who was stationed at the time with
his regiment at Marseilles, young Boucher,
whose ready talent at composition as well as
execution was well known, improvised a Quick
Step for the regiment which was, in the main,
the same thing now known as the Marseillaise,
and was publicly played by the military band
and became directly a popular air. Just at this
time Rouge de Lisle was sitting a prisoner in the
fort St. Jean at Marseilles, with no better dis
traction for his French nature than to listen to
the regimental band, or make Ins own music on
his guitar and sing his light swan songs, await
ing his execution. But one day the gaoler said
to him: “Instead of thumming and humming
away forever on your guitar there, you ought to
make a patriotic song to the tune of the Quick
Step that is all the vogue now and that you
hear every day. It is a charming air and can
not but inspire fine words [it is a French gaoler,
mind, who speaks in this style] that may save
your life. I will undertake to have them read
by representative Freron, who will set you free
for nothing but that, ]*rhaps.” Rouget de Lisle
took the gaoler’s friendly counsel, wrote the
Marseillaise, and set all France agog with it. He
did not at the time know the author of the air,
which he slightly changed to adapt it to vo
calization, but long years afterwards readily
acknowledged to Boucher that he took it from the
playing of the regimental band. Boucher's
reason for not having putin his claim at an ear
lier date is that his father advised him by all
means to keep silent, since the acknowledged
author of the Marseillaise, though endowed
with the combined gifts of Orpheus and Pagan
ni, could not expect profitable audiences in
European courts.
The reason was a good one in its time, but as
M. Boucher had long ago hung up his fiddle and
bow and retired from Courts, it seems pity that
he should not have brought forward his claim a
few years earlier, while Rouget ile Lisle was yet
alive—to confirm it.
While this old gentleman is endeavoring to
acquire for himself a brilliant reputation which
he so long left to another, a pious 'relative of the
infamous St. Just has just published a large octavo
volume, the purpose of which is to relieve the
memory of that Terrorist from the reputation that
blackens it. As an argument in that direction
the book is of little value. It furnishes abund
ant and curious proof that the man who approved
and furthered, on grounds of policy, the most
fearful atrocities, was in his private relations a
sufficiently amiable—perhaps a rather too softly
amiable man. All of which does not lighten a
shadow of Ins dark fame. It only shows on a
large scale, what your little politicians of the
next village show on a little scale, how sad a
thing it is that men should have one standard of
morals for their private life and another for their
public life. Let the seven-by-nine St. Justs take
prayerful heed of the moral of this book and
mend their ways.
——-
[Written fur the Southern Field and Fireside.]
A WALK IN MEMORY’S GARDEN.
BY 11. A. J.
The moon’s pale rays were coming gently in
at the window, and the faint glimmer of the stars
resembled the glitter of the lesser jewels in their
velvet-lined casket* Laura was seated beside
her cherub babe, with her head learing forward,
and resting against her hand. She was a
lovely and interesting woman, apparently about
thirty-five years of age. So much remained of
a tormer striking beauty that a scrupulous critic,
even of her own sex, would have hesitated to
speak of her as a beauty that had been; and cer
tainly she had not yet attained the chastened,
and to some minds, even superior form of wo
manly loveliness —that of the grave and dignified
matron.
As she gazed on the lovely face of her infant,
her thoughts wandered far back to the years of
childhood, and the friends ofyouth. Frovidence
had dealt kindly with her. Temporal blessings
had been showered with profusion upon her
path. A just and loving husband ministered to
all her wants, gratifying her every wish, and
sheltering her from the storms of life. Surely
then, she ought to have been happy! Yet the
sigh she unconsciously heaved, and her attitude
itself were signs, if not of unhappiness, at least
of mental disturbance. Ideas not altogether of
an agreeable character, and certainly sad, were
flitting through her mind. Memory had whis
pered in her ear: “Come with me. I have a
beautiful garden to show you.” “I will go with
you,” she replied, and immediately the two
seemed to be moving together rapidly through
space. When they stopped it was at the gar
den’s grate, which opened, and she entered, fol
lowing her grave guide through various scenes
which seemed strangely familiar. Heratteution
was soon directed to an object of thrilling inter
est to her —its image grew more and more dis
tinct —a little cottage beside the road. ’Twas
her childhood's home. She hesitated not to en
ter. Soltly she raised the familiar latch of the
time-worn gate, and hastened up the short walk
which led to its entrance. Silently she opened
the door, and noiselessly advanced into the well
known apartments. And now, in the mystic
land of dreams, the family circle entire, as erst
it existed there, was re-lormed, and the events
of several years, in regular and natural succes
sion, were crowded, by the magical effect of mem
ory, into the space of a single hour. The merry
voices of the children were heard at play, at
study, in mirth, and in fleeting childish anger,
and the gentle admonitions of a mother were
again listened to with deep reverence. Now
and then a severer but fond, indulgent father
cast a reproving glance at the little group seated
near him. At noon and evening, they watched
for his return from the counting room, each anx
ious for the first kiss. When gathered around
the fire-side circle, they listened to the cheer
--ing accounts of business. Then rose to view the
reverent group collected night and morning for
family worship. By and by appeared the evi
dences of successful speculation and growing
wealth. And soon were observed in all de
partments of the household, the swelling emo
tions of pride. The tide of prosperity was still
in flood. The little cottage was exchanged for
a superb mansion, and costly furniture. They
began to move in fashionable life. Costly car
riages and fine horses were kept—sumptuous
dinners were given. The sons were sent to col
lege, and the daughters to distant boarding
schools. She saw herself, the Laura of other
days, emerging, butterfly-like, from the irksome
and odious discipline of school-life into gay and
fashionable society. Universal admiration greeted
her debut; but soon, oh! soon, the scene changes;
the admired and brilliant belle was summoned from
the ball room to behold the lifeless form of her
mother, who died suddenly in her daughter’s ab
sence. She sheds bitter tears of regret that she
was not near to catch the last words of her who
had ceased to mingle with them —she turned
from the grave to what she deemed a lonely life;
and scarcely has see donned the sable weeds of
mourning, e’er another grave lies open before
her; beside the wife the husband was laid; and
now the children realize all the bitterness of or
phanage. Years roll on, and another scene pre-
sents itself to the mind. Instead of mourning
apparel, white satins trimed with lioniton and
Valencienes laces and orange flowers, are worn.
T’was the bridal eve of Laura s sister, then
there was a bridal tour, and a gay summer spent
at Niagara and Saratoga, and in fashionable tra
vel. What sadness and ennui there were then, for
Laura, left alone at the almost deserted home
stead ! The only brother, a wild and wayward
son of Belial, had left home with the married sis
ter, and had afterwards left her for long foreign
travel. Laura knew that many long years would
elapse ere lie retrod his native soil; and solitary
in the dreary mansion, its gloom seemed daily
to increase and Laura, ill at ease and unhappy,
sought amusement and relief elsewhere where’er
it could be found. A few paces from the domi
cile, was a silvery murmuring brook. Anon,
it seemed that Laura retreated from the desolate
mansion, and seated herself near the brook, and,
as in days of yore, was wiping from her flushed
cheeks and swollen eyes the bitter and fast flow
ing tears.
Twas while thus she sat weeping, that Mem
ory re-appeared to her, accompanied by Hope. —
“Oft’,’ says Memory “we will wander through
this lovely garden. Thou hast lingered mostly
and far too much in its, dark and gloomy recesses
because thou art thyself sad.
“It is sad, but it is pleasant to do so,” replied
Laura.
Hope here interposed:
“Look to the bright side, walk in the sunny
paths—distress not thyself by dwelling thus upon
past griefs, and by-gone troubles. Let them teach
thee the insufficiency of all earthly things, and
urge thee to that secure resting place, and final
abode reserved for the faithful. The most choice
flowers bloom here for thy use and enjoyment.
When thou eomest hither, pluck the fair flowers,
inhale their fragrance, leave the noxious flowers,
and beware of the thorns. Recollection is the key .”
■ - -»»■»• - ■
[Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.]
THOUGHTS OF DEATH.
Y'es, dear one, lam dying. Hope, at times,
has whispered to me in her syren tones, but
now, alas! I feel the tide of life fast ebbing from
my heart, and I know that the green and flow
ery curtain of the grave will soon close as soft
ly round my fadiug form as the cold shadows
of the evening hours close over the passing
stream. Oh! there are times when my heart’s
tears gush wildly at the thought that, in the
fresh noontide of life, I must resign my breath.
To me earth is very beautiful. I love its flow
ers, its birds, its dews, its rainbows, its glad
streams, its vales, its mountains, its green wav
ing woods, its moon-light clouds, its sunsets,
and its soft and dewy twilights; and I needs
must mourn to think that I shall so soon pass
away and see them no more.
and low the pulse of life is fluttering at
my heart, and soon it will cease forever. These
faint words are the last echoes of the spirit’s
chords, stirred by the hand of memory. Bear
me, I pray thee, to yonder open window, that I
may look once more on Nature’s £ice, and listen
to her gentle music-tones, her holy voice of love.
How beautiful, how very beautiful, are earth,
and sea, and the o’erarching sky to one whose
eyes are soon to close upon the scenes of time!
I never before beheld the earth so green, the
sky so blue, the sunset and the stars so bright,
and soft, and beautiful. I never felt the dewy
twilight breeze so calm and fresh upon my
cheek; or heard melodies of wind, and bird, and
wave, fall with such sweetness on the ear. I
know that Heaven is full of glory; but a God of
Love will forgive the tears oozing from the foun
tain of my frail young heart, at the sad thought
of parting with the bright and lovely things of
earth. The memories of childhood are before
me now. Precious days and hours! how sweet
ly and swiftly have they passed away! The
scenes of my childhood and the realities of the
present are linked closely together, but not so
close as this frail body is to the grave, and this
immortal soul to eternity. Fondly have I dream
ed of the scenes that await me in mature life,
and revelled, in fancy, on the sun-lit hills of
future years; but reality tells me now that all
of earth and earthly life to me lies in the fading
present and faded past. Dremember its sunny
days, but I have forgotten its dark ones; I love
its smiles, and its frowns have been unheeded.
I have been told that the happy scenes which
surround us, while we linger in the valley of
roses, are never realized until our riper years
overhang them; that the heart is too young to
contemplate that bliss of which poets love to
sing, orators love to speak, and on which old
age loves to recline while trembling at the brink
of death’s dark river. If so, the thoughts of
death, and its cold throbbings at my heart, have
made me old. For when I linger in that de
lightful sphere, and remember all that is bright
and lovely, I must conclude that Heaven alone
is brighter. I know that lam dying, and that
the low pulse of life is numbering my days as
the fleeting moments measure the .hours. I must
go, and leave earth as beautiful and bright as
ever. The vine and tree that sheltered my in
fant years, are crowned to-day with evergreen
and shade; the moss and the pebble adorn the
brook as when I played along its banks, and its
crystal waters glide as sweetly to-day as in
former years. I can now behold the green foli
age of the forest trees, as they wave their long
branches in the cool and fragrant breeze, and
yet I know that autumn’s golden touch will scat
ter their leaves upon my grave; and that the
returning spring will give it a crown of green
as it does the hill-side and the plain.
J. G.
Montgomery, Ala., Aug. 4th, 1859.
—-—-
AMERICAN SCIENTIFIC ASSOCIATION.
The American Association for the advance
ment of Science met at Springfield (Mass.) on
Wednesday morning. Many scientific men were
present, representing nearly every State in the
Union. Members from Canada and Nova Scotia
were also present. They were welcomed by an
address from Mayor Calhoun, which was re
sponded to by Prof. Alexander, of Princeton,
President of the Association.
In the afternoon the association assembled in
sections, and an interesting paper was read by
Prof. Pierce, oT Cambridge, on the phenomena
presented by Comets from observations made at
different observatories. Conclusions had been
arrived at that the comet of 1858 ‘had an at
mosphere; that its tail was similar to the aurora
borealis, and that the curvature of the tail was
produced by its increased motion as It approach
ed the sun. Prof. Alexander read an abstruse
scientific paper upon the laws for determining
the weight of the moon.
Second Day. —On Thursday, in the Natural
History Department, a paper was read by Mr.
Charles H. Hitchcock, of the Vermont Geo
logical Survey, upon the indications of ancient
glaciers in the Green Mountains of Vermont and
Massachusetts. Mr. H. carefully described the
marks of an ancient glacier to be seen in the
West part of Hancock, in a valley through which
Middleburry River commences to run, and with
in half a mile of the crest of the Green Moun
tains.
The reading of this paper gave rise to a very
interesting discussion on the whole subject of
glaciers in New England. Col. Foster very
much doubted the propriety of referring any of
the stria- to glacial agency. Our mountains were
not high enough, the contour of our country was
not varied enough, nor the extremes of tempera
ture great enough ever to have justified glaciers
about us.
Prof. Hitchcock reminded the Colonel that all
believed the lace of the country had experienced
extraordinary changes, submergence and eleva
tion perhaps: and as great changes of tempera
ture since the era of the glaciers.
Mr. Shurtleff invited members of the Section
to ride out ten miles and see the first of the gla
cier localities described by the author of the pa
per. He was satisfied that a personal inspection
would convince the skeptical.
Prof. Hitchcock read the next paper, con
cerning the frozen well of Vermont. It was a
portion of a report of the Vermont Geological
Survey, presented in advance to the Association
by permission of the Governor of the State.—
The well is found in a region which belongs to
the “modified drift’’ period—a formation much
later than the general drift. Prof. H. had ela
borately examined for analogous cases on re
cord. Mr. Perkins, of Ware, Mass., has a well
in his house which occasionally freezes in "Win
ter. At Owego, in one of the gravelly terraces
of the Susquehanna, there is a well which re
mains frozen during four or five months of the
year. These were the only two that seemed to
him to be at all like the Brandon well in its pe
culiarities. He proceeded to examine the ques
tion of the cause of such phenomena. There
were two theories —first, that during the glacial
period great depositions of ice, pebbles and
rock, frozen into a solid mass, might have taken
place, which were afterward covered over by
other depositions, so deeply that the heat of the
sun had not been able to reach and melt the ice,
and yet so situate above strata pervious to air,
that the internal heat of the earth as it rises
passes off around them; second, that the conge
lation is caused by modem phenomena, and
which are now 'occurring. To this he leaned as
most rational and probable. The open, loose
strata underlying or surrounding the well, and
opening at a distance to the surface, permitted
currents of air to pass through them perpetually,
abstracting and bearing off, the sun’s heat, re
ducing the temperature at times below the freez
ing point. He gave no credit whatever to the
suggestion that it might be caused by the re
action of chemical agents in the vicinity.
Prof. Baclie read a paper on the observations
on magnetic declination, made at the Girard
College observatory, between the years 1840
and 1845.
In the afternoon Prof. Baclie gave an abstract
of the results of the observations for tempera
ture at Van Rensselaer harbor, North Greenland,
made by the second Grinnell expedition; also
observations on atmospheric pressure, direction
and force of winds, Ac., made at the same place.
Third Day. —On Friday Prof. Bache reported
that the committee on Arctic Exploration had
co-operated with Dr. Ilayes in his efforts to fit'
out another expedition, which had become still
more desirable from the discussion of Dr. Kane’s
observations.
In the section of the Mathematics, and Physics,
Prof. Henry made a report on Meteorology. He
stated that the average wind of the north tem
perate zone was south-west, about 10,000 feet
high it was west, and still higher north-west.—
He had conferred with Mr. Wise, and he thought
that the success of the proposition to cross the
ocean in a balloon was by no means improbable.
He looked upon the balloon as a very important
instrument in meteorology, and the observations
of Mr. "Wise had be:n of great value. Ho thought
that the upward motion of the air was the most
active agency in storms. At their approach the
barometer fell, the thermometer and the hydrom
eter rose. The air of the surface grew sultry,
became abnormally heated and saturatod with
moisture, until at last it forced a path up through
the upper, serene, eastward flowing current.—
The upward-rushing air reduced the barometer
very much immediately under it. A very rapid
upward current, producing sudden and intense
cold, would form hail, by which the air would
be thrown down until the general power of the
current tossed it up again.
Dr. J. 11. Gibbon quoted the accounts of sove
ral travellers, showing that Indian corn (zea
maise) if probably indigenous to Africa and Asia
as well as to America, confirming the inference
by a comparison of their accounts with the most
ancient records of literature and monumental in
scriptions.
The Rev. Dr. I. G. Morris, of Baltimore, gave
an account of a catalogue about to be published
by the Smithsonian Institution, in which he enu
merates about 1600 species of North American
moths and butterflies, with reference to descrip
tions in various printed works of American and
Foreign Entomologists.
In the evening, the address of the retiring
President, the Rev. Dr. Caswell, of Brown Uni
versity, was delivered in Hampden nail. In the
course of his remarks he said, that American as
tronomy dates from 1761, and has always been
one of the sciences most successfully cultivated
in this country. The application of astronomy,
though thus early, was followed by no consider
able active work until 1840. But since then
several observatories have been built and equip
ped in a manner which will compare favorably
with the old and renowned observatories of Eu
rope. The great refractor of Cambridge is sec
ond to none in the world; the meridian circle
there is of exquisite workmanship. The Tele
scope at Cincinnati has the highest place in the
second rank. The National Observatory at
Washington has an equatorial, a copy of the re
nowned instrument at Dorsat. After alluding
to the higher work which had been accomplish
ed by Bowditch and La Place, and by thoso
whose living presence forbade the mention of
their names, he called the attention of astrono
mers to a thorough preparation to observe the
transit of Venus in 1874. Prof. Airy had al
ready stated that ho looked to this country for
the most valuable operations on this transit,
which it was hoped would solve for us the great
problem of the distance of the Sun.
The members of the Association were escort
ed by the students to the College and the Cabi
net. The great attraction of the latter collec
tion is the large number of specimens of Orni
thyichnites, the fossil footprints of the colossal
birds, which ornamented bygone ages when
the sandstone of the Connecticut valley was as
yet only red sand. A vast number of tracks are
exhibited of all sizes up to nearly a foot in
length, occupying the whole of a large hall.—
Nothing is more striking than six or eight tracks
about two inches deep and nearly a foot long,
stretched along in a continuous rock, as the
great bird walked or waded on his way to some
mighty meal. Prof. Hitchcock himself pointed
out the more remarkable specimens in his col
lections; they are arranged and mounted so as
to afford the best possible opportunity for ex
amination.