PART II. (continued 2)

The geological character of the border of the sea which once covered what is now central Europe, is full of interest, because from it can be deduced all that we can know of the history of those great changes.[6] But we must pass over this, and only indicate the geographical configuration of the dry basin as it exists now, and forms the great Germanic-Sarmatia-Russian plain.

In the course of previous remarks on the lowest range of plateaus, I have remarked, that along the south coast of the Baltic the moderately elevated hill chains of Pomerania and of Old Prussia separated the true coast with its lowland from the great interior plain, forming a barrier, averaging about 300 feet in height, with here and there a form which runs hard upon the lower limit of plateaus of the second class; at any rate, a transition from between the lowland and the plateau.

It may here be remarked that the long, low chains, made up mainly of loose sand and other mixed and uncombined materials, and running along the southern border of that long, low band which skirts the Baltic, seem to be dunes once running along the shore of a sea which has now receded many miles to the north. In the deep channels and old inlets now dry, as for instance in the great break through which the Vistula passes below Thorn, only loose breccia, and no united layers of stone, appear. Yet this does not seem to be the case everywhere, although in the Cis-Ural and Baltic depressions dune-like ridges are to be found, some of them rising to a height much greater than was formerly suspected. These, it is true, are scattered, and only partially prevalent, but here and there they ascend to an altitude of nearly 1000 feet. At the eastern end of the great Pomeranian sea-plain west of Dantzic, and between that city and Bütow, where the sand ridge, which formed the ancient shore-line, runs very far to the north, there are a number of villages 400 feet above the sea. The Lower Mountain, (Thurmberg,) 54° 13′ 29″ N. lat., rises to a height of 1024 feet; the hill near Upper Buschkau, east of the Thurmberg, is 814 feet high; the hill near Hulterfeld, 846 feet; and the Höckerberg, near Schönberg, 902 feet.

Of the Thurmberg, Humboldt remarks that it is the most remarkable elevation between the Hartz and the Ural Mountains, and that but a few points in the Valdai range can be brought into comparison with it. Its position close by the sea is especially noteworthy. It is very probable, according to Humboldt’s opinion, that those inequalities of surface, formed of sand once partly or wholly submerged,—found in Mecklenberg, Pomerania, East Prussia Proper,—and now divided into flats and hill ranges, do not belong to the dune system of the ancient shore-line, but have the reason of their existence in ordinary upheaval; in the formation of limestone, and of the usual Jurassic rocks, which, afterward, have been covered with sand and other loose materials. The peculiar accumulation of genuine marine fossils indicates the existence of upheaved rocks below the upper layer of sand.

It is these elevations which in the constantly advancing ridge or ridges run northeasterly, and take the form of plateaus, increasing in breadth from the water-shed north of Smolensk, and the source of the Dnieper, in the Valdai Forest, and the western Uwalli, and which are found between the Volga and the Dwiner, and thence run eastward as far as Perm, on the Kama. They form the line of demarkation between the great Central European plain and the North Russian lowland, which extends as far up as the Arctic. This easterly chain, so far as it has been measured, seems to be less in altitude than the Valdai hills, which are about 1000 feet high. In East Prussia Proper and Livonia there are elevations of more than 600 feet; about 55 miles south of Dorpat Munnamäggi, the point of culmination, according to Struve, is 996 feet above the sea; south of Vilna the heights of Puzewitch reach an elevation of 990 feet.

In the same direction, still northeast, runs the Valdai, forming the source of a number of large streams and the great water-shed of eastern Europe. On the road from St. Petersburg to Moscow, Humboldt found the altitude at Norwaja Ijetza 660 feet, and the highest point at Popowa Gora 792 feet, (according to Pausner, 876 feet.) One point going south from the Valdai, at Mosti Derewna, the latter naturalist has ascertained to be 1032 feet above the sea; and the highest point in the range is, according to Helmersen, 1098 feet. Still further eastward, between the Valdai hills and the lake region between Lake Seligher and Bielo Ozero, the range of uplands, known as Uwalli, running northwesterly, intersected by numerous canals, and forming the water-shed of a number of rivers, gradually diminishes in height, but, still advancing eastward, it rises again, in the neighborhood of Perm and the Kama, to 1014 feet,—about the elevation of the Valdai range. Uwalli is only the Sclavic name of such hills as those whose absolute height is insignificant, but which, crossing as they do the great plains of Poland, Lithuania, and Russia, were formerly confounded with mountain ranges, and were so represented on the maps. They have, of course, great hydrographical value, and play a leading part as the water-shed of eastern Europe.

The Ponto-Caspian Plain, the Great Depression of the Old World.

This second vast lowland is the direct continuation of the central European lowland, with a decided sinking toward the Black and the Caspian Seas, indicated by the course of the rivers of that region. It extends from the month of the Danube over the lower Dniester, Bog, Dnieper, Don, and Volga, as far eastward as the Sea of Aral. To the last named the Siberian plain gradually declines. The southern plain of Europe stands in unbroken connection, so far as its formation is concerned, with the West Siberian plain, (2,213,400 square miles in extent,) and is, therefore, one of the most extensive lowlands on the globe. The Baltic-Sarmatian plain is separated from the West Siberian merely by the long Ural chain, (from 50° to 67° N. lat.,) whose elevation is only from 4000 to 5000 feet, and whose breadth is unimportant. Take away the Ural, and a continuous line could be drawn from Breda, near the confluence of the Meuse, Rhine, and Scheldt, across Europe and Asia, following the line of 50° N. lat as far as the Chinese frontier, passing over a continuous series of low, insignificant hills, heathlands, and steppes, and traversing a space estimated by Humboldt to be three times the length of the Amazon!

Toward the south, the Cis-Ural, European side of the Ponto-Caspian lowland, is separated from the Black Sea by a ridge of granite knolls, which passes from Volhynia and Podolia eastward as far as the cataracts of the Dnieper, and thence southeast, with diminished breadth, reaching its limit at Taganrog, on the lower Don, and the Sea of Azof. This ridge separates the narrow steppes of the northern shore of the Black Sea from the lowland of South Russia, the fruitful district of Ukraine. The height of these hills in the west, where they appear to have the greatest elevation, has been estimated to be about 1000 feet above the sea. Toward the Dnieper they have not yet been carefully measured; but probably there they do not rise above 700 feet.

The small sand steppe south of these granite hills runs from the Crimea eastward as far as the North Caucasian steppe, between the Don, Volga, and the Caspian, and indeed may be traced to the northeast as far as the Bashkiric-Ural chain. Lakes of marked saltness are found there: Elton, for instance, which lies 24 feet above the sea; while farther eastward they are found, as for example on the Kamysh and at Samara at a depression of—138 feet, 60 feet below the level of the Caspian Sea. Yet this lacks confirmation.

From this lowland, only a few elevations arise, and these of insignificant absolute height; yet, on account of the extreme uniformity of the whole country, they are objects of amazement to the whole steppe world. The Little Bogdo, south of Lake Elton, and yet farther south, Great Bogdo, 504 feet above the sea, according to Humboldt, and Mount Arsargar, 331 feet in absolute height, according to Murchison, are the only important hills. The Great Bogdo is composed of calcareous limestone and of sandstone, with rich deposits of salt.

The Kirgheez steppe separates, by a plain of very moderate elevation, the north Siberian lowland from the Caspian-Ural depression. It was formerly supposed, and indeed represented on the map, that a mountain range passes through this district from the Ural chain to the Altai. The Kirgheez steppe appears to range from 780 to 960 feet in elevation; while the Siberian plain is but 280 feet above the sea at Omsk, 192 feet at Tora, and 108 feet at Tobolsk. It has been considered by some that the Kirgheez steppe, as well as the granite hills of southern Russia, belong to an undeveloped system of mountains, an early cooling having solidified them before reaching the elevation which they would have attained; and that they partake of the direction which analogy would teach us such a chain would have, from northeast to southwest, parallel with the Carpathian and the Caucasus ranges.

The great depression of the Old World begins with the deepening of the Volga basin below Simbeersk; and at the place (51¾° N. lat., near Orenboorg and Saratov) where it breaks through the last row of hills in the Obstshei-Syrtis, it commences a rapid descent toward the Caspian and the Aral Seas. This great concavity, on the confines of Europe and Asia, at the center of the greatest land-mass, and far removed from any ocean, is remarkable as having no parallel on the globe. Humboldt remarks that perhaps a similar phenomenon would be repeated at the interior of other continents, if the tertiary formation and the parts found by marine deposit did not exist. It would be profitable to follow out so weighty a thought, with the surface as it now is.

The Obstshei-Syrtis is the moderate range of hills which runs westward in two branches from the Bashkiric-Ural, at Orenboorg, the northern spur running by Uralsk and the Ural River; the southern by Samara, rising on the east shore of the Volga to a height of 600 feet, and ending at Sarepta.

Orenboorg, on the Obstshei-Syrtis, where it leaves the Ural chain, is 255 feet above the sea. Uralsk lies somewhat lower, being 234 feet above the sea. The surface of the Volga, where it breaks through the high banks of Saratov, is only 36 feet above the ocean level; while the western shore, above Saratov, is 562 feet in height. Farther down the river, Sarepta lies 30 feet below the sea level; and there is, therefore, between Saratov and Sarepta, a distance of about 180 miles, a fall of 66 feet. West of the Volga, and following the river, is the continuation of the Obstshei-Syrtis, ranging in elevation from 562 feet down to 168 feet. At Sarepta, the low hills which thus far have skirted the Volga turn to the southwest, to the Manitsh steppe, sinking to an elevation of but 75 feet, and extending as far as the Sea of Azof. At Sarepta, too, the Volga turns from its normal southerly course, and strikes southeasterly across the Astracan steppe, entering the Caspian at the City of Astracan, 72 feet below the level of the sea. The level of the sea is 4 feet below the shore on which Astracan is built.

The old statements that the level of the Caspian is 300 feet below the ocean, rested solely on conjectures made by the naturalist Pallas. The influence of this great depression on the warmer climate of that region, the peculiar vegetation of the salt steppes, and the salt morasses which exist where the land is perfectly level, as well as the great beds of oyster-shells and other crustaceous remains, led him to the hypothesis that the whole neighboring district is the dry and deserted bed of a former sea, now shrunk to the comparatively insignificant dimensions of the Caspian. The broken line of bold bluffs which bounds the Obstshei-Syrtis on the south seemed to him to be the northern boundary of this inland sea, into which the Volga entered below the pass of Kamyschin and Saratov. Parrot and Engelhardt supposed that their barometrical elevations in 1811 confirmed Pallas’ theory, that the Caspian lies 300 feet below the ocean. Many hypotheses were based upon their observations; but the whole were at length brought into discredit by Humboldt, who distrusted the accuracy of instruments made at that time. Nothing but a trigonometrical survey from Taganrog to Astracan could give conclusive results, and this was accomplished in 1837, under the auspices of the Russian government. The result proved that, so far from being 300 or 350 feet below the ocean, the Caspian is not 100 feet. Its depression, as already stated, is about 76 feet.

The level of the Aral Sea, which is evidently closely linked to the Caspian, has not yet been determined with absolute certainty. Barometrical observations were instituted for this end by the expedition under General Berg, which explored that region in the winter of 1826, but the cold was severe, and the results are questionable. The result of their investigations was, however, that the surface of the Aral lies 110 feet higher than that of the Caspian. This would make the Aral to be 34 feet above the sea level. More careful inquiries may, however, determine the level of the two seas to be the same; but at present we have to be content with the results of the expedition referred to, and accept its elevation as 34 feet above the level of the ocean.

Without, however, going into details respecting the Aral, the region around the Caspian and directly connected with it, which is below the ocean level, embraces an area of not less than 131,400 square miles. This survey extends from the Volga to the Ural River, thence to the Emba and the northernmost point of the Sea of Aral, and thence to the salt lakes of Aksakal-Barbi, lying to the northeast of this sea. The tracing of this line from the higher to the lower stages of depression gives clear indications, in the nature of the soil, of the existence of a great sea once occupying that whole tract.

Thus much for the configuration of the Caspian lowland. If to these 131,400 square miles be added the 153,000, or, according to Humboldt, 164,000 square miles of the Caspian itself, the entire depression embraces almost 318,000 square miles, and is greater than France, greater than Germany, and only to be compared with the whole Austrian empire! If to this great region be added the district around the Aral, which sea alone covers nearly 25,000 square miles, and then to this the yet unmeasured surface covered by seas yet to the eastward, the entire region of depression is immensely increased. And then if to this be added the great Siberian plain, whose level is not greatly above the sea, the combined district would be at least once and a half as great as all Europe.

The Origin of the Ponto-Caspian Depression.

Thinking of the immense extent of this depressed region, whose entire surface occupies no inconsiderable fraction of the interior of the Old World, and whose greatest depth at the bottom of the Caspian is from 500 to 600 feet below the level of the ocean, and looking at it as a phenomenon wholly unique, the question arises: How would such a condition be possible, contradicting, as it seems, all analogies? The answer, could we reach it, would not fail to illustrate many recondite geological questions, and to be full of instruction.

Yet the time has not come when a full answer can be given to this inquiry. We have not yet learned the elementary conditions of this remarkable fact; there are innumerable investigations yet to be made, before we can feel perfectly certain that its reason is understood. Still, there have been some preparatory inquiries entered upon, and some preliminary steps taken toward reaching a conclusion, or, at least, toward assuming a reasonable hypothesis. We have already indicated our belief that this depression is connected with a ring of plateaus which have been upheaved around it, and which now inclose it and isolate it from the ocean.

The hollow has its greatest depth near the southern extremity of the Caspian, where it rises abruptly to the Persian plateau. There pass, in the form of a half circle, the loftiest mountains and plateaus of central Asia. On the west side the Caucasus rises, with its giant peaks of Kasbek and Elbrooz, 15,000 to 17,000 feet high, bearing all the marks of volcanic origin,—avalanches of solidified lava on the sides, a lake lying in the abyss of an extinct crater, and the like.

At the southwest, the Armenian plateau follows the course of the Aras from its mouth back to the huge dome of Ararat, 14,656 feet high. The entire geological appearance of that region—the old lava streams, the trachyte rocks—indicate with equal clearness, as in the Caucasus, the agency of volcanic forces in the upheaval of that district. Traces of this great power are also seen in the caldron-shaped hollows, and in the narrow and deep defiles, which are abundant in that region.

South of the Caspian, which in its southern part reaches a depth ranging as low as 420, 480, and 600 feet, and, according to Hanway, even 2700 feet, rise sharply from the sea the Persian Coast Mountains. The plateau of Teheran, 3400 feet in elevation, is directly beyond, from which rise the volcanic peaks of Demavend, 20,000 feet, and Euczan, 6600 feet high. The Coast chain embraces the Elboorz Mountains, uniformly more than 5000 feet high, but which, at Schemrum, northwest of Teheran, rise to a height of 8560 feet; at Churchurah, southwest of Demavend, to 7650 feet; at Nevo, southeast of Demavend, to 8540 feet; at Nejoster, in the Seriakush, east of Demavend, to 7200 feet; and which, above Asterabad, rise in the Shahkush and the Sundukkush to a height of 7270 feet, and almost everywhere display in their trachyte rocks the traces of ancient volcanic activity. Still farther to the east, the chain which has girdled the Caspian sinks from the lofty height of the Northern Taurus to 1872 feet; in Meshed, 2628 feet; in Herat, an average elevation of 3400 to 4000 feet. But east of Herat it rises abruptly to the lofty plateaus of Bamian and Cabool, 7000 and 8000 feet high, and in the peaks of Colubeba 16,800 feet. The Hindoo Koosh, at Dsellalabad, rises to a height of 18,984 feet; the table-lands of the Bolor, at the Issikul, are at an elevation of 14,664 feet; while the gigantic Pameer is not yet measured, though its noted Pass is estimated at 18,000 feet above the sea.

At this point we reach almost the 40th degree of N. lat., whence northward the mountain ranges gradually decline in height, after throwing off eastward the great chain of Thian-Shan. From the sharp angle formed by the Hindoo Koosh and the Bolor, where the head-waters of the Gihon rise, that large but commercially unimportant river takes its way westward through the Bokharan table-land, falling so rapidly in its course to Bokhara that at the city its surface is but 1116 feet above the sea, then striking northwesterly to the Aral and Caspian. The course of that stream indicates, therefore, the direction and degree of the mountain slope toward the great depression east of the Caucasus and Armenia, north of the Persian highland, and west of the Hindoo Koosh and the Bolor systems.

The lower course of the Gihon, from Bokhara downward, is through masses of mud, sand, and gravel, and can very easily be conceived to have changed its course in the lapse of centuries, from the Caspian to the Aral, as the course of the Sihon seems also to have changed. The great Bokharan plain is covered in this part with a deposit of dried mud; it is a steppe formed evidently from a now dry sea-basin, which, no less than the northern shores of the Caspian and the Aral, displays the traces of the oceanic character of entire regions.

Halley, the astronomer, made an attempt to solve the mysterious origin of this great sunken basin, and attributed it to the stroke of a first-class comet! Arago, instead of calling into the scene meteorological forces little known, contented himself, in his theory of its origin, with the forces which we know are active even now on the earth, the plutonic powers which are only half confined by the surface of the globe. No one, he says, will hesitate now to accept the upheaval theory, through which geology is able so clearly to indicate the forces and progress of structure of the soil and rocks. The upheaval of great masses in one place predisposes the depression of districts in their neighborhood, to make good the true relation of highland to lowland. And in this case a compensation may be found, according to Arago, for the great semicircle of mountains which passes around the southern margin of the Caspian basin, in the depression caused by the natural falling in of the adjacent region when the great mountains of western Asia were upheaved.

In longitudinal mountain chains the parallel ranges of valleys have a similar origin; in volcanic chains, which have been thrown up in a circular form, similar depressions have been found in the middle, although, it must be confessed, on a much smaller scale of dimensions than in the Caspian hollow. The same feature is observable in the upheavals, by Von Buch, as observed in the Island of Palma, one of the Canaries, or in the Val di Bove, near Etna. Such depressions would at once fill with water, if connected with the sea, as in the cup-shaped island Santorini, or remain land-locked, if they occur in the interior, as in the case of Lake Laach, as the half-ring of mountains girding the lower portion of the Caspian seems to consist mainly of trachyte thrown up by volcanic agency: the analogy just drawn does not seem too remote. Yet the process of structure must have had other concomitant conditions to account for the vast reach northward of the Caspian depression. It is clear that any such volcanic convulsion as would throw up those vast mountain ranges at the south, must have affected largely the geological condition of all the adjacent region; the extent vertically of this effect would be best ascertained perhaps by deep boring. Unquestionably there was many a revolution in the upper portions of the earth’s crust during the formation of the great Caspian hollow, before it assumed its present condition. From the agencies at work in connection with a great internal ocean, the upper soil, as we have it to-day, was formed.

The Aral and the Caspian Seas remain as the lowest places of that great depression, water being found in them, while elsewhere it has entirely disappeared by evaporation: leaving us broad, low plains, instead of that great ocean which once extended from Persia over all Siberia, and west of the Caspian to the Sea of Azof. A more thorough account, geographical as well as geological, cannot be given till after much more extended investigations have been made into the physical characteristics of this region than as yet have been prosecuted. It may be remarked here, that the waters of the Aral and Caspian are bitter and salt, but not so much as those of the ocean; the bottom is covered with slime and sand. The Aral has a depth ranging from 90 to 222 feet; the Caspian, beginning with its extensive, shallows at the north, deepens toward the south, till, reaching the lower third, its depth is over 600 feet; and thence southward it is no less deep, till it reaches the bold shore of Eusellis. From this lowest point the upheaval begins, which culminates in the great mountains on its southern border.

According to Humboldt’s view, the great Caspian hollow embraces not only the basin of the sea, but a vast dry plain, extending northward as far as Saratov and the Obstshei-Syrtis; even Uralsk lies lower than the level of the Black Sea. The same physical feature, though on a less extended scale than here, is found in Holland, China, Lower Egypt, and Palestine. Subsequently to the emergence of the continents, long before the filling in of huge fissures by mountain chains, and during the continuance of those great convulsions which reach back into the remotest geological periods, the surface of the continents must have been subjected to frequent partial changes of level. The surface undulated probably in that same wave movement which is now observable, though in much less degree, in those earthquakes and upheavals which the whole western part of South America is experiencing even now.

The depressions which have assumed a permanent form since the convulsions which formed them, have gradually filled with deposited soil, and, were the naturalist able to lay bare the primitive rock, he would discover that it exists in the shape of great concavities, without a trace of that evenness which now characterizes the surface. Eichwald has made it probable, by his personal observations, that the upheaval of Ararat and of the Armenian plateau on which this trachyte mountain rests, has driven the Caspian Sea back east of the flat steppe of Karabagh and Mogan, on the lower Aras, to the neighborhood of Bakoo. The water of that sea formerly extended to the confluence of the Bargashad, (called also Bergershat and Bergernet,) with the Aras, below Ireben. The traces of volcanic action there are decisively evident: the Caspian reached, before that action occurred, up what is now the valley of the Aras, as far as Ararat; and in many places south of Erivan—at Saliyan, in Shirwan, and elsewhere—salt beds of the most crystalline quality, forming whole mountains and whole belts of salt lakes at the confluence of the Aras and the Koor, demonstrate their formation in a former sea which once covered that region. The very recent upheaval of the Ural chain cannot fail also to have had an influence in contracting the dimensions of the Caspian hollow.

Only two kindred depressions to this remain to be spoken of, which, though of not so great superficial dimensions, are of yet greater depth—the depression of the Jordan Valley and the bitter salt lakes on the Isthmus of Suez. These we must consider before we pass from the contrasts between highlands and lowlands to the transitions between them.

The Depression of the Jordan Valley and of the Dead Sea.

The nearest relationship to the Caspian hollow, displayed by any similar feature, is found near the heart of the Old World, in the comparatively diminutive and isolated valley of the Jordan, including the Dead Sea, whose absolute depth below the level of the ocean has been determined only within the most recent period. Many former travelers had noticed, in the deep gulf which holds the Dead Sea, and especially at its north end, near Jericho, a much greater degree of heat than elsewhere in Palestine, and the existence of many plants and fruits which they had met in the hotter climates of Arabia and India. The tree which yields the Mecca balsam flourishes in the oasis of Jericho; the product of the balsam of Palestine supplied the pin-money of Cleopatra. A number of German and English observers endeavored to solve the question of the depth of the Jordan basin—von Schubert, Russeger, von Wildenbruch, Moore, and Bake, later Symonds, and Lynch; de Berton and Russeger made the first barometrical observations at the Dead Sea, but they did not attempt to give more definite limits to their results than to assert that its surface is somewhere between 500 and 1100 feet beneath the ocean level.

Von Shubert’s barometer did not suffice to determine this point, but he ascertained the surface of Lake Tiberias to be 535 feet below the surface of the Mediterranean. All barometrical measurements were unreliable at that depth; yet it could not be denied that the depression could not be an insignificant one. A measurement with the level made by Symonds, an Englishman, from Jaffa to the Dead Sea, in 1843, gave us our first sure results. The surface of the lake lies 1231 feet beneath the level of the Mediterranean at Jaffa. The subsequent expedition of the Americans—Lynch, Dale, and Anderson, in 1848—has given the following additional results:—

The surface of Lake Tiberias lies beneath the ocean level, 612 ft.

” ” the Dead Sea ” ” ” 1235 ”

Soundings of the Dead Sea, made with the greatest care, determined the depth to be, according to Lynch, 1227 feet; according to Symonds, 1970 feet. The entire depression below the ocean level would be, then, by Lynch’s measurement, 1235 + 1227 = 2462 feet; according to Symonds’, 1235 + 1970 = 3205 feet. This is the greatest known depression on the globe. Jerusalem lies 2449 feet above the ocean level. From the roofs of the city to the surface of the Dead Sea is, therefore, 2449 + 1235 = 3684 feet; and the entire descent from the capital to the bottom of the Dead Sea is 4911 feet, if we adopt Lynch’s measurement, and 5654, if we follow Symonds’.

The basin of the Dead Sea consists of two very different parts—the larger and deeper northern one, the smaller and shallow southern one; the two being separated by a sandy peninsula—el Mesraa—and connected by a narrow channel of insignificant depth. The northern basin seems to owe its present form to the unchanged primitive depression; the southern one to a partial upheaval at some later epoch. But in breadth they do not vary much one from the other; both have their larger axis coincident with the Jordan valley, which here widens a little, but which is still hemmed in here, as farther north, by the parallel ranges of mountains. The chain east of the sea appears to rise a thousand feet higher than the one west of it. The depths of the two basins are entirely unlike. The southern is nowhere more than 12 feet deep, and diminishes to 5 feet and less than this near the shores, so that the southern half of it is entirely unnavigable by craft of any size; and those who wish to land have to wade for a long distance through mud as deep as their ankles. The northern part, on the contrary, attains a uniform depth of more than 1000 feet, from the north to the south; in the northern third it is even 1227 feet; toward the west coast it shoals to between 600 and 800 feet, but is 500 feet deep hard-by the coast. There is but a very narrow rim of shallow water on the western side, and the navigation is, therefore, tolerably safe. On the eastern shore the coast is even bolder, and the descent to deep water immediate. Close by the romantic mouth of the Arnon, embouching through rocks, the depth of the sea is about 1052 feet. So great a difference in the depth of the two basins seems to indicate a considerable diversity in the manner of their formation.

Volcanic activities have been felt in the Jordan valley up to the present time. They manifest themselves in various forms—deposits of salt, hot springs and naphtha springs, asphaltum beds, sulphur fumes, currents of heated air, clouds of smoke, and rumblings beneath the surface. The Jordan valley remained, from Lake Tiberias down, unfilled, as we should infer from analogy that it would be by the upheaval of a chain of volcanic mountains; or by the expansion of an internal lake or sea, the waters accumulating till at last they should acquire such volume as to break away and form new channels. In case the obstructions were too great, they would remain inland lakes. And such is the Dead Sea, its southern border being too high to allow it a free exit into the Red Sea.

Many other fissures or hollows on the surface of the continents would be regarded as lowlands, were they not filled with water. The bottoms of such lakes often sink suddenly to a great depth, while others are lagoon-like, or shallow seas of an entirely different hydrographical character. Internal lakes, regarded as isolated lowlands, merely filled with water, are an especially interesting theme of study; yet much remains to be investigated regarding their structure and historical formation. The Dead Sea has been regarded, up to this time, as the deepest of all such lakes. The greatest depth of the Caspian has not yet been fully ascertained; but if Hanway’s soundings, 2700 feet, are to be relied on, it is very great. Lake Baikal, in its deepest part, between the two steep walls of rock which rise high above the surface, has not yet been carefully sounded; but as its surface is 1500 feet above the sea, its bottom does not probably fall below the ocean level. The great chain of North American lakes, whose area embraces about 109,500 square miles, are surrounded by level country from 500 to 600 feet above the sea—a region which, in part, falls under the designation of plateaus of the lowest class, and which, in part, comes under the name of lowland; the surface of Lake Superior being 627 feet above the sea, Lakes Michigan and Huron 578 feet each, Lake Erie 565 feet, and Lake Ontario 232 feet. The three first named, having a depth of about 900 feet, have their beds about 300 feet below the surface of the ocean; Lake Ontario, with a depth of 500 feet, reaches a point 268 feet below the sea level. The depth of the St. Lawrence river bed, as related to the sea, is not ascertained. The most of the Swiss lakes, too, having a depth often of more than 1000 feet, come under the same category with the lakes under consideration above, waters from the mountains having gradually filled up chasms made at the time of the upheaval of the adjacent region. Some of these lake basins may be deep enough to lie below the level of the ocean.

The Bitter Lakes of the Suez Isthmus.

Some bitter salt lakes on the Isthmus of Suez, forming a chain from the Red Sea to the southeast corner of the Mediterranean, long claimed attention from their supposed singularity. During the occupation of Egypt by the French in 1799, a survey of the district was made with the level, in view of a prospective canal across the isthmus, connecting the Nile with the Red Sea. An account of that survey was published by Le Père, in his great Description de l’Egypte. The result of the survey was very surprising; it assigned to the Gulf of Suez a height of 25 feet at ebb tide and 30½ feet at flood tide, above the level of the Mediterranean, a result which seemed to agree with Pliny’s account (vi. 23) of the elevation of the Red Sea above the level of lower Egypt. The salt swamps lying between the two seas, and known even to the ancients, lie, according to the same authority, 20 feet below the surface of the Mediterranean, and 50 feet below that of the Red Sea. These singular statements were not received without considerable doubt as to their correctness; but during the military disturbances in that region, no revision of the investigations could be made. Certain circumstances connected with an unusual inundation of the Nile in 1800, when its waters flowed as far as the transverse valley called the Wady Tumilet, in which the salt lakes lie, and where traces of the ancient canal, built by the Egyptians between the seas, could be seen, seemed to confirm the result of the survey of 1799. The inference was a natural one—that the sandy Isthmus of Suez was an accumulation of dunes, and of the deposits of inundations of both the Mediterranean and Red Seas, and that the salt morasses in the middle are but a trace of the primitive bottom. There were not wanting defenders of the old measurement, Favier being the most prominent. Since 1845 five surveys have been made, in reference to the projected canal. These all contradict the results of 1799, and show that there is but the difference of four-sevenths of a foot between the level of the two seas, and that there is the same agreement there as in all other parts of the earth. Many hypotheses, built on the old measurement, have accordingly fallen to the ground.

The Regions of Transition between Highlands and Lowlands; the River Systems of the Globe.

Between the two great and most sharply-marked physical features—the high plateaus and mountains and the lands of very little elevation—there are regions of transition very numerous and exceedingly varied.

The conception of highlands and of lowlands having a certain, constant, and absolute value, and it being immaterial whether the elevation be specially marked or not, provided it be uniform, the regions of transition find their most marked characteristics in their want of constancy, in their very change, and the rate at which the grade ascends from a low to a high elevation, or falls from a high to a low one. Their real value lies in the mutual compensation of highlands and lowlands, which is effected through the mediation of a third physical feature or system, which has received the name Lands of Gradation, or Terrace Lands, and which, by their gradual rise from the sea level, serve as the means of transition from the lowest lowlands to the loftiest plateaus and mountains.

Terrace Lands and Rivers in their General Character.

Districts sloping to the sea, or lands of gradation, as we have called them, varying as they do in elevation and in relative situation to each other, are the true mediators between the districts but little above the level of the sea and others much more lofty. At the sources and the mouths of rivers they partake, more or less fully, in the characteristics of both highland and lowland. The manner of their mediation, as determined by the rate of the fall of water and by their direction, gives to every one of these regions of transition its peculiar character, determines its conformation and its relation to the globe. And yet, no more than in lowlands and highlands, can we rid ourselves of some arbitrary data relating to the size of rivers, when we discriminate between those which we call large and those which we call small. As in all other geographical distinctions, we must here be content with arbitrary approximation, and with the ordinary usages of speech. The comparison of streams, in regard to their breadth and fullness, determines their volume; the comparison, in respect of length and tributary waters, determines the compass of the river system. The entire characteristics, breadth, depth of channel, length and extent of drainage, determine the status of the river, whether first, second, or third class, in relation first to those of the same continent, and then to those of the world. The Volga, for instance, is, in relation to Europe, a first-class river, but, like the Danube, in relation to the entire globe, is merely in the second or third rank. Not the length alone determines the importance of rivers. The Thames, one of the smallest streams in Europe, is one of the most important. And aside from commercial considerations, a river of insignificant size can have great influence in consequence of its relation to the entire adjacent region. The little Bavarian Isar, a river which, so far as the great world is concerned, seems to have no importance, receives on the left side the water of 860 tributary brooks, among which are 44 rivulets; on the right bank the water of 433: these 1293 brooks and rivulets pour themselves into the Isar through 103 direct tributaries, and not these alone, but the waters of 136 lakes are embraced within the Isar system! Yet the Isar is only one of 34 branches of the Danube, and of the fourth rank even among them, and the Danube is by no means one of the great rivers of the globe. A short but navigable stream can have great influence over a territory limited in extent, and may make a long but shallow stream sink into insignificance in respect of comparative importance to the world. There are some great streams which are of first magnitude in all their characteristics—rivers which drain millions of square miles in their course to the sea. The number of such is small, however; there are scarcely fifty on the whole globe. Besides these, there is a large number of rivers much shorter, and of much less volume, but not deficient in the attributes which give a stream value to man, and which serve to mediate between highlands and lowlands, to fulfill the needs of navigation and to drain regions of more or less magnitude. These can be classed in four ranks: in the first place absolutely, and in the second place in relation to each continent. Yet, in classing them, it is necessary always to keep in mind that it is not size alone which gives a river its value, but a combination of all its characteristics, and its relative influence on the country through which it runs.

Looking at the direction of streams, we observe that there are some which flow northerly, as for instance those of Siberia, the Nile, the Rhine, the Elbe, and the Weser; there are those which flow southward—the Indus, Ganges, Euphrates, La Plata, Mississippi, and Volga, for example; there are those flowing eastward—Hoang-ho and Yang-tse-Kiang, the Amazon, the Orinoco, and the Danube, for instance; and some westward, instances of which may be found in the Gihon and Sihon, the Senegal, Gambia, Niger, the Colorado, the Seine, Loire, Garonne, and the Spanish rivers which enter the sea in Portugal.

And this characteristic, trite and unmeaning as it may at first seem, establishes, for the area which these rivers water, very diverse conditions. In like manner, too, their position, in relation to the oceans into which they flow, is very influential, in consequence of the action of the tide upon the lower course. The emergence of their head-waters at various altitudes, whether on plateaus of the first or second class, or on mountain tops covered with perpetual snow, gives rise to a great diversity of relations, that makes no one stream on the earth twin brother to any other. Rivers have an individuality which claims recognition, although they are usually summed up in one category.

This diversity in rivers becomes more apparent from a study of the diversified form of the terraces, or grades of transition, through which they pass on their way to the sea.

The great basin of the Nile is divided into three distinct parts or grades—Abyssinia, Nubia, and Egypt; and each of them has long been studied historically and physically. The great basin of the Rhine is also naturally divided into three grades—the Swiss highlands, the German moderate plateau, and the lowlands of Holland. In a similar manner there may almost always be traced in rivers three natural grades, and where they do not have, as in the cases just cited they do have, a historical significance, their physical influence is not hard to trace and to follow into all its analogies.

The word water-shed, now a familiar one, is applied to that point of division where contiguous springs pour their water in different directions. It is not even in a mountainous country necessarily coincident with the highest points of the chain, though it may be; the valleys may slope in such a way as to have more influence in determining the direction of running water than the mountains hard by. Every stream has its own water-shed system, and this system is the real boundary of its basin. If we trace this basin to its very limits on the highlands, we may find, not a mile away, the beginnings of another river, which shall flow in just the contrary direction, as for example in the case of the Rhine and Rhone, the Volga and the Dwina. The sources of the Missouri and of the Columbia lie close together, not a quarter of an hour’s walk apart; yet the waters of one flow into the Atlantic, of the other into the Pacific, and their mouths are almost 2500 miles apart. The Mongolians hold the water-shed in such estimation that they throw up a heap of stones wherever one occurs, establish it a shrine for prayer; and the Toongooses of Siberia never pass by one without casting a cedar branch upon the stone heap, that, to use their expression, “the holy mountain that parts the waters may not lessen, but increase.”

The main channel is the stream proper; the others are tributaries. The longest tributaries coming in from the region where the river proper rises, can be grouped intimately with the source of the main current, hardly distinguished from it in relative importance—the two, for instance, in the Nile, the five in the Indus, two in the Ganges, three in the Amazon, etc. All form in their confluence the real channel of the river. And the entire body of tributaries, taken in conjunction with the river proper, forms the river system, and the district which they all drain is their true reciprocal. The two, in their mutual action and reaction, form a whole, and are always thought of together. The source and the mouth are the beginning and the end of the whole system; the main channel and the circuit of water-shed, the center and the circumference of it. All the tributaries in their union constitute what may be called the arterial system of the river basin; the form of each and the characteristics of each are analogous to those of the whole, only in reduced pattern. The network which all the tributaries make is often surprisingly intricate. The symmetry with which the main characteristics of a river system are carried into the details, even of its smallest accessories, can only be compared to that observable in the architectural regularity of a tree, as it expands from the main trunk into the countless symmetrical branches.

There are some rivers which are entirely independent of tributaries—which pursue their way to the sea entirely alone. Such rivers, however, never belong to the first class; they are always of subordinate magnitude, and the humblest of them are mere coast torrents, like those west of the Andes. Others find their way to no ocean, but lose themselves in an inland sea or lake, as the Volga does in the Caspian; as the Gihon and the Sihon do in the Aral; as the Jordan does in the Dead Sea. Others disappear in sand wastes or in morasses; such are the rivers of the African steppes. Others are blocked up, as it were, by the tidal wave of the ocean, and are thus converted into estuary lakes.

There are some rivers, also, which remain equally or nearly equally full the whole year through; there are others which have their seasons of overflow: the Nile, for instance, and many rivers whose basin lies within the region of tropical rains; there are temporary rivers, now full, now empty, which, if they do not leave, like the torrents of Arabia, a perfectly dry bed, are traced in the dry season by a row of stagnant lakes, such, for example, as are found in the swampy lands of Australia.

Rivers more closely considered.

What is peculiar to every river is determined by the abundance of its sources, the forking of its tributaries, the rate of its descent, the distance from its most remote springs to its mouth, the main direction of its course, and the greater or less sinuosities of its channel, as occasioned by the structure of the country which it traverses.

The abundance of its waters is conditioned by the greater or less amount of snow which finds the highest springs, the heavy rains which it receives in tropical countries, and the exceedingly varied influences which temperate climates may exert upon it. The fall softens from the rush and plunge of the mountain district, first to an arrowy swiftness, then to a moderate course, then to a beautiful gliding motion, to end with an almost imperceptible flow just before entering the sea.

The direction of rivers is determined:—

1. By the structure of the region which they traverse, the layers being in some places horizontal, and in others tilted to a vertical position; here grouped, as in the granite Carpathian chain, in such a way that the river courses which begin there run in parallel lines, radiating like the rays of a star from a central point; then grouped in such a manner that a stream may receive tributaries from two nearly contiguous ranges, as among the spurs of the Ural Mountains, the Rhone in Valais, receiving waters from the Bernese Alps at the north, and Pennine Alps at the south; the Isère, in like manner, the Upper Rhine in Grisons, the whole Upper Inn in Tyrol.

2. The direction is also determined by the mutual action of tributaries and the main stream at the point of confluence. Very often the union of two powerful currents gives rise to a third direction, according to the law known as the parallelogram of the forces. This generally occurs when no obstacle stands in the way of their taking a normal course, and is exemplified in the cases of the Kama and Volga, the Theiss and Danube, the Rhine and Main, the Saone and Rhone. Where an obstacle stands in the way, their abnormal direction is manifested in the abrupt bendings of the river bed. An instance is found in the bending of the Rhone northward as it emerges from Valais. Its lower course, from Lake Geneva to Lyons, betrays the same angularities, resulting from the obstacles which it meets and cannot remove. The Rhine, breaking through the Jura at Basel, is another instance; the Rhine, between Bingen and Caub, and the Dal-Elf, in Sweden, also exemplify the same.

In case that rivers meet in their course large masses of stratified rocks, they force their way through them in a zigzag direction, making sharp angles always, and not unfrequently right angles, even. Instances of this are found in the Rhine, between Mayence and Coblentz, and in the Moselle, between Treves and Coblentz. When the river passes beyond these rocky barriers, and meets with obstructions of a more movable character, it crowds them more gently and gracefully aside, and leaves a path more sinuous and wave-like; and yet more gentle are its curves, as it opens a way through the plains where nothing obstructs its course. The last is strikingly exemplified in the rivers of eastern Europe, especially in all those of middle and southern Russia. The practised eye can determine the structure of the soil with considerable certainty, by merely tracing the course of rivers when represented on a faithful map. For, unless there be other reasons to prevent, rivers always force their way where there is the least resistance to overcome. In stratified rocks, where the tilt is so great as to make the strata vertical, the river beds usually run parallel with the lines of stratification. Instances are found among the Alpine rocks, in Valais along the Rhone, in Tyrol along the Inn and Adige, in Grisons, and among the Jura along the Rhine. Where the lines of stratification are horizontal, rivers usually take their course through the most marked ravines and fissures.

In most mountains, however, the lines of stratification are neither vertical nor horizontal, but intermediate between them, more or less sloping, as in most marked ranges of central Germany, for example. In such cases, the process of excavating river beds has been determined by various circumstances and conditions, and the direction of their channels does not alone depend upon the extent and tilt of the strata, but also on other forces which have exercised a favoring or a retarding influence on their direct course. The stratification has its influence, indeed, but it is general rather than specific. Still, it is very largely felt when it happens to coincide in its main lines with the direction of the mountain range, but is comparatively insignificant when it does not. We have instances in the Alps where the axis of stratification coincides with that of the main chain, from south-southwest to north-northeast; in the Jura, from southwest to northeast; and in the Scandinavian range, from south to north.

The different geological formations found in mountain districts have a very important influence in determining the direction of rivers. Mountains do not generally consist of rocks of one kind of structure, but of several. What stratification is to mountains whose geological formation is the same throughout, the superposition of different kinds of rocks is to those of composite materials. The layers may be divided into superior, inferior, and adjacent. These usually vary in respect to age, and may be traced in a regular geological seniority, as for example sandstone, gypsum, limestone, gray-wacke, and granite. These formations are either closely contiguous, or are separated merely by valleys, as for instance in the Carpathian chain, where the central granite knot is separated by valley plains from the more southern limestone chain; an example of contiguity is found on the west spur of the same Carpathian range. Wherever mountain systems of varied geological structure approach each other very closely, rivers seldom break their way through either one, but find their way along the roots of the mountains, till at last they come to a less confined place. Such river courses are often very large and deep; for the mountain streams which meet and are hemmed in by the narrow pass between the two contiguous ranges sweep all loose obstructions before them, and not only leave their path clear, but continually deepen it. We find this in the Ural, the Isère, the Rhone, Aar, Inn, in all the long and winding Alpine valleys, and in the Ebro, fed by the parallel ridges of the Pyrenees. The circle of rivers which girds the central Carpathian knot is an illustration of what was said a moment since. The Poprad, Dunayic, Arva, and Waag are found where the true Carpathian chain, which is granitic, is closely contiguous to subordinate ranges of limestone and gray-wacke. In any accurate map, the long, winding course between these two chains may be easily traced. Looking at the point where the Hartz Mountains and the Thuringian ridge touch at their roots, the groups are seen to be insulated, as it were, by the rivers which gird their bases. In the great streams of southern and southwestern Asia, too, the line of the water-courses can be traced along the narrow valleys which separate main from subordinate mountain chains; the Terek, Kooban, Koor, Aras, Euphrates, Tigris, Indus, Ganges, and probably the Chinese rivers, are all examples of this.

Some streams seem to be entirely independent of all these laws in forming their channels, and to have their direction assigned to them by the freaks of nature, such, for instance, as fissures in mountain chains and clefts, which remain to indicate ancient convulsions.

The entire course of a river is divided into three distinct and subordinate courses—the upper, middle, and lower. To these and their respective tributaries correspond the three grades of transition found on the banks, and which have already been alluded to. Not only the total amount of fall in the river bed, but also the angle of inclination, and the whole complex of phenomena in the basin, are reciprocal to the threefold character of transition in almost every hydrographical system in the world. Still, the variety of relations which arise from the combination of different elements is so variable, that an almost infinite diversity arises in the characteristics of rivers, and these characteristics always vary, too, according as found in the upper, middle, or lower course.

Upper Course of Rivers.

This begins at the ridge of the water-shed, and extends to the limits where the river emerges from the most rocky highlands. It depends for its existence upon the greater fall in the river bed there than lower down. At the upper course, therefore, rivers which may flow in exactly opposite directions are brought into direct neighborhood. The farther they advance from the water-shed the more they recede from each other. In the High Forest south of the Carpathian chain, and in the Bory Morass north of it, the waters which flow into the Baltic and into the Black Seas spring from the ground side by side. The name given to the districts where the head-waters of large and navigable rivers part is usually the French word portages, the English word transports being little used in that connection, although all, the German Trageplatze and the Russian Wolok, involve the idea of carrying, of porterage, from the head-waters of one stream to those of another. The lowest parts of a water-shed, the passes of a high mountain range, for example, the intermediate vales of lower ones, and the most elevated plains in flat districts, are the most suitable for the purpose of canal building, to serve as a connecting link between the sources of divergent streams; as, for instance, the canal which is proposed to connect the Baltic and the Black Seas by uniting the Vistula and Danube, the tributaries, the Poprad, Hernad, and Theiss being the channel of communication up to the mountains where a canal is to pass over the water-shed formed by the valleys of the Carpathian chain. Such a communication is the most available which can be made between the opposite sides of a mountain range. The practicability of constructing such canals depends very largely upon the degree of fall in the upper course of the connected rivers, as determined by the slope of the bed toward the horizon. The grade of most mountains’ sides, which stand back to back, is unlike on the two sides: steep on the one, slight on the other. Upon this depends the greater or less wildness of the streams flowing through their upper course. In the Ural chain the slope is steep on the eastern side, gradual on the western; in the Caucasus, steep on the north, gradual on the south; in the Carpathian and the Alps, just the reverse—steep on the south, gradual on the north. The rate of fall varies; but, in general, it lies between an angle of 2° and an angle of 6°, taking the entire upper course into account. On the very steep north side of the Pyrenees, the fall is between 3° and 4°; on the south side of the Alps, from the summits of Mont Rosa and Mont Blanc to the plains of Piedmont, it is 3¾°. It is far less in more unimportant ranges. And this angle, it should be remarked, is an average; it is the resultant of a great number of special, short slopes, which vary from the perpendicularity of an occasional waterfall to the equally occasional tranquillity of a meadow-like flow. The incidental slopes are, of course, much greater than the average of all. A grade of 15° is very steep; it is the maximum that can be ascended by a beast of burden. A grade of 8° is the maximum for wheeled vehicles; all roads must be less sloping than this. To accomplish the ascent of 35°, a man on foot must have some assistance. A grade of 44° in the high peaks of Mexico and Peru, Humboldt found inaccessible; only where the growth of trees and shrubs gave him an opportunity of planting his feet, could he climb where it was a little steeper than 44°. The Carpathians and the Pyrenees, on account of their steepness and their scanty verdure, are very difficult to ascend. The Alps are much more easily climbed than the mountains just mentioned, in consequence of their abundant growth of turf and undergrowth. The richest Alpine meadows of Switzerland have an inclination not exceeding 20°; at a greater slope the vegetation becomes more sparse. The grade on which it is possible for earth to cling, Lehman fixes at 45°, and considers that the normal slope, because at a greater angle, rain glances or ricochets. But Lehman is not right in assigning this as the normal slope possible for earth to cling and vegetation to grow, for on the Alps soil adheres and plants get a footing at a much steeper angle than 45°; in fact, the modifications in the appearance of the Alps, by the growth of trees clinging to steeper slopes than this, are very marked. From the highest possible grade where vegetation can get a footing, we advance to the sheer perpendicular.

The upper course of rivers is characterized rather by plunges than by equable flowing, and determines its way by a series of leaps through zigzag cuts and various ravines. It traverses bowl-shaped hollows and narrow defiles, and makes its way even through mountain lakes, depositing in them its residuum of sand and gravel which it has caught up and swept along. In its wild plunges it draws into its body considerable air, which appears as bubbles, and makes it a white mass of foam. By-and-by it reaches more level ground, becomes clear as crystal, and assumes a rich emerald green, or a deep blue. It is unnavigable, wild, romantic, and is always found in mountain districts.

The brawling brooks of Salzburg, of the Pyrenees, and of Sweden and Norway, all partake of this character. Those of the Pyrenees have a fall of an inch in every foot, and in some places cataracts of two or three feet. The same is observable in the Alps, where the continual stir of the water mixes in air enough to turn all into a mass of silvery-white foam. The Carpathian waters are the same before they reach the high plateaus lying at their feet. The Alpine lakes, too, which lie within the upper course of the rivers which feed them, have a considerable fall; Lago Maggiore, for instance, has a descent of 52 feet between Magadino and Arona.

In all the most marked mountain systems of Europe, the upper course of the rivers is especially prominent. Northern Europe is characterized by the fact that its streams have, throughout the most of their length, the peculiarities of the upper course—whether observed in northern Russia, in all Sweden, Norway, and Scotland.

With the exit of the river from the mountain district, all these relations are changed, and a new character begins.

The Middle Course.

Far more moderate is the descent after the river emerges from the mountain region, or where it has never experienced the wild turbulence of the upper course, as is the case in most of the rivers of eastern Europe. In the middle course the angle of inclination is much modified. The upper Main has a fall of 342 feet within three miles after leaving Fichtel Mountains. The descent of most of the rivers of central Germany is much less than this. The Neckar, whose sources lie 2084 feet above the sea, in passing to Heilbronn, which is 450 feet above the sea, falls at the rate of about an inch to every 32 feet. The fall of the Saale, after leaving the Fichtel range, is about 20 feet to the mile; that of Naab, about 14; that of the Eger, less; and that of the upper Oder, in Silesia, still less. More gradual yet is the slope of the Volga bed, which falls but 1400 in about 2050 miles, considerably less than a foot to a mile; and in its lower course its inclination must be still less.

The effects of the current must necessarily be very different from those observable under the influence of the dashing and wayward upper course.

The name River Bed is given to the entire breadth of the hollow which holds the river, and which varies in width according to the stage of the water, especially in large streams like the great rivers of America. The Mississippi is a mile wide at Natchez at low water, at high water almost thirty. The Orinoco, at St. Thomas, is three miles wide at low water, at high water it is over seventy. In the Volga and the Danube the stage of water makes great differences in the width of the river bed. In summer the depth and breadth are, as a rule, less than in winter.

The Channel differs from the river bed; it is the part of the river bed which gives life and motion to the whole current. In the upper course the channel and the river bed generally coincide; in the middle and lower courses, on the contrary, the channel occupies but a very small share of the whole bed, but yet it determines the direction, amount of fall, and the rapidity of the stream. It lies usually not in the middle of the river bed, but on one side; it passes, however, from bank to bank; it is indicated by the movement of ships, which always follow it, and it lies uniformly adjacent to the boldest shore. It widens the whole river bed toward one side, and not toward both; and so streams which traverse great plains, like the great Hungarian one, for instance, do not now run through the middle, but course along at the base of the marginal bluffs. In all such cases, it will be found that the channel hugs the boldest side of the bed. All the four Carpathian rivers, as they wind out between the main range and the subordinate ranges, have their steepest shore, not on the side of the loftiest, but on the side of the boldest mountains, and these are the ones of the subordinate range. So, in the plains which lie between the Swiss Alps and the Jura, the bold sides of the river bed lie on the side of the bolder though less important chain, and not on the side of the Alpine meadows. The bold banks of the Ebro are not on the side of the Pyrenees and their plains, but on the south side. All the streams of South and Middle Russia have, therefore, on the east side, their low banks, on the west the bold ones; and this, because the most extensive plains lie on the eastern side.

In the more level tracts the windings of rivers are very much increased in magnitude. These windings check the current. The serpentine course is characteristic of rivers in their middle course, and it is repeated, though on a small scale, in every meadow brook. The serpentine course of rivers gives rise to countless islands and intervals: as, for example, between Bâle and the Rhinegau, but, with very few exceptions, no lakes, the characteristic feature of the upper course of rivers. But the broad meadow lands of the middle course very often indicate in the clearest manner that they were once lakes of considerable magnitude, which have subsided and left their basin a dry plain. An example may be found in the meadow land of the Rhine, from Bâle to Bastberg, below Strasbourg, and again from Ladenburg, in the Palatinate, to Bingen. So on the Danube, from Ulm to Passau, Lintz, and Kloster Newburg, and again from Pesth to Beloro Semlin, as far, in fact, as the narrows at Orsova. The same feature is met in the middle course of the Volga, from Tver eastward to the west Ural, and southward to Saratov and Kamishin, where it breaks through the Obstshei-Syrtis, which was, doubtless, once the barrier of a great inland lake. In these basins, now dry, there is a surprising uniformity of characteristics wherever on the globe they occur. They differ but little, whether found in the middle course of the Ganges, the Indus, the Euphrates, or the American rivers. The still, incomplete stream of the St. Lawrence shows us, even in the present, what the ancient conditions were before they solved the problem of their complete development. There, a row of such lakes as formerly existed in the now fruitful plains of the middle Rhine, the middle Danube, and central Russia, are the five great Canadian lakes. They still constitute the middle course of the river, and one pours itself directly into another, either over a gentle slope of land, or in a great cataract and rapids, such as we do not observe in the middle course of other streams, which are not, like the St. Lawrence, incomplete. Only when waterfalls disappear can the inclination of rivers become a gradual one. The uniformity of the grade of their channel is, therefore, a sign that they have attained to a complete development. In such, slight rapids remain, instead of the ancient cataracts. The existence of those primeval falls we find in all rivers, even in the Rhine and Danube. The rounded faces of the rocks which once were the barriers to the rivers’ course, and the debris once swept down from the mountains and deposited over the bottom of the ancient lakes, show this.

The strongest instance of cataracts, resembling the ancient ones which connected the lakes of nearly all the great rivers of the globe, is seen in the fall of Niagara. That cataract is an epitome of the falls of all other streams. The Niagara River conducts the water of Lake Erie, by a channel 33 miles long, to Lake Ontario, 300 feet below it. At the Great Fall the river plunges about 150 feet into a chasm which it has hollowed out from the soft stone between the two lakes. The cataract was formerly seven miles below its present location, and has been observed to be steadily working backward since its discovery. In the distant future it will, doubtless, wholly disappear, as all others have done. For the Niagara is merely a striking instance of a principle once universal, but which merely worked itself out on a smaller scale. The more fragments of rock and mountain debris were swept along, the sooner were the primitive falls rent away by the wash and the percussion, and the development of the middle course completed.

The places of transition which lie between the higher dry basins and the lower ones are still to be traced in almost all rivers; not by great waterfalls, which belong only to the upper course, but by simple rapids. They are more or less characterized by narrows, with steep, rocky banks, where, doubtless, cataracts existed in the primitive times. They are recognizable by this feature, that they are uniformly alike, and distribute their force equally on both sides of the river. Examples may be found on both sides of the Rhine, in the narrows between Bingen and Bacharach; on the Elbe, from Tetshen to Shandau, Dresden, and Meissen. In these places the rivers have a very tortuous course, and there are whirls and rapids (rapides, sauts, of the French; saltos, randales, of the Spanish; schewerin of the Russians) which impede navigation. In these localities the entire aspect of nature is changed, and the landscape becomes exceedingly beautiful. Here we find ancient narrow roadways; here are places of great historic interest, and of great interest to the naturalist, assuredly not of accidental origin, but in close connection with the development of the river bed, and in close analogy with all places of transition from highland to lowland.

We may, perhaps, mark these features in all the rivers of the earth. A knowledge of them is essential to understand thoroughly the natural development of a river system in its true parts; unfortunately, they have as yet been too little observed and described. Among European rivers they are found in the Guadiana, at the Saltos de Lobo; in the Douro, at the rapids below Torre de Moncorvo; in the Ebro, at Sastago, below Saragossa; in the Rhone, the rapids below Lyons, between the granite banks of Pierre Encise; in Loire, by Iguerando, below Roanne; in the Rhine, below Strasbourg, and at the narrows at Bingen, near St. Goar and Andernach; in the Weser, at the Porta Westphalica; in the Danube, at Grein, at Kloster Newburg, and at Yachtali, Drenir Kapi, (Iron Gate,) and Orsova; and in the Dnieper, the thirteen waterfalls below Yekaterinslav. The same features are repeated in all the other streams of Europe and the remaining continents. More close investigation of them will lead to important results, concerning the structure of the earth in the regions intermediate between plateaus and lowlands.

As a high grade, great cataracts, sharp and bold cliffs, and mountain lakes characterize the upper course of streams, so rapids, dry lake basins, and a meandering channel characterize their middle course. Below the lowest rapids are found the level plains or lowlands which give rivers their third characteristic.

Lower Course.

As soon as the rivers break through the lowest range of hills which once beset their course, they deposit the debris which they bear with them, and begin the formation of diluvial plains. We find in the soil of all level places along the middle, as well as the lower course of rivers, traces of the same kinds of rock and minerals, which characterize the mountains where they rise. The rate of fall in the lower course of rivers is so slight as to be almost imperceptible. Relatively, it is the greatest in the Volga; from Kamishin to the Caspian the descent is more than 150 feet, although the distance is less than 500 miles. The Senegal, from Podor to the sea, a distance of about 200 miles, falls only about 2½ feet; the Amazon, within about the same distance, falls only 10½ feet, or about an inch to the mile. In such rivers, therefore, the tide can flow a very long way inland.

This gives rise to a great conflict of forces—the pressure of the stream in its natural flow, heightened at the appropriate season by the annual inundation, and the backward pressure of the tidal wave. Before these forces come into equilibrium, the river bed is constantly changing. The river proper seeks this equilibrium by a parting of its channel, dividing into two mouths, as in the Nile, or into more than one, as in the Rhine and Danube, or several (about 65) in the Volga. The momentum of the stream, the resistance of the tide, and the consequent slow speed of the current promote the fall of deposits along the lower course of rivers. Below the surface the result of these deposits is found in sand banks or bars; above the surface, as low, marshy land, the deltas, subject to frequent inundation. We see this in the Rhine, the Nile, the Euphrates, the Indus, the Ganges, the Mississippi—in all, about fourteen of the first-class rivers of the globe. The contrary feature, single, broad mouths not yet filled up by alluvial deposits, negative deltas, or deep ocean inlets, can be observed in nine others of the largest rivers—the Obi, Yenisei, St. Lawrence, Columbia, La Plata—mostly found, however, in the north of the earth, where there is very little of the more loose and fruitful soil which more southern rivers bear onward from the mountains where they rise.

Another peculiarity of the lower course is seen in the extraordinary changes in the river bed—the shifting of the channel from one side to the other. This is the natural result of the very light and movable character of the deposits brought down from above, and the strong pressure of the current, which, though slow, has great momentum. In the lower course of the Ganges, Indus, Euphrates, Nile, Rhine, and Po, these changes can be traced as a matter of history, and, in the lapse of centuries, have had great influence on the formation of the great plains of those rivers’ mouths and on the people living there. With the lower course begins the regular yearly inundations, which cover vast districts in tropical countries; and to these inundations may be attributed the gradual raising of the level of the plains covered by them. Hence arose Herodotus’ descriptive phrase ποταμοὶ ἐργατιχοί, (prolific rivers.) The great fruitfulness of these lowlands is well known. The rich alluvial deposits have made Bengal, Babylonia, Egypt, Lombardy, Holland, and the Netherlands the granaries of all neighboring countries.

In proportion as the mouth of great rivers resembles an inland sea, having a strongly marked tidal flow in sympathy with the ocean, does the whole nature of the lower course vary. The rivers whose mouths are turned to the east and south are those which are exposed to the strongest and the highest ocean waves. Such are Chinese, Indian, and South American rivers, which sometimes show the result of this, 500 miles inland. The tide extending so far into the interior facilitates navigation very much, and transforms the lowlands along their margin into districts, which seem transitional between true continent and oceanic islands. All the mouths of first-class rivers which open toward the north and west are less deeply affected by the entrance of the sea waves. To these belong most of the European streams. Exceptional to both of these classes are the three rivers, the Nile, Danube, and Volga, whose direction is not toward the ocean, but toward the center of the Old World. They form a triad, not of oceanic, but of continental streams; in them there is no ebb and flood. Their lower course and mouths must, therefore, display different relations from those of any other of the great rivers of the globe.

It was early remarked that not all streams, when they reach the sea, flow at once into it, but come to a standstill. It is so with the Thames, and with most of the North American rivers. The ocean sometimes throws a tidal wave twenty to thirty feet high up their channel, and dams their flow. Rivers vary exceedingly in their relations to this high barrier. The Chinese streams are sometimes raised forty feet by it above their normal level. This gives rise to a salt oceanic river, so to speak. It is the same with the Thames at London. At high tide the surface is salt, while the water at the bottom is fresh. The struggle with the downward current and the upward current is very often visible. It is so in the Orinoco, the Ganges, in the Chinese rivers; most of all, in the St. Lawrence.

In all the continents there are many small rivers and rivulets which have no normal mouths; which lose themselves in the earth before they reach the sea. Sometimes they pursue a subterranean course, and emerge again, though usually with a changed name. Among the best-known of such instances is the Perte du Rhone, below Geneva, where the river flows for a little way directly beneath a spur of the Jura Mountains. In like manner, the Meuse, which loses itself in the earth at Bazoilles, in the Vosges Mountains, west of Nancy, flows in a subterranean bed as far as Noncourt, nine miles distant, and then emerges. The phenomenon is common among the Jura, and in the limestone cliffs which feed the Drave and Save. The tourist meets almost hourly there some brook or little river disappearing beneath the ground. On the high Asiatic plateau of Gobi, 68 rivers are known, which disappear in a similar manner; in the north of Thibet there are 115 such. They are common, also, in the Chinese province of Yun-nan, on the Persian highland, and on the plateau of the Bechuanas, in South Africa. In South America, between the Andes and the La Plata, there are twelve lakes without effluents, the greatest being Lake Titicaca. In Central America, there is the Lake of Mexico.

The division of the whole length of a river into the three courses—the upper, middle, and lower—and the proportionate share which each of these bears to the whole, depends upon the height at which the source stands above the mouth. The greater or less extent of the transition grades, and the greater or less extent of navigable waters, also depend on the same. The upper course has, as a general rule, too many hinderances to be very valuable for navigation; it is, at best, adapted only to boats. The more united and deeper middle course offers facilities for vessels of considerable draught; yet the frequent sunken rocks and eddies and rapids are a great impediment to navigation. We find it so in the Rhine, below the Falls of Schaffhausen, as far as Bâle; and in its middle course, at Bingen and St. Goar; in the Danube, also, at Grein and Orsova.

The lower course, on the other hand, opens like a broad fresh-water sea, that sometimes allows large ships to sail 50, 200, and even 500 miles inland. These maritime streams ought to be discriminated from others; the Chinese call them “sons of the ocean.”

The proportions in the length of the upper, middle, and lower course of rivers are exceedingly variable; and equally variable of course are the transition lands apportioned to each, and forming its natural supplement. The upper course of the Volga is very short, the middle very long, and the lower very short. The same relative proportions, though with very different dimensions, are found in the Vistula, the Ganges, the Euphrates, and the Mississippi. The upper course of the Rhine, on the contrary, is very long, through all Switzerland to Bâle; the middle also very long, to Cologne; the lower, very short, to Rotterdam and the sea. It is the same with the Nile, the Danube, and the Indus. In the Marañon or Amazon the upper course is very short, the middle and lower very long. In the Chinese rivers Hoang-ho and Yang-tse-Kiang all the three courses are relatively long.

The length of the middle and lower courses, although important conditions of navigation, are not the only ones. Others are not to be overlooked,—the amount of water, depth of channel, and the like. These, however, are not capable of being generalized under any law, but depend upon the individual characteristics of each stream. Every river needs, for an exhaustive account of its features, its own monograph.

There remains but one important point to be considered—one which has exerted a very great influence on the diversity of structure in all river systems, controlling the area of their drainage, their volume of water, their effect on human culture, and on the ethnographic character of the people dwelling on their banks. It is the distance from the source to the mouth in direct distance compared with that following the tortuous course of the stream. The two lines almost never coincide; they generally lie far apart. And the less they approach to coincidence, the greater becomes the area of the river basin; the more numerous and valuable the tributaries to the main course, the greater the volume of the stream and the more varied and extensive its influence.

One or two examples drawn from European rivers will more fully explain this point, to which Buache has already called attention in his “Parallèle des fleuves.”

The mouth of the Volga is 982 miles distant from the source, in an air-line. The distance, including all the curves of the stream, is 2012 miles, the bendings adding 1028 miles to the direct course. By this doubling of the shortest possible distance, the area drained by it is swollen to the enormous size of 657,000 square miles. The direct course lies in a diagonal direction from northwest to southeast; but the real direction is a changing one. First, it flows a short distance from north to south, then in its middle course it has a double direction; first eastward, toward the Ural chain, then to the south, and lastly, in its lower course, to the southeast. Through this varied course it receives tributaries from very remote sources, and waters a country altogether greater than would be possible if the Volga’s course were direct from the source to the mouth. Its basin becomes so large as to embrace a fifth of Europe, and the stream becomes one of the longest and most available for navigation in the continent. The vastness of the volume of water and the wandering course have both contributed to the value of the Volga lowlands.

The exact contrast to the Volga is found in the Dniester. In the Volga there is a maximum of windings; in the Dniester there is a minimum. The air-line distance of the mouth of the Dniester from the source is 408 miles; the distance, including all the bends, is 450 miles; the loss in winding is, therefore, but about 42 miles. The theoretical course of the Dniester, i.e. measured by an air-line, would coincide very nearly with its actual course. There cannot be, therefore, any distant springs whose waters flow into its channel; its basin is one of the most contracted in the world in consequence of its directness; and a small belt, embracing but 32,850 square miles, comprehends the entire district that it drains, freed from all those tributaries which make the Volga basin so important.

The Dnieper, its eastern neighbor, is 630 miles in direct distance from the source to the mouth, but 1000 with all its windings; leaving 370 miles as the extraneous shore, which adds to the value of the basin, and contributes to the 219,000 square miles which it drains.

The same contrast is seen elsewhere, though not on so extended a scale. It is to be found in the Vistula, Oder, Elbe, Weser, Rhine, and Danube. These rivers give shape to the transition terraces between broad eastern Europe and the more contracted western portions of the continent; their dimensions are, therefore, on a less extensive scale than in the great Russian streams. Still, the differences in them are worthy of notice.

In the Vistula, the direct distance from the source to the mouth is 329 miles, and the real distance is 611 miles; the windings comprise, therefore, 280 miles, or about two-thirds of the air-line from extreme to extreme. It becomes able to receive a large number of tributaries, and its basin is enlarged to an area of 78,402 square miles, becoming one of the best-watered and most fruitful on the globe.

In the Oder, the direct distance from the source to the mouth is about the same as in the Vistula. But while the latter frequently changes its course, running first northward, then eastward to the Sau, then northward again to the Bug, then westward to the Drewenz, and lastly northward, and so gains a very large basin of drainage, the former is unvarying in its course from southeast to northwest; so that the direct line drawn from extreme to extreme, as the bird flies, is nearly coincident with the actual course of the river. The windings do not, at most, comprise one-third of the whole length of the stream, and the basin drained by its tributaries is at least a third less than that of the Vistula, and is proportionately less valuable to the interests of the world.

In the Elbe the air-line length is 394 miles, greater therefore, than that of the Vistula or the Oder; its length, including its windings, is about the same as that of the Vistula. The area of its basin lies therefore between the two, 61,320 square miles; it is more valuable, therefore, than that of the Oder, and less valuable than that of the Vistula.

Still less striking in this respect are the Weser and the Ems; but the Rhine assumes a prominence, in relation to the value of its basin, greater than even the Vistula. The direct distance from the source of the Rhine to its mouth is 423 miles, the actual distance 705 miles; the windings comprise, therefore, more than two-thirds of the entire length of the stream. The number of tributaries is uncommonly large, the area drained is increased about 9855 miles beyond that of the Vistula; and the entire basin (88,257 square miles) is one which has been of the greatest import in the history of all central Europe.

All the rivers and all the terrace lands of the globe exhibit the same relation which we have been briefly indicating in a few European ones; in some of the great rivers of the world they are to be traced on a scale of grandeur of which in those which have been touched upon scarcely a suggestion is given.

But not in this feature, added to what has been already said, do we exhaust the fruitful subject of Rivers, and the terrace systems which accompany them from their source to the sea. The diversity of phenomena traceable in them had hid their unity from geographers, and prevented their tracing general principles in so manifold details. The dry, linear representations on most of our maps have blinded the eye to the living and organic relations which river systems enter into, and through which they exert a great influence. They must be examined singly; they must be studied in their real character and individuality, and each must have its own monograph, before we can fully know the value of river systems to the world.

We have now to touch upon one or two points omitted, thus far, in our discussion of the hydrography of the continents.

The stream is a unit; most streams have a single channel as the last goal of their descent. Others may have double channels, which contend with each other for the superiority. If they are double only for a part of the whole length of the river, and in the upper or middle course flow together, and form one main channel, they can be called twin head-streams. We have an example in the Danube and Inn, which are equally long and equally large. Other instances are the Rhone and the Saone, the Volga and Kama, the Missouri and Mississippi, the Blue and White Nile, the Ganga and Jumna. Others have triple head-streams; as, for example, the Hither, Middle, and Farther Rhine; the Ucayale, Huallaga, and Marañon, which combine in the middle course to form the Amazon. There may be even five head-streams, as in the Indus. Often it is only through the usage of speech, often through ancient and exploded errors, that the name of one of the head-streams is given to the whole river.

If the double channels continue through the whole length of the river system, they belong to a different category; they become true double systems, and have a double influence on the development of the whole range of terraces from source to base. From their meeting in a common bay or gulf at the mouth, they may be called sister-streams; and, from the territory which they inclose between them, the Mesopotamia, they may be called Mesopotamic streams. Between such double streams some of the greatest States of Asia lie. Universally known, on account of their influence on Asiatic culture, are the Euphrates and Tigris uniting in the Persian Gulf, Ganges and Brahmapootra uniting in the Bay of Bengal, Gihon and Sihon in the Sea of Aral, Hoang-ho and Yang-tse-Kiang encompassing the Central Flowery Country of the Chinese Empire, and meeting in a common delta. These double streams are mostly met in Asia, and they have exercised a great influence on the whole growth of oriental civilization.

In South America there is yet another and more complex form yet of river system. The Amazon is connected with the Orinoco by means of the little cross-river Cassiquiare. By this connection the middle course of both rivers is made more available to navigation than it would otherwise have been. Such cross-streams may be found, though on a smaller scale, in other continents; in Africa, for example, between the Senegal and the Rio Grande. There a network is made between the parallel rivers, but it is available for navigation only in the wet seasons. In Central Africa there seems to be a similar phenomenon between the eastern tributaries of Lake Tchad and the western tributaries of the Bahr el Abiad or White Nile, though this rests on the authority of the Arabs. In India there appears to be a similar connection between the middle course of the Indus and the Jumna, and so the Ganges, by the mediation of the Sarasvati or Histara and the Gharghara. There may have been the same in Central China, between the Hoang-ho and the Kiang, where the Imperial Canal now runs; and a similar feature may be found in the Lithuanian marshes, connecting the Vistula and Dnieper river systems, through the mediation of the Bug and the Przypec. The skill of man has, in many places, accomplished the same end by the construction of canals.

Although all rivers, in the course of their development, follow the universal law which leads them from their source, however high, to the sea, yet there is, even in their descent, scope for exceedingly varied phenomena. It is not necessary that everywhere a strongly-marked line of water-shed should exist, but often, as in all the more level plateaus, there are broad, neutral plains which perform the function of water-sheds, though possessing no decisive character. It is so through a great part of Central Asia, in the low plains of Australia, probably in a large part of Africa, and so markedly in America, that all lines of water-shed wholly disappear, and the rivers flow confusedly together, without any system, and in obedience to no law.

Some rivers come down the sides of high mountains in torrents, then course around in a long, winding course, turning out for all obstacles, and at last find the sea. Others are entirely unlike them. The Ganges flows from the south side of the Himalaya Mountains, and courses along their base, following the direction of the chain in a southeasterly direction, till it reaches the Bay of Bengal. The Indus springs from the north side of the Himalaya, flows northwest over the plateau of Little Thibet as far as Iskardo, then breaks through the whole chain to pour itself out upon the lowlands of India, the Punjaub, and Mooltan. Dashing its way through the most formidable barriers, it is entirely unlike the gentle Ganges, which pursues its tranquil course through the plains, meeting no barrier in its entire length. The Indus, so long as it remains north of the Himalaya, traverses a plateau 10,000 feet above the sea; while the Ganges, even at Delhi, is but 1000 feet above the sea. Both rivers, although represented in precisely the same way upon the maps, have an entirely different physical character.

The same difference in structure occurs in the streams of other continents, and even in those of Central Europe, though on a less colossal scale. There are, therefore, classes of rivers, and they ought to be just as sharply discriminated as the classes in botany and zoology.

Plateau streams, such as the Danube, as far as the Lower Austrian and Hungarian plains, and the Saone, down to its confluence with the Rhone, pass through high, uniform plains with little fall. They are genuine mountain followers, springing from the verge of the chain and crossing along its base, the Saone taking the west side of the Alps, as the Danube does the northern, and the Po the southern.