the stone is then called conglomerate, or pudding-stone.

These pebbles are always rounded and smooth, as if polished by attrition against each other, by the moving force of water, before becoming cemented in their present places, and are not angular and rough, like the fragmentary masses constituting the refuse in a quarry, or the chips of a stone-cutter's yard. In the Portland quarries and vicinity they are found to be mostly of three kinds, one of which is composed of a species of ferruginous quartz; the second of a blue slate, itself often containing gravel and small pebbles; and a third of flesh-colored, crystalline feldspar.

The third kind of rock characterizing the Connecticut Valley is the trap, or greenstone, which commences at the West Rock, in New-Haven, and extends in ridges, diagonally, across the valley, in a northeasterly direction, to Mount Holyoke, in Massachusetts. It is always of a dark green or black color, is unstratified and uncrystalline, and often contains cavities, in which other mineral species are found, as calcareous spar, prehnite, and datholite. This rock, which constitutes the high ridge seen at a distance, to the west, from the Portland quarries, geologists affirm, with great assurance, is of still more recent origin than the sandstone, having been forced up in a melted state through both the granite and the sandstone. The ridges formed by this rock, in the Connecticut Valley, whenever they attain any considerable elevation, are very uniformly found, on the east side, to present to view a gradual slope, while on the west side they form often a nearly perpendicular front. On the east side the sandstone strata rest against the trap, being much more inclined to the horizon than elsewhere, as if their western edges had been raised up by some force which thrust up the trap; but on the west side the trap overlies the sandstone. A case exactly similar to this is found in the Palisades, on the Hudson River, with only this difference, that here the perpendicular front is presented to the east. Persons ascending the river, when the water is low, may plainly see the sandstone strata on which the Palisades (composed of trap) repose, like the walls of a building upon their foundation. The above cut rep

RELATIVE POSITION OF TRAP AND SANDSTONE.

resents an ideal section of one of those trap ridges, from east to west, the observer being supposed to be looking south. It shows the position of the strata of sandstone, on the opposite sides of the ridge, in relation to the mass of trap rock.

Further, it is believed that when these vast masses of trap rock were forced up, the whole region was covered with water. In our own day, we know that similar masses have been raised by subterranean action in the Mediterranean Sea, and in other parts of the world, thus forming islands, some of which remain permanent, while others have again disappeared. Now, if the waters of the Mediterranean Sea should hereafter subside, or if the whole region in which this sea is situated should be raised above the general level of the ocean, these islands would appear as hills or mountains, more or less elevated.

The gradual slope of these trap ridges in the Connecticut Valley, on the east side, and the perpendicular front on the west, is a natural result of the eastern inclination of the strata, the semi-fluid mass, as it burst through the strata, lifting some of the upper ones to the east, and flowing out over the top of those on the west side.

When the earth is removed from the surface of the rock, in the Portland quarries, the surface is everywhere found

DILUVIAL STRIE.

polished and smooth, except that it is more or less striated by very distinct markings, as represented in the cut. In every part of the quarries these striæ are very nearly in a north and south direction. Besides the tracks of animals, found at various places in the sandstone of the Connecticut Valley, some of which have been described, there are other facts tending to show some of the circumstances of that ancient time.

CATOPTERUS GRACILIS.

Here is the figure of a fish, which was found in the sandstone strata, a little distance from the Portland quarries. It possesses the characteristics of the fishes of that early period, and has been named Catopterus Gracilis.

The next cut represents a block of stone, now lying near the office of the Middlesex Company, in Portland. It is a mass of several tons weight, and in its upper surface are what appear to be the remains of a log of wood, some six feet in length, and some fifteen inches in diameter at the largest part. Near the middle it is considerably bent downward. Other portions of the same tree were found by the workmen, but were not preserved.

It is remarkable that as yet we have, in the sandstone, fewer indications of vegetable than of animal life. We also give a figure of a fossil plant, found in a pebble, from drift," or soil, not far from the quarries. The species has not been determined.

the 66

But a few considerations, not heretofore no

ticed, now require our attention. These impressions, denominated "footprints," if they be really "what they seem," must, of course, have been made upon what was then the surface, though now they are found many feet below, in the solid strata. So, also, the surface of soft mud, when it received the impression, must have been very nearly on the same level with the surface of the water; for, in the first place, the animal could not make them

where the water was of any considerable depth; and, secondly, if made under water, as a general thing they must have been obliterated, and would not remain for our inspection. The probability is, that most or all of them, especially those best preserved, were made upon the soft mud, after being left by

the spring freshet, so that the surface became hardened by the sun before a new deposit was made upon it by the next succeeding flood. The track, itself, would then be in a condition to receive the deposit of mud upon it, forming the cast; and both, consequently, would be preserved in the most perfect state.

But there is a difficulty in our way. These footprints occur in strata at different depths from the present surface of the rock; that is, in strata, one of which is perpendicularly above another; and if each stratum, as it was thrown down, constituted the sur

PETRIFIED TREE.

FOSSIL PLANT.

face, at the time, how can strata, one of which is many feet above another, have all been on the same level with the surface of the water?

Manifestly it can have been only by the gradual settling of the strata, as they were found, so that many different strata, as each in turn is deposited, and exists as soft mud, is, at the same time, on nearly the same level as the water of the sea.

Thus are we led, step by step, from that which is known, and capable of demonstration, to that which before was entirely unknown; and if our conclusions are not always susceptible of demonstration, yet are they rendered so extremely probable, that the mind is satisfied to receive them as certain. And how are our conceptions of the magnificence and grandeur of the Creator's works enlarged by such contemplations! It is true, it may not be such a system as in our own imagination we might suppose ourselves would have devised; but in extending our investigations we are more and more inclined to exclaim, How manifold are the works of the Creator: "In wisdom hast thou made them all!"

Buried deep beneath the earth we see the records of former years. The moving bird and beast, the falling rain, have left their impress. So ages may pass away, and the footprints of our being will be visible in creation. Man may not, but the eye of God will mark them with unerring certainty.

THE GONDOLIER'S SONG.

HE wives and children of the fisher

THE

men of the Adriatic are said, at nightfall, to go down to the sea-shore of the Chioggia, Malamocco, Palestrina, and the Lido, and shout their well-known and not unmusical songs, until each can distinguish in the distance through the twilight, over the waves, the husband's and father's peculiar response.

But nowhere is the gondolier's song so indescribably charming as on the Grand Canal of a moonlight, midsummer night. This is the great salon musicale of Venice; and, upon principles of acoustics, is admirably calculated to highten harmonious effect. The silence of the night, the gondola gliding noiselessly over a waveless surface which acts like a harmonic mirror on the voice; the façades of marble palaces on either side, with their overhanging balconies, their open portals, their endless halls and galleries, and their leafy gardens beyond, augmenting without echo the intensity of the sounds, all concur to aid effect. At midnight you stand on the Pergolo of the Palazzo Buzinello, opposite the Posta, the ancient Palazzo Grimani. You hear the accord of distant voices rising on the still night. A choir of gondoliers in their barques are slowly ascending from the Molo, half a mile below, and singing "La Biondina" as they advance.

Nearer, nearer, nearer, by a crescendo which no art can match, the barque and the barcarola approach: louder and louder rise the notes on the ear, until, at length, beneath your balcony, the song has attained its fortissimo. It passes; the rougher sounds soften; they lessen; they lessen as the barque ascends. At length it is beneath the Rialto arch, which, for a moment, with its echoes, augments and rounds the air. It passes on; it turns the winding of the stream; it dies away; it is dead; it is home! You hear no more; but you listen still you listen-hushedentranced-your very soul absorbed in the departed harmony. You draw a long breath; you speak to the friend at your side; your voice sounds to you harsh; you relapse into silence; and for hours after, those sweet melodies play like a rapture around your heart. And your thoughts-they are far, far away-away from the grand Old World, away over the wide wild ocean-away-at your home!

The night wore on, and still our vessel majestically swept the waves, and still the stars and moon shone bright, and the riversides were decked with living lights. Anon, the breath of morning-first harbinger of coming day-came wafting rich odors from the fields and plains and mountain-sides of Siam-the sweet incense, as it were, of the grateful earth refreshed by the heavy fall of the night dew. If there was anything to detract from the pleasurable enjoyment of such a night, it was the swarms of musketoes that invaded the vessel and buzzed around us incessantly, leaving the venom of their poisoned darts on our smarting hands and still more painfully wounded faces. The cool breath of morning proved, however, a balm to these stings, and the plagues of the night withdrew as the first gray tint of dawn appeared in the east. The river wound in a very serpentine course, in some parts so wide that we could barely distinguish objects on the opposite shore. About this time a legion of crows awoke, and, clamoring noisily to each other, proclaimed aloud the birth of another day. Flights of these thievish birds flew overhead in every direction, cawing joyously in expectation of an early breakfast. Five minutes more, and scores of noisy sparrows were twittering to each other. The day had now fairly broke, and the pilot declared that we were within a mile of the celebrated FLOATING CITY OF SIAM. The river was wide and deep, and the ship sailed merrily from shore to shore as the morning breeze freshened. Sometimes before we tacked, the bowsprit would run right into the center of a forest of mangroves, to the discomfort and alarm of troops of wild monkeys and countless paroquets. pectation was now on the tiptoe, for none of us had ever been in Siam before.

Ex

At length the breeze stiffened, and a bend in the river making the wind fair for our progress, away spun the ship like a happy courser who knew it was close upon its journey's end. We rounded one lofty forest-clad point, the sun at the same moment casting the glorious mantle of his light over the scene, and before we knew exactly how we had got there, we found ourselves sailing in a ship of eight hundred tons through the main street of Bangkok, the capital of the kingdom of Siam! What a singular and beautiful sight here burst upon our view! On each side of us, VOL. III, No. 4.-CC

as far as the eye could see, were countless little houses, neatly painted, and all floating upon the surface of the smooth waters, by means of strongly-constructed bamboo rafts; behind these again, in the distance, rose the stately spires of the various pagodas or watts, sparkling in the early' sunshine like costly gems; while far beyond all these was descried the solitary palace of the king of Siam, looming like some giant's castle above the pigmy habitations that surrounded it. In the houses all was life, bustle, and confusion. Chinamen, with gay silk dresses and long pigtails, were shouting and screaming to one another as some vessel, incautiously moored in the river, swung heavily round to the tide, threatening to annihilate their fragile tenements; old Siamese women armed themselves with long bamboo poles, to be prepared for an emergency and shove off any unwelcome intruders; Burmese were speculating in beetle-nut; natives of India were bartering with captains of Cochin China junks for the flesh of newlyslain alligators; while in the midst of this babel of languages and costume was to be seen the broad-brimmed hat of the American missionary, and the close-cropped pate of the Capuchin friar, laboring even in this distant land.

But the scene of activity to be witnessed in the floating houses was far surpassed by the moving tumult upon the river. Large Chinese junks, with a complement of full two hundred men, were hallooing, and beating gongs, and hoisting up their anchors; others, that had only just arrived, were equally busy about their moorings; European ships, of all sizes and nations, were hoisting in cargo or landing imported bale goods; while numberless canoes, chiefly moved about by women and girls, were paddling to and fro in all directions, laden with various sorts of commodities for apparel or for household consumption. Now came a gorgeously-painted canoe with gilt figure-head, and twenty men paddling it, bearing some nobleman from his mansion to the king's palace: then came a less aspiring boat, with ten or a dozen meager individuals clad in bright yellow apparel: these were a body of Siamese priests, going on a begging excursion for their dayly food. Next came a canoe bearing a gentleman clad very lightly indeed, even in so warm a climate as Siam. This was a Chinese pork butcher, resting on his