falling into it. This hole, as it is called, is, more properly speaking, the narrow extremity of a considerable ravine, which has, at some remote period, been formed in the rock; it shelves off as it descends towards the river, and is in length about two hundred yards from the road to the river. The top is so overgrown with bushes that a hasty view would induce many to suppose it to be really a hole; but a closer examination soon leads their eye along the windings of its courses, and discovers a very considerable breadth at no great distance. A hemlock tree, firmly rooted at the bottom, stretches its top almost to the surface, and is so conveniently fitted to the hole or opening, that you have only to descend five or six feet, when its branches afford you a safe and easy step-ladder quite to the bottom, where you will find a copious spring of excellent water.

An occurrence is traditionally described as having taken place at this spot during the French war, the circumstances of which were as follows:— A British detachment, being pursued by a superior French force, were so hemmed in that their retreat to the road was cut off, and their escape effectually prevented by this ravine. Seeing their situation irretrievable, they laid down their arms, and surrendered themselves prisoners of war. withstanding this surrender, the French rushed upon them with charged bayonets and precipitated the whole party down this precipice. Here they perished with the exception of a single soldier, who was preserved by falling on some of his comrades.

Not

Natural Bridge. This wonderful bridge is considered by many the greatest natural curiosity in this country. It has never been described so well as by Mr. Jefferson, and though his account of it has been so frequently reprinted, we have thought best to adopt it.

The Natural Bridge, the most sublime of nature's works, is on the ascent of a hill, which seems to have been cloven through its length by some great convulsion. The fissure just at the bridge is by some admeasurements two hundred and seventy feet deep, by others only two hundred and five. It is about forty-five feet wide at the bottom, and ninety feet at the top this of course determines the length of the bridge and its height from the water. Its breadth in the middle is about sixty feet, but more at the ends, and the thickness of the mass at the summit of the arch, about forty feet. A part of this thickness is constituted by a coat of earth, which gives growth to many large trees. The residue, with the hill on both sides, is one solid rock of limestone.

The arch approaches the semi-elliptical form, but the larger axis of the ellipsis, which would be the chord of the arch, is many times longer than the transverse. Though the sides of this bridge are provided, in some parts, with a parapet of fixed rocks, yet few men have resolution to walk to them and look over into the abyss. You involuntarily fall on your hands and feet, creep to the parapet, and peep over it. Looking down from this height about a minute, gave me a violent headache.

If the view from the top be painful and intolerable, that from below is delightful in an equal extreme. It is impossible for the emotions arising out of the sublime to be felt beyond what they are here, so beautiful an arch, so elevated, so light, and springing, as it were, up to heaven, the rapture of the spectator is really indescribable!

The fissure continuing narrow, deep, and straight for a considerable distance above and below the bridge, opens a short but very pleasing view

of the North mountain on one side, and the Blue ridge on the other, at the distance each of them of about five miles. This bridge is in the county of Rockbridge, to which it has given name, and affords a public and commodious passage over a valley, which cannot be crossed elsewhere for a considerable distance. The stream passing under it is called Cedar creek. It is a water of James river, and sufficient in the driest seasons to turn a grist-mill, though its fountain is not more than two miles above.'

The description which follows is from another writer. 'As we stood under this beautiful arch, we saw the place where visitors have often taken the pains to engrave their names upon the rock. Here Washington climbed up twenty-five feet and carved his own name, where it still remains. Some wishing to immortalize their names have engraved them deep and large, while others have tried to climb up and insert them high in this book of fame.

'A few years since, a young man, being ambitious to place his name above all others, came very near losing his life in the attempt. After much fatigue, he climbed up as high as possible, but found that the person who had before occupied his place was taller than himself, and consequently had placed his name above his reach. But he was not thus to be discouraged. He opened a large jacknife, and in the soft limestone began to cut places for his hands and feet. With much patience and industry he worked his way upwards, and succeeded in carving his name higher than the most ambitious had done before him.

'He could now triumph; but his triumph was short, for he was placed in such a situation that it was impossible to descend unless he fell upon the ragged rocks beneath him. There was no house near, from which his companions could get assistance. He could not remain in that condition, and, what was worse, his friends were too much frightened to do any thing for his relief. They looked upon him as already dead, expecting every moment to see him precipitated upon the rocks below and dashed to pieces. Not so with himself. He determined to ascend. Accordingly he plied himself with his knife, cutting places for his hands and feet, and gradually ascended with incredible labor. He exerted every muscle. His life was at stake, and all the terrors of death rose before him. He dared not look downwards lest his head should become dizzy, and perhaps on this circumstance his life depended.

'His companions stood at the top of the rock exhorting and encouraging him. His strength was almost exhausted; but a bare possibility of saving his life still remained, and hope, the last friend of the distressed, had not yet forsaken him. His course upwards was rather oblique, than perpendicular. His most critical moment had now arrived. He had ascended considerably more than two hundred feet, and had still further to rise, when he felt himself fast growing weak. He now made his last effort and succeeded. He had cut his way not far from two hundred and fifty feet from the water, in a course almost perpendicular; and in a little less than two hours, his anxious companions reached him a pole from the top, and drew him up. They received him with shouts of joy; but he himself was completely exhausted. He immediately fainted away on reaching the spot, and it was some time before he could be recovered.

It was interesting to see the path up these awful rocks, and to follow in

imagination this bold youth as he thus saved his life. His name stands far above all the rest, a monument of hardihood, of rashness, and of folly.'

Natural Stone Walls.-On the Missouri, at the distance of about one hundred miles from the Great Falls, are the natural stone walls which have thus been described by Lewis and Clarke:

'We came to a high wall of black rock rising from the water's edge on the south, above the cliffs of the river: this continued about a quarter of a mile, and was succeeded by a high open plain, till three miles further a second wall, two hundred feet high, rose on the same side. Three miles farther, another wall of the same kind, about two hundred feet high and twelve thick, appeared to the north. These hills and river cliffs exhibit a most extraordinary and romantic appearance. They rise in most places nearly perpendicularly from the water to the height of between two and three hundred feet, and are formed of very white sandstone, so soft as to yield readily to the impression of the water, in the upper part of which lie imbedded two or three horizontal strata of white freestone insensible to the rain, and on the top is a dark rich loam, which forms a gradually ascending plain, from a mile to a mile and a half in extent, when the hills again rise abruptly to the height of about three hundred feet more.

In trickling down the cliffs, the water has worn the soft sandstone into a thousand grotesque figures, among which, with a little fancy, may be discerned elegant ranges of freestone buildings, with columns variously sculptured, and supporting long and elegant galleries, while the parapets are adorned with statuary. On a nearer approach, they represent every form of elegant ruins; columns, some with pedestals and capitals entire, others mutilated and prostrate; and some rising pyramidically over each other till they terminate in a sharp point. These are varied by niches, alcoves, and the customary appearances of desolated magnificence. The illusion is increased by the number of martins that have built their globular nests in the niches, and hover over these columns; as in our country they are accustomed to frequent large stone structures.

'As we advance, there seems no end to the visionary enchantment that surrounds us. In the midst of this fantastic scenery are vast ranges of walls, which seem the productions of art, so regular is the workmanship. They rise perpendicularly from the river, sometimes to the height of one hundred feet, varying in thickness from one to twelve feet, being equally broad at the top as below. The stones of which they are formed, are black, thick, and durable, and composed of a large portion of earth, intermixed and cemented with a small quantity of sand, and a considerable proportion of talc or quartz.

These stones are almost invariably regular parallelopipeds of unequal sizes in the wall, but equally deep, and laid regularly in ranges over each other like bricks, each breaking and covering the interstice of the two on which it rests. But though the perpendicular interstice is destroyed, the horizontal one extends entirely through the work. The stones, too, are proportioned to the thickness of the wall in which they are employed, being largest in the thickest walls. The thinner walls are composed of a single depth of the parallelopiped, while the thicker ones consist of two or more depths. These walls pass the river at several places, rising from the

water's edge much above the sandstone bluffs, which they seem to penetrate; thence they cross in a straight line, on either side of the river, the plains over which they tower to the height of from ten to seventy feet, until they lose themselves in the second range of hills. Sometimes they run parallel in several ranges near each other; sometimes intersect each other at right angles, and have the appearance of walls of ancient houses or gardens.'

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PART II.

POLITICAL GEOGRAPHY.

CHAPTER I.-POLITICAL AND GEOGRAPHICAL DIVISIONS.

UNITED STATES. The territory of the United States extends from twentyfive to fifty-four degrees north latitude, and from sixty-six degrees forty-nine minutes to one hundred and twenty-five degrees west longitude; comprising one million eight hundred and thirty-two thousand three hundred and fifteen square miles. It is bounded north by Russia and British America; east by the Atlantic and British America; south by the Atlantic and the gulf and territory of Mexico, and west by Mexico and the Pacific ocean. This extent of country is divided into twenty-four states, five territories, and the district of Columbia. The states are familiarly classed under the Eastern or New England, the Middle, the Southern, and the Western states. The first division comprehends Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut; the second, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland; the third, Virginia, North and South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana; the fourth, Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Missouri. The territories are Florida, Michigan, Missouri, and Arkansas. There are no separate governments to the regions west of the Missouri and lake Michigan; they are popularly known as the North-West, and the Oregon territories. The whole extent of the inhabited country now described includes eight hundred thousand square miles; and the whole population is twelve million eight hundred and fifty-eight thousand six hundred and seventy; of which ten millions five hundred and thirty thousand and forty-four are whites, three hundred and nineteen thousand five hundred and seventysix free colored persons, and two million nine thousand and fifty slaves.

I. NEW ENGLAND STATES.

Maine. This state is bounded north and north-west by Lower Canada; east by New Brunswick; west by New Hampshire, and south by the Atlantic ocean. The north-eastern boundary is yet in dispute. Maine is divided into ten counties.* The towns are about three hundred in number; Augusta is the capital. The other principal towns are Portland, Brunswick, Bath, Wiscasset, Bangor, Castine, Hallowell, York, Saco, Kenne

*For a list of the counties in this and the other states, with their population, see the statistical tables at the end of the volume.