them, to the extent of from one to two miles, preserving the level nearly throughout, but sloping a little both ways, particularly towards the river St. Charles, on the north. On the side towards the St. Lawrence the bank is of great height; almost perpendicular, and generally covered with wood where the slope will admit of it, which is not always the case. Notwithstanding the difficulty of ascent, General Wolfe, with infinite labour, contrived to carry his little army, and a few small field pieces, to the top of the bank, and took his stand on the plains of Abraham.

The French general Montcalm, as well as the brave Wolfe, fell in the engagement; very different however must have been their feelings in their last moments. The conduct of the Frenchman in rashly sacrificing his troops and the interests of his country could not bear reflection. Wolfe saw his troops triumphant; they had beaten the enemy: he died in the arms of victory*.

I have been on the spot, says Mr. Gray, where Wolfe fell, and a stone is shewn on which it is said he was laid. It is very much mutilated, from the curiosity of strangers who wish to carry off a bit of it, as a kind of relic. One cannot help feeling a good deal interested in traversing a field of battle;-the glory which we attach to the death of the hero who falls in his country's cause, sanctifies the ground on which he fell."

* Gen. James Wolfe was born at Westerham in Kent, in 1725. He entered early into the army, and before he was twenty, distinguished himself at the battle of Lafeldt. At that of Minden, he gained additional laurels, as he afterwards did at Louisbourg, from whence he had but just returned, when he was appointed to command the expedition against Quebec. The enterprize was hazardous, and General Wolfe surmounted all obstacles; but just in the moment of victory, he received a ball in the wrist, and another in the body, which obliged him to be carried into the rear. In his last agonies he was roused by the shout, "They run!" on which he eagerly asked, "Who run?" and being told the French, he said, "I thank God: I die contented," and expired Sept. 1759.

PART III.-CHAP. II.

AMERICAN CURIOSITIES.

Mountains, Volcanoes, Caverns, Rocks, Gold and Diamond Mines, Rivers, Lakes, Animals, Vegetables, &c.

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"Tпou too again, stupendous Mountain! thou
That as I raise my head, awhile bow'd low
In adoration, upward from thy Base
Slow-travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears,
Solemnly seemest, like a vapoury cloud,
To rise before me- -Rise, O ever rise,
Rise like a cloud of Incense, from the Earth!
Thou kingly spirit throned among the bills,
Thou dread Ambassador from Earth to Heaven,
Great Hierarch! tell thou the silent Sky,
And tell the Stars, and tell yon rising Sun,
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises GOD.
And you, wild torrents fiercely glad!
Who call'd you forth from night and utter death,
Who gave you your invulnerable life,

Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy,
Unceasing thunder, and eternal foam?

And who commanded (and the silence came),
Here let the Billows stiffen, and have rest?

Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven
Beneath the keen full Moon? Who bade the Sun
Cloath you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers
Of loveliest blue spread garlands at your feet?
GOD! let the Torrents, like a shout of Nations
Answer! and let the Ice-plains echo GOD!

GOD! sing ye meadow streams with gladsome voice!
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds!

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Ye livery flowers that skirt th' eternal Frost!
Ye wild goats sporting round the Eagle's nest!
Ye Eagles, play-mates of the Mountain-storm!
Ye Lightnings, the dread arrows of the Clouds!
Ye signs and wonders of the elements!

Utter forth GOD, and fill the Heav'ns with praise!"
COLERIDGE.

VIRGINIAN MOUNTAINS.

UNITED STATES.

(Heron's Elegant Extracts of Natural History.)

OUR mountains," says Mr. Jefferson, "are not solitary, and scattered confusedly over the face of the country; but they commence at about 150 miles from the ca coast, and are disposed in ridges one behind another, running nearly parallel with the sea coast, though rather approaching it as they advance north eastwardly. To the south-west, as the tract of country between the sea coast and the Mississippi becomes narrower, the mountains converge into a single ridge, which as it approaches the Gulph of Mexico, subsides into plain country, and gives rise to some of the waters of that gulph, and particularly to a river called the Apalachicola, probably from the Apalachies, an Indian nation formerly residing on it. Hence the mountains giving rise to that river, and seen from its various parts, were called the Apalachian mountains, being in fact the end or termination only of the great ridges passing through the continent. European geographers, however, extended the name northwardly, as far as the mountains extended: some giving it, after their separation into different ridges, to the Blue ridge, others to the North mountain, others to the Alleghaney, others to the Laurel ridge, as may be een in their different maps. But the fact I believe is, that none of these ridges were ever known by that name to the inhabitants, either native or emigrant, but as they saw them so called in European maps. In the same direction, generally, are the veins of lime stone, coal, and other minerals hitherto discovered: and so range the falls of our great rivers. But the courses of the great rivers are at right angles with these. James and Pa

towmac penetrate through all the ridges of mountains eastward of the Alleghaney; that is broken by no watercourse. It is in fact the spine of the country between the Atlantic on one side, and the Mississippi and St. Laurence on the other. The passage of the Patowmac through the Blue ridge is perhaps one of the most stupendous scenes in nature. You stand on a very high point of land. On your right comes up the Shenandoah, having ranged along the foot of the mountain an hundred miles to seek a vent. On your left approaches the Patowmac, in quest of a passage also. In the moment of their junction they rush together against the mountain, rend it asunder, and pass off to the sea. The first glance of this scene hurries our senses into the opinion, that this earth has been created in time, that the mountains were formed first, that the rivers began to flow afterwards, that in this place, particularly, they have been dammed up by the Blue ridge of mountains, and have formed an ocean which filled the whole valley; that continuing to rise they have at length broken over at this spot, and have torn the mountain down from its summit to its base. The piles of rock on each hand, but particularly on the Shenandoah, the evident marks of their disrupture and avulsion from their beds by the most powerful agents of nature, corroborate the impres sion. But the distant finishing which nature has given to the picture is of a very different character. It is a true contrast to the fore-ground. It is as placid and delightful as that is wild and tremendous. For the mountain being cloven asunder, she presents to your eye, through the cleft, a small catch of smooth blue horizon, at an infinite distance in the plain country, inviting you as it were, from the riot and tumult roaring around, to pass through the breach, and participate of the calin below. Here the eye ultimately composes itself; and that way too the road happens actually to lead. You cross the Patowmac above the junction, pass along its side through the base of the mountain for three miles, its terrible precipices hanging in fragments over you, and within about 20 miles reach Frederic Town and the fine country around that. This scene is worth a voyage across the Atlantic. Yet here, as in the neighbourhood

of the natural bridge, are people who have passed their lives within half a dozen miles, and have never been to survey these monuments of a war between rivers and mountains, which must have shaken the earth itself to its centre. The height of our mountains has not yet been estimated with any degree of exactness. The Alleghaney being the great ridge which divides the waters of the Atlantic from those of the Mississippi, its summit is doubtless more elevated above the ocean than that of any other mountain. But its relative height, compared with the base on which it stands, is not so great as that of some others, the country rising behind the successive ridges like the steps of stairs. The mountains of the Blue ridge, and of these the Peaks of Otter, are thought to be of a greater height, measured from their base, than any others in our country, and perhaps in North America. From data, which may found a tolerable conjecture, we suppose the highest Peak to be about 4000 feet perpendicular, which is not a fifth part of the height of the mountains of South America, nor one third of the height which would be necessary in our latitude to preserve ice in the open air unmelted through the year. ridge of mountains next beyond the Blue ridge, called by us the North mountain, is of the greatest extent; for which reason they were named by the Indians the Endless Mountains.

The

A substance supposed to be Pumice, found floating on the Mississippi, has induced a conjecture, that there is a volcano on some of its waters and as these are mostly known to their sources, except the Missouri, our expec tations of verifying the conjecture would of course be led to the mountains which divide the waters of the Mexican Gulph, from those of the South Sea; but no volcano having ever yet been known at such a distance from the sea, we must rather suppose that this floating substance has been erroneously deemed pumice.