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A Description of the Hot Springs, near because it relates to a curiosity of the

the river Washitaw, and of the Physi- first magnitude, but because it is concal Geography of the adjacent country; nected also with a profession which is in a Communication from Major S. H. greatly indebted to yourself, for its reLong, of the U. S. corps of Engineers, spectability and advancement in this counto the hon. Samuel L. Mitchili, dated try. The subject alluded to, is the Hot St. Louis, Missouri, February 23, 1818. Springs of the Washitaw, which I visited (Read before the Lyceum of Natural on the first day of January last, on my

History at New-York, 20th April,1818.) return from Red river. Together with an MY DEAR SIR,

unvarnished description of the springs, I I take the liberty of communicating herewith present you a rude sketch of the upon a subject which you will no doubt adjacent country, which will enable you consider somewhat interesting, not only to form some idea of their locality.


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Scale of yards. N. B. The Numbers, 550, 575, and 600, represent the probable beight of the bills.

These remarkable springs are situated water running in it, is, at this time, (Jan. in N. lat. 34° 14' 7", upon a small creek 1,) about one thousand gallons per minute. of the Washitaw, bearing their name, and Hot Spring hill, or mountain, (as it is uniting with that river at the distance of more frequently called,) is situated on the 12 or 14 miles from the springs. The east side of the creek, and is about 550 country in which they are situated is ex- feet high. The extent of its base along tremely hilly and broken, the highlands the creek is about six hundred yards. being divided into numerous ridges and The hill is of a conical form, and has a knobs by creeks, runs, &c. The rocky base not exceeding 1 1-2 miles in diameformations, in this neighbourhood, are both ter. It is completely insulated from the various and interesting, exhibiting various other hills by which it is environed, by orders of concretion, from the softest state creeks, brooks, and ravines. Directly to the hardest flint. On the Washitaw, north of it, on the same side of the creek, slate of an excellent quality for tiling is is another hill somewhat higher, separated found in abundance. Near the springs I from the former by a small brook. On observed several varieties of this forma- the west side of the creek, directly oppotion, one of which appeared well adapted site to Spring hill, is a third, considerably for writing slates, and a second, sufficient. higher than either of the last mentioned, ly hard and fissile for tiles. On Hot Spring and situated a little distance from the creek, and several other water courses in creek, leaving an area of considerable its vicinity, are extensive quarries of stone, extent between its. base and the creek, resembling, in colour and texture, the upon which cabins are built for the acTurkey oil stone, which, by numerous ex. commodation of those who visit the periments, has been proved equally as springs. useful in sharpening tools, &c. On the There are said to be sixty different hills, tiff and other mineral sines abound. springs or fountains of hot water, occupy. The stones in many places are strongly ing a distance of about four hundred yards impregnated with iron, and rich ore of along the east side of the creek. On the this metal is frequently to be met with. west side there is butone, situated immediUpon the hill from which the Hot Springs ately upon the shore, and discharging but issue, the rocky formations are different in a moderate quantity of water; while on the many respects, from any I have observed other side, they are variously situated, upon the other hills. By the operation of some of them near the edge of the creek, heat, as also of the water which holds in upon the same level, and others on differsolution a large portion of the carbonate ent parts of the declivity, elevated from af lime, no where else to be seen upon the 10 to 150 feet above the water level, and surface of the ground, various changes discharging from one to fifteen or twenty have been wrought upon them. In some gallons each, per minute. Immediately instances the works are so incrusted with in the vicinity of some of the hot springs, calcarious concretions, that it is difficult are fountains of cold water, in some into ascertain their original character with- stances, gushing out of the ground within out a minute examination. In others, a very few feet of the Hot Spring pebbles and stones of various forms and There have been 14 or 15 rude cabins complexions, are so strongly cemented constructed along the creek, by persons together with iron and calx combined, as who resort bither, occasionally, for the to constitúte large masses of compact and benefit of the springs. They are situated solid stone. The rocks and stones gene- mostly on the west side, and are calcularally upon the hills, are extremely ragged ted merely for a summer residence, very and favillous, vast bodies of them, in many few of them having chimneys. At preipstances, having the appearance of being sent none of them are occupied, except composed entirely of the calcarious mat- one, in which a family took a temporary ter once held in solution by the hot water residence a few days since. There are of the springs. In regard to the natural no settlements yet made nearer than the growth, 1 observed nothing peculiar to the Washitaw, where there are three at the hill whence the springs flow, that was distance of about eight miles from the not common also to the other neighbour. springs. From these settlements, resiing heights. The high lands generally, dents at the springs obtain provisions by in this quarter, are covered with forests paying a high price ; but, to the credit of yellow or pitch pine, and support an and generosity of the settlers, it may be exuberant growth of vines, furze, bram- said, that they are equally as ready to ble, &c.

supply the poor, as the rich, although The course of the creek in passing the they run the risk of never receiving paysprings, is nearly south. The quantity of ment for their produce. There have been

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instances where they bave refused to take Temperature of spring No. 17, upperdouble their selling price for their corn, most on the creek, and has a sweat house but have chosen rather to divide it be- and bath, 126 deg. probable discharge tween the poor and richs not according per minute, 5 gallons. to their ability to pay, but in proportion Temperature of springs Nos. 18, 19, to the necessities of the purchasers, and 20, 21, and 22, all rising near together on the quantity of provisions absolutely re a level area, 126, 128, 130, 136, and 140, quired for their subsistence.

deg. probable discharge per minute, 9 galDuring my delay at the springs, I made lops. the following observations relative to their The last mentioned cluster is situated respective temperatures, &c. commen upon a prominent part of the hill, elevacing in the creek immediately below the ted at least one hundred feet above the springs, and passing up along its eastern level of the creek. In the same area are shore as far as they extend. The num several others,—and what is particularly bers annexed to the springs are merely remarkable, several springs of cold waaccidental, indicating the order in which ter rise in the same plat, one of them I examined them.

within a very few feet of the hottest spring. Temperature of the creek below the In some of these springs, I observed bubsprings, 64 deg. Fahrenheit, probable dis- bles rising in rapid succession, but could charge 1100 gallons.

not discover any remarkable scent emitTemperature of spring No. 1, being ted from them. the lowermost on the creek, 122 deg. Temperature of the creek immediately probable discharge per minute, 4 gallons. above the springs, 46 deg. probable dis

Temperature of spring No. 2, a few charge per minute, 1000 gallons. feet from No. 1, 104 deg. probable dis Besides the springs enumerated above, charge per minute, 1 gallon.

there are many others situated on the Temperature of spring No. 3, about same side of the hill, at different elevat 25 yards above the last, 126 deg. proba- tions above the water level. ble discharge per minute, 2 gallons.

The heat of the water in the summet 'Temperature of spring No. 4, after season, is said to be much greater than at aniting with a spring of cold water, 124 deg. present, and the discharge somewhat less. probable discharge per minute, 2 gallops. The water is then hot enough to draw tea Temperature of springs Nos. 5, 6, and

or coffee, cook eggs, and even meat. ln 7, rising very near each other, the hottest, the hottest of the springs, I observed most elevated, 126, 94, and 92 deg. pro- bushies growing, as also an abundance of bable discharge per minute, 8 gallons. beautiful moss of a deep green colour,

Temperature of spring No. 8, eleva, and of a vegetating appearance;-and tion 50 feet, after mingling with a cold what is still more wonderful, a kind of. spring, 128 deg. probable discharge per water insect, something longer than the minute, 10 gallons.

wood louse, but resembling it in shape, Temperature of spring No. 9, elevated lives and sports in the heated element. 60 feet above the water level, 132 deg. There is a spring of cold water about probable discharge per minute, 2 gallons. 3 miles from the hot springs, in a north

Temperature of spring No. 10, eleva- easterly direction, which has obtained ted 40 feet, bushes growing in the waters some notoriety from the circumstance of edge, 151 deg. probable discharge per its having occasioned the death of a man minute, 5 gallons.

who had heated himself in pursuing a Temperature of spring No. 11, issuing bear, and drank too freely of its water, near the margin of the creek, elevated 3 and has, therefore, obtained the name of feet, 148 deg. probable discharge per tbe Poison Spring From the descripminute, 14 gallons.

tion given me of this spring, I am inclined Temperature of spring No. 12, 20 to think it a chalybeate, pretty strongly yards from the last, having a sweat house impregnated, -and containing, possibly, upon it, 132 deg. probable discharge per some arsenic. Its waters deposit an abunminute, 20 gallons.

dance of ocreous earth, adhering to the Temperature of springs Nos. 13, 14, stones in the bottom and sides of the cbanand 15, all excavations for baths, situated vel through which they fiow. just above No. 12; 124, 119, 108 deg. Believe me, dear Sir, with siocere reprbleuisharge per minute, 6 gallons. gard, your most obliged, humble servant, Zumature of spring No. 16, an ex

S. H. LONG. crate 100, 1.02r the last, 122 deg. pro Hon. S. L. Mitchill. Privolarge per Tabune, 2 gallons.


Art. 2. The Corsair. A Melo-Drama, in four Acts, collected and arranged for

the Stage, from Lord Byron's Poem. By EDWIN C. HOLLAND, Esq. of Charleston, South-Carolina. 18mo. pp. 54. Charleston, A. E. Miller.

THE character of this production is His followers rush in on the signal-a comis nothing more than an attempt to dra- Seyd betakes himself to flight. The Cor. matize lord Byron's poem of the Corsair, sairs now proceed to fire t!. town. Conpreserving almost literally the language rad perceives that the flames bave envelof his lordship, and strictly adhering to oped the Haram. He rushes to the rescue his plot. The poetry of the original has, of its inhabitants, and bears out, in his arms, however, suffered much, in the soldering the favourite queen Gulnare. In the mean of it into a new frame,-and though it time Seyd has rallied his troops, and returns was little indebted to its rhymes for its ef- to the attack. The crews of Conrad are fect, it loses much of its force and dignity, overpowered by numbers ; and he remains in its present denudation into blank verse. wounded in the hands of the conquerors. Mr. Holland, in a very pretty preface, Seyd dooms him to impalement, but spares has avowed his unbounded admiration of bim till he is sufficiently recovered to feel lord Byron's genius, and particularly as the punishment to which he is sentenced. it is displayed in the poem which he bas Gulnare, influenced by sentiments of gratiendeavoured to adapt to the stage. We tude, which had ripened into love, visits hardly know how to reconcile the kin- Conrad in his prison, and soothes him with dred glow of enthusiasm, which seems to hope. She essays to persuade Seyd to . bave animated Mr. H. in his undertaking, ransom bim, by appealing to his avarice. with the humble and servile transcriptions He peremptorily refuses to listen to the which constitute his greatest merit. proposition, and intimates his suspicions

The story of the Corsair is familiar to of the motives which prompted her sug. most of our readers-still it may not be gestion - he even utters a menace against superfluous succinctly to recount it. Con- her life. The result of this fruitless enrad, the Corsair, was the chief of a band deavour to save the life of Conrad by her of pirates, in possession of one of the powers of persuasion, decides Gulnare as Ægean Isles. He had been driven, by the to the course she is to pursue. At midunrelenting persecution of the world, to night, by virtue of the signet ring of the the desperate resort of waging indiscri- Pacha, she again enters the dungeon of minate warfare with his species. But still, Conrad. She holds in one hand a lamphis heart was not wholly dipped in the in the other a poinard. She prompts him Stygian flood;-he had one vulnerable to his revenge and to her vindication. point,—and there, love had infixed his Conrad refuses to murder his enemy in shaft. He loved Medora-she was almost his sleep-but no consideration can with the only being that he did not hate. Me- hold Gulnare from the execution of her dora was his wife, and loved him, in re- purpose. She perpetrates the deed herself. turn, with a tenderness of which our sex The guard is bribed. Conrad is hurried is incapable. The poem opens with the from his cell, and embarks with Gulnare on arrival of a bark, which brings secret in- board a xebec. In a little while a vessel of formation to Conrad. On the instant, he Conrad's encounters them. It contains his orders his feet to be equipped, and sets faithful followers hastening to avenge him. sail for the ncighbouring continent. He They hail their chief with joyful acclamaenters the bay of Coron unobserved. It tions; and when they learn the mode of was a night of revelling among the Turks, his deliverance, are ready to prostrate preludatory to their meditated attack on themselves before Gulnare. Towards her, the strong hold of the pirates. Conrad Conrad had hitherto observed a sullen sidisguises himself-lands--and is intro- lence. He felt a horror at the recollecduced, as a dervise, escaped from the tion of her crime. But when he saw her enemy, into the banqueting room of the relapsed again into the woman—when he Pacha Seyd. Whilst in conference with saw, that in having achieved his deliverthe Pacha, his comrades fire the Turkish ance, all her wishes were accomplished, gallies. The flash of the sudden confia- and that «he bad again resigned herself to gration arouses the suspicions of the that gentle and suffering mood, from which Turk, who proclaims the dervise a trai- nothing but the implacability of a tyrant

At this critical moment, had excited her--he saw the proper light Conrad throws off his disguise, unsheaths in which to estimate her conduct, and bis sabre, and gives a blast upon his bugle. folded her to bis bosom with all the fervor


tor and a spy

of grateful sentiment. Conrad and his Come when it will-we snatch the life of lifefriends now approached their own fast When lost-wbat recks it—by disease or strife?

Let him who crawls enamoured of decay, ness. The hopes of all were alive to the

Cling to his couch, and sicken years away; reception which awaited them. There Heave his thick breath; and shake his palsied were some destined to severe disappoint head; ment. After the departure of Conrad on Ours--the fresh turf and not the feverish bed: his expedition, Medora had impatiently. While gasp hy gasp he faulters forth his soul,

Ours with one pang-one bound-escapes conuol. awaited his return. As the allotted time

His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave, expired, her solicitude increased. Unable

And they who loath'd his life may gild his grave: to restrain herself in her apartments, sbe Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed, wandered anxiously on the beach. A When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dcad. boat at last drew nigh. She learned For us, even banquets fond regret supply hot indeed her Conrad's death-but that

In the red cup that crowns our memory; be was left, bound and bleeding, in the When ihose who win at length divide the prey,

And the brief epitaph in danger's day, bands of the foe. Her fortitude was over And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each come, and she sunk upon the strand. She brow, was delivered into the care of her female How had the brave who fell exulted now !" " attendants—but she could not survive the The play commences with a “ Chorus shock. When Conrad, with all the ar of Pirates." dour which absence can add to affection, “ Far o'er the Ocean, and free as the breeze hurried to the abode of Medora—he found That glides o'er its billows of brightness and foam, it dark and silent. A fatal forboding which Our Flag is the sceptre that governs the seas, he would not recognize, struck upon his And fixes the limits that circle our home. soul. He knooked-and no one appear Wide o'er its waters we fearlessly range, ed. He knocked again, more faintly- We sweep with the tempest, we rest with its close, slave bearing a light presented herself. The wave is our empire--we joy in its change, He rushed past her-be entered the sa And triumph tho' dead, if we die with our foes." loon-he saw Medora stretched upon her

Juan pursuesbier !-and the hand-maids strowing flow " Hail to the Occan! nurse of noble deeds! ers over her. He cast one long, endur. Hail to thy waters, tempest-lost or still ! ing look upon the corpse he tore himself What spirit wakes not with exulting sense;

That suddenly away. In the morning it was

pauses in its gaze upon thy wild

And solitary waste ! – Thine is the realm; · discovered that a boat had been broken The charter'd empire of the brave and free! from her fastenings and Conrad was The barrier, by the God of nature thrown never heard of more.

Between the oppressor and his victim." How far Mr. Holland has succeeded in A sail is descried, and is bailed with transfusing the spirit of lord Byron into shouts. It is “ a home returning bark." his dialogue, will be best made to appear Her approach to the shore is thus deby the comparison of parallel passages. scribed in the poom:

The poem opens with an ejaculatory "How gloriously het gallant course she goes! burst, from the lips of the Corsair. Her white wings flying-never from her foes,

She walks the waters like a thing of life, li O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,

And seems to dare the elements to strise. Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,

Who would not brave the battle-fire--the wreck-Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,

To move the monarch of her peopled deck?".
Survey our empire and behold our home! In the play, Lillo exclaims-
These are our realms, no limits to their sway " How gloriously her gallant course she bears!
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey. She walks the waters like a thing of life,
Ours the wild life in tumult still to range

Braving the warfare of the sternest storm,
From wil to rest, and joy in every change. Of batile-fire acd of wreck."
Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave!
Whose soul would sicken o'er the beaving wave;

We will adduce the parting scene be.,
Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease! tween Conrad and Medora, as related by
Whom slumber soothes nol-pleasure cannot the poet, and by the dramatist.

Conrad is approaching the apartment Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried, of Medora, when his attention is arrested And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide, The exulting sense the pulse's maddening play, by a song. That thrills the wanderer of that trackless waty? “Deep in my soul that tender secret dwells, That for itself can woo the approaching fight,

Lonely and lost to light for evermore, And turn what some deem danger to delight; Save when to thine my heart responsive swells, That seeks what craveps sbun with more than zeal, Then trembles into silence as before, And where the feebler faint-can only feel Feel-to the rising bosom's inmost core, • There, in its centre, a sepulchral lamp Its hope awaken and its spirit soar?

Burns the slow flame, eternal--but unseen; No dread of death-if with us die our foes Which not the darkness of despair can damp, Save that it seems even duller dran repose: Though vain its ray as it bad never been. VOL. M.-No. 16.


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