geological eras-the countless tenants which inhabit the plains, the forests and the mountains-which sport in the brooks and flutter over the flowers-are inconceivable. But you must not stop to examine them with the interest of a naturalist; you cannot expect to embrace every thing in a day. You must observe, therefore, comprehensively and with promptness. The grand study of our present survey is Generalization.

The higher mountains are rapidly approaching-we must ascend.

We have now below us the westernmost fountains of the Missouri, and the summits of the Rocky Mountains. We have filled with living groupings, with sketches of actual life, the whole scenery; and have attributed the thousands of streamlets to their respective rivers, and observed the forests and fields, the plains and ravines and mountains, each rife with all its appropriate inhabitants. We chose, you know, for our excursion, the season of harvest and the hour of sunset, and have witnessed a sunset landscape of a thousand leagues, with all the actual imagery as existing at the passing moment.

The summits passing below us, are the "cloud-capped hills," beyond which the wandering tribes of Missouri picture the land of the blest, the "humbler heaven" of their future hopes

"Lo the poor Indian, whose untutored mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind,
His soul proud science never taught to stray,
Far as the solar walk, or milky way,

Yet simple Nature to his hope has given,

Beyond the cloud-capp'd hill, an humbler Heaven."

We are on the fortieth degree of North latitude. The vast ranges of mountains beneath us merit especial observation; they extend northwardly to the unexplored Arctic; let your mind's eye for a moment trace them thither.

And

now, turn your eye Southward, and trace them by the mountains of Mexico and of Darien. Observe where their eternal snows glisten in long perspective across the Torrid Zones, till Chimborazo rises in the lengthening line, and further still to the Southern extremity of the Western continents.

The Mountains are passed. Beyond them the vast horizon bursts upon us. the streamlets now beneath us are

the southernmost tributaries of the Columbia,

It was here, a few short years since, that the intrepid companions of Capt. Merriwether Lewis hailed the rivers flowing to the Western Ocean, and looked down upon the farspread home of savage nations, untrodden by the footsteps of an European.

"His was the peril, glory, pride,

First of his country to explore

Whence vast Missouri's currents glide,
Where white man never trod before.

"These roaring cataracts he scaled,
These mountains of eternal snow;
Here his brave band the rivers hailed
That westward to the ocean flow.

"Subdued by boldness, and amazed
At daring deeds unknown before,
The hordes of Indian warriors gazed,

And loved them for the hearts they bore."

The mountain wilderness of enormous fir-trees, which shades the southernmost tributaries of the Columbia, is sweeping silently in the evening sun-light beneath us. Do you notice how different the forest appears? it is composed of entirely different species from those of the valleys. of the Susquehanna and Mississippi; the oaks and hickories and walnuts, the buttonwood, the liriodendron, and the maples have disappeared. You may notice several species of birch and ash, and one species of dog-wood, but the predominating genera are the resinous trees, and the most

majestic species of the firs are widely multiplied in these regions.

Let us occasionally descend beneath the shade, and observe in their native haunts the habits of the peculiar wild animals of these central solitudes.

Primeval stillness reigns, interrupted only by the breeze gently swelling in the old forest, or the leap of some fountain cataract, playfully commencing its pilgrimage to the distant ocean.

Hark, that rustling! Yonder he is, a noble elk, browsing. Look, look at that panther, there in the tree. Ah! he has pounced down on the elk.

The stricken victim dashes through the forest, with the energy of despair; he throws back his branching antlers, the panther retains his hold, his carnivorous teeth have already opened the streams of life. The elk has fallen. Here the brown wolf prowls at midnight, glutting his thirst for blood on the sheep of the mountains. Here, too, the fierce grisly bear exacts his tribute of blood: within his rude gripe, the timid deer bleats, and the proud horse struggles in vain.

Yonder, beyond the ravine before us on the verge of that precipitous, inaccessible bluff, a ring-tailed eagle, the fiercest of the American falcons, is alighting on his nest. The parti-colored plumes of this bird are highly-valued, and form, as you may recollect, the crests of the chieftains of the plains of Missouri. The red men on both sides of the mountains have an idea that the qualities of noble animals are imparted to the wearer of their spoils; and their barbarian warriors, like those of old Greece, pride themselves in wearing the skins of the fiercest animals.

The country before us is now becoming more level, and intersected by broad and fertile glades, traversed by the larger tributaries of the Columbia, tumbling in gentle rapids or flowing with glassy stillness, amid sweet wooded islands.

What is that Indian doing? He is fishing. Look! he has just caught a large fish. It is a salmon. What very various costumes the Indians have! they appear to be fashioned in countless modes from every skin and every feather of the forest.

The lodges of the red-men are more numerous. Yonder is the largest village we have passed this side the Rocky mountains. We seem to be approaching prairies again; the vast plains of Columbia are before us, green in the fullest verdure and teeming with thousands of herds of buffalos, of antelopes, and of horses; 't is the range of the Shoshone Indians. Will you notice this tribe especially, they are numerous, powerful, and unsurpassed in horsemanship, in classic figures and indomitable courage, by those cavaliers of ancient Numidia, who followed, twenty centuries since, the hero of Carthage to the gates of Rome.

The Tartar Asiatic origin of the American tribes has been contended for, by able students of nature, and has certainly considerable corroboration in the analogy of their organization.

What are those dark groups yonder, on the distant prairie? They are bands of horsemen. Hark! 'Tis the war whoop! Bands of archers, mounted on the wild steeds. of the desert, are charging in irregular combat. 'Tis a fierce and deadly battle. The storm of horrid war sweeps on, and we have again the silent and boundless prairie.

Do you notice that cloud-like line in the West? 'T is another range of mountains. The grassy horizon of the plain, with its herds of elk and antelope, has passed, and you again trace the fountains of the Columbia, and its farwinding tributaries, amid a thousand landscapes of undulating and mountainous forest.

Do you hear the roaring! We are approaching the great cataract of the Columbia. What a sublime landscape ! Observe it attentively. The fall must be more than double

that of Niagara. Look at those bald eagles, they are always partial to the vicinity of cataracts.

The scene rolls on. Fir trees, an hundred yards in height, cover the hills with deep verdure; vast amphitheatres of unknown foliage, occasionally diversified by grassy glades, spread in luxuriant beauty over the valleys; the waters of the Columbia, for hundreds of miles, are alternately struggling beneath us for long reaches in narrow ravines, where the streams empty themselves in cascades from the hills, tumbling in foaming rapids over its rockobstructed channels, or flowing with gentle current, where the hills recede to the horizon, and give place to wide and fertile intervals.

Those animals you now occasionally notice, amid the rocks of the river, are the sea otters, whose rich furs form a valuable object of commerce, and purchase for the natives the utensils and the trinkets of the white men.

The otters are appearing in great numbers. We are approaching the last great rapids, at the foot of which the descending waters meet the tides of the Pacific.

Clouds of

The wild scenery of the rapids is past. We have now beneath us the widening delta of the Columbia. ephemera are commencing their flight from the tranquil waters; the groups of red-men are enjoying their evening meal, and pursuing their various employments on the shores, or paddling their bark canoes to songs of harmonious cadence, amid rich meadows, and wooded islands, fertile by the reflux of the Pacific Ocean. The geese, swans, gulls and other water-fowl, are squalling on the shores and sand banks; the breakers are roaring at the foot of the distant bluffs.

We will pause for a moment, where the mountain before us obtrudes its lofty and precipitous height into the sea. Immediately in front is the ocean, which breaks far below at our feet, and on either hand, as far as the eye can