and straight. Two of them were traced continuously for more than half a mile, and a few were found to be parallel; but, on the whole, they varied greatly in direction, some being ten and others forty-five degrees west of north. They might easily have been mistaken for artificial trenches, though formerly as deep as wells; the action of rains, frost, and occasional inundations, and, above all, the leaves of the forest blown into them in countless numbers, have done much to fill them up.

In that part of the forest which borders what is called the "sunk country," all the trees of a date prior to 1811, although standing erect and entire, are dead. They are most noticeable objects, are chiefly oaks and walnuts, with trunks several feet in diameter, and many of them more than two hundred years old. They are supposed to have been killed by the loosening of the roots during the repeated undulations which passed through the soil for three months in succession. The higher level plain, where these dead monarchs of the forest stand, terminates abruptly

newer than 1812. The "sunk country" extends along the course of the White Water and its tributaries for a distance of between seventy and eighty miles north and south, and thirty miles east and west. It is not, however, confined to the region west of the Mississippi; for several extensive forest tracts in Tennessee were submerged during the shocks of 1811-12, and have ever since formed lakes and swamps.

The earthquakes in California, especially those which occurred in 1865 and 1868, and both in the month of October, were the most disastrous in respect to the value of property destroyed, that of October 21, 1868, being particularly so. At San Francisco, the motion was east and west, and several buildings on Pine, Battery, and Sansome streets were thrown down, and a considerable number badly damaged. The ground settled, which threw the buildings out of line. The principal damage was confined to the lower portion of the city, below Montgomery street, and among old buildings on the made ground. The

custom-house, a brick building erected on pile ground, which was badly shattered in the earthquake of 1865, had now to be abandoned as unsafe. Business in the lower part of the city was suspended, the streets were thronged with people, and great excitement prevailed. The parapets,

walls and chimneys of a number of houses fell, causing loss of life and many accidents.

At one place, the ground opened several inches wide and about forty or fifty feet long; and in other places, the ground opened, and water forced itself above the surface. The water in the bay was perfectly smooth at the time of the occurrence, and no perceptible disturbance took place there; the shock was felt aboard the shipping in the harbor, as if the vessels had struck upon the rocks. The morning was moderately warm, and a dense fog covered the city. Not the slightest breeze was perceptible. The first indication of the approach of the earthquake was a slight rumbling sound, as of something rolling along the sidewalk, coming apparently from the direction of the ocean. The shock commenced in the form of slow, horizontal movements, while the movements of the great earthquake of 1865 were perpendicular. The effect on buildings, too, of the earthquake of 1868, was widely different from that of 1865. In the latter, glass was broken and shivered into atoms in all the lower parts of the city, by the perpendicular oscillations, while comparatively few walls were shaken down or badly shattered. The earthquake of 1868 broke very little glass, but the damage by the falling of cornices, awnings, and walls, was immense. Mantel ornaments and shelved crockery were everywhere thrown

down and broken; top-heavy articles of furniture tumbled over; tanks and dishes containing water or other liquids slopped their contents; clocks stopped running; door-bells rang; tall structures, like steeples and towers, were seen to sway, and the motion of the earth under the feet was unpleasantly plain to walkers; horses started and snorted, exhibiting every sign of fear, and in some cases dashing off furiously with their riders; dogs crouched, trembling and whining; and fowls flew to the trees, uttering notes of alarm. The panic among women and children was, for a time, excessive, and their cries and tears were very moving.

At Oakland, the shock was very severe, throwing down chimneys, and greatly damaging buildings; in several localities, the ground opened, and a strong sulphurous smell was noticed after the shock. The court-house at San Leandro was demolished and one life lost. At San Jose, several buildings were injured. The large brick court-house at Redwood City was completely wrecked. The shock was light at Marysville and Sonora, and severe at Grass Valley. It was also felt, with a good deal of severity, in Stockton, Sonoma, San Lorenzo, Alvarado, San Mateo, Petaluma, Vallejo, and Sacramento; in the latter place, flag-staffs and trees vibrated. ten feet, and the water in the river rose and fell a foot and a half.

winds, afforded but few harbors, and those encumbered with bars at their entrance. At Presque Isle, ninety miles west of Buffalo, a peninsula extending a considerable distance into the lake encircles a harbor, on the borders of which was the port of Erie.

At this place, Commodore Perry was directed to locate, and superintend a naval establishment, the object of which was to create a superior force on the lake. The difficulties of building a navy in the wilderness can only be conceived by those who have experienced them. There was nothing at this spot out of which it could be built, but the timber of the forest. Ship-builders, sailors, naval stores, guns, and ammunition, were all to be transported by land, in wagons, and over bad roads, a distance of four hundred miles, either from Albany by the way of Buffalo, or from Philadelphia by the way of Pittsburg. But under all these embarrassments, by the first of August, 1813, Commodore Perry had provided a flotilla, consisting of the ships Lawrence and Niagara, of twenty guns each, and seven smaller vessels, to wit, one of four guns, one of three, two of two, and three of one.

While the ships were building, the enemy frequently appeared off the harbor and threatened their destruction; but the shallowness of the water on the bar, there being but five feet, prevented their approach. The same cause, which insured the safety of the vessels while building, seemed likely to prevent their being of any service when completed. The two largest drew several feet more water than there was on the bar. The inventive genius of Perry, however, soon surmounted this difficulty. He placed large scows on each side of these two, filled them so that they sank to the water-edge, then attached them to the ships by strong pieces of timber, and pumped out the water. The scows, in this way, buoyed up the ships, enabling them to pass the bar in safety. This operation was performed in the very eyes of the enemy.

Having gotten his fleet in readiness, Commodore Perry proceeded to the head

of the lake and anchored in Put-in Bay, opposite to and distant thirty miles from Malden, where the British fleet lay under the guns of the fort. He remained at anchor here several days, watching the British fleet, and waiting a chance to offer battle.

On the morning of the tenth of September, 1813, the enemy was discovered bearing down upon the American force, which immediately got under weigh, and stood out to meet him. Perry had nine vessels, consisting of the Lawrence, his flag-ship, of twenty guns; the Niagara, Captain Elliott, of twenty; the Caledonian, Lieutenant Turner, of three; the schooner Ariel, of four; the Scorpion, of two; the Somers, of two guns and two swivels; the sloop Trippe, and schooners Tigress and Porcupine, of one gun each.

The force of the British consisted of the Detroit, flag-ship of Commodore Barclay, and carrying nineteen guns and two howitzers; the Queen Charlotte, Captain Finnis, of seventeen guns; the schooner Lady Prevost, Lieutenant Buchan, of thirteen guns and two howitzers; the brig Hunter, of ten guns; the sloop Little Belt, of three guns; and the schooner Chippewa, of one gun and two swivels. Thus, the belligerents stood, in respect to force and power, as follows: The Americans had nine vessels, carrying fifty-four guns and two swivels; the British, six vessels, carrying sixty-three guns, four howitzers, and two swivels.

Commodore Perry got under way with a light breeze at the south-west. Summoning his commanding officers by signal to the deck of the Lawrence, he gave them in a few words their last instructions preparatory to the approaching battle, and, unfolding his union-jack, a blue flag upon which was inscribed in white letters the motto of the American navy, "DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP!" The sight of this flag, bearing upon it the dying words of the brave Captain Lawrence, brought the most enthusiastic cheers from the crew. As the officers were about taking their leave, Perry declared that it was his

ters from the first, and that he could not advise them better than in the words of Lord Nelson-"If you lay your enemy close alongside, you can not be out of your place." As soon, therefore, as the approach of the enemy warranted the display of the signal, every vessel was under sail, beating out against a light head-wind, and with the boats ahead towing. The object was, to beat to the windward of the islands which now interposed between the two approaching squadrons, and, thus gaining the weather-gauge, to bear down with that important advantage upon the foe. The wind, however, was light and baffling; and Perry's patience was so severely tried by the incessant tacking, that, seeing time lost, and but little progress made, he called out to his sailing-master,

"Taylor, you wear ship and run to the leeward of the islands."

"Then we'll have to engage the enemy from the leeward," exclaimed Taylor.

"I don't care-to windward or to leeward, they shall fight to-day," was Perry's instant response.

O.1. Verry

He now formed the line of battle, the wind suddenly shifting to the south-east, thus bearing the squadron clear of the islands, and enabling it to keep the weather-gauge. But the moderateness of the breeze caused the hostile squadrons to approach each other but slowly, thus pro

and anxiety which precedes a battle. The order and regularity of naval discipline heightened the dreadful quiet of this impressive prelude. No noise, no bustle, prevailed to distract the mind-except, at intervals, the shrill pipings of the boatswain's whistle, or a murmuring whisper among the men, who stood in groups around their guns, with lighted matches, narrowly watching the movements of the foe, and sometimes stealing a glance at the countenances of their commanders. In this manner, the opposing fleets gradually neared each other in awful silence. Even

the sick felt a thrill of the pervading deep emotion, and, with fancied renewal of strength, offered their feeble services in the coming conflict. To one of these poor fellows, who had crawled up on deck, to have a hand in the fight, the sailing-master said:

"Go below, Mays, you are too weak to

be here."

"I can do something, sir," replied the brave old tar.

"What can you do?"

"I can sound the pump, sir, and let a strong man go to the guns."

It was even so. He sat down by the pump, and sent the strong man to the guns; and when the fight was ended, there he was found, with a ball in his heart. He was from Newport; his name, Wilson Mays; his monument and epitaph, the grateful memory of a whole nation.

As they were coming nearer and nearer the British fleet (says Dr. Tomes, in his admirable delineation of this battle), and by twelve o'clock would certainly be in the midst of action, the noonday-grog was served in advance, and the bread-bags freely emptied. In a moment after, however, every man was again at quarters. Perry now went round the deck, from gun to gun, stopping at each, carefully examining its condition, and passing a cheerful word with the "captain." Recognizing some of the old tars who had served on board the Constitution, he said, "Well, boys! are you ready?" "All ready,