SOILS. 21 



and decay in the impure water that is the source of their origin, and at the same time is like- 

 wise their grave. As years go by and centuries succeed each other with their changes of 

 heat and cold, these basins become filled up and other forms of vegetation present themselves; 

 sometimes trees and shrubs cover the spot, together with coarse grasses and mosses, the bed 

 remaining spongy and soft, the annual fall of leaves and the decay of plants constantly con 

 tributing to the filling up of the stagnant ponds. In some cases large trees have fallen and 

 become covered with the accumulated muck and peat, and have thus been preserved from 

 destruction for ages, forming some of the most durable timber known for ship-building and 

 other purposes. Cypress Swamp, located in the southern portion of Delaware, presents an 

 interesting example of this kind. Here for several miles around can be found buried in the 

 muck and peat at various depths, remnants of a fallen forest, with forests of another genera 

 tion mostly white cedar growing above. 



The method of obtaining these buried trees is described as follows, by a recent writer: 



&quot; The huge trees which lie under the swamp to unknown depths are of the white cedar 

 variety, an evergreen, known scientifically as the Cupressus Thyoides. They grew years ago 

 in the fresh water, which is necessary for their sustenance, and when in time, either by & 

 subsidence of the land or a rise of the seas, the salt water reached them, they died in great 

 numbers. But many of them, ere they died, fell over as living trees, and were covered 

 slowly by the deposits of muck and peat which fill the swamp. The trees that fell over by 

 the roots are known as windfalls to distinguish them from the breakdowns. The trees which 

 were broken off are the ones most sought for commercial uses, and they are found and worked 

 as follows: The log-digger enters the swamp with a sharpened iron rod. He probes in the 

 soft soil until he strikes a tree, probably two or three feet below the surface. In a few min 

 utes he finds the length of the trunk, how much still remains firm wood, and at what place 

 the first knots, which will stop the straight split necessary for shingles, begin. Still using 

 his rod like the divining-rod of a magician, he manages to secure a chip, and by the smell 

 knows whether the tree is a windfall or breakdown. Then he inserts in the mud a saw, like 

 that used by ice-cutters, and saws through the roots and muck until the log is reached. 



The top and roots are thus sawn off, a ditch dug over the tree, the trunk loosened, and 

 soon the great stick, sometimes five or six feet thick, rises and floats on the water, which 

 quickly fills the ditch almost to the surface. The log is next sawn into lengths two feet long, 

 which are split by hand and worked into shingles, as well as into the staves used for pails and 

 tubs. The wpod has a coarse grain, and splits straight as an arrow. The shingles made 

 from it last from sixty to seventy years, are eagerly sought for by builders in Southern New 

 Jersey, and command in the market a much higher price than the ordinary shingles made of 

 pine or chestnut. In color the wood of the white cedar is a delicate pink, and it has a strong 

 flavor, resembling that of the red cedar used in making lead pencils. The trees, once fairly 

 buried under the swamp, never become waterlogged, as is shown by their floating in the 

 ditches as soon as they are pried up, and, what is more singular, as soon as they rise they 

 turn invariably underside uppermost. These two facts are mysteries which science has thus 

 far left so. The men who dig the logs up and split them earn their money. The work is 

 hard, exacting, requiring lusty manual labor, skill, and experience. 



Owing to the fact that the swamps are soft and treacherous, no machinery can be used, 

 and long stretches of mud and water must be covered with boughs and bark before the 

 shingles can reach the village and civilization. The number of the trees which lie below the 

 surface of the ten square miles of swamp is almost countless. In many places the probe will 

 be sunk many times before it fails to strike a log. As the workmen only dig for those near 

 the surface, and none but the best trees are selected, it is certain that only a small fraction of 

 the logs have been exhumed since 1812, when the industry first sprang up. The sunken 

 forests lie in all shapes. Sometimes the trees are found parallel, as though a wind blowing 



