CHAP. XIII. ] VISIT TO PROFESSOR SILLIMAN. 179 



the cars on the line between that town and Albany, where there 

 is only one track, had run against a luggage train near Chester, 

 and many passengers were injured. Some say that two were 

 killed. According to others, one of the trains was five minutes 

 before its time ; but our informant took my thoughts back to 

 England, and English narratives of the like catastrophes by say 

 ing, &quot; It has been ascertained that no one was to blame.&quot; We 

 had no reason to boast of our speed the next day, for we were 

 twelve hours in going sixty- two miles to New Haven. The delay 

 was caused by ice on the rail, and by our having to wait to let 

 the New York train pass us, there being only one line of rail. 

 A storm in the Sound had occasioned the New York cars to be 

 five hours behind their time. We saw many sleighs dashing 

 past and crossing our road. It was late before we reached the 

 hospitable house of Professor Silliman, who with his son gave me 

 jnany valuable instructions for my southern tour. Their letters 

 of introduction, however, though most useful, were a small part 

 of the service they did me both in this tour and during my former 

 visit to America. Every where, even in the states most remote 

 from New England, I met with men who, having been the pupils 

 of Professor Silliman, and having listened to his lectures when at 

 college, had invariably imbibed a love for natural history and 

 physical science. 



In the morning, when we embarked in the steamer for New 

 York, I was amused at the different aspect of the New Haven 

 scenery from that which I remembered in the autumn of 1841. 

 The East Rock was now covered with snow, all but the bold 

 precipice of columnar basalt. The trees, several of which, espe 

 cially the willows, still retained many of their leaves, were bent 

 down beneath a weight of ice. I never saw so brilliant a spec 

 tacle of the kind, for every bough of the large drooping elms and 

 the smallest twigs of every tree and shrub were hung with trans 

 parent icicles, which, in the bright sunshine, reflected the pris 

 matic colors like the cut-glass drops of a chandelier. As we sailed 

 out of the harbor, which was crowded with vessels, we saw all 

 the ropes of their riggings similarly adorned with crystals of ice. 

 A stormy voyage of nine hours carried us through Long Island 



