86 WILLIAM BARTRAM 



and astonishment, a sublimely awful scene of power and mag- 

 nificence, a world of mountains piled upon mountains " (p. 

 362) . Often as he travels his eyes seek the " alternate, bold 

 promontories and misty points advancing and retiring, at length, 

 as it were, insensibly vanishing from sight, like the two points 

 of a crescent, softly touching the horizon" (pp. 233-234). 

 However, like the trees in his landscape, his promontories sel- 

 dom appear isolated. They are described along with the forests 

 that grow upon them, the animals that inhabit them, and the 

 streams that cascade down them. As he sails the Altamaha he 

 notices " the winding banks of the river and the high projecting 

 promontories," and he hears the " deep forests and distant 

 hills re-echo the chearing social lowings of domestic herds " 

 (p. 49) . Ascending the St. Johns River he observes the high 

 hills, or bluffs, on its banks and offers a conjecture as to their 

 probable origin (p. 165). The cliffs of the Natchez " present 

 to view stratas of clay, marie and chalk, of all colours, as brown, 

 red, yellow, white, blue and purple " (p. 435). Mention must 

 also be made of Bartram's descriptions of Indian mounds, which 

 are an important part of his landscape. Besides devoting the 

 final chapter of his Travels to a study of these antiquities, he 

 notes them in passing wherever he comes upon them. 



So far the elements of Bartram's landscape which have been 

 discussed have all been connected with land. Bartram is equally 

 observant of anything connected with water. Bodies of water — 

 the ocean, numerous rivers, lakes, creeks, lagoons, pools, foun- 

 tains, springs, geysers — flow and shimmer through his descrip- 

 tions. The Atlantic Ocean receives an ecstatic paragraph in the 

 first chapter of his book. It is " sublime, awful, and majestic." 

 It exhibits a " tremendous scene " when stormy; it is " sublime " 

 when it has again " become calm and pacific " ; it is " luminous " 

 at night, " when all the waters seem transmuted into liquid 

 silver " (pp. 2-3). An immense number of rivers figure in his 

 narrative, beginning with those close to his home, the Schuyl- 

 kill, the Delaware, the Susquehanna, and continuing with the 

 more southern and western rivers: the Clarendon, the Haw, 

 Little, Tugilo, Musquito, Chata Uche (or Apalachucla) , Talla- 

 poosa, Alabama, Taensapaoa, Amite, Cooper, Oakmulge, Ocone, 



