442 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
ai. 
[Jan. 1, 1888. 
ee Rae oe a eee 
———SS—— SS See ee eee 
important but still inadequate source, is the water evaporated 
from the great lakes, the needful balance is contributed by 
the evaporation of the moisture from the forest-clad coast 
region, and by direct contribution of the yegetation within 
the region, or the economy of the Jatter in maintaining in 
constant use the moisture already there. 
The influence of yegetation in contributing to the rainfall 
needs only a \jttle explanation to render it apparent. Taking 
first the forest belt of the coast ranges; these are covered in 
Winter with snow to a depth equal to from one to two feet 
of water, and in consequence of the spongy character of the 
Inass constituting the forest floor—a mass made up of the 
decomposing leaves, branches and trunks of untold genera- 
tions of past trees—the melting snow, instead of being imme- 
diately carried away by the streams to the river, sinks gently 
into the floor, and in part slowly percolates away to the 
streams which it maintains in perennial flow; the other por- 
tion is being constantly pumped up by the tree roots, and 
evaporated from their foliage, with precisely the same effect 
as if evaporated from the ocean, the spring and summer 
showegs inborne by the sea serving to maintain the spongy 
floor in a greater or less degree of saturation all through the 
summer, Whenever the slightest breeze is borne inland, and 
fhe greater heat of the interior basin tends of itself to create 
a breeze inland, there is a constant inward flow of vapor 
which in lime condenses as rain, Within the basin, we haye 
first the evaporation from the whole river system, which 
alone covers a considerable area, and wherever the banks of 
the river or other low lands, with the subsoil water at easy 
depth, are clothed with forest, the trees by means of their 
roots pump up the subsoil water, and appreciably—if the 
area of such forest is considerable—enlarge the surface of 
continuous evaporation, with a proportionate increase of 
rain; finally, the whole vegetation of the central region, even 
although its roots do not penetrate to the subsoil waters, 
pumps up the water from the soil and subsoil, evaporates, 
and receives it afresh as rain or dew in continuous succes- 
sion. From this it will be seen that the fertility of the great 
central zone of this continent may be due, in small measure 
only, to the moisture inborne by oceanic current, and that 
by no means the least important source of its fertility is the 
economy exercised by its vegetation in maintaining a con- 
stant circulation of the moisture proper to the region, and 
preventing its being drained off by the rivers as if falls. It 
will hence be readily inferred that an existing vegeta- 
tion can maintain itself in vigorous growth, with an amount 
of extrancous aid, in the matter of rain supply, that would 
be unequal to the origination of a new vegetation, if the old 
were cleared away. 
This continent in the progress of its upheaval was 
accompanied with exceptionally favorable conditions for the 
establishment of an interior vegetation. Long after its gen- 
eral features were outlined by the upheaval of its mountain 
chains to near their present height, the great interior basin 
was an inland sea; an extension of the present Gulf of 
Mexico, a condition which secured to the whole region all 
the advantages of insular climate. But for this reason this 
continent could hardly have failed to have its great interior 
desert region, similar to those in Asia, Africa and Australia, 
Having now seen the importance of the forests as subsidi- 
ary aids to oceanic currents in increasing the amount of rain- 
fall, and their special function in economizing and redistri- 
buting it, there will be little difficulty in appreciating the 
consequences which would necessarily flow from their com- 
plete destruction. 
As regards the coast regions of the continent, the destruc- 
tion of the forests would exercise no appreciable influence 
on the rainfall, and consequently but little on its fertility; 
the measure would nevertheless be followed with some very 
appreciable and important consequences. The mere felling 
of the timber does not necessarily involve the destruction of 
the forest, excepting on steep hill slopes. In such localities 
a clean sweep, by leaving the forest floor exposed to the un- 
broken force of the rain, results in its being completely 
carried away down to the bare rock or compact subsoil, 
which becomes baked in the sun. The falling rain or melt- 
ing snow now rushes off at once, swells the brooks and 
rivers, creating floods, devastating in proportion to the area 
laid bare. When the slopes are less precipitous the capacity 
of the land to reafforest itself depends on many conditions. 
lf the forest fioor is open to the light it will generally be 
stocked with a young growth, which will spring up imme- 
diately after the clearance. Sometimes the floor of a pine 
forest will be found occupied with hardwood seedlings, 
which die down and send up fresh shoots year after year, 
until a clean sweep of the pine timber gives them the start 
and changes the succession. In compact pine forests the 
seedlings die almost as fast as they germinate for want of 
sufficient light for their development, and the prospects of 
the forest restocking itself after a clean sweep, depends in~ 
great measure upon whether the felling follows a good, bad, 
or indifferent seed year. 
The general consequences of reckless felling over a moun- 
tain region are that the steep slopes are rendered valueless 
for all further purposes; of the gentler slopes and plateaux, 
some portion is thoroughly restocked, some partially, with 
fhe same or other class of timber, and some remains bare, 
losing its soil and haying its subsoil s0 baked that the rain 
runs off it as it falls, When whole forest regions are cleared 
for agricultural settlement, as in the Hastern States, the re- 
tentive character of the soil is impaired to an extent that ne- 
cessarily involves sharp alternations of flood and drought 
in the streams and rivers, for which the only corrective is re- 
planting of the heights and deep ploughing of the cultivated 
lands, 
Hiyen on the Eastern seaboard the wholesale forest clear- 
ance renders the summer showers somewhat precarious and 
dries up the once perennial streams, but the evil under this 
head is trifling compared to the consequences of similar 
action in the interior basin of the continent. The great 
rivers of this region drain enormous areas, proportioned to 
their respective lengths, and flow through rich valleys in 
great part but little aboye the level of the rivers at normal 
flood. The destruction of the forests along their course, 
facilitating the flow of rain and melting snow toward the 
rivers, would, even if confined to their head waters, result 
in heavy floods; and when these conditions are multiplied all 
along their course, the destructive character of the floods is 
augmented to an extent, Which in the absence of proper rem- 
edies can hardly fail to render the lowest and richest valleys 
unsafe for human habitation. What has occurred once 
will continue to occur periodically, as long as the causes are 
in active operation. 
And this is not the whole of the evil. The very consider- 
able subsidence of the rivers after the floods have been borne 
off, is accompanied by a steady drainage of the water in the 
subsoil drifts; the great internal reservoir which, under the 
influence of vegetation, is continuously utilized in supple- 
menting the rainfall due to external causes, recedes further 
and further from the surface. The tendency of the gradual 
exhaustion of the subsoil reservoirs in broad valleys is cer- 
tainly, at first, to temper the violence of floods by providing 
for the lateral expansion of the rivers underground; but 
while this one eyil is being redeemed, the gradual diminution 
of rainfall over the whole region will slowly, but surely, 
render it unfit for cultivation. A few figures will render the 
influence of forests in the maintenance of rainfall over the 
great central region of this continent strikingly apparent. 
Supposing the rainfall of this region dependent directly on 
ocean currents, amounts to a general average of twenty 
inches; if there were no forests nor other vegetation creating 
a retentive soil, the rivers would annually discharge a yolume 
of water equal to the rainfall; but if it were dotted with for- 
est, the floor of which retained only one inch of the twenty, 
the river discharge would be reduced to nineteen inches, a 
saving which, if it could be maintained, would be equal to 
more than eight feet of water over the whole region in a cen- 
tury. Of the water thus retained by vegetation, a portion is 
employed in keeping the soil constantly moist, and another 
portion is constantly suspended in the atmosphere, falling as 
rain or dew, and being continuously reévaporated and repre- 
cipated. Forests may thus raise the rainfall to double or 
three times the amount due to ocean currents, and following 
their destruction, the whole surplus is borne into the rivers, 
which overflow their banks in their efforts to discharge it 
into the sea. Every great flood reduces the interior reservoir, 
thus inducing a gradually diminishing rainfall with a erad- 
ual diminution in the violence of the floods, until finally the 
region is dependent on ocean currents only for its moisture, 
and it may be safely argued that when the great region lying 
between the Appalachian and Rocky Mountain chains, shall 
have its rainfall limited to the supply inborne by ocean eur- 
rents, it will cease to be an agricultural country. 
Che Sportsman Canrist. 
CEYLON TO BOMBAY. 
ROM Point de Galle to Bombay is but a thousand miles, 
and on the schedules of the fast passenger and mail 
steamers of the Peninsular, and Oriental, and Messageries 
Impériales lines, less than three days are allowed for the 
voyage. But the Germantown, clipper as she was, more 
than trebled the time, although making but little over the 
distance; for after we got fairly started, such winds as we 
had, namely, the alternate land and sea breeze, were fair; 
but they were never very strong, and the intervals between 
them were sometimes long, and always dead calm. 
We placed our dependence upon the land and sea breeze, 
and when fairly by Cape Comorin, the southernmost point 
of India, it was not misplaced; but for some forty-eight 
hours after we got clear of the harbor, it seemed somewhat 
roblematical whether we would ever get out of the Gulf of 
fanaar, into which a northeasterly current had drifted us. 
For with open sea on both sides, to the westward the Gulf 
of Hindostan, to the eastward the Bay of Bengal, there was 
no starting point for a land breeze, and the light sea breezes 
neutralized each other and caused calms. 
lt was pleasant enough for those who, with no care or re- 
sponsibility, had but to exist and enjoy the delightful 
weather; but to the navigator it was oto cosa. About here 
the pages of my journal are disfigured (no pun intended) by 
problems in navigation, time sights, and equal altitudes of 
the sun by day, and of Capella, Betelgeuse and Jupiter by 
night, all results agreeing, and all showing an inward set. 
Tacking or wearing to every favorable puff, we at last, just 
as we were expecting, as a possibility, an interview between 
our keel and one of the stepping stones by which Father 
Adam crossed oyer from Ceylon (one of the original gardens 
of Eden) to the mainland, we caught, close in to Cape Co- 
morin side of the gulf, a nice little land breeze which, with 
our starboard studdingsails full, soon carried us out of the 
gulf and of danger. vet 
The voyage up the Malabar Coast was from the beginning 
io the end a season of yninterrupted enjoyment. Hyen dur- 
ing the calms, generally so very tiresome and productive of 
ennui, we hud abundant resources. Hardly « watch passed 
that the word was not pasaed that some odd fish or other 
denizen of the deep was to be seen; sharks were caught, a 
whale shot at, @ porpoise harpooned, and great turtles, devil- 
fish and drumfish seen Howng or swimming near—near 
enough to make us accept with bad grace the refusal of the 
permission we asked, to lower away and try for them; and 
at all times we had in company native craft of all deserip- 
tions, junks, dhows, prahus, catamaransand canoes. And as 
we jogged along over and past the many fishing banks of the 
Laccadiye Archipelago and others, fleets of anchored boats 
were encountered, and as many more in pairs, dragging a 
net between them. And we had many a treat, first in the 
spectacle of exciting and well-contested canoe races from 
the native craft, the goal being our ship, the prize our trade, 
and then in choice fresh fish and turtles, sold to us at 
prices that seemed wonderfully low, especially when paid in 
trade of tobacco, rice or hard tack, two or three cents’ worth 
of the latter buying a good-sized fish. Closer in to the land 
the interest was even more varied. In the background, the 
high peaks of the Ghaut Mountains, which as a single range 
borders the sea coast for over a thousand miles, nearly north 
and south, then in the Central Provinces, to the northward 
of Bombay, radiating and spreading out like a fan from 
N. E. to §. E. in many minor ranges, between which lie the 
fertile valleys of Malwa, Patna and others, where grow, 
shielded from the north winds, millions of acres of poppiés. 
In the foreground, long stretches of grassy beach, dense 
forests and denser jungles, from which at night issued 
strange sounds, which in the morning, however they may 
have differed, were all credited to tigers. There were many 
small fishing villages, and several towns of more importance, 
Of one—I think it was Mysore—we had a most beautiful 
view, for we passed it as the sun rose, and shining full upon 
it, gilded every minaret and spire, and turned the mosque 
cupolas into domes of flaming gold. And over the water, 
from many of the spires came the sound of sweet-toned 
bells, calling upon the faithful to adore—the Musselman 
with his face toward Mecca, the fire-worshiping Parsee to 
turn to the greatest symbol of their god, the Sun, the 
Hindoo to prostrate himself before his god, and, in short, 
every human being of that “‘benighted land’ to spend in 
devotion to his idea of the Deity a portion of time thatin 
Christian nations is, to a great extent, consolidated into one 
weekly event. 
That voyage has left upon my mind a remembrance like 
that of a pleasant dream. 
On the fourth day of January, 1858, we cntered and 
anchored in the spacious harbor of Bombay, spacious but 
crowded to its utmost capacity, for at that day the great 
Indian mutiny was at its height, and in addition to the or- 
dinary fleet of traders, a squadron of English war vessels 
flying the St. George’s cross, many more there of transport 
and store ships with English ensigns, and scattered among 
them the cruisers of various nationalities, French, Russian, 
Austrian, Holland, Spanish, and with our own, the United 
States. War makes sometimes gay scenes as well as ghastly, 
“There was a sound of revelry by night’ 
when Belgium’s capital had gathered on the eve of Water- 
loo, and in this harbor all was life, gayety and bustle, From 
the various ships the guns thundered in salutes to arriving 
or departing admirals and generals. Three transports were 
disembarking troops, and long lines of cutters, launches and 
barges loaded down with the soldiers, whose scarlet jackets, 
snow-white belts, and polished black knapsacks gave a lively 
bit of color to the scene, which harmonized well with the 
inspiring music of the bands of the various frigates, and 
cheered them until they landed on the Apollo. Bunder and 
formed for inspection, when, with their bands and colors 
flying, they were marched off to the barracks for a Jiltle rest, 
or in some cases direct to the railway stations, to be hurried 
cif to the interior or ‘‘up country.” 
Busy little steamers flitted about in all directions, and 
great house boats passed by filled with natives in holiday 
array, who were out for an evening’s sail and sight-seeing, 
Everything seemed to proclaim a gala day rather than what 
it really was—the preliminary of war; and it was hard to 
realize that, we were on the outer edge of a whirlpool whose 
center was so deadly. But during our stay there was. but 
little to remind us of the great struggle that was going on £0 
near us. 
Our flag was a novelty, for many years had elapsed since 
last a United States Government vessel had displayed it in 
this harbor, and we became the recipients of most distin- 
guished attentions. The Governor gave us a ball and a din- 
ner, the Ceylon Rifles, the 81st Royal Irish, and the Hussars 
each a dinner ‘‘at the mess,”” and the officers of the English 
war ships vied with each other in hospitality. Unaccus- 
tomed as we were to ‘‘pegs,” champagne punch and late 
hours, it became soon a question to be decided only by lot 
in the morning as to which of us, and how many, should 
represent the mess that night, each and every one having a 
good excuse for claiming a night’s rest. And “pegs” * be- 
fore breakfast became quite fashionable on board the Ger- 
mantown, for in those days they had not as yet 
‘Raised our pay, 
Five cents a day, 
And stopped our grog forever.”” 
Two events, however, which impressed me very unpleas- 
antly, served to remind me that all of this gayety was but a 
thin crust covering hot fires. The first of these occurred 
when, on my first trip ashore, I witnessed a review of the 
iroops in the square, when four brass field pieces were 
pointed out to me, standing on the same spot where, but a 
week before, four mutineer Sepoys had been blown to atoms 
from their muzzles. Standing by them, my informant, an 
eye witness of the tragedy, described to me how they, stand- 
ing back to and against the muzzles, were bound to wheels 
and trunnious: how the men met their fate, and how it met 
them. Then and there I revolted at the deed, But later, 
before I left Bombay, I was firmly convinced of the propri- 
ety and necessity of the act, which I have often since heard 
criticised and condemned as cruel and barbarous. Simple 
death had no terror for these men, Their religion taught 
them that dying for its sake was but a speedier entrance into 
paradise, where they would again inhabit the body which 
they temporarily left, and this body would be identical in 
condition, Without this body the spirit would wander 
homeless and unblessed. Hence to them, this death which 
shattered the body into fragments, was a most terrible one, 
worse by far than annihilation; and an execution of this 
nature spread terror throughout the country, and undoubt- 
edly prevented the necessity of numberless executions. As 
for the victims, it is probable that the destruction was so 1n- 
stantaneous and complete, that they did not suffer a physical 
pang. 
* Page, which word I have twice used, in Hast Indla parlance means, 
primarily, brandy and soda, and in general terms anyt of that 
nathire taken before breakfast, it being a shortening in of the phrase, 
‘\Peg in your coffin,” which is supposed to be furnis hed by the act, 
