THE PENNSYLVANIA COAL
REGION.
Harper's Monthly1877
THERE are few trips so delightful as that through the great
Coal Fields of Pennsylvania, made by means of the NEW JERSEY CENTRAL
RAILROAD and its connections. For the time, one can hardly choose
amiss, from May, when the region puts on its robe of greenery,
till November, when it assumes its gorgeous autumnal attire.
The starting-point from New York will be the depot of the Central
Railroad at Jersey City. Avoiding the southern portion of New
Jersey, which is one unbroken plain of sand, as also the northern,
which is hilly and for the most part but poorly cultivated, our
course lies through the very centre of the Statea region
made up of alluvial valleys containing some of the richest soil
that is to be found in the countryand after this transit
of New Jersey, our route takes in quite entirely the eastern half
of Pennsylvania.
At the start
about twenty-five miles of level, marshy land lie before us. On
the right a low range of mountains skirts the distant horizona
range which by-and-by, however, beyond Elizabeth City, is directly
alongside of us, permitting us to look up its gently sloping sides
covered with farms and farm-houses. On the top of one of these
hills, just after passing through Plainfield, we discern Washington
Rock, the point from which Washington was in the habit of watching
the movements of the enemy, who was rapidly pushing him across
the State to the banks of the Delaware. The view from this rock
is of unusual beauty; taking into its compass Elizabeth, Rahway,
Amboy, New Brunswick, and, under favorable conditions of atmosphere,
even the shipping in New York Bay.
At the little village of Bound Brook, where we intersect the
Raritan, we are launched into the beautiful valley which receives
its name from that river. The soil, as we proceed, grows continually
richer; and gradually ascending we come to Somerville, the shire
town of Somerset County, on the banks of the Raritan. Very soon
the limestone hills begin to present their exquisitely rounded
forms against the sky. Passing across the south branch of the
Raritan, over the High Bridge, we follow Spruce Run to Clarksville,
at the foot of the Musconetcong Mountaina district rich
in iron ore. Hard by is New Hampton, where we have spread before
us in all its beauty the Musconetcong Valley, not extensive indeed
in area, but having hardly a rival for beauty and richness of
soil.
At New Hampton we change cars, taking the Delaware, Lackawanna,
and Western Railroad across Warren County to the Delaware Water
Gapone of those abrupt miracles of nature which it is impossible
to appreciate at a glance.
There are other gaps of a similar nature throughout the Appalachian
range. There is one in Sharp Mountain; another through Kittatinny,
or Blue Mountain, made by the Lehigh River; and there is still
another made by the Susquehanna, above Harrisburg. Professor Rogers,
the Pennsylvania geologist, speaks of these clefts, thus dividing
mountain ranges to their very bases, is "transverse dislocation;"
and he traces in them all this uniform law, viz.: that the eastward
section always projects to the northward, as compared with its
opposite. In the Delaware Water Gap this northward projection
of the New Jersey section beyond that on the Pennsylvania side
is very evident to the eye. The two walls, which rise precipitously
on either side to a height of fifteen or sixteen hundred feet,
are made up of thin layers of sandstone and conglomerate rock,
and by the position of their strata (lying apparently at an angle
of forty-five degrees with the horizon) indicate the ancient volcanic
convulsion by which they were upheaved above the uniform level
of the Kittatinny ridgea ridge which appears once to have
been the margin of a vast lake, receiving within its rock-bound
inclosure the waters of the Chemung, Chenango, the Delaware, and
the Susquehanna rivers; but which, through the gaps or dislocations
above referred to, and formed at a period more ancient than human
records, has allowed this mighty procession of rivers a free access
southward to the sea.
There are various points of view which the tourist may select,
in order to behold the landscape, as modified by this prominent
natural wonder. He may take a point outside of the Gap, or one
from within, toward the village; he may look at it from the Kittatinny
House; or he may ascend to the highest summit of the mountain
on either side, and look down upon the ghastly fissure below him,
and upon the diversified landscape that stretches far away to
the northward and southward along the banks of the river. He may
be choice, also, as to the seasonhe may come in the early
summer, or he may wait till autumn has touched the forest leaves
with crimson and golden lines, pouring over them a flood of splendor,
peculiar to our American forests; but, in any case, he shall find
the entire scenethe rudely broken ridge, with its crumbling,
precipitous sides, and with its two long, low ledges that, on
either side of the river, it puts forth, as if, on the one hand,
it would run up to punish the bold stream at its very sources,
or as if, on the other hand, it were chasing it down to the bayone
of the most picturesque that this green earth of ours can yield.
On the morrow
we resume our journey, moving still in a northwesterly direction
toward Scranton. More and more, romantic features become characteristic
of the country; for we now commence the ascent of Pocono Mountain,
over an upward grade of sixty-five feet to the mile. The novelty
of this ascent, added to the remarkable scenery, makes this ride
interesting beyond description, and upsets all our notions regarding
the necessities and limitations of railroad construction. For
here we have an elevation measuring upward of two thousand feet,
as great as that of the Hoosick Mountain, through which the Troy
and Boston Railroad is driving a tunnel; but, instead of slinking
through the mountain in an underhanded way, we boldly overstep
its summit in open daylight, while far below us curl the envious
mist-clouds about the mountain sides.
Before reaching the Pocono Forks we obtain a magnificent view
of the Water Gap, which a few hours ago we left behind us, but
which is now directly at our left, and distinctly visible against
the sky, above many an intervening valley and range of hills.
Descending through illimitable forests, and surrounded on all
sides by a rugged grandeur, unusual even among mountains, we approach
Scranton, the northern limit of our route; a short distance before
reaching which, however, there is a most romantic cascade formed
by Roaring Brook as it leaps down the steep ledges of the mountain
on its way to the town, with whose infant growth it is forever
identified, since upon its rapid stream was built the old grist-mill
of Philip Abbot, about which as a nucleus the town commenced its
development. This grist-mill, as regards its architecture and
internal mechanism, was of the most primitive construction. Its
outside framework was supported by rude crotches thrust into the
ground; the flinty stones used in grinding were drawn from a neighboring
ledge; these were turned by a leathern belt passed over the drum
of the water-wheel; and for a bolt a dry deer-skin was
used, perforated with small holes, which formed the only separation
of the flour from the coarse bran.
Let not the reader suppose that the town of Scranton, as we
beheld it to-day, has grown up about a grist-mill! The town has
had as many separate eras of progress as it has had names. As
the home of the Indians it, or rather the region in which it is
situated, was called Cabouse, after the chief of the tribe, which
name it retained until the beginning of this century, when it
was called Slocum Hollow, after the Slocums, into whose hands
the old mill had passed, and who, besides building a saw-mill
and two distilleries, bought up seventeen hundred acres of land,
which was long known as the Slocum Farm. These Slocums were Ebenezer
and Benjamin, brothers of Frances Slocum, whose capture by the
Indians at five years of age, and whose eventful history afterwardher
identification with the race that had adopted her, the painful
search after her by her brothers, the final discovery of her whereabouts
more than half a century after her abduction from Wilkesbarre,
and, finally, the visit made to her in her far-off Western home
by her brothers: a history which reads like a romancehave
become known as widely as the Wyoming tragedy with which they
were so intimately connected.
After glorying
for about forty years in the name of Slocum Hollowduring
which time it was of very little accountit doffed that euphonious
title for the name of Harrison, until few years afterward, when
it received its present designation. It is really within the last
ten years that the greater portion of the town has sprung up;
and that which has given impetus to its rapid progress during
that time has been it extensive collieries, taken in connection
with the increased facilities of transportation.
Scranton lies on the east bank of the Lackawanna River, and
is the centre of the Lackawanna coal region. To get the best view
of the town we should cross the railroad bridge to the eminence
on the opposite bank at Hyde Park. The town presents neither a
very beautiful nor magnificent appearance to the eye. One endless
pile of brick greets the eye wherever it turns, as indeed is the
case in all the large towns of Eastern Pennsylvania. But the natural
scenery is of striking beauty. The river winds lovingly about
the edges of the town, and its banks are prodigal of shade trees;
and the mountains have a near, familiar look about them disrobed
completely of that mysterious haze in which distance inwraps them,
though here and there along the horizon a beautiful glimpse is
afforded of the blue heights far beyond. As for the town of Scranton,
seen from this point, I confess that I was best pleased with that
portion of it which vulgarly goes by the name of Shantyvillea
thousand rude huts, closely packed together, tier upon tier,
with narrow alleys betweenyet absolutely refreshing to the
eye, as the solitary portion of the town in which brick does not
predominate! Here live the miners and the laborers employed in
the various coal and iron works, occupying in this humble style
the whole western side of the town, while upon the opposite side
are gathered the Scrantonian elegance and respectability in their
more assuming homes. These, upon the right hand, are the coral
insects that work beneath the earth "with enduring toil,"
out of the reach of the sunlight, out of the sight of flowers,
building up the palpable foundations of wealth; those upon the
left build upon the firm basis thus prepared for them their climbing
towers of prosperity and pride.
Now let us
take a glance at the mines. The reader will allow us one moment
with the geographical position and the geological aspects of the
coal-fields. Coal itself is of vegetable origin, and it is the
result of the "decomposition of the compound of bodies from
which it is formed." Once America was a long, narrow island,
reaching from Nova Scotia to the far West; neither Alleghenies
nor Rocky Mountains as yet existed, but a great ocean spread away
to the north and another to the south. Gradually on either side,
by the action of the waters, vast deposits of stratified rock
were formed, which, accumulating, were at length raised to the
surface at numerous points, forming low marshy islands. These
became covered with a luxuriant vegetation, under conditions of
atmosphere peculiarly favorable to such growth; generations of
this rapid growth quickly succeeded each other, the decay of each
forming the basis of that which followed. For ages this process
went on; and when the Alleghenies were afterward upheaved in successive
ranges to the southward, the reader can easily imagine the great
disturbance, the distortions and dislocations which these stratified
deposits must have undergone. He will remember, too, that these
ridges thus suddenly upheaved must have imprisoned many a large,
inlying body, of water, which, in proportion to the resistance
offered, would the more violently force various outlets to the
open sea beyond, and, in its way out, would, with its tumultuous
current, tear up the already loosened strataif possible
sweeping them entirely away, but otherwise leaving them behind
in confused heaps. The ranges of the Alleghenies increase in height
as we proceed southward, till in North Carolina they rise more
than six thousand feet above the level of the sea. The more southern
ranges, being later in their upheaval, and therefore meeting with
greater resistance from the continually hardening crust of the
earth, were for this reason thrown up to a greater height cases
being measured by resistance. These ranges, therefore, offered
a proportionally greater resistance to the escape of the waters
which they inclosed; hence the greater violence of the escaping
waters, which accounts for the fact that, for the most part, the
coal measures of the South have been swept away. In regions where
there was no violent action of water at all, as in Western
Pennsylvania, we have the soft bituminous coal, the, hydrogen
of which has never been permitted to escape; and the reason that
we have not bituminous coal in East Pennsylvania as a general
thing, is this: the external disturbances which affected the strata,
though insufficient to sweep them away, yet so effectually exposed
them to the air that the soft coal became in time hardened to
anthracite.
The anthracite coal-fields of Pennsylvania are contained between
the Blue Ridge and the Susquehanna. Here it "outcrops"
in the most elevated regions, and always in the vicinity of rivers.
Under a bed of clay we find a micaceous slate or sand-stone, and
then we strike the benches of coal, beneath which lie the elder
strata of shale, conglomerate, old red sandstone, and Devonian
deposit; and the absolute depth of these underlying strata, from
the base of the series where the lowest sandstone comes in contact
with the primary rocks, is estimated by Professor Rogers to be
no less than 40,000 feet. For convenience we may divide the coal-fields
into three compartments the Lackawanna, the Wyoming, and the Lehigh.
The Lackawanna
and the Wyoming valley adjoin each other, and, together, may be
imagined as two outspread wings, the pivotal point about which
they balance being at Pittston, a short distance below Scranton,
at the junction of the Lackawanna River with the north branch
of the Susquehanna. Altogether there are in these two valleys
over fifty collieries, scattered along the river from Carbondale
to Shickshinny. These are under the direction of various companies,
mostly of railroad or canal corporations and some are the property
of private individuals. The external appearance of the collieries
is strikingly similar. Where the "outcrop" allows of
a direct access there is an entrance to the mine by means of an
inclined plane, called a slope but generally, in this region,
it is necessary to strike a perpendicular shaft down into
the mine and having thus reached the coal measures, subterranean
chambers are excavated in every direction. Sometimes there is
both a slope and shaft. At the summit of the slope,
or directly above the shaft, a tall slender structure is erected
which contains the machinery for raising, breaking, and sorting
the coal, and is usually called a "coal breaker." As
one of these collieries answers for all, we will examine the Oxford
shaft and breaker, which, besides being near at hand, has also
the latest mechanical improvements.
The, first room which we enter contains the stationary engine,
whose office is to raise the coal up the shaft, and turn the breaker.
The coal is carried up to the top of the structure from the mine
in deep carts, holding four or five tons each. Let us ascend to
this topmost room and we shall see the coal as it comes from the
hands of the miner. Here is a laborer, who stands by, and as the
car reaches the top takes out from it a card upon which is the
name of the miner to whom the load is to be accredited. For each
load mined the miner receives about seventy-two cents; and in
this way he often earns from $60 to $80 per month. The coal is
here "dumped off" into a shute, which conveys
it to the "landing," where there are other laborers
stationed to break the larger pieces, when it passes on to the
rollers of the breaker, which receiving it between their toothed
surfaces, crush it, just as it happens, into various shapes and
sizes. From the rollers the coal is passed down into screens,
which allow its different sizes to pass through their correspondingly
different apertures. After being "screened" the coal
is passed through various shutes, at the bottom of which
railway cars are stationed to receive it; when, over lateral railways,
it is conveyed to the coal-yard of the Delaware, Lackawanna, and
Western Railroad, or to the Lackawanna and Bloomsburg Railroad,
to be shipped to market.
While passing through the last-named shutes the coal is
separated from the slate with which it is mixed. This process
is intrusted to lads of from four to ten years of age; and to
those who look for the picturesque features of a colliery the
slate-picking room is the most interesting of all. Nothing can
be more amusing than the expression of countenance and the movements
of these little fellows, nothing more ludicrous than their ragged
and ungainly habiliments. They seem rather to be amusing themselves
than working, as they lazily pick out and drop underneath the
pieces of slate-rock, which the casual visitor could not tell
from the genuine coal, but which they detect by a sort of indolent
intuition.
If you wish
to descend into the mine itself you will step into the car, which,
after having been emptied above, is again descending into the
shaft. You are let down about two hundred feet into the dark,
holding one of the miner's lamps in your hand. But even with your
lamp you can see scarcely a rod ahead of you, and seem to be in
perpetual danger of being run over by the coal-cars that rattle
along the narrow defile, meeting or pursuing you. Soon you accustom
your eye and feet to the features of your novel situation, and
closely following your guide, you begin to thread the labyrinthian
chambers, narrow and low, that stretch away in all directions.
Soon you come to an abrupt termination. Here you must tread carefully,
for there may be danger ahead. The rock is mined here by blasting,
of which you may get the full benefit if you disregard the code
of signals. You smell gunpowderguide hails out aheadit
is all right you come up just in time to hear of an accident which,
not five minutes agoindeed in the last blastingcame
near proving fatal to a miner in the vicinity who mistook the
signal! You tremble for your fate, and are half-angry with your
guide, who insists upon showing you how the thing is donenot
the accident, but the process of blasting!
You are now quite willing to ascend again into the upper air,
and are led back to the entrance. You came down in a cartbut
how are you to get back? The carts which go up are filled with
coal, so that you must go up some other way. You stumble against
a slender frame-work which looks very like a gallows: it is upon
this that your ascent is to be effected. The lower piece of the
frame is not half a foot wide, and upon this piece the guide steps,
bidding you to follow. You expostulate, meekly expressing your
preference for the full coal-cart or any thing else; but it's
of no usethe gallows or nothing!and up yon totter,
clinging to the sleeve of your guide.
From Scranton, via the Lackawanna and Bloomsburg Railroad,
we take a southwesterly course at Pittston, entering the Wyoming
Valley, over which the cruelty of Indian warfare has thrown a
deeply tragic pall in our history. At the very head of the valley
is Campbell's Ledgea favorite point of view for those wishing
to obtain a prospect which shall take in the whole length of the
valley. Fit it is that the ledge should receive this name, standing
as it does at the very gate of the valley made illustrious by
the noble poet's songalthough, it must be, confessed, Campbell
knew a little less than nothing of the Wyoming of which he wrote.
Our course from this point till we reach Wilkesbarre is characteristic
both for the exquisite loveliness of the scenery, and for the
intimate connection which every portion of this scenery has with
the most pathetic romance of our early history. In this romance
the adjoining valley of Lackawanna, which we have just left behind,
has no insignificant share. Both valleys were originally settled
by Yankees from Connecticut, who had to maintain a terrible struggle
with the Pennsylvanians for a quiet possession of the countrya
struggle which has passed into record under the name of the "Yankee
and Pennamite" war. The Revolution diverted the attention
of both parties from minor questions of dispute; but it was in
connection with this war that a heavier scourge fell upon them
at the hands of the Indians, who had become the allies of Great
Britain in her conflict with the Colonies. The inhabitants of
these valleys, from their vicinity to the Six Nations, and by
reason also of their depletion in strength to meet the necessities
of Washington's army, were peculiarly vulnerable to attack. This
was too clearly seen by Major John Butler, who, with about 400
Provincials and 600 or 700 Indians, came down upon this valley
of Wyoming on the last day of June, 1778. This body of men could
be opposed by only 300, who came near reiterating the ancient
fate of Leonidas and his 300 Spartans at Thermopylae. But has
not all this been told in the pages of this Magazine?
As we move
down the river, every stage of our progress discovers some new
token of this memorable contest. On the opposite side of the river,
a little below Pittston, was situated Fort Wintermoot, from which
Butler with his savages advanced; and a little below this, on
the same side of the river, the tourist may still see Queen Esther's
Rock, named after that celebrated squaw who, in revenge for, the
death of a brother, with her own hands beat out the brains of
several captives taken in the battle. Farther down, where the
Wyoming Monument now stands, was the bloody battle-field, and
just below stood Forty Fort, upon whose site a church now stands.
Passing by these sad mementos, we come to the town of Wilkesbarre,
or rather the railroad station, from which we are conveyed a short
distance by stage to Phenix Hotel, which is in the centre of the
town itself. After a good dinner in a hotel, which, as regards
its structure, seems to you old-fashioned enough to have been
honored or dishonored by a visit from "British Butler"
himself, and which, you are astonished to hear, has yet only seen
about a single generation of human life, we set out for Prospect
Rock upon the mountain-range just east of Wilkesbarre.
The view from this point comprehends the whole valley from
Campbell's Ledge to Nanticoke Dam; and on a clear day it is said
that even Hyde Park, opposite Scranton, is quite distinctly visible.
The panorama spread before the eye is magnificent. The valley,
with the beautiful Susquehanna, dotted with many a verdant island
winding through it; the pleasant old villages, that lovingly cling
to the banks of the river as if the stream which runs through
them and links them together were a symbol of the beautiful chain
of unity that in the former time bound them together against the
common perils of the wilderness; the remembrancer of these perils
which one sees in yonder monument (for it is distinctly visible);
and, beyond all these, the threefold tier of mountain-ridges that
rise one above the other along the western sky, one of thorn near
at hand, with its well-defined form, while the other two peer
from above with their blue tops, as from some other world; these
are the prominent features of the scene.
Give me Prospect Rock for magnificence of view; but if you
want the material for a picture you need not stir one step from
your hotel. Sit down in the veranda with me, during that one hourthe
one which follows sunsetin which hour of all others the
Susquehanna wears its crowning glories. I can not describe what
you shall seewho could describe in words this meeting together,
through their shadowy reflections, over the edges of this languid
and luxurious river, of all things near it and abovethis
meeting together, as for caresses and last adieus, of woods and
clouds and sky, while the river that mirrors all glows with delicate
and ever-changing tints, as if it had an impassioned appreciation
of the glory with which it is overspread?
From Wilkesbarre
two routes lie before us, which we shall pursue separately. Starting
upon the longer of these, we continue our course through the Wyoming
Valley, directly along the bank of the Susquehanna, through Rupert,
where is the junction with the Catawissa Railroad, to Danville,
where are the celebrated Montour Iron Works. If the reader desires
to have some memorable impression of what manual labor is, let
him visit the "puddling furnaces" of the Rolling Mills
here, and he will be fully satisfied. For myself, I was so thoroughly
enchanted that for two full hours I stood and watched the workmen
at a single furnace through the entire process of transforming
pig-iron into wrought-iron. It is so hot in the vicinity that
you or I could, with great difficulty, stand for five minutes
in the place of the workman.
At Northumberland we have the junction of the north and west
branches of the Susquehanna, whose united stream we follow down
to Clark's Ferry, where we are directly opposite to the mouth
of the Juniata, and thence to Harrisburg. Just after we have crossed
the long bridge across the river, as we enter Harrisburg, we can
easily see the grave of Harris, the founder of the borough, the
only monument, above which is the stump of the old tree to which
the Indians once bound him and attempted to burn him by setting
fire to the treea fate from which he was succored by a band
of friendly Indians from across the river. The citizens have inclosed
the spot with an iron railing and covered it thickly with flowers.
The river here, as heretofore, is dotted with numerous islands.
From Harrisburg, through a rich and beautiful valley, we move
on to Reading, stopping at Lebanon, to pay a visit to the Cornwall
iron banks, about seven miles distant from that town. The peculiar
characteristic which gives interest to these banks is the vast
extent of iron ore lying open to the view; in the largest of the
three, which is called Big Hill, it is estimated that more than
40,000,000 tons lie in plain sight above the water-level!
From Allentown we might move directly back to New York. But
the reader will bear in mind that from Wilkesbarre I was to take
him upon two separate courses. One of these, so far as it is distinct
from the other, we have taken: let us now imagine ourselves back
at Wilkesbarre, from which point we will take a shorter but more
lively route.
By stage we ride up to the top of the mountain in order to
take the cars of the Lehigh and Susquehanna Railroad to White
Haven, descending over the last five miles of road by mere force
of gravity. From White Haven we again take the stage for Eckley,
which is seven miles distant, at the top of Buck Mountain. The
view from the summit of this mountain, which towers upward to
the height of 1700 feet above tide-water, is exceedingly picturesque.
The whole scene is untouched by the modifying hand of man, rugged,
just as it came from God, if we except the road along which we
have come, and which, as we look behind us, we can see winding
its way backward and downward into the valleythe one single
token of intrusive civilization.
Eckley itself
is a vast collection of shantiesits uppermost social strata
are yet to be formed; it is a good example of the sort of town
which will grow up about a colliery.
Over the Hazleton Railroad to Hazel Creek, and from thence
by the Beaver Meadow Railroad, we proceed to Mauch Chunk, passing
along the beautiful banks of the Lehigh River. So narrow is the
defile between the mountain-spurs at this point that there is
only sufficient room for a single street in the main part of the
town.
The chief attractions for us at Mauch Chunk were two. The first
of these was the grounds, or garden rather, surrounding and belonging
to Judge Packer's residence. The gardener of Louis Philippe laid
them out: the poor refugee had somehow found his way from the
gardens of Paris to the shanties of Mount Eckley, and thence down
to Mauch Chunk, where he was obliged to beg an opportunity to
work. When he undertook the Judges grounds they were as rugged,
barren, and unpromising as any of the surrounding mountain slopes.
Now terrace rises above terrace, the very soil of which they are
formed having been literally created by the gardener; these are
supported by conglomerate stone, brought hither from a considerable
distance and placed ingeniously so as to mimic a natural situation;
and over these the myrtle spreads a luxuriant growth.
The second
great charm of Mauch Chunk was the ascent to the top of Mount
Pisgah, and a trip to the mines over the Gravity Roads and the
marvelous Switch-back.
We commence the ascent from the foot of Mount Pisgah. Here
we seat ourselves in the open car, and, at a given signal, are
hoisted up an inclined plane more than half a mile long over a
grade of one foot to every fourupup, as if we were
being drawn into the clouds by some invisible power! Here then
we stand at the top, 880 feet above the sea, obtaining a most
magnificent view. The Valley of the Lehigh seems directly under
our feet; Mauch Chunk dwindles into nothingness, as seen under
the mountain-spurs that surround it; tier above tier of mountains
arise in the distance; and far above, prominent as the crowning
feature of the scene, tower up the cleft sides which form the
Lehigh Water Gap. But we are not at our full heightthough
this is the most advantageous view that we shall get. Another
plane, six miles further on, lies before us, up which we are again
elevated to Summit Hill: from which point we descend into the
mines. These lie in quarries, which we enter not by shafts, but
directly, by means of tunnels, into the coal-measures, which nave
here a greater thickness than any where else in the coal-fields.
But the road itself is far more interesting than the mines to
which it ministers. We descend from our high elevation by gravity,
changing our directions at various points by means of what is
called a switch-back. The car, by the momentum it has gained,
is carried for a short distance up a steep ascent, from which,
by the returning descent, it gains an impetus which forces it
over another track (upon which, by a self-regulating arrangement,
it has been switched). The arrangement of these switch-backs is
such that we are carried around a circuit of several miles, returning
again to Summit Hill, the point from which we started, being again
drawn up, of course, to the top by means of inclined planes. All
the way our course is through the wildest woodland scenery, and
our velocity, oftentimes exceeding that of the locomotive, adds
to the excitement with which we are inspired.
An anecdote
is told of a Quaker couple who once visited Mauch Chunk, on purpose,
as they said, to see "Josiah's works"meaning this
novel system of inclined planes, together with the switchback,
which were the work of Josiah White. Looking up, however, from
the foot of Mount Pisgah, the bump of prudence began to predominate
against that of curiosity. Some efforts were made to induce them
to enter the car; but they held back. "They wanted much to
see Josiah's works, but" and shaking their heads deprecatingly
they looked up the long plane. Continually the visitors came thronging
in and took their seats in the cars. "Does thee mean to say,"
asked the Quaker, "that all these people are going up?"
"Certainly," said the conductor, again assuring them
of their perfect security. The Quaker couple were now observed
to hold an anxious consultation, the result of which was that
they agreed to make the venture upon one condition. "Thee
will go no faster than we want thee to?" stipulated the Quaker.
"Not a whit," replied the conductor, now certain of
his prey. The cars are mounted, and up they are hoisted. The poor
couple looked at each other in amazement and affright, but are
persuaded to try the second plane. Then commences the descent.
The novelty of the ride exhilarates and inspirits. The old Quaker's
gray eyes glisten with excitement as the speed gradually increases.
Soon he gives an impatient gesture, and asks the astonished conductor,
"Can't thee go a little faster, friend ?" Now the velocity
is at its highest. The Quaker's eye has a mad twinkle about it,
as with still greater impatience he beseeches the conductor to
put on all possible speed, utterly unconscious of the merriment
which he is making among the party.
Passing over the Lehigh Valley Railroad to Easton we have the
Lehigh River continually at our left, and are frequently reminded
of the terrible freshet which swept this whole valley last year.
It was all the more destructive on account of the damming up of
the river to fill the Lehigh Canal; for these dams, being suddenly
swept away, let down immense volumes of water into the narrow
defiles below. Many lives were lost, and many instances are recorded
of the miraculous preservations of life. One of the most remarkable
of these instances occurred at Hokendanqua, just above Allentown.
A father went away to carry some articles of great value to a
place of safety, leaving his two young children in bed, intending
immediately to return to their rescue. But he came too late. The
waters had already rendered access to the house impossible. Now
here is the marvel. Instead of drowning the children, the inflowing
waters gently lifted the bed upon which they lay, and saved their
lives. They were not even moistened by the water! It was this
freshet which, breaking up the canal, so greatly increased the
price of coal last year.
Bethlehem, twelve miles above Easton, is noted as an ancient
Moravian settlement. The old edifices built by the Brethren still
remain. It is very interesting to go through the Moravian burial-ground.
Here are buried, with the utmost indiscrimination, Indians, negroes,
and white men. The Moravian Society in this country was in reality
a missionary organization, and is to be considered as such. Their
great aim was the conversion of the Indians; and it is beautiful
to look upon these Indian graves, and to think of the Christian
love with which the Moravians regarded the poor savage even in
death.
Easton is one
of the oldest boroughs of Pennsylvania. Confined originally to
the lower grounds it has literally climbed up over the surrounding
hills. Altogether it is a quaint old town, having about it all
the peculiarities of a Pennsylvania borough, one of the commonest
of which is a plentiful abundance of lager-bier.
From Easton we return on the Central Railroad of New Jersey
back to New York, having seen probably a greater variety of natural
scenery than is usually the lot of railroad travelers, and having
witnessed some of the most remarkable specimens of human ingenuity
and skill which the country can furnish. Besides these attractions
to the tourist, there are few regions in which a summer vacation
can be more pleasantly passed.
ITINERARY OF THE ROUTES
DESCRIBED.
I. NEW YORK To WILKESBARRE.Starting from Jersey City at 8 A.M. the tourist
will reach Hampton Junction, (60 miles distant, at 11 o'clock,
which is the only time when it is possible to secure a connection
with the Delaware, Lackawanna, and Western Railroad. Immediately
availing himself of this connection he reaches the Water Gap,
26 miles beyond, at 1 P.M. Supposing him to stop over at the Gap
for one night, he will resume his journey at 1 o'clock the next
day to Scranton, 57 miles further to the northwest. Stopping at
Scranton overnight, the next morning he takes the 10 o'clock train
for Kingston, 17 miles distant, on the Lackawanna and Bloomsburg
Railroad, from which point he is taken by stage to Wilkesbarre,
about a mile from the station, arriving there about 3 o'clock
P.M. The trip to Prospect Rock, 3 miles to the east of the town,
may be, with the exception of the last 200 yards, taken by carriage.
The tourist will stop at Wilkesbarre overnight.
II. From WILKESBARRE To HARRISBURG.The tourist who takes the longer of the two routes
which we have described in the foregoing pages will leave Wilkesbarre
at 9 A.M. of the fourth day, reaching Danville, 50 miles further
down the valley, at noon. Stopping over for a dayas he must,
if he stop at allhe will reach Northumberland, twelve miles
distant, at 1 the next day. From this point, at 10 o'clock of
the following day (the fifth), he proceeds 53 miles to Harrisburg
over the Northern Central Railroad, arriving at 1 P.M. If he stays
at Harrisburg, overnight he will proceed at 8 A.M. on the following
day to Lebanon, 26 miles distant, which he will reach a little
after 9. After paying a visit to the Cornwall Ore Banks, by a
special railway accommodation, he will take the 3 P.M. train for
Reading, 28 miles from Lebanon. From Reading he may immediately
proceed to Allentown, via East Pennsylvania Railroad, over a distance
of 36 miles. The next morning, at 5:30 A.M., he starts for Bethlehem,
about fifteen minutes' ride over the Lehigh Valley Railroad: stopping
at which point till 1 P.M., he moves on to Easton, 12 miles further
down the Lehigh River. He will then have five hours at Easton
before taking the 6.30 P.M. train, via Central Railroad of New
Jersey, to New Yorka distance of 75 miles.
The route thus described from New York and
back takes one week, and traverses 457 miles, giving time for
examining the more important objects of interest, though there
are several points where an additional day may be pleasantly spent.
III. WILKESBARRE To MAUCH CHUNK.Supposing the tourist to prefer the shorter of our
tours from Wilkesbarre, on the morning of the fourth day, instead
of pursuing his course down the Wyoming Valley, he will proceed
by stage from Wilkesbarre at 7:30 A.M. to the depot of the Lehigh
and Susquehanna Railroad, 5 miles up the mountain. At White Haven,
taking the stage to Eckley, he arrives about noon, proceeding
thence directly by Hazleton Railroad to Beaver Meadow Junction,
where he will take the Beaver Meadow Railroad to Mauch Chunk,
arriving thereabout the middle of the afternoon. The next morning
he will take the trip over the Gravity Roads and Switch-back,
starting at 8 A.M., and returning in time for the Lehigh Valley
4 o'clock train to Allentown, 29 miles from Mauch Chunk. Thence
his course to New York will be the same as by the longer route.
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