Such a complete and exhaustive consideration of the Facts and Causes of Human Progress as would suffice for the construction of a Science of History, would necessarily include all the Branches of Inquiry above mentioned. While, therefore, History, as it has been used in these papers, and as it is especially exhibited in the present one, has had this comprehensive signification, the term is not applied by Comte to any of the Departments of which he treated; and a very different meaning, and one much more circumscribed, attaches to the qualified expression which he uses in its stead. The Dynamic Branch of Sociology does not appertain, even in his own estimation, to History proper, but to The Philosophy of History, which is the title by which he designates it. Strictly speaking, it does not appertain to that, in any broad sense. It is mainly an inquiry into the Theological, Political, and Social Principles of the Past and Future, and leaves unnoticed many questions of equal importance with those discussed, and which, in the constitution of a comprehensive Philosophy of History, would occupy an equally important place.

But leaving this point aside, it is sufficient to indicate the fact that Comte, in conformity with the plan upon which he proceeded in the investigation of other Departments of the Universe, eliminated from his Historical examination all concrete questions, everything relating primarily to individuals or nations, or to the causes of their peculiar development; on the same ground on which he set aside Botany, Zoology, Mineralogy, etc. In the beginning of his treatise on Social Dynamics, he says:

'We must avoid confounding the abstract research into the laws of social existence with the concrete history of human societies, the explanation of which can result only from a very advanced knowledge of the whole of these laws. Our employment of history in this inquiry, then, must be essentially abstract. It would, in fact, be history without the names of men, or even of nations, if it were not necessary to avoid all such puerile affectation as there would be in depriving ourselves of the use of names which may elucidate our exposition or consolidate our thought.... Geological considerations must enter into such concrete inquiry, and we have but little positive knowledge of geology; and the same is true of questions of climate, race, etc.'

And again he says, the inquiry is to be conducted 'stripped of all circumstances of climate, locality, etc.'

It will be sufficiently evident from this brief statement, that The Philosophy of History (not History, as the letter says) which constitutes the Dynamic Branch of Sociology in the Positive System is, in Comte's own intention and showing, a series of bald abstractions from which the substantial or concrete elements of individual and national activity, the proximate causes of Human Progress, are dropped out; and that History in the ordinary sense of that term, or in the broader sense in which it has been used in these papers, as referring to a possible Science, finds no place in his Scientific Schedule.

The error into which our critic has fallen, in this case, undoubtedly resulted in part from the unfortunate confounding of the words Philosophy and Science, which pervades the Positive System. Philosophy and Science are not, in any proper use of the terms, synonymes. They relate—as it is designed at some future time to show—to equally true and important, though opposite aspects of the Universe, considered either as a whole or in relation to its parts. Comte, as has been heretofore exhibited, degraded Science from its Exact and Certain position, in order to include Domains of Inquiry which did not have and to which he could not furnish a truly scientific basis. In like manner, after discarding a false Philosophy, unable to institute a true, or at least a sufficiently comprehensive one, on the foundation which he had reared, he gave the name of Positive Philosophy to his incongruous coordination of Scientific and Unscientific Departments of Thought. The terms Science and Philosophy, thus wrenched from their legitimate uses, are therefore loosely understood and indiscriminately applied by the students of his System and the followers of his social theories, in ways which are productive of numerous misunderstandings, though not perhaps of unprofitable criticisms.

In a subsequent letter, the same gentleman calls attention to another supposed error—the omission of La Morale from the Positive Hierarchy of Sciences—and adds:

'Although this final Science was in a manner involved in Sociology as treated in the Philosophy, its normal separation was yet a step of Capital Importance; sufficiently so to make the enumeration of Comte's Theoretical Hierarchy without it equivalent to a misrepresentation.'

For the purposes of the article in question—the exhibition of the incongruous, and hence really unscientific character of the Hierarchy—the Positive Scale was given in the paper alluded to, as stated by Comte himself in the 'Positive Philosophy'—a work which is accepted as valid, both by the followers of his theories in regard to Science, and the adopters of his Social Scheme—there being no occasion, at that time, to indicate the subsequent elevation into a separate Science, of what there formed a subdivision of Sociology. The after enumeration of La Morale as a separate Science, in a work which is not regarded as valid by many of the disciples of the Positive Philosophy, is, however, exhibited in the present writing, where a more minute enumeration of the Branches of Inquiry included in the Positive Hierarchy rendered it desirable.



DIARY OF FRANCES KRASINSKA;

OR, LIFE IN POLAND DURING THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

Sunday, December 30th, 1760.

I have finally decided upon going to Maleszow; I may perhaps feel more at ease there than here. Barbara would accompany me, but the state of her health will prevent her; her husband says it would be very imprudent for her to travel. I have finally received a letter from the prince royal; he is in despair at my departure. He is exceedingly irritated against the princess, and fears lest Bruehl should disclose all he knows to the king.

I must leave here as soon as possible. The happiness surrounding me is a real torment. This sweet and quiet joy of a husband and wife who love each other so tenderly, pierces my heart. This well-arranged household, this family union, and all the delicate attentions of the Starost Swidzinski, who adores my sister—all these blessings, which I must covet, and yet of which I am not jealous, increase the bitterness of my suffering.

My sister is predestined to every possible felicity. Her little girl is the most charming child anywhere to be found; her father fondles and caresses her, and my parents are always writing to my sister, because they feel so much solicitude for her and her little one. Happy Barbara! Life is one long festival for her. Ah! may God take her happiness into his own keeping, and may this reflection console me under my own weight of sorrow!

I shall perhaps feel more tranquil when I have seen my dear parents; their pardon will be as a Christian absolution for me. I will again live and hope when protected by their tenderness. I will begin the new year with them; it may perhaps be the dawn of my happiness! I was formerly so happy at Maleszow....

CASTLE OF MALESZOW, January 5th, 1761.

I have been here several days, but I think I will soon return to Sulgostow. I suffer everywhere, and it always seems to me that I will be most happy in whatever place I am not. My lot is brilliant in imagination, but miserable in reality. And yet, my parents have received me well, and have treated me with the greatest kindness. But a matter of comparatively slight importance is one of the causes of my uneasiness here: I have no money; I cannot make the slightest present to my sisters, and can give nothing to the people of the castle.

When I was with the princess, she provided for all my wants, and gave me besides a small sum every month; I could save nothing, nor indeed could I anticipate any cause for doing so. I now find myself in the most complete state of destitution, and would rather die than ask for money from my husband or my parents, who of course think that I am abundantly provided for. When Barbara returned from the school of the Holy Sacrament, she doubtless had much less money than I spent during my sojourn in Warsaw, and yet she made a small gift to every one. She was not, as I, bowed down beneath the weight of melancholy thoughts; her spirit was free and her heart was joyous. She could think of others, and offer the labor of her own hands when more costly presents were wanting.... But I, unquiet, agitated, passing alternately from the most actual and positive grief to fears still more terrible, cannot apply myself a single moment.

Formerly, when I was happy through hope, and when all life seemed to me one brilliant illusion, I fancied that when I should return to Maleszow after my marriage, I would be followed by as long a train as a queen; I forgot no one in my dreams; all had their share in my royal favors.... Ah! what a fearful contrast between my desires and the reality!

I have not passed a single day since I came here without shedding tears. When I first saw my parents I wished to throw myself at their feet; but my father prevented me, and, treating me as if I were a stranger, made me a profound bow. Whenever I enter the saloon, he rises and will not sit near me; the homage he considers due to my dignity as princess royal overpowers his paternal tenderness.

This formal etiquette causes me inconceivable torment! Ah! if honors are to cost me so dear, I would a thousand times prefer to be only a simple noble.

The first dinner I ate with the family was ceremonious and cold. My mother was uneasy and ready to apologize for offering me the ordinary fare of the castle, and my father whispered in my ear:

'I might have offered you a bottle of wine, drawn from the tun of Miss Frances; it would have been very pleasant for me to have drunk it at our first dinner, but custom requires that the father should drink the first glass, and the husband the second; otherwise it would be a bad omen.... Will that day ever come?' he added, sighing.

I could not restrain my tears, and could neither speak nor eat; my mother looked at me with the most tender compassion. Every moment here brings me some new sorrow, and the bonmots of our little Matthias have lost all power to divert me. My father makes signs to him with his eyes that he may invent something witty, but it is all lost upon me. Music to a suffering body is but an importunate noise; and sallies of wit to a despairing soul have lost their savor.

Our little Matthias is inconceivably acute; he divines all. He knows my position, I am quite sure. He took advantage yesterday of a moment when I was quite alone to come into my room, and with an air half sad, half jesting, he knelt down before me and drew from his pocket a little bouquet of dried flowers tied with a white ribbon and fastened by a gold pin.... I could not at first tell what he meant, but soon the bouquet I had worn at Barbara's wedding flashed across my memory. He gave me the flowers, saying: 'I am sometimes a prophet,' and, still on his knees, went toward the door. I ran after him; I remembered all, and with the remembrance came a crowd of feelings, at once sweet and bitter. This bouquet was the same I had given Matthias on Barbara's wedding day....

I took a rich diamond pin from my dress, and fastened it at the buttonhole of Matthias's coat. Neither he nor I spoke a single word, but I am sure that while each wondered inwardly at the strange fulfilment of the prophecy, each was still more surprised that it had realized none of our hopes.

Just as I was writing these lines, my mother entered my room. Her kindness is incomparable; she brought me such a quantity of stuffs, of jewels and blondes, that she could scarcely carry them. She laid them on my bed, and said:

'I give you a portion of the trousseau destined to my daughters; I should have added many other articles, but I was afraid they were not handsome enough, and yet I have given you the best I had. I have spoken to my husband, and he has determined to sell two villages to make a trousseau worthy of so illustrious a union. That will come when the secret is unveiled.'

I burst into tears, and would have thrown myself at her feet, but she prevented me, and asked me a thousand pardons for presenting me with things of so little value.

Oh, yes! I must certainly leave here day after to-morrow. I suffer beyond expression. My younger sisters, madame, the courtiers, and even the old servants exclaim over the change which has come upon me, and ask one another why I am not yet married, and why no one seems to think of having me married.

The three girls whom I was to take into my service came to see me; doubtless, to remind me of my promise. Our old Hyacinth himself brought his daughter to me. Every one I see causes me some new sorrow or vexation. Ah! how astonished they would be if they knew of my marriage! And these poor people who relied upon my protection, I cannot take them into my service, because I have married a prince, the son of a king!

SULGOSTOW, Wednesday, January 9th.

I am again with my sister. On my arrival, I found no letter from the prince royal. He may be ill! Or, perhaps, the king has been informed of our marriage, and has placed him under strict surveillance. If the prince palatine were in Warsaw, he would surely have written to me; I can rely upon his devotion. As for Prince Martin, I thank him for his light-headedness, and am very glad that he forgets me.

My parents' parting farewell did me much more good than their reception; at that moment, I again found all their former tenderness.

Before I left, I went to Lissow, and visited the curate in his presbytery. When I came, he was planting cypress trees in his garden, and he promised me to plant one in memory of me in the cemetery. I will leave behind me this melancholy remembrancer. His words to me were very kind and consoling. As I left him, I experienced a moment of real calm and resignation.

Tuesday, January 15th.

During the last few days I have been forced to struggle against new persecutions. Just as we were about sitting down to table, the sound of the trumpet announced the arrival of a stranger, and soon after, the double door of the dining hall was thrown open, and M. Borch, the king's minister, was announced.

I at once divined the motive of this visit, and my heart throbbed as if it would burst. M. Borch, like a real diplomatist, tried to give his visit the appearance of a simple courtesy. Remembering the gracious reception offered him at Barbara's wedding, he came, he said, to offer his homage to her ladyship the Starostine Swidzinska, and renew his acquaintance with the starost. During dinner, many compliments were exchanged; but as soon as the dessert was over and the court had retired, he invited me to go with him into the starost's private cabinet, and said to me:

'Bruehl and I know your secret, madame, and I can assure you we have been exceedingly diverted; for you may well believe that we regard this marriage as a mere jest, a real child's play: the benediction given by a priest not belonging to the parish, and without the knowledge of the parents, can never be valid. This marriage then will soon be broken, and with very little trouble, I can assure you.'

These words fell upon me like a thunderbolt, and without a superhuman courage and the aid of Heaven, I should have been crushed at once; but I felt that the fate of my whole life might depend upon that moment. Borch's character was well known to me; I knew him to be as cowardly as base, and also that strength of will is all powerful with such men, who are only bold with the weak. I replied:

'Sir, your cunning lacks skill; your diplomacy and that of Minister Bruehl, come to nought through the simple good sense of a woman. Your world, which judges me and deems me devoid of courage and reason, only excites my pity; I am ready for a struggle with you and with Bruehl. My marriage is valid; it has been blessed by the consent of my parents; I hold my powers from God, and will be able to defend them. The bishop was aware of this marriage on which you are pleased to throw the anathema of your irony; the curate of my own parish gave us the benediction, and two witnesses assisted us during the holy ceremony. I know that divorce is possible, but only through the common consent of both parties, and the prince royal, my husband, and myself, will never consent to it.'

Borch's astonishment may easily be imagined, and even I could not have believed myself capable of so much energy. Borch expected to find a child whom he could dazzle with a few promises; he thought he could easily bring me to a renunciation of my rights, and that I would readily consent to sign the instrument of my own shame and sorrow: he found me most determined. He remained here two days, and again renewed his attempts, but, finding that I persisted in my refusal, he departed, having however previously asked me if I would consent to a divorce in case the prince royal should deem it necessary.

'Yes,' I replied, 'but you must first show me a writing to that effect, signed by the prince himself.'

I feared lest this occurrence should be the cause of a new sorrow: Barbara's situation requires so much care, and she feels my troubles so deeply! I was really alarmed lest her health should suffer, but, thank God! she feels quite well. Dear Barbara is another me; alas! all who love me must accept the chalice of misery! The starost was quite uneasy concerning his wife; they are so happy together, so tenderly united!... And I, what a sad destiny is mine! I have obtained neither repose, nor happiness, nor those objects of ambition which I would have consented to receive from the hand of love.

* * * * *

Here ends the Diary of Frances Krasinska. Her thoughts were too sad, her memories too bitter, to bear being transferred to paper. When sorrow in all its bitterness has seized upon the soul, we can no longer see or hear without a shudder certain words which formerly excited reveries more or less sweet and seductive within our souls. Frances lost all her illusions, one by one; she was strong enough to bear up against injustice, but she was powerless against her husband's indifference.

My readers may perhaps have accused her of ambition; and yet she loved him; but love is not always absolute devotion and self-abnegation; love is not always a virtue; it is often the result of egotism; it is, as Madame de Stael says, one personality in two persons, or a mere double personality. Frances loved the prince royal, but not the less had she been dazzled by his rank.

She remained a long time at Sulgostow after Borch's departure. Barbara Swidzinska, already the mother of one daughter, bore also a son, and another daughter, who was named Frances. The tenderness, care, and attention which Frances experienced in her own family could not console her for the prince royal's desertion. Her sister was the only being in the world to whom she confided her grief; women have a delicate sensibility which enables them to comprehend the minutest details; nothing escapes them, and, with the finest instruments in their possession, they can more readily deal with a crushed heart. If love had left Frances a single hope, she might still have found happiness in friendship.

Nowhere at rest, she sometimes left Sulgostow for the convent of the Holy Sacrament in Warsaw; but solitude could not restore her peace, and her prayers were one cry of despair sent up to God to implore death.

The genius of sorrow is the most prolific of all spirits, it seems as if human nature were infinite in nothing but in the power to suffer. There was still another grief in store for Frances, another wound for her afflicted soul; she lost her parents, lost them before they had bestowed the name of son upon their daughter's husband. At this time she went to the Franciscan convent in Cracow, whither Barbara sent her her young daughter Angelica, to endeavor to bind her to earth through the influence of this innocent and youthful affection.

She lived also at Cznestochowa or at Opole, and everywhere received orders not to disclose her marriage. At long intervals of time, the prince royal came to see her, and thus accomplished an external duty of conscience: total desertion and forgetfulness would perhaps have been preferable.

The prophecy made by the little Matthias was finally verified: the ducal crown and the throne of Poland both slipped from Prince Charles's grasp; Biren was named Duke of Courland, and, when Augustus III. died (at Dresden, October 5th, 1763), he was succeeded by Stanislaus Augustus Poniatowski.

To quiet the uneasiness and the melancholy suspicions of Frances, the prince royal declared to her that through regard for his father's advanced age he must continue to conceal his marriage. But many years passed after the king's death without bringing any amelioration or change in the position of Frances; the prince and the royal family lived in Dresden, while the prince's wife was constrained to hide her real name in obscurity.

The Lubomirski family did all in their power to obtain a recognition of Frances's rights; they even appealed to the Empress Maria Theresa. Prince Charles finally yielded; he wrote a most tender letter to his wife, begging her to come to him in Dresden; this letter found her at Opole, and the Lubomirski advised her to await another advance from the prince before she consented to go to Dresden, which she did.

Prince Charles, like all men who are impassioned through their fancies and cold at heart, was irritated at Frances's hesitation, and wrote her another letter still more pressing and affectionate; she resisted no longer, as one may well believe; but she found neither happiness nor the rank she was entitled to occupy, or rather, the honor due to her rank. Unprovided with a revenue suited to her position, she led a life of privation, almost of want. The Empress Maria Theresa, touched with compassion at her melancholy fate, conferred upon her the county of Lanckorona, near Cracow. This possession, coming from a strange hand, could not satisfy her ambition, and her heart must long before have renounced every hope of happiness.

She maintained a constant correspondence with her sister and the other members of her family in Poland.

We will here give the letter which she wrote to her sister before her departure for Dresden, translating it scrupulously from the Polish, and underlining [italicizing] the portions originally written in French:

I shall not see you again, as I can no longer delay, my husband having fixed the very day for my arrival in Dresden. In his second letter, he impresses on me not to be later than the fifth of January. I must then say farewell, and rest assured that I return with my whole soul the affection you feel for me; always, and in whatever place I may be, you will be the dearest to me, and the tokens of your remembrance, the most satisfactory to my heart.

Write to me often, I beg you, and rely upon my punctuality in replying.

I am going where I hope to find a little repose.... Alas! I no longer expect happiness, for the elector will not concede me my rank as princess royal, nor recognize me as the wife of the prince. He desires, that is to say, he commands me to preserve my incognito, while in his estates. The prince royal is truly grieved, and of all my sorrows the most bitter is that of my husband; his health is visibly failing.

I will write you a faithful account of all that happens to me; you shall know how I am received and the progress of all my affairs. If they will be willing to decree us an augmented allowance, I will beg my husband to permit me to leave Dresden and settle in some foreign country contiguous to Saxony, that I may readily hold communication with him. Do not mention my project to any one, for if it were known in Saxony, my whole enterprise would be ruined. Adieu, most tenderly loved sister. Do not forget me. Farewell, the multiplicity of my occupations will not permit me to write at greater length. Apropos, I beg you to go now and see the princess palatiness; you will find her with the Bishop of Kamieniec, and Kulagowski; she will be very grateful for this attention from you; it must be agreeable to her; you will brighten a little the gravity of this trio. Adieu, I embrace you with all my heart, and am, as ever, your most affectionate and attached sister, FRANCES.

A thousand tender and friendly messages to your husband; I conjure him always to retain a place for me in his memory.

In 1776 the Polish diet assigned large pensions to all the heirs of Augustus III.; the half of that bestowed upon Prince Charles was revertible during her lifetime to his wife, the princess royal, Frances Krasinska.

During her sojourn in Dresden, she gave birth to a daughter, the Princess Mary; she educated her with the greatest care, but was soon forced to leave her; her many sorrows developed an insidious malady, which finally proved fatal. She died on the 30th of April, 1796, aged fifty-three.

Madame Moszynska, who had shown herself a friend to Frances in her prosperity, and, what is still more rare, also in adversity, was grievously afflicted by her death. It was she who announced it to Madame Angelica Szymanowska, born Swidzinska, whom Frances had held at the baptismal font with the prince royal in the cathedral church at Warsaw, in 1760.

DRESDEN, June 8th, 1796.

I comply with your request, madame, but with extreme grief; the loss you have sustained is a most cruel one to me; indeed it is the deepest affliction I have ever known. The princess royal's malady began about two years ago. She then felt pains in her breast; some physicians said her disease was cancer, while others assured her it was tumor.

An incision was then made, and she was better during some time. But the disease soon made the most fearful progress. The inflammation appeared upon the outside, and she felt the most acute pains in her breast and throughout the whole length of her arm. She patiently endured the most excruciating torments. Having tried various modes of treatment without experiencing any relief, she finally consented to make trial of a new cure. During twelve weeks she saw no one except the members of her own household and the physicians, who sometimes said she was better and sometimes that she was worse; finally, however, fever set in, accompanied by all the signs of consumption.

Perfectly aware of her condition, she prepared for death with resignation and devotion; she died during the night of the 30th of April. Her breast had burst open several weeks before. An examination was made after her death, and many causes for her last illness were discovered; but I cannot dwell upon these details.... In my opinion, and I followed the whole course of her malady, her chest was seriously affected in addition to the cancer.

We have experienced an irreparable loss; I can scarcely endure life since our misfortune, and will never be able to think of the princess royal without the most bitter regret. I have not yet seen her husband; some say that he is ill, and cannot long survive his wife, but others speak of him as quite well: I know not whom to believe.

I sometimes see their daughter, the Princess Mary, whom I love with all my heart, but whom I can only visit once during the week. She is charming, and already gives promise of a noble character. The princess royal, during her dying moments, left her under the protection of Elizabeth, the king's daughter and the prince royal's sister. Elizabeth is warmly interested in the young princess, and sincerely attached to her brother; she is a highly meritorious personage.

May I beg you, madame, to continue toward me your previous sentiments of kindness, and to accept the expression of my unbounded esteem. L. MOSZYNSKA.

The prince royal, Charles, survived his wife several months, and their daughter, still very young, was confided to the guardianship of Prince Charles's sister. When she reached a marriageable age, she wedded Prince Carignan, of Savoy, and their descendants are now allied to the reigning family of Sardinia.



PETROLEUM.

Lucian of Samosata is responsible for the strange story of Minerva—how Jupiter commanded Vulcan to split open his skull with a sharp axe, and how the warlike virgin leaped in full maturity from the cleft in the brain, thoroughly armed and ready for deeds of martial daring, brandishing her glittering weapons with fiery energy, and breaking at once into the wild Pyrrhic dance. We refer to this myth, bearing, as it doubtless does, an important moral in its bosom, as suggestive of the sudden and gigantic proportions of a traffic which has recently loomed up in the region of Western Pennsylvania. The petroleum trade has worn no swaddling bands, acknowledged no leading strings, but sprung at once into full maturity. In less than one year from the moment of its inception, it has fairly eclipsed the Whale Fishery, gray with time, and strong through the energy and vigor with which it has ever been prosecuted. And who can measure its extent in the future, since it can only be limited by the sources of the supply flowing in the depths of the laboratories of the Great Chemist?

Petroleum, in some form or other of its various developments, is no new substance in the world's history. More than two thousand years before the Christian era, we read of its existence in the days of the builders of Babel, when men sought to realize the dreams of the Titans, and would scale heaven itself in their insane folly. It may have been used in the building of the ark. Herodotus informs us it was largely used in the construction of the walls and towers of Babylon. Diodorus Siculus confirms this testimony. Great quantities of it were found on the banks of the river Issus, one of the tributaries of the Euphrates, in the form of asphaltum. By its aid were reared those mighty walls and hanging gardens which filled the heart of Nebuchadnezzar with such a dream of pride as he exclaimed: 'Is this not great Babylon that I have built?'

And from those days so ancient, when history would be dim and obscure, were it not for the light of inspiration on the sacred page, down to the present time, petroleum has occupied a place in the arrangements of man, either as an article of utility or luxury. It has been one of God's great gifts to his creatures, designed for their happiness, but kept treasured up in His secret laboratory, and developed only in accordance with their necessities. And now, in our own days, and in these ends of the earth, the great Treasure House has been unlocked, the seal broken, and the supply furnished most bountifully.

The oil region of Western Pennsylvania is the portion of oil-producing territory that now occupies the largest share of attention. It is confined principally to the valley of Oil Creek, a tributary of the Alleghany River, which it enters at a point about sixty miles south from Lake Erie. It is true that oil wells are successfully worked on the banks of the Alleghany for some distance above and below the mouth of Oil Creek: still the county of Venango has monopolized almost the whole number of oil-producing wells in this region.

There are some strange facts, that point to a history all unwritten save in some few brief sentences in pits and excavations, of oil operations along the Oil Valley. These detached fragments, like the remains of the Sibylline Oracles, but cause us to regret more earnestly the loss of the volumes which contained the whole. A grand and wonderful history has been that of this American continent, but it has never been graven in the archives of time. The actors in its bygone scenes have passed away in their shadowy grandeur, leaving but dim footprints here and there to tell us they have been, and cause us to wonder at the mystery which veils their record, and to muse upon the evanescent glory of man's earthly destiny.

Along the valley of Oil Creek are clear traces of ancient oil operations. Over sections embracing hundreds of acres in extent, the entire surface of the land has, at some remote period of time, been excavated in the form of oblong pits, from four by six to six by eight feet in size. These pits are oftentimes from four to five feet still in depth, notwithstanding the action of rain and frost during the lapse of so many years. They are found in the oil region, and over the oil deposits, and in no other locality, affording unmistakable evidence of their design and use. The deeper pits appear to have been cribbed up at the sides with rough timber, in order to preserve their form and render them more available for the design in view. Upon the septa that divide them, and even in the pits themselves, trees have grown up more than one and a half feet in diameter, indicating an antiquity antedating the earliest records of civilized life in this region. For centuries has this treasure been affording intimations of its presence. Before Columbus had touched these western shores was it gathered here, in this valley, as an article of utility or luxury, by the processes of design and labor, and with the idea of traffic and emolument.

By whom were these excavations planned and these pits fashioned, that tell of the pursuit of wealth so many centuries ago? Let the mighty dead, that are slumbering in our valleys, and the remains of whose fortifications and cities are spread out all over the great West, in magnificence as vast and gorgeous as the ruins of Nineveh and Babylon, arise and speak, for they alone of mortals can tell!

From the fact that some of these pits have been cribbed with timber bearing marks of the axe in its adjustment, many have supposed that their construction was due to the French, who at one time occupied, to a certain extent, the Venango oil region. But this theory is scarcely plausible. Fort Venango was completed by the French at Franklin, seven miles below the mouth of Oil Creek, in the spring of 1754, and this was probably about the beginning of their active operations in this region. But the construction of these pits no doubt antedates the French operations very many years. Timber placed in these oil pits, and thoroughly impregnated by its preserving properties, would be almost proof against the ravages of time. As evidence of this, petroleum in some of its forms entered largely into the ingredients used in embalming by the ancient Egyptians. These embalmed bodies remain perfect to this day. Even the cerements remain with every thread distinct and perfect as when they came from the loom, in days when Joseph was prime minister in Egypt.

There is evidence, too, from the growth of timber in the very beds of these excavations, that they claim an antiquity greater far than the occupation of their valleys by the French. Year after year, a silent, solemn record was made by the concentric circles, first in the shrub, next in the sapling, and then in the fully developed tree, that tells of the lapse of time since these mysterious works were in operation.

Besides all this, where was the market for the immense quantity of petroleum that must have been produced from these excavations, on the supposition that they were constructed by the French? Surely not at home, for neither in the misty traditions nor early records of that time do we find reference to any large quantity of this product, nor even their facilities for conveying it to the seaboard, had there been a demand for it at home.

The sole object of the French at that time was to gain military possession of the country. This is seen in the line of forts that was thrown across the country, extending from Erie, Pennsylvania, to a point on the Ohio River below Pittsburg. There is no evidence that they made any attempt either to cultivate the soil or develop the mineral resources of the country. There were white inhabitants, too, who were settled here quite as early as the temporary occupancy of the French. Their descendants remain unto this day. These early settlers knew nothing of French operations in petroleum. They were ignorant of its production, save in minute quantities, as it issued spontaneously from the earth; nor could they throw any light on the origin of the excavations that were found in their midst.

Another theory, that has been somewhat popular is, that these pits are due to the labors of the American Indians. But the very term labor seems absurd when used in reference to these lords of the forest. They never employed themselves in manual labor of any kind. The female portion of the community planted a little corn, and constructed rude lodges to shelter them from the wintry blast; but they never even dreamed of trade or commerce. The Indian loved to roam through the wilderness and follow the war path—to seek for game to supply present wants, or to bring home the scalp of his enemy as a trophy of his prowess, but would scorn to bend his strength to rude toil in excavating multitudinous pits for the reception of oil, or in bearing it from place to place after it had been secured.

Beyond all doubt the Indians were well acquainted with the existence and many of the properties of petroleum. That they valued it is beyond question. They used it, both for medicinal and toilette purposes. But they knew of its existence and production, just as did the early white settlers: they found it bubbling up from the bed of the stream and from low marshy places along its banks. They, no doubt, collected it in small quantities, without labor and without much forethought, and with this small supply were content. But even if a much larger supply had been desirable, and if the modern idea of traffic had found a place in their hearts, they had no facilities for conveying it from place to place. Even at the present time, with all our improvement in the arts, the great desideratum is an appropriate vessel for carrying petroleum from place to place, or retaining it safely in any locality; but the Indians were utterly destitute of any appliances suitable for the purpose. If they were acquainted with a rude kind of pottery, it was without glazing, and so incapable of retaining fluids, particularly petroleum; and we have no knowledge of their ability to construct vessels of any other material that would answer the desired purpose. The inference is therefore fair, that for purposes of trade the production of oil was not desirable in so large quantities as indicated by these excavations. The same reasons would hold good in relation to its use in the religious ceremonies of the Indians. It could be used only in limited quantities, from the want of convenient receptacles for its retention. Besides, we doubt whether the Indians were sufficiently devout to resort to such labor and pains in religious worship.

Reference is sometimes made to a letter said to have been written by the commander of Fort Duquesne (Pittsburg) to General Montcalm, describing a grand scene of fire worship on the banks of Oil Creek, where the whole surface of the creek, being coated with oil, was set on fire, producing in the night season a wonderful conflagration. But there is room for the suspicion that this account is apocryphal. Such scenes as are there described have been witnessed on Oil Creek since the beginning of the modern oil trade. During the continuance of several accidental conflagrations, the scene has been awfully grand and impressive. It has been strongly suggestive of the conflagration of the last day, when

'The lightnings, barbed, red with wrath, Sent from the quiver of Omnipotence, Cross and recross the fiery gloom, and burn Into the centre!—burn without, within, And help the native fires which God awoke, And kindled with the fury of His wrath.'

But this was when thousands of barrels of petroleum had been stored up in vats, and when the combustible fluid was spouting from the wells at the rate of many hundred barrels per day. Before the present deep wells were bored, oil was not produced in sufficient quantities to cause such a conflagration, and there was never seen upon the creek a stratum of the fluid of such consistency as to be inflammable.

The remains of the once powerful confederacy of Indians known as the Six Nations still linger in Western Pennsylvania, in a region not very remote from Oil Creek, but they can throw no light upon the origin of these pits. In regard to their history, they can give no more information than they can concerning the mounds and fortifications, ruined castles, and dismantled cities, that tell us of a once glorious past, of a mysterious decadence, and of the utter vanity of all earthly glory.

There are men still living in the oil valley, who were on terms of familiar intimacy with Cornplanter, a celebrated chief of the Seneca tribe of Indians—the last of a noble and heroic line of chieftains that had borne sway from the Canadas to the Ohio River, and who was living at the time of the French occupation. But in reciting his own deeds and memories, and those of his fathers, who had gone to the silent hunting grounds of the spirit land, he could say nothing of early oil operations, any further than the collection of it in small quantities for medical or ornamental purposes.

The only rational conclusion, therefore, at which we can arrive in regard to these early oil operations is, that they are due, not to the Indians or French or early white settlers, but to some primitive dwellers on the soil, who have long since passed away, leaving no written records to tell of their origin or history, but stamping the impress of their existence on our mountains and in our valleys, assuring us of their power and the magnificence of their operations, yet leaving us to wonder that such strength could fail, that such magnificence could perish, and that such darkness could settle over the memory of a great people.

As before intimated, petroleum was found in Venango County by the earliest white settlers, and was esteemed for its medical properties. But it was obtained only in minute quantities. It was found in particular localities along the banks of the Alleghany, issuing with the water from springs, and sometimes bubbling up from the bottom of the river in small globules, that rising to the surface, disperse themselves upon the water, and glide away in silent beauty.

The principal oil spring, or that from which the largest quantity of petroleum was collected, was located on Oil Creek, about two miles from its mouth. From this the main supply was drawn for the wants of the earlier inhabitants. And as the demand was limited, no great amount of enterprise was called forth in its production. The modus operandi was most primitive, and yet withal the results were satisfactory.

A point was selected where the oil appeared to bubble up most freely, a slight excavation was made, and the oil suffered to collect. When a tolerable stratum of petroleum had collected on the top of the water, a coarse blanket was thrown upon the surface, that soon became saturated with the oil, but rejected the water. The blanket was then taken out, wrung into a tub or barrel, and the operation repeated.

But the demand was limited. Most families kept a supply for their own use. Yet, for ordinary purposes, a pint bottle was sufficient for a year's consumption. Indeed, half a dozen barrels were all that could be disposed of throughout the entire oil region of Western Pennsylvania up to a period when the researches of science were brought to bear upon its purification as an illuminator. Almost every good housewife was supposed to have a small store of Seneca oil, as it was popularly termed, laid by in case of accident, for the medication of cuts and bruises; and not even the most popular of the nostrums of the present day is so much relied on as was this—nature's own medicine—by the early settlers in these valleys.

In the mean time a well was bored on the bank of the Alleghany, within two miles of the mouth of Oil Creek, in quest of salt water, with a view to the manufacture of salt. This was some forty years ago. After sinking the well through the solid rock to the depth of seventy or eighty feet, oil presented itself in such quantities, mingled with the salt water, as to fill the miners with the utmost disgust, and induce them to abandon the well altogether. They were boring for salt, not for petroleum. Salt was an article of utility and large demand; oil was of comparatively small importance, and already a drug in the market, through the spontaneous yield of nature. Again, a well was dug in the town of Franklin, about thirty years ago, for the supply of a household with water. At the depth of thirty feet there were evident signs of petroleum, that were annoying to the workmen; and although the water of the well was used for culinary purposes, it always bore a trace of oil, and was absolutely offensive to those unaccustomed to it. A hole has since been sunk in this well through the rock, but the yield of oil has not been as great as in some other wells in the immediate neighborhood. In the cases cited above were strong hints of the existence of the treasure concealed in the rocks beneath, and even of the manner of obtaining it. It was in fact the treasure knocking at the door, and asking to be released, in order to contribute to human wealth and enjoyment.

But the time had not then arrived for the grant of this great boon. The earth was at the first made the repository of all the gifts that man should need until the end of time. But they were not all revealed at the first, nor to succeeding generations, until the fitting time arrived, and man's necessities induced the great Giver to unlock the treasure house and dispense his rich bounty.

Before man was created, the great treasure house in the earth's bosom was filled with its minerals, and as the centuries rolled by in their slow and solemn march, such treasures were gradually brought to light. Not at once did the earth disclose her mighty resources, but just as man needed them, and as they should tend to his own best interests. Even on the banks of the river that watered the terrestrial paradise, gold was found, but although 'the gold of that land was good,' it was brought to light in limited quantities. In the same sacred locality, and at the same early day in the history of time, 'the bdellium and the onyx stone' were found in their beauty; yet were they few and rare, until God would consecrate the treasures of the earth to His own service in the construction and adornment of the tabernacle and the temple. The great treasure house of earth was then opened, until gold became common as brass, and precious stones numerous almost as the pebbles of the brook, and the riches of the earth were eternally consecrated to the service of God.

And in the present century, and within our own recollection, when the world's business seemed to be stagnated—when the sails of commerce flapped idly at the masts—when the great highways of trade and traffic were in danger of being deserted, and the coffers of the nation were almost exhausted, the hand of Providence unlocked the treasures of California and Australia, and every department of business has become prosperous, and every branch of industry has received a new impetus. A new lesson has been taught the world: that God's treasures are inexhaustible, and that his hand can never be shortened.

And now here, in this remote county of Western Pennsylvania, God's treasure has been concealed for ages—locked up in the very heart of the eternal rock, awaiting the time of need, and accomplishment of the eternal purposes of Omnipotence. It has oozed forth in limited quantities during the lapse of centuries, as though to show us now that man cannot lay his hand upon the houses of God's treasure until his own appointed time.

We know not where the great Chemist has his laboratory, or where he formed the mighty retorts that are distilling for us the oily treasure: most probably they were fashioned when the earth assumed its present form; and since 'the morning stars' sang creation's hymn together, deep down amid earth's rocky caverns, through the revolving centuries, the stores have been accumulating that are destined to bless the world and become elements of national wealth. And now from that great laboratory, through innumerable channels, cut through the living rock by the hand of the Creator, and by 'paths which no fowl knoweth, and which the vulture's eye hath not seen,' is that treasure brought near to the earth's surface, just in our time of need. When other supplies are failing and other resources giving way, we see God's wisdom in opening up new channels. The great Benefactor would teach us that his resources are unlimited, and that our time of need is but the beginning of his overflowing bounty.

It is really strange how slow men were to discover the abundance of this supply, and to trace it to its luxuriant deposits amid the rocks. While it was literally forcing itself upon their observation, it was only by a roundabout process that they discovered its richness and importance. As early as the year 1835 its presence amid the rocks was made known on the Alleghany River, a short distance above Pittsburg, by its interference with the salt wells; but no dream of its future importance seems to have forced itself upon either the miner or the capitalist until within the last few years.

Perhaps the first real conception of the petroleum trade was in the mind of a young physician in the Venango region. Yet it was but a dream, and, like many another dream of the past, it was in advance of the age, and resulted in nothing but speculation. In looking at the numerous slight veins of oil that oozed up along the bed of Oil Creek, the thought occurred to him that, by tracing these little veins to their source, the main artery might be reached. And as this tracing must be through the rock, the proper plan would be to bore down through it, until a large vein was reached. This was certainly professional, and, now that it has been tested, seems a very plain and simple idea. But it was like the theory of Columbus in regard to a new continent, entirely too bold for the times, and was rejected. There was in this physician's theory but one link lacking in order to have anticipated the entire scheme of oil production as it was afterward generally carried on. The thought did not occur to him of leasing the lands along Oil Creek, and thus securing an interest in the entire territory: he thought only of purchasing, and as he could not command the capital for this purpose, the scheme was lost, as far as he was concerned. The idea was however a brilliant one, and entitled its originator to be classed among the long line of those who have dreamed without realizing the vision, and who have sown precious seed without being permitted to reap the harvest.

In the mean time, artificial oil had begun to be produced in large quantities from different minerals, principally, however, from cannel coal, by the process of destructive distillation. This oil was refined and deodorized, and found to be a valuable illuminator. A spirit of inquiry and investigation was excited. It was ascertained that this artificial oil, the product of distillation, was almost identical in its properties with the natural oil of the valleys—that the latter might be purified and deodorized, and if found in sufficient quantities, prove a source of wealth to the country. The enterprise of bygone ages in the excavation of oil pits was considered by many, but the process seemed tedious, and, in addition, the finest portions of the oil were in danger of passing off by evaporation.

The grand idea, however, was struggling toward the light. If the oil, now so greatly desired, bubbled up through concealed clefts in the rocks, why might it not be discovered in large quantities by boring in supposed localities deep into the rock that was conjectured to be its home? And if found in some localities while boring for salt water, why not expect to find it more certainly in localities where there were discovered such decided 'surface appearances'?

The work was finally commenced by Colonel E. L. Drake, near the upper oil springs on Oil Creek, by boring in the rock. But it was labor pursued under difficulties. To have announced the intention of boring for petroleum into the bowels of the earth, would have been to provoke mirth and ridicule. The enterprise would have appeared quite as visionary as that of Noah to the antediluvians in building his ark against an anticipated inundation. It was generally supposed that the search was for salt water; and perhaps the idea was a complex one even in the mind of the proprietor. Oil was desirable, salt was within the reach of probability; if the former failed, the latter might probably be secured; and if neither object was attained, the search for salt would be considered neither visionary nor disreputable.

But the work went forward, through good report and through evil report, particularly the latter, until August 26th, 1859, when, at the depth of seventy feet, the drill suddenly sank into a cavity in the rock, when there was immediate evidence of the presence of oil in large quantities. It was like the cry of 'Land ho!' amid the weary, disheartened mariners that accompanied Columbus to the Western World. The goal had been reached at last. A pathway had been opened up through the rocks, leading, not to universal empire, but to realms of wealth hitherto unknown. Providence had literally forced upon men's attention that which should fill many dwellings with light, and many hearts with gladness.

Upon withdrawing the drill from the well, the oil and water rose nearly to the surface. The question was now to be tested whether the petroleum would present itself in sufficient quantities to justify further proceedings, or whether it was, like many another dream, to vanish in darkness, or dissolve in tears. The well was tubed, and by a common hand pump yielded ten barrels per day. By means of a more powerful pump, worked by a small engine, this quantity was increased to forty barrels per day. The supply was uninterrupted, the engine working day and night, and the question was considered settled. This oil well immediately became the centre of attraction. It was visited by hundreds and thousands, all eager to see for themselves, and test by actual experiment, the wondrous stories that had been related concerning its enormous yield, by counting the seconds that elapsed during the yield of a single gallon.

The fortune of the valley of Oil Creek was now settled, and the prices of land throughout its whole extent immediately became fabulous. Sometimes entire farms were sold, but generally they were leased in very small lots. In some cases the operator was required to give one half and even five eighths of the product, besides a handsome bonus, to the proprietor of the soil. The work now commenced in earnest. A tide of speculators began to set in toward the oil region, that would have overpowered that of California or Australia in their palmiest days.

The excitement did not stop at the valley of Oil Creek. It extended down the Alleghany to Franklin, and up the valley of French Creek, which enters the Alleghany seven miles below the mouth of Oil Creek. Wells were sunk at all these points, and many of them yielded from three to forty barrels per day. In the course of the summer succeeding the first successful experiment on Oil Creek, there were not less than two hundred wells in different stages of progress in the town of Franklin alone. Wells were being bored in gardens, in dooryards, and even in some cases in the bottoms of wells from which water had been procured for household purposes. So numerous were the tall 'derricks,' that a profane riverman made the remark that the people of Franklin must be remarkably pious, as almost every man seemed to be building a meeting house with a tall steeple near his dwelling. At one time there were in Franklin fifteen productive wells, yielding a daily aggregate of one hundred and forty barrels. Among these were what was known as 'the celebrated Evans well.' This was, in some respects, the most remarkable well in all the region. It was sunk by its proprietor in the bottom of the well that had long been used for household purposes. An humble house and lot constituted his entire worldly possessions. The work in the well was performed entirely by his own family. Being a blacksmith, he constructed his own boring implements, and was dependent on no outside assistance. Patiently and assiduously did the blacksmith and his two sons toil on, as they had seldom toiled before, the former guiding the drill, and the latter applying the power by hand to the simple machinery. At the depth of only forty feet in the rock they struck a crevice that promised to pour them out rivers of oil. In attempting to enlarge this, the drill broke, the fragment remaining in the cavity, and defying every effort used for its removal. The well was then tubed, and a hand pump inserted, when it was found to yield at the rate of ten or fifteen barrels per day. Speculation soon began to run wild, and the fortunate owner of this well, among other propositions, received an offer of fifty thousand dollars for his well. To all these tempting offers he persistently returned the same reply—that he had bored that well for his own use, and that if others wished a well, they could do as he had done.

Oil was generally obtained in the valley around Franklin at the depth of about three hundred feet from the surface, for pumping wells; in the valley of Oil Creek the same stratum was reached at about half that depth. In all these wells, whether successful as oil wells or not, a strong body of salt water was obtained, that added greatly to the facility of separating the oil by its increased gravity. Hitherto the business had been pursued with advantage and profit to those who were engaged. The demand was steady and prices remunerative, and visions of untold wealth were looming up before the minds of thousands. Prospecting was extending far and near. Every stream and ravine that deflected toward the Alleghany or Oil Creek was leased, and in very many unpropitious localities operations were commenced.

But a change now took place in the development of oil proceedings that wrought ruin in the hopes of many an ardent operator. In the Oil Creek region, some of the smaller wells having been exhausted, resort was had to deeper boring. One hopeful theorist imagined that if the desirable fluid came from a very great depth, it might be good policy to seek it in a stratum still nearer its rocky home. So down he penetrated, regardless of the 'fine show' of oil that presented itself by the way, until at the depth of five hundred feet in the rock, a vein of mingled gas and oil was reached that literally forced the boring implements from the well. This sudden exodus of the implements was followed by a steady stream of petroleum that rose to the height of sixty or seventy feet above the surface, and was occasionally accompanied by a roaring noise like the Geysers of Iceland.

Here was a new feature in oil operations. The idea of flowing wells for the production of petroleum, once inaugurated, was seized upon with avidity. There was not only a spontaneous yield, but a yield in enormous quantities. And so a pumping well was voted a slow institution, and all parties on Oil Creek renewed the operation of boring, and, at about the depth of the first flowing well, obtained almost uniformly like success.

These flowing wells were almost as difficult to govern and regulate as was Pegasus of old. They 'played fantastic tricks' when least expected, throwing the oil over the workmen, and in one case, when the vein of petroleum was suddenly opened, setting fire to the machinery, and destroying the lives of those in the vicinity. The enormous yield of these wells had the effect of bringing down the price of petroleum to so low a figure that pumping wells were at once closed. They could not be worked with profit. Hence almost the entire oil business has, for the present at least, been confined to the valley of Oil Creek. The yield from the flowing wells varies from fifty to two thousand barrels per day. This, as may readily be supposed, involves the loss by wastage of immense quantities of oil, that is scattered on the ground and runs into the creek. So great is this waste at times, that the oil is gathered in quantities on the surface of the Alleghany for a distance of eight or ten miles below the mouth of Oil Creek, in the eddies, and along the still water of the shore, and is distinctly perceptible at Pittsburg, a distance of one hundred and forty miles from the wells.

Notwithstanding these wells are confined to a very narrow valley, and in many instances in very close proximity, it is very rare that they interfere with each other. In fact cases are known where two wells have been bored within forty feet of each other, with the discovery of oil at different depths, and even of different qualities, as regards color and gravity. In some instances the well has all the characteristics of an intermittent spring. One in particular may be specified for the regularity of its operations. It would remain quiescent for about fifteen minutes, when there would be heard the sound as of fearful agitation far down in its depths. This rumbling and strife would then appear to approach the surface for a few moments, when the petroleum would rush forth from the orifice, mingled with gas and foam, almost with the fury of a round shot from a rifled cannon. This furious flow would continue for fifteen or twenty minutes, when it would suddenly subside, and all would be peace again. This alternate rest and motion would continue with great regularity day and night, yielding perhaps one hundred and fifty barrels per day. In other instances, there are interruptions of days and even weeks, when the flow will be continued as before. In others still, the yield is steady and uninterrupted, yielding with unvarying regularity from week to week.

The oil region of Venango County, as far as has been explored, is confined to the creek and river bottoms. In connection with wells that have been opened, there is a superincumbent stratum of earth, varying from ten to sixty feet in thickness: underlying this is a stratum of argillaceous shale, generally about one hundred and eighty feet in thickness, and then a stratum of white sandstone. Sometimes this sandstone is intermingled with red, presenting a ruddy appearance as the sand is withdrawn from the well in the process of boring.

Occasionally in passing through the shale, small fissures in the rock are passed through, with circumstances indicating the presence of a stratum or vein of water, as at such times the sand accumulated in boring all disappears, leaving the bits clean and bright. At other times small veins or cavities of petroleum are pierced, the product of which rises to the surface of the well, and indicates its presence by appearing in the sand pump. In the earlier stages of the business this 'show of oil,' as it was termed, was considered most favorable to ultimate success; but latterly it is not regarded as essential, as many first-class wells have been discovered without the intermediate show; and on the other hand, there has been many a brilliant show that has resulted in failure and disappointment.

The presence of surface oil is not always a sure criterion in deciding upon a location for a well. Oftentimes very fine wells are opened in localities where no oil has been found on the surface, and no appearance of oil having been obtained at any previous time in the neighborhood. Perhaps the most unsuccessful operations in the whole Oil Creek valley have been in the midst of the ancient pits that have already been alluded to. Wells have been bored in the bottom of these pits without the least success. At a point near the bank of the Alleghany, some two miles above Franklin, there was a well-known oil spring some forty years ago. It supplied the family that lived near it as well as the surrounding neighborhood with petroleum for medical and other domestic purposes to the extent of their wants. For many years the supply has entirely failed. During a recent excavation, at the precise spot where it was known formerly to exist, for the purpose of laying the abutment of a bridge, no trace of oil was found—not even a discoloration of the earth.

Of course the boring of wells has become quite an institution in the oil region, and is carried on with great system. After selecting a site, the first thing in order is the erection of a derrick. This is a frame in the form of a truncated pyramid, about ten feet square at the bottom, and five at the top, having one of its four posts pierced with rounds to answer the purpose of a ladder, by means of which the workmen can ascend and descend. This derrick is from twenty to thirty feet in height, and has at its summit a pulley, by means of which the boring implements are drawn from the well. A pit is then sunk through the earth within the derrick, about six feet square, until the work is interrupted by water. The remaining distance to the rock is reached by driving strong cast-iron pipe by means of a battering ram. This pipe has a caliber of about five inches, with walls of one inch in thickness. It is prepared in joints of about eight feet in length, which are connected together at the point of contact by wrought-iron bands. When the pipe reaches the rock, the earth is removed from its cavity, and the operation of boring is ready to be commenced. Occasionally, however, this driving operation is interrupted by coming upon a huge bowlder. When this is the case, the boring operation is commenced, and a hole made through the bowlder nearly equal in size to the cavity of the pipe, when the driving is resumed, and the pipe made to ream its way through the stone. Sometimes in these operations the pipe is fractured, or turned aside from a perpendicular direction, when the place is abandoned and a new location sought for.

The boring implements do not differ materially from those used in sinking artesian wells. As a general thing, bits of two or three sizes are used, the first and smallest of which only has a cutting edge. If the hole to be sunk through the rock is to be four inches in diameter, the bits would be, first, one with a cutting edge two inches in width; secondly, a blunt bit, three inches wide by one inch in thickness; and lastly, by a similar bit four inches wide. These bits have a shank about two feet in length, that is screwed into an auger stem ten or twelve feet in length and about one inch and a half in diameter. Connected with this auger stem is an arrangement called, technically, 'jars'—two elongated loops of iron, working in each other like links in a chain, that serve to jar the bit loose when it sticks fast in the process of boring.

Sometimes this auger stem is connected with wooden rods, joined together with screws and sockets, new joints being added as the work proceeds; but more generally the connection is with a rope or cable of about one and a half inches in diameter. To this rope the auger stem is attached by a clamp and screw, that can be readily shifted as the progress of the work renders it necessary. The entire weight of these implements is from four to six hundred pounds. The power applied is sometimes that of two or three men working by means of a spring pole; but oftener a steam engine of from four to eight horse power. Midway between the well and the engine a post is planted, on which is balanced a working beam about sixteen feet in length: one end of this beam is attached to the crank of the engine, and the other to the implements in the well. The power is applied to raising the bit—the blow is produced by the fall of the same when relieved by the downward motion of the working beam.

In the process of boring, the workman is seated over the well, and, by a transverse handle attached to the machinery just above the rope, turns the rope, and with it the bit, partially around, so that each stroke of the bit on the rock beneath is slightly across the cut that has preceded it. After the fore bit has proceeded about two feet, or until the work begins to clog with sand, it is withdrawn, and the next is inserted in its place, and the work is then finished as it goes by the last bit. The fragments of rock that are cut away descend to the bottom of the well in the form of sand, and are readily withdrawn by means of the sand pump. This is a simple copper tube about six feet in length, with a diameter something less than that of the well, and furnished at the lower end with a simple valve opening upward. This pump is let down into the well by a rope, and, when it reaches the bottom, is agitated for a few moments, when the sand is forced up through the valve, and thus withdrawn from the well, when the boring is again resumed.

As the work proceeds, a register is kept by the judicious borer of the different strata passed through, and also of the veins of water and oil passed through, in order to the formation of an intelligent judgment in tubing the well.

As might be supposed, this operation of descending amid the rocks is not without its difficulties and discouragements. Sometimes the bit breaks or becomes detached from the auger stem, leaving a fragment of hardened steel, or an entire bit, deep in the recesses of the rock. When the latter is the case, recourse is had to divers expedients, by means of implements armed with sockets and spring jaws, in order to entrap the truant bit. And it is marvellous what success generally attends these efforts to extract bits that are oftentimes two or three hundred feet below the surface. Sometimes, however, these efforts fail, and the well must be abandoned, with all the labor and anxiety that have been expended upon it.

During the progress of the boring there is more or less carburetted hydrogen gas set free. This supply is so abundant at times as to cause an ebullition in the water of the well, resembling the boiling of a pot. In the case of the flowing wells, when the vein of petroleum is reached, the gas rushes forth with such violence, and the upward pressure is so furious, as to force the implements from the well, and even the tubing, when not properly secured, has been driven through the derrick in its upward progress.

After the boring has been successfully accomplished, the next operation consists in tubing the well. This is merely the introduction of a copper or iron chamber, extending down, or nearly so, to the vein of the oil. This tubing is, for the pumping and larger-class flowing wells, usually about two and a half or three inches in diameter, consisting of sections about twenty feet in length, and connected together by means of screw and socket joints. As there are usually many veins of water passed through in boring, some device must be resorted to in order to shut off this water from the oil vein and produce a vacuum. This is accomplished by applying what is called a 'seed bag' to the tube at the point where this stoppage is desirable. The seed bag is a tube of strong leather some eighteen inches in length and about five inches in diameter. It is put around the metallic tube and the lower end firmly tied around it. From a pint to a quart of flaxseed is then poured in, and the upper end bound rather more slightly than the lower, when the tube is sunk to its place in the well. In a few hours the flaxseed in the sack below will have swollen and distended the bag so as to effectually shut off all water from above. When it is desirable to withdraw the tubing from the well, the effort of raising it will break the slight fastening at the upper end of the leathern sack, permitting the seed to escape and the tube to be withdrawn without difficulty. When the well is to be pumped, a pump barrel is placed at the lower end of the tube, with piston rods extending to the top and attached to the working beam used in boring the well.

As the petroleum is ordinarily mixed with more or less water when brought to the surface, it is thrown first into a tank, and the superior gravity of the water causing it to sink to the bottom, it is drawn off from beneath, and the petroleum placed in barrels. These tanks are of all sizes, ranking from thirty to two thousand barrels each.

For the present, wells that were formerly pumped at a profit are biding their time; for at present prices of oil operations upon them would be ruinous. This renders the computation of the weekly yield of the Oil Creek region comparatively easy. There are at the present time not far from one hundred flowing wells along the valley of the creek, producing probably on an average about forty thousand barrels per week. A portion of this is refined in the county, but by far the largest part is shipped to a distance, either by the Alleghany River by way of Pittsburg, or by the Philadelphia and Erie or Atlantic and Great Western Railroads to the Eastern markets.

The necessities of the trade have given rise to many ingenious inventions in getting the oil to market. The wells extend along Oil Creek for a distance of about fourteen miles from its mouth. The ground is not favorable for land carriage, as the valley is narrow and the stream tortuous. The creek itself is too small for navigation under ordinary circumstances, and a railroad with steam power would be in the highest degree dangerous. To compensate for all these difficulties, a system of artificial navigation has been adopted. Throughout the whole distance, at intervals of perhaps a mile, dams have been constructed across the creek, with draws in the centre, that can be easily opened at the proper time. In this way 'pond freshets' are arranged one or two days in a week. By the appointed time, all persons having oil to run out of the creek have their boats ready, and as the water from the upper dam raises the creek below, the fleet of boats sets out. Each successive dam raises the water to a higher level, and as the fleet proceeds, small at first, it increases until, as it approaches the river, it often numbers two hundred boats, bearing with them not less than ten thousand barrels of petroleum.

The advent of this fleet of boats to the mouth of the creek is in the highest degree exciting. As boat after boat rushes into the river, there is the dashing to and fro of the boatmen, and the shouts of the multitude on the shore. Here and there a collision occurs that often results in the crushing of the feebler boat, and the indiscriminate mingling of boatmen, fragments of the broken craft, oil, and fixtures in one common ruin. In this fleet the form and variety of boats beggars all description. Sometimes there is the orthodox flatboat, filled with iron-bound barrels, with an air of respectability hovering around it. Next will follow a rude scow, and close upon it an unwieldy 'bulk,' into which the oil has been pumped at the well. After this, perhaps, may be seen a rude nondescript, that surely was never dreamed of outside the oil region. It consists of a series of rough ladders, constructed of tall saplings. Between each pair of rounds in these ladders is placed a barrel of oil, floating in the water, but kept in position by its hamper. A number of these ladders are lashed together, until the float contains two or three hundred barrels of oil.

The bulks spoken of are about sixteen feet square and two or three feet in depth, divided internally into bulk-heads of perhaps four feet square, to prevent any undue agitation of the oil by the motion of the boat, and are sometimes decked over. These unpromising boats, as well as the ladder floats, are, during favorable weather, often run to Pittsburg with entire safety. Steamboats, however, run up to the mouth of Oil Creek during the time of high water, and afford the safest and most expeditious means of transportation.

As to the abundance of the supply in this region, there can be but little doubt. Wells seem at times to become exhausted, but it is from local causes. At times a cavity may be tapped that has been supplied from a very small avenue, and may be readily exhausted, but exhausted only to be refilled again. The fact that wells do not interfere with each other, even when but fifty feet apart, is evidence that the supply is not confined to a limited stratum, but is drawn from the great deeps beneath. The existence of the ancient oil pits, before alluded to, assures us that the supply has been continued for centuries; and observation confirms this, as we have noticed the hitherto unused treasure bubbling up silently through the crevices in the rocks and gradually evaporating amid the sands, or arising in the beds of the streams and floating down upon their surface. The history of the petroleum trade in other lands encourages us as to the abundance of the supply in our own. In the northern part of Italy, petroleum has been collected for more than two hundred years, without any intimation that the supply is being exhausted. In Burmah a supply has been drawn from the earth for an unknown period, and so far are these wells from exhaustion that they yield at the present time over twenty-five millions of gallons per annum. We may well suppose, then, that the treasure brought to light in such abundance in our day will not be readily exhausted—that as the coals are found in illimitable abundance for fuel as the forests fail, petroleum for illuminating purposes will be found in like profusion.

We have said that the petroleum trade has known no infancy, but has sprung at once into maturity. The oil wells of Venango County alone produced, during the first year of their operation, more oil than the entire product of the whale fisheries during the most favorable and prosperous year in their history. At the present time, after a lapse of little more than two years, the daily product of the wells on Oil Creek alone is computed to be over six thousand barrels. And in this neighborhood the quantity might be wellnigh doubled, were it not for the low price the product commands.

Petroleum differs in its characteristics in different localities. It is usually heavier in the shallow wells than in those that are deeper. Ordinarily it is of a greenish hue, that changes to a reddish as the oil becomes lighter and more evaporative. It is all characterized by a strong and pungent odor peculiar to itself. The gravity of the various kinds of oil is ascertained by the oleometer. The lighter oils are found on Oil Creek, and are about 40 deg. to 46 deg. Baume; at Franklin, from 30 deg. to 32 deg..

It is difficult to speak of the uses of petroleum at the present time, for these uses have not yet been fully developed. In its refined state it is preeminent as an illuminator. In this character it yields the palm to gas in matters of convenience and neatness, but is superior to it on the score of general adaptation and economy. Besides, the quality of the light is superior to that of gas, being soft, mild, tranquil, and exceedingly white. In the rural districts, where coal gas is impracticable, it would be an intolerable calamity to be obliged to return to the use of the old tallow candle that was the main dependence in years gone by. As an article of fuel, it has been used to some extent in the oil regions, but the appliances have been so rude that its use has not been general. When proper machinery shall have been invented, no doubt it will be a most important item of fuel in ocean navigation as well as in railway travel, conducing alike to economy of space and to ease of manipulation.

In the manufacture of gas it has already been brought into successful use, both in this country and in England, and has been found most valuable alike in the quality of the product and in the economy of its production.

As a medicinal agent it has long been employed in this country. It was used by the Indians in this way when the country was first discovered. It was also held in high estimation by the early settlers in what are now called the oil regions, for the medication of cuts and bruises, as well as an internal curative. It formed the staple of the British and American oils that were sold largely and at high rates throughout the country. It is a remarkable fact that since the quantity has increased so largely the popular faith has been correspondingly weakened in its medical efficacy.

Further uses are developed in the process of refining. This latter is exceedingly simple. The crude oil is placed in an iron retort connected with a coil of pipe in a vessel of cold water. Heat is then applied to the retort, when the process of distillation commences. The first product is a light-colored, volatile substance, sometimes called naphtha, that is very explosive. This substance is used in the place of spirits of turpentine in the preparation of paints and varnishes, and, after further treatment, in removing paints and grease from clothing. The next product from the retort is the refined fluid for illumination. This is of a yellow color, with a bluish tinge and powerful odor, requiring further treatment before it is ready for the lamp. This treatment consists in placing it in a cistern lined with lead, and agitating it with a portion of sulphuric acid. The acid and impurities having subsided, the oil is drawn off, and further agitated with soda lye, and finally with water, when it is ready for use. After this a coarse oil for the lubrication of machinery is produced. Paraffine is another product resulting from this distillation. It is a white, tasteless, and inodorous substance, used in the manufacture of candles. The residuum in the retort may be applied to various useful purposes. It is sometimes used as fuel, and sometimes takes the place of coal tar in the arts, and by chemical processes is made to yield products useful in the laboratory and in the manufactory.

But the aesthetics connected with this distillation must not be passed by in silence. On a bright, sunshiny day we see a bright globule of petroleum rising from the bottom of the stream. As it reaches the surface of the water it disperses, and, as it glides away, all the colors of the rainbow are reflected from its undulating surface.

'What radiant changes strike th' astonished sight! What glowing hues of mingled shade and light! Not equal beauties gild the lucid west With parting beams o'er all profusely drest, Not lovelier colors paint the vernal dawn, When Orient dews impearl th' enamelled lawn, Than in its waves in bright suffusion flow, That now with gold empyreal seem to glow; Now in pellucid sapphires meet the view, And emulate the soft celestial hue; Now beams a flaming crimson on the eye, And now assume the purple's deeper dye. But here description clouds each shining ray— What terms of art can Nature's powers display?'

We gaze upon those colors, ever changing in their lustre and variety, until imagination revels in its most delightful dreams, suggesting thoughts of the good and beautiful, and reminding how beauty lingers amid the most unpromising things of earth! And just as the bow that spans the mantling cloud reminds us of all beautiful things that glow around its antitype that spans the emerald throne on high, so, as we gaze upon the prismatic tints that are reflected from the oily surface, we dream of all that is beautiful in color and gorgeous in tinted radiance, as being hidden amid the elements of petroleum.

This dream has its fulfilment amid the processes of distillation and treatment. One product in these processes is called aniline, that is, the base of those beautiful colors so popular with ladies these last days—Mauve, Magenta, and Solferino. And in process of time, no doubt, the most delicate colors for flower and landscape painting will be educed, that will give a new impetus to the fine arts, and to the development of taste in our midst.

And now where shall we look for the origin of this treasure? From what elements is it elaborated? We cannot go with the great Chemist to his laboratory and look upon the ingredients, and notice the treatment used there. Science, although denominated the 'star eyed,' cannot penetrate the mighty strata of everlasting rocks that lie beneath us, and reveal to us these mysteries of nature. 'There is a path which no fowl knoweth, and which the vulture's eye hath not seen: the lion's whelps have not trodden it, nor the fierce lion passed by it. He putteth forth His hand upon the rock; he overturneth the mountains by the roots. He cutteth out rivers among the rocks; and His eye seeth every precious thing. He bindeth the floods from overflowing; and the thing that is hid, bringeth He forth to light.'

Nature has her mysteries. The earth has its great secrets. But over all, a God of wisdom and goodness presides. Age after age has rolled by—change after change has agitated the history of Time, as forms of beauty have been moulded and marred—as songs of joy have been sung, and requiems of sadness chanted in the great highways and quiet bypaths of life—the living of bygone ages are slumbering quietly in the dust, and the living of the present are hurrying to the same 'pale realms of shade.' The nations of antiquity have passed off the stage with all their grandeur and littleness, and the nations of more modern times are surging and dashing to and fro, like ships in the wild chaos of ocean's storms. God alone is great!

Changes, too, have been quietly going on beneath us in the earth's bosom. A great dream of science, but perhaps an earnest, glowing reality, suggests that when God's almighty power was rolling away the curtains of darkness from earth's chaotic state—forming channels for oceans and rivers, and heaving up as barriers the mountain chains of earth, His eternal prescience of man's coming need induced Him to bury deep down in subterranean recesses the imperfect vegetable organisms of a pre-Adamic state, that in the ages to come, coals and oils and gases might be drawn forth to supply his wants.

We find in the coal deposits traces of ferns and leaves of gigantic stature and proportions. Casts of huge boles of trees are found among our fossils, inducing the belief that in some bygone age quantities of vegetable matter, absolutely enormous, were produced on the earth's surface. And it is presumable that in some of the revolutions that have agitated our planet, renovating, improving, and fitting it for a higher order of life, mighty deposits of this vegetable matter were buried up amid the rocky strata, to be evolved in new forms and products. And it may be that since the days of Adam this vegetable deposit has been undergoing the process of destructive distillation in the hidden regions beneath. In this process heat would not be wanting: it is furnished by the natural constitution of the earth.

Says Professor Hitchcock:

'Wherever in Europe or America the temperature of the air, water, rocks, in deep excavations, has been ascertained, it has been found higher than the mean temperature of the climate at the surface, and experiments have been made at hundreds of places; it is found that the heat of the earth increases rapidly as we descend below that point in the earth's crust to which the sun's heat extends. The mean rate of increase of heat has been stated by the British Association to be one degree of Fahrenheit's thermometer for every forty-five feet: at this rate all the known rocks in the earth would be melted at a depth of sixty miles.'