But it is not in Scotland alone that the terrors of the floods are experienced. All rivers which rise in high and cold regions, and pass into warm lowlands, are naturally very liable to overflow their bounds. A remarkable example is afforded by the river Rhone, which rises in the glaciers of Switzerland; and, after passing through the lake of Geneva, descends into the south-eastern departments of France,—a very level district, where the climate is mild and genial. Rapid meltings of the ice in Switzerland, or heavy falls of rain or snow in that country, greatly affect this river; and never, perhaps, were the effects more dreadful than in the inundations of 1840. At Lyons, where the Rhone joins the Saone, the most lamentable scenes took place. Not only were the whole of the low-lying lands in the vicinity of the city completely desolated, hundreds of houses overturned, and many cattle swept away, but the waters reached the city itself, bursting into the gas conduits, and thus leaving the people in darkness, and rising to a great height in the streets. The destruction of property, both in-doors and out-of-doors,
was immense, and the loss of life appalling. Charitable people and public servants went about in boats laden with provisions, which were sent, at the expense of the magistrates and clergy, to the starving families pent up in their several abodes, where many of them remained in total darkness by night, and under hourly expectation that the foundations of their houses would give way beneath the rushing waters. In fact, numbers of houses, and even whole streets, were in this way sapped and overturned. Some of the people had fled to the heights near the city, at the first rising of the waters, but there they were reduced to the greatest extremities for want of food, and signal shots were heard from them continually. This miserable state of things lasted from the beginning of November until the 20th or 21st of the same month. At the same time the Rhone appeared like a succession of immense lakes from Lyons to Avignon, and from Avignon to the sea. A letter from Nismes, a little to the west of Avignon, thus described the scene:—
“As far as the view extends we perceive but one sheet of water, in the midst of which appear the tops of trees and houses, with the miserable inhabitants perched upon them. At Valabrègue, an island on the Rhone, they have hung out a black banner from the church-yard, nearly two thousand persons being assembled in that spot, which is on an elevation. Steam-boats are attempting to carry bread to Valabrègue, and other similarly situated places, but can scarcely effect it from the inequality of the ground. For ten days the rains have never ceased. The space covered by the waters near Avignon is calculated at about thirty-six leagues in length and sixty leagues in breadth. Human bodies are seen passing continually on the waters.”
From the 10th to the 20th of November the Rhone fell several inches each day, but always rose again somewhat during the night. It began permanently to decline on the 20th, and in a few days the streets were exposed to view, with about a foot of mud on them. The loss of life and property, through this calamity, are almost incalculable.
A still grander display of the power and extent of inundations is afforded by the American rivers. The mighty waters of the Mississippi, (a river, whose course extends for several thousand miles,)
when swelled, and overflowing their banks, present a wonderful spectacle. Unlike the mountain-torrents, and small rivers, of other parts of the world, the Mississippi rises slowly, continuing for several weeks to increase at the rate of about an inch in a day. When at its height, it undergoes little change for some days, and after this subsides as slowly as it rose. A flood generally lasts from four to six weeks, though it sometimes extends to two months. The American naturalist, Audubon, has given a striking account of the rush of waters overspreading the land when once this mighty river has begun to overflow its banks:—
“No sooner has the water reached the upper part of the banks, than it rushes out, and overspreads the whole of the neighbouring swamps, presenting an ocean overgrown with stupendous forest trees. So sudden is the calamity that every individual, whether man or beast, has to exert his utmost ingenuity to enable him to escape from the dreaded element. The Indian quickly removes to the hills of the interior, the cattle and game swim to the different strips of land that remain uncovered in the midst of the flood, or attempt to force their way through the waters until they perish from fatigue. Along the banks of the river the inhabitants have rafts ready-made, on which they remove themselves, their cattle, and their provisions, and which they then fasten with ropes or grape-vines to the larger trees, while they contemplate the melancholy spectacle presented by the current, as it carries off their houses and wood-yards piece by piece. Some, who have nothing to lose, and are usually known by the name of Squatters, take this opportunity of traversing the woods in canoes, for the purpose of procuring game, and particularly the skins of animals, such as the deer and bear, which may be converted into money. They resort to the low ridges surrounded by the waters, and destroy thousands of deer, merely for their skins, leaving the flesh to putrify.
“The river itself, rolling its swollen waters along, presents a spectacle of the most imposing nature. Although no large vessel, unless propelled by steam, can now make its way against the current, it is seen covered by boats laden with produce, which, running out from all the smaller streams, float silently towards the city of New Orleans, their owners, meanwhile, not very well assured of finding a landing-place even there. The water is covered with yellow foam and pumice, the latter having floated from the rocky mountains of the north-west. The eddies are larger and more powerful than ever. Here and there tracts of forest are observed undermined, the trees gradually giving way, and falling into the stream. Cattle, horses, bears, and deer are seen at times attempting to swim across the impetuous mass of foaming and boiling water; whilst, here and there, a vulture or an eagle is observed perched on a bloated carcass, tearing it up in pieces, as regardless of the flood, as on former occasions it would have been of the numerous sawyers and planters with which the surface of the river is covered when the water is low. Even the steamer is frequently distressed. The numberless trees and logs that float along, break its paddles, and retard its progress. Besides it is on such occasions difficult to procure fuel to maintain its fires.”
In certain parts, the shores of the Mississippi are protected by artificial barriers called Levées. In such places, during a flood, the whole population of the district is engaged in strengthening these barriers, each proprietor being in great alarm lest a crevasse should open and let in the
waters upon his fields. In spite of all exertions this disaster generally happens: the torrent rushes impetuously over the plantations, and lays waste the most luxuriant crops.
The mighty changes effected by the inundations of the Mississippi are little known until the waters begin to subside. Large streams are then found to exist where none had formerly been. These are called by navigators short cuts, and some of them are so considerable as to interfere with the navigation of the Mississippi. Large sand-banks are also completely removed by the impetuous whirl of the waters, and are deposited in other places. Some appear quite new to the navigator, who has to mark their situation and bearings in his log-book. Trees on the margin of the river have either disappeared, or are tottering and bending over the stream preparatory to their fall. The earth is everywhere covered by a deep deposit of muddy loam, which, in drying, splits into deep and narrow chasms, forming a sort of network, from which, in warm weather, noxious exhalations rise, filling the atmosphere with a dense fog. The Squatter, shouldering his rifle, makes his way through the morass in search of his