ther end, to which the traveller is rowed in a crazy punt, a little chapel rises, unpretending and unhonored, and yet of great import. It is devoted to the memory of the pious wife of one of Poland's early kings, to whom Heaven vouchsafed, in 1252, the boon of bestowing the knowledge of these wondrous treasures on her impoverished subjects. She was afar off in Hungary, the legend says, and hearing there of the fearful suffering of her native land, she was ordered, by her patron-saint, to cast a precious ring, which she most valued of all her trinkets, into a deep well. She did it in simple faith, and, when she returned to her home at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains, some peasants brought her a piece of rocksalt, believing it to be a costly jewel. It was of no value in itself, but, oh wonder! in the heart of the transparent mass her ring lay imbedded. She understood the revelation from on highordered search to be made for more of the shining substance, and thus were discovered the great mines of Wieliczka, which have ever since been a source of greater wealth than the richest mines of gold or of diamonds.

Beyond the little chapel the work begins once more, and miners are seen busy loosening vast lumps of salt from the parent mass, blasting the less pure material with powder, and cutting out the more valuable blocks carefully with chisel and chipping-knife. Others harness the twelve horses, that are kept below and have never seen the light of heaven, to rude sledges, on which the blocks are drawn to the foot of the shafts, that lead up to the world above; while still others are opening new passages or propping up dangerous places with large wooden pillars. With a feeling of pity for their hard work and thankfulness for the boon they bestow upon mankind, the traveller passes them, returning their friendly greeting, and gladly beholds once more, as he rises to the top of the shaft, the bright light of day and the fresh air of the earth above.

Thus the salt is found crystallized in

large beds and boulders, stowed away between layers of clay and limestone, in more or less regular shapes, and then called rock-salt. Nearly every part of our globe is endowed with vast deposits of the kind. Bergen in Norway, and Cardona in Spain, vie with each other in the abundance of their supply. In the latter place, a huge mountain of almost pure salt rises clear and sheer from the plain, the whole mass shining brilliantly like a glacier in the sunlight, or glittering in a thousand hues and shades, when day fades away. The salt here is so hard that it has to be blasted, like real rock, with gunpowder, and the chips are worked up by skilful bands into snuff boxes, crosses, and rings. Norwich, in England, boasts of a field of salt more than seventy-five miles long; Salzburg proudly bears the name of its staple product; and Mexico and Persia, the East and the West, are all full of ample supplies, which, by God's providence, have been laid up in store for many generations to come.

Not in all parts of the world, however, is salt found so pure as to be fit for immediate consumption. Generally it is mixed up with clay and sand, and then has to be purified by the aid of water. Man leads the purifying element down to the beds of rock-salt, allows it to dissolve as much as it is capable of holding, and then raises it, by vast pump-works, once more to the surface of the earth. In vast kettles and pans, beneath which huge fires burn day and night, the brine is then evaporated, and white crystals of salt remain, pure and unadulterated, at the bottom and on the sides of the vessels.

In other regions Nature is even more liberal, and saves man the necessity of leading the water down to the depths in which salt is hidden. Large rivers beneath the ground are led, by the hand that holds the earth in its grasp, over extensive deposits of salt, and then break forth as saline springs at the side of the mountain. Thus there is near Minden, in Prussia, a well nearly two thousand feet deep, which holds a water, the temperature of which exceeds

25° Réaumur, and which is, below, continually dissolving large blocks of salt, in order to gush forth above and bring the precious gift up to the surface. Germany boasts of not less than eighty such valuable springs; and our own country is most richly endowed in like manner, so that the two States of New York and Virginia could supply, if need be, the whole of the Union with the salt they require.

Brilliant as it appears in the shape of rock-salt, and pleasing as are the waters of saline springs to the eye, salt yet presents itself, at times, under an aspect much less inviting. No words can describe the horror of the vast salt-plains, which here and there interrupt the beautiful carpet that covers the surface of our earth. Thus there is a vast district in South America, extending over more than twenty thousand square miles, which forms one enormous group of desolate mountains, intersected with vast deserts, saline swamps, and dried-up salt-lakes. Currents of hot air meet here from all parts of the compass, and with such vehemence and persistent fury, as they rise incessantly from the heated, steaming soil, that no clouds can be formed and no rain can fall from the ever-serene sky.

Even more fearful yet is an endless, lifeless plain in the heart of Persia, so sterile and accursed that even saline plants do not thrive here; but the salt itself, as if in bitter mockery, fashions its crystals in the form of stems and stalks, and covers the steppe with a carpet of unique vegetation, glittering and glistening like an enchanted prairie in the dazzling light of the Eastern sun. In the rare places, where the thick crust is broken and vegetation is favored by night-dews, a few straggling herbs and grasses appear; but they are saturated with salt and soda, the sap tastes bitter and salty, and stalks and leaves alike are covered with a thick incrustation of salt, as if with impalpable powder. They afford no nutriment to the herds, and soon give way again to the genuine salt-desert, where shepherd and flock alike find their death. For here a light,

loose sand rules supreme, now treacherously quiet, but sure to engulf the heedless herdsman who puts his foot on the glistening surface, and is swiftly sucked in by the tricky soil; and now rising in large, deep-red clouds, which fill the valleys and level the ridges, till every landmark is effaced, and the whole vast region resembles a petrified ocean of blood-red waters.

Who can describe the bitter, mournful disappointment of the thirsty traveller, who sees, at last, afar off, the welcome glittering of waters, and hastens, with renewed vigor and high hopes, towards the enchanted spot? Enchanted, indeed! For as he approaches, the fairy spectacle strikes him with wonder and sad misgivings. In the midst of the brown, desolate plain, a vast level sheet of pure white stretches far and near; he draws nearer, with faltering, doubtful step, and sees, at last, to his horror and dismay, that what he fancied a basin of cool, refreshing water, is nothing more than a white crust of salt. Or, it may be, he descends, with eager expectation, the steps hewn in the precipitous walls of an ancient crater in South America, of which Darwin tells us, in order to reach the little circular lake, embosomed among rugged fields of lava, and fringed with a border of bright-green, succulent plants. As he looks down from the immense tuft crater, he sees the water clearly, and fancies his ear even discerns the pleasant splash against the modest beach; but when he reaches the lake and dips his parched lips into the liquid, he draws back with dismay; for it is bitter and brackish, and unfit for the use of man. Other travellers tell us of the sad fate of black slaves who work in the saltplains of the Sahara, collecting the salt from the surface, hundreds of miles away from the nearest oasis, and sure to perish by hunger and thirst, if the caravan that is to bring them food and water should lose its way in the desert or fall into the hands of merciless robbers.

Even Europe is not free from these unfortunate places, which seem to bear the curse of Sodom and Gomorrah, and

of nature, to furnish him all he desires. For it is not the miner alone who goes down into the deep of the earth to search for salt, but plants also send down their roots, draw up the saltwater, and deposit the proceeds in beautiful crystals in their cells. There are few plants, altogether, which do not contain in their delicate tissues a certain quantity of salt, especially in the stems and the branches, and leave it behind in their ashes, when they are burned. Some cereals require it, therefore, for their satisfactory growth, and much salt is sown on the broad lands of England and the fields of China; others, like asparagus and flax, do not thrive at all without such aid. But the growth which surrounds salt-springs and the plants that love to dwell on the seashore, delight in the little grains; even the lofty cocos-palm sends its large oval fruit adrift, to seek some briny strand, where it may find a rich soil and abundance of salt; and the careful husbandman of those regions, when planting the nut that is to give him his daily bread, drops a handful of salt into the hole, to which he confides the gigantic seed-corn.

Here and there, in favored lands, you see a vast, marshy meadow, spread out in beautiful luxuriance before your eye, dotted with pretty copses of elders and willows. Close by one of these groups of low, spreading trees, where the soil almost imperceptibly rises into a little knoll, there gushes forth a clear, powerful spring, and forms, at its very birth, a large, circular basin, filled with transparent water. A rivulet runs from it slowly but steadily, wanders, as if enjoying the luxury of leisure, through level meadows, saturating the porous soil on the right and the left, and at last falls, at the edge of the high tableland, with merry laughter, into the lower plain, to bring its modest tribute to the large river below.

There are other meadows scattered over the plateau, but not one of them can boast of the bright flowers and waving grasses which here bud and blossom forth in unwonted richness.

Thousands of purple asters peep out with their bright eyes, set in golden yellow, from the midst of dense clumps of reeds; luxuriant plantains overshadow a host of minor plants of strange and uncouth appearance, and a variety of glaux spreads all around a deep-green carpet, strewn with an abundance of small white flowers. Further on, a quaint salicornia appears, in large patches; its long-linked stem looks as if it would burst, filled, as it seems, to overflowing with exuberant sap, and in the axes between the branches, lurk countless diminutive blossoms of bright yellow. Even the grasses and reeds which cover the marshy ground, when more closely examined, prove to be entirely different from all that grow on adjoining lands.

The flocks of birds who have left their homes in the far north, and now, with swift wings, move southward to more genial climes, might fancy they beheld here, once more, the shores on which they last sought rest and repose. For here are the same flowers which they saw there, near the downs; the same lowly herbs that love to be bathed daily in the briny waters, and the same reeds that grow there within reach of the unfailing tides. For it is a salt-spring which here wells up, and unable, at once, to reach the lowlands by any other outlet, has here formed a lake, and furnished food to an exuberant vegetation.

It is from these saline plants, growing now near the shores of the ocean, and now far inland around merry springs, that large provisions of salt are won by the aid of fire. The soda, or barile of

commerce, comes almost exclusively from the ashes of the saltwort, a plant of grayish green color, with stems a foot long, thickly set with prickly hair, and with uncouth, swollen-looking leaves, ending in sharp, pointed thorns. The Arabs hardly knew what a blessing they bestowed upon mankind, when, upon settling in Spain, they brought with them not only their merino sheep, their cotton and sugar-cane, but also the unsightly saltwort, from which they already

knew how to obtain the soda of our day.

Another salt-plant, the leafless glasswort, is eaten as a salad in England and the whole north of Europe; but the most curious of them all is perhaps the variety known to our green-houses as the ice-plant. This strange-looking plant is a treasure to the inhabitants of the Canary Islands, who raise it in large fields, pull it up when ready for use, burn it, and drive a most profitable trade with the soda they obtain from the ashes.

It is, however, not the water only which gives us salt, but we owe it also, at times, to the benevolence of fire. For, although the beautiful crystals do not become volatile till they are heated to a white glow, they are still not unfrequently found among the strange medley of substances thrown out by volcanoes. After an eruption, the cracks and crevices of Mount Vesuvius are often covered with a thick crust of salt, and the surface of petrified streams of lava appears, at times, from the same cause, as if thickly strewn with white powder. In 1822, the salt cropped out in such very large masses, that the greedy Government of Naples laid an embargo on the treasure, and obtained, through its own workmen, blocks of twenty-four feet square from the vicinity of the crater. The same takes place occasionally at the foot of Mount Hecla, in Iceland, and the industrious peasants carry whole wagon-loads to their fields and their houses.

Such is the history and the home of the precious little grain, which the world, from the beginning, has looked upon with a feeling akin to awe and reverence. For while deeply grateful to the Giver of every good and perfect gift for the tiny crystal, on which life itself is dependent, men have ever felt that it was endowed also with a dread power of final destruction. The ancients had no doubt that salt was a direct gift of the gods, and hence they joined it, symbolically, to every sacrifice offered on holy altars; and Moses ordained that "every oblation of thy

meat shalt thou season with salt; neither shalt thou suffer the salt of the covenant of thy God to be lacking from the meat-offering: with all thine offering thou shalt offer salt." The Aztecs of Mexico had a special goddess presiding over the use of the indispensable condiment; the Chinese celebrate, to this day, an annual feast in honor of him who first introduced it into general use; and the old Egyptians, when they performed the rites of their great festival in honor of Neith, the mother of life, filled the lamps of their temples with salt as well as with oil.

Miraculous powers, also, seem to have been attributed to salt, from olden times; for the Hebrews used to rub new-born children with it, partly from a belief, sanctioned by Galen, that this hardened and strengthened their skin, and partly from faith in its special blessing. Hence the prophet Ezekiel reproaches the stubborn people, by saying: "Thou wast not salted at all, nor swaddled at all;" and even the early Christians adhered to the old usage, for they initiated young converts into the mysteries of their faith by placing salt in their mouth, as they did with infants at the time of their baptism.

It was but natural, therefore, that the semi-sacred character of salt should lead soon to its being used in connection with treaties and compacts to render them more binding. The Old Testament is full of allusions to this ancient usage, and Moses already speaks of “a salt-covenant forever before the Lord unto thee and unto thy seed with thee." Its power to protect against corruption lent its symbolic force to stipulations even among infidels, and few such compacts were made without a plate of salt being placed ready at hand, from which each of the contracting parties eat a few grains, instead of swearing an oath. The Arabs of our day still enter into the most sacred treaty of friendship with each other by pushing a piece of bread, strewn with salt, into each other's mouth, and then call it a "salt-treaty." The ancestral salt-cellar, that played so prominent a part in the household of