the Yosemite are a well-known example, but the Five Domes of the Virgin
River in southern Utah are perhaps quite as wonderful, while having the
advantage of more inviting color. The region surrounding them is one
of the most remarkable scenic spots on the continent, and in time will
become as celebrated as the Yosemite or the Yellowstone. It has fewer
freaks and curiosities, perhaps, but probably more real beauty. Not far
from the Five Domes are the Temples of the Virgin (Fig. 8), similar to
the domes, but more rugged at the top. These are veritable temples of
the gods, solid as the rock-ribbed earth itself.
There are also in some places domes hollowed out. In Glen Cañon of the
Colorado, a little below the mouth of the San Juan, is a dome of this
character carved out of the homogeneous sandstone by the action of a
pretty brook, which in fair weather is a mere rivulet, but in rain
time is an angry flood, sweeping down on its tide immense quantities
of sand. This little stream enters at the back of the cavern through a
very deep, narrow cleft, not more than a foot or two wide, and after a
plunge of some thirty feet or more into a clear pool trickles on out
to the river, which flows past the entrance. The chamber is about two
hundred feet high, with a narrow crevice twisting on up to the top of
the cliffs, about a thousand feet, while the area of the sandy floor is
about two hundred by five hundred. Its mouth is barred by a little grove
of box-elder trees. When the storm is abroad the innocent brook grows
to a giant in an hour, because of the rain accumulating on the barren,
rock-surfaced country as on the roof of a house, and, gathering the
load of sand in its impetuous clutch, it hurls it against the bounding
walls, thus doing its part in the war of the waters against the land.
I have counted dozens of these cascades leaping over the cañon walls
during heavy rainstorms. An exploring party once camped within the dome
mentioned, and, thinking it rendered well their songs, they named it
"Music Temple." Some carved their names on the soft sandstone wall, and
three of these a short time after were sent by the Indians to the Great
Dome of all.
[Illustration: FIG. 7.--TENNYSON'S MONUMENT.]
The extensive Pink Cliffs, forming the escarpment of the southern edge
of the Great Basin, are of the colonnade type, and for many miles their
exquisite color and massive columnar façades crown the high country ten
thousand feet or more above the sea, visible far to southward, and with
the underlying Gray Cliffs and the still lower down Vermilion Cliffs
(which find their beginning in Glen Cañon of the Colorado, and trace
their serpentine line leagues to the west to meet the Temples of the
Virgin) form one of the most magnificent panoramas to be found anywhere
in the world. Detached and isolated portions of these Pink Cliffs,
surrounded by the upper members of the Gray, produce sometimes novel
effects. I recall one sunny morning when I found myself suddenly in a
silent grassy glade, green and gray all round, with before me what can
be likened only to an immense pipe organ, its delicate pink columnar
pipes standing full two hundred feet high against a somber background of
pines where Æolus could be heard sighing for the lost chord.
[Illustration: FIG. 8.--TEMPLES OF THE VIRGIN.]
Major Dutton, in his Geology of the High Plateaus of Utah, says of these
Pink Cliffs: "The resemblances to strict architectural forms are often
startling. The upper tier of the vast amphitheater is one mighty ruined
colonnade. Standing obelisks, prostrate columns, shattered capitals,
panels, niches, buttresses, repetitions of symmetrical forms, all
bring vividly before the mind suggestions of the work of giant hands,
a race of genii once rearing temples of rock, but now chained up in
a spell of enchantment, while their structures are falling in ruins
through centuries of decay. Along the southern and southeastern flank
of the Paunsagant (plateau) these ruins stretch mile after mile. But
the crowning work is Table Cliff in the background. Standing eleven
thousand feet above sea level and projected against the deep blue of the
western sky, it presents the aspect of a vast Acropolis crowned with a
Parthenon. It is hard to dispel the fancy that this is a work of some
intelligence and design akin to that of humanity, but far grander. Such
glorious tints, such keen contrasts of light and shade, such profusion
of sculptured forms, can never be forgotten by him who has once beheld
it."
Thus everywhere the imagination is roused to the comparison of the
natural and the artificial; with little effort it discovers classic
outlines in these rain-carved forms. And occasionally there is
something uncanny about them. In eastern Utah, some miles from the
point where White River joins the Green, and close by the former stream,
lies a whole group of natural edifices, to which General Hughes applied
the name of Goblin City. Remote and lonely at the time of our visit, in
the midst of a hostile country, the numerous small houselike buttes,
resting like a real town in the bottom of the rugged, desolate gorge,
seemed about to pour out an angry host, to stop our further entrance
into their weird and forbidding land. The broken cliffs through which
we had descended to the "City" presented detached rocks here and there
looking like petrified guardsmen who might only be revived by the
Prince's kissing the Sleeping Beauty, somewhere perhaps to be found in
this goblin realm.
[Illustration: FIG. 9.--GUNNISON'S BUTTE; 2,700 feet above river.]
Gunnison's Butte, on Green River, not far from the point where the brave
captain crossed the stream in 1853, is a fine example of what may be
called the cathedral type (Fig. 9). Rising supreme in colossal dignity
twenty-seven hundred feet above the river bank, in its tender color, in
its splendid lines, it is without a rival. On its southwestern part,
toward the base, the numerous abutments and little slopes crowning
them are of a pure delicate blue, rivaling the tint of a summer sky.
Extending far to westward, these Azure Cliffs, which begin with
Gunnison's Butte, present one of the most remarkable and beautiful
touches of color the rocks have ever unfolded. Near the mouth of the
San Rafael, Dellenbaugh's Butte (Fig. 10) exhibits a different type,
likened by the explorers of the region to an art gallery, because of
its broad roof and simplicity of outline. Four hundred feet high, its
chocolate-brown mass rests beside Green River, silent, serene, as if
waiting for the jury to finish arranging the exhibit and open the doors
to the public.
[Illustration: FIG. 10.--THE ART GALLERY.]
Monument Rocks near Colorado Springs are well known for their fantastic
shapes, but another set of similar monuments in southern Colorado are
not so familiar, and have been formed in a different way. Those near
Colorado Springs are due to a hard spot in the rocks acting as a kind
of roof for the portions below, but in the other case the resistance
has been offered by fragments of basalt rolling down to a plain from a
neighboring hilltop, and assuming protection over the area upon which
they happened to rest. Thus they soon found themselves topping numerous
adopted monuments twenty or thirty feet high (Fig. 11).
[Illustration: FIG. 11.--BASALT TOPPING EARTH.]
One of the most out-of-the-way regions left within our boundaries
is that lying around the junction of the Grand and Green Rivers in
eastern Utah. These two rivers, flowing at this point in cañons about
twelve hundred feet deep, come together in a cañon thirteen hundred
feet deep to form the Colorado. You climb out from the junction by
a narrow crevice, and on top find yourself on a barren, much-cut-up
plateau. The surface is verdureless, consisting for the most part of
bare rock split by numerous crevices. You are in the midst of "The
Land of Standing Rock," as the Indians call it. Powell, in referring
to this locality, says: "We must not conceive of piles of bowlders or
heaps of fragments, but a whole land of naked rock, with giant forms
carved on it; cathedral-shaped buttes towering hundreds or thousands of
feet; cliffs that can not be scaled, and cañon walls that shrink the
river into insignificance; with vast hollow domes, and tall pinnacles
and shafts set on the verge overhead." Near and far in all directions
the eye encounters pinnacle after pinnacle, butte after butte, cliff
after cliff, like a stone forest, impassable, impenetrable, except to
the trained mountaineer. Some of the shapes here are most peculiar.
One which I call the Synagogue (Fig. 12), as no other name, so far as I
know, has ever been applied, is representative. Its lines are strikingly
like those of the temple of Khandaria in Khwahrao, Central India. It
has a round main structure, showing several deep lines of horizontal
molding, and is of a deep reddish-brown color. The "roof" is a light
pinkish red, as I remember it, and rounds up to a central cupola of the
lower color. Springing from the front is a beautiful minaret, carrying
the darker color to the apex.
[Illustration: FIG. 12.--THE SYNAGOGUE.]
Though strange rock structures abound in all this region, it is in the
specially arid portions that they are most common. The strata being
unprotected by vegetation, the wearing away is more rapid, and follows
more eccentric lines. The higher and drier a locality, there--provided
there is some rainfall--will be found the most extraordinary rain
carvings. The lack of abundant rain prevents the growth of vegetation
and the altitude permits the rain torrents to carry loads of sand, and
the more sand and velocity the greater the scouring. In some of these
intermittent stream courses the sand and bowlders scoop out deep holes
like huge pots--a variety, in fact, of the hole known in geology as
"pothole" (Fig. 13). These are very deep and sometimes provide a thirsty
traveler with a draught of clear water that has lingered from the last
shower. In some places these "pockets" or "tanks" supply the only
water to be had, and it is a glad sight when one sees a pocket before
him. Each formation has its own peculiarities of erosion, or as Dutton
aptly puts it, "its own school of natural architecture." Given, then, a
particular formation exposed to the atmosphere, it can be foretold just
what its natural architectural forms will be, whether domes, minarets,
pinnacles, arches, towers, or what.
Architectural forms are not confined to the United States, nor to the
American continent. The Giant's Causeway in Ireland is a familiar
example of what they have in those parts, while under the Arabian sky
the conditions resemble those in our arid Southwest, and there we find
many fantastic rain carvings. Among these is the Sphinx of El Guerrah,
carved by the rain-sculptor doubtless expressly to furnish answers to
our "whys and wherefores" concerning this "wondrous architecture of the
world."
[Illustration: FIG. 13.--POTHOLES IN INTERMITTENT STREAM COURSE.]
* * * * *
Among the applications proposed for the newly liquefied gases
is their use as aids in balloon navigation. An aëronaut having a
few bottles of liquefied hydrogen or illuminating gas has the means
of increasing the inflation of his balloon when necessary, and
need not fear to waste a little gas when he wishes to diminish its
levity. Prof. L. Errera, of Brussels, has suggested an apparatus
which he calls the _ceinture de natation_, or natation belt, by
which these objects can be conveniently accomplished.
THE HERDS OF THE YELLOW ANT.
BY JAMES WEIR, JR., M. D.
As far as my observations go, and they extend through a period of twenty
years, the aphides which live on grapevines, and which are the peculiar
cows of the common yellow ant (_Lasius flavus_) of our gardens, show
many curious phases in their life history. Especially is this true of
the manner in which they perpetuate their species.
If a colony of aphides be kept under observation during the summer,
it will be noticed that several kinds of individuals arise within it.
By far the largest number of the herd will be made up of the wingless
agamic form--that is, of females which reproduce without mating. In the
species under consideration the young (_during the summer_) are born
alive, and do not come from eggs.
So rapid is the increase of these insects that overproduction would
soon kill off the colony by starvation were it not held in check by the
peculiar anatomical and physiological metamorphoses which make their
appearance in the offspring from time to time. Every now and then young
ones are born which, in the course of time, evolve two pairs of wings;
these winged individuals (which are also females and agamic) abandon
the colony and produce elsewhere, in turn, wingless and _single-winged_
individuals. In autumn both males and females are born; these mate and
the females lay eggs.
These creatures secrete a honeylike fluid which exudes from two tubelike
teats on the back of the sixth abdominal segment. Ants are passionately
fond of this honey-milk and jealously guard and protect the herds of
aphidian cows which produce it. They can be seen at all hours of the
day, busily engaged in milking their queer kine. They will gently stroke
the aphides with their antennæ, thus inducing a free flow of the nectar
from the abdominal tubules. Calves effect a like result by nudging their
mothers with their heads; the cows "give down" their milk when thus
assaulted by the calves.
In autumn, as soon as ovipositing has begun, the ants gather the aphis
eggs as fast as they are laid and carry them into their nests. Here they
remain, carefully guarded and protected by the ants, until they hatch
out in the spring, when the young agamic females are carried out by
their foster mothers and placed upon the tender grape shoots or buds.
This year the ants brought out the young aphides, which formed the herds
kept under observation this summer, on the 18th of March. On the 19th
they carried them back into the nest; this occurred in the forenoon,
when the sun was shining and the air was warm and balmy. About 12 M.
it began to storm, and became quite cold; that night there was a hard
frost. The ants evidently knew that this change in the weather was about
to occur; therefore they removed their property to a warm and sheltered
place. I have often watched the ants in autumn when the aphides were
ovipositing; the former would caress the latter, and seemingly would
endeavor to stimulate and cheer them during the operation. As soon,
however, as the eggs were deposited, the ants would seize and carry
them into the nest; the aphis mother was left, without any compunctions
whatever, to die during the first frost! Her life work had ended, and
the economy of Nature needed her no longer.
[Illustration: ICHNEUMON FLY LAYING EGGS ON APHIDES.]
Ants are always on the lookout for the new colonies which are
continually being started by the winged females. As soon as one of these
new herds is found by an ant, she returns to the nest and notifies
her companions. One or two ants then accompany her to her newly found
treasure, which in future is always, night and day, under their watchful
care. As the herd increases in numbers, additional herdsmen, or rather
dairymaids, are called into service.
Associated with this species are commonly to be found other species of
aphides, notably the one which secretes, or rather excretes, a white
powdery substance which is to be seen on their backs in soft, plumose
masses. On microscopic examination this substance is found to be fairly
teeming with microbia. These microbes, at the first glance, seem to be
of different species; maturer judgment, however, declares them to be but
metamorphic forms of the same individual.
A "white" aphis can be seen in the photograph at the base of the upper
leaf stem. With a small pocket lens the details of this creature's
structure can be easily made out. There are several of these aphides
on the vine, but the one mentioned is the largest and the most
conspicuous. They are much larger than the nectar-producers, are oval
in shape, and distinctly flattened. In fact, in general outline they
are strikingly like that _bête noire_ of all good housekeepers--the
_Cimex lectularius_. The ants frequently congregate about these little
creatures and appear to be paying them some kind of court. When I cut
the vine for photographic purposes, six or eight ants were standing
about the large individual mentioned above; they soon became aware
that some dire calamity had happened, or was about to happen, either
to their beloved herd or to themselves, and, becoming frightened, soon
abandoned cattle and pasture and fled away in panic terror. I had hoped
to photograph them _in situ_, but found this to be impossible with the
instruments at my disposal.
The ants do not "milk" these white aphides, neither do they eat the
excrementitious substance on their backs. The white individuals,
however, seem to be factors in the social economy of the herd, for the
ants move them, on occasions, along with the herd to other pastures.
Once I saw an ant pick up a white aphis and carry it to a leaf some
little distance away from the colony; she then returned, picked up a
gravid nectar-producing aphis, and carried her to the spot where she had
left the white individual. In a few days a fine herd of "milkers" was
to be seen grazing in the new field. I judge from this that these white
aphides are in some way useful to, if not absolutely necessary for, the
welfare of the herd.
The winged females have both compound eyes and _ocelli_, or primitive
eyes, yet they seek the under surface of the leaf, thus seeming to
prefer the more subdued light to be found there. The young are always
deposited on the under surface of the leaves; in a few days, however,
they either migrate of their own accord to the more succulent stems or
are carried thither by the ants, which never cease to watch over and
care for them.
[Illustration: AN APHIS-LION.]
In order to test this guardianship, I have frequently wounded the vine
below a colony of aphides, thus cutting off, to a certain extent, the
flow of sap. The ants would soon discover this and would at once begin
to move the herd to another vine. The aphis is provided with boring and
suction organs somewhat similar to those of the mosquito. In point of
fact, it is interesting to note that the ancestors of the mosquito, in
all probability, lived wholly on the juices of plants; hence, in this
respect, the resemblance is more real than apparent. Aphides, also, like
mosquitoes, have the curious habit of elevating their bodies, "standing
on their heads," after they have become gorged with food; this can be
observed in the drawings.
[Illustration: COCOON, LARVA, EGGS, AND ADULT OF APHIS-LION
(_Chrysopha_). Slightly modified from Comstock.]
The cow of the yellow ant should not be confounded with her harmful
cousin, _Phylloxera vastatrix_, the deadliest enemy of the grape.
Fortunately for us, this last-mentioned aphis does not abound in
the United States; in France and other European countries, however,
phylloxera has occasioned the loss of millions of dollars.
Notwithstanding the fact that the ants are exceedingly zealous in
guarding their property, many of the aphides fall victims to the
assaults of their enemies. The most cunning, insidious, and crafty
of their foes are the ichneumon flies, three varieties of which are
continually, during the summer months and in autumn, endeavoring to
cradle their young in the bodies of the aphides.
One of these flies, which can be seen in the drawing, is quite large;
I am inclined to believe, therefore, that their larvæ do not pupate in
the bodies of their hosts, but undergo further metamorphoses elsewhere.
Another of these flies is very small, hardly larger, in fact, than the
insect which it selects as a living cradle for its young. The ichneumon
shows rare intelligence, inasmuch as she invariably deposits her eggs
on the young members--the calves, as it were--of the herd; she seems to
know that the older aphides would die before the ichneumon grubs arrived
at a suitable age for pupation; hence she selects the young ones. She
runs here and there about the colony until she finds a young aphis;
then, curving her abdomen between her legs, she will quickly lay an egg
on the body of the unconscious insect. When the egg hatches the larva
feeds on the body of its host (carefully avoiding the vital organs,
however) until the time arrives for it to undergo further metamorphoses.
The animated cradle and cupboard eventually dies, but not until its
queer baby has arrived at an age at which it has no further use for it.
The ants are fully aware of the fact that the ichneumon is a deadly
enemy of their cows; hence, when one of these flies is seen hovering
over the herd, they at once become alert and endeavor to chase her away
whenever she alights. She manages, however, to elude them every now and
then, and to lodge her fatal eggs on some of the tender young aphides.
Another implacable foe of these creatures is the larva of a neuropterous
insect which in its perfect or mature form resembles the dragon fly. It
is technically known as an aphis-lion, and differs very widely in habits
from the common and well-known ant-lions. The last-mentioned grubs dig
pits, at the bottoms of which they lie in wait for and seize their
prey whenever it falls therein; the aphidian lion is, on the contrary,
a bold and skillful hunter, and takes its prey wherever it may find
it. It is an ugly, heavy, slothful-looking grub, yet it is remarkably
agile. When darting upon its quarry (and it hunts the winged aphides
only), its thick, clumsy-looking legs move with such rapidity that they
can scarcely be seen. Its movements as well as its shape are decidedly
lacertilian; in fact, when it is seen coursing over the grape leaves in
pursuit of its prey, it reminds one irresistibly of the brilliant little
lizards which are to be observed running here and there over stone
walls, fences, and sunny woodland paths. This creature stalks its prey
like the lycosids or hunting spiders, and fairly bounds upon it when it
arrives within grasping distance. Its catlike movements when creeping up
on its quarry are wonderful to behold, and indicate a very high degree
of intelligence.
[Illustration: A COLONY OF APHIDES.]
In color it is jet black; in fact, in certain lights it glistens like a
jet jewel. It is about half an inch long and one sixteenth of an inch
broad. On the margins of its body, from its head to its tail, are rows
of thorn-like spines. Its masticatory organs, as well as its viscera,
are much more highly developed than are those of ant-lions. It is a
brave little creature, and only succumbs to the ants (which make war
on it wherever they find it, thus showing that they are fully aware of
the fact that it is inimical to their herds) when life ceases. During
the last twenty years I have frequently observed this larva, and have
endeavored to follow it in its metamorphoses. I have succeeded only
once, however, in carrying it through to its _imago_ or perfect form.
It is not described in any of my lists, and may be, therefore, a new
species. There is another aphis-lion which in very many respects closely
resembles the one just described. It is pictured by Professor Comstock,
a modification of whose drawing is here produced. He writes of this
creature as follows:
"When the aphis-lion is full grown, it rolls itself up into a tiny ball
and weaves around itself a glistening, white cocoon, which looks like a
seed pearl." (This can be seen in the sketch near the base of the upper
leaf.) "It may be supposed that while the aphis-lion is secluded in
this pearly cell it repents its greedy, murderous ways, and changes in
spirit; at least the body changes greatly, for, after a time, a circular
lid is made in the cocoon, and out of it there emerges a beautiful,
dainty creature, with delicate-veined, green wings, a pale-green body,
slender brown antennæ, and a pair of large eyes that shine like melted
gold. It is sometimes called golden-eyes, and sometimes a laced-wing
fly, from its appearance."