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A Pre-Columbian Mine.

Let's to plain prose and talk as men of sense;
No mouthing of great mystery, or rolling eyes
At colors brighter than the world e'er saw;
Let's to the world of hard and rugged fact."

SO my companion thought to take the wind from my sails, as though only a mining engineer could deal with the facts before us. But I would not listen, and go about our work with but a compass and tape-line. It is not always to play the fool to link arms with a lively fancy. If a rosy light plays over a heap of stones, why not say so? No one will be deceived because I say I heard Indians chipping flint while I sat at the entrance of the mine whence had come the rainbow-tinted jasper that to-day, as marvels of aboriginal handicraft, are scattered up and down the valley of the Delaware. I even went a step farther, and above the heaps of blackened stones, where fires, now quenched for centuries, had once blazed year after year, again flickered the ruddy light of the campfire; and through the forest a pale yet penetrating light brought upon the scene the whole village, — men, women, and children. With the gloaming comes fancy's holiday; but we need not loiter in a fool's paradise. The natural sequence of seeing and then contemplating the remains of one-time human activities is to rebuild upon these ruins the structures they call for. Happily, the time had spared sufficient for a firm foundation in this instance; nor were the ancient fireplaces less tangible facts. What my fancy saw to-night was not a fevered vision, but what every archaeologist earnestly longs for, — a vivid glimpse of the Delaware valley in pre-Columbian days. He finds himself as poor as at the outset who treats of such matters without reference to what has been. It may be true that a field is sprinkled with broken stones, but never all the truth. Who broke them, and when? Or has frost been playing pranks with the living rock? Think how much is implied when we speak of an arrow-head! We gather them in our walks afield; perhaps preserve them, if pretty; or throw them down again, if rudely wrought or broken, and think of them merely long enough to mention the name “arrow-head." But what, really, is it? Of itself, nothing. Absolutely as valueless then, when made, as now. But as the effective point of a shaft, and the two as the projectile of the bow; and this, with its armed arrow, as the weapon of a man, and what a picture of the past looms up before us! We do not, and cannot, know more of the man than this arrow-head, this chipped fragment of jasper tells us; but does it not speak volumes?

Out of deference to my matter-of-fact companion, let's to plain prose. These jasper mines, for there are several, are situated about one mile east of the village of Durham, Bucks County, Pennsylvania, in the synclinal basin of Rattlesnake and Mine Hills, on the lowermost spur of the South Mountain range. These mines, or quarries, as they are usually called, cover an area of about one acre. Nature kindly left the ground in the condition brought about by the Indians' mining operations, and half a century ago extensive deposits of the mineral were exposed to view; but of late years every one of the depressions on the hill-top has become the receptacle for refuse stone gathered from the surrounding fields, and these most interesting archaeological features of the country are well-nigh obliterated. The shafts, pits, or what you will, are remembered to have been from four to six feet in depth and from ten to twenty feet in diameter, and near by were mound-like elevations made up of the vast amount of refuse material. It is evident that the greatly varying depths of these excavations were due to the superior or inferior quality of the exposed ledges. But how do we know that the Indians had to do with these pits at all? Have we found their autographs packed in the rock, or found their bones in graves of their own digging? Not yet; but of equal significance is the immense quantity of chips and slender flakes, besides hammers, large and small, and a goodly range of stone implements no white man, since he became white, has used. We can follow the trail of the aborigine here without being thrown off the scent. We can see, in the mind's eye, — and we need no clearer vision, — that after the jasper had been mined it was directly subjected to a hammering process that determined the precise quality of the mass. This was a necessary preliminary, for the implement-maker and the miner were not one and the same person, or, if so, pursued the two occupations at different times.

Before considering the adjacent workshop sites, let me prevent a possible misconception. Here is not the one sole source of supply from which the Indians derived jasper, but, I take it, the principal one. It is true a block of jasper, if pure and faultless, that measured twenty feet across and six feet in thickness, would make an enormous number of arrow-points, but it is to be remembered that in every such block there is a vast amount of refuse flint that Indians could not use, and the chips resulting from a single arrow-point equalled usually a mass a hundredfold the size of the finished implement. Then, too, we have proof that jasper boulders from the bed of the river were used by those Indians who lived far south of the mine on Rattlesnake Hill, and that many a little pebble was gathered for the purpose of making an arrow-point of it, for these, in every stage of incompleteness, are everywhere abundant.

And now, what of the workshop sites? It is a natural inference that if at the mine itself the jasper was not reduced to its ultimate condition of a finished implement, then such spots as were well adapted to a flint-chipping industry would be found to have been utilized as such; nor are we mistaken. Every Indian was not his own implement-maker. There were professional chippers in those days, and just as we find manufactories today near the sources of supply of raw material, so was it with flint-chipping when jasper mines were a scene of busy industry. Less than a mile from the mine is more than one such site, and many, by recent changes and the violence of floods, have been wholly obliterated. One of the most important, but not one that can now be traced, was some five hundred yards distant from the Durham Cave. It reached back from the Delaware about a fourth of a mile. The sod was never broken or a furrow turned that the refuse incident to arrow-making was not brought to light in startling abundance. Again, on the bank of a small stream, for a distance of six hundred yards, was the same abundance of such refuse, and that a permanent village, with its varied interests, existed here is shown by the occurrence of that full range of objects having to do with their domestic life, agriculture, hunting, fishing, and, most suggestive of all, their personal vanity. They had, too, if not banks, a reliable system of safe deposit, for "in unmarked holes in the ground were placed enormous numbers of valuable objects. In this creek-side village-site were found above one hundred globular stones, some with grooves, and all artificially rounded. These had evidently been placed where found by their owner, and the secret of their whereabouts had died with him. So much the naked facts, but is nothing more to be said? For years I have rambled in the Delaware valley and gathered arrow-points, until now their number reaches far into the thousands, and all the while wondered if from river pebbles alone the material was derived. This seemed improbable, for I could find so little trace in the gravel of the delicate green and bright red jasper such as occurred on the fields as broken implements or chips; but now the problem was solved. My wanderings had brought me at last to this beautiful spot, to a camping-ground perched upon a high hill that overlooked a glorious country. Recompense enough of itself when taking an outing, and how much more when now, at my feet, was the key that unlocked a mystery that for years had teased me! How much fuller was every known feature of Indian life by reason of this discovery! Henceforth every arrow-point will have an added interest. If I cannot trace its career, I can, at least, point to its home. It is useless, however, to speculate concerning the antiquity of these jasper mines, and yet almost the first question asked is, “How old are they?” as if they needed a few centuries, more or less, to give them interest. When the Indian first happened here matters not; but it was long ago, and even then his range of culture was not so insignificant as the average reader supposes. He could work marvellously well in stone of other sorts, and proved his eye for symmetry by objects of ceremonial import of wonderful beauty, both in design and workmanship; and then, what of those etched gorgets so common among them?

By the light of the camp-fire to-night a precious relic was brought forth, and its possible significance discussed for the hundredth time. How far are the lines and curves and dots ornamental, and how far a matter of record? Who shall say? For many days we have been wandering in search of Indian relics, and on one of the beautiful islands in the river a curiously-etched stone has been found. The marks are cleanly and deeply cut, as if by a graver's tool, and yet no metal ever came in contact with this specimen. Here we have set aside one of the objections raised against the mastodon stone found not many miles away; a specimen, be it said, that was hastily condemned, but in the light of added knowledge may prove to have an interest To find a picture rather than a grouping of significatory or merely ornamental markings may be highly improbable, but in the light of what has been gathered in this same river valley in recent years it is foolhardy to pronounce it impossible, and inexcusable to cry “fraud" whenever the unexpected happens.

Then, as night drew on apace, our minds reverted to the long-deserted mine. The hum of human industry was hushed, but silence did not prevail. A thousand crickets chirped in the weedy wilderness, squirrels were astir in the heaped-up rocks, birds, although dreaming, sang sweetly through the woods, and when, at last, we too wandered, in our thoughts was it strange that the many sounds we still heard were not, in truth, voices of the night, but the cries and clamor of strange men who toiled and wrestled with the unyielding rock of this pre-Columbian mine?


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