CHAPTER XXI.

"He who, with pocket hammer, smites the edge

Of luckless rock or prominent stone, disguised

In weather stains, or crusted o'er by nature

With her first growths--detaching by the stroke

A chip or splinter, to resolve his doubts;

And, with that ready answer satisfied,

The substance classes by some barbarous name.

And hurries on."--WORDSWORTH.

In the course of my two visits to Miss Dunbar, I had several

opportunities of examining the sand-wastes of Culbin, and of registering

some of the peculiarities which distinguish the arenaceous sub-aerial

formation from the arenaceous sub-aqueous one. Of the present surface of

the earth, considerably more than six millions of square miles are

occupied in Africa and Asia alone by sandy deserts. With but the

interruption of the narrow valley of the Nile, an enormous zone of arid

sand, full nine hundred miles across, stretches from the eastern coast

of Africa to within a few days' journey of the Chinese frontier: it is a

belt that girdles nearly half the globe;--a vast "ocean," according to

the Moors, "without water." The sandy deserts of the rainless districts

of Chili are also of great extent: and there are few countries in even

the higher latitudes that have not their tracts of arenaceous waste.

These sandy tracts, so common in the present scene of things, could not,

I argued, be restricted to the recent geologic periods. They must have

existed, like all the commoner phenomena of nature, under every

succeeding system in which the sun shone, and the winds blew, and

ocean-beds were upheaved to the air and the light, and the waves threw

upon the shore, from arenaceous sea-bottoms, their accumulations of

light sand. And I was now employed in acquainting myself with the marks

by which I might be able to distinguish sub-aerial from sub-aqueous

formations, among the ever-recurring sandstone beds of the geologic

deposits. I have spent, when thus engaged, very delightful hours amid

the waste. In pursuing one's education, it is always very pleasant to

get into those _forms_ that are not yet introduced into any school.

One of the peculiarities of the sub-aerial formation which I at this

time detected struck me as curious. On approaching, among the

sand-hills, an open level space, covered thickly over with water-rolled

pebbles and gravel, I was surprised to see that, dry and hot as the day

was elsewhere, the little open space seemed to have been subjected to a

weighty dew or smart shower. The pebbles glistened bright in the sun,

and bore the darkened hue of recent wet. On examination, however, I

found that the rays were reflected, not from wetted, but from polished

surfaces. The light grains of sand, dashed against the pebbles by the

winds during a long series of years--grain after grain repeating its

minute blow, where, mayhap, millions of grains had struck before--had at

length given a resinous-looking, uneven polish to all their exposed

portions, while the portions covered up retained the dull unglossy coat

given them of old by the agencies of friction and water. I have not

heard the peculiarity described as a characteristic of the arenaceous

deserts; but though it seems to have escaped notice, it will, I doubt

not, be found to obtain wherever there are sands for the winds to waft

along, and hard pebbles against which the grains may be propelled. In

examining, many years after, a few specimens of silicified wood brought

from the Egyptian desert, I at once recognised on their flinty surfaces

the resinous-like gloss of the pebbles of Culbin; nor can I doubt that,

if geology has its sub-aerial formations of consolidated sand, they

will be found characterized by their polished pebbles. I marked several

other peculiarities of the formation. In some of the abrupter sections

laid open by the winds, tufts of the bent-grass (_Arundo

arenaria_--common here, as in all sandy wastes) that had been buried up

where they grew, might be distinctly traced, each upright in itself, but

rising tuft above tuft in the steep angle of the hillock which they had

originally covered. And though, from their dark colour, relieved against

the lighter hue of the sand, they reminded me of the carbonaceous

markings of sandstone of the Coal Measures, I recognised at least _their

arrangement_ as unique. It seems to be such an arrangement--sloping in

the general line, but upright in each of the tufts--as could take place

in only a sub-aerial formation. I observed further, that in frequent

instances there occurred on the surface of the sand, around decaying

tufts of the bent-grass, deeply-marked circles, as if drawn by a pair of

compasses or a trainer--effects apparently of eddy winds whirling round,

as on a pivot, the decayed plants; and yet further, that footprints,

especially those of rabbits and birds, were not unfrequent in the waste.

And as lines of stratification were, I found, distinctly preserved in

the formation, I deemed it not improbable that, in cases in which high

winds had arisen immediately after tracts of wet weather, and covered

with sand, rapidly dried on the heights, the damp beds in the hollows,

both the circular markings and the footprints might remain fixed in the

strata, to tell of their origin. I found in several places, in chasms

scooped out by a recent gale, pieces of the ancient soil laid bare,

which had been covered up by the sand-flood nearly two centuries before.

In one of the openings the marks of the ancient furrows were still

discernible; in another, the thin stratum of ferruginous soil had

apparently never been brought under the plough; and I found it charged

with roots of the common brake (_Pteris aquilina_), in a perfect state

of keeping, but black and brittle as coal. Beneath this layer of soil

lay a thin deposit of the stratified gravel of what is now known as the

later glacial period--the age of _osars_ and moraines; and beneath

all--for the underlying Old Red Sandstone of the district is not exposed

amid the level wastes of Culbin--rested the boulder clay, the memorial

of a time of submergence, when Scotland sat low in the sea as a wintry

archipelago of islands, brushed by frequent icebergs, and when

sub-arctic molluscs lived in her sounds and bays. A section of a few

feet in vertical extent presented me with four distinct periods. There

was, first, the period of the sand-flood, represented by the bar of

pale-sand; then, secondly, the period of cultivation and human

occupancy, represented by the dark plough-furrowed belt of hardened

soil; thirdly, there was the gravel; and, fourthly, the clay. And that

shallow section exhausted the historic ages, and more; for the double

band of gravel and clay belonged palpably to the geologic ages, ere man

had appeared on our planet. There had been found in the locality, only a

few years previous to this time, a considerable number of stone

arrow-heads--some of them only partially finished, and some of them

marred in the making, as if some fletcher of the stone age had carried

on his work on the spot; and all these memorials of a time long anterior

to the first beginnings of history in the island were restricted to the

stratum of hardened mould.

I carried on my researches in this--what I may term the

chronological--direction, in connexion with the old-coast line, which,

as I have already said, is finely developed in the neighbourhood of

Cromarty on both sides of the Firth, and represented along the

precipices of the Sutors by its line of deep caves, into which the sea

never now enters. And it, too, pressed upon me the fact of the amazing

antiquity of the globe. I found that the caves hollowed by the

surf--when the sea stood from fifteen to five-and-twenty feet above its

present level, or, as I should perhaps rather say, when the land sat

that much lower--were deeper, on the average, by about one-third, than

those caves of the present coast-line that are still in the course of

being hollowed by the waves. And yet the waves have been breaking

against the present coast-line during the whole of the historic period.

The ancient wall of Antoninus, which stretched between the Firths of

Forth and Clyde, was built at its terminations with reference to the

existing levels; and ere Caesar landed in Britain, St. Michael's Mount

was connected with the mainland, as now, by a narrow neck of beach laid

bare by the ebb, across which, according to Diodorus Siculus, the

Cornish miners used to drive, at low water, their carts laden with tin.

If the sea has stood for two thousand six hundred years against the

present coast-line--and no geologist would fix his estimate of the term

lower--then must it have stood against the old line, ere it could have

excavated caves one-third deeper than the modern ones, three thousand

nine hundred years. And both sums united more than exhaust the Hebrew

chronology. Yet what a mere beginning of geologic history does not the

epoch of the old coast-line form! It is but a starting-point from the

recent period. Not a single shell seems to have become extinct during

the last six thousand years. The organisms which I found deeply embedded

in the soil beneath the old coast-line were exactly those which still

live in our seas; and I have been since told by Mr. Smith of Jordanhill,

one of our highest authorities on the subject, that he detected only

three shells of the period with which he was not familiar as existing

forms, and that he subsequently met with all three, in his dredging

expeditions, still alive. The six thousand years of human history form

but a portion of the geologic day that is passing over us: they do not

extend into the _yesterday_ of the globe, far less touch the myriads of

ages spread out beyond. Dr. Chalmers had taught, more than a quarter of

a century previous to this time, that the Scriptures do not fix the

antiquity of the earth. "If they fix anything," he said, "it is only the

antiquity of the human species." The Doctor, though not practically a

geologist at the time, had shrewdly weighed both the evidence adduced

and the scientific character of the men who adduced it, and arrived at a

conclusion, in consequence, which may now be safely regarded as the

final one. I, on the other hand, who knew comparatively little about the

standing of the geologists, or the weight which ought to attach to their

testimony, based my findings regarding the vast antiquity of the earth

on exactly the data on which they had founded theirs; and the more my

acquaintance with the geologic deposits has since extended, the firmer

have my convictions on the subject become, and the more pressing and

inevitable have I felt the ever-growing demand for longer and yet longer

periods for their formation. As certainly as the sun is the centre of

our system, must our earth have revolved around it for millions of

years. An American theologian, the author of a little book entitled the

"Epoch of Creation," in doing me the honour of referring to my

convictions on this subject, states, that I "betray indubitable tokens

of being spell-bound to the extent of infatuation, by the foregone

conclusion of" my "theory concerning the high antiquity of the earth,

and the succession of animal and vegetable creations." He adds further,

in an eloquent sentence, a page and a half long, that had I first

studied and credited my Bible, I would have failed to believe in

successive creations and the geologic chronology. I trust, however, I

may say I did first study and believe my Bible. But such is the

structure of the human mind, that, save when blinded by passion or

warped by prejudice, it must yield an involuntary consent to the force

of evidence; and I can now no more refuse believing, in opposition to

respectable theologians such as Mr. Granville Penn, Professor Moses

Stuart, and Mr. Eleazar Lord, that the earth is of an antiquity

incalculably vast, than I can refuse believing, in opposition to still

more respectable theologians, such as St. Augustine, Lactantius, and

Turretine, that it has antipodes, and moves round the sun. And further,

of this, men such as the Messrs. Penn, Stuart, and Lord may rest

assured, that what I believe in this matter now, all theologians, even

the weakest, will be content to believe fifty years hence.

Sometimes a chance incident taught me an interesting geological lesson.

At the close of the year 1830, a tremendous hurricane from the south and

west, unequalled in the north of Scotland, from at least the time of the

great hurricane of Christmas 1806, blew down in a single hour four

thousand full-grown trees on the Hill of Cromarty. The vast gaps and

avenues which it opened in the wood above could be seen from the town;

and no sooner had it begun to take off than I set out for the scene of

its ravages. I had previously witnessed, from a sheltered hollow of the

old coast-line, the extraordinary appearance of the sea. It would seem

as if the very violence of the wind had kept down the waves. It brushed

off their tops as they were rising, and swept along the spray in one

dense cloud, white as driving snow, that rose high into the air as it

receded from the shore, and blotted out along the horizon the line

between sky and water. As I approached the wood, I met two poor little

girls of from eight to ten years, coming running and crying along the

road in a paroxysm of consternation; but, gathering heart on seeing me,

they stood to tell that when the storm was at its worst they were in the

midst of the falling trees. Setting out for the Hill on the first rising

of the wind, in the expectation of a rich harvest of withered boughs,

they had reached one of its most exposed ridges just as the gale had

attained to its extreme height, and the trees began to crash down around

them. Their little tear-bestained countenances still continued to show

how extreme the agony of their terror had been. They would run, they

said, for a few paces in one direction, until some huge pine would come

roaring down, and block up their path; when, turning with a shriek, they

would run for a few paces in another; and then, terrified by a similar

interruption, again strike off in a third. At length, after passing

nearly an hour in the extremest peril, and in at least all the fear

which the circumstances justified, they succeeded in making their way

unhurt to the outer skirts of the wood. Bewick would have found in the

incident the subject of a vignette that would have told its own story.

In getting into the thick of the trees, I was struck by the

extraordinary character of the scene presented. In some places, greatly

more than half their number lay stretched upon the ground. On the more

exposed prominences of the Hill, scarce a tree was left standing for

acres together: they covered the slopes; tree stretched over tree like

tiles on a roof, with here and there some shattered trunk whose top had

been blown off, and carried by the hurricane some fifteen or twenty

yards away, leaning in sad ruin over its fallen comrades. What, however,

formed the most striking, because less expected, parts of the scene,

were the tall walls of turf that stood up everywhere among the fallen

trees, like the ruins of dismantled cottages. The granitic gneiss of the

Hill is covered by a thick deposit of the red boulder clay of the

district, and the clay, in turn, by a thin layer of vegetable mould,

interlaced in every direction by the tree roots, which, arrested in

their downward progress by the stiff clay, are restricted to the upper

layer. And, save where here and there I found some tree snapped across

in the midst, or divested of its top, all the others had yielded at the

line between the boulder clay and the soil, and had torn up, as they

fell, vast walls of the felted turf, from fifteen to twenty feet in

length, by from ten to twelve feet in height. There were quite enough of

these walls standing up among the prostrate trees, to have formed a

score of the eastern Sultan's ruined villages; and they imparted to the

scene one of its strangest features. I have mentioned in an early

chapter, that the Hill had its dense thickets, which, from the gloom

that brooded in their recesses even at mid-day, were known to the boys

of the neighbouring town as the "dungeons." They had now fared, however,

in this terrible overturn, like dungeons elsewhere in times of

revolution, and were all swept away; and piles of prostrate trees--in

some instances ten or twelve in a single heap marked where they had

stood. In several localities, where they fell over swampy hollows, or

where deep-seated springs came gushing to the light, I found the water

partially dammed up, and saw that, were they to be left to cumber the

ground as the debris of forests destroyed by hurricanes in the earlier

ages of Scottish history would certainly have been left, the deep shade

and the moisture could not have failed to induce a total change in the

vegetation. I marked, too, the fallen trees all lying one way, in the

direction of the wind; and the thought at once struck me, that in this

recent scene of devastation I had the origin of full one-half of our

Scottish mosses exemplified. Some of the mosses of the south date from

the times of Roman invasion. Their lower tiers of trunks bear the mark

of the Roman axe; and in some instances, the sorely wasted axe itself--a

narrow, oblong tool, somewhat resembling that of the American

backwoodsman--has been found sticking in the buried stump Some of our

other mosses are of still more modern origin: there exist Scottish

mosses that seem to have been formed when Robert the Bruce felled the

woods and wasted the country of John of Lorn. But of the others, not a

few have palpably owed their origin to violent hurricanes, such as the

one which on this occasion ravaged the Hill of Cromarty. The trees which

form their lower stratum are broken across, or torn up by the roots,

_and their trunks all lie one way_. Much of the interest of a science

such as geology must consist in the ability of making dead deposits

represent living scenes; and from this hurricane I was enabled to

conceive, pictorially, if I may so express myself, of the origin of

those comparatively recent deposits of Scotland which, formed almost

exclusively of vegetable matter, contain, with rude works of art, and

occasionally remains of the early human inhabitants of the country,

skeletons of the wolf, the bear, and the beaver, with horns of the _bos

primigenius_ and _bos longifrons_, and of a gigantic variety of red

deer, unequalled in size by animals of the same species in these latter

ages. Occasionally I was enabled to vivify in this way even the ancient

deposits of the Lias, with their vast abundance of cephalopodous

mollusca--belemnites, ammonites, and nautili. My friend of the Cave had

become parish schoolmaster of Nigg; and his hospitable dwelling

furnished me with an excellent centre for exploring the geology of the

parish, especially its Liassic deposits at Shandwick, with their huge

gryphites and their numerous belemnites, of at least two species,

comparatively rare at Eathie--the _belemnite abreviatus_ and _belemnite

elongatus_. I had learned that these curious shells once formed part of

the internal framework of a mollusc more nearly akin to the

cuttle-fishes of the present day than aught else that now exists; and

the cuttle-fishes--not rare in at least one of their species (_loligo

vulgare_) in the Firth of Cromarty--I embraced every opportunity of

examining. I have seen from eighteen to twenty individuals of this

species enclosed at once in the inner chamber of one of our

salmon-wears. The greater number of these shoals I have ordinarily found

dead, and tinged with various shades of green, blue, and yellow--for it

is one of the characteristics of the creature to assume, when passing

into a state of decomposition, a succession of brilliant colours; but I

have seen from six to eight individuals of their number still alive in a

little pool beside the nets, and still retaining their original pink

tint, freckled with red. And these I have observed, as my shadow fell

across their little patch of water, darting from side to side in panic

terror within the narrow confines, emitting ink at almost every dart,

until the whole pool had become a deep solution of sepia. Some of my

most interesting recollections of the cuttle-fish are associated,

however, with the capture and dissection of a single specimen. The

creature, in swimming, darts through the water much in the manner that a

boy slides down an ice-crusted declivity, feet foremost;--the lower or

nether extremities go first, and the head behind: it follows its tail,

instead of being followed by it; and this curious peculiarity in its

mode of progression, though, of course, on the whole, the mode best

adapted to its conformation and instincts, sometimes proves fatal to it

in calm weather, when not a ripple breaks upon the pebbles, to warn that

the shore is near. An enemy appears: the creature ejects its cloud of

ink, like a sharp-shooter discharging his rifle ere he retreats; and

then, darting away, tail foremost, under cover of the cloud, it grounds

itself high upon the beach, and perishes there. I was walking, one very

calm day, along the Cromarty shore, a little to the west of the town,

when I heard a peculiar sound--a _squelch_, if I may employ such a

word--and saw that a large loligo, fully a foot and a half in length,

had thrown itself high and dry upon the beach. I laid hold of it by its

sheath or sack; and the loligo, in turn, laid hold of the pebbles,

apparently to render its abduction as difficult as possible, just as I

have seen a boy, when borne off against his will by a stronger than

himself, grasping fast to door-posts and furniture. The pebbles were

hard and smooth, but the creature raised them very readily with his

suckers. I subjected one of my hands to its grasp, and it seized fast

hold; but though the suckers were still employed, it made use of them on

a different principle. Around the circular rim of each there is a fringe

of minute thorns, hooked somewhat like those of the wild rose. In

clinging to the hard polished pebbles, these were overlapped by a fleshy

membrane, much in the manner that the cushions of a cat's paw overlap

its claws when the animal is in a state of tranquillity; and by means of

the projecting membrane, the hollow interior was rendered air-tight, and

the vacuum completed: but in dealing with the hand--a soft

substance--the thorns were laid bare, like the claws of a cat when

stretched out in anger, and at least a thousand minute prickles were

fixed in the skin at once. They failed to penetrate it, for they were

short, and individually not strong; but, acting together by hundreds,

they took at least a very firm hold.

What follows may be deemed barbarous; but the men who gulp down at a

sitting half-a-hundred live oysters to gratify their taste, may surely

forgive me the destruction of a single mollusc to gratify my curiosity!

I cut open the sack of the creature with a sharp penknife, and laid bare

the viscera. What a sight for Harvey, when prosecuting, in the earlier

stages, his grand discovery of the circulation! _There_, in the centre,

was the yellow muscular heart, propelling into the transparent, tubular

arteries, the _yellow_ blood. Beat--beat--beat:--I could see the whole

as in a glass model; and all I lacked were powers of vision nice enough

to enable me to detect the fluid passing through the minuter arterial

branches, and then returning by the veins to the _two_ other hearts of

the creature; for, strange to say, it is furnished with three. There in

the midst I saw the yellow heart, and, lying altogether detached from

it, two other deep-coloured hearts at the sides. I cut a little deeper.

_There_ was the gizzard-like stomach, filled with fragments of minute

mussel and crab shells; and _there_, inserted in the spongy, conical,

yellowish-coloured liver, and somewhat resembling in form a Florence

flask, was the ink-bag distended, with its deep dark sepia--the

identical pigment sold under that name in our colour shops, and so

extensively used in landscape drawing by the limner. I then dissected

and laid open the circular or ring-like brain that surrounds the

creature's parrot-like beak, as if its _thinking_ part had no other

vocation than simply to take care of the mouth and its

pertinents--almost the sole employment, however, of not a few brains of

a considerably higher order. I next laid open the huge eyes. They were

curious organs, more simple in their structure than those of the true

fishes, but admirably adapted, I doubt not, for the purposes of seeing.

A camera obscura may be described as consisting of two parts--a lens in

front, and a darkened chamber behind; but in the eyes of fishes, as in

the brute and human eye, we find a third part added: there is a lens in

the middle, a darkened chamber behind, and a lighted chamber, or rather

vestibule, in front. Now, this lighted vestibule--the cornea--is

wanting in the eye of the cuttle-fish. The lens is placed in front, and

the darkened chamber behind. The construction of the organ is that of a

common camera obscura. I found something worthy of remark, too, on the

peculiar style in which the chamber is darkened. In the higher animals

it may be described as a chamber hung with black velvet--the _pigmentum

nigrum_ which covers it is of the deepest black; but in the cuttle-fish

it is a chamber hung with velvet, not of a black, but of a dark purple

hue--the _pigmentum nigrum_ is of a purplish red colour. There is

something interesting in marking this first departure from an invariable

condition of eyes of the more perfect structure, and in then tracing the

peculiarity downwards through almost every shade of colour, to the

emerald-like eye-specks of the pecten, and the still more rudimentary

red eye-specks of the star-fish. After examining the eyes, I next laid

open, in all its length, from the neck to the point of the sack, the

dorsal bone of the creature--its internal shell, I should rather say,

for bone it has none. The form of the shell in this species is that of a

feather, equally developed in the web on both sides. It gives rigidity

to the body, and furnishes the muscles with a fulcrum; and we find it

composed, like all other _shells_, of a mixture of animal matter and

carbonate of lime. Such was the lesson taught me in a single walk; and I

have recorded it at some length. The subject of it, the loligo, has been

described by some of our more distinguished naturalists, such as Kirby

in his Bridgewater Treatise, as "one of the most wonderful works of the

Creator;" and the reader will perhaps remember how fraught with

importance to natural science an incident similar to the one related

proved in the life of the youthful Cuvier. It was when passing his

twenty-second year on the sea-coast, near Fiquainville, that this

greatest of modern naturalists was led, by finding a cuttle-fish

stranded on the beach, which he afterwards dissected, to study the

anatomy and character of the mollusca. To me, however, the lesson

served merely to vivify the dead deposits of the Oolitic system, as

represented by the Lias of Cromarty and Ross. The middle and later ages

of the great secondary division were peculiarly ages of the

cephalopodous molluscs: their belemnites, ammonites, nautili, baculites,

hamites, turrilites, and scaphites, belonged to the great natural

class--singularly rich in its extinct orders and genera, though

comparatively poor in its existing ones--which we find represented by

the cuttle-fish; and when engaged in disinterring the remains of the

earlier-born members of the family--ammonites, belemnites, and

nautili--from amid the shales of Eathie or the mud-stones of Shandwick,

the incident of the loligo has enabled me to conceive of them, not as

mere dead remains, but as the living inhabitants of primaeval seas,

stirred by the diurnal tides, and lighted up by the sun.

When pursuing my researches amid the deposits of the Lias, I was

conducted to an interesting discovery. There are two great systems of

hills in the north of Scotland--an older and a newer--that bisect each

other like the furrows of a field that had first been ploughed across

and then diagonally. The diagonal furrows, as the last drawn, are still

very entire. The great Caledonian Valley, open from sea to sea, is the

most remarkable of these; but the parallel valleys of the Nairn, of the

Findhorn, and of the Spey, are all well-defined furrows; nor are the

mountain ridges which separate them less definitely ranged in continuous

lines. The ridges and furrows of the earlier ploughing are, on the

contrary, as might be anticipated, broken and interrupted: the effacing

plough has passed over them: and yet there are certain localities in

which we find the fragments of this earlier system sufficiently entire

to form one of the main features of the landscape. In passing through

the upper reaches of the Moray Firth, and along the Caledonian Valley,

the cross furrows may be seen branching off to the west, and existing as

the valleys of Loch Fleet, of the Dornoch Firth, of the Firth of

Cromarty, of the Bay of Munlochy, of the Firth of Beauty, and, as we

enter the Highlands proper, as Glen Urquhart, Glen Morrison, Glen Garry,

Loch Arkaig, and Loch Eil. The diagonal system--represented by the great

valley itself, and known as the system of Ben Nevis and the Ord of

Caithness in our own country, and, according to De Beaumont, as that of

Mount Pilate and Cote d'Or on the Continent--was upheaved after the

close of the Oolitic ages. It was not until at least the period of the

Weald that its "hills had been formed and its mountains brought forth;"

and in the line of the Moray Firth the Lias and Oolite lie uptilted, at

steep angles, against the sides of its long ranges of precipice. It is

not so easy determining the age of the older system. No formation occurs

in the north of Scotland between the Lias and the Old Red Sandstone: the

vast Carboniferous, Permian, and Triassic deposits are represented by a

wide gap; and all that can be said regarding the older hills is, that

they disturbed and bore up with them the Old Red Sandstone; but that as

there lay at their bases, at the time of their upheaval, no more modern

rock to be disturbed, it seems impossible definitely to fix their era.

Neither does there appear among their estuaries or valleys any trace of

the Oolitic deposits. Existing, in all probability, during even the

times of the Lias, as the sub-aerial framework of Oolitic Scotland--as

the framework on which the Oolitic vegetables grew--no deposit of the

system could of course have taken place over them. I had not yet,

however, formed any very definite idea regarding the two systems, or

ascertained that they belonged apparently to a different time; and

finding the Lias upheaved against the steeper sides of the Moray

Firth--one of the huge furrows of the more modern system--I repeatedly

sought to find it uptilted also against the shores of the Cromarty

Firth--one of the furrows of the greatly more ancient one. I had,

however, prosecuted the search in a somewhat desultory manner; and as in

the autumn of 1830 a pause of a few days took place in my professional

labours between the completing of one piece of work and the

commencement of another, I resolved on devoting the time to a thorough

survey of the Cromarty Firth, in the hope of detecting the Lias. I began

my search at the granitic gneiss of the Hill, and, proceeding westwards,

passed in succession, in the ascending order, over the uptilted beds of

the lower Old Red Sandstone, from the Great Conglomerate base of the

system, till I reached the middle member of the deposit, which consists,

in this locality, of alternate beds of limestone, sandstone, and

stratified clay, and which we find represented in Caithness by the

extensively developed flag-stones. And then, the rock disappearing, I

passed over a pebbly beach mottled with boulders; and in a little bay

not half a mile distant from the town, I again found the rock laid bare.

I had long before observed that the rock rose to the surface in this

little bay; I had even employed, when a boy, pieces of its stratified

clay as slate-pencil; but I had yet failed minutely to examine it. I was

now, however, struck by its resemblance, in all save colour, to the

Lias. The strata lay at a low angle: they were composed of an

argillaceous shale, and abounded in limestone nodules; and, save that

both shale and nodules bore, instead of the deep Liassic grey, an

olivaceous tint, I might have almost supposed I had fallen on a

continuation of some of the Eathie beds. I laid open a nodule with a

blow of the hammer, and my heart leaped up when I saw that it enclosed

an organism. A dark, ill-defined, bituminous mass occupied the centre;

but I could distinguish what seemed to be spines and small ichthyic

bones projecting from its edges; and when I subjected them to the

scrutiny of the glass, unlike those mere chance resemblances which

sometimes deceive for a moment the eye, the more distinct and

unequivocal did their forms become. I laid open a second nodule. It

contained a group of glittering rhomboidal scales, with a few cerebral

plates, and a jaw bristling with teeth. A third nodule also supplied its

organism, in a well-defined ichthyolite, covered with minute,

finely-striated scales, and furnished with a sharp spine in the

anterior edge of every fin. I eagerly wrought on, and disinterred, in

the course of a single tide, specimens enough to cover a museum table;

and it was with intense delight that, as the ripple of the advancing

tide was rising against the pebbles, and covering up the ichthyolitic

beds, I carried them to the higher slopes of the beach, and, seated on a

boulder, began carefully to examine them in detail with a common

botanist's microscope. But not a plate, spine, or scale, could I detect

among their organisms, identical with the ichthyic remains of the Lias.

I had got amid the remains of an entirely different and incalculably

more ancient creation. My new-found organisms represented, not the

first, but merely the second age of vertebrate existence on our planet;

but as the remains of the earlier age exist as the mere detached teeth

and spines of placoids, which, though they give full evidence of the

_existence_ of the fishes to which they belong, throw scarce any light

on their structure, it is from the ganoids of this second age that the

palaeontologist can with certainty know under what peculiarities of form,

and associated with what varieties of mechanism, vertebral life existed

in the earlier ages of the world. In my new-found deposit--to which I

soon added, however, within the limits of the parish, some six or eight

deposits more, all charged with the same ichthyic remains--I found I had

work enough before me for the patient study of years.

My Schools and Schoolmasters; Or, The Story of My Education · 第 21 / 25 章