CURIOSITIES RESPECTING VEGETABLES.—(Concluded.)
Fungus, or Mushroom.
By fungus, we mean the mushroom tribe. The ancients called themthe children of the earth, to indicate the obscurity of their origin. The moderns have likewise been at a loss in what rank to place them; some referring them to the animal, some to the vegetable, and others to the mineral kingdom. Messrs. Wilck and Minchausen, have not scrupled to rank these bodies among animal productions; because, when fragments of them or their seeds were macerated in water, these gentlemen perceived a quantity of animalcules discharged, which they supposed capable of being changed into the samesubstance. It was an ancient opinion, thatbeef could produce bees; but it was reserved for Messrs. Wilck and Minchausen, to suppose thatbees could produce beef. The former asserts, that fungi consist of innumerable cavities, each inhabited by a polype; and he does not hesitate to ascribe the formation of them to their inhabitants, in the same way as it has been said that the coral, the lichen, and the mucor, were formed. Hedwig has lately shewn how ill-founded this opinion is with respect to the lichen; and M. Durande has demonstrated its falsity with regard to the corallines.
“Indeed, (says M. Bonnet, speaking of the animality of fungi,) nothing but the rage for paradox could induce any one to publish such a fable; and I regret that posterity will be able to reproach our times with it. Observation and experiment should enable us to overcome the prejudices of modern philosophy, now that those of the ancient have disappeared and are forgotten.” It cannot be denied, that the mushroom is one of the most perishable of all plants, and it is therefore the most favourable for the generation of insects. Considering the quickness of its growth, it must be furnished with the power of copious absorption; the extremity of its vessels must be more dilated than in other plants. Its root seems, in many cases, to be merely intended for its support; for some species grow upon stones, or moveable sand, from which it is impossible they can draw much nourishment. We must therefore suppose, that it is chiefly by the stalk that they absorb. These stalks grow in a moist and tainted air, in which float multitudes of eggs, so small, that the very insects they produce are with difficulty seen by the microscope. These eggs may be compared to the particles of the byssus, 100,000 of which, as M. Gleditsch says, are not equal to one-fourth of a grain.
May we not suppose that a quantity of such eggs are absorbed by the vessels of the fungus, and that they remain there without any change, till the plant begins to decay? Besides, the eggs may be only deposited on the surface of the plant, or they may exist in water, into which they are thrown for examination. Do not we see that such eggs, dispersed through the air, are hatched in vinegar, in paste, &c. and wherever they find a convenient nidus for their development? Can it be surprising, then, that the corruption of the mushroom should make the water capable of disclosing certain beings that are really foreign to both? It is not more easy to acquiesce in the opinions of those naturalists who place the fungi in the mineral kingdom, because they are found growing on porous stones, thence calledlapides fungarii; which, however, must be covered with a little earth, and be watered with tepid water, in order to favour the growth. Suchmushrooms are no more the produce of the stone, than the lichen is of the rock to which it adheres, or the moss, of the tree on which it is found.
We have only to observe the growth of mushrooms, to be convinced that this happens by development, and not by addition or combination of parts, as in minerals. The opinion of Boccone, who attributed them to an unctuous matter performing the function of seed, and acquiring extension by apposition of similar parts; and that of Morison, who conceived that they grew spontaneously out of the earth by a certain mixture of salt and sulphur, joined with oils from the dung of quadrupeds; have now no longer any adherents. Fungi are produced, they live, they grow by development; they are exposed to those vicissitudes natural to the different periods of life which characterize living substances; they perish and die; they extract, from the extremity of their vessels, the juices with which they are nourished; they elaborate and assimilate them to their own substance: they are, therefore, organized and living beings, and consequently belong to the vegetable kingdom.
But whether they are real plants, or only the production of plants, is still a matter in dispute with the ablest naturalists. Some ancient authors have pretended to discover the seed of mushrooms; but the opinion was never generally received. Petronius, when he is laughing at the ridiculous magnificence of his hero Trimalcio, relates, that he had written to the Indies for the seed of morelle. These productions were generally attributed to the superfluous humidity of rotten wood, or other putrid substances. The opinion took its rise from observing that they grew most copiously in rainy weather. Such was the opinion of Trajus, king of Bauhin, and even of Columna, who, talking of thepeziza, says, that its substance was more solid and harder, because it did not originate from rotten wood, but from the pituita of the earth. It is not surprising, that, in times when the want of experiment and observation made people believe that insects could be generated by putrefaction, we should find the opinion general, that fungi owed their origin to the putrescence of bodies, or to a viscous humour analogous to putridity. Malpighi could not satisfy himself as to the existence of seeds, which other botanists have pretended to discover. He only says, that these plants must have them, or that they perpetuate themselves, and shoot by fragments. Micheli, among the moderns, appears to have employed himself most successfully on this subject. He imagined, that he not only saw the seeds, but even the stamina, as well as the little transparent bodies destined to favour the dissemination and fecundation of these seeds. Before this author, Lister thought heperceived seeds in theFungus perosus crassus magnusof John Bauhin: the little round bodies that are found in the pezizæ and belvellæ, at that time, passed for seeds; which did not appear at all probable to Marsigli, considering that the eye, when assisted with the very best microscopes, could perceive nothing similar in much larger fungi. Indeed, these bodies may be the capsules or covers of the seeds, if they are not the seeds themselves. However this may be, Marsigli, observing that fungi were often without roots or branches, and that they wanted flowers and seeds, the means which nature employs for the production of perfect plants, thought himself warranted in doubting whether these beings could be ranked in the number of vegetables. The doubts of Marsigli prompted him to observe the formation of fungi. Their matrix he calledsitus: he imagined they grew in places where they met with an unctuous matter, composed of oil mixed with nitrous salt, which, by fermentation, produced heat and moisture, and insinuated itself between the fibres of wood; that is, he imagined them the production of a viscous and putrescent humour. Lancisi, in like manner, considered fungi as owing their existence to the putrefaction of vegetables, and supposed them a disease in the plants; but he imagined “that the fibres of the trees were necessary to their production,” as is the case in the formation of galls; and compared them to the warts and other excrescences of the human body. He added, that such fungous vegetable tumors must necessarily assume various forms and figures, from the fluids which distend the tubes and vessels relaxed by putrescence, from the ductility of the fibres and their direction, and from the action of the air. This opinion has been refuted by the celebrated naturalist M. de Jussieu, in the Memoirs of the Academy of Sciences for 1728. He maintains, that the fungi have a great analogy with the lichen, which is allowed to be a vegetable; that, like the lichen, they are divested of stalks, branches, and leaves; that, like it, they grow and are nourished upon the trunks of trees, on pieces of rotten wood, and on all sorts of putrid vegetables; that they resemble the lichen too in the rapidity of their growth, and the facility with which many of them may be dried, and restored to their former figure upon being immersed in water; and lastly, that there is a great similarity in the manner in which their seeds are produced. He affirms, that only the warts and excrescences which grow on animal bodies, and the knots and other tumors that are to be found on trees, can be compared with each other; for they are composed equally of the solid and liquid substance of the plant or animal on which they grow; whereas, the matter of the fungi is not only quite distinct from that of the plants on which they are found, but often entirely similarto the substance of those that spring immediately from the earth.
The organization (says M. de Jussieu) which distinguishes plants and other productions of nature, is visible in the fungi, and the particular organization of each species is constant at all times, and in all places; a circumstance which could not happen, if there were not an animal reproduction of species, and consequently a multiplication and propagation by seed. This is not, he says, an imaginary supposition, for the seeds may be felt like meal upon mushrooms with gills, especially when they begin to decay; they may be seen with a magnifying glass, in those that have gills with black margins: and, lastly, says he, botanists can have no doubt that fungi are a distinct class of plants; because, by comparing the observations made in different countries, with the figures and descriptions of such as have been engraved, the same genera and the same species are every where found.
Notwithstanding this refutation by M. de Jussieu, another naturalist, M. de Necker, has lately maintained, in hisMycitologia, That the fungi ought to be excluded from the three kingdoms of nature, and be considered as intermediate beings. He has observed, like Marsigli, the matrix of the fungi; and has substituted the wordcarchte(initium faciens) instead ofsitus; imagining that the rudiment of the fungus cannot exist beyond that point in which the development of the filaments of fibrous roots is perceived. He allows, that fungi are nourished and grow like vegetables; but he thinks that they differ very much from them in respect of their origin, structure, nutrition, and rapidity of growth. He says, that the various vessels which compose the organization of vegetables, are not to be found in the fungi, and that they seem entirely composed of cellular substance and bark; so that this simple organization is nothing more than an aggregation of vessels endowed with a common nature, that suck up the moisture in the manner of a sponge; with this difference, that the moisture is assimilated into a part of the fungus, and not merely imbibed for nutrition.
Lastly, That the fructification, the only essential part of a vegetable, and which distinguishes it from all other organized bodies, being wanting, fungi cannot be considered as plants. This, he thinks, is confirmed by the constant observation of those people who gather the morelle and the mushroom, and who never find them in the same spots where they had formerly grown. As the generation of fungi (says M. Necker) is always performed when the parenchymatous cellular substance has changed its nature, form, and function, we must conclude that it is the degeneration of that part which produces these bodies.
But if fungi were owing merely to the degeneration of plants, they would be still better entitled to constitute a new kingdom. They would then be a decomposition, not a new formation, or new bodies. Besides, we cannot deny, that in those bodies which form the limit between the animal and vegetable kingdoms, the organization becomes simple, as the organs destined for nutrition are multiplied; but, as the last in the class of insects belongs to the animal kingdom, fungi ought, notwithstanding the simplicity of their organization, still to belong to the vegetable kingdom.
The parenchymatous, or cellular substance, which, as M. Bonnet says, is universally extended, embraces the whole fibrous system, and becomes the principal instrument of growth, must naturally be more abundant in those productions; and this accounts for the rapidity of their enlargement. Besides, growth, whether slow or rapid, never was employed to determine the presence or absence of the vegetable or animal character. Thedraba verma, which, in a few weeks, shoots, and puts forth its leaves, flowers, and fruit, is not less a plant than the palm. The insect that exists but for a day, is as much an animal, as the elephant that lives for centuries. As to the seeds of the fungi, it is probable that nature meant to withdraw from our eyes the dissemination of these plants, by making the seeds almost imperceptible; and it is likewise probable, that naturalists have seen nothing but their capsules. Since, however, from the imperfection of our senses, we are unable to perceive these seeds, because those bodies which have been called their seeds, and the fragments or cuttings of the plants themselves, have not produced others of the same species; Nature seems to have reserved for herself the care of disseminating certain plants: it is in vain, for instance, that the botanist sows the dust found in the capsules of the orchis, though every one allows it to be the seed.
But, after all, what are those parts in the fungi casually observed by naturalists, and which they have taken for the parts of fructification? These are quite distinct from the other parts; and whatever may be their use, they cannot have been formed by the prolongation of the cellular substance, or of the fibres of the tree on which the fungus grows: they are, therefore, owing, like flower and fruit, to the proper organization of the plant. The plants, however, have a particular existence, independent of their putrefying nidus. The gills of certain fungi, which differ essentially from the rest of the plant in their conformation, would be sufficient to authorize this latter opinion. But can putrefaction create an organic substance? Nature undoubtedly disseminates through the air, and over the surface of the earth, innumerable seeds of fungi, as well as eggs of insects. The plant and the animalare excluded, when the nidus, in which they are deposited, or the temperature, is favourable for their development. No fortuitous concourse, either of atoms or fluids, could produce bodies so exquisitely and so regularly organized. It is sufficient, to throw one’s eye on the beautiful plates which Schœffer has published of them, and compare them, by the glass, with the warts and other excrescences of animals, to be convinced that they have not the same origin. The function of the cellular substance in vegetables must be greatly superior to that in animals, if it could produce any thing but deformities. The greater part of fungi exhibit a configuration much too regular, constant, and uniform, to be the effect of chance or putrefaction. As this form is preserved the same in all places where fungi have been found, it follows, that they contain in themselves the principles of reproduction. They resemble the misletoe, and other parasitic plants, which are perfectly distinct from the trees on which they grow. The fungi, therefore, are organized and living substances,—or true plants.
CURIOSITIES RESPECTING STONES.
The Meteoric Stone—Labrador Stone—Asbestos—Mushroom Stone—The Changeable Stone—A Wonderful Diamond—A Singular Curiosity.
The Meteoric Stone—Labrador Stone—Asbestos—Mushroom Stone—The Changeable Stone—A Wonderful Diamond—A Singular Curiosity.
The Meteoric Stone.
The following description of a meteoric stone, which fell in the year 1511, is taken from a set of observations on natural history, meteorology, &c. made in the early part of the sixteenth century, by Andrea da Prato, of Milan. These have not been published; but various copies of them exist. They have been commented upon by Dr. Louis Rossi, in theGiomale di Fisica, Chemica, &c.from whence this description is taken.—“On the 4th of September, 1511, at the second hour of the night, and also at the seventh, there appeared in the air, at Milan, a running fire, with such splendour, that, the day seemed to have returned; and some persons beheld the appearance of a large head, which caused great wonder and fear in the city. The same thing happened on the following night at the ninth hour. A few days after, beyond the river Adela, there fell from heaven many stones,which being collected at Cremasco (Crema), were found to weigh eight, and even eleven pounds each. Their colour was similar to that of burnt stones.”—Dr. Bossi considers this as an authentic description of the fall of an aërolite.
The Labrador Stone, is a curious species of Feld-spar, or Rhombic Quartz, which exhibits all the colours of a peacock’s tail. It was discovered some years ago by the Moravians, who have a colony among the Esquimaux, in Labrador. It is found of a light or deep gray colour, but for the most part of a blackish gray. When held in the light in various positions, it discovers a diversity of colours, such as the blue of lapis lazuli, grass-green, apple-green, pea-green, and sometimes, but more seldom, a citron yellow. Sometimes it has a colour between that of red copper and tornbuck-gray; at other times the colours are between gray and violet. For the most part, these colours are in spots, but sometimes in stripes on the same piece. The stones are found in pretty large angular pieces, appear foliated when broken, and the fragments are of a rhomboidal figure.
We shall next introduceThe Asbestos.—This is a stone found in several places in Europe and Asia, and particularly in Sweden, Corsica, Cornwall, and the island of Anglesea in Wales. It is of a silky nature, very fine, and of a grayish colour, insipid, and indissoluble in water. It may be split into threads and filaments, from one to ten inches in length. It is indestructible by fire; whence it may be employed for many useful purposes. There are some sorts whose filaments are rigid and brittle, and others more flexible. The former cannot be spun into cloth, and the latter with difficulty. In consequence of its incombustibility, it was very much valued by the ancients for wrapping up the bodies of the dead. In the year 1702, an urn was discovered at Rome, with the bones of a human body wrapped in a cloth made of flexible asbestos. The method of preparing it is as follows: the stone is laid to soak in warm water, then opened and divided by the hands, that the earthy matter may be washed out. This earth is white like chalk, and makes the water thick and milky. This being several times repeated, the filaments are afterwards collected and dried: they are commodiously spun with flax. When the cloth is woven, it is best preserved by oil from breaking. It is then put into the fire; and the flax being burnt out, the cloth remains pure and white. It might also be made into paper; and, from its incombustibility, wills, or any other thing of importance, could be written on it. The Chinese make furnaces of this mineral, which are very portable.
The Mushroom Stone, or stone capable of producing mushrooms.—In the Ephemerides of the Curious mention is made, of a stone, so called by Dr. J. G. Wolckamerus, who saw one in Italy, which never ceases to produce, in a few days, mushrooms of an excellent flavour, by the most simple and easy process imaginable. “It is (says he) of the bigness of an ox’s head, rough and uneven on its surface, and on which are also perceived some clefts and crevices. It is black in some parts, and in others of a lighter and grayish colour. Internally it is porous, and nearly of the nature of pumice stone, but much heavier; and it contains a small piece of flint, which is so incorporated with it as to appear to have been formed at the same time the stone itself received its form. This gives room to judge, that these stones have been produced by a fat and viscid juice, which has the property of indurating whatever matter it filtrates into. The stone, when lightly covered with earth, and sprinkled with warm water, produces mushrooms of an exquisite flavour, which are usually round, sometimes oval, and whose borders, by their inflections and different curvities, represent in some measure human ears. The principal colour of these mushrooms is sometimes yellowish, and sometimes of a bright purple, but they are always diversified with spots of a deep orange colour, or reddish brown; and when these spots are recent, and still in full bloom, they produce a very agreeable effect to the sight. But what appears admirable is, that the part of the stalk which remains adhering to the stone when the mushroom has been separated from it, grows gradually hard, and petrifies in time; so that it seems that this fungus restores to the stone the nutritive juice it received from it, and that it thus contributes to its increase.” John Baptist Porta says, that this stone is found in several parts of Italy; and that it is not only to be met with at Naples, taken out of mount Vesuvius, but also on mount Pantherico, in the principality of Arellino; on mount Garganus, in Apulia; and on the summit of some other high mountains. As to the form of these mushrooms, their root is strong, uneven, divided according to its longitudinal direction, and composed of fibres as fine as hairs, interwoven one with another. Their form, on first shooting out, resembles a small bladder, scarcely larger than the bud of a vine; and if in this state they are squeezed between the fingers, an aqueous subacid liquor issues out. When at their full growth, their pedicle is of a finger’s length, larger at top than at bottom, and becomes insensibly slenderer in proportion as it is nearer the earth. These mushrooms are also formed in an umbrella shape, and variegated with an infinity of little specks, situated very near one another. They are smooth and even on the upper part, but underneath leafy, like the common mushrooms. Theirtaste is likewise very agreeable, and the sick are not debarred from eating them when dressed in a proper manner.—Some naturalists and physicians submitted these stones to chemical analysis, in order to be more competent judges of the uses they might be put to in medicine; when there first came forth, by distillation, an insipid water, and afterwards a spirituous liquor. The retort having been heated to a certain point, there arose an oil, which had nearly the smell and taste of that of guaiacum; and a very acid salt was extracted from the ashes.
We must not omitThe Changeable Stone.—There are three of these remarkable stones in the British Museum; the largest of them about the size of a cherry-stone, but of an oval form. It is opaque, and coloured like a common yellow pea; it may be scratched, though not without difficulty, by a common knife, notwithstanding which, it seems to leave a mark upon glass. It does not ferment with nitrous acid. When it has lain some hours in water, it becomes transparent, and of a yellow amber colour. The change begins soon after the immersion, and at one end, in form of a little shot; but in a small one of the same kind, the transparency begins round the edges. By degrees the spot increases, until the whole stone becomes uniformly clear throughout: when out of the water it loses its transparency, first at one end, and then gradually over the remainder, until the whole has become opaque, which change happens in less than it takes to become transparent. This change is not entirely peculiar to the hydrophanes. Bergman informs us, that some steatites produce the same effect; and M. Magellan, that the crust of chalcedonies and agates frequently produce the same appearance. Messrs. Buckman and Veltheim were the first who particularly inquired into the nature of this stone, and investigated its properties. Their account is as follows:—“As soon as the stone is put into water, it exhales a musty smell, several air-bubbles arise, and it becomes gradually transparent. Some of the stones become colourless as soon as they are thoroughly transparent; others have a more or less deep yellow colour, some acquire a beautiful ruby colour; and others gain a fine colour of mother-of-pearl, or of a bluish opal. Whatever be the colour of the liquor in which the hydrophanes is immersed, it gains only its usual degree of transparency with the colour peculiar to it. When we look at it in its moist state, we perceive a luminous point, varying its situation as the position of the eye is altered.” This luminous point is not, according to Mr. Bruckman, the immediate image of the sun, but a reflection of that image refracted in the substance of the stone itself; a phenomenon which probably gave rise to its name ofOculus Mundi. Mr. Bruckman left a piece of this stone, weighing 35 grains, seven hours in water, the space requisite to make it perfectly transparent; and in that time he found that it had gained three grains in weight. The hydrophanes becomes much sooner transparent when put into hot water; and the same happens if it be dipped in a very dilute acid, or rather a very dilute solution of alkali. When dipped in oil of vitriol, it becomes very quickly transparent, and will continue so on account of the strong attraction of that acid for moisture, which takes as much from the atmosphere as is necessary to keep the stone transparent; but its opacity will return, if it be dipped in an alkaline liquor, and then dried.
An account of aWonderful Diamond, in the Island of Bornou.—The rajah of Mathan possesses the finest and largest diamond in the world, that has hitherto been discovered. This diamond, which is said to be of the finest water, weighs 367 carats. The celebrated Pitt diamond weighs only 127 carats. The Mathan diamond is shaped like an egg, with an indented hollow near the smaller end. It was discovered at Landak, about ninety years ago; and though the possession of it has occasioned numerous wars, it has been about eighty years in the possession of the Mathan family. Many years ago, the governor of Batavia sent a Mr. Stuvart to ascertain the weight, quality, and value of this diamond, and to endeavour to purchase it; and in his mission, he was accompanied by the sultan of Pontiana. After examining it, Mr. Stuvart offered 150,000 dollars for the diamond, the sum to which he was limited; and, in addition to this sum, two war-brigs, with their guns and ammunition, together with a certain number of great guns, and a quantity of powder and shot. The rajah, however, refused to deprive his family of so valuable an hereditary possession, to which the Malays attach the miraculous power of curing all kinds of diseases, by means of the water in which it is dipped, and with which they imagine the fortune of the family is connected.
We shall close our department of remarkable Stones, with the following account ofA Singular Curiosity.—Mr. Sloughton, the Spanish Consul at Boston, in North America, has in his possession a flint pebble, obtained amongst ballast stone, thrown from a vessel at an eastern port. When broken, it presented two half heads in profile; all the outlines of feature and hair were perfectly distinct, and the heads were of a darker colour than the rest of the stone. What is most surprising is, that the one face was male and the other female; and even the putting up of the hair was appropriate to the sexes: they were situated, in the stone, face to face.
CURIOSITIES RESPECTING MOUNTAINS.
Natural Description of Mountains—The Peak in Derbyshire—Snowden in Wales—Skiddaw in Cumberland.
Natural Description of Mountains—The Peak in Derbyshire—Snowden in Wales—Skiddaw in Cumberland.
Natural Description Of Mountains.
Almost all the tops of the highest mountains are bare and pointed; which proceeds from their being continually assaulted by storms and tempests. All the earthy substances with which they might have been once covered, have for ages been washed away from their summits; and nothing is left but immense rocks, which no tempest has hitherto been able to destroy. Nevertheless, time is every day making depredations, and huge fragments are seen tumbling down the precipices, either loosened from their summits by the rains and frost, or struck down by lightning. Nothing can exhibit a more terrible picture than one of these enormous masses, commonly larger than a house, falling from its height, and rolling down the side of the mountain with a noise louder than thunder. Dr. Plot tells us of one in particular, which being loosened from its bed, rolled down the precipice, and was partly shattered into a thousand pieces. One of the largest fragments, however, still preserving its motion, travelled over the plain below, crossed a rivulet in the midst, and at last stopped on the other side of the bank! These fragments are often struck off by lightning, and sometimes undermined by rains; but the most usual manner in which they are disunited from the mountain is by frost: the rains first insinuate and find their way between the interstices of the mountain, and continue there until by the intense cold they are converted into ice, when the water swells with an irresistible force, and produces the same effect as gunpowder, splitting the most solid rocks, and thus shattering their summits. Sometimes whole mountains are, by various causes, disunited from each other. In many parts of the Alps, there are amazing clefts, the sides of which so exactly correspond with the opposite, that no doubt can be entertained of their having been once joined. At Cajeta, in Italy, a mountain was split in this manner by an earthquake; and there is a passage opened through it, that appears as if done by the industry of man.
In the Andes these breaches are often seen. That at Thermopylæ in Greece has been long famous. The mountain of the Troglodytes in Arabia has thus a passage through it; and that in the late duchy of Savoy, which Nature began, and which Victor Amadeus completed, is an instance of the same kind. “In June, 1714, a part of the mountain of Diableret, in the district of Valais, in France, suddenly fell down, between two and threeP. M.the weather being very calm and serene. This mountain, which was of a conical figure, destroyed fifty-five cottages in its fall. Fifteen persons, with about one hundred beasts, were also crushed beneath its ruins, which covered an extent of ground of a league square. The dust it occasioned instantly enveloped all the neighbourhood in darkness. The heaps of rubbish were more than three hundred feet high. They stopped the current of a river that ran along the plain, which now is formed into several new and deep lakes. There appeared, through the whole of this rubbish, none of those substances that seemed to indicate that this catastrophe had been occasioned by means of subterraneous fires. Most probably, the base of this rocky mountain had been decomposing through the lapse of many ages, and thus fell without any extraneous violence.”
In 1618, the town of Fleurs, in France, was buried beneath a rocky mountain, at the foot of which it was situated. Such accidents are produced by various causes: by earthquakes; by being decayed at the bottom; or by the foundation of one part of the mountain being hollowed by waters, and, thus wanting a support, breaking from the other. Thus it generally has been found in the great chasms in the Alps; and it is almost always the case in those disruptions of hills, called land-slips: these are nothing more than the sliding down of a higher piece of ground, driven from its situation by subterraneous inundations, and settling upon the plain below. There is not an appearance in nature that so much astonished our ancestors as these land-slips. To behold a large upland, with its houses, corn, and cattle, at once loosened from its place, and floating as it were upon the subjacent water,—to see it quitting its ancient situation, and sailing forward like a ship,—is certainly one of the most extraordinary appearances that can be imagined, and, to a people ignorant of the powers of nature, might well be considered as a prodigy. Accordingly, we find all our old historians mentioning it as an omen of approaching calamities. In this more enlightened age, however, its cause is well known; and, instead of exciting ominous apprehensions in the populace, it only gives rise to some very ridiculous law-suits among the several claimants, whose the property thus divided from its kindred soil shall be; whether the land shall belong to the originalpossessor, or to him upon whose grounds it has encroached and settled.
In the lands of Hatberg, in Ireland, there stood a declivity gradually ascending for nearly half a mile. On the 10th of March, 1713, the inhabitants perceived a crack on its side, like a furrow made with a plough, which they imputed to the effects of lightning, as there had been a thunder-storm the night before. However, on the evening of the same day, they were surprised to hear a hideous confused noise issuing all around from the side of the hill; and their curiosity being awakened, they resorted to the place. There, to their amazement, they found an extent of ground, of nearly five acres, all in gentle motion, and sliding down the hill upon the subjacent plain. This motion, together with the noise, continued the remaining part of the day, and the whole of the following night; the noise proceeding, probably, from the attrition of the ground beneath. The day following, this strange journey down the hill ceased; and above an acre of the meadow below was found covered with what before composed a part of the declivity. But such tremendous land-slips, when a whole mountain’s side descends, happen very rarely.
There are some of another kind, however, much more common; and as they are always sudden, much more dangerous. These are snow-slips, or avalanches, well known, and greatly dreaded by travellers. They are justly described in the following beautiful lines of one of our poets:—
By an hundred winters piled,Where the glaciers, dark with death,Hang o’er precipices wild,Hang suspended by a breath.If a pulse but throb alarm,Headlong down the steeps they fall;For a pulse will break the charm,Bounding, bursting, burying all.
It often happens, that when snow has long been accumulated on the tops and on the sides of mountains, it is borne down the precipice either by tempests, or by its own melting. At first, when loosened, the volume in motion is but small, but it gathers as it continues to roll; and by the time it has reached the habitable parts of the mountain, it is generally grown to an enormous bulk. Wherever it rolls, it levels all things in its way, or buries them in unavoidable destruction. Instead of rolling, it sometimes is found to slide along from the top; yet even thus, it is generally fatal. Nevertheless, we had an instance a few years ago, of a small family in Germany, that lived for above a fortnight under one of these snow-slips. Although they were buried during the whole ofthat time in utter darkness, and under a bed of some hundreds of feet deep, yet they were providentially taken out alive; the weight of the snow being supported by a beam that kept up the roof, and nourishment supplied to them by the milk of a she-goat, that was buried under the same ruin.
A Description of the Peak in Derbyshire, from Moritz’s Travels in several parts of England.
Having arrived in Derbyshire, a distance of 170 miles from London, the author thus describes the town of Castleton, in which the Peak is situated:—
“I ascended one of the highest hills, and all at once perceived a beautiful vale below me, which was traversed by rivers and brooks, and inclosed on all sides by hills. In this vale lies Castleton, a small town, with low houses; so named from an old castle, whose ruins are still to be seen here.
“A narrow path, which wound itself down the side of the rock, led me through the vale into the street of Castleton, where I found an inn, and dined. After dinner, I made the best of my way to the cavern.
“A little rivulet, which runs through the middle of the town, led me to its entrance.
“I stood here a few moments, full of wonder and astonishment at the amazing height of the steep rock before me, covered on each side with ivy and other shrubs. At its summit are the decayed walls and towers of an ancient castle, which formerly stood on this rock; and at its foot the monstrous aperture, or mouth to the entrance of the cavern; where it is totally dark, even at mid-day.
“As I was standing here full of admiration, I perceived at the entrance of the cavern, a man of a rude and rough appearance, who asked me if I washed to see the Peak; and an echo strongly reverberated his coarse voice.
“Answering him in the affirmative, he next inquired if I should want to be carried to the other side of the stream; telling me at the same time what the sum would be which I must pay for it.
“This man had, along with his black stringy hair, and his dirty and tattered clothes, such a singularly wild and infernal look, that he actually struck me as a real Charon: his voice, and the questions he asked me, were not of a kind to remove this notion; so that far from its requiring any effort of imagination, I found it not easy to avoid believing, that at length I had actually reached Avernus,—was about to cross Acheron,—and to be ferried by Charon!
“I had no sooner agreed to his demand, than he told me, all I had to do was boldly to follow him,—and thus we entered the cavern.
“In the entrance of the cavern lay the trunk of a tree that had been cut down, on which several of the boys of the town were playing.
“Our way seemed to be altogether on a descent, though not steep; so that the light, which came in at the mouth of the cavern near the entrance, gradually forsook it; and when we had gone forward a few steps farther, I was astonished by a sight, which, of all others, I here the least expected: I perceived to the right, in the hollow of the cavern, a whole subterranean village, where the inhabitants, on account of its being Sunday, were resting from their work, and with happy and cheerful looks were sitting at the doors of their huts along with their children.
“We had scarcely passed these small subterranean houses, when I perceived a number of large wheels, on which on weekdays these human moles, the inhabitants of the cavern, made ropes.
“I fancied I here saw the wheel of Ixion, and the incessant labour of the Danaïdes.
“The opening through which the light came, seemed, as we descended, every moment to become less and less, and the darkness at every step to increase, till at length only a few rays appeared, as if darting through a crevice, and just tingeing the small clouds of smoke which at dusk raised themselves to the mouth of the cavern.
“This gradual increase of darkness awakens in a contemplative mind a soft melancholy. As you go down the gentle descent of the cavern, you can hardly help fancying the moment is come when you are about to bid a final farewell to the abodes of mortals.
“At length the great cavern in the rock closed itself, in the same manner as heaven and earth seem to join in the horizon. We then approached a little door, where an old woman came out of one of the huts, and brought two candles, of which we each took one.
“My guide now opened the door, which completely shut out the faint glimmering of daylight, which till then it was still possible to perceive, and led us to the inmost centre of this dreary temple of old Chaos and Night, as if till now we had only been traversing the outer coasts of their dominions. The rock was here so low that we were obliged to stoop very much for some few steps, in order to get through; but how great was my astonishment, when we had passed this narrow passage, and again stood upright, at once to perceive, as well as the feeble light of the candles would permit, the amazing length, breadth, and height of the cavern, compared to which, the monstrous opening through which we had already passed was nothing.
“After we had wandered here more than an hour, as beneath a dark and dusky sky, on a level sandy soil, the rock gradually lowered itself, and we suddenly found ourselves on the edge of a broad river, which, from the glimmering of our candles amid the total darkness, suggested a variety of interesting reflections. To the side of this river a small boat was moored, with some straw in its bottom. Into this vehicle my guide desired me to step, and lay myself down in it quite flat, because, as he said, towards the middle of the river the rock would almost touch the water.
“When I had laid myself down as directed, he himself jumped into the water, and drew the boat after him. All around us was one still, solemn, and deadly silence; and as the boat advanced, the rock seemed to stoop, and come nearer and nearer to us, till at length it nearly touched my face; and, as I lay, I could hardly hold the candle upright. I seemed to myself to be in a coffin rather than in a boat, as I had no room to stir hand or foot till we had passed this frightful strait, and the rock rose again on the other side,—where my guide once more handed me ashore.
“The cavern was now become all at once broad and high, and then suddenly it was again low and narrow. I observed on both sides, as we passed along, a prodigious number of great and small petrified plants and animals; but these we could not examine, unless we had been disposed to spend some days in the cavern.
“And thus we arrived at the opposite side, at the second river or stream, which, however, was not so broad as the first, as one may see across it to the other side: over this stream my guide carried me on his shoulders, because there was here no boat to ferry us.
“From thence we only went a few steps farther, when we came to a very small piece of water, which extended itself lengthways, and led us to the end of the cavern.
“The path along the edge of this water was wet and slippery, and sometimes so very narrow that I could hardly set one foot before the other.
“Notwithstanding, I wandered with pleasure on this subterraneous shore, and was regaling myself with the interesting contemplation of all these various wonderful objects, in this land of darkness, and shadow of death,—when, all at once, something like music at a distance sounded in my ears. I instantly stopped, full of astonishment, and eagerly asked my guide what this might mean. He answered, “Only have patience, and you shall soon see.” But as we advanced, the sounds of harmony seemed to die away, the noise became weaker, and at length it appeared to dwindle into a gentle hissing or hum, like distant drops of falling rain.
“It is not difficult to imagine how great was my wonder, when ere long I actually saw and felt a violent shower of rain falling from the rock as from a thick cloud, threatening to extinguish our candles, and leave us in entire darkness. It was this that had caused the melancholy sound which I had heard at a distance, the soft notes of which had been assisted by the distant echo.
“To this shower which fell from the ceiling or roof of the cavern through the veins of the rock, the inhabitants had given the name of a mizzling rain.
“We continued our march along the sides of the water, and often saw on its banks large apertures of the rock, which seemed to be new or subordinate caverns, all of which we passed without looking into. At length my guide prepared me for one of the finest sights we had yet beheld, and which was now soon to burst on our view.
“We had gone but a few paces farther, when we entered what might easily be taken for a majestic temple, with lofty arches, supported by beautiful pillars, formed by the plastic hand of some ingenious artist.
“This subterraneous temple, in the structure of which no human hand had borne a part, appeared to me at that moment to surpass all the most stupendous buildings I had ever seen, in point of regularity, magnificence, and beauty.
“Deeply impressed with awe and reverence at this grand display of the Creator’s works, my mind became insensibly solemnized; and I felt that it became me silently to adore the Author of all, and acknowledge the hand of the divine Architect.”
From the Peak in Derbyshire, we shall conduct our reader toSnowden in Wales; to the top of which Miss Elizabeth Smith, a young lady of uncommon attainments, made an excursion, and published an account of her adventure, in nearly the following language.
“Snowden is the loftiest of the Welsh mountains, being 3020 feet above the level of the sea.
“We set off, about eleven at night, for the foot of Snowden, and travelled eight miles through a fine mountainous country, by moon-light. Before one, we arrived at a little hut where the guide lives; and after having him called up, and loaded with a basket of bread and milk, and a tin box for specimens, we began our march at a quarter past one. The clouds were gathering over the mountains, and threatening us with either darkness or rain. We however escaped both, and were only amused with every variety they could give the landscape, by hiding or obscuring the moon, and blotting out now one mountain, and now another, from our view; till about two o’clock,when the dawn began to appear, they covered the moon, and we saw her no more. We proceeded by a very easy ascent over boggy ground till half past two, when, coming suddenly to the top of the first range of hills, and meeting with a violent wind which blew from the quarter where the sun was to rise, (for we ascended the mountain on the south west,) Mrs. G. S. was frightened, and seeing a very steep ascent before her, said she would sit down and wait our return. My mother said she would stay with her, and I proposed our all going back together; but my mother very kindly insisted on my proceeding. We therefore divided our provisions; the ladies returned to the hut from which they had set out, and I went on with the guide, who could not speak a word of English. We steered our course more towards the south, and toiled up several mountains, in some parts covered with loose stones, which had fallen from their broken summits, but in general overgrown with different sorts of moss, and a kind of short grass, mixed with immense quantities of thegalium pusillum. I picked up a few other plants, but on the whole was disappointed in the botanical way, as I found very little that I had not before met with on the mountains in this neighbourhood; however, this is not the time of the year (July) for mountain curiosities. I went on as fast as I could, without stopping, except now and then for a moment to look down on the mountains under my feet, as clouds passed over them, thinking each summit I saw before me was the last, and unable to gain any information from my guide to satisfy my impatience, for I wished to be at the top before sun-rise, and pink clouds now began to appear over the steep I was climbing. I also knew that the ladies would be very impatient for my return; nor was I without anxiety on their account, as I was not sure they would find their way back to the hut. These ideas occupied my mind all the way up; and if that deceitful, but comforting lady, Hope, had not continually presented to me the range of hills I was ascending as the last step in ambition’s ladder, I am not sure that, with all my eagerness to get on the top, I should not have returned back.
“I was debating this point very earnestly with myself, in ascending an almost perpendicular green slope, when, on a sudden, I saw at my feet an immense chasm, all in darkness, and of a depth I cannot guess, certainly not less than a hundred feet; I should suppose much more. It answers in some respects to the idea I have formed of the crater of a violent valcano, but evidently is not that, as there is no mark of fire, the rock being composed, as it is in general throughout this country, of a sort of slate. Nor does the mountain appear to have been thrown down, but the pit to have sunk in; which must probably has been occasioned by subterranean waters,as there is water at the bottom of the pit, and the mountain is full of springs. You think now you are at the top, but you are mistaken. I am standing indeed at the top of the abyss, but with a high rocky peak on each side of me, and descending almost perpendicularly into the lake at the bottom. I have been taking a rough sketch of one of these peaks, with the lake in the deepest shadow; I am turning over my paper, which the wind renders very difficult, in order to draw another; I look up, and the upper part illuminated by a beautiful rose-coloured light, while the opposite part still casts a dark shade over its base, and conceals the sun from my view. If I were ready to jump into the pit with delight at first seeing it, my ecstasy now was still greater. The guide seemed quite delighted to see me so much pleased, and took care, in descending, to lead me to the edge of every precipice, which he had not done in going up. I, however, presently recollected, that I was in a great hurry to get back, and set off along the brink of the cavity for the highest peak, where I arrived at a quarter past four, and saw a view, of which it is impossible to form any idea from description. For many miles around, it was composed of tops of high mountains, of all the various forms that can be imagined: some appeared swimming in an ocean of vapour; on others, the clouds lay like a cap of snow, appearing as soft as down. They were all far below Snowden, and I was enjoying the finest blue sky, and the purest air I ever breathed. The whole prospect was bounded by the sea, except to the east and south-east, and the greatest part of the lands in those parts were blotted out by clouds. The sun, however, rose so far toward the north-east, as to be still hanging over the sea. I took a sketch of a small part of the mountains, with some of the little lakes which appear at their feet,—sat down, for the first time, on a circle of stones which is built on the top of the hill,—and made great havock in the bread and milk, in which achievement the guide equalled, if not surpassed me,—and at half past four, almost frozen, I began to descend. My anxiety about my friends increased, as I came near the spot where I had left them; I made all possible haste, and found them safe in the hut, at ten minutes past six. It certainly would have been pleasanter to have had more time, and some one to enjoy the expedition with me; but I am delighted that I have been, and would not for any thing give up the recollection of the sublime scene.”
We shall close this chapter with an account ofSkiddaw.—This is a mountain of England, in Cumberland, one of the most remarkable in the kingdom, being above 3000 feet in perpendicular height, from the surface of the Derwent-water,which lake is far distant from the sea, and high above its level from this circumstance. Skiddaw is reckoned the highest mountain in England. The prospect from its top is very extensive, and, being detached from other mountains, forms a grand object from various points of view. It is easy of access, and the sides are covered with grass. At the top, the atmosphere is uncommonly rare. It is covered with loose brown slate-stone.
CURIOSITIES RESPECTING MOUNTAINS.—(Continued.)