Part 10

This millstone grit is a new and a very remarkable element in our strange story. From Derby to Northumberland it forms vast and lofty moors, capping, as at Whernside and Penygent, the highest limestone hills with its hard, rough, barren, and unfossiliferous strata. Wherever it is found, it lies on the top of the "mountain," or carboniferous limestone. Almost everywhere, where coal is found in England, it lies on the millstone grit. I speak roughly, for fear of confusing my readers with details. The three deposits pass more or less, in many places, into each other: but always in the order of mountain limestone below, millstone grit on it, and coal on that again.

Now what does its presence prove? What but this? That after the great coral reefs which spread over Somersetshire and South Wales, around the present estuary of the Severn,--and those, once perhaps joined to them, which spread from Derby to Berwick, with a western branch through North-east Wales,--were laid down--after all this, I say, some change took place in the sea-bottom, and brought down on the reefs of coral sheets of sand, which killed the corals and buried them in grit. Does any reader wish for proof of this? Let him examine the "cherty," or flinty, beds which so often appear where the bottom of the millstone grit is passing into the top of the mountain limestone--the beds, to give an instance, which are now quarried on the top of the Halkin Mountain in Flintshire, for chert, which is sent to Staffordshire to be ground down for the manufacture of china. He will find layers in those beds, of several feet in thickness, as hard as flint, but as porous as sponge. On examining their cavities he will find them to be simply hollow casts of innumerable joints of Crinoids, so exquisitely preserved, even to their most delicate markings, that it is plain they were never washed about upon a beach, but have grown where, or nearly where, they lie. What then, has happened to them? They have been killed by the sand. The soft parts of the animals have decayed, letting the 140,000 joints (more or less) belonging to each animal fall into a heap, and be imbedded in the growing sand-rock; and then, it may be long years after, water filtering through the porous sand has removed the lime of which the joints were made, and left their perfect casts behind.

So much for the millstone grits. How long the deposition of sand went on, how long after it that second deposition of sands took place, which goes by the name of the "gannister," or lower coal- measures, we cannot tell. But it is clear, at least, that parts of that ancient sea were filling up and becoming dry land. For coal, or fossilised vegetable matter, becomes more and more common as we ascend in the series of beds; till at last, in the upper coal- measures, the enormous wealth of vegetation which grew, much of it, where it is now found, prove the existence of some such sheets of fertile and forest-clad lowland as I described in my last paper.

Thousands of feet of rich coral reef; thousands of feet of barren sands; then thousands of feet of rich alluvial forest--and all these sliding into each other, if not in one place, then in another, without violent break or change; this is the story which the lime in the mortar and the coal on the fire, between the two, reveal.

VI. THE SLATES ON THE ROOF

The slates on the roof should be, when rightly understood, a pleasant subject for contemplation to the dweller in a town. I do not ask him to imitate the boy who, cliff-bred from his youth, used to spend stolen hours on the house-top, with his back against a chimney-stalk, transfiguring in his imagination the roof-slopes into mountain-sides, the slates into sheets of rock, the cats into lions, and the sparrows into eagles. I only wish that he should--at least after reading this paper--let the slates on the roof carry him back in fancy to the mountains whence they came; perhaps to pleasant trips to the lakes and hills of Cumberland, Westmoreland, and North Wales; and to recognise--as he will do if he have intellect as well as fancy--how beautiful and how curious an object is a common slate.

Beautiful, not only for the compactness and delicacy of its texture, and for the regularity and smoothness of its surface, but still more for its colour. Whether merely warm grey, as when dry, or bright purple, as when wet, the colour of the English slate well justifies Mr. Ruskin's saying, that wherever there is a brick wall and a slate roof there need be no want of rich colour in an English landscape. But most beautiful is the hue of slate, when, shining wet in the sunshine after a summer shower, its blue is brought out in rich contrast by golden spots of circular lichen, whose spores, I presume, have travelled with it off its native mountains. Then, indeed, it reminds the voyager of a sight which it almost rivals in brilliancy-- of the sapphire of the deep ocean, brought out into blazing intensity by the contrast of the golden patches of floating gulf-weed beneath the tropic sun.

Beautiful, I say, is the slate; and curious likewise, nay, venerable; a most ancient and elaborate work of God, which has lasted long enough, and endured enough likewise, to bring out in it whatsoever latent capabilities of strength and usefulness might lie hid in it; which has literally been--as far as such words can apply to a thing inanimate--

Heated hot with burning fears, And bathed in baths of hissing tears, And battered by the strokes of doom To shape and use.

And yet it was at first naught but an ugly lump of soft and shapeless ooze.

Therefore, the slates to me are as a parable, on which I will not enlarge, but will leave each reader to interpret it for himself. I shall confine myself now to proofs that slate is hardened mud, and to hints as to how it assumed its present form.

That slate may have been once mud, is made probable by the simple fact that it can be turned into mud again. If you grind tip slate, and then analyse it, you will find its mineral constituents to be exactly those of a fine, rich, and tenacious clay. The slate districts (at least in Snowdon) carry such a rich clay on them, wherever it is not masked by the ruins of other rocks. At Ilfracombe, in North Devon, the passage from slate below to clay above, may be clearly seen. Wherever the top of the slate beds, and the soil upon it, is laid bare, the black layers of slate may be seen gradually melting--if I may use the word--under the influence of rain and frost, into a rich tenacious clay, which is now not black, like its parent slate, but red, from the oxidation of the iron which it contains.

But, granting this, how did the first change take place?

It must be allowed, at starting, that time enough has elapsed, and events enough have happened, since our supposed mud began first to become slate, to allow of many and strange transformations. For these slates are found in the oldest beds of rocks, save one series, in the known world; and it is notorious that the older and lower the beds in which the slates are found, the better, that is, the more perfectly elaborate, is the slate. The best slates of Snowdon--I must confine myself to the district which I know personally--are found in the so-called "Cambrian" beds. Below these beds but one series of beds is as yet known in the world, called the "Laurentian." They occur, to a thickness of some eighty thousand feet, in Labrador, Canada, and the Adirondack mountains of New York: but their representatives in Europe are, as far as is known only to be found in the north-west highlands of Scotland, and in the island of Lewis, which consists entirely of them. And it is to be remembered, as a proof of their inconceivable antiquity, that they have been upheaved and shifted long before the Cambrian rocks were laid down "unconformably" on their worn and broken edges.

Above the "Cambrian" slates--whether the lower and older ones of Penrhyn and Llanberris, which are the same--one slate mountain being worked at both sides in two opposite valleys--or the upper and newer slates of Tremadoc, lie other and newer slate-bearing beds of inferior quality, and belonging to a yet newer world, the "Silurian." To them belong the Llandeilo flags and slates of Wales, and the Skiddaw slates of Cumberland, amid beds abounding in extinct fossil forms. Fossil shells are found, it is true, in the upper Cambrian beds. In the lower they have all but disappeared. Whether their traces have been obliterated by heat and pressure, and chemical

## action, during long ages; or whether, in these lower beds, we are

actually reaching that "Primordial Zone" conceived of by M. Barrande, namely, rocks which existed before living things had begun to people this planet, is a question not yet answered. I believe the former theory to be the true one. That there was life, in the sea at least, even before the oldest Cambrian rocks were laid down, is proved by the discovery of the now famous fossil, the Eozoon, in the Laurentian limestones, which seems to have grown layer after layer, and to have formed reefs of limestone as do the living coral-building polypes. We know no more as yet. But all that we do know points downwards, downwards still, warning us that we must dig deeper than we have dug as yet, before we reach the graves of the first living things.

Let this suffice at present for the Cambrian and Laurentian rocks.

The Silurian rocks, lower and upper, which in these islands have their chief development in Wales, and which are nearly thirty-eight thousand feet thick; and the Devonian or Old Red sandstone beds, which in the Fans of Brecon and Carmarthenshire attain a thickness of ten thousand feet, must be passed through in an upward direction before we reach the bottom of that Carboniferous Limestone of which I spoke in my last paper. We thus find on the Cambrian rocks forty- five thousand feet at least of newer rocks, in several cases lying unconformably on each other, showing thereby that the lower beds had been upheaved, and their edges worn off on a sea-shore, ere the upper were laid down on them; and throughout this vast thickness of rocks, the remains of hundreds of forms of animals, corals, shells, fish, older forms dying out in the newer rocks, and new ones taking their places in a steady succession of ever-varying forms, till those in the upper beds have become unlike those in the lower, and all are from the beginning more or less unlike any existing now on earth. Whole families, indeed, disappear entirely, like the Trilobites, which seem to have swarmed in the Silurian seas, holding the same place there as crabs and shrimps do in our modern seas. They vanish after the period of the coal, and their place is taken by an allied family of Crustaceans, of which only one form (as far as I am aware) lingers now on earth, namely, the "King Crab," or Limulus, of the Indian Seas, a well-known animal, of which specimens may sometimes be seen alive in English aquaria. So perished in the lapse of those same ages, the armour-plated or "Ganoid" fish which Hugh Miller made so justly famous--and which made him so justly famous in return-- appearing first in the upper Silurian beds, and abounding in vast variety of strange forms in the old Red Sandstone, but gradually disappearing from the waters of the world, till their only representatives, as far as known, are the Lepidostei, or "Bony Pikes," of North America; the Polypteri of the Nile and Senegal; the Lepidosirens of the African lakes and Western rivers; the Ceratodus or Barramundi of Queensland (the two latter of which approach Amphibians), and one or two more fantastic forms, either rudimentary or degraded, which have lasted on here and there in isolated stations through long ages, comparatively unchanged while all the world is changed around them, and their own kindred, buried like the fossil Ceratodus of the Trias beneath thousands of feet of ancient rock, among creatures the likes whereof are not to be found now on earth. And these are but two examples out of hundreds of the vast changes which have taken place in the animal life of the globe, between the laying down of the Cambrian slates and the present time.

Surely--and it is to this conclusion I have been tending throughout a seemingly wandering paragraph--surely there has been time enough during all those ages for clay to change into slate.

And how were they changed?

I think I cannot teach my readers this more simply than by asking them first to buy Sheet No. LXXVIII. S.E. (Bangor) of the Snowdon district of the Government Geological Survey, which may be ordered at any good stationer's, price 3s.; and study it with me. He will see down the right-hand margin interpretations of the different colours which mark the different beds, beginning with the youngest (alluvium) atop, and going down through Carboniferous Limestone and Sandstone, Upper Silurian, Lower Silurian, Cambrian, and below them certain rocks marked of different shades of red, which signify rocks either altered by heat, or poured out of old volcanic vents. He will next see that the map is covered with a labyrinth of red patches and curved lines, signifying the outcrop or appearance at the surface of these volcanic beds. They lie at every conceivable slope; and the hills and valleys have been scooped out by rain and ice into every conceivable slope likewise. Wherefore we see, here a broad patch of red, where the back of a sheet of Lava, Porphyry, Greenstone, or what not is exposed; there a narrow line curving often with the curve of the hill-side, where only the edge of a similar sheet is exposed; and every possible variety of shape and attitude between these two. He will see also large spaces covered with little coloured dots, which signify (as he will find at the margin) beds of volcanic ash. If he look below the little coloured squares on the margin, he will see figures marking the strike, or direction of the inclination of the beds--inclined, vertical, horizontal, contorted; that the white lines in the map signify faults, i.e. shifts in the strata; the gold lines, lodes of metal--the latter of which I should advise him strongly, in this district at least, not to meddle with: but to button up his pockets, and to put into the fire, in wholesome fear of his own weakness and ignorance, any puffs of mining companies which may be sent him--as one or two have probably been sent him already.

Furnished with which keys to the map, let him begin to con it over, sure that there is if not an order, still a grand meaning in all its seeming confusion; and let him, if he be a courteous and grateful person, return due thanks to Professor Ramsay for having found it all out; not without wondering, as I have often wondered, how even Professor Ramsay's acuteness and industry could find it all out.

When my reader has studied awhile the confusion--for it is a true confusion--of the different beds, he will ask, or at least have a right to ask, what known process of nature can have produced it? How have these various volcanic rocks, which he sees marked as Felspathic Traps, Quartz Porphyries, Greenstones, and so forth, got intermingled with beds which he is told to believe are volcanic ashes, and those again with fossil-bearing Silurian beds and Cambrian slates, which he is told to believe were deposited under water? And his puzzle will not be lessened when he is told that, in some cases, as in that of the summit of Snowdon, these very volcanic ashes contain fossil shells.

The best answer I can give is to ask him to use his imagination, or his common sense; and to picture to himself what must go on in the case of a submarine eruption, such as broke out off the coast of Iceland in 1783 and 1830, off the Azores in 1811, and in our day in more than one spot in the Pacific Ocean.

A main bore or vent--or more than one--opens itself between the bottom of the sea and the nether fires. From each rushes an enormous jet of high-pressure steam and other gases, which boils up through the sea, and forms a cloud above; that cloud descends again in heavy rain, and gives out often true lightning from its under side.

But it does more. It acts as a true steam-gun, hurling into the air fragments of cold rock rasped off from the sides of the bore, and fragments also of melted lava, and clouds of dust, which fall again into the sea, and form there beds either of fine mud or of breccia-- that is, fragments of stone embedded in paste. This, the reader will understand, is no fancy sketch, as far as I am concerned. I have steamed into craters sawn through by the sea, and showing sections of beds of ash dipping outwards and under the sea, and in them boulders and pebbles of every size, which had been hurled out of the crater; and in them also veins of hardened lava, which had burrowed out through the soft ashes of the cone. Of those lava veins I will speak presently. What I want the reader to think of now is the immense quantity of ash which the steam-mitrailleuse hurls to so vast a height into the air, that it is often drifted many miles down to leeward. To give two instances: The jet of steam from Vesuvius, in the eruption of 1822, rose more than four miles into the air; the jet from the Souffriere of St. Vincent in the West Indies, in 1812, probably rose higher; certainly it met the N.E. trade-wind, for it poured down a layer of ashes, several inches thick, not only on St. Vincent itself, but on Barbadoes, eighty miles to windward, and therefore on all the sea between. Now let us consider what that represents--a layer of fine mud, laid down at the bottom of the ocean, several inches thick, eighty miles at least long, and twenty miles perhaps broad, by a single eruption. Suppose that hardened in long ages (as it would be under pressure) into a bed of fine grained Felstone, or volcanic ash; and we can understand how the ash-beds of Snowdonia--which may be traced some of them for many square miles-- were laid down at the bottom of an ancient sea.

But now about the lavas or true volcanic rocks, which are painted (as is usual in geological maps) red. Let us go down to the bottom of the sea, and build up our volcano towards the surface.

First, as I said, the subterranean steam would blast a bore. The dust and stones, rasped and blasted out of that hole would be spread about the sea-bottom as an ash-bed sloping away round the hole; then the molten lava would rise in the bore, and flow out over the ashes and the sea-bottom--perhaps in one direction, perhaps all round. Then, usually, the volcano, having vented itself, would be quieter for a time, till the heat accumulated below, and more ash was blasted out, making a second ash-bed; and then would follow a second lava flow. Thus are produced the alternate beds of lava and ash which are so common.

Now suppose that at this point the volcano was exhausted, and lay quiet for a few hundred years, or more. If there was any land near, from which mud and sand were washed down, we might have layers on layers of sediment deposited, with live shells, etc., living in them, which would be converted into fossils when they died; and so we should have fossiliferous beds over the ashes and lavas. Indeed, shells might live and thrive in the ash-mud itself, when it cooled, and the sea grew quiet, as they have lived and thriven in Snowdonia.

Now suppose that after these sedimentary beds are laid down by water, the volcano breaks out again--what would happen?

Many things: specially this, which has often happened already.

The lava, kept down by the weight of these new rocks, searches for the point of least resistance, and finds it in a more horizontal direction. It burrows out through the softer ash-beds, and between the sedimentary beds, spreading itself along horizontally. This process accounts for the very puzzling, though very common case in Snowdon and elsewhere, in which we find lavas interstratified with rocks which are plainly older than those lavas. Perhaps when that is done the volcano has got rid of all its lava, and is quiet. But if not, sooner or later, it bores up through the new sedimentary rocks, faulting them by earthquake shocks till it gets free vent, and begins its layers of alternate ash and lava once more.

And consider this fact also: If near the first (as often happens) there is another volcano, the lava from one may run over the lava from the other, and we may have two lavas of different materials overlying each other, which have come from different directions. The ashes blown out of the two craters may mingle also, and so, in the course of ages, the result may be such a confusion of ashes, lavas, and sedimentary rocks as we find throughout most mountain ranges in Snowdon, in the Lake mountains, in the Auvergne in France, in Sicily round Etna, in Italy round Vesuvius, and in so many West Indian Islands; the last confusion of which is very likely to be this:

That when the volcano has succeeded--as it did in the case of Sabrina Island off the Azores in 1811, and as it did, perhaps often, in Snowdonia--in piling up an ash cone some hundred feet out of the sea; that--as has happened to Sabrina Island--the cone is sunk again by earthquakes, and gnawn down at the same time by the sea-waves, till nothing is left but a shoal under water. But where have all its vast heaps of ashes gone? To be spread about over the bottom of the sea, to mingle with the mud already there, and so make beds of which, like many in Snowdon, we cannot say whether they are of volcanic or of marine origin, because they are of both.

But what has all this to do with the slates?

I shall not be surprised if my readers ask that question two or three times during this paper. But they must be kind enough to let me tell my story my own way. The slates were not made in a day, and I fear they cannot be explained in an hour: unless we begin carefully at the beginning in order to end at the end. Let me first make my readers clearly understand that all our slate-bearing mountains, and most also of the non-slate-bearing ones likewise, are formed after the fashion which I have described, namely, beneath the sea. I do not say that there may not have been, again, and again, ash-cones rising above the surface of the waves. But if so, they were washed away, again and again, ages before the land assumed anything of its present shape; ages before the beds were twisted and upheaved as they are now.