The sandstone of the Blue Mountains is at least 1,200 feet thick, and in some parts is apparently of greater thickness; it consists of small grains of quartz, cemented by white earthy matter, and it abounds with ferruginous veins. The lower beds sometimes alternate with shales and coal: at Wolgan I found in carbonaceous shale leaves of the Glossopteris Brownii, a fern which so frequently accompanies the coal of Australia. The sandstone contains pebbles of quartz; and these generally increase in number and size (seldom, however, exceeding an inch or two in diameter) in the upper beds: I observed a similar circumstance in the grand sandstone formation at the Cape of Good Hope. On the South American coast, where tertiary and supra-tertiary beds have been extensively elevated, I repeatedly noticed that the uppermost beds were formed of coarser materials than the lower: this appears to indicate that, as the sea became shallower, the force of the waves or currents increased. On the lower platform, however, between the Blue Mountains and the coast, I observed that the upper beds of the sandstone frequently passed into argillaceous shale,—the effect, probably, of this lower space having been protected from strong currents during its elevation. The sandstone of the Blue Mountains evidently having been of mechanical origin, and not having suffered any metamorphic action, I was surprised at observing that, in some specimens, nearly all the grains of quartz were so perfectly crystallised with brilliant facets that they evidently had not in their present form been aggregated in any previously existing rock.[[1]] It is difficult to imagine how these crystals could have been formed; one can hardly believe that they were separately precipitated in their present crystallised state. Is it possible that rounded grains of quartz may have been acted on by a fluid corroding their surfaces, and depositing on them fresh silica? I may remark that, in the sandstone formation of the Cape of Good Hope, it is evident that silica has been profusely deposited from aqueous solution.
[1] I have lately seen, in a paper by Smith (the father of English geologists), in the Magazine of Natural History, that the grains of quartz in the millstone grit of England are often crystallised. Sir David Brewster, in a paper read before the British Association, 1840, states, that in old decomposed glass, the silex and metals separate into concentric rings, and that the silex regains its crystalline structure, as is shown by its action on light.
In several parts of the sandstone I noticed patches of shale which might at the first glance have been mistaken for extraneous fragments; their horizontal laminæ, however, being parallel with those of the sandstone, showed that they were the remnants of thin, continuous beds. One such fragment (probably the section of a long narrow strip) seen in the face of a cliff, was of greater vertical thickness than breadth, which proves that this bed of shale must have been in some slight degree consolidated, after having been deposited, and before being worn away by the currents. Each patch of the shale shows, also, how slowly many of the successive layers of sandstone were deposited. These pseudo-fragments of shale will perhaps explain, in some cases, the origin of apparently extraneous fragments in crystalline metamorphic rocks. I mention this, because I found near Rio de Janeiro a well-defined angular fragment, seven yards long by two yards in breadth, of gneiss containing garnets and mica in layers, enclosed in the ordinary, stratified, porphyritic gneiss of the country. The laminæ of the fragment and of the surrounding matrix ran in exactly the same direction, but they dipped at different angles. I do not wish to affirm that this singular fragment (a solitary case, as far as I know) was originally deposited in a layer, like the shale in the Blue Mountains, between the strata of the porphyritic gneiss, before they were metamorphosed; but there is sufficient analogy between the two cases to render such an explanation possible.
Stratification of the escarpment.—The strata of the Blue Mountains appear to the eye horizontal; but they probably have a similar inclination with the surface of the platform, which slopes from the west towards the escarpment over the Nepean, at an angle of one degree, or of one hundred feet in a mile.[[2]] The strata of the escarpment dip almost conformably with its steeply inclined face, and with so much regularity, that they appear as if thrown into their present position; but on a more careful examination, they are seen to thicken and to thin out, and in the upper part to be succeeded and almost capped by horizontal beds. These appearances render it probable, that we here see an original escarpment, not formed by the sea having eaten back into the strata, but by the strata having originally extended only thus far. Those who have been in the habit of examining accurate charts of sea-coasts, where sediment is accumulating, will be aware, that the surfaces of the banks thus formed, generally slope from the coast very gently towards a certain line in the offing, beyond which the depth in most cases suddenly becomes great. I may instance the great banks of sediment within the West Indian Archipelago,[[3]] which terminate in submarine slopes, inclined at angles of between thirty and forty degrees, and sometimes even at more than forty degrees: every one knows how steep such a slope would appear on the land. Banks of this nature, if uplifted, would probably have nearly the same external form as the platform of the Blue Mountains, where it abruptly terminates over the Nepean.
[2] This is stated on the authority of Sir T. Mitchell, in his “Travels,” vol. ii, p. 357.
[3] I have described these very curious banks in the Appendix to my volume on the structure of Coral-Reefs. I have ascertained the inclination of the edges of the banks, from information given me by Captain B. Allen, one of the surveyors, and by carefully measuring the horizontal distances between the last sounding on the bank and the first in the deep water. Widely extended banks in all parts of the West Indies have the same general form of surface.
Current-cleavage.—The strata of sandstone in the low coast country, and likewise on the Blue Mountains, are often divided by cross or current laminæ, which dip in different directions, and frequently at an angle of forty-five degrees. Most authors have attributed these cross layers to successive small accumulations on an inclined surface; but from a careful examination in some parts of the New Red Sandstone of England, I believe that such layers generally form parts of a series of curves, like gigantic tidal ripples, the tops of which have since been cut off, either by nearly horizontal layers, or by another set of great ripples, the folds of which do not exactly coincide with those below them. It is well-known to surveyors that mud and sand are disturbed during storms at considerable depths, at least from three hundred to four hundred and fifty feet,[[4]] so that the nature of the bottom even becomes temporarily changed; the bottom, also, at a depth between sixty and seventy feet, has been observed[[5]] to be broadly rippled. One may, therefore, be allowed to suspect, from the appearance just mentioned in the New Red Sandstone, that at greater depths, the bed of the ocean is heaped up during gales into great ripple-like furrows and depressions, which are afterwards cut off by the currents during more tranquil weather, and again furrowed during gales.
[4] See Martin White, on “Soundings in the British Channel,” pp. 4 and 166.
[5] M. Siau on the “Action of Waves,” Edin. New Phil. Journ., vol. xxxi, p. 245.
Valleys in the sandstone platforms.—The grand valleys, by which the Blue Mountains and the other sandstone platforms of this part of Australia are penetrated, and which long offered an insuperable obstacle to the attempts of the most enterprising colonist to reach the interior country, form the most striking feature in the geology of New South Wales. They are of grand dimensions, and are bordered by continuous links of lofty cliffs. It is not easy to conceive a more magnificent spectacle, than is presented to a person walking on the summit-plains, when without any notice he arrives at the brink of one of these cliffs, which are so perpendicular, that he can strike with a stone (as I have tried) the trees growing, at the depth of between one thousand and one thousand five hundred feet below him; on both hands he sees headland beyond headland of the receding line of cliff, and on the opposite side of the valley, often at the distance of several miles, he beholds another line rising up to the same height with that on which he stands, and formed of the same horizontal strata of pale sandstone. The bottoms of these valleys are moderately level, and the fall of the rivers flowing in them, according to Sir T. Mitchell, is gentle. The main valleys often send into the platform great baylike arms, which expand at their upper ends; and on the other hand, the platform often sends promontories into the valley, and even leaves in them great, almost insulated, masses. So continuous are the bounding lines of cliff, that to descend into some of these valleys, it is necessary to go round twenty miles; and into others, the surveyors have only lately penetrated, and the colonists have not yet been able to drive in their cattle. But the most remarkable point of structure in these valleys, is, that although several miles wide in their upper parts, they generally contract towards their mouths to such a degree as to become impassable. The Surveyor-General, Sir T. Mitchell,[[6]] in vain endeavoured, first on foot and then by crawling between the great fallen fragments of sandstone, to ascend through the gorge by which the river Grose joins the Nepean; yet the valley of the Grose in its upper part, as I saw, forms a magnificent basin some miles in width, and is on all sides surrounded by cliffs, the summits of which are believed to be nowhere less than 3,000 feet above the level of the sea. When cattle are driven into the valley of the Wolgan by a path (which I descended) partly cut by the colonists, they cannot escape; for this valley is in every other part surrounded by perpendicular cliffs, and eight miles lower down, it contracts, from an average width of half a mile, to a mere chasm impassable to man or beast. Sir T. Mitchell[[7]] states, that the great valley of the Cox river with all its branches contracts, where it unites with the Nepean, into a gorge 2,200 yards wide, and about one thousand feet in depth. Other similar cases might have been added.