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.
And therefore I beg my readers to put out of their minds once and for all the fancy that in any known part of these islands craters are to be still seen, such as exist in Etna, or Vesuvius, or other volcanoes now at work in the open air.
It is necessary to insist on this, because many people hearing that certain mountains are volcanic, conclude—and very naturally and harmlessly—that the circular lakes about their tops are true craters. I have been told, for instance, that that wonderful little blue Glas Llyn, under the highest cliff of Snowdon, is the old crater of the mountain; and I have heard people insist that a similar lake, of almost equal grandeur, in the south side of Cader Idris, is a crater likewise.