My uncle waited to hear everybody’s opinion, and then said, “I will tell you a singular circumstance which an old friend of mine witnessed, when he was at the King of Sardinia’s court, at Turin, about forty years ago. Perhaps it may convince some of my young sceptics, not of the truth of Roostem’s exploits, but at least of the strength and spirit of horses. The king had a remarkably fine charger, but so untameably vicious, that, after having killed two grooms, he was ordered by his majesty to be shot. It was suggested, however, that as he was to die, it would be a good opportunity of putting to the test the bravery and vigour of a horse whose spirits had not been subdued by being domesticated; and the king readily consented that he should be turned loose into a well-secured arena, along with a ferocious lion that belonged to the royal menagerie. Arrangements were soon made; and both these animals were allowed to enter at the same moment through opposite doors. They approached a few steps—then stopped as if to take a survey of each other—and again they advanced, but very slowly, till almost close. There was now a pause for a moment, after which the lion stooped a little as if meditating an upward spring, in order to fix his dreadful claws in the neck of his adversary; but the horse seized the opportunity, and making a slight but deliberate plunge with one leg in advance, he struck the lion on the head, and with such fatal force as to lay him dead at his feet.”
“The remarkable pause,” said Mr. Lumley, “which was made by those two noble creatures is, I believe, the practice of all combative animals when going to make their onset. I cannot give you better authority than that of our highly valued friend, Major R., who you know was not less remarkable in India for his scientific knowledge and military talent, than for his intrepidity. In the course of service he had frequently been sent with a detachment, to drive away from the wheat-fields and jungles the tigers that often prowl about the camps or even enter the villages; and he bears terrible marks to this day of the danger of such an employment. He has lately told me, that more than once he has owed his safety to that moment of observation, when the animal seemed as if collecting his force; for, as it always took place at a very short distance, he seized that favourable pause, while his foe was stationary and steady, to take a deliberate aim at a mortal spot.”
7th.—In describing the changes that have been produced by the action of the deluge, my uncle has often dwelt on the vast force of large bodies of water, when moving with rapidity. He supposes that most of the vallies have been scooped out by those means, and he divides them into two classes: longitudinal vallies, or those which lie parallel to the chains of hills; and the transverse vallies, which intersect the chains. Caroline and I frequently talk over what he tells us, and we agreed to ask him in our walk this morning, why the violence that tore out the vallies did not disturb the hills at the same time.
“Those mighty currents,” he replied, “naturally made their first impression on some weak part;—the fragments that were thus detached assisted in excavating a channel as they rushed forward; and the more the water was confined to a channel, the more powerful was its action. But the hills have also been disturbed more or less; for the upper strata appear to have been swept off from extensive ranges that they once covered. This is proved by the separated hills, which geologists call outliers; and which, having the lower strata exactly continuous with those of the adjacent range of mountains, but wanting the superior strata, shew that the same convulsion which broke through and carried away the connecting parts, must also have torn off their summits. Another proof is the great quantity of their debris, or broken fragments, which are found scattered over parts of the country far distant from their original positions. In the gravel beds near London, I have found pieces of basalt, though that species of rock is not known to exist within a hundred miles of the county of Middlesex.
“These fragments,” he continued, “must, therefore, have been transported by some agent that was equal to tearing up and carrying away the parent rock; and when it is considered that all gravel must have had its edges and angles rounded by the rubbing of stone against stone, you will perceive that this could only have been effected by the violent and long-continued action of currents of water; in short, by the tremendous surge and confused motion which accompanied a general deluge. That this deluge has been comparatively recent is clear from the fact, that fragments of primitive and secondary rocks are often found promiscuously mixed in the same bed of gravel. In one large bed, near Lichfield, may be found fragments of almost every rock in England, from chalk to granite; and many of the pebbles contain organic remains.”
We spent a couple of hours wandering up and down some of the vallies in the neighbourhood; and though a cultivated country is not the best theatre for a geological lecture, my uncle contrived to shew us so many corresponding circumstances on the opposite sides of one of the transverse vallies, that it was quite evident to both of us that the ridge had been formerly uninterrupted. We saw also many examples of the gravel he had mentioned, all more or less rounded and smoothed, and containing specimens of very different series. This was a delightful walk; for though one may acquire very fine ideas at home of the operations of nature, there is nothing like seeing them in their proper places.
As we returned home, my uncle told us that this water-worn debris, which covers many parts of the earth, is named diluvium, from that great and universal catastrophe by which it appears to have been formed. This name is meant to distinguish it from the more modern debris daily produced by rivers and torrents, to which the name of alluvium is given.
“Diluvial gravel is highly interesting,” he said, “not only as it assists in explaining the causes of the present state of the globe, but as it even indicates the direction of the great currents of the deluge. For instance—when, within a few miles of the neighbouring town of Gloucester, we see rounded pebbles derived from rocks, which are found only in the mountains of the north-west of the island, we may be sure that a branch of that current must have rushed to the southward. It has, therefore, been a favourite object of some geologists to trace these travelled fragments to their native masses; and to discover the apertures in the mountain barriers through which they had been swept.
“When the intervening country is nearly flat, there is no difficulty in ascribing the removal of the debris to the currents of which we have been speaking. But it is frequently found in situations that are separated by deep vallies from the parent hills from which it appears to have been torn. For instance, fragments of the primitive rocks that compose the Alps are found scattered on the sides of the Jura mountains, though, between those two ranges, the valley that contains the lake of Geneva is interposed. On the low hills, near Bath, we find the flints belonging to the chalk formation, though several deep vallies intervene. Many other examples might be given; and the way in which geologists obviate the difficulty is, by supposing that one set of currents tore off and transported these fragments, and that a subsequent rush of the waters excavated the vallies.”
My uncle ended by saying, that when the weather was more settled he would shew us a part of the country at no great distance from Fernhurst, which would make us more clearly comprehend this interesting subject.