“Even the mighty action of the sea has a similar tendency to impose a limit to its own ravages; for it wastes its fury in vain on the barrier of loose stones which it had beaten from the cliff that they now protect.
“On some coasts, however, the agency of the sea does produce an injurious change. Where the shore is low, and consists of a flat, sandy bottom, the sand is thrown up by the surf; at every reflux of the tide, it becomes partially dried; the winds blow it higher up, and thus ranges of sand-hills are formed parallel to the beach. They encroach on the land so rapidly, that districts, which a few years ago were inhabited, are now become desert plains of sand. This takes place on a large scale, in many parts of the world; even in Norfolk it has been found that the only means of arresting the progress of the sand is to plant thick hedges of furze. On the east coast of Scotland, much property was laid waste by this destructive enemy, whose advance was occasioned about a hundred years ago, by the imprudent removal of the trees and the bent-grass which grew on the sand-hills. The effects were so alarming, that an act of parliament was made in the reign of George II. to prohibit the destruction of that useful plant, the sea bent-grass, which Providence has kindly formed to grow in pure sand, and to keep it firm. The Dutch may be said to owe their existence to it, as its spreading matted root fixes the sand on those great dykes or embankments, which alone preserve the country from the inundations of the sea. This grass is called murah, in the Highlands; on the coast of Lincolnshire, signs; in Norfolk, matgrass; and by Linnæus, arundo arenaria. It has long, sharp-pointed leaves, and, fortunately, no cattle whatever will taste it. The sea eryngo and the creeping restharrow, contribute also to defend us against these almost irresistible sands.”
When we returned home, my uncle shewed me an extract of a letter from the unfortunate traveller Bowdich; containing an interesting account of a sandy plain in Madeira, about eighteen miles from Funchal. I must copy a part of it for my dear mama.
“From Caniçal, by following a rough track, on the margin of shallow cliffs of alternate tufa and basalt, for about a mile and a half, we reached a depression, more like a basin than a plain, and covered with a deep bed of sand. This sand has, in some degree, been fixed by the numerous branches of the forest-trees which it has enveloped, and which are spread over the surface as well as beneath it, like a net-work of roots. Both the branches and the trunks are encased in a thick hard sheath of agglutinated sand; and in some instances, the wood having entirely perished, the envelopes are found empty, like tubes. Most frequently, however, the wood is still found within, where it has become a hard petrified mass.
“The trunks which remain in their natural position, have been broken off about a foot above the surface of the sand: how far they reach beneath it I cannot say, but there were two or three as thick as my body. They all appear to belong to the same species of tree, though of what family I do not think our present knowledge of the comparative anatomy of timber is sufficiently advanced to determine.
“This deposit of sand extends about three-quarters of a mile in each direction; and as innumerable fossil marine shells are mixed with it, as well as imbedded in the envelopes, it must evidently have proceeded from an irruption of the sea, although it is bounded by hills several hundred feet high, on which there is no trace of sand.”
12th.—My aunt was so kind as to take Mary and me with her this morning, to pay a visit to Mrs. B., who has always many pretty curiosities to shew. Her cousin, who is captain of an East Indiaman, has a constant commission to bring her any thing that is interesting. Fortunately for us, he arrived a few weeks since, and has lately sent her a collection of Chinese drawings of flowers and insects, which are most beautifully coloured. They are, however, amusingly defective in regard to proportion; for some of the flowers are much diminished, while the insects upon them are represented of their natural size.
He brought her, also, a few stuffed birds; one of which, the adjutant bird, is such a prodigious creature, that I scarcely looked at the others. It measures, from the crown of the head to the foot, five feet two inches; from tip to tip of the wings, fourteen feet; and the other dimensions are proportionably great. Its general colour is black, or slate blue, though a few of the small feathers round the neck, and on part of the body, are white.
It is called the hurgill, in Bengal. They say that when alive it majestically stalks along, and looks like an Indian; and when seen near the mouths of rivers with extended wings, might be taken for a canoe. There is a curious superstition among the Indians, that the souls of the Brahmins possess these birds. They are very ravenous, and have a most capacious stomach, as well as a large craw, which hangs down the fore part of the neck like a pouch. The captain told Mrs. B., that in the pouch of one which was killed, a land tortoise ten inches long was found, and in the stomach, a cat; even a leg of mutton, or a litter of young kittens, are easily swallowed. He heard of one that had been caught when young: he was easily tamed, and being always fed in the hall, he became so familiar, that at dinner time he stood behind his master’s chair; but the servants were obliged to watch him, as sometimes he would snatch a whole fowl off the table. He used to roost among the high trees, from whence, even at two miles distance, he could spy dinner carrying across the yard, when, darting home, he regularly walked in with the last dish. As he stood near the dinner table, he appeared as if listening to the conversation, turning his head alternately to whoever spoke.
The most curious thing about this species is the pouch. Dr. Adam, of Calcutta, supposes that it helps to sustain the birds in their great flights in the air, and also assists them in the waters in searching after their prey. From the structure of their limbs they cannot swim; and it appears that they have the power of distending this bag with air when they go beyond their depth. He says, that in the month of October, when the sky is not obscured by a single cloud, it is a beautiful spectacle to observe hundreds of these birds performing their graceful evolutions at a vast height above the earth; with a telescope, however, he could not perceive whether the bag was distended.