Obrazy na stronie
PDF
ePub
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][graphic][subsumed][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][graphic][merged small]

THE MOUNTAINS-MACGILLICUDDY'S REEKS. As the two lower lakes at Killarney lie at the foot of the range of mountains upon which the third, or Upper Lake is situated, the side of them turned towards that lake, or, in other words, their western shores, are bounded by those mountains. The first mountain in the chain which thus separates the Lower Lakes from the Upper Lake is that of Turk. It forms the boundary of the south-western side of the middle lake, which has from that circumstance received the appellation of Turk Lake. By the side of this mountain there is a defile in the chain, through which flows the river from the Upper Lake.

The next mountain to the northward, or that upon the opposite side of the defile, is Glena, which bounds a portion of the western side of the Lower Lake. It projects forward beyond the line of Turk Mountain, and forms, in fact, a promontory jutting out into the lake; thus it presents two sides to the water, one of them overhanging the bay of Glena, as the corner of the lake to the southward is called, and the other opening to the northward upon the broadest part of the lake. Both of these mountains rise abruptly from the water, and are marked by numerous bold breaks and projecting rocks. The summit of Glena mountains is "bare, naked, barren, wild, and rugged," VOL. XII.

while the base is clothed with trees of rich and varied shades, almost dipping their foliage in the water

Tomies Mountain, the next in succession to the northward, and the last whose base is washed by the lake, rises more gradually than the others, and at its sloping base presents to view a considerable tract of fertile ground, which is under cultivation.

Until the sun has ascended to his meridian height, the mountains bordering upon the Lower Lake remain in shadow. Their surface then appears tame and unvaried, and their summit, if it be in clear weather, forms a hard outline against the azure sky; but, as the day advances, the sun crosses the line of the great chain, and darts his rays on that side of the mountains which lies next to the lake. All their bold irregularities are then revealed, their protruding rocks, their deep glens; "and the lake, illumined by the gleams which pass athwart its peaceful waves, appears resplendent amidst the dark and wooded islands:"

The horizontal clouds
With purple dyes and fissures edged with gold,
Streak the calm ether, while through the sparkling haze
The faint hills glimmer; fainter as their chains
Approach the fount of brightness; fainter still
Where sunk the parting orb, and with the sky
In undistinguishable splendour joined.

371

Mr. Weld says that he has sometimes imagined | that the sun set with more splendour at Killarney than in other parts of the country; indeed, he adds, there can be no doubt that the diversity of light and colours in the sky is augmented by the vast collections of clouds which are attracted by the mountains as they come from the Atlantic,

Or whirled tempestuous by the gusty wind, Or silent borne along, heavy and slow, With the big stores of steaming ocean charged. These clouds, he says, not only occasion the most grand and beautiful effects at the approach of evening, but "exhibit infinite vicissitudes of light and shade throughout the day, altering every hour the face of the landscape." An older writer expresses a similar opinion, stating that the effect of the view is, in his opinion, much heightened by the hourly revolutions in the face of the heavens.

The vast volumes of clouds which are rolled together from the Atlantic and rest on the summits of the mountains, clothe them with majesty: the different masses of light and shade traversing the lakes in succession, as the shifting bodies above float across them, exhibit all the varieties of night and day almost at the same instant: the mists interposing their dull yet transparent coverings to the view, raise new desires of a fallen and clearer prospect: and the wandering vapours flitting from cliff to cliff, as if in search of the clouds from which they have been separated, amuse the eye with their varieties and irregular motions.

But every white will have its black." The clouds and mists at Killarney, like clouds and mists elsewhere, bring with them something more than majesty to the prospect; and occasion other "vicissitudes" than those of light and shade in the face of the landscape. The west of Ireland is remarkable for its rains; and certainly in no part of it is that feature of the climate so prominently developed as at Killarney. Hence arises a serious drawback upon its attractions; or as the writer last quoted says,

After all this happy spot labours under one disadvantage, and one, too, which I am the more averse to mention, since so celebrated a writer as Dr. Johnson has thought it sufficient in the case of Loch Lomond, to counterbalance so many natural beauties; and this is no other than the immense rains; which fall here more abundantly, and that even in the best seasons for visiting the lake, than in all other parts of the kingdom.

Upon this account a lengthened residence at Killarney is necessary to a full enjoyment of its beauties. The space assigned for the regular performance of the tour is three days, though, to accommodate all classes, a mode has been devised of " doing it" in two, or even in one day. But, for the ordinary traveller to expect three consecutive fine days under the sky of Killarney, would be scarcely more reasonable than asking for the ocean in the deserts of Africa. Yet to this very drawback upon the attractions of Killarney, we trace those attractions themselves; and instead of complaining, we shall do well to recollect that the limitations here set to our pleasures are necessary to our being pleased at all, that what we at first call a disadvantage is the spring and source of all we admire,—

That the Hyades are here the handmaids of Flora; for that without their perpetual effusions of rain we complain of, the rocks must resign their vegetable inhabitant, the rivers mourn their exhausted urns, and the cascades no longer resound in the dull ear of memory; that the living lake itself must dwindle into an inconsiderable pool, and the mountains stripped of their honours become a dreary waste, the abode of gloom and barrenness.

We have said that the mountains of Glena and Tomies are seated upon the western bank of the Lower Lake. Beyond them, still further to the westward, is a range of other mountains which runs to

wards the Atlantic, in a direction at right angles to theirs, or in such a manner that if it ran towards the east instead of towards the west, it would cut the lake in half. This range bears the name of Macgillicuddy's Reeks, the appellation of Macgillicuddy being derived, according to the common account, from an old family once flourishing in these parts, and that of Reeks being applied to the mountains because of their sharp jagged peaks. One of these peaks called Carran Tual, or Gheraun Tual, (from some resemblance in it to an "inverted sickle,") is the loftiest summit of all Ireland, measuring 3394 feet.

As the Reeks lie behind the mountains which bound the western bank of the Lower Lake, they are, of course, not to be seen from every point of view; if the spectator be too close they are hidden. From the hills upon the opposite or eastern side of the lake they appear to advantage, towering above the heads of Glena and Tomies. But the best view of them is obtained from the hills upon the northern border of the lake; and this is the view which is represented in our engraving, the spectator being placed on the hill of Aghadoe, close to the ruins of the ancient cathedral of that name. The extensive prospect which this height commands is constantly recommended to the tourist; and certainly it is one of the most remarkable which he will enjoy at Killarney.

From hence (says Smith, the historian of Kerry), is to be seen one of the most delicious landscapes in Ireland, and perhaps few countries in Europe afford better; but this is such a masterpiece, that even the Poussins, Salvator Rosa, or the most eminent painter in that way, might here furnish himself with sufficient matter, not only to form one but several entertaining prospects. From this eminence a survey may be taken of the greatest part of this beautiful lake, and likewise of that stupendous amphitheatre of mountains which are raised along the opposite shores. Towards the south-east stands the mountain called Mangerton, whose feet the lake washes, and whose summit is generally lost in the clouds, it being justly esteemed one of the highest mountains in Ireland. More towards the centre of the lake is a high mole, called Turk, whose sides, down to the verge of the water, are beautifully clothed with groves of various kinds of trees. One part of this hill slopes away like a promontory terminating in the lake, forming one side of a canal, which is a passage into the Upper Lake, as doth the front of another mountain, called Glena, the other side of this strait, which is adorned also with forest trees. As a fine contrast to this verdure, at the being only naked rocks of a vast height. The grandeur backs of these mountains stand others shaped into pyramids, and magnificence of these mountains, not only entertain and surprise the spectator, but he must be also agreeably amused in contemplating the infinite variety of beautiful colouring they afford. For in this part may be seen the gayest verdure, blended with scarlet fruit and snowy blossoms, well known properties of the Arbutus; and in other places the most elegant variety of brown and yellow tints, caused by other kinds of trees and shrubs, appears; all these are intermixed with rock-work, and, to soften the whole, a deep, smooth, and noble basin of water extends itself beneath this scenery; but to give the reader an adequate idea of this place would require the pencil of some excellent painter rather than the pen of any prose writer.

To the west of Glena stands the lofty peak called Tomish, variegated half-way to its top with a waving forest, and down whose sides, especially after rains, run very considerable cataracts into the Great Lake. There are many other hills still running more west, as far as the eye can reach, for many miles; the nearest, and most surprising for their loftiness, are the Reeks, already mentioned, whose tops resemble so many pinnacles, or rather spires, lost in the clouds.

Carran Tual being the highest mountain in Ireland, * When Dr. Smith wrote, Mangerton was generally considered the highest mountain in Ireland, although it is nearly nine hundred feet lower than its close neighbour Carran Tual;-a fact which shows most strikingly how fallacious a guide is the appearance of mountains in estimating even their comparative height.

the ascent to its summit forms a notable exploit with the more active and adventurous of the visiters to Killarney. The excursion, though a fatiguing one, is unattended with danger; and it affords many fine mountain scenes which, even without the extensive prospect from the summit, would be amply sufficient to reward the traveller for the toil of the ascent. Even the lower Reeks are well worth the labour of a visit; Mr. Weld ascended one of them, which the ignorance of his guides led him to mistake for Carran Tual, and he described the scenery which he beheld as sublime in the extreme. The party proceeded first to Dunloh Gap *, and having advanced into it to the distance of half a mile, began to ascend the mountain on their right. It proved extremely difficult of access, and in many parts so steep, that, without the aid of the sapling oaks which spring from their fissures, it would have been impossible to scale the rocks. On the summit of this mountain they found an extensive tract of ground, less encumbered with rocks than the valley below, and covered, as far as the eye could see, with heath and coarse grass, on which innumerable herds of cattle were fed. Beyond it appeared another mountain extremely rugged, which they reached at the end of two hours. The ascent was not steep; but it was laborious and tedious, owing to the immense heaps of loose stones in some places, and in others deep rents, which could not be passed without the utmost caution. Along this part of the route, the only animals they observed were eagles, of which numbers hovered above them as if alarmed at the invasion of their lofty solitudes : at one moment they counted no less than twelve of them within gun-shot.

its highest peak, and directing their steps towards the Upper Lake, reached a cottage at which they rested.

On recounting the adventures of the day, and boasting of having been on the highest ground in Ireland, an old gray-headed man who stood by expressed some doubt of the fact; adding that if we had really been on the most lofty point of the Reeks, it would have been impossible for us to have returned before night. We appealed to our guides, who, jealous of their reputation, of course confirmed our story; to put this matter beyond doubt, however, the old man requested us to come to the door and point out the mountain we had ascended. The Reeks rose in full view before the cottage, and we could easily trace our route to the most lofty peak. This was sufficient to confirm his first supposition. Gheraun-tuel, he told us, was much higher than any of the other points, and was neither visible from the valley in which we stood, nor from any part of the lake of Killarney. It was to no purpose that the guides maintained the contrary, the evidence of our own senses had already impeached their knowledge, and their ignorance of the country was now proved by the concurrent testimony of several mountaineers. The difficulty of ascending Gheraun-tuel was represented to us as very great, and no stranger, we were told, had ever attempted it. This was but an additional incentive to undertaking the enterprise; and the old man having offered his son as a guide, the next day but one was appointed for the expedition.

There are two routes by which the ascent of Carran Tual is now made. By one of them the traveller proceeds along the northern shore of the Lower Lake to Dunloh Castle, and keeps a straight course beyond it in the same direction, after skirting the northern side of the Reeks for some distance, until he arrives at that part of their base above which towers the object of his search. The other route is by the Upper Lake, whence he enters a valley which leads him to a similar point on the opposite or southern

The craggy tops of the Reeks appeared on reach-side of the Reeks. ing the summit of this latter mountain; and after walking for about an hour over a rugged way, nearly similar to that which they had already traversed, they gained one of the loftiest pinnacles, which their guides told them was Carran Tual.

It is scarcely possible (says Mr. Weld), to convey an idea of the sublime view which was now unfolded to our eyes. On each side lay a vast precipice, beyond which arose other immense mountains: still further on we saw the Atlantic Ocean bounding the horizon for a great distance; and in the opposite direction a wide expanse of the inland country, watered by innumerable rivers and lakes, among which that of Killarney was only conspicuous for its superior extent. One of the peaks before us seemed to be considerably more lofty than that which we had ascended; but the guides persisted in assuring us that the appearance was deceptive; and that if from any third station we could compare its elevation with that of the point on which we then stood, the superior height of the latter would be obvious. The intervening precipices were impassable; as it was out of our power, therefore, to make the trial, we were satisfied to receive this intelligence as conviction; and, perhaps, none of us, after so much fatigue, were willing to entertain a doubt of having attained the object of our laborious undertaking. The mountain here described resembles in shape a wedge; at the summit it presented a long craggy ridge, so narrow, that whilst they stood upon it we could look into the depths of the precipices at either side, or drop pebbles into them from each hand at the same moment. Large masses of rock are often detached from the ridge, through the incessant action of mists and vapours prevailing in these high regions, and especially after the snow begins to dissolve. They roll down the mountain with a loud roar, but fortunately there are no dwellings which they can reach in their descent.

The party descended the mountain by the opposite side, under the full impression that they had scaled

For an account of this remarkable defile, see Saturday Magazine, Vol. XII. p. 83

The valley through which the latter route conducts him bears the name of Comme Duff, or the Black Valley; it is watered by a chain of small lakes and a river connecting them together. This valley bears some resemblance to the Gap of Dunloh; but the scenery is much tamer, and is rather to be admired for the delightful verdure of the peaceful and retired meads than for the boldness of the rocks, or the height and abruptness of the impending precipices. After passing into another valley, which branches off from this, and proceeding for a considerable distance, he begins to climb a mountain, which, though steep, is not difficult of ascent; on the summit is a long plain, which forms the body, as it were, of the mountain mass out of which the Reeks rise. At the end of this plain, which is covered with coarse grass, is seen the conical head of Carran Tual. Advancing towards it the traveller has to proceed four or five miles before it discloses itself fully to his view; at length he reaches the brink of a precipice, when a complete view of it opens. Mr. Weld thus describes its appearance:

It rose with great regularity in the form of a cone, and to appearance stood quite insulated except on the nearest side, where it was connected with the mountain on which we stood by a sort of spur, forming an isthmus, and bearing a resemblance, though on a scale of such great magnitude, to the artificial approach to an old castle. At the height from which we viewed it, this pass did not seem to be wider than might be sufficient for a single carriage; and though on descending we found it at least sixty feet broad, yet the immense depth and great abruptness of the precipices at each side so imposed on the senses, that we could scarcely persuade ourselves of being in perfect safety in its very centre. Here, however, we halted at once to admire the

sublimity of the scene, and to take some refreshment and repose. From this place to the summit the distance did not appear to be very great, as the slope, owing to our contiguity to the mountain, was fore-shortened; but though we advanced with ardour and the way, except being very

steep, was not incommodious, we did not arrive at the top until an hour and a half after we had set out.

The top of the mountain presents a smooth area, nearly circular; it is about thirty feet in diameter, and from every side there is an uniform slope down. The stones are split into small flags, which, in many cases, are also broken crosswise; thus the summit is composed of a species of shingle, which, after a heavy fall of snow, is carried down in considerable quantities in the thaw; for this reason it has been said, that the height of the Reeks has probably diminished in the lapse of time.

From the summit of Carran Tual a most commanding view is obtained. To the north, Dingle Bay, and the whole of the sea-coast between it and the river Shannon; and in the opposite direction, Kenmare River, Bantry Bay, and the other great estuaries in this part of Kerry, are all distinctly spread out. The other rocks appear like so many inclined planes, whose angles of inclination are all equal, so that they appear to lie in parallel strata. On the tops of several are small lakes, like those on Mangerton and other high mountains on the range. The inland view is less interesting than that obtained from others of the Reeks whose height is not so great; few of the lakes can be distinguished, and the beauty and variety of the scenery surrounding them is lost in the immensity of the distance. The spectator gazes with wonder upon the stupendous prospect which is spread around him, but the intense cold prevailing at this lofty elevation, renders unpleasant a stay of any length on the summit of Carran Tual.

The descent from the isthmus or ridge, which connects Carran Tual with the other Reeks, into the valley of Comme Duff, is tedious but not difficult, the steepness of the declivities rendering it exceedingly fatiguing. Mr. Weld, who descended on this side, speaks of his route as somewhat hazardous. He tells us, that shortly after leaving the isthmus, his party were conducted to a precipice, at least sixty feet deep, down which they were told that it was necessary for them to take their course.

The proposal (he says) startled us, nor did we conceive how it was practicable; but the guide seating himself at the brink of it, on a rock which presented an even face nearly to the bottom of the precipice, slid down it, taking the precaution, however, to impede the velocity of the descent, by catching hold of the tufts of long grass which grew from the crevices at each side. This example was followed without hesitation; and having accelerated our descent down the steepest part of the mountain, by sliding over other rocks of a similar description, we soon reached the bottom.

Having reached the valley of Comme Duff, the visiter makes his way, over a rugged and stony path, for the distance of about four miles; when he has reached the banks of the Upper Lake, it is customary to have a boat in waiting, by previous arrangement, to convey him homeward. It will be late before he arrives at the town of Killarney; sixteen or seventeen hours are scarcely sufficient for the whole day's excursion, so that if he have started as early as five in the morning, he will not return much before midnight.

Besides Glena and Tomish there is another moun

tain adjoining the Reeks, which is deserving of notice. It is connected with that of Glena, and with it forms one side of the Gap of Dunloh, the Reeks forming the other. This mountain is called the Purple Mountain, from the large loose fragments of stone about its summit, the débris of the rugged cliffs of a dark purplish clay-slate, which give to the mountains that hue when viewed from a distance below. From Mr. Barrow's account it seems to be deserving of a visit.

I made the ascent (he says) in about an hour. The day

was as fine as ever shone from the heavens; it was one day in a hundred, as the guide remarked, not a cloud to interrupt the view, and the whole range of Macgillicuddy's Reeks, with their peaked and jagged summits lay beautifully before me. The prospect was varied, extensive, and grand. On the west was the silver stream of the Laune, meandering into Dingle Bay, and a little to the left the great cluster of the Iveragh Mountains; on the south-west, the River and Bay of Kenmare; on the south, and close at hand, the rounded and unsightly summit of Mangerton, boasting an elevation of about 2550 feet; and on the east, the grounds and Abbey of Mucruss; but Ross Castle, with its wellplanted island, and beyond it the town of Killarney, were from this point hidden from the sight. On the summit of the Purple Mountain a heap of stones was piled up, on which I suppose the officers employed in the Trigonometrical Survey of Ireland had fixed their staffs, as these piles are observable on all the highest points in the island.

TWILIGHT.

IN those portions of the globe where the atmosphere is frequently obscured by clouds and mists, and where the nights in some parts of the year greatly exceed the days in length, we enjoy the cheering influence of light for a short time before the sun has actually risen, and again after it has set. This mellow and pleasing light, which we call twilight, arises from the refractive power of the air, by which the rays of the sun are bent from their direct course, and partially illuminate the earth for a limited time after it has set, and before it has

risen.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

which the earth is surrounded; s is the sun at some distance below the horizon, that is, out of the sight of an individual placed at B, and consequently a ray of light proceeding in the direction sSA E could never reach the earth at B, if it was not for some counteracting cause: this cause we find in the refractive power of the atmosphere. (We have explained the phenomena of refraction in the Saturday Magazine, Vol. XI., p. 77.-Amusements of Optics.) its passage towards E meets with the atmosphere of the The ray of light in earth somewhere about A, and is bent from its direct course towards в, so that those who live at в on the earth's surface enjoy the effects of the sun's rays for otherwise out of sight. a considerable time after that luminary would be

Twilight varies in duration at different times of the year, and in various parts of the globe. Between the tropics it is scarcely known, the brilliant nights of these climates rendering it unnecessary; so that the passage from day to night, and from night to day, is

almost without an interval. Sir Walter Scott alludes words in the mouth of the pirate Bertram Risingham. to this in his poem of Rokeby, when he puts these And now, my race of terror run, Mine be the eve of tropic sun: No pale gradations quench his ray, No twilight dews his wrath allay. With disk like battle target red, He rushes to his burning bed; Dyes the wide waves with ruddy light, Then sinks at once,-and all is night.

THE USEFUL ARTS. No. XXXIV.

MASONRY.

WHEN the stone is sawed to the proper size, the surfaces which will be exposed to view, are to be made smooth and even. The tools used by the mason for this purpose consist of iron chisels, of different widths, and, principally, of a sharp-pointed one, called a pointer; these chisels are struck with a mallet made of a conical-formed lump of hard wood, fixed on a short handle.

of the entablature immediately over the capitals of the columns be looked at attentively, a stone will be perceived between the columns apparently unsupported, for neither end rests on the column, and the joints of those ends are upright, not presenting any character of a voussoir-stone or arch. The contrivance by which such an architrave stone is supported deserves to be described.

thus really an arched or wedge-shaped one, though the bevel line is concealed, and the two stones, when put together, present only a vertical joint.

The stone in question has a projecting part, wrought at each end, of the form shown in the annexed figure; this projection is received into a corresponding cavity, cut in the The pointer is used for chipping off the principal rough-end of the stone supported by the column, and the joint is nesses on the face and edges, and for working the whole face over to bring it level, the workman trying his work by applying a straight-edge occasionally to it. When the front and edges are made true, the face is sometimes tooled over, so as to leave regular furrows in it, according to certain forms, by which the different kinds of work are distinguished. But this practice is going out of use, now that soft free-stone is so much employed in building. In old edifices, such as St. Paul's, Whitehall, &c., &c., the stone will be found to be wrought on its face in the manner alluded to.

Stones in buildings are not only fixed with mortar, as bricks are, but are further secured in their places by being clamped together with iron clamps. These are short iron bars, from seven to twelve inches long, one and a half wide, and half an inch thick, according to the size of the stone; the ends of the clamps are turned down a little, to afford a better hold. A channel is cut in the two contiguous stones deep enough for the clamp to lie in, and the ends of the channel are sunk deeper, to receive the turned-down ends of the clamp; when this is put into the channel, molten lead is poured in to fill up the interstices, to keep the clamp in its place, and to prevent its rusting by wet getting to it.

From the expense of carrying and working stone, the walls of buildings at a distance from a quarry are seldom, now, built of solid stone, but a facing of this material is applied only on the external surface of the wall, which is built of brick. This kind of work is called ashler work, and both the brick and stone-work must be executed with considerable care, to enable a wall composed of two materials to preserve its perpendicularity; it being obvious, that if the brick part yielded to the weight, it must, from its construction, do so more than the stone facing, and, therefore, the wall would bend inwards and become crippled.

The width of the courses of ashlers must, therefore, be made equal, exactly to a certain number of courses of bricks with the intervening mortar, and the brickwork must be executed with such care, that this number of courses may be everywhere of the same width in the whole height of the wall. In every course of ashler there must be solid stones laid quite, or nearly quite, across the width of the wall, to form a bond to the stone facing, and all the stones of the ashler must be fixed with iron cramps to one another and to these bond-stones. But however carefully a faced wall may be executed, it is never so firm or durable as one built entirely of either material; indeed, if well executed, of good materials, and of competent thickness in proportion to its height, a brick-wall is the most durable, light, and efficient structure that can be erected.

When stone is to be cut into cornices, mouldings, &c., the blocks having been sawed, the ends top and bottom are worked very true and parallel, or perpendicular to each other, and one edge or arris cut to a perfectly straight line; a thin wooden mould of the section of the cornice is then applied to each end, and the profile of the mouldings marked out on the stone. The workman being guided by this figure, cuts away the stone down to the general surface of the mouldings, and then proceeds to get the flat fillets of the mouldings perfectly staight and true by the rule; these again guide him in working the curved mouldings, such as ovolos, cavettos, cyma reetas, and ogees; when these are cut nearly to their profile, and perfectly straight on the bed line, they are finished off by being rubbed down smooth by thin long straight-edges of stone.

Foliage and carved work is executed by a better kind of workman, possessing some of the taste of an artist, and he works on the same general principles as a sculptor when executing a statue; it would be foreign to the object of these papers, therefore, to dwell on this branch of the mason's art. It often, or even most commonly occurs, that the distance between two columns of a portico, is of greater length than a stone can be obtained, and if the architrave, or that part Continued from Vol. IX., p. 40.

The mason, in common with the bricklayer, uses squares, levels, plumb-lines, and straight-edges to set out his work, and trowels and mortar to set the stones with; but the latter is rather used to make the joints water-tight than to keep the stones together, this being effected by their weight or by iron clamping. Formerly the mason required far more accurate and extensive knowledge of geometry than is possessed by persons of the trade at present; this was when he was called on to construct groined and vaulted roofs, enriched with carved work and pendent corbels, where the nicest workmanship was required, to ensure the stability of the light and graceful columns and vaulting of a Gothic cathedral. It was this possession of superior skill and knowledge that caused the establishment of the Society of Free Masons, which dates its rise from the tenth or eleventh century.

Marble, from its costliness, and the difficulty of working it, is seldom, if ever, used in solid pieces in buildings; thin facings of it are set upon stone backings, much as rare woods are used in veneering by the cabinet-maker. The marble is sawn into thin slabs, like other stone, and the face is polished by rubbing on it the surface of another piece, fine sand, mixed up with water, being used to cause abrasion.

PROCESSES BY WHICH THE EARTH IS
CLOTHED WITH PLANTS.

No one can have seen a lake, without observing that wherever a river flows into it, the borders consist of meadows, or of marshy land, or both: while the marsh is a preliminary to the meadow, and is finally converted into one. If the whole process be watched, it will be found to commence in the shoaling of the bottom at the entrance of the river, sometimes producing islands, or banks, which, gradually attaining the level of the water, become first marshy tracts, and are finally elevated so as to form solid plains of meadow land. The progressive deposition of earth and stones by the river is here the fundamental cause and as far as this acts on that land which has already surmounted the general level of the water, the increase is the result of inundations extending themselves over it. The consequent effects are the narrowing, the shortening, or the dividing of lakes, and ultimately their obliteration, so that nothing at length remains but a river traversing a plain; while the practical and obviously designed result is, in all cases, an acquisition of new and valuable lands. The object here is to point out that portion of the total plan which is effected by the intervention of the living and vegetable creation, through the inclinations, or instincts, of plants appointed for the completion of this great design of clothing the earth.

It is a striking proof of design, that two processes, entirely distinct in their natures, are brought to bear

« PoprzedniaDalej »