noes, too, it is necessary to admit that the sea once covered to some depth the belts of flat ground that run along the margin of the Clyde at Glasgow, and hence that, since the days of the aborigines, the land has here actually risen above the sea.

Apart from questions of science, it is not uninteresting to mark at how early an epoch the advantages of the Clyde, as a maritime station, were recognised. The number of canoes shows that the river must have been much frequented, although no record remains to indicate what may have been the traffic in which they were engaged. What a suggestive contrast, too, is presented to us by the present and the ancient aspect of the scene! To-day all is bustle and business. Ships from the remotest corners of the earth come hither with their merchandize. Vast warehouses and stores are ranged row upon row along the margin of the river, and in these are piled the productions of every clime. Streets, noisy with the rattle of wheels and the tread of horses and the hum of men, stretch away, to the right hand and the left, as far as the eye can reach. The air is heavy with the smoke belched out from thousands of chimneys. And so, day after day, the same endless din goes on ; every year adding to it, as the streets and squares creep outward and the tide of human life keeps constantly flowing. But how different the scene when the early races navigated these waters ! Down in the earth, beneath these very warehouses and streets, lies the bed of the old river with the remains of the canoes that floated on its surface-silent witnesses of the changes that have been effected, not less on the land than on its inhabitants. We can picture that dim, long-forgotten time, when the sea rose, at least five-and-twenty feet higher in the valley than it does now, and covered with a broad sheet of water the site of the lower parts of the present city of Glasgow. We see the skirts of the dark Caledonian forest sweeping away to the north among the mists and shadows of the distant hills. The lower grounds are

flats of stunted bent, on which there grows here and there a hazel or an alderbush, or, perchance, a solitary fir, beneath whose branches a herd of wild cattle, white as the driven snow, browse on the scanty herbage. Yonder, far to the right, a few red deer are slowly pacing up the valley, as the heron, with hoarse outcry and lumbering flight, takes Wing. and a canoe, manned by a swarthy savage with bow across his shoulders. pushe out from the shore. The smoke that curls from the brake in front shows where his comrades are busy before their tents hollowing out the stem of: huge oak, that fell on the neighbouring slope when the last storm swept across from the Atlantic. And there stretches the broad riverits surface never dis turbed save by the winds of heaven, or by the plunge of the water-fowl, and the paddles of the canoes—its clear current never darkened except when the rain clouds have gathered far away a the southern hills, and the spate come roaring down the glens and the water falls, and hurries away red and rapid ta lose itself in the sea. Such was the landscape when our forefathers first looked upon it. How came it to undergo so total a change? It is not merels that man himself has advanced, that he has uprooted the old forests, extirpated the wild cattle, driven away the me deer to the fastnesses of the mountains drained the peat-bogs, covered the couttry with corn-fields and villages, and built along the margin of the rivers great city. True, he has done all this, ani has undoubtedly been the chief agent in the general change. But nature, too, has helped him. Those vast forces that are lodged beneath the crust of the earth have slowly upheaved the land. and have converted a large part of the bottom of the old estuary into good, dry ground, covered with the richest soil, and fitted in no common degree for the growth of streets. And hence, where his ancestors floated their rade boats he builds his warehouses, and on tracts that were ever wet with the pose of river and sea, and bore no other with their congeners, he now plants his country villas and lays out his pleasuregrounds.

If such extensive changes can be traced so clearly on the west side of the country, it may easily be supposed that traces of a similar revolution are not wanting on the east side. The estuary of the Forth, in its upper part, is bounded, especially along the southern margin, by a broad, level plain, known as the “Carse of Falkirk." This flat ground extends away up the valley for some fifteen miles above Stirling, and even at its upper limit, not far from where the Forth bursts from the Highland mountains, its surface does not rise to a height of so much as forty feet above the level of the sea. In the lower part of the carse the surface is about twenty-five feet above high-water mark, and its inequalities are so slight that it looks like a dead level. Here again the reader will have no difficulty in recognising the old raised beach; he can picture the sea flowing over the surface of the carse at high-water, and retreating again as the tide ebbed. Here, too, below the grassy covering, the clay contains thousands of marine shells, grouped in regular layers exactly as the animals lived and died upon the spot. In so far, therefore, the evidence corresponds with that of the Clyde, and leads us to infer an elevation of the land to the extent of at least five-andtwenty feet. Nor are proofs lacking that here, too, this uprise was actually beheld by man. In the upper layers of the carse clay of the Forth, fully twenty feet above the highest level of the tide, the skeletons of no fewer than three whales have been at different times exhumed. They measured from seventy to eighty feet in length, and, in at least one instance, lay with the head pointing up the estuary, as if the animal had got into shallow water and had stranded while ascending from the sea. The most remarkable circumstance in connexion with the discovery of these skeletons was thåt two of them were accompanied by a piece of perfora

workmanship, one of the pieces having still attached to it a fragment of the shaft of wood to which it had been fastened. Now, no whale could have advanced some miles inland to a height of twenty feet above high water, and we may be quite certain that the skeletons (which were entire) could not have been carried inland by the natives. There is only one solution of the question. The land has actually risen ; and the occurrence of the two horn implements in undisturbed clay beside the skeletons proves that, when the whales stranded, man was already a denizen of the country, and, consequently, that the upheaval to which the island owes its present configuration has taken place within the human period.

The “human period," however, is daily becoming a more indefinite and extended epoch; for modern research tends to throw the early races of man farther back than the date which we have been in the habit of assigning to them. Is there nothing, then, in the nature or contents of the raised beach to tell about what part of this vast human period the last elevation of the Scottish coasts took place ? If the space of this article permitted, it would not be difficult to show that the general bearing of the archaeological evidence from the raised beach points to a not very remote era as the probable time when the elevation was effected. The more finished of the Clyde canoes, the iron implements from the carses of the Forth and Tay, and the absence of what can be proved to be very ancient antiquities on the terrace of the old beach, are facts which indicate that the rise of the land was completed, not only after man had come to the country, but after he had passed out of his earlier stages of barbarism, and had become expert in the use of metal tools. Nay more, an examination of the Roman remains, more especially of the Wall of Antonine, where it terminates on the east at the Forth, and on the west at the Clyde, and the Wall of Severus at its end on the Solway Firth, will lead

of level may even be, at least in part, later than the advent of the Romans to Britain. This fact, however, has not been hitherto recognised. The Antonine Wall has, indeed, been alleged to prove that since the time of the Romans no alteration of the relative level of sea and land has taken place. It is sufficient to reply, that the Wall, at both its eastern and western ends, lies above the limit of the raised beach. If we could restore the land to the position which it occupied when that beach was actually covered by the tides at high water-that is, if we could depress Scotland some twenty or five-and-twenty feet below the sea-level-no part of the Roman Wall would be submerged. So far from such a submersion overtaking any Roman antiquities along the Scottish coast, I believe it will really be found to explain various topographical difficulties, such as the position of certain Roman towns and harbours.

Early in the summer of the past year, I was fortunate enough to light upon a sand-pit close to the margin of the Water of Leith, where that stream, after winding through the rich plains of Edinburghshire, enters the Firth of Forth, at Leith. In this opening were laid bare the various layers of sand, gravel, silt, and shells, to which reference has been so often made in this paper as thu characteristic deposits of the raised beach. The height of these strata above the sea. level was about twenty-five feet, the same elevation as the surface of the Falkirk carse. The top of the sand-pit was probably about thirty feet. At a first glance, there was nothing to distinguish the section here displayed from the ordinary character of the old beach, where it runs up the estuary of a stream. The layers of sand and silt exactly resemble those which are at this moment being deposited along the neigbouring shores. In looking more narrowly, however, in company with my friend Dr. Young, of the Geological Survey, I succeeded, along with him, in detecting some fragments of pottery regularly imbedded in one of the silt beds, and overlaid by several feet

up this discovery, we obtained some additional pieces of the same kind of pottery, along with some fragmentary bones, which my friend regarded at the time as probably those of a deer. We submitted the pottery to the curator of the Antiquarian Museum, at Edinburgh, who allowed us to compare it with the collection of ceramic antiquities in the Museum. Its resemblance to the coarse yellow pottery of the larger Roman vessels was complete, in colour, texture, thickness, and, indeed, in its whole appearance. The curator, Mr. Macculloch, had previously indicated its apparently Roman character, and it was highly satisfactory to see the date of the fragments so clearly shown by the amphoræ and other utensils of the Museum. When we had ascertained that the pottery was really the work of Roman hands, the deduction that must be drawn from its occurrence where we found it, became clear enough. But, lest there should have been by any chance a mistake on our part as to the precise nature of the deposit in which the fragments lay imbedded, or as to the manner of their occurrence, we repaired once more to the sand-pit, taking another geological friend to assist. With the aid of a large pickaxe and spade we removed a considerable amount of the stiff, dark-coloured silt, and found a few more fragments of the same character as before. We fully confirmed our original observations. The fragments of pottery were imbedded in the silt horizontally, like the flatter stones and oyster valves, just as they would have been assorted by the tide upon the beach. Above them were thin layers of pure sand, intercalated in straight horizontal lines amid the silt, and over all came some bands of stratified shell-sand, with barnacles still adhering to some of the larger stones. These strata had thus never been disturbed since their deposition; and the fragments of pottery were so arranged as to preclude the possibility of their having been introduced from the surface through rents in the clay. The con

that these strata formed the shore when slowly, during those long dark centuries the fragments of pottery were thrown about which we know so little, the land down where we found them, and that, rising inch by inch and foot by foot, and since that period, the old beach has been the sea appearing to creep back from elevated along with the rest of the cliff and sluice, making islets of subcountry to a height of somewhere about merged rocks, forsaking clefts and caves five-and-twenty feet. The Roman ori- wherein it loved to boil and foam, and gin of the pottery proved further that leaving wide level tracts of marshy this elevation must have been effected ground along the margin of the firths since the year 80 of our era, that being and bays. So gradual and tranquil a the date of the first Roman invasion of change was little likely to attract attenScotland.

tion, during those ages of wild warfare, It remains as the work of future years when Caledonian and Roman, Pict and to determine to what extent the rest of Scot, Saxon and Norman, alternately Britain participated in this movement. strove for the possession of the lonely That the upheaval extended over the moors and mountains, and gloomy imwhole of the centre of Scotland cannot penetrable forests of ancient Scotland. be doubted. That it may have included We are not to expect to find it recorded at least the north of England is ren- among the wars and battles that form dered not improbable, from the fact that the main subject of our older chronicles. the western end of the Wall of Severus, Yet it is far from impossible that acciwhich reached the sea on the shores of dental notices may there be found, helpthe Solway, is now a long way distant ing us to understand how the upheaval from the shore. This interval may, went on, and abou: what period the however, be to some extent, the result land came to be stationary. I commend of a silting up of the estuary. We the subject to those who addict themhave still to learn, too, about what cen- selves to archæological pursuits. Every tury the upward movement ceased, for fact that tends in any way to show the during the last three or four hundred progress of the change has not only a years, at least, there does not appear to geological importance, but possesses no have been any change in the level of sea little interest in relation to our history and land. It probably went on very as a great seafaring people.




LADY HAINAULT'S BLOTTING-BOOK. In the natural course of events, I ought now to follow Charles in his military career, step by step. But the fact is that I know no more about the details of horse soldiering than a marine, and, therefore, I cannot. It is within the bounds of possibility that the reader may congratulate himself on my ignorance, and it may also be possible that

Within a fortnight after Hornby's introduction to Lord Saltire and Lady Ascot, he was off with the head-quarters of his regiment to Varna. The depôt was at Windsor, and there, unknown to Hornby, was Charles, drilling and drilling. Two more troops were to follow the head-quarters in a short time, and so well had Charles stuck to his duty that he was considered fit to take his place in one of them. Before his moustaches were properly grown, he found himself a soldier in good earnest.

piest time he had, for he had got rid of street. As he walked his purpose grew. the feeling that he was a disgraced man. He went straight to the quarters of a If he must wear a livery, he would certain cornet, son to the major of the wear the Queen's; there was no disgrace regiment, and asked to speak to him. in that. He was a soldier, and he would The cornet, a quiet, smooth-faced boy, be a hero. Sometimes, perhaps, he listened patiently to what he had to say, thought for a moment that he, with his but shook his head and told him he two thousand pounds worth of educa- feared it was impossible. But, he said, tion, might have been better employed after a pause, he would help him all he than in littering a horse, and swash- could. The next morning he took him bucklering about among the Windsor to the major while he was alone at taverns ; but he did not think long breakfast, and Charles laid his case beabout it. If there were any disgrace in fore him so well, that the kind old man the matter, there was a time coming gave him leave to go to London at four soon, by all accounts, when the disgrace o'clock, and come back by the last train would be wiped out in fire and blood. the same evening. On the Sunday, when he saw the Eton The Duchess of Cheshire's ball was lads streaming up to the terrace, the old the last and greatest which was given Shrewsbury days, and the past gene- that season. It was, they say, in some rally, used to come back to him rather sort like the Duchess of Richmond's unpleasantly ; but the bugle put it all ball before Waterloo. The story I have out of his head again in a moment. heard is, that Lord George Barty perWere there not the three most famous suaded his mother to give it, because armies in the world gathering, gather- he was sure that it would be the last ing, for a feast of ravens ? Was not ball he should ever dance at. At all the world looking on in silence and events the ball was given, and he was awe, to see England, France, and Russia right, for he sailed in the same ship as locked in a death-grip? Was not he to Charles four days after, and was killed make one at the merry meeting? Who at Balaclava. However, we have nocould think at such a time as this ? thing to do with that. All we have to

The time was getting short now. In do with is the fact, that it was a very five days they were to start for South- great ball indeed, and that Lady Hainault ampton, to follow the head-quarters to was going to it. Constantinople, to Varna, and so into S ome traditions and customs grow the dark thunder-cloud beyond. He by degrees into laws, ay, and into laws felt as certain that he would never come less frequently broken than those made back again, as that the sun would rise and provided by Parliament. Allow on the morrow.

people to walk across the corner of one He made the last energetic effort that of your fields for twenty years, and there he made at all. It was like the last is a right of way, and they may walk struggle of a drowning man. He says across that field till the crack of doom. that the way it happened was this. And Allow a man to build a hut on your I believe him, for it was one of his own property, and live in it for twenty years, mad impulses, and, like all his other and you can't get rid of him. He impulses, it came too late. They came gains a right there. (I never was anbranking into some pot-house, half-a- noyed in either of these ways myself, dozen of them, and talked loud about for reasons which I decline to mention ; this and that, and one young lad among but it is the law, I believe.) There is no them said, that “ he would give a law to make the young men fire off guns thousand pounds, if he had it, to see at one's gate on the 5th of November, his sister before he went away, for fear but they never miss doing it. (I found she should think that he had gone off some of the men using their ' rifles without thinking of her.”

for this purpose last year, and had to

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