half a dozen; that there they contrive, nobody knows how, actually to have children, and that "Buirdly chiels and clever hizzies, Are bred in sic a way as this is." Long before the days of Tristram Shandy, there must have been some thing magnificent naturally associated with the idea of parturition, I mean among females; for as to the male animal chiefly concerned, it has been remarked, that on such occasions he has rather a sober, pitiful, sneaking, aspect. Even a hen in an outhouse cannot drop an egg quietly. No there is incontinently such a clack and hullyballoo set up in the neighbour hood, in which the cock, too, like a fool, sometimes joins, as is absolutely intolerable. A learned friend of mine, who has studied all languages, particu larly that of birds, and who pretends he can converse with them, assures \me, that all this cackle and uproar in the hen-house, is nothing more than "Please call at the low door."* X.Y.Z. GEOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS ON STRATHEARN. MR EDITOR, THE wonderful revolutions to which the surface of the globe has been subjected since its primary formation, have of late years claimed the attention of philosophers. Those changes, almost every where apparent, have given rise to new theories no less singular than satisfactory, and have excited a desire in mankind to become acquainted with the causes by which those extraordinary phenomena have been occasioned, and which, in former times, either escaped their notice, or appeared so mysterious and inscrutable as to preclude all research. The human mind cannot now form any conception of that aspect which the surface of the earth originally had assumed, though it cannot be doubted, that, from the various agents employed in the mighty operations of nature, exerted in giving form and stability to our planet, considerable irregularity must all along have diversi * See Plinius's Nat. Hist. B. 9, C. 491. Cicero de Divinatione, 2. 39. and many German works on the language of birds and other animals. fied it; but those immense masses, which constitute what are called the primary mountains, seem in a great measure to have remained unaltered during the subsequent convulsions that produced the secondary structure, and gave to the universal body its present unequal appearance-But a smooth and uninterrupted surface was incom❤ patible with those laws which are sup posed to have been called into action in the formation of the earth; and though it is not necessary, on the present occasion, to enter into the merits of the contending Volcanic and Neptunian theories, we must still be con scious, that many series of facts constantly presented to our view on the exterior, as well as those that have been explored in the bowels of the earth, are consistent with, and may very plausibly be attributed to, the influence of both powers. For the purpose of exhibiting an object of geology more immediately within the reach of our own observation, we shall confine our remarks to an extraordinary change to which the beautiful and fertile valley of Strathearn has anciently been subjected; and which, though perhaps of less importance to the naturalist than the prodigious altitudes, and extensive dales of the Alps and Andes, are still worthy of admiration, as this tract possesses a variety of subjects interesting to the student of nature, and to the lover of her sublime and picturesque beauties. The great chain of the Grampian mountains, which constitutes the nor thern, as, the Ochil hills do the southern, boundary of this valley, are in many parts composed of primitive matter; but in several places this formation is surmounted by secondary rock of various character and diversity of alternation and position. The por tion of those mountains in the vicinity of Lochearn, and what forms the im mediate limits of that lake, is not wholly granitic, their exterior being covered with wacke, different species of shistus, lime, and sandstone. Some beds of trap are also visible in its usual linear direction, traversing these rocks without regard to their stratification, and always disposed in yertical walls. But the most striking features in the district of Strathearn are, the surprising changes that the ground has undergone by the different courses which the river has taken at various periods. These alterations are very evident in travelling along this extensive tract, from the departure of the river out of its parent lake to its confluence with the Tay, a distance of near thirty miles, as the numerous channels by which it has run may be traced with tolerable accuracy. The efflux of Lochearn, in its then extensive form, seems to have been different from the course which the river at present follows in leaving the plain of Dalginross, and appears to have passed from Ochtertyre, whose lakes are the remains of the ancient eastern boundary, along the hollow at the manse of Monivaird, near to which it was joined by the water of Turret. At the present day, the old and perhaps original bed of the river Earn can plainly be traced along the west side of the town of Crieff, where it still intersects two of the streets, sweeping, in a circular direction, the base of the hill on which that town is built, and passing eastward, held its course upwards of 90 feet higher than the present river. Pursuing that direction, it appears to have made seve ral windings until it reached Abercairney, whence it continued its channel, with little variation from a straight line, nearly due east, running along the tract of the Powaffery river, now a retrograde stream, over the valley where moulder the ruins of the abbey of Inchaffery; and, holding the same line, passed below the House of Bal It appears almost certain, that Loch earn at one time had extended to more than double its present magnitude, having occupied the whole of the flat from its south-eastern extremity to Ochtertyre, covering the great plain on which the village of Comrie, the remains of the Roman camp of Dalginross, the Victoria of Ptolemy, and many farm-houses now stand.* This opinion is strengthened and rendered satisfactory by an examination of the surrounding country, or what originally marked the borders of the lake, where the soil and banks formed by the water are visible, and still retain their first appearance, although for ages submitted to the operations of agriculture. The soil over all this flat is also of a decisive character, being composed of water, gravel, and algowan and the Castle of Methven, luvion, as almost all the stones that have been dug up are round or elliptical, the certain effects of water; and this is particularly the case in the neighbourhood of Ochtertyre, along the road from Crieff to Comrie. On the south side of the valley, near the House of Struan, there is a large concretion of breccia, the composition of which is sand, and stones that have undergone attrition by the action of water, and have been consolidated by the admixture of metallic oxide. This species of rock is not commonly to be met with in the interior of the kingdom, and in no situation but where considerable bodies of water either now are, or have formerly been. On the west ern shores of Scotland it is frequently seen; but we are not acquainted with its appearance in masses of great magnitude at a distance from the coast, nor in situations of very lofty elevation. * It has been supposed, by many learned Antiquaries, that on this spacious plain was fought the celebrated battle of the Grampians, betwixt the Caledonian and Roman armies; and, certainly, the names of many places in the neighbourhood go far to sane tion such a belief. until it joined the Water of Almond at Pitcairn Green, at that period probably an arm of the sea, which then certainly covered large portions of the flat land along the banks of the Tay near Perth. Over the whole of this ground undoubted proofs of the ef fects of water are evident, by an ex amination of the debris collected at different times, which form a variety of strata, "and contain boulder stones of many species, brought from the mountains by successive floods and inundations of the river. But, after the river had ceased to flow by the course which it has thus been supposed primarily to have taken, the valley of Strathearn seems to have undergone other considerable revolu◄ tions from the changes of its river. We have said that Lochearn, according to its original expanse, formed a lake, from its western extremity to the house of Ochtertyre, of twenty miles long, but of irregular breadth. The catastrophe which diminished it to the present size, and gave the river a new direction, does not seem inexplicable. It is the opinion of many profound geologists, that the western mainland of Scotland, with its numerous islands and promontories, were anciently unit ed, forming a compact and undivided continent; but that by tremendous convulsions, produced by general as well as by partial earthquakes, a disjunction of the primary structure was effected, and occasioned that separation of islands from the mainland, and on the mainland that astonishing irregularity of coast, so indented with arms of the sea, which renders its navigation so intricate, but gives to the mineralogist an ample field of research, and to the painter an admirable display of sublime scenery.-To the cause that has produced such wonderful phenomena, do we also attribute the reduction of ancient Lochearn. The departure of the river from the great level plain of Dalginross, the former bottom of the lake, is through a narrow chasm, the sides of which appear at one time to have been united, as they are composed of the same materials, and were disjoined by some of those convulsions of the earth, which, even of late years, have been so common in that vicinity. This disunion must have been sudden, though, from the very remote period at which we may believe it took place, no calamitous consequences as to human life could have happened, as the kingdom was probably not inhabited for many subsequent ages. By the sudden separation of this hill, the north side of which was washed by the lake, an impetuous and irresistible discharge of water would be the consequence, which, forcing its way through a different tract of country from the former stream, must have carried every opposing substance before it, and speedily have formed a new channel for it self. But this latter course, from passing along a more enlarged plain than formerly, has produced considerable alterations on the face of the country, which is evidently broken by deep hollows that have been washed out by the stream. The river in the plain near Comrie has taken various channels after the ground was drained by the breaking out of the water that anciently covered it; and when it descends below Crieff, the whole low land is marked by the numerous courses it has pursued at different periods. To trace these windings is not an arduous undertaking; but, excepting in a few in stances, a particular description might not be generally interesting. The deep chasms, however, exhibit some objects of mineralogical curiosity, and the steep banks expose a series of alluvial stratification, illustrative of the revolutions to which the soil and surface of mountainous countries are liable. Having exhausted too much of your time, on a subject of little importance perhaps to your readers, we have only to observe, that in pursuing similar objects of inquiry, sources of rational amusement may be developed, which may ultimately lead to the acquisition of knowledge and the prosecution of useful science, while they must direct the mind to the contemplation of that Power whose wisdom has ordered, and whose omniscience has regulated, the magnificent and wonderful operations of nature, so constantly under our observation. DICALEDON. Crieff, Aug. 1, 1817. MEMORANDUMS OF A VIEW-HUNTER. No III. Calais. Took a very cursory view of the town, as I meant to return through it. Not so large as Dover. It has a very good market-place, or square, of the country town sort: the streets are tolerably wide and straight, and the houses respectable for a place of its size. It has an air and cast of the French towns; but I perceived less Frenchness, both in its buildings and in the dress and manners of its inhabitants, than in any other town in France. Indeed, in London, our women, since the peace, had so entirely abandoned their own simple and natural mode of graceful dress, and imitated the late fantastic French style in so burlesque a way, that, on crossing the water, I really began to imagine that simplicity in dress had changed countries. I saw ornaments on the French side, I own, which it would have been more truly ornamental to have been without; but, contrasting what I saw with the grotesque habiliments of our London belles, I thought I had got again among a more natural kind of folks. I recollected, that about a year before, on returning to town from the country, I wondered, as I walked along the streets, what had become of all our young women. They used to look so lovely. Now, however, I found none but dames with hunchbacks and rumps sticking out, bent almost double, and saw nothing but puffs, and plaits, and flounces, and grandmothers' bonnets. On my word, unless I had looked more nicely into the faces hidden under these tremendous bonnets, than was becoming ei ther in a bachelor or married man, I must have set down all I met, on an average, at fifty and upwards. Even at assemblies, and other dress parties, old age was by no means abandoned. Not a dress that did not seem in its colouring to have been imitated from Harlequin's. Not a colour of the rainbow but crowded and glowed in every part of it. As for the heads, which, when adorned only in the style of nature, form so beautiful a portion of the females of the island, they seemed to have exhausted all the flowergardens at Chelsea, and indeed round town. There were tiers of every kind of gaudy flower, heaped up, and squeezed so close, that the flower-woman's basket, about the end of May, on her first sallying forth with her ruddy bouquets at a penny a-piece, is scarcely better stored. Old age was the ton-old fashionedness the rageand grotesque deformity quite the thing. But this is rather a dangerous subject for a view-hunter, and I pass from it. Calais is said to contain 7600 souls. It is of importance, by the way, for a traveller to state the population of a place, when it is known, and whether this be increasing or decreasing. According to the genuine principles of statistics, when the number of the inhabitants of a town, and their state as to increase or decrease, are given, we can form a guess at the quantum of employment, the style of living, the rate of prices, and other circumstances; particularly, if it have few or no manufactures. These connect it with an external population; and when a town is of the manufacturing class, the results will be of the combined number of the latter, and the residents. Calais, has scarcely any manufactures. It seems to be in a stationary condition. w no new buildings. The Table d'Hôte, and French Cookery, I passed into the Salle a Manger, and waited with some anxious curiosity for dinner, as I had never yet dined at a table d'hôte, or in a French house. Both, therefore, particularly awoke my attention as a view-hunter. The room was spacious. It had a paper of a great staring pattern, in squares, with vivid colours in the French style. The squares contained four different groupes. Two were of Highlanders. Among the various expectants, I found an English gentleman, whom, from his frankness and ease, I took to be an officer out of regimentals, or else a tourist who had seen much of the world. He gave me some useful information. He was going to make a tour in France in a gig with a servant. On my expressing my anxiety about receiving back, in time, my passport, which the officer had obtained from me at the quay, he begged me to be quite at my ease, as it would be forthcoming when it was wanted. He advised me to leave all these things to the French themselves, and let them take their own way. I should find, he said, they would not disappoint me. The only information I received was from this gentleman. It is astonishing how little most tourists can or will give of the intelligence we want, unless we know as much of a country ourselves as to ask the questions we wish to have answered. We sat down to dinner at four o'clock. About sixteen of us of both sexes. More than one half British. The guests seemed to be of various ranks : some of them appeared to be residents of Calais. A little man, on the left of the person at the head of the table, evidently a priest, particularly attract ed my attention. He ate with great complacency, constancy, and perseverance, without saying any thing, or seeming to notice the company, for he looked neither to the right hand nor to the left. There was a kind of fixed smile on his countenance, containing a mixture of satire and benevolence: it was doubtful which prevailed. He was a Corsican, as I afterwards learnt. The dinner was abundant, but all in the French Style of cookery. Stewing and frying with butter, or oil and vinegar, seem the basis of the style. The object of the French cook, as of all French artisans, is not to follow but to excel nature; or, as our critics of the coxcombical genus (a numerous one), whether of the literary, the painting, or musical tribes, express themselves, the ideal nature which they imitate is a nature above nature: that is, in this case, as in all other cases of the sort, it is a nature that is unnatural. The French seem to plume themselves as much on being the first cooks, as on being the first soldiers, in Eu rope; and certainly, Europe in general, at least her rich and epicurean folks, rather concede the former palm to them. That is nothing to me. I must, and I will, think for myself in this as in all other cases, let the numbers against me be what they may. Though not affecting to know much of the practice of the pleasing art of cookery, I conceive I know a little of the general theory of it. And if the French cook would allow those legitimate authorities, and the only legitimate ones that I acknowledge, nature and reason, to decide, I should have no objection to break a lance with him. But the nature which he, in common with all Frenchmen, acknowledges, is French custom; and his reason, with respect to any changes in it, is French fashion. To his argument, decisive with him and Frenchmen, it is the French custom and the best, I can only reply, I admit the fact, but I reject the authority. And therefore, if I mean to reason on the subject, it must be with others. The intention of food is to recruit the strength of man, and to keep him in sound health. Nature has also be nevolently rendered the various foods which are useful for this purpose, though differing greatly in flavour, agreeable to his palate. The proper intention of the cook, therefore, is so to prepare those foods as to make them as nutritive and palatable as possible. It is found, that flesh meat, when barely done, is more strengthening than when it is much done; for, in the former state, it possesses more of what tends to enrich the blood, and communicate a due supply of the various juices of the human body to every part. On this head the French cook uniformly errs. All his meats are so much overdone, that scarcely any of this natural juice is left in them. They are all nearly in a state of caput mortuum. It may be alleged, that though the juice has been fried or stewed out of the meat, still, however, it is found in the sauce or gravy. To this I should reply, only a very small portion of it in most cases. By far the greatest part of it has evaporat→ ed, and is lost. Overdoing his meats, and depriving them of their natural juices, he is ob liged to have recourse to artificial juices or sauces. Here again he as es sentially offends against nature as in the former case. The various sorts of flesh, poultry, and fish, have naturally each their peculiar flavour. And these are almost uniformly agreeable, though some are more or less pleasing to the generality. The natural intention of the cook must be to render each of these different natural flavours as poignant in their own case as art can make them. This must be, by adopting sauces which tend to heighten those peculiar flavours. It is meant, when these are necessary. For, in some sorts of food, all artificial sauce is unnecessary, and injures the pleasing flavour of the meat: take for example, the beaf-steak and the roasted sirloin. But the French cook, so far from being guided by this fundamental law of the art, almost uniformly acts on the principle of opposing it. In this he is so successful, that it is frequently difficult to tell whether the dish he presents you with consists of fish, flesh, fowl, or game. Butter, oil, milk, vinegar, and sugar, are the materials of the common French sauces; and these are applied so copiously, that it is almost immaterial which is the meat you bespeak. All are so smothered with the thin pudding formed by those ingredients, that they have the same luscious indiscriminate flavour. And yet further, the French cook not only completely spoils the flavour, but also the appearance of his foods.. Instead of that elegant and varied show which the different kinds of Nature's food yield on the table, when properly prepared, every thing in France, with the exception of the gigot, and a few other articles, has the same unvarying inelegant appearance of a whitish hash, or pieces of solids plunged in a mass of butter. In short, French cookery, like almost all other productions of the French, whatever be their kind, exhibits the same contempt of the ele gance of nature, and the same fond |