crust of the earth,-we are in a position to distinguish the petrifactions of the petrifying springs liable to be obliterated and converted into solid stone by continuous activity in the petrifying process from the fossils or petrifactions that beautify and give a sort of vitality to the fossiliferous stratifications.

Of the representations of organic life preserved in the fossiliferous stratifications, however little we can tell about the actual method of deposit, we can at least be well assured that they are the results of a totally different active process from the action of those petrifying liquids which in the end obliterate all organic distinctions and produce a homogeneous rock. This latter process is of daily influence and action among us, but the agencies that have created the fossiliferous

deposits have completed their work -how far back in the ages of the structure of our globe, let the sages of geological lore tell us. The con

vulsions that had done the work appear to have been displacements of great masses of mud-or, to define it otherwise, of some solution of inorganic earths in water. Whatever we call it, we must hold that the liquid or mucous mass set in motion was not of a character to destroy the organic objects it fell upon, but rather received them into itself uninjured. The process, however, leaves to be accounted for, a beautiful mystery, arising out of the fact that the stone organism within the stony matrix has all the component parts of the original living organism, animal or vegetable. The fish, for instance, is not merely complete in its external form; but if it be divided, there can be identified the skin with its scales, the flesh, the vital organs, and the tissue of bones. When

driven to account for this wonderful phenomenon, there is no more hopeful intellectual refuge to be found than in the supposition that as each of these elements of the composition of the fish decayed one after another in the order of its destructibility, its place was assumed by some liquid element about to pass into the condition of stone; and some aid from plausibility has been afforded to this hypothesis, in the consideration that the substance of each of the several elements-skin, bone, and intestines-might each have modified the character of the matter coming in its place.

A slight misgiving as to the gravity of the speculations we have drifted into, suggests an apologetic explanation, and with it a sincere abjuration of any attempt of the kind often perpetrated against the holiday-seeker and naturally more frequently against the young than the mature in years and experience

-an attempt to convert holidays into working days. The present object is not to drive him into districts where he may profitably study the science of geology or lithology, but to indicate what he may find both for amusement and instruction in the spots he may seek for the sake of their scenery or any other attraction. Our ammonites, with the kindred fossils, have as yet, in pursuance of that object, been limited to the Isle of Wight and the neighbouring rocks of Portland. Another eminent abode of the ammonites and their kindred is Whitby in Yorkshire. This spot lays no great claim to dignity, or beauty, or scenery, but it is close to Scarborough, a notable tourists' haunt, and is not far distant from Flamborough Head and its precipices.

It will be admitted that scenery is to be found on the banks of the

Tay; and there, too, is to be found in abundance the beautiful agate that, in the days when it burst into notice as a worthy decoration of female beauty, was always talked of as the Scotch pebble. The most highly esteemed forms of it are also known as the fortification agate, from a certain resemblance found in the adjustment of its brilliant colours, in angular demarcations one within the other, to the bastions and ditches of a fortress. The agate generally presents itself in a rounded lump, rough and unattractive on its surface, with perhaps more resemblance to an unpeeled potato than to anything else, though the matrix it is found in is called the amygdaloidal trap, from the Greek word that is translated as "almond." Again we are thrown into the grand phenomena supposed to have been at work in the structure of the earth, to account for the formation of these beautifully variegated nodules.

Let the tourist on the Rhine find his way a few miles up the tributary stream of the Nahe to the dirty village of Oberstein, and stand there on the summit of the great rock or hill of amygdaloidal trap, whence more agates have been quarried out than from any other spot in the world. He is to suppose that, in some stage or other in the eventful construction of the crust of the earth, it had heaved itself forth from the fiery zones below, a boiling mass of liquid lava. When this cooled down, a mass of air that had been caught up by the boiling fluid could not escape instantaneously, and so left behind certain hollow spaces of the nature of air-bubbles. Into these, as the ages passed by, certain chemical elements existing in the trap found their way, forming laminations of divers colours according to their chemical properties; and it fitted

into this theory, that clefts in rocks of the amygdaloidal trap kind were filled with the variety of the pebble where the several colours are arranged in parallel layers, thus forming the material used by artists of the classic periods in cutting the beautiful gems known as onyx cameos, the parallel layers permitting the head to be cut in the form most applicable to the purpose, while another colour afforded the relief or background. If this be the true story of the affair at Oberstein, it will apply also to the ancient history of the amygdaloidal traps on the banks of the Tay. The formation may be found in many other parts of Scotland not preoccupied by the granite or the gneiss. The Pentland Hills consist in great measure of the agate-bearing trap, though the agates in it are seldom so large as to tempt the collector.

It may seem almost a truism that in making his choice for the season the holiday tourist should select a mountain district. If he has had, or is to have, an opportunity of seeing the world, that should be a separate and weightier affair, to be adjusted with all gravity by those who have the responsibility of his training and education.

In the days of Sir Charles Grandison, a period of early life devoted to the visiting of the most renowned cities, chief states, and most remarkable buildings in the world, was a part of a young gentleman's education, and doubtless a very productive part. But the world has been recast since the day when it was convenient to see the whole of it at once, and devote a considerable period of a life-time to that duty. If the young gentleman and his governor were in Rome, it was well to visit France and Spain before taking the long journey homewards; but express through-trains have removed these difficulties.

They

have brought with them, perhaps, defects of their own-as, for instance, the propensity to hasten over the ground, to "do" the most within the given time. We pass through a mountain gorge on a fine summer evening. It is a thing of beauty and a joy forever, whether it be to be revisited or to be retained as an impression on the memory. But a hurried visit to a great picturegallery carries to the mind that has any thoughtfulness and love of art. in it, painful sensations of disappointment and opportunity lost. And so it is with every object that attracts notice as a permanent monument of artistic genius. There

is something arousing a certain feeling of sympathy in the consideration that time, and art, and effort have been devoted to it, that it has been an anxious and probably engrossing thought in the mind of its creator, Will it give pleasure, and be admired? Is it a success? But Nature is lavish with her charms, and mountain scenery is not so much an object of study as a thing to be enjoyed, as the leisure and momentary inclination of the wanderer through it may influence him.

It is a matter of gratifying consideration that, among more valuable objects of national wealth, the United Kingdom possesses mountain-ranges peculiarly endowed with beauty and sublimity, and at the same time signally accessible. Chief among these are the Grampians, the cluster in North Wales culminating in Snowdon, the Lake district of the north of England, and the Killarney range in Ireland. The oldest favourite among our mountains is Snowdon. People ascended it when there was an almost superstitious dread of mountain adventure, and the adventurer on his return to the bosom of the society of ordinary mortals

seems to have found temptations there to indulge with garrulity on the marvels and perils of the achievement. However profound the pristine solitude of the summit of Snowdon may have been a century ago, the wanderer of the present day, if he has succeeded in discovering solitary tracks to ascend by, finds himself back in society when he reaches the summit. As one to whom the vision encountered there was as unpleasant as it was unexpected, might lose his temper and become excited in an attempt to characterise it, let it be described by the sage Murray: "The visitor who has thus arrived at the peak of Snowdon by any of these routes will be much mistaken if he comes prepared for mountain solitude, for Moel-y-Wyddfa is one of the most crowded spots in Wales. The guides have erected two huts on the highest point, where comestibles, such as eggs and bacon, may be obtained at tolerably reasonable prices, considering the labour of getting them up. In foggy or wet weather it is no slight relief to find a dry room and blazing fire. A charge of five shillings is made for bed and breakfast to those who wish to see the sun rising."

There is some consolation in reading this, and even in encountering the scene described, in the reflection that the precedent thus set up on what in the historical and social sense is our oldest mountain, has not spread to other tops. The practice of decorating a summit with a tavern is essentially German, and is the growth of propensities rooted in the German nature. is born of the desolation and despair that overtake Herman when he sees the prospect of passing a couple of hours where beer and sausages are unobtainable. And

It

indeed, those who come much in contact with him suspect that he requires these adjuncts to complete his enjoyment of mountain scenery. He is said to be peculiarly susceptible to the soothing and exhilarating influences of music; but still the beer and the sausages are necessary to give substantiality to the tone of the whole affair. A mountain expedition by a band of German students is apt to lead to convivialities even beyond the humble standard of beer and sausages. Auerbach's cellar in Leipzig, immortalised by Goethe in his 'Faust,' has occasionally harboured many a merry crew; but all their orgies have in recent times been equalled or exceeded by the revels in the huge substantial Gasthof on the summit of the Bloksberg, commonly known as the Brocken.

Perhaps among our home mountains we may assign Ben Lomond as next to Snowdon in the antiquity of its acknowledgment in the annals of the picturesque. Long as it has been known, and multitudinous as its visitors would appear if we had them all before us in Hades to give account of their career on earth, yet the symmetry and dignity of the beautiful mountain as it arose out of the convulsions that adjusted the present crust of the earth, is still untouched by such profane hands as those we have found leaving their marks on Snowdon. Long may it remain so, and as long may the pleasant hostel at Rowardennan exist to provide its comforts and luxuries under the conditions. Upwards of a century ago a bard who registers his name as Russell, but otherwise has passed unknown to fame, embodied his experience in certain precepts cut on a pane of glass in the neighbouring inn of Tarbet. Living in the days when men were more ready than they can venture to be in these

And rest, oh rest, long, long upon the top."

On the question of the frequency of the application, every wanderer will take the medium suggested by the contest between inclination and capacity; but it is always well to keep in view, in mountain travelling, that it may prove perilous while there is still climbing or descending in prospect to indulge in hilarities that might involve no danger in the hospitalities of home life.

The vision of Ben Lomond arising in the mind through the mist of long years spent in the usual cares and vicissitudes of the world, recalls a scene typical of the exhilarating influence of the mountaintop on youthful natures. The ascent is in the opening of spring, while the snow lies deep in the great corrie. Near the top there had been a landslip. From a rock a portion loosened by the frost had broken away, carrying with it a moraine of earth and stones. The attention of one of the party seemed mysteriously attracted to this phenomenon, and he was heard to mutter, "What now if there should be a dead body below?" He began forthwith to occupy himself in a very odd way. A few paces downward in the ascent we had observed two objects lying on the ground-one was a glove, the other a staff, both in their weather-worn aspect suggesting that they had passed the winter where they lay. That one of the party who seemed to take so excited an interest in the recently formed moraine, went back for these articles, and proceeded in an insanish sort of manner to stuff the fingers

of the glove with moss. Then he pressed the opening part of the glove into the sand of the moraine so that the fingers stuck up, and completed his stage effect by leaving the staff near the half-buried glove. The whole had a very suggestive and startling effect.

It may be said of all our home mountains, and especially of the highest and the best of them, that they are easy of ascent. It is a sort of etiquette that mountain scenery is not to be noticed except in laudation; but there is no great harm in glancing censorially at a distance when the result is to render us contented with our own. The grandeur of Alpine Switzerland, and the peculiar beauties and sublimities often so unexpectedly revealed in the clefts of the Jura, leave yet to the debit side of productiveness in scenery many wearisome round-back hills that, if the tourist is so unwise as to seek beauty in them, will only serve to burden his memory with the pressure of a monotony of ugliness. A great portion of the surface of France belongs to this class, properly called mountain ground, but not mountain scenery. France has her share in the glories of the Alps and the Pyrenees-and the beautiful central patch of scenery culminating in the Puy-de-Dôme is entirely her own; but her other mountain-ranges are characterised by wearisome monotony. Pass to the other extremity of Europe, and we shall find the same feature on an exaggerated scale in Norway and Sweden. Far away at the back, as it were, of this unsightly barrier, Norway is enriched with scenes of great sublimity and exquisite beauty; but these are not within the easy grasp of the wanderer in his statutory holiday-and it is well that he should know this, lest when he gets at mountains in

Norway he thinks he has also got possession of scenery. If he masters the geography of the whole ground he will find indeed that it is a quicker affair to get at the Alps than at the veritable Norwegian scenery. Methods have been suggested for shortening the journey to the recesses of the northern fiords. Let us hope that this may some day soon be accomplished, so that it may not happen, as it has, that after a week spent in vain efforts the party resolve to turn their backs to the north, and find their way to Switzerland. The practical accessibility of the fiords running inland from Bergen would be a vast addition to the available stock of European touring districts.

Returning homewards let us keep hold of the pleasant consideration that the mountain-ranges of the United Kingdom are signally accessible to the adventurer endowed with a moderate amount of skill and activity. It is a condition, however, of these qualities finding a successful investment in the ease and pleasantness of the ascent, that whether it be taken by the lonely wanderer, or by a general group of friends, it must not be effected under the superintendence of a guide. The reasons for this warning are supplied from propensities and prejudices that have their roots deep down in the fundamental impulses of human nature. No one is so blind to the action of his fellow-mortals and their motives, as not to have seen that he who derives profit from any occupation instinctively believes that the occupation and its rewards are a blessing to the whole human race, and as a corollary that their maintenance should be zealously guarded; and if any change is to be effected on the munificent arrangement, it ought to be in the shape of strengthening and enlarging it.