The Cruise of the Betsey: or, A Summer Ramble Among the Fossiliferous Deposits of the Hebrides. With Rambles of a Geologist or, Ten Thousand Miles Over the Fossiliferous Deposits of ScotlandMiller, Hugh
Philosophy
The Cruise of the Betsey: or, A Summer Ramble Among the Fossiliferous Deposits of the Hebrides. With Rambles of a Geologist or, Ten Thousand Miles Over the Fossiliferous Deposits of Scotland
Miller, Hugh
Geology -- Scotland
Travellers, save when, during the herring season, an occasional
fish-curer comes the way, rarely bait at the Gardenstone inn; and in the
little low-browed room, with its windows in the thatch, into which, as
her best, the land-lady ushered me, I certainly found nothing to
identify the _locale_ with that chosen by the literary lawyer for his
open library. But, according to Ferguson, though "learning was scant,
provision was good;" and I dined sumptuously on an immense platter of
fried flounders. There was a little bit of cold pork added to the fare;
but, aware from previous experience of the pisciverous habits of the
swine of a fishing village, I did what I knew the defunct pig must have
very frequently done before me,--satisfied a keenly-whetted appetite on
fish exclusively. I need hardly remind the reader that Lord
Gardenstone's inn was not that of Gardenstone, but that of
Laurence-kirk,--the thriving village which it was the special ambition
of this law-lord of the last century to create; and which, did it
produce only its famed snuff-boxes, with the invisible hinges, would be
rather a more valuable boon to the country than that secured to it by
those law-lords of our own days, who at one fell blow disestablished the
national religion of Scotland, and broke off the only handle by which
their friends the politicians could hope to _manage_ the country's old
vigorous Presbyterianism. Meanwhile it was becoming apparent that the
man with the apron had as shrewdly anticipated the character of the
coming night as if he had been soberer. The sun, ere its setting,
disappeared in a thick leaden haze, which enveloped the whole heavens;
and twilight seemed posting on to night a full hour before its time. I
settled a very moderate bill, and set off under the cliffs at a round
pace, in the hope of scaling the hill, and gaining the high road atop
which leads to Macduff, ere the darkness closed. I had, however,
miscalculated my distance; I, besides, lost some little time in the
opening of the deep ravine to which I have already referred as that in
which possibly the fish-beds may be found cropping out; and I had got
but a little beyond the gray ecclesiastical ruin, with its lonely
burying-ground, when the tempest broke and the night fell.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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