ing pens at one stroke,-systems for teaching writing at one lesson, &c. the town of rapidly became one of the best educated and politest place in the island.

In short, within four years from the arrival of said gentleman, subscription schools were erected for all the modern and polite branches of education, and my school reduced to ten pupils, whereas in former times I used to have more than a hundred. There were indeed a few men in the town, who would have supported me, but they durst not disoblige the Pro. vost, (for the said gentleman now fil. led that office.) I was in a great dilemma, which way to turn myself, when I received the following letter from the town clerk:

selves in my behalf, and in a fortnight I had the prospect, through their interest, of a choice of the following appointments, viz. 1st, To be a twopenny page writer. 2d, To be clerk to the Glasgow carrier. Or, 3d, To become a city watchman. The kindness of one of them shall never be forgotten, who offered me a pair of old pantaloons aud half-a-crown. Having sauntered away several days to very little purpose, I was at last accidentally recognized on the street by Mr one of my first pupils, lately returned from the East Indies, where he had amassed a considerable for

tune.

He alighted from his curricle, shook me most heartily by the hand, and having learned my unfortunate history, carried me directly to the hotel where he lodged. After a comfortable dinner, to which I had for some days been a stranger, he addressed me thus: "Mr M'Dominie, nothing short of a classical education can constitute either a gentleman or a scholar. The miserable substitutes

invented to supply its place, are as the glimmering light of a farthing candle, compared to the meridian lustre of the sun. Whenever I meet with a man who extolls English grammars, and decries a classical education, I note him down as a fool, who is acquainted with the merits of neither. They who have least to say, and least reason on their side, are always most clamorous and positive. Solomon says, with great propriety, "A fool is more wise in his own "conceit than seven men who can "render a reason." This has al

ways been, and it is absolutely necessary it should be, the case, in order to keep up the harmony of the universe; and whatever is deficient in solid learning is always made up by a more than ordinary share of vanity and self-conceit. The hunch-back, or dwarf, strut with more consequence than the man of symmetry and just proportion. He who has

dab

dabbled in English grammar, is more consequential than if he had composed the Cratylus of Plato. This, as I said before, is absolutely neces sary, for were either the one or the other, to see themselves in the same light in which they must be seen by well-shaped and well-learned men, their existence would be intolerable. Commerce has turned every thing up. sided own. Itinstills mercenary views, and is suited to the meanest capacity. It has eradicated every thing virtuous from the heart, and every thing solid

You

and substantial from the head. have acted the fool long enough in endeavouring to stem a torrent, to which all the virtue and good sense of the kingdom is inadequate. If the parents of the present day choose to have their children made fools and blockheads, it is no blame of yours. Come along with me to the town of

where there is a celebrated university, and several academies, and where I have some influence, and can put you on the plan of earning a comfortable subsistence. To conclude, I must plainly tell you, unless you adapt yourself to the present times, and particularly study that cardinal virtue, which Thomson calls "firm "but pliant virtue ;"-which Swift calls "modern' discretion;" and which I call "downright fraud and hypocrisy," you will never have it in your power to be of two-pence worth of service to yourself or to any body else,"

I was a good deal startled at the concluding part of his speech, but knowing of no decent alternative, agreed to accompany him. In ten days we set out for England. We stop. ped a month at a small town on the frontiers of England, in order to qualify me for my new situation, and here I learned to assume a look of importance to make an obsequious bow-to open and shut a door gracefully-to hold my spoon, knife, and

The bold outline of the mountains forms the most striking feature of the country, while the partially wooded valleys and lakes with which it is interspersed, the tumultuary streams which roll along its surface, and the castellated habitations of former haughty barons, variously disposed, on steep promontories, or insulated rocks, present to the eye an assemblage of objects highly impressive and picturesque.

The excessive ignorance which formerly enveloped these regions was in a great measure owing to the difference of language, and to the total want of roads, two strong barriers, which, shutting them up in their fastnesses, sequestered the natives from the more enlightened parts of the kingdom; and while their ungo. vernable disposition, and rude manners, were inimical to an intercourse with strangers, the country was un. favourable to the researches of specu

lative philosophy, and to the intro duction of useful knowledge; and on this account it has only recently at

tracted attention.

The impenetrable obscurity in which the history of the remote periods of the Highlands is involved, has render ed it impossible to procure informa. tion respecting the various natural and artificial changes which the surface appears to have undergone for in those dark ages the lives of the natives were individually a succession of turbulent contention and rapacity, , and, collectively, were entirely dedicated to predatory warfare, mutually carried on by one clan upon another, so that there was left neither leisure nor inclination for observation or serious reflection, self preservation, the strongest propensity of man, being in a country constantly distracted by the prosecution of such fierce and savage practices, the predominant consideration. To support the chief tains in their extravagant and licentious plans, was the glory of their ferocious followers. Those barbarous associations led to all the mischief which arose from private animosity and partial war, and for centuries made the country the seat of merci. less and sanguinary discord; but the calamities of that infamous system, which in those days obtained so universally, are now happily done away, although it was unwillingly relinquished by those who proudly stiled themselves Chiefs, some of whose de. scendants would still incline to assume such an unjust superiority, were the inhabitants of these mountains, formerly denominated their vassals, but now more rational and independent, disposed to submit to such illegal and oppressive authority. It is to be regretted as an unfortunate circumstance in the political economy of the Highlands, that some antient feudal antipathies and habitudes should still prevail in such force as sometimes to become injurious to ju

risprudence, and produce a censurable neglect of police.

Any account, therefore, which can be collected of the subject of this communication, is from tradition, which is always so dubious and fanciful as not to deserve attention: indeed the operations of nature, for the most part, go forward by such stow and imperceptible degrees, as to escape the notice of man, as the time requisite for effecting them must necessarily occupy a lapse of several ages, while others of her phenomena proceed by such evanescent and rapid steps, as equally to elude obser- vation.

The coast of the West Highlands is exceedingly irregular, and greatly indented with arms of the sea, several of which extend many leagues into the interior of the country. The extremities and borders of these lochs, as they are called, receive a multiplicity of mountain streams of various sizes, which in their descent have occasioned such amazing effects as could only be produced by the incessant and irresistible force of water.

Along the shore the land is in general high and rocky, often terminating in the sea in bold and precipitous promontories.

In the interstices of the hills, termed glens, chiefly at the heads of the salt, and ends of fresh-water lakes, since the abolition of the feudal system, many of the modern houses of the lairds are laid down, frequently without taste, and destitute of any other ornament than what nature has sparingly bestowed upon the scenery.

The receding of the sea from the coast is a curious and unaccountable circumstance in the natural history of this country, and to whatever cause it is to be attributed, there is no question as to the fact, as, the most indubitable evidence of its having once covered some considerable parts of the land is visible every where.

That

That repeated and probably somewhat extensive volcanic convulsions might have had some share in producing such a phenomenon, is not to be denied, but independent of such influence, the sea has retreated, and is now many feet below the level it once occupied. There are some indications of recent volcano, or at least of partial effects of heat, in different places on the shore, but these appear to have been anterior to the subsiding of the water.

By following the line of coast up. on the map, from the estuary of the Clyde into Loch Fyne, round the great head-land of Kintyre, along the west coast of Scotlaod to Fort William, from thence to the point of Ardnamurchan, and stretching as far North as Cape Wrath, comprehend ing the shores of the counties of Argyll, Inverness, Ross, and Suther land, including in this range the immense group of islands, and taking notice of the innumerable lochs and bays with which the whole is stud. ded, the stranger will have an idea of its astonishing length. It takes up several hundred leagues.

In this very extensive course there is no variation in the height to which the sea formerly rose, the ancient marks by which it was bounded being distinct, and still easily pointed out; and these give reason to believe that the water fell off suddenly, as in many parts appearances favour such an opinion, though it certainly must have continued at its original level for many centuries before such indelible proofs could have been produced, to shew that it then flowed about forty feet higher than at present.

As the land is mountainous and rugged, there is little or no part of the coast low or very even, and when viewed from the sea it appears altogether of a bleak and barren surface, the few flat spaces being lost in the deep shade of the mountains, and whatever portions of it are

not of this formation, are more or less shelving. In such places the former action of the sea is very evident, the soil being washed away, and banks formed, regularly of the same elevation above the present high water mark, and often running along for several miles.

This is particularly striking on the western shore of the extensive peninsula of Kintyre, along the road from Mackrihanish bay to the mouth of Loch Tarbert, a distance of more than twenty miles, where the land is lower and less rocky than any other part of the county. In this tract many acres of ground have been gained by the retreating of the sea, espe cially a large flat of many square miles called Runachuran has been left dry.

As the coast extends northward it becomes more rocky and irregular, displaying, in a more eminent degree, the wonderful and inexplicable operations in which nature has been employed during a vast series of ages, in effecting various changes upon the face of the country.

The rocks along the shore are aggregates, composed of many genera and species variously combined, and arranged in every possible diversity of strata. The pudding stone rock, which is rarely met with on this coast, forms however an extensive part of it in this immediate vicinity. It is generally in immense masses, without any intermixture, and of itself composes many hills of considerable eminence upon the shore, but it is not to be found at any distance from it.

These rocks are of every imaginable shape, and exhibit a different exterior according to the manner in which they are disposed, and have resisted the force of the waves in a greater or less degree as they have been exposed to their operation in a shelving or perpendicular direction; and wherever these rocks rise, or for

merly

merly rose, upright or nearly so, from the water's edge, whether they present smooth, fissured, or unevenly fractured surfaces, the ancient height of the tide can very readily be determined by them. The reason is, that of a corresponding elevation with the banks produced by the same cause at other parts of the shore, the rocks have been flattened, hollowed, and frequently deeply excavated by the action of the sea. This effect is not so conspicuous where the water at the base of a rock is very deep, but is chiefly observable where it was more shallow, and where probably the loose stones of the bottom were driven against it by the consecutive impulsion of the waves. That this unceasing attrition has gradually worn away the solid rock, in the state it now appears, is as incontestible as it must remain an assurance to future generations, that the sea was at one time forty feet higher upon the shore than it is at present, and, that, consequently it flowed over many of the most valuable pieces of land now dry.

The higher parts of these rocks

where the water did not reach still display undecayed all the rugged irregularity of their original formation; and this destruction of them is invariably greatest, where most exposed to the furious dashing of the uninterrupted swell of the Atlantic.

For fifteen miles along this shore, which is very bold, and principally composed of pudding stone rock of different altitudes, from 50 to 130 feet, this surprising fact is perfectly satisfactory, for over the whole of that range these hollows and excava tions rise equally forty feet above the present tides, and in a line quite horizontal, accurately agreeing with si milar signs, and the banks of earth which constituted the old shore in other places, and this alternate line of excavated rocks and earthy banks can be traced over the whole coast, and may be taken up at any part of

it, and followed as far as the eye can survey.

The same curious circumstance is universal every where on the shores of the numerous Hebrides, as well as on that of the main land. Were there only a solitary proof of this theory to be mentioned it might be inconclusive; but as it is founded upon general principles, a simple enumeration of the places where the powerful agency of water has in this way been exerted, seems sufficient to establish it, and to set aside the necessity of more comprehensive description.

The beautiful and grotesque excavations principally alluded to are of congenerous formation, and being all of the same elevation in situations opposed to the violent impetus of the waves, are certainly to be ascribed to the force with which they were im pinged. At the Moil, and on the coast of Kintyre, Jura, Belnahuay, Mull, Egg, Rum, and Cana; at the castles of Goalan, Dunollie, and Dunstaffnage, many such effects may be seen.

To those beneficial changes which the receding of the sea hath occasioned at the extremities of the inlets which so numerously intersect the coast, are to be added the ravages of large and rapid rivers which enter them during the floods caused by the sudden melting of snow, or the excessive torrents of rain to which this climate is liable from its local situation. These deluges having stripped and washed the soil, and loose stones from the lateral declivities of the mountains, sweeped them along to the valleys and heads of bays, where, being, gradually accumulated, they assisted the retiring of the water in such places, formed considerable flats of new land, and filled up such cavities and covered such rocks as were formerly occupied by the sea.

All the extensive portions of level land on this coast are only to be seen

in