CHAP. xiv. MISERY OF THE MOORS. 195 



admiring as I passed. I saw cliffs of pulverised granite 

 resting on blue boulder clay; and blue boulder clay 

 resting on pulverised red granite. The latter was very 

 fine, and far more abundant than the blue. Section 

 after section stood up sheer as a wall, and the red was 

 blazing like a harvest moon. 



" In two places I saw traces of stratification. I saw 

 blue boulder clay containing marine shells a long way 

 up the burn. . . . The bare boulders are very large. 

 The granite de'bris is amazingly abundant. But why 

 should I linger thus ? Away to the source of the burn. 

 Away to the moors ! 



"And in the name of all that is truly miserable, 

 nothing can be conceived more dreary than those wide- 

 stretching heaths in a cold mid- winter day. The gay 

 cotton-grass flaunts no more, with its white pendent 

 heads rustling in the breeze. The heather bells are dead. 

 Nor bird nor insect is there. Even the hardy club moss 

 has acquired a sallow hue ; and save the wimple of some 

 merry tinkling rill, all is lonely and melancholy. 



" Away through the moors ; and again through the 

 moors! And such moors! Hop, step, and jump is 

 holiday diversion compared to passing over these rude 

 hummocks. One's frame trembles with the concussion. 

 Try it on the hummocks ! Try to pick your way by 

 wading through the pools of water. Try and get round 

 and between them. It is all the same. You sigh in 

 hopeless agony. You get bemired to the knees, and 

 long for a clear pool of water where you may have a 

 satisfactory washing. 



