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第4章

glaucus-or the wonders of the shore(格劳高斯)-第4章

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are there busy; if he but knew it;          fattening his trout for him; and making 

them rise to the fly; by       strange electric influences; at one hour rather than 

at another。       Many a good geognostic lesson; too; both as to the nature of 

a    country's rocks; and as to the laws by which strata are deposited;                  may 

an observing man learn as he wades up the bed of a trout… stream; not to 

mention      the  strange    forms    and   habits   of   the  tribes   of    water…insects。 

Moreover;   no   good   fisherman   but   knows;   to   his       sorrow;   that   there   are 

plenty of minutes; ay; hours; in each day's              fishing in which he would be 

right glad of any employment better             than trying to 

       〃Call spirits from the vasty deep;〃 

       who will not 

       〃Come when you do call for them。〃 



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        What   to   do; then?      You   are   sitting; perhaps;   in   your   coracle;   upon 

some mountain tarn; waiting for a wind; and waiting in vain。 

        〃Keine luft an keine seite; Todes…stille f 乺 chterlich;〃 

        as G 攖 he has it … 

        〃Und der schiffer sieht bek 乵 mert Glatte fl 刢 he rings umher。〃 

       You paddle to the shore on the side whence the wind ought to come; 

if   it   had   any  spirit   in   it; tie the   coracle   to   a   stone; light   your cigar;   lie 

down on your back upon the grass; grumble; and finally                        fall asleep。     In 

the   meanwhile;   probably;   the   breeze   has   come   on;          and   there   has   been 

half…an…hour's lively  fishing   curl;   and   you   wake           just   in   time   to   see   the 

last ripple of it sneaking off at the other              side of the lake; leaving all as 

dead…calm as before。 

     Now      how    much     better;   instead    of   falling   asleep;    to  have    walked 

quietly round the lake side; and asked of your own brains and of                         Nature 

the question; 〃How did this lake come here?                  What does it        mean?〃 

     It is a hole in the earth。         True; but how was the hole made?                  There 

must   have   been   huge   forces   at   work   to   form   such   a   chasm。        Probably 

the   mountain   was   actually   opened   from   within   by   an   earthquake;   and 

when the strata fell together again; the portion at either end of                   the chasm; 

being perhaps crushed together with greater force;                    remained higher than 

the    centre;   and    so  the   water    lodged    between       them。     Perhaps      it  was 

formed thus。        You will at least agree that          its formation must have been a 

grand sight   enough; and   one during              which a spectator   would have had 

some difficulty in keeping his            footing。 

     And   when   you   learn   that   this   convulsion   probably   took   plus   at   the 

bottom   of   an   ocean   hundreds   of   thousands   of   years   ago;   you   have   at 

least   a   few   thoughts   over   which   to   ruminate;   which   will   make   you   at 

once too busy to grumble; and ashamed to grumble。 

     Yet;   after   all;   I   hardly   think   the   lake   was   formed   in   this   way;   and 

suspect   that   it   may   have   been   dry   for   ages   after   it   emerged   from      the 

primeval   waves;   and   Snowdonia   was   a   palm…fringed   island   in   a            tropic 

sea。    Let us look the place over more fully。 

     You   see   the   lake   is   nearly   circular;   on   the   side   where   we   stand   the 

pebbly   beach   is   not   six   feet   above   the   water;   and   slopes   away      steeply 



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into the valley behind us; while before us it shelves                  gradually into the 

lake; forty yards out; as you know; there is not              ten feet water; and then a 

steep   bank;   the   edge   whereof   we   and   the      big   trout   know   well;   sinks 

suddenly   to   unknown   depths。         On   the     opposite   side;   that   flat…topped 

wall    of   rock   towers    up   shoreless     into    the  sky;   seven    hundred     feet 

perpendicular;   the      deepest    water    of   all   we  know     is   at  its  very   foot。 

Right   and   left;   two   shoulders    of   down   slope   into   the   lake。  Now   turn 

round     and   look   down     the   gorge。     Remark       that  this  pebble    bank    on 

which we stand reaches some              fifty yards downward:          you see the loose 

stones peeping out         everywhere。        We may fairly suppose that we stand 

on a dam of loose        stones; a hundred feet deep。 

     But   why   loose   stones?   …   and   if   so;   what   matter?   and   what   wonder? 

There are rocks cropping out everywhere down the hill…side。 

     Because if you will take up one of these stones and crack it                    across; 

you   will   see   that   it   is   not   of   the   same   stuff   as   those   said rocks。 Step 

into the next field   and see。        That rock   is the common           Snowdon slate; 

which we see everywhere。             The two shoulders of down;             right and left; 

are slate; too; you can see that at a glance。           But     the stones of the pebble 

bank   are   a   close…grained;   yellow…spotted       rock。     They  are   Syenite;   and 

(you may believe me or not; as you              will) they were once upon a time in 

the    condition     of  a  hasty     pudding      heated    to   some    800    degrees    of 

Fahrenheit;   and   in   that    condition   shoved   their   way   up   somewhere   or 

other    through     these    slates。    But    where?     whence     on   earth   did  these 

Syenite pebbles come?             Let us walk round to the cliff on the opposite 

side and see。      It is   worth while; for even if my guess be wrong; there is 

good spinning        with a brass minnow round the angles of the rocks。 

     Now   see。     Between   the   cliff…foot   and   the   sloping   down   is   a   crack; 

ending in a gully; the nearer side is of slate; and the further              side; the cliff 

itself; is … why; the whole cliff is composed of             the very same stone as the 

pebble ridge。 

     Now; my good friend; how did these pebbles get three hundred yards 

across the lake?       Hundreds of tons; some of them three feet long:                  who 

carried     them    across?      The     old    Cymry     were     not   likely   to   amuse 

themselves by making such a breakwater up here in No…man's…land;                         two 



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                               Glaucus/or The Wonders of the Shore 



thousand   feet   above   the   sea:    but   somebody   or   something   must         have 

carried them; for stones do not fly; nor swim either。 

     Shot out of a volcano?          As you seem determined to have a prodigy; 

it may as well be a sufficiently huge one。 

     Well   …   these   stones   lie   altogether;   and   a   volcano   would   have   hardly 

made   so     compact   a   shot;   not   being   in   the   habit   of   using   Eley's  wire 

cartridges。     Our next hope of a solution lies in John Jones; who                 carried 

up the coracle。      Hail him; and ask him what is on the top             of that cliff 。 。 。 

So; 〃Plainshe and pogshe; and another Llyn。〃                   Very good。       Now; does 

it  not   strike  you    that  this  whole    cliff  has  a   remarkably       smooth    and 

plastered look; like a hare's run up an     

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