1823.] Account of a Travelled Stone. such a sacred thing should be violenced and made subservient to rebellious ir regular designes. As for such who have conspired with the wrath of God in the stupefaction of their consciences, though they may for a time struggle with those inward checks, yet there will be a day (if not in this life) when that Witness, that Judge, that Jury, will not be bribed. God has fixed it in the soul, as an internal register, as an impartial diary, as the censor of the affections, and pædagogue of the passions. It does not only illustrate Divine justice in an autocatacrisy, but was meant by God for a bridle and restriction. And he that hath by an inveterate wickedness conquered the opposition, which God seated in his heart to sin, may possibly consult well with his present advantage and greatnesse, but not at all with his future comfort: for besides the losse of that intimate pleasure (vinum in pectore) which waits upon innocency; he feels sometimes those bosom-quarrels that verberate and wound his soul, for Συνείδησις την ψυχην πληττει. [The Athenæ Oxon. attributes the pamphlet from which the above is transcribed not to Archbishop Sheldon, but to his successor Archbishop Sancroft.] Account of the Travelled Stone* near Castie Stuart, Invernesshire. By THOMAS LAUDER DICK, Esq. From the Memoirs of the Wernerian Society of Edinburgh. Read in 1819. HIS stone is a large mass of conTHIS glomerate, being a concretion composed of distinct irregular fragments of granite, gneiss, quartz, and other rocks of the primitive series, cemented together by a highly indurated and ferruginous clay slate. I am not aware that any rock of the same nature exists much nearer to it than seven miles. Its present situation is on the sands in the little bay near Castle Stuart, on the Mercey Firth. Its size is very considerable, being as near as I could guess above four feet high at its most elevated point, calculating from * In Professor Siliman's American Journal of Science, for June 1822, is an account of rocks supposed to have moved without any apparent cause, in the town of Salisbury in Connecticut. The circumstances were similar to the above account of the Travelled Stone, by Mr. Dick. EDIT. 311 the surface of the sand, and being to all appearance about one foot embedded in it. It measures between four and six feet one way, by six or seven the other; its shape, which is very parti cular, is peculiarly well adapted to admit of the mode of transportation it underwent, as it had a projecting edge, all around it, the lower edge of which is above a foot of perpendicular height from the surface of the sand; and from this edge downwards, the stone is suddenly bevelled off in a form resembling that part of the bottom of a boat which is under the belly and approaching the keel. On as near a calculation as I can make, it may weigh about eighty tons. This large mass is remarkable for having been removed from a situation which it formerly occupied, about 260 yards further to the S. S. E. by natural means, and in the course of one night to the position where it now stands. It had formerly served as a boundary stone between the properties of Castle Stuart and Culloden, the former belonging to the Earl of Moray, and the latter to Duncan Forbes, Esq. As it is too ponderous to have been moved by human power, at least in that part of the country, it must have been originally deposited in that its first place of rest by causes similar to those which have covered whole countries with boulders, the nature of which bespeaks their having belonged to rocks tire and native state, in the vicinity of no where existing in situ in their entheir present place of abode. The stranger scarcely recognizes the spot from which it was last removed, it being marked by a wooden post which the two contiguous proprietors were under the necessity of erecting, in order to supply the place of the stone, and to serve as an object for defining its line of march. At a fishing village situated above a mile to the westward of the stone, I learned several particulars with respect to its extraordinary migration. But it was recommended to me to call on the miller of Pitly for a fuller detail of the facts, who, living much nearer the stone, and having it constantly in view for a series of years, not only recollected every circumstance about it, but was the first person who on the ensuing morning noticed that it had been removed during the night. I lost no time in seeing the old man whose 312 Account of a Travelled Stone. whose name is Alexander Macgillivray, and I was lucky enough to find him at home ; he informed me that this remarkable circumstance took place on the night between Friday the 19th, and Saturday the 20th of February, in the year 1799. There had been a very severe frost, and the greater part of the little bay had been for some time covered with ice, which was probably formed there the more readily, owing to the fresh water from the stream running near to Castle Stuart, emptying itself into the inlet of the sea in the immediate neighbourhood. The stone was, by these means, fast secured by the ledge, which I have described being bound round by a vast cake of ice of many yards in extent, which being froze hard under the projection of the stone, must have produced an admirable mechanical means for its elevation, for which purpose it afforded an extensive draft. The miller told us he had measured some of the ice, and found it eighteen inches thick. The stone was then surrounded when the sea left it at its ebb, and the whole of the circumjacent land was left covered by this solid and unbroken glacier. It is evident that as the sea began again to flow, this would be naturally buoy ed up by the returning water insinuating itself underneath it. On the night of the 19th of February, the tide which happened to be remarkably high, was full about 12 o'clock. About this time, the wind began to blow a hurricane, accompanied with drifting snow. The old man stated that this tremendous storm blew directly from Dulcross Castle, and accordingly I found that by placing myself at the stone and looking at Dulcross, the post marking the former situation of the mass appeared quite in the line between those two points, and that the straight line or furrow described by the stone in the course of its voyage, lay in this direction. When the old miller got up on the morning of Saturday, the 26th, the storm and drifted snow was such that he could hardly make his way to his barns, though they are but a few yards distant from his dwelling-house. When the weather had moderated in some degree, and the storm and snow had cleared away, so that he could see across the little bay, he remarked to his wife with much astonishment and no inconsiderable alarm, "That the [Oct. mickle stone was awa," and the good woman could hardly believe her eyes, when she saw in reality that it was gone from the spot it had occupied the day preceding, and that it had been removed to the position where it now remains. General surprise and curiosity were now excited, which were no doubt mingled with superstitious fancies, and the neighbours flocked out to see and examine the subject of so extraordinary a prodigy. To their astonishment the hole in which it had been for so many ages imbedded, still remained to mark distinctly its yester day's site, whilst its track across the flat oozy sand was very perceptible, extending in a line from its old to its new situation. In addition to these particulars, I have since learned from my friend Mr. Bradie, that he visited the stone the day after, when he found all the traces remaining quite apparent, and an extensive cake of ice adhering to the stone, being attracted to its outer ledge. It is evident that this vast mass of stone must have been so far rendered specifically lighter than the water by the great cakes of ice within which it was hound, and by which it was supported, as to be in some degree buoyed up, and that whilst in this state, it was carried forward by the outgoing tide, assisted by the impelling force of a tremendous hurricane blowing in the same direction. By the correspondence just detailed, we are furnished with a comparatively recent and perfectly-well-attested example of one mode by which large masses of detached rock may be carried to considerable distances. For although the waters of the tide which fill the bay in question, were, on account of their shallowness, incapable of buoying up the extensive float of ice supporting the stone, so perfectly as to prevent the keel of it from ploughing the sand in the course of its progress over it, yet there is no reason to doubt, if it had been once fairly carried into deeper waters, it might have been ultimately transported to a much greater distance. And if we can suppose the float of ice to have been sufficiently tough and tenacious, we may even conceive it probable that the stone might have been deposited upon some remote shore, where no rock of the same nature was to be found, and where it might have furnished future geologists 1823.] Antient Mound near Wheeling, in Virginia. geologists subjects for more interesting Notice of an antient Mound, near THE Wheeling, Aug. 7, 1822. HE plain on which the Great Mound, at Grave Creek, is situtuated, extends back from the Ohio river about a mile and a half, is of a semicircular form, open towards the river, but inclosed on its back part by high hills. It is nearly level, forming a beautiful site for a town. The soil is a yellowish loam, mixed with a small portion of clay; it is at present rather unproductive, having been nearly exhausted of the vegetable mould by several years cultivation. The principal mound stands about an eighth of a mile from the river, nearly in the centre of the plain, from North to South. The form of this remarkable tumulus is nearly a circle at its base, converging gradually like a cone, but terminating abruptly. The circumference, at its base, is about two hundred and fifty yards. The summit is sunk like a basin, making a diameter from verge to verge of about twenty yards. Judging from GENT. MAG. October, 1823. 313 this circumstance, it has evidently been much higher than at present, but this is also evinced by the immense quantity of soil about its base, which has been washed from its sides by the rains of ages. Its perpendicular height is now nearly seventy feet; the slope from base to summit, or verge of the basin, measures about one hundred and twenty-four. From this sunken appearance of the top, and the forms of other mounds in the neighbourhood, it is reasonable to conclude that its perpendicular was once twenty or thirty feet higher. It is composed of a soil similar to that of the plain which surrounds it, but there are no local marks to determine from whence such a quantity of earth could have been taken, as the surface of the plain is nearly level. The mound itself is covered with trees, consisting of white and black oak, beech, black walnut, white poplar, locust, &c. and many of them are of a large size. A white oak, in particular, on the verge of the summit, measures twelve feet in circumference, three feet above the surface of the ground. From its size, and the decayed appearance of some of its branches, it must have been the growth of four or five centuries. There are several others of nearly equal size. The vegetable mould in the centre of the basin, is about two feet in depth, but gradually diminishes on each side. About one eighth of a mile distant on the same plain, in a North-easterly direction, are three smaller tumuli of similar construction, and several other small ones in the neighbourhood. Near the three alluded to, on the most level part of this plain, are evident traces of ancient fortifications. The remains of two circular entrenchments of unequal size, but each several rods in diameter, and communicating with each other by a narrow pass, or gateway, are to be seen, and also a causeway leading from the largest towards the hills on the East, with many other appearances of a similar nature, all exhibiting marks of a race of men more civilized than any of the tribes found in this section of the country when first visited by Europeans. Several attempts have been made to open the principal mound, but they were arrested by the proprietor of the ground. In stamping or striking with a club 314 Cause of the Death of Richard II. examined. a club on the top of this huge heap of earth, a hollow, jarring sound may be heard and felt, similar to that which we feel in walking heavily on a large covered vault. With regard to the object of these structures, it is now, I believe, pretty well agreed, that they were repositories for the dead. A good evidence of this is, that a substance resembling decayed bones has generally been found in those which have been opened, with implements of war and various articles used by savage nations. Otherwise we have no certain data, no historical facts, to guide us in our enquiries into this subject: not even tradition; for the tribes inhabiting the country when discovered by the whites, were more ignorant, if possible, of the origin and uses of these mounds, than we are. They had not even the shadow of tradition to give them the smallest light on the subject. All we know of them is derived from a very few obvious facts; the rest is speculation, drawn from slight probability. Very respectfully yours, J. MORTON. CAUSE OF THE DEATH OF RICHARD II. EXAMINED. (Continued from p. 199.) 10 much of what I have advanced, which the demise of Richard has been attributed, that in examining them little, comparatively speaking, need be said. That which I shall next comment on, is, "Starvation by his keep ers. If my conclusion is correct, that Henry at one period actually commanded Richard's destruction, but that from feelings of clemency he countermanded it when that Prince's death ceased to be necessary to his views, what possible excitement had he to commit such an act of useless atrocity, as murdering an unfortunate and harmless prisoner in cold blood, when the conspirators were executed, his rival's cause hopeless, and the kingdom in a state of perfect tranquillity? No historian that I am aware of even hints at a disposition having been manifested to disturb the public peace in the period which elapsed between the suppression of the conspiracy and the death of Richard; but on the contrary, we are expressly told [Oct. that every thing tended in that short period more firmly to secure the Crown on Henry's head. Hence we may draw a conclusion of considerable importance, in considering this question, that no suggestion of fear or interest existed which could prompt Henry to take his prisoner's life, after the suppression of his party. Thus, as on the one hand I have grounded my belief in Henry's having on the 5th of January given directions for the murder of Richard, upon what I think a fair supposition of the feelings by which in all human probability he was then actuated, so on the other I am induced to reject a supposition which is in direct contradiction to those kindly sentiments which I assign as the cause of his afterwards revoking that fatal decision. Still more, such an act would have been equally at variance with every suggestion of self-interest and good policy, both of which must have told him that such unnecessary severity towards his late Sovereign and kinsman would not only prejudice the minds of his new subjects against him, but excite the disgust of foreign Courts; particularly of Richard's nearest ally, the King of France, and whose favourable opinion Henry was evidently desirous of possessing. Some of your readers, Mr. Urban, may, from the discrepancy which I have pointed out in the dates, perhaps be induced to agree in my opinion, that Richard was not deprived of his existence in consequence of orders issued by Henry before he had quelled the rebellion, without coinciding in my supposition that such orders were then really given, but afterwards countermanded; in which case they would of course infer that Henry did not at that time command the assassination of his prisoner; and I beg to remark to them how much the improbability is increased, that Henry should at a subsequent period do so; for if he forbore to destroy Richard when he was the object of so alarming an insurrection, from thinking he was not sufficiently dangerous to require his removal, in what way could it become necessary, when his throne was cemented by the blood of those who sought to overthrow it? On Henry's positive denial to the Duke of Orleans that any sinister means were used to accelerate Ri chard's 1823.] Cause of the Death of Richard II. examined. chard's death, it is not within my object to comment; especially as it is a mere ipse dixit assertion, and as Mr. Webb justly says, "it establishes nothing with posterity." Having, then, for the reasons I have assigned, rejected the opinion that Henry was the immediate cause of his rival's decease, I have next to state the grounds on which I attribute it to natural causes. We are in possession of undoubted testimony of the manner in which even on lesser occasions, Richard was in the habit of yielding to despair; and when we reflect how much such a disposition, united to grief, disappointment, and confinement, was likely to undermine a constitution never robust, coupled, as I have laboured to shew, with the entire absence of a sufficient excitement for his enemies to destroy him after the suppression of the conspiracy, but little difficulty presents itself in attributing his demise to exhausted nature. When he was told, for told he undeniably was, of the extinction of his hopes, by the deaths of Surrey and Exeter, what is more consonant to his character, than that he should abandon himself to despair, and which the loss of a Crown he had just begun to value, the death of his friends and relations, and the prospect of a perpetual imprisonment, were enough to produce in a much stronger mind. His frame had doubtlessly been shaken by the hardships he endured at Conway, and it is likely also by his confinement at Pomfret, for we have no evidence of the manner in which he was treated; let us then reflect whether it is not the probable result of these miseries preying on a mind destitute of the consolation of friends,-of the blessings of liberty,—and even of the smiles of hope to cheer his misfortunes, that they would quickly terminate a miserable existence. A refusal of food is perhaps the first effect of grief and despair, not from an intention of dying, but from a total disinclination for it; if this was long indulged in by a person debilitated in mind and body, what at first was choice would soon become the result of disease; and hence I am strongly impressed with the belief, that the unhappy Richard died from that debility which grief, imprisonment, and despair, seldom fail to produce. Arch. p. 287. 315 It now only remains that I should offer a few observations on the authorities on which the different statements stand. The MS. of Creton loses, as Mr. Webb well remarks †, its chief claim to consideration when the writer was no longer a spectator of what he relates; but as the remaining part is narrated by a person whose veracity was relied on by Creton, and who, if not an eye-witness, was in England, and apparently about the Court at the period of the insurrection and Richard's death, I see no objection to attaching as much credit to his relation as to that of any of the others. He evidently was friendly to Richard's cause, and entirely disapproved of the measures adopted against him; but it is worthy of notice, that even he never insinuates that Richard was, murdered, and the only doubt he expresses on the subject is, as to whether he was actually dead or not. His words are, by this evil news, that he neither ate nor "Then was the King so vexed at heart drank from that hour: and thus, as they say, it came to pass that he died. But indeed I do not believe it; for some declare for certain that he is still alive and well, shut up in their prison; it is a great error in them, although they caused a dead man to be openly carried through the City of London in such pomp and ceremony as becometh a deceased King, saying, that it was the body of the deceased King Richard +." Mr. Amyot, however, construes this passage into a suspicion entertained by Creton, that there had been "foul play §;" but I am at a loss to comprehend on what grounds; for it strikes me that so far was the writer from imagining that Richard had been murdered, and which I suppose Mr. Amyot means by "foul play," that he was inclined to accuse Henry of imposing the body of some other person on the multitude, to produce on their minds the impression that their late Monarch was actually dead; so that they might be prevented from crediting any report to the contrary, whilst he could with safety to himself have the satisfaction of preserving his life. Thus, to my view, whatever that paragraph may be allowed to establish, is clearly in † Arch. p. 200, note o. § Ibid. p. 424. Henry's |