The Rain Cloud Part 1

The Rain Cloud.

by Anonymous.

CHAPTER I:

RAINS PECULIAR TO EACH SEASON-SPRING SHOWERS-MIDSUMMER RAINS-RAINS OF AUTUMN AND WINTER-MEANS OF SUPPLYING THE EARTH WITH RAIN-RAIN-CLOUDS-DECEPTIVE APPEARANCES OF CLOUDS-THEIR LIGHT AND SHADE-EFFECTS OF CLOUDS IN MOUNTAINOUS COUNTRIES-ASCENT OF MONTE PIENTIO-ASCENT TO THE PEAK OF TENERIFFE-GRAND EFFECTS OF CLOUDS IN THE PYRENEES-VOYAGE IN A BALLOON THROUGH THE CLOUDS.

Every season has its own peculiar rains. What can be more refreshing or invigorating than the showers of spring? When the snows of February have disappeared, and the bl.u.s.tering winds of March have performed their office of drying up the excess of moisture, and preparing the earth for fruitfulness, and when the young buds and blossoms of April are peeping forth beneath the influence of the sun, and the trees and hedges are attired in their new robes of tender green, how soon would all this beauty languish but for the showers of spring! Several dry days, perhaps, have pa.s.sed, and the wreaths of dust which are raised by the wind show that the earth wants moisture; but before a drop falls there is a general lull throughout all nature; not a leaf is heard to rustle; the birds are mute and the cattle stand in expectation of the refreshing fall. At last the pools and rivulets are "dimpled" by a few soft drops, the forerunners of the general shower. And this shower, unlike the heavier rains of summer, comes stealing on so gently, that the tinkling sound of its fall is heard among the branches of the bursting trees long before it is felt by those who walk beneath their slight shelter.

Rapidly does the landscape brighten under the influence of the welcome shower; and as it becomes more rich and extensive, all nature seems to rise up and rejoice. The birds chirp merrily among the foliage; the flowers raise their drooping heads, and the thirsty ground drinks in with eager haste the mellowing rains. All day long, perhaps, does the rain continue to fall, until the earth is fully moistened and "enriched with vegetable life." At length, towards evening, the sun peeps out from among the broken clouds, and lights up, by his sudden radiance, the lovely scene. Myriads of rain-drops sparkle like gems beneath his beams; a soft mist that seems to mingle earth and sky gradually rolls away, and "moist, and bright, and green, the landscape laughs around." Now pours forth the evening concert from the woods, while warbling brooks, and lowing herds, appear to answer to the sound. Such are some of the delightful effects of spring-showers.

In summer, when the heat has been very great, the rain is often ushered in by a thunder-storm, and falls in torrents, which at an earlier season would do harm to the young buds and blossoms of spring; but now the vegetation is strong enough to resist the floods so necessary to maintain moisture in the parched earth. But when the summer has been moderately warm some gentle rains generally fall about midsummer, which, from the frequency of their occurrence about this time, have obtained the name of "Midsummer rains." These rains are popularly a.s.sociated with St.

Swithin's Day, as will be noticed in another chapter; but when they fall early, mildly, and in moderate quant.i.ty, they operate to a certain extent as a second spring. "Many of the birds come into song and have second broods; and it is probable that there is a fresh production of caterpillars for their food, or, at all events, a larger production of the late ones than when the rains are more violent and protracted. Many of the herbaceous plants also bloom anew, and the autumn is long and pleasant, and has very many of the charms of a summer, though without any very powerful operation on the productions of nature, further than a very excellent preparation for the coming year, whether in buds, in roots, or in the labours of man. Such a season is also one of plenty, or at all events of excellent quality in all the productions of the soil. The wild animals partake in the general abundance, as that food which is left for them in the fields, after man has gathered in his share, is both more abundant and more nourishing. When there is much moisture from the protracted time and great quant.i.ty of the rains, many of those seeds germinate, while in mild seasons they are left as food for the wild animals, chiefly the field-mice and the birds, which again form part of the food of the predatory ones."

There is something melancholy and depressing in the rains of autumn and winter, for they bear away the last traces of summer by stripping the trees of the many-coloured leaves, which in mild seasons will continue to adorn the landscape even late in November. The rains of this month, and their effects, have been skilfully sketched by an accurate observer of nature. He says:-

"Now cold rains come deluging down, till the drenched ground, the dripping trees, the pouring eaves, and the torn, ragged-skirted clouds, seemingly dragged downward slantwise by the threads of dusky rain that descend from them, are all mingled together in one blind confusion; while the few cattle that are left in open pastures, forgetful of their till now interminable business of feeding, turn their backs upon the besieging storm, and, hanging down their heads till their noses almost touch the ground, stand out in the middle of the fields motionless, like dead images.

"Now, too, a single rain-storm, like the above, breaks up all the paths and ways at once, and makes home no longer 'home' to those who are not obliged to leave it; while it becomes doubly endeared to those who are. What sight, for instance, is so pleasant to the wearied woodman, who has been out all day long in the drenching rains of this month, as his own distant cottage window seen through the thickening dusk, lighted up by the blazing f.a.got that is to greet his sure return at the accustomed minute?"

While we watch the effects of the various rains, and their beneficial influence on the earth, there is also much to excite our grat.i.tude and admiration; for among the many beautiful contrivances in creation, none is more remarkable than the means by which the earth is watered and refreshed by rain. The oceans, seas, lakes, and other waters of the earth supply the air with moisture, which, rendered elastic and invisible by the heat of the sun and of the earth, rises to various heights in the atmosphere, where it forms clouds in all their wonderful beauty and variety. These are borne by the winds to places far inland, to which water in sufficient quant.i.ty could not come by any other means, and where moisture is most required; and here the water is poured down, not in cataracts and water-spouts, but in the form of drops of various sizes.

If the rain-clouds threw down, at once and suddenly, all the water contained in them, not only would vegetation be destroyed by the force of the fall, but we should be constantly liable to floods and other inconveniences. Clouds also serve to screen the earth from the fierce heat of the sun by day; and, by night, they serve to maintain the heat which would otherwise escape by radiation, and produce great cold even in summer. Clouds thus have great influence in regulating the extremes of heat and cold, and in forming what is called the "climate" of a country.

Clouds also supply the hidden stores of fountains and the fresh water of rivers; and, as a pious old divine well remarks, "So abundant is this great blessing, which the most indulgent Creator hath afforded us by means of this distribution of the waters I am speaking of, that there is more than a scanty, bare provision, a mere sufficiency; even a plenty, a surplusage of this useful creature of G.o.d, the fresh waters afforded to the world; and they so well ordered, as not to drown the nations of the earth, nor to stagnate, stink, and poison, or annoy them; but to be gently carried through convenient channels back again to their grand fountain the sea; and many of them through such large tracts of land and to such prodigious distances, that it is a great wonder the fountains should be high enough, or the seas low enough, ever to afford so long a conveyance." {18}

If rain is not at all seasons pleasant and delightful, neither are rain-clouds among the most beautiful which diversify the landscape of the sky; for it has been well remarked, that "all the fine-weather clouds are beautiful, and those connected with rain and wind mostly the reverse."

What, indeed, can be more striking than the aerial landscapes of fine weather, in which, by an easy fancy, we can trace trees and towers, magnificent ruins and glaciers, natural bridges and palaces, all dashed with torrents of light or frowning in shadow, glowing like burnished silver, glittering in a golden light, or melting into the most enchanting hues? But with all this beauty the eye is seldom capable of judging correctly of the proper size and forms and motions of clouds. The same cloud which to one observer may be glowing with light, to another may be enveloped in shadow. That which appears to be its summit may be only a portion of its outer edge, while that which seems to be its lower bed may really be a portion of its further border. A spectator, on the summit of a tall cliff, may observe what he takes to be a single cloud; while a second spectator, on lower ground, will perceive that there are two clouds. The motions of clouds are so deceptive, that they often seem to be moving in a curve over the great concave of heaven, while they are in fact advancing in nearly a right line. Suppose, for example that a cloud is moving from the distant horizon towards the place where we stand, in a uniform horizontal line without changing either in size or form. Such a cloud, when first seen, will appear to be in contact with the distant horizon, and consequently much nearer to us than it really is. As it advances towards us, it will seem to rise into the sky, and to become gradually larger till it is almost directly overhead. Continuing its progress, it will then seem again to descend and to lessen in size as gradually as it had before increased; till at length it disappears in the distant horizon at a point exactly opposite to that at which it was first seen. Thus the same cloud, without varying its motion in the least from a straight line, and remaining throughout of the same size and form, would seem to be continually varying in magnitude; and the line of its motion, instead of being straight, would appear to be curved. This is one of the most simple cases that can be supposed: but the clouds as they exist in nature do not remain of the same magnitude, but are constantly changing in form, in size, in direction, and in velocity; so that it is quite impossible to form an accurate idea of their shape and size, or to explain their motions. Clouds, at different elevations, may often be seen to move in different directions under the influence of different currents of wind.

[Picture: Different appearance of the same clouds to different observers]

The distribution of light and shade in clouds is most striking. The watery particles of which they are composed, yielding constantly to changes in temperature and moisture, are always changing; so that a most beautiful cloud may alter in figure and appearance in an instant of time; the light parts may suddenly become dark, and those that were shaded may all at once glow in the rays of the sun. Again, the appearance of a cloud, with respect to the sun, may entirely alter its character. The same cloud, to one observer, may appear entirely in shade, to another tipped with silver; to a third it may present brilliant points and various degrees of shade, or one of its edges only may appear illuminated; sometimes the middle parts may appear in shadow, while the margin may be partially luminous, rendering the middle parts all the more obscure by the contrast.

A wonderful variety may also be produced by the shadow of one cloud falling upon another. The accompanying sketch furnishes an example of this. Sometimes the whole of a cloud projects a shadow through the air upon some other far distant cloud, and this again upon another, until at length it reaches the ground. The shadows of moving clouds may often be traced upon the ground, and they contribute greatly to modify the appearance of the landscape. A large number of small flickering clouds produce broken lights and shades which have an unpleasant jarring effect; but when the clouds are ma.s.sive, or properly distributed, the shadows often produce a high degree of repose.

[Picture: Shadows of clouds]

Clouds are often seen to advantage in mountainous countries. Here the aspect of the heavens may be entirely different at different elevations.

A single cloud in the valley may conceal the whole of the upper sky from an observer; but as he ascends he may gradually get above this and other layers or bands of cloud, and see a beautifully variegated sky above him, while the clouds which conceal the valley may be rolling at his feet.

Evelyn, in his Memoirs, notices a scene of this kind. He says,-"Next morning we rode by Monte Pientio, or, as vulgarly called, Monte Mantumiato, which is of an excessive height, ever and anon peeping above airy clouds with its snowy head, till we had climbed to the inn at Radicofany, built by Ferdinand the greate Duke for the necessary refreshment of travellers in so inhospitable a place. As we ascended we entered a very thick, solid, and dark body of cloudes, which looked like rocks at a little distance, which lasted neare a mile in going up; they were dry, misty vapours, hanging undissolved for a vast thicknesse, and obscuring both sun and earth, so that we seemed to be in the sea rather than in the cloudes, till, having pierced through it, we came into a most serene heaven, as if we had been above all human conversation, the mountain appearing more like a great island than joyn'd to any other hills, for we could perceive nothing but a sea of very thick cloudes rowling under our feete like huge waves, every now and then suffering the top of some other mountain to peepe through, which we could discover many miles off: and betweene some breaches of the cloudes we could see landskips and villages of the subjacent country. This was one of the most pleasant, newe, and altogether surprising objects that I had ever beheld."

In the following interesting account of the ascent of the Peak of Teneriffe by Captain Basil Hall, it will be seen that heavy rain clouds may skirt the mountain, while its summit is in a pure and dry air.

"On the 24th of August," he says, "we left Oratava to ascend the Peak. The day was the worst possible for our purpose, as it rained hard; and was so very foggy that we could not see the Peak, or indeed any object beyond one hundred yards distant.

"After riding slowly up a rugged path for four hours, it became extremely cold, and, as the rain never ceased for an instant, we were by this time drenched to the skin, and looked with no very agreeable feelings to the prospect of pa.s.sing the night in wet clothes. At length the night began to close in, and the guides talked of the improbability of reaching the English station before night. It was still raining hard; but we dismounted, and took our dinner as cheerfully as possible, and hoping for clearer weather the next day.

On remounting, we soon discovered that the road was no longer so steep as it had been heretofore, and the surface was comparatively smooth: we discovered, in short, that we had reached a sort of table-land, along which we rode with ease. Presently we thought the fog less dense, and the drops of rain not so large, and the air less chilling. In about half an hour we got an occasional glimpse of the blue sky; and as we ascended, (for our road, though comparatively level, was still upon the rise,) these symptoms became more manifest.

The moon was at the full, and her light now became distinct, and we could see the stars in the zenith. By this time we had reached the Llano de los Remenos, or Retamos Plain, which is many thousand feet above the sea; and we could distinctly see that during the day we had merely been in a cloud, above which having now ascended, the upper surface lay beneath us like a country covered with snow. It was evident, on looking round, that no rain had fallen on the pumice gravel over which we were travelling. The mules were much fatigued, and we got off to walk. In a few minutes our stockings and shoes were completely dried, and in less than half an hour all our clothes were thoroughly dried. The air was sharp and clear, like that of a cold frosty morning in England; and though the extreme dryness, and the consequent rapid evaporation, caused considerable cold, we were enabled by quick exercise to keep ourselves comfortable. I had various instruments with me, but no regular hygrometer: accident, however, furnished me with one sufficiently indicative of the dry state of the air. My gloves, which I kept on while mounted, were completely soaked with the rain; and I took them off during this walk, and, without considering what was likely to happen, rolled them up, and carried them in my hand. When, at the end of an hour, or somewhat less, we came to remount our mules, I found the gloves as thoroughly dried and shrivelled up as if they had been placed in an oven. During all the time we were at the Peak itself, on the 26th, the sky was clear, the air quite dry, and we could distinguish, several thousand feet below us, the upper and level surface of the stratum of clouds through which we had pa.s.sed the day before, and into which we again entered on going down, and found precisely in the same state as when we started."

It is not uncommon to observe an effect quite contrary to the one given in the last two examples, the high summits of mountains being frequently concealed by heavy clouds of mist, while at a very short distance below them the air is clear and pure. In ascending to the Port of Venasque, one of the mountain pa.s.ses of the Pyrenees, Mr. Murray found the mists so dense that he despaired of getting above them, or of their clearing away.

But fortunately the wind freshened, and the mist, broken by it, "came sweeping," he says, "over our heads, sometimes enveloping us in darkness, sometimes exposing the blue sky, and a part of the mountains. Section after section of the bald and towering ma.s.ses which rose above the path were displayed to us, one after another, as if the whole had been a sight too great for us to look upon. Sometimes the clouds opened, and the snows, sparkling in the sun-beams, were before us; at others, an enormous peak of the mountain would shoot its dark head through the mist, and, without visible support, seem as if it were about to fall upon us.

Again, when we imagined ourselves hemmed in on all sides by the mountains, and within a few feet of their rugged sides, a pa.s.sing breeze would disclose the dark waters of the lakes hundreds of feet beneath us.

"Thus the effect of light and darkness, of sunshine and of mist, working upon materials of such grandeur as those near the Port of Venasque, was a sight well worthy of admiration, and one which is rarely to be seen. * *

* * Excepting the intervals of light which the gusts of wind, by dispersing the mists, had bestowed upon us, we had hitherto, comparatively speaking, been shrouded in darkness, particularly for the ten minutes preceding our arrival at the Port: my astonishment may therefore be imagined when, the instant that I stepped beyond the limits of the Port, I stood in the purest atmosphere-not a particle of mist, not even a cloud, was perceptible. The phenomenon was curious, and its interest greatly heightened from the situation in which it took place.

The mist rolling up the valley through which we had pa.s.sed, was, the moment that it could be said to reach the Spanish frontier,-the moment it encircled the edges of the high ridges which separated the countries, thrown back, as it were, indignantly, by a counter current from the Spanish side. The conflicting currents of air, seemingly of equal strength, and unable to overcome each other, carried the mist perpendicularly from the summits of the ridge, and filling up the crevices and fissures in its uneven surface, formed a wall many thousand feet above it, of dark and (from the appearance of solidity which its ma.s.sive and perpendicular character bestowed upon it) apparently impenetrable matter."

Undoubtedly the various phenomena of clouds may be seen to great advantage in mountain regions; and there is only one other method of seeing them to greater perfection, and that is from the car of a balloon.

The following description of an aerial voyage, by Mr. M. Mason, in October 1836, will convey a better idea of the magnificence of a cloudy sky than any terrestrial prospect could do. He says,-

"Scarcely had we quitted the earth before the clouds, which had previously overhung us, began to envelop us on all sides, and gradually to exclude the fading prospect from our sight. It is scarcely possible to convey an adequate idea of the effect produced by this apparently trivial occurrence. Unconscious of our own motion from any direct impression upon our own feelings, the whole world appeared to be in the act of receding from us in the dim vista of infinite s.p.a.ce; while the vapoury curtain seemed to congregate on all sides and cover the retreating ma.s.ses from our view. The trees and buildings, the spectators and their crowded equipages, and finally, the earth itself, at first distinctly seen, gradually became obscured by the thickening mist, and growing whiter in their forms, and fainter in their outlines, soon faded away 'like the baseless fabric of a vision,' leaving us, to all appearance, stationary in the cloud that still continued to involve us in its watery folds. To heighten the interest and maintain the illusion of the scene, the shouts and voices of the mult.i.tude whom we had left behind us, cheering the ascent, continued to a.s.sail us, (long after the interposing clouds had effectually concealed them from our eyes,) in accents which every moment became fainter and fainter till they were finally lost in the increasing distance.

"Through this dense body of vapour, which may be said to have commenced at an alt.i.tude of about 1000 feet, we were borne upwards to perhaps an equal distance, when the increasing light warned us of our approach to its superior limits, and shortly after, the sun and we rising together, a scene of splendour and magnificence suddenly burst upon our view, which it would be vain to expect to render intelligible by any mode of description within our power. Pursuing the illusion, which the previous events had been so strongly calculated to create, the impression upon our senses was that of entering upon a new world to which we had hitherto been strangers, and in which not a vestige could be perceived to remind us of that we had left, except the last faint echo of the voices which still dimly reached us, as if out of some interminable abyss into which they were fast retreating.

"Above us not a single cloud appeared to disfigure the clear blue sky, in which the sun on one side, and the moon in her first quarter on the other, reigned in undisturbed tranquillity. Beneath us, in every direction, as far as the eye could trace, and doubtless much further, the whole plane of vision was one extended ocean of foam, broken into a thousand fantastic forms; here swelling into mountains, there sinking into lengthened fosses, or exhibiting the appearance of vast whirlpools; with such a perfect mimicry of the real forms of nature, that, were it not for a previous acquaintance with the general character of the country below us, we should frequently have been tempted to a.s.sert, without hesitation, the existence of mountainous islands penetrating through the clouds, and stretching in protracted ranges along the distant verge of our horizon.

"In the centre of this hemisphere, and at an elevation of about 3000 feet above the surface of the clouds, we continued to float in solitary magnificence; attended only at first by our counterpart-a vast image of the balloon itself with all its paraphernalia distinctly thrown by the sun upon the opposite ma.s.ses of vapour, until we had risen so high that even that, outreaching the material basis of its support, at length deserted us; nor did we again perceive it until, preparatory to our final descent, we had sunk to a proper elevation to admit of its re-appearance.

"Not the least striking feature of our, and similar situations, is the total absence of all perceptible motion, as well as of the sound which, in ordinary cases, is ever found to accompany it. Silence and tranquillity appear to hold equal and undisputed sway throughout these airy regions. No matter what may be the convulsions to which the atmosphere is subjected, nor how violent its effects in sound and motion upon the agitated surface of the earth, not the slightest sensation of either can be detected by the individual who is floating in its currents. The most violent storm, the most outrageous hurricane, pa.s.s equally unheeded and unfelt; and it is only by observing the retreating forms of the stable world beneath, that any certain indication can be obtained as to the amount or violence of the motion to which the individual is actually subjected. This, however; was a resource of which we were unable to avail ourselves, totally excluded as we were from all view of the earth, or any fixed point connected with it.

"Once, and only once, for a few moments preparatory to our final descent, did we obtain a transitory glimpse of the world beneath us.

Upon approaching the upper surface of the vapoury strata, which we have described as extending in every direction around, a partial opening in the clouds discovered to us for an instant a portion of the earth, appearing as if dimly seen through a vast pictorial tube, rapidly receding behind us, variegated with furrows, and intersected with roads running in all directions; the whole reduced to a scale of almost graphic minuteness, and from the fleecy vapour that still partially obscured it, impressing the beholder with the idea of a vision of enchantment, which some kindly genius had, for an instant, consented to disclose. Scarcely had we time to s.n.a.t.c.h a hasty glance, ere we had pa.s.sed over the spot, and the clouds uniting gradually concealed it from our view.

"After continuing for a short s.p.a.ce further, in the vain hope of being again favoured with a similar prospect, the approach of night made it desirable that we should prepare for our return to earth, which we proceeded to accomplish accordingly."

[Picture: Kerr and his family in the middle of the flood]

CHAPTER II.

EFFECTS OF RAIN IN MOUNTAINOUS DISTRICTS-THE DISTRICT OF MORAY-THE GREAT FLOODS OF 1829-COMMENCEMENT OF THE RAIN-THE SWOLLEN RIVERS-DISASTROUS EFFECTS OF THE FLOOD-MEANS ADOPTED FOR THE RESCUE OF COTTAGERS-KERR AND HIS BRAVE DELIVERERS-RESCUE OF FUNNS AND HIS FAMILY-FLOODS OF THE RHONE IN 1840-OVERFLOWING OF THE MISSISSIPPI.

It is well known that some years are wetter than others; but to persons living in tolerably flat countries an unusually wet season causes no great inconvenience. It interferes, it is true, with outdoor employments, but people seldom apprehend any danger from the long continuance of rain. It is not so, however, in hilly or mountainous regions; an unusual fall of rain swells the rivers to such an extent, that they often overflow their banks, and occasion much damage to the surrounding districts; or, where the river's banks are defended on both sides by perpendicular rocks, the waters sometimes rise so fast as to attain a height of forty or fifty feet above their natural level, and from this height they pour with destructive violence over the face of the country. Such was the case in the great floods of Moray, which happened in the year 1829, of which the following is a brief abstract, derived chiefly from Sir Thomas d.i.c.k Lauder's interesting volume on this subject, published soon after the calamity for the benefit of the sufferers.

The province of Moray, or Murray, is a large district in the north-east of Scotland, bounded by the Moray Frith on the north-east and north. The eastern half of the province is lower than the western; in which the mountains render the whole country characteristically highland. On the north is a long belt of lowlands, about 240 square miles in extent: this is greatly diversified with ridgy swells and low hilly ranges, lying parallel to the frith, and intersected by the rivers Ness, Nairn, Findhorn, Lossie, and Spey running across it to the sea. The grounds behind the lowlands appear, as seen from the coast, to be only a narrow ridge of bold alpine heights, rising like a rampart to guard the orchards, and woods, and fields: but these really form long and broad mountain ma.s.ses, receding, in all the wildness and intricacy of highland arrangement, to a distant summit line. Some of the broad clifts and long narrow vales of these mountains form beautiful and romantic pictures; while many of their declivities are practicable to the plough or other instruments of cultivation; so that the bottoms and the reclaimed or reclaimable sides of the valleys are estimated to comprehend about one-third of the entire area. The lowlands of Moray have long been celebrated for mildness and luxuriousness of climate, and also for a certain dryness of atmosphere, which seems to have some intimate connexion with the mournful calamity about to be described. The high broad range of mountains on the south-west shelter the lowlands from the prevailing winds of the country, and exhaust many light vapours and thinly-charged clouds, which might otherwise produce gentle rains; but, for just the same reason, they powerfully attract whatever long broad streams of heavy clouds are sailing through the sky, and, among the gullies and the upland glens, ama.s.s their discharged contents with amazing rapidity, and in singular largeness of volume. The rivers of the country are, in consequence, peculiarly liable to become flooded. One general and tremendous outbreak, in 1829, "afforded an awful exhibition of the peculiarities of the climate, and will long be remembered, in connexion with the boasted luxuriousness of Moray, as an ill.u.s.tration of how chastis.e.m.e.nt and comfort are blended in a state of things which is benignly adjusted for the moral discipline of man, and the correction of moral evil."

The heat in the province of Moray during the summer of 1829 was unusually great. In May the drought was so excessive, as to kill many of the recently planted shrubs and trees. As the season advanced, the variations in the barometer became so remarkable, that observers began to lose all confidence in this instrument.

The deluge of rain, which produced the flood of the 3d and 4th of August, fell chiefly on the Monadhlradh mountains, rising between the south-east part of Lochness and Kingussie, in Badenoch, and on that part of the Grampian range forming the somewhat independent groups of the Cairngorums. The westerly winds, which prevailed for some time previously, seem to have produced a gradual acc.u.mulation of vapour to the north of our island, and the column, being suddenly impelled by a strong north-easterly blast, was driven towards the south-west, its right flank almost sweeping the Caithness and Sutherland coasts, until rushing up and across the Moray Frith it was attracted by the lofty mountains just mentioned, and discharged in fearful torrents. There fell at a great distance from the mountains, within twenty-four hours, about one-sixth of the annual allowance of rain; on the mountains themselves the deluge that descended, must have been so enormous as to occasion surprise that a flood, even yet more tremendous in its magnitude and consequences, did not result from it.

The mouth of the Findhorn is described as the most important scene of action. The banks of this river are well defended by rocks on either side, and its whole course is distinguished by the most romantic scenery.

At the part where it is crossed by the old military bridge of Dulsie, the scenery is of the wildest character. The flood was most tremendous at this bridge, for the water was so confined that it filled the smaller arch altogether, and rose in the great arch to within three feet of the key-stone, that is to say, forty feet above the usual level. This fine old bridge sustained but little damage, while many of the modern buildings were entirely swept away. At another part of the river, it is stated, as a curious ill.u.s.tration of the height to which the stream had risen, that a gardener waded into the water as it had begun to ebb on the haugh, and with his umbrella drove ash.o.r.e and captured a fine salmon, at an elevation of fifty feet above the ordinary level of the Findhorn.

At Randolph's bridge the opening expands as the rocks rise upwards, till the width is about seventy or eighty feet; yet, from the sudden turn of the river, as it enters this pa.s.sage, the stream was so checked in its progress that the flood actually rose over the very top of the rocks, forty-six feet above the usual height, and inundated the level part that lies over them to the depth of four feet, making a total perpendicular rise at this point of not less than fifty feet.

The effects of the deluge of the 3d and 4th of August, remain on the Dorbach, in a bank one hundred feet high, which rose with slopes and terraces covered with birch and alder wood. The soil being naturally spongy imbibed so much rain, that it became overloaded, and a ma.s.s of about an acre in extent, with all its trees on it, gave way at once, threw itself headlong down, and bounded across the bed of the Dorbach, blocking up the waters, flooded and wide as they were at the time. A farmer, who witnessed this phenomenon, told Sir Thomas d.i.c.k Lauder that it fell "wi' a sort o' a dumb sound," while astonished and confounded he remained gazing at it. The bottom of the valley is here some two hundred yards or more wide, and the flood nearly filled it. The stoppage was not so great, therefore, as altogether to arrest the progress of the stream; but this sudden obstacle created an acc.u.mulation of water behind it, which went on increasing for nearly an hour, till, becoming too powerful to be longer resisted, the enormous dam began to yield, and was swept off at once, and hurled onwards like a floating island. While the farmer stood lost in wonder to behold his farm thus sailing off to the ocean by acres at a time, another half acre, or more, was suddenly rent from its native hill, and descended at once, with a whole grove of trees on it, to the river, where it rested on its natural base. The flood immediately a.s.sailed this, and carried off the greater part of it piecemeal. At the time when Sir Thomas was writing, part of it remained with the trees growing on it in the upright position, after having travelled through a horizontal distance of sixty or seventy yards, with a perpendicular descent of not less than sixty feet.