When we think of the ocean with its waves, tides, and currents, of the winds, and of the rain and snow, and the vast net-work of rivers to which they give rise, we realize that the energy or force manifested upon the earth’s surface resides chiefly in the air and water—in the earth’s fluid envelope and not in its solid crust. And it would be an easy matter to show that, with the exception of the tidal waves and currents, which of course are due chiefly to the attraction of the moon, nearly all this energy is merely the transformed heat of the sun. Now the air and water are two great geological agencies, and therefore the geological effects which they produce are traceable back to the sun.

Organic matter is another important geological agent; but all are familiar with the generalization that connects the energy exhibited by every form of life with the sun; and, besides, it is scarcely necessary to allude to the obvious fact that all animals and plants, so far at least as any display of energy is concerned, are merely differentiated portions of the earth’s fluid envelope. And so, if space permitted, it might be shown that, with the exception of the tides, nearly every form of force manifested upon the earth’s surface has its origin in the sun.

Of this trio of geological agencies operating upon the earth’s surface and vitalized by the sun—water, air, and organic matter—the water is by far the most important, and so it is common to call these collectively the aqueous agencies. Hence we have solar agencies and aqueous agencies as synonymous terms.

The aqueous agencies include, on one side, air and water, or inorganic agencies; and, on the other, animals and plants, or organic agencies.

Let us notice briefly the operation of these, beginning with the air and water.

I. AQUEOUS AGENCIES.

1. Air and Water, or Inorganic Agencies.

Chemical Erosion.—Attention is invited first to the specimens numbered 1, 2, 3, and 4. No. 1 is a sound, fresh piece of the rather common rock, diabase; and those who are acquainted with minerals will recognize that the light-colored grains in the rock are feldspar, and the dark, augite. This specimen came from a depth in the quarry, and has not been exposed to the action of the weather.

The second specimen differs from the first, apparently, as much as possible; and yet, except in being somewhat finer grained, it was originally of precisely similar composition and appearance. In fact, it is a portion of the same rock, but a weathered portion. In this we can no longer recognize the feldspar and augite as such, but both these minerals are very much changed, while in the place of a strong, hard rock we have an incoherent friable mass, which is, externally at least, easily crushed to powder; and with the next step in the weathering, as we may readily observe in the natural ledges, the rock is completely disintegrated, forming a loose earth or soil.

We have two examples of such natural powders in the specimens numbered 3 and 4; and by washing these (especially the finer one, No. 4) with water, we can prove that they consist of an impalpable substance which we may call clay, and angular grains which we may call sand. The sand-grains are really portions of the feldspar not yet entirely changed to clay.

Thus we learn that the result of the exposure of this hard rock to the weather is that it is reduced to the condition of sand and clay. What we mean especially by the weather are moisture and certain constituents of the air, particularly carbon dioxide.

The action of the weather on the rocks is almost entirely chemical. With a very few exceptions, the principal minerals of which rocks are composed, such as feldspar, hornblende, augite, and mica, are silicates, i.e., consist of silicic acid or silica combined with various bases, especially aluminum, magnesium, iron, calcium, potassium, and sodium.

Now the silica does not hold all these bases with equal strength; but carbon dioxide, in the presence of moisture, is able to take the sodium, potassium, calcium, and magnesium away from the silica in the form of carbonates, which, being soluble, are carried away by the rain-water.

The silicate of aluminum, with more or less iron, takes on water at the same time, and remains behind as a soft, impalpable powder, which is common clay.

In the case of our diabase, continued exposure to the weather would reduce the whole mass to clay. But other rocks contain grains of quartz, a hard mineral which cannot be decomposed, and it always forms sand. Certain classes of rocks, too, such as the limestones and some iron-ores, are completely dissolved by water holding carbon dioxide in solution, and nothing is left to form soil, except usually a small proportion of insoluble impurities like sand or clay.

Let us see next how these agents of decay get at the rocks. Neither water nor air can penetrate the solid rock or mineral to any considerable extent, so that practically the action is limited to surfaces, and whatever multiplies surfaces must favor decomposition.

First, we have the upper surface of the rock where it is bare, but more especially where it is covered with soil, for there it is always wet.

All rocks are naturally divided by joints into blocks, which are frequently more or less regular, and often of quite small size. Water and air penetrate into these cracks and decompose the surfaces of the blocks, and thus the field of their operations is enormously extended. These rock-blocks sometimes show very beautifully the progress of the decomposing agents from the outside inward by concentric layers or shells of rotten material, which, in the larger blocks, often envelop a nucleus of the unaltered rock.

It is interesting to observe, too, that these concentric lines of decay cut off the angles of the original blocks, so that the undecomposed nucleus, when it is found, is approximately spherical instead of cuboidal. Both these points are well illustrated by specimen No. 2; for although now nearly spherical, it was originally perfectly angular, and has become rounded by the peeling off, in concentric layers, of the decomposed material, and in most cases several of these layers are distinctly visible, like the coats of an onion. But by stripping these off we should discover, in all the larger balls at least, a solid, spheroidal nucleus, while in the smaller balls the decomposition has penetrated to the centre.

In the rocks also we find many imperfect joints and minute cracks. In cold countries these are extended and widened by the expansive power of freezing water, and thus the surfaces of decomposition become constantly greater.

Nearly all rocks suffer this chemical decomposition when exposed to the weather, but in some the decay goes on much faster than in others. Diabase is one of the rocks which decay most readily; while granite is, among common rocks, one of those that resist decay most effectually.

The caverns which are so large and numerous in most limestone countries are a splendid example of the solvent action of meteoric waters, being formed entirely by the dissolving out of the limestone by the water circulating through the joint cracks. The process must go on with extreme slowness at first, when the joints are narrow, and more rapidly as they are widened and more water is admitted. We get some idea, too, of the magnitude of the results accomplished by these silent and unobtrusive agencies when we reflect that almost all the loose earth and soil covering the solid rocks are simply the insoluble residue which carbon dioxide and water cannot remove. In low latitudes, where a warm climate accelerates the decay of the rocks, the soil is usually from 50 to 300 feet deep.

Mechanical Erosion.—On the edge of the land.—Let us trace next the mechanical action of water and air upon the land. First we will consider the edge of the land, where it is washed by the waves of the sea. Whoever has been on the shore must have noticed that the sand along the water’s edge is kept in constant motion by the ebb and flow of the surf.

Where the beach is composed of gravel or shingle the motion is evident to the ear as well as the eye; and when the surf is strong, the rattling and grinding of the pebbles as they are rolled up and down the beach develops into a roar.

The constant shifting of the grains of sand, pebbles, and stones is, of course, attended by innumerable collisions, which are the cause of the noise. Now it is practically impossible, as we may easily prove by experiment, to knock or rub two pieces of stone together, at least so as to produce much noise, without abrading their surfaces; small particles are detached, and sand and dust are formed.

That this abrasion actually occurs in the case of the moving sand is most beautifully shown by the sandblast. We are to conclude, then, that every time a pebble, large or small, is rolled up or down the beach it becomes smaller, and some sand and dust or clay are formed which are carried off by the water.

But what are the pebbles originally? This question is not difficult. A little observation on the beach shows us that the pebbles are not all equally round and smooth, but many are more or less angular. And we soon see that it is possible to select a series showing all gradations between the most perfectly rounded forms and angular fragments of rock that are only slightly abraded on the corners. The three principal members of such a series are shown in specimens 5, 6, and 7 from the beach on Marblehead Neck; but equally instructive specimens can be obtained at many other points on our coast. It is also observable that the well-rounded pebbles are much smaller on the average than the angular blocks.

From these facts we draw the legitimate inference that the pebbles were all originally angular, and that the same abrasion which diminishes their size makes them round and smooth.

A little reflection, too, shows that the rounding of the angular fragments is a natural and necessary result of their mutual collisions; for the angles are at the same time their weakest and most exposed points, and must wear off faster than the flat or concave surfaces.

Having traced each pebble back to a larger angular rock-fragment, the question arises, Whence come these angular blocks?

Behind our gravel-beach, or at its end, we have usually a cliff of rocks. As we approach this it is distinctly observable that the angular pebbles are more numerous, larger, and more angular; and a little observation shows that these are simply the blocks produced by jointing, and that the cliff is entirely composed of them. In other words, our cliff is a mass of natural masonry, which chemical agencies, the frost, and the sea are gradually disintegrating and removing. As soon as the blocks are brought within reach of the surf their mutual collisions make them rounder and smaller; and small round pebbles, sand, and clay are the final result.

For a more complete account of the formation of pebbles, teachers are referred to the first or introductory number of this series of guides, by Prof. Hyatt, “About Pebbles.”

Where the waves can drive the shingle directly against the base of the cliff, this is gradually ground away in the same manner as the loose stones themselves, sometimes forming a cavern of considerable depth, but always leaving a smooth, hard surface, which is very characteristic, and contrasts strongly with the upper portion of the cliff, which is acted on only by the rain and frost. A good example of such a pebble-carved cliff may be seen behind the beach on the sea-ward side of Marblehead Neck.

The sea acts within very narrow limits vertically, a few feet or a few yards at most; but the coast-lines of the globe (including inland lakes and seas) have an aggregate length of more than 150,000 miles. Hence it is easy to see that the amount of solid rock ground to powder in the mill of the ocean-beach annually must be very considerable.

Mechanical Erosion.—On the surface of the land.—I next ask attention to the mechanical action of water upon the surface of the land.

It is a familiar fact that after heavy rains the roadside rills carry along much sand and clay (which we know have been produced by the previous action of chemical forces), and also frequently small pebbles or gravel. It is easy to show that in all important respects the rill differs in size only from brooks and rivers; and the former afford us fine models of the systems of valleys worn out during the lapse of ages by rivers. The turbidity of rivers is often very evident, and in shallow streams we can sometimes see the pebbles rolled along by the current.

Now here, just as on the beach, the collisions of rock-fragments are attended by mutual abrasion, sand and clay are formed, and the fragments become smaller and rounder. Our series of pebbles from the beach might be matched perfectly among the river-gravel. In mountain streams especially we may often observe that pebbles of a particular kind of rock become more numerous, larger, and more angular as we proceed up stream, until we reach the solid ledge from which they were derived, showing the same gradation as the beach pebbles when followed back to the parent cliff.

The pebbles, however, not only grind each other, but also the solid rocks which form the bed of the streams in many places, and these are gradually worn away. When the rocky bed is uneven and the water is swift, pebbles collect in hollows where eddies are formed, by which they are kept whirling and turning, and the hollow is deepened to a pot-hole, while the pebbles, the river’s tools, are worn out at the same time.

By these observations we learn not only that running water carries away sand and clay already formed, but that it also has great power of grinding down hard rocks to sand and clay. Of course the pulverized rock always moves in the same direction as the stream which carries it; and, in a certain sense, all streams run in one direction, viz., toward the sea. Therefore the constant tendency of the rain falling upon the land is to break up the rocks by chemical and mechanical action and transport the dÉbris to the sea.

Rivers, as we all know, are continually uniting to form larger and larger streams; and thus the drainage of a wide area sometimes, as in the case of the Mississippi Valley, reaches the sea through a single mouth. By careful measurements made at the mouth of the Mississippi it has been shown that the 20,000,000,000,000 cubic feet of water discharged into the Gulf of Mexico annually carries with it no less than 7,500,000,000 cubic feet of sand, clay, and dissolved mineral matter; and this, spread over the whole Mississippi basin, would form a layer a little more than 1/5000 of a foot in thickness. So that we may conclude that the surface of the continent is being cut down on the average about one foot in five thousand years.

We can only allude in passing to the very important geological action of water in the solid state, as in glaciers and icebergs. The moisture precipitated from the atmosphere, and falling as rain, makes ordinary rivers; but falling in the form of snow in cold regions, where more snow falls than is melted, the excess accumulates and is gradually compacted to ice, which, like water, yields to the enormous pressure of its own mass and flows toward lower levels. When the ice-river reaches the sea it breaks off in huge blocks, which float away as icebergs. Moving ice, like moving water, is a powerful agent of erosion; and the glacial marks or scratches observable upon the ledges everywhere in the Northern States and Canada attest the magnitude of the ice-action at a comparatively recent period.

We have already noticed incidentally the powerful disintegrating action of water where it freezes in the joints and pores of the rocks; and it is probable that it thus facilitates the destruction of the rocks in cold countries nearly as much as the higher temperature and greater rain-fall do in warm countries.

Our observations up to this point show us that erosion, by which we mean the breaking up by chemical and mechanical action of the rocks of the land and the transportation of the dÉbris into the sea, is one great result accomplished by the inorganic aqueous agencies.

Mechanical Deposition.—Next let us notice what becomes of all this vast amount of clay, sand, and gravel after it is washed into the ocean. By taking up a glass of turbid water from our roadside rill, and observing that as soon as the water is undisturbed the sand and clay begin to settle, we learn that the solid matter is held in suspension by the motion of the water. But it does not remain in suspension long after being washed into the sea, for otherwise the sea would, in the course of time, become turbid for long distances from shore; and it is a well-known fact that the sea-water is usually clear and free from sensible turbidity close along shore and even near the mouths of large rivers, while at a distance of only 50 or 100 miles we find the transparency of the central ocean.

Putting these facts together, we see that the ocean, nothwithstanding the ceaseless and often violent undulations of its surface, must be as a whole a vast body of still water; and to the reflecting mind the almost perfect tranquillity of the ocean is one of its most impressive features. For it is in striking contrast, in this respect, with the more mobile aerial ocean above it.

We have got hold, now, of two facts of great geological importance: (1) The dÉbris washed off the land by waves and rivers into the still water of the ocean very soon settles to the bottom; and (2) it nearly all settles on that part of the ocean-floor near the land.

And now we have in view the second great office of the inorganic aqueous agencies,—deposition, the counterpart or complement of erosion.

The land is the great theatre of erosion and the sea of deposition; the rocks which are constantly wasting away on the former are as constantly renewed in the latter.

We will now observe the process of deposition a little more closely. Each of these two bottles contains the same amount of fine yellow clay, but in one the water is fresh, and in the other it is salt. At the beginning of the lesson, as you may have observed, I brought the clay in both bottles into suspension by violent agitation, and since then they have remained undisturbed. The main point is that the salt water has become quite clear, while the fresh water is still distinctly turbid, showing that the salt favors the rapid deposition of the clay. At the second lecture, a week later, these two bottles, yet undisturbed, were exhibited, and the fresh water seen to be still sensibly turbid. The fact is, the clay is not held in suspension wholly by the motion of the water; but, just as in the case of dust in the atmosphere, a small portion of the medium is condensed around or adheres to each solid particle, i.e., each clay particle in our experiment has an atmosphere of water which moves with it and buoys it up. Now the effect of the salt is to diminish the adhesion of the water to the particles, i.e., to diminish their atmospheres, and consequently their buoyancy. The diminished adhesion of the salt water is well shown by the smaller drops which it forms on a glass rod.

The geological importance of this principle is very great; for it is undoubtedly largely to the saltness of the sea that we owe its transparency, and the fact that the fine, clayey sediment from the land, like the coarse, is deposited near the shore.

This bottle of fresh water contains some fine gravel, coarse sand, fine sand, and clay. By agitating the water, all this material is brought into suspension. Now, suddenly placing the bottle in a state of rest, we observe that the gravel falls to the bottom almost instantly, followed quickly by the coarse sand, and very soon afterward by the fine sand; and then there appears to be a pause, the fine particles of clay all remain in suspension; but finally, when the water is quite motionless, they begin to settle; they fall very slowly, however, and the water will not be clear for hours.

This is a very instructive experiment. We learn from it:

First, that the power of the water to hold particles in suspension is inversely proportional to the size of the particles;

Second, that all materials deposited in water are assorted according to size;

Third, and this is one of the most important facts in geology, all water-deposited sediments are arranged in horizontal layers, i.e., are stratified. And we have now traced to its conclusion, though very briefly, the process of the formation of one great division of stratified rocks,—the mechanically-formed or fragmental rocks. These are so called because the clay, sand, and gravel are, in every instance, fragments of pre-existing rocks; and because the formation, transportation, and especially the deposition of these fragments, are the work chiefly or entirely of mechanical forces.

Chemical Deposition.—It is a well-known fact that the sea holds in solution vast amounts of common salt as well as many other substances; and analyses of river-waters show that dissolved minerals derived from the chemical decomposition of the rocks of the land are being constantly carried into the sea.

Portions of the sea which are cut off from the main body, and which are gradually drying up, like the Great Salt Lake, Dead Sea, and Caspian Sea, become saturated solutions of the various dissolved minerals, and these are slowly deposited. This process is very nicely illustrated along our shores in summer, where, during storms, salt-water spray is thrown above the reach of the tides, and, collecting in hollows in the rocks, gradually dries up, leaving behind a crust of salt.

When the sea lays down matter which it held in suspension, we call the process mechanical deposition, and the result is mechanically-formed rocks.

But when it lays down matter which it held in solution, we call the process chemical deposition, and the result is chemically-formed rocks.

The principal substances which the sea deposits chemically are common salt, forming beds of rock-salt; sulphate of calcium, forming beds of gypsum; carbonate of calcium, forming beds of limestone; and the double carbonate of calcium and magnesium, forming beds of dolomite.

Inorganic deposition, like inorganic erosion, is both chemical and mechanical.

2. Animals and Plants, or Organic Agencies.

We turn now to the consideration of the organic agencies. And I will merely allude in passing to the vast importance of the fossil organic remains found in the stratified rocks as marks by which to determine the relative ages of the formations.

As regards the destruction of rocks—erosion—plants and animals are almost powerless; but in the role of rock-makers they play a very important part, being very efficient agents of deposition.

Formation of Coals and Bitumens.—Specimen No. 8 is an example of peat from the vicinity of Boston; but just as good specimens may be obtained in thousands of places in this and other States.

The general physical conditions under which peat is formed are familiar facts. We require simply low, level land, covered with a thin sheet of water and abundant vegetation; in other words, a marsh or swamp. If plants decay on the dry land, the decomposition is complete; they are burned up by the oxygen of the air to carbon dioxide and water just as surely as if they had been thrown into a furnace, though less rapidly, and nothing is returned to the soil but what had been taken from it by the plants during their growth. But if the plants decay under water, as in a peat-marsh or bog, the decay is incomplete, and most of the carbon of the wood is left behind. Now, if this incomplete combustion of vegetable tissues takes place in a charcoal-pit, where the wood is out of contact with air from being covered with earth, we call the carbonaceous product charcoal; but if under the water of a marsh, in Nature’s laboratory, we call the product peat. Peat is simply a natural charcoal; and, just as in ordinary charcoal, its vegetable origin is always perfectly evident. But when the deposit becomes thicker, and especially when it is buried under thick formations of other rocks, like sand and clay, the great pressure consolidates the peat; it becomes gradually more mineralized and shining, shows the vegetable tissues less distinctly, becomes more nearly pure carbon, and we call it in succession lignite, bituminous coal, and anthracite.

This is, briefly, the way in which all varieties of coal, as well as the more solid kinds of bitumen, like asphaltum, are formed. But the lighter forms of bitumen, such as petroleum and naphtha, are derived mainly, if not entirely, from the partial decomposition of animal tissues. These, it is well known, decay much more readily than vegetable tissues; and the water of an ordinary marsh or lake contains sufficient oxygen for their complete and rapid decomposition. In the deeper parts of the ocean, however, the conditions are very different, for recent researches have shown, contrary to the old idea, that the deep sea holds an abundant fauna. All grades of animal life, from the highest to the lowest, have need of a constant supply of oxygen. On the land vegetation is constantly returning to the air the oxygen consumed by animals, but in the abysses of the ocean vegetable life is scarce or wanting; and hence it must result that over these greater than continental areas countless myriads of animals are living habitually on short rations of oxygen, and in water well charged with carbon dioxide, the product of animal respiration. As a consequence, when these animals die their tissues do not find the oxygen essential for their perfect decomposition, and in the course of time become buried, in a half-decayed state, in the ever-increasing sediments of the ocean-floor.

It is important to observe that an abundance of organic matter decaying under water is not the only condition essential to the formation of beds of coal and bitumen; for this condition is realized in the luxuriant growth of sea-weeds fringing the coast in every quarter of the globe; and yet coals and bitumens are rarely of sea-shore origin. These organic products, even under the most favorable circumstances, accumulate with extreme slowness; far more slowly, as a rule, than the ordinary mechanical sediments, like sand and clay, with which they are mixed, and in which they are often completely lost. Consequently, although the deposition of the carbonized remains of plants and animals is taking place in nearly all seas, lakes, and marshes, it is only in those places where there is little or no mechanical sediment that they can predominate so as to build up beds pure enough to be called coal or bitumen. In all other cases we get merely more or less carbonaceous sand or clay. Now these especially favorable localities will manifestly not be often found along the seashore, where we have strewn the sand and clay brought down by rivers or washed off the land directly by the ever-active surf; but they must exist in the central portions of the ocean, where there is almost no mechanical sediment and yet an abundance of life, and in swamps and marshes, where there is scarcely sufficient water to cover the vegetation, and no waves or currents to wash down the soil from the surrounding hills.

Formation of Iron-ores.—The iron-ores are another class of rocks which are formed only through the agency of organic matter. Iron is an abundant and wide-spread element in the earth’s crust, and, but for the intervention of life, we might say that, while there is iron everywhere, there is not much of it in any one place, since it is originally very thinly diffused. All rocks and soils contain iron, but it is mainly in the form of the peroxide, in which state it is entirely insoluble, and hence cannot be soaked out of the soil by the rain-water and concentrated by the evaporation of the water at lower levels in ponds and marshes, as a soluble substance like salt would be. If carried off with the sand and clay, by the mechanical action of water, it remains uniformly mixed with them, and there is no tendency to its separation and concentration so as to form a true iron-ore.

But what water cannot do alone is accomplished very readily when the water is aided by decaying organic matter, which is always hungry for oxygen, being, in the language of the chemist, a powerful reducing agent. The soil, in most places, has a superficial stratum of vegetable mould or half-decayed vegetation. The rainwater percolates through this and dissolves more or less of the organic matter, which is thus carried down into the sand and clay beneath and brought in contact with the ferric oxide, from which it takes a certain proportion of oxygen, reducing the ferric to the ferrous oxide. At the same time the vegetation is burned up by the oxygen thus obtained, forming carbon dioxide, which immediately combines with the ferrous oxide, forming carbonate of iron, which, being soluble under these conditions, is carried along by the water as it gradually finds its way by subterranean drainage to the bottom of the valley and emerges in a swamp or marsh.

Here one of two things will happen: If the marsh contains little or no decaying vegetation, then as soon as the ferrous carbonate brought down from the hills is exposed to the air it is decomposed, the carbon dioxide escapes, and the iron, taking on oxygen from the air, returns to its original ferric condition; and being then quite insoluble, it is deposited as a loose, porous, earthy mass, commonly known as bog-iron-ore, which becomes gradually more solid and finally even crystalline through the subsequent action of heat and pressure. When first deposited, the ferric oxide is combined with water or hydrated, and is then known as limonite (specimen No. 12); at a later period the water is expelled, and we call the ore hematite (specimen No. 13); and at a still later age it loses part of its oxygen, becomes magnetic and more crystalline, and is then known as magnetite (specimen No. 14). Thus it is seen that the iron-ores, as we pass from bog-limonite to magnetite, form a natural series similar to and parallel with that afforded by the coals as we pass from peat to graphite.

If the drainage from the hills is into a marsh containing an abundance of decaying vegetation, i.e., if peat is forming there, the ferrous carbonate, in the presence of the more greedy organic matter, will be unable to obtain oxygen from the air; and as the evaporation of the water goes on, it will sooner or later become saturated with this salt, and the latter will be deposited. Here we find an explanation of a fact often observed by geologists, viz., that the carbonate iron-ores are usually associated with beds of coal.

The formation of the iron-ores, like that of the coals and bitumens, is a slow process; and the ores, like the coals, etc., will be pure only where there is a complete absence of mechanical sediment, a condition that is realized most nearly in marshes.

Formation of Limestone, Diatomaceous Earth, etc.—Marine animals take from the sea-water certain mineral substances, especially silica and carbonate of calcium, to form their skeletons. Silica is used only by the lowest organisms, such as Radiolaria, Sponges, and the minute unicellular plants, Diatoms. The principal animals secreting carbonate of calcium are Corals and Mollusks. These hard parts of the organisms remain undissolved after death; and over portions of the ocean-floor where there is but little of other kinds of sediment they form the main part of the deposits, and in the course of ages build up very extensive formations which we call diatomaceous earth or tripolite, if the organisms are siliceous, or limestone if they are calcareous. A very satisfactory account of the formation of limestone on a stupendous scale by the polyps in coral reefs and islands is contained in No. IV. of this series of guides.

The rocks here considered may be, and, as we have already seen, sometimes are, deposited in a purely chemical way, without the aid of life; and it is important to observe that in no case do the organisms make the silica and carbonate of calcium of their skeletons, but they simply appropriate and reduce to the solid state what exists ready made in solution in the sea-water. These minerals, and others, as we know, are produced by the decomposition of the rocks of the land, and are being constantly carried into the sea by rivers; and, if there were no animals in the sea, these processes would still go on until the sea-water became saturated with these substances, when their precipitation as limestone, etc., would necessarily follow. Hence it is clear that all the animals do is to effect the precipitation of certain minerals somewhat sooner than it would otherwise occur; so that from a geological standpoint the differences between chemical and organic deposition are not great.

This section of our subject may be summarized as follows: Animals and plants contribute to the formation of rocks in three distinct ways:—

1. During their growth they deoxidize carbon dioxide and water, and reduce to the solid state in their tissues carbon and the permanent gases oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen; and after death, through the accumulation of the half-decayed tissues in favorable localities,—marshes, etc.,—these elements are added to the solid crust of the earth in the form of coal and bitumen.

2. During the decomposition, i.e., oxidation, of the organic tissues, the iron existing everywhere in the soil is partially deoxidized, and, being thus rendered soluble, is removed by rain-water and concentrated in low places, forming beds of iron-ore.

3. Through the agency of marine organisms, certain mineral substances are being constantly removed from the sea-water and deposited upon the ocean floor, forming various calcareous and siliceous rocks.

I now bring our study of the aqueous or superficial agencies to a conclusion by noting once more that the great geological results accomplished by air, water, and organic matter or life are: (1) Erosion, or the wearing away of the surface of the land; and (2) Deposition, or the formation from the dÉbris of the eroded land of two great classes of stratified rocks,—the mechanically formed or fragmental rocks, and the chemically and organically formed rocks.

II. IGNEOUS AGENCIES.

We pass next to a very brief consideration of operations that originate below the earth’s surface. The records of deep mines and artesian wells show that the temperature of the ground always increases downwards from the surface; and the much higher temperatures of hot springs and volcanoes show that the heat continues to increase to a great depth, and is not a merely superficial phenomenon. The observed rate of increase is not uniform, but it seldom varies far from the average, which is about 1° Fahr. per 53 feet of vertical descent, or, in round numbers, 100° per mile. This rate, if continued, would give a very high temperature at points only a few miles below the surface; and until within a few years the idea was generally accepted by geologists that the increase of temperature is sensibly uniform for an indefinite distance downward; that in the central regions of the earth the temperature is far higher than anything we can conceive, and that everywhere below a depth of 20 to 40 miles the temperature is above the fusing-point of all rocks; and hence that the earth is an incandescent liquid globe covered by a thin shell or crust of cold, solid rock.

Our limited space will not permit us to enter into a discussion of the condition of the earth’s interior, and I will merely point out in a few sentences the position occupied by geologists at the present time. The reasoning of Thompson has shown that the temperature cannot increase downward at a uniform rate, but at a constantly and rapidly diminishing rate; and that everywhere below a depth of 300 miles the temperature is probably sensibly the same, and nowhere, probably, above 8000° to 10,000° Fahr.

Unlike water, all rocks contract on solidifying and expand on melting, and consequently the high pressures to which they are subjected in the earth’s interior—10,000,000 to 20,000,000 pounds per square inch—must raise their fusing-points enormously, and the probabilities are that they are solid, in spite of the high temperature. But Thompson and Darwin have shown us farther that the phenomena of the oceanic tides could not be what they are known to be if the earth were any less rigid than a globe of solid steel; while Hopkins has proved that the astronomical phenomena of precession and nutation could not be what they are if the earth’s crust were less than 800 or 1000 miles thick. Putting these considerations together, geologists are almost universally agreed that, while the earth has an incandescent interior, it is still continuously solid from centre to circumference, with the exception of a thin plastic stratum at a depth not exceeding 40 or 50 miles, which forms the seat of volcanic action.

The earth is not only a very hot body, but it is rotating through almost absolutely cold space, and therefore must be a cooling body. But, except at the very beginning of the cooling, the loss of heat has gone on almost entirely from the interior; and since cooling means contraction, the heated interior must be constantly tending to shrink away from the cold external crust.

Of course no actual separation between the crust and interior or nucleus can take place, but there is no doubt that the crust is left unsupported to a certain extent, and it must then behave like an arch with a radius of 4000 miles, and the result is an enormous horizontal or tangential pressure.

This lateral pressure in the earth’s crust is one of the most important and most generally accepted facts in geology, and lies at the bottom of many geological theories. According to what seems to me to be the most probable theory of the origin of continents and ocean-basins, they are broad upward and downward bendings or arches into which the crust is thrown by the tangential pressure. Finally, the strain becomes great enough to crush the crust along those lines where it is weakest. When the crust is thus mashed up by horizontal pressure, a mountain range is formed, the crust becomes enormously thicker, and a weak place becomes a strong one.

During the formation of mountains the stratified rocks, which were originally horizontal, are thrown into folds or arches, and tipped up at all possible angles; they are fractured and faults produced; and by the immense pressure the structure known as slaty cleavage is developed. In fact, a vast amount and variety of structures are produced during the growth of a mountain range.

These great earth-movements are not always perfectly smooth and steady, but they are accompanied by slipping or crushing now and then; and, as a result of the shock thus produced, a swift vibratory movement or jar, which we know as an earthquake, runs through the earth’s crust.

Extensive fissures are also formed, opening down to the regions where the rocks are liquid or plastic, and through these the melted rocks flow up to or toward the surface. That portion which flows out on the surface builds up a volcanic cone, while that which cools and solidifies below the surface, in the fissures, forms dikes. Thus among the igneous or eruptive rocks we have two great classes,—the dike rocks and the volcanic rocks.

It is important to observe that all these subterranean operations—the formation of continents, of mountain-ranges with all their attendant phenomena of folds, faults and cleavage, and every form and phase of earthquake and volcanic activity—depend upon or originate in the interior heat of the earth. And over against the superficial or aqueous agencies, originating in the solar heat and producing the stratified or sedimentary rocks, we set the subterranean or igneous agencies originating in the central heat, and producing the unstratified or eruptive rocks.