Clicking on most images will open a larger version. DIAGRAM OF THE EARTH'S HISTORY. Harper & Brothers New York. PRINCIPAL AND VICE-CHANCELLOR OF McGILL UNIVERSITY, MONTREAL, The science of the earth as illustrated by geological research, is one of the noblest outgrowths of our modern intellectual life. Constituting the sum of all the natural sciences in their application to the history of our world, it affords a very wide and varied scope for mental activity, and deals with some of the grandest problems of space and time and of organic existence. It invites us to be present at the origin of things, and to enter into the very workshop of the Creator. It has, besides, most important and intimate connection with the industrial arts and with the material resources at the disposal of man. Its educational value, as a means of cultivating the powers of observing and reasoning, and of accustoming the mind to deal with large and intricate questions, can scarcely be overrated. But fully to serve these high ends, the study of geology must be based on a thorough knowledge of the subjects which constitute its elementary data. It must be divested as far as possible of merely local colouring, and of the prejudices of specialists. It must be emancipated from the control of the bald metaphysical speculations so rife in our time, and above all it must be delivered from that materialistic infidelity, which, by robbing nature of the spiritual element, and of its presiding Divinity, makes science dry, barren, and repulsive, diminishes its educational value, and even renders it less efficient for purposes of practical research. That the want of these preliminary conditions mars much of the popular science of our day is too evident; and I confess that the wish to attempt something better, and thereby to revive the interest in geological study, to attract attention to its educational value, and to remove the misapprehensions which exist in some quarters respecting it, were principal reasons which induced me to undertake the series of papers for the Leisure Hour, which are reproduced, with some amendments and extension, in the present work. How far I have succeeded, I must leave to the intelligent and, I trust, indulgent reader to decide. In any case I have presented this many-sided subject in the aspect in which it appears to a geologist whose studies have led him to compare with each other the two great continental areas which are the classic ground of the science, and who retains his faith in those unseen realities of which the history of the earth itself is but one of the shadows projected on the field of time. To geologists who may glance at the following pages, I would say that, amidst much that is familiar, they will find here and there some facts which may be new to them, as well as some original suggestions and conclusions as to the relations of things, which though stated in familiar terms, I have not advanced without due consideration of a wide range of facts, To the general reader I have endeavoured to present the more important results of geological investigation divested of technical difficulties, yet with a careful regard to accuracy of statement, and in such a manner as to invite to the farther and more precise study of the subject in nature, and in works which enter into technical details. I have endeavoured as far as possible to mention the authors of important discoveries; but it is impossible in a work of this kind to quote authority for every statement, while the omission of much important matter relating to the topics discussed is also unavoidable. Shortcomings in these respects must be remedied by the reader himself, with the aid of systematic text-books. Those who may desire any farther explanation of the occasional allusions to the record of creation in Genesis, will find this in my previously published volume entitled “Archaia.” J. W. D, McGill College, Montreal,
THE STORY OF THE EARTH AND MAN. The title of this work is intended to indicate precisely its nature. It consists of rough, broad sketches of the aspects of successive stages in the earth’s history, as disclosed by geology, and as they present themselves to observers at the present time. The last qualification is absolutely necessary, when dealing with a science whose goal to-day will be its starting point to-morrow, and in whose view every geological picture must have its light and shaded portions, its clear foreground and its dim distance, varying according to the lights cast on them by the progress of investigation, and according to the standpoint of the observer. In such pictures results only can be given, not the processes by which they have been obtained; and with all possible gradations of light and distance, it may be that the artist will bring into too distinct outline facts still only dimly perceived, or will give too little prominence to others which, should appear in bold relief. He must in this judge for himself; and if the writer’s impressions do not precisely correspond with those of others, he trusts that they will allow something for difference of vision and point of view. The difficulty above referred to perhaps rises to its maximum in the present chapter. For how can any one paint chaos, or give form and filling to the formless void? Perhaps no word-picture of this period of the first phase of mundane history can ever equal the two negative touches of the inspired penman—“without form and void”—a world destitute of all its present order, and destitute of all that gives it life and animation. This it was, and not a complete and finished earth, that sprang at first from its Creator’s hand; and we must inquire in this first chapter what information science gives as to any such condition of the earth. In the first place, the geological history of the earth plainly intimates a beginning, by utterly negativing the idea that “all things continue as they were from the creation of the world.” It traces back to their origin not only the animals and plants which at present live, but also their predecessors, through successive dynasties emerging in long procession from the depths of a primitive antiquity. Not only so; it assigns to their relative ages all the rocks of the earth’s crust, and all the plains and mountains built up of them. Thus, as we go back in geological time, we leave behind us, one by one, all the things with which we are familiar, and the inevitable conclusion gains on us that we must be approaching a beginning, though this may be veiled from us in clouds and thick darkness. How is it, then, that there are “Uniformitarians” in geology, and that it has been said that our science shows no traces of a beginning, no indications of an end? The question deserves consideration; but the answer is not difficult. In all the lapse of geological time there has been an absolute uniformity of natural law. The same grand machinery of force and matter has been in use throughout all the ages, working out the great plan. Yet the plan has been progressive and advancing, nevertheless. The uniformity has been in the methods, the results have presented a wondrous diversity and development. Again, geology, in its oldest periods, fails to reach the beginning of things. It shows us how course after course of the building has been laid, and how it has grown to completeness, but it contains as yet no record of the laying of the foundation-stones, still less of the quarry whence they were dug. Still the constant progress which we have seen points to a beginning which we have not seen; and the very uniformity of the process by which the edifice has been erected, implies a time when it had not been begun, and when its stones were still reposing in their native quarry. What, then, is the oldest condition of the earth actually shown to us by geology,—that which prevailed in the Eozoic or Laurentian period, when the oldest rocks known, those constituting the foundation-stones of our present continents, were formed and laid in their places? With regard to physical conditions, it was a time when our existing continents were yet in the bosom of the waters, when the ocean was almost universal, yet when sediments were being deposited in it as at present, while there were also volcanic foci, vomiting forth molten matter from the earth’s hidden interior. Then, as now, the great physical agencies of water and fire were contending with one another for the mastery, doing and undoing, building up and breaking down. But is this all? Has the earth no earlier history? That it must have had, we may infer from many indications; but as to the nature of these earlier states, we can learn from conjecture and inference merely, and must have recourse to other witnesses than those rocky monuments which are the sure guides of the geologist. One fact bearing on these questions which has long excited attention, is the observed increase in temperature in descending into deep mines, and in the water of deep artesian wells—an increase which may be stated in round numbers at one degree of heat of the centigrade thermometer for every 100 feet of depth from the surface. These observations apply of course to a very inconsiderable depth, and we have no certainty that this rate continues for any great distance towards the centre of the earth. If, however, We regard it as indicating the actual law of increase of temperature, it would result that the whole crust of the earth is a mere shell covering a molten mass of rocky matter. Thus a very slight step of imagination would carry us back to a time when this slender crust had not yet formed, and the earth rolled through space an incandescent globe, with all its water and other vaporisable matters in a gaseous state. Astronomical calculation has, however, shown that the earth, in its relation to the other heavenly bodies, obeys the laws of a rigid ball, and not of a fluid globe. Hence it has been inferred that its actual crust must be very thick, perhaps not less than 2,500 miles, and that its fluid portion must therefore be of smaller dimensions than has been inferred from the observed increase of temperature. Further, it seems to have been rendered probable, from the density of rocky matter in the solid and liquid states, that a molten globe would solidify at the centre as well as at the surface, and consequently that the earth must not only have a solid crust of great thickness, but also a solid nucleus, and that any liquid portions must be of the nature of a sheet or of detached masses intervening between these. On the other hand, it has recently been maintained that the calculations which are supposed to have established the great thickness of the crust, on the ground that the earth does not change its form in obedience to the attraction of the sun and moon, are based on a misconception, and that a molten globe with a thin crust would attain to such a state of equilibrium in this respect as not to be distinguishable from a solid planet. This view has been maintained by the French physicist, Delaunay, and for some time it made geologists suppose that, after all, the earth’s crust may be very thin. Sir William Thomson, however, and Archdeacon Pratt, have ably maintained the previous opinion, based on Hopkins' calculations; and it is now believed that we may rest upon this as representing the most probable condition of the interior of the earth at present. Another fact bearing on this point is the form of the earth, which is now actually a spheroid of rotation; that is, of such a shape as would result from the action of gravity and centrifugal force in the motion of a huge liquid drop rotating in the manner in which the earth rotates. Of course it may be said that the earth may have been made in that shape to fit it for its rotation; but science prefers to suppose that the form is the result of the forces acting on it. This consideration would of course corroborate the deductions from that just mentioned. Again, if we examine a map showing the distribution of volcanoes upon the earth, and trace these along the volcanic belt of Western America and Eastern Asia, and in the Pacific Islands, and in the isolated volcanic regions in other parts of the world; and if we add to these the multitude of volcanoes now extinct, we shall be convinced that the sources of internal heat, of which these are the vents, must be present almost everywhere under the earth’s crust. Lastly, if we consider the elevations and depressions which large portions of the crust of the earth have undergone in geological time, and the actual crumpling and folding of the crust visible in great mountain chains, we arrive at a similar conclusion, and also become convinced that the crust has been not too thick to admit of extensive fractures, flexures, and foldings. There are, however, it must be admitted, theories of volcanic action, strongly supported by the chemical nature of the materials ejected by modern volcanoes, which would refer all their phenomena to the softening, under the continued influence of heat and water, of materials within the crust of the earth rather than under it.[A] Still, the phenomena of volcanic action, and of elevation and subsidence, would, under any explanation, suppose intense heat, and therefore probably an original incandescent condition. [A] Dr. T. Sterry Hunt, in Silliman’a Journal, 1870. La Place long ago based a theory of the originally gaseous condition of the solar system on the relation of the planets to each other, and to the sun, on their planes of revolution, the direction of their revolution, and that of their satellites. On these grounds he inferred that the solar system had been formed out of a nebulous mass by the mutual attraction of its parts. This view was further strengthened by the discovery of nebulae, which it might be supposed were undergoing the same processes by which the solar system was produced. This nebular theory, as it was called, was long very popular. It was subsequently supposed to be damaged by the fact that some of the nebulÆ which had been regarded as systems in progress of formation were found by improved telescopes to be really clusters of stars, and it was inferred that the others might be of like character. The spectroscope has, however, more recently shown that some nebulÆ are actually gaseous; and it has even been attempted to demonstrate that they are probably undergoing change fitting them to become systems. This has served to revive the nebular hypothesis, which has been further strengthened by the known fact that the sun is still an incandescent globe surrounded by an immense luminous envelope of vapours rising from its nucleus and condensing at its surface. On the other hand, while the sun may be supposed, from its great magnitude, to remain intensely heated, and while it will not be appreciably less powerful for myriads of years, the moon seems to be a body which has had time to complete the whole history of geological change, and to become a dry, dead, and withered world, a type of what our earth would in process of time actually become. Such considerations lead to the conclusion that the former watery condition of our planet was not its first state, and that we must trace it back to a previous reign of fire. The reasons which can be adduced in support of this are no doubt somewhat vague, and may in their details be variously interpreted; but at present we have no other interpretation to give of that chaos, formless and void, that state in which “nor aught nor nought existed,” which the sacred writings and the traditions and poetry of ancient nations concur with modern science in indicating as the primitive state of the earth. Let our first picture, then, be that of a vaporous mass, representing our now solid planet spread out over a space nearly two thousand times greater in diameter than that which it now occupies, and whirling in its annual round about the still vaporous centre of our system, in which at an earlier period the earth had been but an exterior layer, or ring of vapour. The atoms that now constitute the most solid rocks are in this state as tenuous as air, kept apart by the expansive force of heat, which prevents not only their mechanical union, but also their chemical combination. But within the mass, slowly and silently, the force of gravitation is compressing the particles in its giant hand, and gathering the denser toward the centre, while heat is given forth on all sides from the condensing mass into the voids of space without. Little by little the denser and less volatile matters collect in the centre as a fluid molten globe, the nucleus of the future planet; and in this nucleus the elements, obeying their chemical affinities hitherto latent, are arranging themselves in compounds which are to constitute the future rocks. At the same time, in the exterior of the vaporous envelope, matters cooled by radiation into the space without, are combining with each other, and are being precipitated in earthy rain or snow into the seething mass within, where they are either again vaporised and sent to the surface or absorbed in the increasing nucleus. As this process advances, a new brilliancy is given to the faint shining of the nebulous matter by the incandescence of these solid particles in the upper layers of its atmosphere, a condition which at this moment, on a greater scale, is that of the sun; in the case of the earth, so much smaller in volume, and farther from the centre of the system, it came on earlier, and has long since passed away. This was the glorious starlike condition of our globe: in a physical point of view, its most perfect and beautiful state, when, if there were astronomers with telescopes in the stars, they might have seen our now dull earth flash forth—a brilliant white star secondary to the sun. But in process of time this passes away. All the more solid and less volatile substances are condensed and precipitated; and now the atmosphere, still vast in bulk, and dark and misty in texture, contains only the water, chlorine, carbonic acid, sulphuric acid, and other more volatile substances; and as these gather in dense clouds at the outer surface, and pour in fierce corrosive rains upon the heated nucleus, combining with its materials, or flashing again into vapour, darkness dense and gross settles upon the vaporous deep, and continues for long ages, until the atmosphere is finally cleared of its acid vapours and its superfluous waters.[B] In the meantime, radiation, and the heat abstracted from the liquid nucleus by the showers of condensing material from the atmosphere, have so far cooled its surface that a crust of slag or cinder forms upon it. Broken again and again by the heavings of the ocean of fire, it at length sets permanently, and receives upon its bare and blistered surface the ever-increasing aqueous and acid rain thrown down from the atmosphere, at first sending it all hissing and steaming back, but at length allowing it to remain a universal boiling ocean. Then began the reign of the waters, and the dominion of fire was confined to the abysses within the solid crust. Under the primeval ocean were formed the first stratified rocks, from the substances precipitated from its waters, which must have been loaded with solid matter. We must not imagine this primeval ocean like our own blue sea, clear and transparent, but filled with earthy and saline matters, thick and turbid, until these were permitted to settle to the bottom and form the first sediments. The several changes above referred to are represented in diagrammatic form in figs. 1 to 4. [B] Hunt, “Chemistry of the Primeval Earth,” Silliman’s Journal, 1858. In the meantime all is not at rest in the interior of the new-formed earth. Under the crust vast oceans of molten rock may still remain, but a solid interior nucleus is being crystallised in the centre, and the whole interior globe is gradually shrinking. At length this process advances so far that the exterior crust, like a sheet of ice from below which the water has subsided, is left unsupported; and with terrible earthquake-throes it sinks downward, wrinkling up into huge folds, between which are vast sunken areas into which the waters subside, while from the intervening ridges the earth’s pent-up fires belch forth ashes and molten rocks. (Fig. 5.) So arose the first dry land:— The cloud was its garment, it was swathed in thick darkness, and presented but a rugged pile of rocky precipices; yet well might the “morning stars sing together, and all the sons of God shout with joy,” when its foundations were settled and its corner-stone laid, for then were inaugurated the changes which were to lead to the introduction of life on the earth, and to all the future development of the continents. Physical geographers have taught us that the great continents, whether we regard their coasts or their mountain chains, are built up on lines which run north-east and south-west, and north-west and south-east; and it is also observed that these lines are great circles of the earth tangent to the polar circle. Further, we find, as a result of geological investigation, that these lines determined the deposition and the elevation of the oldest rocks known to us. Hence it is fair to infer that these were the original directions of the first lines of fracture and upheaval. Whether these lines were originally drawn by the influence of of the seasons on the cooling globe, or by the currents of its molten interior, or of the superficial ocean, they bespeak a most uniform and equable texture for the crust, and a definite law of fracture and upheaval; and they have modified all the subsequent action of the ocean as a depositor of sediment, and of the internal heat as a cause of alteration and movement of rocks. Against these earliest belts of land the ocean first chafed and foamed. Along their margins marine denudation first commenced, and the oceanic currents first deposited banks of sediment; and along these first lines have the volcanic orifices of all periods been most plentiful, and elevatory movements most powerfully felt. We must not suppose that the changes thus shortly sketched were rapid and convulsive. They must have required periods of enormous duration, all of which had elapsed before the beginning of geological time, properly so called. From Sir William Thomson’s calculations, it would appear that the time which has elapsed from the first formation of a solid crust on the earth to the modern period may have been from seventy to one hundred millions of years, and the whole time from the vaporous condition of the solar system to the present, must of course have been still greater than even this enormous series of ages. Such a lapse of time is truly almost inconceivable, but it is only a few days to Him with whom one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. How many and strange pictures does this series of processes call up! First, the uniform vaporous nebula. Then the formation of a liquid nucleus, and a brilliant photosphere without. Then the congealing of a solid crust under dark atmospheric vapours, and the raining down of acid and watery showers. Then the universal ocean, its waves rolling unobstructed around the globe, and its currents following without hindrance the leading of heat and of the earth’s rotation. Then the rupture of the crust and the emergence of the nuclei of continents. Some persons seem to think that by these long processes of creative work we exclude the Creator, and would reduce the universe into a mere fortuitous concourse of atoms. To put it in more modern phrase, “given a quantity of detached fragments cast into space, then mutual gravitation and the collision of the fragments would give us the spangled heavens.” But we have still to ask the old question, “Whence the atoms?” and we have to ask it with all the added weight of our modern chemistry, so marvellous in its revelations of the original differences of matter and their varied powers of combination. We have to ask, What is gravitation itself, unless a mode of action of Almighty power? We have to ask for the origin of of thousands of correlations, binding together the past and the future in that orderly chain of causes and effects which constitutes the plan of the creation. If it pleased God to create in the beginning an earth “formless and void” and to elaborate from this all that has since existed, who are we, to say that the plan was not the best? Nor would it detract from our view of the creative wisdom and power if we were to hold that in ages to come the sun may experience the same change that has befallen the earth, and may become “black as sackcloth of hair,” preparatory perhaps, to changes which may make him also the abode of life; or if the earth, cooling still further, should, like our satellite the moon, absorb all its waters and gases into its bosom, and become bare, dry, and parched, until there shall be “no more sea” how do we know but that then there shall be no more need of the sun, because a better light may be provided? Or that there may not be a new baptism of fire in store for the earth, whereby, being melted with fervent heat, it may renew its youth in the fresh and heavenly loveliness of a new heaven and a new earth, free from all the evils and imperfections of the present? God is not slack in these things, as some men count slackness; but His ways are not like our ways. He has eternity wherein to do His work, and takes His own time for each of His operations. The Divine wisdom, personified by a sacred writer, may well in this exalt his own office:—
The dominion of heat has passed away; the excess of water has been precipitated from the atmosphere, and now covers the earth as a universal ocean. The crust has folded itself into long ridges, the bed of the waters has subsided into its place, and the sea for the first time begins to rave against the shores of the newly elevated land, while the rain, washing the bare surfaces of rocky ridges, carries its contribution of the slowly wasting rocks back into the waters whence they were raised, forming, with the material worn from the crust by the surf, the first oceanic sediments. Do we know any of these earliest aqueous beds, or are they all hidden from view beneath newer deposits, or have they been themselves worn away and destroyed by denuding agencies? Whether we know the earliest formed sediments is, and may always remain, uncertain; but we do know certain very ancient rocks which may be at least their immediate successors. Fig. 6.—The Laurentian nucleus of the American continent. Deepest and oldest of all the rocks we are acquainted with in the crust of the earth, are certain beds much altered and metamorphosed, baked by the joint action of heat and heated moisture—rocks once called Azoic, as containing no traces of life, but for which I have elsewhere proposed the name “Eozoic,” or those that afford the traces of the earliest known living beings. These rocks are the Laurentian Series of Sir William Logan, so named from the Laurentide hills, north of the River St. Lawrence, which are composed of these ancient beds, and where they are more largely exposed than in any other region. It may seem at first sight strange that any of these ancient rocks should be found at the surface of the earth; but this is a necessary result of the mode of formation of the continents. The oldest rocks, thrown up in places into high ridges, have either not been again brought under the waters, or have lost by denudation the sediments once resting on them; and being of a hard and resisting nature, still remain; and often rise into hills of considerable elevation, showing as it were portions of the skeleton of the earth protruding through its superficial covering. Such rocks stretch along the north side of the St. Lawrence river from Labrador to Lake Superior, and thence northwardly to an unknown distance, constituting a wild and rugged district often rising into hills 4000 feet high, and in the deep gorge of the Saguenay forming cliffs 1,500 feet in sheer height from the water’s edge. South of this great ridge, the isolated mass of the Adirondack Mountains rises to the height of 6,000 feet, rivalling the newer, though still very ancient, chain of the White Mountains. Along the eastern coast of North America, a lower ridge of Laurentian rock, only appearing here and there from under the overlying sediments, is seen in Newfoundland, in New Brunswick, possibly in Nova Scotia, and perhaps farther south in Massachusetts, and as far as Maryland. In the old world, rocks of this age do not, so far as known, appear so extensively. They have been recognised in Norway and Sweden, in the Hebrides, and in Bavaria, and may, no doubt, be yet discerned in other localities. Still, the grandest and most instructive development of these rocks is in North America; and it is there that we may best investigate their nature, and endeavour to restore the conditions in which they were deposited. It has been already stated that the oldest wrinkles of the crust of the globe take the direction of great circles of the earth tangent to the polar circle, forming north-east and south-west, and north-west and south-east lines. To such lines are the great exposures of Laurentian rock conformed, as may be well seen from the map of North America (fig. 6), taken from Dana, with some additions. The great angular Laurentian belt is evidently the nucleus of the continent, and consists of two broad bands or ridges meeting in the region of the great lakes. The remaining exposures are parallel to these, and appear to indicate a subordinate coast-line of comparatively little elevation. It is known that these Laurentian exposures constitute the oldest part of the continent, a part which was land before any of the rocks of the shaded portion of the map were deposited in the bed of the ocean—all this shaded portion being composed of rocks of various geological ages resting on the older Laurentian. It is further to be observed that the beds occurring in the Laurentian bands are crumpled and folded in a most remarkable manner, and that these folds were impressed upon them before the deposition of the rocks next in geological age. What then are these oldest rocks deposited by the sea—the first-born of the reign of the waters? They are very different in their external aspect from the silt and mud, the sand and gravel, and the shell and coral rocks of the modern sea, or of the more recent geological formations. Yet the difference is one in condition rather than composition. The members of this ancient aristocracy of the rocks are made of the same clay with their fellows, but have been subjected to a refining and crystallizing process which has greatly changed their condition. They have been, as geologists say, metamorphosed; and are to ordinary rocks what a china vase is to the lump of clay from which it has been made. Deeply buried in the earth under newer sediments, they have been baked, until sandstones, gravels, and clays came out bright and crystalline, as gneiss, mica-schist, hornblende-schist, and quartzite—all hard crystalline rocks showing at first sight no resemblance to their original material, except in the regularly stratified or bedded arrangement which serves to distinguish them from igneous or volcanic rocks. In like manner certain finer, calcareous sediments have been changed into Labrador feldspar, sometimes gay with a beautiful play of colour, and what were once common limestones appear as crystalline marble. If the evidence of such metamorphoses is asked for, this is twofold. In the first place, these rocks are similar in structure to more modern beds which have been partially metamorphosed, and in which the transition from the unaltered to the altered state can be observed. Secondly, there are limited areas in the Laurentian itself, in which the metamorphism has been so imperfect as to permit traces of the original character of the rocks to remain. It seems also quite certain, and this is a most important point for our sketch, that the Laurentian ocean was not universal, but that there were already elevated portions of the crust capable of yielding sediment to the sea. In North America these Laurentian rocks attain to an enormous thickness. This has been estimated by Sir W. E. Logan at 30,000 feet, so that the beds would, if piled on each other horizontally, be as high as the highest mountains on earth. They appear to consist of two great series, the Lower and Upper Laurentian. Even if we suppose that in the earlier stages of the world’s history erosion and deposition were somewhat more rapid than at present, the formation of such deposits, probably more widely spread than any that succeeded them, must have required an enormous length of time. Geologists long looked in vain for evidences of life in the Laurentian period; but just as astronomers' have suspected the existence of unknown planets from the perturbations due to their attraction, geologists have guessed that there must have been some living things on earth even at this early time. Dana and Sterry Hunt especially have committed themselves to such speculations. The reasons for this belief may be stated thus: (1.) In later formations limestone is usually an organic rock, produced by the accumulation of shells, corals, and similar calcareous organisms in the sea, and there are enormous limestones in the Laurentian, constituting regular beds. (2.) In later formations coaly matter is an organic substance, derived from vegetables, and there are large quantities of Laurentian carbon in the form of graphite. (3.) In later formations deposits of iron ores are almost always connected with the deoxidising influence of organic matters as an efficient cause of their accumulation, and the Laurentian contains immense deposits of iron ore, occurring in layers in the manner of later deposits of these minerals. (4.) The limestone, carbon, and iron of the Laurentian exist in association with the other beds in the same manner as in the later formations in which they are known to be organic. |