Louis Figuier

The observer who glances over a rich and fertile plain, watered by rivers and streams which have, during a long series of ages, pursued the same uniform and tranquil course; the traveller who contemplates the walls and monuments of a great city, the first founding of which is lost in the night of ages, testifying, apparently, to the unchangeableness of things and places; the naturalist who examines a mountain or other locality, and finds the hills and valleys and other accidents of the soil in the very spot and condition in which they are described by history and tradition—none of these observers would at first suspect that any serious change had ever occurred to disturb the surface of the globe. Nevertheless, the earth has not always presented the calm aspect of stability which it now exhibits; it has had its convulsions, and its physical revolutions, whose story we are about to trace. The earth, like the body of an animal, is wasted, as the philosophical Hutton tells us, at the same time that it is repaired. It has a state of growth and augmentation; it has another state, which is that of diminution and decay: it is destroyed in one part to be renewed in another; and the operations by which the renewal is accomplished are as evident to the scientific eye as those by which it is destroyed. A thousand causes, aqueous, igneous, and atmospheric, are continually at work modifying the external form of the earth, wearing down the older portions of its surface, and reconstructing newer out of the older; so that in many parts of the world denudation has taken place to the extent of many thousand feet. Buried in the depths of the soil, for example, in one of those vast excavations which the intrepidity of the miner has dug in search of coal or other minerals, there are numerous phenomena which strike the mind of the inquirer, and carry their own conclusions with them. A striking increase of temperature in these subterranean places is one of the most remarkable of these. It is found that the temperature of the earth rises one degree for every sixty or seventy feet of descent from its surface. Again: if the mine be examined vertically, it is found to consist of a series of layers or beds, sometimes horizontal, but more frequently inclined, upright, or contorted and undulating—even folded back upon themselves. Then, instances are numerous where horizontal and parallel beds have been penetrated, and traversed vertically or obliquely by veins of ores or minerals totally different in their appearance and nature from the surrounding rocks. All these undulations and varying inclinations of strata are indications that some powerful cause, some violent mechanical action, has intervened to produce them. Finally, if the interior of the beds be examined more minutely—if, armed with the miner’s pick and hammer, the rock is carefully broken up—it is not impossible that the very first efforts at mining may be rewarded by the discovery of some fossilised organic form no longer found in the living state. The remains of plants and animals belonging to the earlier ages of the world, are, in fact, very common; entire strata are sometimes formed of them; and in some localities the rocks can scarcely be disturbed without yielding fragments of bones and shells, or the impressions of fossilised animals and vegetables—the buried remains of extinct creations.

These bones—these remains of animals or vegetables which the hammer of the geologist has torn from the rock—belong possibly to some organism which no longer any where exists: it may not be identical with any animal or plant living in our times: but it is evident that these beings, whose remains are now so deeply buried, have not always been so covered; they once lived on the surface of the earth as plants and animals do in our days, for their organisation is essentially the same. The beds in which they now repose must, then, in older times have formed the surface of the earth; and the presence of these fossils proves that the earth has suffered great mutations at some former period of its history.

Geology explains to us the various transformations which the earth has passed through before it arrived at its present condition. We can determine, with its help, the comparative epoch to which any beds belong, as well as the order in which others have been superimposed upon them. Considering that the stratigraphical crust of the earth with which the geologist has to deal may be some ten miles thick, and that it has been deposited in distinct layers in a definite order of succession, the dates or epochs of each formation may well be approached with hesitation and caution.Dr. Hutton, the earliest of our philosophical geologists, eloquently observes, in his “Theory of the Earth,” that the solid earth is everywhere wasted at the surface. The summits of the mountains are necessarily degraded. The solid and weighty materials of these mountains have everywhere been carried through the valleys by the force of running water. The soil which is produced in the destruction of the solid earth is gradually transported by the moving waters, and is as constantly supplying vegetation with its necessary aid. This drifted soil is at last deposited upon some coast, where it forms a fertile country. But the billows of the ocean again agitate the loose material upon the shore, wearing away the coast with endless repetitions of this act of power and imparted force; the solid portion of our earth, thus sapped to its foundations, is carried away into the deep and sunk again at the bottom of the sea whence it had originated, and from which sooner or later it will again make its appearance. We are thus led to see a circulation of destruction and renewal in the matter of which the globe is formed, and a system of beautiful economy in the works of Nature. Again, discriminating between the ordinary and scientific observer, the same writer remarks, that it is not given to common observation to see the operation of physical causes. The shepherd thinks the mountain on which he feeds his flock has always been there. The inhabitant of the valley cultivates the soil as his fathers did before him, and thinks the soil coeval with the valley or the mountain. But the scientific observer looks into the chain of physical events, sees the great changes that have been made, and foresees others that must follow from the continued operation of like natural causes. For, as Pythagoras taught 2,350 years ago, “the minerals and the rocks, the islands and the continents, the rivers and the seas, and all organic Nature, are perpetually changing; there is nothing stationary on earth.” To note these changes—to decipher the records of this system of waste and reconstruction, to trace the physical history of the earth—is the province of Geology, which, the latest of all modern sciences, is that which has been modified most profoundly and most rapidly. In short, resting as it does on observation, it has been modified and transformed according to every series of facts recorded; but while many of the facts of geology admit of easy and obvious demonstration, it is far otherwise with the inferences which have been based upon them, which are mostly hypothetical, and in many instances from their very nature incapable of proof. Its applications are numerous and varied, projecting new and useful lights upon many other sciences. Here we ask of it the teachings which serve to explain the origin of the globe—the evidence it furnishes of the progressive formation of the different rocks and mineral masses of which the earth is composed—the description and restoration of the several species of animals and vegetables which have existed, have died and become extinct, and which form, in the language of naturalists, the Fauna and Flora of the ancient world.

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In order to explain the origin of the earth, and the cause of its various revolutions, modern geologists invoke three orders of facts, or fundamental considerations:

I. The hypothesis of the original incandescence of the globe.

II. The consideration of fossils.

III. The successive deposition of the sedimentary rocks.

As a corollary to these, the hypothesis of the upheaval of the earth’s crust follows—upheavals having produced local revolutions. The result of these upheavals has been to superimpose new materials upon the older rocks, introducing extraneous rocks called Eruptive, beneath, upon, and amongst preceding deposits, in such a manner as to change their nature in divers ways. Whence is derived a third class of rocks called Metamorphic or altered rocks, our knowledge of which is of comparatively recent date.

Fossils.

The name of Fossil (from fossilis, dug up) is given to all organised bodies, animal or vegetable, buried naturally in the terrestrial strata, and more or less petrified, that is, converted into stone. Fossils of the older formations are remains of organisms which, so far as species is concerned, are quite extinct; and only those of recent formations belong to genera living in our days. These fossil remains have neither the beauty nor the elegance of most living species, being mutilated, discoloured, and often almost shapeless; they are, therefore, interesting only in the eyes of the observer who would interrogate them, and who seeks to reconstruct, with their assistance, the Fauna and Flora of past ages. Nevertheless, the light they throw upon the past history of the earth is of the most satisfactory description, and the science of fossils, or palÆontology, is now an important branch of geological inquiry. Fossil shells, in the more recent deposits, are found scarcely altered; in some cases only an impression of the external form is left—sometimes an entire cast of the shell, exterior and interior. In other cases the shell has left a perfect impression of its form in the surrounding mud, and has then been dissolved and washed away, leaving only its mould. This mould, again, has sometimes been filled up by calcareous spar, silica, or pyrites, and an exact cast of the original shell has thus been obtained. Petrified wood is also of very common occurrence.

These remains of an earlier creation had long been known to the curious, and classed as freaks of Nature, for so we find them described in the works of the ancient philosophers who wrote on natural history, and in the few treatises on the subject which the Middle Ages have bequeathed to us. Fossil bones, especially those of elephants, were known to the ancients, giving rise to all sorts of legends and fabulous histories: the tradition which attributed to Achilles, to Ajax, and to other heroes of the Trojan war, a height of twenty feet, is attributable, no doubt, to the discovery of the bones of elephants near their tombs. In the time of Pericles we are assured that in the tomb of Ajax a patella, or knee-bone of that hero, was found, which was as large as a dinner-plate. This was probably only the patella of a fossil elephant.

The uses to which fossils are applied by the geologist are—First, to ascertain the relative age of the formations in which they occur; secondly, the conditions under which these were deposited. The age of the formation is determined by a comparison of the fossils it contains with others of ascertained date; the conditions under which the rocks were deposited, whether marine, lacustrine, or terrestrial, are readily inferred from the nature of the fossils. The great artist, Leonardo da Vinci, was the first to comprehend the real meaning of fossils, and Bernard Palissy had the glory of being the first modern writer to proclaim the true character of the fossilised remains which are met with, in such numbers, in certain formations, both in France and Italy, particularly in those of Touraine, where they had come more especially under his notice. In his work on “Waters and Fountains,” published in 1580, he maintains that the figured stones, as fossils were then called, were the remains of organised beings preserved at the bottom of the sea. But the existence of marine shells upon the summits of mountains had already arrested the attention of ancient authors. Witness Ovid, who in Book XV. of the “Metamorphoses” tells us he had seen land formed at the expense of the sea, and marine shells lying dead far from the ocean; and more than that, an ancient anchor had been found on the very summit of a mountain.

“Vidi factas ex Æquore terras,
Et procul a pelago conchÆ jacuere marinÆ,
Et vetus inventa est in montibus anchora summis.”

Ov., Met., Book xv.

The Danish geologist Steno, who published his principal works in Italy about the middle of the seventeenth century, had deeply studied the fossil shells discovered in that country. The Italian painter Scilla produced in 1670 a Latin treatise on the fossils of Calabria, in which he established the organic nature of fossil shells.

The eighteenth century gave birth to two very opposite theories as to the origin of our globe—namely, the Plutonian or igneous, and the Neptunian or aqueous theory. The Italian geologists gave a marked impulse to the study of fossils, and the name of Vallisneri[1] may be cited as the author to whom science is indebted for the earliest account of the marine deposits of Italy, and of the most characteristic organic remains which they contain. Lazzaro Moro[2] continued the studies of Vallisneri, and the monk Gemerelli reduced to a complete system the ideas of these two geologists, endeavouring to explain all the phenomena as Vallisneri had wished, “without violence, without fiction, without miracles.” Marselli and Donati both studied in a very scientific manner the fossil shells of Italy, and in particular those of the Adriatic, recognising the fact that they affected in their beds a regular and constant order of superposition.[3]

In France the celebrated Buffon gave, by his eloquent writings, great popularity to the notions of the Italian naturalists concerning the origin of fossil remains. In his admirable “Époques de la Nature” he sought to prove that the shells found in great quantities buried in the soil, and even on the tops of mountains, belonged, in reality, to species not living in our days. But this idea was too novel not to find objectors: it counted among its adversaries the bold philosopher who might have been expected to adopt it with most ardour. Voltaire attacked, with his jesting and biting criticism, the doctrines of the illustrious innovator. Buffon insisted, reasonably enough, that the presence of shells on the summit of the Alps was a proof that the sea had at one time occupied that position. But Voltaire asserted that the shells found on the Alps and Apennines had been thrown there by pilgrims returning from Rome. Buffon might have replied to his opponent, by pointing out whole mountains formed by the accumulation of these shells. He might have sent him to the Pyrenees, where shells of marine origin cover immense areas to a height of 6,600 feet above the present sea-level. But his genius was averse to controversy; and the philosopher of Ferney himself put an end to a discussion in which, perhaps, he would not have had the best of the argument. “I have no wish,” he wrote, “to embroil myself with Monsieur Buffon about shells.”

It was reserved for the genius of George Cuvier to draw from the study of fossils the most wonderful results: it is the study of these remains, in short, which, in conjunction with mineralogy, constitutes in these days positive geology. “It is to fossils,” says the great Cuvier, “that we owe the discovery of the true theory of the earth; without them we should not have dreamed, perhaps, that the globe was formed at successive epochs, and by a series of different operations. They alone, in short, tell us with certainty that the globe has not always had the same envelope; we cannot resist the conviction that they must have lived on the surface of the earth before being buried in its depths. It is only by analogy that we have extended to the primary formations the direct conclusions which fossils furnish us with in respect to the secondary formations; and if we had only unfossiliferous rocks to examine, no one could maintain that the earth was not formed all at once.”[4]

The method adopted by Cuvier for the reconstruction and restoration of the fossil animals found in the plaster-quarries of Montmartre, at the gates of Paris, has served as a model for all succeeding naturalists; let us listen, then, to his exposition of the vast problem whose solution he proposed to himself. “In my work on fossil bones,” he says, “I propose to ascertain to what animals the osseous fragments belong; it is seeking to traverse a road on which we have as yet only ventured a few steps. An antiquary of a new kind, it seemed to me necessary to learn both to restore these monuments of past revolutions, and to decipher their meaning. I had to gather and bring together in their primitive order the fragments of which they are composed; to reconstruct the ancient beings to which these fragments belonged; to reproduce them in their proportions and with their characteristics; to compare them, finally, with others now living on the surface of the globe: an art at present little known, and which supposes a science scarcely touched upon as yet, namely, that of the laws which preside over the co-existence of the forms of the several parts in organised beings. I must, then, prepare myself for these researches by others, still more extended, upon existing animals. A general review of actual creation could alone give a character of demonstration to my account of these ancient inhabitants of the world; but it ought, at the same time, to give me a great collection of laws, and of relations not less demonstrable, thus forming a body of new laws to which the whole animal kingdom could not fail to find itself subject.”[5]

“When the sight of a few bones inspired me, more than twenty years ago, with the idea of applying the general laws of comparative anatomy to the reconstruction and determination of fossil species; when I began to perceive that these species were not quite perfectly represented by those of our days, which resembled them the most—I no longer doubted that I trod upon a soil filled with spoils more extraordinary than any I had yet seen, and that I was destined to bring to light entire races unknown to the present world, and which had been buried for incalculable ages at great depths in the earth.

“I had not yet given any attention to the published notices of these bones, by naturalists who made no pretension to the recognition of their species. To M. Vaurin, however, I owe the first intimation of the existence of these bones, with which the gypsum-quarries swarm. Some specimens which he brought me one day struck me with astonishment; I learned, with all the interest the discovery could inspire me with, that this industrious and zealous collector had already furnished some of them to other collectors. Received by these amateurs with politeness, I found in their collections much to confirm my hopes and heighten my curiosity. From that time I searched in all the quarries with great care for other bones, offering such rewards to the workmen as might awaken their attention. I soon got together more than had ever been previously collected, and after a few years I had nothing to desire in the shape of materials. But it was otherwise with their arrangement, and with the reconstruction of the skeleton, which could alone lead to any just idea of the species.

“From the first moment of discovery I perceived that, in these remains, the species were numerous. Soon afterwards I saw that they belonged to many genera, and that the species of the different genera were nearly the same size, so that size was likely rather to hinder than aid me. Mine was the case of a man to whom had been given at random the mutilated and imperfect remains of some hundreds of skeletons belonging to twenty sorts of animals; it was necessary that each bone should find itself alongside that to which it ought to be connected: it was almost like a small resurrection, and I had not at my disposal the all-powerful trumpet; but I had the immutable laws prescribed to living beings as my guide; and at the voice of the anatomist each bone and each part of a bone took its place. I have not expressions with which to describe the pleasure I experienced in finding that, as soon as I discovered the character of a bone, all the consequences of the character, more or less foreseen, developed themselves in succession: the feet were found conformable to what the teeth announced; the teeth to that announced by the feet; the bones of the legs, of the thighs, all those which ought to reunite these two extreme parts, were found to agree as I expected; in a word, each species was reproduced, so to speak, from only one of its elements.”[6]

While the Baron Cuvier was thus zealously prosecuting his inquiries in France, assisted by many eminent fellow-labourers, what was the state of geological science in the British Islands? About that same time, Dr. William Smith, better known as “the father of English geology,” was preparing, unaided, the first geological map of this country. Dr. Smith was a native of Wiltshire, and a canal engineer in Somersetshire; his pursuits, therefore, brought him in the midst of these hieroglyphics of Nature. It was his practice, when travelling professionally, during many years to consult masons, miners, wagoners, and agriculturists. He examined the soil; and in the course of his inquiries he came to the conclusion that the earth was not all of the same age; that the rocks were arranged in layers, or strata, superimposed on each other in a certain definite order, and that the strata, when of the same age, could be identified by means of their organic remains. In 1794 he formed the plan of his geological map, showing the superposition of the various beds; for a quarter of a century did he pursue his self-allotted task, which was at last completed, and in 1801 was published, being the first attempt to construct a stratigraphical map.

Taking the men in the order of the objects of their investigation, rather than in chronological order, brings before us the patient and sagacious investigator to whom we are indebted for our knowledge of the Silurian system. For many years a vast assemblage of broken and contorted beds had been observed on the borders of North Wales, stretching away to the east as far as Worcestershire, and to the south into Gloucester, now rising into mountains, now sinking into valleys. The ablest geologists considered them as a mere labyrinth of ruins, whose order of succession and distinctive organic remains were entirely unknown, “But a man came,” as M. Esquiros eloquently writes, “who threw light upon this sublime confusion of elements.” Sir Roderick Impey Murchison, then a young President of the Geological Society, had his attention directed, as he himself informs us, to some of these beds on the banks of the Wye. After seven years of unremitting labour, he was rewarded by success. He established the fact that these sedimentary rocks, penetrated here and there by eruptive masses of igneous origin, formed a unique system, to which he gave the name of Silurian, because the rocks which he considered the most typical of the whole were most fully developed, charged with peculiar organic remains, in the land of the ancient Silures, who so bravely opposed the Roman invaders of their country. Many investigators have followed in Sir Roderick’s steps, but few men have so nobly earned the honours and fame with which his name is associated.

The success which attended Sir R. Murchison’s investigations soon attracted the attention of other geologists. Professor Sedgwick examined the older slaty strata, and succeeded in proving the position of the Cambrian rocks to be at the base of the Silurian. Still it was reserved for Sir William Logan, the Director of the Canadian Geological Survey, to establish the fact that immense masses of gneissic formation lay at the base of the Cambrian; and, by subsequent investigations, Sir Roderick Murchison satisfied himself that this formation was not confined to Canada, but was identical with the rocks termed by him Fundamental Gneiss, which exist in enormous masses on the west coast of Scotland, and which he proved to be the oldest stratified rocks in the British Isles. Subsequently he demonstrated the existence of these same Laurentian rocks in Bohemia and Bavaria, far beneath the Silurian rocks of Barrande.

While Murchison and Sedgwick were prosecuting their inquiries into the Silurian rocks, Hugh Miller and many others had their attention occupied with the Old Red Sandstone—the Devonian of Sedgwick and Murchison—which immediately overlies them. After a youth passed in wandering among the woods and rocks of his native Cromarty, the day came when Miller found himself twenty years of age, and, for the time, a workman in a quarry. A hard fate he thought it at the time, but to him it was the road to fame and success in life. The quarry in which he laboured was at the bottom of a bay formed by the mouth of a river opening to the south, a clear current of water on one side, as he vividly described it, and a thick wood on the other. In this silent spot, in the remote Highlands, a curious fossil fish of the Old Red Sandstone was revealed to him; its appearance struck him with astonishment; a fellow-workman named a spot where many such monuments of a former world were scattered about; he visited the place, and became a geologist and the historian of the “Old Red.” And what strange fantastic forms did it afterwards fall to his lot to describe! “The figures on a China vase or Egyptian obelisk,” he says, “differ less from the real representation of the objects than the fossil fishes of the ‘Old Red’ differ from the living forms which now swim in our seas.”

The Carboniferous Limestone, which underlies the coal, the Coal-measures themselves, the New Red Sandstone, the Lias, and the Chalk, have in their turn found their historians; but it would be foreign to our object to dwell further here on these particular branches of the subject.

Some few of the fossilised beings referred to resemble species still found living, but the greater part belong to species which have become altogether extinct. These fossil remains may constitute natural families, none of the genera of which have survived. Such is the Pterodactyle among Pterosaurian reptiles; the Ammonite among Mollusca; the Ichthyosaurus and the Plesiosaurus among the Enaliosaurian reptiles. At other times there are only extinct genera, belonging to families of which there are still some genera now living, as the genus PalÆoniscus among fishes. Finally, in Tertiary deposits, we meet with some extinct species belonging to genera of our existing fauna: the Mammoth, for example, of the youngest Tertiary deposits, is an extinct species of the genus elephant.

Some fossils are terrestrial, like the gigantic Irish stag, Cervus Megaceros, the snail or Helix; fluviatile or lacustrine, like the Planorbis, the LymnÆa, the Physa, and the Unio; marine, or inhabiting the sea exclusively, as the Cowry (CyprÆa), and the Oyster, (Ostrea).

Fossils are sometimes preserved in their natural state, or are but very slightly changed. Such is the state of some of the bones extracted from the more recent caves; such, also, is the condition of the insects found enclosed in the fossil resins in which they have been preserved from decomposition; and certain shells, found in recent and even in old formations, such as the Jurassic and Cretaceous strata—in some of which the shells retain their colours, as well as their brilliant pearly lustre or nacre. At Trouville, in Normandy, in the Kimeridge strata, magnificent Ammonites are found in the clay and marl, all brilliant with the colours of mother-of-pearl. In the Cretaceous beds at MachÉromÉnil, some species of Ancyloceras and Hamites are found still covered with a nacre, displaying brilliant reflections of blue, green, and red, and retaining an admirable lustre. At Glos, near Liseaux, in the Coral Rag, not only the Ammonites, but the TrigoniÆ and AviculÆ have preserved all their brilliant nacre. Sometimes these remains are much changed, the organic matter having entirely disappeared; it sometimes happens also, though rarely, that they become petrified, that is to say, the external form is preserved, but the original organic elements have wholly disappeared, and have been replaced by foreign mineral substances—generally by silica or by carbonate of lime.

Fig. 1.—Labyrinthodon pachygnathus and footmarks.

Geology also enables us to draw very important conclusions from certain fossil remains whose true nature was long misunderstood, and which, under the name of coprolites, had given rise to much controversial discussion. Coprolites are the petrified excrements of extinct fossil animals. The study of these singular remains has thrown unexpected light on the habits and physiological organisation of some of the great antediluvian animals. Their examination has revealed the scales and teeth of fishes, thus enabling us to determine the kind of food in which the animals of the ancient world indulged: for example, the coprolites of the great marine reptile which bears the name of Ichthyosaurus contain the bones of other animals, together with the remains of the vertebrÆ, or of the phalanges (paddle-bones) of other Ichthyosauri; showing that this animal habitually fed on the flesh of its own species, as many fishes, especially the more voracious ones, do in our days.

The imprints left upon mud or sand, which time has hardened and transformed into sandstone, furnish to the geologist another series of valuable indications. The reptiles of the ancient world, the turtles in particular, have left upon the sands, which time has transformed into blocks of stone, impressions which evidently represent the exact moulds of the feet of those animals. These impressions have, sometimes, been sufficient for naturalists to determine to what species the animal belonged which thus left its impress on the wet ground. Some of these exhibit tracks to which we shall have occasion to refer; others present traces of the footprints of the great reptile known as the Labyrinthodon or Cheirotherium, whose footmarks slightly resemble the impression made by the human hand (Fig. 1). Another well-known impression, which has been left upon the sandstone of Corncockle Moor, in Dumfriesshire, is supposed to be the impress of the foot of some great fossil Turtle.

We may be permitted to offer a short remark on this subject. The historian and antiquary may traverse the battle-fields of the Greeks and Romans, and search in vain for traces of those conquerors, whose armies ravaged the world. Time, which has overthrown the monuments of their victories, has also effaced the marks of their footsteps; and of the many millions of men whose invasions have spread desolation throughout Europe, not even a trace of a footprint is left. Those reptiles, on the other hand, which crawled thousands of ages ago on the surface of our planet when it was still in its infancy, have impressed on the soil indelible proofs of their existence. Hannibal and his legions, the barbarians and their savage hordes, have passed over the land without leaving a material mark of their passage; while the poor turtle, which dragged itself along the silent shores of the primitive seas, has bequeathed to learned posterity the image and impression of a part of its body. These imprints may be perceived as distinctly on the rocks, as the traces left on moist sand or in newly-fallen snow by some animal walking under our own eyes. What grave reflections should be awakened within us at the sight of these blocks of hardened earth, which thus carry back our thoughts to the early ages of the world! and how insignificant seem the discoveries of the archÆologist who throws himself into ecstacies before some piece of Greek or Etruscan pottery, when compared with these veritable antiquities of the earth!

The palÆontologist (from pa?a??? “ancient,” ??t?? “being,” ????? “discourse”), who occupies himself with the study of animated beings which have lived on the earth, takes careful account also of the sort of moulds left by organised bodies in the fine sediment which has enveloped them after death. Many organic beings have left no trace of their existence in Nature, except their impressions, which we find perfectly preserved in the sandstone and limestone, in marl or clay, and in the coal-measures; and these moulds are sufficient to tell us the kind to which the living animals belonged. We shall, no doubt, astonish our readers when we tell them that there are blocks of sandstone with distinct impressions of drops of rain which had fallen upon sea-shores of the ancient world. The impressions of these rain-drops, made upon the sands, were preserved by desiccation; and these same sands, being transformed by subsequent hardening into solid and coherent sandstones, their impressions have been thus preserved to the present day. Fig. 2 represents impressions of this kind upon the sandstone of Connecticut river in America, which have been reproduced from the block itself by photography. In a depression of the granitic rocks of Massachusetts and Connecticut, the red sandstone occupies an area of a hundred and fifty miles in length from north to south, and from five to ten miles in breadth. “On some shales of the finest texture,” says Sir Charles Lyell, “impressions of rain-drops may be seen, and casts of them in the argillaceous sandstones.” The same impressions occur in the recent red mud of the Bay of Fundy. In addition to these, the undulations left by the passage of the waters of the sea, over the sands of the primitive world, are preserved by the same physical agency. Traces of undulations of this kind have been found in the neighbourhood of Boulogne-sur-Mer, and elsewhere. Similar phenomena occur in a still more striking manner in some sandstone-quarries worked at Chalindrey (Haute-Marne). The strata there present traces of the same kind over a large area, and along with them impressions of the excrements of marine worms. One may almost imagine oneself to be standing on the sea-shore while the tide is ebbing.

Chemical and Nebular Hypotheses of the Globe.

Among the innumerable hypotheses which human ingenuity has framed to explain the phenomena which surround the globe, the two which have found most ready acceptance have been termed respectively the Chemical, and the Nebular or mechanical hypothesis. By the first the solid crust is supposed to have contained abundance of potassium, sodium, calcium, magnesium, and other metallic elements. The percolating waters, coming in contact with these substances, produce combinations resulting in the conversion of the metals into their oxides—potash, soda, lime, and magnesia—all of which enter largely into the composition of volcanic rocks. The second hypothesis involves the idea of an original incandescent mass of vapour, succeeded by a great and still existing central fire.

This idea of a great central fire is a very ancient hypothesis: admitted by Descartes, developed by Leibnitz, and advocated by Buffon, it is supposed to account for many phenomena otherwise inexplicable; and it is confirmed by a crowd of facts, and adopted, or at least not opposed, by the leading authorities of the age. Dr. Buckland makes it the basis of his Bridgewater treatise. Herschel, Hind, Murchison, Lyell, Phillips, and other leading English astronomers and geologists give a cautious adhesion to the doctrine. The following are some of the principal arguments adduced in support of the hypothesis, for, in the nature of the proofs it admits of, it can be no more.

When we descend into the interior of a mine, it is found that the temperature rises in an appreciable manner, and that it increases with the depth below the surface.

The high temperature of the waters in Artesian wells when these are very deep, testifies to a great heat of the interior of the earth.

The thermal waters which issue from the earth—of which the temperature sometimes rises to 100° Centigrade and upwards—as, for instance, the Geysers of Iceland—furnish another proof in support of the hypothesis.

Modern volcanoes are said to be a visible demonstration of the existence of central heat. The heated gases, the liquid lava, the flames which escape from their craters, all tend to prove sufficiently that the interior of the globe has a temperature prodigiously elevated as compared with that at its surface.

The disengagement of gases and burning vapours through the accidental fissures in the crust, which accompany earthquakes, still further tends to establish the existence of a great heat in the interior of the globe.

We have already said that the temperature of the globe increases about one degree for every sixty or seventy feet of depth beneath its surface. The correctness of this observation has been verified in a great number of instances—indeed, to the greatest depth to which man has penetrated, and been able to make use of the thermometer. Now, as we know exactly the length of the radius of the terrestrial sphere, it has been calculated from this progression of temperature, supposing it to be regular and uniform, that the centre of the globe ought to have at the present time a mean temperature of 195,000° Centigrade. No matter could preserve its solid state at this excessive temperature; it follows, then, that the centre of the globe, and all parts near the centre, must be in a permanent state of fluidity.

The works of Werner, of Hutton, of Leopold von Buch, of Humboldt, of Cordier, W. Hopkins, Buckland, and some other English philosophers, have reduced this hypothesis to a theory, on which has been based, to a considerable extent, the whole science of modern geology; although, properly speaking, and in the popular acceptation of the term, that science only deals with the solid crust of the earth.

The nebular theory thus embraces the whole solar system, and, by analogy, the universe. It assumes that the sun was originally a mass of incandescent matter, that vast body being brought into a state of evolution by the action of laws to which the Creator, in His divine wisdom, has subjected all matter. In consequence of its immense expansion and attenuation, the exterior zone of vapour, expanding beyond the sphere of attraction, is supposed to have been thrown off by centrifugal force. This zone of vapour, which may be supposed at one time to have resembled the rings of Saturn, would in time break up into several masses, and these masses coalescing into globes, would (by the greater power of attraction which they would assume as consolidated bodies) revolve round the sun, and, from mechanical considerations, would also revolve with a rotary motion on their own axes.

This doctrine is applied to all the planets, and assumes each to have been in a state of incandescent vapour, with a central incandescent nucleus. As the cooling went on, each of these bodies may be supposed to have thrown off similar masses of vapour, which, by the operation of the same laws, would assume the rotary state, and, as satellites, revolve round the parent planet. Such, in brief, was the grand conception of Laplace; and surely it detracts nothing from our notions of the omnipotence of the Creator that it initiates the creation step by step, and under the laws to which matter is subjected, rather than by the direct fiat of the Almighty. The hypothesis assumes that as the vaporous mass cooled by the radiation of heat into space, the particles of matter would approximate and solidify.

That the figure of the earth is such as a very large mass of matter in a state of fluidity would assume from a state of rotation, seems to be admitted, thus corroborating the speculations of Leibnitz, that the earth is to be looked on as a heated fluid globe, cooled, and still cooling at the surface, by radiation of its superfluous heat into space. Mr. W. Hopkins[7] has put forth some strong but simple reasons in support of a different theory; although he does not attempt to solve the problem, but leaves the reader to form his own conclusions. As far as we have been able to follow his reasoning we gather from it that:—

If the earth were a fluid mass cooled by radiation, the cooled parts would, by the laws of circulating fluids, descend towards the centre, and be replaced on the surface by matter at a higher temperature.The consolidation of such a mass would, therefore, be accompanied by a struggle for superiority between pressure and temperature, both of which would be at their maximum at the centre of the mass.

At the surface, it would be a question of rapidity of cooling, by radiation, as compared with the internal condition—for comparing which relations we are without data; but on the result of which depends whether such a body would most rapidly solidify at the surface by radiation, or at the centre by pressure.

The effect of the first would be solidification at the surface, followed by condensation at the centre through pressure. There would thus be two masses, a spherical fluid nucleus, and a spherical shell or envelope, with a large zone of semi-fluid, pasty matter between, continually changing its temperature as its outer or inner surface became converted to the solid state.

If pressure, on the other hand, gained the victory, the centre would solidify before the circulation of the heated matter had ceased; and the solidifying process would proceed through a large portion of the globe, and even approach the surface before that would become solid. In other words, solidification would proceed from the centre until the diminishing power of pressure was balanced by radiation, when the gradual abstraction of heat would allow the particles to approximate and become solid.

The terrestrial sphere may thus be a solid indurated mass at the centre, with a solid stony crust at the surface, and a shifting viscous, but daily-decreasing, mass between the two; a supposition which the diminished and diminishing frequency and magnitude of volcanic and other eruptive convulsions seem to render not improbable.

It is not to be supposed that amongst the various hypotheses of which the cosmogony of the world has been the object, a literal acceptation of the scriptural account finds no defenders among men of science. “Why,” asks one of these writers,[8] after some scornful remarks upon the geologists and their science—“why an omnipotent Creator should have called into being a gaseous-granite nebulous world, only to have to cool it down again, consisting as it does of an endless variety of substances, should even have been supposed to be originally constituted of the matter of granite alone, for nothing else was provided by the theory, nobody can rationally explain. How the earth’s centre now could be liquid fire with its surface solid and cold and its seas not boiling caldrons, has never been attempted to be accounted for. How educated gentlemen, engaged in scientific investigations, ever came to accept such a monstrously stupid mass of absurdities as deductions of ‘science,’ and put them in comparison with the rational account of the creation given by Moses, is more difficult to understand than even this vague theory itself, which it is impossible to describe.

“Of the first creation of the chaotic world,” the same writer goes on to say, “or the material elements, before they were shaped into their present forms, we can scarce have the most vague conception. All our experience relates to their existing conditions. But knowing somewhat of the variety of the constituent elements and their distinct properties, by which they manifest their existence to us, we cannot conceive of their creation without presupposing a Divine wisdom, and—if I may say so, with all reverence, and only to suit our human notions—a Divine ingenuity,” and he follows for six days the operations as described by Moses, with a running comment. When light is created, the conception of the work becomes simpler to our minds. Its least manifestation would suffice at once to dispel darkness, and yet how marvellous is the light! In the second day’s work the firmament of heaven is opened; the expanse of the air between the heavens and the earth, dividing the waters above from the waters below, is the work recorded as performed. Not till the third day commence the first geological operations. The waters of the earth are gathered together into seas, and the dry land is made to appear. It is now that we can imagine that the formation of the primary strata commenced, while by some of the internal forces of matter the earth was elevated and stood above the waters.

Immediately the dry land is raised above and separated from the waters the fiat goes forth, “Let the earth bring forth grass, and herb and tree;” vegetable life begins to exist, and the world is first decorated with its beauteous flora, with all its exquisite variety of forms and brilliancy of colouring, with which not even Solomon in all his glory can compare. In like manner, on the sixth day the earth is commanded to bring forth land-animals—the living creature “after his kind,” cattle and creeping thing, and beast of the earth, “after his kind;” and last of all, but on the same day, man is created, and made the chief and monarch of God’s other living creatures—for that is “man’s place in Nature.” “Let us now see,” he continues, “how this history came to be discredited by the opposition of a falsely so-called ‘science’ of geology, that, while spared by our theologians, has since pulled itself to pieces. The first step in the false inductions geology made arose from the rash deduction, that the order in which the fossil remains of organic being were found deposited in the various strata necessarily determined the order of their creation; and the next error arose from blindly rushing to rash conclusions, and hasty generalisation from a very limited number of facts, and the most imperfect investigations. There were also (and, indeed, are still) some wild dogmatisms as to the time necessary to produce certain geologic formations; but the absurdities of science culminated when it adopted from Laplace the irrational and unintelligible theory of a natural origin for the world from a nebula of gaseous granite, intensely hot, and supposed to be gradually cooled while gyrating senselessly in space.”

In this paper the writer does not attempt to deal with the various phenomena of volcanoes, earthquakes, hot springs, and other matters which are usually considered as proofs of great internal heat. Mr. Evan Hopkins, C.E., F.G.S., is more precise if less eloquent. He shows that, in tropical countries, plains of gravel may in a day be converted into lagoons and marshes; that by the fall of an avalanche rivers have been blocked up, which, bursting their banks, have covered many square miles of fertile country with several feet of mud, sand, and gravel. “Two thousand four hundred years ago,” he says, “Nineveh flourished in all its grandeur, yet it is now buried in oblivion, and its site overwhelmed with sand. Look at old Tyre, once the queen of cities and mistress of the sea. She was in all her pride two thousand four hundred and forty years ago. We now see but a bare rock in the sea, on which fishermen spread their nets! A thousand years ago, according to Icelandic histories, Greenland was a fertile land in the south, and supported a large population. Iceland at that period was covered with forests of birch and fir, and the inhabitants cultivated barley and other grain. We may, therefore, conclude, with these facts before us, that there is no necessity to assign myriads of ages to terrestrial changes, as assumed by geologists, as they can be accounted for by means of alterations effected during a few thousand years, for the surface of the earth is ever changing.

“Grant geological speculators,” Mr. Hopkins continues, “a few millions of centuries, with a command over the agencies of Nature to be brought into operation when and how they please, and they think they can form a world with every variety of rock and vegetation, and even transform a worm into a man! Yet the wisest of our philosophers would be puzzled if called upon to explain why fluids become spheres, as dew-drops; why carbonate of lime acquires in solidifying from a liquid the figure of an obtuse rhomboihedron, silica of a six-sided prism; and why oxygen and hydrogen gases produce both fire and water. And what do they gain,” he proceeds to ask, “by carrying back the history of the world to these myriads of centuries? Do they, by the extension of the period to infinity, explain how the ‘Original’ materials were created? But,” he adds, “geologists are by no means agreed in their assumed geological periods! The so-called glacial period has been computed by some to be equal to about eighty-three thousand years, and by others at even as much as twelve hundred and eighty millions of years! Were we to ask for a demonstrative proof of any given deposit being more than four or five thousand years old, they could not give it. Where is Babylon, the glory of the kingdoms? Look at Thebes, and behold its colossal columns, statues, temples, obelisks, and palaces desolated; and yet those great cities flourished within the last three thousand years. Even Pompeii and Herculaneum were all but lost to history! What,” he asks after these brief allusions to the past—“what, as a matter of fact, have geologists discovered, as regards the great terrestrial changes, more than was known to Pythagoras and the ancient philosophers who taught, two thousand three hundred and fifty years ago, ‘that the surface of the earth was ever changing—solid land converted into sea, sea changed into dry land, marine shells lying far distant from the deep, valleys excavated by running water, and floods washing down hills into the sea?’”

In reference to the argument of the vast antiquity of the earth, founded on elevation of coasts at a given rate of upheaval, he adduces many facts to show that upheavals of equal extent have occurred almost within the memory of man. Two hundred and fifty years ago Sir Francis Drake, with his fleet, sailed into Albemarle Sound through Roanoke Outlet, which is now a sand-bank above the reach of the highest tides. Only seventy years ago it was navigable by vessels drawing twelve feet of water. The whole American coast, both on the Atlantic and Pacific, have undergone great changes within the last hundred years. The coast of South America has, in some places, been upheaved twenty feet in the last century; in others, a few hundred miles distant, it has been depressed to an equal extent. A transverse section from Rio Santa Cruz to the base of the Cordilleras, and another in the Rio Negro, in Patagonia, showed that the whole sedimentary series is of recent origin. Scattered over the whole at various heights above the sea, from thirteen hundred feet downwards, are found recent shells of littoral species of the neighbouring coast—denoting upheavals which might have been effected during the last three thousand years.

Coming nearer home, he shows that in 1538 the whole coast of Pozzuoli, near Naples, was raised twenty feet in a single night. Then, with regard to more compact crystalline or semi-crystalline rocks, no reliable opinion can be formed on mere inspection. Two blocks of marble may appear precisely alike, though formed at different periods. A crystal of carbonate of lime, formed in a few years, would be found quite perfect, and as compact as a crystal formed during many centuries. Nothing can be deduced from the process of petrifaction and crystallisation, unless they enclose relics of a known period. At San Filippo, a solid mass of limestone thirty feet thick has been formed in about twenty years. A hard stratum of travertine a foot thick is obtained, from these thermal springs, in the course of four months. Nor can geologists demonstrate that the Amiens deposits, in which the flint-implements occur, are more than three or four thousand years old.

The causes of these changes and mutations are referred by some persons to floods, or to pre-Adamite convulsions, whereas the cause is in constant operation; they are due to an invisible and subtle power which pervades the air, the ocean, and the rocks below—in which all are wrapped and permeated—which is universally present, namely, magnetism—a power always in operation, always in a state of activity and tension. It has an attractive power towards the surface of the earth, as well as a directive action from pole to pole. “It is, indeed,” he adds, emphatically, “the terrestrial gravitation. Magnetic needles freely suspended show its meridional or directive polar force, and that the force converges at two opposite parts, which are bounded by the Antarctic and Arctic circles.”

This polar force, like a stream, is constantly moving from pole to pole; and experiment proves that this movement is from the South Pole to the North. “Hence the various terrestrial substances, solids and fluids, through which this subtle and universal power permeates, are controlled, propelled, and modified over the entire surface of our globe, commencing at the south and dissolving at the north. Thus, all terrestrial matter moves towards the Arctic region, and finally disappears by dissolution and absorption, to be renewed again and again in the Antarctic Sea to the end of time.”

In order to prove that the north polar basin is the receptacle of the final dissolution of all terrestrial substances, Mr. Hopkins quotes the Gulf Stream. Bottles, tropical plants, and wrecks cast into the sea in the South Atlantic, are carried to Greenland in a comparatively short time. The great tidal waves commence at the fountain-head in the Antarctic circle, impinge against the south coast of Tierra del Fuego, New Zealand, and Tasmania, and are then propelled northward in a series of undulations. The South Atlantic stream, after doubling the Cape of Good Hope, moves towards the Guinea coast, bends towards the Caribbean Sea, producing the trade winds; again leaves Florida as the Gulf Stream, and washes the coasts of Greenland and Norway, and finally reaches the north polar basin.

Again the great polar force shows itself in the arrangement of the mineral structure below. In all the primary rocks in every quarter of the globe where they have been examined, its action is recognised in giving to the crystalline masses—granites and their laminated elongations—a polar grain and vertical cleavage. “Had it been possible to see our globe stripped of its sedimentary deposits and its oceanic covering, we should see it like a gigantic melon, with a uniform grain extending from pole to pole.” This structure appears to give polarity to earthquakes—thermal waters and earthquakes—which are all traceable in the direction of the polar grain or cleavage from north to south.

In England, for instance, thermal and saline springs are traceable from Bath, through Cheltenham, to Dudley. In Central France, mineral springs occur in lines, more or less, north and south. All the known salt-springs in South America occur in meridional bands. Springs of chloride of sodium in the Eastern Cordilleras stretch from Pinceima to the Llanoes de Meta, a distance of 200 miles. The most productive metalliferous deposits are found in meridional bands. The watery volcanoes in South America are generally situated along the lines of the meridional splits and the secondary eruptive pores on the transverse fractures. The sudden ruptures arising locally from increasing tension of the polar force, and the rapid expansion of the generated gases, produce a vibratory jar in the rocky structure below, which being propagated along the planes of the polar cleavage, gives rise to great superficial oscillations, and thus causes earthquakes and subterranean thunder for thousands of miles, from south to north.

In 1797, the district round the volcano of Tunguraqua in Quito, during one of the great meridional shocks, experienced an undulating movement, which lasted upwards of four minutes, and this was propagated to the shores of the Caribbean Sea.

All these movements demonstrated, according to Mr. Hopkins, that the land as well as the ocean moves from the south pole and north pole, and that the magnetic power has a tendency to proceed from pole to pole in a spiral path from south-east to north-west, a movement which produces an apparent change in the equinoxes, or the outer section of the plane of the ecliptic with the equator, a phenomenon known to astronomers as the precession of the equinoxes.Such is a very brief summary of the arguments by which Mr. Evan Hopkins maintains the literal correctness of the Mosaic account of the creation, and attempts to show that all the facts discovered by geologists may have occurred in the ages included in the Mosaic chronology.

That the mysterious power of terrestrial magnetism can perform all that he claims for it, we can perhaps admit. But how does this explain the succession of Silurian, Old Red Sandstone, Carboniferous and other strata, up to the Tertiary deposits, with their fossils, each differing in character from those of the preceding series? That these were successive creations admits of no doubt, and while it is undeniable that the fiat of the Creator could readily produce all these phenomena, it may reasonably be asked if it is probable that all these myriads of organic beings, whose remains serve as records of their existence, were created only to be immediately destroyed.

Again, does not the author of the “Principles of Terrestrial Physics” prove too much? He admits that 3,000 years ago the climate of England was tropical: he does not deny that a subsequent period of intense cold intervened, 2,550 years ago. He admits historical records, and 2,350 years ago Pythagoras constructed his cosmography of the world, which has never been seriously impugned; and yet he has no suspicion that countries so near to his own had changed their climates first from tropical to glacial, and back again to a temperate zone. It is not reasonable to believe this parable.

The school of philosophy generally considered to be the most advanced in modern science has yet another view of cosmogony, of which we venture to give a brief outline. Space is infinite, says the exponent of this system,[9] for wherever in imagination we erect a boundary, we are compelled to think of space as existing beyond it. The starry heavens proclaim that it is not entirely void; but the question remains, are the vast regions which surround the stars, and across which light is propagated, absolutely empty? No. Modern science, while it rejects the notion of the luminiferous particles of the old philosophy, has cogent proofs of the existence of a luminiferous ether with definite mechanical properties. It is infinitely more attenuated, but more solid than gas. It resembles jelly rather than air, and if not co-extensive with space, it extends as far as the most distant star the telescope reveals to us; it is the vehicle of their light in fact; it takes up their molecular tremors and conveys them with inconceivable rapidity to our organs of vision. The splendour of the firmament at night is due to this vibration. If this ether has a boundary, masses of ponderable matter may exist beyond it, but they could emit no light. Dark suns may burn there, metals may be heated to fusion in invisible furnaces, planets may be molten amid intense darkness; for the loss of heat being simply the abstraction of molecular motion by the ether, where this medium is absent no cooling could take place.

This, however, does not concern us; as far as our knowledge of space extends, we are to conceive of it as the holder of this luminiferous ether, through which the fixed stars are interspersed at enormous distances apart. Associated with our planet we have a group of dark planetary masses revolving at various distances around it, each rotating on its axis; and, connected with them, their moons. Was space furnished at once, by the fiat of Omnipotence, with these burning orbs? The man of science should give no answer to this question: but he has better materials to guide him than anybody else, and can clearly show that the present state of things may be derivative. He can perhaps assign reasons which render it probable that it is derivative. The law of gravitation enunciated by Newton is, that every particle of matter in the universe attracts every other particle with a force which diminishes as the square of the distance increases. Under this law a stone falls to the ground, and heat is produced by the shock; meteors plunge into the atmosphere and become incandescent; showers of such doubtless fall incessantly upon the sun, and were it stopped in its orbit, the earth would rush towards the sun, developing heat in the collision (according to the calculations of MM. Joule, Mayer, Helmholtz, and Thomson), equal to the combustion of five thousand worlds of solid coal. In the attraction of gravity, therefore, acting upon this luminous matter, we have a source of heat more powerful than could be derived from any terrestrial combustion.

To the above conception of space we must add that of its being in a continual state of tremor. The sources of vibration are the ponderable masses of the universe. Our own planet is an aggregate of solids, liquids, and gases. On closer examination, these are found to be composed of still more elementary parts: the water of our rivers is formed by the union, in definite proportions, of two gases, oxygen and hydrogen. So, likewise, our chalk hills are formed by a combination of carbon, oxygen, and calcium; elements which in definite proportions form chalk. The flint found within that chalk is compounded of oxygen and silicon, and our ordinary clay is for the most part formed by a union of silicon, oxygen, and aluminum. By far the greater part of the earthy crust is thus compounded of a few elementary substances.

Such is Professor Tyndall’s view of the universe, rising incidentally out of his theory of heat, his main object being to elucidate his theory of heat and light.

Modifications of the Surface of the Globe.

As a consequence of the hypothesis of central heat, it is admitted that our planet has been agitated by a series of local disturbances; that is to say, by ruptures of its solid crust occurring at more or less distant intervals. These partial revolutions at the surface are supposed to have been produced, as we shall have occasion to explain, by upheavals or depressions of the solid crust, resulting from the fluidity of the central parts, and by the cooling down of the external crust of the globe.

Almost all bodies, in passing from a liquid to a solid state, are diminished in size in the process. In molten metals which resume the solid state by cooling, this diminution amounts to about a tenth of their volume; but the decrease in size is not equal throughout the whole mass. Hence, as a result of the solidification of the internal parts of the globe, the outer envelope would be too large; and would no longer fit the inner sphere, which had contracted in cooling. Cracks and hollows occur under such circumstances, even in small masses, and the effect of converting such a vast body as the earth from a liquid, or rather molten condition, to a solid state, may be imagined. As the interior became solid and concrete by cooling, furrows, corrugations, and depressions in the external crust of the globe would occur, causing great inequalities in its surface; producing, in short, what are now called chains of mountains.

At other times, in lieu of furrows and irregularities, the solid crust has become ruptured, producing fissures and fractures in the outer envelope, sometimes of immense extent. The liquid substances contained in the interior of the globe, with or without the action of the gases they enclose, escape through these openings; and, accumulating on the surface, become, on cooling and consolidating, mountains of various heights.

It would also happen, and always from the same cause, namely, from the internal contraction caused by the unequal cooling of the globe, that minor fissures would be formed in the earth’s crust; incandescent liquid matter would be afterwards injected into these fissures, filling them up, and forming in the rocky crust those long narrow lines of foreign substances which we call dykes.

Finally, it would occasionally happen, that in place of molten matter, such as granite or metalliferous compounds, escaping through these fractures and fissures in the globe, actual rivers of boiling water, abundantly charged with various mineral salts (that is to say, with silicates, and with calcareous and magnesian compounds), would also escape, since the elements of water would be abundant in the incandescent mass. Added to these the chemical and mechanical action of the atmosphere, of rain, rivers, and the sea, have all a tendency to destroy the hardest rocks. The mineral salts and other foreign substances, entering into combination with those already present in the waters of the sea, and separating at a subsequent period from these waters, would be thrown down, and thus constitute extensive deposits—that is to say, sedimentary formations. These became, on consolidation, the sedimentary rocks.

The furrows, corrugations, and fractures in the terrestrial crust, which so changed the aspect of the surface, and for the time displaced the sea-basins, would be followed by periods of calm. During these periods, the dÉbris, torn by the movement of the waters from certain points of the land, would be transported to other parts of the globe by the oceanic currents. These accumulated heterogeneous materials, when deposited at a later period, would ultimately constitute formations—that is, transported or drifted rocks.

We have ventured to explain some of the theories by which it is sought to explain the cosmography of the world. But our readers must understand that all such speculations are, of necessity, purely hypothetical.

In conformity with the preceding considerations we shall divide the mineral substances of which the earth is composed into three general groups, under the following heads:—

1. Eruptive Rocks.—Crystalline, like the second, but formed at all geological periods by the irruption or intrusion of the liquid matter occupying the interior of our globe through all the pre-existing rocks.

2. Crystalline Rocks.—That portion of the terrestrial crust which was primarily liquid, owing to the heat of the globe, but which solidified at the period of its first cooling down; forming the masses known as Fundamental Gneiss, and Laurentian, &c.

3. Sedimentary Rocks.—Consisting of various mineral substances deposited by the water of the sea, such as silica, the carbonates of lime and magnesia, &c.The mineral masses which constitute the sedimentary rocks form beds, or strata, having among themselves a constant order of superposition which indicates their relative age. The mineral structure of these beds, and the remains of the organised beings they contain, impress on them characters which enable us to distinguish each bed from that which precedes and follows it.

It does not follow, however, that all these beds are met with, regularly superimposed, over the whole surface of the globe; under such circumstances geology would be a very simple science, only requiring the use of the eyes. In consequence of the frequent eruptions of granite, porphyry, serpentine, trachyte, basalt, and lava, these beds are often broken, cut off, and replaced by others.

Denudation has been another fruitful source of change. Professor Ramsay[10] shows, in the “Memoirs of the Geological Survey,” that beds once existed above a great part of the Mendip Hills to the extent of at least 6,000 feet, which have been removed by the denuding agency of the sea; while in South Wales and the adjacent country, a series of Palaeozoic rocks, eleven thousand feet in thickness, has been removed by the action of water. In fact, every foot of the earth now forming the dry land is supposed to have been at one time under water—to have emerged, and to have been again submerged, and subjected to the destructive action of the ocean. At certain points a whole series of sedimentary deposits, and often several of them, have been removed by this cause, known by geologists as Denudation. The regular series of rock formations are, in fact, rarely found in unbroken order. It is only by combining the collected observations of the geologists of all countries, that we are enabled to arrange, according to their relative ages, the several beds composing the solid terrestrial crust as they occur in the following Table, which proceeds from the surface towards the centre, in descending order:—

ORDER OF STRATIFICATION.

Under these heads we propose to examine the successive transformations to which the earth has been subjected in reaching its present condition; in other words, we propose, both from an historical and descriptive point of view, to take a survey of the several epochs which can be distinguished in the gradual formation of the earth, corresponding with the formation of the great groups of rocks enumerated in the preceding table. We shall describe the living creatures which have peopled the earth at each of these epochs, and which have disappeared, from causes which we shall also endeavour to trace. We shall describe the plants belonging to each great phase in the history of the globe. At the same time, we shall not pass over entirely in silence the rocks deposited by the waters, or thrown up by eruption during these periods; we propose, also, to give a summary of the mineralogical characters and of the fossils characteristic of, or peculiar to each formation. What we propose, in short, is to give a history of the formation of the globe, and a description of the principal rocks which actually compose it; and to take also a rapid glance at the several generations of animals and plants which have succeeded and replaced each other on the earth, from the very beginning of organic life up to the time of man’s appearance.