Turning to brick-earths of marine origin, we may say that these constitute by far the largest class of deposits from which bricks are made in this country, and it will be useful to deal with their origin in some detail. If we attentively watch the action of the weather on a friable sea-cliff we notice that large pieces tumble at intervals on to the beach, and in due time these are washed away by the waves, thus encouraging more to fall when the time is ripe. This process of denudation each year takes tens of thousands of tons of sandy clays and the like from the beaches around our islands. Large pieces of rock, too, are detached by the weather, and eventually succumb to wave action. During storms large stones are hurled against the cliffs, and the general effect of this bombardment is to wear them away, and reduce them to powder and sand grains with all possible expedition. No one who has not seen the waves at work at such times can have any idea of their tremendous power of moving blocks of stone many tons in weight. During calm weather the slight movement of the waves on the beach is manufacturing tons and tons of sand. A mass of gravel falls from the cliff; the finer particles are floated away at the earliest opportunity; the angular stones have their rough projections knocked off by striking against each other; and the incessant movement up and down the beach slope reduces the rough stone to a pebble, all the time the particles thus shaved off are taken out to sea for greater or less distances. If the cliffs are of limestone, or similar rock, both chemical and mechanical methods of denudation come into play, and considerable quantities of lime, &c., are taken away by the sea water in suspension and solution. Large quantities of lime are daily added to the sea through the agency of rivers also.

Now, what becomes of these vast quantities of detritus furnished to the sea? That depends on the shore currents at the particular locality. If there is not much of a current, the larger grains of grit and sand are soon separated from the rest, and fall to the bottom, whilst the clays are taken farther out to sea before being laid down. But, in any case, the reader will readily perceive that marine deposits must of necessity be on a grander scale, and of a much more substantial character, as a rule, than river, lacustrine, or estuarine deposits. By their mode of origin, too, they must be more homogeneous, whilst they are frequently several hundreds of feet in thickness. In their process of deposition they were not influenced by every storm and freshet; nothing short of great earth-movements in process of time, or some other equally grand phenomena, could disturb the even tenour of their existence. How different to the comparatively insignificant strata formed by the other methods alluded to!

Take samples of brick-earth of fluviatile origin at intervals and analyse them; no two analyses will be alike, except by a most remarkable coincidence—more by accident than otherwise. On the other hand, take a thick marine clay, and compare its chemical composition as ascertained at the present time with that of it made, say, 20 years ago in the same brickyard, and the analyses will, in most instances, be practically identical—at any rate, so far as they may be of use to the brickmaker. A brickmaker using a marine clay possesses innumerable advantages over another employing brick-earths due to river action. It is no uncommon thing for a marine clay—say, 300 feet in thickness—to continue across country for hundreds of miles, stretching from the North of England to the South, and over into the Continent, save for the slight break occasioned by the scooping out of the English Channel. The composition of the Oxford Clay, from which the well-known bricks at Peterborough are made, does not differ in the slightest degree, so far as suitability for brickmaking is concerned, from the Oxford Clay of Bourges or Chateauroux, in the centre of France, or indeed at almost any other point en route. With marine beds it is possible to deal with the matter on broad lines, but it is not so with any other class of deposits.

If a marine clay in a specified locality is found to be unsuitable for bricks at one point, by reason of the presence of too much lime, it would be a phenomenon if clay along the same geological horizon did not present the same unfavourable features at every other point within the district. The homogeneous composition, both from mineralogical and chemical standpoints, of thick marine clays renders them of special use to the brickmaker. Having by sundry processes, after infinite labour, produced a certain class of brick from such an earth, he does not as a rule have to materially modify those processes as the earth is dug into to continue manufacturing the same brick. He is dealing with an earth which, comparatively speaking, is a constant quantity—when the clays are thick, and no lines of bedding are distinctly visible.

We find that a rooted conviction exists in many brickyards that clays of marine origin are no good for brickmaking, because (so the opinion runs) they always contain so much salt. It is wonderful that such ignorance prevails, when the slightest acquaintance with the subject would teach otherwise. It is perfectly true that such deposits might have contained salt during and for some time after deposition, but it is absurd to suppose that their marine origin has anything to do with the presence of common salt in the clay at the present time. Salt is soluble in water, and has been removed from such clays by the percolation of underground water in 99 cases out of a hundred. Indeed, as a matter of experience, we find that salt is most commonly found in beds of lacustrine origin, or those laid down in enclosed portions of the sea, for reasons we need not enter into at the present moment. Of course, when material is taken from the sea-shore to make into bricks, a considerable quantity of salt is manifest, but that is a totally different thing to the clays deposited—we should not like to say how many thousands of years ago. Clays of all kinds, however, may be impregnated with salt (as in parts of Cheshire), owing to the proximity of other beds containing that mineral; also by the percolation of underground water with much salt in solution.

To give some idea of the antiquity of the Oxford Clay alluded to—and that is quite a “young clay” geologically speaking—we may remark that at the time it was laid down not a single species of animal existed like those now living. The only mammals found, very small and very lowly organised, were like kangaroo rats; the birds were more like flying reptiles than anything else; it was the age of reptiles, and enormous, unwieldy brutes swam in the water or floundered about on land; huge sharks abounded, and armour-clad fish of kinds very different to those now existing roamed the sea; even the “shell-fish” were not altogether like modern ones; whilst the plants find their nearest modern analogues in the wilds of Australasia. No elephants, tigers, lions, bears, or dogs lived then, and the face of Nature wore a totally different aspect to what obtains at the present time in any part of the globe.

And this seems a fitting opportunity to the writer to put on record the fact that many of the most wonderful remains found in the Oxford Clay and the neighbouring Kimeridge Clay are due to the discoveries of brickmakers. Without their valuable aid scientists would be quite unable to clearly depict the life of those remote epochs. We have mentioned Peterborough; some most interesting remains have been found in the clays near that town during the past few years. To appreciate this let the reader visit the fossil reptile gallery of the British Museum (Natural History), at South Kensington. One of the most recent acquisitions, set up a year or two ago, is the skeleton of a young Plesiosaurus—without doubt the most perfect specimen in the world of its kind—from Peterborough. The Plesiosaurus was a large swimming reptile, with paddles, and a long neck.

We mention these things not only to instil philosophical interest in such brick-earths, which may be reflected upon after business hours, but to impart some idea of the extreme remoteness of the epoch from the human point of view, and to insist on the immensity of the intervening time throughout which circulating underground waters—even in such an impervious material as stiff clay—may have exerted chemical action. The “mineralisation” of the fossils is an eloquent witness of the effect of such changes. The reader will perceive from this that there is scant possibility of soluble salts being present in such marine clays; and the geological circumstances are fully borne out by the results of hundreds of chemical analyses of thick marine clays.

The invertebrate fossils more particularly testify to the marine origin of the clays, and are thus invested with considerable practical interest. The man whose duty it is to determine the persistence, or otherwise, of valuable marine brick-earths has thus a much easier task than when called upon to decide the value of a large tract of land for brickmaking purposes, of fluviatile origin. Finally, brick-earths do not, except in extremely rare instances, vary materially in character when dug into horizontally, thus every opportunity is afforded to the manufacturer for making an unvariable quality brick, tile, or drain pipe. It should be borne in mind, however, that these clays often weather a brown colour, which on being dug into changes to a bluish-black tint, the latter being the unaltered and best portion as a rule. The only practical advantage the worker of a superficial river deposit possesses over his neighbour using thick marine clay is in the great range of variation in materials disclosed in the former kind of pit. By judiciously mixing the different beds he may be able to live well where the worker of marine clays, especially where the clay is too stiff, or contains too much lime, “comes to grief.” A good marine clay is a great boon, a bad one cannot be remedied other than by the sacrifice of much money.