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OCEAN-WORK.
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©If TI § IP I E C IS
FR
OR
VEN1 D M©! %EA AM© LAIN © „
BY
J. HALL WRIGHT.
ION DON.:
PRINTED FOR THOMAS TEGG
N° 73, GHEAPSIDE .
IVm
O C E A N - W O It K,
fttufeut antf iHatfcni :
OR,
EVENINGS ON SEA AND LAND.
BY
J. HALL WRIGHT,
Surgeon,
Author of "Breakfast-Table-Science, kc.”
“For precept must be upon precept, precept upon precept ; line upon line, line upon line
here a little, there a little.”— Isaiah, xxviii. 10.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR THOMAS TEGG, 73, CIIEAPS1DE.
MDCCCXLV.
*
LONDON :
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WUITKFR I A RS
TO
SARAII ROSE,
TO THE GOVERNESSES OF ENGLAND,
AND TO THEIR PUPILS;
3Tf)ts little aaiotfe
IS DEDICATED,
BY
THEIR SINCERE FRIEND,
THE AUTHOR.
Chatteris, Cam b ridges h irk
March, 1845.
PREFACE.
In “ Breakfast Table Science” an attempt
was made to attract tlie young, by pre¬
senting old scientific truths in a new and
strange garb. In this little volume an en¬
deavour is made to describe the workings of
the Ocean from the beginning of time down
to the present hour ; and the reader will
detect at a glance, that the present “ Table
of Contents” is formed after the work above
alluded to.
When it is remembered that the Ocean
has ever been, in the hands of the Divine
Vlll
PREFACE.
Architect, in the fashioning every rock and
valley, what the trowel has been in the
hands of man in building palaces and cities,
it becomes an object of the deepest interest
to all to explain how rocks, sand, clay, lime¬
stone, & c., were formed ; and to show that
the Ocean is even now employed as the
agent in preparing a new earth, will be the
main object.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION.
PAGE
Chapter I. . . . . . . . . . 1
Chapter II. ........ 3
Evening I.
The Ocean as Rockmaker . . . . . . 9
Evening II.
The Ocean as Polisher . . . . . .15
Evening III.
The Ocean as a Mausoleum . . . . . . 19
Evening IV.
The Ocean as Valley Cutter . . . . .23
Evening V.
The Ocean as Treasure Casket . . . . . 28
X
CONTENTS
Evening VI.
The Ocean as Lapidary
Evening VII.
The Ocean as a Pathway
Evening VITI.
The Ocean as Palace Builder
Evening IX.
The Ocean as a Lizard’s Home
Evening X.
The Ocean as Fossilizer
Evening XL
The Ocean as a Shark's Workshop .
Evening XII.
The Ocean as a Fish’s Battle-field
Evening XITL
The Ocean as Fertiliser .
Evening XIV.
The Earth as Renovator
Evening XV.
The Ocean as Renovator
Evening XVI.
The Ocean as Destroyer
CONTENTS. Xi
Evening XVII. PAGb
Tlie Ocean as Destroyer . . . . . . . 86
Evening XVTIT.
The Ocean as Island Maker .... 92
Evening XIX.
The Ocean as Mermaid’s Hall . . . . . 98
Evening XX.
The Ocean as a Shell Factory . . . . .101
Evening XXI.
The Crocodile’s Playground . . . • . 108
Evening XXII.
The Ocean as Lizard’s Grave . . . . .114
Evening XXIII.
The Ocean as Volcano Quencher . . . . . 118
Evening XXIV.
The Ocean as Lava-Lighter . . . . .123
Evening XXV.
The Ocean as Earth-Lifter . . . . . . 126
Evening XXVI.
The Ocean as Earth-Burster . . . . .128
Evening XXVII.
The Ocean as Brickmaker . . . . . . 130
Xil CONTENTS.
Evening XXYIII. pagh
The Ocean as Mountain-Builder . . . . .135
Evening XXIX.
The Earth as Basin-Filler . . . . ..138
Evening XXX.
The Ocean as Slate-Maker . . . . . .140
Evening XXXI.
The Ocean as Coal-Carrier . . . . . . 144
Evening XXXII.
The Ocean as Seed-Floater . . . . .150
Evening XXXIII.
The Ocean as Coral-Feeder . . . . . . 153
Evening XXXIY.
The Ocean as a Roof . . . . . . .158
Evening XXXV.
The Ocean as Earth-quaker . . . . . . 160
Evening XXXVI.
The Ocean as a Sea-Sun . . . . . .162
INTRODUCTION.
CHAPTER I.
Lucy. How slow ! — How very, very slow, does the
old time-piece go ! It seems odd that the nearer we
approach the holidays hours seem days, and every
day a week.
Kate. And pray, Lucy, what is to be done when
these long -coveted holidays do come ?
Lucy. Oh ! everything that is delightful, and
lovely, and beautiful ! We are going to the sea — the
real sea ! and we are to roam about all day long over
the sands : and there are to be water parties ; and I
have made large bags to collect the stones and
pebbles, pieces of rock, sea-wreed, and everything.
Jane. And my father has promised to tell us every¬
thing about modern seas and oceans ; and Charles,
who has been all over the world, has promised to join
us, and will bring his large collection “ of fragments
of the floors of ancient oceans,” to compare with the
modern specimens we are to collect.
2
INTRODUCTION.
Lucy. I cannot even guess what he means by the
floors of ancient oceans ; but here comes my father.
Let us ask him.
Mr. It. Well, ladies ! One at a time. Come,
Jane, you talk the loudest ; you shall play the
interpreter.
Jane. Can you explain what Charles means by —
let me read from his letter — “ I shall bring with me
fragments of the floors of ancient oceans, they have
been collected in India, China, Russia, Germany, in
the Islands of the Pacific, and, above all, in France.”
Now, dear father, what we want especially to know
is, what is an ancient ocean ? and what is its floor ?
and why -
Mr. R. {interrupting.') Pray, my dear girls, wait
till you see him. Why should I rob you of the
pleasures of anticipation ; or Charles of the delight
of telling you of the “antres vast ” he has encountered,
and the “ deserts idle ” he has journeyed through to
form his collection ? There are indeed, Jane, “ more
things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in
your philosophy.” Old as I am, I too look forward
to the time when Charles will pour out before us his
vast and profound knowledge of old worlds and
primaeval oceans, with an anxiety all but equal to
yours ; but they are waiting for you in the garden.
Mr. R. {alone.) The earth has many chroniclers.
Its mountains and everlasting hills still rear their
heads as they did when Noah trod the earth. Oceans,
and seas, still roll on where they have rolled for ages.
Its pyramids still live in history ! Thermopylae is
still a pass where a handful of men could keep in
INTRODUCTION.
3
check a host of warriors. Vesuvius still pours its
lava and flame as it did ages ago. Palmyra, Baby¬
lon, Balbec, Tyre, Sidon, are in ruins ! but the
traveller still stumbles over the giant skeletons of
unburied cities, as he roams through the solitary
plains. The history of the races who peopled these
vast solitudes is familiar to us all ; but the ocean has
no historian — its caverns, its mountains, its sea
palaces, its valleys, its floor, the races of gigantic
marine monsters, whose shelly coverings and bones
compose the very rock upon which we now stand,
who shall be their historian ? Who can ?
CHAPTER II.
Notwithstanding Lucy’s accusation against the
old hall time-piece specially, and of the slowness of
Time’s movements in general, he “ galloped withal ”
at his usual pace. The longed-for holidays came at
last ; and, as every movement had been so long
arranged, the setting sun of the same evening shed
his darting rays upon the whole of Mr. R/s family
as they entered Brighton.
Of course, the first inquiry was, “ Is Charles
come ? Where can he be ? 'What can he be doing ? ”
These useless inquiries giving way to a variety of
surmises as to the cause of his delay ; and these again
branching out into whys and wherefores, the most
unlikely and startling, which were all cut short by
the entry of Charles himself, with two porters groan¬
ing under the weight of boxes containing treasures
4
INTRODUCTION.
to him more valuable than any given weight of stones
called “precious.” We draw a veil around the sacred
precincts of a meeting so joyous as this. In this
whole world there is not a more pure and holy feel¬
ing than the affection of a sister, and for Charles this
was heightened by an admiration for his intellectual
endowments that was all but idolatrous.
Early in the morning the campaign was opened by
Lucy stealing into Charles’s room, ostensibly for the
purpose of telling him breakfast was ready, but
really to announce that she had already begun her
collection ; that, having been on the beach at a very
early hour she had filled her bag with shells and
other curious things. In a few minutes all were
assembled, and the conversation soon flowed in the
channel so earnestly desired by all.
Mr. R. I have been telling Lucy this morning,
Charles, that this sea which we are now looking
at is but a pigmy sea compared to the oceans of the
olden time. It is indeed a beautiful pathway for
a ship “ to walk the waters like a thing of life ! ’’ — a
cheap railroad from the new to the old world, on
which ships are driven by “ atmospheric pressure ; ”
but it has no great and magnificent objects to accom¬
plish like the ancient seas, that deposited the new red
sandstone, and the coal — the one supplying us with
exhaustless fuel, and the other with that prime
necessary of life — salt !
Charles. True to a certain extent, my dear father ;
but still this modern ocean has its appointed works
to perform, not the least important of which is
INTRODUCTION.
5
devouring the rocks of which the crust of the earth is
composed, and strewing the fragments in its estuaries,
and bays.
Jane. ( Whispering .) Lucy, do you understand a
word of what they are saying %
Lucy. Not a single word. I expected, when the
breakfast-table was cleared, our bags would have
been emptied, and Charles would have told us what
they were, and I had prepared some little labels to
affix to each.
Kate. Charles, here ’s a rebellion breaking out
in this corner. Here’s Jane and Lucy muttering
their discontents in no very inaudible tones.
Mr. R. Thank you, Catherine. I see ! I see ! the
old habit of forgetting that “ new and old red sand¬
stones,” and “ carboniferous deposits ” have no charms
for young lady collectors. Come, Charles, let us nip
this rebellion in the bud, by chalking out a plan for
our future operations. What say you ?
Charles. I feel under great obligations to Kate for
the interruption. We will form ourselves into a
committee of the whole house. Father, you shall
preside. Catherine, have you anything to propose ?
Kate. Oh, dear, no ! Nothing but to ask Charles
to read the list of subjects he lent me this morning.
Charles. With pleasure ! but would it not be
better to stroll about whenever we feel inclined
all day, and to discuss the subject of the ocean in its
varied aspects in the evening when we arc sitting
quietly together.
Kate. That will indeed be delightful; and as our
6
INTRODUCTION.
absence from home will extend to two months, the
whole of the forty divisions of your Syllabus may
be descanted upon.
Mr. R. Forty divisions, Kitty ! The sea, the
ocean, under forty different aspects, impossible ! May
I read the paper, Charles? I am sure the ladies will
listen patiently to “ the syllabus of a course of forty
evening conversations, by Charles R.”
Lucy. Pray begin, father. I am dying to know
about these old seas and monsters.
Mr. R. ( reading .) —
1 . The Ocean as a Rockmaker.
2. The Ocean as a Polisher.
3. The Ocean as a Mausoleum.
4. The Ocean as a Valley Cutter.
5. The Ocean as a Treasui’e Casket.
6. The Ocean as a Lapidary.
7. The Ocean as a Pathway.
8. The Ocean as a Palace Builder.
9. The Ocean as a Lizard’s Home.
10. The Ocean as Fossilizer.
1 1. The Ocean as a Shark’s Workshop.
12. The Ocean as a Fish’s Battle Field.
13. The Ocean as Fertilizer.
14. The Ocean as Renovator.
Come, Lucy, I am out of breath ; finish the list.
Lucy. I am sure I cannot read for laughing.
Mr. R. Come, Jane, do you try.
Jane. I am rather worse than Lucy. Let Kate
take it ; she is always grave and -
Kate. And what, Jane?
INTRODUCTION.
7
Jane. And good, Kitty.
Kate, {reading. ) —
15. The Ocean as Destroyer.
16. The Ocean as Island-maker.
17. The Ocean as Mermaids’ Hall.
18. The Ocean as Shell-factory.
19. The Ocean as Crocodiles’ Playground.
20. The Ocean as Lizard’s Grave.
21. The Ocean as Volcano Quencher.
22. The Ocean as Lava Lighter.
23. The Ocean as Earth-lifter.
24. The Ocean as Earth-burster.
25. The Ocean as Brickmaker.
26. The Ocean as a Mountain Builder.
27. The Ocean as Macadamizer.
28. The Ocean as Earth-maker.
29. The Ocean as Pebble-maker.
30. The Ocean as Coal-carrier.
31. The Ocean as Coral-feeder.
32. The Ocean as an Earth-roof.
33. The Ocean as a Floor.
34. The Ocean as Cavern-maker.
35. The Ocean as Basin-filler.
36. The Ocean as Slate-maker.
37. The Ocean as Seed-floater.
38. The Ocean as Sand-maker.
39. The Ocean as Earth-quaker.
40. The Ocean as a Sea Sun.
Mr. R. Thank you, Catherine ; and I shall not
attempt to say to Charles how greatly we are obliged
to him. The understanding then is, that every even¬
ing one hour is to be devoted to the sea and its
workings.
Jane. But when are we to see Charles’s collection %
a
INTRODUCTION.
Char. To-day, if you please ; but I propose to
select the appropriate specimens to illustrate each
evening’s little lecture , if I may call them so.
Lucy. And when are we to learn whether our
pebbles and weeds are worth looking at, Master
Charles ?
Char. Oh, that we will decide as we ramble
together. Come, the day is half gone, and nothing
seen or done.
Mr. R. One word, Charles. Let the girls select
for themselves the order in which these ocean matters
shall be brought before them. Come, Kate, you
shall have the first vote. What for Monday
evening ?
Kate. No. 1, “the Ocean as a Rockmaker.”
Mr. R. Now, Lucy, for Tuesday?
Lucy. No. 2, “ the Ocean as a Polisher.” Now,
Jane, pray choose No. 13 for Wednesday.
Jane. No. 3, “ the Ocean as a Mausoleum.”
Char. Thank you ! thank you ! this plan is
admirable. At seven to-night then we commence
with “ the Ocean as Rockmaker.”
OCEAN-WORK.
EVENING I.
THE OCEAN AS ROCKMAKER.
Char, (alone). How serene and quiet is the scene
before me ! Not a breath of air ruffles the surface ;
and yet ’twas but yesterday that these tiny waves
were foamy billows, running mountains high. Oh
that the depths of the ocean had a voice, and that I
might be the depository of the grand and wonderful
secrets that have never yet been revealed to mortal !
Enter Jane and her sisters.
Jane. I fear we have kept you, Charles. The
truth is, we have been expecting to see John bring
in some of those huge pieces of rock now lying in
the hall.
Char. For what purpose, Kate ?
Kate. Oh, of course to illustrate the Lecture on
Oceanic Rockmaking.
Lucy. And I peeped into the room half an hour
ago, expecting to see the table covered with precious
10
EVENING THE FIRST.
stones and other things. But finding you had not
arrived, I returned to Kate and Jane.
Kate. Dear Charles, when shall we begin ? Shall
I tell John to bring the things in ?
Char. I have brought them with me; in fact,
they are in my coat pocket. Here they are.
Kate {laughing'). Oh, Lucy and Jane, I must
laugh! Here is No. 1, a choice old flint; and
No. 2, a very valuable and rare piece of lime or
chalk ; and No. 3 has all the appearance of a petty
larceny from the kitchen-maid’s sand-box ; and, to
conclude, No. 4 is so like the clay or gault from
our brickfield, that one might safely vouch for their
relationship.
Char. And these are the rocli-makers of a whole
earth ! These, blended together, constitute almost
every rock.
Lucy. Impossible, Charles ! Soft clay make
rock ! — flint make rock — sand make rock ! Quite
impossible !
Jane. Pray, Lucy, have a little patience. Impos¬
sibility is a very common thing with young ladies.
I recollect Lucy yesterday pronounced a new rondo
“ impossible ” to learn ; and Kate meets with impos¬
sibilities every time she walks out. Suppose we say
improbable ?
Char. Have patience with me, my dear girls.
Every science is dry at first, and this rock-making
especially so ; as I must explain plain and familiar
things to you, and gradually lead you on to others
more difficult to understand.
THE OCEAN AS BOOKMAKER
11
Kate. But we understand all about these things
already. Flint is dug out of the chalk.
Char. Stop, miss. Let us commence with
No. 4. What is clay or gault ?
Kate. Oh, clay is — yes, let me see — clay is gault.
Char. And where do you imagine all the clay
came from %
Kate. The clay came from? How very ridicu¬
lous ! Why, it was made there, to be sure.
Char. And the shells, and all other things, were
ma de there too ?
Kate. Oh, certainly. Why not ?
Char. And this clay, in some parts of the earth
hundreds of yards thick, filled with peculiar shells,
was all made there ?
Kate. Certainly.
Char. And now, fair lady, tell me of what it
was made.
Kate. Oh, my dear brother, what nonsense to ask
me about this nasty clay ! If you really wish to
know, I dare say the brickmaker can tell us.
Char. No, he cannot, Kate ; and thousands, nay
millions, of men, women, and children live and die
in brick houses, made of this very clay or gault,
without knowing what it is.
Jane. Pray tell us. Catherine’s love of talking
will for ever prevent her listening. I, like Kate,
have hitherto thought clay was clay ; but how it
was made — how it came there — in what vast store -
shop it was mingled together, I never knew, and,
what is worse, never thought of.
12
EVENING THE FIRST.
Char. Oh, it ’s a beautiful tiling, is this clay :
pressed by a water press, compared to which all
human presses are trifles, it becomes slate ; burnt by
a fire, of vastly greater intensity than the hottest
human furnace, it becomes the slab-stone upon
which we walk ; whilst, in the hands of the potter,
it has filled the earth with vases of porcelain and
Dresden ware ; and from the kiln of the brickmaker
this clay has covered the earth with palaces and
cities.
Jane . But still we must inquire what it is, where
it comes from, and what it has to do with rock¬
making ?
Char. It is made of everything, and comes from
everywhere ! If huge fragments of rock fall into
the sea, and, after the lapse of ages, become rolled
and rubbed together till the angles and corners are
worn off, the fine impalpable dust that is slowly
worn off is clay. If the hard and hoary mountain
rock crumbles down slowly under the hand of time,
the crumbling particles, borne down by the stream
into the sea, are gault. Look at all the countless
sands of the sea — they are all round. Note the
roundness of all the pebbles and boulders — -they
were all sharp, and angular, and square once. All
that is worn off, has been carried away by water,
and is now our clay.
Kate. Well, this is truly wonderful. Let me feel
> «/
it again. Really clay is not very dirty after all.
Jane. Clay, then, is the ground of granite, por¬
phyry, greenstone, gneiss, and limestone, mingled
with water and shells, and pressed together ?
THE OCEAN AS ROCKMAKER.
13
Char. Just so, Jane. Oh, Jane, there is some¬
thing wonderful, and beyond all measure grand, in
thus treasuring up old and apparently useless mate¬
rials, and depositing them all over the earth as a
“ rock-maker ! ” The freestone, and the limestone,
and the marble, are prepared for the hand of the
rich ; and by a blessed arrangement, the poor man,
who is “ ever to be in the land," is enriched by
digging them from their quarries, and fashioning
them into fitting forms and sizes. But the poor
man himself needed a house ; he has neither time
to square the freestone, nor wealth to transport the
limestone. These rocks are, therefore, many, many
miles asunder — but the gault, the refuse of all the
decaying rocks of all ages, is placed everywhere ; so
that you see our despised lump of clay is no unim¬
portant agent in nature.
Jane. I am sure, Charles, we feel sorry we spoke
a word disrespectfully of your specimens. Have
you time to say a word or two on Nos. 1, 2,
and 3 ?
Char. Clay is man’s rock-maker. Flint, and
sand, and lime, are the chief agents in making these
ancient rocks, by the hands of God himself, the
decay and decomposition of which have produced
the clay. Have we not said enough to invest these
apparently worthless substances with interest ?
Kate. Thank you, dear boy. I know you think
me a giddy, foolish girl.
Char. No, Kate, never foolish ; perhaps a little
giddy.
Lucy. Good night, Charles ! Bless you !
c
EVENING- THE FIRST.
H
Char, (alone). I have undertaken a task, I fear,
beyond my powers. I never felt the luxury of
communicating knowledge till this last hour. These
simple girls have ever loved me as a brother, they
now reverence me as a being superior to themselves.
Whether I am successful or not in creating in them
an increased love for the Divine Architect, I shall,
at least, have the luxury of leading them on, step by
step, through the boundless field of nature, and of
throwing a beauty and an interest over things hitherto
considered devoid of both.
15
EVENING II.
THE OCEAN AS POLISHER.
Jane. With what altered feelings have I trodden
the sea-shore to-day ! Every pebble, every grain of
sand, every flint, is now teeming with interest. The
sea has become a vast laboratory or workshop, in
which every fragment is rounded and polished.
Char. Every tide that rolls, executing the double
office of polishing the broken rocks as they fall into
the sea, and storing up the waste, as it would be
called, to enable man to do for himself everywhere
that which is the first act of civilised man — build
himself a house.
Jane. But, Charles, would the rocky boundaries
of the ocean furnish stones in sufficient quantity to
make all those pebbles, sand, and clay that are found,
as you before remarked, all over the earth ?
Char. Certainly not. When you and I were
children, Jane, don’t you remember the thousands
of pebble stones we broke to pieces on the old
stepping-stones? You was very learned at that
time, and talked as glibly of granite, and gneiss, and
mica slate, as the most learned geologist in his own
society.
Jane. I remember. Ah ! Charles, there have been
no such happy days since. I recollect one afternoon
16
EVENING THE SECOND.
collecting some scores, and hammering away all the
afternoon. Limestones I was thoroughly master of,
but sandstones were my especial favourites : the
harder pebbles were left for you.
Cfoarles. But you well recollect that the inside of
these stones were almost all different — no two alike.
One white — hard and shining — %
Jane. Oh ! quartz ; that, too, was a favourite. It
would scratch the school-room window like a diamond.
Charles. And granite. You well remember we
little thought that these varied pebbles had been
little angular or square fragments, and that the ocean
had rubbed them into roundness.
Jane. But, Charles, you have forgotten to answer
my question, “ Where the stones and sand came
from ? ”
Charles. The rocks that form the boundaries of
the ocean furnish but few. Probably, the great
supply has been from volcanoes, whose fires were
all quenched before man was the inhabitant of
this earth.
Jane. But that would be lava now. I recollect
but very few of our youth-day pebbles were lava.
There must be some other source.
Charles. When in South America I saw Cotopaxi,
the most lofty of all the volcanoes in that quarter of
our globe, its height being 18,858 feet. After one of
the deluges caused by the melting of the snow, we
were astonished to find the immense quantities of
fine sand and loose stones that were brought down,
as well as an immense quantity of mud called
“ enoya,” all of which are carried into the lower
THE OCEAN AS POLISHER,
17
regions, filling up valleys and stopping up rivers.
Another source is the shattering of mountains by
earthquakes. And in every historical record of active
volcanoes, we read of rivers of mud and loose stones
being thrown out.
Jane. What extraordinary changes the earth has
undergone! It seems as if it had been created and
destroyed many times.
Charles. Not “destroyed,” Jane. There is no
destruction ever witnessed, except the swallowing up
of a city and its inhabitants be called destruction.
There is change everywhere visible. Nothing on
earth is durable. The very soil upon which we tread
is, much of it, solid rock eaten away by the sharp
tooth of time.
Jane. I see, Charles, the simple subject of rounded
pebble-stones leads us to contemplate volcanoes,
earthquakes, and landslips — those striking evi¬
dences of God’s displeasure with the wickedness
of the world.
Charles. Nay, Jane ! I have seen an earth-chasm
in which was entombed the men, women, and children
of a mighty and populous city, and could have wept
over it, if I had not felt that the earthquake and the
volcano were beneficent instruments in the hands of
Him who overrules everything for our good. By the
volcano, the earth has become fertilised ; it has broken
up the caverned roof which forms the floor upon
which the ocean rolls, letting in its waters into the
innermost parts of the earth, kindling up fires that
rush with irresistible force through some chasm in
the earth ; and hurling into the ocean the broken
c 2
18
EVENING THE SECOND.
fragments of its own floor, in the form of mud, sand,
and stones, portions of which are welded together by
the pressure of the waves, and burnt into rock by
subterranean fires. And others are rolled for ages
and ages by the ceaseless tide-wave, until it is rolled
into its resting-place as gravel.
19
EVENING III.
THE OCEAN AS A MAUSOLEUM.
Jane. As we strolled, to-day, through the beau¬
tiful scenery in the vicinity — enjoying every breeze
that blew from the sea, with a freshness that none
but the healthy can appreciate ; I inquired of
Charles whether the bottom of the ocean was as
unequal and irregular as the land.
Kate. And he told me, Jane, that the very hill
upon which I then stood, was formed at the bottom
of the sea — and that it was the tomb of myriads of
shell-fish.
Mr. R. And he might have told you that the
very cliff upon which this house is built — the moun¬
tainous rocks a few miles off — were all built up
slowly at the bottom of the sea.
Jane. There must be some wonderful things at
the bottom of the ocean, Kitty ! Should you not like
to pay a visit to the mermaid sitting in state in her
palace of shells ? — in a diving-bell, of course.
Mr. R. The ocean might be found strewed with
wrecks, and the bones of mariners that had escaped
those hysenas of the deep — the shark ; but its chief
treasures are buried many a fathom deeper than
human plummet ever sounded.
Jane. Nevertheless, father, the unburied wealth
20
EVENING THE THIRD.
lying waste at the bottom of the ocean, must be un¬
bounded. Charles has a list of the British ships
that are sunk yearly. Here he comes : — Charles,
what number of British ships are sunk yearly in a
time of peace ?
Charles. For what purpose do you require it,
J ane ?
Jane. A proposition has been made to Kate to go
down in a diving-bell to pay a friendly visit to the
mermaids and dolphins, and inspect their sea-fur¬
niture.
Char. And she wishes me to present a catalogue of
the articles to be seen. In the first list is a calculation
of the merchant vessels belonging to British mer¬
chants, that have gone down to the dark unfathomed
depths of the ocean, from 1793 to 1829 : eighteen
thousand nine hundred and twenty ships ! — averaging
120 tons each ; being at the enormous rate of 100,000
tons, annually, of one nation only.
Kate. Many of these richly laden with gold and
silver, and precious stones !
Char. And spices — ivory and pearls.
Jane. Will this rich list tempt you, Kate ?
Kate. No, I must have more yet ; besides, they
are probably so thinly strewed that I might not
alight upon one of these treasure- ships. I must have
something certain before I venture down, Charles.
Char. Out of 551 ships of the royal navy lost
to the country, during the period above-mentioned,
only 160 were taken or destroyed by the enemy, the
rest having stranded or foundered, or having been
THE OCEAN AS A MAUSOLEUM.
21
burnt by accident ; a striking proof that the dangers
of naval warfare, however great, may be far exceeded
by the storm, the shoal, the lee-shore, and all the
other perils of the deep. Enough yet, Kitty ?
Kate. No ! Brass and iron guns, and wounded and
mangled sailors, are not to my taste ! I want some¬
thing wonderful and marvellous at least, if I cannot
find anything precious.
Char. Think, Kate, of the horrible carnage of
1 50 species of shark, whose remains now strew the
floor of the ocean. Think of the myriads of whales
that swam in ancient oceans, and now lie piled up in
vast heaps at the bottom. Think of the gigantic
polypi, real and fabulous, with their thousand arms,
ready to assist your descent.
Kate. Quite charming ! another such a tempta¬
tion, and your list cf choice and rare sea-furniture
will be complete.
Char. Unfortunately the gigantic lizard race is
extinct, so that there will be no chance of your
diving-bell being cracked by one of these vast mon¬
sters, but their remains will probably satisfy you.
Jane. What an unreasonable body you are, Kate !
Such a bill of fare would tempt anybody but a
coward like you.
Kate. Oh ! bless you, my dear sister, I expected
the sea floor was all gold and delicate shells — that
crystals of spar shot up like coral, and that the very
water was bright with gold and silver fishes. I am
not to be tempted by old ships and bones.
Charles. Oh ! the list is by no means complete.
22
EVENING THE THIRD.
There are cities which have been buried in the deep,
and coral beds of exquisite beauty, shells of surpassing
beauty and richness.
Kate. You may as well stop. The 150 species of
shark that inhabit these lovely sea-palaces are enough
for me.
Charles. But, my dear girl, they are all extinct
but two or three.
Kate. So far as you know they may be ; but not¬
withstanding all you say, I believe the floor of the
ocean is a horrible thing to look at — say nothing of
the bodies of dead men, the ships, and the guns, and
the rocks, and the volcanoes pouring out lava or some¬
thing like it.
Jane. I am quite of your opinion, Kitty ; it is
delightful to think that these things are accumulating
at the bottom of the ocean, and that the result will
be the formation of a new world for a future race of
men ; but the process is one that should be carried on
silently and secretly under the cover of the ocean,
till the last wave of the departing sea recedes never
to return.
Mr. R. Really, Jane, 1 am delighted with the
justness of your views. The sea is indeed a vast
mausoleum, containing the wrecks and ruins of
animate and inanimate things ; the process of entomb¬
ing. The loathsomeness of a sea charnel-house,
the remains of which will constitute future lands,
beautiful to look upon, is wisely hid from our sight
by the billow that has for ages rolled over them all.
EVENING IV.
THE OCEAN AS VALLEY-CUTTER.
Mr. R. Well, Charles, I think our plan succeeds
admirably — the whole character of the girls seems
undergoing a change. Without understanding any¬
thing connected with Geology thoroughly, enough
has been said to make the sea and the sea-shore
objects of deep interest.
Charles. I feel certain that science may be made
thoroughly attractive to the most giddy and careless ;
but it must be science, not hard names. I wonder
what has happened to the girls ? They have hitherto
been most punctual : I see them coming slowly up
the walk in most earnest conversation.
Lucy. Charles ! Charles ! Jane and Kate have been
trying to make me believe that the chalk cliff down
below, is a mass of living insects, and that if I rub a
lump on a black board, that thousands of perfect
shells may be seen with a microscope.
Charles. Well, Lucy, there is very good reason for
believing it to be so.
Kate. But our Sister Philosopher, Miss Jane here,
has been trying to persuade me that my scissors, or
the metal of which they are made, came originally
from the wings of an insect.
Mr. R. Very probably. But, ladies, we must
24
EVENING THE FOURTH.
adhere to our plan, which is to discuss subjects con¬
nected with the ocean. The first three are ended — -
what next ?
Kate. Let me see. I select The Ocean as Valley
Cutter
Jane. And I “ The Ocean as Treasure Casket."
Ijucy. And I, “ The Ocean as Lapidary."
Charles. “ The Ocean as Valley Cutter,” shall be
the subject for this evening.
Jane. We are becoming so much interested in the
ocean and its works, that we propose to-morrow, if
the day be fine, to remain out all day. I love to sit
upon a hill and look down upon a valley, and fancy
myself the inhabitant of an earth in its youthful
freshness and beauty.
Charles. Finish the delightful picture, Jane, or
shall I ? “ When the sea and land strove for the
mastery — when the very hill upon which you sat
was yet wet with the ocean-slime, and down the
valley ran a stream in which all that was frightful
and hideous on earth and sea — the lizard monsters
of the deep and the winged lizard of the air basking
on the new- land.”
Jane. I forgot : my dear fellow, when the valleys
were forming, man was not upon the face of the
earth.
Mr. R. That this earth assumed its present form
by slow degrees ; that the very hill upon which you
sat rests upon other hills, at the very base of which
are found fossil animals the like of which has never
been seen by man, is proved by geologists — men whose
THE OCEAN AS VALLEY-CUTTER.
accuracy of observation is as undoubted as their piety
is real.
Jane. I well recollect, father, how shocked I was
when I first read that the earth was not formed in
six days — I could not bring myself to believe it.
Mr. R. Very properly so, Jane. No man ought
to believe anything that seems at variance with Scrip -
ture until he has examined the evidence. Moses
did not write the previous history and formation of
the various rocks, but of the last great change imme¬
diately before the creation of man.
Char. There will be many occasions during my
stay with you to discuss these abstruse subjects. Let
us lose no opportunity of observing and ascertaining
the facts connected with this earth’s formation, and
then we shall be in a much better position for under¬
standing many of the mysteries of its formation and
growth.
Mr. R. Thank you, Charles ; let us store their
minds with realities and facts, and then there will
be no danger of false theories or opinions.
Kate. I cannot exactly see what this conversation
has to do with valleys.
Lucy. Nor I, Kate ; nor can I see what valleys
have to do with the ocean. The ocean as “ Valley
Cutter.” Who knows that the ocean cut the valley
through which we passed to- day ?
Char. Firstly, Kate, because the top of the hill
has layers of shells — sea-shells upon it. How came
they there ?
Kate. They were carried there of course.
n
26
EVENING THE FOURTH.
Char. Of course by the sea.
Lucy. Oh yes, nothing else could have carried
them there.
Jane. Then there is another thing, the layers of
rock on each side of the valley correspond ; how came
that, Lucy ?
Lucy. Oh ! I dare say they were one mountain
once, and were split asunder by an earthquake.
Charles. Very probably many valleys owe their
origin to these mountain cracks ; but we must not
forget that the British Channel flows between the
English and French shores, and the rocks correspond
so exactly that there is but little doubt, at one time,
they were joined together.
Mr. R. And in Auvergne, in France, the hard
lava has been hollowed out into a deep river.
Charles. I have seen hundreds of valleys that show
every mark of having been worn and hollowed out
by the ocean wave, as perfectly as if it were the
work of yesterday.
Jane. I cannot exactly comprehend why there
should be hills and valleys at the bottom of the ocean.
Charles. You have read, Jane, of the thousands of
tons of sand, and wood, and mud, that the Mississippi
and other rivers bring down and cast into the bottom
of the ocean. The coarser sand sinks first — the
lighter, farther in the depths of the sea, although
both in time cover the depths — the one is more easily
worn away than the other.
Kate. I see the floor of the ocean is composed of
rocks of different degrees of hardness.
THE OCEAN AS VALLEY-CUTTER.
27
Jane. And as the sea is ever changing its bed, the
softer rocks have been carried away, and the harder
remain.
Charles. This is the case not only under the
waters, the hard rocks being the terror of the sailors,
but it is also the case on land, when the sea has
receded from the shore, leaving its old bed, as a
residence for man and animals.
Mr. R. It then appears clear, my dear girls, that
valleys are in part made in the ocean by sea-currents;
that mountains are made deep in the sea by volcanoes,
and drifting of foreign bodies from land ; but the
great probability is, that when the present dry land
became land, that the softer chalks, the sandstones,
and the clays, would be the first to be washed away;
and in this way the ocean, in time, would be a Valley
Cutter.
Jane. The time has expired. — What a majestic
part does the ocean play, in forming the very frame¬
work of this earth !
28
EVENING V.
THE OCEAN AS TREASURE CASKET.
Mr. R. Come, Lucy, let me see your list of sea
jewels.
Lucy. My dear father, I have no list. 1 have
been thinking and reading all day about the ocean
having treasures in it, and I can find none but the
sunken ships, and anchors, and the gold and silver
coins contained in these same ships.
Mr. R. I fear these treasures will be lost to this
generation, although they will constitute the most
precious relics in that which will follow us at some
remote time ; when the ocean, now rolling at our
feet, shall roll over other sands, and the bottom of
this sea he dry land.
Jane. In that view then, Lucy’s list comprises the
treasures for future lands and their inhabitants. I
have mine here. I am half ashamed of reading it.
Char. Give it me, Jane; if there be anything
ridiculous or wrong in it I will skip over it, and pre ¬
vent that smothered laugh of Kate’s which is just
ready to burst forth.
Kate. Oh, Charles ! that ’s quite a mistake, I am
growing quite grave. I really do not think I have
laughed the whole day. I am turning philosopher
very fast.
THE OCEAN AS TREASURE CASKET. 29
Char. The laughing, or the crying philosopher,
Miss ?
Kate. I have not quite made up my mind yet ;
but I rather think the crying.
Mr. R. My dear Kitty, pray laugh on. Gravity
and tears are for the old and guilty ; laughter and
smiles for the young, and thoughtless, and happy.
Now, Charles, for the contents of Jane’s sea-casket.
Char. Coral — pearls — whalebone. I must recall
that last gem. I do not see the great value of whale¬
bone, Miss Jane.
Mr. R. I must join Charles in his objection to
whalebone. I often wonder, Charles, if it was cus¬
tomary to make a helmet of one universal size and
shape, and that the young head should be squeezed into
it ; and that notwithstanding all the headaches, and
apoplexies, and deaths, and idiocies, that resulted
from this insane custom, still all civilised nations
persisted in wearing the fatal helmet : I wonder, I
say, what the “ barbarians ” would say to this
custom.
Char. If I was king of a Goth or Vandal nation,
and conquered a country where the human head was
cramped and moulded into this unnatural shape, I
would build a vast asylum for the reception of insane
mothers.
Jane. Oh ! my poor unfortunate whalebone !
Give me my list, Charles. I might have known that
this is one of the points upon which our father holds
strong opinions ; but that travelled and polished
young gentlemen should presume to denounce thin and
n 2
30
EVENING THE FIFTH.
genteel figures, and elevate corpulent and stout ones
into awkward perfection, is to me passing strange.
Mr. R. Pray let me assuage the rising storm by
asking Jane to read on.
Jane. Shells, isinglass, spermaceti. That is all.
Mr. R. A tolerable list ; but there is one thing I
wonder you have forgotten. Come, Kate, let me see
yours. Oh ! mine is the same as Jane’s. Except
pearls I could see nothing precious enough in the sea
to put into a casket. Charles, I see you have a
slip of paper in your hand. May I ask what it
contains ?
Char. I too have a list. Over and above all the trea¬
sures of the deep, far exceeding in value all the gems
that have ever glittered in the mine, is the salt with
which the ocean is seasoned and freshened, and which
is supplied to it in such vast abundance, that the
supply is inexhaustible.
Jane. I quite forgot the salt.
Charles. And then there is the lime, of which all
the shell- fish make their shells, and which the sea
then piles into hills, and the sea-volcanoes build into
mountains ; and in thousands, perhaps thousands of
thousands of years after, a British House of Lords
and Commons is built with this limestone. Oh ! lime
and salt are, indeed, two ocean treasures.
Mr. R. And another treasure is the sand, worth¬
less and countless as it may seem. Jane, you have
seen the freestone window-sills in our house at - ;
the little kidney -shaped stones of which it is com¬
posed were all rolled at the bottom of the sea, and
THE OCEAN AS TREASURE CASKET. SI
became stone by its pressure ages and ages before man
was created.
Charles. And then there is the granite, probably
formed beneatli the pressure of mighty waters, form¬
ing the rocky bed on which the ocean rolls, and
bestowing upon man a stone for his palaces and
bridge-building, that defies Time himself.
Mr. R. No, Charles, no. Nothing defies Time.
Granite, porphyry, greenstone, sienite, magnesian,
limestone. Palaces ! and columns ! that were the
glory of Greece and Rome ! Pyramids ! that were
the wonder of the olden times ! The ruins that
strew the deserts of Balbec, Palmyra, Thebes, — all
have impressions of Time's tooth upon them, and will
show more and more of his ravages, till the first
slight chemical change, having gone on to disintegra¬
tion, and that to rottenness and dissolution, pyramid,
pillar (albeit built with a rock that may have resisted
the lashings of the ocean waves for many thousand
years), will fall ; the heavier fragments forming the
soil upon which the herb shall grow, and the lighter
be wafted by the winds of Heaven to fall into other
seas, where, again, the process of rock-making is in
full operation, to be quarried again to build some
future home for man, if he then be upon earth.
Char. Thank you, thank you. The evening has
been a delightful one to me.
Jane . I am ashamed of my pitiful list of treasures
of the deep !
Kate. And so am I. I look forward to our next
evenings with feelings of pleasure that 1 cannot utter.
n2
EVENING VI.
THE OCEAN AS LAPIDARY.
Kate. Pray, Jane, help me to lift my cargo of
precious stones upon the table. I have wandered
over many a long mile of sea-shore for them, probably
to have the mortification of finding they are just
nothing at all.
Jane. But, Kate, one thing is certain ; they are
all polished , some as brightly as if they were precious
stones.
Lucy. My collection is a very small one ; it has
not a pebble in it, but is chiefly composed of shells
and other little odd things.
Char. Well, ladies, you have been really indus¬
trious — all sorts and sizes — and some rather uncom¬
mon ; here’s a smooth and polished “thunderbolt” as
children call them — a very fine specimen of sea¬
polishing.
Mr. R. I was reading yesterday, Charles, of these
belemnites, as those curious stones are called in Dr.
Buckland’s Bridgewater Treatise, and find, when
alive, they were a species of cuttle-fish, having ink-
bags — the very ink-bags, in a fossil state, have been
found after being entombed for thousands of years.
Char. Here are fragments of rolled flints.
THE OCEAN AS LAPIDARY.
33
Jane. Talking of flints, Charles, I broke one yes¬
terday that had within it a mussel-shell.
Kate. And I another, having some other shell,
Char. Jane and I have often seen stones within
stones, as a kernel within a shell.
Lucy. How can that be ? Stones do, then, grow
after all, Master Charles, although you laughed at
me so heartily the other day when I said so.
Char. Not in your sense, Lucy. Stones never
grow upon land — often in the sea ; but these flints —
what do you think they are imagined to be ?
Lucy. Flints “ imagined to be,” Charles ? If Kate
or I had asked that question, how you would have
laughed ! Flints, I presume, are neither more nor
less than flints ; but how the mussel-shell got inside,
I know not.
Char. It is imagined that flints are sponges.
Kate. Sponges ! Charles ! !
Char. Sponges, I repeat; the spongy matter being
gone, and the silicious or flinty being left in its place.
Kate. Well, really, this beats all the other wonder¬
ful things. How the flinty matter came there, and
where it came from, are very very strange,
Mr. R. In due time, Kate, all will be explained
to you. Flint is one of the most important materials
in nature ; it enters into the composition of almost
every rock.
Char. I have looked through the whole of these
smooth and polished stones, and find most of them
are granite or limestone, or chalk : if Lucy and Jane
34
EVENING THE SIXTH.
would chip off some pieces of chalk-cliff, they would
probably meet with some beautiful shells ; but there
are also shells rolled and polished till they look like
pebbles ; and here and there a rolled bone that pro¬
bably swam in the sea as part of a saurian or lizard,
at a time when the rocks, from which these pebbles
have been broken, were slowly forming at the depths
of oceans — hundreds of miles from the place where
you have found them.
Mr. R. But the evening is so very beautiful for a
stroll, that we will close this subject, by again choos¬
ing subjects for the next three nights.
Jane. Is it possible that six evenings have passed
away ? How precious is time, and how often is it
wasted ! I am sure we owe a debt of the deepest
gratitude to you and Charles for this great act of
goodness and kindness to us.
Char. Jane, what next?
Jane. You shall choose for me, Charles.
Char. Here, then, “ The Ocean as a Pathway
Now, Kate?
Kate. Oh ! 1 must have my favourite : “ The
Ocean as a Palace-builder.”
Char. And Lucy, yours ?
Lucy. “ The Ocean as Volcano Quencher.”
35
EVENING VII.
THE OCEAN AS A PATHWAY.
Char, (alone.) How difficult to bring one’s mind
down to treat of this “ Wilderness of Waves” as
a pathway ! a mere highway for the ships to pass to
and fro, after dwelling for years upon its higher and
nobler works and ends ; and yet its present work is a
fitting end ; a period of repose after ages of turbu¬
lence and disquiets ! Having builded up the Earth
into its present form and beauty, it has now become
the medium of carrying the blessings of civilisation
from clime to clime.
Enter Jane and Mr. R.
Jane. I cannot look upon the sea without feeling
a degree of adoration for its Divine Creator, akin to
the devotion of the Persian enthusiast who worships
the Sun.
Char. Bless you, Jane ! I believe there are as
many, perhaps more, offerings of silent, heartfelt
praise and thanksgiving ascend to Heaven, from the
bosom of the deep, as from the busy haunts of men
in ci populous cities pent ! ” I am sure my sin-
cerest prayers have been uttered when sailing quietly
in the midst of an ocean solitude — there seems but a
step between us and death — and the spirit feels an
unruffled calmness that the mere landsman must
ever be a stranger to.
36 EVENING THE SEVENTH.
Jane. To me the Sea presents a more tangible
image of Deity than earth can. Its illimitable vast¬
ness ! Its giant power ! The grandeur of its move¬
ments ! stand out in bold relief to the puny works
of man. If I doubted the existence of God, the sea
and the earth would quite demonstrate it.
Mr. 1{. There is nothing new to be told of the
ocean as it exists now. Its tides ! its bays ! its estu¬
aries ! Its trade-winds are the most elementary
parts of our education. It is a blessed element to
every shore that it washes — it links man to man
everywhere in one common brotherhood.
Enter Kate and Lucy.
Kate. I fear we are late.
Jane. Indeed you are.
Lucy. We have been seeing a boat-race, and were
struck with the absurdity of the losing crew throw¬
ing water upon their sails to make them heavier.
Char. What was the effect produced %
Lucy. Why the last boat gained upon the fore¬
most, until it pursued the same practice, and then
regained the lead.
Kate. I regret that we are late ; but to tell the
truth, Lucy and I voted it to be a capital subject for
Charles and Jane, but rather dull for us.
Jane. Well, my dear girls, our tastes are wisely
made to differ. I love, with you, to watch the
bounding barque as it steals o’er the deep, and to see
the gallant ship quit its native shores filled with brave
and aching hearts; but I also love to dream over old
oceans — oceans through which the keel of the navi-
THE OCEAN AS A PATHWAY.
37
gator never ploughed. Oceans lit up by a thousand
volcanic glares, by whose light thousands of gigantic
monsters rowed their way with paddles whose size
and power bid defiance to adverse waves and winds !
Kate. Come, Lucy ! Jane has been bitten by
Charles. All this is, no doubt, beautiful, and un¬
doubtedly very true, but still, not to be compared to
the race between the Nautilus and the Galatea just
ready to commence. Good night, Jane ! my com¬
pliments to those horrible monsters, that you and
Charles are so fond of.
Mr. R. 1 am not sure that the reproof is not
just, Charles ; we are but too apt to dream about old
seas and primaeval oceans, forgetting that, although
matters of deep interest to us, “ they are caviare to
the multitude.”
88
EVENING VIII.
THE OCEAN AS PALACE BUILDER.
During the whole day, the whole household was
in a state of unusual bustle and hurry. Boxes that
had hitherto been unopened, revealed their contents
to the light of day; and packages that seemed
travel- worn ■were broken up as useless for all future
purposes. Kate and Lucy were incessantly occupied
in carrying some choice specimens from the hall to
their evening lecture-room, whilst Jane and her
father were employed in the task of placing and
arranging so much additional furniture. At length
every thing subsided into its old, orderly quiet ; and
as usual they either rode or walked through the
beautiful drives or walks in the neighbourhood, till
evening brought them to the room which, somehow
or other, was becoming a scene of greater interest
daily.
As they entered the room they were struck with
the exquisite beauty of the shells, and the infinite
variety of the marbles, from the purest white to jet
black ; slabs of porphyry, greenstone, sienite ; spars
of translucent clearness, and polished pebbles, that
had been picked up on every sea-shore he had
visited.
Char. Now, ladies, I have redeemed the first part
of the promise given in my letter, that I would show
THE OCEAN AS PALACE BUILDER.
30
you specimens from “ the floors of ancient and
modern oceans.”
Lucy. But surely, Charles, you do not mean to
say that all these beautiful pieces of sculptured
marble have any thing to do with the sea or its
floors ? I thought marble, at least, was a solid rock,
with which the sea had nothing to do.
Char. This beautiful little statue of the purest
white statuary marble might have been, and pro¬
bably was, common limestone once, and you know
we have every reason to believe that all the lime¬
stones were deposited by the ocean.
Jane. T thought you told me, Charles, that some
of the limestones are entirely composed of shells %
Char. I saw a number of houses in Northampton¬
shire the other day entirely composed of the broken
shells of shell-fish, and formed at the bottom of the
ocean.
Lucy. But, Charles, there is an immense differ¬
ence between common limestone, such as we see
burning in our lime-kilns, and the beautiful Parian
marble of which this little statue is made.
Char. Not more, Lucy, than there is between the
clay of which porcelain is made before it is baked
and after. When limestone is subjected to the in¬
tense action of heat, as it is when near the burning
veins of granite thrown up from the centre of the
earth, it becomes white marble.
Kate. But there is a series of slabs of marble and
stone like marble, on the table, having figures the
most extraordinary in them, some like fishes, others
shells and plants like coral.
40
EVENING THE EIGHTH.
Char. These three slabs, marked 9, 10, and 11, are
from Auvergne, in France ; they were taken from
strata of limestone, marl, and sandstone, hundreds of
feet thick, which contain nothing but fresh-water
and land shells, together with the remains of land
quadrupeds. Here are others composed wholly of
snail-sliells ; this last slab was from the banks of the
Rhine, although they are also found in Mayence,
Worms, and Oppenheim.
Jane. I thought snails were land . . . animals,
may 1 call them ?
Char. So they are, Jane. When I was last summer
on the lakes of Switzerland, and watched the little
deltas where the mountain torrents entered the lake,
I found the mud and sand there strewed with innu¬
merable dead land shells, which had been brought
down from the Alps by the melting of the snows of
the preceding winter.
Lucy. Here, Charles, No. 27 is a very curious
little slab.
Char. Oh that was given me by Prof. E., of
B - ; it is a flinty stone, called tripoli ; it is used
when powdered for polishing stones. ’What think
vou it is?
A/
Lucy. I understood you to say it was flinty.
Char. So it is, but here is a new wonder; this
little slab is composed of millions of skeletons, or
cases of microscopic animalcules ; the stratum from
which this was taken extended over a wide area, and
was no less than fourteen feet thick. AVhen examined
by a microscope the cases are found to be pure silex
or flints, united together without any cement ; they
THE OCEAN AS PALACE BUILDER.
41
are so exceedingly small that it is computed that
there are 187,000,000 in a single grain.
Mr. R. At every stroke, then, we make with this
polishing powder, several millions, perhaps tens of
millions, of perfect fossils are crushed to pieces !
Char. Enough has been said to prove that for a
vast period of time the stones with which we build
our palaces, and the marbles for our statuary to
adorn them, have been slowly forming for us at the
bottom of the ocean. Millions of animalcules have
lived their day, and died to form a single grain of
stone ; and yet it exists in such rich abundance, that
other worlds might be filled with our spare material.
Everywhere is the earth filled with marks of God’s
greatness and goodness. The most minute animal¬
cule ! — the delicate and fragile shell ! — the broken
and shattered stone ! — the living and the dying fish !
— have all become subservient to His one great
mighty purpose, rendering the earth an ocean-made
palace for man.
42
EVENING IX.
THE OCEAN AS A LIZARD^S HOME.
Jane. My dear Charles, since yesterday I have
spent some hours in poring over these stones and
specimens. It is at least one hour before the usual
time of meeting. I have a dozen questions to ask —
shall I tire you ?
Char. Oh, no, Jane ! I wish, in future, you would
stroll in here half an hour before the regular business
commences ; it would be the most delightful thing
to me to talk to you about these old blocks of stone.
Kate and Lucy are good girls, but too young and
giddy for serious talk.
Jane. Thank you, my dear boy. I feel an intense
desire to know about the beginning of these things.
I know, because every one is taught that now, that
man was created six thousand years ago, and that
the earth was slowly formed, as far as regards its
rocks ; but I firstly want to know, if the earth had
inhabitants from the very beginning of time.
Char. It is generally believed not ; as all the
early rocks, the floors of ancient and modern seas,
appear to have been formed by fire, and they have
no remains of animals.
Jane. But even if animals had lived then on the
new earth, and if their remains had been buried in
THE OCEAN AS A LIZARD’S HOME.
43
rock, as they are in many of the specimens on the
table, would not the fire that formed the rock have
destroyed the remains of animals and plants ?
Char. Oh, certainly ! It appears quite certain,
however, that the sea was filled with living creatures
at a very early period, or there would not have
needed 150 species of shark to keep down the
teeming produce of the ocean.
Jane. One hundred and fifty species of shark !
One can scarcely believe that any man should be
sufficiently skilled to discover in what the difference
consisted.
Char. I recollect feeling just as you feel, Jane : I
doubted the reality of all 1 read ; and if I had not
studied comparative anatomy, I should still have
doubted.
Jane. Comparative anatomy, Charles? What is
the difference, pray, between anatomy and compara¬
tive anatomy ?
Char. One is the simple knowledge of the struc¬
ture ; the other is the comparison of the bones of
living animals, as well as the flesh and sinews, with
the fossil bones of extinct or long since perished
animals.
Jane. I cannot think, Charles, that a little bony
prominence, or a little groove in a bone, can enable
any man to say one animal differs from another. I
imagine all the large family of sharks differed merely
in features, just as the human family do.
Char. No, Jane, it is not so; the species do not
run into each other as you imagine. The connection
44
EVENING THE NINTH.
between different parts of the frame is so fixed and
certain, that it requires only a small portion of any
animal’s remains to show its nature, and ascertain
the class to which it belongs.
Jane. I wish 1 could feel convinced on this point.
I have read of some very learned men, anatomists
too, who mistook the bones of a salamander for a
man’s.
Char. And of others who could not distinguish
between human bones and those of a newly-disco¬
vered animal — between a lizard and a fish.
Jane. Well, then, if these learned men made such
blunders, might not your great authority, Cuvier ,
make others equally great \
Char. Cuvier doubted his own skill. He tried
over and over again many experiments on fragments
of the bones of known animals, and with a success
so unvaried, as gave him implicit confidence in his
method when he came to examine fossil remains.
But here is our father, trying to persuade Kate to
walk soberly, instead of running and jumping over
everything.
Mr. R. Kate, you wild, untameable ass’s colt !
will you ever learn to keep silence ?
Kate. Not with you, father, certainly never ! why
should I ? I am as happy as the day is long with
you ; and I must show it. I don’t want to be a
philosopher, or look grave and learned. Do you,
Lucy ?
Lucy. There is no great fear of either of us being
philosophers or blue-stockings ; but as to being grave,
45
THE OCEAN AS A LIZARD’S HOME.
Kitty, who can see Charles and Jane without look¬
ing like gravity itself ! They look as if they had
been discussing the “ Cosmogony ; or, Creation of
the World,” with that celebrated personage, Ephraim
Jenkinson , in the “ Vicar of Wakefield.”
Mr. R. Pray, Charles, what have you and Jane
been discussing so very earnestly ?
Char. Jane is sceptical on the subject of compara¬
tive anatomy ; she even doubts the skill of the
profound Cuvier.
Lucy. Really, I am ashamed to say, Charles, 1 do
not know what this particular anatomy is ; and I
can answer for it that Kate and 1 never heard this
profound gentleman’s name before. Cuvier! — a
Frenchman, 1 suppose !
Char. Not know Cuvier ! The Cuvier who could
take a hoof, a piece of horn, or a tooth, and could
from that tell the form, size, figure of the animal ;
how it fed, what it fed upon ; whether it swam in
the sea ; floated upon the surface of the water ;
basked in the midst of the slime ; and rose and roamed
through ancient forests, the sole and undisputed
monarch thereof! Not know Cuvier, who sat down
in the midst of a charnel-house of loose bones, and
rose up, the all but Creator of new and strange forms,
the like of which had long since left this earth !
Kate. I am sure, my dear Charles, I beg your
and Monsieur Cuvier’s pardon. If he really has
done these wonderful things, 1 greatly wish to know
more about him. He must have been a wonderful
man to have been enabled to tell what sort of animal
it was by merely seeing its little toe. (Laughs
immoderately .)
EVENING THE NINTH.
46
Jane. Kate, you wicked girl, what are you laugh¬
ing at ?
Kate. Oh, Jane, forgive me, I was merely thinking
whether Cuvier would he enabled to tell what sort
of an odd creature I am, if I sent him one of my
finger-nails.
Char. Laughable as it seems, I have no doubt
that he could, if you enclosed, in the same parcel, the
tooth you had extracted, the week before last.
Kate. The tooth, Charles ! Why, soberly and
seriously, my dear boy, of wrhat use would that be
to him ?
Char. Of infinite use. From the form of the nail
lie would infer that you wras an animal not fond of
work ; and the tooth would enable him to say posi¬
tively, that you ate everything that came in your way.
Mr. R. To sum up all, his definition would be, an
animal that lived at its ease, and that was omni¬
vorous.
Kate. What a hard wTord.
Mr. R. Simply meaning — to eat everything.
Char. And now, ladies, after this amusing digres¬
sion, suppose we return to the subject of the evening
— “ The Ocean as a Lizard's Home."
Jane. Surely, Charles, the ocean never could
have been filled with lizards. It must have been a
horrible sight to see.
Lucy. I never see these little black creatures with¬
out shuddering.
Kate. You mean the little black newts living in
old rubbish and decayed brick-walls 1
THE OCEAN AS A LIZARD’S HOME. 47
Lucy. Little crocodiles and alligators ?
Char. There is every reason to believe, that when
the new earth-lands were rising out of the sea, long
before the earth was solid enough for the growth of
trees and fruits, myriads of these reptiles of gigantic
size roamed over the new world, its undisputed pos¬
sessors. The size of some is so vast as to appear
incredible.
Jane. What could be their uses, Charles ?
Char. Uses, Jane? Why to live and be happy,
for one thing ; to feed upon the countless millions of
fish, for another ; but chiefly to strew the floor of
the ancient oceans with broken fragments of their
sea-food, to form many of the rocks now lying on
the table.
Jane. How very extraordinary ! Who could have
thought that such hideous monsters as the ichthyo¬
saurus, the plesiosaurus, the mososaurus, were
created that they might be rock-makers for man.
Wonderful !
Char. And there is another thing yet, my dear
girls, still more wonderful, and that is the perfect
and complete extinction and dying off of these mon¬
sters after they had answered the end for which they
were created — and the creation of another race, and
then their death, and then the creation of others.
Mr. R. My children, we can never conceive of
God as we ought, as the Creator of all things, till we
thoroughly understand the wonderful and successive
creations, dyings off, re-creations ; every successive
creation perfect in its kind, perfectly fitted for the
ocean work it had to perform.
EVENING THE NINTH.
48
Kate. Really, father, you almost make me tremble.
How came these vast monsters to die ?
Mr. R. The Power that created them caused
them to cease to live. Some were choked by the
irruption of liquid chalk into the seas ; others by the
flowing in of mud ; others by the agency of sea-
volcanoes, the glare of whose light probably attracted
myriads of these saurian monsters, to be destroyed
by the lava, as it ran down the half-hidden mountain
in torrents, and to be buried in the ocean of sea, mud,
and ashes that were projected from its crater.
Char. Shall we proceed, at our next meeting, to
consider our next subject, which is “The Ocean as
the Shark’s Workshop .”
Kate. No, no ! I must really know more of these
saurians, and their deaths.
Lucy. And I too vote for another evening being
devoted to these strange creatures. Kate, we must
really learn more of Charles’s great favourite, Cuvier.
I will certainly spend to-morrow in looking over his
immense folio volumes.
Kate. And I too. I looked in one the other day,
but thought it contained nothing but a collection of
old bones.
Jane. Now, young ladies, Charles and I shall
be happy to join you to-morrow afternoon at three.
Good-bye.
Mr. R. (alone). At last we are entering upon
matters and events the most profound and mo¬
mentous. The last Creation of God gave birth to
that most glorious of his works — man ! and all the
THE OCEAN AS A LIZARD’S HOME.
49
animals now living upon earth with him ; all formed
for his solace, his delight, and his happiness. To
attempt an outline of the history of former creations
and extinctions is indeed a lofty enterprise, and one
that must lead to universal love and reverence for
Him who has thus prepared, through countless ages,
this earth as a home for man.
Char. Who shall say, after the experience of this
day, that geology is a dry study ! Here have been
three girls looking through the magnificent tomes of
Cuvier with greater interest than the most ardent
novel-reader would consume a new novel.
Mr. R. The great error we commit, Charles, is
in teaching the elementary parts of geology and fossil
osteology first. It is far more rational, and infinitely
more successful, to excite an interest in the youthful
mind by theorising, even if the facts themselves are
rather questionable.
Char. The idea of new creations , new species , and
old creations dying off, seem to have struck all the
girls with amazement ! Jane’s mind seems to stagger
under the vastness of the idea. Here they come !
Well, Jane, what of the divine Cuvier ?
Jane. I never felt the infinite littleness of self as
I do at this moment ! I seem to have lived to no
purpose — for nothing, absolutely nothing. In one
day Cuvier did the work of the lifetime of an ordi¬
nary man. In one hour , the life-work of a woman.
Char. I rejoice that you have appreciated the
“god of my idolatry.” There has always appeared
to me something superhuman in the labours of Cuvier:
50
EVENING THE NINTH.
placing him above Laplace, Bacon, and Newton ; —
none but himself his parallel.
Mr. R. Come, Charles, we must not soar into the
clouds whilst we are upon earth. Lucy and Kate,
how is this, quite silent ?
Kate . Quite silent, father ! Many of these things
we do not comprehend ; but what we do, is wonder¬
ful beyond everything we ever read of.
Lucy. I confess I am very stupid, but I am
exceedingly desirous of learning more.
Mr. R. It is impossible for the young mind to be
brought into a more hopeful condition than yours,
Lucy. A confession of ignorance, conjoined to a
desire to acquire knowledge, never yet went without
its reward. What has more particularly struck you,
Jane, after looking through the plates of Cuvier’s
Fossil Osteology ?
Jane. After the first feeling of wonder passed
away, I was struck with the sameness of form in the
various bones.
Char. You mean that the fossil fin, or paddle-arm
of some of the monstrous lizards, was not very unlike
the arm or leg of a horse, or elephant, or man himself ?
Jane. Just so, Charles; and yet, when clothed
with flesh, as in living animals, the differences must
have been extremely great.
Lucy. But I have been thinking all day, and
dreaming all night, of the succession of animals from
the first creation, down to the last — from the trilo-
bite, I think it is called, or fossil-shrimp, down to
THE OCEAN AS A LIZARD’S HOME. 51
the mammoth, and mastodon, and megatherium. I
feel that 1 must understand this.
Char. Nothing so easy. Here is a piece of rock —
the lowest ever found with fossil remains imbedded
in it. Examine it well. Take the next stone in
the series ; some few of the first animals remain, but
many have disappeared ; and so on, until the bones
of animals now living are found at the top.
Mr. R. The greater portion of some of the rocks
being composed wholly of some of the species of
extinct animals.
Char. It would interest you but little to give all
the names of rocks or their remains ; but it is a
subject of exceeding grandeur to think that God has,
from time to time, filled the earth and ocean with
inhabitants suited to its varying condition.
Mr. R. This is a subject that has yet received no
attention from the public ; and yet nothing can exceed
it in interest.
Jane. The truth is, my dear father, that the hard
names of the rocks, and the animals and fishes that
lie buried in the midst of them, frighten the student
at the very threshold. If we had been expected to
learn the names of rocks and periods — if “ Plutonic
and Neptunian” theories had been discussed — if
Eocene, Pliocene, Post- Pliocene, and Miocene eras
had been required to be remembered, instead of
wishing for each successive evening to arrive, we
should have yawned through two or three evenings,
and then abandoned them.
Mr. R. Perfectly just, Jane ; names have no
interest whatever ; things cannot fail to excite it,
52
EVENING THE NINTH.
especially when brought before us in a new light. I
was much struck with a remark of Charles’s to-day.
Char. What was that, father ?
Mr. R. With reference to the extinct animals and
the new creations.
Char. Oh, 1 remember ; I was saying to father
how difficult it was to place these profound mysteries
in a popular light ; and 1 thought if 1 was a popular
lecturer on these sciences I could do it.
Mr. R. The merit of your suggestion shall be
divided between us, Charles : I shall never forget the
effect I produced on an audience at H - , when
lecturing on fossil remains and geology.
Kate. Oh, pray, father, do not keep us in the dark ;
tell us at once what interested your audience so deeply
at H.
Mr. R. "Willingly. I commenced by describing
stratified and unstratified rocks, dividing the former
into shales, limestones, oolites, chalks, &c., and the
latter into granites, gneiss, hornblende, &c. I saw
at a glance this would never do ; and when I had
explained that the animal remains found in each rock
indicated its relative age — in fact, it was Time’s
seal impressed upon it — and proceeded to say that
the animal remains found in B. disappeared in C.,
and those in C. were not found in D., the attention
bestowed might have satisfied a mere paid lecturer ;
but I saw that I was addressing a languid audience.
1 called their attention to the fact of these vast changes
in the animated beings on the earth and in the ocean,
by asking them to believe that, instead of horses and
THE OCEAN AS A LIZARD’S HOME. 53
cows, there had never been seen by the eye of a man
any other beasts of burden than the elephant and the
camel — that on that night, every man went to bed,
having seen his camel or his elephant either browsing
upon the herbage provided for them, or stabled for
the night — what would be the consternation of the
first man who entered the first stable or paddock, and
found the elephant or camel lying
“ with his nostril all wide,
But through it there roll’d not the breath of his pride ;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf.
And cold as the spray of the rock-breaking surf !”
How great would his astonishment be to find others
in the street, lamenting for the loss of their beautiful
camel, or favourite elephant ; with what awe would
the assembled crowds of the awakened city look upon
these noble animals lying dead in every pasture ! And
how would this feeling rise, when, as successive
coaches came in from York, and Manchester, and
Nottingham, the first word that was uttered by the
panic-struck passengers was, the death of every ele¬
phant and camel, not only in those cities, but also in
every field by the road- side from thence to H. ?
Kate. I do not wonder that the audience should
feel an interest in what you was saying.
Lucy. Nor I, Kate.
Mr. R. But half the wonder is not yet told, for on
rising from their beds the next morning every stable,
every common, every field, had in them new crea¬
tions. Creatures of exquisite symmetry, and beauty,
and usefulness — the horse and the cow ; and (not to
f 2
54
EVENING THE NINTH.
weary you), as every traveller came home, as every
ship, whether from the Antipodes, from Russia,
America, India, near and remote, landed, the first
theme, the first sentence in every one’s mouth, was this
extinction of elephants and camels all over the world,
and this creation of horses and cows in their stead.
Char. All occurring on or about this 16th of May,
1844.
Mr. R. Of course ! Wonderful as this may seem
to you, it is small and trivial compared to the mighty
changes that have been going on for myriads of ages.
Trilobites and countless mollusks die, and are suc¬
ceeded by lizards of vast and unwieldy bulk ; they
die, and up spring enormous land animals — the
megatherium, the mastodon, and the mammoth ; they
die, and then follows the era when the extinct
hippopotami and elephants were lords of the forest ;
and, lastly, came the Lord of the Creation — Man !
EVENING X.
THE OCEAN AS FOSSILIZER.
Jane. We have been examining your collection of
fossil bones, Charles, and are struck with their weight.
What is the difference between a fossil bone found in
the rock, and a common bone buried in the earth ?
Char. The difference is caused by a new deposit
of flinty or limy matter.
Jane. That I know very well ; but where did it
come from, and how did it enter into the very sub¬
stance of the bones ?
Kate. Oh, I think I can tell very well ; you know,
Lucy and I put many things in the petrifying well
in Derbyshire, and they came out perfect limestone.
Char. Not exactly so, Miss Lucy: your limestone
was merely left upon the article placed there ; in
fossil bones and wood it enters into their very
substance.
Jane. I cannot imagine how it is forced in, nor
where it comes from.
Char. We will take the last first. From the com¬
position of many of the early rocks we find silex, or
flint, entered largely into their composition. There
is every reason to believe that, although water cannot
dissolve flint now, yet at one time, and under enor¬
mous pressure, it could.
5 G EVENING THE TENTH.
Jane. Talking of enormous pressure, Charles,
reminds me of a page I read in Captain Scoresby’s
work on the Arctic Regions ; he says that, “ On one
occasion a whale on being harpooned ran out all the
lines in the boat, which it then dragged under water
to the depth of several thousand feet, the men having
just time to escape to a piece of ice ; when the fish
returned to the surface ‘ to blow’ ( breathe ), it was
struck a second time, and soon after killed. The
moment it expired it began to sink : an unusual cir¬
cumstance, for, generally speaking, the quantity of
fatty, oily, matter causes them to swim ; this sinking
of this vast mass of blubber was found to be caused
by the weight of the sunken boat, which still re¬
mained attached to it. By means of harpoons and
ropes, the fish was prevented from sinking until it
was released from the weight by connecting a rope
to the lines of the attached boat, which was no
sooner done than the fish rose again to the surface.
The sunken boat was then hauled up with great labour;
for so heavy was it , that although before the accident
it would have been buoyant when full of water, yet
when empty it required a boat at each end to keep it
from sinking. When it was hoisted into the ship,
the paint came off the wood in large sheets, and the
planks, which were of wainscot, were as completely
soaked in every pore as if they had lain at the bottom
of the sea since the food. A wooden apparatus that
accompanied the boat in its progress through the
deep, consisting chiefly of a piece of thick deal,
about fifteen inches square, happened to fall over¬
board, and though it originally consisted of the
lightest fir, sank in the water like a stone. The
THE OCEAN AS FOSSILIZER. 57
boat was rendered useless : even the wood of which
it was built, on being offered to the cook for fuel,
was tried and rejected as incombustible/'
Kate. That is the way, then, that when a tree falls
into a river, it swims at first, and then sinks ?
Mr. R. Yes, Kate; its pores contain air ; after a
time, water forces its way into these pores, the wood
becomes water-logged, and sinks.
Jane. Captain Scoresby mentions other experi¬
ments he made ; I forget them.
Char. Give me the book, Jane. Here it is. “ 1
sunk,” says he, u pieces of fir, elm, ash, &c. to the
depth of four thousand, and sometimes six thousand
feet ; they became impregnated with sea-water, and
when drawn up again, after immersion for an hour,
would no longer float ; and what is very extraordi¬
nary, the size of the wood as well as its weight was
greatly increased, every solid inch having increased
one- twentieth in size, and in weight.”
Mr. R. You imagine, then, my dear Charles, that
when bones and plants, or whole animals, fell to the
bottom of the sea, that the silicious or flinty matter
was forced into their cavities by the enormous pres¬
sure of the ocean ; probably there were springs of
liquid flints at the bottom of the ocean ?
Char. I believe there were ; I think there can be no
doubt of it, but that we will explain when we come
to consider the “ Ocean as a Floor.”
Jane. This explanation takes away every difficulty ;
the bones and plants were merely acted upon as Cap¬
tain Scoresby 's boat was.
.58
EVENING THE TENTH.
Lucy. That will do very well, Miss Jane, for the
deep seas; what will you do for the more shallow ones ?
Char. Neither the botanist nor the chemist have
been able to explain how wood, and other matters,
become petrified ; nevertheless, it is well known
that the same process is now going on. When I was
last at Rome, I procured a piece of wood from an
old Roman aqueduct ; here it is — in which you
will see the woody fibre is converted into a chalky
substance, or carbonate of lime. Some curious
experiments of the celebrated chemist, Professor
Goppert, of Breslau, all tend to show that the
fossilization of animal and vegetable substances can
be carried much farther in a short time than had
been previously supposed.
Mr. R. Really, Charles ! Have you any notes
of these interesting experiments ?
Char. 1 recollect the substance of them well. His
processes went principally to prove that many of the
fossil specimens are but imitations, in stone, of the ori¬
ginals ; the old mould being destroyed in the process.
Jane. Do I understand you, that many of these
fossil likenesses of plants and bones, now strewed
upon this table, may be, after all, only imitations of
the originals ?
Char. Very probably, Jane. Professor Goppert
placed ferns between soft layers of clay, dried these
in the shade, and then slowly and gradually heated
them till they were red hot. The result was the
production of so perfect a counterpart of fossil plants
as might have deceived an experienced geologist ;
some of these specimens are black, others brown.
THE OCEAN AS FOSSILIZER.
59
Mr. R. That readily accounts for the apparent
existence of plants in coal, but hardly for the fossil
remains imbedded in other rocks.
Char. Other experiments consisted in dipping spe¬
cimens of animal and vegetable substances in a
mixture of blue vitriol and water, and also in sili-
cious, calcareous, and metallic mixtures; they were
then dried, and kept heated till they would no longer
shrink in volume, and until every trace of their
original organic matter had disappeared.
Mr. R. Thank you, Charles. We have only to
imagine an ocean-floor covered with a layer of clay,
into which the bones of marine and terrestrial
animals are thrown down ; and again, other and suc¬
cessive layers of clay, and then the tremendous sub¬
terraneous heat that is ever seeking a vent in the
thinnest parts of the earth’s crust — but must have
found a much more ready one in the ocean depths,
when that crust was thin, and when the “ ever¬
lasting hills,” as they are incorrectly termed, were
not.
GO
EVENING NI.
THE OCEAN AS A SHARES WORKSHOP.
Char, (alone.) Perpetual destruction, followed
by continual renovation, is a universal dispensation ;
it is the law by which the happiness of all created
things is increased over the entire surface of the
terraqueous globe.
Mr. R. Do I interrupt you, Charles ?
Char. No, dear father; I was just reading the
13th chapter of Buckland’s magnificent work, en¬
titled u Aggregate of Animal Enjoyment increased,
and that of Pain diminished, by the Existence of
Carnivorous Races,” — it is a beautiful chapter.
Mr. JR. Exceedingly so, and quite necessary to be
read, to enable us to account for the enormous appa¬
rent waste of human life by the saurians and sharks
that filled ancient seas. Read a small portion of the
chapter, Charles; here are the girls just ready to
enter.
Char. I fear they will not feel interested in it.
Jane. I see you have Dr. Buckland in your hand,
Charles. I read his chapter on the utility of the
carnivorous races, this morning. Until then it filled
me with melancholy thoughts, to think that so vast
a proportion of the animals of a former world were
THE OCEAN AS A SHARK’S WORKSHOP. 01
created apparently for the sole purpose of effecting
the destruction of life.
Lucy . I felt the same thing, Jane ; I was quite
horrified at the dreadful carnage.
Char. I am glad you have given me your thoughts.
It is a subject that I have often thought upon ; I
will read half a page from Dr. Buckland, as my
father wishes it. If you do not understand it, ask
me to explain ; never mind interrupting me in the
middle of a sentence. — (Reads) — “ The law of Uni¬
versal Death being the established condition on which
it has pleased the Creator to give being to every
creature upon earth, it is a dispensation of kindness
to make the end of life , to each individual, as easy as
possible. The most easy death is proverbially that
which is least expected ; and though, for moral rea¬
sons peculiar to our own species, we deprecate the
sudden termination of our mortal life, yet in the
case of every inferior animal, such a termination of
existence is obviously the most desirable. The pains
of sickness and decrepitude of age are the usual
precursors of death, resulting from gradual decay —
these, in the human race alone , are susceptible of alle¬
viation, from internal sources of hope and consola¬
tion, and give exercise to some of the highest chari¬
ties and most tender sympathies of humanity. But,
throughout the whole animal creation of inferior
animals, no such sympathies exist ; there is no affec¬
tion or regard for the aged or feeble ; no alleviating
care to relieve the sick, and the extension of life
through lingering stages of decay and of old age ,
would to each individual be a scene of protracted
misery.”
o
G2
EVENING THE ELEVENTH.
Jane • How very beautiful and affecting, and how
true ! Until this moment, father, I had not quite
forgiven you for taking the life of our old favourite
horse. I thought he ought to have spent the re¬
mainder of his days frolicking about, having nothing
to do.
Mr. R. You see now, Jane, that that was a false
humanity ; the world is full of the like.
Kate. Do you recollect those two beautiful white
ponies that a friend of ours kept, until they were
between thirty and forty }rears old ?
Mr. R. Recollect, Jane? I shall never forget it.
The mistaken humanity in these cases inflicted an
amount of pain and even hunger upon these two worn-
out faithful creatures, that was shocking to witness.
Char. Do you think, father, that a man having
no further use for an old horse, or one that he has
disabled for his work, or that has become blind,
ought to sell him to others who have no kindly
feeling for him, and would not treat him compas¬
sionately ?
Mr. R. The world and I, Charles, have long been
at issue on this point. I should almost doubt the
Christianity of any man who could transfer a worn-
out animal into the hands of the sordid and wretched
beings who ill treat that most noble of all God’s
creatures, the horse.
Jane. But would you have every disabled horse
killed?
Mr. R. Certainly. I wish I could rouse this
Christian nation to a sense of the horrible cruelties
THE OCEAN AS A SHARK’S WORKSHOP. 63
they permit others to practise upon animals after
they have ceased to be the owners. I allude not to
the horrible knacker’s yard, because death is near
then, but to the noble and beautiful animals, once
the property of some titled or wealthy man, maimed
in some brutal match, or still more brutal steeple¬
chase, that shock the feelings of every humane man
as they drag our omnibuses and cabs through the
crowded streets.
Char. Shall I proceed with Dr. B. ?
Mr. R. Yes, if you please.
Char. “ Under such a system the natural world
would present a mass of daily suffering, bearing a
large proportion to the total amount of animal enjoy¬
ment. By the existing dispensations of sudden
destr uction and rapid succession , the feeble and disabled
are speedily relieved from suffering , and the world is
at all times crowded with myriads of sentient and
happy beings ; and though to many individuals their
allotted share of life be often short, it is usually a
period of uninterrupted gratification ; whilst the
momentary pain of sudden and unexpected death is
an evil infinitely small, in comparison with the enjoy¬
ments of which it is the termination.”
Jane. Believe me, Charles, this has been to me
the most interesting of our evenings ; until now the
earth seemed to present a scene of perpetual warfare
and carnage. The lion and the tiger and the leopard
doing for the beasts of the forest, what man is every¬
where doing to his fellow man.
Char. And there is another view, my dear Jane.
If lions, tigers, sharks, saurians, and even pike, had
not existed — if there had not only been the aged
64
EVENING THE ELEVENTH.
and feeble, but also the young and strong and healthy
destroyed — they would have increased infinitely faster
than their food ; they would ever be on the very
verge of famine.
Mr. R. Oh it ’s a beautiful law ! as beneficent and
kind, to the right-thinking mind, as the dew and the
rain and the sunshine.
Kate. And in the ocean — in the old ocean espe¬
cially — warm as were its waters, and genial to reptile
life, this same “ police of nature,” as it has been
beautifully called, was doubly necessary in an ocean
whose waters were ever crowded with myriads of
animated beings, the pleasures of whose life are
co-extensive with its duration.
Char. Let me again quote. “ Life to each indi¬
vidual is a scene of continued feasting, in a region of
plenty ; and when unexpected death arrests its course,
it repays with small interest the large debt which it
has contracted to the common fund of animal nutri¬
tion, from whence the materials of its body have
been derived. Thus the great drama of universal
life is perpetually sustained ; and though the indi¬
vidual actors undergo continual change, the same
parts are ever filled by another and another genera¬
tion ; renewing the face of the earth, and the bosom
of the deep, with endless successions of life and hap¬
piness.”
Mr. R. If no other sentences had been penned, the
1000/. given by the late Earl of Bridgewater to the
learned Doctor would have been well bestowed. I
fear we must separate. Good night, God bless you
all ; to-morrow we will proceed with the ocean as a
fish’s battle-field.
G5
EVENING XII.
THE OCEAN AS A FISHES BATTLE-FIELD.
Jane. Do you ever regret, Lucy, the many happy
hours we have spent with Charles ? Do you ever
wish for the gaiety of a large city — the ball — the
theatre ?
Lucy. To tell you the truth, Jane, the first few
days disappointed me greatly ; hut now, the moment
I rise I am unhappy till the time for strolling with
Charles arrives, and I now feel no feeling but happi¬
ness, mixed with the saddening thought that it cannot
last long.
Jane. But, my dear Lucy, Charles will now be
ever with us. Our former tastes and pursuits were
so trifling, so unlike his, that his letters were few
and far between. He now feels, as he says, that he
has three sisters to whom he can unbosom himself,
to whom he can communicate the discovery of other
extinct creations. Besides, we hope in a few months
to travel with him.
Kate. Oh, Jane, what strange creatures we are !
A few weeks since, it would have been a wearisome
task to wander over hill and valley in search of fossil
remains ; but now — But Charles is himself just at
the door.
Char. I have been thinking, Jane, if 150 species
of shark, voracious fishes, a mixture of shark and
g 2
OG
EVENING THE TWELFTH.
lizard, gigantic ichthyosauri, &c., were necessary to
keep down the teeming fertility of the ancient
oceans, what enormous numbers of fishes must have
lived in them !
Jane. I had been taught to think the dark
unfathomed depths of the ocean were sterile and
solitary ; and if fish were only in the ocean as food for
man, there would be no need to people its depths :
but as the remains of fishes, devoured by these
prodigiously ferocious reptiles, have been employed
in building up the ocean-hills, ere the waters retired
and left them dry land, the waters that even now cover
three-fourths of the globe must be crowded with life.
Char. Yes, and perhaps more abundantly than the
air and the surface of the earth; and the bottom of the
sea probably swarms with countless hosts of worms
and creeping things — all living their appointed time, all
destroying others feebler than themselves, and then
falling a prey to others still stronger and more
ferocious.
Mr. R. Recent discoveries have shown the more
terrific of the reptile tribe to be feeders upon their
own offspring and species. As the ocean was the
agent in building up a new earth, it is filled with
myriads of happy beings. The destruction of
these is the office and end of the lives of others;
and there are contrivances the most wonderful to
bring this about. In the dreadful conflicts that
must have marked that era, teeth must have been
broken, new ones sprang up in their stead, and the
jaw containing them was braced and strengthened by
a contrivance the most perfect and complete.
67
EVENING XIII.
THE OCEAN AS FERTILISER.
Char. We have hitherto viewed the ocean under
aspects, new indeed to the girls, but somewhat stale
and old to geologists. The subject for this evening
is new to me.
Mr. R. And also to me. I was induced to name
it from the number of vessels that have landed laden
with guano — the excrement of sea birds, found on
barren and desert rocks, two or three hundred feet
thick.
Char. Another instance of the glorious part the
ocean is destined to play in fertilising a worn-out
and exhausted world. Every one knows the sugar
estates in the West Indies are incapable of producing
sugar as they were wont to do ; but who could ever
have dreamed that the sea birds were treasuring up a
manure so precious, that after paying its freightage
across the sea, it still left a large profit to the owner?
Jane. But, Charles, what has the sea to do with
it ? The birds are sea birds, to be sure.
Kate. Oh, Jane, you know they drink sea water.
Char. And eat sea fish. Fish has long been
known to be of high utility to barren lands, when
spread upon it ; but the process was tedious and
offensive, and the capture of the necessary quantity
63
EVENING THE THIRTEENTH.
at the proper season very uncertain. You recollect,
Jane, what has already been said relative to the
solid rocks we have seen being composed of the waste
of older rocks ? there is the same law in operation
here.
Jane. I see, my dear Charles ! Everything is
treasured up in the ocean, and converted into some¬
thing that conduces to the welfare and happiness of
man. This is an instance of beneficence and care
for man that strikes me as wonderful !
Char. When sailing at early dawn, I have seen
myriads of gulls start suddenly from a solitary rock :
and when I left Edinburgh, in 1838, we passed Ailsa
Craig at night, and when a gun was fired, an immense
flock of sea-fowl left their secret hiding-places. I
have seen thousands of penguins stand, like ocean
sentinels, to guard the lonely steep upon which they
lived ; and solan geese in such incalculable numbers,
that to guess at their number would be folly. A
man might ask himself, of what use are all these
sea birds ?
Mr. R. Seeing that they fly from the habitation
of man, and live only upon steeps that are all but
inaccessible.
Char. It is a beautiful instinct that urges them
to select homes on the naked and barren rock, sur¬
rounded by the ocean for their feeding-place ; and
the contemplation of this, as of every other ocean-
work, fills the mind with feelings of wonder and
delight. Here is a screaming sea-gull, scudding
before the wind — there an island, once of unbounded
fertility; but every law of nature being disregarded,
THE OCEAN AS FERTILISER.
69
every product being sent away , and nothing in return
brought back to fertilise, its fruits grow smaller and
smaller — its products diminish, till ruin overtakes
the cultivator, and he abandons it in despair — too
poor to bring the rich composts from other lands,
and too ignorant to look to science for a remedy.
A solitary boat, manned by two active adventurous
striplings, watch the sea-bird to its rocky home —
climb the heights, with all the adventurous hardi¬
hood of youth, and find a strange mixture of dead
birds and a substance having the odour of the com¬
mon smelling-salts. A few handfuls are placed in
their little barque, merely to induce those at home to
believe their wild narrative, which is thrown as
useless into the garden or field. The elixir vitae,
that professed to bestow immortal health, and the
philosopher’s stone, that was to transmute every¬
thing into gold, were valueless compared to this
discovery. Unfruitful lands soon become fertile —
corn, and wine, and oil, again gladden the heart of
the husbandman — ships from all nations bring their
costly merchandise in exchange for its fruits ! And
all this the result of a pair of sea-gulls, a pair of
solan geese, having flown to a barren rock, that
stood like an old castle out of the sea, every¬
body wondering, as they sailed past, why it came
there.
Jane. Kate, what are you laughing at ?
Kate. I hardly dare tell you, Jane ; that is to say, I
hardly dare tell that grave young gentleman by your
side.
Char. And why not to me, Miss Kitty ?
70
EVENING TIIE THIRTEENTH.
Kate. You are such a very learned person, that I
am almost afraid of thinking when you are here, lest
you should guess what it was about.
Char. Permit me to observe, Miss, that Jane’s
question, “ What you were laughing at ?” remains
unanswered.
Kate. Oh, it ’s no use making a fuss about nothing :
1 merely laughed at the oddity of manure being
a subject for discussion among young ladies — nothing
more.
Mr. R. Oh ! modern young ladies are so very
very sensitive, so mincingly delicate, that such com¬
mon things as a “ new manure ” furnished by the sea,
and procured from off a sterile and dangerous coast,
must not be alluded to in their hearing ! “To the
pure all things are pure,” Kate. Alack-a-day !
Charles, the age is becoming so full of a sickening
and maudlin sentimentality, that a vessel loaded with
this guano would throw a bevy of fine ladies into
hysterics, if it sailed “ between the wind and their
nobility.’’
71
EVENING XIV.
THE EARTH AS RENOVATOR.
On the morning of this day all was bustle and
preparation. The next three days were fixed for a
coasting party. To Kate was consigned the com¬
missariat department ; and, by the quantity of
provisions stowed away in hampers, she evidently
contemplated squalls and other dangers that befal
those who go down to the great deep. Charles and
Jane held up their hands with astonishment, and
ventured to inquire, whether she contemplated the
whole party being cast away on some desolate island.
Undismayed by their remarks, she too well un¬
derstood the voracity of a sea-appetite to be at all
regardful. Pile after pile was packed up, and
carefully stowed away in the cabin of the beautiful
little boat that was to carry them.
A party of young friends were to join them : and,
during the hurry of preparation, Charles, his father,
and Jane, held a council to arrange a little programme
of the route and proceedings.
The first difficulty was the new-comers : what
was to be done with them ? To make it a purely
scientific and geological sea-tour, would have no in¬
terest for them ; and, on the other hand, to spend the
whole time in frivolity and gaiety would not do for
Charles or Jane. At last Jane hit upon a notable
72
EVENING THE FOURTEENTH.
plan that seemed to meet the difficulty. She proposed
that Charles should deliver three Popular Lectures on
Geology, illustrated by specimens, with which she
was sure the visitors would be delighted, and which
would, moreover, prepare them to feel interested with
the “ Evenings at Sea ,” which were on no account
to be intermitted. The morning to be spent in
sailing from place to place, looking at everything
worthy of observation ; in the afternoon, under a
large awning, the party were to assemble to hear the
Lecture ; then there wTas to be a stroll in the evening,
and then the peculiar business — the Discussion.
Her father and Charles were delighted with this
plan, and the latter suggested that, on the first
evening, “ The Ocean as Renovator ,” should form
the subject ; and on the second, “ The Ocean as
Destroyer and Jane insisted upon having “ The
Ocean as Island- Maker’’ for the third.
All being assembled, the boat danced merrily o’er
the waters, “ like a thing of life,” and all glided on
as happily as light and jocund hearts could make them.
They sailed past the old ruins at H — , and landed
for a few minutes to allow Charles to sketch and
examine them. It was with no little wonder and
astonishment that the F.’s and M.’s who were of the
party heard that the stones of which the old castle
had been built were formed out of broken shells at
the bottom of the sea ; and one young lady’s face had
something upon it very like an unbelieving sneer,
when Charles having asked if she knew who built this
old baronial hall ? and having received for an answer,
“ the architect, she supposed,” mildly said, “No, Miss,
the Ocean built it all.” There would be no interest in
THE EARTH AS RENOVATOR. 73
recording how they fared and how they sang : suffice
it to say, Kate’s good cheer gave ample satisfaction.
At last the word was given for a general clearance of
the deck. The awning was drawn up ; by four
o’clock all was anxiety to see Charles mount the
little rostrum which had been built under the
special superintendence of Jane.
It was a beautiful sight, and a new, to see that
happy group ! For Charles, his father and two
younger sisters had no anxieties. His thorough
knowledge of what he was about to teach, and the
facility of expression that was his most gifted attribute,
convinced them that he would acquit himself well.
But Jane had other reasons for anxiety, as she alone
knew that in the midst of that little audience was
one for whom she already felt a more than sister’s
love, and who had recently slightly weaned Charles
from his excessive attachment to studies of this
nature. At length, all being ready, he bounded
laughingly into his little pulpit, and began with the
old introduction : —
Ladies and Gentlemen,
If, instead of being a fidgetty young lady,
Kitty had been a lean, shrivelled old woman, perhaps
an Egyptian queen ! rolled all around her with spicy
bandages— in a word, if she were an Egy ptian mummy,
instead of a laughing girl, what interest would be felt !
how anxiously would every one peep over the other’s
shoulder, to see every part of the process of unrolling
her !
Kate. I presume, Sir, you are speaking for your-
H
74
EVENING THE FOURTEENTH.
self ? I have no curiosity, even for a queen-
mummy.
Mr. R. Pray, Kitty, remember, lecturers allow
no interruptions.
Kate. Thank you.
Char. And if a locust, or a beetle, or a pin, three
thousand years old, were to drop from the folds, how
curiously would you examine them ! Or if her
name were marked on any portion of her dress, how
greatly would the sort of stitch and the nature of the
thread interest you ! And yet, believe me, these
things are trifling and insignificant, compared to what
I have to show you.
For the convenience, however, of those who have
not made the science of Geology their study, I shall
divide the three lectures into —
1. The Facts.
2. The Inferences.
3. Probable Theories.
4. Less Probable Theories.
We have to do to-night with the real, undoubted
facts of Geology. The facts to which I shall call
your attention, are —
1. Central Heat.
2. Stratification of Rocks.
3. Order of Superposition of Rocks.
4. Fossil Remains.
5. Fossil Remains vary in different Rocks.
C. Primary x’ocks unstratified.
7. Violent Upheavings of Land.
8. That all these go on now.
9. That the bones of man, and animals fitted for his
THE EAIITII AS RENOVATOR.
75
use, are nowhere found in the primary, secondary, or
tertiary formations.
The first fact, then, is the existence of Central
Heat. This is as certain as that the sun set last
night and rose again this morning. The early
miner well knew, the deeper he worked the warmer
the air he breathed. And the pitmen know well,
that the deeper the coal runs, the warmer is the
water that gushes from the rock. In deep borings
for wells, it is a well known fact that the tem¬
perature increases 1 degree in every 45 feet. The
geysers, or hot springs in Iceland, prove it ; as do
the depths of the very sea on which we are now re¬
posing. Central Heat — a heated centre of the earth
— is therefore a well-established fact.
Mr. R. What say you, Charles, to allowing the
ladies to ask questions, between the divisions of
your facts ?
Kate. Thank you, thank you, father. All who
are for the ladies talking now and then, signify the
same by holding up their hands. Who seconds my
motion ? Come, Jane.
Jane. I do.
Kate. Carried unanimously. Well, Charles, we
will be merciful to you. Not more than three of
us shall talk at the same time. Here ’s a young
lady here, sitting by me, dying to know how hot
the centre of the earth is ; and another, what is the
nature of the burning things there ; and —
Char. Oh ! Kate, pray stop, whilst I tell you I
know nothing about either.
Kate. Just one more, my dear boy. Are not we
7f> EVENING THE FOURTEENTH.
in danger of being scorched, if there should be a
large crack in the earth ? It ’s really quite alarming !
Char. Why, a crack of sufficient depth to let out
the imprisoned heat of the inner earth, is an earth¬
quake or a volcano, and both of these we are mer¬
cifully freed from here. But we must hasten on to
the second fact —
The Stratification of Rocks — a hard word, ladies,
and simply meaning that the rocks are composed of
layers, one lying upon the other. Here are many
fragments of rock, all having lines darker or fainter,
or something to show they were formed layer upon
layer. Coal will split but one "way, nor will slate,
nor many other rocks. The second fact, that many
rocks are layer-like made, or stratified, is as un¬
doubted as the first.
No question ? Then I hasten on to the third fact —
That the order in which these rocks are laid upon
each other never varies. Rock A always lies above
B ; C above D ; E, F, G always above H, I, J, and
so on ; and this has never been found otherwise in
the whole habitable world. The last two facts are
strikingly apparent in the cliff just at our boat’s
stern — layer after layer of different-coloured rock.
Do you see them, Jane?
Jane. Oh, perfectly, Charles.
Char. And probably there are the same layers of
rock on the opposite coast. Our fourth fact is, the
existence of fossil remains in rocks. No one in their
senses can doubt this. Every marble chimney-piece
shows it. Limestone is almost wholly composed of
the remains of animals and fishes; and the chalk
THE EARTH AS RENOVATOR.
77
itself, so abundant here, is supposed to be made of
fossil shells.
Kate. What ! these immensely high cliffs formed
of shells ? Impossible.
Char. Impossible, Miss, is not a geological word.
But we must hasten on to the fifth established fact
in Geology —
That the fossil remains differ in different strata;
that is, that the bones and shells of animals and fish
in rock A are unlike those in rock C and D, and
differ slightly from those in rock B, whilst those in
rocks X, Y, Z are totally unlike those first named.
To-morrow morning we will look over Cuvier’s mag¬
nificent volume, and I will explain this more fully.
I wait for questions.
Mr. R. The ladies, generally, I think, will prefer
questioning Jane when we are gone, Charles. She,
you know, is the depository of all your secrets.
Char. Be it so. The sixth fact is, that the
rocks , the lowest down in the series — the T, U, Y,
W, X, Y, and Z rocks — are not stratified , not in
layers , have no remains , no shells , no fishes. But we
must hasten to a close. I fear I am wearying you.
Jane. Oh, no ! dear Charles. We are all listening
with breathless anxiety. Pray do not think so for a
moment.
Char. The seventh fact is, that there have been
violent upheaving s of land — by earthquakes, vol¬
canoes, and other causes ; as we shall show when we
treat upon the ocean as Volcano-lighter and as
h 2
78
EVENING THE FOURTEENTH.
Earth-quaker, in one of our forthcoming “ Evenings
at Sea” —
The eighth fact being, that this tremendous action
goes on in a minor degree now ; which will also be
fully explained.
And ninthly , that the bones of man have never been
found imbedded in any of these rocks ; nor have the
animals, such as the horse, and cow, and sheep, most
useful to him. This, ladies, is the most astounding
discovery of modern Geology, because it denotes that
man and all the animals, and probably many of the
fishes, were created six thousand years ago — exactly
in accordance with the Mosaic narrative. ( Applause .)
Jane. Thank you, dear Charles. This is a point
that I could almost rise and speak upon myself.
Oh ! I love to dream over a slowly-forming world
ripening into beauty and fitness for man’s habitation ;
I rejoice that all the terrible monsters were extinct
when our antediluvian forefathers were created ; and
I fervently believe that a new earth, far more lovely
and beautiful than Eden itself, is now slowly forming
beneath our feet — an earth where guilt and crime,
and hatred and malice and envy, will never enter.
Mr. R. Why, Jane, who ever suspected you of
all this visionary enthusiasm ?
Char . Oh, father, I have bitten her, and she bids
fair to become as rabid as I was.
Mr. R. Well, ladies, here ends our first attempt
at lecturing. The sailors without the awning have,
I have no doubt, been anxiously awaiting the issue.
There is yet time for a ten-mile sail ; the wind is
fair, and we shall reach home in time for tea.
EVENING XV.
THE OCEAN AS RENOVATOR.
Char. I am afraid that we have nothing very attrac¬
tive to-night. We all know, because we can see it at
every step we take, that the ocean has ever played
the part of destroyer, but few view it as a restorer ;
in other words, a renovator.
Mr. R. Except, Charles, on the floor of the ocean :
everything is undergoing a renovation there.
Char. And so it is upon land, although more by
the agency of rivers running into the sea than by the
ocean itself.
Mr. R. The very place where we landed to-night is
a case in point. The harbour is nearly “ silted up,” as
it is called ; and it is well known that at the mouths
of many rivers, where the tides are feeble, a bar of
sand or mud is formed at points where the velocity of
the turbid river is checked by the sea, or where the
river and a marine current neutralise each other’s
force.
Jane. When I was in Norfolk last year I saw a
quantity of posts or piers driven into the land, and
then bound together with osiers or some other con¬
trivance of the sort : this acted as your bar of sand,
I imagine, Charles, for it retarded the flow of the
tides, and covered the sands with a soft sea-mud.
80
EVENING THE FIFTEENTH.
Char. All estuaries have a natural tendency to silt
up, owing to the opposition of the tides and the river
current. But for this, the river mouths, where they
enter the sea, would become deeper and wider.
Jane. If the sea be continually gaining on the
land on the one coast, is it not as constantly receding
from it on the other; so that, after all, there is about
the same quantity of land and water ?
Char. I believe the sea is enlarging its boundaries
more rapidly than the land ; still the gain of land
from the ocean is undoubtedly great ; and there
can be no doubt but that the Baltic, the Adri¬
atic Seas, and the Arabian Gulf, are gradually
growing up.
Mr. R. I presume, Charles, there can be no
doubt of the fact, that there has been an extraordi¬
nary gain of land at the head of the Red Sea ?
Char. Not the slightest. In 1842, when I was
there, the Isthmus of Suez had more than doubled
its breadth since the time of Herodotus. In his time,
and down to that of Arrian, Heropolis was on the
coast ; now it is as far distant from the Red Sea as
from the Mediterranean. Suez, in 1541, received
into its harbour the fleet of Solyman II., but it is
now changed into a sand-bank ; and the country
called Tehama, on the Arabian side of the Gulf, has
increased from three to six miles since the Chris¬
tian era.
Mr. R. And there are other inland ports and
ruined towns, which were once on the sea shore, and
bore the same names.
THE OCEAN AS RENOVATOR.
81
Kate. The ocean seems to me to be a great
robber.
Char. And it is also the receiver of stolen goods.
The mud stolen from the banks of the Thames is
carried to some distant lands, and the blocks and
boulders of Norway are rolled upon our coasts.
Jane. Do you recollect, Charles, when •we were
in Cambridgeshire last, that we saw a number of
men throwing a clay upon the land, dug up from
considerable depths ?
Char. Perfectly, Jane ; and I said then, from exa¬
mination, that it was sea-mud. I have since learnt
that, under the influence of this sea -mud, the land
has become prodigiously fertile.
Kate. But how came the sea-mud there ?
Char. The same way as the ocean water. The
lower part of Cambridgeshire was one of the great
outlets to the sea. When the land-floods and the
tidal waters were high, they would mingle together.
A sand-bar, or any other barrier that would check
the rapid flowing back of the tide, would flood the
whole land, and then the thin stratum of clay or sea-
mud would be thrown down.
82
EVENING XVI,
THE OCEAN AS DESTROYER.
The experimental lecture of the preceding day
being thoroughly successful, the whole party looked
eagerly forward to the hour when Charles would
recommence. The morning was spent as happily as
mornings always are, where all are intelligent and
desirous of pleasing. Stones and sea- weed were
brought by the visitors in abundance for the inspec¬
tion of Charles, who could always find proofs of
Infinite wisdom and design in the most worthless
pebble or the commonest sea- weed; and long ere the
evening arrived, the awning was raised, and the con¬
versation chiefly turned upon the lecture and occur¬
rences of yesterday.
Precisely at the appointed hour he commenced his
second attempt, by calling their attention to the
Second Division of the subject,
The Inferences to be drawn from the before-
mentioned facts : —
The first being, that this earth was originally
covered with water. Of this there was the most
abundant proofs. The very existence of rocks in
layers, or stratified all over the earth, prove that
they must have been deposited there by water.
The second inference is, that the temperature of
the ancient earth must have been much higher than
THE OCEAN AS DESTROYER. 83
at present. This is proved by the fossil bones of
animals, and the fossil fruits and leaves and stems of
plants, being found in the latest-formed rocks just
under the soil. Animals that would die in a climate
as cold as ours, and plants that can only now be
found in the Torrid Zone, or in hot-houses; in fact,
all the plants of which coal is composed, were of
species never found but in the hottest climates.
The third inference is, that this earth was slowly
formed for the habitation of man. The very appear¬
ance of the layers in many of the rocks, the delicate
shells, and leaves of plants, prove how slowly they
must have been formed.
The fourth inference is by far the most important.
It is this: that the comfort and happiness of man was
the object and design of all this arrangement. “ I can
never bring myself to think of this glorious part of
our magnificent subject,” said Charles, glowing with
enthusiasm, “ without feeling ennobled with the
thought that I am one of those happy beings for
whom this earth and all its buried treasures has been
fashioned. I have often thought, if a palace had been
begun to be built for a prince in the year 1744, and
that it was to be completed in the present month,
August, 1844, and that its occupant was to be born
on this very 12th of August, with what interest
would all the crowds of visitors look upon an edifice
that had been one hundred years building ! and how
anxious would every one be to catch even a moment’s
glimpse of the royal babe within ! But if, instead
of being one hundred years in building, it had been
begun by our Saxon ancestors, continued by the
84
EVENING THE SIXTEENTH.
Norman conquerors, and that even in the midst of
the wars of the Ited and White Roses, still the palace¬
building never ceased — that the troubles of Charles’s
time never checked it — that Oliver Cromwell added
to it — how intense would be the interest with which
we should view it, and with what awe would all
nations look upon its inhabitant ! And, to heighten
the reverential feeling, if the tradition ran, that from
the olden times the kings and queens of remote nations
had sent gold and silver, and ivory, and pearls, and
precious things, to adorn and beautify it, the mind
seems unable to grasp so magnificent a thought.
And yet all this is nothing to what the Creator has
done for man, in the preparation of this earth as an
abode for man. Foreseeing how helpless man would
be in the midst of the monsters that peopled this
earth in its infancy, He delayed his creation till they
were extinct, and until a 4 new earth,’ clad with
verdure, was partly formed of their colossal ruins —
until all the animals that minister to his wants and
gratifications could roam about in peace. Foreseeing
his wants, ironstone and coal, and tin, and copper,
and lead, were formed myriads of years before he
was created. Stone of every quality was slowly
growing solid, ages before man required a habitation ;
and the coral and other insects were building moun¬
tains of limestone in eras so remote from the present,
that the mind reels under the attempt to measure
the time. Surely I may be pardoned for saying,
that all this vast preparation could never be for man,
if he were to perish as the brute beast.”
Mr. R. Thank you, Charles. Man is, indeed,
a noble creature, destined for glorious purposes, even
THE OCEAN AS DESTROYER. 85'
upon this earth ; but also destined for higher ends in
another world. It is evident that there have been vast
and constant changes since the first germs of our
present globe were created. Do you think, Charles,
that after the next great change, it will still be the
abode of animated beings ?
Char. I do indeed think it will. All this vast
amount of creative power never can be lost or de¬
stroyed. I fondly hope and believe that the next
great change will fit this earth for far nobler and
purer beings — men who have regained the lost image
of God — who shall walk through the whole earth as
one vast Eden, where sin and sorrow, and selfishness
and remorse, shall never mar their happiness !
END OF SECOND LECTURE.
I
86
EVENING XVII.
THE OCEAN AS DESTROYER.
Kate. I am sure, Jane, I would rather hear Charles
lecture to-night, than discuss any subject.
Jane. But pray, my dear girl, have a little mercy
upon him. I am convinced that the subject of this
evening will interest you greatly.
Kate. Yes, Jane, it would before yesterday. But
after what we have heard this afternoon of the glo¬
rious purposes for which this earth was created,
everything must be dull, and almost stupid. Besides,
I know very well the ocean is a destroyer of ships,
and boats, and rocks, and sailors, and all other
things that are upon or near to it.
Jane. Well, be patient, here is Charles. Charles,
I know of no subject so calculated to alarm the ig¬
norant inhabitant of a country, as the feeling that
the ocean is rapidly destroying portions of the lands
and rocks that bound it.
Mr. R. It is not a very comfortable thought, by
the bye, to those who profess some little acquaintance
with these things.
Char. Although we may call the ocean a destroyer,
seeing that it carries away large portions of our
coasts, it is but a borrower after all. The useless
rock toppled down into the waves yesterday, will
THE OCEAN AS DESTROYER. 87
soon become the rock or sand of a new earth now
in progress of making.
Kate . Charles ! Charles ! impossible ! What can
the chalk cliff that fell into the sea last year have
to do with a new earth, even supposing the said new
earth to be in process of forming? — which I never can
believe to be the case, notwithstanding all you have
yet said on that subject.
Char. Jane! Jane! surely all that you have
heard and seen of late has convinced you of this
one simple truth — that this earth is slowly melting
away, and that a new earth, with its marbles, its
coal, and its rocks, is as slowly forming ?
Jane. I believe, Charles, she is affecting to be
ignorant. Come, Kate, you wilful girl, is it not so ?
Kate. I have forgotten all about rocks, and
granites, and gneiss. Fossil remains interest me
not. Porphyries and jaspers are become vain things
to me.
Mr. R. Heigho ! Kate among the philosophers !
Pray, my dear girl, what has brought about this
change? What can have robbed all these things of
their interest ?
Jane. Oh, father, she is quite enraptured with
“ new creations, and extinctions of races” long before
man, and with the length of time employed in pre¬
paring this earth for man’s resting-place — for what
she calls the “ Poetry of Geology.”
Char. That is to say, she loves the ideal better
than the real. Come, my dear Kitty, let me give you
one piece of advice : — Store up every fact in Geology
88
EVENING THE SEVENTEENTH.
before you begin to theorise, and you will then revel
in the midst of theories and speculations as useful as
they are astounding.
Mr. R. Come, Charles, we at least are anxious to
hear what you have to say about the ocean as a
destroyer.
Char . I might take up the whole evening with
telling you of its destructive powers. Bring the
map, Kate, and find the Shetland Islands : there can
nowhere be seen the destructive effects of the sea-
wave more than there.
Mr. R. I recollect being particularly struck with
the steepness of the cliffs, which are everywhere
hollowed out into deep caves and lofty arches —
almost every promontory ending in a cluster of
rocks imitating columns, pinnacles, and obelisks.
Jane. How is that to be accounted for, Charles?
One would have supposed that the action of the
waves and tides would have destroyed the rocky
coast equally.
Char. So it would, Jane, if the composition and
nature of the rocks had been similar, which is not
the case. In some parts of the coast the rock is
granite, in others gneiss, mica, slate, serpentine, and
greenstone : all stones, as you well know, hard enough
to resist tides for ages.
Mr. R. They certainly have a fair trial of their
enduring qualities there, for they are exposed to the
uncontrolled violence of the Atlantic, and there is no
land between them and America.
Char. And the prevailing westerly gales must aid in
THE OCEAN AS DESTROYER.
89
destroying them, by dashing the sea spray over
them.
Kate. But I do not see how the columns, and
pinnacles, and obelisks, are made by the sea.
Char. Nor should I be able to tell you if all the
coast were composed of hard rock. On the con¬
trary, when they were formed, under a sea far more
ancient than the one that is now destroying them,
there were mingled with them softer rocks, such as
sandstone, &c.
Kate. Oh ! I see ; and they are more easity carried
away by the sea. Very simple. The soft rock being
gone, a cave or a pinnacle may readily be made.
Char. But the sea also removes immense masses
of rock on the same coast. Huge blocks of stone
have been carried to distances quite incredible.
Mr. R. It would be wearisome to point out every
instance on the map where the sea has for ages been
destroying coast-rocks. Yorkshire, Lincolnshire,
and especially Norfolk, all are gradually falling a
prey to the ocean. It is far more interesting to
leave the present and look at the past.
Char. It is indeed. Suppose, as was probably the
case, the earth was formed flat, and smooth, and
level, the ocean has been the instrument by which
the valley has been scooped out — by which the
mountains has been piled up. France and England
were probably one part of the same continent. The
ocean, in furtherance of the divine Architect’s plans,
dug out the channel, and, by making this portion of
i 2
00
EVENING THE SEVENTEENTH.
land insular, bestowed upon it all its greatness and
its strength.
Kate. And to where, do you imagine, the ocean
has carried all the rock and earth that formerly con¬
nected us with France ?
Char. Filled up many an ocean valley ; or, per¬
haps, closed some vast chasm in the floor of the
ocean, through which agents the most destructive to
animal life found entrance.
Jane. Do you mean sea-earthquakes, if I may use
such a strange expression ?
Char. Yes. Perhaps all that is now upon the
earth — if not all, certainly a portion — has been ejected
from the centre, and therefore there may be supposed
to have been vast chasms and hollows, gigantic cham¬
bers, through which the earthquake-thunder would
reverberate from pole to pole.
Mr. R. Beautiful, Charles, as a theory, and not
very inconsistent with facts.
Char. There can be no doubt of the fact, that in
regions less blest than this, that the earth is still
hollow, or how can the rumbling of the earthquake
be felt and heard at such enormous distances as it is
in volcanic regions ? I have always believed that,
although we, in common with all other countries,
have passed through the volcanic period, during which
our granite mountains and hills were thrown up, yet
that the caverned chambers have been solidified with
the ruins of ancient rocky coasts, and that the ocean
has been the prime agent in the destruction, as
well as the carrier of the materials into the ocean
depths.
THE OCEAN AS DESTROYER.
91
Jane. When we were at Hull last year, the sites
of old towns of note were pointed out to me ; one
called Ravenspur was at one time a rival to Hull,
and a port of such size that in 1332 Edward Baliol
and the English barons sailed from hence to invade
Scotland. Henry IV. in 1399 made choice of this
port to land at to effect the deposal of Richard II.;
yet the whole of this has been destroyed by the
merciless ocean.
Mr. R. Not merciless, Jane — merciful; its whole
end and errand is one of mercy ; every storm, every
tempest, has a mission to fulfil, whether it be to
topple down a cliff, or to gradually wear away the
hardest rocks, or to spread the ocean floor with sands
and mud ; every wave that displaces a useless atom
here , carries it to a point where it will be useful
hereafter !
92
EVENING XVIII.
THE OCEAN AS ISLAND MAKER.
According to preconcerted arrangements, the whole
party assembled at a very early breakfast. The mail
of the preceding evening had added four visitors to
the party, and it was matter of debate between
Charles and Jane whether, for a few days at least,
their “ Evenings” should not be postponed; Charles
inclining to the opinion that it should, whilst she as
strenuously resisted and combated every argument
he employed to convince her. The morning, cloudy
in the beginning, became gusty, and long before
noon the rain fell heavily.
During this “aside” discussion the matter was cut
short by Kate, who came in person to present a peti¬
tion from the visitors that Charles wrould resume his
lectures ; and that above all things the evening should
be devoted to subjects so interesting in themselves,
and especially so to one of the visitors, who had
recently returned from the British Association, smitten
with a new love for everything connected with the
structure of the earth.
Mr. R. Say no more about it, ladies. If the day
had been fine, one day at least must have been
devoted to “ lionising but this rain, which, by the
bye, bids fair to continue, demands that something
THE OCEAN AS ISLAND MAKER. 93
must be done. The subject was, “ The Ocean as
Island Maker.”
Ladies and gentlemen, be seated.
Char. With submission, father, I think we will
defer that subject till evening. Our friends here
will require some little preliminary instruction, which
Jane, Kate, and I shall be happy to give.
Mr. R. Agreed, Charles. 1 have promised to call
upon an old friend who is unable to get out, and I
shall turn over the ladies to you.
It would be tedious to go over ground so recently
trodden ; all that was interesting was explained — all
that was amusing was laughed at with a heartiness
that smacked of health and youthful spirits ; the
dinner bell rang loudly twice before they obeyed the
rather unwelcome summons.
In the evening the company assembled at an early
hour. Kate had, by the permission of her father,
obtained leave to have the tea brought into the room
where they met.
Mr.R. Charles, my old friend L - has lamented
his inability to spend an evening with us, in conse¬
quence of an attack of his old inveterate foe the gout,
but he invites us all to dine and spend the evening
with him to-morrow. He is devotedly attached to
scientific pursuits, and in youth pursued them with
an ardour and a success that brought him the friend¬
ship of men whose fame belongs to Europe — to the
world.
94
EVENING THE EIGHTEENTH.
Jane. That will indeed be delightful.
Kate. Not a whit the less, Jane, because he is a
bachelor.
Char. And a rich one. He is also rich in speci¬
mens, and has a cabinet of fossils of great value. W e
will certainly accept his invitation. Let me see,
Jane, what shall be our subject ?
Jane. Oh, I have it; here — this — “ The Ocean
as Mermaid’s Hall it will follow our to-night’s
subject well.
Char. And it will be short, giving us plenty of
time to discuss his wine and fruits, which are choice,
and to examine all the treasures that he has collected
with no ordinaiy care.
Mr. R. I have been thinking, ladies, what wisdom
has been displayed in the formation of islands, and
how beautifully they were formed and fitted for man,
when he began to acquire something more than flocks
and herds.
Char. As a cheap defence — as a pathway for ships
— as a storehouse inexhaustibly supplied with food —
the ocean was far better adapted than any other
agent ; but that is not our business to discuss to-night.
It is the part the ocean plays in forming, not only
the island upon which we now stand, but all the
other islands that stud the vast oceans of the north
and south hemispheres.
Miss O. Jane, Charles surely does not mean to
say that the island of Great Britain was made by the
ocean — the German Ocean ?
Jane. Oh yes he does, Caroline.
THE OCEAN AS ISLAND MAKER.
95
Miss O. Well, that is extraordinary; is it not,
Louisa ?
Louisa. Everything is extraordinary here, Carry ;
nothing more so than our friends having given up
dancing, cards, and concerts, to talk about old bones
and stones, and all those sorts of things.
Miss O. Fie, Louisa ! I know you would like to
know how the ocean makes islands.
Louisa. Oh, my dear girl, I know all about it. I
have read all about coral islands and reefs, and how
they form lagoons for sharks. You remember read¬
ing a beautiful description in Montgomery’s “ Pelican
Island.”
Jane. Yes, Louisa, I have often admired it ; but
there are many islands that are not coralline.
Char. It is a very simple idea to build a coralline
island, although man could never have dreamed of
employing such an insignificant agent ; but in other
islands, where there are no traces of coralline origin,
there are, as you know, evidences of wisdom, and
' forethought, and design, a million times greater than
merely building up an island as the coralline islands
are built.
Mr. R. What a wretched place would England
have been, if its origin had been either volcanic or
coralline !
L,ouisa. My dear Mr. R., I do not precisely see
that ; Auvergne, in France, is said to be volcanic,
and yet it is beautiful enough.
Mr. R. It will, perhaps, be difficult to convince
so vivacious a young lady ; but we will, if you please,
96
EVENING THE EIGHTEENTH.
imagine two families leaving a shipwrecked vessel,
the one being thrown upon a coralline island, the
other upon one like our own dear England.
Louisa. Oh, my dear sir, pray do not imagine
me to be cast ashore in the coral island; I have a
great horror of those monstrous sharks.
Kate. Oh ! we all thought you would prefer that
to this.
Louisa. Not at all, my dearest Kate ; it ’s very
well to sail quietly and safely into harbour, but as
to floating on a raft into harbour with a convoy of
sharks, pray don’t mention it.
Char. Well, at first, their cases would be nearly
parallel ; or rather, the condition of the coral islander
would be the more enviable.
Kate. Why so, Charles?
Char. Simply — he -would be warmer without fire ;
hut supposing him to have discovered that agent, as
he would not have many wants to gratify, he wTould
bask in the sunshine, and soon become little better
than the penguin that stood upon the shore. Not so
with the group that were thrown ashore here ; the
cold would compel them to build, and that would
lead to wood-cutting, and brick-making, and stone-
quarrying ; and in performing of this latter, they
would discover the iron, the coal, the copper, the
tin, that are found in such rich abundance here.
Miss O. But how came the iron and the copper,
&c. here, any more than in the coral island ?
Char. Simply this, Caroline : that England was
not an island from the beginning, as coral islands are,
THE OCEAN AS ISLAND MAKER.
07
but a portion of a vast continent, where for ages
and ages coal, iron, tin, zinc, salt, &c. were slowly
forming.
Kate. But how did it become an island ?
Char. After the ancient seas had grown the timber
and plants of which coal is made, and carried the
freestone, and pressed down into such perfect solidity
the slate stones, mountains were thrown up, and into
them was thrown, with tremendous force and power,
those valued metals, gold and silver, and copper, lead,
and tin. So you see, dear Kate, that to make an
island something more is required than coral insects
or marine volcanoes, especially if it be an island like
England, whose boundless wealth lies many fathoms
below the surface. Many a “ dark, unfathomed cave
of ocean” has been filled with these subterranean
riches by seas whose very inhabitants are now only
to be found imbedded in the solid rock ; and many a
“ gem of purest ray serene” is buried far lower than
human plummet ever sounded.
K
08
EVENING XIX.
THE OCEAN AS MERMAID^ HALL.
With what spirit do Time’s coursers dash along
when gay and buoyant Hope is charioteer ! Although
Kate and Jane professed to feel no diminution of
pleasure at the setting in of each successive evening,
and although Charles still discoursed as eloquently
as ever upon fossil remains, as they fell in his way,
yet there was a brightening up, an alacrity in all
their movements, that was visible to all, although
remarked by no one.
Never did a happier group hound over the green¬
sward ! never was “ dull care” driven farther away !
The idea of quizzing the old bachelor was uppermost
with Louisa and Kate, both insisting upon it that
they were profound believers in the existence of
mer-maidens and mer-men.
Mr. L. was what, in worldly language, is called a
u disappointed man ;” not that his happy face indi¬
cated any remaining traces of that morbid feeling,
but he had abandoned all those amusements and
pleasures which are considered indispensable to the
young and wealthy. He had chosen the life of a
solitary ; and, with the exception of Mr. R. and two
or three choice friends, he had not, he often boasted,
u a friend left upon earth.”
His fine fortune enabled him to gratify his taste for
THE OCEAN AS MERMAID’S HALL. 09
costly furniture ; and his walls were hung with gems
of ancient and modern art. But that upon which he
prided himself most was a sort of ocean hall, com¬
posed entirely of polished stones, shells, fossils, and
ores the most rare and costly, lying in costly confusion
upon the marbled tables and floor.
To this splendid room he had given the name of
the “ Mermaid’s Hall and with the exception of
the friends above alluded to, and his old valet, John,
who had accompanied him in all his travels, no one
had hitherto been permitted to enter this part of his
beautiful villa.
No wonder, then, that the cheek of Charles even
was flushed as he and his friends in succession were
welcomed by Mr. L., as he rose with difficulty from
his seat to receive them.
Mr. R. We feel honoured, dear sir, in accepting
your kind invitation ; and we have availed ourselves
of the postscript, and have brought our daughters’
friends, the Misses O.
Mr. L. Welcome, welcome all ! I never thought
to have seen women — young women, too ! in this
house ; but I am told that your tastes, and habits,
and pursuits are congenial ; and for the sake of her
that is gone, I again welcome you all.
Mr. R. I have told Charles that you have known
all our movements — the very subjects which we have
discussed.
Mr. L. In a word, Catherine and Jane, your
father has been playing the part of talebearer, and
has won my heart with his recitals of your sayings
and doings. My old enemy had laid siege to my foot,
100
EVENING THE NINETEENTH.
or 1 should have dropped in to see and hear for
myself. I have enjoyed solitude so long that the
sound of female tongues almost unmans me.
Mr. R. {aside to Charles .) Take the girls away
for half an hour — something moves him strongly. I
will give you a signal when to return.
Mr. L. Excuse me ; I thought myself a man, and
am, in truth, but a baby. Jane is the image of her
mother and her mother s first friend.
Mr. R. Jane and Kate are all that the fondest
father could wish. But what distresses you so
greatly ?
Mr. L. Oh, nothing, nothing ! — a mere twinge of
the mind — a recollection that was barbed like a dart.
Call them in again : I am myself again, and must not
delegate the hospitality of this house to that fine
young fellow, whom you call Charles. 1 long to
have some talk with him. Let the ladies see the
housekeeper, whose presence has not been required
here of late, John being my valet, butler, coachman,
and housekeeper.
Mr. R. I feel assured that this little brush will
do you good. Man, intellectual man, was never
meant for solitude ; and life is but a dreary passage
through a sorrowful world, unlit up by the smiles of
the young and happy, and uncheered by that “ soft
voice," that the most profound of observers has truly
called “ an excellent thing in woman.”
Evening stole on. Each one watched the time¬
piece narrowly, as if to chide the lagging hours.
Charles, determining to draw the old gentleman out,
plumed himself upon the opportunity that would be
THE OCEAN AS MERMAID’S HALL.
J01
furnished for doing so. Kate’s feeling was one of
overpowering and irrepressible curiosity. Every
entrance-hall and staircase teemed with strange and
wondrous things ; — hut that superb “ Palace of
Shells” — the far-famed “ Mermaid’s Hall ” — could
she see that ? If that were invisible to her, this day
would be nameless and blank in her calendar.
How her heart bounded when she heard it announced
by Charles, that their evening theme was to be dis¬
cussed in this very hall — in fact, that the old bachelor
had been wheeled there already, and waited for their
arrival.
Mr. L. Charles, my dear fellow, do you believe
in mermaids ?
Char. No, no ! Oh, no !
Mr. L . Kate, do you ?
Kate. Oh, fervently; and Jane, too, has a sort of
a belief.
Jane. It is, indeed, but a sort of belief — very in¬
distinct and glimmering.
Mr. L. Well, I believe it firmly. I have talked with
sailors who have seen them ; and I believe that they
are the supreme intelligences that rule the ocean in¬
habitants, as men do the inferior creatures upon land.
Char. But you cannot seriously entertain this
belief ?
Mr. L. Why not? There is nothing incredible
nor impossible in it. These exquisite shells, that have
grown into loveliness, would never have glowed with
such lovely colours if the eye of some intelligent
k 2
10 1
EVENING THE NINETEENTH.
ocean-being had not been destined to live and look
upon them.
From the earnestness with which he spoke, it was
evident that this was one of the harmless delusions
they had been prepared to see. A belief in the exist¬
ence of ocean-men, called mermaids and mermen,
was so strongly impressed upon his mind, that he
built a suite of apartments for their reception ; and
never abandoned the hope that, some day or other,
he would be the happy possessor of the beings he had
so long and so earnestly coveted to see.
The hall itself glowed with blushing and rosy-
coloured shells : from the sparry roof hung pendent
vast stalactites of every hue and shape, the interven¬
ing spaces sparkling with the richest metallic ores.
The floor was entirely composed of ammonites, ex¬
quisitely polished, and of most elaborate pattern and
design, having the appearance of snakes of every size
and colour, coiled up and turned into glittering metals.
The slabs were of the purest white Carrara marble,
supported by irregularly-shaped blocks of marble,
from jet-black to that which is little more than a con¬
glomerate mass of broken shells. From the centre
swung a candelabrum, composed entirely of shells,
the lamps burning from the pearly nautili, that served
admirably for that purpose. The walls were covered
with thin slabs of every species of granite, freestone,
and shale — the latter polished and shining like a
burnished mirror.
And this was the “ Mermaid’s Hall,” thought
Charles, and this is the delusion .for which L. has lost
caste with society — for which he lost her for whom
he lived ; and in losing her, lost everything besides.
103
THE OCEAN AS MERMAIl)’s HALL.
Who, in early youth, has not built a “ Mermaid' s
Hall ,” as useless, as unsubstantial, as unreal as this ?
How many day-dreams of happinesses to come, to be
enjoyed, vanish into thin air at the cold touch of the
real world without, bursting, like the child’s bubble,
just as the light had begun to play upon its surface !
The party being seated upon chairs, fashioned after
the most grotesque patterns, Charles was called upon
by Mr. L. to introduce the promised subject, which
he instantly responded to by proposing
44 The Ocean as a Shell Factory.”
101
EVENING XX.
THE OCEAN AS A SHELL FACTORY.
Char. Of all the aspects under which the sea can
be viewed, there is nothing more attractive than the
thought, that within its depths, of its materials, and
by its inhabitants, these beautiful shells are fashioned.
Mr. R. Come here, Kate and Louisa; on this large
slab are some of the most extraordinary — on the adja¬
cent one, some of the most beautiful.
Mr. L. Oh, ladies, some of those are from seas
recently dredged for shells : they are too new yet to
name.
Char. What a treat for conchologists ! Quite apart
from the beauty they give, they afford the finest
pleasure to him who has made this branch of science
his peculiar study,
Jane. What is to me a matter of special wonder
is, that the outside markings — the form of the waving
lines — never vary in the same species. I hardly
know how to express myself, but if you will turn to
the beautiful plates in Buckland, you will see at once
what 1 mean. The Nautilus striatus has everywhere
the same outer marks, and so has Nautilus obtusus ;
but what I mean is beautifully seen in the variations
of forms of Ammonite in the 37th plate.
Mr. L. Oh, Jane ! you may well wonder ; but it
THE OCEAN AS A SHELL FACTORY.
105
is no more extraordinary in shells than in fishes, and
plants, and flowers. One would have thought the
pattern of the shell of an animal in the sea might
have varied in every possible way. If the formation
of the most insignificant shell, or animal, or plant
were but for one hour left to chance , the creations of
that hour would exhibit the most monstrous and
incongruous shapes that imagination could picture.
Char. The sameness of shells does indeed prove the
existence of a creative Power — sleepless, unwearied,
eternal !
Louisa. Pray, Charles, let us pass on. I want to
look over all the lovely things here. The night will
be all spent in talking, and to-morrow we shall all
regret that we saw but a small portion of the treasures
of this room.
Mr. R. Suppose we allow each individual to do as
he or she pleases? My old friend and I shall cer¬
tainly sit here — he enchained by the gout, and I by
the almost magical effect of the lustres and stalac¬
tites from the roof. Charles, gallantry requires you
there. Show cause why you remain with us.
Char. Oh, father ! Jane is an admirable cicerone
since she has learnt some of the most common shells
— they prefer her to me.
Mr. L. The most extraordinary, as well as unac¬
countable thing to me, is the enormous quantity of
lime that must have been in ancient seas.
Char. There can be no doubt but that it was a
volcanic product, and that, as sea- volcanoes must
have been of very frequent occurrence, immense
portions must have been mingled with the waters.
106
EVENING THE TWENTIETH.
Mr. 11. From which the marine animals found
lime to fabricate their shells.
Mr. L. But it is a difficult problem, to account for
the source of the enormous masses of chalk and
limestone that compose one-eighth of the coast of
the globe.
Char. There can be no doubt but that the immense
beds of limestone in fresh- water lakes of the tertiary
period (that preceding man), were formed during
seasons of intense volcanic activity.
Char. Just glance at Jane and her party! They
have just discovered that the floor is entirely com¬
posed of ammonites ; they are evidently trying to
discover if they are alike in external markings,
although dissimilar in size.
Jane. We are struck with the enormous variety.
Mr. L. No two are alike in figure, although they
be in size : of the ammonites alone there are 223
species, varying from one inch in diameter to four
feet. They are a splendid collection of seals, upon
which the history of the world has been engraven ;
and their structure is one of the most wonderful and
intricate contrivances by which a shell, the size of
a waggon wheel, could float or sink at the will of its
inmate. But John tells me supper awaits us.
This has been a mere show-night.
Under the genial influences of good cheer, this
acquaintanceship, begun but to-day, was destined to
extend over a few days. His old habits broken up,
he extorted a promise from them to pay him daily
visits till all his curiosities had been explored.
THE OCEAN AS A SHELL FACTORY.
107
“ What you have seen to-day, is nothing compared
to what your father and I, in days of yore, called
4 The Crocodile’s Play-ground.’ Be early to-morrow,
and I will show you how, on a congenial theme, an
old man can lecture. Saurians, you know Mr. R.,”
said he, tapping him on the shoulder, 44 Saurians,
living and dead, have ever been my delight ; Charles
Waterton himself never bestrode a living cayman
with half the zest that I have laboured to disentomb
the fossil remains of this splendid group of sea-
animals.”
There is no disputing about tastes, thought Kate ;
this is probably another of the old beau’s crotchets !
108
EVENING XXI.
THE CROCODILE’S PLAYGROUND.
The strange sights and scenes of yesterday had
been the theme of general conversation : the courtesy
and kindness of the old gentleman were gratifying to
the girls, whilst his intelligence and vast store of
information were matters of especial interest to
Charles and Mr. R.
Char. It is a singular taste, to fit up a room with
fossils, and shells, and stones ; to abandon all modern
upholstery, and to frame everything out of the hewn
rock.
Mr. R. In itself it is beautiful, but when we
remember that everything there — the coal, the
stalactites, the shells, the ammonitic floor, and the
nautili lamps — were all formed by water, by sea¬
water, our admiration for the ocean is indeed
heightened.
Jane. I anticipate more to-day than yesterday.
Louisa. And so do I, Jane. I hope some of these
crocodiles are alive. I ’m tired of fossil this, and
fossil that ; we shall have fossil beaux soon, I suppose !
though for the matter of that, the young gentlemen
have flinty, stony, fossilised hearts already.
Kate. Receiving no impressions, and making none.
Char. What are you ridiculous girls laughing at ?
THE CROCODILE’S PLAYGROUND. 109
Kate. Louisa was just observing that she believes
yours is a fossil heart.
Louisa. For shame, Kate ! My curiosity simply
extends to the wish to know whether these ante¬
diluvian monsters we are to see to-day, are alive or
fossilised, which is 1 believe the phrase for not only
being dead , but also buried.
Mr. R. I am bound to secrecy. Let us take a
long stroll over these downs, so that we may be there
before he becomes anxious for us.
Char. Will you oblige us, my dear father, by
announcing our arrival in a short time 1 I am
challenged by these giddy girls to run a race with
them down a hill.
Jane. And Charles being half ashamed of the
thing, as being unphilosophical, and therefore unwise,
would fain do it as secretly as possible. These mad¬
cap girls are at the appointed place, eager for the race.
How the race terminated — whether the philosopher
was defeated, or whether victory sat upon his brow —
is matter of no great public interest. At the ap¬
pointed time, the happy and excited group were
thundering loudly at Mr. L.’s door, and were requested
to wait a moment in the hall.
For a moment they wondered at this uncourteous
reception, but for a moment only, for the hall was
gradually darkened ; and then came the creaking
of sliding doors in all directions, and they were
startled by the appearance of half-lit up caverns
proceeding in all directions from the hall, as from a
common centre. The illusion was perfect. Strange
and monstrous creatures were dimly visible, and the
L
no
EVENING THE TWENTY-FIRST.
skeletons of vast and unwieldy animals were placed
around.
In a moment all was flashing with a flood of light.
“ And this,” said Mr. L., seated behind a sort of
screen, “ this is our ‘ Crocodiles’ Playground.’ ”
Jane. Oh, Charles ! this is surely some enchant¬
ment.
Mr. L. No ! lady, no ! It is merely a museum —
a reptile museum — where all the Saurians, the
gigantic lizards of the old world, are placed in a fossil
state side by side with the crocodiles, the cay men,
and the alligator of the present era. Lizards of all
species, living and dead, are here.
Char. But why hide them from public view,
unless on special occasions ?
Mr. L. Partly for whim, which is an omnipotent
motive with me, and partly because of their native
hideousness.
Louisa. But — (pray keep near me, Jane and
Charles) — hut what could induce you to frighten us ?
Mr. L. Whim again, Miss. He who invades the
domicile of a bachelor, must take things as he finds
them.
Louisa. Well, you’re a horrid man, I must be
permitted to say. I feel as if that gigantic monster,
with those remarkably delicate-looking legs and the
shield on his back, were not altogether safe, even to
look at.
Jane. Oh, the Megatherium or Giant Sloth !
Ivouisa. And that other odd-looking wretch with
THE CROCODILE’S PLAYGROUND. Ill
his eye out certainly, but with an opening for that
organ large enough for a good-sized tea-table.
Char . Oh, the Ichthyosaurus.
Louisa. If I had the naming him, I should call
him the Pike Crocodile ; no other animal of my
acquaintance than the aforesaid pike, or jack, being
furnished with such respectable jaws.
Kate. And his teeth. What a dreadful creature
he must have been ! that interesting creature with
the long arching neck, must have been deemed an
antediluvian beauty, in comparison.
Jane. The Plesiosaurus?
Char. These creatures are the most deeply inte¬
resting — as is everything connected with the whole
Lizard tribe.
Mr. L. Now, dear ladies, we will adjourn to the
drawing-room ; and Charle^ shall tell us all he
knows of these strange creatures. Come, Miss
Louisa, shake hands.
Louisa , Have you touched these monsters, the last
week ?
Mr. L. (laughing). Why ?
Louisa. Because if you have, I won’t, till I put
my glove on. I should feel, like Lady Macbeth,
that the “spot wouldn’t come out.”
Char. You wilful creature! Let me show you
into the room.
Louisa. Oh ! not for worlds, Charles ! The very
idea of even dreaming about these huge reptiles
is frightful enough ! — but to touch them — to put
112
EVENING THE TWENTY-FIRST.
one’s finger upon their colossal bony carcases — to
look into that immense eye-hole of your favourite
Ichthyosaurian monster — the sight of their jaws and
teeth — are frightful. Pray, Charles, if you are not
a monster yourself, insist upon anything rather
than that.
Char. Here comes Mr. L. Surely you will not be
so uncivil as not to admire where he worships.
Louisa. Hush, Charles! Hush! I am fright¬
ened, in the very presence of the keeper of such
horrible reptiles.
Mr. L. (musing'). One! two ! ten ! twenty years!
of heart-hardening , and yet soft and ductile as ever !
The cherished treasures of years — the spoils of
twenty years of bitter war with the world — the fossil
Louvre purchased, not pilfered, from all nations —
but yesterday I sate in the midst of these relics of
primeval oceans, as a being superior to the mere
worldlings that ran and shouted down the adjoining
cliffs : and to-day I am become a child — a mere
little, drivelling, little child. Hah ! Charles !
Char. I have been in search of you. With the
exception of Jane, all the girls shudder at what they
have seen to-night.
Mr. L. And does n’t Jane ?
Char. No ! Oh no ! Jane is wonderfully smitten
with all she has seen. She is now tempting Louisa
to look at the beautiful structure of the paddle of the
Plesiosaurus and the immense opening for the eye of
the Ichthyosaurus.
Mr. L. Charles ! Charles ! Hold the light up.
There ! there ! What do you see ?
113
THE CROCODILE’S PLAYGROUND .
Char. See — Oh ! nothing !
Mr. L. Look again ! Now !
Char. Oh ! nothing ; except a good-looking gentle¬
man of some fifty years !
Mr. L. Ay, Charles, there ’s the rub ! Fifty
years! Five-and-twenty years wasted! lost! gone
for ever ! Did you say Jane was really smitten with
what she had seen to-night ?
Char. Look for yourself. There she stands, one
hand upon the monstrous reptile, from which Louisa
shrinks in disgust; and the other pointing to the
unrivalled collection of sharks’ teeth, that is at her
right hand.
Louisa. Charles, this is indeed a most myste¬
rious place. Here is Jane quite beside herself,
Kate and her father walking in the garden, and I am
alone, looking as stupid as 1 feel. Between ourselves,
I should advise a walk in the garden, to leave the
genii of the place (i. e., Jane and Mr. L.) an oppor¬
tunity of deciding which of these odious creatures is
most beautiful.
Char. With all my heart. Stop just one moment
at the door. With what exquisite taste is it arranged !
How the light falls dimly upon the head of the
furthest skeleton, and how it flashes upon the living,
and green, and moving type of these ancient denizens
of the deep ! It is, indeed, a delusion — a mere cheat,
that wealth has purchased as a happiness in his
dreamy days, to wake up with the thorough conscious¬
ness that all, all is vanity !
L
9
J u
EVENING XXII.
THE OCEAN AS LIZARD^S GRAVE.
The change that circumstances had wrought in the
character of Mr. L. had, by deranging all previously
concerted plans, changed the whole course of opera¬
tions. The “ Evenings,” once so cherished, now
became spiritless and dull, and Jane, the life and soul
of all movement, seemed satisfied with no arrange¬
ment that did not include Mr. L. Charles and his
father, who saw the great interest which Jane had
excited in the mind of their bachelor friend, were
desirous of withdrawing from this constant inter¬
course ; but Louisa and Kate were determined to
make the most of his acquaintance. It was there¬
fore decided that several evenings should be spent
at Mr. L.’s, and that all previous engagements should
be considered at an end. Evening came, and the
party found the old bachelor in high spirits ; all his
old preciseness had disappeared, and the only thing
that could have reminded his visitors of the recluse
and the philosopher, was the table that groaned with
exquisite specimens of shells, and a splendid model of
stratified rocks that ascended from the floor of the
room in which they sate to the very ceiling.
Tea passed happily by, giving that exquisite quiet
and calm pleasure that it ever does to a thoroughly
healthy body and mind ; and in the midst of a dis-
THE OCEAN AS LIZARD’S GRAVE.
115
cussion between Mr. L. and Jane, as to the uses of
the vast tribe of primeval sharks, Charles called upon
Mr. L. to redeem his promise in delivering a short
lecture upon the extinction and creation of the
animated beings whose fossil remains were arranged
before them.
After some little hesitation, and some little coquetry
as to seats, between Kate and Louisa, Mr. L.
began—
“ Ladies and Gentlemen,
“ One life has been spent in collecting the
fossil remains of animals. 1 must take care that
another is not lost in being their mere keeper. One
great object with me in collecting remains has been to
illustrate the great fact , that all that were created in
the infancy of the world, myriads of ages ago,
became extinct whilst the world was yet young, and
that fish after fish, monster after monster, mammalia
after mammalia, were created, and became extinct
long before the creation of man.”
Char. I am delighted, Mr. L., with the subject ;
I do hope you will, to-night, place this mysterious
subject in a clearer light.
Mr. L. I have always felt, Charles, that no man
could comprehend the meaning of the word GOD
until he knew that every part of the earth that was
intended for the benefit or happiness of man was
formed by slow processes ; that to form the rock
from which man was to hew the block, to build his
palace , myriads of reptiles and fishes should have
lived happily, and died to add their remains to the
slowly accumulating stony mass, and that later rocks
110 EVENING THE TWENTY-SECOND.
should contain the remains of animals totally distinct
from those that had gone before ; and that they in
their turn should die, giving place to other beings who
lived their day, and then gave place to others.
Char. Oh ! it is a beautiful theory of the earth’s
formation, that it should be the mere dead ruin —
the mausoleum of myriads of happy beings.
Mr. L. This successive creation and extinction of
species is one of the most wonderful revelations of
modern geology. Men read of it, and pass it b}?-, as if
it were the mere talk of the pigmy philosophers of the
day, instead of being the recorded, burnt-in, inner¬
most opinion of the first minds of this era. To
make it interest the multitude, one must bring it
down to their capacity ; one must liken it to things
that pass daily before them. Suppose that on some
given day all the countless myriads of flies and ants
were to cease to live, and that locusts and spiders
should suddenly and for the first time swarm about
our windows and rooms, and that in a few days
they should all disappear, and that their places
should be filled with scorpions and vampire bats,
and that the great work formerly performed by
flies and spiders or locusts, should still be carried on
by these newly created things — we should wonder ;
and our admiration would be more intense, if we
learnt that the flies and spiders, all over the world,
died or became extinct about the same time ; but
our wonder would be still greater, if we found the
flies and the spiders becoming slowly consolidated
into rock and stone, and that the scorpion ran over
a chimney-piece filled with the remains of dead flies,
just as we see the shells and even skeletons of fish
117
THE OCEAN AS LIZARD ’s GRAVE.
in many species of marble in daily use. This would
appear a miracle ! but Geology reveals to us a series of
such miracles, quite as astounding, if they were noted
down and reasoned upon. First comes the trilobite — it
disappears ; then in other rocks are found the remains
of others, differing in size and structure ; succeeding
rocks are the very mausolea of other creations ;
then follow lizards of vast size, and of capacious
character ; they die to give place to the Mammoth, the
Mastodon, the Dinotherium, the Megatherium, and
finally Man is created, springing into new life and
happiness ; everything noxious and hurtful buried
in the rock beneath his feet, and all that would add
to his happiness — the horse, the cow, the sheep, feed¬
ing on the herbage that springs up at his feet.
118
EVENING XXIII.
THE OCEAN AS VOLCANO QUENCHER.
Jane, Jane! said Charles, as the evening ap¬
proached, what are those lines on friendship that
our father quoted yesterday ?
Jane. Oh, let me see — Goldsmith’s, I think : —
u And what is friendship but a name —
A charm that lulls to sleep ?
A shade that follows wealth and fame,
And leaves the Avretch to weep ! ”
What of them, Charles ?
Char. Oh, nothing particular — nothing : but in
the friendship of Mr. L. there is a reality, “ a
charm ” that lulls not “ to sleep,” but to the awaken¬
ing from the dream that the cynic and the philosopher
are incapable of true friendship.
Jane. There are noble traits in our new friend’s
character — that are hidden from the world : his
travels in search of happiness — his hair-breadth
escapes — his wonderful perseverance in overcoming
difficulties — and his princely benevolence to those
who have aided him in making this vast collection.
Char. He has certainly made you his confidant,
Jane. To me his conversation, although always
delightful and original, has never contained a vestige
of his personal history.
THE OCEAN AS VOLCANO QUENCHER. 119
Jane. Oh, you men are strange creatures; there
is no detecting in your sex, at a glance, the hidden
spirit that often inhabits a tenement of the most
unprepossessing exterior : with us, half an hour’s
converse reveals the whole character, habits of
thought, likes and dislikes, general and particular
included.
Char. Jane, do not be too severe on yourself.
That transparency of character that is a blot and
blemish in man is a pearl of great price in woman ;
we admire and reverence a Mrs. Somerville or
Madame de Stael, but as to loving, that is quite out
of the question.
Jane. Where are these laughing girls ? Lucy and
Kate have become so grave that it requires the
utmost efforts of Louisa to keep them cheerful and
happy.
Char. It is ever thus with real knowledge — not
that mockery that consists in names and unrealities.
Do not imagine, Jane, that with a change of pur¬
suits, and a change of the sources of amusement and
happiness, Lucy and Kate’s perceptions of plea¬
sure are less vivid ; believe me that true pleasure
does not consist in bursts of jocund laughter, or in
the sparkling wit and repartee, but in the quiet soul-
serenity that is the certain result of an acquaintance
with the works of nature — a high and holy feel¬
ing that makes its votaries feel that they are not
fulfilling their destiny, unless their delights and
gratifications are graven in deeper characters in their
minds when the}7 dwell apart from the crowd, and
hear but the unceasing hum of the pleasure- seeking
mortals beneath their feet !
EVENING THE TWENTY-THIRD.
Jane. I could not interrupt you, my dear Charles,
but our father and the girls are half-way to Mr. L.’s.
— A moment and I will be with you.
Char. What a strange mystery is mind ! How
one thought dropt at random amidst a thousand
crude ideas, merely conglomerated together, reduces
the whole to order, and harmony, and beauty; like the
solitary crystal drop into the liquid mass of saturated
salts ; or, to be less pedantic, like the mellow note of
a solitary horn, that wakes up from their hiding-
places the echoes of a thousand hills.
The chair of the old bachelor had this night been
wheeled into an inner apartment filled with the pro¬
ducts of volcanic action, collected by him in every
part of the world — basalts, lava of every hue and
density' — in a word, specimens of all the volcanoes
now in action, as also of extinct volcanic vents, that
lit up our earth anterior to its present form.
Mr. R. Charles, Mr. L. and I have been engaged
for the last quarter of an hour in chalking out a
plan for the future. He insists upon our being his
daily guests until we return home.
Lucy. Home! father! home?
Kate. Hid you say home ? our old home ?
Mr. R. Yes, the real home, where, no doubt,
you remember the many happy days you spent there,
and -
Jane. Happy ! father. Oh ! what a mistake we
made ! why, I am ashamed to confess I had forgotten
we had a home.
Char. The wise man’s home is everywhere.
THE OCEAN AS VOLCANO QUENCHER. 121
Jane. But the wise man’s friends are not every¬
where, Charles. Alas ! that happiness should have
its shade as well as sunshine; that a summer like
this must be trodden on the heel by a winter like
the coming one.
Mr. R. But hear our plan. Our friend is so well
pleased with his last lecture, that he has volunteered
to gratify us again.
Kate. Oh ! thank you, my dear Sir ; you are too
good ! I am sure if your house were large enough to
admit lodgers, Louisa and I would take your lodgings
the moment they were ticketed 4 to be let.’
Mr. L. W ell, my dear girls, you have made me
happy once more ; your smiles have banished half a
century of care ; I am so happy that I must be
garrulous : if you do not choose to listen to my sense,
you must have nonsense. I am like the old soldier
who fought all his battles o’er again.
Mr. R. Pray, my dear friend, be seated. We w7ill
be all ear. Let our first subject be
“ The Ocean as Lava Lighter .”
Mr. L. Ladies, whenever I formerly entered this
room, I felt like a man in a mine, shut out from the
world indeed ! but shut in with the most wonderful
of God’s works. What is a volcano ? A burning
mountain. What are Vesuvius — iEtna — Hecla?
Volcanoes. What is lava — trachytic, or feld-
spathic ? ask the spectacled philosopher. What are
porph}7ry, greenstone, sienite, basalt ? the products of
volcanic action ! Good ! What more — but let that
pass-one ought to try to love even that lowest
M
122
EVENING THE TWENTY-THIRD.
order of philosophers, whose knowledge is but the
names of things. Come, Charles, you can tell us
what a volcano really is.
Char. Oh ! my dear sir. Pray tell us in your
own language.
Jane. Pray Charles, do. Mr. L. is in too excited
a state ; we must not forget he is an invalid.
Char. Jane, your wishes are commands. The vol¬
cano is to the earth its safety-valve, and its treasure-
bearer. If the volcano had never been, this earth
had been an arid and desolate waste ; rocks would
have subserved one great end of their formation — the
becoming sea-boundaries — but they would neither
have had the precious metals injected into the cre¬
vices that wind around their very core, nor wrould
they have been carpeted with a vegetation that
refreshes the eye when wearied with care, or worn
out with labour.
Mr. R. Mr. L., this will never do ! this high and
overwrought state of excitement must end. Charles
must take this little course of lectures, and you must
talk over what he is to discourse upon, quietly. I
repeat it — quietly. To-morrow night the subject will
be, “The Ocean as Lava Lighter.”
123
EVENING XXIV.
THE OCEAN AS LAVA-LIGHTER.
Char. Mr. L. has consented to become part of our
audience, reserving to himself the right of question¬
ing the lecturer, and explaining whatever he thinks
needs explanation.
Mr. L. I have taken Jane’s advice, and intend to
sit still. Lecturing is like dram-drinking — a thing so
soul-absorbing, so thoroughly the work for an enthu¬
siast like me, that I must give it up. The faculty of
thinking on one’s legs has been truly called a God¬
like gift. Now, my dear boy, for this Lava-lighting ;
the room is crowded with specimens of lava. How
was it lit up ? — by whom, or what ?
Char. In my last I hinted that the mountain would
have been barren if the volcano had not existed. I
might have said the very mountain itself was often
nothing but the result of many thousand years of
silent oceanic-volcanic action.
Jane. But how was the lava lit up ?
Char. There can be no doubt but that the centre
of the earth is composed of substances that, although
heated to an intense degree, yet exhibit no violence,
no turbulence of action, until water, ocean-water,
reaches them ; whether through some crevice formed
during the drying and hardening or baking of rock,
124
EVENING THE TWENTY-FOURTH.
or whether through a rent, produced by another
dread agent, whose violence has been experienced
in all ages : and this brings me to consider the ocean
in another aspect. Jane, you know what the earth¬
quake, or internal action like the earthquake, has
done ?
Kate. Pray let me speak. One would have thought
that politeness would have induced you to ask Lucy,
or Louisa, or your humble servant.
Louisa. There ’s no stopping these gentlemen when
they begin to talk. Lucy, my dear, we wrill get
John, the gardener, and Mary, the housemaid, and
two or three little boys from the charity school, and
lecture to them.
Kate. About earthquakes ?
Mr. L. Pray, Kate, go on. Charles shall be John
the gardener, Jane shall be Mary, and 1 and the girls
will be the little boys from the school.
Kate. Ah ! you may laugh. I can lecture very
wrell — ( Mocking Charles ) — Gentlemen, the earth¬
quake is caused by the metalloid substances called
potassium, sodium, calcium, existing in great quan¬
tities, which have a great affinity for water, which —
which — Louisa, pray help me.
Louisa. Which bursts the earth, lifts up the land,
buries the cities. There, you see, with a little prac¬
tice, Kate and I should put some of you to the blush
as lecturers.
Mr. R. Of course, this specimen is original ?
Louisa. Of course ; that is to say, quite as much
TIIE OCEAN AS LAVA-LIGHTER.
125
so as our friend Charles’s, who pilfers Lyell, Buck-
land, and Murchison, without mercy or compunction.
Char . You wilful girls, when and where ?
Kate. Why, my dear Charles, you have a very
pretty habit of turning down the corners of books of
science, and taking notes on little slips of paper, and
losing them. Lucy, Louisa, and I, have picked up
these precious relics, and just caught you — that ’s all.
Char. Confessed. I borrow everything, just as the
moon borrows the garish light of the sun to reflect it
softly on the tree and flower.
Jane. That is a beautiful line in Romeo and Juliet
— speaking of the moon-beam —
“ That silvers o’er with light the fruit-tree top.”
The evening business, once broken in upon, degene¬
rated into group-talking ; and, as illustrating one of
the modifications of the beautiful law of attraction,
Jane preferred the wisdom of the senior sages,
Mr. R. and Mr. L., whilst the younger ones clustered
around Charles, until the witching hour of night was
almost at hand.
“Good night — good night, all!” said the old beau;
and whispering to Charles, “how delightful to catch
hold of the skirts of departing Happiness, and to
bring her perforce into the presence, clothed anew in
robes of light and beauty. These are the real angels’
visits ; may they be neither 4 few nor far between !’ ”
126
EVENING XXV.
THE OCEAN AS EARTH -LIFTER.
Mr. R. There can be no doubt, Charles, that the
earth is gradually rising in various parts.
Cnar. And has ever been so. The sea is destroying
everywhere, encroaching everywhere : fixing its
relentless tooth into the very hardest rock, and
crumbling it down, to strew it on the ocean-floor
as dust.
Mr. R. The fact is undoubted, that the earth is
slowly rising up in many places.
Char. Not the slightest doubt can be entertained.
Large and vast areas, some several thousand miles in
circumference, in Scandinavia, the west coast of
South America, certain archipelagos in the Pacific;
whilst others, such as Greenland and parts of the
Indian and Pacific Oceans, are as gradually sinking,
especially parts in which atolls or circular coral
islands abound. That all existing continents, France,
Spain, Germany, and also submarine abysses and
caverns, may have originated in movements of this
kind, continued through incalculable periods of time,
is undeniable.
Mr. L. And, my dear Charles, there can be no
doubt but that much of our dry land has been
gradually pushed up by subterranean action, and in
THE OCEAN AS EARTH-LIFTER. 127
this way valleys have been cut of every size and
form by the action of running water.
Mr. R. But these are the effects of upheavings on
flat and table lands; the effect is more striking
on some of the lofty mountain ranges. Lofty hills,
like the Andes, the western part of South America,
have risen at the rate of several feet per century;
while the Pampas, on the east, have only been raised
a few feet in the same time. In Europe we have
learnt that the land at the North Cape ascends about
five feet in a century; while, further off to the south,
the movements diminish in quantity, first, to a foot,
and then, at Stockholm, to three inches in a century,
while at points still further south there is no move¬
ment.
Kate. I wish yawning were permitted in polished
assemblies. My dear Charles, forgive me, but you
are excessively stupid to-night.
Lucy. Pray, Charles, let us have something more
lively and entertaining ; I feel quite stupid. Louisa !
Louisa ! • Asleep ? Happy girl !
128
EVENING XXVI.
THE OCEAN AS EARTH-BURSTER.
Char. Who but the supreme Creator of all could
have devised a plan by which order and beauty should
cover the earth, that myriads of happy beings should
swim, or fly or crawl, over its surface, and that, when
their happy day was ended, they should die, and
that their graves should be the very sporting places,
the playgrounds where myriads of others should live
and die, and be entombed, and so on, for ages and
ages?
Mr. R. And again, Charles, that these should be
broken up and rent asunder — that in the very chasms
new animals and fishes should sport and die, and
again be burst and torn, until everything rocky in
our quarries seems to have been heaved to and fro
with irresistible power and energy.
Char. How would an artist or a mechanic who
had fashioned a piece of ingenious mechanism feel, if
some other artist broke his machine into fragments,
under the pretence of remodelling and improving it ?
Jane. Take this watch or musical snuff-box ; how
beautiful the melody of the one — how true the
time-keeping of the other ; dash one against the floor,
and the other burn with fire, and bring me the
artist who can convince me that out of these broken
THE OCEAN AS EARTH-BURSTER.
129
and incinerated fragments he will make a chronometer
or a snuff-box, evincing higher skill and workmanship
than the last ?
Louisa. Ay ! bring such a man, that we may
behold him. Our friend’s belief in mermaids and
their sea-spouses would be nothing to the sheer im¬
pudence of the charlatan who should attempt it.
Char. And yet this is nothing to what passes daily
under our very eye — nothing to what has been going
on for ages. Given an “ earth without form and
void,” to quote the exquisitely appropriate language
of scripture, how, and by what special agency is it
to be brought into fitness for the home of man ? If
in man could be vested omnipotent power, he would
doubtless have created it perfect at once, passing from
its formless to its present beauteous condition at a
bound. The Deity had higher and nobler ends and
aims. The earth was to increase in size as well as
in fitness : myriads of shell-fish were created, and so
on, to the creation of man. The acts of creation may
be looked upon as a stupendous pyramid of happiness,
man himself being the top-stone.
EVENING XXVII.
THE OCEAN AS ERIC KM AKER.
The evening being wet and cloudy, the ladies pe¬
titioned that Charles might remain at home, and
having readily complied with their request, he an¬
nounced, amid the derisive laughter of Kate and
Lucy, that he should say a little on that beautiful
aspect of the ocean — its acting as a Brickmaker.
Kate. Oh ! extremely beautiful !
Lucy. Remarkably clean !
Louisa. Interesting to ladies — very !
Char. Thank you, ladies. If I were called upon
to say in what part of this earth’s solid substance
there was shown the most profound design and fore¬
sight, 1 should at once say it was exhibited in the
universal deposit of clay almost all over the world.
Kate. My dear fellow, you know we could have
lived in tents, or log -houses.
Lucy. Or built houses with stone.
Char. Ah ! you could have done so ; but what a
paltry substitute for bricks to build houses with, which
may either be a palace for a prince or a hovel for a
pauper.
Mr. R. And look at its other uses. Every cup,
every vessel, vases of exquisite shape, glowing with
THE OCEAN AS BRICKMAKER.
1*31
colour and splendour, are also framed from it. Without
clay, man would have been a poor, wretched being.
If his house were not of stone, which it could not
often be, he could never have dwelt in cities, where
freedom was cradled — those fastnesses where the
lamp of learning was kept duly burning, when it had
been put out in baronial halls and castles.
Kate. For my part, I cannot see anything so ex¬
traordinary in it.
Char. What is clay, or gault, Kate ?
Kate. Why, my brother dear, it is clay, and grew
there, undoubtedly. You might as well ask me what
grass is, or any other ridiculous question.
Jane. Pray, Charles, tell us what it is. Its pro¬
perties of being hardened by tire are truly wonderful.
Every man having clay, has within his reach, by the
help of fire, a quarry of infinitely greater value to
him than stone itself.
Char. The history of this brickmaking clay, this
unctuous, dirty matter now on the table, is a won¬
derful one.
Kate. Ha ! ha ! Pray excuse me, Charles ; but
the history of a piece of dirt is rather ludicrous.
Louisa. Oh ! Kate, I shall laugh when I like,
for all the philosophers in Christendom. I shall
laugh when I like. I am not your sister, indeed.
Jane. My dear girls, laugh by all means, and at
all times ; but let us hear the history of this laughed-
at substance.
Char. (Taking a lump in his hand) How many
years ago this clay was a portion of a mountain of
182
EVENING THE TWENTY-SEVENTH.
vast extent and height, I dare not even guess. Pro¬
bably the earthquake rent a small chasm in the
topmost peak, or it might be riven asunder by the
lightning’s flash. The very peak that attracted the
lightning, brought near the thunder-shower, and the
crack was filled with water ; the frost commenced
the work, and never ceased till it had dislodged this
rocky fragment, to be shivered into angular frag¬
ments as it fell into the sea : thousands, myriads of
these fragments pave the sea-floor.
Jane. But I cannot see what this has to do with
clay.
Char . Stop, Jane — let Kate be impatient if she
will — remember the pieces of rock that fell into
the sea were angular-pointed. How did they become
round, either as boulders of large size, or as pebbles
of every size and colour ?
Jane. They undoubtedly became smooth by being
rolled by the waves of the sea until they rounded
each other.
Char. But what became of the fragments — the
waste that was gradually rubbed off, Lucy ?
Lucy. It became dust, I suppose — a sort of wet
dust.
Char. And where was it laid ?
Lucy. At the bottom of the ocean.
Char. And became what ?
Lucy. I am sure I cannot tell.
Char. Think.
Louisa. I see ! I see! it became gaultclay.
THE OCEAN AS BKICKMAKEIt. 13o
Char. Precisely so ; but there are other sources of
supply : the abrasion of rock by the mountain stream
—the rocky morsels gnawed off by time — the decay
of ancient rocks — all help to fill up this vast maga¬
zine of clay.
Jane. Oh then, clay is powdered stones of every
sort and kind ?
Char. Probably so ; gneiss, basalt, granite, and a
thousand others that may be seen in every gravel
heap, have been rubbed into pebbles, and the refuse,
as it would be called, is specially treasured up by
the ocean for the happiness of man.
Mr. R. And yet we hourly pass by this treasure-
bequest, a thousand times more valuable than gold
to man, and look upon it as worthless as a mere scum
or a vile sea- weed. Oh, I often think we do not
employ the faculties God has given us aright, by not
bringing these subjects more vividly before the young.
Here is a substance gathered up with care for ages.
Who has seen God in this ? Kate and Lucy, what
would you say if every time the knife grinder’s- wheel
goes round, every time the knife blade wore off ’ some
little dusty fragments from the circular piece of rock
sandstone that constitutes his grind-stone — what
would you say if little hands — fairies’ or cherubs’, if
you please — were seen gathering up every drop and
atom as it fell, and carrying it to some secure spot ;
and wherever and whenever the grinder’s stone was
in motion, that these little bodiless members were
actively at work ?
Kate. I should certainly wonder, and I fear feel
afraid,
N
134
EVENING THE TWENTY-SEVENTH.
Char . And yet this is what is and has been done
for man. Surely the time is coming when Science
will be as the index finger-post, pointing to the
Supreme Being who weighed the dust in a balance,
and the sea in the hollow of His hand !
135
EVENING XXVIII.
THE OCEAN AS MOUNTAIN-BUILDER.
Louisa. Oh, this rain ! this rain ! — surely it will
cease soon. A day within doors was always a horri¬
ble thing to me ; but to be wet this day seems scarcely
to be borne.
Jane. Very complimentary to us, Miss Louisa.
Char. And to me especially. I feel jealous of the
gay old bachelor, and I shall tell him so.
Louisa. Pray do ; and add, for his especial benefit,
that you know a young lady who thinks one rich
old bachelor worth two young beaux, who are crammed
so full of wisdom that they have no time to dance,
and romp, and talk romance with distressed damsels
on a wet day.
Char. Suppose for once we try what a whole day
of frolic and fun will do. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Let us
begin to laugh. Come, Kate, why don’t you laugh ?
Ha ! ha !
Kate. Give us the least phantom of a joke, and I’ll
laugh as immoderately as you please.
Jane. Really, Charles, how ridiculous of you :
what can you be laughing at ?
Char. At Louisa’s vexation — at the rain — at Mr.
L.’s disappointment !
130
EVENING TIIE TWENTY-EIGHTH.
Louisa . You ill-natured monster!
Char. I have a great mind to tell -
Louisa. Oh, quite welcome. I ’ll save you the
trouble. Kate and I and Lucy have received a
polite note from the old beau, inviting us to take tea
with his housekeeper, that she might show us all
over his mansion — his cabinets of metals and fossils,
together with all the antique furniture.
Kate. We had promised him to leave nothing
unexplored. The rain still goes on pattering against
the panes as if it would never cease ; and here comes
our father ; he professes weather wisdom. Any
hope, my dear father, of the weather clearing up ?
Mr. R. None whatever.
Jane. Come, Louisa, make a virtue of necessity.
Cheer up. Charles, you have often promised us a
narrative of some of your travels — what say you ?
Char. Anything — talking, singing, dancing — any¬
thing save and except wisdom. Miss Louisa has
vetoed that for the day.
Louisa. I ’m quite penitent — let there be peace
between us. The rain is coming down in such good
earnest that the torrents from the heights are begin¬
ning to be amusing.
Char. You talk of torrents and heights, Louisa :
— I remember when ascending one of the highest
mountains in India, being dreadfully alarmed at a
mountain-torrent ; rain had fallen for days, every
stream was swollen. When I had escaped from the
most imminent danger, I thoroughly enjoyed the
sublimity of the scene.
THE OCEAN AS MOUNTAIN-BUILDER.
137
Mr. 11. There is something inexpressibly grand
about these mountains ; their origin at the depths of
the sea — their gradual rise for ages and ages ! their
hoar antiquity — the mighty purposes they serve,
and the beauty they everywhere confer upon the
landscape.
Jane. And then to think that here again the ocean
has been the worker — that one ocean builds up the
boundary mountains that are to hold the waters of
smaller oceans.
Char. Thank you for the idea, Jane ; and having
walled in a minor ocean, they in their turn become
its prey, and are carried hither and thither, at the
mighty behest of Him at whose command every
atom rolls into its appropriate place.
n 2
EVENING XXIX.
THE EARTH AS BASIN-FILLER.
The morning being auspicious, the young ladies
who had been so disappointed yesterday were on
the alert. The sun shone with uncommon splen¬
dour, and after strolling over the beach, and having
recourse to every conceivable method of pushing
“ Time” on, the happy hour at length arrived. They
ran down the slope with the wild glee of giddy,
unthinking youth, having previously extorted a pro¬
mise from Charles to fetch them at an early hour.
Jane and Charles were left alone, and as was
always the case, she had a thousand questions to ask.
Jane. In what was said yesterday, Charles, of
mountains, no mention was made of their vast utility
in upheaving the level and horizontal rocks — that
seems to be the most mysterious part of their uses
— and one which it is extremely difficult to com¬
prehend.
Char. There can be no doubt however of the fact,
that if it had not been for the violent upheaving of
mountains — if they had not exerted an upward force
in breaking and dislocating and almost making per¬
pendicular various rocks — a force so infinitely greater
than man can comprehend or calculate — man would
have been a wretched wanderer upon the earth, the
THE EARTH AS BASIN-FILLER. 1G9
object of scorn and derision of the chimpanzee and
the baboon, who would have disputed with him,
successfully, the title to be the “ Lord of the
Creation.”
Jane. I have often thought, Charles, what ruin
and confusion would have been the result of one act
of forgetfulness in this earth -fashioning, if one can
without irreverence conceive that possible which is
altogether impossible.
Char. Oh, Jane ! how trippingly the tongue speaks
the word God ! How unsolemnly we talk of the
Divine Creator, and yet how illimitable, how bound¬
less, how vast the distance between Him and us !
To have built a beautiful earth like this, with its
mountains and seas and rocks, would require a mind
coeval with this planet in age and co-equal with the
Divine fabricator in wisdom. Oh ! how it brings
proud man down, and yet how it elevates him.
There is, in very deed, a soul-ennobling feeling that
flows from these pursuits that mere literature can
never bestow.
Jane. But you promised to say something about
the part the mountain formed as a basin-filler.
Char. We will defer that till our next meeting,
Jane, when we shall discuss the part the ocean plays
as u Coal carrier but that must be at Mr. L.’s,
for he has some splendid specimens of coal and slates,
polished, and forming the chief ornaments of one of
his upper rooms.
HO
EVENING XXX.
THE OCEAN AS SLATE-MAKER.
Kate. Oh, Jane, you should have been there;
there were chairs of the oddest fashion, stools and
beds so grotesque and fantastical, that I cannot, even
now, think of them without laughing.
Lucy. And, Jane, the floors were all of polished
slate, of every colour, from blue to jet black.
Louisa. Shale or schist, my dear Lucy, not slate •
Now that we are philosophers, and think with the
wise, we must on no account talk with the vulgar.
Kate. I could almost go into hysterics at the
thought of that old sofa.
Lucy. Carved and cut out after the fashion of the
ugliest of the Saurian monsters — the Megathen-some-
thing Saurian.
Louisa. I have pencilled the horrid creature’s
name down on this card — “ The Megalosaurus.” I
am quite in love with the names of the wretches.
How I shall bother poor Mary when I return home,
with Pentacrinites, Briareus, and Belemnosepia.
( Mimicking ). Mary, bring in the Loligo.
Jane. Oh, you wicked girl, what will she know
about Loligo?
Louisa. 1 ’ll explain it, as those learned Thebans,
THE OCEAN AS SLATE-MAKER.
141
Charles there anti your father, often do, by changing
one hard word into a harder. Bring in the Sepia
officinalis, Mary, with the Loligo.
Kate. You mean the pen and ink ?
Louisa. The very same. There ’s progress for
you. I read all about this wonderful substance in
Dr. Buckland this morning, when I stole into
Charles’s library, ostensibly to look for a book, but
in reality to see if Charles was there.
Char. You are past mending, Louisa; but lam
glad you read that chapter on the fossil remains of
ancient cuttle-fish.
Louisa. I should have skipped over it if I had not
read a note so complimentary to Miss Mary Arming,
of Lyme Regis, for having done so much for science
in bringing to light these fossil reptiles.
Mr. R. Nothing that the industry of Miss Arm¬
ing has enabled her to discover is more wonderful
than this — that not only is the animal itself fossilized
and preserved, but also the ink which enabled it to
elude the pursuit of the monsters of the primaeval
ocean.
Char. It was hardly to be expected that we should
find, amid the petrified remains of animals of the
ancient world (remains of which have been buried
for countless centuries in the deep foundations of the
earth), traces of so delicate a fluid as the ink which
was contained within the bodies of extinct species
that perished at a period so inconceivably remote.
Jane. I read one day, Charles, that Cuvier drew
142
EVENING THE THIRTIETH.
his figures of the recent cuttle-fish with fossil ink
from the ancient species.
Mr. R. And you also, perhaps, remember that as
the ink-bags are frequently full, it is thought that
they died suddenly , and were quickly buried in the
sediment that formed the strata in which they are
now found.
Jane. A most delightful interruption certainly ;
but pray, Louisa, tell us all about the slate you
mentioned.
Louisa. Miss Jane, I must remind you that slate
is vulgar ; I have micaceous sehists and common
ones, written down, with notes from Mr. L .’s descrip¬
tion.
Jane. Did you actually take notes?
Louisa. Did I, indeed ? yes, and of other things
too. Did you remark, Lucy, how concerned he was
when I told him J ane would not come with us ?
Lucy. And how often he addressed me as Jane ?
Kate. And how he told us that she reminded him
of a portrait up-stairs ?
Char. It’s all badinage, Jane, merely to consume
the time ; Louisa has pencilled down half-a-dozen
names, and like other persons 1 have known, can
make nothing of them. I will help her out — shall
I, Louisa ?
Louisa. If you are in such a great hurry, pray do ;
I suppose ladies are not to be permitted a few seconds
to read their notes — a privilege specially to be con-
THE OCEAN AS SLATE-MAKER. 143
ceded to gentlemen — and they need it often enough,
as everybody knows.
Char. Perhaps it will be better to defer this shale
or slate discussion till to-morrow, when we can con¬
nect with it the far more interesting one of the
formation of coal.
344
EVENING XXXL
THE OCEAN AS COAL-CARRIER.
Char. Jane, what an evening for preparing the
mind for dwelling upon the beneficence of the Deity !
There is such exquisite rapture felt in this unfolding
the mysteries of ages long, long past — a feeling so
elevated, so pure and serene, that care and trouble,
the inheritances of man, are forgotten.
Jane. I often think, Charles, that the pleasures
experienced in the study of the works of Nature will
not cease with this life, that they will still constitute
the delights and pleasures to be experienced in another
world ; but heightened by the beholding brightly and
clearly all that we now see “ as through a glass
darkly.”
Char. Do you, indeed, think so, Jane ? Strange
that this sentiment should never have found utterance
before. Oh, Jane, this feeling is ever present with
me ; gilding the refined gold of past recollections, and
painting the lily of present enjoyments. I make no
parade of a knowledge that all might acquire if they
once experienced the pleasure it brings. I can reveal
to no one the exquisite gratification afforded by these
stray glimpses adown the dim and hazy vista of
Time ! My thanks to the Giver of all for the
bestowment of a mind susceptible of these Divine
enjoyments, ascend unuttered, unheard. My yearn-
THE OCEAN AS COAL-CARRIER.
145
ings after more and more knowledge, and my desires
that a clearer insight into the hidden mysteries of
creation might be given, are all hid from mortal eye,
too sacred for utterance ! but their results are open
to you — to all ! perfect content with everything, and a
constant, joyous, happy buoyancy of spirit, at the very
sight of which dull care and melancholy fly away !
Jane. I think no one is happy who has not some
one pet study. Do not you ?
Char. Nothing is more strongly impressed upon
my mind than the truth that the idle hours of the
mind should always be spent in riding some favourite
hobby-horse, no matter what. Geology, concliology,
carving antique faces on umbrella handles, or music,
or painting. I have seen some extraordinary instances
of the development of latent mental energy by the
devotion to the acquisition of some one science. Of
all dreadful things, a mind unoccupied with some one
darling pursuit is the most dire affliction.
Jane. You, Charles, cannot tell what it is, having
never experienced it.
Char. Not exactly, Jane ; but I have seen it in
others. Oh, that dreadful, mental yawning, that
proceeds from the vacuity of a mind unoccupied
with the achievement of some one grand pro¬
ject of a life, after the daily labour is over. Oh,
the miseries of a night spent in mere sleeping, and
awaking just to travel over the old round and sleep
again ! this surely is not living as if we believed body
and mind were united ; but as if the immortal mind
were chained to the body, like a corpse bound to the
o
146
EVENING THE THIRTY-FIRST.
body of a living man. But here comes father, with
the girls.
Louisa. Very pretty indeed, Mr. Charles ; remark¬
ably attentive to your visitors ! your humble servant,
of course, has no pretensions to be able to converse
with such highly polished and intellectual people,
but -
Char. But — nothing ! Are you ready to go ? —
Come, Louisa, take my arm. Surely we are good
friends — are we not ?
Louisa. Upon probation only, instantly to be dis¬
carded if disapproved. I mean to attach myself to
the gay old bachelor all the evening ; but still you
may walk with me, if you will ; but promise to listen
to me.
Char. Granted — now begin.
Mr. R. Pray cease talking, and let us hasten to
our friend; if I am not mistaken, he has been on
the look-out for the last half-hour.
Nothing could exceed the cordiality of the greeting.
There was a spruceness in his appearance, a modern¬
izing, that afforded Louisa a fund of amusement. The
gout had capitulated, and he insisted upon handing
the tea to several of the young ladies, amidst the
loudest protestations to the contrary.
Mr. L. Pray let me -be happy my own way, girls.
If I ’m still I shall weep, or some such nonsense
( brushing away a tear that stole down his cheek). Bless
me, it seems true — once a man and twice a child !
Mr. R. My dear friend, do as you please ; your
THE OCEAN AS COAL-CARRIER. 147
happiness is ours, but we must remind you of your
promise.
Mr. L. Come, Jane ( offering his arm), I have
not forgotten it. This is the last freak of my past
mad days — Open, Sesame! - Hah, Jane! why
start ?
Jane. Oh, how beautiful !
Louisa. Let me stay, Charles : I will stay, to look
upon it at a distance.
Mr. R. Let Mr. L. and Jane go on. Charles, this
was as he says his last freak ; the whole of the furni¬
ture here is coal and slate ; and the drawings that hang
from the walls are the plants of which coal is chiefly
composed.
Char. Look here, Louisa ! look at these magnificent
palms.
Louis. A gigantic houseleek ; surely, Charles,
houseleek has nothing to do with coal. Do you
imagine that the coal trees and plants grew where
they are found, or elsewhere, and floated down some
river or sea ?
Char. Both, probably ; here is a beautiful model of
a coal mine ; enter this tunnel. I fancy myself in a
fairy land; see how beautifully the jetty columns
sparkle with light.
Lucy. Extraordinary ! the foliage from the roof,
the fruits and flowers that hang pendent, are added, I
suppose, to give effect ?
Char. Oh dear no ! In some coal mines no sculp¬
tured tracery can be more beautiful than the fossil
plants that are preserved in the shales ; plants and
148
EVENING THE THIRTY-FIRST.
trees that exist also in the coal, but have been either
destroyed by heat, or hidden by the mixture of some
pitchy or bituminous matter to make it coal.
Mr. L. Charles, now you have ciceroned the ladies
through my colliery, bring them here. Here is a little
collection of ferns, palms, and plants, found in coal.
1 was once, Jane, an amateur in coal mines. I have
seen more splendid things in a coal mine than any¬
where upon earth.
Louisa. Really, Mr. L., are you talking seriously?
beauty in a coal mine — impossible ! You forget, sir,
there are no ladies there.
Char. Oh, I quite believe it, Jane. I recollect in
Bohemia, the most elaborate imitations of living
foliage upon the painted ceilings of Italian palaces
bear no comparison with the beauteous profusion of
extinct vegetable forms with which the galleries of
these instructive coal mines are overhung. The roof
is covered -
Louisa. Pardon me, Charles. It seems amazingly
like something about page 458 of a certain Bridge-
water Treatise — nameless, of course.
Char. The roof is covered as with a canopy of
gorgeous tapestry, enriched with festoons of the most
graceful foliage, flung in wild irregular profusion over
every portion of its surface. The effect is heightened
by the coal-black colour of these vegetables, with the
light ground of the rock to which they are attached.
The spectator feels himself transported, as if by
enchantment, into the forests of another world ; he
beholds trees, of form and characters now unknown
upon the surface of the earth, presented to his senses
THE OCEAN AS COAL-CARRIER.
149
almost in the beauty and vigour of the primaeval
life ; their scaly stems and bending branches, with
their delicate apparatus of foliage, are all spread
before him, little impaired by the lapse of countless
ages, and bearing faithful records of extinct systems
of vegetation, which began and terminated in times
of which these relics are the infallible historians.
Mr. R. Jane ! Louisa ! Lucy ! behold the grand
natural herbarium, wherein these most ancient re¬
mains of the vegetable kingdom are preserved in a
state of integrity, but little short of their living per¬
fection and beauty.
Char. Recording not only plants themselves, but
also the conditions of our planet which exist no more.
o
9
150
EVENING XXXII.
THE OCEAN AS SEED-FLOATER.
The recent chafing of the ocean had strewed the
beach with fragments of rock and weed ; no incon¬
siderable curiosity was excited by the fact of a cocoa-
nut being observed floating in the midst of some
gluey substance, with which the girls were not
acquainted. On their return home, they determined
to seek out Charles, and ask him whether it were
possible that this cocoa-nut could have swam from
the island upon which it grew ; and not a few ques¬
tions were to be put relative to the glue in which
it was enveloped, or rather with which it was
covered.
Jane. I incline to the opinion, that it has floated
here from some island upon which it grew.
Louisa. Who ever heard, Jane, of these a being
one of the agents employed in carrying seeds from
one part of the earth to another ?
Jane. Why, Louisa, there can be no doubt but
that the sea transports seeds from the fertile and cul¬
tivated island to the more lonely and desolate shores
where vegetation is in its infancy, to shores yet un¬
trodden by the beast of the forest, or by his lord and
master.
Char. The whole business of dispersing and pro¬
tecting the seeds of plants and trees is most wonder-
THE OCEAN AS SEED-FLOATER. 151
ful ; here we have the seed raised on a tall stalk that
the wind may waft it away from the parent plant ;
these wings, the most buoyant and feathery, are given
for a like purpose ; in others, they are preserved
whilst passing through the alimentary canals of ani¬
mals, or they cling to the coats of animals, or they
float in water, or, by an elastic spring, they are for¬
cibly thrown from the parent plant.
Jane. How beautiful to think, that the very wave
that chafes the naked coral rocks of the great Pacific
Ocean, is the bearer of the seed that is to clothe them
with vegetation, and to fit them for the habitation of
man ! Surely, Lucy, this could not be the result of
accident.
Char . Oh ! dear no, Jane. The buoyancy of
the cocoa-nut, the resisting investments, and the
vitality of seeds, were not necessities ; but without
these wonderful contrivances the islands themselves
would have been created for no purpose, and the won¬
derful plan of forming new continents and new islands
out of the ruins of the old would have been thwarted.
Mr. R. Of the composition of the mucilage that
adheres to these and other sea-seeds, but little can be
known. It is a gum which water cannot dissolve,
but which enables the seeds of the fuci to adhere to
whatever solid body they touch ; even, as seamen
know too well, to the very copper with which they
attempt to protect their ships from this invasion.
Char. Let chemistry name another mucilage, a
substance which water cannot dissolve, though ap¬
parently already in solution in water, and then ask if
this extraordinary secretion was not designed for the
152
EVENING THE THIRTY-SECOND.
special end attained ; and whether also it does not
afford an example of that Power which has only to
will, that it may produce what it desires, even by
means the most improbable.
Louisa. Thank you, Charles. You have said
nothing of the down of the willow-seed — a tree every¬
where the inhabitant of rivers — a seed that is both
ship and balloon, a precious freight for posterity in
the most distant regions ; sailing on the bosom of the
crested wave, and wafted by the breeze that is
employed in its conveyance to the destined spot
where it is to take root, and become the parent of
trackless forests, and the maker of jungles and miry
sedges, where the tiger loves to lie in wait for his
prey.
153
EVENING XXXIII.
THE OCEAN AS CORAL-FEEDER.
Early in the morning, a large box arrived from
Mr. L., and a note to Charles from the same quarter,
intimating that he should be his self-invited guest for
a few days. This was looked upon by Charles and
Jane as a triumph of no ordinary magnitude.
Jane. The whole seems to be a dream, Charles;
it seems but as yesterday, that our dear friend was
deemed by us as a sort of harmless lunatic, unfit for
the society of polished and intellectual beings, having
no sympathy with his kind ; and we find him to be
one of the most estimable of men.
Char. Mr. L., Jane, is a fair sample of a small
class of men, for which the world, in its superior
wisdom, would long ago have prescribed a strait-
waistcoat. In their eyes I am mad ; and when they
know your new tastes and pursuits, Jane, they will
deem you so too.
Jane. I shall bless and thank them for it, if
exclusion from their society be the punishment —
but what further says the note ?
Char. Read it for yourself. (Reads) — “ I have
enclosed some specimens of coral and coralline rock,
and shall be happy to discuss with you in the
evening the subject of coral formations, a subject to
me of the deepest interest.”
EVENING THE THIRTY-THIRD.
154
Throughout the whole day preparations and
arrangements on an unusual scale were apparent —
Jane was as usual the presiding genius — but upon
Louisa and Lucy fell the burden of diffusing an air
of cheerfulness over the whole household. Life was
to them one long sunny day — Jane’s was beginning
to have its clouds. Every one having performed her
allotted share of the work, was ready to receive Mr.
L., and just as Louisa was bantering Jane on the
plainness and neatness of her evening costume, he
drove to the door, surprising everybody who had seen
him hobbling through his apartments two or three
weeks before.
Mr. L. Well, Jane, where is my old enemy and
tormentor ?
Louisa. Here, at your service — but pray let me
wheel the old chair that is especially reserved for
you, with all the et ceteras of cushions and footstools.
Char. What an antediluvian memory you have,
Louisa ! Gout and care are extinct species of bodily
and mental maladies ; and happiness, and hope, and
health, are our new and living creations.
Lucy. My dear Mr. L., there is an intention to
surprise you this evening — a plan has been concocting
all day to get up something like your Mermaid’s
' Hall on a small scale; — they have shut me out, so I
revenge myself by telling you.
Mr. L. Never mind, Lucy, I will avenge your
quarrel by appearing unmoved at all they show me —
but here comes Charles.
Char. My dear sir, we are greatly obliged by the
THE OCEAN AH COAL-FEEDER.
155
present of this morning. The pentacrinites and the
lily encrinites are beautiful. Jane has placed them
in her room as her especial property.
Mr. L. Every thing connected with the interior
of the earth is beautiful : but let us wTalk in your
garden — I have so long enjoyed the sea-breezes that
I cannot live without them.
All were impatient for the evening to set in.
The fire blazed with unwonted brightness — each
face was radiant with happiness — the table in the
centre was filled wTith specimens of coral — and the
general happiness seemed complete, when Mr. L.,
accompanied by Charles and his father, entered the
room.
Louisa. I must and will speak first, Jane. I lay
claim to this magnificent piece of coral.
Lucy. And I to this.
Mr. L. Pray, ladies, consider them all your own.
Perceiving that Louisa and Lucy would be enamoured
of these corals, I have brought Jane one of equal size
and beauty, but already cut into beads.
Louisa. Oh, how large ! how beautiful ! After
all I do not think these on the table so very beautiful.
Lucy. Nor I.
Mr. L. Indeed ! then I must open another little
packet here.
Louisa. Oh you tantalizing and tiresome man !
Two others, not quite so beautiful as Jane’s, but
labelled, “ For Louisa and Lucy, friends of L,”
156 EVENING THE THIRTY-THIRD.
Mr. L. Sav not a word. Who would ever have
%>
thought of building a barrier to the sea-wave by the
agency of a little polyp something like our sea
anemone ?
Charles. There is nothing in the formation of
the earth more wonderful than this ; imagine a
solitary polyp wandering through the ocean-depths,
alighting at last upon a submarine rock, or volcanic
cone, or ridge, and commencing its solitary work !
As it grew, thousands of young polypi peeped out
from their little homes, eacli one taking up the
parent office of building up reefs and islands — the
one for a home, and the other for a sea-barrier from
hostile armaments, for man.
Jane. Some of these reefs are of enormous length.
Charles. Oh yes ! of many hundred miles.
Louisa. I cannot see the utility of these coral-
reefs.
Mr. L. Not see them ? why their uses are very
numerous ; but you must read the work of Mr.
Ellis on corallines, and afterwards Montgomery’s
beautiful poem, “ The Pelican Island. ’
Louisa. Thank you. Pray, Jane, take a memo¬
randum of these books, and read them for me,
my dear girl. There is really so much to do every
day that Lucy and I have no time for reading. We
shall drop in to-morrow morning, Jane, to inquire
about Messrs. Ellis and Montgomery.
Mr. L. What do you think, Jane, is another pur¬
pose for which these industrious coralline polypi
were formed ?
THE OCEAN AS CORAL-FEEDEIl. 157
Jane. I know not, — until within a few days or
weeks, I have known nothing of them beyond their
being connected with coral heads.
Mr. L. They are the scavengers of the ocean,
Jane; of the lowest class, indeed, but perpetually
employed in cleansing its waters from impurities
that escape the crustaceous fishes, in the same
manner that the insect tribes upon earth, in their
various stages, are destined to find their food by
devouring impurities caused by dead animal and
vegetable matter upon the land.
Charles. I recollect well, that Mr. De la Beche
observed that the polypes of the Caryophillia Smithii
devoured portions of the flesh of fishes; seizing them
with their tentacula, and digesting them within the
central sac that forms their stomach.
Mr. L. We have before said that they cannot
work above the water; there is reason to believe
that the action of the air and water upon the upper
layer decomposes it, and that it falls down to the
depths of the sea as common chalk.
Jane. Common chalk, Mr. L. ? Chalk the result
of decaying coralline ? Wonderful !
Mr. L. Jane, everything is wonderful that is new.
But let us drop this subject for the present, and talk
of a plan for a sea- voyage next month. To Charles
alone have I revealed the rough outline of the
plan.
All discourse about corals and polypi of course
came to an instant conclusion, the girls grouped round
Mr. L., and the night was far advanced before they
retired to rest.
p
EVENING XXXIV.
THE OCEAN AS A ROOF.
The announcement of a sea-voyage to the Isles
of Greece ; to the romantic shores of the Mediterra¬
nean ; to wander through the classic land of Italy ; to
see actual volcanoes; rendered the “ Evenings” tedious
and irksome to the girls, with the exception of Jane ;
hour after hour was spent in asking questions, the appe¬
tite for knowledge grew with what it fed on. After
attempting ,to bring all the family together two
evenings in vain, the plan was given up as far as
regards the fair sex, and the trio of philosophers,
Mr. R., Charles and Mr. L. determined to draw one
another out as usual.
Charles. I have been thinking this morning, Mr.
L., that the ocean plays a very important part as a
sort of Earth Roof, by the immense pressure of which
the imprisoned gases and other heated materials are
confined within the bowels of the earth.
Mr. L. I look upon the waters of the ocean as
pressing upon a yielding and elastic earth-covering,
acting like a vast hydrostatic machine, and compress¬
ing the fluid contents beneath until they find vent in
some distant mountain range.
Charles. It may be so ; but I imagine the pressure
is caused by the ignition of the imprisoned metal-
THE EARTH AS A ROOF. 159
loids, caused by the rushing of water through the
numberless fractures in the ocean’s floor.
Mr. R. What an object of wonder and curiosity
must this same ocean-floor be, saying nothing of its
riches — of its ruins — its argosies — its living and dead
inhabitants ! What mighty changes are going on
there ! What sleeping thunders are awakened up
when the earthquake rumbles through its hollow
bosom ! What destruction, when fragments of ocean-
floor are hurled up by a volcanic cone just piercing
through the rocky crust !
Charles. The floors of ancient oceans must have
been the scenes of perpetual turbulence and ruin. If
the sea was, as I believe, thickly studded with vol¬
canoes, what destruction of life must have resulted
therefrom !
Mr. L. When you call to see me again, Charles,
you must look at my specimens of ocean-floor — fishes
suddenly deprived of life by liquid rock, that burst in
upon them, others choked by an irruption of mud or
fluid chalk, but all furnishing specimens of rock and
stone, susceptible of polish.
Charles. Who could ever have conceived the
plan but the Maker of Heaven and Earth ! The
exquisite marbles that adorn our fire-places, and the
statuary that bestows immortality alike upon the
hero, and the temple that contains all of Him that
Time has left for mortals to look at ; who would
have ever dreamed that a material so exquisitely
beautiful was the result of the bursting of the sea¬
floor and the destruction of myriads of fishes ?
EVENING XXXV.
THE OCEAN AS E ARTH-QUAKEIl.
Mr. li. Among the truths that are becoming
quite common-place, may be classed the just and
rational ideas now prevalent on the subject of earth¬
quakes.
Charles. True of rational men in civilised countries,
where earthquakes are not ; but not so of countries
where they are frequent.
Mr. R. Of course the earthquake must ever be
an object of dread, just as the storm, and the hurri¬
cane, and the simoom, and the tornado are ; but no
more.
Mr. L. I have no recollection of any event that
appeared to bring me so immediately into the presence
of God as the first earthquake I felt, and the first
eruption of a neighbouring volcano that followed it ;
but this feeling soon wore off, and I now look upon
the earthquake as a telegraph announcing to me that
the beneficent purposes of the Deity in forming new
lands, and in fertilizing the Earth, are not yet come
to an end.
Charles. This is indeed one of the sublime uses of
philosophy, that it reveals to us the universal bene¬
volence of the Divine Architect. If a shoal of fishes
are choked by volcanic mud, it is to form a slab of
THE OCEAN AS EARTH-QUAKER.
163
rock for man ; if lava overrun a desolate rocky
steep, it is that it may decompose and become rich
and fertile soil. If stones and rocky fragments are
hurled into the air, it is that they may fall upon the
ocean-floor, he chafed with the surging wave, and
finally moulded into fitness and beauty for man’s
purposes. Every act, whether the creation of a
coralline polyp, or the bursting forth of millions of
tons of liquid lava — all attest the same glorious fact
that “ God careth for Man.”
Mr. L. I find these Evenings must come to a
close ; the girls’ heads are evidently turned with the
prospects of our autumnal sea- voyage. We must
therefore close with another Evening. I regret that
the list, the original list, cannot be completed.
Charles. The list ! what list ?
Mr. L. Oh ! Charles, a friend of yours, and a very
particular friend of mine, has furnished me with notes
of the whole Evenings. I shall never cease to regret
that so many precious days were lost to me. Oh ! the
Ocean Caverns would have been a beautiful subject,
how they were lit up by phosphoric lights. How
they, tenantless and lone, were moulded silently into
fitness and beauty for their future inhabitants ! How —
Mr. R. But, my dear Sir, we must have an Even¬
ing for the Ocean as Sea-sun, and then we must cease
for a season.
102
EVENING XXXVI.
THE OCEAN AS A SEA-SUN.
Mr. L. My dear Mr. R., after the excitement of
last evening, let this be one of quiet and repose. I
am like a man who, having composed himself to die
quietly and decently, suddenly finds himself growing
stronger and stronger, and having an increased relish
for life and its enjoyments. I still seem to have a
work to do ; and, if life and health be given me, I
will do it.
Mr. R. There spoke out my old friend. After
a quarter of a century of mind-hybernation, it is
delightful to see the awakening. It has ever been
my fervent wish, that you should leave to posterity
something that the “ world would not willingly let
die.”
Mr. L. Thank you ! thank you ! “ no more of
that, Hal ! an’ thou lovcst me.” I shall be a child
again ! Pray hold your tongue, Charles ! I know
what you would say. Did you see the dead fish
thrown up by the waves last night ?
Charles. I had the curiosity to have large portions
of it brought to me, and, as the night came on, it
was perfectly luminous; even the very knives with
which it was cut shone with a bright blue light.
Mr. L. In going back to the era when the sea
THE OCEAN AS A SEA-SUN. 163
teemed with life, and probably before the rays of the
sun illumined the surface of the waves, it was ne¬
cessary that the eye of the voracious shark or saurian
should direct him to the dead and living fish upon
which he was to prey.
Mr. R. How was this to be performed ? I have
but a faint idea myself.
Mr. L. Picture to yourself an earth whose at¬
mosphere was dark, with dank and sulphurous and
noisome vapours, but whose ocean depths of 6000 feet
teemed with life. Eyes of gigantic size were bestowed
upon the fiercest pursuers, and eyes were also given
universally to the pursued. Why ? Whence came
the light in either case ?
Charles. He who created the difficulty invented
the remedy. In some tribes they are luminous during
life ; but in all, long before they are too putrid for
food, they become phosphorescent.
Mr. L. Or, in plainer words, they become sea-
lamps, lighting up the depths of the ocean, to enable
myriads of fishes to discover their daily food. But
this is not all ; the very water itself has the faculty
of dissolving the light-giving body, and making the
surface-wave bright and luminous.
Mr. R. Is the colour of the light ever the same ?
Mr. L. Oh no ! Sometimes snow-white, or else
electric-blue, or of a greenish tinge, or reddish, or
yellow.
Charles. I recollect, when sailing in - - Bay,
in the year 1840, that every flash of the oar seemed
to gild the wave with a scarlet light. There seems
164
EVENING TI1E THIRTY-SIXTH.
a striking analogy running through the whole crea¬
tion. Man dies, and it is all but an instinct to
remove him out of our sight. Animals die, and the
keener-scented are gifted with the instinct of detecting
the death-odour even during life — whilst the duller
are allured by the decomposition from immense dis¬
tances. In fishes the process of decay is stopped, that
the floor of the ocean may be lit up with undying and
unfading lights.
165
EVENING XXXVII.
THE FAREWELL.
The last Evening on Land, after the lapse of three
days to enable each party to pack up all that would
be required for a short sea excursion, Charles an¬
nounced that on the morrow their vessel would be
ready. lie was also the bearer of a message from
Mr. L., inviting the whole party to spend the last
Evening with him, and to embark from thence at
early dawn.
This last Evening had long been anticipated by all,
but by no one with more anxiety than Jane. To
Louisa and Kate every change would have been
delightful, but to Jane this voyage, for many rea¬
sons, was especially so. — As Mr. R. had promised to
see all the luggage on board, Charles and his sisters
bade farewell to their sea home, where the rare art of
studying each other’s happiness had been practised
with success.
They found Mr. L. in a state of despondency that
almost alarmed them. He spoke gloomily of the
forthcoming voyage, and hinted that it was late in
the season for an old man to go to sea. Charles,
who knew how strongly his mind clung to his fossil
treasures, foresaw this, and endeavoured to lead his
mind away from the objects of its present fondness.
166 EVENING THE THIRTY-SEVENTH.
but dilating with rapture of the exquisite gratifica¬
tion he would have in revisiting the scenes of his
early youth, and the certain additions that he would
be enabled to make to his unrivalled collection.
Charles . In addition to all this, there will be the
delightful office of communicating all you observe to
minds in some degree prepared for it.
Louisa. And Mr. L. you know, you and I are
under an engagement to peep into the first volcanic
crater we come near — always provided it has been
still and quiet for a month before our visit.
Mr. L. Ah, Louisa ! promises are made to be
broken. When this was made, I felt young again,
now I am little better than a feeble old man.
Louisa. Remarkably feeble, certainly ! and old
enough to be one’s father, without doubt ! but the
oddity of the thing is, that the attack of old age and
debility has come on so very suddenly. Come, I
must turn doctor I see. How far did you walk
yesterday, Sir?
Mr. Jj. Four miles.
Louisa. What did you partake of for dinner yes¬
terday ?
Mr. L. Let me see. — Fish, fowl, and a tart or so.
Louisa. And wine ?
Mr. L. Yes, miss, wine !
Louisa. And until last night slept soundly ?
Mr. L. Very soundly !
Louisa. Very bad symptoms, truly ! Are you
not ashamed of yourself ? Hypocrisy is barely en-
THE FAREWELL. 167
durable in a young lady, but in a very old and feeble
man quite shocking !
Mr. L. What do you prescribe, Miss?
Louisa. Oh ! that you shall be compelled to
listen to all the nonsense that Kate and I can utter
for the next three hours.
Mr. L. I feel the virtues of the prescription
already. Really I am not so very feeble after all.
Kate. But sitll very old, 44 little better than a
feeble old man.”
Mr. L. Come, girls, a truce to this. I was in a
melancholy mood ; the sight of you all has cured
me. Come, Kate and Louisa, I will challenge you
to jump over one of those packing-cases now lying
in the hall. — But where ’s Jane ?
Charles. Jane has caught your gloominess, but the
clouds are brightening up apace.
Mr. L. Charles! Jane! pardon me. At this
moment I feel that one of the great ends of living is
to make others happy. If my life is spared, I will
devote myself to this one object, with an energy that
shall atone for years and years of selfish and solitary
unfriendliness with my fellow beings.
Charles. Would that this sentiment were universal !
Jane. Would that all men devoted themselves to
the happiness of others as zealously and as usefully
as you have, Charles ! Oh, what a happy world
would it be.
Charles. The secret was revealed to me when a
boy, that no happiness could be greater than making
others so. Manhood has vastly multiplied the
168
EVENING THE THIRTY-SEVENTH.
means, and has brought with it increased desires to
live in the midst of a joyous circle — the happiness-
maker of all within my reach and influence.
Note. — If this humble attempt to interweave the warp of
science with the woof of fiction should be as favourably received
as our former little volume, “ The ‘ Sea Voyage ’ of Charles
and his Sisters ” would furnish materials the most ample for
another volume.
THE END.
LONDON !
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIAR3.
A- - ■ —
A LIST
OF
MARY HOWITTS JUVENILE BOOKS,
ENTITLED
for tTje $3c0jple airtr tljetr CTjtftfint.
- ♦ -
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1. STRIVE AND THRIVE.
2. SOWING AND REAPING.
3. LITTLE COIN MUCH CARE.
4. HOPE ON HOPE EVER.
5. WHO SHALL BE GREAT¬
EST.
6. WORK AND WAGES.
7. ALICE FRANKLIN.
8. NO SENSE LIKE COMMON
SENSE.
9. LOVE AND MONEY.
10. WHICH IS THE WISER ?
11. MY UNCLE THE CLOCK
MAKER.
12. THE TWO APPRENTICES.
13. MY OWN STORY ; or THE
AUTO -BIOGRAPHY OF
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4s. 6d.
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AND AMERICA, 7s. 6d.
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