or cold epochs are produced, and which can hardly be called "catastrophistic," as they are produced gradually, and are liable to recur at definite intervals.

Admitting, then, that there is a truth at the bottom of the once current doctrines of catastrophism, still it remains certain that the history of the earth has been one of law in all past time, as it is now. Nor need we shrink back affrighted at the vastness of the conception—the vaster for its very vagueness—that we are thus compelled to form as to the duration of geological time. As we grope our way backward through the dark labyrinth of the ages, epoch succeeds to epoch, and period to period, each looming more gigantic in its outlines and more shadowy in its features, as it rises, dimly revealed, from the mist and vapour of an older and ever-older past. It is useless to add century to century or millennium to millennium. When we pass a certain boundary-line, which, after all, is reached very soon, figures cease to convey to our finite faculties any real notion of the periods with which we have to deal. The astronomer can employ material illustrations to give form and substance to our conceptions of celestial space; but such a resource is unavailable to the geologist. The few thousand years of which we have historical evidence sink into absolute insignificance beside the unnumbered æons which unroll themselves one by one as we penetrate the dim recesses of the past, and decipher with feeble vision the ponderous volumes in which the record of the earth is written. Vainly does the strained intellect seek to overtake an ever-receding commencement, and toil to gain some adequate grasp of an apparently endless succession. A beginning there must have been, though we can never hope to fix its point. Even speculation droops her wings in the attenuated atmosphere of a past so remote, and the light of imagination is quenched in the darkness of a history so ancient. In time, as in space, the confines of the universe must ever remain concealed from us, and of the end we know no more than of the beginning. Inconceivable as is to us the lapse of "geological time," it is no more than "a mere moment of the past, a mere infinitesimal portion of eternity." Well may "the human heart, that weeps and trembles," say, with Richter's pilgrim through celestial space, "I will go no farther; for the spirit of man acheth with this infinity. Insufferable is the glory of God. Let me lie down in the grave, and hide me from the persecution of the Infinite, for end, I see, there is none."

CHAPTER I.

THE SCOPE AND MATERIALS OF PALÆONTOLOGY.

The study of the rock-masses which constitute the crust of the earth, if carried out in the methodical and scientific manner of the geologist, at once brings us, as has been before remarked, in contact with the remains or traces of living beings which formerly dwelt upon the globe. Such remains are found, in greater or less abundance, in the great majority of rocks; and they are not only of great interest in themselves, but they have proved of the greatest importance as throwing light upon various difficult problems in geology, in natural history, in botany, and in philosophy. Their study constitutes the science of palæontology; and though it is possible to proceed to a certain length in geology and zoology without much palæontological knowledge, it is hardly possible to attain to a satisfactory general acquaintance with either of these subjects without having mastered the leading facts of the first. Similarly, it is not possible to study palæontology without some acquaintance with both geology and natural history.

Palæontology, then, is the science which treats of the living beings, whether animal or vegetable, which have inhabited the earth during past periods of its history. Its object is to elucidate, as far as may be, the structure, mode of existence, and habits of all such ancient forms of life; to determine their position in the scale of organised beings; to lay down the geographical limits within which they flourished; and to fix the period of their advent and disappearance. It is the ancient life-history of the earth; and were its record complete, it would furnish us with a detailed knowledge of the form and relations of all the animals and plants which have at any period flourished upon the land-surfaces of the globe or inhabited its waters; it would enable us to determine precisely their succession in time; and it would place in our hands an unfailing key to the problems of evolution. Unfortunately, from causes which will be subsequently discussed, the palæontological record is extremely imperfect, and our knowledge is interrupted by gaps, which not only bear a large proportion to our solid information, but which in many cases are of such a nature that we can never hope to fill them up.

FOSSILS.—The remains of animals or vegetables which we now find entombed in the solid rock, and which constitute the working material of the palæontologist, are termed "fossils,"[3] or "petrifactions." In most cases, as can be readily understood, fossils are the actual hard parts of animals and plants which were in existence when the rock in which they are now found was being deposited. Most fossils, therefore, are of the nature of the shells of shell-fish, the skeletons of coral-zoophytes, the bones of vertebrate animals, or the wood, bark, or leaves of plants. All such bodies are more or less of a hard consistence to begin with, and are capable of resisting decay for a longer or shorter time—hence the frequency with which they occur in the fossil condition. Strictly speaking, however, by the term "fossil" must be understood "any body, or the traces of the existence of any body, whether animal or vegetable, which has been buried in the earth by natural causes" (Lyell). We shall find, in fact, that many of the objects which we have to study as "fossils" have never themselves actually formed parts of any animal or vegetable, though they are due to the former existence of such organisms, and indicate what was the nature of these. Thus the footprints left by birds, or reptiles, or quadrupeds upon sand or mud, are just as much proofs of the former existence of these animals as would be bones, feathers, or scales, though in themselves they are inorganic. Under the head of fossils, therefore, come the footprints of air-breathing vertebrate animals; the tracks, trails, and burrows of sea-worms, crustaceans, or molluscs; the impressions left on the sand by stranded jelly-fishes; the burrows in stone or wood of certain shell-fish; the "moulds" or "casts" of shells, corals, and other organic remains; and various other bodies of a more or less similar nature.

[Footnote 3: Lat. fossus, dug up.]

FOSSILISATION.—The term "fossilisation" is applied to all those processes through which the remains of organised beings may pass in being converted into fossils. These processes are numerous and varied; but there are three principal modes of fossilisation which alone need be considered here. In the first instance, the fossil is to all intents and purposes an actual portion of the original organised being—such as a bone, a shell, or a piece of wood. In some rare instances, as in the case of the body of the Mammoth discovered embedded in ice at the mouth of the Lena in Siberia, the fossil may be preserved almost precisely in its original condition, and even with its soft parts uninjured. More commonly, certain changes have taken place in the fossil, the principal being the more or less total removal of the organic matter originally present. Thus bones become light and porous by the removal of their gelatine, so as to cleave to the