any serious change had ever occurred to disturb the surface of the globe. Nevertheless, the earth has not always presented the calm aspect of stability which it now exhibits; it has had its convulsions, and its physical revolutions, whose story we are about to trace. The earth, like the body of an animal, is wasted, as the philosophical Hutton tells us, at the same time that it is repaired. It has a state of growth and augmentation; it has another state, which is that of diminution and decay: it is destroyed in one part to be renewed in another; and the operations by which the renewal is accomplished are as evident to the scientific eye as those by which it is destroyed. A thousand causes, aqueous, igneous, and atmospheric, are continually at work modifying the external form of the earth, wearing down the older portions of its surface, and reconstructing newer out of the older; so that in many parts of the world denudation has taken place to the extent of many thousand feet. Buried in the depths of the soil, for example, in one of those vast excavations which the intrepidity of the miner has dug in search of coal or other minerals, there are numerous phenomena which strike the mind of the inquirer, and carry their own conclusions with them. A striking increase of temperature in these subterranean places is one of the most remarkable of these. It is found that the temperature of the earth rises one degree for every sixty or seventy feet of descent from its surface. Again: if the mine be examined vertically, it is found to consist of a series of layers or beds, sometimes horizontal, but more frequently inclined, upright, or contorted and undulating—even folded back upon themselves. Then, instances are numerous where horizontal and parallel beds have been penetrated, and traversed vertically or obliquely by veins of ores or minerals totally different in their appearance and nature from the surrounding rocks. All these undulations and varying inclinations of strata are indications that some powerful cause, some violent mechanical action, has intervened to produce them. Finally, if the interior of the beds be examined more minutely—if, armed with the miner’s pick and hammer, the rock is carefully broken up—it is not impossible that the very first efforts at mining may be rewarded by the discovery of some fossilised organic form no longer found in the living state. The remains of plants and animals belonging to the earlier ages of the world, are, in fact, very common; entire strata are sometimes formed of them; and in some localities the rocks can scarcely be disturbed without yielding fragments of bones and shells, or the impressions of fossilised animals and vegetables—the buried remains of extinct creations.

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

Geology explains to us the various transformations which the earth has passed through before it arrived at its present condition. We can determine, with its help, the comparative epoch to which any beds belong, as well as the order in which others have been superimposed upon them. Considering that the stratigraphical crust of the earth with which the geologist has to deal may be some ten miles thick, and that it has been deposited in distinct layers in a definite order of succession, the dates or epochs of each formation may well be approached with hesitation and caution.

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

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

As a corollary to these, the hypothesis of the upheaval of the earth’s crust follows—upheavals having produced local revolutions. The result of these upheavals has been to superimpose new materials upon the older rocks, introducing extraneous rocks called Eruptive, beneath, upon, and amongst preceding