the greater number of the beautiful and precious South Sea Islands are only the remnants of a vast continent or archipelago, which once stretched for thousands of miles between Australia and South America.

Now, applying the same theory to limestone beds, which are, as you know, only fossil coral reefs, we have a right to say, when we see in England, Scotland, Ireland, limestones several thousand feet thick, that while they were being laid down as coral reef, the seabottom, and probably the neighbouring land, must have been sinking to the amount of their thicknessto several thousand feet-before that later sinking which enabled several hundred feet of millstone grit to be laid down on the top of the limestone.

This millstone grit is a new and a very remarkable element in our strange story. From Derby to Northumberland it forms vast and lofty moors, capping, as at Whernside and Penygent, the highest limestone hills with its hard, rough, barren, and unfossiliferous strata. Wherever it is found, it lies on the top of the "mountain," or carboniferous limestone. Almost everywhere, where coal is found in England, it lies on the millstone grit. I speak roughly, for fear of confusing my readers with details. The three deposits pass more or less, in many places, into each other: but always in the order of mountain limestone below, millstone grit on it, and coal on that again.

Now what does its presence prove? What but this? That after the great coral reefs which spread over Somersetshire and South Wales, around the present estuary of the Severn,-and those, once perhaps joined to them, which spread from Derby to Berwick, with a western branch through North-east Wales,

were laid down—after all this, I say, some change took place in the sea-bottom, and brought down on the reefs of coral sheets of sand, which killed the corals and buried them in grit. Does any reader wish for proof of this? Let him examine the "cherty," or flinty, beds which so often appear where the bottom of the millstone grit is passing into the top of the mountain limestone-the beds, to give an instance, which are now quarried on the top of the Halkin Mountain in Flintshire, for chert, which is sent to Staffordshire to be ground down for the manufacture of china. He will find layers in those beds, of several feet in thickness, as hard as flint, but as porous as sponge. On examining their cavities he will find them to be simply hollow casts of innumerable joints of Crinoids, so exquisitely preserved, even to their most delicate markings, that it is plain they were never washed about upon a beach, but have grown where, or nearly where, they lie. What then, has happened to them? They have been killed by the sand. The soft parts of the animals have decayed, letting the 140,000 joints (more or less) belonging to each animal fall into a heap, and be imbedded in the growing sand-rock; and then, it may be long years after, water filtering through the porous sand has removed the lime of which the joints were made, and left their perfect casts behind.

So much for the millstone grits. How long the deposition of sand went on, how long after it that second deposition of sands took place, which goes by the name of the "gannister," or lower coal-measures, we cannot tell. But it is clear, at least, that parts of that ancient sea were filling up and becoming dry

land. For coal, or fossilised vegetable matter, becomes more and more common as we ascend in the series of beds; till at last, in the upper coal-measures, the enormous wealth of vegetation which grew, much of it, where it is now found, prove the existence of some such sheets of fertile and forest-clad lowland as I described in my last paper.

Thousands of feet of rich coral reef; thousands of feet of barren sands; then thousands of feet of rich alluvial forest-and all these sliding into each other, if not in one place, then in another, without violent break or change; this is the story which the lime in the mortar and the coal on the fire, between the two, reveal.

VI.

THE SLATES ON THE ROOF.

THE slates on the roof should be, when rightly understood, a pleasant subject for contemplation to the dweller in a town. I do not ask him to imitate the boy who, cliff-bred from his youth, used to spend stolen hours on the house-top, with his back against a chimney-stalk, transfiguring in his imagination the roof-slopes into mountain-sides, the slates into sheets. of rock, the cats into lions, and the sparrows into eagles. I only wish that he should-at least after reading this paper-let the slates on the roof carry him back in fancy to the mountains whence they came; perhaps to pleasant trips to the lakes and hills of Cumberland, Westmoreland, and North Wales; and to recognise-as he will do if he have intellect as well as fancy-how beautiful and how curious an object is a common slate.

Beautiful, not only for the compactness and delicacy of its texture, and for the regularity and smoothness of its surface, but still more for its colour. Whether merely warm grey, as when dry, or bright

purple, as when wet, the colour of the English slate well justifies Mr. Ruskin's saying, that wherever there is a brick wall and a slate roof there need be no want of rich colour in an English landscape. But most beautiful is the hue of slate, when, shining wet in the sunshine after a summer shower, its blue is brought out in rich contrast by golden spots of circular lichen, whose spores, I presume, have travelled with it off its native mountains. Then, indeed, it reminds the voyager of a sight which it almost rivals in brilliancy -of the sapphire of the deep ocean, brought out into blazing intensity by the contrast of the golden patches of floating gulf-weed beneath the tropic sun.

Beautiful, I say, is the slate; and curious likewise, nay, venerable; a most ancient and elaborate work of God, which has lasted long enough, and endured enough likewise, to bring out in it whatsoever latent capabilities of strength and usefulness might lie hid in it; which has literally been-as far as such words can apply to a thing inanimate—

Heated hot with burning fears,

And bathed in baths of hissing tears,
And battered by the strokes of doom
To shape and use.

And yet it was at first naught but an ugly lump of soft and shapeless ooze.

Therefore, the slates to me are as a parable, on which I will not enlarge, but will leave each reader to interpret it for himself. I shall confine myself now to proofs that slate is hardened mud, and to hints as to how it assumed its present form.

That slate may have been once mud, is made