Merely, however, collecting fossils for collecting's sake is useless. The aim of geology is to enable us to understand how this world was made—how form followed form, how type after type took life and then passed away, and the higher organization ever succeeded the lower. The Middle-Eocene ought to be to us particularly interesting, separating us, on the one hand, from those monsters which had filled the previous Age, and, on the other, presenting the first appearances of those higher mammals which should serve the future wants of man. The pterodactyle no longer darkened the air. The iguanodon now slept in its grave of chalk. A new earth, covered with new types and new forms, had appeared. It is a strange sight which the Hordle Cliffs unveil. Here, beneath a sun fiercer than in our tropics, the crocodile basked in its reed beds. Here the alligator crimsoned the stream, as he struck his jaws into his victim; whilst the slow tryonyx paddled through the waves, and laid its eggs on the sand, where its plates are now bedded.
The very rushes, which grew on the river banks, lie caked together, with the teeth of the rats which harboured in them. The pine-cones still, too, lie there, their surfaces scarcely more abraded than when they dropped from the tree into the tepid waters. Along the muddy river shore browsed the paloplothere, whilst his mate crushed through the jungle of club-mosses. Groves of palms stood inland, or fringed the banks, swarming with land-snakes. Birds waded in the shallows. But no human voice sounded: nothing was to be heard but the screaming of the river-fowl, and the deep bellow of the tapir-shaped palæothere, and the wolf-like bark of the hyænodon.
This description is no mere fancy, but taken from the remains actually discovered in the Hordle Cliffs. I have had no need to borrow from the fossils of the Headon and Binstead
