gaze upon its weird form, we cannot help comparing it with, one of those horrible and grotesque imps which are described so minutely in monkish legends.
Again the scene changes—the country of the monster fades away, and we are once more in our cosy study, surrounded by our favourite volumes.
Perhaps the curious reader would like to know where the marvellous country is situated, but as we do not intend to tack a long scientific essay upon our fairy-tale, he must be content with a very few words of explanation.
All that remains of the monsters' country is a large tract of land or delta which was formed ages and ages ago at the mouth of a mighty river.[1] The continent through which this river flowed now forms a large portion of the bed of the Atlantic.
How can we know anything about this submerged country?—how can we come to any conclusion respecting the kind of creatures which lived and died there? These questions will probably occur to the reader, and give rise to certain doubts as to the credibility of our narrative.
The monsters have been their own historians. They have described themselves in the gorgeously
- ↑ The Wealden Beds, so called from their forming a district known as the Weald of Kent and Sussex. These strata, which were deposited at the mouth of a river rivalling the Mississippi in magnitude, occupy the whole area between the North and South Downs.
