severed the apron-string, and ceased to be theologic, but it still to its credit remained cosmologic. It traced the earth from chaos up to a stage when islands and continents rose out of a primeval ocean, the waters of which were boiling; saw it peopled with strange and various forms of life, and watched it run its course, rejoicing in the sun, "cheerful, fresh, and full of joyance glad," then pictured it overtaken with disasters, shaken with earthquakes, overwhelmed by floods, and agonizing in the labors of a new birth. Calm followed after storm, and life rejoiced afresh in a remade world to be again destroyed. Thus, through alternations of peace and strife, the earth moved on its changeful way, to the crowning creation of man, who was himself a living witness of the last great catastrophe of all, the Noachian deluge. Its waters covered the whole earth, to the tops of the highest mountains under heaven, and on their retreat they left behind, as a standing witness to their extension, great sheets of sediment, supposed to be spread out over the entire surface of the globe, and appropriately named the "diluvium." The diluvium may be seen in most parts of the British Isles, except in the south of England; it consists of clays and sands, containing vast numbers of curiously scratched stones.
As the powers of geology matured it became increasingly able to dispense with catastrophes. The very diluvium itself was shown to be local in its distribution, and glacial in its origin; masses of moving ice, like that which buries the greater part of Greenland out of sight, covered a large part of the temperate regions, and this it was that produced the curious scratched stones; and the deposits containing them, which are consequently no longer called "diluvial" but "glacial." More important yet, land could be shown to be still actually rising from the sea, and mountains growing into the air, but so slowly that the fact was not established without much dispute, which is hardly yet over. Valleys could be shown to result, not from any bodily fracturing of the land, but from the slow wearing action of the rivers which flow through them, and the waves of the sea were shown to be capable of cutting down cliffs and of reducing the land to a plain.
From these facts the discordance in the succession of stratified rocks found an easy solution. Recurring to the instance of the carboniferous rocks and their relations to the trias, we no longer need suppose that the stupendous force which folded the carboniferous rocks and raised them into the air acted suddenly or even very rapidly; judging from the rate at which mountains rise now, their upheaval may have proceeded slowly; a few feet in a century would suffice. If we allow but one foot in a century, it would only require two million years to produce a mountain range twenty thousand feet in height. The movement might
