stem of things as it exists now, and as it existed at former
periods. If we were inhabitants of another element--if the great ocean
were our domain, instead of the narrow limits of the land, our
difficulties would be considerably lessened; while, on the other hand,
there can be little doubt, although the reader may, perhaps, smile at
the bare suggestion of such an idea, that an amphibious being, who
should possess our faculties, would still more easily arrive at sound
theoretical opinions in geology, since he might behold, on the one
hand, the decomposition of rocks in the atmosphere, or the
transportation of matter by running water; and, on the other, examine
the deposition of sediment in the sea, and the imbedding of animal and
vegetable remains in new strata. He might ascertain, by direct
observation, the action of a mountain torrent, as well as of a marine
current; might compare the products of volcanoes poured out upon the
land with those ejected beneath the waters; and might mark, on the one
hand, the growth of the forest, and, on the other, that of the coral
reef. Yet, even with these advantages, he would be liable to fall into
the greatest errors, when endeavoring to reason on rocks of subterranean
origin. He would seek in vain, within the sphere of his observation, for
any direct analogy to the process of their formation, and would
therefore be in danger of attributing them, wherever they are upraised
to view, to some "primeval state of nature."

But if we may be allowed so far to indulge the imagination, as to
suppose a being entirely confined to the nether world--some "dusky
melancholy sprite," like Umbriel, who could "flit on sooty pinions to
the central earth," but who was never permitted to "sully the fair face
of light," and emerge into the regions of water and of air; and if this
being should busy himself in investigating the structure of the globe,
he might frame theories the exact converse of those usually adopted by
human philosophers. He might infer that the stratified rocks, containing
shells and other organic remains, were the oldest of created things,
belonging to some original and nascent state of the planet. "Of these
masses," he might say, "whether they consist of loose incoherent sand,
soft clay, or solid stone, none have been formed in modern times. Every
year some part of them are broken and shattered by earthquakes, or
melted by volcanic fire; and when they cool down slowly from a state of