VISIT TO THE CHALK-PITS OF GRAVESEND AND NORTHFLEET. cliff at Beachy Head, Sussex, which at the summit includes a portion of the flinty chalk, and goes down very nearly to the upper green sand, (the next stratum,) is only five hundred and thirty-five feet; this flinty section averages at Dover three hundred and fifty feet; taking this as an average standard, the total thickness of the chalk on the Sussex coast may be estimated at about eight hundred feet. On the other hand, at Diss, in Norfolk, the thickness of the chalk, as ascertained by boring, is but five hundred and ten feet. We shall not here enter into the range of the chalk stratum, and its underlying green sand-beds, in our island, or on the proximate parts of the continent, for we are not going to expatiate on the minutiae of geology; we may however observe that the chalk is a marine deposit, proving that once a sea existed where hills and valleys now alternate-where the shepherd drives his sheep, and the reaper bends over the waving grain. The chalk, in fact, abounds with marine organic remains, corals and sponges imbedded in flint, thin sections of which show the structure of the organic material with exquisite distinctness,-encrinites, starfishes, echini, shells, crustacea, fishes, and tortoises; to which marine plants may be also added. Sir W. De La Beche observes, "Organic remains are in general beautifully preserved in the chalk; substances of no greater solidity than common sponges retain their forms; delicate shells remain unbroken; fish, even, are frequently not flattened; and altogether we have appearances which justify us in concluding that, since these organic exuviæ were entombed they have been protected from the effects of pressure by the consolidation of the rock around them, and that they have been very tranquilly enveloped in exceedingly fine matter, such as we should consider would result from a chemical precipi tate. Here, then, open upon us reflections which in a short paper like the present it would be useless to attempt to follow out, but which while we were exploring the chalk-pits in question crowded upon our mind. So then, at last we said, here are fossil relics to be found, let us search for them-we had searched for fossils in the mountain of limestone of Derbyshire, a prior formation, and were well accustomed to clambering; but, alas! at the outset, we found the soft chalk not like 451 mountain limestone; and our dress began to show innumerable marks of white, and we rapidly assumed a party-coloured appearance. Prudence whispered, Stop-so we stopped and considered, not liking to lose our anticipated specimens. At this moment a troop of young urchins, incipient quarrymen, came up, and vociferously demanded if we wanted "fossils." "Yes," we answered, somewhat surprised at their use of a scientific word, with a definite meaning attached to it. "Oh, then," responded one of the group, come to our house down in the quarry, we have plenty for sale." So, following the sturdy and intelligent little fellow, we went to his father's cottage, and were there shown a considerable number of specimens. Of these, for the moderate sum of twopence or threepence apiece, we purchased several, which are at this moment, while we write, spread out before us. Let us pass them under rapid review. We have six specimens of echini, very perfect; of these, three belong to the genus spatangus, and three to the extinct genus galerites; besides these, we have a singular club-shaped rough sponi, evidently belonging to some species of the group of echini. Among the other specimens is a portion of one of the jaw-bones of a large fish,-a fragment of the body of a fish, thickly covered with large scales, and having the vertebral column in its original and proper position, very distinct; a large plate or convex scale, minutely tuberculous, probably a part of the integumentary covering of a fish. There are two specimens of branches, or portions of what appear to be encrinites, or crinoidea, both distinct forms; and several bivalve shells, very perfect. There are, also, the teeth of extinct species of sharks, called by the quarrymen birds' tongues, and regarded by them as such in reality. Such were the relics of once living creatures which we obtained, and which the quarryman had saved, while hundreds of others were destroyed by his instruments of labour, as he pursued his task. "Curious things, sir," (said the man to us) "have I turned up; but you see we cannot help breaking them to pieces, and we have not time to collect all we might;" and he afterwards added, that sometimes for a considerable space few or no "fossils" were met with, while on the other hand they sometimes came upon them in considerable abund ance. Surely it was worth while not to leave the chalk-pit too hastily-at all events we were gratified with our acquisitions; and we have here, we flatter ourselves, completely proved, that an inquisitive mind may gain knowledge and experience pleasure even by a visit to a chalkpit. Let us remember the inspired words of the psalmist: "The works of the Lord are great, sought out of all them that have pleasure therein." Yes, whether we look to the organic relics of by-gone time, or to the forms of animal or vegetable life that now occupy the surface of our planet, they all speak of design, of wisdom, and of power inscrutable; they all proclaim the existence of God-a God eternal, immutable, the Lord of lifethe Creator of all things visible and invisible, whose name the naturalist, and especially the Christian, cannot pronounce without awe and reverence. ANIMAL INSTINCTS. M. will again supply. A like explanation may be offered of the use of the long and curious appendages of the head and neck of various kinds of humming-birds, which, however feeble, are a pugnacious race. Among the birds of our own country, the bittern (Ardea stellaris,) the pheasant, and common cock, are, in a less degree, examples of the same strategy in defence; and, besides the terror they infuse, are instruments of protection, in offering an uncertain mark to a combatant. The song of birds has ever been a theme of poetic admiration, and a subject of interest to every lover of nature; but the precise character of these sounds, with those of animals in general, and more especially the ideas which the creatures may be supposed to express in these modulations, have been little studied by naturalists. It is obvious to a listener that, in the utterance of song, birds are intensely occupied by their feelings; and that they are listened to by others of their race with an intelligence and earnestness which proves that they possess an understanding of the meaning of what is uttered. A thrush, blackbird, or redbreast may be seen to stretch forward the head, and direct the ear, to catch the notes which come to it from some distant song THE tail of the peacock is of a plain and humble description, and seems to be of no other use besides aiding in the erection of the long feathers of the loins; while the latter are supplied at their insertion with an arrangement of voluntary muscles, which contribute to their eleva-ster of its own species; nor will an effort tion, and to the other motions of which they are capable. If surprised by a foe, the peacock presently erects its gorgeous feathers; and the enemy at once beholds starting up before him a creature which his terror cannot fail to magnify into the bulk implied by the circumference of a glittering circle of the most dazzling hues, his attention at the same time being distracted by a hundred glaring eyes meeting his gaze in every direction. A hiss from the head in the centre, which in shape and colours resembles that of a serpent, and a rustle from the trembling quills, are attended by an advance of the most conspicuous portion of this bulk; which is in itself an action of retreat, being caused by a receding motion of the body of the bird. That must be a bold animal which does not pause at the sight of such an object; and a short interval is sufficient to insure the safety of the bird; but if, after all, the enemy should be bold enough to risk an assault, it is most likely that its eagerness or rage would be spent on the glittering appendages, in which case the creature is divested only of that which a little time be made to return a sound, until the competitor is known to have ended his lay. In such cases, the contest is one of rivalry, and not of imitation; for the series of notes is in no case the same, nor is the beginning or ending of each portion at all taken up from one bird to another. And it is still more remarkable, that the responses proceeding from those of the same species are continued with distinctness, and without distraction, their attention never being diverted by the multiplicity of sounds that strike the ear from birds of another species, which are loudly singing close at hand. I have marked three cocks, of superior size and majesty, engaged in answering each other from distant quarters in regular succession; but when at last a host of inferior individuals were led to join their voices to the chorus, the crowing ceased in those that began it, as if disdaining to mix their voices with the puny efforts of the others. The sympathetic feeling which is thus known to exist between animals of the same species, and the knowledge they display of the sounds of kindred voices, to the general exclusion of others, though more musical and obtrusive, besides the daily experience we have of it in birds, is also witnessed in the uproar produced among dogs, if one begins to bark in alarm. In the jackal, so lively is this impression, and so powerful the impulse on all within hearing, that we are told when a multitude of them are abroad in pursuit of prey-where silence is requisite to escape danger and ensure success― if one of them utters the well-known note, even those whose safety is betrayed by its utterance are unable to resist the desire to unite their voices to the general How large a share of the spirit of contention for supremacy in musical strength and duration is engaged in such competitions, will appear from the methods employed to urge a pair of canaries to vie with each other. The scraping of a pan, or the noise of a crying child, excites them to exertion, or revives it when it begins to droop; and how much passion is contained in these modulations may be learned from the tale of the nightingale who entered into competition with the instrument of the musician, and fell exhausted at the foot of the player. A friend informs me: "I remember an eccentric barber, living at the corner of the gateway of the White Horse-cellar, Fetter-lane, who was very successful in breeding and rearing nightingales, hung up all round his shop in cages. He could set them singing at any time, late or early, by simply turning the cock of the cistern in the corner of the shop, and letting the water fall into a pewter basin." His name was Leadbetter, and he was a native of Tweeside: his shop was one curiosity, from man to bird; and it is worth notice, that there exists a singular sympathy between town barbers and singing birds. It is somewhat remarkable that, with such undoubted courage and strong powers of flight, the swallow seems to feel a degree of hesitation in venturing on the passage of the Channel, and will keep along the coast for a considerable distance before it will adventure over the expanse. And this is the more surprising, since we know that the wheat-ear, (Sylvia Enanthe,) various species of willow-wren, and even the little goldcrest, (Sylvia regulus), are able to cross in safety. But the greater distance of the autumnal flight of the swallow, and the habits of flight of these families, may afford an explanation of the singularity. The shorter-winged birds are seen to hurry along from one margin of the sea to the other, with no more effort than is absolutely required to enable them to cross in safety. But the mode of flight of the swallow tribe is in circles; and they seem less careful in arranging the time, manner, and distance of departure; so that the journey becomes extended much beyond its natural limits. I have seen a troop of martins, which may have been baffled by contrary winds, approach the shore from the sea, late in autumn, in such an exhausted condition, that they were compelled to alight on the sills of windows, where it would have been easy to have taken them with the hand. Inscrutable as this directing skill appears to our duller perceptions, it is not only constant in its manifestation among our little summer insect-hunters, but it is also possessed by birds whose opportunities of using it are only occasional. Domestic pigeons have been taken to remote distances from their home, and that, too, by a mode of conveyance which must effectually shut out all possibility of recognition of the local bearings of the direction, and yet they have returned thither with a rapidity of flight which marked a conscious security of finding it. I have known some of the most timid and secluded of our birds, as, the wheat-ear and dipper, to be taken from their nests, and conveyed to a distance, under circumstances which must have impressed them with feelings of terror, and in which all traces of the direction must have been lost; and yet, on being set free, they were soon at the nook from which they had been taken. Even the common hen, which has been carried in a covered basket through a district intersected by a confusion of hills and valleys, in a few hours has been seen scraping for grain on her old dunghill. The only explanation, in these cases, must be sought in the existence of perceptions to which the human race is a stranger; their possession of which is proved by the exquisite and ready susceptibility of most animals to changes of weather, long before the occurrence of anything which our observation can appreciate, or which can be indicated by instruments. While the atmosphere seems to promise a continuance of fair and calm weather, and the wind maintains the same direction, the hog may be seen conveying in its mouth a wisp of straw; and in a few hours a violent wind fulfils the omen. The cat washes, and some wild animals shift their quarters, in compliance with similar indications; and even fish at considerable depths in the sea, display, in their motions and appetite, sensibility to the coming change. The latter circumstance especially, which is well known to fishermen, is a proof that mere change of temperature, or moisture, is not sufficient to explain the phenomenon."-Couch. MY RAILWAY COMPANIONS. No. IV. "HERE she comes," said my friend Tims, the other morning, as we were waiting at the station for the train, "here she comes, snorting away as usual, and at her own peculiar pace. The steamengine is a noble animal; there is no whip required; feed her with coke and water, and she will do her work handsomely. Here she comes; the steam is shut off, and she will soon be standing quiet as a lamb before us. The steamengine is a noble animal; there is no kicking or prancing at starting, or stopping; only put on the steam and she sets off quietly, or shut it off, and apply the screw to the wheels, and she stands as still as a rock. But I say, friend F―, we must try and get into an empty box alone; I have a good deal to talk about, but we must look out sharply, and shut the door as soon as we get in, or else we shall be sure to have plenty of company." 66 There, that was well done: she is off again, at her usual noble pace," continued Mr. T—, as we had gained our point, and still speaking of the engine in the feminine gender, "she is off again, and no power on earth can stop her till the driver again shuts off the steam." "Well, what news have you at your village?" he paused to inquire. "I am not aware," I replied, "that anything particular has happened. My habits are such that I do not often hear of what is going on in our little community. I will suppose, however, that if anything had occurred of great importance, I should have heard of it, and therefore I will conclude that all things are going on as usual. I have heard the death-bell, indeed, toll two or three times lately, and though it made me thoughtful, I did not perceive that it produced any sensation among my neighbours. The only remark I have heard concerning the | deaths of those for whom the bell tolled was, 'Well, we are here to-day and gone to-morrow." "And who were they for whom the bell tolled?" interrogated friend Tims. "Well," I rejoined, "I believe they were some of my poorer neighbours: I have not heard their names; but if they had been any of the richer sort, I should certainly have heard who they were. Solomon said, 'Wealth maketh many friends: But the poor is separated from his neighbour.' Prov. xix. 4. He is separated not only in life, but in death. When he dies, few remember him, and he is laid in a grave that soon becomes level with the surface of the turf, and he becomes clean forgotten." 66 "You are a strange being," resumed Mr.T; meet you when I will, you are sure to treat me with a little of your philosophy. For my part, I like to have all the news I can. If I hear the bell toll, I never forget to ascertain who has gone from among us, be they rich or poor. But I suppose you have heard of the death of squire B-, of our town? He was an excellent fellow, a good neighbour, and a pleasant companion, and will be long missed in our circle." "I had not heard of it," I replied. "Not heard of it!" rejoined Mr. T—, hastily, "why you are a strange fellow; I should have thought every one within five miles at least of his residence had heard of his death. It caused quite a sensation in our town; the more so because, but a few days before, he was well and hearty. I would not have given much for any interest dependent on his death, for I should have calculated that he would have lived some thirty years longer; and yet he is gone. Depend upon it he will be long missed in our circle, although you had not heard of his death. But though you had not heard of this event, I suppose you have heard of Dr. A—?” "Is he dead also?" I inquired. "Is he dead also!" reiterated my friend; "why you are a strange fellow, if you have not heard anything about Dr. A. No, no; he is not dead: it would have been better for him if he had been. Dr. A-, friend F-, has sadly committed himself. Here was a man skilled in the languages, learned in science and the arts, and in a profession which should have been a safeguard against all evil actions, yet" Here Mr. T-shrugged up his shoul- | ders and paused, as if inviting me to interrogate him upon the subject. My curiosity was excited, but I repressed it, in order to impart a silent lesson to my friend on his peculiar characteristic-the love of hearing and relating news. Taking no notice of my silence, however, he resumed: “Dr. A— has been guilty of the sin of and has been obliged, from shame, to fly from our town. To tell you the truth, when I heard it I could not believe it. I told Mr. P-, who first informed me, that it must be slander. But I soon found out that it was all true, it was in every body's mouth; and what every one says must be true. His flight also confirmed the tale. If he had not been guilty, he would not have stolen away under cover of the night. An innocent man is never afraid of what people say of him, though it may touch his character to the very quick. There, there is a little philosophy for you. But I could never have thought that Dr. A should so sadly have committed himself. You know as well as I do, what a man he was in company. There was not a more facetious companion in our whole circle. Every one admired his conversation; when he opened his lips, all listened." "It proves," I remarked, interrupting Mr. T, "that 'Not lofty intellect the heart keeps clean From moral taint, or yet illumes the mind If it could, then Solomon would not have fallen into sin, and Dr. A- would not have fallen into a similar sin to that of Solomon." "An apt illustration," rejoined Mr. Tims, "I confess I had not thought of Solomon. But I thought Dr. A had more integrity. True, I know he was a little fond of wine; but then a man may take a glass or two of wine, and be none the worse in character for that." "He may, possibly," I replied, "but the indulgence in wine, as Dr. A—'s fondness for it would intimate, often leads to other crimes, and therefore it is best not to make the glass too much of a companion. Who knows but this was the step which led to this act of moral turpitude?" "It might," resumed Mr. Tims; "and the worst of it is, it brings a disgrace upon his profession. Men not only look upon Dr. A- as a delinquent, but they consider that others of his profession are little better than himself. You cannot imagine what I have heard of the whole class to which he belongs. It would shock you to hear what I have heard. Why there is my neighbour, captain D-, who, you know, cares no more about religion than he does about my dog; as soon as he heard of it, he came to ask me what I now thought of the profession. I told him we must not condemn all for one man's sins; but he would not listen to me. One and all were alike, he said, and - but the steam is shut off; is there anything the matter? Oh no, I see, we are all right. That noble animal has done her duty well-she has brought us up to London in fine style; we have arrived at the terminus. I am half sorry for it: I had a great deal more to tell you; but perhaps we shall meet on our way back again. I shall return by the six o'clock train, and shall be happy to meet you at that hour. We must be quick, or we shall lose our seats in the omnibus. Look out for yourself, for at the time of seeking a seat in an omnibus on the arrival of a train in London no one thinks of his neighbour or his friend. Good morning, if we should not meet again on the other side of the platform." I was not sorry to miss my friend " on the other side of the platform," as it gave me an opportunity of indulging in a few reflections. "I fear," thought I, “that my friend Tims' is in character a counterpart of the Athenians of old, who spent their time in nothing else, but either to tell or to hear some new thing. It is to be feared, also, that he is not singular in this respect. Memory recalls to mind, indeed, many, even in the Christian community of England, who resemble him of old." Reader! art thou of this class of professing Christians? If so, attend to the admonition of the apostle Peter: “If ye be reproached for the name of Christ, happy are ye; for the spirit of glory and of God resteth upon you: on their part he is evil spoken of, but on your part he is glorified. But let none of you suffer as a busybody in other men's matters," 1 Pet. iv. 14, 15. For tattlers, as St. Paul intimates, in his first Epistle to Timothy, are always busy bodies: "they spend their time in nothing else; and a very uncomfortable account they must needs have to give of their time who thus spend it," Time is precious, and we are concerned to employ it well, because our best interests, those of eternity, depends upon it. E. F. |