80 



HARDWICKE'S S CIENC E-GOSS IP. 



imagined that the few forms now known to the 

 geological botanist even approximately represent 

 all that existed at any given period. It is quite 

 premature to assert that there were no well-marked 

 plants then with which we are not now acquaiuted. 

 It is much more in accordance with recent discovery 

 to say that there were many such well-defined 

 genera and species that have not yet come to light, 

 and probably a much greater number of less decided 

 character, and highly perishable, which have passed 

 away, leaving no trace of their former existence, 

 except as bituminized matter. Glancing at our own 

 day, we are right, I think, in presuming that out of 

 the hundreds of thousands of individual plants that 

 die annually an exceedingly small per-centage will 

 be known to the future geologist. They rise, grow, 

 flower, fruit, and decay, without leaving a single 

 cell or vessel for the future microscopical investi- 

 gator to rest his eyes upon. Though admitting the 

 extinction of whole types of plants which a geologic 

 survey forces upon me, I am not prepared to 

 acknowledge that there has ever been at any period 

 of the geologic past a total or violent extinction of 

 plant-life, or of necessity, a new creation of fresh 

 forms equally sudden in its operation and effect. 

 The data upon which opinions on this subject are 

 founded are yet incomplete, but sufiBcient evidence 

 is at hand to justify us in stating that the transition 

 from one well-marked form to another equally 

 distinct has been accomplished by the most gradual 

 process, that change has succeeded change, from 

 low have higher been evolved, and whole types have 

 died out as gradually as night melts into day by the 

 interposition of twilight. The difference between 

 the simplest thallogenic growth of the Silurian 

 period and the most complex exogens of modern 

 times is but the result of the action of laws ever 

 exerting their strength to enforce progressive 

 change, and of eflbrt on the part of the individual 

 organism to adapt itself to the unstable and ever- 

 altering conditions by which it has never ceased to 

 be surrounded, in a world that knows no rest. 



A VISIT TO DUNGENESS. 



AS Dungeness is a place difficult of access, and 

 therefore visited by few persons, a short 

 account of a walk round it may be interesting to 

 the readers of Science-Gossip. 



Starting from Hastings one day in August last, a 

 friend and I took tickets for Appledore, a small 

 town distant about sixteen miles. Thence we 

 walked through the villages of Snargate, Brenzctt, 

 and Old and New Romney, the latter being seven 

 miles from Appledore station, and about one 

 mile from the sea. On our way we passed large 

 heaps of stone, placed at the sides of the road, to 

 be in due time used for macadamizing, which were 

 literally full of fossils of various kinds, many being 



a species of oyster, four or five inches across. 

 In one we found the remains of a large ammonite, 

 in others pieces of fossil wood, &c. I could not 

 help remarking what a rich harvest for a geologist 

 the quarries at Hythe, from whence we were told 

 the stone came, would prove. We arrived at New 

 Romney about half-past five, and after a short rest 

 started for the lighthouse. 



Here let me give a general description of Dunge- 

 ness. It is a low headland on the boundaries of 

 Kent and Sussex, and runs about six miles into the 

 sea. It is composed entirely of beach, which, ac- 

 cording to fishermen living at the point, accumulates 

 on the east side year by year ; thus causing the ex- 

 treme point to shift slowly in that direction. The 

 nearest terra firma, if I may so say, is four miles 

 from the point, and is the small town of Lydd ; 

 while to the east, at six miles' distance, is New 

 Romnej', and on the west, eleven miles off, is Rye, 

 all the intervening ground being entirely beach, ex- 

 cept in places where vegetation is struggling for 

 existence. We chose New Romney as our starting- 

 point, because at a certain time of the tide there is 

 sand the whole way from thence to the lighthouse, 

 whereas from Lydd there is nothing but beach. 



Leaving New Romney, we made direct for the 

 shore. Here a most remarkable view presented 

 itself. In front of us stretched for many yards the 

 sand — sands such as I have never seen before, sands 

 that many watering-places would give almost any 

 sum to possess — not a rock in sight, and along them 

 was proceeding a horse and cart as easily as on a 

 level road. To our left lay what appeared a small 

 mountain-ridge, stretching far out into tlie sea. 

 This was a part of the coast of Kent, with Eolk- 

 stone and Dover in the distance, and terminating in 

 the South Foreland, the high cliffs of Dover looking 

 remarkably grand and majestic. On our right lay 

 a long expanse of beach and sand, and in the far 

 distance appeared the lighthouse, the chief object 

 of our visit. Between us and it nothing intervened 

 but a few solitary houses built on the beach, among 

 which a coastguard station was conspicuous by its 

 flagstaff, and wrecks of many noble ships dotted the 

 coast ; while behind us lay the beach in all its 

 barrenness, relieved only here and there by patches 

 of green, New Romney and Lydd appearing in the 

 background. 



We took at once to these sands, thus avoiding 

 the " never-to-be-forgotten " beach (any one who 

 has laboured along it as we did next day will agree 

 with me that it is difficult to find an epithet strong 

 enough to describe its weaiisomeuess). During 

 our walk we passed numerous shells of varied hue, 

 which made me wish I were a conchologist, and also 

 thousands upon thousands of the cases of a marine 

 worm, composed of fine sand, and varying in length 

 from one to three inches, their shape being an elon- 

 gated cone with the apex cut off. They were quite 



