298 RAMBLES OF A NATURALIST. 



duties of a professional life, accompanied me, on a 

 fine day in September, to this ever-receding shore. 

 My companions had each provided themselves with 

 a bag and a geologist's hammer; and, with a lingering 

 hope of finding some zoological treasures, I took with 

 me a few bottles and glasses in. addition to my pick- 

 axe which might perhaps serve a double purpose. At 

 Angoulin, we reached the beach, which is covered 

 at this point with enormous blocks of stone formed 

 either entirely of polyparies or of the remains of 

 shells and of fossil sea-urchins. Elsewhere such a 

 locality would have furnished me with ample mate- 

 rials, but here a bed of soft mud flowed onward to 

 within a couple of feet of the rocks at the high-water 

 mark, and, finding that it was hopeless to look for 

 living animals under such circumstances, I imitated 

 my companions, and applied my pickaxe to this mine 

 of fossils which was opened before us. 



At Chatelaillon the prospect was equally bad, but 

 in this 'case I was not disappointed, and, without 

 losing time in the vain search for animals in this un- 

 favourable locality, I directed my undivided attention 

 to the curious spectacle presented by the adjoining 

 coast. Above us rose the cliffs, which were then in 

 shade and looked like an immense perpendicular 

 w r all veined with broad and almost horizontal bands. 

 Here and there immense masses, which seemed ready 

 to fall, projected like turrets from the rest of the sur- 

 face ; numerous blocks that had been recently frac- 

 tured were to be seen in all directions, and seemed 

 to warn us that this crumbling away of the rock 

 might recur at any moment, and that no unnecessary 



