THE GEOLOGIST 
NOVEMBER, 18G1. 
SOME BITS OF HORNS FROM FOLKESTONE. 
By the Editor. 
Old bones, that would be worthless to anybody else, become valu- 
able to the geologist. There may be nothing picturesque or strikingly 
singular in their appearance. They may be too rotten or too fragile 
for the manufacturer ; too sapless for the agriculturist ; nay, too few or 
too far between to be of any commercial value at all. And yet hits 
of bones may be inscriptions of much value to the paloeontologist. As 
every letter in the few lines incised on the famous Rosetta stone was 
a key to some passage in a forgotten language of the past, so every 
new bit of bone may be the key to soma passage in that greater history 
of a greater past which geology unrolls. Many years ago — how time 
flies past — I met with a little patch of mammaliferous drift at Folke- 
stone ; I gathered every fragment of bone, every tooth, every shell, 
which the workmen's picks and spades exhumed, and most of what I 
could not determine myself at that time, Professor Owen, and my 
then living and active friend, Mr. Turner, looked over and named. 
Amongst the bones I then collected were two of form to me before 
unknown, and which I often since brought back to mind. Two — 
both fragments of horns — flat at the basal part, perfectly round 
towards the tip ; no goat, nor antelope, nor deer, that I knew, had 
horns like them ; and so those fragments were laid aside (not carelessly) 
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