or sheets, one above the other, from the top of the quarry to the bottom. The limestone itself formed a bed or stratum some twenty-seven feet thick, and over it came an alternating series of thin bands of shale-a kind of stone that can be split up into thin plates like sheets of paper or pasteboard. Some seams of sandstone and coarse limestone were likewise interstratified among these shales. Now, this arrangement, differing so markedly from that of the other quarry, pointed to a different mode of production. The two kinds of rock could never have originated under the same condition of things. How, then, did the rocks of the lime-quarry arise? Their grouping into alternate layers of different mineral composition showed that they belonged to the series called in our school-books the Stratified Rocks. These, we had been taught, were originally deposited as sediment, and arranged by the action of moving water in rivers, lakes, or the sea. The strata of the quarry perfectly agreed with this definition. There could be no doubt, therefore, that they had been formed under water at some ancient period, when the configuration of the country must have been very dissimilar to its present aspect. This proved an important step in the progress of inquiry. The next question was to ascertain, if possible, whether the water in which these rocks were formerly deposited was fresh, brackish, or salt, that is to say, whether it was river, lake, estuary, or open sea. It required no more than a moment's reflection to perceive that the true solution of this problem lay in the fossil contents of the rocks. And here there was the widest scope for our young faculties. By ransacking all the books on the subject that lay within our reach, we had gradually come to form a tolerably correct conception of the nature of the organic remains. These could be divided into two classes, vegetable and animal. Of the former, we had found a good many ferns, which, of course, like the polypodies and spleenworts of our woods, must have been anciently terrestrial plants. Along with these were the remains of reed-like ens, and others of which we knew the scientific names, but could learn nothing more. The general aspect of the vegetable organisms in the limestone appeared to us to be terrestrial; we believed that in whatever way the plants got into the rocks, they mast nevertheless have grown green on the land. The animal remains, though much less abundant than the plants, proved considerably more difficult to determine. We grouped them into two kinds, fishes and crustaceans. The fishes belonged almost wholly to a tribe called the Ganoids. Their scales | consisted of bone covered with a coating of bright glittering enamel. Their heads were cased in plates of bone, and furnished with a formidable apparatus of crushing teeth and sharp tusks-altogether a group of strongly-built creatures that must have been fond of rough play in their time. And that they actually did good execution upon each other we soon found from their coprolites, which occurred in abundance in some of the strata, and always contained fragments of scales and bones, showing clearly enough the nature of the food on which at least the larger fishes lived. We found that at the present day there are still some representatives of the ganoidal type of fish, inhabiting the Nile and the lakes and rivers of America. I was fortunate enough to see at the house of a friend a stuffed specimen of the lepidosteus, or gar-pike, of Lake Superior, which tended greatly to our enlightenment on the original structure and appearance of the ichthyolites of the quarry. I was especially delighted to discover that the creature lived in fresh water, and so I concluded, somewhat hastily perhaps, that the ganoids of our limestone must also have swam their way through some old majestic river, or some broad blue lake. The second kind of animal remains found by us in the limestone, belonged to the crustacea, the same family which includes our common crab and lobster. But they were very minute, no larger indeed than a pin head. In shape they exactly resembled a bean, and one might almost have taken them for some leguminous seed, such as it would have delighted the heart of a Japanese to rear into an infinitesimal bean-stalk. Each seed-like organism consisted in reality of two plates or valves, like the two sides of a bean-pod, but open a little at the top and on one side, to allow of the projection of the antennæ. In our ponds and ditches there are living myriads of similar animals, and to both the fossil and the existing species the same general name of cypris has been given. So here again I found corroborative proof of the former existence of fresh water over the site of the limestone quarry. Putting it altogether, the sum of the evidence amounted to this: the little cyprides, like those of our ponds, probably lived in fresh or perhaps brackish water; the ganoidal fishes in all likelihood swam in lakes, rivers, or estuaries; while the ferns and other plants gave undoubted proof that where these animals lived there was land in close proximity. Having determined these facts it was but natural to strive to ascertain what was the physical configuration of the country when the animals and plants of the limestone existed as living forms. Were there the same hills then as now? Did the old river that swept over the site of the quarry take its rise among yonder pastoral glens, where we boys were wont to gather blaeberries and junipers? Did the same sea roll in the distance then as now, curling white along the same green shore? Here, however, I ventured far beyond my depth. To answer these questions required years of patient research. The whole country for many miles round had to be explored, and the minutest observations to be made before even an approximation to a reliable answer could be given. But a boy's fancy is an admirable substitute for the want of facts. I did feel at times a little vexed that no evidence turned up on which to ground my restoration of the ancient topography of the districts, or rather that such a world of work seemed to rise before me ere I could obtain the evidence that was needed. But the feeling unfortunately did not last long. And so I conjured up the most glorious pictures of an ancient world, where, as in the land of the lotos-eaters, it was always afternoon, and one could dream away life among isles clothed with ferns and huge club-mosses, and washed by lakes and rivers that lay without a ripple, save now and then when some glittering monster leapt out into the sunlight, and fell back again with a sullen plunge. Happy afternoons were these! To steal away alone among the corn-fields, and feast the eye on hill and valley, with their green slopes and bosky woods and grey feudal towers, and on the distant sea with the white sails speckled over its broad expanse of blue. And then when every part of that well-loved scene had been taken in, to let loose the fancy and allow the landscape to fade like a dissolving view, until every feature had fled, and there arose again the old lakes, and rivers, and palmy isles. Alas that such elaborate pictures should have grown out of such slender materials! It was, nevertheless, a good habit to treat the organic remains in the rocks not as mere dead mineral matter, but as the enduring records of life, and to think of them not as species to fill a place in a zoological system, or specimens to take up so much room in a museum, but as the remains of once living organisms, which formed part of a creation as real and living as that in which we ourselves pass our existence. And provided only that we do not allow fancy to run riot at the expense of both, I know of no employment more delightful, as well as instructive, than to restore in imagination the former condition of our planet. This is the aim of the geologist. He strives to understand philosophically the natural phenomena of the present, and thence proceeds to interpret those of the past, being sure that however much our earth and its inhabitants may have altered, the changes have ever been effected under the same uniform laws. HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY. THIS old saying, as it is generally understood, appears to me to have obtained rather more credit than it deserves. For, in the first place, I very much question whether it is strictly true; and, in the second place, even if it be true, it is, I think, a very poor and contemptible rule for the guidance of any man in the transactions of life. "You do not think that this proverb is strictly true!" exclaim many of my readers, in surprise, indignation, and alarm. "What do you mean? Have not ten thousand facts impressed upon the minds of men the strong conviction that honesty is the best policy; and are there not multitudes who are by this maxim warned against dishonesty, and encouraged to persevere in a course of integrity? Do you not see, that in proportion as men lose faith in this proverb, honesty will be at a discount? Your opinion could do little harm, excepting to yourself, if you kept it to yourself; but, published in Good Words, it may be productive of most mischievous results." My friends, notwithstanding your protest, I adhere to my belief, that the strict truth of this old saw, as generally understood, is disputable. Mark the limitation, as generally understood. If by the best policy you mean that which is best for a man in the long run, if in the best policy you include that which is best for a man's soul, and best for eternity, then I join with you right heartily and say-without controversy honesty is the best policy. But I am speaking of the proverb as generally understood; and you know very well that by the best policy most men mean the best way of getting on in the world, or the best way of getting rich; at all events, the ARCHIBALD GEIKIE. best way of avoiding those temporal ills, which all men would fain escape, and securing those temporal prizes of which all men are ambitious. This is a very narrow sense of the expression; but it certainly is the sense in which the expression is popularly accepted. Now, this is what I venture to consider questionable-that honesty is always the best way, method, or means of getting on in the world, of escaping temporal ills, and securing temporal advantages. I have no doubt that, in opposition to this statement, a great number of striking and telling anecdotes could be produced; stories of good boys who, by persevering in an honest course, grew up to be wealthy and successful men; and stories of bad boys who, through learning to pilfer, were at last transported or hung; and instance upon instance might be given of men who, with all their cunning in fraud, never got on ; and of others who, though successful for a time, were at last detected, disgraced, and ruined. But observe, I do not say that honesty is never the best policy, but that it is not always so; and that the proverb is not strictly true. It will be objected, however, that "the exception proves the rule," and that one or two cases in which honesty has not proved the best policy ought not to invalidate the maxim. I admit that "the exception proves the rule;" but this principle has its limits, and limits which it is difficult to determine with precision. It is very obvious that the exceptions may be so numerous as to destroy the rule. If the rule is as often falsified as verified, it surely cannot be accepted; if the rule is verified in five cases and falsified in one, this proportion is, I should think, large enough to vitiate the rule. What proportion of exceptions is to be allowed as only proving the rule, and at what point does this proof enlarge itself into a disproof? These are rather important and puzzling questions wherewith to interrogate the saying, "the exception proves the rule." This is certain, that the exceptions may be numerous enough to disprove the rule. I do not say that such is the case with regard to the rule, Honesty is the best policy ;" and do not know in what proportion the exceptions to this rule exist; but still they are not so few as some people imagine. As you look at the carriages which roll along the fashionable streets and suburbs of a great city, you may, perhaps, conclude that the wealth of which these carriages are outward and visible signs has, as a rule, been honestly acquired; but, you know anything of the world, you will feel assured that there are some exceptions, that some of the grandest of those equipages are the rewards of iniquity, the results of successful scoundrelism. And as travelling through the country, you see one great mansion after another, with its park, and its preserves, and its broad acres, in all charity, and even in all justice, you must assume that the owners thereof are most of them honourable men; but still you feel that you have reason to believe that, if the history of these estates and families were unravelled, it would be found that some of them owe their origin to political jobbery, and intrigue, and baseness, and that if certain persons, who have been in their graves, perhaps for centuries, had been strictly honest, the grandeur which you now behold would never have fallen to the lot of their descendants. Think of these things, and then say whether chicanery has not often enabled men to make splendid fortunes; think of these things, and then say whether there are not many exceptions to the rule" Honesty is the best policy." Take the case of a quack. Would it suit his book to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, about those pills and lotions and ointments? Most certainly, honesty would be his ruin. Through his lying advertisements he has made many thousands of pounds. The magnificent carriage, which you saw at the corner of that comfortable square, is his; the large house and ample grounds which you so much admired as, from that railway embankment, you caught a glimpse of them, are his. And he is not a solitary exception; there are in this country hundreds who have gone and done likewise men who tried an honest business first, but could make no hand at it at all; men who, in that honest business, could not make both ends meet. They found that honesty was not the best policy; so they tried the other thing, and you see how they have succeeded. There may be no dishonesty in giving a Greek or Latin name to a hairbrush, a perfume, a piece of soap, or an article of dress; but I cannot help thinking that, if these names were translated into the vulgar tongue, the 1 demand for the trumpery would be greatly diminished. What's in a name? Why, sometimes everything is in a name. Think of the Enormous Sacrifice dodge! You know that this is a dishonesty. A Jesuit might pronounce it honest, upon the principle of mental reservation; for it is true that the advertiser does not state whether he or his customers are to be the victims in the contemplated holocaust which is to be offered at the shrine of Mammon. But the Enormous Sacrifice dodge pays; and in many trades large profits are made by misrepresentation, where a true, faithful, and particular setting forth of the qualities of the article would probably shut up the shop. It is certain that the public is immensely gullible; and may we not say that, to whatever extent the public is gullible, honesty is not the best policy in dealing with such a public? And how does the case stand with that class of men who, of all others, ought to be above every species of dishonesty-I mean ministers of religion? It will be admitted that it is only honest that a minister should preach his own sermons, and that he acts dishonestly if he preaches the sermons of some other man, without acknowledging the fact. But most certainly there are men in the ministry who, if they were to preach discourses composed by themselves, would have to preach them to the walls and pews; and even the walls and pews, if they had any sense, would follow the congregation. Nor would the Rev. Idler or Rev. Imbecile succeed much better if, after having given out his text, he were to say, "The discourse which I am about to read I have carefully copied from a volume of sermons by a very able divine;" or, "I shall on this occasion read for your instruction a lecture which I purchased for ten shillings at a manuscript sermon shop of unquestioned orthodoxy." Now, to this not uncommon character, the Rev. Idler or Rev. Imbecile, honesty would be desertion, contempt, derision, perhaps starvation, and, therefore, not at all the best policy. Or, take the case of a man who is ambitious of entering Parliament. Far be it from me to say that the door of the House of Commons is kept by Dishonesty, or to say that a man cannot gain admission by strictly honourable means. But if there is only one seat, of obtaining which our friend has the remotest chance, it is very possible that the particular constituency to which he is unhappily shut up is one which will not return him without a consideration. Most certainly honesty is not always the best policy; most certainly, in some cases, honesty will not do at all, if the object in view is political power and distinction. In this age and in this country it is comparatively easy to be honest, and honesty often finds its reward in temporal comfort and advantage; but will any one venture to say that honesty was the best policy in the apostolic age (remember the sense in which the expression, "the best policy," is understood)? and wherever and whenever there has been persecuting bigotry or despotic power, what is the result of being thoroughly honest? Fines, imprisonment, torture, death. The poverty, the pain, the injustice, which have been the lot of almost every true-hearted patriot and honest reformer, have been in direct contrariety to the maxim, Honesty is the best policy. But even now, and in our own country, if there are many instances in which honesty is rewarded, there are not a few in which it is punished. There is many a rural district in which the man who dares to be honest to his religious and political convictions is subject to much annoyance and disadvantage; and thousands, knowing that honesty would be the ruin of their secular prospects, pass their lives, if not in dishonesty, in such a practice of dissembling and hiding their convictions, and compromising their principles, as makes them utterly mean, craven, and despicable. we is within certain bounds a very wholesome feeling; it is a great incentive to industrious exertion; but if it be allowed to wax too strong, then, like a river which overflows or bursts its banks, within which it is so useful, it becomes a nuisance and a source of enormous evil. It is to be feared that in British society it has assumed this formidIn the face of all these facts, shall we say able magnitude; the horror of poverty has surthat honesty is always the best policy, that by passed almost every other horror; practically honesty a man is sure to get on in the world, and speaking, to thousands upon thousands, poverty that dishonesty never thrives? I admit that the is hell; a moderate income, purgatory; and great rule is more frequently verified than falsified; but wealth, heaven. But if we cannot get rich exceptcertainly it is so often falsified that I can scarcelying by the sacrifice of honesty, there ought not to accept it as the rule at all. That dishonesty is be a moment's hesitation as to the course often the best policy, was clearly seen by Asaph determine to adopt. "Gold may be bought too many ages ago: "I was envious at the foolish, dear;" and consider whether there is anything when I saw the prosperity of the wicked; for that is bought at such a monstrous price as that there are no bands in their death, and their which is often given for gold. It is verily bought strength is firm: they are not in trouble as other too dear when a man parts with honesty for it. men, neither are they plagued like other men. . . . Let us, therefore, have no more talk about the Their eyes stand out with fatness; they have best policy in relationship to honesty. Honesty more than heart could wish. Behold, these are has been far too often advocated on this ground, the ungodly who prosper in the world; they in- just as religion has been too often commended to crease in riches." Well, it is all wisely permitted men as more conducive to their secular prosperity that dishonesty should often prosper, and honesty than irreligion. No, no; let us be honest because often fail. It is one element of our moral disci- honesty is right, and dishonesty wrong; the man pline. God will neither bribe us into honesty who asks for any other argument in favour of by guaranteeing a large reward, nor frighten honesty is a man not to be argued with at all. I us from dishonesty by making failure and dis- have heard of one case, and but one, in which, I grace its constant and necessary results. There think, this proverb was fairly and logically applied. would be little virtue in honesty if such were An old man, who had seen many ups and downs the invariable rule. Small thanks to the man in the world, gave this counsel to his nephew, who, in all his dealings, is scrupulously honest be- who was about to begin business: "Tom, take cause he is certain that, by being so, he will attain my advice, honesty is the best policy; I am sure wealth and respectability, and that if he is not so of it, because I have tried both." If you feel he will be in a state of poverty and disgrace all yourself at liberty to "try both," then, certainly, his days. No; God will have us to be honest on it will be well for you to discuss the question, Is very different principles from these; and so, to this proverb true? but if, on the other hand, try us and to train us, he makes no absolute you feel that you must not "try both," then all promise of temporal good as a consequence of such discussions may very well be dispensed with. honesty; he permits us to see, on all hands, the splendour and the power of successful rascality, and the great value in pounds sterling of a seared conscience and a hardened heart. But, "fret not thyself because of evil doers ;" and, as you look upon the quack doctor's carriage, and the griping usurer's mansion, say not, "Surely I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency." Honesty is not always the best policy, but honesty is right; and because it is right, it is the thing for you, for me, for every man. I have said that this proverb, even if strictly true, would be a poor rule for a man's guidance in life. The man who is honest because he believes that honesty is the best policy, is honest on a dishonest principle. He would be dishonest at once if he found that honesty was not the best policy. "Is not honesty the best policy then?" asks some one. My friend, what is it to you or me whether it is the best policy or not? I think that we have little or nothing to do with the question. "But," you say, "if it be not the best policy,-what then?" why then, still you are to be honest; honest, if honesty be the worst policy and not the best; honest, if honesty holds out no prospect whatever of your making a fortune, or of your even being able to keep the wolf from the door. The dislike the dread of poverty | But, is it not possible that we have been misreading this old proverb, and that it has a better and nobler meaning than we have been in the habit of assigning to it? The word policy, as we see it in a policy of insurance, means a promise. Is it not possible that the word is used in this sense in the proverb? If so, then the moral character of the proverb is almost immeasurably better than that which attaches to it on the ordinary method of interpretation. "Honesty is the best promise;" the best guarantee that you can have for the fulfilment of any engagement is the honesty of him who makes it. Understood thus, the proverb is about equivalent to that other saying, “An honest man's word is as good as his bond." Even when understood thus the proverb is perhaps a little questionable; for, as an honest man may not be able to fulfil his promisemay die, for instance, before the promise becomes due-a better guarantee than his honesty may be desirable, and practicable too. But, still, with this sentiment, honesty is the best promise, let us not quarrel, for honesty is a good promise, if it be not under all circumstances quite the best! and the proverb thus understood encourages that confidence in an honest man which an honest man deserves. HUGH STOWELL BROWN. I. THE BELLS OF LORLOCHES. SPAKE the Lady of Lorloches, Soon will the golden bowl be broken; By the vessel and the wheel, Failing, whence my Being drew Draughts from life's clear well, I feel Its waters soon will fail me too; Singing o'er my spirit, full Of loving voices, rose their flow; Now with deadened sound, and dull, Comes that music, and I know, God would call me-so hath set Silence 'twixt my soul and Him; On His face I look not yet, But other looks have grown so dim, That I feel how tenderly He hath drawn a curtain deep, And darkening all before I sleep; II. "By the ancient minster's door Bury me; Heaven's lofty gate Still it seemed to me of yore, Near it I would patient wait. O'er me like a rose-dawn sky. I would leave it to His love- Loved it, like the old wall, binding, As one jewel, high and low In its massive ring of stone; So I loved it, power and will; Something I would leave, when gone, Saying that I love it still. In the tower'd minster, high, Set when I am gone, sweet bells, Clear as voices of the sky Met in welcomes and farewells: Strike them full, that passers there, Startled, may look up and greet, Clashing in the upper air Silver sound of angels' feet: Strike them joyful up and down With the dawn, ere yet the burst Of Earth's din awake the town, Let Heaven give its message first! IV. Ring them out at early morn ; Watchers, weepers through the night Hearing, will feel less forlorn, Comfort coming with the light; Pale mechanics, up and bending O'er their work, at dawning grey; Mothers for their children sending Anxious thoughts adown the day; All that unto toil awaking With the morning, listening there, Spreads a dawn that brings not care; And the anvil-voices clear- From the heavens to man below! Ring them out at twilight's fall, That the happy children playing, Lovers 'neath the chestnuts tall, Hand-in-hand together straying, Hear them like a mother's call 'Homewards, homewards,' still repeating, Soft and sweet and solemn fall On the hearts so fondly beating; Love and joy have need of rest; Unto you, sweet bells, 'tis given Now to better all earth's best, Mingling it with peace of Heaven !" V. Then the Lady paused; her eyes Swam in gentle tears represt : "Other burden on you lies, Than such blessing of the blest; Ye must change, earth's change to show; Knocking on the heart joy's knell : |