for some time, living in a reserved, mysterious manner. With him was a lady, supposed to be his wife. They lived like people of rank, avoiding publicity; kept a carriage, had within doors a single man-servant, who acted as valet and coachman; but hired others, who were only admitted at certain hours, and never could see the lady. She

concealed herself from strangers; would run into her chamber, and lock herself in, if a step was heard on the staircase, and was often crying; generally went closely veiled, or wore green spectacles; but her face was seen by more than one person, who said she strongly resembled the daughter of Louis XVI. The Baron was handsome and courtly in appearance; amused himself at home with chemical and other studies; wrote many letters, and was a great reader of newspapers;-in fine, his description, and that of the lady, tally in most points with that of the pair at Hildburghausen. The only other detail worth adding is an answer of the Baron's' to one who asked if he had any children - Would that I were so fortunate!' which at the time was thought strange, as he was a man in his best years, and his lady in the first bloom of youth. In Ingelfingen they took him for at French prince,-some said the Duc d'Angoulême.

One morning (in March, 1804) the strangers were missed; whither they had gone was not known. On the news, which shortly arrived, of the Duc d'Enghien's seizure on Baden ground, it was concluded that the Baron, apprized of it in time, had taken flight in fear of a similar outrage. A few months later the Schwäbische Mercur advertised the death of 'a French emigrant of rank, lately resident at Ingelfingen.' This, it was clear,

could be no one but the Baron ;' from thenceforth he was regarded as dead, and had long been forgotten, when in 1845 the noise which the journals made about the Eishausen affair, awakened the recollection of a few who had been on the spot in 1804; and now related what was not unnaturally judged to be a part of the same story. The obituary notice, it was supposed, had merely been a ruse for purposes of concealment; the Ingelfingen strangers, in short, were the same whose career has just come to an end in Thüringen.

This completes the external facts of the story (so far as they are known), those, namely, which were visible to bystanders, during the Count's lifetime. The picture they exhibit seems devoid both of purpose and of proportion; more like a dream, indeed, than a reality of the nineteenth century. It is a strange chaos of incidents, without apparent cause or effect; of conduct that seems not less aimless than consistent and determined; of a life spent in barring out the best of life's blessings; of a character made up of irreconcileable contrasts; a labyrinth, in short, without a clue; a spectacle wholly perplexing and enigmatical. But the clue, it is hoped, will at last be seized; the key of the riddle is on the eve of being found. The Count's death has unsealed the doors of Eishausen ; there, surely, material records of his history must be forthcoming, and whatever is found will soon be divulged by the authorities, who are now busily searching the repositories of the deceased. Public curiosity, strained to the utmost, is awaiting on tip-toe the outcome of the inquiry, and promises itself surprising revelations. The promise

was fulfilled, but in a manner somewhat unexpected.

ADDISON, on Saturday, the 22nd

November, 1712, delighted the readers of the Spectator with a paper on anatomy, so charmingly written that all the unpleasant details of the science are kept out of sight, while abundant evidence is given from the outward and inward make of the human body that it is the work of a Being transcendently wise and powerful. As yet Geology, in the sense which it now bears, was not. If the structure of the earth was alluded to at all, the allusion to it was mere crude speculation. Palæontology, the now vigorous handmaiden of Geology, by whose aid the medals which illustrate the history of the earth are so plainly deciphered, was non-existent. If

any one was induced to look at any of the numerous organic remains whose preservation in a petrified state is now accepted as incontrovertible proof that life from its earliest manifestation in the palæozoic rocks was followed by death, the forms were regarded as mere curiosities. The extinct fauna, which is now, thanks to our palæontologists, among whom Professor Owen stands pre-eminent, almost as well known as that which at present exists, was hardly noticed; or if attention was called to the multitudinous examples turned up by the plough or the pickaxe, they were attributed to a vis plastica in the earth itself. Yet we find Addison, in the second paragraph of the paper of the 22nd November, and in the beginning of the last century, writing thus in the spirit of prophecy :

The body of an animal is an object adequate to our senses. It is a particular system of Providence that lies in a narrow compass. The eye is able to command it, and by successive inquiries can search into all its parts. Could the body of the whole earth or indeed the whole universe, be thus submitted to

Few words could better foreshadow the work before us, written twenty-one years since at the request of Mr. Davies Gilbert, then President of the Royal Society, in pursuance of the testamentary wishes of the Earl of Bridgewater, to illustrate the Power, Wisdom, and Goodness of God, as manifested in the Creation.' There was but one opinion as to the fitness of the selection; and when it was known that the President had chosen Dr. Buckland as the exponent of the geological branch of the subject, every one competent to pronounce judgment felt that here, at least, the right man was in the right place.

When the book appeared in 1837, it fully justified the foregone conclusion. The arrangement, the comprehensive view of the extensive subject, the aptness of the argument, the brilliant descriptive power, the number and accuracy of the illustrations, combined to make the two volumes the most attractive of the treatises: no small result, when all were so good. In the production of this remarkable work, Dr. Buckland received the willing assistance of many scientific friends, whose aid was handsomely acknowledged at the commencement of the treatise. Nor must we forget the great help which he derived from one of the best women that ever lived, his good

and gifted wife. Well up in the subject, and an accomplished mistress of her pen and pencil, she wrote and wrought at the dictation of her husband perseveringly and indefatigably. Nearly the whole of the MS. was in her handwriting. Nor let it be supposed that the slightest blame is to be attached to the memory of the eloquent author for suffering such a consumption of midnight oil by his affectionate and gifted partner. The hearts of both were in the work. Hear the son of this exemplary wife and mother:

During the long period that Dr. Buckland was engaged in writing the book which I now have the honour of editing, my mother sat up night after night, for weeks and months consecutively, writing to my father's dictation; and this, often till the sun's rays shining through the shutters at early morn, warned the husband to cease from thinking, the wife to rest her weary hand.

Not only with her pen did she render material assistance, but her natural talent in the use of her pencil enabled her to give accurate illustrations and finished drawings, many of which are perpetuated in Dr. Buckland's works (see several drawings in Vol. II. of this Treatise, likewise in Cuvier's 'Ossemens Fossiles.') She was also particularly clever and neat in mending broken fossils; and there are many specimens in the Oxford Museum, now exhibiting their natural forms and beauty, which were restored by her perseverance to shape from a mass of broken and almost comminuted fragments. It was her occupation also to label the specimens, which she did in a particularly neat way; and there is hardly a fossil or bone in the Oxford Museum which has not her handwriting upon it.

Notwithstanding her devotion to her husband's pursuits, she did not neglect the education of her children, occupying her mornings in superintending their instruction in sound and useful knowledge. The sterling value of her labours they now, in after life, fully appreciate, and feel most thankful that they were blessed with so good a mother. She also occupied herself much in schemes of

charity for promoting the comfort and education of the villagers of Islip (Dr. Buckland's rectory near Oxford), where her name will long be remembered with love and respect among its poorer inhabitants.*

Never was tribute better deserved. Her whole life was spent in doing good.

Twenty-one years had elapsed since the appearance of the Bridgewater Treatise; and twenty-one years in this vigorous age of improvement, when the car of science is driven onward with a rapidity strongly contrasted with the sluggish advances of the last century, produce marvellous changes. new edition, bringing down the progress made in geology since the time of its first appearance to the Saturday night preceding its second, was called for. The call has been well answered by the author's eldest son.

A

The names of the eminent men which adorn the title-page as assistants of the efficient editor, form a sufficient guarantee of the value of the present edition. But it is a remarkable proof of the sterling soundness of the original work that so much remains unchanged. The alteration of some names in accordance with the present geological nomenclature was of course necessary, and some emendations consequent on the advanced state of the science were requisite. The lucid arrangement and argument, and the highly interesting details, remain as the hand of the gifted author left them.

But before we enter upon the consideration of the work, you will naturally wish to know something of the author.

William Buckland was born on the 24th of March, 1784, at Axminster, in Devonshire. His father, the Rev. Charles Buckland, was Rector of Templeton and Trusham, in that county; and the family of his mother, whose maiden name was Elizabeth Oke, had, since the time

1859.]

of the Stuarts, occupied extensive lands in the neighbourhood of Combpyne, near Axminster, where her father, a landed proprietor, lived.

Near William's birthplace were the Axminster lias quarries, abound. ing in organic remains. His father,* who like many clergymen of that time, took great interest in the improvement of roads, made his son the companion of his walks, and both collected ammonites and other shells from the quarries; so that young Buckland had fossils for playthings. An inclination for natural history showed itself early, unfortunately for the poor birds, in a talent for finding their nests and collecting their eggs; and his ichthyological propensities were manifested at the expense of the flounders, roaches, eels, minnows, and miller's thumbs, whose habits he studied in the Axe. The birds'-nesting passion must have been very strong. We have seen the Dean feed a nest of young jackdaws, which had been taken from the towers of Westminster Abbey, with all the skill and something of the satisfaction of the boy.

When William was thirteen years old, he was sent for one year to the grammar-school at Tiverton, and when he had attained the age of fourteen, Dr. Huntingford, Warden of Winchester, moved thereunto by the good offices of Mr. Pole Carew, then (1798) Speaker of the House of Commons, gave him a nomination to the noble foundation of William of Wickham. This was a great step. The boy's uncle, the Rev. J. Buckland, Rector of Warborough, Oxford, and fellow of Corpus, wrote to his father: As William appears to excel your other boys by many degrees in talent and industry, he will probably make a better return for any extraordinary expense you may incur on this occasion.' These words of a stern but sagacious and judicious man, who was ever encouraging or admonishing his nephew, flowed from a prophetic pen.

Established at Winchester, the boy soon became familiar with the chalk formation. He could not pass along the pathway to the playground

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on St. Catherine's Hill, without coming close upon great chalk pits, abounding in petrified sponges and other fossils. He could not dig the field mice out of their holes in the vallum of the ancient camp on the top of the hill, where the Roman soldiers once kept watch and ward, without penetrating the surface of the chalk. Nor did he not hunt for mole-cricketst in the valley

Where health a Naiad fair,
With rosy cheek and dripping hair,
From the sultry noon-tide beam,
Dives in Itchin's crystal-stream.

Such were young William Buckland's amusements. He was slow to learn, taking time thoroughly to understand what he read, but what he once comprehended he never forgot.' He construed Latin remarkably well, and was ready with the nearest corresponding English words in the rendering of difficult phrases. His uncle says of him,

William is a very good Latin scholar, not a very good Greek one, and a very bad English one.' The writer was, we suspect, in no very good humour when he was delivered of the last member of that sentence; for it certainly does not agree with the boy's acknowledged aptitude at applying the nearest corresponding English expressions to the construction of difficult Latin passages. That he was above the average is manifest from the observation of Dr. Goddard, the Head-master, who on one occasion, when the boy had lost several places in his class, and immediately afterward retook them, said to him: Well, Buckland, it is as difficult to keep a good boy at the bottom of the class, as it is to keep a cork under water '-—and Dr. Goddard was no flatterer.

Buckland left Winchester, leaving the usual tablet inscribed with his name; and, in 1801, became a candidate for a vacant scholarship at Corpus Christi College, Oxford, by the advice of his uncle; and on the 13th of May in that year, had the satisfaction of thus writing to his father:

I am happy to inform you that I have just been elected the Senior Scholar for

Devonshire, after a course of many days' rigorous examination against eight competitors; all of whom, especially Moore and Strong, have received high commendations from the electors, very formidable phalanx, among whom were the Head of Tiverton School, the Head of Gloster, the Head of Truro, and the Head of Exeter: the testimonial Dr. Huntingford sent of my behaviour was highly approved of by the President and electors.

The scholar of Corpus, in his journeyings from Axminster to his college through Charmouth, purchased for a college friend such specimens of lias fossils as were brought for sale to coach-passengers by itinerant collectors from the cliff's above; but though this friendly act may have revived his recollection of his old playthings, the ammonites, and have made him familiar with the form of belemnites, it does not appear that he then thought of collecting for himself; indeed we think we may safely assert that he did not.

In 1804 he took his Bachelor's degree, and in 1809 was elected fellow of Corpus. In the same year he was admitted into holy orders at the Chapel Royal, St. James's, by the Bishop of Winchester. The interval between his Bachelor's and Master's degree afforded him leisure to attend the lectures of Dr. Kidd on mineralogy and chemistry, and of Sir Christopher Pegge, then Regius Professor of Anatomy. These no doubt revived the early taste for natural history, and fanned the latent fire; but the time of the Fellow of Corpus was principally occupied in taking pupils, and no one would have then thought of the road by which he was to arrive at fortune and fame. One of those accidents, slight in themselves, but which have in so many instances exercised an influence on the career of remarkable men, went far to pave the way for Buckland's brilliant future.

There was at this time a young undergraduate of Oriel College

whose father possessed a very fine collection of shells and corals, and a very good cabinet of minerals and organic fossils, all of which the undergraduate had arranged according to the systems of that day before he had seen fourteen summers, and before he was entered at Oxford in the early part of the present century. As the old cock crows, so crows the young; and the spirit of collecting was strong in the youth. Birds of a feather soon get together, and the undergraduate was kindly noticed by the graduate. On one occasion, after a breakfast at Corpus, during which the undergraduate had held forth rather enthusiastically to his host upon geology in general, and organic fossils in particular, both set out to walk over to Oriel, to see what fossils old Snow, the quarryman (who was expected), had brought for the undergraduate. As they were passing across Corpus quad toward the neighbouring college, Buckland, kicking over two loose flints lying on the gravel, said—

'I suppose you will say next that these are organic, and once had life.'

"They contain what once had life; and, if you will crack one, you will find the remains of a sponge, or of an alcyonium.'

'We'll soon see that. Mr. Manciple, be so good as to bring a hammer.'

The hammer was brought, and a blow struck on one of the flints, which happened to be a very good specimen, and exhibited just what the undergraduate had foretold. Without saying a word, Buckland put the pieces in his pocket, and walked on to the neighbouring college, where old Snow opened his budget, and the undergraduate explained the contents as well as he could. Among the specimens were two marsupial jaws from Stonesfield, one of which, at his earnest desire, the undergraduate spared to his friend. A walk to Shotover hill