And this is especially true of geology, the science that treats of the history of the earth.

The Greeks, with their eager thirst for knowledge, and untiring zeal in its pursuit, had opened this wonder—book of nature, and read some of the secrets revealed in its fascinating pages, but, as was the case with many other branches of science, the knowledge thus gained consisted more of isolated facts than of any deep comprehension of the great laws which underlie the workings of nature.

Pythagoras, in his journeys through Egypt and Chaldea, noticed the different appearances of the land, and made some observations on the subject, taking for his starting—point the idea of continual change. "Nothing," said he, "perishes, but all things change their form," and it was to these constant changes changes that he claimed all the phenomena connected with the earth were due.

After Pythagoras, other Greek philosophers took up the story where he left off, and read a little further on; but the knowledge thus gained was not of a kind to explain any of the secrets that were hidden in the earth, and can only be likened to the pictures scattered through a volume, and which are understood only when one has read the printed page.

And then for many centuries the history of the earth was like a closed book, and even when astronomy, botany, electricity, and other subjects had received earnest study by the great men of science, geology was still an unexplored region.

Men had learned to count the stars of heaven, to number the flowers of the field, and to some of the subtlest forces of nature long before any serious attempt was made to read the history of the earth, and all the wonders that lay before their eyes were only regarded as unexplained, and perhaps inexplainable mysteries.

In the old days the popular belief that the interior of the earth was inhabited by races of beings who performed all the miracles of nature, was esteemed a sufficient explanation, and all the vast mineral wealth that is stored away in the earth's great treasure chambers was supposed to be the work of the kind genii who bestowed their riches with lavish hands upon their human favorites.

But it was only in the dark ages of science that this belief could be held, and when nature's wonders ceased to be regarded with the unreasoning awe which the general attendant of ignorance, and it was no longer considered irreligious to study the workings of the universe, then the old superstitions faded away, and man required a more intelligent answer to his questions as to the causes of the wonderful effects that were everywhere visible.

And although geology is one of the sciences that have been very lately developed, yet, when once aroused, the interest in it became so strong that it was pursued with an ardor that soon brought about great results. The earth suddenly ceased to be regarded simply as the abode of man, and interesting only because it produced the wherewithal to supply his needs.

It came to be looked upon instead as a thing in itself so wonderul and with a history of such antiquity, that man's experience seemed insignificant beside it, and geology was clothed with an interest as great as that attached to astronomy when the telescope suddenly revealed the existence of the great star-systems of the remote heavens which had been hitherto invisible to the human eye.

And then came study and research of the most absorbing nature, and in the new light thus given them, men saw even new and greater beauty. Before this the interior of the earth had been considered as a great treasure house, whose largess might be his who would seek it; but now it was found that the rich veins of gold and silver which streamed through the earth, like the rivers that flowed over its surface, the secret mines that held the priceless diamonds and rubies in their hidden chambers, and the great coal measures whose layers bore the impress of the lily and the palm that had perished in dim—forgotten ages, could all tell the magic story of their birth to one who had the gift of hearing their voices.

And the wise seekers after knowledge listened with reverent attention, and gathered what wisdom they could, and thus a little of the marvellous history of the earth was learned.

Chief among these earnest seekers was Charles Lyell, who was born at Kinnordy, Forfarshire, Scotland, November 14, 1797.

Although an intelligent and observing child, Lyell did not show any particular love for nature until his eleventh year, when ill—health made it necessary for him to leave school and go home for a few months.

Then the absence of playfellows, and the bent of his mind toward some absorbing occupation, first led him to notice the world of nature that he had hitherto neglected, and all the myriad forms of life that he saw were suddenly endowed with an unexpected interest.

His attention was thus directed toward the study of the animal kingdom, and he began to observe carefully, if not methodically, the habits and peculiarities of insects.

It happened that his father also had been interested in this branch of study, and the family library was furnished with some valuable volumes on entomology, the illustrations of which served to teach Lyell the names and localities of the butterflies, moths, and aquatic insects that he began to collect.

Although he was not conscious of it, his investigations were carried on in the true scientific spirit, including the study of the insects, particularly of the butterfly, from the hatching of the caterpillar, through the transformation of the chrysalis; while at the same time he learned to discriminate so nicely between the several hundred species that he soon became familiar with, that the names which he gave to certain tribes, such as "the fold—up moths," "the yellow underwings," etc., were afterward found by him to really indicate the natural families of classification.

This pursuit did not meet with the sympathy of the people at home, and young Lyell had to endure much bantering and ridicule in consequence of it, but this did not daunt his enthusiasm, and his persistence clearly indicated the spirit of the true seeker after wisdom who lets nothing turn him aside from the path he has chosen. Lyell's collection of insects made at this time was valuable, even though his methods of preserving the specimens were often unscientific and injurious, and he had the satisfaction in after years of knowing that the butterflies and moths which he captured and preserved with so much patience, finding inspiration and help in his work only from the printed pages of Linnaeus and other naturalists, was considered of sufficient value to be utilized by one of the first entomologists in England.

From this time Lyell's appreciation of nature never failed, and his usual boyish pursuits received new zest whenever they approached the region of living forms; and when he returned to school his ardor by no means decreased; the favorite amusement of birds'—nesting being turned by him to an advantage which resulted in a knowledge of the eggs of almost every bird in that region, which was particularly rich in varieties.

The love of one branch of natural scieince invariably leads to an interest in others, for in the world of nature all things are so closely allied that an interest in one presupposes an interest in all, and thus it happened that Lyell's taste for entomology eventually led to the selection of his life's work.

When he was seventeen he entered Oxford, and although he pursued the regular course with a fair amount of interest, he still showed a love for the works of nature which distinguished him from his companions.

He continued his studies of insects in his leisure hours, having at this time the assistance of an experienced naturalist, and it was during this period also that he became aware that there was such a science as geology, and that the history of the earth might be studied with the same exactness as distinguished the classification of animals and plants.

The knowledge that the earth, which he had hitherto regarded only as the abode of man, possessed an antiquity far exceeding the most remote history of the human race, excited his imagination to such a degree that he knew no rest until he undertook a course in geology. He was thus led to an interest in fossils, and at once began to form acquaintances among collectors, recognizing in one instance the house of a prominent naturalist by a large ammonite which he saw at the door.

From the time of his second year at Oxford geology occupied a prominent part in Lyell's mind, and the study of the earth became gradually of absorbing interest; and he was more and more amazed to find that, while science had progressed in every other department, the earth still remained almost as great a mystery as it had been in the first dawn of scientific thought.

The genius of Galileo and Herschel had read the secret of the heavens, and mapped out the star-system so that remote space had long since ceased to be regarded as an unknown region, and the astronomer could find the orb he sought with the same ease that one might walk into a garden and pluck a favorite flower.

Kepler and Newton had formulated the great laws of planetary motion, and the discoveries in electricity had revealed a subtle force which pervaded all nature to an extent that had not been dreamed of before. Linnaeus had demonstrated the order which harmonized the animal and vegetable worlds, and chemistry had brought to light the unsuspected resources of nature, but as yet no one had given a theory of the earth's history which would satisfactorily account for its present state, and place geology among the familiar sciences.

Besides the gold and gems, other things served to tell man of the wonders of the earth; the fossils found in Europe, in America, and in Asia showed that the earth had undergone changes as great as those which turn the nebulous masses of infinite space into great stars, whose light will shine on for countless ages after man has ceased to exist, or that which converts the sunshine and the dew into the flowers that spangle the meadows or brighten the wayside.