Page:Once a Week Jun to Dec 1864.pdf/540

29, 1864.] brother read aloud the letter, and then flung it across the table for her to inspect more closely.

She made no remark; but held it tightly in her fingers, as if scarcely conscious of what she did.

“There now,” said Nugent, looking deeply concerned, “that’s how it has turned out.”

“Of course you won’t ride now,” observed Sir Percy, turning to his host.

“My mind has not changed in the least,” replied Barnett. “I must go to Golden; but I will not ask anyone to accompany me unless they particularly choose to do so.”

“Oh, I wish I had not this headache!” exclaimed Miss Barnett, rising to leave the room. “For God’s sake, Denis, do not ride out alone to-day!”

“He will not be alone if he must go, Miss Barnett,” replied I. “I have promised to accompany him in his ride to-day.”

“Thanks,” she said hurriedly, in a low tone, as I held the door open for her; “but persuade him not to go if you can:” and then she disappeared, probably to give vent to her excited feelings in a burst of tears.

“Is it of necessity, Sir Denis, that you go out to-day?” I asked, as I sat down again.

“Yes, my dear fellow; and now since receiving this friendly letter I must go faster than ever. If I stayed at home to-day I might never expect to live in Tipperary again with peace, credit, or comfort. Threatening letters would be poured in upon me if I turned a servant away, changed my gardener, or drowned a puppy. I should not be able to follow my own judgment in anything, public or private, under penalty of death. But recollect, Stapleton, I do not wish you to come with me.”

“But we agreed upon that point last night, Sir Denis,” said I; “if you ride out I must accompany you.”

“Just as you please. So now let us order our horses, and get ready at once. What an exquisite morning!”

work of time is seen in many ways. Men come and go; empires rise, flourish, and fade, and even their memories are swept away under the devastating influence of time; but of what time? An acknowledged authority says: “There is no more an absolutely long or short time than there is an absolutely great or little space.” The historian, taking the lifetime of a man as a scale of measurement, regards Babylon as an ancient empire; the pyramids as ancient structures; and some of our own cathedrals and ruined castles as “very old.” As time, it has been said, can only be recognised by change, which involves a succession of events, our idea of time is entirely governed by the unit we adopt. The palæontologists, or students of ancient life, form their notion of the lapse of time, not from the lives of individuals, or the duration of empires; but from the duration of species. Hence what the historian might call “very old,” the palæontologist or the geologist would call “very recent,” and consequently they are as great in their demands for time as the astronomer is for space. The geologist does not ask for so much space, but is quite contented with a whole globe.

We cannot roam all over the globe, or fathom the abysses of geological time, but the interest and scope of the inquiry into the mode in which organisms are grouped together may, perhaps, be imparted if we confine ourselves to some of the more recent fluctuations of plants and animals in point of space and time. We shall also have occasion to note a few of the changes that have taken place in time; and we would repeat that the rapidity or slowness of change is entirely a relative term. As the grub in the nut might think that nut trees never blossomed, but always bore nuts, so man, if he judged by the experience of his own lifetime, might think the hills of his boyhood unchangeable, his native land unmoveable, and his animated playmates, such as the dog, &c., destined to exist as a species, unalterable in their form, habits, and other peculiarities, for an indefinite period. He might think that as the dog, the cat, the donkey, and numerous other familiar friends exist together now, so they will continue to do until the destruction of the world. But as he does not depend for information solely upon the experience of a lifetime, having his reason to guide him in his inferences as to the former states of our globe, he learns that from the earliest period of the world’s history there ever has been change, not only in the organic world, but also in the inorganic, even in the very hills which the poet fondly calls everlasting. And it is chiefly in consequence of this change that the great diversity of the organisms of different countries have arisen.

We find that the faunas of two closely contiguous countries very much resemble each other, the one containing a few species not possessed by the other. When, however, two countries are separated by a narrow belt of sea, a greater difference frequently prevails, as is exemplified by almost every island. In Belgium, for example, there are a certain number of reptilian species: nearly, if not