Notes on Collecting and Preserving Natural-History Objects. Various

      COLLECTING AND PRESERVING.

      I.

      GEOLOGICAL SPECIMENS.

      By J. E. Taylor, F.L.S., F.G.S.

      The great end of natural-history reading should be the development of a love for the objects dwelt upon, and a desire to know more about them. This can only be brought about by such practical acquaintance as collecting and preserving them induces. At the same time we should be sorry to see our young readers degenerate into mere collectors! It is a great mistake to suppose, that because you have a full cabinet of butterflies, moths, or beetles, therefore you are a good entomologist; or that you may lay claim to a distinguished position as a geologist, on account of drawers full of fossils and minerals. But this is a mistake into which young naturalists frequently fall. We have seen people with decided tastes for these studies never get beyond the mere collecting. In that case they stand on a par with collectors of postage-stamps. Nor is there much gained, even if you become acquainted with English, or even Latin, names of natural-history objects. Many people can catalogue them glibly, and never make a slip, and yet they are practically ignorant of the real knowledge which clusters round each object, and its relation to others. Both Latin and English names are useful and even necessary; but when you have simply learnt them, and nothing more, how much wiser are you than before? No, let the learning of names be the alphabet of science—the means by which you can acquire a further knowledge of its mysteries. It would be just as reasonable to set up for a literary man on the strength of accurately knowing the alphabet, as to imagine you are a scientific man the moment you have learned by heart a few scores of Latin names of plants, fossils, or insects! Let each object represent so much knowledge, to which the very mention of its name will immediately conjure up a crowd of associations, relationships, and intimate acquaintances, and you will then see what a store of real knowledge may be represented in a carefully-arranged cabinet.

      The heading of the present articles will have indicated the subject chosen for brief treatment. We shall never forget the influence left by reading such charming and suggestive books as Mantell's 'Medals of Creation,' many years ago. Our mind had been prepared for the enthusiasm which this little book produced by the perusal of Page's 'Introductory Text-book,' Phillips's 'Guide to Geology,' and several others of a similar character. But we know of none which impels a young student to go into the field and hammer out fossils for himself, like Dr. Mantell's works. It is impossible not to catch the enthusiasm of his nature. The first place we sallied out to, on our maiden geological trip, was a heap of coal-shale, near a pit's mouth, in the neighbourhood of Manchester. Our only weapon was a common house hammer, for we then knew nothing of the technical forms which geological fancy so often assumes. We had passed that same heap of coal-shale hundreds of times, without suspecting it to be anything more than everybody else considered it viz. a heap of rubbish. Why that particular spot was selected, we cannot now say. We had seen illustrations of carboniferous plants, shells, &c., in books, but we seemed to imagine their discovery could only be effected by scientific men, and that it required a good deal of knowledge before one should attempt to find them. Suffice it to say we made the pilgrimage to the coal-shale heap in pretty much the same mind as we should expect to get the head prize in some fine-art drawing. The humble hammer was put into use, for a brief time without much effect, as we could hardly have commenced on a more barren kind of shale than we had chanced to hit upon. We imagined we could perceive traces of leaves and slender stems, but were afraid to trust our eyes. At any rate, there was nothing definite enough to raise our enthusiasm. But by-and-by, as the hammer kept cleaving open the thin leaf-like layers of shale, there appeared a large portion of that most beautiful of all fossil plants, the Lepidodendron. Those who are familiar with this object, with its lozenge-shaped markings running spirally up the stem, will readily understand the outburst of pleasure which escaped our lips! That was the first real fossil—a pleasure quite equivalent to that of landing the first salmon. How carefully was it wrapped in paper, and carried home in the pocket! There never was, and never will be, another fossil in the world as beautiful as that insignificant fragment of Lepidodendron.

      We have seen a good many converts made to geology in a similar manner, since first we laid open to the light this silent memorial of ages which have passed away. Let a man have ever so slight acquaintance with geology, and give him the chance of hammering out a fossil for himself, and the odds are you thereby make him a geologist for life. There is something almost romantic in the idea that you are looking for the first time, and have yourself disentombed the remains of creatures which probably lived scores of millions of years ago! We would strongly advise our readers, therefore, not to fall into the error of supposing that fossil-hunting belongs to highly-trained geologists. On the contrary, it is by fossil-hunting alone that you can ever hope to be a geologist yourself. Another mistake often made, is that of supposing these rich and interesting geological localities are at a distance. It seems so hard to suppose, after reading about typical sections, &c., that under your very feet, in the fields where you have so often played, there occur geological phenomena of no less interest. But it is actually surprising what evidences of our earth's great antiquity, in the shape of fossils, &c., may be studied and obtained in the most out-of-the-way and insignificant places.

      You say you have no rocks in your neighbourhood—nothing but barren sands, or beds of brick-earth or clay. Well, go to some section of the latter, exposed, perhaps, in some tarn or stagnant pond in a turnip-field. You examine the sides, and what do you see? Nothing, but here and there a boulder-stone sticking out. Well, be content with that. You said you had no rocks in your neighbourhood; how, then, has that boulder, which is a rounded fragment of a rock broken off from somewhere—how has it come there? Here is a poser at once. Examine it, and you will perhaps see that its hard surface is polished or scratched, and then you remember the theory of icebergs, and feel astonished to think that you hold in your hand an undeniable proof of the truth of that theory. Those very scratchings could have been produced in no other way; that foreign fragment of a rock now only to be found on some distant mountain-side could have been conveyed in no other manner. Not content with the exterior examination, you break the boulder-stone open, when you may chance to find it is a portion of silurian, carboniferous or oolitic limestone, and that it contains fossils belonging to one of those formations. Here is a find—an object with a double interest turning up where you never expected to discover the slightest geological incident! You examine other boulders, and find in them general evidences of ice-action in their present re-deposition, and most instructive lessons as to the nature of rocks of various formations, from the granite and trap series to the fossiliferous deposits. In fact, there is no place like one of these old boulder-pits for making oneself acquainted with petrology, or the nature of stones.

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