should have paved the way. The elephant and
tapir, the rhinoceros and hippopotamus, and the
numerous other allied animals whose remains
are found in most parts of Europe, mixed up
with gravel and buried in caverns, and even
others less known and less like existing races,
such as those whose existence was first made
out by Cuvier from the bones in the Paris basin,
might be conceived without much difficulty to
occupy a place in land thus formed, which we may
suppose would consist of a large archipelago, the
islands admitting a certain amount of intercommunication,
in consequence of the set of marine
currents from the equator towards the pole.

In this way the general reader may understand
the argument of geology in reference to these
supposed changes of land and climate. The
change of climate follows inevitably on the
alteration and relative position of the land, and
this is a phenomenon which we have the best
reason for believing is constantly going on in all
parts of the earth.

But we may be asked what is the extent of
this alteration, and is it not so small that within
human experience it can hardly, if at all, be
measured. This introduces another consideration,
that of the time required to effect a certain
amount of change, and the geologist, no doubt,
makes large claims on us for this element in the
problem. As, however, we have no intention
nere to discuss the whole subject, the suggestion
is merely thrown out with the remark that time
is required to explain many things in human
history as well as in natural history, in all its
departments. The object here is rather to show
that these curious and complete modifications of
climate, which must be assumed to have taken
place if we wish to account rationally for natural
phenomena of the kind we have been considering,
are to be explained by very simple and
sufficient reasons, and connect themselves
naturally enough with other matters that we learn
from observation. The subject of arctic and
antarctic land possesses abundant interest in this
as well as in other ways, not only to the general
reader, but to the naturalist and geologist.

MOHAMMED.

MOHAMMED, the divine (ere yet his name
Blazed on the front of everlasting fame),
Withdrew into the desert, and abode
Hard by Mount Hara, long aloue with God.
But from the solitude his soul swept forth,
And view'd the world; east, west, and south, and
north;
And saw the weakness of it, and the sin;
And how the people murmur l as in Zin,
Yet lackt the heavenly food: how, on each side,
The Roman and the Persian in their pride
Were perishing from power; and how the Jew
Defamed Jehovah; while the Christian crew,
Wrangling around a desecrated Christ,
Blacken'd the Light of God with smoke and mist
Of idol-incense: how, in midst of this
Confusion crumbling down to the abyss,
A void was, day by day, and hoar by hour,
Forming fit verge and scope for some new Power:
And he perceived that every Power is good
First, (since it comes from God, be it understood,)
But, after resting many years on earth,
Power dwindles from the primal strength of birth,
Grows weak, then gets confused, and last goes mad;
And therefore every Power grown weak is bad.
And whilst he thought on this, and thought, beside,
How nothing now was wanting to provide
That novel Power which should regenerate
Mankind, renew God's will, and re-create
Creation, but just one bold man's strong will,
Mohammed's secret thoughts were troubled, till
They made a darkness on his countenance.

Then Omar timidly rais'd up his glance
Upon the Prophet's face. . . . Omar, his friend;
Who, in the wilderness to watch and tend
Upon him, stole from Mecca when the light
Was going out, and, footing the deep night,
At daybreak found him in the wilderness;
And all day long, beneath an intense stress
Of silence, breathing low, was fain to lie
Just tolerated by the kingly eye
Of his great friend, in striving to become
Like a mere piece of the rock's self, so dumb
And grey, and motionless. . . . Omar at last
Lookt up, and saw Mohammed's face o'ercast,
And murmured, " Mohammed, art thou sad?"
But still that other seem'd as though he had
Nor seen, nor heard, him. Omar then arose
And crept a little nearer, and sat close
Against the skirting of his robe, and said
"Mohammed, peace be with thee!" But his head
Mohammed lifted not, nor answered aught.
Then Omar said again, " What is thy thought
Mohammed?" And Mohammed answered: " Friend,
A sad thought, which I think you will not mend.
For first, I thought upon the mighty world
Which lies beyond this wilderness, unfurl'd
Like a great chart to read in. And I saw
How in all places the old power and law
Is falling off. Again, I thought upon
My Arabs in the ages coming on,
And all they might be, should be, but are not.
And if, I thought, I tell this people what
God, who speaks to rm in the solitude,
Hath bid me tell them, the lewd multitude
Will mock me, crying, ' Who made thee to be
A teacher of us?' If I answer ' He
Whose name is Very God, and God Alone
He, and none other,' surely they will stone
Or tear me. For though I, to prove the Lord
Hath sent me to them, should proclaim His word,
They will not heed it. Men were never wise
(And never will be yet) to recognise
God, when He speaks by law and order; since
In these there's nothing startling to convince
The jaded sense of those who day by day
See law and order working every way
Around them,—yet in vain! And still God speaks
Only by law and order: never breaks
The old law even to release the new
But men are ever eager, when they view
Some seeming strange disorder, to exclaim
'A god! a god!' They think they hear God's
name
In thunder and in earthquake, but are deaf
To the low listings of the fallen leaf
And the soft hours. As tho' it were God's way,
To make man's mere bewilderment obey
Some one of His immutably-fixt laws
By breaking of another,—for no cause
Better than set a-gaping apes and fools,
Ruling His world by flawing His own rules!
A worthy way. Sure am I, if anon
'. Some mighty-mouthed prodigy . . . yon stone