later formations--the Permian, the Jurassic, the Triassic, the
Cretaceous, the Eocene,--that give the prevailing features to the
South-western landscape that so astonish Eastern eyes. From them
come most of the petrified remains of that great army of extinct
reptiles and mammals--the three-toed horse, the sabre-toothed
tiger, the brontosaurus, the fin-backed lizard, the imperial
mammoth, the various dinosaurs, some of them gigantic in form and
fearful in aspect--that of late years have appeared in our museums
and that throw so much light upon the history of the animal life of
the globe. Most of the sedimentary rocks of New York and New England
were laid down before these creatures existed.

Now I am not going to write an essay on the geology of the West, for
I really have little first-hand knowledge upon that subject, but I
would indicate the kind of interest in the country I was most
conscious of during my recent trip to the Pacific Coast and beyond.
Indeed, quite a geologic fever raged in me most of the time. The
rocks attracted me more than the birds, the sculpturing of the
landscapes engaged my attention more than the improvements of the
farms--what Nature had done more than what man was doing. The purely
scenic aspects of the country are certainly remarkable, and the
human aspects interesting, but underneath these things, and striking
through them, lies a vast world of time and change that to me is
still more remarkable, and still more interesting. I could not look
out of the car windows without seeing the spectre of geologic time
stalking across the hills and plains.

As one leaves the prairie States and nears the great Southwest, he
finds Nature in a new mood--she is dreaming of canyons; both cliffs
and soil have canyon stamped upon them, so that your eye, if alert,