Such were the animals, such were the plants, that lived and died, that flourished and decayed, in the age when coal was being formed and fashioned and hidden away in the crust of the earth. That the fauna and flora of to-day have few prototypes among them should be little cause for regret. There was, indeed, hardly a feature in the landscape of the coal era that would have had a familiar look to an inhabitant of the world in its present age. In place of the hills and valleys as we have them now, there were great plains sloping imperceptibly to the borders of the sea. There were vast marshes, shallow fresh-water lakes, and broad and sluggish rivers. Save by isolated peaks the Rocky Mountains had not yet been uplifted from the face of the deep, and the great West of to-day was a waste of waters. In the wide forests no bird’s song was ever heard, no flashing of a wing was ever seen, no serpent trailed its length upon the ground, no wild beast searched the woods for prey. The spider spun his web in silence from the dew-wet twigs, the locust hopped drowsily from leaf to leaf, the mayfly floated lightly in the heavy air, the slow-paced snail left his damp track on the surfaces of the rocks, and the beetles, lifting the hard coverings from their gauzy wings, flew aimlessly from place to place. In seas and lakes and swampy pools strange fishes swam, up from the salt waters odd reptiles crawled to sun themselves upon the sandy shore or make their way through the dense jungles of the swamps, and out where the ocean waves were dashing, fierce monsters of the sea darted on their prey, or churned the water into foam in savage fights with each other. But in all the world there were no flowers. Stems grew to be trunks, branches were sent out, leaves formed and fell, the land was robed and wrapped in the richest, most luxuriant foliage, yet the few buds that tried to blossom were scentless and hidden, and earth was still void of the beauty and the fragrance of the flowers. CHAPTER IV. HOW THE COAL BEDS LIE.