Mr. Twaddleton, being desirous of communicating history of Major Snapwell, begged that Mr. and Mrs. Seymour would allow him a few minutes’ conversation; observing that the attention of the children would be agreeably occupied during their absence by their newly-acquired amusement. “We will then, if you please, vicar,” replied Mr. Seymour, “walk to the Geological Temple, where I have lately deposited some specimens which you have not yet seen.” “To speak sincerely,” said the vicar, “I cannot participate in that high satisfaction which you appear to feel in collecting such hoards of broken rocks and pebbles: where can lie the utility of such labour? unless, indeed, in pursuance of your Utopian plans, you intend to _Mac-adamise_ all the roads of science.” “Is it nothing, my dear Mr. Twaddleton, to discover the structure of different countries?” “Which the geologist infers,” replied the vicar, “from a few _patterns_, picked up at random on the road side!” “Mr. Twaddleton,” said Mr. Seymour, “I will meet you on your own ground: you are an antiquary; if an ancient monument of art be so inestimable, is not a knowledge of the antiquity of the globe itself, at least, of equal interest?” “I understand you: you would infer that the scriptural account of the Deluge is disproved by those Sciolists, who pretend to discover the antiquity of the globe by penetrating its caverns, with as much ease as the jockey ascertains the age of a horse by looking into its jaws.” “You speak too flippantly of a class of philosophers who have united their efforts to investigate a sublime subject upon the true principles of science; were you to attend the meetings of the Geological Society, and hear the discussions of its members, you would cease to talk thus irreverently.”