THE drama of the earth's history consists in the struggle between the forces of uplift and the forces of degradation. The forces of uplift are mainly the outward expression of the inner energy and heat of the earth, whether they be the volcano belching its ashes thousands of meters into the air, or the earthquake, with the attendant crack or fault in the earth's crust, leading to a sudden displacement, and sending, far and wide, a death-dealing shock, or those mountain-building actions, which, though they may be as gentle and gradual as might be produced by the breathing of mother earth and the uplifting of her bosom thereby, nevertheless, end in the huge folds of our mountain ranges. Against these, there are always working the forces of degradation--the slow rotting of weathering caused by the direct chemical action of the moist atmosphere or the alternation of hot and cold which crumbles rocks far above the line where rain never falls. Once the rock is rotten and decayed, it yields readily to the forces of degradation, which drag it down--the beating of the rain, the rush of the avalanche or of the landslide, the tumult of the torrent, the quieter action of the muddy river in its lower reaches or the mighty glacier which transfers fine and coarse material alike toward the sea. These actions are always going on. Are they always equally balanced, or are there periods when the forces of elevation are more active, the forces of degradation not so powerful, as against other times in which the forces of degradation alone are at work? If there is inequality in the balance and struggle of these contending forces, the great periods or acts in the geologic drama might thus be marked off as Chamberlin suggests. Newbery, Schuchert and others have pointed out that there seem to have been great cycles of sedimentation which may be interpreted as due to the alternate success, first of the factors of elevation, then of those of degradation. Suppose, for instance, that there has been an epoch of elevation, that mountain chains have been lifted far into the sky and volcanoes have sent their floods of lava forth, and fault-scarped cliffs run across the landscape and that then, for a while, the forces of elevation cease their work. Little by little, the mountains will be worn down to a surface of less and less relief, approaching a plain as a hyperbola approaches its asymptote--a surface which W. M. Davis has called peneplain.