This rattling noise, night and day, may be heard along the whole
course of the torrent. The sound spoke eloquently to the geologist;
the thousands and thousands of stones which, striking against each
other, made the one dull uniform sound, were all hurrying in one
direction. It was like thinking on time, where the minute that now
glides past is irrevocable. So was it with these stones; the ocean
is their eternity, and each note of that wild music told of one
more step towards their destiny.
It is not possible for the mind to comprehend, except by a slow
process, any effect which is produced by a cause repeated so often
that the multiplier itself conveys an idea not more definite than
the savage implies when he points to the hairs of his head. As
often as I have seen beds of mud, sand, and shingle, accumulated to
the thickness of many thousand feet, I have felt inclined to
exclaim that causes, such as the present rivers and the present
beaches, could never have ground down and produced such masses.
But, on the other hand, when listening to the rattling noise of
these torrents, and calling to mind that whole races of animals
have passed away from the face of the earth, and that during this
whole period, night and day, these stones have gone rattling
onwards in their course, I have thought to myself, can any
mountains, any continent, withstand such waste?
In this part of the valley, the mountains on each side were from
3000 to 6000 or 8000 feet high, with rounded outlines and steep
bare flanks.
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