r shore, and was eaten
out by the sea as the land sank down.

But how does he know that the land sank?

Of that, he says, he is quite certain; and this is what he says.--Suppose
there was a glacier here, where we are sailing now: it would end in an
ice cliff, such as you have seen a picture of in Captain Cook's Voyages,
of which you are so fond. You recollect the pictures of Christmas Sound
and Possession Bay?

Oh yes, and pictures of Greenland and Spitzbergen too, with glaciers in
the sea.

Then icebergs would break off from that cliff, and carry all the dirt and
stones out to sea, perhaps hundreds of miles away, instead of letting it
drop here in a heap; and what did fall in a heap here the sea would wash
down at once, and smooth it over the sea-bottom, and never let it pile up
in a huge bank like that. Do you understand?

I think I do.

Therefore, he says, that great moraine must have been built upon dry
land, in the open air; and must have sunk since into the sea, which is
gnawing at it day and night, and will some day eat it all up, as it would
eat up all the dry land in the world, if Madam How was not continually
lifting up fresh land, to make up for what the sea has carried off.

Oh, look there! some one has caught a fish, and is hauling it up. What a
strange creature! It is not a mackerel, nor a gurnet, nor a pollock.

How do you know that?

Why, it is running along the top of the water like a snake; and they
never do that. Here it comes. It has got a long beak, like a snipe. Oh,
let me see.

See if you like: but don't get in the way. Remember you are but a little
boy.

What is it? a snake with a bird's head?

No: a snake has no fins; and look at its beak: it is full of little
teeth, which no bird has. But a very curious fellow he is, nevertheless:
and his name is Gar-fish. Some call him Green-bone, because his bones
are green.

But what kind of fish is he? He is like nothing I ever saw.

I believe he is nearest to a pike, though his backbone is different from
a pike, and from all other known fishes.

But is he not very rare?

Oh no: he comes to Devonshire and Cornwall with the mackerel, as he has
come here; and in calm weather he will swim on the top of the water, and
play about, and catch flies, and stand bolt upright with his long nose in
the air; and when the fisher-boys throw him a stick, he will jump over it
again and again, and play with it in the most ridiculous way.

An