I'd a good deal rather have broken my neck among honest lumps of old red sandstone.

A nail! A damned Brummagem nail!--So you collared the first prize in geology, eh?
I take that as a kindness, Godwin.

You've got a bit beyond Figuier and his _Deluge_, eh?
His Deluge, bah!' And he laughed discordantly.

On the other side of the bed sat Mrs Gunnery, grizzled and feeble dame.

Shaken into the last stage of senility by this alarm, she wiped tears from her flaccid cheeks, and moaned a few unintelligible words.
The geologist's forecast of doom was speedily justified.