To the Homeric Greek, as to
Mr. Dick Swiveller, the ocean was always the briny: to modern science,
on the other hand (which neither of those worthies would probably have
appreciated at its own valuation), the briny is always the oceanic. The
fossil food which we find to-day on all our dinner-tables dates back its
origin primarily to the first seas that ever covered the surface of our
planet, and secondarily to the great rock deposits of the dried-up
triassic inland sea. And yet even our men of science habitually describe
that ancient mineral as common salt.
OGBURY BARROWS
We went to Ogbury Barrows on an archaeological expedition. And as the
very name of archaeology, owing to a serious misconception incidental to
human nature, is enough to deter most people from taking any further
interest in our proceedings when once we got there, I may as well begin
by explaining, for the benefit of those who have never been to one, the
method and manner of an archaeological outing.
The first thing you have to do is to catch your secretary. The genuine
secretary is born, not made; and therefore you have got to catch him,
not to appoint him. Appointing a secretary is pure vanity and vexation
of spirit; you must find the right man made ready to your hand; and when
you have found him you will soon see that he slips into the onerous
duties of the secretariat as if to the manner born, by pure instinct.
The perfect secretary is an urbane old gentleman of mature years and
portly bearing, a dignified representative of British archaeology, with
plenty of money and plenty of leisure, possessing a heaven-born genius
for organisation, and utterly unhampered by any foolish views of his own
about archaeological research or any other kindred subject.
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