That is what we are on now. New red sandstone, lying unconformably on the coal. I showed it you in the bed of the river, as we came along in the cab. We are here in a sort of amphitheatre, or half a one, with the limestone hills around us, and the new red sandstone plastered on, as it were, round the bottom of it inside.
But what is this high bit with E against it?
Those are the high hills round Bath, which we shall run through soon. They are newer than the soil here; and they are (for an exception) higher too; for they are so much harder than the soil here, that the sea has not eaten them away, as it has all the lowlands from Bristol right into the Somersetshire flats.
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There. We are off at last, and going to run home to Reading, through one of the loveliest lines (as I think) of old England. And between the intervals of eating fruit, we will geologize on the way home, with this little bit of paper to show us where we are.
What pretty rocks!
Yes. They are a boss of the coal measures, I believe, shoved up with the lias, the lias lying round them. But I warn you I may not be quite right: because I never looked at a geological map of this part of the line, and have learnt what I know, just as I want you to learn simply by looking out of the carriage window.
Look. Here is lias rock in the side of the cutting; layers of hard blue limestone, and then layers of blue mud between them, in which, if you could stop to look, you would find fossils in plenty; and along that lias we shall run to Bath, and then all the rocks will change.
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Now, here we are at Bath; and here are the handsome fruit-women, waiting for you to buy.